#blazing car murderer

[intriguingpeoplebyangelafloyd]

ALFRED ROUSE

ALFRED ROUSE

1894-1931

Blazing Car Murderer

            Alfred Rouse was a commercial traveller; he was a married man who had a string of women across England. He married one woman in a bigamous marriage, another woman had his child and he had to pay child support and another woman was waiting to marry him.

            Rouse wanted to disappear and decided to fake his own death by torching his car and placing the body of another person inside.

            On 6 November 1930 on Hardingstone Lane, 3 miles from Northampton he went through with his plan. Two young men leaving a dance noticed a fire and close by was a neatly dressed man carrying a case, who walked past them. They summoned the village constable and the fire was extinguished where they discovered a charred corpse lying in the front seat. The number plate was still intact and they were able to determine who the vehicle belonged to.

            Rouse was soon found and arrested. Rouse stated that the body belonged to a hitchhiker. He lied to the police and told them that he had stopped his car to go to the toilet and whilst doing so, the stranger lit a cigarette and the car burst into flames. His story and the evidence didn’t add up.  

            During his trial, he was found guilty. Before he was executed he confessed his crime, he stated that he got the stranger drunk on whiskey, strangled him and left him unconscious, and then doused him in petrol and then set his car on fire via a petrol trail from 10 yards away. He had planned to travel to Scotland via train to begin a new life.

He stated he made a decision to fake his own death when one of his lovers, a domestic servant, Nellie Tucker, announced she was pregnant with their second child. Before his execution, his legal wife and two of his mistresses visited him to bid him farewell. He was hanged at Bedford Gaol on 31 March 1931.

            Despite DNA testing on the victim, his identity remains unknown. Rouse stated he never asked the man’s name and didn’t know who he was. He gave his victims description as aged 40, wearing an overcoat and appearance of an office clerk. The victim also had a sporting or boxing tattoo on his right forearm and carried a sports diary.

After his death, he was buried in a grave marked with a cross with the inscription ‘In Memory of an Unknown Man’ in St. Edmund’s Church, Hardingstone, Northamptonshire. A new cross was erected in 2022.

#alfredrouse #blazingcarmurderer #truecrime

[auspicioustidings]

No second location, that was the mantra that had been drilled into your head. So when a man bullied his way into your passenger seat, put a gun to your head and told you to drive, you did that. When he told you to take the next cut off you did not.

"Naw think I'll shoot ye?"

"Think if you do we're doing 80 and we're both meeting a quick end."

It's night time, quiet motorway that stretches for hours and hours. He laughs in disbelief after the initial plan to intimidate you fails. You can't keep driving forever, but he is fascinated by the attempt.

One hour in and you know each others names. He knows what music you like, knows you're single, that you have a cat. You know this is the first time he's brought a girl back (or has tried to at least), that he's the youngest in his team and this is an initiation of sorts. He connects his phone so he can blast his music. "Naw dying in a blaze of glory to fuckin' showtunes sweetheart."

You scream at one point, raw fury. He screams with you, whooping as you pick up speed and hit 100 in a moment of blind emotion before you slow a little again. He's touching you, a hand running down your body as he whispers filth into your ear. You give him nothing, act unaffected as your hands grip the wheel so tight they are turning pale.

There's a phone call. One of his team.

"As beautiful as you'd be dead, your pretty corpse is of fuck all use if it's burned to a crisp in a fireball."

"Oh, I don't talk about necrophilia until the second date."

"Fuck LT ye should see her. Spitting mad, think she might actually kill herself just tae take me with her."

Soap groans the words out, hard over the idea of dying in this car with you, throbbing with the knowledge that maybe you hate him so much you're willing to give up your life to spite him.

There are other team members, you try and block it all out. You are crying with frustration because soon the motorway will run out. Maybe you'll just drive straight to a police station, but then Price who you think may be their leader tells you that if his boy goes to jail, he may as well do it for murder.

"Soap'll blow your pretty brains right out of your skull luv, now pull off at the next exit and follow directions."

"Isn't it apparent by now that I'd rather die?"

"If that were true you'd have crashed 100 miles back."

He's right. You don't want to die. You really do not want to die. Over the last few hours you've developed an aversion to Soap dying as well. He's crazy, certifiably insane, but the danger of him is the kind of danger that comes with the flood of adrenaline that borders on erotic with how strong it is. You're sort of attached, trauma bonded maybe.

But the mantra persists. No second location.

Soap grins wildly when he sees how you relax, how your eyes fill with resignation. He can see what you're going to do. So he kisses you, tongue trying to bury itself as far into your mouth as possible.

"Let's dae it baby."

So you do. You bank hard right and the car goes flying, tumbling over and over into a field. You don't know how you survive it, but the next thing you know you are in the back of an ambulance. The police question what happened once you're stable in the hospital. You tell them everything. Psychotic break they think, suicide attempt. After all, yours was the only body in that car when they got there.

[queenendless]

❤️‍🩹Tough Love (Adult!SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader)❤️‍🩹

A/N: This is a paid commission I wrote, requested by @anime-lover1234

Content warning: JJK AU with lots of angst, hurt/comfort, short injured teacher/sorcerer reader with lots of boo boos, overprotective!upset!SatoSugu hubbies yall.

Haibara alive in this AU, Nanako and Mimiko are first years here with Yuji Megumi and Nobara and they're your students too. Plus Gojo can heal others in this AU.

AND NEARLY 7K LONG SO THERE!

*Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like and follow instead.

You wanted to impress them.

You wanted to prove your worth in battle.

But things went far off the deep end.

It all began that one sunset evening.

As a Grade 1 Jujutsu Sorcerer, you were a perfect match for the Grade 1 curse spirit lurking in the forest near an abandoned school rumored to be haunted after closing down due to allegations of murderous cover ups.

As you pulled down the Curtain, the cool winds blew at your hair, swaying along with your black attire, as the sun was setting for you exorcized the curse at last.

You were turning, ready to return to Haibara-kun who was waiting by the car parked out front, when you felt a stir in the air.

You sensed it further deep in the thicket.

Another cursed spirit.

Small … but on the highest level.

Curiosity and cockiness came in, seeping into your being, compulsively drawn towards your next – spontaneous – assignment.

It was a tall skinny humanoid one, blood painting its skin, eating one of the few mangled teen corpses strewn about the splattered wrecked tents of the makeshift campsite.

"Forgive me. I couldn't save you all." You muttered, cursed energy pulsing through your legs. “I'll avenge you by exorcizing that curse.”

Then you chanted quietly.

“Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."

With the barrier now placed; this one designed to keep curses in, you moved in.

With its eyes slowly turning to spot you bouncing off the branches, a swift blur dashing through the air, you warped right behind it, readying a blow right to its head.

But going toe to toe with a special grade cursed spirit on your own … you know it's not the same as it was before. But you were willing to take this golden opportunity.

Your fist blazing with cursed energy, ready to strike, even as —

The spike in its cursed energy went through the roof in that split second.

The atmosphere now pricked with that rotten flesh smog coming off its figure.

One that sprouted up to 10 ft tall.

Your cursed punch missed its mark.

Its sharpened hand going right into your side.

It was all a trap.

And you fell for it.

Hook line and sinker.

Your banshee cry startled the birds as you warped out of its grip, blood spraying out from the forced movement, skidding back on shaky limbs, its toxic touch seeping into your gash wound.

Flashes of white exploded in your mind.

The screams of your two mighty husband sorcerers were blowing out your eardrums.

Your vision was spotty but you felt the shift in its cursed presence spring forward through the air, barely dodging its swipe but feeling the tips of its claws scrape your stomach.

Deciding to draw it away, you became the injured bait, running for your life, warping out of its grab, ready to slam a kick down from above —

The sight of Satoru and Suguru bleeding and crumpled before you took its place. A twinge of fear stabbed your nerves — you were socked hard from the side, paralyzing your cranium, warping in your dazed state right before slamming into a tree.

Covering your ears in futility at the intrusive fake voices invading your eardrums, you squeezed your eyes over your unwillingness to see their gutted crimson painted selves.

"Don't leave us here!"

Toru.

"How could you leave us behind!?"

Sugu.

"It's not real. They're not here. They can hold their own. Even against bastards like you." You growled under your breath, keeping your eyes shut. "Don't see. Don't hear. Just feel."

Sniffing the air as cursed energy heightened your nostrils, you followed its putrid stench and nothing else. Trusting your sense of smell by amplifying it to near max — your limit.

Yet the debilitating toxins were slowing you down. You were getting lightheaded as blood trailed down your side and leg from that open wound. The punches and kicks you managed to land on it were barely making a dent on this creep.

This curse was sapping you of your strength, your swiftness, and your stability at an alarming rate. All you could do was dodge and weave. But didn't stop the onslaught of punches, kicks and slashes littering your body.

Those normal – now dead – teens were just fodder to it.

Now that you; a sorcerer, was in its domain, you became its toy. It would kill you. But first, it would take its time and play with you, prolonging its enjoyment as long as possible, wearing you down until you broke …

Down at the nearby rural town, outside a combini, a bespectacled man just stepped out, throwing away the wrappings of his just finished sandwich, turning to where the foul energies were resonating, seeing the barrier among the thicket of trees …

Curled into the ground, gashes, bruises and blood painted your now immobile body, keeping your head to the ground when you suddenly sensed a trusting presence slipping inside the veil, looming above you, followed by the anguished roars of the special grade collapsing.

"Don't let it hit you … its toxins can make you hallucinate … and can mimic voices." You rasped out the warnings, coughing out blood in the process, when his folded work jacket was pressed into your hands then against your crimson dripping side.

"Understood. Keep pressure on that wound. You've lost enough blood already." You choked out a sob of relief at that low rumbling voice.

Kento Nanami.

A fellow Grade 1 sorcerer. A dependable comrade and a close friend. One of incredible proficiency. Extremely precise aim. Evades with clever maneuvers. Reinforced body with cursed energy.

Tying his spotted tie around his fist, he went into Overtime. With his now stained clothed blunted sword in hand, Nanami struck in as many weak spots as he could create on that titan.

The red and black sparks of Black Flash streaking right off him to chop off its enormous arm.

His words were ringing in your ears as he revealed his hand intentionally to raise his power levels.

Slashing weak points in the surrounding pine trees, he follows it off with diving in to cleave off its legs by the knee.

Bringing it face down to ground level just to cleave its head in two horizontally.

Releasing both his binding vows to enact that single blow, Nanami's extension technique Collapse activated, causing those pine trees to come tumbling down to bury it for good measure.

Scooping you up at breakneck speed, you two got clear of the fallen debris, slipped through the decaying barrier.

Neither of you sensed it any more.

Nanami's eyes bore great disappointment down upon you from on high. "And here I thought you were better than to emulate those two's recklessness."

You felt your pride crack, your ego bruise, and your shame boosted over Nanami-san's disapproval when you felt yourself blacking out and your form became limp too quick for his liking.

Nanami's exasperated, panicking face getting all up in yours, his shouting going mute in your ringing ears, occurred before it all went dark.

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Hastily calling Nitta-san to send the proper authorities to handle post cleanup in those woods, Nanami kept pressure on your wound in your stead as he situated you two carefully in the backseat as Haibara stepped on it; his wary eyes peeking in the rearview mirror now and then just so he wouldn't crash the car.

Watching in dismay as the only signs of you still alive was your little shifts of discomfort paired with frail mumbling, calling out for your loves, as fear worked its way to the front of your mind.

Hurriedly calling Shoko immediately after to meet them at the foothills of Mount Mushiro where the screeching halts of the car's tires skidded to an almost collision at the first torii gate.

The backseat was tainted red as Nanami tossed his stained business jacket aside then undid the buttons of your uniform jacket then tugged up your undershirt enough to show your biggest wound, allowing Shoko to lean over and work.

“What a way to spend my night." She huffed, concentrating as pure white light emanated off her hands and over your wound.

"She's lost a lot of blood already on top of fractured broken bones. And hallucinogenic, auditory ailments are still in effect even when curse has been exorcized." Nanami added, brooding from the added severity of the situation.

"What the hell, L/n?” Shoko heaved heavily, shedding sweat. "That curse's toxins are still in her system. It's making it difficult to fully heal her.” She was able to seal up your side wound though. “That will have to do for now. We need to move her."

"I'll join you all once I park the car." Haibara informed them, quickly leaning over from the driver's seat to kiss Nanami.

Nanami's tender gaze came Haibara's way before he got out of the car, carrying you, carefully treading up the steps, Shoko shutting the car door and hurrying behind him, with Haibara driving off and Nanami's bloody business jacket left discarded on the back seat.

Shoko spent the late night hours repairing your damaged self, collapsing over the metal surgical table from the overtime stress, panting from her energy spent. Blood pumped into a vein on your arm via the cannula connected to the drip. And your shallow breathing toppled with a cold sweat only made her push herself further as she squeezed your hand to keep you as grounded as possible and you continued murmuring the guys names in raspy, pleading whispers.

A harried Nanami patted Shoko's forehead with a clean spare rag lying on a counter while Haibara gave her a water bottle to hydrate.

Coming in and out of consciousness, tugged between horrish illusions and bleak reality, your once weakened pulse grew stronger as Shoko's RCT filled you, pushing the toxins out of your system.

So when you finally awoke, faded scars and bruises dotted your skin, front and back, leaving you groaning weakly as you clutched your pounding head. You felt like a truck had run you over.

"About time you woke up. Those fear toxins should be leaving your system now. But it did make healing you quite taxing for me. We can continue your checkup in the afternoon when we've both rested. But I could really use a drink right now.” Shoko apathetically griped as she carefully pulled the IV out of your arm just to place a cotton ball sticking to a bandage over the small leaking prick.

“Sorry about that, Shoko.” Feeling her gloved hand holding your still sore one, you barely squeezed back. "I failed to exorcize that special grade … I'm sorry I made you all overwork because of my screw-up." Your guilt stricken face struck their hearts.

"Nitta-san made sure the bodies were collected … what was left of them. Just count yourself fortunate that the curse was just dragging it out when I arrived. Never underestimate them." Nanami chastised you at the end, his goggles currently off, sternness laced in his eyes.

"Please … don't tell the guys. It's bad enough I couldn't exorcize it by myself. If they find out, they'll never let me live this down. Satoru especially." You weakly pleaded, struggling to sit up but able to get up on your bum as Haibara pulled you up.

"They'll find out sooner or later. And there'll be hell to pay if you choose to omit it from them. I will not partake in that sort of nonsense." Nanami griped, dreading the world flipped on its axis once your husbands found out.

"They'll never want to leave my side after this! They're already dealing with workloads of missions as is! Adding this to their pillars of stressful shit … I just need to be right as rain ASAP."

"No such thing as stress free in our line of work." Shoko bluntly stated.

"Gojo-san and Geto-san would be heartbroken if you kept this from them." Haibara frowned, personally wounded.

"They'd be even more wrecked that this happened and they weren't there to stop it …" Anxious guilt raked your bones.

A hand plopped into your hair, brushing it gingerly. “Your foolish pride as a sorcerer better be worth it if you're prepared for what will come of this endeavor." Nanami's foreboding didn't stop you from embracing him around his waist, pressing your face in his stomach, humming as Haibara gently hugged you from behind, and Shoko smiled nonetheless at the cute scene, especially at Nanami's sternness lessening and patting your head some more.

Still too out of it to walk on your own, you were pushed out in a wheelchair by Haibara, straight back to the dorms, stating he would stay in the room beside yours in case you needed any aid for the night, needing to head out in the morning alongside Nanami.

Carrying your ruined uniform clothes in the recyclable bag Shoko kept them in, you set them aside as you limped about to change into familiar comfier PJs you kept on hand in your old dorm room closet whenever you had to crash at the school grounds.

Pulling your phone out of the zip lock bag it was kept in thanks to Shoko too, you had seen it was still on.

They had been messaging you all night. Notifications of your group chat popping up on your lock screen.

But you just … felt too ashamed and embarrassed to reply back.

So you turned it off.

Without them smushing you between them tonight, there was no comforting warmth keeping you safe and sound.

And the aftermath of those horrific illusions and their copycats speaking during and post battle still lingered in your memory. Tittering between life and death, you were trapped within your worst nightmare yet.

Their disapproving glares.

Their cold voices.

Turning their backs on you as they walked into the foggy embrace of bloodshed against your voiceless cries and your wavering hand fruitlessly reached out into nothingness.

So going back to sleep was the last thing you wanted.

But even so, being in your old single dorm bed, your quiet sobs swarmed the room, your pent up agony painting your pillow in tears, stewing internally over wanting to suffer your follies alone versus wishing more than anything to have Toru and Sugu embracing you to chase all those bad dreams and fears away like they have always done.

Your phone stayed isolated on the small wooden bedside table, plugged in and charging. In silence.

Meanwhile, in a hotel, nestled in the Saitama prefecture that lies above Tokyo…

"Well, the twins are sleeping. Their mission definitely exhausted them both." Suguru softly informed, returning to his partner's side after checking on the girls in the room across from theirs.

A pouty Satoru groaned miserably, splayed out like a moody pancake across the bed, puppy eyes trained on his phone. "Suguru~! She's not answering me~!”

Now splayed out beside him on their shared hotel bed, Suguru ruffled Satoru's poofy hair. "Perhaps she's sleeping."

"She always answers me though! She didn't even send me a cute kitty gif~! The injustice!" Satoru cried, shoving his phone screen right in his best friend's face.

Suguru pushed Satoru's phone aside, pulled out his own from his sweatpants and sent a heart your way. And yet, it was not even read on your end. His forehead creased with worry. "No response for me either … I do hope nothing bad has happened.”

Satoru slung an arm around Suguru's neck, pulling himself snug against him, frowning vividly. "I miss her."

Suguru plopped his cheek atop Satoru's noggin. "So do I. The sooner we finish here with our own cases, the sooner we can have her in our arms again. Until then," Suguru brushed aside Satoru's snowy bangs to smooch his velvety forehead, tenderly grinning. "We'll just have to keep each other company~"

Now that piqued Satoru's intrigue, cheekily giggling as he rolled them over so the raven head could straddle him. “Nothing wrong with that~”

Suguru quickly turned the side table lamp off before engaging in a long, sensual make out with his smirking mate, whisking the night away.

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Your new strategy going forward?

Keep your phone off.

Give off the illusion of still being out in the field, doing assignments far off in the distance.

Stay locked up in your old room except for Shoko's treatments and bathroom breaks.

Until you were all patched up; no visually alarming marks blemishing your skin, you wouldn't let any aside from those that already knew find out.

Not your students.

NOT your men.

By the time you had awoken, Haibara had already left as informed. His sticky note he left on your bedside table with morning greetings and hopes to see you soon followed by a scribbled smiley face did turn your frown upside down.

But it meant you were the only one left in the dorm as your throbbing self painstakingly grabbed some long sleeved apparel outta the closet and changed before putting on some slippers. It was fall now, slowly transitioning to winter, so it was the perfect cover up to be snugly dressed.

You had just gotten outside when you noticed the trio heading to the torii gate exit.

Yuji sniffing the air was what alerted you; skidding to a halt as he was literally across from you on the other side of the long stone pathway, turning to eye you with an unpleasant awkwardness. Running over, his nose dove in closer to get a deep long whiff of you to your jitteriness.

He was your best student in terms of enhancing his senses to their peak with cursed energy. And one you cherished like your own pride and joy. Your pure son.

“L/n-sensei … you're injured. And you look restless. Did something happen?” His eyes became glassy saucers.

Your game plan was on the rocks now. Super human senses at work!

“Hey! The sooner we finish our mission from that blindfolded madman, the sooner I can get to shopping! So move it! No offense, sensei!” Nobara snapped out loud, waiting by the gate, curious what was occurring but impatient to wrap things up for her own reasons.

“Cone on Itadori! We're burning daylight!” Megumi coaxed.

“Alright alright, I'm coming!” Yuji's voice then softened for just you two to hear. “Sensei, whatever’s going on, just … take it easy, okay?”

Your heart swelled at his considerate caring nature like the precious boy he is, smiling thankfully. “I will. Thanks.”

“Welcome back.” That genuine smile of relief and joy of Yuji's almost made you tear up; your swelling up heart touched by his words, doing your best to smile through the soreness as you waved at the boy, saluting back to you, joining his friends, and heading off.

You started uncomfortably limping on your way the moment you students were out of eyesight. Shoko met you halfway, presenting a new wheelchair for you to make traversing more easier. “Sorry but Nanami-kun wanted me to remind you to work on your report about last night. We can head to the faculty office first. Besides, you look ready to topple over.”

You internally groaned at the stingy procedures, expected to recount your near death experience down to the last detail; literally occurring just last night, sending a grateful look her way. “What would I do without you, Shoko?”

“Let's just say I'm better off with you in my life … and I know I'm not the only one.” Apathy gave way to relieving passion in her gaze that you looked away to brush your wet eyes. And you both left it at that as she wheeled you the rest of the way.

Flash forward to some time later …

“I can't believe you going gung ho back there cost me my chance to hit up that sale at my new favorite boutique, you boneheaded idiot!” Nobara bit out.

“Okay okay, I get it! Go easy on my shoulder, Kugisaki!” Yuji yelped in pain at how much she was fussing as she and Megumi helped him walk since he took the brunt of the hits in their latest mission.

“Always ready to put yourself on the line for us … we can handle ourselves, you know, doofus.” Megumi was less harsh, making sure not to hit his shin against Yuji's stabbed one; wrapped in the torn sleeve of Yuji's uniform to stop the bleeding.

Yuji noticed the tender gaze his spiky haired friend gave him, smiling in recognition, chuckling sheepishly. “Protective instincts, I guess.”

“Serves you right, idiot.” Though Nobara and Megumi spoke such mocking words, they were softly spoken, still irked but also grateful they're all still standing.

The moment the trio splurged through the morgue door, spotting your bare back littered with bumps and wide slash marks had them faltering as their short beloved teacher and practically mother figure was in this state.

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

Their unified exclaims startled Shoko enough to press too hard on a red welt on your forearm, causing your excruciating shout.

You slapped your palms over your mouth, mortified at legit blowing your cover out loud.

Due to the fact that Shoko at the moment got a sudden phone call while examining you.

From THEM.

“Shoko, what was that?” Suguru demanded.

“Sounds like a wounded animal!” Satoru exclaimed.

“Takes one to know one. I have work to get back to. Bye bye~” Shoko's false perky jab reverts back to her usual demeanor after hanging up on them. “I would say stay hidden until everything settles down but I'd be lying. I know 25 mins away means those two lunatics will floor it by the end of the day. I wish you the best of luck, my dear.” Her sympathetic pat on your shoulder did not calm down those anxious belly butterflies.

“I knew you were hurt but … OKASAN WHO DID THIS TO YOU!?” Yuji's own wounds were forgotten as he scrambled over to you, blubbering out waterfalls, throwing off everyone by legit calling you mom out loud but too overwhelmed to notice right away.

You pulled your shirt back down, flushed in shame. “Special grade got the upper hand on me. Nanami-san saved me. Sorry to have you three see me like this. So please … keep this between us? Please?” You literally prayed for it.

“For my favorite sensei, my lips are sealed.” Nobara assured.

“Geto-sensei may be less hysterical … Gojo-sensei not so much … but those two together … oh God.” Megumi paled up at the reality.

“The calm …” Nobara ominously started.

“Before the shit storm.” Megumi drearily ended.

“Uh, while I'm not a big fan of keeping things from Gojo-sensei, if it's what you want, then I'll do it.” Yuji, skeptical but willing to make you happy, blushed pink as you embraced him loosely due to you still not being at full strength yet.

“Thank you.” You weeped.

Megumi, Nobara and even Shoko joined in on that hug.

Meanwhile, back in Saitama, again, nestled outdoors in front of a patisserie.

“That was suss as hell.” Gojo lowly rumbled, sitting under the umbrella covered table on one end, stuffing his last – now smooshed – Maneki Usagi Manju from his hands straight to his mouth.

“We know that shout all too well …” Geto's eyes teemed with cynicism, sitting across from him, sipping Sayama tea in one hand, his phone in the other.

Their mentality synced, restlessness in their bones, their six senses flaring up with red alerts.

Something did happen to you.

Something big.

Something bad.

With their cases long since finished; not surprising, their leisure time was spent sightseeing, tasting the treats the places they visited had to offer. Meaning more sweets for Gojo to savor. However, his gut along with Geto's twisted at the thought of you in trouble.

“Girls, gather your things. We're heading back now.” Geto firmly spoke while speed dialing Ijichi-san to come pick them up.

The twins, sitting at the table beside theirs, stopped taking selfies of themselves with their cutely decorated drinks at his announcement. “Yes, Papa~!”

Throughout the ride back to the school; Ijichi-san fidgeting and sweating bullets at his seniors stewing in silence, panicked thoughts raced through the duo's minds.

The one constant that kept coming up?

Whatever was going on with you …

They were getting to the bottom of it.

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The sky changed from blue and calm to orange and warm.

Getting healed by Shoko before being ushered out to continue healing you, the trio crashed in the common room slash longue when the sight of Nanako and Mimiko waving and smiling as they entered with bags of gifts and snacks to share and give had the trio beaming at the twins safe return.

However, the sight of their teachers coming round the corner into view, radiating such potent agitated auras, sent the trio's hearts racing in dread.

It spelled the first sign of doom.

Gojo zipped up right to them, a wide ass smile on his face, waving with bags of souvenirs on the other arm, cheerfully greeting them all.

“Oh my precious students~! Your esteemed adoring sensei has returned! And I come bearing gifts for you all! As thanks for a job well done! But on the condition that you answer me truthfully! Do you happen to know what our dear Y/n has been up to as of late~?”

“Nope.” Megumi kept a straight face.

“Nada.” Nobara is the same.

“We know nothing.” Yuji as well.

Their calm blunt responses had Geto narrow his eyes at their stoic behavior, the twins shuffling to him in nervousness at the tense situation, and Gojo's fake smile fell, becoming so straight faced. “Hmm … okay then. Hold these, please and thanks.”

Dropping their bagged gifts into their arms, Gojo warping away was the second sign.

Appearing again before them, with a squirming distressed you in his arms, was the final nail in the coffin.

Gojo hastily set you down, firmly grabbed your sweater sleeve covered hand, and tugged that sleeve up to your shoulder. Even with the blindfold on, you could picture his Six Eyes shrinking to dots at the colorful splotches and littering your once unblemished skin.

“What the hell?” Gojo's shaky raw voice had you gulping.

“How did … when did … Y/n explain yourself!” Geto's perturbed face turned to aggravation.

Keeping your head ducked, you could picture their eyes bearing those same cold, disappointing glazes those curse's nightmares forced you to bear. Your state of panic got triggered!

You wince in pain, trying in vain to tug your hand free of Gojo's iron hold. Warping into the morgue, literally sweeping you off your feet, greeting Shoko, then warping out of the morgue all meant your recovery got cut short.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going!?" Gojo jested, pulling your back against his front, caging you in his hold, knowing to restrain himself on the pressure, gritting his canines at seeing those same colorful marks on the back of your neck. “You better start talking.”

"You mustn't strain yourself any more, either! You can barely walk as is!" Geto irritatedly griped, wrapping his arms around your other one, leaving you wobbling, therefore needing either of them as counterbalance.

"I'll be fine! I'll get better! I'm innocent!" You babbled desperately, wiggling like a worm, to your utter dismay and their annoyance.

Geto narrowed his eyes, downtrodden. "Have you no shame, Y/n? And you three knew about this, didn't you?!” His eyes flared up with scorn as his face whipped to the trio, having all three flinch back at the irritated sight.

“And after all the trouble I went through to get you all gifts!” Gojo dramatically complained.

“Unnecessary to be honest.” Megumi dryly rebuttal.

“My tastes far exceed yours, anyway.” Nobara throwing shade.

“I'll take them all, thank you very much! I felt like telling you Gojo-sensei, I swear! But L/n-sensei was in pain and I just wanted to help her!” Yuji blabbed.

“Softie.” Mimiko and Nanako teased smugly.

“Yuji~!” Gojo weeped.

“I told them to keep quiet. Shoko and Haibara too. Nanami wanted no part in it. It was all my fault!”

Your pleas only riled them up more. Their eyes returned to you, burning intensely, straight into your soul as they cushioned you between their built bodies just like a mating press.

You gasped as Geto's hand slid under your top, his calloused touch sending anxious tingles through you, feeling that tender scar left on your side, lips trembling and eyes wavering. “Honestly believing you could pull the wool over our eyes, dearest? Ridiculous.” Geto belittled.

Gojo scoffed, suddenly frightening as he towered behind you, alarming everyone besides Geto as he pulled down his blindfold to stare down at you now with those glaring Six Eyes. "Screw that. This isn't panning out well for you, darling. Not at all.”

Your weak whines of protest made the teens cringe with pity. Your short self was literally trapped between giants. The atmosphere was so thick with tension that trying to cut it with a knife would mean getting obliterated. GoGe might as well be a bomb.

But to see tears swell up in your e/c eyes and trail down your cheeks, glistening from the guilt, embarrassment and pain, everyone in that room froze in paling realization.

You were the actual bomb.

And you just got set off.

"DON'T HATE ME!"

Your heartbroken scream had the strongest duo become the weakest. Their grips laxing, their tunnel vision eroding, their resolve dusting, as you pulled away freely, tugging your sleeve back down to cover the damage, sat down on the couch to your buckling knees relief, and cried in your tarnished hands, becoming a mess for them all to see.

"L/n-sensei no!!! Please don't cry!!!" Yuji went into a panicked frenzy, squatting down before you, frazzled as you bowed your head against his jacketed shoulder, rubbing your shoulders in an attempt to soothe you, sweating bullets at the sight of his once mighty teachers now becoming statues at this turn of events. "None of us hate you! It's okay! Everything's gonna be okay! R–Right guys?!”

"You two are the scum of the Earth, you are! Harassing an injured emotional woman!" Nobara yelled abhorrently in their stunned paled faces, pulling out tissues from her small flowered package she kept in her belt pack along with her cursed tools to offer you. “Here sensei. Take these.”

"I won't blame her if she files for divorce." Megumi gripes under his breath, sitting down beside you, timidly rubbing your back in comforting circles. "L/n-sensei, you need to calm down and rest."

“Geto-sama, do something about this! Mama is a wreck now!” Nanako was willing to put her foot down at this insolence.

“This is depressing.” Mimiko patted your head from behind the couch.

Your desperate need to melt into a puddle and just die from utter disgrace was dashed when you felt Gojo approaching.

His serious blazing eyes spoke for themselves to let him handle you himself, but those kids hesitated letting this slide when the gentle shushing of their usually obnoxious teacher threw them for a loop. Sitting down in the free space on your other side, gently brushing your hair, he leaned in to your ear to confess —

"I'm sorry." You stiffened at his words as they rumbled against your ear. While you were partly miffed and scared due to his attitude, his gentleness returning made you drawn to him all over again, recollecting how much you did miss him — miss them both actually cause OF COURSE YOU DO!!!

Weaving his hand through your hair, he carefully pulled your head to rest against his chest instead, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, a shaky vulnerability leaking into his voice. “I'm so sorry.” You dare set down your hands to see his eyes as glittery blue glass. "I shouldn't have snapped like that. I hate seeing you cry like this.” His wandering hand had his fingertips weave through yours to squeeze your hand benignly. “Especially when you're all banged up. I just …”

“I'm deeply sorry as well.” The moment Suguru sat down in Megumi's spot, the kids had already stood back and watched with anticipation as his arms gently hugged your waist from behind, kissing your blotchy cheek, regret radiating on his face. “We both shouldn't have approached you so harshly. We were out of line. We just …”

They were both at a loss for words.

Taking a chance, a risk, a leap of faith, you decide to tell them the truth, rather preferring for them to hear it from you than read it from a document.

“The other night … a special grade curse popped up just when I finished my case … I wanted to prove myself … I thought I could take it on … but Nanami saved me in the end. I was … ashamed … anxious … afraid. It showed me … illusions … nightmares … of you both suffering and abandoning me … and I panicked when you both got upset earlier … I just – !”

“You haven't properly rested at all.” Geto delicately gripped your chin and turned your face to see the dark circles under your now red eyes. “Beloved, you of all people should know that keeping your troubles bottled up inside does no one any good! Least of all hiding your pain from us when we can help!”

“You can't always be there for me … I can't keep weighing you down … but I can't hold my own when it really counts … I'm never gonna be at your level … even as a Grade 1 … by myself … I'm not good enough.” Your eyes squeezed shut, deep seated in this emotional turmoil.

“Yes you are!” The sharp conviction Satoru had made your eyes snap back open. It got your attention attentively. “We still think of them … Kuroi … Amanai … what we could have done differently or better … had we not failed them. If anything happened to you … and if we weren't there to stop it … and it already has … then what the hell’s the point in being the strongest when we can't protect those that matter to us the most?!” You shook as his tears hit your nose, rubbing his wet nose against yours with those beautiful blue eyes now red with compassion looking into yours, for even his watery smile is breathtaking. “You've never been weak. Not to any of us. You kept us together through all the shit thrown our way since that day. I don't need Six Eyes to tell me this truth … that you are the most beautiful, genuine, strongest soul I know you are inside and out.”

“You're the very reason I gathered the courage to reach out to everyone when my resolve wavered … when I lost my way … it's difficult to wear a heartfelt smile in this world …” Sugu's voice slipped for a moment, his almond eyes twinkling as his wet cheek nuzzled yours, pressing a timid kiss to the corner of your lips, another breathtaking smile amiss the waterfalls. “But you brought back my smile. You helped me find a better way … I'm no longer alone. So you don't get to be either. Not anymore.”

Unified, their cracked voices caved.

“We can't lose you too.”

You breathed in their natural scents, submerged in their warmth, coveted in their supportive treasuring embrace, their crying faces resting against either side of your neck, just to be as close to you as possible without hurting you more so than that curse and themselves already have.

In this moment of vulnerability, the strongest duo put down their guards just to show you how immensely you've always mattered to them. Your pain, your sadness, your doubts … they're theirs too.

Your hand that was still being held by Satoru weaved down to rub against Suguru's knuckles, drawing him in to lay his hand atop both yours. “I feel the same way.”

“But damn Y/n, you scared us shitless." Gojo sighed exasperated, now chewing and suckling hungrily on your red cheek just to hear your raspy squeals for their amusement.

"Immensely." Geto hummed conspiratory like, chewing and tugging on your other cheek for good measure, your squeaking making them smirk.

“I'm sorry!” You garbled out, mewling.

Suguru popped off your cheek, pecking it several times apologetically. “We're sorry too. We're just relieved that you're alive.”

Satoru popped off your cheek as well, smooching the welt left in his wake. “Still injured though, but I'll finish healing you myself.”

Catharsis finally came as your waterworks were one of relief. “I missed you both so much~!!!”

"Yosh, yosh~” Satoru doting on you, petting your head like the cutie you will always be in their eyes. “We missed our cutie patootie too~��� Now that got you to smile at last, shedding tears of joy, as your chortled laughs made them smile as well.

The kids left you three a while ago when the mushiness kicked in. The twins giggled as Megumi summoned his wolf Shinigami for them to ride on so they could stop pestering him, right before he buried his bashfully blushing face in the crook of Yuji's neck who carried him and Nobara with ease from her own pestering, heading off to do whatever.

Now drained from the mental and emotional trip you went through, all you wanted now was sleep.

And to be honest?

So did the guys.

Your old dorm bed would make do just this once. For old times sake. Warping you three there was easier on an already wiped Gojo, anyway.

Their uniforms, boots, and socks along with your slippers littered the floor.

The AC hummed in the background.

And the drawls of moonlight slipped through the curtains.

Tepid flustered gasps left your parted lips as Satoru sensually trailed his smooth sly hand across every inch of your backside under your top, healing you from that point as you relaxed.

You smothered your face in Satoru's snug black tee covered pecs as he ran his fingers through your hair, languidly brushing it to further soothe you, pecking your forehead. “It wasn't the same without you.”

Suguru carefully splayed on top of you from behind, warmth seeping through his snug white tee and into your cloth covered back, heatedly breathing down your flushed nape as his veiny giant hand caressed your bare tummy underneath your top as well as stroking your thighs with his other hand. “Having you to cuddle again, all snug in between us, truly feels like heaven.”

“No angel to sleep with … oh how did we cope without you~?" Satoru ranted quietly as he could for your sleepy sake.

Suguru gave him a sly smirk. “Satoru~”

Satoru chuckled, ruffling Suguru's loosely free hair, before resting that hand on Suguru's lower back. “Okay, it wasn't bad at all. Even so… can I please just keep us in this moment and never let each other go ever again?” Satoru gently begged.

“As long as I can get some shut eye. And new uniform garbs.” Your cheek nuzzled his chest, consenting in a yawn.

“Deal.” With Six Eyes now switched off, Satoru became heavy-eyed at the sight of his two favorite people in bed with him. Back together again.

“No more bad thoughts for us tonight.” Suguru languorously rumbled in your ear.

“Plus those nightmares will get a kick in the balls if they come back.” Satoru grumbled drowsily.

“If it's a curse, sure. Dreams, not so much.” You mumbled softly.

Satoru could feel your body start to reach the end of its recovery from his healing touch, trailing his hand from your back to cover your hand that rested on the front of his shirt where his heart lay.

Suguru's own hand traversed, resting atop Satoru's, all three splayed on his chest in the same exact spot.

You sagged as you felt the weight of all that battle damage lift right off you, for all the pain got replaced with fuzzy tingling warmth.

Shivering with delight, you felt those two curling in on you from both sides, their legs tangling with yours, as you all smushed in the middle, with Suguru's face against your shoulder and Satoru's in your hair.

“Toru … Sugu … I love you guys.”

Satoru breathed in your scent, smiling drowsily. “We love you too … so damn much.”

"Truly. We'd be lost forever if we never knew you.” Suguru mused languidly.

A tiny smile formed as you succumbed to your long awaited dreamland. “I … feel … the same.”

And the kiddies, poking their heads through the crack in the slide doorway, eyed you snug between those two in just their tees and boxers, your entangled limbed cocoon, the bed comforter halfway touching the floor, as gentle snores and breathing made up your guys personal symphony.

Taking some snapshots for potential blackmail material; basically on Nobara and Megumi's part, they left you three to rest.

Of course, knowing you three, you'll stay in bed all day tomorrow. Whether to sleep, talk, cuddle, make out, do the devil's tango — nah it's all of the above! Meaning no classes.

The weekend is free.

To unwind and reflect.

Your old room feels more homely now that they're there with you.

That night, you’re gifted with cathartic, stress relieving dreams where those two awaited you with smothering embraces and enriching laughter.

Through their tough, imposing, and fierce exteriors …

There lay the true blessings that are their empathy, passion and humanity.

Your chaotically lovestruck sorcerers.

And you, their heaven sent wife, will feel their love till the very end.

And even beyond.

For Infinity.

[rafecameronssl4t]

honestly so inlove with what’s good John b because you wrote it very similarly to what happened in the show (of course with your twists) and I was wondering if you could do one about reader being rafes girlfriend and being there when he shot peterkin and reader being just so shocked and couldn’t believe what he just did

Me and the Devil || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

GIF by @tetragonia

A/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for toooo long

Warnings: this is a canon fic that is based from s1 ep 9 so if you were uncomfortable watching it, especially towards the end when Rafe k!lls peterkins, please do not read this as I go into detail.

Word count: 1,693

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

"Rafe, what are we doing out here?" you ask, your voice tinged with concern as you unbuckle your seatbelt and step out of the car. The sun blazes overhead, casting sharp shadows on the dusty, secluded airstrip, save for the one airplane on the other side.

"I'm just checking something," Rafe replies, attempting to sound casual as he opens the car door. You hesitate for a moment before following him.

"Oh my god, Rafe!" you whisper-yell, your eyes widening as you spot Peterkins aiming her gun at Ward, with Sarah and John B standing behind him. Rafe halts, and both of you watch the tense scene unfold, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "What is going on—" Your question is cut short by the chilling, unmistakable sound of a gun cocking.

You turn, heart hammering in your chest, to see Rafe gripping a gun tightly in his hand. Panic and confusion flood your mind. "Rafe," you whisper, your voice trembling with fear and disbelief. He looks back at you, eyes wild and desperate, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.

"Hey, hey, I'm doing this for us, okay? Just—just stay in the car," he pleads, though his voice is shaky and uncertain. Your breathing quickens, and you can feel the terror rising within you.

"No—no, I'm coming with you," you insist, shaking your head as you step beside him. You clutch at Rafe's shirt, your fingers digging into the fabric as you look at him with wide, fearful eyes. "Please don't do anything stupid," you beg, your voice breaking with emotion. His silence is deafening, amplifying your dread and uncertainty.

Rafe moves stealthily along the side of the airplane, keeping out of sight, and you follow closely, every nerve in your body on edge. The afternoon sun beats down relentlessly, adding to the intensity of the moment.

Suddenly, Peterkins' voice rings out, clear and authoritative, "You're under arrest for the murder of Big John Routledge." A gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it, and Rafe is quick to react. His hand clamps over your mouth, silencing you as he pulls you against his chest.

Your heart races, pounding so loudly as you the situation you are in sinks in. Pressed against Rafe, you can feel his own heart beating rapidly. The realization that he's willing to go to such lengths terrifies you. He removes his hand slowly, but keeps you close, his eyes scanning the scene ahead.

"Stay quiet," he whispers, his voice barely audible. The sound of footsteps and hushed voices reaches your ears, and you can make out the strained expressions on the faces of Ward, Sarah, and John B. Your hand tightens its grip on Rafe's shirt, your body trembling.

The conversation around you fades into an indistinct murmur as your mind races, grappling with the gravity of the situation you and Rafe find yourselves in. Rafe’s muttered curses, “Shit, shit, shit,” barely register in your ears, overshadowed by the pounding of your own heartbeat. You watch in a daze as Ward crumples to his knees. His shoulders sagas he places his hands behind his head in a gesture of surrender.

Peterkins strides forward with a stern expression, her movements deliberate and unyielding. The metallic click of the handcuffs as they close around Ward’s wrists seems unnaturally loud in the silence that envelops you.

Beside you, Rafe’s panic is palpable. His breaths come in quick, shallow gasps. In the blink of an eye, Rafe is moving past you, gun in hand. Your eyes widen in pure terror as the reality of the situation crashes down on you. “Rafe, Rafe! Stop—” you scream, your voice breaking with fear and desperation. But your plea is cut short by the deafening sound of a gunshot.

Instinctively, you block your ears and crouch down on the ground, your body trembling uncontrollably. Your heart pounds so fiercely you can feel it in your throat, each beat echoing in your ears. Over the ringing left by the gunshot, you can hear Sarah’s screams, high-pitched and filled with horror.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt the hot tears streaming down your face, mingling with the sweat and grime of the moment. A shaky breath escapes your lips as you slowly look up, dread gnawing at your insides. Your gaze settles on the scene before you, and an audible sob bursts from your throat.

Sheriff Peterkin is on the ground, a pool of blood spreading out beneath her. The stark crimson against the earth sends a wave of nausea through you. Rafe stands a few feet away, the gun still in his hand, his face a mask of shock and confusion. He had shot her. The reality of it hits you like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs.

Every detail sharpens into painful clarity—the way Peterkin’s body lies still, the glint of the handcuffs now forgotten beside her, the horrified expressions of everyone around. The world seems to contract to this single, unbearable moment. Your sobs come harder now, wracking your body as you struggle to process the horror of what just happened. The gravity of Rafe’s actions sinks in, and you feel a deep, gut-wrenching despair.

Sarah is sobbing uncontrollably as John B holds her close to him, his face a mix of shock and terror. “Rafe, what did you do?” Ward’s voice trembles with a mixture of horror and disbelief as he stares at his son.

Rafe, his eyes wild and manic, lets out a chilling chuckle. “I saved you, Dad,” he says, his voice tinged with a desperate glee. “I saved you!” he yells, his voice echoing in the stillness that follows the gunshot. You stand there, paralyzed, your hands clasped over your mouth in a futile attempt to contain the sobs threatening to escape.

Peterkins coughs, struggling to breathe. John B rushes to her side, desperately trying to stop the bleeding as you stand by, helpless. Your eyes dart to Rafe, his gun still trained on them. You grab his forearm, attempting to lower the weapon, but he remains unmoved, your efforts only eliciting another sob from your lips.

John B clutches Peterkins' radio, when Rafe shouts, "Hey! Hey, wait!" He lunges towards John B, and you fight to restrain him. "Rafe, stop it!" you scream, panic in your voice. "Rafe, no! Rafe!" Ward approaches quickly, his focus on his son. "Don't try it, asshole," Rafe snarls at John B, who swallows hard.

"Rafe—John B, give me the radio," Ward demands, extending his hand. John B hesitates, shaking his head, "No." Sarah's sobs grow louder, her tear-streaked face mirroring your own fear and shock as you look at each other.

"Come on," Ward insists, prying the radio from John B's hands. Rafe keeps his gun aimed, his expression tense. Ward steps in front of him, arm outstretched. "Rafe, I've got it. Calm down."

"He has the radio, Rafe. Put the gun down!" you beg, your voice trembling with desperation. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot John B getting up and running, pulling Sarah with him "Where are you goin'? Huh?" Rafe shouts, pushing past side Ward as he yells out for Sarah.

In an instant, Rafe attempts to run after John B and Sarah, but you and Ward hold him back, pleading with him to calm down. "Where are you going?" he yells, his voice frantic. "Rafe, no!" you scream as he breaks free from your grip and starts shooting at John B and Sarah. "That's your sister, Rafe!" Ward shouts, trying to lower his son's arms.

You rush to Peterkins' body, your clothes now stained a deep crimson red. "I'm sorry," you sob, your shaky hands pressing against the wound. "It's not your fault, sweetie," she weakly whispers, as you continue to cry, "I'm so sorry!"

Rafe is breathing heavily, pacing as he watches you sobbing beside Peterkins. He regrets bringing you along. "Dad, I was trying to—" "Shut up!" Ward yells, his eyes shifting to you as he approaches.

Ward had always been like a father to you, believing you were a good influence on Rafe and treating you like his own daughter. But after what had just happened, you look up at Ward in terror. "Y/N," he says calmly. You don't reply as tears continue to stream down your face.

"I need you to get up," he says softly. "She is dying!" you scream, your voice breaking. "Y/N!" Rafe yells at you, his gaze cold and hard. You flinch under his glare. "What is wrong with you? You just shot somebody, Rafe!" Your voice cracks as he furiously storms up to you.

"You should've stayed in the car like I fucking told you!" he shouts, grabbing your biceps and forcefully pulling you to your feet. "I'm not going until the medics come!" you argue, your voice filled with desperation. "Get her home, Rafe!" Ward yells behind him.

"No, I'm not going!" you insist, trying to shake off Rafe's grip, but it's useless. "Rafe, she needs help!" you scream, thrashing against his hold. "Honey, I'm calling them, look!" Ward shows you the radio, trying to reassure you as Rafe drags you away. "Rafe, please!" you sob, trying to escape his grip as he manhandles you towards the car.

"Shut the fuck up!" he screams, yanking the car door open. "Get in the car." He shoves you aggressively into the seat, and you let out a scream. "Don't move!" he barks, slamming the door. You flinch, pulling your knees to your chest, your body trembling in terror at your unrecognisable boyfriend.

Inside the car, your mind races, fear and helplessness overwhelming you. You look out the window, seeing Ward and Peterkins, feeling utterly powerless.

[vivwritesfics]

Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Chapter One

He never had a choice in his life. His dreams were nothing more that that. Dreams. But then he met a lounge singer at his brother club and everything changed.

Mafia!Au

1.2K

Warnings: drugs (not taken), gun violence

Series Masterlist

This wasn't his job. It was beneath him, usually a job for his inexperienced little brother. But Arthur was at home, being looked after by their maman as he nursed a non-fatal gunshot wound.

Charles was pissed as he drove through the streets of Monaco. This was Arthur's job, not his. If he had listened to Charles and Lorenzo, and hadn't run in with guns (quite literally) blazing, they wouldn't be in this position.

The people of Monaco knew about the people who, essentially owned them. They had a royal family, but they didn't have as much Power as the Leclercs. As soon as they saw the black Ferrari SF90 Stradale, they knew to get out of the way.

On this day, the only thing stopping Charles from driving into everybody in his way was his love for his precious car. As soon as he had checked through the clubs, he was going to go to his mamans house and murder Arthur.

Charles parked his car. Well, parked is a term used loosely. He stopped the car wherever he wanted and every other driver on the roads of Monaco had to work around him. This was maybe one of the best demonstrations of power that the Leclerc family had.

When Charles walked into the first club, the twenty six year old was reminded of why he hated it so much. He had loved it when he was a fresh faced eighteen year old, receiving his first assignment from his father.

But now this was Arthurs job, appointed by Lorenzo. He had taken over as head of the family when they lost their father, just a year after Charles had received his first assignment.

The family didn't handle it well. The Leclerc's had almost started a full on war with the Gasly family of France. But Pascale, the matriarch, kept them in check.

The club was disgusting. It was the middle of the day so it was empty, aside from the club manager. The floor was covered in cups and bottles and odd sticky patches that that Charles was sure to avoid. There was the odd condom on the floor; Charles turned his nose up at that.

He checked the books, make sure the money was in order. He swapped out the cash in the safe for the drugs that the club sold. "Get this shithole cleaned up," he commanded the club manager and left.

The second club was much the same. He inspected the books and swapped the money in the safe for the drugs. This club was somehow dirtier than the first one. Several of the stall doors in the bathroom had been kicked in (Charles wasn't happy about leaving money for such things).

The third club Charles knew it be Arthurs favourite.

It wasn't a night club, more like a lounge. The lighting was low, with tables covering the floor. Comfortable, cosy booths lined the walls and the tables in the middle of the of the floor looked equally as comfortable. The art on the wall was tasteful and the air didn't stink like beer and piss.

Soft piano music greeted him and Charles realised why this was Arthurs favourite club. It felt legit.

Charles looked to the piano on the stage at the back of the club. There was a spotlight pointed towards it, illuminating the instrument and the girl playing it. As he approached, Charles watched her fingers dance across the keys. The tune was soft and melodic, not something that he recognised.

She seemed to be the only person in the club. "One second, Arthur!" She called, not looking up from her piano.

Charles stopped short. "I'm sorry?" He called and the piano music stopped. "Are you always familiar with my brother?"

Her eyes were wide as she stood and closed the lid of her grand piano. "Shit," she hissed, but Charles still heard it. "I'm so sorry, Mr Leclerc. I was expecting your brother."

Charles stepped onto the stage. His presence alone was terrifying, a far cry from Arthur, who treated the pianist like an old friend. She couldn't stop her knees from buckling as he approached. "He got shot," Charles said as he sat at the piano. "He'll be back in action soon."

He lifted the lid of the piano and pressed a key. As a boy Chalres had loved the piano. His father had encouraged him to play, but he hadn't touched a piano since Hervé dad passed. Even now, he couldn't bring himself to play more than a few notes.

"Are you the manager here?" Charles asked, again shutting the piano lid. She shook her head, eyes looked towards the bar while he continued to stare at her. "You shouldn't be in here, then."

She sucked in a breath. The gun in his waistband had become apparent the moment he sat at the piano. "Uhm, Arthur gave me a key so that I could come in and practice," she said as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Charles let out something of a controlled huff and stood from the piano. He headed past the stage, to where the office was, and instantly began searching through the desk for the books.

The pianist followed him. "You shouldn't be in here," he said and pulled out the papers he needed. She was still standing in the doorway as he checked through it. "Seriously, get out."

"I'm sorry," she said, still leaning against the door frame. "I just... is Arthur okay?"

Charles stared at her for a moment before nodding his head, but he didn't look happy. "A minor gunshot wound," he said. "He's sleeping on our mouths couch at the moment."

Letting out a relieved breath, she walked away from the back office, allowing Charles to swap the money in the safe for drugs.

When he returned to the main floor, the piano was empty. The lid was open, but the pianist wasn't there. Charles didn't check for where she was.

He sat himself at the piano and pressed three keys in a specific tune. It was all so familiar to him, flooding back to him. It had been so long, but it was natural. It was right.

The pianist, Y/N, was at the bar, getting herself a glass of water. The moment she saw Charles walk to the piano she stopped and watched.

He was hesitant at first, allowing himself to get used to the keys. But it didn't take very long for him to get comfortable. Soon enough he was playing like it was the only thing he knew today.

It wasn't perfect, it was barely good, but it was full of heart and soul. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him as he sped up slightly, getting more and more comfortable. There was nothing in the world but him and the music.

Finishing up the song Charles sucked in and rolled his shoulders. He looked around the club, looked at the empty tables, at the art on the wall and at the bar.

He narrowed his eyes as he stood up and walked over. "Were you watching me?" He demanded and she quickly shook her head, looking down at the glass of water in her hands.

"Don't," he barked and marched out of the club.

Permanent taglist: @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @minkyungseokie @formulaal @darleneslane @andydrysdalerogers @hrts4scarr @llando4norris

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Can I ask for revenge for hurt s/o with fem reader and Thomas Hewitt, maybe reader is a neighbour to the Hewitt's and her and Thomas become close over time, and maybe their latest victims are there and reader goes over to the house as well, and it's an all fight between everyone but someone cuts reader bad and maybe Thomas sees red and she is the only one to calm him down, and then they kiss

.⋆｡Anything For You｡⋆.

Thomas Hewitt x plus size reader

Thomas has always been your sanctuary but now, he would be your protector too

Warnings: death of parents, fire, murder, friends to lovers, angst, getting stabbed, violence, knives, happy ending, protective!Thomas WC: 1.9k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You liked the quiet of your farm. Just you and your animals and the family across the way, it was peaceful. It was all you had ever known. 

Your family moved to Fuller when you were barely a month old, buying up a small farm on the edge of town in hopes of laying down some roots. Life was peaceful, at least until the town began to decay. Less and less children would enrol in school every year, less cars on the roads. Even the fire station shut down as the last family moved out from the city centre. And that led to the death of your parents.

A spark from a frayed cable in the basement landed on a pile of newspapers, setting them alight. It had been a dry summer, far more than usual, and there was no lack of kindling for the blaze. You chose to sleep in the barn that night, wishing to rest beside the newborn calves. Your parents had indulged your silly request, not realising that it would save your life.

You could vividly remember the smell of smoke as it bellowed out from the shattered windows of your home. The dogs howled from their kennels while you ran onto the dirt road leading to the Hewitt household. You banged on their door, begging for them to save your parents.

But even with Monty and Charlie doing their best to put out the fire, no help was coming. You were forced to watch from the comfort of Luda Mae’s arms as your entire world turned to ash.

You lived with the Hewitts for a long time after that, being that you had no other family, as the small farm house was rebuilt. By the time you were 19, you had a new home and a deep friendship with the younger Hewitt brother. Thomas had always been kind to you in the brief moments you had seen each other, but it became something more when you became a daily fixture in his life. 

He showed you how he did his chores around their own farm, took care of the animals and crops on yours when you could not bear to look upon the mound that used to be your home. And in turn, you treated him with more kindness than he had ever experienced. You never faltered at his appearance nor his size, in fact you always found ways to compliment him. You taught him to read and write, and later on, how to use sign language after your schooling ended, even if he only ever used it with you. 

You were his best friend and he was yours.

Perhaps that’s why he never encouraged you to leave as the rest of his family did.

Having finished your morning chores, you sat on the small porch in front of your house with a cup of tea and the book you had been meaning to read, eager to soak in some sun before the Texan heat rolled through. Just as you were getting to a particularly juicy section where the gentle giant farm hand had finally kissed the farmer’s daughter in the barn, a shrill scream cut through the faint buzz of the cicadas.

“What the-“ You tilted your head, waiting for another sound but none came. Leaning over your porch railing, you could just about see the edge of the Hewitt’s driveway and noticed their truck was missing as was Hoyt’s police car. A warm breeze rustled the wheat growing along your property line. 

A sour feeling gnawed at your stomach, urging you to grab your sunhat from its peg by the front door and take the short walk over to the dilapidated home. 

Thomas would be at work already and if Luda Mae wasn’t home, then neither would Charlie since his old age was starting to get to him. Maybe an animal had gotten hurt, you mused as if trying to convince yourself that the scream couldn’t have possibly been human.

“Hello?” The screen door was firmly shut but you couldn’t quite see anything in the dark hallway. You’d have to remind Luda Mae to open up the windows when she left the house for the day, again. 

The floorboards creaked as something moved around. You glanced over your shoulder, hoping to see Thomas’s hulking figure walking up the driveway to save you from having to go in and investigate. But alas, only a toad sat on the gravel, looking up at you with a bored expression, as much as a toad can have.

“If I get murdered, Thomas gets all my stuff.” You pointed at it before taking a deep breath and opening the door.

A coppery smell clung to the stale air, an almost constant of the home but today, it set you more on edge. After three years of living there, you could’ve navigated the house blindfolded but as you passed the switch, you flicked on the lights somehow hoping it would ease the twisting in your stomach.

“Hello?” You called again, passing by the kitchen, not noticing the now empty knife block. The basement door was open. “Hoyt I swear to god if this is you trying to be funny, I’ll kick your ass.” You glanced down the basement stairs, but only the single hanging bulb was visible in the dark. 

Just as you were turning to continue your search, something heavy threw itself into your chest, sending you down the steps. You slammed hard against the concrete floor, the air was ripped from your lungs violently as your ears began to ring. Footsteps thudded down the stairs. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as you tried desperately to breathe. 

“Get that rope.” You reached for the leg of Thomas’s workbench, your vision beginning to tunnel. A hand grabbed at your shoulder, forcing you onto your back. 

“She-she’s not one of them.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter! She’s here isn’t she?” 

“Please.” You wheezed but you were only met with a fist to your jaw. Your eyes rolled.

“C’mon we can make a run for it now. We don’t have to hurt her.” The voices were growing distant.

“Would you just shut the fuck… up.” The last word trailed off as something else caught their attention. You dug your heels into the floor in an attempt to push yourself away from the two voices. The ache in your stomach was starting to ease but you still couldn’t fill your lungs all the way. 

Darkness suddenly covered you as the light from the dining room vanished. “Please.” You tried again but you were only met with silence. Wood creaked and suddenly, you were hauled up. 

“Get any closer and I’ll slit her fucking throat.” The cold metal of a blade pressed itself against your neck. A bitten off whimper slid past your lips as the tip dug into your skin. Your vision began to clear as adrenaline rushed through your veins. A huge shadow loomed at the top of the stairs, silently watching as the two people holding you back panicked.

“Thomas.” You tried to reach out to him. You caught the glint of metal before he raised his arm and threw a meat cleaver directly into the forehead of the one that had tried to run. They dropped like a sack of potatoes, eyes wide with fear as the life quickly left them. 

“Shut up you stupid bitch!” Their hold on you got looser as Thomas took one step forwards. His eyes glinted with anger, a rage you had never witnessed in your gentle giant before. His hands were curled into fists so tight that his knuckles were white, his shoulders raised, making him look even bigger.

You could feel the body behind you trembling as he steadily got closer. “Stay back!” But their tone wavered. You were pulled backwards as Thomas reached the middle of the stairs. “I’ll fucking kill her!” 

As slowly as you could, you began to reach into your front pocket for the small knife you always kept on you. The one Thomas had given you on your 16th birthday. His eyes flicked to you at your movement. You hissed as the knife against your throat pressed in deeper, nicking the delicate skin.

A sound akin to a growl rumbled through the basement. “Thomas no-“ The words had barely escaped you when suddenly the knife was pulled from your neck and shoved into your side. Coldness exploded from the wound like you had been plunged into a frozen lake as your body fell forwards.

A scream echoed through the home but it didn’t sound like your voice. It was warped and all wrong. You fell against something solid but also somehow soft. Its warmth drew your mind back for a moment, just enough to watch as one of Thomas’ massive hands coiled around the other man’s throat and squeezed with all his might.

He thrashed and struggled but he was no match for Thomas. There was a crunch, and then he went limp, his head lolling strangely on his neck. Thomas dropped his body like it was a piece of trash before all his attention shifted to you. 

Your own body was shaking in his hold but you were the furthest thing from scared. With the same hand he had just used to kill someone, he pressed down on your side, stopping the bleeding as best he could. “It’s ok, you saved me Thomas.” He shook his head, his dark hair falling in front of his face. 

He eased you back onto the workbench making you wince as the first tinges of pain began to appear. “Thomas.” You reached for him but he stepped away from you and darted into the darkness of the basement. He was rummaging through something. You heard glass break while you clutched at your stomach. 

His lumbering footsteps returned and the bulb above you flicked on with a gentle hum. A bright red box was in his hands which he was looking through as he rushed back to you. “Talk to me.” You urged. He glanced at you then sighed heavily. 

Not yet, he gestured and pulled out a thick bandage. You let out a huffed laugh, letting him pull up your now ruined shirt to get access to the wound. His eyes narrowed before he let out a breath of relief. Not deep.

You bit down on your lip as he wrapped the bandage around your plush stomach, pulling it as tight as he could without causing you more pain than necessary. “Thank you for saving me.” He helped you to sit up, taking care not to put too much strain on you.

His bulk was all you could see now. He cupped your cheek, a move far bolder than you expected from the shy man. You nuzzled into his touch, unable to stop yourself. “You did so good Tommy.” He nodded and you finally smiled. His head dipped down as his eyes flicked to yours with a silent question, one you had been waiting for since you were 15. 

It was you who leaned in first, capturing his chapped lips in a kiss that was long overdue. He was frozen for just a second then melted into it, naturally meeting the soft push and pull of your mouth in a way that made your brain go fuzzy that wasn’t purely shock. He hesitated when he pulled away but he didn’t go far, only putting enough space between you in order to meet your gaze once more.

“Protect.” His voice deep and rough from disuse but as he gathered you into his arms and tugged you against his broad chest, you knew that he would do anything to do just that. And you couldn’t help but smile through the pain.

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[cuchufletapl]

Can we talk about what was going on in the casino car, because

1) It's Amy's birthday party, Rouge's priority is still stealing treasure

2) Blaze goes along with it because why the fuck not. Are you even friends if you haven't executed a heist while roleplaying an Agatha Christie plot

3) We stray from the murder mystery for a solid what? 10 minutes? You don't even have to ask them for their alibis, it's optional. Tails doesn't care

4) IT'S AMY'S BIRTHDAY, THE POINT OF THIS IS THE MURDER MYSTERY

5) There's??? An elevator??? On the train???? Goes unexplained, there's not a second floor on the blueprints

6) If you suggest pretending to be Blaze's spouse to distract the guard she takes it seriously and asks you how many war crimes you've comitted before she can accept your proposal. I fucking love her

7) All the options when the egg starts ticking

7.1) You suggest telling the egg to stop. Rouge actually does it. It doesn't work. "... I don't even know why I did that."

8) Again, this is happening while Tails and the player are supposed to be solving the murder because that's what the party is about

9) Actually, it's happening while Sonic is unconscious and injured for real, and they've all been kidnapped and are getting delivered to Eggman. Neither the Fabergé Chao egg nor the other safes in the room have anything to with this

10) Also you, the player character, are staff on this train. You're robbing your employer on your first day. (Good for you, frankly)

It's the perfect B plot, I love it with my entire heart

[davinashifts333]

THE SECRET AFFAIR (Jason DiLaurentis x Liar!Reader):

⚫️summary; one year after Alison’s disappearance everything in Rosewood went haywire. Y/n, Aria’s maternal cousin & now 1/5 of the remaining Liars, who had either an equal amount or possibly even more secrets than her childhood friends, had been dating her now presumed dead best friend’s brother. That’s right, since before the summer of Alison’s disappearance Y/n & Jason had secretly been hooking up & began officially dating due to her helping him sober up & help him through his toughest nights that now gloomed over his past. She was his main alibi for the night everything happened with Alison but, obviously couldn’t tell anyone why she was with him. So why now, that they’re finally putting Alison to rest does it all go to shit? Because the whole town believes one of the liars did it.

⚠️warnings; swearing, age gap relationship (Y/n is the same age as the girls but one of the oldest, so 5-6 years younger than Jason), adult themes, murder, gore-ish?, PLL shit dude, it’s crazy, 18+ ONLY!

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Y/N’s POV (the night of Ali’s disappearance)

I woke up with a blazing headache to my phone ringing a very specific tone that had become all too familiar. Jason. Thunder rolled in as lightning flashed the barn awake. The text from Jason saying to meet him at our spot which was a small bench in the woods behind his house. I head over, carefully leaving the barn door ajar so the girls won’t wake up when I come back but, I notice i’m not the only one who had planned to escape. Ali was gone and so was Spencer. I brushed the thought from my mind as I remember Jason’s text,

‘Garrett and Ian brought over some weed and I have the shakes now, meet up? I’m freaking out. Be safe. xx’

Jason had been trying to get clean, key word, trying. His friend group wasn’t as lenient as I was though, every now and then I had to help clean him up and sleep through the high or drunken daze. He wasn’t the best at being drunk believe it or not, he got drowsier than me after smelling the fumes when filling my car up with gas. Regardless, Jason was there for me when my dad left to hunt down my mom’s murderer. Yeah, Aria is my cousin, our moms are sisters.. Well.. Were.. That was until one night in the winter of 1998. I woke up after hearing glass shatter and walked down stairs, all I remember seeing was a shadow of a tall man standing over my mother’s body. Since then, I’ve lived with my aunt Ella and her family. Jason was our neighbor from down the street and Aria knew Alison, so obviously I knew them too. He always told me that death brought new life and my new life I had to live in honor of my mom. We clicked from then on. Of course being older he always taunted us girls and would do the typical big brother things to Ali. But one night when I was 14, I kissed him. He was shocked at first but then admitted he always liked me best out of Ali’s friends. The only bad thing was, Alison saw us kiss. She held it over my head like a looming sword on the thinnest of threads, threatening to tell her parents that Jason tried to force himself on me. Which obviously was a lie but who would they believe. Little did she know, I had secrets of hers to shoot back with so, we bonded in that way. A battle for dominance as one might call it. But nonetheless we were best friends, and secrets so keep us together.

I walk up to the bench hearing the crunching of leaves coming from the opposite direction, they staggered a bit and I saw Jason stumbling towards me, tripping on a rock and landing right on top of me.

‘Shit, sorry babe. I guess drunk me has two left feet.’ I giggled at his comment as we sat up, backs against the trunk of the tree that stood tall above our bench.

‘Who bought it this time?’ I asked, changing the subject back to the issue at hand. Jason then took position on my lap, my hands running through his hair. He sighed.

‘Ian. As always. But Garrett also brought booze. You know I can’t resist a nice cold beer. Those two idiots are probably still up in my room thinking I passed out somewhere. How was your sleepover?’ I rubbed his temples, knowing he got headaches when he drank.

‘It was okay, had some drinks too, courtesy of your sister. Hanna and Emily knocked out first and well you kno-.’ Suddenly the sound of someone walking by caught our attention. Jason shot up and stumbled a bit before helping me up. I held his waist to help him gain balance and he whispered to me to head back to the barn. That we’d talk the next day. With a swift kiss goodbye we went our separate ways. But, just as I got back to the door of the barn I heard a scream. I quickly made my way inside to see Emily, Hanna and Aria still asleep. Gladly I didn’t get caught by Spencer or Ali. I went back to my place on the large ottoman and curled up, hoping for Jason to have gotten back in one piece. He wasn’t as drunk or high as other times but, he still could continue through the night or worse, be pressured by Ian. God, I hated his “friends”. They only enabled him to fail at sobriety and I knew the truth behind their little club. Ian started it all with Jason when Ian took a photo of the girls and I in Emily’s bedroom. Creep.

An hour or so went by and I couldn’t sleep with all the thoughts running in my mind but, I kept my eyes shut. Spencer had come back but seemed a bit off, her breathing was ragged and stuffy. Like she had been crying or running. I wondered if Ali had gone back home or if she was coming back but, my question was answered when a loud crack of thunder woke us all up. Emily and Hanna huddled together while Aria “woke” me up.

‘Damn Y/n/n. You sure can sleep through anything.’ Spencer joked trying to lighten the mood and we all slightly laughed.

‘Where’s Alison?’ I finally asked and Spencer spoke up.

‘I think I heard a scream.’

That night marked a huge change in our lives and seeing how things were, my Uncle Byron and Aunt Ella decided it would be best to move to Iceland for a while, to get away. But now that we were back, things seemed way different. I hadn’t heard from Jason much after Ali’s disappearance. We kept in tough but after I was forced to move across the world, we decided it was best to be apart. I hoped he stayed sober but, I also knew the loss of his sister was taking a toll on him.

Aria and I had begun to unpack when Mike announced he was hungry. So Aria and I took my car that my mom had when she was my age, to a little dive bar/restaurant near Hollis College to get some burgers. When I waited for our order, Aria snuck off with this really cute guy who was apparently studying to be an English teacher. I let her have some fun while I contemplated texting Jason. Low and behold I folded.

‘Hey, I know it’s been a while since we last spoke but I figured a check in from our old spot in Rosewood could be cool? I just got back today and could sneak away from Aria for a few. If you’re up for it. Hope you’re doing well. xx.’

He read it almost instantly as if he had known I was thinking of texting him.

‘Welcome back to hell. I can meet you there in 10?’ I felt my heart skip a beat at the thought of seeing Jason after a whole year and quickly shot Aria a text letting her know what I was doing. During our time in Iceland I confessed to her about Jason and I secretly dating to which she was impressed but mainly saddened by and even wrote a modern day Romeo and Juliet based off of us. It was sweet, Jason had even liked it when I read it to him on one of our phone calls early on. He also felt proud that I was able to trust someone enough to talk about him with.

I drove the 10 minutes to the last secluded park where we had to start meeting after our bench had been compromised by the investigation and waited. A few minutes went by and I heard a knock on my car window. I shut it off and climbed out. He looked good, way better than he did when I left. Healthier, a bit more put together and like his face was hurting from smiling so much.

‘I don’t remember you being this bubbly. Are you sure you’re Jason DiLaurentis?’ I joked and he pulled me in for a hug. His signature cologne engulfed me in the most comforting way.

‘No more red streaks in your hair, you’ve grown up. You sure you’re Y/N Y/L/N?’ He responded and I playfully punch his arm. We walked over to the picnic table and sat down. We talked for what felt like hours but in reality was about half an hour until Aria texted me saying she had the food and was getting dropped off at home. I responded with an excuse she could give her parents and she said she’d have my back. I came back to the conversation at hand and decided to ask the big question.

‘Sorry about that, Aria was just letting me know she’d cover for me back at home. So, truth. How are you?’ I asked, his eyes saddening a bit knowing what I meant.

‘Well, i’m sober. A whole 9 months now. Still dealing with the whole Ali missing thing and just graduated from College. You?’ I felt his hand playing with my rings on mine and sighed.

‘Well, about to start Junior year of High School, still dealing with the whole Ali missing thing and now very proud of this guy I used to date. He was a bit of a mess when I left our hometown so, you know. Surviving.’ He chuckled nodding as I ended my response.

‘He was very broken up. I mean come on, not being able to see your gorgeous face for that long? It was criminal. Poor guy was torn up enough already. You just added to the mix.’ I took notice of how true his comment was, I had left him in a vulnerable moment.

‘Well, I tried to keep in contact with him but, didn’t know how else to help, I was grieving too. Just grieving in a different way and grieving him as well.’ He lifted my chin to meet my gaze.

‘You don’t have to grieve anymore love. He’s never given up that one day you’d make your way back to him. Believe me. He even thought about how if you didn’t come back soon, he’d have to go to Iceland to find you.’ His hand now cupping my cheek as my eyes glazed over with tears. Alison always did tell me she loved how I helped Jason become more human in her eyes. She had seen a change in him from when we started dating.

‘Well, I thought he would hate me for leaving. I know I had no choice but, I still wished I could’ve been there to help him, like always.’

‘Baby, listen to yourself. You were always there helping me. Even when you had to go. You called every day, texted all day long, checked in when you could. You did your part, it was just time for me to do mine and let you move on. I just hoped that if we really were meant to keep going, you’d eventually come back to me.’ At this point I was fully crying and listening to his grief and love pour out of him.

‘I did hound my Aunt Ella everyday in hopes of us coming back sooner. And look at us now. I don’t want to move on, I want us, I want to grow in life with you Jason. I wanna see you be the person you always dreamt of becoming and to let the past stay in the past, all the mistakes were just bumps in the road. You took control of your life, focused on yourself and I couldn’t be happier for you. You deserved to be free from those assholes you called friends.’ He placed his forehead to mine and pulled me into his lap.

‘Can I kiss you now? I’m dying over here.’ He whispered and I laughed nodding. At that moment, we were in bliss. Not knowing what was yet to come and how insanely twisted our lives would soon become. After our reunion we agreed on meeting up as much as we could and even heading to Philly for date nights. However until I turned 18, we had to stay under the radar for a bit. It was all rose colored glasses until the first text from -A. It was a picture of me in Jason’s lap and a whole album of pictures of us before Ali went missing. Who could’ve possibly gotten these?

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A/N: HIIII! IM BACK ON MY DELULU SHIT & HAVE FALLEN BACK INTO MY CHILDHOOD COMFORT SHOW PLL. LMK IF I SHOULD MAKE THIS A SERIES OR NOT, ALSO LMK WHAT ELSE YOU’D WANT ME TO WRITE ABOUT! LOVE YOU GUYS & HAPPY 2024!! 🩷🩷🩷

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

I'LL ALWAYS FIND YOU - D.M

Warnings: kidnapping, blood, mentions of murder, addiction mention, mentions of sexual assault (no sexual assault against reader), criminal minds related language and unsubs.

Summary: Derek loved you more than anything so when you get kidnapped and he saves you, he doesn't know how to look after you. (Occurs between end of season 6)

Wordcount: 4.9k

You let out a sob. It was loud and it was broken and it came from deep within your chest.

The room was cold and the zip ties on your wrists were scratchy, digging into your wrists and cutting at the skin there whenever you would move. Every time you would try and fight, try to move your arms and find a way out, they just dig deeper.

Your shirt was ripped from where he had grabbed you but otherwise, you were left in your normal clothes. There was a wound on your head, an occasional sharp pain passing through your temple. The blood had a dried against your cheek and you were sure you looked like a mess. Bloody and tear stained.

You knew all about this unsub, had profiled him for the last week here in the blistering summer. You had profiled him as a masochist but there were barely enough bodies to be able to figure out anything.

He was stealing women from their cars, grabbing them from secluded areas and knocking them out with a harsh blow to the head. They would be there for about a week before they were killed and you had been there for just under a day now. He would also send daily photos of the women to the local police, almost taunting them.

You had been grabbing something from the car outside of the police station in the early hours of the mornings. None of you thought that he would grab someone from outside of a police station but here you were, the victim to his destabilisation. You wished you would have taken up Dereks offer for him to walk with you but you had been too stubborn.

Thinkin about Derek made your heart hurt. The two of you had been dating for around a year now and you knew he was it for you, the man that you were going to spend the rest of your life with. There was no doubt about that.

You had to keep thinking about the team. They were going to come find you, they were going to come and find you. You kept repeating it like a mantra, hoping that this sick bastard had made some mistake by grabbing you from a police station. He must have.

The sound of footsteps started to get closer and your heart pounded. If he was beginning to escalate with kidnapping a federal agent, who knew what he was going to do now.

Every bad thing that you had seen before on this job flashed before your eyes, dead girls living in streams, bloody knives, ropes. You tried to calm yourself down but you couldnt stop wondering about what could happen to you.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief as you heard the footsteps fading into the distance. You took a deep breath, blinking away the tears as you decided that you had to stop feeling sorry for yourself and instead find a way out of here.

Looking around, you noted that the room was concrete, no windows and just a single door on the other side of the room; maybe you were underground. Behind you was the metal grate that your arms were zip tied to and the floor was cold beneath your feet, a complete contrast to the blazing Louisiana summer that you had been investigating.

All your years of training were coming handy and you had to try and deduce your way out. But your heart was pounding and your head hurt from when he had hit you over the head a during your kidnapping. You were tired and hungry and not ready to die yet.

You closed your eyes, the feeling of fatigue starting to build up inside of you. You tried not to, but you let it take you away, just for a little bit.

Derek sat in the police office, head in his hands as he tried to figure it out. He needed to find you before something happened. You were the only person he had ever loved before, the only woman he would ever love.

Spencer looked at his friend sitting there at the table by himself, eyes trained on the board of the other dead women. He could tell that Derek was picturing you up there, body cut and beaten as it was dumped in an alleyway.

His stomach sank as he walked over, sitting down next to his friend.

“You need to sleep,” it had been 30 hours now and he hadnt slept since you went missing. Spencer knew he would be no use to you or the team if he was sleep deprived.

Derek turned to him, eyes red from crying earlier (even though he would never admit it to the team). There was worry written all over his face, knowing there was a chance he would never see her again.

He shook his head, “I cant sleep,”

“You have to,” Spencer said with a sigh.

Derek stood up, slamming his hand on the table with anger, “I cant,” he stated, bitterness rolling off of his tongue, “My girl is out there. He’s doing God knows what to her and I have to sit here and-” he let out a shaky breath, “-and she could be dead,”

Spencer stood up, “We profiled him. He wont kill her yet,”

“Yet,”

There was a silence in the room as Derek walked over to the board. The picture of you that he kept in his pocket in every mission was pinned up there on the board, your bright smile contrasting the photos of the other missing and dead women.

He took a deep breath, feeling guilty that he had taken his anger out on Spencer. He turned to him, running his hand over his face, “Yet,” he repeated, his voice softer this time.

“We will find her,” Spencer promised as he walked over, placing his hand on his friends shoulder.

He had seen how perfect the two of you were. You were friends for years and then one day, you announced to everyone that you were dating but they werent shocked. Your affection towards one another was obvious and everyone was waiting for the two of you to end up together.

He nodded, biting on his lip as he thought. His brows were furrowed, eyes glued to the picture of you on the board. He wasnt going to let anything happen to you, not now, not ever.

You were both going to make it out of this alive. He was ging to marry you, he was going to spend the rest of his life with you, have children with you if you wanted to do that, live in one of those houses in the suburbs. He would do anything that would make you happy.

The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled Derek out of his thoughts and he hadnt even noticed that a tear had slipped past his waterline until he felt it running down his cheek. He brushed it away, shaking his head as he composed himself.

He turned around, looking to see Hotch and the other standing at the entrance, “Everyone sit down please,”

They all complied, Derek unable to sit still as he waited to see what evidence Hotch had. Maybe they had a lead, maybe they had something that could help find you.

He pulled something out of his pocket and Dereks heart sank down in hs chest as he realised it was a picture. He had forgotten that this unsub would take photos of the women every day and drop them off at the local police stations.

Hotch couldnt even look at Derek as he slipped the picture onto the circular table that they were all sitting around.

The man instantly snatched the photo away before anyone else could look. None of them had ever heard the choked sob that Derek let out before as hee saw the picture of you.

You were standing there, tied up to some metal grate behind you. He couldn’t see your wrist but he assumed from the drops of blood on the floor that they were bleeding. He felt sick as he looked at the rip in your jacket, a large bruise starting to blossom on your shoulder.

It took him too long to reach your face. He brushed a thumb across the picture, brushing across your face. You had tear stains marking your cheeks and dried blood that came from a wound on your forehead. You looked like a mess and he felt physically ill at the sight - he couldn’t believe that someone was actually doing this to you, hurting you like this.

He slid the picture back down, lip quivering slightly as he did so. Emily and JJ shared a look, they had never seen the man so distraught. They had seen him when he confronted his assaulter and a few months ago had seen him lie to his aunt about his missing cousin. He had never seemed so upset before, so broken inside.

They all looked at it, taking turns to pass it around. The team were all friends and you were an integral part of it, none of them enjoyed seeing you like that.

Even in the pictures, they could still see the fierce look in your face. You werent going to go down without a fight and that was the best thing to think of.

Derek couldnt bring himself to look back down at the photo. He didnt want to look at you like that, he didnt want to imagine what the man had done to you. There was a sickening feeling in his gut as he thought about it and he couldnt bare to anymore.

But as the tears and the self-pity subsided, the anger started to build up. He didnt feel the burning sting in the back of his eyes anymore and instead, there was a building anger within his stomach.

He shook his head, shaking his head. They all saw his face change expression, the downturned and teary look on his face turning to one of anger, brows furrowed and fist clenched as it rested on the table.

“Is this what you called us in for? To show me a picture of my girl being tortured?” The whole team could hear the anger in his voice as he spat the words out.

Hotch understood what it was like to lose someone. He had lost the woman that he had loved and he would never want that to happen to anyone else. He didnt want to see that happen to anyone, especially not to someone he respected as much as Derek Morgan.

Derek's anger didn’t bother him and Hotch just continued to explain it, “No, Garcia might have a lead,” he explained.

Spencer perked up at the suggestion, “What?” He asked, sounding almost as desperate as the others.

You were friends with all of them, having gone on constant missions with them. They had never imagined anything bad to happen to you.

Hotch nodded, “She traced the journey of the man who dropped this off. He had met with some other man earlier today and this is him. Winston Binford, a thirty year old-“ he started to explain but Derek shook his head, standing up and slamming his hand onto the table.

“I don’t care, lets go find this sick son of a bitch,” he spat out.

There was this anger inside of him that he had not felt in a very long time. There was a desperation in his words and they could all see how much you meant to him and how much he needed to get you back.

He had lost so many people in his life, so many people that he had cared about. He would do anything to save his father back when he was a kid and now, he was going to do anything to save you. He would kill anyone that he needed to, he would do anything

Hotch understood his anger, he would be angry too if it was someone he loved and so he didnt reprimand him, “Calm down,” Derek took a deep breath, nodding his head, “We cant go rushing into this. We need to get a warrant and then we will go,”

“What if he kills her?” He asked, voice cracking.

Rossi stood up, looking at his friend, “He wont kill her,” he laid a hand on his shoulder as he promised him that, promised that nothing would harm her.

You were hungry and you were thirsty and you were tired. Everything hurt and ached and you didnt know how much longer you were going to be able to survive in the room, how much longer you would last.

It felt like there was this ticking time bomb in the room and you just had to hope that either your friends would come and save you or that he would kill you fast enough that it wouldn’t hurt too bad.

For your entire life, you had never had this fear of dying. You didnt want to leave your friends and family but it didnt scare you. However, right now, as you were staring death in the face, just waiting for the moment that the man came and cut the string, you were scared. You didnt want to leave Derek, not now that you two had moved in together and were in love. You didnt want to leave your family or the team who had become a second family to you.

The sound of footsteps started to get closer and in your sleep deprived state, you didnt hear that it sounded like there was more than one person.

Your eyes were trained on the doors, waiting for the moment that your captor decided to finally kill you and you were shocked to see the man who opened the door.

It was Derek Morgan, the love of your life, standing at the door, one hand still on the handle. He seemed in shock that he had finally found you.

Behind him were Emily and Rossi and the two of them looked at one another after taking in your appearance. They seemed horrified at the treatment that you had endured and you could hear Hotchs voice yelling out as he searched for the man that had done this for you.

The first thing Derek did was rush over to you. He instantly dropped to his knees in front of you, watching as you started to cry at the sight of him, chest heaving up and down in sobs. He wanted to kiss you all over, kiss away all the injuries that this man had caused but he had time to do that. Right now he needed to get you out of here.

“Let me get these ties off of you baby, okay,” his hands reached around her body, a knife that you hadnt even noticed before in his hands as he cut the zip ties away, “You’re okay,” his voice was comforting, the familiar lull of it bringing you back to reality.

As soon as they were off, you fell into his arms. He barely had any time to worry about your bloody wrists from where the zip ties had been cutting into your skin and instead focused on the fact that you were here.

He had never seen you cry a lot but today, you just collapsed into his arms, arms wrapped around his neck, hand grasping onto the back of his shirt. You sobbed into his chest, trying to grab at anything to make sure that he was real. You wanted to make sure that he wasnt just a figment of your imagination.

Dereks lip quivered, tears burning in the back of your eyes as he tried to comfort you instead of falling apart himself. One hand reached up and he brushed a hand over the top of your head, trying to calm you down.

“You’re safe baby, you’re safe,” he promised. He repeated the words over and over again, making sure that you understood that nobody was going to hurt you ever again.

As he held you close, feeling the warmth of your body against his, he let a single tear slip out. He had realised that if you would have died then he wouldn’t know how to go on with his life. He loved you more than anything else in the world and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, letting you calm down and just relish in the fact that you had one another, that you were finally safe.

Derek pulled back, looking at you. He brushed the dried blood from your cheek and then let his hand rest there. For a second, he just allowed himself to understand that you were here in his arms and that you were safe.

“Come on, let’s go get you to a medic doll, you’ll be okay,” he brushed his finger over your cheekbone and you nodded, breaths still shaky.

When he realised how cold you were, presumably from the environment that you had been held captive in, he pulled off the jacket that he had been wearing and draped it across your shoulders. You pulled it close, leaning your head down and taking a deep breath of your boyfriends scent.

It was comforting, something that reminded you of the apartment that the two of you had just moved into together, that reminded you of everything that you had waiting for you at home.

For the first time, you opened your mouth, “I wanna go home,” your voice was croaky and hoarse, probably because of the lack of food and water you’d had.

He nodded, his heart hurting for you as he realised the conditions that you had been in and the effects that it had in you, “Ill take you home baby, we just have to get you checked up,” he explained.

You nodded in response and he helped you up, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, he wasnt going to let go of you now, not ever. His touch comforted you, allowing you to stay grounded and not worry about your captor.

You walked out of the building, eyes squinting at the morning light. You couldn’t believe that you had been there for a day and a half now but it was behind you now.

The two of you stopped at the front of the ambulance and he turned so that he was looking at you. He placed two fingers under your chin, tilting your head up so that he was looking at you. When your eyes met, he could see the fear in your eyes and he wanted to get rid of all of that and make it all go away.

“Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?” His voice cracked as he asked the hardest questions, “You can tell me baby,”

You shook your head and he nodded, believing you. He sat you down on the edge of the ambulance before calling a medic over to come look at you. He held you hand throughout the whole thing, making sure that you felt safe and looked after.

A few hours later, Hotch had the man in custody and he was never going to see the light of day again. You thought that would help you rest as you sat on the plane, trying to close your eyes and fall asleep but it didnt help. Instead, every time you closed your eyes, you were back there, screaming for anyone to help you. In your entire life, you had never felt so weak, so useless.

Everyone was asleep, the low hum of the plane engine being the only noise in the room - well apart from Rossi’s sporadic snoring. You could mute the noise out, the click of Spencer's pen as he tried to jot down some notes from today to give to Hotch to make his job easier and you didn't even hear the steady beating of Derek's feet as he walked back from the bathroom.

You had zoned compiler out and they understood that. All of them had their own share of near death experiences, of moments that someone could have pulled the trigger at them.

None of them had been held captive before, just you and Spencer. He had gone through worse, being killed and resuscitated which lead to an addiction that he barely managed to escape from.

You wondered if you would struggle as much as Spencer did after his kidnapping. There was a guilt in your chest as you compared them. He actually died and you were just held hostage, nothing really bad happened to you. So why did you feel so awful? So ashamed?

Derek sat in the seat across from you and you barely registered him being there. You were off in your own world, feeling ashamed as you sank into the feeling of self-pity at what had happened.

You flinched at the light touch on your knee and Derek pulled his hand back, an almos guilty look on his face. He didnt know how to care for you now, how to make sure you are okay when nothing else is.

There was a guilt bearing down on your chest as you looked at the hurt flash across his face. You didnt want to pull away but after what had happened earlier, you didnt know how to articulate what you meant.

It was silent after that, neither of you knowing what to say to make the other feel better.

When the plane landed, everyone started to grab their stuff, walking off the plane. You just stood there, staring at your bag, thinking about going home as a slightly different person.

JJ looked at Derek, giving him a look that asked if you were okay. He shook his head, walking over to her, “Give us a minute?” She nodded, giving him a reassuring smile before she walked out of the plane to go tell the rest of the team that they would have to wait.

He took a deep breath as he walked over to you, tapping you gently on the shoulder,r trying not to scare you too much. He didnt fail to notice the way that you jumped slightly at the feeling of his touch but still turned around, looking up at him.

“You wanna talk doll?” He asked, voice soft.

You took a shaky breath, looking away from him for a second. He knew your tells, and that was one of them - you were nervous.

He took your hand and you looked up at him. He brushed his thumb over your knuckles, “Are you okay?” He knew it was a stupid question but it needed to be asked. He knew that you weren’t okay but he needed to know the extent to your pain and how he could help you.

Nobody had asked you the question yet, clearly not wanting to see your reaction - and knowing that it was normally a stupid question to ask someone who had gone through trauma. Your lip quivered, eyes meeting his and when they did, he saw the tears that were building up in your waterline.

“No,” you muttered, one of the only things that you had said to him since you got back.

Derek took that as a good sign and he nodded, taking a step closer and this time, you didnt back away in fear, you let him get closer. He nodded, “You wanna talk about it?” He repeated his question from earlier.

You pursed your lips together, clearly thinking the question over. You shook your head, “Not yet,” he nodded in response, understanding why you wouldnt want to. Your next question shocked him though, “Just hold me?”

There was a beat of silence as Derek thought. It was strange that you had been avoiding his touch and now you were asking for it but he didnt care, just knowing that if this was what was best for you than he would do it. He would do anything that you asked.

He held his arms out, letting you take the first step. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, hands tightening against the back of shirt as you grounded yourself. You buried your head in his chest, taking a deep breath as you inhaled the familiar scent of your boyfriend.

You had missed him more than anything when you were gone. You didnt know how you would live without him and after the events of the last week, he felt the exact same.

He was shocked for a second at the tightness of your hug and the way you held onto him but he just smiled, knowing that this was more like the old you. He instantly wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on top of yours,

One hand was splayed on your back, pressing you tightly against him and the other was on the back of your head, holding you close. He could stay here forever, hold you until you need to knew that he would never let go again.

It was muffled against his shirt but he could make out your words, “I love you,” you hadnt said those words since you were kidnapped, too scared that something else bad would happen.

He smiled to himself, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “God, I love you so much,” he muttered into the top of your head.

You pulled away slightly, moving your hands so that they rested on his chest. You leaned against him as you looked up into his eyes. Your eyes flickered down to his lips and you leant up, pressing your lips against his.

He closed his eyes instantly, melting into your touch. He hadnt been able to kiss you since the events and as his hand came up to cradle your face, holding you like a porcelain doll that might break, he knew that this is where he belonged - in your arms.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you again,” he pulled back, whispering the words against your lips.

Your eyes fluttered open and you nodded, “Okay,” you whispered. You believed him, you knew he would look after you forever, “Can we go home?”

He nodded, taking your hand in his as he pulled back from the hug, still standing close enough to you, “Let’s go,”

What you didnt know was that the next week before the two of you were meant to go back into work, he had driven you to Rossis house. You stood outside of the door in the nice dress that Derek had bought for you a while back and looked at him confused, “What are we doing here?” You questioned.

In the few days that you had been back, he had seen you coming back to your old self. He had seen more smiles on your face and even though you both had basically spent the week in your shared house, lying in bed and just relishing in one another’s company or sitting in the garden admiring the world, you seemed happier already.

The team wanted to do something good for you and make you feel better after everything that had happened. He didnt want you to be scared to come back to work so he thought this would be nice for you.

“Just seeing our friends,” he promised, ringing the doorbell.

Penelope opened the door and smiled at you as you stood there. She instantly pulled you into a hug and you reciprocated it, feeling as she hugged you tightly.

She let go of you, her hand still on your shoulder, “Come in, come in,” she ushered you in and you looked at Derek, a wide smile on his face.

His hand rested on the small of your back as you walked into the house, seeing all of your friends and team members standing at the table, all looking at you and Derek.

You looked at him and he smiled at you, “You didn't have to do this guys,” you said.

“Come here kid,” Rossi said and you walked over. He gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, knowing that you might not want to be touched after what had happened, “You deserve something good to happen okay,”

You nodded, looking out at all of your friends. Your eyes watered slightly as you realised that they had done this all for you, not only had they saved you from that monster but they had also made sure that you were okay afterwards.

“You guys are the best,” you said, looking out at them.

They all smiled, glad to see you okay. There was a silence in the room and you just took a moment to enjoy the fact that you were safe and you were with your friends - it was one of the things that you kept having to remind yourself of.

You knew that the feelings of worry may never fully go away, that you would never forget the fact that you were held captive for 40 hours to a man that would watch and murder women. But maybe, if you just enjoyed the company of your friends and relished in the moment then you could push it to the back of your mind.

There would be one day that you wouldn’t worry about walking to your car alone, that you wouldnt wake up in the middle of the night worried that you were back there and thi was all a dream. You just had to work up to it and with your friends, you knew that it would happen.

Rossi smiled, “Now come on, Ive made your favourite. Spaghetti and meatballs,” he explained as he ushered the group over to the table.

You laughed, realising how much effort your friends had put into making you feel better.

“They better be vegetarian,” Penelope said and Rossi scrunched his nose up in disgust.

He sat her down, “I have a separate batch for you,” he reassured.

He plated everyone up with the food, pouring wine for everyone. You looked out at the table, looking at your friends as they sat there, just enjoying each other’s company.

“This is better than fighting serial killers,” Emily joked.

You laughed and it was one of the first times that they had seen it since you had been kidnapped. Emily smiled, a proud look on her face as she realised she had made you laugh.

Derek smiled too, happy that you were coming back to your old self. He grabbed your hand, pulling it up to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles, never taking his eyes away from yours.

You took a deep breath as you realsied that this was where you belonged, amongst your found family. They were always going to save you if something bad happened and you knew that now.

You reached for your glass, with the hand that wasn’t holding Dereks, and held it up, “Cheers,” you said.

They all looked at you, a smile on their faces as they all clinked their glasses between them

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The impoverished imagination of neoliberal climate “solutions

This morning (Oct 31) at 10hPT, the Internet Archive is livestreaming my presentation on my recent book, The Internet Con.

There is only one planet in the known universe capable of sustaining human life, and it is rapidly becoming uninhabitable by humans. Clearly, this warrants bold action – but which bold action should we take?

After half a century of denial and disinformation, the business lobby has seemingly found climate religion and has joined the choir, but they have their own unique hymn: this crisis is so dire, they say, that we don't have the luxury of choosing between different ways of addressing the emergency. We have to do "all of the above" – every possible solution must be tried.

In his new book Dark PR, Grant Ennis explains that this "all of the above" strategy doesn't represent a change of heart by big business. Rather, it's part of the denial playbook that's been used to sell tobacco-cancer doubt and climate disinformation:

https://darajapress.com/publication/dark-pr-how-corporate-disinformation-harms-our-health-and-the-environment

The point of "all of the above" isn't muscular, immediate action – rather, it's a delaying tactic that creates space for "solutions" that won't work, but will generate profits. Think of how the tobacco industry used "all of the above" to sell "light" cigarettes, snuff, snus, and vaping – and delay tobacco bans, sin taxes, and business-euthanizing litigation. Today, the same playbook is used to sell EVs as an answer to the destructive legacy of the personal automobile – to the exclusion of mass transit, bikes, and 15-minute cities:

https://thewaroncars.org/2023/10/24/113-dark-pr-with-grant-ennis/

As the tobacco and car examples show, "all of the above" is never really all of the above. Pursuing "light" cigarettes to reduce cancer is incompatible with simply banning tobacco; giving everyone a personal EV is incompatible with remaking our cities for transit, cycling and walking.

When it comes to the climate emergency, "all of the above" means trying "market-based" solutions to the exclusion of directly regulating emissions, despite the poor performance of these "solutions."

The big one here is carbon offsets, which allows companies to make money by promising not to emit carbon that they would otherwise emit. The idea here is that creating a new asset class will unleash the incredible creativity of markets by harnessing the greed of elite sociopaths to the project of decarbonization, rather of the prudence of democratically accountable lawmakers.

Carbon offsets have not worked: they have been plagued by absolutely foreseeable problems that have not lessened, despite repeated attempts to mitigate them.

For starters, carbon offsets are a classic market for lemons. The cheapest way to make a carbon offset is to promise not to emit carbon you were never going to emit anyway, as when fake charities like the Nature Conservancy make millions by promising not to log forests that can't be logged because they are wildlife preserves:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/18/greshams-carbon-law/#papal-indulgences

Then there's the problem of monitoring carbon offsetting activity. Like, what happens when the forest you promise not to log burns down? If you're a carbon trader, the answer is "nothing." That burned-down forest can still be sold as if it were sequestering carbon, rather than venting it to the atmosphere in an out-of-control blaze:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/26/aggregate-demand/#murder-offsets

When you bought a plane ticket and ticked the "offset the carbon on my flight" box and paid an extra $10, I bet you thought that you were contributing to a market that incentivized a reduction in discretionary, socially useless carbon-intensive activity. But without those carbon offsets, SUVs would have all but disappeared from American roads. Carbon offsets for Tesla cars generated billions in carbon offsets for Elon Musk, and allowed SUVs to escape regulations that would otherwise have seen them pulled from the market:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/24/no-puedo-pagar-no-pagara/#Rat

What's more, Tesla figured out how to get double the offsets they were entitled to by pretending that they had a working battery-swap technology. This directly translated to even more SUVs on the road:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Criticism_of_Tesla,_Inc.#Misuse_of_government_subsidies

Harnessing the profit motive to the planet's survivability might sound like a good idea, but it assumes that corporations can self-regulate their way to a better climate future. They cannot. Think of how Canada's logging industry was allowed to clearcut old-growth forests and replace them with "pines in lines" – evenly spaced, highly flammable, commercially useful tree-farms that now turn into raging forest fires every year:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/16/murder-offsets/#pulped-and-papered

The idea of "market-based" climate solutions is that certain harmful conduct should be disincentivized through taxes, rather than banned. This makes carbon offsets into a kind of modern Papal indulgence, which let you continue to sin, for a price. As the outstanding short video Murder Offsets so ably demonstrates, this is an inadequate, unserious and immoral response to the urgency of the issue:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/14/for-sale-green-indulgences/#killer-analogy

Offsets and other market-based climate measures aren't "all of the above" – they exclude other measures that have better track-records and lower costs, because those measures cut against the interests of the business lobby. Writing for the Law and Political Economy Project, Yale Law's Douglas Kysar gives some pointed examples:

https://lpeproject.org/blog/climate-change-and-the-neoliberal-imagination/

For example: carbon offsets rely on a notion called "contrafactual carbon," this being the imaginary carbon that might be omitted by a company if it wasn't participating in offsets. The number of credits a company gets is determined by the difference between its contrafactual emissions and its actual emissions.

But the "contrafactual" here comes from a business-as-usual world, one where the only limit on carbon emissions comes from corporate executives' voluntary actions – and not from regulation, direct action, or other limits on corporate conduct.

Kysar asks us to imagine a contrafactual that depends on "carbon upsets," rather than offsets – one where the limits on carbon come from "lawsuits, referenda, protests, boycotts, civil disobedience":

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/cif-green/2010/aug/29/carbon-upsets-offsets-cap-and-trade

If we're really committed to "all of the above" as baseline for calculating offsets, why not imagine a carbon world grounded in foreseeable, evidence-based reality, like the situation in Louisiana, where a planned petrochemical plant was canceled after a lawsuit over its 13.6m tons of annual carbon emissions?

https://earthjustice.org/press/2022/louisiana-court-vacates-air-permits-for-formosas-massive-petrochemical-complex-in-cancer-alley

Rather than a tradeable market in carbon offsets, we could harness the market to reward upsets. If your group wins a lawsuit that prevents 13.6m tons of carbon emissions every year, it will get 13.6 million credits for every year that plant would have run. That would certainly drive the commercial imaginations of many otherwise disinterested parties to find carbon-reduction measures. If we're going to revive dubious medieval practices like indulgences, why not champerty, too?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Champerty_and_maintenance

That is, if every path to a survivable planet must run through Goldman-Sachs, why not turn their devious minds to figuring out ways to make billions in tradeable credits by suing the pants off oil companies?

There are any number of measures that rise to the flimsy standards of evidence in support of offsets. Like, we're giving away $85/ton in free public money for carbon capture technologies, despite the lack of any credible path to these making a serious dent in the climate situation:

https://www.spglobal.com/commodityinsights/en/market-insights/latest-news/energy-transition/072523-ira-turbocharged-carbon-capture-tax-credit-but-challenges-persist-experts

If we're willing to fund untested longshots like carbon capture, why not measures that have far better track-records? For example, there's a pretty solid correlation between the presence of women in legislatures and on corporate boards and overall reductions in carbon. I'm the last person to suggest that the problems of capitalism can be replaced by replacing half of the old white men who run the world with women, PoCs and queers – but if we're willing to hand billions to ferkakte scheme like carbon capture, why not subsidize companies that pack their boards with women, or provide campaign subsidies to women running for office? It's quite a longshot (putting Liz Truss or Marjorie Taylor-Greene on your board or in your legislature is no way to save the planet), but it's got a better evidentiary basis than carbon capture.

There's also good evidence that correlates inequality with carbon emissions, though the causal relationship is unclear. Maybe inequality lets the wealthy control policy outcomes and tilt them towards permitting high-emission/high-profit activities. Maybe inequality reduces the social cohesion needed to make decarbonization work. Maybe inequality makes it harder for green tech to find customers. Maybe inequality leads to rich people chasing status-enhancing goods (think: private jet rides) that are extremely carbon-intensive.

Whatever the reason, there's a pretty good case that radical wealth redistribution would speed up decarbonization – any "all of the above" strategy should certainly consider this one.

Kysar's written a paper on this, entitled "Ways Not to Think About Climate Change":

https://political-theory.org/resources/Documents/Kysar.Ways%20Not%20to%20Think%20About%20Climate%20Change.pdf

It's been accepted for the upcoming American Society for Political and Legal Philosophy conference on climate change:

https://political-theory.org/13257256

It's quite a bracing read! The next time someone tells you we should hand Elon Musk billions to in exchange for making it possible to legally manufacture vast fleets of SUVs because we need to try "all of the above," send them a copy of this paper.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/31/carbon-upsets/#big-tradeoff

[busylizbee]

As soon as I saw our beloved Dr. Ratio, I IMMEDIATELY thought of Dr. Spilsbury. Without having read this book or anything about the man in depth, I can't do him justice. Or the comparison justice, for that matter.

I HIGHLY recommend reading this book or just learning about Dr. Spilsbury. The brains. The sass. The end.....

They even scowl the same! （；￢＿￢）

"Sir Bernard Spilsbury was an early-twentieth-century British forensic pathologist who gained fame by testifying in classic murder cases, beginning in 1910 with the Dr. Hawley Harvey Crippen trial. His expert court testimony-he identified Crippen's victim by detailed microscopic study of a scar-convinced the lay jury of Crippen's guilt. Considered the father of modern forensic pathology, Spilsbury became well known after he provided crucial prosecutorial evidence in the Brides in the Bath case (where a nurse nearly drowned in a laboratory experiment designed to prove his theories), the Blazing Car and Brighton Trunk murders, and the Hay-on-Wye aresenic poisoning trial. Knighted in 1923, Spilsbury performed 20,000 postmortem examinations and became the first and only "Honorary Pathologist to the Home Office." Controversial and dramatic, Spilsbury's rise and fall as a media star, revealing how he put spin on the facts, embellished evidence, and played games with the truth. In some notorious cases, his "positive evidence" led to the conviction and execution of men innocent of murder-gross miscarriages of justice that now demand official pardons. Spilsbury's carefully nurtured image, dogmatic manner, and unbending belief in his own infallibility and exposes the fallacies of the man dubbed "the most brilliant scientific detective of all time." 

[wheels-of-despair]

Can You Feel It? Pairing: Ex!Billy Hargrove x You x Unimportant Jock Event: A Very @corroded-hellfire Valentine's Day Summary: Billy fucked around. Now he's gonna find out. Contains: Heartbreak, spite, sex, Billy Hargrove Is His Own Warning. Song: You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette Words: 1.4k

Minors and ageless blogs who interact with this fic will be blocked.

And every time I scratch my nails down someone else's back I hope you feel it Well, can you feel it?

You hate Billy Fucking Hargrove.

You hate his stupid hair and his dumb earring and his loud-ass car and you especially hate the fact that you found him with some skank's tongue down his throat at Tommy Hagan's party last weekend, just hours after he told you that he loved you.

You didn't make a scene. You didn't key his car or slash his tires or even let him know you'd decided to come after all.

You just went home and cried.

You cried until you got angry.

It boiled over Monday morning in the Hawkins High parking lot. You were separated by staff who threatened to call your parents and told you both to stay far away from each other. You were happy to comply. He was as good as dead to you.

For a few days.

The following Thursday in the cafeteria, when he winked at you while that slut sat in his lap, you rose up out of your chair to go murder them both... when Ashley M. stepped into your path and caught you off-guard by shoving a flyer in your hand.

You read it - keg party, this weekend, no parents - and a new plan began to form in your jilted brain.

You went all out. Teased your hair. Applied make-up that would make Cyndi Lauper proud. Wore that top that makes your tits look phenomenal and a tiny skirt that your parents didn't know you owned and the painful shoes that Billy called "Fuck-Me Heels."

Boys were drooling the minute you casually strolled into Ashley M's front door half an hour late.

You located him in seconds. He sat on the kitchen counter, staring. You'll give him something to fucking stare at.

You looked to the right and made eye contact with the first idiot who'd crowded around you, vying for your attention. According to his letterman jacket, his name was Spencer. He'd do.

It was almost too easy. One dazzling smile and a dance with a little too much touching, and he was practically dragging you down the hallway. Easy, Sparky, don't forget who's running this show.

He tries two doors before finding an empty room. A bathroom. Good enough.

He closes the door and locks it and shoves you against the back of it and tries to worm his tongue down your throat. No technique. Not at all like Billy.

Right. Billy. That's why you're here. You palm Sparky's comically small package with one hand and subtly reach behind you to unlock the door with the other. You push the meathead away, approach the sink on the opposite side of the room, and hop on. It faces the door. Perfect. You want to see the look on his face when he inevitably storms in and throws a fit.

Sparky sheds his jacket - stopping to hang it carefully on a towel hook, lest his precious jock gear get a wrinkle in it - and stands between your knees. He leans forward and begins to maul your neck. His hands find your tits and grab at them like it's his very first time. You distract him by peeling his shirt off, "accidentally" tangling it around his head to stall him. When he gets free and tries to resume his frantic fondling, you move his hands to your ass and watch the door boredly.

"You're so hot," Sparky moans, squeezing your ass with both hands. You roll your eyes. Hurry up, Hargrove.

You wait patiently until the bathroom door crashes open. It sends a jolt through your entire body, like you've been struck by lightning. Billy Hargrove stands in the doorway, eyes blazing and shoulders squared. The doorknob left a dent in the wall behind it. What did he do, kick it open? It wasn't locked, you fucking moron.

Sparky turns around at the sound. "Hey man, you mind? We're kinda busy here."

You grab Sparky by his bare shoulders and jerk him back to you. His face collides with the side of your neck, and he resumes his disgusting slurping like Billy isn't standing just a few feet away, ready to kill him. You stare coldly at the asshole in the doorway while you scratch your nails down Sparky's back. A move that was guaranteed to make Billy go feral, every fucking time.

Can you feel that, Hargrove?

"Ow! Shit!"

Sparky backs away from you and your claws, and Billy steps forward to catch him. Billy grabs him by the scruff of the neck and hauls him into the hallway, bouncing his face off the wall a few times before shoving him to the floor.

Now it's your turn.

Billy steps over Sparky's body and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He locks it, and before you can marvel at the fact that the lock mechanism still works, he's on you. Hand on your throat. Your head smacks against with the mirror behind you.

"What the fuck was that?"

"What's it to you? You don't want me anymore, remember?"

Fire blazes in his eyes, and his grip tightens.

You stare calmly into his furious face.

Why the fuck did you miss him? He made you mad almost every day. You fought all the time. He was moody, and difficult, and snarky, and let's not forget the fact that he's a liar and a cheater and an all-around dickhead who broke your fucking heart.

You'd give anything for him to love you the way you love him.

In the blink of an eye, Billy's hand moves from your throat to the back of your neck, and his mouth is on yours. Your brain quiets, and your body buzzes, and being close to him is the only thing that matters.

His massive hands drift down to your breasts, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. You moan into his mouth, and his hands keep traveling south. You open your legs for him, and he doesn't waste any time slipping under your skirt and past your barely-there panties and dipping a finger into your center.

Feeling how wet you are brings him back to the reality of the situation. He extracts his hand, wipes it on your thigh, and glares.

"That douchebag get you this worked up?"

"That limp-dicked dumbass couldn't work a calculator."

Billy snorts, and you smile. God, you missed this.

"Who'd you wear those Fuck Me Heels for, then?"

"Who do you think, asshole?"

He smirks in a way that makes you want to smack it off his face. Instead, you hook your leg around him and pull him closer. Billy grabs your ass and jerks you to the edge of the counter, so you can feel his stiff member pressing into your heat. You need him so fucking bad.

His assault on your mouth begins again, and you wrap your arms around him and cling to his back. He rocks into you, and the friction from his jeans is almost enough to finish you off.

"Billy," you breathe. "Need you."

"I should make you beg," he taunts, slowly dragging the double-stitched denim of his fly upward and surprising you with a sudden jerk of his hips. You claw at his jacket and puff out a breath of air. You're not fucking begging. You try to grind your hips against him, but he reaches down to hold them still. You respond by lurching forward and biting his neck.

Billy responds with a slap to your ass. He pulls back, and you glare up at him, chest heaving. You're not fucking begging.

"Fuck it," he grumbles, reaching for his belt buckle. He unbuckles unzips, and slams into you in seconds.

Fuck, you missed this.

Billy begins to thrust hard and fast, eyes on yours. When you begin to approach your peak, you close your eyes and lean your head back. He grabs your jaw and makes you look at him. He wants to watch it happen. He needs to see what he does to you.

You come together, with grunts and moans, collapsing against each other in a panting heap. You fall back against the mirror, and he leans with you. His head rests on your shoulder. Breathing ragged. Bones weak. Brains foggy. Nobody makes you fall apart like he does.

"I love you," is what you want to tell him.

"I know," is probably what he would say before he smirked his dumb little smirk and zipped up those tight jeans that fit him just right and left your stupid ass in a puddle of your own tears again.

You wish you could hate Billy Fucking Hargrove.

[yarrystyleeza]

You Can Keep It (M.K)

Michael Kinsella x female!reader

Mentions of the Kinsellas' dirty business, mentions of Michael's wife death, but it's all fluff.

Summary: you've had an involuntarily hard limerence on your new coworker, Michael, for a while now. After an office party at the car dealership on a cold night, Michael lends you his jacket.

Word count: 2.11k!

Writer's note: I literally had this idea sparked in my head when I was chatting with the girls on discord the other day—and I really had to write it down! It's short, it's quick, but it's fluff and pining, it's what we live for! <3

You had a bottle of beer between your knees as you sat on the white office sofa, chatting with one of your coworkers about your plans for the weekend.

Amanda had decided to throw a party at the car dealership for whatever reason and you didn't really question it. You needed a break from working and some food because today was exhausting, and this party offered you all.

"I'll be out of town fer the weekend," your coworker said before taking a sip of her drink, "goin' ta see me boyfriend's family fer the first time," you smiled. You know she was looking forward for that day for a really long time, she and her boyfriend were planning an engagement soon and you couldn't be happier for her.

But as she spoke, your eyes strayed away to the farthest corner in the room and you spot him. The gloomy dark-haired man, standing alone, the way he always did. Michael.

Your eyes meet for a second and your face blazing red. Your interactions were less than few, but you couldn't help but smile and feel your stomach churn whenever you spot him anywhere in the crowd, or keep staring at him as he talks, or when he smiles—Oh God, when he smiles. This man was the perfect form of himself when he smiles.

He's Amanda's brother-in-law, and you learned that he was freshly released from prison for the murder of his wife. You didn't know of him before that and you'd be a liar if you say it didn't scare you off the first time you heard of him.

You expected a very frightening looking man but, he was totally the opposite.

Apparently, and presumably, he wasn't the one who did it. Judging from the way he looks whenever someone mentions her—he loved his deceased wife. But only him and God know what happened that night.

You know about the Kinsellas' real business, everyone knows about it, they aren't hiding or keeping it under the wraps anyway—but you often thought of that dirty business' involvement in that poor woman's demise. But ever since he was released, Michael was working his best to stay off the business—for his teen daughter, Anna.

You know, you just know.

Maybe you overheard couple things and maybe you investigated couple others but you're not very proud to say that you know things about this man and his family more than anyone else in the room. You know... Too much. You're Amanda's assistant—you got to be involved in so much shit work, and you knew so much that either could make you feared and powerful or put your head in a guillotine basket.

"Go talk ta him," your coworker nudged your knee with hers. You turned your head back to her, realizing that you were staring at Michael for too long. She smiled. You were a deer caught in headlights.

"What are ya talkin' about?" you were garbled, mind scattered all over the place. But a part of your brain is still there, with the man in the corner—and your eyes fight to look back at him.

"Ya know who I'm talkin' about. Go." she chin-jutted in his general direction. Your eyes follow back to him and his gentle gaze was on you. Once your eyes met again, a smile was slowly drawn on his face and you could see his cheeks prickling from this very far spot you're at. He looks down at his feet then back at you and you slip out of time and space, the air is stuck in your throat and your brain tunes out everything but him.

He's under the spotlight, and the rest is pitch darkness.

You rise from your seat to cross the distance between the two of you. Your heart pounds loud in your ears, your breath feels hot and wet against your face as you march towards him with his focus poured onto you.

His smile deepens the closer you get, until you could see the crow feet on each side of his eyes. You loved his hazel eyes, and you couldn't help but stare into their brown vastness and innocence, getting lost in the drugging color of caffeine.

"Hey," he speaks with a smile and says your name. He knows who you are, the same way as you do. And in fact, the feeling is mutual.

For a moment, you forget how to breathe. "Hey, Michael," you smile and your face is red. You've never said his name out loud before and it sounds way better than the voices in your head.

"How's the party goin fer ya?" you ask, taking a sip of your drink, trying to sound chill and casual and nonchalant—but in reality you were melting into a puddle with his gaze softly casted upon you.

He smiles and you could see the ghost of a dimple under his thick beard. "Grand. Ya?" he simply answered, or that's what he succeeded to delude you with.

You were the first one Michael ever laid his eyes upon since he got released weeks ago. You made his heart tick in a way he couldn't explain. He watched you talk and smile and laugh with your coworkers and he wished he was this close to you.

At one of the few times you got a chance to talk—he was a breath away from asking you out, but he thought it would be awkward and a bit creepy. This broke him into pieces, watching you acting professionally around him while he was almost a pile of sweat and tears in front of you.

Tonight, when he looked at you and you looked up at him, his heart faltered in his chest, each beat is tripping over the other. He tried to appear more staid and calm but he sighs so desperately when you ripped your eyes quickly away from his.

He thought about walking over to you and striking up a conversation and maybe ask you out afterwards—but he felt it was too awkward to do that; he never started the talk—not with someone close. But he wants to be close. He wants to be something more to you. His insalubrious crush on you keeps him up at night and daydreaming in the morning.

"Grand, I guess," you pull him back into reality. You're standing in front of him, here and now, and he wasn't imagining things.

"Glad ye are, pet," your breath hitched in your throat at the casual petname he threw at you. You blink into the distance twice and look back at him. He just called you 'pet'.

You couldn't help but daydream about how other flirty words would sound with his pleasantly gravelly voice. 'Mine', 'baby', 'love', 'sweetheart', 'bug', you wanted to hear it all now. You wanted to hear your name in all of his tones.

"So am I," you had to talk back, you already looked awkward enough with your mind straying every few seconds.

"Wait a second," he gently says before passing you and heading towards the buffet table. You watch him plate two slices of pizza and some other bits and bites before heading back in your direction.

"Here," he offers you the plate. You take a slice and he takes the other, placing the plate on the desk next to him. "Ye've been working all day today, pet, ye must be starving," he calls you with that name again and you turn as red as your blouse.

You nodded with a 'thank you' before taking a bite of your slice. "Ye noticed," it was higher than a whisper, maybe it was a loud thought that slipped out of your mouth, but he caught it, and his face blushes and burns.

He blinks a couple of times, trying to find a way to avoid your eyes because you were staring at him with those pretty orbs of yours and he already started melting under your beautiful gaze.

"Yeah, can't lie," he lets his guards down with a sigh and a smile, "ye were working so hard on yer desk this mornin' and I wanted ta get ye coffee and something ta eat, but felt it was awkward ta do tha'."

There you go. If this wasn't a hint, you don't know what else is. Your grin widened as your heart raced faster. He was so considerate of you, it made your heart sweetly swell and you fought the urge to kiss him—not minding the setting or the fact that none of you have made anything clear yet.

You shook your head. "Not at all, Michael, that would've been a nice thing," you had to encourage him, you wanted things to go farther, to go deeper, and to grow stronger.

"In tha' case, I'll pick up some brunch fer us on me way tomorrow mornin'. Say Reuben sandwiches, black coffee and Baileys Truffles? Is tha' grand fer ya, pet?" you were in awe of him. Was he thinking about this for so long?

You nodded. "But I'd prefer if we had it outside," you didn't know what you said before it left your mouth. You mentally placed your hands over your mouth.

"Ye're askin' me out, pet, is that what ye're doin'?" he smirked and you found yourself blurting incoherent words. You sigh with a smile and look back at him.

"Can't let ya ask me out before I do it first, pet. Understand?" he inches a little closer, but not too close, just the amount enough to let you know that he's so interested in you.

You blush at his demands and you nod with a grin. He chuckled, for the first time tonight, and it was the most pleasant voice you've ever heard.

"I want ye ta go out with me fer brunch tomorrow, pet," Michael was now filled with confidence and pride, "and I want ta pick up lunch fer ya too."

That was too much for you to bare. He asked you out, offered you two meals, and you had no idea what comes next.

"And if ya let me, I will take ya fer a drink tomorrow night."

That was official. He is way more than just interested in you, he was head over heels for you.

"I'd love ta," you coquetted, unintentionally, but to him it was sweet and spontaneous—and that made him fall harder.

Time slipped away with your endless chats and the night began to die out.

"It's getting late fer ya, pet," Michael breaks the silence after pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket. It was then when you found yourself alone with him —beside a couple other coworkers.

"Alright, um... Goodnight Michael." you say, almost turning in your heels.

"Mikey." he corrects you, "it's Mikey. Goodnight, pet." both of you smile and he lets you walk back to your office.

You pick up your purse and keys and walk out of the glass building, after exchanging waves and glances and maybe mental kisses and hugs.

In contrast to the warmth of the place inside, you were hit with a freezing howl of wind and it nailed you in place, hugging yourself while shaking out of shock and cold.

You walk for a couple feet before you heard your name called from behind you. You turn around. It was Michael—Mikey, taking off his black jacket as he approached you.

"There," he surprised you, placing his jacket on your shoulders and you were hit with the beautiful woodsy scent of his. He smelled of cinnamon and dark coffee and mint gum, you swear you could sleep in this forever.

His hands linger on your shoulders for a moment before he backs away an inch. "Tha' was stupid of me ta say back in there, ya shouldn't walk home alone at tha' time."

You tried to protest, but he shook his head, saying your name as soft as a swan feather on your skin. "Let me walk ya home, please." he said, his eyes sparkled in the dim lights.

You walk silently next to him, despite the butterflies loudly churning in your stomach, flying and meddling around in your chest, playing with the strings of your heart and messing with the chemistry of your brain.

You were completely besotted by this gentleman.

You make it to your doorstep and you're about to slip out of his jacket and hand it back to Michael when he stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"No. Keep it." he says with a smile, inching closer to you, placing a chaste and soft peck on your temple, "goodnight, pet. See ya tomorrow."

Taglist: @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @bellaxgiornata @loveroftoomanyfandoms @galaxies-and-moons-and-cox @1988-fiend @floral-charlie-cat @munsonownsmyass @lazyxsquirrel @mindidjarin (feel free to ask for addition or removal 🤍)

Likes and reblogs are appreciated, thank you for reading! 💞💞💞

[freakutsk]

INTRODUCTION

Hey my name is Michael / Mikhail, but you can call me Micah! I was called Lolumboner but unfortunately fagblr fkn banned me! So follow me and reblog me so I can get my mutuals back lmao. I am 16 y/o my pronouns are he/him and I am well obviously T.C.C, I can speak Russian, Finnish and English ( obviously lmao) but,, I am learning GERMAN so maybe if you’re German you could like,, quiz me on it or something 😭 I’m also looking for my TCC friend Anders so like he’d Norwegian but his family is from Argentinia and his either ex or current bf has a blue hair so yeah… anyways here is my socials if u wanna get in touch!!

DISCORD : urinerigh

INSTAGRAM : joeysmacker88

AIRBUDS : carbine.high

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 : True Crime, Commentary YouTubers, First Person Shooters, Violent Video Games, Cryptozoology, Mythology, Folklore, Urban Legends, Psychological + Gory Slasher Movies, Firearms, Knives, Bombs, Tanks, Planes, Cars, History, War, Geography, Flags, music (black, heavy, nü, industrial etc), shock sites, self care, psychology, criminology, sociology, encyclopaedia dramatica, 4chan, Reddit, Lost Media, internet mysteries and lulcowz..

𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐒 : Eric Harris + Dylan Klebold, Artyom Anoufriev + Nikita Lytkin, Viktor Sayenko + Igor Suprunyuk, Kipland Kinkel, Anders Breivik, Dylann Roof, Brenton Tarrant, Murder Of Bianca Devins, Elliot Roger, Ben Field, Albert Fish, Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, Cho Seung-Hui, The Zodiac Killer, Jack The Ripper, Manson Family, Ed Gein, Ricky Kasso, The Unabomber, Jihadi John and Andrew Blaze (although not really “killers” I do enjoy reading about the Cases of Ronnie Mcnutt, Shaub Aslam, Gleb Korablev, Rina Palenkova, Christine Chubbuck, Blue Whale Victims and Budd Dwyer)

Soo uh yeah in conclusion follow me as imma very good and funny guy,, feel free to dm me if you want and I’ll update this later but I cba atm lol….

[thebennettdiaries]

the oak king (v)

( directly follows this drabble )

Bonnie doesn't think she will ever get used to driving on the other side of the road. It's funny --- she hasn't even been in the United States in nearly a year but she still cringes as the car careens around a corner.

"You look a little green, witch," Klaus comments dryly. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel and then for good measure, stamps his foot down on the gas. The engine protests for a moment (this car had been the best they could find given the circumstances) but eventually gives in, pressing Bonnie's back against her seat.

She resists the urge to give him a look for that move. Instead she takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering close. "How long have you been back on this side of life?" she asks, deciding to change the subject.

"Since yesterday."

A 'day old' and already driving. How fast they grow up.

"Where did you come to?" She opens one eye and sees another car barreling at them, wheels gripping the snow covered pavement precariously. She squeaks and then squeezes her eyes tightly. She can hear Klaus chuckle next to her. "Stop enjoying this."

"Forgive me," he drawls. "But it has been so long since I had any fun." She can feel the car slow some and nearly breathes a sigh of relief. "To answer your question, when I became aware I was in Wistman's Wood."

Bonnie's eyes open for good and she finds herself staring at him, taken aback. "Wistman's Wood? Are you sure?"

"So said the farmer I ate soon after," Klaus confirms and simply shrugs at the look she gives him for his confession of murder.

Bonnie's teeth catch her bottom lip as she considers what he has told her. Wistman's Wood is known to her. On the surface, it is a oak forest --- but it has a long history of being connected to the mystical, especially the Wild Hunt. She knows what that symbolizes. Catastrophe. If the Wild Hunt appears, death soon follows. It can't be a coincidence that he woke there.

"And you were alone?"

"Yes, just me, the frozen ground and snow softly following. Poetic if you think about it," Klaus muses before growing serious. "What is the importance of this place?"

"Wistman's Wood is attached to a lot of folklore: dangerous omens, hauntings, hellhounds --- it's supernaturally charged so I think there is a reason you were pulled through the veil there. The spell probably had to be anchored in nature somehow. It takes a lot of power to bring back the dead. Especially when the dead is..." She trails off, refusing to point out how his unique status makes his resurrection all that more difficult. She has a feeling he might just preen and she would rather he concentrate on the road. "The real question becomes why were you allowed to get from there to here. To me." She pauses for a moment and then furrows her brows. "How did you find me by the way?"

Klaus opens his mouth and then he closes it. There is silence as he appears to consider his answer. "I just...did."

"Helpful," she quips but she doesn't doubt him. There is something much bigger at play here. She has a feeling that they are only touching the edges of it and before it is all said and done, they will have to wade in deep. She feels something claw in her stomach. She has long thought she left that kind of magic behind. She had spent far too much of her childhood, her teen years, wrestling things so big they swallowed her whole. The life she has carved out for her now is meant to be something small, something manageable. She hasn't had to give up her magic and she is still helping people but she is not putting herself through the wringer to do so.

The days of self sacrifice are long over.

She looks out the window, noting how the city has given way to outskirts. Christmas lights blaze in the windows and she thinks she can even make out a few families crowded around their trees despite the late hour. For the first time, she finds herself missing her family (the one she found throughout her life thus far). She wonders what it would be like to sit next to Caroline, sipping a hot cocoa as the twins argued over whether or not the packages on the tree were the newest iPhones. She knows she could have been there (her invitation is open and longstanding) and now she wishes she was.

"How come you haven't gone to see your family?" she asks, the very act of missing hers making her realize a glaring error in his ways. He is all about family --- that infamous always and forever. Add to that, he has a daughter. A very strong willed powerful daughter.

Klaus' mouth is pressed thin and she can see the way he tenses even in the dim light. She thinks he is going to ignore her but then he is speaking, voice low. "I am a danger to them."

She furrows her brows. It is not like Klaus to be introspective. He has always been a danger to them --- his temper, his jealously, his paranoia...all traits that have led to destructive moments when it came to his siblings. She doubts that he sees it that way. So, he must be speaking literally. She thinks for a moment, her head turning so she is looking out the window. "When I heard you had died, I almost didn't believe it --- especially when the rumor came around that you staked yourself. For someone who values immortality, it seemed out of place. But..."

"I had to," Klaus tells her. "I had no other choice." The words tumble out of him like running water, quick and close together. "There is something in me that wants my daughter --- and I won't go near her until I can be sure I am rid of it." Bonnie is confused. She is about to say more when Klaus jerks the wheel down a narrow road. "You said one of clients lives down here? Let's go wish her a Merry Christmas, shall we?"

End of discussion.

For now.