#his perfect victim

[mrsaltieri-real]

His Perfect Victim (Mickey Altieri x OC!Dahlia Levine)

Chapter One: One Door Closes

Okay SO!!! I have been working on making this a series for such a long time and after a lot of trial and error it’s FINALLY in the works and the first chapter is DONE. It’s a lot shorter than the ones to come but it’s a good starting point I think!

Depending on how long you’ve been here you may no I did a one-shot for this fic a long ass time ago called Darling Dahlia. Well, I’ve changed the name but this is it! The first chapter! I wanna give a huge massive thank you to @bisexual-horror-fan for not only editing and beta reading the first chapter but for giving me the motivation to finally bring Dahlia to life after so many months of me getting so annoyed and frustrated at my lack of progress. THANK YOU DUDE!

Word count: Almost 1.5k

Warnings: The whole fic will be rated explicit, language, teasing, trauma, mentions of the Woodsbro murders, death (yes already but don’t worry!) Mickey being a complete ass, Dahlia being an ass right back to him

Dahlia’s face claim is below!

Here we go! Chapter One!

You know them times where it seems like absolutely everything goes wrong all at once? You fail a test, forget to defrost the fucking chicken or your cousin decides to go on a murder spree all within the same day?

All three of these things happened to me. It’s easy to guess which hit hardest.

I can still see Stu’s hesitant eyes looking down at me as his accomplice and best friend Billy brought his blade down to my stomach, plunging it deep inside of me. I didn’t cry, I didn’t scream. I accepted the pain, I welcomed the darkness and just waited for it to be over. I see both of their faces every time I close my eyes, in every single dream I’ve had. Billy’s expression of pure undiluted concentration and Stu’s sad and torn blue eyes dragging themselves away from me as the knife imbedded into my torso.

The only things I know that happened after are what Sidney and Randy told me. Sid had managed to single-handedly kill them both, putting an end to the series of grisly murders they had committed and calling the police. I remember waking up in the hospital, parents sobbing at my bedside, telling me that I had in fact been legally dead for three minutes. I remember Stu’s parents visiting and my mom screaming at her brother to “Get the fuck out!”.

I remember Sid and Randy telling me that Billy and Stu had killed Tatum.

But despite all of it, I felt nothing. It was like after Billy stabbed me and I’d died, the part of me actually being able to feel things went along with it. In a way it was good. It meant the betrayal of my own flesh and blood didn’t hurt me as much as it hurt the rest of my family, my parents completely cut themselves off from my aunt and uncle after everything, not wanting to associate themselves with the Macher name. It was obvious this was for the sake of appearances and of course, their image. We were a well off family, not because my parents worked hard but because Stu and I’s grandparents were ridiculously wealthy and left just about everything to our respective parents.

But none of that mattered when I stepped foot in Windsor College. When I met him.

Everything changed in an instant. Leaving Woodsbro behind with two of my best friends and finally finding someone I could bear my soul too I was a whole new person. I got feeling back, I could feel again. It was the perfect time for all of us to reinvent ourselves and be happy again, new life, new friends, new boyfriends.

It was like the moment I laid eyes on Mickey something inside of me snapped back into place and began to heal me. It took a long time, a painfully long time for me to want to accept the fact that I wanted him. Part of me wishes I’d given into it sooner, soaked up every last part of the version of him I’d known at the time to be true whilst the more rational side wishes I’d never stepped foot onto this campus, never let him touch me, never let him know me. Everything about him was just magnetic and looking back at it now, that should have been the first of many red flags. No one can be that charismatic, that charming and not be hiding something dark and sinister, there is just no way.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you about the first time I met Mickey Altieri.

“I think this will be good for you, you know? Make some new friends, start to move on.” Sid had her fingers wrapped around my wrist, tugging me gently over to her small circle of friends all sat crowded in the college square.

“I don’t need to make new friends. I’m fine by myself.” Of course I appreciated her concern for me, but I was getting really tired of being told what I needed to do. If I wanted to be alone, why couldn’t I be alone?

“Dahlia,” Sid abruptly stopped walking, turning to face me with those goddamned brown eyes looking down at me imploringly, “it’s been months. We all need to at least try and move on, you know?”

“I know, Sid.” I sighed a little, eyes nervously flickering up to the three people sitting perched on the bench, Randy luckily amongst them. I smiled a little as I saw him eagerly wave at Sidney and I, beckoning us over. “Just…” I struggled to hold her gaze, voice dropping to be a bit quieter, as if lowering the volume would make the admission and subsequent minor vulnerability easier to push out, “It’s hard.”

Sid’s expression turned sympathetic, her hand moving to grasp mine. Sidney has good hands, strong, grounding, firm yet soft, just like her. She speaks again, “I know, Dahlia. But I really think this could help. They’re all great, very understanding and they won’t push you to talk about…Well, what happened.”

“God, fine.” I mumbled and she nodded, looking just slightly smug as she gently tugged me closer to the group.

A chorus of “Hey, Sid” was uttered before Sid introduced me. “Dahlia, this is Derek, Hallie and Mickey. Guys, this is Dahlia.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little awkwardly as my eyes scanned the tight knit group. Randy was looking at me encouragingly and Sidney squeezed my hand a little.

I said nothing.

I still felt nothing.

Great.

Even then, I subconsciously noticed that Mickey was staring at me a little too hard. He was sitting with his back leaning against the wall with his foot propped up on the bench, toying with a video camera in his hand as he gave me a quick and not at all subtle once over. Despite the zombie-like trance I’d been in for the last few months, it made the blood rush to my cheeks and lightly stain them.

I mean, I wasn’t stupid. He was ridiculously good looking. His dark hair stuck up a little, he was toned and the thin fabric of his sweater clung to his body in a way that made it almost painful to look away and his brown eyes were just so…Full.

Full of mirth and life and so much I don’t think I could actually list it all. When was the last time I felt that full? Had I ever, even before that night? In his eyes I could see the excitement and wonder in them from where I stood and it was oddly enticing, I focused on that as opposed to my usual depressing internal monologue.

He managed to ruin my little initial fascination with him in about three seconds.

“Oh! You’re the chick who died, right, I- ow!” I watched as the girl, Hallie, darted out her hand and smacked Mickey upside of the head, “Jesus, what?”

“You can’t just say something like that to someone, God you’re an ass.” The mild disgust on her face twists to an apologetic smile as she continued on, “ I apologise for Mickey, he has zero fucking tact.” Hallie’s expression turned warmer as she was moving up the bench to make room. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mickey roll his eyes a little before he settled his gaze back onto me.

“No, no it’s fine. Yeah, I am. Glad that’s so interesting to you Michael.”

He cocked an eyebrow at me, an amused smile cracking on his face. “Mickey.” He corrected me, sounding amused as he did so.

I held back a scoff as I told him, “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

That was the first time I ever spoke directly to him. I can’t help but imagine how things would be now if I never bothered, never got so captivated with the way he’d look at me all through the rest of the day and every single day after.

It was never creepy, far from it. Instead it was almost as though he knew something I knew, like he knew me already.

Little did I know he did know me. He knew every single thing about me.

Chapter Two HERE

[crengarrion]

edit: please read my additions at the bottom before reblogging this post. please do not reblog this post without also reblogging the others i've linked!

if you saw my reblog(s) of ahmed's donation posts in which he includes his crypto wallets (and my links to those posts), anyone else's posts explaining how to donate to him using those wallets, or any aid post that mentions his ability to accept cryptocurrency and decided to villianise him and accuse him of being hamas for it... you are repulsive. you are not welcome here.

people are dying. paypal and ko-fi take percentages. paypal has a monthly withdrawal limit. i'm the first to admit i know nothing about cryptocurrencies, but ahmed has said it goes directly to him without a service taking a cut. i assume there are fewer or no withdrawal limits. it is harder to track and less regulated, which, in this case, provides an additional layer of security for people being precision targeted. get over it.

anyway. donate to ahmed's ko-fi. donate to ahmed's paypal. follow ahmed @90-ghost for updates on how to help him, and check his ko-fi and tumblr posts for updates. send him a nice ask. reblog his posts depicting he and his family's life in gaza. read tumblr user neaeach (naoual sahe)'s interview with ahmed. bring hope. listen to palestinians, don't speak over them.

ahmed's reblog of his interview, with a link to it:

direct link to the interview:

edit: i don't need reblogs, but palestinians, muslims, arabs, and other people suffering directly due to zionism and islamophobia do! please reblog their posts!! @el-shab-hussein has also made a post about these accusations against ahmed, which @fairuzfan added onto. and please reblog this post with ahmed's latest ko-fi update and all the ways you can DIRECTLY donate to him! thank you

[seagreenstardust]

“When toxic behavior is portrayed as romantic, it’s problematic. When problematic behavior is portrayed as a character flaw for a character to work through, it’s good storytelling.”

Katsuki Bakugou, my friends.

His behavior was problematic but never once portrayed as romantic at the same time. Katsuki said and did awful abusive things, and he also chose to be better when he was given the chance. If you’re still hung up on chapter 1 Katsuki now then I don’t think you’ve been reading the same story I have.

I can’t speak for everyone, but I’m not shipping Izuku with an irredeemable abuser. I’m shipping him with his most important person. His narrative foil. His childhood friend who made awful mistakes and then made it right when he saw he was wrong. The person Izuku looks up to and strives to emulate, despite their past struggles.

Bakudeku is so good because of how flawed these boys are, and how hard they’ve worked to get over it, and how much they matter to each other after it all

[rookdaw]

monster X monster hunter

[grimalkinmessor]

Just to put a lot of my posts and beliefs about Light Yagami's character in one post (headcanons not included):

• He does not do anything for purely moral reasons. The reason he started killing criminals was because he was curious, and then afterward his "crusade" was built from panic and spite. He thought using the Death Note was going to kill him, so he decided to take everyone he considered a threat to society down with him—that way he would still be good. He would still be remembered. If he can't live, then criminals don't deserve to either. The weight loss and the insomnia shown in the manga, were more likely results of a fear of dying than moral stress.

• Then Light discovers he won't die. This negates part of the spite, but not the need for a moral justification to keep himself "good". He no longer needs to be a martyr, so instead he's chosen to become a God.

• During this week and half of time, Light goes from being a bored, lonely, listless teenager disgusted with the world because it's not how his father taught him it should be, disgusted because if he can manage perfection why can't the rest of the world—to a boy with a new friend and a new mission that gives him purpose. Something interesting. If the world can't be perfect on its own, he'll have to help it. The world needs his help, making him its "savior".

• In comes L. It is no longer about Kira, no longer about saving the world from itself, even if he might tell himself it is—it's about the game. Kira was a fun pastime, yes, but L has made things so much more interesting. (Light and Ryuk are actually wildly similar in several ways it's just not immediately obvious). This game is more fun, too, because this time he has an opponent—one not so nebulous as "the criminals of the world", who offered no challenge. Light is still justifying his actions through a lens of morality, because he has to, but they're beginning to run rather thin.

• Both the broadcast and the obvious taunts to L through changing Kira's killing methods supports the above. "You're too stupid, L. If you were just a little smarter, we could've had some fun." Drawing L in was to progress their game, not Kira's goals. If Light truly only cared about Kira's vision, Kira's new world, Kira's righteous justice; then he wouldn't have continued to play the game after the broadcast. There was no way for L to find him without Light drawing him in—the Death Note is literally the perfect murder weapon. Light knew this, he just ignored it because he wanted to play.

• In the same vein: Yotsuba Light doesn't know he's playing the game. He's forgotten that there even is a game, and so he sees L as someone who's been duped, who either isn't as intelligent as he's been made out to seem, or someone who's being purposefully cruel just because he can. Either way, to Yotsuba Light, L's threat level has only increased, because Light no longer has any sort of weapon to go against him with. He can't even wield his own innocence against him, because his innocence is not certain. Even to himself. Yotsuba Light knows that he has to play along with L's plays of friendship and morality in order to secure his freedom, but he does not respect L or like him. At least, not until near the end, where they're closing in on Higuchi. Where his freedom seems closer....and yet he sees his own, true innocence as more tenuous than ever. Notably, even when Light feels positively towards L there, he still does not share his suspicions about himself with him. His own life still takes precedence over any sort of justice or morality he might have, because Yotsuba Light is still Light. And Light will always put his own self-interests first.

• After killing L, something interesting happens. Because the game ends, but Kira is still left. And Light was willing to take risks and make wild plans in his game with L, but Kira's goals always, always came after his own life. And when only Kira's goals are left, Light stops taking those big, potentially lethal risks. (i.e. bomb desk trap, killing Raye Penber in person by handing him pages of the Death Note, killing Naomi Misora in person right in front of the police station, writing Higuchi's name while sitting right beside L with the murder weapon literally in his hand, etc. etc.). Winning the game was worth dying for—Kira's ideals are not. Or, to put it even more simply: His pride is worth dying for, but his morals are not. Five years after his victory against L, he's presented with another game, but instead of feeling fearful and excited as he did with L, Light is angry. Arrogant and angry. Because this isn't a game to these opponents, as it was to L—they're playing against each other, and Light is merely a piece in it. This game is not like his game with L; it's more like his "game" with the criminals of the world. One with no true challenge, just another defense of Kira's world—worth winning, but not worth dying for.

• Light's pride is more important to him than anything. He needs to be able to take pride in himself and his actions. Pride comes before everything else, before Kira, before family, before L, even before his own desires and physical health. He does not enjoy killing—he just turned it into something he could be proud of. Into another mastering of craft. Light is not particularly sadistic, he's just spiteful. He'll only take pleasure in someone's suffering if they make someone else suffer first, especially if that someone is him. Attacking his pride would count as making him suffer, because that's the most important thing in the world to him. Even though Light also values his life incredibly highly, attempting to kill him wouldn't invoke as much hell-hot wrath as attempting to humiliate him would. And Light will always get even. Always. He does not forgive and forget.

• He believes every lie he tells himself. Every. Lie. He is a Good Man. He is Good Son. He is a Savior. He is Better. He is NOT Evil, he is Good. He's incredibly adept at not only fooling other people, but fooling himself. Even if he's vaguely aware of the truth, he'll take great pains to make sure that truth never comes to light—because it would crush him.

• Light does not take his own desires into account. If he likes or wants something that contradicts with the perfect image he's crafted, he purges it from his mind. Makes excuses for why he doesn't need it, or even convinces himself very thoroughly that he didn't even want it in the first place. If it's not something he can be proud of (or convince himself to be proud of), he doesn't allow himself to desire it.

• Light sees everyone as beneath him (family notwithstanding, Light loves his family deeply), and while it's a pyramid scale of how far beneath him they are, it's not actually ranked by things like gender, sexuality, race—it's ranked by morality and intelligence. The more intelligent and moral you are, the higher up you are on the scale. Light feeling hostile towards someone does not always mean he sees them as further down beneath him; with L and Misa specifically, it means that they're a threat. Light tends to only see people near the top of the intelligence pyramid as threats; evidenced by him dismissing Matsuda completely even with the knowledge that Matsuda was a marksmen, and yet him immediately setting out to kill Naomi when he found out she figured out one of Kira's secrets. With Takada and Mikami, he treats them exactly the same as each other because they're both on the same level of the scale—and he didn't hesitate to get rid of either of them. (Or try to get rid of, in Mikami's case). Everyone is either a tool, a threat, a criminal, a citizen, or family to him. People to use (tool, criminal), people to serve and/or placate (citizen, family), and people to eliminate (threat, criminal). Everyone falls into at least one of these categories for him.

• Light Yagami is a tragic character. And he's a tragic character because he refuses to believe he's part of a tragedy. He would rather swallow broken glass than be considered a victim of anything.

[baihujun]

That’s enough boob windowfication for now 

(previous: 1, 2, 3)

[laufire]

"batman is first and foremost about rehabilitation and the possibility of redemption for everyone-" is he. is he really, though. when he clearly believes "criminal" is some personality trait divorced from circumstances and goes around calling goons "scum" and acts as if killing once, even under extreme circumstances that are not at all their fault, taints someone forever?

[queen0fm0nsterz]

Ended up pirating all of Hazbin for the sake of my younger days (used to be a fan when I was around 14/15, before all the stuff with Viv came out) and I am so surprised by how I felt... nothing for the most part. Like a lot of the show's storylines feel like they was crammed in there with no real pacing. A lot of this should have been season 2 territory, which is a sentiment I've seen echoed around, but also... it feels as if the show is trying to be episodic while also having a long narrative thread, which just doesn't work with just 8 episodes. Especially not when paced like this. So I kinda ended up feeling nothing for the most part. All the events got a "Oh, great, so what?" reaction out of me because there was little to no buildup to most of them.

Sir Pentious was always a fave of mine so I was glad to see they kept him around and, though I think we should have had more episodes with him as a villain, I think how he ended up was fitting for what little of an arc he had. I am livid about what they did to Cherri and Mimzy.

I fucking loved Mimzy, I have no idea why they sent her away -- having someone like her at the Hotel would have been a blast considering how the others are already on the road to redemption. She would have balanced it out by being a regular sinner, someone who doesn't care about redemption and won't probably ever care unless it's in her best interests to. Plus her friendship with Alastor was quite cute, they bounce off of each other very well imo. Plus I could see her have a bit of a conflict with both Charlie and Vaggie because of her ways of acting. I'm so sorry they took that from you girlboss.

And Cherri... dear lord where WAS she? She should have been a lot more present. I used to like her relationship with Angel and I even think Cherrisnake is cute conceptually, but both these relationship had... little to no room to breathe imo.

[nattikay]

imagine unironically saying “wow, look at this noble, selfless, responsible boy with good, even exceptional life skills who cares deeply about his family, looks out for his younger siblings, and sets a good example for them. Yup, his parents really screwed up with this poor kid! Massive fail!”

[mrsaltieri-real]

His Perfect Victim (Mickey Altieri x OC!Dahlia Levine)

Chapter Twelve: Plaything (Mickey’s POV)

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, mention of Mickey’s murder and backstory, conflicted feelings, talk of murdering Dahlia, deception, betrayal, threatening, Nancy Loomis being a cunt, etc.

A/N: we’re getting into the nitty gritty of it all, the pace is going to be picked up after this. Expect smut, angst, fucking feelings and everything in between. Writing from Mickey’s POV is so much fun, especially when he’s so torn and confused about his own feelings and actions. Who knows how this is going to turn out? I know, @bisexual-horror-fan who has once again helped me by beta reading and editing this knows. Thank you again, you absolute fucking star!

Tag: @lizey-thornberry

Dahlia was fun to play with, at least initially, but watching how worked up and upset she’d get every time her phone would buzz, how she’d jump at the sound and the flash of fear that took over her features was beginning to concern me, something I’d never expected to feel. Maybe I cared about her more than I wanted to admit, maybe Nancy’s relentless phone calls to her were messing with her head too much, and it bothered me enough to mimic the feeling of worry, at least part of me hopes it is mimicking it, as opposed to me actually worrying. Either way, it had to stop.

I looked down at Dahlia, fast asleep with her lips slightly parted, her dark curls framing her pretty face, and I sighed, rubbing a hand through my hair and down my face. I pushed myself up slowly and carefully from beside her, trying my best not to jostle her awake.

It was easy to pretend to care about people that I felt absolutely no connection with, Sidney, Randy, Derek and Hallie, it was a lot more difficult to pretend like I didn’t care about her when she’d somehow managed to find her way underneath my skin.

My phone buzzed quietly from her bedside table and I picked it up quickly, seeing the name printed across the screen; Bankroller.

I didn’t bother throwing anything on other than my sweats before leaving her room as quietly as I could to take the call, already feeling the anger building in my chest as I pressed the phone to my ear and hissed out, “Nancy, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Nancy Loomis scoffed at me down the phone, I could picture her snooty eye roll as she exclaimed, “Well, good morning to you too, Mickey. You’re late. We were supposed to meet an hour ago.”

“I’ve been busy.” I snapped, immediately hushing my voice as soon as it raised, “But you already knew that. Why are you calling her?”

I heard Nancy sigh before she said, “We’ll discuss this when I see you. You know where to go. Don’t keep me waiting,” before the line went dead, and I heard the dull hum of the dial tone.

Fucking bitch.

I gripped the phone tighter, pulling it down to my side as I let out a sharp breath, glancing back at the door and hesitating for a moment, eyeing the door knob.

The plan was in place, it had been for a while, I wasn’t having any doubts about it, about my motive. I knew what I had to do, what I wanted to do, but Nancy was already beginning to cross a line.

They were mine to torment as I saw fit. It has been made explicitly clear that I do what I have to do, get as close to the three of them as I possibly can, learn everything about them, their routines, habits, down to their favourite kind of drinks. It was fine with Randy and Sidney, fine with Derek and Hallie. But I’d found myself beginning to feel something for Dahlia.

Do I care about her? Probably. Do I care enough about her to stop what’s to come?

Fuck no.

I pushed the door back open, trying to be as quiet as possible as I stepped in, beginning to pull my clothes on, eyes fixed on her sleeping form. She’d rolled over onto her side, arms curled around her pillow with her face buried in mine. She looked so peaceful, her face was perfectly smooth, and her full lips had turned up into a small smile.

It was hard not to take pride in the fact that I’d made her this way, gradually snipped away at the deadbeat, emotionless shell of a person she used to be and dragged out this version of her, so endearing and warm and soft. Once dressed, I leaned down and brushed some of her hair from her face, pressing my lips softly to her forehead in hopes I would not wake her up. She always smelt amazing, like vanilla and coconut, it’s something that I’d found myself getting used to and missed when she wasn’t around.

What the fuck was going on with me?

Maybe it was selfish of me to have wanted to test this out in the first place, see how far I could get with her. But the plan remained the same, Dahlia was going to die alongside Sidney, alongside her precious Randy. But what if that wasn’t in the cards, for her, anyway?

I thought about it as I walked off campus once I’d left her dorm, thought about all of it. Maybe she didn’t have to die. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to die. Perhaps the sole reason she’s still alive was an act of fate. She had died back in Woodsboro, but she’d come back, and something about that had been sticking in my brain like crazy for the last few months. Who the hell was I to test and play fate like that? She was obviously still here for a reason.

Was I the reason? Was I supposed to meet this girl, find her and make her a part of my life, heal her, make her feel something for me, make her feel things again in general? Would killing her be a monumental mistake? The last thing I wanted to do was give a great big fuck you to the universe. I had my own reasons for being here, she must have one too.

Nancy was sitting in the regular coffee shop a couple of miles off campus, just outside of town, her head bent over a notebook she was scribbling in erratically, clearly planning out the next move. I couldn’t help but wonder her future intentions with Dahlia as I cleared my throat once I reached the table, eyebrows raised expectantly.

She looked up at me, brown eyes blank as she raised a hand, gesturing to the chair in front of her with a simple, “Sit down, Mickey.”

With a roll of my eyes, I sat, thumping my hands against the table and drumming my fingers against the wood, staring her down just as she was to me, dropping the notebook in front of her.

“So?” I asked after a few moments of increasingly uncomfortable silence, “Why are you bothering her so much?”

Nancy’s hands clasped together as she leaned forward to speak in a hushed tone to me, “The question is, why do you care? Look, Mickey, I understand that you are getting frustrated with the waiting, that you want to go ahead and begin all this, but this girl is distracting you. You’re supposed to be getting closer to Sidney, but it would seem as though you’re wasting your precious time with Dahlia.” She spat out her name as though the taste of it disgusted her and picked up her cup, taking a sip of coffee. I felt a twinge of anger flicker in my stomach and frowned, my fingers halting the drumming motion to dig into the table.

“Why are you calling her, Nancy? It isn’t time-“

“I am the one who makes these decisions. Not you.” Her tone was firm, as though I was a child, and she was a parent, disciplining me. I couldn’t help but laugh a little, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms as I called her out, “Who are you, my mother? I don’t take orders from you. I’m doing this because I want to. Don’t forget, you need me a whole lot more than I need you. You sought me out, not the other way around.”

Her cockiness wavered for a moment before she sucked in a sharp breath, her hand moving to press against her temples as though the conversation was exhausting her.

So dramatic.

“I’m calling her because this was always part of the plan. She’s part of the reason my son is dead, Mickey. My son, my Billy, stabbed her, Sidney caught him off guard, and now he’s gone. You always knew you’d have to kill her, why does it matter if I’m doing this?”

“Because it’s not fucking time.” My voice raised a little, I noticed her recoil slightly at my tone and her hand dropped back to the table, her head tilting a little before her eyes widened in sudden realization.

“Mickey, don’t tell me you’ve come to care for this girl?”

I scoffed again, head falling back with a loud groan, before I looked at her dead on with a hissed, “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s my plaything, you told me to keep myself entertained, that’s exactly what I’m doing. So, leave her alone.”

“No.”

I scowled at her, feeling the anger bubbling in my chest once again. “I’m warning you-“

“No, I’m warning you. I might need you more than you need me, but remember, I can pull the plug on this. I know your past, I know what you’ve fucking done. Those people in your hometown, what you did to your family? I have the receipts of our conversations. I can turn you in, Mickey. Don’t think for a fucking second that I won’t if you don’t get back on board.”

I watched her face for a second, trying to find a bluff in her little speech. I couldn’t, and she knew it. A smug smile lit up her pinched face, and she said softly, “Don’t think you're not replaceable. You are. Get back to being the killer I’m paying you to be.”

I pushed away from the table shortly after that, stepping toward her, so I could bend down to whisper into her ear, “Leave her alone. I’ll kill her, but she’s mine, Nancy. I mean it.” Before turning my back on her and leaving the café, feeling her beady eyes glued to my back as I walked out the door.

Being bossed around like I was a child was beginning to piss me off, I wasn’t her son and I didn’t appreciate her treating me like I was.

Maybe I cared about Dahlia more than I wanted to let on. I knew I was suppressing these feelings, not wanting them to take a hold of me. But saying the words, “I’ll kill her,” out loud sent something unfamiliar and uncomfortable through my chest, something I hadn’t felt before.

I have killed a lot of people. It’s fun, adrenaline induced and manic. Nothing compares to holding someone’s life in your hands and being the one to snatch it away, the sight of watching the light of life leaving someone’s eyes. I always thought of myself as unfeeling, uncaring. I didn’t care about absolutely anyone, but maybe I cared more about her more than I cared about that.

But did that mean I wasn’t going to do this? Absolutely not. Maybe to some extent Nancy was right, I had allowed Dahlia to distract me. I did need to get my focus back on the task at hand, but I didn’t want to stop playing with her, see how far I could take things with her.

It’s all about balance, after all.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket and I grabbed it quickly, expecting to see Dahlia’s name printed across the screen. It took me by surprise to see Randy’s and I halted in the street, pausing in hesitation for just a moment before my thumb pressed on the green button and I spoke into the phone, “Yeah?”

“Mickey, hi. Um, I was wondering if we could talk? It’s about Dahlia.”

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked sharply, turning around to look back at the café.

“No, no, nothing! I just need to talk to you about her, can you meet me outside the library?” Randy spoke quickly, the clear backtrack of his previous words evident, and I let out a small sigh before agreeing to meet him.

It’s not that I hated Randy, as a matter of fact I didn’t really care much about any of them. I’m not a jealous person, I just can’t wrap my head around why Dahlia cares about him as much as she does and needs him as a part of her life so much.

Initially I thought he wanted to fuck her, who wouldn’t? Even before when she was practically a zombie, she was still one of the most beautiful and endearing things I’d ever seen, it was hard to imagine anyone not wanting her. But maybe I was wrong, maybe it really was entirely platonic. Either way, I already hated that she needed anyone else other than me in order to feel whole. I was the one who had fixed her, not fucking Meeks.

As soon as I was back on campus, I walked slowly toward the library, seeing Randy sat perched on the wall, his feet dangling as he sat and waited for me. His head was leaning against the brick as he stared dimly into space, jumping when he suddenly heard my voice, “Okay, Randy. What’s up?“

Randy turned himself around, so he was facing me, a nervous look evident on his face. I couldn’t help but feel a little amused by his anxiety. Was I that intimidating to him? I wasn’t even trying.

“Mickey, I, uh…” He kept trailing off, eyes dropping to his hands and back up to my face every so often, until I finally lost patience and asked him to, “Fucking spit it out.”

“Okay… Look, Dahlia is my best friend, she always has been. I know her better than anyone, and I know she really does care about you for some reason.”

I couldn’t help the small smile that broke across my face when he said that, you had to admire the balls on the kid.

“I promised her that I’d try and get along with you, even though I really don’t know what she sees in you.” I could visibly see the confidence he had in his own words, it was oddly kind of sweet, in a pathetic sort of way.

“I just want to ask you for one thing, please don’t fuck her over, Mickey. She’s been through enough, and I don’t want to see her fall apart again.”

My smile immediately fell, and I frowned at Randy, head tilting to the side as I asked, “You think I would?”

“No, I know you would. I’ve known you longer than she has, I saw how you are with girls. Dahlia is a sweetheart, but sometimes she’s really fucking oblivious to when someone has bad intentions.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I finally clicked onto what this talk was about, actually having to lean against the wall for support as I managed to get out the words, “Oh, for fuck's sake, Meeks. Is this that if you hurt her, you’ll have me to deal with speech? For God’s sake, man.”

Randy’s face flushed slightly, clearly not liking that this was my reaction to his pitiful attempt of intimidation.

“I’m serious, Mickey.”

“So am I. Come on, Randy. You really think I’m going to fuck her and dump her? I thought we were closer than that by now.”

It was Randy’s turn to scoff at me, and I thought for a second that I really had to do some more work on getting him to like me. Not for any other reason that to make him actually fucking trust me.

“I’m not going to hurt her.” I made sure my tone sounded as genuine as possible, watching as Randy jumped down from the wall and stood in front of me, about as intimidating as a fucking kitten.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Her voice made even me jump, fuck, she was stealthy. I turned around and looked at her, ignoring the slight flutter in my heart as she stopped next to me and I felt the warm, smooth skin of her arm brush against mine.

“Just… Doing what you wanted. Getting along.” Randy’s voice was practically dripping with sarcasm and I don’t know if she noticed and chose to ignore it, but Dahlia smiled so big I thought her face might split. I felt her hand slide into mine, squeezing it gently as if saying thank you before looking at Randy and asking, “Hey, Randy. Are you ready?” To which he nodded his head, eyes dragging away from me and settling on her, expression immediately smoothing out to an obvious affection.

“Ready for what?” I asked her, looking down at her curiously.

“We’re hanging out, it’s obviously been a while.” Randy said, his tone very obviously targeted. Dahlia shot him a look, and he smiled as if in apology.

“No, you’re right. It's been a while since the two of you have hung out, you should.” I told her, my free hand reaching to push a strand of her hair behind her ear before tilting her head up by her chin with my fingers. “I’ve got a lot I need to get done tonight anyway.”

Dahlia smiled at me, that fucking smile that made my stomach flutter and reached up on her toes to press her lips softly against mine, her scent automatically making me unconsciously melt into her.

She really did have some kind of weird hold on me. No matter how much I tried to suppress these feelings, they’d constantly bubble up to the surface. It was unfamiliar, but not necessarily unwelcome. I never thought I’d end up caring even slightly about her, certainly not surpassing my initial fascination with her built-up purely out of boredom and morbid curiosity. I tried to tell myself I was feeling this way because I wasn’t killing, I didn’t have anything to do. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn’t. But I knew I’d just enjoy whatever I was feeling until I inevitably grew bored with her.

“Can I come by your dorm after?” She asked once she pulled away, and I nodded immediately, eyes briefly flickering to Randy who was uninterested by the entire interaction, focused on his phone before I focused back on her.

“Of course, I’ll be waiting.” I confirmed, letting go of her hand in favour of cupping her face, pulling her back to me, so I could kiss her again. It was like I physically couldn’t stop myself from touching her, it was an unconscious reflex.

I felt her breath hitch, felt her heartbeat drumming against my own chest as her fingers gripped my shirt tightly. If I could have, I would have fucked her there and then, in front of Randy, in front of half the student body. I wanted to. To prove that she was mine, whether she was just my plaything or not. But I didn’t, regardless of the fact that I wanted to, I wanted to wait. Instead, I let her go, watching as she and Randy began to walk away toward the exit of the campus.

As I watched Dahlia walk away, her head falling back and hearing her laugh loudly at something Randy had said, playfully pushing at his shoulder, my mind raced back to how I felt about her. I’d dated girls before. A lot. I knew I had a reputation, it never bothered me, and it still didn’t. But serious relationships? I’d only been in one before. Lexi.

Lexi was a girl I’d dated back in my hometown during my final year of high school. She was the opposite of Dahlia, Latina with thick black hair and a confidence that was almost overwhelming, but beautiful. Not as beautiful as Dahlia, but stunning all the same. We’d ended things on bad terms after a particularly awful argument after sex. I did and said some things that any ordinary person would see as just awful, to me, it was pretty regular and mundane. She’d told me, all dramatic, that she’d make sure no girl ever went through what I’d put her through. I hadn’t thought about Lexi in a while, but for some reason, the fight we’d had the last time I’d seen her kept poking and prodding around the corners of my mind.

I didn’t love Lexi. Thinking back, I don’t think I ever cared about her at all. As I watched Dahlia slowly disappear, my mind shifted back to her and I realized I’d never want to treat her the way I treated Lexi, but what if I simply couldn’t help myself? I didn’t care about anyone, why was this girl that was just supposed to be someone I could use to entertain myself having such an effect on me?

Once they were out of sight, I shook my head out, sinking against the steps of the library and resting my head against the cool brick.

I thought about what Nancy had said about Dahlia distracting me. I really didn’t want to be off my game. Would the bitch really turn me in? I didn’t want to be caught until I was damn good and ready, but even now I couldn’t help the one nagging thought that repeatedly began swirling through my mind.

When I went through with this, after they were all dead, if I didn’t end up going through with killing Dahlia, would she ever forgive me?

[bakhtaks-blog]

Happy Friday the 13th and year of the rabbit ~

Have some doodles of Jason with his pet rabbit, Bonnie.

[bonefall]

longtime dc fan and i think a lot of people are angry because alex is obviously one of the most culturally relevant instances of misogyny in media. that being said being more culturally relevant doesn’t mean it’s the worst instance of misogyny and i think bumble definitely experiences more profound misogyny in the way the actual content is presented, if that makes sense

I get you, and that's a charitable way of looking at it.

I think what's rustling my jimmies is that like, there was a couple of WC fans being mildly dismissive of Alex in that note minefield, after dozens of comments of "fuck you how could you let the fridge woman lose" and "Bumble didn't deserve to win ANY rounds" and "how could A CAT experience misogyny." But then WE get blamed for the toxicity because THEY were butthurt that the Funny Cat People have the 'audacity' to win something they feel entitled to.

Like, we've gotta be endlessly charitable as we get openly insulted because they're upset about Alex losing, a very well-known and culturally relevant character with a legacy so massive we have a whole term named after her. But condemnations of "She's just a cat, letting WC into this poll was a mistake, Bumble can't even be a victim of misogyny" only started coming around once I started talking about it.

as if it's OUR fault people got passive-aggressive or even OPENLY aggressive towards us, and that we're "just as bad" for retaliating

But like you said, it's not a "Most Culturally Relevant Misogyny" tournament, it's a "Canon Misogyny Victims" tournament. And you're not even supposed to give a shit that Bumble died. The fat, woman abuse victim is beaten to death by a dictator, and your takeaway is meant to be, "It's so sad that Clear Sky is being blamed for murdering her, now they're all preparing for self-defense against a homicidal maniac, oh nooo :("

And I think that DOES make her deserve the win here! Alex is a MARTYR. Everyone with a brain agrees what happens to her is bad. It happened in her canon because it was bad. We talk about her and keep her memory alive. Bumble gets dismissed entirely out of hand because she's "just a cat in a kid's book" as if that doesn't make it worse, and as if the kid's book didn't treat a domestic abuse survivor like a moron for even asking for help.

Anyway, just to reiterate, I love DC fans. It's not all of you guys. Alex was done dirty and deserves justice-- and it's even kind of a shame that all she became is "The Fridge Woman." I haven't even heard people talk about how she was a wary, responsible person who was still ready to rock with Kyle's new weird glowstick powers, or that she was a journalist, or that she just got brought back in another edition as a Green Lantern only to be revealed as an illusion and re-absorbed back into Kyle's mind. Nope. Even her fans just remember her as The Fridge Woman.

[n3v3r-l3ft]

Are you serious? Are putting on the same level Izzy's words (as toxic as they are) to the physical violence of Ed cutting off his toes?? I love Ed, but we can't justify every bad action of him, he's not an innocent baby!

I'm actually so serious, Anon.

Are you?

Are you seriously going to sit here and tell a 2Spirit Native that calling the English Navy (the cops) on Ed (a queer brown man) and his boyfriend isn't physical violence? Those aren't words. Those are actions.

Aside from that, he's been manipulating, belittling and abusing Ed the entire first season. Abuse is abuse; it being non-physical at first doesn't diminish that it was abuse. Emotional and mental abuse is just as much abuse.

Izzy undermines Ed constantly. When he doesn't like a choice Ed makes (for himself) he goes behind Ed's back and sends his ex boyfriend to literally manipulate him into leaving Stede. He calls him derogatory terms in regards to his queerness and straight up tells him he should have let the English kill him. If that doesn't read as a vague death-threat idk what does.

And he said that to Ed in one of his most vulnerable moments, while healing from heartache, after Ed literally saved him from the crew's mutiny.

I'd also like to add that Ed warned him. After that first toe we saw in s1, he told Izzy "threaten me again, ever, and I'll feed you the rest"

🤷‍♂️

This isn't to say I don't think Izzy deserves a support group, but I don't think he's entitled to one (or my sympathy) when the toxic environment is something he's curated since day one.

Ed isn't abusive, he's reacting to abuse.

Again:

[random-lil-illing]

player appreciation week!!

i dont know if ill manage to do all the days, but i want to post the days ive managed to do (day 1 and day 2). dont expect any more player days, and certainly dont expect any posts this/next week, apologies haha

[opportunity-b]

Nope (2022) is actually a film about how show business eats people alive and spits them back out and I'm surprised no one seems to have noticed this? I'm not even being funny that's the actual plot

[seal-berry]

another semi prominent twitter artist has weighed in on hazbin and i gotta say my least favorite hazbin take ever is "angel dust is the only salvageable character but i only like him when hes not saying swears and sex jokes" because its like. oh you mean the sex jokes he specifically uses as a litmus test for judgy assholes that you wouldve just failed?