#DEATH! BLOOD! MURDER! PIES!!!!

[nonbinary-arsonists]

listened to a Lot of musicals today bc of a 9-hr bus ride (as opposed to a 5-hr car ride. yay american public transport) i love sweeney todd

[bitchlessdino]

scream your heart out (m)

🔪pairing: fem!reader x seventeen (???) 🔪genre: horror, slasher, smut 🔪tags: DISCLAIMIER!!! MAY NOT SUIT MOST AUDIENCES, Graphic sexual and violent imagery color coded in pink, abrupt changes in text color, features/mentions members (Chan, Seungkwan, Wonwoo, Minghao, Seungcheol, Seokmin, Junhui, Soonyoung, Joshua), established relationships, scream au!seventeen, Hybristophilia, erotophonophilia, homicidophilia, graphic images, mention panic attacks, smoking, mentions disfigurement of faces, severed body parts, knives, guns, threatening phone calls, face masks (horror), knife wielding, blood, gore, death/murder, knife play, bloody handjobs, cum mixing with blood, consensual sex but nonconsensual murder, HONESTLY SOME REALLY FUCKED UP SHIT AND IM SORRY BUT YALL SHOULD BE READING THE WARNINGS, sexual innuendos, kitchen sex, daddy kink, unprotected sex, cream pies, cuck! (??) member, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breeding kink, PLS LET ME KNOW IF IM MISSING ANYTHING PLS 🔪word count: 6.8k 🔪summary: you and your friends get caught up in a classic horror slasher movie, only it's in real life. Now you're off to fend for yourselves in Seungcheol's million dollar home. The question is, did you keep them out, or did you just lock them in? 🔪author note: thank you @multi-kpop-fanfics and @wonwussy for beta reading for me <3. here's some of their notes “I’m scratching my face to not fucking scream” “WELL SHIT BRO WHAT THE FUCK” -Zeta “It definitely does capture that slasher essence” -SJ this was so fun yet mind numbing to write but this is way more extreme than anything I’ve ever written like I lost a lot of sanity writing this. FR one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever written. I hope it was worth it. ENJOY EVERYONE and even tho it came out late HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Ever since the murders over a week ago, everyone in town has been on edge. All including the individuals most closely involved.

You had lost three core members of your eight. 

Joshua, someone you’ve known since grade school who was sliced open from the back before being stabbed 8 times to the point of excessive bleeding. He had just gone out to walk his dog, the poor creature being the only reason they found his body at all. If not for the dog’s bloody paws, and the trail of blood they left behind finding help, Joshua’s cadaver would’ve lost deep in the woods.

And then Chan, your long-time boyfriend, was stabbed fifteen times in the chest. His face was so disfigured from obvious violence and what looked to be burn scars, that he was practically unrecognizable if not for the fact he died in his own home. Police are still looking for his severed arms and legs to this day with no luck.

And finally, Seungkwan, who hadn’t died but lost to the paranoia festering in his blood like a disease. That caused him to take the train to the furthest destination possible to attempt to escape death if at all possible, leaving the rest of you with only the reassuring texts he left in his wake.

All that was left was you, Seokmin, Seungcheol, Minghao, and Wonwoo; the core five.

“Okay, absolutely no one is leaving this house for the time being. Until the psycho is caught behind bars, dead, or whatever the fuck! We’re safe here.”

Seungcheol, the eldest, did just as expected: contacted the rest of you into a personal prison. Luckily, he was loaded. The prison happened to be six thousand square feet of space with countless rooms, amenities, and a housekeeper to boot. From the looks of it, it’s paradise, but it’s definitely a prison.

“Holy shit, you have an indoor basketball court?”

A prison with an indoor basketball court. And a pool apparently.

Seokmin wasted no time to enjoy these features, breaking out of his clothes and cannonballing in his underwear. If you knew any better, Seokmin didn’t even look like he went through any trauma at all. It looked like every other day for him.

“There's a murderer and you’re doing butterfly strokes?” You asked, baffled.

The golden man scoffed, reaching the edge of the pool and resting against it with his forearms. “What am I gonna do? Wallow, crying to my mom, worrying about dying, and not taking advantage of this gorgeous mansion we’re staying in?”

“Thank you, Seokmin,” Seungcheol grinned.

Seokmin winked back at him, “Of course, daddy.”

“How are you both so unserious about all this?”

Wonwoo left a kind hand against your shoulder, looking back at you with warm eyes and a small smile. “They’re grieving. Just in their own way.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “They’re being ridiculous. We shouldn’t be here. We need to be at the police station or something.”

“You were there when I got the call. The creepy voice said no police or you all die. Remember?”

You shuddered, hands over your sides to relieve your chilled skin. “Of course I do, but we’re sitting ducks here. This isn’t any better. We need protection.”

It was Seungcheol’s turn to scoff then. He strutted in front of you, flaunting his wing span before flexing his arms and then crossing them over his chest. “Well, you have me.”

“And me,” Seokmin joined. “Pure muscle right here.”

“Maybe pure laughing gas, not sure about muscle. We’re actually living in a horror movie right now and you’re all making jokes.”

“Hey,” Wonwoo stroked your head as his soothingly deep voice serenaded you, “Don’t say that. We’ll make it out of here.”

His arms come around you, forearms pressed against your collarbones, and his chin crooked over your shoulder. “You have me too. I would run through that knife before it could get to you.”

You genuinely smile for the first time being there, your hand stroking over his embrace. Wonwoo delicately kissed the temple of your forehead, reminding you what it was like to be constantly adored.

You were grateful for what he had become in your life. Wonwoo had kept you company in your time of need. In the absence of Chan. He had come to your house with whatever he thought you might need, lent you his shoulder that you could cry on, lent his ears so that he could listen, lent his body that you could heal. In more ways than one.

“You’re right. You are.” You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his body and meeting his eyes framed in specs of hard plastic. “You’re the first person I can sacrifice if we face them head to head.”

He mused at you. “Ooh, now look who’s pulling jokes.”

“Who said I was joking?”

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Minghao commented coming through the back door. “Horror movie rules: they get killed while having sex.”

You punched the new face right in the arm, watching him scurry away to your other friends laughing.

“Not funny, Hao.”

Minghao sneers at you, a jester smile still on his face. “Ease up, princess. Wonwoo, watch your girl.”

“Only because she’s so pretty to look at,” he briefly grinned down at you before directing his attention to Minghao sternly, “but come on. We’re all a little psyched right now. Cool it with the murder talk. Alright?”

Wonwoo pulled you aside into the dining area, ignoring the careless laughter outside. His thumb stroked against your knuckles, lips pressing sweetly against your cheeks. His grin sunk deeper in his cheeks the further he made it past your jaw and then down your neck. He felt your throat vibrate against his lips. “Wonwoo…”

“I can’t have all these guys get you heated like this. That’s my job,” he teased with a rasp.

You slightly pushed him off, your arms swung over his shoulders. “You’re so ridiculous right now.”

“Anything to put that smile on your face.”

His lips reconnected with your neck, nipping at your skin. His humming sent tingles down your spine, and he took your body to press you against the side of the counter. Your hands grasped his baggy shirt, lip close to his ear, fanning your breath against his face. You smiled like a girl in love. Obsessed.  “Daddy…”

“I love it when you call me that,” he mumbled, just as love-struck, if not more. Your giggles brought out the pink on Wonwoo’s ears and cheeks while tightening the groin of his pants. You noticed immediately, cupping it in your palm, and running your finger along the seam. Your eyes skimmed over his taken expression, leaning your full weight into him. “I know there’s something else you really love.”

“Do you now?”

You nodded, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “But do you really want to do it here? Risk getting caught?”

He leaned into your touch, allowing your fingers to take apart his pants. “Try new things right? Like you always say. Plus you’re scared. Gonna turn that fear into pleasure. Make you feel good, just what my baby deserves.”

“You're so good to me, Daddy,” you moaned.

His hand finds the hem of your shorts, pulling them down to expose yourself to the cold air. He fingered through your panties and slid two digits through your folds. He felt your breath hitch as he squeezed your clit, eliciting your soft whines. “You’re so wet down there, baby.”

“Just waiting for daddy to fuck me where anyone can find us and watch.”

Wonwoo eagerly pulled down his pants, kicking them and yours aside, but not without pocketing your underwear. He lifted you up slightly from the ground, his exposed cock hitting at your hip. “Look what you do to me.”

Your throat went dry at the sight of him, hand aching to wrap your hand around his girth and have him shoved inside you.

He didn’t let you wait a second long, and pushed in slowly inch by inch, burying himself in your pussy until he was nearly balls deep. You grasped his shoulder in a gasp, savoring the fire burning in your stomach. The girth of his cock stretched your molten walls, allowing them to melt all around his cock as he spread your legs. You writhe in his embrace, your limbs closing around his lean and toned build, already blissful from the few seconds of him being inside you.

Wonwoo’s words kissed your lips, flushed your skin, and left a permanent smile on your face. It swelled pride in his chest, better than any physical trophy would have. His hips slowly rolled against yours, letting you adjust to his size. He massaged the flesh of your side through his fingers, mentally reassuring himself you were his and his alone, but his names on your lips became more than proof.

Your hips buckled towards him in heat, matching his pace before the carnal side of him decided to fuck you like an animal. His cock then plunged sharply inside you, and then again, a whimper coming out of your lips. Your hips stuttered the harder he pounded, arching your back, you felt his hand above your ass, pushing you against him.

“Daddy…”

He lost control when it came to you, addicted—religious—the second your body came in contact with his. He loved how your fingers ran through his hair, not caring how his glasses fell off his face in the process. With drool out of the corner of his lips, he could feel the blood rush up to the surface of your skin, making him feel warm at home inside you. Throbbing, he only got harder feeling how perfectly snug you were, pricking his clammy skin with goosebumps as he bottomed out.

“You’re sopping, precious,” he murmured with a sly grin.

He had you begging, flustered, and beautiful. Your hand clasped his face as your other arm looped around his neck, swallowing his lips, anxious and thirsty for his breath. You craved every part of him viscerally. “Cum in me, daddy. Please…”

He scoffed, lips ghosting over yours. “Will you take every bit of daddy’s cum, hmm? Hold my cum inside you.”

You nodded gingerly. “Yes, yes. I promise, daddy. Give it to me please, I want you to spill your cum inside me and make me yours…”

“Hold on to me.”

You obliged, met with the hot stream of his climax, yours quick to follow. He embraced your sides, devouring your lips and muffling your whines. His loads pumped into you in erratic thrusts, fucking his cum back into you and making sure you drained him of every ounce. His fingers dug into your flesh, feeling you just come apart for him, undoing the tension that festered earlier.

But that tension was needed. It was necessary to survive. Everyone let themselves forget the current predicament, basking in the glow of the sunset until dinner time arrived. Despite the housekeeper that supposedly exists, she hadn’t been around since all of you stepped foot in the house, like a ghost presence. Seungcheol scrambled to find her—reminding you of his peculiar obsession with the woman—as he wondered when dinner would be ready since a rise in temperature or a savory scent couldn’t be found in the kitchen.

“That’s strange. She’d be finished with a whole chicken by now,” the homeowner commented, noticeably picking his nails.

“Aww,” Seokmin groaned, “Well, is there anything else to eat?”

“I mean…you can look around.”

You narrowed your eyes at him in disbelief. “This is your house. You don’t know what you have in your own house?”

“You try navigating a five-story home with countless cabinets!”

“Buy a smaller house, you prick!”

“Guys!” Minghao chimed in. “Breathe in…and out. We’ll just find food. Seungcheol, your maid, your house, your search. She’s probably fine.”

Your hands slammed against those pristine marble counters. “We are NOT splitting up right now. This is what the killer wants. She’s probably already dead and we’re fucked.”

Wonwoo came to your side, laying a cool calm over your shoulder, and rubbed your sides. You let yourself melt in his touch, his sweet voice soothing you effectively. 

Seokmin sat up from his stool, “Okay, okay. I will help Seungcheol and you guys stick together.”

“That’s still splitting up!”

“Better than alone.” Seungcheol rebutted. “You guys stay.”

Despite your protests, they went on their search. Your head banged against Wonwoo’s chest, muttering in anguish about how everything was going wrong and that it’d only get worse. Meanwhile, Minghao seemed to regain some of that tension but masked the fear with the bright light of his phone, scrolling through TikTok. You didn’t know what was more annoying, sensation of imminent death possibly behind any door, or the same five songs replaying on Minghao’s feed.

After 15 minutes when they were nowhere to be seen, your patience had run thin. You picked yourself up from Wonwoo’s lap and dusted yourself off. “Fuck this. We’re finding them.”

You felt his hand on your shoulder, a concerned glow in his gaze. “Babe, hey. They’ve got it. Trust them.”

“Wonwoo, you know I can’t do that. Let’s just find them, hmm? Together?”

“Not a bad idea,” Minghao agreed. “Better in groups right? We go together, eliminate us as any potential suspects.”

Your boyfriend sighed, collected your hand, and laced his fingers through yours. “Fine.”

You were all joined together by the hip, making sure you were each other's sights. Through the wider than wingspan hallways, past the ridiculously expensive sculptures, you kept your eyes out for your estranged friends. Silence couldn’t have been more loud in these cavernous spaces, only hearing the gut feelings in your stomachs that’s churned in trepidation. Every step taken was the group closing in on the killer. 

Fortitude meant nothing if the danger was already inside.

Before turning around the corner, Minghao—reluctant to lead the group—crashed into a human-sized obstacle, causing the stumble of your entire party. You all faced a wide-eyed Seungcheol with the missing young housekeeper walking hand in hand with him. Suspicious, but besides the point.

“Holy shit, we said we’d come back!”

“It’s been 20 minutes, Cheol! You guys could’ve been dead for all we know.” You retorted.

“Wait, where’s Seokmin?” Wonwoo asked, noticing he didn’t see him nearby.

“He went ahead. He needed to piss or something and meet up later.”

“You idiot.” Your eyes burned a frustrated rage. “I said don't split up. DON’T SPLIT UP! That’s the number one rule of horror movies. You’re going get us fucking killed. He could be the murderer for all we know.”

Seungcheol scoffed, shaking his head. “Seokmin? No way. He’s the last person to even think to do that.”

“Well, do you see him? No! Probably he’s off someone being Ghostface reject with his stupid little voice modulator and cheap party city costume.”

“I told you—“ Before he could finish, his phone went off in the nick of time. When he pulled it out to saw Seokmin’s caller ID on display and the owner of the device wouldn’t help but smile. “See the bastard is even calling.”

He picked up and put him on speaker, eyeing you cheekily, amped to prove you wrong. “Seok, you little shit. How long does it take to piss, huh? Just say you wanted to take a dump.”

“Oh yeah, I took the shittiest, stinkiest, fattest dump. You could probably smell all the way from the other end of the hall.”

Instead of Seokmin on the other line, all of you were met with the eerie voice that had called you multiple times before. The voice that felt like spiders crawling up your legs. The voice that had you second guess whether you locked the front and the back door. The voice whose owner had killed countless people already. 

Seungcheol held the phone in a vice grip swallowing, fear stilling in his unsteady eyes. “You—Where the fuck is Seokmin, you son of a bitch?”

The morphed voice on the other end laughed, sounding bone chilling as nails against a blackboard. “What’s to say? Why don’t we play a little game to find out?”

“Mother fu—“You grabbed the phone from Seungcheol to answer in his place, cutting the older man off. “Why go through with this?”

“Why, I just want to help you find your beloved friend. All out of the kindness of my heart.”

“If it was all kindness, you could tell us where he is.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Psycho,” Minghao muttered under his breath, eyes wide in shock and fear, as if registering the idea of death for the first time.

“And if we refuse?” Wonwoo interjected.

“Seokmin dies, rock for brains,” Seungcheol gritted.

“Ding, ding, ding. Or should I say, chop, chop, chop, since that’s what'll happen if you get any of my questions wrong.”

You scoffed, coming down the stairs with your friends to follow. “Have at it then, you freak.”

“Hey, hey, play nice. Maybe I’ll get too excited and decide to cut him up early.”

Seungcheol glared at you briefly before taking back the phone, storming down the stairs, and reaching the ground floor. “Ask away, as long as Seokmin is safe.”

“First an easy one. What’s your favorite scary movie, Seungcheol?”

His feet stopped at the end of the couch in his living room, stammering to answer. “What kind of fucking question—uh, The Ring?”

“Don’t lie to your friends, Seungcheol. You know that’s not the answer, that’s just what you say to anyone that asks. Say the real answer.”

“That’s the movie though!” he started to shout, visibly shaking.

“Just say it, Cheol!” Minghao pushed.

“Stop playing around Choi Seungcheol! Just say it,” You joined.

“Fine!” He faced the friends, evidently swallowing his pride as he choked up on his answer. “I never watched a goddamn scary movie! Is that what you want to hear? I get panic attacks every time I hear one in the background, why do you I’m always going off smoking when you guys put one on,” he confessed through his tears.

“Congratulations. Your first right answer. Now was that so hard? Pussy boy?”

“Fuck you,” Seungcheol sputtered, tossing the phone back to you.

“Next question. ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,’ Leatherface is known for wearing a mask when it was in fact several. How many and what were they in the original movie?”

“Who the fuck would know an answer like that?” Minghao croaked in disbelief.

“Three. A ‘Killing Mask’, an ‘Old Lady Mask’ and a ‘Pretty Woman Mask.’” Wonwoo calmly answers, garnering horrified looks all around. “I wanted to be a filmmaker, remember?”

“Correct. Next question. What Was Freddy Krueger's serial killer nickname before he died?”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” you said slightly panicked, “Wonwoo?”

“The Springwood slasher.”

“Wow, Another amazingly correct answer. Hold on to that one, Y/n. He’s a keeper. He’s smart and fucks your brains out to the point of you screaming bloody murder? What a catch.”

You didn’t respond, impatience seething on the tip of your tongue, “Just tell us where this is all going.”

“Patience, sweetheart. Last question. What exact kind of knife does Ghostface use in the Stab movies? Here’s a hint: it’s the same one I’m holding in my hand against Seokmin’s throat. (Help me please...)”

“S-Seok.” Seungcheol gasped.

Seokmin’s voice could barely be heard on the other end, weak and afraid, only staggering breaths audible.

“Wonwoo, please,” Seungcheol begged, tears falling past his neck. “He’s our best friend.”

Wonwoo swallowed, gears visibly creaking in his head, “I know he uses a hunting knife, b-but—“

“Oh…” the voice cooed, “Well, that’s just not enough, is it? Seokminnie, say goodbye to your friends (Please, no…).”

“Seokmin!”

“Wait!” You barged, clutching the phone to the point of it almost bending. “A modified Buck 120. I remember now. It’s coming back to me. Now, let Seokmin go!”

The line went dead and in turn, light cast in the evening darkness of the poolside. All your eyes shot back at the change of light, startled at the sight in front of them. Seokmin was seated in a chair, bruises against his sides, bleeding from the splices on his forearms, and duct tape over his mouth. Yet the most frightening part was his closed eyes.

“Seokmin!”

You all rushed towards him, swinging the porch door in a panic. Seungcheol tried slapping him awake, pleading he’d be alive. “Seokmin please, please, wake up…

The poor victim's eyes start to flicker open, mumbling through the adhesive over his lips.

“Buddy,” Seungcheol ripped the duct tape clean off him, his ear coming up to his friend’s lips. “Speak to me…”

Seokmin’s voice came out in croaks, hardly incoherently, all except, “Be…hind…”

Minghao spat up blood, doubled over as Ghostface was revealed right behind him, and fell right into the pool. You and the housekeeper both let out a blood-curdling scream. The masked intruder wiped off the blood using his black rope, anticipating a lunge towards their next victim. 

“Run,” Wonwoo breathed out. 

He took your hand and ran with it. Taking a second to look back, you see Seungcheol and the housekeeper try to escape similarly before she was tugged right back towards the killer and she was stabbed right in front of him five times, each one faster than the last, having the poor Seungcheol paralyzed and fallen on his knees. The sounds of suffering were loud enough to hear throughout the neighborhood.

Wonwoo dragged you back upstairs, his survival instinct telling him to seek haven high and far up the house. 

“You left them there to die,” You proclaimed.

“He said he could manage it. You’re more important.”

“You actually believe that? Ghostface snuck up on Minghao with neither of us looking!”

“We’re going to have to. Secungcheol can handle himself.”

Finally, he finds the room, closing the door behind him and pushing heavy furniture in front of it for more time to stall. “We’ll be ok for a little bit here. Let’s look for weapons.”

He started rummaging through drawers, looking for anything strap, blunt, heavy, anything worth using. He was red in the face, sweat drenching his entire body. The only thing running through his mind was keeping you, the most important person in his life, safe. 

“Wonwoo, I don’t know if we’re going to find anything. Fuck. I’m so scared right now.”

He recognized the panic in your eyes, the bounce in your step, and the quiver in your voice. “Hey, hey, baby. Look at me.” He grasped your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumb. 

“I’m here, hmm.” He kissed your closed eyes. “You’re alright.”

Then your tempered cheeks. “We’ll get through this.”

The tip of your nose. “I love you like hell.” 

Finally your trembling lips. “I’ll keep you alive.”

“Promise?” You managed to breathe out.

“Scouts honor.”

The banging resonated from outside the locked door, only getting louder and closer every passing second as if teasing you to death. You shook in Wonwoo’s embrace, burying your face in his chest. “I don’t want to die here, baby.”

“You won’t. Not with me.” One arm wrapped around your body, and another had his fingers locked around the base of a lamp, tugging it from the outlet. Pitch darkness joined you, only having to rely on the dim-lit sky through the peek of the windows.

Whomever on the other side cracked through the wood of the door, breaking it piece by piece as it fell to the ground, knocking over the dresser that blocked 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Wonwoo pushed you behind him.

Finally, your barrier came down with a final kick, rendering it useless. Wonwoo let out a battle cry, charging at them with the lamp above his head. He swung his weapon while Ghostface swung theirs, both missing simultaneously. Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo pulled forward, aiming for the head.

They crash against the wall in the process, but not without mutilating the midsection of Wonwoo’s stomach. The visually impaired man fell back to the ground, groaning in agony as he clutched his stomach, while blood trickled through his fingers. “Mother fucker...”

Wonwoo’s vision started to fight against him with the loss of his glasses, dimming images before him, and slowly processing the murderous figure trodding before him. Wonwoo’s determination picked him right back up slowly, picking up his lamp once again, trying to take another move toward the perpetrator. And by pure luck, the lamp crashed against the crown of their head.

Ghostface stumbled back, quick to recover but visibly agitated.  Soon enough, they plunged the full length of the knife right into Wonwoo’s gut, sticking it deep and long before kicking him off of it. Wonwoo lands on the hardwood, blood gushing out of him like a public water fountain. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Wonwoo!” You come by his side, clutching at his wound desperately. “No, no, no.”

The sinister figure approached once more, hand creeping against the edge before he pulled it over and off his head. His eyes stared back at you both maniacally. His grin stretched from both ends freakishly before overtaking in deep chuckles. “Happy to see me?”

“…C-Chan?” Wonwoo managed to gasp.

“Hi, bestie.” His signature smile, once warm and inviting, reflected horrifyingly as if out of a film, one with too much bloodshed and betrayal to imagine. “Well, didn’t think you’d see me again, huh?”

“Chan, what the fuck?” You screeched. 

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Wonwoo voiced panic-stricken. “What, how?”

One foot over the other, Chan carried himself with conviction, ease, and the confidence of a man who slaughtered countless amounts of people. 

“You guys don't know how easy it is to fake my death. I was surprised by how incredibly stupid police officers are. Find a body that’s my height, my build, cut off their hands and arms to not get their fingerprints, singe their skin and face to the point of unrecognition, and plant them in your own home. I’m a fucking genius.”

“S-Seungkwan,” Wonwoo wept, his adam’s apple, “You actually—”

“It was beautiful. Masterful.”

“Why?” Wonwoo stammered. “Your best friend—“

“He was an imbecile. Weak. All bark and no bite. You will never understand how good it felt to stick the knife inside him and watch the blood burst off of him like a sprinkler. Like the knife going in and out of him surged power throughout my entire body. So, I kept doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. AND DOING IT.”

His smile. That violating smile.

You sobbed, covering Wonwoo’s wound with your hands. “Y-you monster.”

“This was all just fun for you?” Wonwoo bared his teeth. “You get your kicks from lying, deceiving, stabbing your friends? You think you’re some Billy Loomis?”

“Of course I have fun. I had lots of fun. We had so much fucking fun.”

“We?” Wonwoo repeated.

“What the fuck do you mean we?” You asked horrified.

Chan started to chuckle to himself, chest heaving exuberantly before he stood completely still. Dreadfully still. 

“Well, I'm not the one that killed Joshua, am I?”

A million guesses ran through Wonwoo’s brain. None made sense the more he thought about it. “Your Stu Macher? Seokmin…Seungcheol…?”

Your eyes turned to him fearful, before it melted into something else, something familiar. Something terrifying. “No…” your lips drew close to his ear. “Me…” 

Your hands squeezed around his wound, gripping, earning his moans of anguish, screaming at you to stop, before you retrieved the knife hidden behind your boot and drove it into his shoulder. Wonwoo let out the loudest scream he could ever muster, feeling the blade sharply cut his nerve whilst pain shot into his chest. He tapped his heel incessantly on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes, looking at you in disbelief, overcome with hurt.

“And he was a good fuck too until the knife I put through his back made him scream like a little bitch.”

You pulled out the knife from him, seeing how the pain he felt in his body only complimented the suffering pooling in his heart, his mind, his soul. His lips quivered in your direction, sucking in his breath. “Y/n…Why?”

You simply shrugged. “Why does anyone kill these days? They’re bored, daddy. Same reason why things can change in the bedroom, to spice things up. The flavor of life is murder now, darling.”

“You’re killing people.”

You drove the knife one more time into his thigh, savoring his scream of agony. “And we’re more alive than we ever have been,” you said, twisting the knife before pulling it out.

You walked toward Chan, helping him pull off his robe. “And so is our sex life.”

“So, Junhui, Soonyoung…Joshua, and even Seungkwan.” Wonwoo asked, catching his breath.

“Every. single. one,” You chuckled. “Draining their cum out of like having a second puberty until life is literally drained out of their bodies. What a bunch of pussy boys. So obsessed with sex, they didn’t see the knife coming their way.”

Your hand reached for the ottoman and pushed Chan there to be seated, underdressed in the black tank top and black jeans he hid underneath with his momentarily abandoned bloody knife at his side. You unbuckled his pants single-handedly, your knife still in your other hand. “And Chan just gets so fucking hard with all the bloodshed. Like a bloodthirsty animal.”

“You just look so fucking sexy with blood on your hands,” Chan moaned, “Touch me how I like it, baby.”

“Mmh, my pleasure.” Your hand used the blood covering it as a morbid form of lube, closing around the girth of his cock to squeeze and lightly stroking it from base to tip, softly thumbing over the small slit on top. 

His stomach flexed, bucking his hips in your direction as he bit down on his bottom lip, beaming like a child on Christmas. Horny for your touch, Chan couldn’t help but squirm in his seat, warning up to your touch. He was absolutely growing at a rapid pace. “Like that baby, like that.”

“That feel good, daddy? You like how the blood is covering your entire cock? Seokmin’s blood, Minghao’s blood, Seungcheol’s blood? Wonwoo’s blood?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“You two,” Wonwoo’s shock couldn’t stagger from the scene in front of him, unable to process all this information at once.

“You’re massaging our friends into my cock so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” You traced your fingers over the details of his shaft, your nails prodding at the veins as your hand slowly picked up pace. You rolled him in your fist, letting him rut in your defiled hand as he moaned your name like an animal in heat. “I’m getting so wet watching fuck in my hand covered in blood. You’re just a sick lunatic obsessed with killing your friends and fucking my sweet pussy. I love that about you, Daddy.”

“Fuck,” he screamed, hands gripping the ottoman in restraint, brimming with passion, “Wanna mix Wonwoo’s cum you kept inside you with the blood. Sit that sweet pussy on my cock for me, lover.”

You nodded invitingly, not missing a beat. You never did replace the underwear from before, making it easy to remove your shorts and sliding him inside your warm walls, massaging his length as you rolled your hips against his. You held the knife you still had in a death grip, stabling against the reliability of Chan’s shoulders. You mumble his name pleased, arching your back as you grinded down on his lap. “Your cock feels so good covered in blood, daddy.” 

“Your pussy feels even better knowing how much fun you had stabbing Wonwoo for me.”

“Of course, daddy.” You turned to the body mutilated and defenseless on the ground, grinning as Wonwoo was forced to watch. “That look good, Daddy Wonwoo?” Your ass bounced purposely in Chan’s lap, the jiggle showing off the splatter of blood left from the handjob.

Everything in Wonwoo told him to look away but he couldn’t, like a train wreck or a car crash, he couldn’t part with the mess of a situation he was witnessing. He wasn't sure what this meant for him, mentally nor physically.

“You like watching Chan fuck me, Daddy? His bloody dirty cock fucking me like you did a hour ago, fucking me like a nasty little whore.”

He hissed through his teeth, right the strange feeling surging in his pain-stricken body, “Shut…the fuck up.”

You laughed obnoxiously. “You love it. You love being a little cuck, watching other guys fuck my pussy. As if you hadn’t peeped on me and Chan fucking when he wasn’t ‘dead’.”

“It’s not true, you bitch.” The twitch in his trousers told him otherwise.

“You’re such a liar a dirty, dirty liar like I’m a dirty, dirty fucking whore.” You groaned loudly taking Chan’s cock, bouncing against his lap as you felt him pulse around your walls.

“That’s right baby take my cock.” Chan’s hand came over your bare cheeks, striking them with his full palms while his hips jerked up your body. “Taking the murder fueled, hard fucking cock.”

“Daddy, your cock is making me so fucking wet, stretching my pussy the way you sliced open our friends,” You growled.

“Fuck you’re such a little succubus, baby. Bouncing on my cock, coating yourself in blood. And I’ll kill more and more for you. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Yeah,” You began slowing your pace, drinking in his every word. “You’d do anything for me?”

“I’d kill the entire human population for you.”

That left you smiling from ear to ear, the tension coiling in your stomach. Your chest pressed against his, pushing against his thrusts. “Yeah? Would you cum in me, Daddy? Mix our dirty mess inside me. Let me take your cum, daddy.”

“I’ll let you drain me of every drop, my little psychopath.”

“Cum daddy cum, make me full and breed me with our homicidal baby daddy. Make you a real daddy.”

Chan shuddered, overwhelmed with immense arousal. His hips found life of their own, hammering into you at top speed, and watching the pleasure morph on your face and the staccato rhythm of your breath leave your lips, all while the load threatened to burst out of his sack. “I’m cumming, baby, all for you, ah—“ then it exploded inside you. His cum launched out of his cock like a hose, he painted your wall in milky white, turning pink as it seeped out of you.

“I’m so close, daddy…”

Chan threw his head back to catch his breath, hands possessively finding purchases on your hips. “That’s it, baby. cum for daddy.”

“I’m cuming daddy, I’m—“ You gripped your knife, taking Chan’s abandoned one before plunging both in his head. His smile dropped, a small and weak, “baby” leaving his sweet lips before spitting up blood on your chest and he fell limp. 

You didn’t stop, however, given the fact that your orgasm had just arrived the mere second Chan tasted metal in his mouth. Your moans could’ve been mistaken for anguish if not for the smile on your savage face. “I’m cumming all over your cock, Daddy, fuck! You’re so good to me, you do so much for me. I love you so much. Hitting my spot even in death.”

The wave of climax finally started to fade, unlike your smile, wretched and demonic. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Daddy. I’ll miss you so much.” You kissed deceased Chan’s lips, coming down from him, and fixing his pants before fixing his pants before pulling your shorts back on your body.

“Y/n…what the fuck?”

Watching you pull the knives out of Chan’s head, Wonwoo's expression was a mix of confusion and horror, struggling to back away as you approached him calmly, almost serenely.

“Chan has served his purpose,” You answered plainly as if obvious. “It was his time.”

“You did that, all that, with him, and you MURDER HIM? Your partner in sick, sick psychotic crime?”

“I told you spice was necessary, plus I’ve grown rather fond of you.” You bent down to his level, eyes noticeably just a deep pit of disparity. “I couldn’t let him kill you, so I beat him to it. Good thing too, because that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

Wonwoo whimpered under your touch—well, the knife’s touch—as the tip of it dragged over his jaw, drawing out a shudder. “Y-you’re letting me live?”

Your smile. That damned smile. You and Chan were mere reflections of each other. How had he not seen this sick image sooner?

“As long as it's with me, because you love me right? That’s what you said. You’ll always love me and keep me alive. You promised.”

You pressed the blade against his neck, “You’re cold-blooded. Fucking your dead friend’s girlfriend, leaving your other friends to die to save me, and taking on a mass murderer just for me.” Your other hand caressed over his face. “That’s hard fucking core, baby. I love that so much. You really love and want me. Well, I want you just as bad.”

“Like you wanted Chan?”

You scoffed, using the knife to point at the abandoned soulless body on the ground. “Chan was disposable. He was already fucked up in the brain. I can nurture you, let you prove you’re that you’re mine and only mine. Then I’d have no reason to kill you. Not at all…say you’ll be with me forever.”

“…yes, sweetie. O-of course I will.”

You sighed a breath of relief, your harmless hand coming over to stroke over the stray hairs on his head. “That’s my daddy. My one and only. We can be the finals. Together. Only us—”

“Hello! Wonwoo! Y/n!” Miraculously, Seungcheol found their way to you, barely alive it sounds like.

Rage filled your eyes. “Holy fuck how is he still alive,” you mumbled under your breath. “I’ll take care of him.”

You held the knife to your side, standing by the door and away from its open view. “Cheol! In here! We caught the killer!”

Seungcheol managed to find the defaced door, peeking through the rubble to see a disheveled Wonwoo, panting and close to death. “Wonwoo!”

“Cheol…” Wonwoo grunted. 

“Hang in there, buddy. I’ve got you.”

“To…your…right.”

You glared at Wonwoo, betrayal in your eyes before launching yourself at the hero, who hardly had a scratch on their body. Seungcheol, taking his friend's warning in consideration, built up a wall of defense. His eyes caught you just in time and held up your arms, pinning you against a wall. His eyes finally registered on your face, and his grip on you only tightened. “Y/n, you evil little bitch.”

You chuckled tauntingly, struggling against his weight and strength. “Hi, Cheol. I know you always wanted to stick something in me, mind letting me do it first?”

“You—wow, you’re actually mentally deranged.”

“You don’t like that? Maybe my knife through your skull can change your mind.”

He kicked you in the groin, having you plummet to your knees, cusses streaming out of you like a river. “You pussy. Ass. Bitch.”

“Seungcheol,” Wonwoo groaned, painfully cheering him on.

You managed to kick Seungcheol down in your distress, crawling on top of him to gain leverage. “I know you liked to be topped.”

You held the knife, hands wrapped tightly around the handle before striking. Meanwhile, Seungcheol’s hands were wrapped around your wrists, the tip of the knife tickling his nose. Sweat beaded against his forehead, struggling harder than he thought he would as you smiled still.

“This would be a lot sexier if you let me run my knife inside you, baby.”

“Fuck you and your demented punk ass,” he grunted.

“I would if you’d just FUCKING DIE!”

A gunshot follows soon after and the blood gushed from your neck, pouring from both ends and falling lifelessly against Seungcheol, who let out a shrill scream.

“I found a gun,” Seokmin proclaimed weakly from the door before fainting to the ground.

Seungcheol rolled your body off of him, sick to his stomach. “Sick crazy bitch.”

He looked towards his friend who remained helpless his entire journey before his eyes got caught on the dead body he only realized now. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo whispered.

“And they…”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, dude.”

Seungcheol went around to pick up Seokmin from the ground, grabbing the gun. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s eyes lingered over your body, in disbelief it was alive a mere second ago, then he saw something strange, causing his eyes to fly open. “Cheol behind you!”

Another gunshot. Right between your eyes and your body that stood for hardly a second longer than it should’ve—of course with the knife still in your hand—fell right back on the ground.

“They always come back,” Wonwoo quoted.

Seungcheol let out a deep exhale, loosening his grip around the gun. “And aim for the head.”

“Sorry about your house.”

“…sorry about your girlfriend.”

“Me too.”

post reading a/n: always like me to insert chan into anything fr. i have no excuses

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @smileysuh (felt fucked up not to tag you bc you’re fucked it just like me 💕)

[itmeblog]

It's Black History Month

(Over here in the US of A) So here are some podcasts to check out.

Absolutely no Adventures - a fantasy (un)adventure story that follows Sig, the owner of Signature Eats bakery, as he aggressively avoids becoming embroiled in any daring quests or chosen one shenanigans even though the universe really seems to want him to do just that. This is a story about cutting Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey off at the knees to chill with friends and staying far, far away from the slightest whiff of adventure. And also baking. This is also a story about baking.

Afflicted - Lovecraft Country meets True Blood in this new series from award-winning producers Tonia Ransom and Jen Zink. In season one, a small East Texas town suffers supernatural disasters caused by a demonic book bound in human flesh…and only hoodoo can save the town from its affliction.

Apollyon - In the early 22nd century, the Apollyon virus wiped out 75% of the world’s population, and now most of the world is governed by the International Conglomerate of Research Scientists. Dr. Theo Ramsey is an ICRS research scientist who may have just discovered an effective vaccine for Apollyon, but the stakes to get the vaccine to the public are higher than she ever imagined.

Between Heartbeats - Tan immersive Urban Fantasy about the hurt, the powerful, and their growth within a broken world. We follow Sundiata, a guilt-ridden time manipulator with a knack for unemployment, and Nadia, a moralistic telepath determined not to lose control, as they balance frayed mental health against an unsympathetic police state. But when a malevolent presence rears is head, their neuroses become the least of their problems. Can our heroes make the most of their abilities before the option is taken from them?

Fan Wars: The Empire Claps Back - Two passionate Star Wars fans on opposite sides of the Last Jedi debate argue via Skype after their favorite forum closes down. If you love Star Wars (or call yourself a proud member of any fandom), you’ll love this romantic comedy told via

Harlem Queen - a Black historical fiction audio drama based on the life and times of Black, woman, "gangster" Madame Stephanie St. Clair during the Harlem Renaissance.

His Royal Fakin' Highness - What if Ophelia helped Hamlet get his throne back? This modern day, romantic comedy re-imagining of Shakespeare's Hamlet asks just that. As they stage an engagement in the wake of the king's death, these childhood frenemies must decide between duty and love.

InCo (This one's mine :D) - A Sci-Fi story about a disgruntled information seller, a mysterious space boy, and an android doing her best.

Janus Descending - a limited series, science fiction/horror audio drama podcast, follows the arrival of two xenoarcheologists on a small world orbiting a binary star. But what starts off as an expedition to survey the planet and the remains of a lost alien civilization, turns into a monstrous game of cat and mouse, as the two scientists are left to face the creatures that killed the planet in the first place.

Lady Lucy - Lady Lucy is an audio drama inspired by Shakespeare's "Dark Lady" Sonnets, 127-154. Between running her brothel, fighting the Church, murdering her friends' abusive husbands, and pretending to be a poet, the last thing Lucy needed back in 1586 was a surprise visit from her former flame... Will Shakespeare.

Liars and Leeches - Tonya Wright felt it all after the tragic murders of her sister and brother-in-law in a random act of gun violence. Struggling to travel outside of her home, she now lives constantly on edge about perceived threats that seem to surround her.

Nightlight - Multi-award winning horror podcast featuring creepy stories with full audio production written by Black writers and performed by Black actors. So scary it’ll make you want to leave your night light on.

Null /Void - a science fiction audio drama about a young woman, Piper Lee, whose life is saved by a mysterious voice named Adelaide. Piper soon uncovers a malicious plot by a monopoly of a tech company and must work with her friends and an unusual ally to help foil their deadly plot.

Out of Ashes - (currently remastering season 1) Follow a group of survivors as they navigate the ruins of modern civilization and battle against demons, ghosts, monsters and the looming threat of extinction from an ancient power.

Small Victories - A recently recovered drug addict tries to start her new lease on life, too bad life has it out for her.  This dramatic comedy follows Marisol through the ups and downs of her life.

The Courtship of Mona Mae - In the 1870s, pioneers Mona Mae Christophe and Zekial Montgomery search the American West for Mona Mae's mother, Clara. Mona must recall a past, long forgotten in order to survive, so that she can find her mother, love and create a way of life for herself.

Vega a Sci-Fi Adventure Podcast - In a fantasy futuristic world, Vega Rex is employed by her government to kill off the world's worst criminals. She's never met a criminal she couldn't catch…until now. Join Vega as she journeys through a world of bumbling apprentices, powerful technogods, and her biggest challenge yet. Hosted by Ivuoma Hall.

Witchever Path - is an anthology series where your decisions effect the story. Our stories are based in America’s NorthEast, featuring characters finding themselves in the thick of the unknown while tackling issues like queer identity, gender, race, and spirituality. Stories often focus on the communities not typically seen in stories taking place in New England, and giving voice to the perspectives of those communities while uniting under some universal themes. And the supernatural happens. A lot.

(All descriptions were taken from websites)

If you want to find more and there are way more there's a directory :D

[toomanyfandoms-notenoughfics]

Celestial Beings

Chapter Six: Mirror Mirror

Characters: Reader, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Molly Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, George Weasley, Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger

Summary: Dinner with the Weasleys and a bit of a tour of the house.

Word Count: 3,031

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, mentions of murder

Reminders: @rainychaosmiracle

(Y/n) had been out of the cell for a little more than 4 hours, exploring every aspect of her new room. She hadn’t found any secret pathways, no hidden jinxes, it was all safe. Her own space with seemingly no strings attached. It was a new experience for her, not having to make her entire existence as minuscule as possible.

There was a knock at the door, making her jump and drop the book she had just picked up to read. The book landed directly on her toes, making her yelp in pain. There was a muffled voice on the other side of the door, sounding concerned.

“Come in!” (Y/n) sat on the edge of her bed, rubbing her foot. “I got startled and dropped a book on my foot, nothing major.”

“Uh, sorry I didn’t mean to spook you.” The lanky redheaded boy said. “Mom told me to get you for dinner, she’s making pot pies with mashed potatoes and garlic bread.”

“Oh, sure yeah I’ll be down in just a second.” she eyed the boy, watching as he avoided making eye contact with her. “Or are you supposed to escort me there?”

“I’m not sure, but I am already on thin ice with her so��” he said, hands in his pockets.

“Right, don’t want to get in any more trouble than you already are.” (Y/n) stood up, looking in the mirror of her dresser and fixing her hair. “Okay, let’s get this over with. Lead the way, little Weasley.”

“Ron. It’s Ron,” he muttered, walking just ahead of her. The closer they got to the dining room, the more pleasant the air smelt.

The dining room was brightly lit, with candles floating above the table gently. Food placed perfectly on the table, and everyone’s already sat down, chatting. The mood changes as soon as (y/n) walks in, with silence replacing the warm mood. Ron takes a seat next to Hermione, whispering something in her ear.

“I saved you a spot over here, (y/n).” Sirius patted the chair next to his own, smiling at her. “It also just so happens to be directly in front of the potatoes, which Molly says are extra delicious tonight.”

“Kids, introduce yourselves,” Molly instructed as (y/n) sat down, keeping her eyes averted.

“I’m Fred,” one of the two twin boys said, offering her a small smile.

“And I’m George,” the other said, elbowing his brother.

“I’ve met Ron, Ginny, and Hermione already.” (Y/n) reminded everyone. The children all looked at each other nervously. “Alright, can we clear the air in here? I can tell that none of you children really want me here, or trust my being here. So go ahead, let it out, it’s fine.”

“(Y/n) I don’t think-” Molly started, only for Hermione to interrupt.

“Are you actually his daughter?” the muggle-born blurted out, looking directly at her plate.

“Yes.” (Y/n) answered. “Anyone else?”

“Do you have the mark?” George asked.

“No, I’ve never had to get it. The marks are just ways to keep track of his followers, I have his blood.” (Y/n) shrugged, putting a heaping amount of potatoes on her own plate. “No need for it when you can just do a simple scrying spell.”

“How many people have you killed?” Ron inquired. Everyone looked at him wide-eyed. Everyone except (y/n), who didn’t even flinch.

“Depends,” she smirked to herself. “Do you count Death Eaters as people?”

“You’ve killed Death Eaters? Why?” Fred leaned forward, intrigued.

“Only one, it wasn’t entirely in my control. I don’t remember it, I’ve just been told that my mother never survived giving birth to me.” (Y/n) picked up a pot pie and placed it atop her potatoes. “On that note though, I would like to eat now instead of answering questions, if that’s alright with all of you?”

“Yes, let’s eat.” Remus claps his hands together, sharing a worried look with Sirius.

The rest of dinner was filled with idle chit-chat between the kids, a few conversations growing louder than the others. (Y/n) just focused on eating as much as she possibly could while she could. By the end of dinner, she was stuffed full, having eaten three pot pies, four massive helpings of potatoes, and two pieces of garlic bread. When Molly brought out the chocolate cake (y/n) nearly fainted.

“Molly, I mean this honestly, stop being such a good cook,” she said finishing her second slice of cake. “It’s unfair to everyone else. Not only to other cooks but also to those of us eating it.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that!” Molly blushed.

“I agree, Molly. You’re one of the best masters of the kitchen I’ve ever met.” Remus wipes chocolate from the side of his face. “(Y/n), I don’t mean to embarrass you but you’ve got frosting on your chin.”

“Yeah, I’ll get it in a second. I’m stuffed.” she leaned back in her chair, a smile on her face. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this full. It’s fantastic!”

“What, did the Malfoy’s not feed you?” Ron asked.

“No, they did, I was just kept on a very strict diet. Except for a couple of times when Lucius was teaching me how to survive in the forest with nothing.” Everyone looked at her confused. (Y/n) rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’m going to say this once, and only once. Don’t feel bad or whatever about how I grew up. Life is unfair, get over it.”

“Kids, how about you all go to the parlor room?” Molly suggested, gathering up their empty plates. “I think Remus and Sirius want to have some quality time with our guest.”

The children all quietly left, mumbling quick “goodbyes” and “good nights” to the adults as they left. Molly went to the kitchen, taking all of the empty plates and dirtied cups with her. Remus got up and shut the door to the hallway while Sirius closed the one to the kitchen.

“Did I do something wrong?” (Y/n) looked at the men nervously.

“What? No, you aren’t in trouble, (y/n).” Remus chuckles, taking his seat. “We just wanted to see how you were liking your new room, besides you still need a tour.”

“Want anything to drink?” Sirius asked, pouring himself a glass of wine.

“I’m fine, thanks.” she shakes her head. Sirius shrugs and sits down, taking a drink of his wine. “It’s a nice room. I’m still not completely used to it, it’s only been a few hours after all.”

“Are the decorations to your liking?” Sirius inquired.

“Yeah, they’re great… I’m sorry I feel like I did something wrong still.” (Y/n)‘s eyes darted between the men.

“I’m being honest, you’re not in any trouble,” Remus reassured her, offering a comforting smile. “Now, while Sirius finishes his drink, would you like me to give you a tour?”

“Uh, sure.” (Y/n) stands up and follows Remus to the hallway. He passes the stairs and turns down another hallway.

“This is the way to the first-floor bathroom, two of the guest rooms, and the laundry room,” Remus explains. “Now if we go back this way,” he leads her to the hallway in front of the stairs connecting to the dining room. “I’m sure you can tell that that’s the front door.”

“Well the extreme barrier spell in front of it might be a bit of a clue,” she says sarcastically. “You know, that or the coat hangers and shoes next to the door might also give it away.”

“Right, well to the left of the front door is the living room, then you’ve got the music room, the parlor room, and your first restricted room.” Remus points at each doorway. “There’s also a cleaning closet right under the stairs I forgot to mention.”

“Do I get to know what the “restricted room” actually is, or do I get to put it together myself?” she asks

“It’s an old room that’s falling apart, to be honest.” he sighs. “It was stuffed full of old furniture and tools.”

“So it’s just a mess? Lame, I was hoping you were doing some cool experiments.” (Y/n) looked genuinely disappointed. Remus chuckled and headed up the stairs, (y/n) following behind him quickly. She tripped on the top step, reaching for the railing on the wall to catch herself she instead pulled a curtain off of a portrait.

“YOU FILTHY HALF-BREED! YOU BLOOD TRAITORS!” the woman in the painting started screaming at the top of her lungs. “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! OUT ALL OF YOU!”

“Fucking hell, shut up, Mother!” Sirius shouted, running up the stairs and quickly covering her with the curtain once more. “For Merlin’s sake, she never changes.”

“That was your…” the young woman trailed off, confused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, wake her?”

“It’s not your fault, (Y/n).” Remus helps her up, gently dusting off her shoulders. “You didn’t trip on purpose, and you also didn’t know about her portrait. We keep her covered, otherwise, she just yells.”

“I think I’m going to go to bed early tonight. Suddenly sleep sounds very pleasant.” Sirius flashes a quick smile and pushes past the two others. “Goodnight to the both of you. (Y/n) if you need anything later, feel free to knock.”

“On that lovely note, let’s continue.” Remus turns and begins walking. (Y/n) stays frozen in place, her eyes flicking from the portrait to Sirius’s door as he disappears. “(Y/n)? Are you coming?”

“Do I sound like that?” she asked quietly, not looking at him. “Do I sound that, that cruel?”

“What?” Remus was taken aback. “(Y/n), Sirius’s mother and you are nothing alike. Not really, sure you’ve said a few similar things, but that’s as far as that goes. She was cold, all the way through. Nothing Sirius ever did could please her, not that she ever really wanted to be pleased. She refused to listen to anything other than her own twisted opinions.

“You’ve met Bellatrix before I imagine? She was a lot like her, angry at the world and in love with destroying anything she couldn’t have. She was a follower of your father, a devout one too. Pulled Sirius’s brother into it too.” Remus paused. “Don’t tell him I told you anything about his brother though. It’s a touchy subject.”

“I still don’t see how I’m any different.” she frowned.

“(Y/n), you’re standing in front of me, a werewolf, and having an actual conversation. You’re changing, whether you mean to or not, it is happening.” Remus places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’ve had these ideologies forced down your throat, literally branded into your brain since you were an infant. Of course, you’ve said and probably done a lot of horrible things, but you’re not entirely at fault. You’re learning still.”

“I guess.” she sighs. “Let’s just continue the tour.”

“Well, let’s finish this floor for the night, and then you can go to bed. There’s a room that Sirius wanted to show you with me.” Remus continues, showing her the bathrooms, the other bedrooms, and the small dusty library that needed a lot of TLC.

Remus ended his small tour by walking (y/n) to her room door, bidding her goodnight and good dreams before going into his own bedroom. She was just about to enter her room when she heard someone whispering down the hall. She poked her head out but saw no one in the vicinity. Very carefully and quietly she tip-toed closer to where she believed the voice had come from. A floorboard creaked just outside of Sirius’s room, making her freeze in place, patiently listening for footsteps.

After what seemed like forever, (y/n) decided it was safe enough to continue. The whispering seemed to get slightly louder the closer she got to the darkest part of the hall. She passed by a few sleeping portraits, being as careful as possible not to disturb them. Her only source of light anymore was the faint glow from the hallway behind her and the barrier spells pulsating as she got closer to where she probably wasn’t supposed to venture. Suddenly instead of the reds through the greens of the barrier, she saw something surrounded by an electric purple, bright enough to make her squint.

Carefully, she reached forwards, lightly brushing the top of the strangely colored object. As soon as her fingers touched the cold metal she knew what it was; a hand-held mirror. Grasping the handle she turned it around so she could see her reflection, trying to make out what was being said. It wasn’t until she brought it up closer to her face that she noticed it wasn’t her in the reflection.

(Y/n)‘s blood ran cold, her breathing paused, and her face paled. It was her father in the mirror, looking directly at her, a smile on his face that didn’t meet his eyes whatsoever. She dropped the mirror like it was a hot iron, making a loud thud on the ground. She jumped backward hard enough to knock the lighting fixture off the wall. Sirius’s door swung open at the end of the hall.

“(Y/n)?” he called out, just barely seeing her at the end of the darkened hall. He quickly made his way to her. The closer he got the more he could see she was shaking. “(Y/n), what’s going on? (Y/n)?”

“I-I heard… I thought that-that it was just something old. I didn’t, I didn’t think he could do that.” she pointed at the mirror. “He was just, smiling at me.”

“You don’t mean… (y/n) please tell me you’re not talking about You-Know-Who.” Sirius reached for the mirror but she kicked it farther away.

“Don’t. I don’t know what he would do if he saw…you.” (Y/n) warned, doing her best to keep breathing. “I can, I can get rid of it. Maybe he doesn’t know, right? Maybe he thinks that I have a mirror in my… my cell?”

“(Y/n) look at me, please.” Sirius pleaded. “Please, tell me it wasn’t him.”

“I-I wish I could, I really, really wish I could.” she started sobbing uncontrollably. Sirius wrapped his arms around her, trying his best to comfort her. “He always knows, always!”

“Come on, let’s go somewhere else for a bit, okay?” Sirius helped her up, heading to his room. “Here, I’m going to go and get Moo-Remus real quick, you go in my room and make yourself comfortable okay?”

(Y/n) nodded, opening his door and entering the room. It wasn’t quite what she expected. It was messy, yes however it was more clutter than trash. Like he had too much stuff and not enough space. His bed was unmade, a pile of blankets on the floor next to it. There was a small desk with a lamp in one corner, papers and letters stacked on top. She sat on the old fraying chair next to the bed, grabbing a knitted blanket and wrapping it around herself.

She could hear Remus and Sirius talking outside the door. They were worried about what Voldemort possibly knew, what plans he might’ve heard, and how long he could’ve been listening for. They also were talking about (y/n), nothing she could quite make out, only catching a few words here or there. She tightened the blanket around her, bringing her knees to her chest. They walked in, Sirius hushing the other.

“(Y/n), are you okay?” Remus asked, his hands fidgeting.

“You think I knew, don’t you?” she accused. “You think I had something to do with… I just heard whispering and went towards it. If I knew what that was, I wouldn’t have even touched it.”

“Hey, no one is accusing you of anything,” Sirius said softly, stepping in front of Remus. “We’re worried about you, that’s all.”

“(Y/n), I didn’t hear any whispering when I left you at your room,” Remus told her, watching her eyes tear up slightly.

“I heard it, I swear!” she pleaded. “It sounded like someone calling for me at first, over and over. The closer I got to… to the mirror it got louder, but I couldn’t understand it.”

“Remus now isn’t the time for this,” Sirius warned. Remus nodded in agreement.

“Of course, you’re right Pads.” Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry (y/n), it’s just a lot to take in.”

“It’s fine.” she lied, plastering a fake smile on her face, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I’m fine, I think I just need some sleep.”

“(Y/n), it’s okay if you don’t want to be by yourself tonight,” Sirius tells her, confused by her sudden change in demeanor. She had gone from a sobbing mess to calm and collected in a matter of moments. “One of us can stay in your room with you if you want, or you can stay in here. Your choice completely.”

“No, I’m just being over dramatic again. I’ll be fine, truly.” she placed the blanket back on the pile, heading to the door. “I’ll just head to bed though, sleep it off.”

“Overreacting?” Remus quirked his eyebrow, looking confused at Sirius.

“Yeah, it happens sometimes.” she takes a deep breath, avoiding their eye contact. “Good night you two. Sorry to have bothered your rest.”

As quickly as everything happened she pretended it didn’t. She left both the men confused in that room as she went into her own, ignoring the sound of whispers further down the hall. She closed the door silently and immediately fell to the ground, doing her best to keep her composure. She forced herself onto her feet and flopped down on the bed, utterly exhausted from the day.

As tired as she was she couldn’t sleep, only seeing her father’s face smiling at her in the mirror whenever she closed her eyes. His teeth bared, almost laughing at her. It was almost enough to drive her mad. She curled up in a blanket, deciding to do her best to keep her eyes open.

~~{𝘌𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘚𝘪𝘹}~~

[moonmark98]

Hazbin Hotel Request Up For Grabs

Basically, this is a request for any struggling hazbin Hotel writer with writers block or run out of inspo, take this as a dotted area or use the whole thing it's up to you, just tag me please!

Trigger warning for hazbin Hotel themes (as it's a dark show in and of itself), it gets worse below the cut.

Reader (OR OC) is a blood demon. They aren't common and in all of Lucifer being down there, he's only seen 2 and they both died way before Charlie and the gang was around.

This ain't..accurate if it's a real (fictional) thing, this is all made up as well as powers and such but here's a rundown of my idea of a blood demon.

A blood demon is second most powerful to Lucifer. And cannot be binded by a contract in such a way that they are controlled by another. (These parts are unknown to all but Lucifer and the biggest boss in the sky. They can if they so chose, overthrow Lucifer which is why the angels make whatever existing blood demon their target for extermination.) The reason this demon is extremely powerful and considered deadly besides the obvious, is the fact they can manipulate others to their will by using their blood (or if the demons don't have it, whatever goes through their bodies) against them. Like making it boiling hot or ice cold or reverse flow or even stop entirely. Which you'd think wouldn't hurt the demons, but the blood demon can so easily prove them wrong.

The do have the ability to make contracts with others that benefit them. So maybe they enter a contract with Lucifer promising to not overthrow him or manipulate him so they get in power of hell. Because simply, this one could care less and doesn't want that responsibility. In turn, Lucifer politely asks the blood demon to live in hazbin Hotel to help Charlie (and keep an eye on em) and the demon is perfectly fine with that. Even though upon entering the doors, everyone feels extremely uncomfortable and scared for a reason they don't know but hide it.

When they ask how they got down there their response is simple

TW: Murder and cannibalism

They murdered people. Which you think is stupid if they didn't do it for no reason. But no, and this is what captures everyone's attention. They planned each and every murder down to the very bug in the area. They would move to a neighborhood, pick their victim. Friend the family in a neighbor way. Plan the death of one. Kill obviously. And then butcher them. Proceeding to bake pies and casseroles out of their body, and deliver it to the mourning family to "help them" and "show I'm here for you". That's why she's in hell. Because that's as bad as they get. Alastor is impressed and tries to befriend the demon but the demon doesn't care. It can be any hazbin character x reader. Do as you will with this. Enjoy. Hehe

[hannahwatcheshorror]

MAXXXINE (2024)

💁‍♀️Strong Female Lead

A stylistic departure from the first two films in the series but a good movie to be sure. More along the lines of a drama thriller, “MAXXXINE” strays far from its slasher roots (not that there isn’t gore and death in this film as well). A solid wrap up to the series (though you really only needed to watch “X” prior to this movie to really get Maxine’s PTSD), and one of Mia Goth's stronger performances (and not just because she was a strong female lead). 

TW Strobing Lights

⭐⭐⭐⭐.5

We meet up with Maxine, now blonde, and she’s going to be making her silver screen debut! Just as soon as she figures out who is murdering all her friends… And who knows about everything that went down in the events of “X” (or so they think they do). Special guest appearances by Halsey as a private dancer (/corpse), Kevin Bacon as a seedy PI, Giancarlo Esposito as an equally seedy but incredibly endearing entertainment lawyer, and Bobby Cannavale as a failed actor (ha) turned detective (/corpse).

Right away there is a big shift in Maxine's demeanor compared to the first time we meet her. There may be a flicker of fear in her, but it burns out quickly under most situations. Maxine takes full control by either telling the casting directors they should cast her because she is a star, having a gun on hand when she almost got assaulted/murdered in the alley and turning the tables on him, lacing her keys in her fingers and punching out the PI following her… 

Her humanity, failing as it may be, stretched thin by the life she has endured, seems intact. She is having PTSD from her adventures in “X” which are almost exclusively the cause of her fears (that and her past being discovered, possibly ruining her blossoming career). Enlisting the help of her trusty lawyer, Maxine gets Kevin Bacon to take a car ride he’ll never forget (honestly, he was just disappointed by the evening, crushed really). Maxine leaves that pesky murderer to herself though and heads up to just below the Hollywood sign, with the semi-hapless cops in tow.

After arriving at the death mansion, we are surprised to find none other than Maxine's Daddy Dearest, our good preacher man, has been the horrific murderer of every person in Maxi’s life. He says he wants to make her a star so he and his cult attempt an exorcism/ritual murder (depending on how fickle papa was feeling that evening) but the coppers come in just in time! Bullets abound but Big Papa sneaks off, the detectives tell Maxine to stay put but she is done being a victim.

Following the sound of gunshots and trail of blood, Maxine finds her pathetic pops lying on the ground and blows his bastard head off. Flash forward one month and she is living the good life, having fended off a murderer and being able to finish working on her movie. She says she doesn’t want the fame to end which could imply that she isn’t done killing (you know, the trauma begets trauma theory from the other movies in the series) BUT I think, due this being the last film in the trilogy, that this means Maxine just wants to keep acting now that she's made it onto the silver screen. She shouldn’t have to do anything to defend herself in the future (but she knows she is capable). They left it up for interpretation but I like to believe that Maxine was stronger than Pearl and is a survivor in more ways than one.

[seriously-nobody]

Love's Dark Afflictions

Chapter 2

Warnings: romance, murder, death, gore, blood, optional smut not depicted but there is a link if ur interested

Preface: No spoiling this one, just remember to check the warnings.

You and Florence start out at high noon, and ride in silence until you reach the river. The sun shines through the old oak trees and illuminates the leaves and Spanish moss in mid-afternoon orange. A cool breeze wafts delicious scents of pastries, breads, cakes, and pies, to your nose, telling you that you’re close. “Ah I always love the smells when coming here.” Florence says wistfully. “It is quite delightful.” You say smiling. Then just as you round a corner, you see the grist mill bakery, with its water wheel turning in the river beside it. You tie up your horses on a pair of unique looking hitching posts that have the head of a white stallion with a bit in its mouth as the hitch. You open the door for Florence and the doorbell rings as you open it and walk inside. “A customer!” A voice says from above you, and footsteps are heard walking over to a small spiral staircase. A smaller statured woman with ginger hair wearing a tattered old shirt and apron covered in flour, descends down the steps. “Ah, Florence, how nice to see you again. Oh, and who’s this looker?” She asks, looking at you. “Y/n L/n,” You say, taking their hand. “A pleasure to meet you.” You kiss the back of their hand with a smile. “Show off.” Alistair huffs at you with intense jealousy. “Oh my, well what can I do for you.” she says bashfully. “Just here for the usual order of pastries is all.” You say releasing her hand and leaning against the counter. Florence hands over the list to Mrs. Moonie and she reads it over. “I can get those out for you in just a moment.” She says with a wink and walks back to a large pie cabinet in the corner. “You didn’t tell me you were such a charmer.” Florence nudges you. “It’s a fine tool and I only use it when necessary.” You say looking at Florence through your eyelashes, making them blush and turn away for a moment. You giggle at their shyness and walk over to look at a bread rack. “Remember what you’re here for.” Alistair says. “The theatrics are for a reason, Alistair. If I charm them enough, they’ll bend to my every will.” You say under your breath, but you feel Alistair’s disbelief. “It would make it easier to kill them if they trusted me when I told them to pull off the road, would it not?” you whisper. “Ugh, I suppose it would.” Alistair huffs in defeat. “I understand your jealousy but I promised you would have fun later, did I not? By these means, you shall have it, just allow me to work.” you reassure him. “Fine.” He sighs. “Order’s all ready.” Mrs. Moonie says placing a wicker basket with a hinged top on the counter. “Ah, perfect.” Florence says, taking the basket. “I put an extra scone in there for the charmer.” She says giving you a wink. “Aww, you didn’t have to.” You say. “Don’t worry, I baked a few extra this batch anyway. But do come back when you can, I’d love to chat with you anytime.” She says. “Then expect me soon.” You say, opening the door for Florence. “Good evening Mrs. Moonie.” Florence says with a wave, walking out the door. “I’ll be seeing you, Florence.” she says and you close the door behind you. 

Florence ties the basket to the horse’s saddle while you untie your horses. The sun is almost upon the horizon when you get back on your respective horses and start out on the road again. “I suppose I lost track of the time, we should hurry back.” Florence worries. “Afraid of the dark? Don’t worry, the stable boy gave me a lantern.” You reassure them. The ride goes smoothly as the sun sets and you light a lantern for the path ahead. After quite a while, you come to a crossroads and stop the horses. “What is it?” Florence asks. “Which direction did we come from again? Was it North East or East?” You ask, pretending like you can’t remember the directions. “It was North East I believe.” Florence says. “Are you quite sure?” You ask, making her question her judgment. “Oh, now that’s clever.” Alistair says. “I- Well… I’m unsure.” She says. “I say we go east and if we find we don’t recognize the road, then we head back here and go north east.” You say. “A-alright.” Florence says, becoming more confused. You turn your horses in to the East and ride for about 30 minutes out until Florence breaks the silence. “I don’t think I recognize this road, I think we should turn back.” They say stopping their horse. “Hmm, I don’t recognize it either, but we aren’t turning back.” You say dismounting your horse and keep the reins in hand. “What are you doing?” Florence asks. “I hate to ruin your trust in me, but I’m the highway robber,” You say, taking out your black cloak and bowing with a flourish. “Well, not a robber, per say. All that I’m stealing is your soul.” You finish, taking your dagger out of your boot. Florence just looks at you dumbfounded and you take the reins of the horse so they can’t flee. “Get off the horse.” You demand in a tone you have never used or even heard before. “Oh, now this is what you were made for.” Alistair says. They dismount and begin to cry. “Ugh, stop your crying. It’s pathetic. And don’t make any attempts at running, I shoot to cripple, not to kill.” You say finally showing your true colors. You take the basket of pastries and toss it onto the ground so they spray out onto the road. With your dagger you carve the initials of a highwayman you heard about in the papers, JA for John Alexander, into the leather of the saddle on Florence’s horse and then let go of the reins. You slapped it and it reared back, neighing, then galloped off into the dark beyond. “W- What are you going to do to m- me?” Florence stuttered out between sobs. “Well whatever I do, you definitely aren’t coming back from it I can assure you that.” You say in a sort of reassuring way. You untie the rope from your bag and tie Florence’s arms together with it. “Alistair you may materialize now, if you’d like.” You say with a firm grip on Florence’s restraints. He materializes next to you from the top hat down. “You brought me such a cute little gift.” He says and you smile at him while Florence stares gaping at him, so you take a handkerchief out of your waist coat and tie it around their mouth while they have it open to keep them muffled. “I know no one would hear you this far out, but I don’t want any ringing in my ears when this is over. Now where should we start?” You ask, toying with the dagger in your hand. 

“How about the legs. Tougher to run while injured.” Alistair suggests. “Hmm. Very sensible.” You say, and almost in an instant you pull out your already loaded flintlock, cocking it, and shoot a hole through their left ankle. They scream in agony at the sudden searing pain and fall to the ground. They almost take you with them, but you let go of their restraints before they can. “Mmm,” Alistair hums beside you, “how I missed the screams.” Florence writhes on the ground in pain, face soaked from sobbing, and ankle at an unnatural angle now covered in fresh red blood. “They can still limp if they really want to escape.” You say displeased. “Let’s try the other one then, shall we.” Alistair suggests. You reload your flintlock with haste. “No, please, just kill me.” You kick their legs apart so you can get a good aim, “That would be a kindness.” You say and blow another hole, this time through their right knee and blood gushed out onto their clothes and the dirt. Florence cries again but then they grow quiet. “Sounds like they’re slipping away.” Alistair points out. “Oh no, you’re not leaving us just yet.” You say hoisting them up under their arms, making sure to only get blood on your cloak. You drag them to the side of the road, laying them against the base of a tree. They look at you through hazy and lidded eyes, like they’re about to faint from the pain and blood loss. “How should we finish this then? It’s not fun when they aren’t screaming and begging.” You say, mulling over all your options. “How about, the hatchet?” Alistair asks, and your ears perk up. “Well how was it for you?” You ask, intrigued. “It did take a few chops, my staff had terrible aim. But I’m sure you have a much better swing than those goons.” He says. “Might as well try.” You say and take a good swing at their throat and blood sprays everywhere, while making perfect contact with their jugular. It cuts clean through, just as Alistair said, and their head rolls off the end of the hatchet to the ground, and settles between their bloody legs. The rest of their body slumps back against the tree as the hatchet stays fully embedded in the tree. 

You breathe heavily as your heart races in your chest from the adrenaline, your eyes are wide, and your pupils dilated. You watch as a steady flowing cascade of blood gushes out from their neck and drenching the rest of their body below. Alistair stares at your face as you’re entranced by the sight of your crimes. “What?” You pant, feeling his eyes on you, but keeping yours on the corpse… the fresh one that is. But he doesn’t answer. He reaches out and turns your chin to him and his features portray a deep adoration. Slowly, he steps in close, cups your blood splattered cheek, pulls his arm around to the small of your back. “I love you more than murder, my dear.” He whispers and kisses you deeply. You take a moment to process but then close your eyes and lean into the kiss, finally openly accepting your love for him and not shying away from it. You coil your arms around his waist as he moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, smearing streaks of blood across your face as he does. It feels like he begins to levitate. With his cloak billowing in a ghostly wind, he dips you perfectly and it feels like the world falls away and you could live or die in this moment forever with him. He parts from you, and you gaze into his glittering golden eyes for just a moment more while he slowly floats back down. "You are more than I could've ever wanted out of life. It's just unfortunate it had to be after my demise." Alistair says, holding you close to him. 

Optional smut scene: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50721625/chapters/128128714

"We need to clean this up. Before a real highway robber finds us." You say, going back to your bag and grabbing the oil flask and lighter. You walk back to the decapitated cadaver of Florence Huet, take off your cloak, and lay it over their head. You pour out the flask over it, dropping the flask on it when it's drained. You grab your lighter but remember a very crucial detail. You turn to Alistair and take the dagger from your boot, "Stab me." You say handing the hilt to Alistair. "I beg your pardon?" He looks at you confused but intrigued at you. "I need to look like I've been a victim of highway robbery. Don't pierce anywhere vital though, I still need to ride back to the mansion." You say, and Alistair takes your dagger in hand with a mischievous grin. "Ah, understood." He says, and swiftly slices a thin but noticeable cut across your cheek. You hiss and hold your hand up to the cut. "I said stab me, not give me cuts!" You exclaim. "There needs to be signs of struggle." He says, and before you can retort he swipes your forearm. You thrash your head back. "Stop it." You grit your teeth. "If it doesn't look like you fought back then they won't believe that you got out alive." He says smiling wider and slices the back of your hand. "Enough!" You yell and try to get the dagger from Alistair. But as you step forward to take it, he buries the blade in your thigh. You still from the sudden stinging pain and your anger fizzles away into shock. "Don't worry, it only looks bad." He says, watching your face as he twists the blade so enough blood seeps out to soak your clothes. You cry out and grasp his shoulder to keep upright. He grins at the pained expression on your face and seems satisfied for now. "There, all bloodied up just as you wished. Unless you believe this isn't enough?" He asks, still keeping pressure on the dagger. "I think anymore, and William would faint." You whimper. Alistair pulls out the dagger swiftly and you wretch in pain. "Keep pressure on it so you don't bleed anymore, or you'll be the one fainting." He says, and you take a spare handkerchief and cup your hand over the wound. 

You turn back to your handy work with your lighter, spark it, and set the oil covered cadaver aflame. You limp back to your horse and struggle to mount your steed. "Need a hand?" Alistair asks mischievously. "If I can't mount my horse, they won't believe that I got away on my own." You say, and finally get atop your saddle. "There, now I need you to be completely dematerialized until I'm fully alone again." You say keeping pressure on your still gushing wound in your leg. "Yes, yes, I know." He huffs and dematerializes. You spur your horse into a full gallop with your good leg. For the rest of the ride, you think about how your performance will play out with William and Madame Leota as your audience. 

Optional smut internal dialog sequence: ^same link as above, just the next scene down^

Chapter 4

[atopvisenyashill]

I agree a lot with the anon talking about Dany and Viserys' death. I've always seen it as Dany's equivalent to Littlefinger's show trial (as a relative and abuser brought to a painful and unexpected end by someone else on their behalf), and she was decidedly less involved in it than Sansa. A good foreshadowing example instead is her reaction when Drogo talks about invading Westeros.

Still, I've also always felt that there's an indication for Dany's ending in there as well, though not how D&D intended.

They spent several seasons playing with the idea of Dark Sansa, but Littlefinger's execution is the absolute darkest she ever got. That's where her darkness ends; meanwhile, Dany's story started with it, and she just kept/will keep going down from there. The standards for Dany's MOs were never the same as the other main characters' (save Tyrion), which shows well how villainous she was meant to become when put side by side to the heroic characters.

wait because i JUST saw a tweet (one of my rhaenicent friends quote-tweeted to make fun lol) where someone was like "oh when dany tries to reclaim her seat it's all 'she must pay for the crimes of her family' but when the starks do it it's fine" and my friend was like "okay now talk about the crimes dany herself has committed!!" so i was just thinking about this lol.

because yeah like, a lot of the problem here is that so far as we are into the series, the only comparable crime any stark has committed to dany specifically was bran warging hodor and i dare say we are going to dig into the evil of that in his next chapters, the same way george took like, an entire book to delve into the moral and ethical ramifications of trying to rule over a city you just sacked in adwd. a lot of arya's kills are pretty cut and dry self defense with the exception of daeron the singer (icr how he spells his name it might not be that valyrian spelling), and she almost immediately loses her eyesight for that one, so it's sort of like, well, arya and bran are clearly on their way to Face Some Consequences, but their moral failings are also on a much more interpersonal level here than anything going on in dany's story (because.....that's the point imo, that dany affects so much without really thinking through what she's affecting; she is not the only character being used to make this point tho, just imo one of hte more prominent).

and beyond that, show wise, like you said, the most evil sansa gets is *checks notes* murdering the two men who have been regularly abusing her for years in a way that you could say was kinda overkill. is it great when you come at it from a political standpoint? no, it's not like, fantastic. and even though it is. just the dumbest shit especially because there are once again no repercussions for it, i DO very much dislike that arya was the one that did the Red Wedding 2.0/Rat Cook thing that Lady Stoneheart/Manderly are actually in charge for (which like, listen I love Manderly so so much but obviously murdering a couple of dudes and baking them into pies to feed to their family is not like, um, great from a moral or political standpoint). so while you could definitely argue that show arya is morally bankrupt on a similar level as dany - and you can do the same for jon snow too, because that absolute idiot just hands over the north to a lady he knows is a little fire and blood happy for what reason exactly?? - you can't argue sansa is, like point blank, or bran.

and ultimately, like, idc about the show lol when i'm discussing their actions i'm talking about the books and imo while everyone's story plays with morality and ethics and politics etc etc there are some characters who are pretty clearly sliding down morality wise early on - as you say, tyrion's mo is pretty regularly threatening to rape people, and then dany spends the last few chapters of her first book trying to rationalize war time slavery and rape, and then murders her slave to hatch some dragons. jaime throws a literal child out a window. cersei helps murder a bunch of other kids, gives innocent women over to be tortured to death, and doesn't even attempt to curb the abuses of sansa. and then you have sansa, who may or may not be knowingly poisoning sweetrobin - it's unclear but seems likely she just doesn't understand how dangerous the substances she's feeding sweetrobin are - and arya who commits a few murders in self defense, then kills one or two dudes in cold blood and faces immediate consequences. bran who is in the middle of an unresolved story arc where he's mind raping someone. arianne and asha both attempt to gain power and while there are some victims they're both taking pains to limit the amount of victims, and carry a lot of guilt for the damage they've done and are trying to atone for it, in their own ways. it's like...........idk feels like a slightly marked difference between some of these characters here. it's why i can't discount a bad ending for bran - obviously i want a happier ending for him, and i think it's foreshadowed to be likely but i'm not stupid, mind raping hodor is probably one of the worst things someone has done, morally, in this series on page, and I do think he's going to grapple with this substantially, in the same way that Dany will one day have to face the truth that she murdered MMD and Drogon harmed the little girl hazzea, and those deaths - and the deaths in Astapor, Meereen, and Yunkai - are something she needs to take into account as her war effort chugs along.

[hanzajesthanza]

toruviel appreciation post

Edge of the World, Pt. VI, description:

The elf standing over Dandelion had black eyes and raven hair, which fell luxuriantly over her shoulders, except for two thin plaits braided at her temples. She was wearing a short leather camisole over a loose shirt of green satin, and tight woollen leggings tucked into riding boots. Her hips were wrapped around with a colored shawl which reached halfway down her thighs.

The elf leaned over Geralt. She had long lashes, an unnaturally pale complexion and parched, cracked lips. She wore a necklace of carved golden birch pieces on a strap, wrapped several times around her neck.

He saw Toruviel lurch to her knees, blood pouring from her nose and mouth. The elf wrenched the dagger from its sheath but gave a sob, hunched over, grasped her face and dropped her head between her knees.

Edge of the World, Pt. VI, Dandelion's lute:

Toruviel turned to him with an angry grimace on her cracked lips. “Musician!” she growled. “A human, yet a musician! A lutenist!” Without a word, she pulled the instrument from the tall elf's hand, forcefully smashed the lute against the pine and threw the remains, tangled in the strings, on Dandelion's chest. “Play on a cow's horn, you savage, not a lute.” The poet turned as white as death; his lips quivered. Geralt, feeling cold fury rising up somewhere within him, drew Toruviel's eyes with his own. “What are you staring at?” hissed the elf, leaning over. “Filthy ape-man! Do you want me to gouge out those insect eyes of yours?” (...) The elf nodded. From her saddlebow, she took a lute, a marvelous instrument of light, tastefully inlaid wood with a slender, engraved neck. Without a word, she handed the lute to Dandelion. The poet accepted the instrument and smiled. Also without a word, but his eyes said a great deal.

Time of Contempt, Ch. 1:

Toruviel leapt to her feet, seizing and belting on her sword, and poked Yaevinn in the thigh with the toe of her boot. He had been dozing, leaning against the wall of a hollow, and when he sprang up he scorched his hand as he pushed off from the hot sand. ‘Que suecc’s?’ ‘A rider on the road.’ ‘One?’ said Yaevinn, lifting his bow and quiver. ‘Cairbre? Only one?’ ‘Only one. He’s getting closer.’ ‘Let’s fix him then. It’ll be one less Dh’oine.’ ‘Forget it,’ said Toruviel, grabbing him by the sleeve. ‘Why bother? We were supposed to carry out reconnaissance and then join the commando. Are we to murder civilians on the road? Is that what fighting for freedom is about?’ ‘Precisely. Stand aside.’

Lady of the Lake, Ch. 10:

The elves came closer. They looked even worse than the horses. Nothing remained of their pride, of their hard-earned, supercilious, charismatic otherness. Their clothing–usually even on guerrillas from the commando units smart and beautiful–was dirty, torn and stained. Their hair–their pride and joy–was dishevelled, matted with sticky filth and clotted blood. Their large eyes, usually vain and lacking in any expression, were now abysses of panic and despair. Nothing remained of their otherness. Death, terror, hunger and homelessness had made them become ordinary. Very ordinary.

An elf woman with long, dark hair caked together with congealed blood stopped her horse right beside the wagon. She sat in the saddle leaning over awkwardly, protecting an arm in a blood-soaked sling around which flies buzzed and swarmed. ‘Toruviel,’ said one of the elves, turning around. ‘En’ca digne, luned.’ Lucienne instantly realised, understood, what it was about. She understood what the elf woman was looking at. The peasant girl had been familiar from childhood with the blue-grey, swollen spectre, the apparition of famine, lurking around the corner of her cottage. So she reacted instinctively and unerringly. She held out the bread towards the elf woman.

The invalids on the wagon, until then petrified and frozen in their tracks, suddenly twitched, as though animated by a magic spell. Quarter loaves ofbread, rounds of cheese, pieces of fatback and sausage appeared–as if by magic– in the hands that they held out towards the elves. And for the first time in a thousand years elves were holding their hands out towards humans.

and her depiction in hexer, which i love, as they included her raven-black hair:

[aterovis]

Cav Crawford has a lot going on. He’s a college student. He has a side gig as a PI. Oh yeah—and he sees ghosts.

When four teenage boys disappear while ghost hunting but only one reappears days later (covered in blood and with no memory of what happened), the police point the finger at the boy. The boy’s parents hire Cav to prove his innocence, and it doesn’t take him long to realize he’s in over his head. To complicate matters, Cav unintentionally summons the ghost of his dead boyfriend, who can’t seem to move on.

As the investigation deepens, Cav unearths disturbing similarities between his current case and a decades-old murder-suicide. By the time he realizes the power of the dark forces at work, it’s too late—he’s caught the attention of the killer, and he’ll soon learn there’s more than one kind of death….

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[oh-no-a-whovian]

Like the dawn

Chapter 1

18+

Summary: Elizabeth wants to be like her father, or at least the hero she saw him as in the end. So, though she is scared, she goes to most hellish place on earth to help those in need. she realises she can’t do it alone, or maybe she just doesn’t want to.

Pairing: Elizabeth Comstock/ Dewitt x Bioshock, Big sister! reader

Word count: 4337

Warnings: nsfw, canon typical drug use and references, canon typical violence, blood, murder, needles, human experimentation, reference to orgy gone wrong, creepy children, abuse. Any others please tell me and I’ll update the warnings.

Masterlist PT2

These worlds value children, not childhood. They use them, warping them to their use, breaking them down until they bend to their will just to stop the pain.

She learnt that the hard way, tortured and trapped by the man claiming to be her loving father. All the while he preached about how he was doing it for her, saving her from sin.

She wonders if any versions of her was meant to be happy. Staring through the doors to her other lives, playing out over and over, their memories hers. Just one, that’s all she wanted, one life where she wasn’t sold by her father to erase his debts. A world where she was raised Anna Dewitt, where she had a loving father. Maybe even a world where her mother didn’t die in childbirth.                                                                                                                                                                          But as she looked through the doors to her alternate lives, all she saw was pain.

she's hoping that when she steps through and helps those in need, that she'll earn the happiness that is being kept from her.

She couldn’t sit by anymore, living day by day in Paris, pretending to be happy when all she feels is empty. Her father saved her from her imprisonment, and all she’s done is waste it, she can do it for others who have no one else.

Even with her conviction she’s nervous, especially after seeing and feeling what that place had done to another version of her. But that version only went there seeking vengeance, her heart angry and cold. She just wants to help, be the hero her father was before his wife died and he sank his life into gambling.

Her version of Booker never joined the horrible wars other versions of him did, he never even got caught up with the Pinkertons. He became a police officer, then a PI on his own terms. He couldn’t avoid the debts though, too many losses and too much to pay for, he just kept sinking further.

Elizabeth’s breaths are shaky as she straps the holster to her hip, her father’s revolver sat snugly in hands reach. Images of the nightmares that await her flash through her mind and once more she hesitates. What if this bout of altruism is only leading her to the same fate, death by drill wielding behemoth?                                                                                                     It doesn’t matter, she can’t be selfish anymore.

With one last glance around her apartment, she pulls the tear around herself, taking her to a place of nightmares at the bottom of the sea. Rapture.

She wishes Booker was still with her as the bleak truth of the city meets her head on. He always knew what to do and would be willing to do nearly everything to help.

Sea water dripping from unseen cracks and pipes meets her ears in a constant beat, breaking what would be a harrowing silence. Wherever she came through is dark and windowless, only a small beam of light creeping through a gap in the sliding door. It’s faint, barely even there, but flickers as things seem to pass in front of it.

She stumbles blindly toward the light, trying to ignore the awful smell that surrounds her, and the feeling of things around her feet. the door creaks as she steps closer to it, trying to open for her but dying after an inch or two.                                                                                                    

Nothing is gonna be easy for me with this is it?  she thinks as she peeks through the gap.

Vibrant coloured fish pass outside the window, their shadows cast across the space as they move in front of the headlight of a destroyed bathysphere. Giant cracks span the glass and for a moment Elizabeth thinks she should tear out of there. But none of the cracks are leaking, a layer what she can only assume is ice sealing them tight.

Though anxiety is gripping her, she starts forcing the door open bit by bit, grunting with the effort. She’s silently praying for no splicers to find her while she struggles, though who she’s praying to she couldn’t say, definitely not the god Comstock worshipped.

The smell assaulting her nose is so strong, making her gag the longer she’s in it. Now there’s more light in the room she glances around the space, bile rising up her throat at the sight of six rotting corpses lying around where she’d been standing only moments ago. Some have needles sticking out of their arms and the only two women are barely dressed, and she can’t bring herself to even try to put together what happened here.

With one final shove she gets the door open just enough for her to squeeze through, the automation slamming it shut behind her the moment she’s clear.

Neon billboards flicker in the darkness, barely illuminating the walls of the buildings they’re on. So much of the city is cloaked in darkness, almost seeming dead as it sits silent in the abyss. Only a few windows here and there have light, but they flicker, soon to die along with the rest.

Her gift tells her the truth though. Rapture is filled with bloodthirsty madness. In any one of those windows, any one of these halls, the spliced-up remnants of what could have been a beautiful city are lurking, seeking out their next high.

She understands that where those addicts hunt, the ones she seeks to save may not be far away.

She glances down the dilapidated hallway, filled with rubble and broken glass, so scared to make a move. She has to eventually; there’s no point waiting here for something to come along and kill her. There’s no going back home until she’s done what she came to do. Booker would know what to do.

~~~~

Y/N POV

The ocean is a comforting weight, cool and gentle as it envelopes you, caressing you with its push and pull. It reminds you of the caring embrace of someone you lost long ago, tender and affectionate.

The green light of your helm reflects back at you as you watch one of your little sisters walk through the ankle-deep water filling the path, your hand pressed to the thick pane of glass that separates you from the city. She’s on the trail, the scent of adam luring her toward an angel somewhere within the flooding halls. 

Her daddy stomps along behind her slowly, his movements sluggish and tired. His drill is becoming too heavy for even him to lift, and his hits are becoming clumsy each time he has to defend the girl. The last couple times they were attacked you had to step in to help, skewering the monsters that he could not. He’s dying and you know he can’t protect her alone anymore. It’s only a matter of time now.

You remember, though faintly, the same happening to your big daddy. As you grew older, he became weaker, until one day he just couldn’t do it anymore.    

The day he died, you watched as he protected you, guiding you into a vent one last time before falling to the hands of deformed splicers, monsters in your eyes. You’d cried all the way to safety, crawling through the vents that were becoming too small for you to use.

Only days later the preparations begun to make you as you are now. As strong as your daddy and just as ready to protect your sisters.

These days you latch onto that purpose. There’s no one around to give orders anymore.

Sophia Lamb abandoned her people, though she could be dead for all you know. She climbed into a lifeboat with her daughter, and you watched as they launched toward the surface. From there on was chaos, her followers killing each other for any little hit of adam they could get, killing remaining little sisters left and right.

Doctor Tenenbaum tried for some time to save them, get them out of Rapture and away from all the death. But eventually she left too, abandoning the last couple dozen girls as the city degraded. She cut her losses, not willing to risk herself anymore for the last few children. She took who she could save, and never came back. There’s only nine left of those that remained, and you’re doing all you can to protect them.

There’s barely anything habitable left, so much of the ruins of Rapture filled with sea water and fish. You feel helpless knowing that the city is growing smaller each day, and though your sisters are safe now, you know it will catch up eventually. Until that day, they have you and their daddies keeping them safe.

You’re the last remaining big sister that actually cares about them now. Your other sisters have all given up, killing each other over adam filled bodies floating in the ocean, just like the splicers that roam the city.

Some of your sisters even tried swimming to the surface, never to be seen again. You assume the ones that did died, the suits just aren’t designed for it, the pressure change is too much. With all the bathyspheres destroyed there’s no more ways to the surface. All there is now; is a slow death in the arms of the sea.

You frown as you lose sight of the little sister you were watching through the window, the adam leading her away from the windows. Wanting to keep her in your sights, you make your way to the closest airlock. You have to protect her, you only have so many sisters left, you can’t lose anymore.

You can’t imagine what your life would be without them.

You push away from the glass, your kicking legs pushing you toward the closest way back into the city. You use chunks of rubble and coral covered rock to pull yourself faster, hoping to have her back in your sights quickly.

You have to be ready to defend her, and you’re of no use out in the open ocean.

As your boots hit the steel floor of the airlock you flick the switch to drain the salt water, the doors sealing you in until it’s done. It’s only down to your shoulders when you hear high pitched screams permeating the reinforced door into the city, followed by echoing gun fire.

You can’t do anything until the water is out, but your heart is pounding in your ears as you shift wishing the door would just disappear, completely helpless. The cursed sea water is down to your ankles when the unmistakable sound of her big daddy dying reaches you, the wheezing of his last breaths giving visions of your own daddy dying.

You break into a sprint the moment the door slides open, allowing nothing to slow you down. You just hope you’re not too late to save her.

~~~~~~

Elizabeth’s POV

She didn’t realise just how destroyed the city is when she was looking through the tear, preparing to enter Rapture. But the deeper she goes, the more destruction she finds. Maybe her optimism showed her only the best. She did always think of her tears as a form of wish fulfillment.

She’s trying to be so quiet as she wades through knee deep water, soaking the bottom of her brown leather pants and hoping her heels don’t catch on something. She may be good at walking in heels but they’re hardly practical and she’s been cursing them since they got caught in a grate. Unfortunately, she owns no practical shoes.

She’d been searching for hours when she heard it, the familiar rumble sending terrified chills down her spine. She’s never seen or even heard one before, but one version of her had. And she paid the price for messing with it.                                      she can still feel the cold sting of the steel rebar that pierced her heart.

She almost went straight back home when she heard the deep groans of a big daddy echoing through the halls. Her heart nearly lept from her chest from the sheer fear she felt in that moment. Every step since then she has questioned her sanity, following the beast as the little girl he trails behind whispers of adam.

She’s finally found the first girl to rescue from this hellish city, and she has no idea what to do next.

Fallen pillars and debris is the only thing separating her from death now as she sneaks out of the shallow pool of water, crouched low and quiet. If she stood the rubble would only reach her waist. She can see glimpses of the big daddy through gaps in the shattered concrete, but she can only hear the little sister.

The girl is jamming her needle into a corpse lying in a shallow puddle, humming to herself as she draws the thick red adam filled blood. She whispers of angels and the adam in their blood, her daddy not moving an inch as her guards her.

She should have thought this through. Didn’t even come up with a plan to get the little ones away from their protectors. Dying to the first big daddy she comes across would make this whole attempt pointless.

Maybe I can… she starts to think but horrible laughter interrupts her planning. She can’t see them, but the sound of maybe six or seven splicers fill the air, coming from the other side of the rubble hiding her.

The first shot pings uselessly off the armoured protector’s domed helm, and his view port glows a rageful red as his little one screams, running behind him.

The splicer that shot first screams as he’s backhanded across the room, his skull cracking sickeningly loud as he slams against the wall with force, painting the concrete in blood.

Her heart stops when the revs of the big daddy’s drill fills the air, followed by several gunshots. The sound of bodies being torn apart by a giant drill is not something she ever wanted to hear again but here she is hiding as two deformed splicers are blended by the weapon. Viscera splatter across the walls and the faces of the remaining addicts, the barrier the only thing stopping it from covering Elizabeth too.

She can see through the gaps in the concrete and steel, the moment the splicers gain the upper hand. As the beast is distracted by two of his assailants, one manages to avoid his vision, sneaking up behind him so close she could touch him on the back. She raises a shotgun right up to his ribs and pulls the trigger.

The armoured giant stumbles, wheezing and gurgling as he tries to keep fighting. He swings his fist uselessly and his drill falls to the ground. The splicers cackle as they watch him die, trying to protect his little girl as she cries.

Elizabeth doesn’t give the spliced-up nut jobs a chance to even touch the little sister, pulling her father’s revolver from its holster, aiming for the closest splicer first. She rises from her hiding spot and with three quick shots the remaining splicers fall dead to the ground.

“Mister Bubbles!” the little girl cries as she races to her big daddy’s side. She tugs at his hand, but he doesn’t react, his body limp and lifeless. “Wake up, Mister B!”

As Elizabeth watches the poor little girl grieve, she wishes she could have loved her father this much. She barely even shed a tear when Booker died by her own hands.                                                    Though she’s not entirely sure the affection held between a little sister and her big daddy is actually real. It’s probably some fiction made up by those who created them.

“I’m sorry” Elizabeth says quietly as she approaches the child, her heart aching for the girl.                     Hesitantly, she reaches out, her fingers brushing against the little one’s shoulder before she’s yanking them back. The little one screams, attempting to scramble away. “it’s ok. I’m not gonna hurt you”.  

She was honestly surprised when the girl pauses at her words, tilting her head at her with a small smile forming. Just a little spark of hope fills the grown woman at the sight, but it’s quickly quelled by a terrifying high-pitched scream that seems to pierce her very soul freezing her in place.

It’s like all thoughts fly from her mind at the sound. She doesn’t even think to go through a tear, just stands in place, staring in the direction the sound had come from.

“Big sister is angry” the little sister whispers eerily as she hides behind the lifeless body of her big daddy.

The sound pierces the air once more, followed by heavy foot falls as whatever it is races full speed toward her.

“Please come with me little one, I can take you somewhere safe” she calls to the cowering child, finally breaking free of the paralysing terror that was holding her in place.

“it’s too late”.

She can barely hear the sound of the girl’s voice over her own racing heart as the form of the creature comes barrelling down the hallway ahead of her at almost unbelievable speed.

“Wait, I just wanted to help her!” she screams as she slams her eyes shut, turning her head away from her imminent death.

Only that death doesn’t come. The heavy footfalls have ceased, and no more screams fill the air. Apart from the ringing in her ear and her heart pounding loudly in her chest it’s almost silent. All she can hear now is the sound of breathing, just not her own.

Hesitantly she peeks her eye open, looking in the direction the thing was coming from. Her heart nearly stops right then at the sight that fills her vision.

Mere centimetres from her throat is a giant, nearly arm length needle encrusted with blood. And not far behind it her eyes meet the red viewport of what the little girl called ‘big sister’.

She can almost feel the eyes of the armoured woman studying her, never moving the needle from her throat. Her helmet is tilted almost curiously, and her hands twitch almost unnoticeably. Leather straps wrap around her arms and legs holding her weapons and armour in place. A leather sinch hugs tight around her waist, showing the curves of her body. A massive oxygen tank sits off centre on her back, beside it a bronze metal basket lined with deep green bows. On her other arm is a decent sized combat knife extending past her fist.

Slowly, with her fear rising in her body like bile, Elizabeth raises her hands, trying desperately to not seem like a threat. He knees feel weak as the child’s new protector moves the needle up, pressing it to her cheek so she’ll turn her head. The big daddy looked like it was slow and close to death, this big sister seems far from it. this protector could kill Elizabeth in the blink of an eye and they both know it.

“I just want her to be safe” she whispers, her voice wavering with the needle pressed to her skin. “Just like you” her voice was so quiet as she keeps her eyes locked onto the viewport, she wasn’t even sure the big sister heard her until the helmet tilts the other way. “I want to save her” she continues, hoping that unlike the big daddy, the big sister could be reasoned with.

She doesn’t move as she watches the big sister and the needle against her cheek. She wonders what she’s even looking for, though realises she’s probably looking for the deformities that cover most splicers. Elizabeth hasn’t touched a drop though; she hasn’t been in Rapture long enough and she has no interest in touching it regardless.

“I won’t hurt her” she pleads.

She almost sobs from relief when the terrifying red of the viewport watching her turns to a calmer yellow. She’s still on alert but not outright threatening, Elizabeth can work with that.                           The sharp needle drops from her face as the big sister steps back, her attention moving to the little sister and the big daddy lying dead beside her, and to the dead splicers.

After another minute a green light takes over the viewport, the sight of the little sister unharmed despite her protector being dead relaxing her further. The little girl is wiping tears from her eyes but isn’t actively crying anymore, instead watching what the big sister chooses to do.

Taking the green glow as silent permission, Elizabeth steps toward the girl, regretting it immediately as she’s met with the needle and red once more.

“Rapture isn’t safe for her anymore, if it ever was” she tries, begging the big sister to understand that she’s not gonna hurt her. “This city is falling apart. Soon it’ll be completely flooded, no one will survive…” She pauses, watching as the viewport shifts between her and the little sister. “You know she won’t survive.”

She seems conflicted and Elizabeth really can’t tell which way the big sister will choose. In the blink of an eye this protector could kill her, not thinking about it for another second as she leaves her there.

Without moving the needle this time, the big sister gestures for the little one to come closer. The girl fiddles with her own fingers but approaches, almost no hesitancy in her step, and her guardian kneels, lifting the girl into her spare arm, the needle not wavering as she pulls her close. The needle only falls once the child is secure on her hip.

Elizabeth is silent as she watches the big sister interact with the little one, wondering what she’s doing. She almost seems sad as she brushes her hand over the little girl’s hair, pushing it out of her face. The way the girl leans into her protector’s palm, the little smile on her face, it’s so loving.                                                       She questions again if it’s real or just programming though.

A bright light starts building under the big sister’s palm, seeming to flow into the skin and veins of the child in her arms. In a blink the girl looks normal, just like any other girl her age. Her skin is no longer a sickly grey, but a warm tan and her eyes are no longer glowing an eery yellow, instead a beautiful amber. She looks human and healthy again, the things that made her a little sister seemingly gone.

Hesitantly the guardian lowers the girl to the ground, her thumb grazing the child’s cheek one last time before she nudges her toward Elizabeth. She wishes she knew what she was thinking. From what little she can tell the decision was hard, and she clearly cares for the girl.                                                                                      

Despite the shock flowing through her at the sight, she offers her hand, and the little girl takes it without hesitation. She’d honestly thought the big sister would just kill her, not do half the saving for her. she’s glad though, cause once more she’s been reminded that she came woefully unprepared. She had no idea how to cure the girl once she got her out of Rapture.

“Thank you” the little one smiles at her protector. Her saviour.

She doesn’t say a word, her viewport sitting on yellow from the moment the girl took Elizabeth’s hand. she clearly didn’t want to let the girl go, but she’s smart enough to know it’s for the best. This girl would have eventually died here, sooner rather than later.

“I’m going to take her somewhere safe” she tells the big sister, though she really should just disappear before she changes her mind. “And… I will be coming back for any others…” only silence meets her words, but maybe… “I could use your help if you….” she starts, frowning as the armoured woman turns away, disappearing down the hallway. “Or not” she sighs, opening a tear around her and the child.

Her heart finally relaxes as she breathes the fresh surface air. Wind ruffles through her hair and streetlights fill her view. The street is silent with only a few people passing, heading home or maybe looking for somewhere to get a drink. She lost track of time down in Rapture, the moon hanging high above. It was over Paris when she left.

 A few metres away from where the tear left her is a police station, watching over the beach of the coastal American town.

The little girl, with her hand still holding tight to Elizabeth, gasps as she takes in her new surroundings. Does she remember anything about the surface? Elizabeth had guessed that all the little sisters now are from the surface, doubting that any children have been born in Rapture in a long time. 

“I need you to do something for me, ok?” she asks kneeling before the girl who hesitantly nods. “I need you to go in there and ask for help” she says, pointing to the police station.

“Are you gonna save big sister too?” the child asks, her innocent question making Elizabeth pause.

“I don’t know if I can.” She doubts the big sister would even want to be ‘saved’ let alone able to be. She isn’t even sure how human she is. She understood that the girl needed to get out of rapture, but how much else does she understand?

“She used to be like me, she needs saving too” the girl frowns.

Even after all this little girl has been through, she’s still full of hope and love. Elizabeth hopes that with all the trials coming this girls’ way, she’ll still have that innocence by the end of it. just to spite the bastards that did that to her.

“I can try” she smiles. Without another word she sends the girl on her way toward the station, waiting until she’s inside before opening a tear back to Rapture.

It’s a sweet idea, saving the big sister along with the little ones and though she doubts she’ll go for it, she can’t help the idea that maybe she can save her. she could get her out of Rapture, just as Booker got her out of that tower. Maybe she can get her to help.

A/N: So I wrote this for me but you all can enjoy it too 😊 not sure how many chapters I’m planning but I have a decent bit already written in a couple note books.  Updates may be slow cause I’m working on too many things. Remember! Like and reblog to share the love!!!

[mischiefxmuses]

hw event 15 plot call! hit the like button for plots. (Will do a starter call at a later time). I'll message within the next few days.

Probably going to drop a lot of pre-event stuff so I can keep track of what is going on. If there is a thread you definitely want to keep going let me know.

The plot suggestions are only suggestions they can be anything else or developing one of them.

One - People randomly killing each other? No one knows who? Henry is enjoying the chaos and just going to sit back and observe. The way humans work is fascinating to him. He is in a comfortable place but since being free from the lab he is always keen to observe.

potential plots: enjoying the chaos, trying to get him to help, accusing him of being a murder given his past, causing more trouble because funny, bouncing theories off each other, finding your muse dead (if they get murdered). finding him dead or injured (if he gets murdered.) He is open to being injured.

Angel - Angel is a PI so he is going to be very invested in trying to figure out what is going on. Putting a pause on trying to make his soul permanent to help those who need help. But he will need to be careful about not letting Angelus get to close at the sight of blood and death.

potential plots: trying to solve it together, him saving your muse, him holding onto his humanity, finding your muse dead (if they get murdered). finding him dead or injured (if he gets murdered.)

Billy Loomis - This is Billy's jam. He is finding every moment hilarious. He is enjoying the fear everyone is feeling and wants to join in the fun. He might want to take this opportunity of chaos to add to the chaos.

potential plots: accusing him of being a murderer, being tormented by mr ghostface, bouncing theories off each other, causing more chaos, finding your muse dead (if they get murdered). finding him dead or injured (if he gets murdered.) He is open to being injured.

Charles Xavier - Charles is so over all of this. Why can there just not be some peace for longer and why does it always go to people killing each other. He will be trying to help as must as possible. Anyone who might need him. He is going to try to solve it but the magic is blocking his mind of who the murderers are.

Potential plots: seeking refuge in his school, charles helping your muse, finding your muse dead (if they get murdered), helping him try to sort out what is blocking his abilities. finding him dead or injured (if he gets murdered.)

Cleo Mckinnon - She is going full survival mode, she will not be a victim of anyone and going to find her whole family. A woman on a mission. She is not to be messed with. She will also be wanting to stay close to Thor to make sure he is okay.

Potential plots: helping her look for her family, a fight with a death eater, fighting off a potential killer together, finding your muse dead (if they get murdered), saving your muse. finding her dead or injured (if she gets murdered.) She is open to being injured.

Cordelia Goode - She is the supreme witch bitch. She is over all this chaos but will be doing what she can to help out. Whatever she can do with her powers to help and create safe spaces for people to recover or hide. She will be trying to solve the mysteries.

potential plots: being saved by her, helping her investigate, seeking refuge in her school, starting a fight with her because everyone is on edge, finding your muse dead or injured (if they get murdered). finding her dead or injured (if she gets murdered.) She is open to being injured.

Dream - People killing each other is not his business. But he is concerned that this sort of thing keeps happening, so he will be keeping an eye and ear out to see if he can find out what is going on. He will also be keeping an eye on Hayley and her family to make sure they are okay. But he is keeping his distance.

potential plots: Being saved by him, bouncing theories off of him, suspecting him cause he is not the warmest person, finding your muse dead or injured (if they get murdered), just trying to avoid the chaos. finding him dead or injured (if he gets murdered.) Getting into a fight with someone.

Fleur Delacour Weasley - She will be going anything to find her children and Bill. Making sure they are safe is her priority. But she will help people along the way if they need her. She is going to be pretty cautious with everything going on, only trusting the people she knows.

potential plots: helping her look for her family, someone who gets too close and she suspects, saving her, her saving your muse, finding your muse dead or injured (if they get murdered.) finding her dead or injured (if she gets murdered.) She is open to being injured.

Galadriel - The darkness is never far from her heart so she is trying to find the source of what is causing people to kill. She is concerned it is Halbrand. She will be worried about Will and wanting to protect him as well. She is ready for action.

potential plots: helping her on her quest, someone she helps, someone she suspects, finding your muse dead or injured (if they get murdered or hurt). finding her dead or injured (if she gets murdered.) She is open to being injured.

Harwin Strong - He will be doing everything in his power to keep Rhaenyra and the boys safe, including Luke. He will be very untrusting of everyone. He will do anything to keep his family safe from anyone who is a threat.

potential plots: someone seeking refuge in his home, someone he helps, someone he gets in a fight with, finding your muse dead or injured (if they get murdered). finding him dead or injured (if he gets murdered.) He is open to being injured.

Hunter - Just give this poor man a break! He has been through the wringer... let him be! But of course he is Chief of Staff for the military so he is working, getting the army moving to patrol the streets, trying to find out what is going on. But he will be keeping in close contact with Rowena, Omega and his brothers. He is not losing anyone else. His heart cannot take it.

potential plots - someone in the army, someone coming to him for help, saving your muse, finding your muse dead or injured (if they get murdered.) finding him dead or injured (if he gets murdered.)

Iorveth - He is an army sniper so he will be on duty, with his gun but also his bow and arrows at the ready. He doesn't want to get involved really with people's own affairs but it is his job to follow orders (as much as he doesn't like it) but will making sure Padme is alright and safe.

potential plots: someone who suspects him, someone coming to him for help, fellows in the army, saving your muse, finding your muse dead or injured (if they get murdered). finding him dead or injured (if he gets murdered.) He is open to being injured.

Jorah Mormont - He is a detective, so figuring this out is his job. He will be working hard to solve the mysteries and save people. While also keeping Daenerys, Drogon, Viserion and Lyanna safe. He won't be able to let the mystery go until he solves it.

potential plots: fellow detectives working the cases, someone he saves, someone coming to him for help, someone he brings in for interogation, finding your muse dead or injured (if they get murdered). finding him dead or injured (if he gets murdered.) He is open to being injured.

Kirby Reed - She is FBI so she will be trying to solve the mystery. Of course she suspects any of the ghostfaces. She shes any of them she is likely to shoot on sight, not to kill but to slow down to arrest and bring back to any police station. She is not taking chances with them. She will also be immediately checking in on Randy, Tatum, Sidney, Sam, Tara and Dewey to make sure they are alright.

potential plots: fellow law enforcers, a ghostface she arrests and interrogates, someone to comes to her to help, finding your muse dead or injured (if they get murdered), finding her dead or injured (if she gets murdered.) She is open to being injured.

Loki Laufeyson - Loki is very intrigued about what is going on. Its chaos and mischief. Its what he is but he will be doing what he can to avoid suspicion because he cannot be bothered with the questioning. So keeping a low profile but likely quietly watching and adding in some harmless tricks.

potential plots: harmless pranks with Loki, suspecting him because of who he is, being saved by him, starting a fight with him, seeking refuge in the museum, finding your muse dead or injured (if they get murdered), finding him dead or injured (if he gets murdered). He is open to being injured.

Peter Hale - Peter is not worried or scared, he is an alpha if someone tries to come after him they're getting the teeth. But he will be focused on protecting Bev, Malia, Stiles, Derek and Cora. He will be focused on them.

potential plots: helping him find his family, getting into a fight with him, suspecting him, being saved by him. Finding your muse dead or injured (if they get murdered), finding him dead or injured (if he gets murdered). He his open to being injured.

Rabastan Lestrange - This is muggle business. He is not getting involved. If they want to go ahead and kill each other then better for him. Less to worry about. He will be continuing his day, but keeping in close contact with Cissy. Just in case someone tried something stupid.

potential plots: someone suspecting him, seeking refuge in his pub, sitting it out at his pub, trying to bounce theories off of him. Him finding your muse dead or injured (if they get murdered). Finding him dead or injured (if he gets murdered). He is open to being injured.

Satine Kryze - There is a reason she is rethinking her pacifist ideals and it's this stupid city. She has had to bring her blaster back out and carry it just in case. She will protect those she cares about and will try to figure out what is going on. She will not let innocents suffer.

Potential plots: someone she saves, someone who saves her, someone she is suspicious of, someone who suspects her, finding your muse dead or injured (if they are murdered), finding her injured or murdered (if she is murdered). She is open to injury

Silco - Silco's focus will be on making sure Jinx is okay during all this weird stuff happening, as more reports of people dying come in he will be in full protective mode. Also looking for Sarra. He will not shy away from showing his strength and speed in this time around. He will fight back.

Potential plots: someone who accuses him, someone saved by him, someone who gets into a fight with him, someone trying to deduce theories, finding your muse murdered or injured (if they are murdered).

Sion Val Palpatine - Sion is not going to be anyone's victim. He refused to be weak and need his big brother protecting him. So he will be in full army mode, gun in hand and ready to fight anyone who tries anything while keeping an eye on Ashley and his family. He doesn't want to lose anyone again. He might go fully mad if he does.

Potential plots: someone who accuses him, someone saved by him, someone who saves him, someone who helps him look for ashley or his family, someone trying to find theories, finding your muse dead or injured (if they are murdered), finding him dead or injured (if he is murdered). He is open to be injured.

Tenel Ka Djo - After what happened last time people were dying with Jacen and Allana, she is not sitting back. Someone comes near their family and they are history. She is not taking risks with her family's safety and first priority is finding them. Even if Allana wants space. And Jacen, she wants to make sure he's okay. But she will be trying to figure out what is going on, who it is.

potential plots: someone she has been assigned to protect, someone saved by her, someone trying to figure things out with her, someone who starts a fight with her, finding your muse dead or injured (if they are murdered), finding her dead or injured (if she is murdered). She is open to injury.

Percy De Rolo - Percy was really hoping for calm with Vex. Not expecting to be worried that someone would just turn up and kill him or someone he cared about or that he might be over taken again by magic and kill. Orthax still a very fresh memory for him but he is also Percy De Rolo. He will be there to help people, his pepperbox at his hip and his shotgun as well. He might be struggling a bit.

Potential plots: someone saved by him, someone who helps him while he struggles, someone who accuses him, finding your muse dead or injured (if they are murdered or injured), finding him dead or injured (if he is murdered). He is open to injury.

Yennefer of Vengerberg - Being USSS she is working and will do what she needs to in order to protect. And she will. Her magic at the ready at all times for whatever reason. If it wasn't for her job she'd most likely be sitting this out in her apartment or with Geralt and Jaskier but nope she is saving other people.

Potential plots: someone she saves, someone she was assigned to protect (government employees only), someone who accuses her, finding your muse dead or injured (if they are murdered or injured), finding her dead or injured (if she is murdered). She is open to injury.

Fa Mulan - As special ops she has been put into action. She is doing what she can to solve this. She will do what she can to protect the people of this city. She won't stop.

Potential plots: someone wanting to join special ops, someone helping her in her work, someone arrested by her under suspicion, finding your muse dead or injured (if they are murdered or injured), finding her dead or injured (if she is murdered). She is open to injury.

Lyanna Stark/ Targaryen - She had just come from fighting and war back home. Losing people she loved due to fighting and murder. She is not keen to let that happen again. She will be also doing what she can to figure this out and solve the mystery.

potential plots: someone helping her to solve the mystery, someone she accuses, someone she helps, someone who saves her, finding your muse dead or injured (if they are murdered), finding her dead or injured (if she is murdered). She is open to injury.

Bones - Bones is a doctor, his job is to help people and save them. He will be working at the hospital most of the days because well he is always working. It is not his job to solve these mysteries, only to save the people affected.

potential plots: someone brought to his hospital injured, someone who wakes up in the hospital as his patient after dying, someone he brings to the hospital from the streets, finding your muse dead or injured (if they are murdered).

[cyarsk52-20]

That smile, those hips, mom on the hit list And the perfect nickname too: sweetie pie. ...he is exactly where he needs to be for life!

He’s gonna be a great girlfriend in prison and he’s got the hips to match.

But seriously I feel so bad for his mom. But if he committed the crime (which as it was proven by the court he did) he deserves to be lock up. God Bless Ms Robbie. Tim wash that stupid smile off your face. You are Guilty.

Home

Court Case

'Sweetie Pie's' Star Tim Norman Sentenced To Life For Murder

Throw Away The Key! Sinister ‘Sweetie Pie’s’ Slayer Tim Norman Sentenced To Life In Prison For Nephew’s Murder-For-Hire

Posted on March 3, 2023 - Bylexdirects

Murder-for-hire mastermind Tim Norman will spend the rest of his life behind bars for killing his own nephew in a conspiracy that rocked the Sweetie Pie’s empire.

Source: MADISON COUNTY, MISSISSIPPI DETENTION CENTER / Official Mugshot

Last September, the former star of Welcome to Sweetie Pie’s was convicted of orchestrating the murder of his nephew Andre Montgomery Jr. A federal jury found Norman guilty of conspiracy to commit murder-for-hire, murder-for-hire, and conspiracy to commit mail and wire fraud.

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2 More Plead Guilty In Murder-For-Hire Plot Of ‘Sweetie Pies’ Star Andre Montgomery, Tim Norman Vows To Fight

‘Sweetie Pies’ Star Miss Robbie Montgomery Says She ‘Can’t Abandon’ Her Son Despite His Alleged Murder For Hire Plot Against Her Grandson

‘Sweetie Pie’s’ Shooter Pleads Guilty, Implicates Reality Star Tim Norman In Hiring Hitman To Kill His Own Nephew

According to PEOPLE, Norman was sentenced to life in prison for arranging the fellow shooting and a scheme to collect almost half a million dollars in life insurance.

Tim Norman Received Two Life Sentences For “Cold-Blooded Execution” Of His Nephew

U.S. District Judge John A. Ross gave Norman two life sentences for “a cold-blooded, incredibly premeditated, planned execution of your nephew.”

Tim Norman sought to make $450,000 by having his nephew, Andre Montgomery, killed. Instead, he was caught and will spend the rest of his life in prison. Although Andre’s family was robbed of their loved one, hopefully this result will provide some measure of peace and justice for them,” said U.S. Attorney Sayler A. Fleming in a press release.

Fans of the Sweetie Pie’s show will remember the aftermath of Andre’s tragic death playing out on the OWN program. The pain was unbearable for Norman’s mother, Sweetie Pie’s founder Robbie Montgomery, who lost Norman’s father and brother (Andre’s father) to violence. Now Ms. Robbie has lost another son and 21-year-old grandson to greed in this 2016 shooting.

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Norman didn’t speak on his behalf at the sentencing hearing, but his attorneys submitted letters from family and friends requesting leniency. Despite the damning evidence against Norman, Ms. Robbie pleaded for her last surviving son.

“I don’t know whether Tim did what he was accused and convicted of. He is still the baby that I bore, and I love him as every mother involved loves their child,” Ms. Robbie wrote in her letter.

Since his arrest in 2020, Norman maintained his innocence in the heinous crime. He even Norman blamed “corrupt cops” for arresting him in retaliation for Black Lives Matter protests. Although the 43-year-old didn’t pull the trigger, he pulled all the strings to kill his nephew and collect a huge payday from the family tragedy.

Tim Norman portrayed one image to the public, but there were more sinister intentions lurking underneath. And the measure of someone’s character is what they do when they think no one is watching.  When he thought no one was watching, he planned the execution of his nephew and carried it out, ” said Assistant U.S. Attorney Angie Danis at the sentencing hearing.

Tim Norman Still Takes No Accountability Despite Co-Conspirators’ Confessions

Travell Anthony Hill plead guilty to shooting Andre for $5,000 and received a 32-year sentence. Terica Taneisha Ellis was sentenced to three years in prison after admitting Norman paid her $10,000 to lure Montgomery to Hill. Insurance agent Waiel “Wally” Rebhi Yaghnam got a three-year sentence for helping Norman apply and file claims for multiple fraudulent life insurance policies on Montgomery.

“Five families, especially that of the victim, are suffering and irreparably harmed as a result of Norman’s plot to have his own nephew murdered,” said Special Agent in Charge Jay Greenberg of the FBI. “At least all his co-conspirators have accepted responsibility. To this day, Norman hasn’t accepted responsibility despite the fact 12 jurors unanimously convicted him after seeing and hearing seven days of evidence in trial.”

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A post shared by Tim Norman (@the_timnorman)

Last week, Norman used the same excuses debunked by the evidence and confessions from his co-conspirators.

Thank you for all the prayers. I’m still in disbelief. The feds know 100% I did not do those insurance policies. But the jury didn’t get to hear that. And not one person got on the stand and said that I told them to hurt my nephew. They destroyed my name and image so you guys wouldn’t search for the truth,” he wrote on Instagram.

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Categories: Court Case

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[rockislandadultreads]

New Title Tuesday: Mystery

Last Seen in Lapaz by Kwei Quartey

When a whirlwind romance leads to the disappearance of a young Nigerian woman and a dead body, PI Emma Djan resorts to dangerous undercover work to track her down in Accra.

Just as things at work are slowing down for PI Emma Djan, an old friend of her boss’s asks for help tracking down his missing daughter. According to her father, Ngozi was just months shy of graduating high school when she became secretive and withdrawn. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was be with her handsome new beau, Femi, instead of attending law school in the fall. So when she disappears from her parents’ house in Nigeria the middle of a summer night, they immediately suspect Femi was behind it and have reason to believe the pair has fled to Accra.

During Emma’s first week on the case, Femi is found murdered at his opulent residence in Accra, and Ngozi still has not been found. Fearing the worst, Emma digs further and discovers Femi was part of a network of sex traffickers in several West African countries. Migrants from Ghana and Nigeria are duped into thinking they are on their way to success and riches in Italy. But once there—if they even survive the grueling trip across the desert—they are manipulated into sex work with little chance of escape.

As successful as Femi was, he took advantage of nearly everyone he met, leaving a trail of enemies in his wake, all of whom had motives to kill him. The question is, which one of them did it? Not only does Emma have to hunt the killer down; she’s in a race against time to find Ngozi before she ends up in a pool of blood like Femi.

This is the third volume in the “Emma Djan Investigation” series. 

A Mansion for Murder by Frances Brody

1930, Yorkshire. Intrigued by a mysterious letter from a stranger offering important information, Private Investigator Kate Shackleton arrives in the mill village of Saltaire. At nearby Milner Field mansion, overshadowed by its reputation for misfortune and untimely deaths, she expects to meet the letter writer, Ronnie Creswell.

Kate soon hears the shocking news that Ronnie has been killed. At first his death appears to be a tragic accident at the mill, but soon it becomes clear that Ronnie's demise was no mishap. Kate is enlisted to help investigate the murder.

Kate moves into the tower rooms at Milner Field, as she tries to uncover resentments, industrial espionage, and old secrets in the close-knit village. Although she doesn't believe in curses, she wonders what sinister truth lies behind this latest in the litany of deaths connected to the infamous Milner Field.

Then just when things couldn't get any worse, a young girl in the village goes missing, and Kate must use all her strength and skill to unravel the mystery around the mansion once and for all...

This is the 13th volume in the “Kate Shackleton” series.

One Extra Corpse by Barbara Hambly

May, 1924. It's been seven months since young British widow Emma Blackstone arrived in Hollywood to serve as companion to Kitty Flint: her beautiful, silent-movie star sister-in-law. Kitty is generous, kind-hearted . . . and a truly terrible actress. Not that Emma minds; she's too busy making her academic parents turn in their graves with her new job writing painfully historically inaccurate scenarios for Foremost Studios, in between wrangling their leading lady out of the arms of her army of amorous suitors.

So when one of Kitty's old flames, renowned film director Ernst Zapolya, calls Emma and tells her it's imperative he meet with Kitty that morning, she's not surprised. Until, that is, he adds that lives depend on it. Ernest sounds frightened. But what can have scared him so badly - and what on earth does cheerful, flighty Kitty have to do with it?

Only Ernest can provide the answers, and Kitty and Emma travel to the set of his extravagant new movie to find them. But the shocking discovery they make there only raises further questions . . . including: will they stay alive long enough to solve the murderous puzzle?

This is the second volume in the “Silver Screen Historical Mystery” series.

Paris Requiem by Chris Lloyd

Paris, 1940. As the city adjusts to life under Nazi occupation, Detective Eddie Giral struggles to reconcile his job as a policeman with his new role enforcing a regime he cannot believe in, but must work under.

He's sacrificed so much in order to survive in this new world, but the past is not so easily forgotten. When an old friend—and an old flame—reappear, begging for his help, Eddie must decide how far he will go to help those he loves.

The notion of justice itself quickly becomes as dangerous, blurred, and confused as the war itself. And Eddie’s morale compass, ever on unreliable foundations, will be questioned again and again as the ravages of the German occupation steadily attempt to grind him—and the city he loves—into submission.

Negotiating a path between resistance and collaboration, he can remain a good man and do nothing—or risk everything he has achieved in a desperate act of resistance.

[memphisfaith]

Chapter 10: Pied Piper

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Fantasy Au

Warnings: Racial slurs, discrimination, torcher, death, murder, mentions of enslavement, kidnapping, mentions of suicide, attempted suicide.

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: There have always been tales of creatures in the world, all described in different ways. Some labeled as ruthless, others heroic, or even powerful. The world is filled with magic of all types and monsters of every kind. But there are whispers of family so great they could rival the heavens if tempted. A Legacy grown from love, heartache, and magic.

Through the coming months as the children grew, The Warlock Namjoon visited often. Jungkook and Jimin grew to mumble small words, Jungkook’s first word had been during one of Namjoon’s visits. The wolf child had babbled the word ‘joo’ when trying to refer to Namjoon as he walked away to fetch the child his food. When Jimin said his first word it had been a full word, when the small abstract family took time to play in the garden. The Witch had left him alone far too long for his liking despite just handing him off to Taehyung to care for Jungkook when he squealed ‘mama’. The Witch had nearly dropped Jungkook upon hearing the word.

The two boys eventually grew to crawl, then walk...or run in Jungkook’s case. The child started running before walking only stopping when he hit something or when the nearest person scoops him up before that could happen. Jimin had thankfully learned a bit slower, The Witch and her familiar took the time to teach him by holding him up and placing his little feet on theirs. Hoseok had found it amusing to waltz around the room with the small child on his feet, something Jimin had seemed to enjoy as well since his giggles and squeals could be heard all through the house.

As their mental development grew so did their physical features. Jungkook’s brown hair grew darker and he grew a tad bigger in size than Jimin. Jimin’s hair grew out and became fluffy as his small wings only grew a bit bigger, still not ready to grow to maturity. However both children still had their cute puffy cheeks, a feature The Witch hoped they would keep forever. Namjoon wished the same as well, after all he was far too amused with himself when he squished their cheeks together.

Namjoon often visited The Witch and her children, but sometimes The Witch took the children to him. On those occasions Namjoon and The Witch will take the two children to the small beach near the edge of his home and watch the children play in the wet sand. One time in particular when neither were paying too close attention Jungkook had managed to pick up a small crab and was seconds away from putting the creature into his mouth. If it had not been for Taehyung surely Jungkook would have succeeded and ended up with a snipped tongue. Needless to say, Namjoon had been quite unnerved by the possibility that one of his favorite little sea creatures might have become a small snack for the child.

By the time the two boys were six they grew into running around themselves as well as being able to form proper words and vague sentences. They also developed a sense of favoritism, much to The Witch’s dismay. Jungkook is far fonder of Namjoon than The Witch and far fonder of Taehyung rather than Hoseok. One of those was to be expected but the other caused a pinch of jealousy to stir in The Witch, something The Warlock noticed far too easily and took full pleasure in teasing her about it. Jimin however, grew more affections for The Witch and her familiar than The Warlock and Demon. The Witch expected such a thing when it came to Hoseok, he was after all, all too willing to prance around and dance with the child should a time present itself. Oddly enough The Witch didn’t expect the Fae child to grow fond of her, being Titania's blood and all, but a child doesn’t get to choose their kin, she had supposed as the child often clung to the end of her dresses and robes.

Namjoon’s familiar, Yoongi, is often a middle ground between the two for affections. Jungkook and Jimin being completely and utterly captivated by Yoongi Draconic form, despite Jimin’s understandable first hesitation. The Dragon spends a good equal time with both of them as he is Namjoon’s familiar and Jungkook favors Namjoon while Yoongi has certain affection for Hoseok which means he’s bound to spend time with Jimin. The Witch herself often finds herself enjoying the company of The Dragon as well, for he is older than she originally thought and possesses knowledge she enjoys indulging in. Taehyung finds a certain homeyness in The Dragon with his dark form, something Taehyung would rather not admit.

The Witch is thankful that nothing has threatened her children’s safety since Titana’s attempt to quril. That was until a rather unwelcomed character decided to visit the newly rebuilt town near her home. The town that Yoongi had burned down was rebuilt a year and half after its previous burning, this time the villagers didn’t mind magical beings coming in or out or even staying if they didn’t cause problems. There had been times that the new village chief called upon The Witch to remove a problematic being, at the price that she nor her family are to be executed. A price the chief was more than willing to pay. However the chief didn’t have to call upon her as this ‘problematic being’ came to town. 

It had only been a simple summer night when it all started, the children sound asleep in their beds tired from the trip home from Namjoon’s. The Witch herself had been tired and retired to her bed as well, later that night she broke from her sleep being awakened by the soft eerie music of a pan flute. A sound she knew all too well, The Witch flew from her bed and wrapped herself in her robe. She checked the children’s beds only to find them missing, panic sunk in as she knew he must have already had them in his clutches.

She then hurried to wake the sleeping demon and familiar, hastily telling them to summon Namjoon before she ran out her front door and into the dark swamp following the sound of the eerie pan flute. She heard them before she saw them, the sound of children giggling and singing lyricless songs. Only when she met a clearing did she see a fire with twenty or so children dancing around the pit of flames, oddly enough Jimin being the most graceful despite his age and Jungkook being the loudest to sing yet so small compared to the slightly older children.

The Witch tore her gaze from her sons to a boy, no more than sixteen but no less than thirteen, sitting on a stump blowing into a pan flute. The Witch glares at the deceiving looking boy, knowing he is much-much older than his looks. The Witch stood tall and she walked her way over to him, only when she’s right over him does the boy look at her. 

“Pan,” She greets coldly, the devilish boy grins at her. “Witch of The East,” He greets back only his tone much more playful. Pan The Pied Piper, the ancient boy who lures children from their beds at night. He picks certain children, boys specifically, to take back with him to his realm and takes the souls of the rest to feed his almost never dying realm. The Witch only knows this because it was her mentor that made him his very flute.  

“Why is it that you’ve come from your dwelling little witch?” He laughs as he stands from his seat, the boy standing just at The Witch's shoulders. His forest green eyes bore into The Witch, “Could it be…” He mumbles thoughtfully, “That I have lured your child perhaps?” He grins in an evil fashion. Yet The Witch remained stoic only glaring down at The Demon before her, “Oh No…” He chuckles upon realizing what he has truly done. “It seems I have in fact lured your CHILDREN here haven’t I?” He questions with a giggle, yet already knowing the answer. “My,” He sighs blissfully, “I didn’t know you mothered children, what a prize they will be among my lost boys.” Pan smirks. The Witch bit back from snapping at him, afraid she will only confirm that he has indeed lured her children in his trap.

“Who could they be? Hmm?” He questions gazing over his flock of children, and Witch couldn’t help but flick her eyes over to her sons, weary of their safety. Unbeknownst to her Pan had caught her glance and smirked. “Ohh…” He chuckles, “Those two right there, the Fae boy and the half breed.” he points out with an all too gleeful giggle. “Do not call him a half breed!” The Witch snapped hotly, only to rear back in panic upon realizing her mistake. She played right into his hand and he knew it too as The Demonish boy grinned widely. 

“My, My! The Witch of the East had mothered a wolf and Fae child. You sure have been busy since I last saw you!” He laughs, but his look darkens as he quirks his eyebrow and licks his lips. “Although I must say, you have grown into quite the woman since you were a child. That mentor of yours only allowed me a peak as he was offly protective of you.” He mumbles, “I can’t say I blame him, you are indeed something...magnificent.” He continues as his rake over The Witch ever so slowly. 

“Keep your eyes with mine Pan or I shall carve them out.” The Witch sneers to him only to cause the boy to laugh. The Witch watches as The Boy slowly begins to circle her, clearly unafraid of her threat. “Come now Love, you really expect me to behave?” He laughs coming to a stop in front of her. “After all, what's a little fun going to harm?” He shrugs as he reaches to touch her.

“I believe the lady said be respectful, but then again how could a child understand something so mature?” A voice cut in, Both Pan’s and The Witch’s head snap in its direction. Relief floods The Witch as Namjoon stepped out from the darkness of the swamp. “Who are you calling a child, Boy?” Pan sneers, turning his body to face Namjoon. “I have lived more than three times your lifetime. If anyone here is a child, other than the obvious children, it is you.” Pan sneered with a hit of sarcasm. “Say what you like, but in my eyes you're just an eager restless boy who has yet to have himself his first woman.” Namjoon chuckles mockingly.

Pan flares at Namjoon’s insult, The Witch takes Pan’s moment distraction to snatch his pan flute from his hand. Pan’s eyes widen as he whips his body to face her, “You are to leave these children alone Pan. Or by the stars I will burn this flute in front of your very eyes.” The Witch sneers. “You wouldn’t dare…” Pan murmurs darkly, “Oh?” The Witch questions, lifting her eyebrow and holding the flute in front of the open flame that rests in the pit. Pan viably flinches and growls threateningly. “Very well!..Very well.” He panics before his voice fades into mutter as The Witch dangles the flute deeper into the flame. 

The Witch then holds the flute out to him and just as Pan’s hand grazes it she pulls back. “If either of us finds you in our part of the world we won’t hesitate to end this far overdue lifetime of yours Pan.” The Witch whispers lowly before finally handing it over to him. Pan simply glares as he takes back his flute, with a wave of his hand the children are broken from their hazes. Pan shot The Witch and Warlock one last glare before he disappeared with a snap of his fingers.

The Witch relaxes before rushing over to scoop her children into her arms. Namjoon hot on her heels, The Witch reaches Jungkook first and scoops the boy into her arms as Namjoon takes Jimin into his. The Witch takes a moment to hold the child in her arms tightly before the cries of the other children around her pulls her away. 

The Witch looks over at Namjoon before handing Jungkook over to him, once Jungkook is safely in his arms The Witch holds her arms out spanning over the group of children. Soft chats fell from her mouth as a purple smoke rolled out from the swamp and swept over the clearing. The children around them yawned before they were consumed in the purple smoke and as the smoke cleared the children were nowhere to be found.

“They should be safely back in their beds now, I’m sure they’ll think this whole occurrence may have been a dream, so we needn’t worry about any kind of Trauma.” The Witch whispers as she holds her arms out to take one of her children. Namjoon hands her Jimin and The Witch gladly takes the Fae child. Jimin curls himself deeper into his mother’s body, holding on tightly. 

A soft smile graces The Witch’s lips, “It's alright my little Fae, I have you now.” The Witch coos. A whine pulls The Witch’s attention from the Fae to the wolf child as he pouts in her direction holding his hands out clenching them begging to be held. The Witch smiles as she shifts the Fae child in her arms to make room for the other, once there's room Namjoon carefully hands the child over. “You needn’t worry my littlest wolf I have you as well.” The Witch giggles, With the two children in her arms the four of them made their way back to her home hidden in the swamp. 

By the time they arrived at the gardens the sun peaks dawn, as they enter the garden the four beings are rushed by two familiars and one demon. All concerned for the safety of the children, the two children sleeping soundly in their mother’s arms. “Take them to bed, would you, Taehyung? Hoseok?” The Witch requests, the two addressed men nod and quickly take a child from her. Taehyung taking Jungkook and Hoseok taking Jimin, as the two left with the sleeping children Yoongi followed after the flaming bird giving the two magic casting beings their privacy. 

“I thank you Namjoon, for coming despite the late hour.” The Witch smiles, “Not to worry, I wouldn’t be a proper figure in their lives if I didn’t, would I?” Namjoon replied with a bashful smile. “Well…” Namjoon sighs after moments of almost uncomfortable silence “Yoongi and I must be going, I have work to do before I relieve myself any more time to relax. It was a pleasure seeing the boys so soon despite the circumstance,” Namjoon smiles, kindly excusing himself for his departure. The Witch nods her head as The Warlock snaps his fingers for Yoongi to appear at his side, “Oh! And it’s been a pleasure to see you too, Eastern Witch.” The Warlock giggles before clapping his hands together and disappearing back to where he came from. Only to leave The Witch with a heated face and a small shy smile.

<---- Prev // Masterlist // Next ---->

[waitingforwinterwinds]

A Clash of Kings - 09 ARYA III (pages 124-131)

Arya and co. continue northward, find some lowkey and not so lowkey hostility, traces of the war, and two traumatized survivors, one of whom even survives the chapter.

Meanwhile, after serious deliberation, the Reader has decided that anyone who leaves toxic comments or stan fighting in the comments or reblogs, will be blocked. I am not here for it.

-

Then he'd go off to polish his helm. It was a beautiful helm, rounded and curved, with a slit visor and two great metal bull's horns. Arya would watch him polish the metal with an oilcloth, shining it so bright you could see the flames of the cookfire reflected in the steel. Yet never did he actually put it on his head.

Something about the way the reads, had me thinking he's basically always off polishing his helm, and that if he's not careful he's going to wear the metal out.

Outside a holdfast called Briarwhite, some field hands surrounded them in a cornfield, demanding coin for the ears they'd taken. Yoren eyed their scythes and tossed them a few coppers. "Time was, a man in black was feasted from Dorne to Winterfell, and even high lords called it an honor to shelter him under their roofs," he said bitterly. "Now cravens like you want hard coin for a bite of wormy apple."

I for one would be interested in reading about the decline of the Night's Watch, its withering popularity and respect. Where there certain rulers who had part, certain events? What did cause this cultural shift of opinion? One thing? Lots of things? Just time?

"I'm scared," Hot Pie murmured, when he saw the one-armed woman thrashing in the wagon. "Me too," Arya confessed. He squeezed her shoulder. "I never truly kicked no boy to death, Arry. I just sold my mummy's pies, is all."

Ahh, bonding.

The one-armed woman died at evenfall. Gendry and Cutjack dug her a grave on a hillside beneath a weeping willow. When the wind blew, Arya thought she could hear the long tailing branches whispering, "Please. Please. Please." The little hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she almost ran from the graveside.

Well this is reminding me of things. Msotly Ned and his "promise me" flashbacks. and also a folktale I can't really remember about a king's mistress who was murdered and had her body buried on the river back where reeds grew to cover all traces, and a traveling musician who cut a reed to make a flute which played no music only the whispers of the dead woman "the queen has killed me."

This is one of those things though, that, while horrifying in actuality, delightfully blurs the line of "Starks had greenseer/wolf blood, Arya might actually be hearing a ghost" and "Arya's been listening to this woman's pleas all day and is trying to suppress the trauma but her brain is stuck on the audio file."

Then she saw the eyes shining out from the wood, bright with reflected moonlight. Her belly clenched tight as she grabbed for Needle, not caring if she pissed herself, counting eyes, two four eight twelve, a whole pack... One of them came padding out from under the trees. He stared at her, and bared his teeth, and all she could think was how stupid she'd been and how Hot Pie would gloat when they found her half-eaten body the next morning. But the wolf turned and raced back into the darkness, and quick as that the eyes were gone.

Kinda gotta wonder if they knew Arya through Nymeria, and that's why they left her be. I mean I assume this is one of Nymeria's packs, the group is close to the Gods Eye at this point, where the packs are roaming.

The sourleaf had turned his spit red, so it looked like his mouth was bleeding. ... "Been bringing men to the Wall for close on thirty years." Froth shone on Yoren's lips, like bubbles of blood. "All that time, I only lost three. (...) Three in thirty years." He spat out the old sourleaf. "A ship now, might have been wiser. No chance o' finding more men on the way, but still... clever man, he'd go by ship, but me... thirty years I been taking this kingsroad." He sheathed his dirk. "Go to sleep, boy. Hear me?" She did try. Yet as she lay under her thin blanket, she could hear the wolves howling... and another sound, fainter, no more than a whisper on the wind, that might have been screams.

🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️Oh wow, look at all these deathflags, it's almost like the group is hurtling headlong into death, and bad times at the not-okay-corral. 🙃