#doing any of this and is being super manipulated by the head serial killer guy but ehatever hes 17 and traumatized and wants to stick around | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

austajunk · 3 years

Text

Game of Despair (fic)

Chapter One: Despair Gamer

Summary: Surviving through her massive injuries following the ending of the Despair Arc, Chiaki Nanami has fallen after her fellow classmates have become Remnants of Despair. However, when altercations with a certain Servant brings up the chance to find a special person that she lost once again, Chiaki and the aforementioned problematic Servant have no choice but to traverse the apocalypse to bring Izuru Kamukura back to the light of Hope…maybe!

Rating: Mature (because duh)

Warnings: Gore, death, general manipulation and Remnants of Despair Shenanigans

A/N: Hey there. Originally this was a fan comic on tumblr that I did, but due to the scale of the project, I decided it would work better as a fic. The introduction to this fic is different from the fan comic just so I could keep things fresh to write. Please enjoy! You can also find this fic on AO3 if you prefer to read there. I’ll link later.

Games were supposed to be fun. Anyone could play them and they could be played together. It didn’t matter if it was a bad game or if the person you were playing with had any talent whatsoever. It wasn’t the point. The point was to get closer to another person.

At least, that was the philosophy Chiaki Nanami once went by. Games were something that made her happy, but another thing that chained her down at the same time. By being the Super High School Level Gamer, she was locked to her beloved talent and didn’t see any way to open herself to others. That was until she met Hajime Hinata and her teacher, Chisa Yukizome, had showed the strawberry-haired gamer that it was possible to form all the connections she wanted in her life through her talent. For the first time in her life, she had started to feel complete at Hope’s Peak Academy. She was the Class Representative of a band of Ultimate students who were anything but normal... but she loved them with all her heart.

Until the claws of Despair ripped everything away from her, that was. Chiaki Nanami was now a shell of her former self, but that was okay. With her mind filled with nothing but an urge to induce chaos, she couldn’t feel anything for the person she once was. If she couldn’t remember that person, what were they really worth?

—

The fiery skies poured overhead and mixed with the blackness of the night. There was no possible way to see the stars anymore at this point so deep into the end of the world. The only light that could be seen was from a small Nantendo game screen flickering. A girl with pink hair and discolored pink and red eyes leaned against some wreckage, watching as several people ran from demolished buildings and screamed in anguish for their loved ones. Children, women, and even grown men sobbed as a waterfall of bullets cascaded down on their bodies from above.

“You’re losing, you know?” The gamer sighed, twirling a small finger around some of her peach-tinted hair.

On her game screen, a hoard of bullets were raining down on a mass of zombies, massacring them on her side of the screen. The zombie side was fading pitifully fast, their organs squishing from the onslaught of shots.

Beside Chiaki, a man was trembling with the Nantendo in his hand. Sweat was pouring down the front of his head and his breathing was heavy. It looked as though the pale-faced man was going to pass out at any moment. His eyes were blood shot. He had been at this for hours, all to keep the game going and going and going... but it felt like one big, mad, never-ending spiral. He just wanted to drop the game, but all his hostages and prizes were dying all around him the moment he showed any weakness. A large black collar around his neck was tightening every time a point fell from his score. His throat was so constricted that his lips were starting to get purple.

Oh well, Chiaki thought. She was starting to get bored of this anyways. It was really sad though. For a few sweet moments, she had felt an exhilaration like no other. Her entire body had tensed, heat caking her cheeks. She wanted to drop the game and throw herself at the poor man beside her, to rub her curvaceous body against him until she got off on human contact alone when his score had gotten ahead. But alas, that sort of contact had started to wane on his score... and Chiaki’s interests.

“This is disappointing,” said Chiaki, obliterating the rest of the man’s score. Her side of the screen flashed WINNER in big bright red letters and the man beside her squealed in terror. He started convulsing and screaming, the air in his lungs dissipating fast until he seized over and fell over. His eyes bulged from his skull and his neck was bruised and purple until a satisfying crack sounded from his neck. Well... as satisfying as Chiaki could imagine it anyways.

Watching the man’s corpse go limp, she dropped her handheld game console beside him and simply fished another one from her black and white bear-shaped bag. She tapped the screen to life and began to jab at the buttons as though she wasn’t lying beside someone's corpse on top of a bunch of debris underneath a smoke-encrusted sky of darkness. But that was just the world.

Shrieks and screams of agony littered the sky, joining together to create a chaos-induced despair. It was probably the biggest death count Chiaki had earned so far. Her victim, to his credit, had lasted a total of thirteen hours before his score declined and Chiaki’s interest dropped. It was pleasurable until he waned. Now Chiaki was content to just let the cries in the night be silenced as the conclusion of their game (with real human casualties) and to just get up and leave. She did so, leaving her purple game console with the man’s corpse as memento and something of her personal signature. All the world would know where to find the person who could bring the greatest challenge of a killing game to them and that was what she wanted.

The gamer longed to find someone who could beat her and make her feel alive again. Or to feel anything at all. Even if Chiaki knew that she was nowhere close to feeling anything anymore. “My purpose... is Despair,” she uttered to no one in particular, merely touching her forehead as though to remind herself of that fact. It was foolish to stray, foolish to want or desire anything in such a world. Something like that almost seemed like a spec of Hope was left in her heart... which was impossible once the legendary Junko Enoshima snuffed it out.

Thanks to Junko, all the games in the world would not suffice to bring Chiaki Nanami back. One by one, she had been forced to watch her classmates fall into Despair, to watch them torture, massacre and rape others in Junko’s image. Chained to a wall, she watched for over a year as blood sprayed across a dingy massive screen that Junko had left her to view the carnage. She had been tormented and stuck in Hope’s Peak Academy until the last inch of Hope was executed from her body, until she finally wavered and gave into Despair. With the last specs of good will drained from her, the chains around her neck slipped off and she was allowed to walk free in this ruined world... where it felt entirely purposeless to live. But that was the point.

Everything was ruined. Her life was only good for making everyone else experience her own personal Despair. And Chiaki had set to it.

And as far as she was concerned, games were meant to be shared with everyone. Even the bad ones…

—

On the eastern side of a Towa city, a dingy and caved-in subway had been remodeled into a small chamber for the Despair Gamer. She always returned there to rest or to just recollect herself whenever she was bored or wanted to avoid the other Despairs. A bunch of pillows were tucked together for a makeshift gaming chair that she was slumped over, absorbed in one of her prized Nantendo titles.

Only the soft clinking of chains from behind roused her attention ever so slightly.

“Ah… that guy from before didn’t keep you occupied for long, did he?” Said a carefree voice behind Chiaki as she played. “For a moment, it looked like he was really doing it for you.”

Chiaki tilted her head, sinking back into her cushioned gaming chair. It wasn’t hard to figure out who the other presence in this fortress of death was, so she didn’t bother to look at him as he went to work on disposing of the body. What she didn’t notice however was that her Servant wasn’t empty-handed. He had entered the chamber with a large burlap sack… one that was squirming eerily.

Nagito Komaeda. To say he gave into Despair wasn’t quite so accurate. Hope would always win in the end… but it had to be challenged, cultivated… yes, becoming Despair was only meant to encourage Hope. And that was why he belonged to the other Remnants of Despair. He was theirs to use as they saw fit, but he just could not help returning to her again and again. Chiaki Nanami was like a serial killer by now… one complete with a soft, pudgy face and wide, innocent eyes. Utterly fascinating that one so lovely and gentle could rip apart so many people. Despair really had power over others… an alluring, undeniable, sick and twisted power… all Servant wanted to do was be there to witness Hope shatter the monster before him that Despair had created.

But until that happened… oh, how thoughts of Junko Enoshima made the heat swell through every inch of his body…

As if craving her attention, Servant spoke to her again. She could practically feel the grin etched on his face. “Have you gotten so used to the stench of death, Chiaki? You’re actually letting the corpses decompose around you now…” He nodded his head to rotting cadavers left at the back of the room. Perhaps Chiaki had forgotten they were there?

Chiaki’s lips twitched into a small frown, more so from being interrupted. Servant was a strange one. He had something familiar about him, like someone she should remember but it simply did not occur to her to try and do so. If he caused no reaction in her, then that was all there was to it whether she recalled him or not. The pale-haired boy seemed to follow her about like a puppy-dog, sometimes aiding her in procuring or disposing of victims whenever they met up. Chiaki had considered simply killing him, but something in her intuition told her that playing a Killing Game with the likes of him simply wasn’t a wise choice. And straight up slaughtering him was too kind, too merciful. How was she to invoke Despair in the name of Junko Enoshima if she simply hacked up his body?

And so, Chiaki found herself lifting her head at the jostling of chains behind her, watching the metal links swing side to side from around the Servant’s neck. He had a large grin painted on his face as he always did, taking a seat across from her in her little chair. “I guess the smell of death caught me off guard last time,” she mused thoughtfully to him, uncaring if he was really here for conversation or not. He did as he pleased and proved to be quite the clingy individual. But so long as he did the dirty work, Chiaki didn’t mind occasionally indulging him.

“It made me sick... but... now I don’t smell anything. I wonder if I’ve destroyed my sense of smell. Or my brain simply cares less and less each time...” Chiaki said with sigh, curling up in her chair and reaching for her games again. “Why did you come back?” It was really annoying when Chiaki was content to be left alone with her games for the rest of eternity. Alas victims were hard to come by in the apocalypse. Something about people wanting to salvage their lives. She couldn’t understand that. People were going to be slaughtered en masse either way, so shouldn’t they be trying to find the best way to have fun?

That was what Ultimate Despair Gamer was for. To teach others that life was just one big game and if they weren’t having fun, well... their lives didn’t amount to much, did they?

Servant tilted his head at her, his green eyes holding her emotionless gaze for a moment. “Oh, yes! I actually brought you another gift. I don’t want to be too optimistic, but…” He gestured to the struggling brown sack beside him. “I think this may really be the one. If he can’t satisfy you a little more than your usual prey, then I’ll take full responsibility…”

“Hm?” Chiaki stood up and slowly drifted over to the squirming sack that the Servant had left in the middle of the room. A gift? For her? A light blush crept onto her cheeks as she approached the bag and knelt down to pull it back. As soon as she saw the victim awaiting her, a jolt of electric joy shot through her. She gasped lightly and watched as the person’s light chestnut hair spiked up into her view. This was... No... why was the sight of the person’s hair inspiring such a range of emotions on her face? Her eyes lit up and a shudder ran through her body. She wanted to pull the captive close to her already.

Lightly, she pulled the gag from his lips and let him cough and sputter. He wanted to scramble away from the bizarre Gamer, but she quickly grabbed ahold of his shoulders and urged him closer to her. Her breasts rested against his front and she nuzzled him almost affectionately. Startled by the cute girl’s sudden comforting presence, the man didn’t want to feel at ease, especially with her twisted smile flashing down upon him. But at the same time... she seemed harmless. Perhaps a little deranged? But soft and pretty enough... He shakily steadied her against him, wondering if she was the prisoner of this strange, messed up death chamber just like he was. He barely took notice of the boy behind her with the manic grin and kept his eyes trained on her.

“Wh-Where am I...?” The chestnut-haired student asked her. At least, he appeared to be a student with his plain white uniform and dark trousers. A pair of glasses rested askew on his nose. “Are you a prisoner too?! Did that guy kidnap you?”

Chiaki couldn’t help but to tense at the guy’s caring voice, the way he put concern for her before anything else. Even himself. It felt so familiar and she was melting on the inside. Her face became more twisted, more heated and aroused. This was the one! He had to be the one! He was going to play with her until she could finally lie down and let the cold grip of death eclipse her. A final game where she could be happy, fulfilled, complete—

“What’s your name?” Chiaki asked him lightly, trying to hide the frantic blush on her cheeks. This was so embarrassing. Her heart was fluttering for him.

“Ahhh? Oh... Um, Yusuke?” The man responded, looking around. “Look, why don’t we try to find a way out of here before that guy shows up again? That mastermind!”

“Hm?” Chiaki crossed her legs. “Oh... him. He doesn’t matter. What matters is... well... do you like games, Yusuke?” Her soft voice almost held a low purr to it.

Suddenly, there was a sense of unease in the air. Yusuke blinked and pushed up his glasses. “Um...games?”

—

A small tear trickled over the pale, dead face of her latest victim. After hours and hours and hours of gaming, Yusuke had simply crumpled over. All throughout the week, he had kept Chiaki occupied. Even when he sobbed to her and begged her to let him go, Chiaki was completely enthralled with him. Not a single one of her victims had been so satisfying. He must have truly adored her to keep up such a unique concentration to whatever game she picked out for them to play. He cared for her... he must have loved her to play with her all this time. But then... it was as though his body simply gave out.

Now Yusuke’s corpse decorated the floor of her room, his body still warm from how hard it had worked to bring her even an ounce of joy. Chiaki lingered beside him, her face twisted with what could truly be called Despair. It wasn’t fair. He loved her. Why did he break under all the gaming? She could go forever...

Servant watched her from the corner of the chambers, a small sigh leaving his lips. Something about her actions had slightly disturbed him. For close to a week, he had watched Chiaki become truly elated. It was like she was a different person. And now the young man he had offered up to her was nothing more than a body getting colder by the moment. She drained every last agonizing bit of life from him. It was so thoughtless, so empty…

“I wonder why you don’t just let them rest…” He said, stepping forward as if to pull Chiaki away from the body. “Oh well. I’ll find you a new toy. That will satisfy you!” What hollow words. There was nothing out there that could satisfy the monster before him. That was probably the most horrifying thing about her… but it made him utterly enthralled with her.

“...It’s never going to be enough...” Chiaki said solemnly as she heard the rustling of chains clinking in the background. She knew Servant was behind her, waiting for the body to be disposed of, but Chiaki didn’t want to let it go.

“This was the... the best one... and he wasn’t even enough. Nowhere close... He was like a barrel of love... and I need an ocean... I...I...” She trembled, stifling a sob. Even as a Remnant of Despair, it wasn’t like she lacked feelings... even if they were only centered on herself and self-preservation.

She sighed a hollow bitter sigh and stood up, giving Yusuke’s body a savage kick with her boots. After watching the dirt from her shoes smear his cheek, she turned around and walked past Servant.

“The person you’re searching for… he doesn’t exist anymore…”

Chiaki suddenly clutched her chest tightly as though she were in pain. There was an unbearable pounding in her head. Make it stop… it had to stop… why couldn’t she ignore it?

“I’m not staying here. I’m... I’m going to leave. I want to find something else...something I lost.” The words left her lips before she even realized it. She could almost envision that person with the same chestnut hair and soft, sincere smile. But she didn’t remember his name... not a bit…

Just as she headed to the entrance of the chamber that Servant was leaning against, a foot suddenly kicked up to block her exit. She stepped back and looked at Servant, a frown working onto her gentle features.

“Ah… I thought we may hit this little snag,” Servant said, his smile fading slightly. “You’ve lost a lot of things. It won’t help you to search for all of them! More than likely, you’ll never find anything!” He put his hands together, pleading. “Let me find you another toy! The next one will satisfy you for sure.”

“What..? I…” Chiaki blinked and rubbed her eyes. Those words were making her feel just a tad woozy.

“There, there,” Servant cooed, entwining his arm with hers to lead her away from the door. “Won’t you stay here with me, Chiaki? Just for today… don’t look for what you can’t find. Just stay here today.” Forever. He intended to keep her as long as he could. Hope had to be protected.

And the person she wanted… that same person lit up his entire world as well. The thoughts of that person…

“Chiaki, just stay here… ah, I know,” said Servant behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, “let’s play a game together. You and me. If you win—“

“Then I leave,” muttered Chiaki. Then she blinked again in realization.

The smell of this chamber was starting to get to her. Perhaps it was because the last toy truly was something she did like. She couldn’t stop playing with him until he broke. But Chiaki wasn’t looking at the remnants of her beloved toy anymore. Instead, she peered at the filthy walls and floors of her game chamber. Decayed bits of body parts were strewn about across the floor and the stench was starting to become invasive again.

How long had she been in these chambers? She couldn’t remember when she had first entered, only that soon after, the Servant had appeared. He would scavenge for food and toys for her, to keep her occupied and “satisfied” with any new playthings he happened to procure. Chiaki groaned, her head feeling a bit heavy. “Ungh...” She clutched her face, trying to ignore the stench of death wafting in the air. Something about the charming spell of this place was starting to wear off fast and she quite despised it.

Chiaki shook her head, trying to brush off the sickening realization that she just didn’t know how long she had been in a chamber like this, playing games with toy after toy after toy. How many had she killed? Well... they existed to please her, so it didn’t matter. But... when had she last stepped outside? When had she tried to leave? Every time she had risen from her chair to peer out into the world, the Servant would give her a friendly wave and insist that he would go out to bring her food or more toys. It was all just too irksome.

She turned back to Servant. “I want to leave.”

“Of course. If you’re ready, you’ll win,” said Servant cheerfully, waving his obscured hand. “But if I win… hmm… how about this? For every game you lose against me, I’ll alter your appearance just a little…”

“Alter my appearance…?”

Servant nodded, motioning for her to take a seat back in her Gamer chair.

“That’s right. For every game you fail,” he said, letting his voice trail off just a bit, “I’ll remodel you to look a bit more like Lady Junko Enoshima each time.”

“Of course, are you really sure you want to play?”

35 notes · View notes

sedge-yells-at-comics · 3 years

Link

Reprinted below, in case the link implodes.

Flash #27 Reveals Why Reverse Flash Is a Truly Unique Villain

The finale of "Running Scared" provides a gut-wrenching Rebirth update to one of DC's most complicated villains: Eobard Thawne, the Reverse Flash.

By Meg Downey Published Jul 27, 2017

If you’re a fan of the Flash, you’re probably pretty familiar with the concept of the Reverse Flash, a man named Eobard Thawne who, like Barry, has super speed and wears a flashy costume. Of course, the “Reverse” might sound like he’s the literal opposite of the Flash -- maybe someone who slows things down instead of speeding himself up? Or maybe someone who runs backwards?

There are a lot of obvious and incorrect guesses pretty readily available for casual or newer fans to throw darts at. The reality of the Reverse Flash is, however, pretty complicated. Mostly because his “reverse” status is actually ideological at its core. Flash media, be it print, animated or live action, has traditionally made this apparent by painting Eobard as someone who is essentially pure evil -- a sort of manic, time traveling serial killer who is motivated solely by his endless need to destroy Barry Allen from the ground up.

At that point, the problem then becomes finding a way to make Thawne’s homicidal drive, well… unique in the scope of the DC Universe, a place that just so happens to be populated by enough over-the-top villains to populate a decent sized Midwestern town. Why is Reverse Flash someone that’s specific to The Flash? What differentiates him from any of DC’s other iconic arch rivals, like Lex Luthor or The Joker?

Well, The Flash #27 has the answer, and it's probably not the one you expected.

Running Scared

The rebirth of the “classic” Eobard Thawne (as opposed to his New 52 revamp) began in the Flash/Batman crossover mini-event “The Button” back in April, a four-part storyline which connected the original Thawne to the events of last year’s DC Universe: Rebirth one-shot.

Since, then, Thawne’s taken up residence as a perpetual thorn in Barry’s side in the hero's own ongoing series, stepping directly into the spotlight for the three-part “Running Scared” arc which served to highlight Thawne’s Rebirth status quo. For the most part, it’s a story that fans will be pretty familiar with, borrowing heavily from elements of stories like The Flash: Rebirth and Flashpoint. Thawne’s from the future, he time traveled to kill Barry’s parents, he’s connected to a negative form of the Speed-Force, and so on -- But that’s where things start to get their Rebirth-specific legs.

It’s not that creators Josh Williamson, Howard Porter and Paul Pelletier are trying to reinvent the proverbial wheel with “Running Scared” -- just unlock a different side of it by shining a light on one of the most unique aspect of Eobard and Barry’s relationship.

Reverse Flash doesn’t hate Flash the way Lex Luthor hates Superman, or Bane hates Batman. It’s actually (appropriately) quite the opposite. It’s the reverse. Eobard Thawne loves Barry Allen, obsessively and vengefully, which is where his endless, destructive need to ruin Barry’s life comes into play.

“Running Scared” highlights the fact that a young Eobard grew up alone (though Williamson was quick to confirm that that particular story element came out of an earlier Geoff Johns Flash issue) with only his idealized and imaginary version of Barry -- a character from his history books -- to keep him company. Barry was, for all intents and purposes, Thawne’s only friend, confidant, and emotional anchor, despite the fact that the two of them wouldn’t actually meet for years and years.

It was plenty of time for a very troubled and very lonely Thawne to fall in love with a version of The Scarlet Speedster that existed only in his imagination...and, well, it’s pretty obvious how that particular emotional endeavor actually went down. Actually meeting Barry and subsequently being forced to deal with the fact that he was just a guy and not the cartoon character Thawne had built in his head for years, proved to be too hard a stress test for Thawne’s fragile psyche.

Fatal Attraction

Meeting and being disappointed by a personal hero is a rough experience for just about anyone, but rather than allowing himself to move on -- or even allowing himself to simply decide to hate Barry instead, Thawne’s obsession only doubled down.

As issue #27 hurtles to its conclusion, Thawne’s real motivations become abundantly apparent. As Barry, infected with Thawne’s own inverted Negative Speed Force thrashes Thawne within an inch of his life, he presses him with a question - Why, if Thawne has always been so inspired by him, has he gone out of his way to ruin Barry’s life at every turn? Why has he done all of these terrible things, from killing Barry’s parents to beating Wally within an inch of his life, to kidnapping he and Iris and hauling them to the future?

Thawne’s answer is as unexpected as it is heartrendingly honest: because these horrible things are the only way Thawne understands how to make Barry spend time with him.

It’s that simple.

Thawne’s love for, and obsession with Barry Allen has permeated his life so deeply and completely that he is even willing to count his time spent being pummeled half to death by Flash as a win. He’s completely unable or unwilling to differentiate between Barry’s affection and Barry’s hatred, and he’s ready to do whatever it might take to put himself at the center of either emotion in Barry’s mind.

“A few years ago, it would have really hurt my feelings to hear you say that,” Thawne taunts after Barry threatens him, “but now to think that I caused you that anger? That I could get under your skin like this? It warms my heart.”

It’s deeply troubling, of course, and horrifyingly uncomfortable to get a look into the head of a villain who is, essentially, the personification of a fan gone terribly, terribly awry -- a theme that only gets more difficult to swallow when you begin to think about the increasingly complicated relationship between fans and their idols in actual, genuine, non-super heroic world around us.

This subtle reworking of the Reverse Flash has made him one of comic’s most poignant ruminations of the idea of toxicity in fan communities, idolization of strangers, and self destructive obsession, and it did so in a way that boldly allowed Thawne to win at the end of the day.

The issue closes, and the arc completes, with Barry exactly in the position Thawne wanted him in: completely alone, just like Thawne was as he built Barry into a hero of mythological perfection in his head. Now, where Barry will end up, and whether he’ll be forgiven by Iris, Wally and the roster of people he’s been manipulating as he leads his vigilante double life, is still largely a mystery.

It’s clear that Thawne didn’t expect, or even really want, Barry to come running into his arms to start their life together the second he succeeded in isolating him -- he makes that abundantly clear as he warns that he’ll just return again and again and again, de-powered, killed or otherwise hindered. Iris may have added an exclamation point to the end of the story arc by “vaporizing” Thawne with a Black Hole gun, but it hardly matters.

Reverse Flash will be back, somehow, at some point, and it’s doubtful that his love and obsession for Barry will have wavered in the slightest. We know now that’s just now how his mind is capable of working. It’s unlikely that Thawne will ever feel anything for Barry beyond his own supremely twisted adoration, no matter how many times the Flash pummels him into the ground. It’s just not the way Thawne’s brain is able to process information anymore.

It’s complicated, messy, and uncomfortable, but it’s also one of the clearest articulations of exactly what makes Reverse Flash such an interesting villain in the scope of not just the Flash family of books, but the DCU as a whole.

#the flash #eobard thawne #barry allen #eobarry

47 notes · View notes

nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 years

Text

Imagine THREE:

Crazy Erik gets worse and worse.

Warnings: angst, slight smut, psycho killer Erik.

It’s clear that Erik Stevens is an Organized Serial Killer and a Stalker. This is another kind of killer that is typically highly educated, and as you can guess by the name, super organized. Historically, they have been known to be charismatic, and commonly lead seemingly normal lives. They plan every last detail to make sure that they won't get caught. Often, they'll watch a victim for quite a while before making a move, which is when they'll kidnap them. Once the murder is committed, they will usually dispose of the body and evidence in another location. This is also the kind of person who follows their own cases in the media, and could even try to contact or mess with investigators.

Terry wasn’t an organized kill, however, Erik had that taken care of. Since he’s an ex-skilled assassin who ended up in many sticky situations, he calls on some help to dispose of Terry’s body and any evidence left behind. To top it all off, the stupid Karaoke club didn’t have any cameras on the side of the building. The only problem is that Y/N left with Terry and there were a few people smoking and chatting when they exited the club. If police were to come asking questions, Y/N would be their prime suspect because she was seen with him in the club, which had cameras, and she was seen leaving by a few eye witnesses.

The sudden, unexpected death of Terry left a mark on Y/N. She witnessed a man that she didn’t know get murdered. His blood soiled her skin. The gun shot pierced her ears. The loud thud almost made her jump out of her own skin. She could smell the gunpowder surrounding her. Then, as if the situation couldn’t get any scarier, the killer himself looked deranged and psycho with his gun aiming at Terry’s dead body, blood on his clothes, and a mask on. When he lifted that mask, Y/N wailed. It was Erik; her boyfriend; her lover; the one she kissed; the one she supposedly adored. That evening changed everything. If he would go so far as to kill a guy for simply helping her lord knows what he will do to her….

Y/N tossed and turned, her eyelids closed but flickering constantly from the unsettling imagery in her mind. She was having a very vivid nightmare about Terry being killed. She felt dissociation in her sleep, the nightmare so realistic that she felt like it was happening all over again. Y/N gasps, her eyes wide open and looking around the darkened room with frightened eyes. She could see large, floor to ceiling windows in the darkness and the view of a beach. Y/N moves her hands, a choked up cry escaping her mouth when she realized that she was handcuffed. Looking down at her attire she could see she was now wearing a long, crisp white T-shirt and nothing underneath. Stilling herself, Y/N could see a figure sitting in a chair diagonal from her in the darkness. The figure casted a shadow, almost looking like the grim reaper.

“Where am I?” She spoke with a petrified voice.

“Woke already, Princess?” The shadowy figure spoke.

“Erik.” She stated. She knew that deep, raspy voice from a mile away.

“Bingo.”

Light ignited the room. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut while turning her head away from the brightness above her. The bed shifted, one of her eyes opening to find Erik himself standing on the bed above her, looking down on her. Her body was settled between his legs. She didn’t blink away from him but she did tremble with fear. He kneels down into a squat above her, reaching out his hand to grab her chin. She tried fighting against it but he was too strong, her neck painfully twisting.

“Ouch-

“Why did you make me do this?” He asked with a saddened voice, “Why baby? Why did you make me kill him? I was trying to change...I was trying to be good for you.”

Erik gave her a strange look before closing his eyes. He appeared to be hurt by Y/N’s actions. It confused and angered her. He had some nerve to feel the way he felt after he killed a man in front of her and now she’s handcuffed to a bed. Speaking of beds, Y/N wasn’t familiar with this one. It wasn’t Erik’s bedroom in his loft. What? Did he have two places to stay?

“I didn’t do anything wrong!!!!!! He was helping me and YOU killed him!!!!!!! HE DID NOT DESERVE TO DIE!!!!! What the absolute fuck is wrong with you?!!!”

That was the loudest she had ever yelled in her entire life. Erik’s body flinched each time her voice rose. He looked shocked and bewildered that she was yelling at him.

“You’re a sick, twisted person, Erik. You are a FUCKING lunatic. You stalk me, you control me, and now you’re killing people because you can’t stand anyone to be around me…”

Y/N tried to stay strong but she broke down sobbing beneath him. Erik rested his heavy body on top of hers and it made her cry harder. His fingers wiped away her tears and then his lips would press softly against her cheeks to try and sooth her. He’s a monster. He has no remorse for what he did and now he’s comforting her and whispering sweet things like he didn’t just take someone’s life without a backwards glance.

“Shhh, shhh, hey...it’s gonna be alright...You don’t have to fear me...I do what I do for us. I’ve wanted you for so long, Y/N, and I’m not letting you go. Now do you see how I can be? I will kill anyone who comes between us,” Erik presses his nose into her hair, “Fuck...I love you...I love you so...so...so...so much, he moves his nose around her curly hair, tangling it in the process.

“Get off of me you sick FUCK,” Y/N spoke through clenched teeth.

“Or what?” Erik lifted his face to look at her, “Hm? Or what? You’re gonna go to the cops? What? You’re gonna run away?” He smiles at her, “I dare you to play with me like that. If you so much as open your pretty little mouth, I will snap your fucking neck.”

His wicked smile made his words more truthful. He would end her life if she ran out on him. Y/N believed every word. She tried turning away from him but Erik locked his legs around her to keep her hips still. All Y/N could do was cry. She didn’t ask for any of this. Why couldn’t he be normal? She felt torn because he can be a good person but whatever happened in his past to make him so psychologically screwed up couldn’t stay away.

“You-you would kill me? I-I thought you said you wouldn’t kill m-me?”

“I don’t want to, but I will if I have to.” He spoke calmly as if it were a casual conversation, “But none of that matters, you won’t leave me, I trust you.”

“If you trust me so much then why the fuck did you have to kill him?”

“Because...he touched you,” Erik strokes the skin on her arm, delicately “This is my skin...I touch you like this…”

“Erik...please undo these cuffs,” Y/N pleaded.

“I can’t do that. You’ll run away. The last woman to run away from me didn’t live to see another day. I swore to myself that you would be the last woman in my life. Don’t prove me wrong,” Erik warned.

The fear she felt at the moment was monstrous. She let this man stay in her home. She let this man see her naked and have sex with her. She told this man everything about herself, even things she never told anyone else. He knew what she liked, he knew where her close family and friends live, he knew what perfume she used, he knew where she worked. Even if Y/N escaped safely, she would be on the run forever. He’s smart, clearly has skills in tracking people down. If she ended up fleeing to Alaska he would find her with no problem. What was she going to do?

“Are you going to prove me wrong, Y/N?”

“...no.” She spoke with a small voice. She had no other choice but to give in...for now.

His smile, despite being beautiful, scared her half to death. How could he switch his emotions on and off like that? Erik grabs Y/N’s chin, leaning forward and pressing his soft, plump lips against hers. She didn’t close her eyes but he did. She allowed him to tongue her mouth and growl. His erection rested on her inner thigh and it made her tingle which frustrated her. He still had a hold on her body. She’s handcuffed. He could tip this shirt off, bring her legs above her head, and fuck her. He could eat her pussy and she wouldn’t have anywhere to go. She would have no other choice but to cum in his mouth and on his dick. And the sad part is, Y/N would let him. He was so manipulative seducing her.

“Hm...I do want to uncuff you...I’m not gonna lie,” Erik takes a single finger to stroke her cheek, “ But seeing you like this...that shit is making my dick extra stiff.”

“Please? Please let me out of these cuffs, Erik,” Y/N begged, “I promise I won’t leave just let me out.”

“I’m glad you’re deciding to stay with me. I love you so much, girl. I know this is a lot to take in but I promise, I won’t scare you anymore...I won’t kill anyone else as long as you behave.”

Erik kissed the tip of her nose before lifting from the bed completely. Y/N studied his attire. He’s wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a white beater. Erik digs into the pocket of his shorts, pulling out a single key. She stared at him with anticipation. Erik walked up to her, grabbing her wrists in his hand. She couldn’t see too well but she could feel her wrists being freed. Erik places the handcuffs in his pocket, walking to the foot of the bed. He folded his arms across his chest, his eyes trained on her like a guard dog.

“Where am I?” Y/N brings her wrists down to rub them. She sat up in bed, her eyes darting around the room. It was very luxurious. She could make out a walk-in closet, a master bathroom, and a balcony. She spotted an exit to her right.

“This is my main home. I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t want you to know what I have here but...you're here now, there is no use in hiding it anymore.”

“...what are you talking about?” Y/N looked at him with caution.

“I can show you,” Erik held out his hand for her to grab, “Come on...you want to know, I’ll give you a personal tour.”

“I don’t know,” She shook her head, “I don’t know if I want to go I’m scared-

“It’s too late for that. I killed that nigga in front of you, Y/N. You know what I’m capable of. Get up.” He spoke with finality.

Erik could switch from sweet and gentle to hostile and demanding in a matter of seconds. Y/N got up from the bed, timidly walking up to Erik. His tall, muscular body loomed over her before he grabbed her hand, leading her out of the room. Walking out of that room, Y/N’s eyes danced around so that she could take it all in. The windows seemed to follow her the more they walked. His main home is so wide open and airy. This had to be his safe house. Y/N guessed that no other woman had the opportunity to see this place.

The place was remarkable. Chef’s kitchen, grand dining area, large living room with a TV so big it looked like a projector screen, and luxury cars lined up in neat rows along with a sports bike. Erik was leading her down the steps to a basement now. The temperature changed from cool to warm in seconds. The walls are painted black as they walk down the steps. The more they went, Y/N noticed the walls are now lined with acoustic foam, the floor is carpet, and there are fancy glass curio cabinets filled with weapons of all kinds.

“You’re shaking,” Erik says, looking over his shoulder at her.

“...You have a lot of guns and knives, Erik,” Y/N spoke with a small voice. She looked behind her, spotting a door automatically closing like they were in a lab. The wall has a touch screen panel on it for fingerprints. He wanted to make sure no one came in or out of this basement without his knowledge.

“I’m a trained killer, Y/N. It’s necessary.” He says.

That was fact number one that she didn’t know about him. Trained killer means he’s been murdering people for years. She knew he was a Navy Seal at one point but clearly it went deeper than that. Y/N paid close attention to Erik pressing his thumb into a touch pad on the wall. The door opens, darkness ahead.

“You want to know what daddy does down here?” His voice grew darker, “I haven’t used it in a while, for at least a month, figured I could show you that side of me that I used to entertain until recently…”

Y/N tried to twist her hand from his grip but Erik yanked her, causing Y/N to scream.

“SHUT UP.” He spoke so close to her face Y/N had to close her eyes, “I’m not going to hurt you! Chill out. I promised you that, didn’t I?!”

Walking with Y/N still in his grasp, Erik turns on a few lights, the entire room ignited now. There are a series of operating tables lining the walls and draped with plastic, and in the center of the room is a large glass case that looks like a prison. Inside there is an air mattress with a few blankets, and some books.

“It’s empty now, but it was occupied about two months ago. Things didn’t go so well, so I had to kill him.” He spoke nonchalantly.

“Kill who?!” Y/N couldn’t keep her eyes away from the rectangular prison.

“Your ex, Dominic. He was the last person I killed before Terry. Dominic had plans to take you away from me. I saw the texts, I listened to the voicemails, and then He told me that you met up with him a few times...you lied to me.”

Y/N did in fact keep in touch with Dominic. They had history together. He was her friend before they started dating. Yes, Dominic wanted Y/N back in his life after they ended things and Y/N was only meeting with him because she felt like telling him in person that she was seeing someone else would show Dominic how serious she is. Y/N ran into him while on lunch break at work and they talked about it. If Dominic didn’t reveal that they were meeting up he would probably still be alive. Dominic provoked Erik, and now he’s six feet under, well, technically swimming with the fishes from what Erik just confessed.

“His family is looking for him, Erik. They don’t know where he is! They think he might have left the country to Europe like he always wanted to do! Instead, you had him locked in a fucking cage for over two months! You killed him! No! Let go of me!” Y/N yanks her hand from Erik’s, stumbling back and falling painfully on her backside. She groaned in pain because she fell on her tailbone.

“Y/N,” Erik reaches out to help her up but Y/N slaps his hand away. Erik’s face went from sincere to vengeful in a matter of seconds and now he was picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder.

“You need to calm the fuck down!!!” Erik yells, “Hmph,” he growls angrily before laying Y/N down on one of the operating tables, “DIDN’T I TELL YOU TO CALM THE FUCK DOWN?!!! Don’t make me cuff your disobedient ass to this table and leave you here all fucking night because I will fucking do it.” He spoke angrily in her face.

Y/N slaps him. Erik touches his face before looking at her with eyes so black and empty that she is cowardly beneath him. He rubs his cheek, the corner of his mouth twitching up before he smirked at her.

“That shit really hurt, baby. You wanna play?” Y/N squirms beneath him, “you wanna play with daddy?”

“No, Fuckkkk…no,” Erik drags kisses down her neck to her cleavage. She tried pushing at him but now Erik’s has her hands pinned down. Her arms shook trying to free herself.

“You wanna know what I use these tables for?” He whispered in her ear, “I use them for people I desperately want to kill...I chopped up Dominic’s body on this exact table, Y/N.”

Y/N knees Erik in his upper thigh, almost aiming for his balls if he didn’t move so swiftly.

“Oooh, okay, You really want to hurt me, huh? I like pain, but daddy needs his balls, baby. I plan on emptying my balls in your little pussy...make you have my child.”

She allowed her head to fall back with defeat. He was kissing her breasts now, focusing his lips on her nipples that started to grow stiff beneath her shirt.

“You’re telling me no but your nipples are hard as fuck, Y/N. You hit me, and you don’t want to play? You shouldn’t have hit me, girl.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t hit you again,” Y/N looks at his lips, “I promise. I’ll be good.” She swallowed spit nervously.

“...okay,” Erik’s hands drag down her waist, “Okay, baby girl. Maybe I should give you a bath and feed you, that way, you can sleep it off and relax. You’re just so tense,” Erik squeezes her stiff shoulders, “By tomorrow, you’ll be just fine.”

Y/N quickly nods her head before giving Erik a smile, “I’d like that.”

Erik strokes her hair before lifting her off of the bed, physically carrying her out of the room. His strong arms held her tightly. She studied his face, her mind whirling. This man was confusing her and scaring her at the same time. He could be so filled with rage but yet so soothing. He looked down at her, smiling with his dimples before kissing her forehead.

When they made it back to the room, Erik undresses Y/N bringing her to the bathroom with him to run a bubble bath. She watched him use an assortment of essential oils before pouring in a lavender scented bubble bath, the kind that she uses. He sits her in the warm bath before kneeling beside the tub, grabbing up a soap sponge to clean her off. She sat there with her eyes glued to him, wondering in the back of her mind if he would try to drown her if she tried to fight him again.

“You smell just like you did when I saw you leaving that gym,” Erik squeezed the sponge over her back, “Do you remember? I bumped into you while you were on your way out. Lavender...I can still smell the lavender in your hair and on your skin. You showered that day, didn’t you? You always showered before you left the gym. I watched you once after that, you have this way of rubbing your body down sensually...that’s when I knew you needed another man in your life.”

Y/N tried to recall the memory but it didn’t hit her. He was always there but she didn’t pay attention. He just confessed to watching her shower at the gym. He was probably in the stall next to hers, his body pressed to the foggy glass, learning every mark on her body.

“I took your panties after that out of your gym bag, beat my dick to you every single night with your panties wrapped around my hand while I stroked,” Erik brings the sponge down between her legs, “You’re natural aroma had my dick stiffer than any other woman I’ve been with. So moist, so sweet, and yet so creamy when I beat it up.”

Erik licks the soap from her shoulder. Y/N turned her head away trying her best not to cry. He was moaning while tasting the soap on her skin. She closed her eyes and then his tongue dragged over her nipple. She gasps, her hands coming up to grab her breasts to stop him. Y/N turned to face him and her nose touched his from how close he was to her face. Erik bites her lower lip with his eyes still on hers.

“I need you,” He whispers.

___________________

Waking up to waves crashing against the sand in the middle of the night would have been peaceful if it wasn’t for Erik laying next to her sleeping. He has his hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer whenever she would shift in the bed. She would have tried to make a run for it by smashing the lamp on the side table next to his bed over his head but he wasn’t letting her go with that strong arm. Waking up handcuffed just a few hours prior had Y/N thinking of a plan to leave. The thought of his basement made her shiver with fear. He not only killed Terry, he killed her ex. Y/N could feel Erik’s lips on the back of her neck and his dick against her ass. She was completely torn. One side of her wanted to run away and never look back but the other side of her wanted him to ravage her insides. It was sickening. Now, she felt like a lunatic. Who desires to fuck a man that threatened to kill you if you walked out on him? She would need some serious therapy if she escaped.

“Why do I have the feeling the wheels in your head are turning,” Erik whispers, his breath tickling the back of her neck.

“Huh?” Y/N decided to play it off like she didn’t understand what Erik was saying. She turns to face Erik, placing a smile on her face and hoping she could decisive him.

“...You’re plotting something...what could you be plotting that doesn’t involve me, hm?” Erik squints at her suspiciously.

“No, no I just...I can’t stop thinking about it,” Y/N looked down at her fingers, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to get over it.”

Erik sighs, throwing the covers off of his body and revealing his nudity to Y/N’s vulnerable eyes. She could see him thickening between his toned thighs before she tore her eyes away, bringing the sheets closer to her chest while sitting up in bed. Erik strokes her curly hair from her eyes, placing some of the strands behind her ear.

“You have me. I’m sorry I let my anger get the best of me. If it was up to me...I would have preferred to kill Terry without you knowing but his arm was around your shoulder, Y/N...my shoulder…that shit set me off.”

Erik kisses her neck multiple times. She could tell that he wanted to fuck, especially with his hands pulling her closer. Her heart was racing in her chest cavity. It was the knowledge of Erik being a literal serial killer and the fact that she is still attracted to him. This shit was hot in some of the erotic fantasies that she read but it wasn’t words on a page, it was really happening in the flesh.

“You want to fight it but you know how much you want this dick,” he gave her a crafty smile, “Am I right?” He kissed her slowly.

That small voice in her head was telling her don’t do it but the more he kissed her the more she betrayed her thoughts. What were the signs in the beginning that he was definitely bad news? Well, now that she thought of it, Erik has way too much going for himself but he still managed to make you feel bad for him. All of his attributes seem too good to be true, and then, he hits you with that one sob story that tugs at your heartstrings. His parents were killed and that left him to grow up on his own in foster care. Then, he was always so hung up on his ex-girlfriend even though he never said her name. He always said how much she broke his heart.

Erik seemed to know Y/N’s entire life history AND what time she left her apartment, what she usually cooked on Wednesday evenings, her favorite sex toy, and she never told him any of this, she just assumed he was great at guessing. Plus, Y/N did notice a fair amount of her panties going missing and other things like her rose gold anklet that her mother gifted her from her room before she even met him. All of these facts hit her like a ton of bricks while she gave in and stuck her tongue down his throat. This shit was toxic and yet she couldn’t stop.

“Erik,” he yanked the covers from the entire bed, climbing on top of her. Erik kisses her savagely so much so that Y/N couldn’t even breath for a second. She pushes at Erik’s chest for him to slow it down but he just keeps on going, his hands all over Y/N’s body, tweaking her nipples, rubbing her inner thighs because he knows that’s her soft spot, and growling in her mouth like an animal.

“You can’t get enough of me...look at you...you’re so addicted to me, Y/N, and you thought about leaving me? How could you leave me when I make you feel the way you do,” Erik trails his kisses down to her breasts before sucking on her nipples, tightly tugging them into his mouth. Y/N’s toes curled while she tugged on Erik’s hair. All rational thoughts went straight out of the window the more he suckled her nipples just like she liked it, using a little bit of teeth.

“Fuck, Erik, what the fuck are you doing to me?”

“I’m sucking all over these delicious titties...now I’m about to suck all over that clit,” Erik chuckles while kissing down Y/N’s stomach.

“No...fuck...I mean what are you doing to me?” Her mouth fell open, “Shit.”

“I’m giving you exactly what you want. No use in fighting this shit, girl, now bring your knees up to your ears so daddy can eat.”

Y/N hesitates but Erik’s soft lips on her kneecaps made her shiver. Erik spreads her thighs, his head resting between them, staring at her, “Come on, baby,” Erik kissed her thighs and bites her flesh, “fuck, you taste so good.”

“Erik-

“You know when we fuck you call me daddy, Y/N...now what’s my name?” Erik kisses her pussy lips while looking at her.

“Daddy,” She spoke with a whisper.

“Now bring your fucking knees to your ears.”

Y/N’s legs went up and as soon as her knees touched her ears Erik was on her pussy swiftly. The thickness of his tongue on her folds had her eyes crossing. Y/N grabs Erik’s tapered locs in her hand forming a ponytail and starts yanking it. Her hips were off of the bed, driving her pussy into his mouth. She felt so dirty for doing this. A serial killer; a psycho is sucking on her pussy. She thought about what life would be like with Erik after this. He wasn’t going to let her go willingly. She could probably end up being his sex slave or worse, she could piss him off and he would probably tie her up and punish her, whatever types of punishments he liked to give.

“You’re crazy,” She spoke with a struggle, looking down at him with hooded eyes, “you’re fucking crazy.”

“And so are you for letting me eat this tasty ass pussy.”

Y/N’s eyes tear up, “Oh, God-

“God ain’t here, babygirl, ima fix you good,” He continues to slurp her up like an icy making her thighs tremble. He’s supposed to be the villain of this fucked up situation. He was toying with her innocence. She felt like she was making a deal with the devil, signing over her soul with her moans and whimpers so he could suck it right out of her and into his mouth. Y/N’s thighs locked around Erik’s head and now her hands went up to squeeze the pillow she was resting her head on.

She sold her soul and signed it right on his tongue with her delicious cum. After Erik drank her up his lips were on hers again, giving her a taste of her pussy. He flips over to lay on his back with Y/N on top of him. She looked down at him with shy eyes while his hands rested on her hips. He grabs the flesh of her ass, lifting her up with the strength of his arms.

“Grab my dick and put it in daddy’s pussy,” He commands. Y/N reaches between her legs, grabbing up Erik’s dick, “Now sit on my fucking dick.” He spoke through clenched teeth.

Y/N slowly lowers her pussy on Erik’s dick. Her hips jerked from how thick he is causing Erik to grab her tighter. He pulled her towards him while hooking his arms around hers with his hands on her shoulders. Erik lifts his hips from the bed, working his dick up into her pussy and from that angle it was pushing deeper.

“I’m already crazy, right,” Erik slaps her ass so hard she almost lost her balance, “drive me insane with this pussy.”

Y/N was locked in place with Erik’s grip on her shoulders while he fucked her with a blur of his hips. She supposed this was his way of punishing her for making him take Terry’s life. The pain and pleasure tightened her abdominal muscles so tightly she was forming a cramp on her side. Only ten minutes in and she’s squirting on his dick. This man was clearly born with an insatiable appetite for destruction in all forms. He was currently using his destructive nature to fuck the living shit out of Y/N’s pussy.

“I’m cumming,” She announced even though Erik could feel her walls squeezing him for dear life.

Erik spoke softly as not to disturb her orgasmic moment, ruining her in the process, “I’ll have you cumming on this dick forever.”

“Unh,” Y/N’s body released her essence all over his dick making it wetter. Erik trades places, arching Y/N’s back. He aggressively pressed her face into the bed while his body stood above hers. Erik grabs the headboard before putting himself in a push-up position. His dick went right in from above her and it was so deep and thick she could feel her pussy lips expanding to make room for him. Looking above her she could see Erik watching her closely with a straight face like he wasn’t deep in her guts.

“This is your daddy dick, baby,” He reminds her, “Did you hear me?” He pushed deeper causing Y/N to squeal, “what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine. Ahh, fuck, baby,” Erik hisses, picking you the pace, “you gon’ have my baby.”

“Shit,” Y/N reached back to press at Erik’s chest. Erik slaps her hand away hard before locking them her wrists behind her back. Now, she was taking his dick with a mixture of pleasure and pain that has her leaking all over him and her walls sore. Her mouth was open in a silent scream the harder he went.

“Daddy is cumming, mmmmm, fuck this is the best fucking pussy,” He growled a few times, pulling Y/N up to bite her shoulder. She screamed the more he fucked her savagely. He has one hand on her waist and the other wrapped around her neck.

“I-

“Yes, take it baby, take it, Goddamn here it comes, uhhhhhhh shit,” Erik slowed down while his warm cum filled her womb.

____________

It’s been five days since the event at the Karaoke club. While Erik was on his morning run on the beach, Y/N kept a close eye on him from the open patio doors that led a trail to the beach. It was 6:34 AM. There is enough light for most objects to be distinguishable, so that some outdoor activities, but not all, can commence. His sweaty, muscular frame could be seen doing push-ups on the beach with his AirPods in his ears, shirtless, and his ball shorts low on hips. She chose these times to check her phone even though it was linked to his but she needed to make a quick call to her older sister, April. When she checked her phone within the past five days she hesitated on answering missed calls and messaging back. Everyone was worried about her, saying it wasn’t normal for her to be this silent for almost a week.

“Y/N?!!!” April damn near screamed into the phone, “Where the hell have you been?!! I got your friends calling my phone telling me they haven’t heard from you since you went out with them!! does this have something to do with that bitch ass nigga Erik? If so don’t make me get this nigga killed Y/N you know I don’t play about my family!!!!”

“April, chill,” Y/N looked out the open patio doors to see Erik doing sit ups now at an impossible speed.

“Ain’t no fucking chill!!! What the fuck is wrong with you? Where does this nigga live? Tell me now!!!!”

“April, I have it under control-

“No the fuck you don’t. I’m going over to your place. Fuck this, we need to talk. If it’s some sneaky shit with this nigga we are packing yo’ shit up and you are coming to stay with me and Darrell,” April could be heard moving around, “I’m about to make this trip home then I’m gonna be at your place.”

“April, please, I just wanted to let you guys know that I’m alright. I’ll call my girls to tell them the same. There is no need to go to my place, calm down,” Y/N pleaded but April was already on 100 and she knew when her sister got like that there was no calming her down.

“You sound like you’re nervous about something...is Erik in earshot? If so LET ME SPEAK TO THAT NIGGA!!!”

April was so damn loud that Y/N had to pull the phone away from her ear. As if her senses were giving her a warning, Y/N looks up to see Erik walking back to the house, his eyes narrowed as if he were trying to see what she was doing. His feet moved at a faster pace and he took his AirPods out of his ears. Y/N dashed out of the kitchen and towards the bathroom. He saw her on the phone and she wasn’t supposed to be calling anyone without him present. She locked the door and sat on the toilet. Just seconds later Erik is banging the door down.

“April, listen, I’m fine, just...just wait until I get back home so we can talk things out. Don’t make this situation bigger than what it is...keep it between us, okay?” Y/N looked at the door with glossy eyes.

“Listen...you’re my sister and I love you...I won’t tell anyone but bitch I am still coming over. We have a lot to discuss. I love you, I’ll see you soon.”

April hung up at the precise moment Erik decided to yell.

“OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR Y/N!!!”

She jumped where she sat, “Erik it was just April! I haven’t talked to her in days. She was worried!”

“WHAT DID YOU TELL HER?!!!!” He banged on the door so hard it sounded like it cracked from the other side and it was a solid interior door. He was on the other side probably charging towards the door and hitting it with his shoulder.

“Y/N IF I WERE YOU I WOULD OPEN THIS DOOR QUICK,” He growled.

“Erik please, please don’t hurt me-

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!!!” He pounded his fist over and over and over. Y/N covered her ears, her phone dropping to the floor. She had nowhere else to go. The windows were so tiny she could only fit her head and arms through it.

“Baby...listen,” He huffed and puffed like he ran a marathon, “Okay...I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry for being so damn angry but you shouldn’t have called your sister, baby. I bet she thinks I have something to do with it,” Erik laughs, then it goes quiet for a second, “Baby, please open the door. I just want to talk. I promise.”

“Erik...I don’t think so-

“Where else are you gonna go? We can stay right here all damn night into tomorrow I’m not leaving this fucking spot, Y/N. You’re sister is going to come looking for you...you know what that means, right?”

Y/N sat up straighter.

“I bet you’ll open the door now.” He says.

Y/N stood from the toilet, walking to the door. She stopped with her hand barely grabbing the knob before unlocking it. Erik was standing right there, leaning with his shoulder, arms folded and body sweaty from head to toe. His chest moved up and down, face stony. Y/N stepped away carefully, her eyes trained on him and her body prepared to fight if he tried anything. Erik steps inside, looking around before his eyes land on the floor. He looked at her through his lashes with his head bowed. He bends down, picking up her phone. With quick fingers, Erik unlocks it, looking through her texts, and her missed calls. He chuckles before looking up at her.

“They blowin’ yo’ shit up baby,” He smiles, “Missing you like crazy...ain’t got shit on how much I miss you though...what did April want?”

“She just-she didn’t hear from me in days, Erik. She was just seeing how I was.”

“I bet...your sister can be a fucking nuisance so I know she blaming this shit on me...bitch ain’t like me from jump,” Erik reads April’s texts, “Yeah, she suspecting some shit...ima ask you again, Y/N, what the fuck did she want?”

“Erik chill the fuck out, forreal! Leave April out of this. She’s my sister, you know she’s gonna be worried. I’ve been here for five days straight, haven’t answered my calls or texts, people are gonna suspect!”

“You know how many times you’ve gone without communicating with your fam’ and friends? I don’t even wanna hear that shit, girl. Now...tell me what she called you about.”

“Erik, no-

“TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK SHE WANTED!!!!”

Y/N watched Erik squeeze her phone so hard the veins in his arms popped out at an alarming rate.

“Okay-okay-okay! She said she was going to stop by my place to check on me. She’s upset, Erik, please, please don’t do anything!” Y/N was on her knees, begging him repeatedly.

“FUCK!!!” Erik throws Y/N’s phone on the floor so hard it chatters. The pieces scattered in different places.

“What?” Her lower lip trembled and her fingers went to her mouth. She flinched when Erik started throwing punches at no one like he was boxing an invisible opponent, cursing his ass off and pacing.

“Erik what?!!!!!” Y/N yells.

“What? Fuck you mean what? She knows something went down. Nah,” Erik shakes his head with a mug on his face.

“E, please,” Y/N wipes her face, “My phone is gone now, no one can contact me.

Erik stood there deep in thought with a finger to his mouth and his eyes unblinking on the floor. After what felt like forever he seemed to have come to a decision while nodding his head. Y/N felt her heart drop to her stomach like she was free-falling.

“Erik,” Y/N couldn’t even finish her words. She screams as Erik grabs her by her upper arm, pulling her from the bathroom.

“Too late, Princess,” Erik walked up the steps with Y/N tripping over a few. In his room now, Erik tosses her to the bed before grabbing his handcuffs from his dresser drawer, “Turn onto your stomach. DO IT.” He spat angrily at her, “Can’t fucking believe you.” He slams the drawer shut loudly causing it to shake.

Y/N turns, bringing her arms up above her head. Erik grabs her arms, handcuffing her wrists to his headboard again. Y/N silently cried, the tears blurring her vision. Erik brought her hips up, her back arching. He gives her stinging slaps to her ass that almost made her piss herself.

“What I tell you about disobeying me?! Huh?!!!”

“I'M SORRY!!!” She yelled at the top of her lungs.

“Ain’t it scary knowing that any time could be the last time you talk to someone? Keep that in mind while you’re handcuffed to this bed,” Erik kissed her bare ass since she was just wearing a T-shirt. He hopped off of the bed and went to his closet. Y/N could hear him clicking away on a touchscreen, surely opening a hidden room. She cried and cried while Erik got dressed in all black from head to toe including black gloves. He put on a black ski mask, rolling it up so it could rest on his forehead. Erik flexed his fingers in the gloves, not even giving Y/N a backwards glance as he walked out of the room while she screamed his name in the distance.

__________________

April stepped off of the elevator on the third floor of her sister's apartment building. She knocked a few times, waiting patiently. When no one came to the door, April pulled out her keys, opening the door. It was dark, that was the first sign that let her know that Y/N wasn’t home. Red flag number one. April turned on all of the lights in the living room, looking around like the police invading someone’s home. Her heart raced. A shuffling noise came from down the hall where Y/N’s room is.

“Y/N? Girl? It’s me April,” April pulled out a small handgun that belonged to her boyfriend Darrell, “Y/N?” She pointed it straight in front of her while walking. Now, she was surrounded by darkness again. The hair on her arms raised the more she went. It was so quiet she could almost hear her heartbeat. Finally, standing at her sister's bedroom door, April kicks it open, her gun pointed and aiming everywhere. She was ready to shoot Erik if he was holding her sister captive. April was good at reading people, especially from all the serial killer documentaries she watched. Erik was at the top of her list. Some of his possessive qualities from the beginning rubbed April the wrong way.

A floorboard creaked and April turned around, aiming her gun in the hall. Of course, there was no one. A chill went up her spine and as she turned she hit something solid. April stumbled back, her gun falling from her hand. It was dark minus the light from the living room. She was on the floor scrambling for the gun and as soon as she gripped it, a lamp light came on and standing above her dressed in all black is the psycho himself.

“You,” she said with spite, “Where. Is. Y/N.”

“Hello to you too, April,” Erik folds his hands over his crotch, “She’s good, chilling at my crib, why? Wassup?”

“She’s been silent for days now, Erik. I know something weird is going on,” April stood up, stepping away with her gun pointed at him, “Where is she?”

“Don’t worry about all that, she's good, I got her,” Erik looks at her gun with a big handsome smile, his golds shining, “Really, April? Put that gun down, girl.”

“Or what?” April aimed for his head, “I got my gun license, I’ve taken classes, I’ll put a bullet in your head,” she spoke with confidence.

“You better handle that burner carefully, ma, no trembling,” Erik walks up on her, “Hold it with both hands,” He smirked evilly.

“Back the FUCK UP!”

“Let’s go, let that thang off,” Erik widened his stance, “You so bad, April, show me what you learned.”

“Fuck you,” April was furious, “Just tell me where she is, let her go, and we can part ways. Just know, she’s coming with me.”

“She’s mine,” He said with his brows raised. Erik charged April in a blink of an eye before she could even pull the trigger and slapped her in her face. April fell to the ground, clutching her right eye. Erik undid her entire gun swiftly, putting all the pieces in his pocket.

“All that shit you talk and not ONCE did you pull the trigger,” Erik grabs April from the floor by her neck, “You should have bought a whole army with you, girl! Now that’s a fucking challenge.”

“Ahhhhhhhh!! Ah-ahhhh,” April’s screams grow fainter and fainter from Erik’s grip on her neck growing tighter, “Let me go! Let me go!!! Darrell will have your neck you sick motherfucker!!!! You messed with the wrong one!! You’re dead!!!”

April’s phone started to go off.

“That’s probably that nigga now,” Erik digs in April’s jacket pocket, her phone in his hand now, “Aww, Daddy Darrell, how cute,” Erik pockets her phone, “Don't worry, ima handle him too cuz I know you ran your big ass mouth to him, am I right?!!!!!”

April spits in Erik’s face. It hit him in his eye. Erik wipes it away with his gloved hand, looking down at April like she was Big Foot with how wide his eyes are.

“You spit in my fucking face you nasty ass bitch!” He yells. Erik slams April against Y/N’s bedroom door repeatedly.

“DARRELL!!!!” She yelled, tears in her eyes. Clearly, April underestimated the situation. If she knew Erik was so dangerous, she should have come with Darrell instead of by herself. Erik drags April out by her arms. She’s kicking and screaming, clearly making too much damn noise.

“Shut the FUCK UP,” Erik warns, “I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP APRIL.”

“Help me!!! Please!!! Help! Help! Help-

Erik turns, using all his strength to punch April so hard she was knocked out. Her body went limp in his arms. Erik drops her on the floor in front of the apartment, pulling out a pair of cuffs to restrain her wrists. She would soon wake up in Erik’s glass prison. Now as far as Darrell goes, Darrell’s going to die.

“Y/N, will enjoy this little reunion,” Erik brought a body bag with him that he can carry. He used to use that back for weapons but April is small enough to carry inside since she’s so short and petite. Erik puts April in the bag, groaning when her phone kept going off in his pocket.

“Your nigga ain’t playing,” Erik does one final sweep, making sure nothing is out of place. Once the coast was clear he carried April out of the apartment in the bag, making sure to remove his ski mask so he doesn’t look suspicious. He made it out of the apartment, taking April out of the bag and placing her in the back seat. It was time to get Darrell. April stirs in the back seat, whimpering in pain.

“Good, you’re up,” Erik calls Darrell on her phone, putting it on speaker, “Tell Daddy Darrell you’re fine and to meet you at the pier to talk. And try and tell him you’re in trouble if you want to, I will paint this car with your brains.”

“Hello?! Baby?!” Darrell spoke with worry.

“Darrell, hey baby,” April spoke with a shaky voice. Erik has his gun with a silencer attached pointed to her head, “Listen, can you meet me at the pier? It’s urgent, we need to talk.”

“What?!Tell me what’s going on. I’m on my way to Y/N’s place now! I told you to wait for me!”

“Darrell, baby, please, just meet me by the pier. I’ll let you know as soon as I get there, okay?” Erik pressed the gun to April’s throat.

“...Aight. I’m on my way.”

“Good girl,” Erik says while tossing his gun in his passenger seat, “Make sure you give Darrell a final kiss-kiss with a lot of tongue cuz he ain’t breathing no more afterwards.”

“You’re sick,” April cried, “I can’t wait for the day you die.”

“Judge if you want, we all gon’ die, I intend to deserve it.”

Erik does 80 the rest of the way.

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @pananegra @theblulife @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah @eyeknowmywrites @crowngold @njadakillthiscookie @blktinkerbell @luvanxi @sheisexcellent1 @chocolatedippedinhoney @brandithecrystalgem @dababydababydababydababy @soulfulbeauty19 @btitannaaa @sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted @harleycativy @rbhp @thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone @palmstreesallday @skylahb @bakaris-shorty @nizzle-mo @truglori @queenflaws @ljstraightnochaser @theegoldenchild @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @nickidub718 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark @abluesforlyssa @abeautifulmindexposed @fd-writes @chasingsunlight @sickaddiktions @munteanhore @xo-goldengirl @tiava143 @33kiara@honeytoffee @asiasblackworld727 @momobaby227 @informalmelancholy @soulshinechronicles @hearteyes-for-killmonger @goddessofthundathighs @soulfxll @whazzzupmyhitta @seyven89 @lahuttor @janelledarling @shewritestheblues @fanfangal @kreolemami @thoughtsoftheantagonist @luvwitoutlimit1 @mygirlrenee @hippiesandpeacesigns @alittlejd @jaysaidhi @thewaysheis--awkward @walkrightuptothesun @shawnstacksss @theesotericqueen @mareethequeen @browngirldominion @ceeverse @therealmrsrhodes @sensitivelegend @teheeboo @yomiloo @msreshel-blog @bbygirrll05 @fahi0nanart @afteracouplepuffss @shaelyn102 @yaminax-kuss-a @lackbbaby @amyhennessyhouse @thattruckinwitch @dameshaemonique @glittermakesmesmile @justgetitoverwith0 @notavintagecliche @pariahcolored @cydneyrenee4 @ajjiiaaahhhh @naeelyniecee @ambthegamer @efonteno @mikesteel20 @wisenerdcreator @draggingstxns @eevolsidog @xoxomyaah @asweet-serendipity @therealmrsmbjordan @ajspencer1892 @niqui87 @quietpoeticheart @itsjustyazz @dasia21 @woah-express @bbgiirrll @backandbetter2 @megabriahall @forbeautyandlife @queenflaws @cecereads209 @queenbetter @yomiloo @daddys-baby-girl-t @lovinthemelanin @ladymac82 @t3mporaa @toniilaney @iv0rysoap @sinfully-dope @lovehatecritique @chocolategirl605 @naysianaee

#killmonger smut #Erik Killmonger #killmonger x reader #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

386 notes · View notes

snarkwrites · 3 years

Text

six sexy words | reggie mantle; let me take care of you.

Notes:

Oh hello, hi. Guess whose inspiration has finally come back from the war? A while back, I was linked this really neat prompt list by a dear friend of mine and it.. Sparked a few things. So… I guess this is me, starting a new one shots collection?

All of these come from my own mind and I don’t take requests for one shots / prompts, btw.

This is the prelude to my Riverdale fic Gangsta. It kind of... explains how Alyssa wound up getting with Reggie in the first place. Events have been moved around / misplaced, etc.. Anyway.. yeah. I know nobody asked for this but here ya go.

Prompts:

taken from either [ HERE ] or [ HERE ] give or take. It could be one or the other or a mix of both at my own choosing.

catching his gaze lingering on you, i still remember everything about you, let me take care of you were the prompts used here.

Fandom / Character:

Riverdale | Reggie Mantle x Andrews!Sibling OFC, Alyssa

Fic Alyssa Appears In:

[ here ] - read at your own risk. looose af canon compliance and some kind of dark themes are present (kind of an older guy manipulating a younger girl then stalking her sitch so be warned) and are hinted at here.

Warnings:

This one is kind of.. angsty. And there are some dark hints that people reading the fic linked above will pick up on. They're only vaguely hinted at here, btw, so... yeah.

A backstory literally no one asked for, lmaoooo.

Tagging:

@BRITHEDEMONSPAWN is the only one currently on my Riverdale tag list, so…

** if you want to be tagged in my Riverdale stuff, lmk!!**

Other Stuff:

[ ABOUT MY WRITING | TAG LIST DOC - IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, THAT IS. | FANDOMS I WRITE FOR]

I looked up just as Reggie looked down. I could feel the weight of his stare every single time he shifted his gaze towards where I sat in the back booth of the diner.

A strawberry milkshake sat in front of me, untouched. I wasn’t even sure why I was at Pop’s. It’s pretty much the only place for all the lovey-dovey couples of Riverdale to come out on a Friday night anymore and I had to be a glutton for punishment because I knew that this meant the odds of me having a Valentine’s solo date in public, where people would look at me and judge or feel sorry for me for whatever reason, were high.

Not that it bothered me, but when you can feel everyone around you watching you like you’re a landmine or something, it gets old real quick.

A chair scraping loudly against the tiled floor of the diner as it was dragged over drew me out of my own thoughts and I braced myself. Preparing myself to look up from my phone and Snapchats that I had open to find Cheryl or Veronica or Betty sitting there, a sympathetic look in their eyes.

Instead, I looked up from a Snap my friend back in Chicago had sent me and my mouth opened in surprise a little because Reggie sat there, the backwards facing chair pressing into his chest.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“It’s just another Friday.” I muttered, shrugging as I took a few noisy slurps of my milkshake and eyed him. “No hot female company tonight?” I gave him a mocked look of shock as I said it, laughing softly when his response was to pout right back at me.

“I mean, if you count the red-head I’m currently lookin at and I’ve been tryin to talk to all night, then yeah.” Reggie answered.

His answer caught me off guard and as a result, some of the strawberry milkshake went down the wrong way and I choked a little. Reggie chuckled, reaching over to lightly pop me between the shoulder a few times as he gazed at me in concern and amusement. “You good, princess?”

“Super. That would’ve been one hell of an obit though. Girl dies on Valentine’s Day while drinking a milkshake alone and nearly choking to death on strawberry bits.” I laughed and Reggie raised a brow.

“Guess dark humor isn’t your forte, huh?” I teased gently and Reggie gave a quiet chuckle.

“So… How are you feeling about being back in Riverdale?”

“It is what it is.” I answered, shrugging as my eyes wandered around the diner, taking in all the happy couples of Riverdale High.

My gaze settled on Reggie again and I struggled to come up with something even halfway passing as a conversation starter. Maybe that wouldn’t have been such a struggle for me if I’d stop getting lost in the depths of dark brown eyes… Or the way his tongue trailed ever so slowly over the outline of his mouth.

I found myself wondering why he was even over here talking to me to begin with. There was a booth full of River Vixens further towards the back, all laughing and whispering, and yes, occasionally calling his name.

I locked eyes with one of them and the sour look she gave me had me rolling my eyes.

“Hey, it’s gettin late. I doubt Andrews would want his sister walkin home alone…” Reggie trailed off under my amused gaze. I gave a soft laugh, finishing the last of my milkshake.

“Are you asking permission to walk me home, Reggie?”

“What if I am, baby girl?”

“First of all, it’s Alyssa…” I reminded him knowing fully well that it’d go in one ear and out the other, because it always has with him. Reggie’s been a nickname kind of guy for as long as I’ve known him and been friends with him. It’s nice to see that some things haven’t changed, even if at times that can be a little bit grating.

Baby girl just… has negative ties to it for me at the moment.

I winced at the thought and Reggie chuckled. “Okay, princess. Gotcha.” he muttered, leaning in a little. Reaching out and swiping his thumb over my bottom lip. I tried so hard not to tense up or flinch and I found myself hoping against hope that the little bit I did tense up went unnoticed.

I didn’t feel like answering questions and I didn’t want Reggie thinking I was weird or he’d offended me or something because honestly, he hadn’t. The whole thing was a me problem and it was one I was trying not to think about because I just wanted it all completely behind me. Forgotten about.

“You okay?” he asked, a brow raised as he eyed me in concern.

Crap. He noticed.

Apparently, the fact that he’s observant as hell hasn’t changed either.

I gave a soft laugh and nodded. “I just wasn’t expecting that. But it’s okay.” I quickly offered.

Deeper down, I have to admit… If so much hadn’t happened to me in Chicago, I’d definitely be falling hard and fast for Reggie Mantle all over again right now.

I did feel something. A sliver of a spark.

,, Don’t even think about it. The last time you felt sparks, you wound up getting in way over your head. Look where that got you, Alyssa…” that nagging little voice in the back of my mind spoke up, drowning out any and all other thoughts.

He’s my friend. Walking home with a friend isn’t a bad thing.

,, as long as it stops at friendship. Do you really think he’s just going to settle for you? He’s one of the big men on campus. Every girl wants him. Why would he choose you with all your current issues and that big nasty past of yours hanging over your head, threatening to ruin everything?” - and with that thought acknowledged, I smiled and cleared my throat. Breaking through his thoughtful daze with a soft laugh. “Earth to Mantle… You in there?”

“Yeah, yeah. I was just thinkin.”

“About?” I asked the question before I could stop myself.

“About how nice it is havin you back in Riverdale, Alyssa. You were always one of my favorite people.”

I smiled fondly.

Sitting down the styrofoam cup I’d drained of it’s contents, I rose up from my spot on the booth and held out my hand. “C’mon, lug.. If you insist on walking me home, we should probably get going… Stupid town curfew.”

“It is kind of dumb, huh? I mean, it’s not like we actually have a serial killer here.”

“It’s not like we don’t either. Sorry. I watch too many true crime documentaries.”

“No, you just lived in that big city too long. You forgot how safe and isolated it really is here.” Reggie chuckled. He slipped an arm around me and I tensed a little before I could stop myself.

I know he noticed it again, but he lowered his arm. Gave me an apologetic smile.

“Hey… do they still have those swings out behind the elementary?” I asked as we stepped out of the diner. He eyed me and smiled. “Yeah, why?”

“Well, since we do have a little bit of time left before I absolutely must be walking in my father’s door, I thought maybe we could go sit on them and talk? Like we used to? For old times sake?”

Reggie gave a soft grin. “I’d like that.”

“Just don’t try to send me into orbit like the last time I let you push me, okay?”

Reggie chuckled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he stared down at me.

I snapped my fingers in his face. “Hey…”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, I make no promises.” Reggie teased. I pouted up at him and we started to walk across the parking lot.

“You’re a lot quieter now, Alyssa. Skittish.. Are you sure you’re okay? I still remember everything about you and you weren’t skittish at all… If you wanna talk about it, you know you can talk to me, right?” Reggie asked as we walked towards the playground down the block. I sighed quietly.

“I’m not!” I spoke up, glancing up at him. Hoping he’d buy it and not keep pushing. Because I’m just not ready to talk about what I managed to get myself caught up in. And you just don’t want to see the disgusted look in his eyes when you do talk about it and he realizes just how stupid and pathetic you really are, the thought came but I shoved it out quickly. For the next minute or two, that heavy silence settled between us. I didn’t address the fact that he said I could talk to him. I know I could but… I just can’t right now. I need time. I need to get my head around everything.

And I don’t want to deal with the disgust I know he’ll probably feel. I know he will because I feel it, every single time I look at myself in the mirror. My parents and Archie keep insisting it’s not my fault, but all I can see is that I was the one who willingly got involved with the people I got involved with in the first place. I’m not stupid. I had to know that Dave didn’t really give a shit. That he was probably using me to stroke his own massive ego. That he purposely picked me when he sensed some deep hidden vulnerability. But I’m the one who let it happen. And I’m the one who let it go on for as long as it did and I allowed it to get to the scary point that it got to…

So yeah.. Pretty sure I don’t want to dump all this on Reggie Mantle and then see him look at me differently. I just… can’t.

I want to, but I can’t.

I hugged myself when the wind picked up, wishing I’d had the common sense to grab a thicker jacket before I left my dad’s house earlier. Reggie stopped our walk and slipped off his letterman’s jacket, holding it out. I eyed it and then him.

“Oh no. No. I’m not about to get my ass kicked by your fanclub.” I teased gently.

In reality, I knew that having the scent of his cologne so close to me would probably stick with me. It’d be too much temptation. Taking his jacket was a slippery slope.

“C’mon. Stop being so stubborn, woman. Look at you, shivering right now… You always took care of me back then. Let me take care of you, okay?”

He stepped closer. Not too close. Close enough that I knew if things were different, I’d totally be pouting right now because I’d want him closer. Before I could answer him, he slipped the jacket around my shoulders and I gave a soft and amused laugh. “Better, Reggie?”

“Yeah.” he answered. I tried not to notice it, but I couldn’t help myself. His eyes darted down and settled on my lips. His gaze lingered.

My heart hammered just a little harder against my chest.

I swallowed hard and cleared my throat, trying not to think about the way he was looking at me currently and the way it made me feel. Because someone’s made me feel that way before but they turned out to be the most toxic person I’ve ever known.

I just.. I don’t know if I can trust myself or anyone else right now.

But I want to. God, I want to.

#reggie mantle #reggie mantle fanfiction #reggie mantle fanfic #reggie mantle imagine #reggie mantle one shot #reggie mantle imagines #reggie mantle oneshot #my writing ; reggie mantle #my fics ; reggie mantle #my oneshots ; reggie mantle #// look at me go! two in a day!#// i am... rusty. but i'm trying to work through it #// pretty sure this too will flop but oh well. it is what it is.#// this is part of my riverdale fic - it's the 'prelude' if you will. kind of sets up things that have happened in the fic #// literally no one asked for this but I wanted it so ya'll get it #// suffer with me

12 notes · View notes

d-structive · 4 years

Note

Do some of your egos actually have...emotions? As in not "being focused on themselves all the time" like Marvin and Anti?

Of course! Chase can cry real loud and be mildly content around people. He’s a good boy, come on.. JJ can be nice and kind when not manipulated. Still untrustworthy. Jackie is Jackie. He loves almost everyone. Like a golden retriever. ...And the Doc experiences the whole spectrum of being crazy! And he’s Chase bestie!

Sometimes they all collide and all the fun stuff happens. Like..They bond and stuff. As you can see, it’s all nice and dandy. :D Besides Robbie. Robbie does not feel anything but disgust and annoyance. Ironically, in MY universe, he’s the most powerful one. He feels above the livings, so he doesn’t have to show any empathy or interest. He only feel ok with the doc. He provides labs, books and “spare parts” after all...

Marv and Anti are two weird beings tbh. That doesn’t mean they do not have emotions at all.

Personally, I don’t see Anti as a creature who seek for emotions. Some see him as this guy that goes around with his army of mind slaves causing chaos, or torturing people and stuff....Seeking for a reaction... Which it’s cool, cuz I like a chaotic character. But I see him in a different way. I consider him like some kind of serial killer. Somebody who acts alone and that targets specific objectives only. (Maybe those with a face similar to his?) He’s the one who more than anybody WANTS to focus on himself because this is how he was made. He’s clever and he knows he has the power to do whatever he pleases. He only has to be patient. He seek for control. The rest it’s useless. If then some head has to roll in order to accomplish his goals...So it’ll be. So, there is no need to have favourites. He’ll use whoever he thinks it might be useful to his cause. There’s no need to become attached to his tools.

Marv...We do not have much infos about him. So, I simply decided to play with this character in the same way I did for JBM. (Another character we do not know anything about..) I don’t like too much the trope of a mage character with a dark past...A super serious one that closes himself into a library all day...That’s cool, but no fun. Since he’s so ethereal -at least I do see him like this- and cryptic, I decided he’s this absolute rich, sassy, flamboyant enterteiner douchebag, that enjoy to be a thief in his spare time. He’s pretty and he knows it. He’s vain and he LOVES to be seen. Screw the secrecy and praise his look, dangit! He DO knows a lot of stuff. He probably sees the future too. Hecc, he probably fixed your timeline more than once this month only! And he’s the only one capable to do it. He probably saves more lives than the doc himself. But he won’t bother to warn you, cuz..Come on! There’s no fun in that. He loves a good gamble and playing with fire it’s his specialty...

...And then you call him “focused on himself“...Tch....Rude.

#ask #Anonymous

28 notes · View notes

ziracona · 4 years

Note

what are your thoughts on deathslinger? game wise or character wise, just in general lol lately i've been really loving wraith and deathslinger as characters and now i've been getting excited whenever i end up on one of their maps or i go against them. (playing deathslinger is gonna take... a LOT of work since im bad at aiming omg lkjskjlds)

Character wise, Deathslinger is one I really appreciate. Almost all killers in DbD fit into 3 categories—manipulated victim (Rin, Philip, Lisa, Sally), feral & no real grasp of normal human laws/customs (Max, Anna, Michael), and serial killer for fun (Danny, Kenneth, Amanda, Freddy). And I really enjoy al three of those categories for the characters, don’t get me wrong, but it’s always especially interesting when we get a killer who is none of the above, and it doesn’t happen much. I like that Caleb was a shitty person, but like, in a totally normal way?

Like, was he bad? Absolutely. Do I kinda get why he went ‘I am 2 seconds from losing it’ & then lost it from that age on at people who kept discriminating against him and betraying and using him & stealing his shit? Yeah. I don’t /condone/ it, or at least, the violence inflicted on like the petty criminals he caught & inmates he gave his warden torture devices to use on, not at all, but like. I appreciate instead of being just a serial killer who somehow had fun killing horribly, Caleb is just some guy who is really mad people ruined his life & wants revenge. Like, I don’t condone the behavior, but like, I get it. That’s a thoroughly understandable motive, and like, a normal one. Having been bad but not like, evil and villainous gleefully to his core or smth wild, I feel like it puts Caleb in a very interesting place in the realm. He’d hate the Entity for sure, since it canonically tricks and lies to and manipulated him to get him to hunt survivors (which I have to assume he will figure out /eventually/ is going on. Entity really ain’t /that/ smart), and since he has never hurt people who didn’t wrong him for fun, only to further his personal goals, I expect he would greatly dislike working for the Entity.

I don’t know that he’s gonna be the most sympathetic human ever to the survivors, or like, even have to be tortured before he goes back to killing once he does find out, but him not wanting to be there or be killing them period & actively hating the Entity for doing this to him, paired with his kind of average human bad dude background, is extremely unique. I feel like it leaves a lot of storytelling potential. I mean, you’ve got a person willing to do really bad stuff and a history of doing it, who simultaneously completely understands what he has done and why and society’s rules & didn’t do any of it on accident or something, but also hasn’t really done any of that because he just wanted to, or gets pleasure from it, or is someone who runs around actively dehumanizing everyone else & thinking he’s above them & they’re subhuman like the serial killers do—I mean, Caleb had normal human relationships—he had loyal friends, all right up to his abduction. So he’s not a loner either. That kind of whole ‘not a good dude at all & done some real bad stuff, but also still kind of a normal person’ makeup? It makes him a very interesting character, especially with Zarina having knowledge of/a connection to him. I think he and The Legion are the only two killers who are kind of in a weird fourth category like that (though some kind of arguments could be made for at least which category Kazan belongs in), and that’s made those two (well, five I guess, haha) extremely interesting characters to write. I like Caleb—I really enjoy him just being kinda gd normal. Average joe shitty, not serial killer. Whole lot of potential directions for a character like that to head in.

As far as in-game goes, I haven’t played as him because I haven’t bought any irl money stuff from DbD in /quite/ a while, so I got no opinion on playing as. He’s pretty fun to go against, though! I think he’s balanced well and most of my experiences w people who play Deathslinger have been nice, so he doesn’t fill me with “ah shit here we go again” like PS4 ghostfaces do >.> lol—[though one time I went against a dude who messaged us all to ask to farm and was super friendly & then the second gates were up, downed everyone he could bc he’d had us following him around, and he was running only endgame perks (noed, fire up, blood warden, etc) & apparently that’s just how he plays every single match—pretend to be friendly for 2 free hooks, then kill everyone in endgame when their guard is down. I made it out but I was swf w a friend I couldn’t save & I’m still mad about someone doing that for fun.] Other than that one dude though, he’s routinely been pretty fun to go against! And I’ve heard he is fun to play as. So I like him game-wise too. ^u^

#ask #dead by daylight #the deathslinger #caleb quinn #anonymous

19 notes · View notes

exkernal · 4 years

Text

Philosophy Class for Rock Bottom Demons: 2/3

Maybe coming to Earth wasn't such a great idea after all.

Michael's in that gaudy Arizona dive bar, but it's gaudy in an Eleanor-way, like Minion plushies and shrimp dispensaries. The light's too bright here, like a spotlight that won't stop following him. It's jarring, seeing Eleanor in that little red dress; he's so used to "Real Eleanor's" conservative garb.

"Look, surprisingly sexy bartender, I'ma tell it to you straight: it's my birthday and I want to make some bad decisions. Like baaaad. You know what I'm talkin' 'bout."

He doesn't.

"If it's not you, it's going to be my Uber driver. I've already hooked up with three Uber drivers. And I'm not saying that the last one was a budding serial killer or anything, but I am saying that I can't rule him out as not a budding serial killer either. So what's it going to be?"

"Um, what?" Michael says. He wonders if there's another glass for him to pretend to clean.

"Come on, man," Eleanor slides closer to him. Too close: there's no space between them anymore. Eleanor's finger curls around his white hair. "Do you want me or not?"

Well, okay then. Yes. Okay. This is...yes.

He kissed Eleanor before, one night under the Michael-made stars, the night when they were both desperate enough to willingly venture into the depths of hell (and that's not even a cheesy metaphor). It shouldn't shock him so much to feel her body against his, to feel her hands running through his hair and cupping his face. The sensation of her tongue in his mouth is still strange, but he's a fast learner. He can't recall why he was so adamantly against kissing before.

As it escalates, going faster than he can anticipate, he hears voices in his head. One that sounds like Janet reminds him that the Judge could check on them at any moment. One that sounds like Chidi at the height of his philosophy professor glory frets about the morality of his actions. Then there's Shawn's voice, telling him to ignore that four-eyed, Kant-loving dweeb.

He's a bit concerned about that last voice, though not enough to stop.

*****

"Okay, so it definitely wasn't a good idea to piss off the Judge, and I'm sorry for getting us trapped on Earth--"

"Michael," Janet interrupts. "It's fine. Let's go help the humans."

"Right," Michael says. His smile takes over his entire face. "Let's go."

*****

Michael's stuck here on Earth until the inevitable death of the universe (but no one likes spoilers). While the humans are alive, he'll do everything in his power to get them into the Good Place. After that...well, after that he'll still have Janet. They'll figure it out from there.

"I still look like me, right?" he asks Janet as the two of them hang out in their new journalism department headquarters. It's night now, the time when he and Janet, as two sleepless beings, can truly talk.

"What do you mean?" Janet says.

"My fingers don't look more, uh, tentacle-like, do they? I don't look more on fire than usual?"

She smiles knowingly. "You look the same as always, Michael. Your demonic appearance isn't slipping through."

"Oh good," he says. For a moment he was afraid that he'd live out his earthly existence as a Godzilla monster.

At night, he thinks about the point system. He keeps noticing all of the little ways that humans lose points. Littering. Sneezing into their hands then touching a railing. Listening to music in public without earbuds. Listening to country music, period. But then, he's also noticing the little acts of kindness: picking up someone else's litter; holding the door open; offering up a tissue and reassurance to a crying stranger at a bus stop.

Not for the first time, he wonders how the points are weighed. Why does bingeing trash TV and making rude comments cancel out someone's sincere if imperfect effort to change? Why don't they count up the million little ways a person's presence can bring out the best in someone else?

*****

This was a horrible decision. Why hadn't he listened to Janet when she tried to warn him? Why did he always ruin everything?

"Michael," Janet says softly. "Please talk to me."

"It's all my fault," he says hollowly. "I should've listened to you. I shouldn't have meddled."

"It is true that everyone should listen to me because I'm a being who literally knows everything," Janet says, but the joke doesn't land with Michael, not right now. "The past is the past. Beating yourself up won't change it."

"All I wanted was to get them into the Good Place," he says. He should be crying, like he did on the platform, but for some reason he can't feel anything. Just numbness, like he's lost his link to his corporeal body. "Now, because of me, they will definitely go to the Bad--"

His voice cracks. Oh, there it is: those tricky, pesky emotions.

Janet's arm slinks around his shoulders. He lets himself sink into her surprisingly warm embrace.

"I'm no expert," she says, "but I think this is just another part of being human; accepting that not everything will go your way."

He supposes she's right.

"Come on," she says. "Let's try some authentic Earth froyo."

*****

"What's the big deal, Eleanor? She found a man who makes her happy. And, if you ask me, she made a good choice. Do you know how awesome it is to talk architecture with someone who actually knows what they're talking about? Someone who doesn't just want to add more spider volcanoes and blood rivers? It's so refreshing! Such a creative challenge! Such a--"

"Michael!" Eleanor snaps, arms crossed over her chest. "Focus, dude!"

"Oh, uh, sorry, got a little sidetracked," he smiles sheepishly.

"Look, dude, Dave might be your BFF now, but women like my mom don't go for guys like him without an ulterior motive."

"Why not?" Michael asks, confused.

"Puh-lease. The Donna Shellstrops of the world are trashy but in a hot way, with bods that just won't quit even after all of the questionable things they've put them through. Dave's a dork with glasses and a boner for architecture--no offense."

Offense very much taken. He doesn't know why he's so affronted by Eleanor's skepticism, but he is, deeply. Maybe he's offended on behalf of his new friend. Yeah, that's definitely the reason.

And what's so bad about glasses, anyway? He happens to think they make a person look refined.

*****

"Those are my memories," Eleanor says. "I want them back."

But here's the thing: Eleanor doesn't know Michael this go around, not really. She knows Michael the Benevolent Being, Michael the Slightly Eccentric Force for Good. The Michael who may have done some questionable things in the past, but is now her biggest supporter.

She doesn't know Michael the Demon, who begged for help while calling her a disgusting little cockroach. The Michael who gleefully tortured her, then cackled in her face when she found out. She doesn't know Michael the Manipulator, the Michael who tortured Chidi for petty fun, the Michael of ill-advised hookups.

That Michael is better off forgotten.

That's the reason why he doesn't want to show her. Well, the main reason. He's also sick of all the schmoopsy lovey Chidi moments, yuck. Don't get him wrong, he knows Chidi is good for Eleanor. He helps her become a better person, and if nothing else, he wants her to be her best self. But does he really need that love fest paraded around in front of him?

Once she's finished, he starts babbling. She cuts him off.

"I'm not mad at you. I can't be mad at a demon for being evil."

Well. He's not sure how to feel about that. He should be relieved that she's not mad, but he's not. She expects demons to be evil? Does Eleanor expect him to be evil?

Of course, she starts ranting about how super intelligent tarantula squids control everything, so he doesn't have time to dwell on it.

*****

Erasing Chidi's memory is absolutely the right decision; he knows because Chidi, the czar of moral philosophy, says so. But as he learned at his first annoying philosophy class, the right thing is often as painful as any torture he could dream up.

It was also right to show Chidi and Eleanor their joint memories, as painful as that is. They deserve this. He stays back to give them privacy, but he doesn't leave completely, because it's better to get the memory wipe over with.

Distance doesn't matter much to demons, anyway. He can still see them cry and comfort each other. His chest feels tight and painful, like it's burning. Wait, is is? Did his human outfit slip somehow? But no, he's still regular Michael. His chest just aches unbearably because he can't stand watching Chidi and Eleanor hurt.

Especially Eleanor.

*****

When Eleanor asks if his freak out was fake in her you-sly-dog voice, he smiles tightly, shuffles his feet, and agrees.

Lying is probably the right decision.

*****

He has no proof, but he's pretty sure that pink pastel wallpaper was invented in the Bad Place. It certainly feels like torture, staring at the walls of Mindy's bedroom. He could always leave, he supposes, but he'd rather face Derek's creepy sex toys than the humans right now.

So of course that's the moment that Eleanor walks through the door.

"Hey," she says, playing with the hem of her blue shirt. He's grown rather fond of her impeccable Fake Architect wardrobe. One of his favorite parts of the experiment is coordinating outfits with her.

"Hey," he says thickly, barely looking up.

"Can I sit down?"

"Sure."

The mattress dips with her weight.

"Michael, I want you to know that I never stopped trusting you, I just...wasn't sure how good an actor Vicki is."

"She sucks," Michael says. "My Australian accent's so much better."

He thinks Eleanor's smiling.

"Right. Still, I should've known. Sorry."

He shrugs. "I shouldn't have lied. I'm sorry too."

"Look at us, two pathetic chumps apologizing and shirt."

"Heh."

"Hey, bud?" Eleanor says. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," he says quickly.

Eleanor is surprisingly gentle when she says, "I thought we said no more lying."

That startles him enough to look up.

"I--" he starts. He bunches his pant legs in his fists. "It's--I can't explain it."

"It's about the fire squid thing, isn't it?"

"No!" he shouts. "No, it's...okay," he admits, shoulders sagging, "it's about the fire squid thing."

"Michael, nothing's changed," she says, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We still love you the same. Actually, scratch that, Jason probably loves you more now. Seriously, dude, you're gonna have to strip for him if you ever want him to shut up."

Michael snorts despite himself.

"I know I'm probably being stupid--"

"You are definitely being stupid," she cuts him off. "Knock it off. We can only afford one Jason Mendoza in this group."

"Yeah, okay. It's just.. hard, sometimes, being the only demon."

"Do you want us to keep gloopy Glenn?"

"No, Glenn sucks. Okay, maybe that's just Shawn's millennia of bullying talking. What I mean is, I don't always know my place. I tortured you guys, I manipulated you. and it's--I'm not that person anymore, but at the same time, part of me sort of is. I don't know if I'm explaining it right."

"I think I get it," Eleanor says, putting her hand in his. "I've changed so much that sometimes I want to strangle my old self. But at the same time, I can't completely move away from that hot Arizona dumpster fire, because she helped make me who I am today."

"Yes, exactly," he nods. "When I'm with you humans and Janet, I finally feel like I belong. Sometimes I forget that I'm really a, a fire squid, and convince myself that this dashingly good looking body is the real deal. So when I'm confronted with the truth--when my friends found out the truth--"

"But it's not the truth," Eleanor says. "You are who you chose to be; that's the real you. Your friends love you for you, whether you want to be a fire squid or dapper silver fox."

There's that warm chest feeling again, only it's not painful this time.

"You were always my favorite," he tells Eleanor. He's not sure why he's telling her, but it feels right. "I love all of you, but if I had to pick a favorite human, it's you."

"Thanks, man," she says. "You're my favorite demon."

"Low bar," he mutters, and they both laugh.

He looks at Eleanor. He really looks at her.

"Do you want your memories back?" he asks.

She looks at him sharply. "You can do that? What about Janet's machine thingy?"

"I don't need it in the afterlife," he says, standing up in excitement. This is a risky decision, but it's the right one. She deserves to know all of it, and all of him. "Do you want them or not?"

"Here yeah I do. Fork it, let's do it."

He snaps his fingers.

It only takes a fraction of a second, but he can see them all dancing in Eleanor's blue-green eyes.

"Holy forking shirt!" she says. "Wow. Just wow."

Her eyes find his.

"So we have a bit of a complex relationship, huh?"

"What do you mean?" he asks. Why is he suddenly so twitchy?

"I mean, I know I'm a total hottie and everything, but I hooked up with everybody in the afterlife. Chidi, Tahani, you."

"Oh," Michael says. "That."

Suddenly, the pile of gross sex toys is the most fascinating thing in the room.

"Yes, that," Eleanor stands up, forcing his attention back to her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Um," he says. "Sorry?"

"Don't be sorry, doofus," she says, swatting his shoulder. "I was the driving force both times. I can see why I'm your favorite now, unless you swap spit with other humans I don't know about."

"First of all, gross. That's gross. Second of all, no."

"Seriously, though, do you want to talk about it? Your feelings, I mean."

He does not. He'd rather get zapped into ooze like poor stupid Glenn or try out that demon strip tease (well, not really). But he's no longer the person who pouts and runs people over with trolleys to avoid his feelings.

So here goes nothing.

"I'm still not great with human feelings. I only just learned why you should never lie to your friends--sorry again. All I can really say is that I care about you. You make me want to be my best self."

Eleanor looks at him. He can't read her face.

"You know I'm in love with Chidi, right?" she says. He knows; he doesn't need her to say. "But you're like the best friend I've ever had. Like ever. I don't know if soulmates are real, but if they are, you're my best friend soulmate. I hope that's good enough."

"Oh, Eleanor," he says. His throat feels tight. "Of course that's enough."

"C'mere, you big softie," she says, pulling him into a tight embrace. He thinks hugs are one of his favorite human things. It's definitely up there, just ahead of paper clips.

She lets go. "Okay, now go kick Shawn's ash."

Oh, he definitely will.

#hellstrop #michael x eleanor #the good place #eleanor shellstrop #michael (the good place)

11 notes · View notes

treason-and-plot · 5 years

Text

REPLIES TO PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE TEA

@windermeresimblr

Stephanie, dump him to the curb, and then you can write in peace and quiet. (Sorry! I hate Liam, he deserves to suffer.)

But who then would give her shoulder massages and fetch her tea and sandwiches? ;=)

@stsciurussimblr

I need to learn how to make passive aggressive tea.

As with many things, it’s all in the wrist....

@shhhushhh

I... don't dislike her. Quite the opposite. Or it's just me I rarely blame a woman over how she is treating her man - it's well deserved most of the time. But I can't quite get it why she is with him - she is smart, successful, beautiful. And he is... an ameba.

Smart, successful, beautiful...

....and a narcissistic bitch.

@shhhushhh

Of course, I also can't stop thinking she is a grown up Saffron, visually and maybe mentally.

Saffron has empathy, she just likes to hide it beneath a thick layer of teenage sarcasm. Stephanie, sadly, does not.

@simcatcher

No wonder why he's trying to escape ! I think their couple pbs have been there for awhile. but i also think it's kinda toxic To live with someone that doesn't respect you. Also yes, the ressemblance between his wife and Saffy is striking... i think he would like to be the man in the latter's life that he obviously can't be to his bride ?

Very perceptive, my dear friend. Liam obviously has a type, and I think he may have a masochistic streak as well as @nocturnalazure suggests, but Stephanie was a very different person when they first met. (or more truthfully, she pretended to be a different person.) The ‘real’ Stephanie only surfaced after they got married, when she knew she had hooked him and he wasn’t getting away.

@twinsimskeletons

Am i the only one that thinks she's talking to him in a way that crosses the line into an abusive manner??

She is very unpleasant indeed, but Liam is still viewed as the bad guy because he is cheating, so the majority probably think he deserves it?

@streetlightaurora

I agree with @shhhushhh . She's like the adult version of Saffron! The version that outgrew him.

@simmerjazen

I agree with @twinsimskeletons I mean really, he made tea in a passive aggressive manner? How does one even do that? He's no saint, but that whole thing screams dysfunction.

@sweetnovember77

Stephanie would do best to stay married to an underachiever. Particularly, if she wants to achieve the greatest career success. Perhaps, they should have kids.

She promised him kids before they got married but then she changed her mind, preferring to concentrate on her career. If he ever dares bring up the subject she shoots him down and accuses him of being selfish and emotionally manipulative and jealous.

@wannabecatwriter

I'm kind of starting to see why Liam is the way he is. Assuming she doesn't know about the affair, this isn't how you treat someone.

@muses-circle

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA OMG HAHAHAHAHAHA *ahem* Can't. Stop. Laughing. 🤣🤣🤣

@muses-circle

These two are perfect for each other. I expect one of them to murder the other any day now.

@dreamsascend

@stsciurussimblr same 😂😂😂

@nocturnalazure

That guy is sick in the head. o_O Masochistic at the very least. I find them both hilarious and desperately shady.

@greywardenconsort

I see Liam has a type. Stephanie was probably very much like Saffy 10 years ago.

In looks, definitely. Personality- wise Stephanie is much more narcissistic.

@belasims

Wooooow. Yes @twinsimskeletons I thought the same thing.

@belasims

How ironic that she is the one who is blatantly patronizing him and yet blames him for being such instead. She seems controlling, manipulative, and abusive. I bet they go ‘round and ‘round in this cycle all the time. I can see why Liam has resorted to super unhealthy alternatives. I still don’t like him or what he’s doing, and he often gives me serial killer vibes 😅, but it’s always interesting to see deeper into why your characters do what they do.👌

She knows very much what she is doing when she patronises Liam, and she is all those things you say! Liam does not have a happy home life, and he doesn’t really understand where things went wrong in his marriage. In the early days of their courtship Stephanie bought him expensive presents, and could hardly keep her hands off him. She said they were soulmates, that she’d never felt such a deep connection with anyone. He would be shocked to learn that he was targeted by Stephanie because she recognised him as being weak and easily manipulated, and that the gifts and the sex were all part of her plan to gain total control over him. Once they were married Stephanie’s true character was slowly revealed, except in the tradition of a true narcissist she blamed Liam for her behaviour- everything was his fault.

@belasims

Might I also add that I find it really interesting how desperate to touch, kiss, hold, etc., Liam gets with Saffy. It’s like he’s starved of affection at home, and given what was revealed in this chapter, it makes sense. My guess is Stephanie calls the shots on all things, including affection, and possibly even withholds it from him to punish him.

Ha, EXACTLY, Laura!

@miraakles

Um...

@miraakles

Now this doesn't justify his cheating, especially not with a student.. But can she chill out a little bit? Jesus! No wonder the man feels inferior, because she acts and thinks as if she *is* superior! Holy shit! You're just writing a damn book, not creating new laws!

LMBOOOOO! By constantly belittling him, and tricking him into believing she is superior to him in every way Stephanie has totally undermined Liam’s confidence and has him exactly where she wants him. She really is a piece of work.

@miraakles

And how THE FUCK do you make tea passive aggressively?? Or stir unlike a normal person???

The truth is that the inspiration behind Stephanie’s comment was the way my DH stirs his tea: as if he is beating eggs with his teaspoon. And it drives me INSANE, lololol!!

@braxensims

😬 What a b...

Right???!!!

#replies

38 notes · View notes

somethingusefulfromflorida · 5 years

Text

DC:IRL Gotham Rogues Gallery

My original post: https://somethingusefulfromflorida.tumblr.com/post/190712516986/dcirl

There are no super powers, no magic technology or medicine, no cartoony gimmicks, just normal people going about their lives in the big city (well, not “normal,” per se). In the real world there are no “super villains,” so in this universe these people are just mundane criminals with varying degrees of severity. What would be the real world implications? Nobody wears a mask. Nobody plays a character. What if their mental illnesses and motivations were grounded in reality rather than fantasy comic book land where “crazy people” commit crimes for fun? What if Gotham was just New York, a regular city, not some dystopian hellscape?

John Doe: little is known about the so-called Joker Killer, this John Wayne Gacy wannabe who murdered 37 Gothamites in the last 10 years. He’s like the Zodiac Killer, Son of Sam, the Unibomber, always leaving calling cards for the police, daring them to track him down. Nobody knew if he was just one guy or if there was a group of people using the Joker alias as a scapegoat to throw the police off their trails. When the culprit was finally caught, it was revealed that he’s a phantom, he didn’t have any government records, and to this day nobody is sure how he managed to cover his tracks so well. He was found guilty, but legally insane, so was remanded to Arkham State Psychiatric Hospital. He doesn’t play well with the other inmates. Or the doctors. Or the guards. He doesn’t have henchmen, he doesn’t ransom world leaders, he’s just a serial killer with a theme, not a domestic terrorist with goals.

Oswald Cobblepot: a mobbed up ex-lawyer who runs a night club as a front for his criminal activities. He’s basically Roger Stone is Roger Stone was smart enough to avoid going to prison. He’s a public figure in Gotham, and pretends to be a philanthropist to cover for the fact that he’s very clearly corrupt. He owns multiple buildings with his name on them, he refuses to rent apartments to black people, he molests women and brags about it on tape, and has run (unsuccessfully) for mayor, governor, senate and president of the United States on multiple occasions. Everyone knows he’s guilty of something, but the GCPD refuses to look into his finances because some of them are on his payroll.

Harvey Dent: Gotham District Attorney known for fighting corruption, he was nearly assassinated by the mob, horribly disfigured over 50 percent of his body. He struggles with bipolar disorder, exacerbated by his incident, but continues to fight the good fight, all the while going through therapy. There’s a 50-50 chance he’ll recover and return to the practice as an underdog or have a mental episode and become a Howard Hughes recluse. As a public figure he has access to all the help he needs, he is privileged not to have to suffer in silence like so many other mentally ill people.

Eduardo Dorrance: he’s this universe’s version of Fidel Castro. A left-wing extremist from a small Caribbean island, he killed his way to head of the communist party and overthrew the government in the Santa Prisca Revolution in the 1960s. President Kennedy instated an embargo against the island, after which the Soviet Union attempted to store chemical weapons there, which Dorrance co-opted to be used against political dissidents and human rights workers. He is nicknamed Bane by the western world, and is one of the last holdouts of the Cold War, though he is aged and in poor health now (there are conspiracy theories that he’s actually been dead for years), and has pawned off leadership responsibilities to his brother.

Pamela Isley: environmental activist, conservationist, speaks out against climate change and deforestation, wanted by Interpol because she killed a few of the billionaires responsible for the Amazon fires. She’s labeled a terrorist by the US government, with conservatives going so far as to call her the female Osama bin Laden. Whether or not she really is a terrorist is up for debate, but either way she’s nowhere near bin Laden, they just want the association to stick so nobody can defend her actions without defending bin Laden’s (”see, this is what happens when socialism and radical feminism are left unchecked,” they say). She can’t control plants or hypnotize people, but she’s not just a hemp loving hippy, she’s a revolutionary who may or may not have worked with the Dorrance regime to promote anti-government movements throughout South and Central America.

Victor Fries: his wife Nora was diagnosed with early-onset McGreggor’s disease, a degenerative neurological disorder which is invariably fatal within 10 years. He has dedicated his life to finding a cure, but has recently come under federal investigation when a whistle blower revealed that he has been performing unethical medical experiments to test his research. Some media outlets campaign for him, others against him; he’s fighting for a good cause, but his results are invalid because the tests were performed under suspicious circumstances outside a controlled laboratory environment. He is at risk of losing his medical license, and his funding is being slashed as he is under review.

Edward Nygma: a local nobody, he suffers from antisocial personality disorder and OCD. When the Joker Killer rose to prominence, he was compelled to try and outdo him, inspired by his notes taunting Gotham police. Also like the Zodiac Killer, Nygma has resorted to cryptograms and ciphers, trying to prove his intelligence and his ability to evade detection. So far he has done a much better job than the joker, as he is still at large, with no known suspects. He can’t not commit crimes, he is drawn to them, he can’t stop himself no matter how hard he tries and he can’t afford medication to keep himself in check. He secretly hopes he’ll get sloppy one day and the cops will be able to trace him, but his superiority complex prevents him from doing anything that would be personally disadvantageous. He would benefit from therapy, should he ever find himself in Arkham State Psychiatric Hospital. He’s resentful of men like Harvey Dent who he thinks can just make their problems go away with money (he doesn’t realize that Dent has just as many problems as he does and that mental illness can effect anyone regardless of status)

Selina Kyle: she lives in the slums outside the city proper, the sprawling crime ridden suburban cesspool that is Upstate Gotham. She subsists as a petty thief, breaking and entering into super-rich apartment buildings and selling the goods to pay her bills. She’s not a bad person, she’s just in a bad situation, born into poverty in a country with no class mobility. She’s troubled, abused, and on the brink of homelessness at any given moment, she does what she needs to do to get by. She’s not a maser jewel thief, she doesn’t break into museums or banks, her scores have much lower stakes than that.

Jonathan Crane: a doctor at Arkham State, he was arrested and tried for criminal misconduct. He would regularly torture the patients, withholding basic necessities, making them live in filth, locking many of them up in solitary confinement for months on end to see how they would react. He wanted to prove that his patented “isolation therapy” was the most effective treatment for any number of mental illnesses (in reality, he was just a sadist who had authority over people and wanted to show it). He drove dozens of patients mad, making them question their own sanity by making them stay awake for long periods of time and playing audio recordings in their rooms which he denied he could hear. He played on their greatest fears, using information they gave to their therapists against them, and would then punish them if they stopped talking. He was sentenced to 5 years in prison, but was not labeled a flight risk because he was a celebrity (think Dr. Oz or Dr. Phil), and subsequently fled the country before he was to report to Black Gate.

Harleen Quinzel: also a doctor at Arkham State, her goal was to make as much money as possible by writing a tell-all book about one of the patients and charging exorbitant amounts of money for therapy sessions. She honed in on John Doe, the Joker Killer, because he was the biggest name in the hospital and had refused to talk to any doctors before her (he killed one and has seriously injured seven, but he already has multiple life sentences in a state without the death penalty, so they can’t get rid of him). They both think they are smarter than the other and can play them like a fiddle, Doe by pretending to be receptive to her, and Quinzel by treating him like he’s a victim of circumstance. Over the years, he ends up manipulating her, having her smuggle contraband for him which he eventually uses to escape, for which she is fired and arrested. No clown theme, no sexual relationship with her client, just your run of the mill criminal misconduct.

22 notes · View notes

garbodude · 4 years

Text

I’m currently playing a Cyberpunk 2020 game with some good buddies, and we’re all vigilantes in some way or another. Friend 1 is Knuckleduster, a beat’em’up bruiser who fights baddies the system is either complacent with or unable to; friend 2 is Cockroach, a ‘the Question’ styled detective who uses his media connections to get insider info on corporate/white collar crime, at least as far as I know. I myself am Brother Beetle, a ‘Kamen Rider’ flavored Green Arrow expy, heir to a corporation with all the money and resources that entails.

The story of the last session from Brother Beetle’s perspective:

(can’t do a read-more on mobile apparently, sorry for length)

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a pretty mediocre role player, I’m there to have fun far more than I am to consistently do a voice or whatever, but with Brother Beetle I’ve really kinda gotten into the character. A mid twenties white guy with a bunch of money, a violent savior complex via Olympic level archery, with a black-and-white morality (ie he refuses to kill people, but he’s clueless and naive, so he doesn’t really get like systemic issues behind crime, else he’d be using his resources to do something more helpful then hitting them with arrows), who’s also being manipulated into performing corporate espionage by his mom (CEO of aforementioned corporation, who beetle has never questioned in-character) under the guise of doing so being ‘for the greater good’.

After a recent game, Cockroach has started to suspect the aforementioned corporate espionage bit (we’d gone to a cyberpunk mafia stronghold to head off who we though of as being a serial killer [beetle’s ex, who used to be the speedy to his green arrow], with the mafia guy in question being a brother of Cockroach’s), as beetle, thinking he’d need to go in some degree of incognito/not show up in a heroic outfit to a ‘den of evil’, bought a dope ass suit and didn’t think to cover his face (his family/mother ensures his media presence is limited, and he’s gotten far more attention in-costume than out). Beetle was commissioned to get the weapon of the killer, a ‘mono-katana’ capable of slicing through solid metal, and he made use of his resources to call a Corporate Reclamation Squad in to collect once we’d apprehended the foe (his ex, remember).

A lot of stuff went down between Cockroach and his brother that Knuckleduster and Beetle weren’t privy to, as coms had been shutdown during the attack we were supposed to be preventing, though we eventually got wind that the killer was in the sewer outside the building. We got moving, with me taking a second to pop my armor on (collapsible, fits inside an armored suitcase), using that time as an excuse to contact corporate goon squad and let them know we’d cornered the killer. Once I caught up to the rest of the party, Mafia Brother had been cut to ribbons by Killer Ex (but was still alive, if barely), Killer Ex and Knuckleduster were tussling (he was attempting to disarm her, as we’d tangled with her once before and she nearly cut off his arm), and Cockroach was doing some pretty stellar dialogue RP on his part to convince Killer Ex to stand down.

I took advantage of the lull to fire a sonic-bomb arrow down the sewer maintence hallway they were standing in, and while Knuckleduster and Cockroach were fine (anti-burst dampeners in their helmets), Killer Ex and Mob Brother were left spasming. Roach went to pick up his brother, I further restrained Ex with hardfoam gel arrow, and Knuckleduster freed the mono sword from her grasp; almost immediately as this happened, my corporate goon squad arrived, guns trained on the holder of the sword (currently Knuckleduster!!!!). I quickly bullshitted that the sword was the possession of this company, a stolen prototype, and that it was clearly too dangerous to be used for public consumption. This is where I fucked up, however, as until I got into the sewers, I was unmasked, and while I was unremarkable to any of the mafia folk, Knuckleduster and Cockroach immediately grew suspicious of my motives, especially since they’d now seen me out of costume, working with corporate security, who were training their guns on one of them.

Out of character, I know that Cockroach looked into my background while staying in the hospital with his brother (sword was safely collected, Killer Ex, who’s name is Cera, is in sort-of-witness protection, a deal I worked out with my mom to keep Cera safe from mob retaliation, and it’s revealed to Beetle that Cockroach’s brothers, both mafia leaders, have committed grave and terrible crimes against her personally, which lead to her working with the company that supplied her their unique blade), and that Knuckleduster, who beetle has been working with for most of a year now, has had his trust pretty severely shaken; after all, it’s Beetle’s lair they work out of and tech they’ve used, not to mention money, but what if all they’ve been doing had only been ‘good’ to line other people’s pockets?

Stoked for next session, 10/10 shit. Super proud of my DM for managing all this so well

#cyberpunk 2020 #trpg #cyberpunk #role playing game #personal #long text #long post

1 note · View note

merlinistheredheadedstepchild · 4 years

Text

8 Lunatic – July 18, 2011

Stiles and Scott go to the park to drink jack daniels Because Stiles wants to cheer Scott up over being dumped Scott says they’re on a break Cause denial

Dylan is a good fake drunk Stiles is wasted but he still puts it together that Scott can’t get drunk

Some dudes show up and steal their liquor and Scott is ready to wolf out over it Tomorrows the full moon

Stiles collapsing into the jeep Good comedic choice And then the Alpha shows up kills pot smoker and burns that poor waster to death

Scott’s alarm goes off at 7:00 It’s Monday and school was closed on Thursday and Friday Which means Night School happened on a Wednesday night

Melissa is trying She even calls Allison ‘what’s her name’ But Scott is determined to get her back Cause denial

Is that a different red SUV? Chris doesn’t want to even let Allison out of the car But Kate’s on her side

Chris admits that he should have listened to Kate and that he underestimated the danger

No one in school knows that it was the five of them Allison and Lydia believe that Scott locked them in the classroom and left them for dead

Stiles is so concerned for his dad and he’s trying to warn him cause it’s a full moon Stilinski just wants his kid to stop worrying and go take his chemistry test

Allison won’t talk to Scott in the classroom And Scott has a panic attack thanks to hypersensitivity And full moonyness And werewolfism

The hypersensitivity is amazingly well done That’s a consistent thing on this show Showing mental illness through cinematography

Scott runs out Stiles follows him Tracks him using the ring of his cell phone And then figures out that the inhaler will trick Scott out of his panic attack

“No you were having a panic attack. But thinking you were having an asthma attack actually stopped the panic attack. Irony.”

And then Stiles tells him that he used to get them after his mom died

Stiles tries to convince Scott that heart break is just a thing you have to go through. Also her dad hunts werewolves. It was bound to be an issue

Scott is worried locking him in his room won’t be enough. He feels like he might kill someone

The state detective is actually a hunter Winchester style

Mowhawk is back So that’s nice

Chris thinks the Alpha won’t be focused because of the full moon Kate thinks it has a reason to be focused Nobody thinks Derek’s gonna be out

And they’re all cool with killing him if he is

Victoria being terrifying with a plate of cookies My favorite kind of juxtaposition

More Jackson flirting with Allison over a chocolate chip cookie She asks him if he wants ‘a bite’ But he hears ‘do you want the bite’ And kinda freaks out

They talk about whether they’re okay after the other night Scott breaks a wall with his head

Greenberg gave the team pink eye so Stiles gets to play first line He’s very excited Scott makes co-captain and Jackson is not happy

Jackson’s lackey is prepared to fuck Scott up Danny is being a reasonable adult

Scott can smell jealousy thanks to the full moon Which implies that he can’t smell it at other times Stiles convinces Scott to see if Lydia is attracted to him Instead he asks her if Allison still like him Lydia throws a ‘just friends’ in his face

Lydia is manipulating like a boss And Scott looks like he’s gonna murder somebody I get that Posey was trying for something predatory but he has such a kind face and he’s really struggling to even look aggressive. He mostly just looks kind of dead eyed and distant. But that works too.

They make out instead

And then Scott lies to Stiles about Lydia liking him because the full moon is Making him a terrible person

Seven hours till the full moon

Some of the guys knock Scott on his ass so he fucks them up and then fucks Danny up

Lydia comes to check on Danny and Jackson notices that her lipstick is smeared He is not even shy in his awareness of her cheating

Kate is teaching Allison how to use a stun gun And Allison has a break down over the other night and Scott

“It just, it felt so right with him”

Allison tells Kate that Scott knows Derek But she’s confused about Scott saying he doesn’t know Derek Which is fair, because Scott keeps saying that he doesn’t know Derek and that they’re not friends, but Derek keeps showing up and usually being nice

Kate wants to know everything

Stiles lets himself into the McCall house With a key he had made

“That doesn’t surprise me. It scares me but it doesn’t surprise me”

And then she notices the sound of chains in the duffel He says it’s for a school project

She’s a good mom who asks her son’s friend if he’s okay because he hasn’t been talking to her lately

Scott’s getting his Derek on and lurking in his own bedroom Funnily in the same chair Derek did

“You sure about that, cause you’ve got this kinda serial killer look going on in your eyes and I’m hoping it’s the full moon taking effect cause its rally starting to freak me out”

Scott you are not fine

Stiles should really run Instead you handcuff the super strong pissed off rage monster to a radiator Those cuffs are never going to hold

Allison goes to a sporting goods store because she’s thinking about getting back into archery to feel safer Jackson is there getting a helmet for Danny He really seems to like her

Stop taunting the werewolf Stiles!

“That’s like the one girl I have...” Have you never liked another girl Stiles?

Scott’s being a piece of shit and tells him that Lydia was the one who kissed him

Allison tells Jackson that she doesn’t think it was Derek Jackson agrees with her

Do not listen to him Stiles He’s a lying liar

Is this just his second full moon? So the show has taken place over 34 days?

When the light of the moon touches Scott he freaks out

Allison knows that her family is lying to her and it makes her unsure about everything I’m kind of genuinely liking this version of Jackson

And Scott breaks out And runs through the woods like a numpty

Jackson tells her about the person he saw in the hall who got down on all fours

And Scott tracks them to the car in the parking lot and hallucinates them making out And while they’re trying to stumble on the word werewolf Scott jumps on the car but then it’s Derek to the rescue Being very not dead and very wolfy Thank god he’s concerned about Scott cause this night would not have ended well for any of them

Nice arm hold Derek And he screams some sense into that boy

Derek changes back and forth so seamlessly I like it

Stiles is looking for Scott and comes across the deputy’s at the park with the burnt body He panics thinking it might be his dad And then hugs Stilinski when he shows up Kate and Chris are doing recon on the corpse and Allison’s friends Kate figures out that the smaller beta could have been younger

Derek carries Scott back to his house And looks so terrified of disappointing Scott when he tells him about the maybe cure “Scott, if you help me find him. I’ll help you kill him”

Scott left a claw in Jackson car And of course Jackson kept the damaged lacrosse glove He’s actually doing pretty okay at figuring everything out for a guy who hasn’t actually looked a shifted werewolf in the face It’s been just over a month and werewolves are not nearly as obvious an option as steroids or drug use

Is Lydia manipulating Allison with the ‘he locked us in a class room and left us for dead?’

End episode

#teen wolf #tw rewatch #tw s1 #Lunatic #1.08

2 notes · View notes

sparklyjojos · 4 years

Text

CARNIVAL recaps [8/13]

Today’s recap: Murder on the Trans-Siberian Express, or Yaiba having a Very Bad Very Not Good Time.

[tw: a lot of mental illness, suicide, implied csa mention]

SIXTEEN

05 Oct 1996 — 11 Oct 1996

TRANS-SIBERIAN RAILWAY

[First person narration from Yaiba, here presented in lazy third person.]

It’s the fifth night since Yaiba has left Japan. He stares into the frosty Russian night while the Trans-Siberian Express has a brief stop in Vladivostok. Over nine thousand kilometers more until Moscow.

He walks back inside the train, on the way greeting the two female conductors of his car (Masha and Faina). In his four-person couchette with two bunk beds he rejoins a fellow passenger called Natalia, who’s getting ready to sleep. The boy Yaiba’s travelling with has already fallen asleep on the top bed.

It’s surprisingly easy to move between countries using the new IDID card, probably because everyone is so shaken by the Crime Olympics that any seemingly busy detective wouldn’t be held up at the border longer than necessary. They will make it, he just needs to continue to pretend Amano is his son and make sure to buy only necessary items.

Sitting in the dark compartment, looking at the moving scenery outside, Yaiba has a feeling that no matter what they do, whether they’re sleeping or awake, moving or not, the ever-changing world mercilessly carries them into the future. He can’t sleep, ends up just lying motionlessly in his blue polka dot pajamas and staring into the darkness. After a while he decides to make his favorite hot cocoa and read instead.

He’s reminded of that time three years ago when Hikimiya, a detective novel fan, borrowed him an anthology that had a Russian-themed story in it. Around that time Yaiba was busy with a case surrounding murders in the north of Russia, so it seemed oddly fitting. Things have changed so much since that time. JDC blew up, Ajiro went missing, Suzukaze Unomaru sunk with a ship… everyone kept dying. It just seemed so random that Yaiba was still alive. This terrifying randomness of fate he couldn’t deal with.

Before Yaiba fled hospital, he’d gotten a call from Hyouma, who announced that he was quitting JDC and wanted to start a new life wandering around America. Hard to blame him; JDC without Ajiro, without Juku around, and with Dokuson in charge didn’t feel like JDC at all.

As if that wasn’t enough change for the worse, everyone around Yaiba read Cosmic and Joker. Everyone learned about what he would rather keep secret about his childhood. Everyone asked questions. He told them that the books were fictional and nobody should worry about the literary version of the events too much, but they didn’t seem to believe him. Yaiba could feel the door to madness opening within him.

Everyone now knew about what that woman had done to him. About how their child was declared to be a serial killer—when Yaiba first heard about that event a few years ago, he couldn’t help but think that the hereditary psychiatric problems that plagued his family had reared its head once more.

But even Cosmic and Joker didn’t know the truth that only Yaiba knew—the truth about his younger brother Amato’s suicide many years ago.

The truth being that Yaiba was the one to kill him.

Amano looks a lot like Amato did at that time. Yaiba doesn’t regret kidnapping him. They are so similar. In a way, Amano is that already non-existing person. What is Yaiba going to do now? Kill Amano—Amato, kill him again to escape his curse? Perhaps. After all, he has already broken down inside

[There’s a switch to second person, still from Yaiba, and again I’m just writing in third.]

When he wakes up in the morning, Natalia has already gone off somewhere. The white-haired boy on the bed above his own, Amato, is busy with his gameboy. Walking down the train aisle Yaiba hears a few Russians mention the killer Amur Tiger, but judging from the laughter they’re just making a joke. The two conductors are chatting in their room. Yaiba feels like everyone is observing him suspiciously. He gets tea and goes back to their compartment to give it to Amato, who as a recently hospitalized child can’t really handle a lot of solid food. Amato has four months to live, maybe less. Yaiba wonders if it’s possible to show him the northern lights before his death.

On the next stop they stand aside as the electric train engine is switched out for a diesel, which Amato compares to Galaxy Express 999, the flying space train. Yaiba realizes they are being observed from afar by another passenger, who after being spotted quickly boards the train again.

Later Yaiba meets a few travel mates from the neighboring compartment: a young couple of Pyotr and Shaina, and a strong guy with sideburns called Ivan. Yaiba thinks they’re looking at Amato’s white hair strangely, so he quickly explains that “his son” is ill. While everyone is having a nice conversation, a few cans get loose from the couple’s baggage, which they regard with laughter as their “super secret stuff”. It’s clearly a joke, considering the cans seem to have plain corned beef inside.

When Yaiba is sitting in the dining car later, that passenger who seemed to be observing them earlier introduces comes up and introduces himself as Drexel Uryakov. Uryakov turns out to be a fellow A-rank detective, who knows very well who Yaiba is and what he’s doing here, but has more pressing matters to attend to—namely the cases of the Amur Tiger and Pogrom. He asks Yaiba for help with the investigation.

The Amur Tiger is a serial killer whose hundreds of victims all had their heads cut off, and who is most infamous for disguising a bunch of corpses as mannequins in Moscow’s GUM. Pogrom similarly likes to decapitate his victims, but specifically targets the detectives of DOLL’s Russian branch and steals their IDID cards from the scene. (Uryakov makes an interesting comment on how these nicknames alone shape people’s understanding: an Amur Tiger brings to mind a mindless animal, while Pogrom has Connotations and implies a much scarier enemy that is a cruel human—or perhaps, an unfeeling beast wearing the mask of a human.)

Uryakov thinks these two cases are connected. He managed to get a hold of secret KGB files which show the Amur Tiger murders go back to at least the times of Ivan the Terrible, but the public never learned about it before now. All of Pogrom’s victims were detectives who tried to shed more light on the Amur Tiger. Uryakov himself is also pursuing the Amur Tiger, and revealed a few case details to his twin brother Aleksandr, a private detective. Aleksandr attempted to stealthily investigate on his own and was murdered for his curiosity. But before his death, he managed to tell what he had discovered to Drexel...

In the afternoon, the train has to temporarily stop in Khabarovsk because of something unprecised happening to the west. Pyotr claims he heard that the overhead line supports had been knocked over in places too strategic to be a random event, and on a stretch of over three thousand kilometers of tracks to boot. It can’t be the Billion Killer, they still have two days until Saturday.

Yaiba uses the break to call Hikimiya and ask him to confirm Uryakov’s story by checking his entry in DOLL’s database. There is indeed a Drexel Uryakov registered, and he did have a private detective brother who died in the Amur Tiger case two weeks ago. Drexel hasn’t been in contact with the Russian DOLL branch at all in those two weeks, but he does work alone a lot, so it’s expected (kinda like Hyouma wanders off a lot).

After confirming that, Hikimiya asks what on earth Yaiba is even thinking, grabbing a child and running away. Yaiba isn’t really pursued by the police, who think this is JDC’s own problem to fix (and there’s no definite proof it was him who kidnapped the boy), but it’s just a matter of time until he gets caught during a search. Hikimiya asks him to please give himself up before that so he doesn’t get into even more trouble.

Nemu has already boarded the Trans-Siberian Express going the other direction, so that she will be able to catch him halfway. Maybe that power outage that bought Yaiba some time was a godsend after all. Nemu may be kind, but she always gets spirited when facing criminals, so Yaiba would hate to meet her when being one. Then again, he prefers that to meeting someone like Jounosuke. He can deal with Nemu’s harshness, but wouldn’t be able to keep a hold of himself if Jounosuke looked at him with that compassionate smile and kindness.

Yaiba knew all along that any escape would be impossible in the long term—but perhaps it was this awareness of entrapment that paradoxically made him want to run.

Since the train won’t move until morning, Yaiba is invited to hit the town with Pyotr and the rest. Uryakov warns him that it might not be the best idea—what if Pyotr is Pogrom?—but it’s not like anyone else here knows that Yaiba is a detective, he’s not pursuing the Amur Tiger, and besides, Pyotr is only as suspicious as Uryakov himself.

Yaiba asks if Uryakov’s brother also had a mark on his cheek. Uryakov jokes about it (“what, are you implying we switched?”) then shares his own surprising suspicion: he thinks Yaiba is actually being manipulated by the boy he’s with. He questions Yaiba’s motive for the kidnapping—did he want a kid this badly or what?—but the answer “he’s my dead brother” is enough to end the conversation.

Yaiba takes Amato to the nearest town with the others. They ask him where he’s travelling, so he says that he and Amato are going to Murmansk to see the northern lights, but since it’s too early in the year for that, they’re going to go see Moscow first. Pyotr jokes that Yaiba’s tone makes it sound like a suicide trip. Amato gets a little pale.

When they get back to their empty compartment, Amato asks if he’s going to be killed under the northern lights in Murmansk. Yaiba replies that they probably won’t make it to Murmansk, as his coworkers are too smart to just let him go.

“Then you could kill them too,” Amato says. “Just like you killed me. It’s fine if everyone else dies.”

“You will never let me go, will you? I was young, didn’t know anything…”

“You can’t change the past. No one can change it, even if they may forget about it. Don’t deny my existence.”

“Please forgive me, I’m just so tired…”

“Then die and come here already. The world of the dead is nice. If you kill yourself, I’ll forgive you.”

“Amato, please, stop talking.”

“You will never escape from me.”

Darkness envelops him.

[Narration swaps to third person.]

That same evening, Yaiba and the others drink vodka in the neighboring compartment. The Russians tend to forget his first name and call him Somanovich instead of Somahito. After a few drinks Yaiba admits that he’s quite weak-headed nowadays, but he spent his teenage years drinking a lot as a means of distracting himself after his brother’s suicide. He was the one to discover the body.

His brother used to say that they were inescapably fated to commit suicide. He repeated it no matter how many times Yaiba scolded him for saying things like that, no matter how much he argued that it’s perfectly possible to avoid the curse of one’s bloodline. Yaiba loved him, but he too had a point of snapping and one day yelled, “If you want to die so much, then go ahead and die! Do as you wish. But I would never do a stupid thing like that.” Later that day he found Amato dead in the bathroom. To Yaiba, it was clear who caused this death, and guilt drove him to drink. He would probably end up the same way as his brother. On the other hand, the events made him feel drawn to study the darkness in people’s hearts, and that caused him to become a detective, which gave his life new meaning… but that's all in the past now.

Yaiba wakes up with a hangover in his own compartment. Someone’s knocking at the door and Amato is asking him from the upper bed to open it already. Yaiba complies and unlocks the door, briefly wondering why the floor has a dark stain on it. The one knocking is completely pale Pyotr, who informs him that the two conductors have been murdered—while the bodies are nowhere to be found, their room is covered in blood, and the red stains lead to Yaiba’s compartment door. Yaiba notices that Natalia is not with them, but Pyotr informs him that she just switched compartments last night, since she didn’t like being unable to lock the door for the sake of her companions.

They call over Uryakov from another car to help with investigation. There’s a lot of blood in the compartment and on the train aisle floor, but the outside of the compartment door is clean, so Uryakov believes the victims were attacked inside. However, Yaiba was in no shape to attack anyone, and the only other person inside was a child. When Yaiba woke up, the door had been locked from the inside, so nobody could budge them unless they had the master key belonging to the conductors. It’s possible that obtaining that key was the motive for murder. It’s also very possible that the murderer actually wanted to kill Yaiba, but the conductors walked in during the act and had to be taken care of. Uryakov suspects Pyotr, but Yaiba thinks he’s innocent.

Natalia shows up and claims that Yaiba is the murderer. Earlier she heard the conductors arguing with someone, then a sound like something fell over and was being dragged towards the conductor room. When she worked up the courage to check that room, she saw two headless bodies and sprinted back to her compartment, afraid of coming out until now.

Uryakov listens to her testimony and has her return to her room. He doesn’t believe Yaiba did it, but they only have an hour left to solve the case before they arrive at the next station and will potentially be in big trouble.

They investigate. The conductor room toilet is unusually unlocked. One of the empty compartments is locked, but Uryakov doesn’t think the bodies are in there (probably were thrown out the train window instead). In a baggage storage under Yaiba’s bed they find a bloodied axe.

Yaiba remembers what Uryakov told him about the Amur Tiger. The motive for the murders is obtaining human heads, retrieving brain tissue and selling it as a delicacy on the black market, camouflaged as ordinary canned food. Considering the scope of the entire scheme, it has to be the work of an organization that Pogrom must be related to as well. The vital clue that Aleksandr Uryakov told his brother before death was that Pogrom was likely Pyotr, and so Drexel decided to tail the man.

Yaiba thinks it’s strange. If Pyotr was Pogrom, why would he try to kill Yaiba instead of the more immediate threat that was Uryakov, and why would he fail? If those corned beef cans contained human brain tissue, why would Pyotr want to murder someone right there in their train car, considering the police would probably look through the passengers’ belongings? And why was the door closed?

They make a rough timeline of events.

00:00 — Natalia asks to switch compartments. The conductors help her move baggage.

00:30 — Pyotr and Amato drag passed out Yaiba to his compartment, meeting both conductors on the way. One of the conductors returns to their room. Natalia explains the switch to Amato. The boy locks the door to Yaiba’s compartment from the inside and goes to sleep. Pyotr goes back to his own bed.

04:25 — The train gets moving again and leaves Khabarovsk.

05:00 — Natalia hears the suspicious noises. Around ten minutes later she discovers the two bodies and hides in her compartment.

05:30 — Pyotr sees the bloody scene (but no bodies) and knocks on Yaiba’s door.

Uryakov thinks that the murderer waited until one conductor was using the bathroom, killed the other one, snatched the master key, attempted to kill Yaiba, but was discovered by the other conductor and had to kill her too. Yaiba points out that it would be weird to not just kill both women first to be safe. Maybe the suspect they’re searching for is in fact one of the conductors? But then who killed her in turn?

Yaiba theorizes that maybe the murderer wasn’t targeting him at all, but the two women—after all, the Amur Tiger just wants some random heads. He attacked them in their room, got the master key, and then arranged things to look like they were killed in Yaiba’s compartment to pin the guilt on him. This could mean that the murderer was traveling in the same car… or just wanted them to think that way. It could even be someone from outside—it would be impossible not to get one’s clothes stained with this much blood flying around, yet none of the passengers they talked to seemed to have changed their clothing since yesterday. The fact that the murder occured after the train resumed movement also seems quite suspicious, almost as if done intentionally to make them think the culprit was still on the train.

Uryakov adds that the murderer has to be someone who knew that Yaiba wouldn’t wake up anytime soon and that Natalia had moved to another compartment. Aside from Amato and Natalia herself, this only leaves Pyotr as the suspect.

Yaiba notices that Uryakov really wants to pin the guilt on Pyotr, but he thinks he has already found another solution. The real murderer was someone from outside who cooperated with Natalia to create an alibi for himself. First the real murderer killed the conductors at night and left the train, then in the morning Natalia pushed the bodies outside.

They approach the next station quickly, so Uryakov promises to take care of the rest.

Natalia admits her guilt and reveals that Pyotr, Shaina and Ivan were all in on it. Ivan told Natalia he was with the Amur Tiger group and threatened her into compliance. Then he left the train at night in Khabarovsk, bought an axe, checked in a local hotel, then claiming he forgot something returned to the train, killed both conductors and took their heads with him. Natalia took care of the bodies later.

Thankfully the police seems satisfied with this and the train continues on its way. Yaiba evaded being searched, but he doesn’t have a lot of time before his and Nemu’s trains stop at the same station. He’s not sure what to do now, so he passes the time talking with Uryakov.

Yaiba notices that despite the case being over, something still doesn’t fit into his reasoning. If Ivan really was the murderer, why would he buy a murder weapon in a store, considering how easy it would be to track it back to him? Revealing himself as part of the Amur Tiger to another person and trying to put the blame on an A-detective seemed too risky. Yaiba thinks it’s more probable that the real murderer actually forced Natalia to accuse Ivan.

And when you take all the circumstances into account, the only person who can be the murderer—who traveled outside their car, and who knew that Yaiba would be drinking—is actually Uryakov.

Uryakov asks why Yaiba covered for him in front of the police. Yaiba answers that he’s not in a position to be getting himself involved into cases, and besides, it’s only a matter of time until the truth is discovered. Uryakov can’t escape anymore.

The deciding evidence was Amato’s testimony. The boy actually told Yaiba that he had been only pretending to be asleep at night, so he saw Uryakov entering their compartment and killing a conductor who walked in on him. The intended target really was Yaiba. The motive is easy to guess: Uryakov himself is Pogrom. He was the one to kill his own brother.

Uryakov admits to everything, but adds that no matter how good of a detective Yaiba is, he has one weakness: he cannot put his thinking to reason out his own problems. And because Uryakov knows that they’re both going to die on this train anyway, he may as well tell him the truth about the boy he’s traveling with.

“That boy over there is Amano, not Amato. Wake up, Somanovich—no, Yaiba Somahito! That ‘Amato’ only exists within you!”

Yaiba slowly stands up and looks at the boy on the top bed. An unfamiliar face looks back at him. It’s not his brother Amato at all.

Yaiba runs out of the compartment and realizes that the train seems to be climbing a steep hill that shouldn’t be there, and that the hour is almost 1 PM on a Saturday—and then the train shots out of the broken tracks and starts falling straight towards Lake Baikal.

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

#sparkly reads carnival #maijo and jdc stuff

3 notes · View notes