#killer!Charlie barber

[imyourbratzdoll]

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐙𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 where you enter the lives of your favourite characters as they try and survive the apocalypse. unlike any other, they are lured to you, wanting you, needing you. they cannot survive without feeling you against them.

18+ only please, do not copy, repost or translate my work. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

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halloween masterlist

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warnings will be added story. I would like to add that I looked up if fucking zombies is considered necrophilia, and I found a site that said it was not! I hope to awaken more kinks for you guys. a huge thanks to my two beautiful babies for helping me @shadeysprings @royalsweetteaa

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒆𝒓… 𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆? ft human luke danes x hopeless reader.

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𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 ft zombie ransom drysdale x survivor reader.

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𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅’𝒗𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒆𝒇 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔 ft human charlie swan x frightened reader.

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𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒔, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒍𝒍 ft halfbie clark kent x human reader.

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𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒔𝒔 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒑𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒇𝒖𝒏, 𝒐𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒕? ft human andy barber x coworker reader.

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𝒉𝒆’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒅, 𝒉𝒆’𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 ft halfbie jake jensen x team member reader.

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𝒏𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒉, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅. 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒚𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒓 ft zombie johnny storm x small reader.

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𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒖𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒚, 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒉𝒆’𝒔 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅 ft zombie sebastian stan x fangirl reader.

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 ft halfbie hayley marshall x damsel reader.

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ft human lee eun-hyuk x needy reader.

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𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒑 ft human cleo sertori x ruthless leader reader.

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𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂 𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒓, 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅 ft zombie jasper hale x curious reader.

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𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒚 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓 ft halfbie harley quinn x bloodthirsty killer reader.

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𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒑𝒔𝒆, 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅 ft zombie rick grimes x rising queen reader.

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕, 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 ft human carlisle cullen x oblivious reader.

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𝒊 𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒃𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒃𝒂𝒍 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 ft zombie steve kemp x food reader.

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𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅 ft human gomez addams x desired reader.

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𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒎 ft human dex x obedient reader.

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒆, 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓 ft halfbie ari levinson x hopeful reader.

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𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒑𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐 ft human chris argent x unlucky reader.

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[torturedtypewritersdept]

ᰔ they call me tee + you can too ᰔ

mid-twenties. she/her/hers. american. bookworm. true crime junkie. gryffindor. wannabe it girl. full-time taylor swift addict. mood board slut. cowboy obsessed. writer, and lover of all beautiful things; especially sunsets, disco balls, + books. rafe cameron apologist, and bucky barnes enthusiast. hopeless romantic. lover of all things 70s. people pleaser.

PREVIOUSLY KNOWN AS ✧ storytellingwitht, teeswizzle, illicitfixations

LIKES ✧ sweet tea, cats, cowboys, photography, love stories, sunsets + sunrises, fall weather, christmas in october, true crime docs, podcasts that feel like books, coffee, taylor swift, all genres of music, the sims, holiday movies, binging my fav shows over + over.

ASTROLOGICAL INFO ✧ march pisces (‪ ♓︎ pisces virgo ↑ sagittarius ☾)

FICTIONAL BFS ✧ rafe cameron, harvey specter, jj maybank, mike ross, dean winchester, charlie swan, bucky barnes, steve harrington, ari levino, andy barber, lee bodecker, vinnie pazienza, etc.

CURRENT OBSESSIONS/OBJECTS OF MY DESIRES✧ drew starkey, outer banks, lana del rey, taylor swift, sebastian stan, suits (US), gabriel macht, Patrick j. Adams, moodboards, all things christmas, travis kelce + taylor swift, etc.

WHAT I’M WATCHING ✧ the kardashians (s4), ncis (s3), suits (s5), supernatural (s3), till murder do us part, unsolved mysteries, the confusion killer, sweet magnolias (s3), life after death w/ tyler henry, the impossible, casper, the bounty hunter, the house bunny, etc.

WHAT I'M WRITING ✧ currently working on two requests (h/c) + a suits fic (h/c).

CURRENTLY IN MY EARBUD ✧ what was I made for: - billie eilish, about you: the 1975, used to be young: miley cyrus, get him back: olivia rodrigo, stick season: noah kahan, now that we don't talk: taylor swift (taylor's version).

FILMS + TV THAT DEFINED ME ✧ legally blonde, the breakfast club, forrest gump, pretty little liars, suits (US), yellowstone, good will hunting, star wars, harry potter, the godfather, the sopranos, dead poets society, supernatural, sweet magnolias, bleed for this, topgun, the giver, the hunger games, twilight etc.

[emkellythrillers]

Hey! Welcome to my first ever blog post.

I thought it would only be fitting to start with my latest project, Murder By Symbols, and the inspiration behind Detective Colton Baker. A real-life detective. Detective Dan Barber of the Stoughton Police Department.

I previously published two post-apocalyptic thrillers. Both are part of my Drew Murphy series. They’d been in my head for years and I finally wrote and published them. But my true love is murder mystery thrillers. Some of my favorite authors are Dan Brown, Lee Child, Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child and Michael Connelly. Now, I wanted to write what I loved to read, and I thought I had a killer story on my hands, literally.

I was researching Stoughton, Massachusetts, the town in which I live, when I came across Dr. Benjamin Church. Doing a deep dive into this founding father, I discovered some crazy things. I don’t want to spoil the book, so I’ll stop there. I will say one last thing, though: cryptic cypher.

So, back to how I met Detective Barber.

My daughter Victoria played soccer on Sundays back in 2021. Her coach, Charlie Gillis, was a dispatcher for the Town of Stoughton. I discussed the book idea I had with him and he suggested I speak with a detective down at the station. He mentioned Detective Barber by name. Of course, we were on the soccer field and I didn’t write it down.

The following day I drove to the station. I asked to speak with a detective regarding a book I was working on. The front desk dispatcher said a detective wasn’t available at the moment. They asked me to leave my name and number, which I did.

I thought for sure that would be the end of it and my info would wind up in the trash. Boy, was I wrong! Later that evening, while at my daughter’s gymnastics class, my phone rang. I answered it. The voice on the other end of the line was strong and confident. He introduced himself as Detective Barber.

We spoke for a few minutes, and I explained the idea I had for my next project. He said he was interested and would love to assist in any way he could. I’d never met or spoken with an actual detective before, and I wasn’t sure what to call him. “Do I call you, Detective?” I asked. He chuckled and told me to call him Dan.

We set up a meeting for two days later, Wednesday May 19, 2021. I know the date, because Dan allowed me to record our first interview, along with every interview after. We met that evening at the station in the Media Relations room. Covid was winding down, so we still had to wear masks.

We sat down and he answered all of my questions. He explained the difference between patrol officers and detectives. He described in-depth what a detective does.

In another meeting, I told him about the different locations around town where the bodies would be discovered in the book. He even accompanied me around town to all the different locations and described in detail how he would process each crime scene. Dan is a walking wealth of information.

Dan provided me with his personal phone number. He said to text or call at any time. Not knowing his schedule, I always opted to text him. When I was working on a chapter or particular part of the book, and if I was unsure about something or had a question about how he’d handle a situation, I’d text him. I’d text him at all hours of the day and night. He’d always responded and answered with in-depth detail. Obviously, he did this when he was available. He truly was a valuable asset to the writing process.

Shortly after meeting Dan, I found out about a twelve-week Interactive Citizens Academy course the Stoughton Police Department was about to put on. I spoke with Dan, who made it possible for me to attend. It was awesome! I’ll go into more detail about the class in another blog post. Stay tuned!

During these classes, I had the pleasure of speaking with Dan’s fellow officers and a common theme emerged. He was smart, professional, and dedicated to the job. That definitely shined through when speaking with Dan.

To top things off, I was able to do a ride-a-long with Dan which was an incredible experience.

Over the years, I’ve gotten to know Dan, not only as a detective, but as a friend. He shares pictures and stories of his family with me. We’ve even gone out to dinner with our wives.

Murder By Symbols would not be possible without Detective Dan Barber.

I hope Dan knows how much respect I have for him. I am both privileged and honored to call him a friend!

Being a police officer isn’t an easy job. Knowing this, I usually end my texts to Dan with four words.

Stay safe out there!

Thank you for taking the time to read my first blog. I’ll be back next month to share more about my journey and writing experiences.

Talk soon,

Ed

[mrs-gucci]

Fic-or-Treat 2023 requesting guide

a few basics before we get into the meat and potatoes...

🎃 all requests during this event will include halloween and/or spooky themes to some degree. if your request doesn't include these things, it will automatically be deleted from my inbox.

🎃 my normal content restrictions (listed in my request faq) still apply for this event. any requests that don't adhere to my restrictions or the requirements of the event, it will automatically be deleted from my inbox.

alrighty, now onto the meat and potatoes.

for door fics...

characters:

flip zimmerman, clyde logan, kylo ren (AU's only), jacques le gris, charlie barber, and commander mills (AU's only).

spooky AU's:

historic (ex. medieval, victorian, salem witch trials), serial killer (can be masked, like a Ghostface-type character), pirate, priest, witch hunter, mob/mafia, hitman, harry potter/hogwarts, requester’s choice (not guaranteed to be accepted but I enjoy hearing new ideas).

length:

🕸️ both door fics will be 1k words minimum.

****

what I'm looking for in a TRICK request:

this trick fic will be a darker, more horror/thriller-based piece.

the only requests I will take into consideration for the trick fic are those that include a spooky AU (listed above)

the only genres I will be accepting for the trick fics are: horror, thriller, suspense, spooky darkfic, supernatural and just creepy things in general. 

below is an example of the type of request I'll be looking for.

“serial killer!Kylo Ren has been collecting trophies for a long time, but now, he’s got his eyes set on the ultimate trophy: you.”

what I'm looking for in a TREAT request:

this treat fic will be more of what I do here on my blog normally, meaning stuff that's playful, lightly spooky smut & fluff.

the fic will be a more fun, light-hearted piece with little-to-no dark stuff in it. you do not have to include one of the spooky AU's in your treat request unless you'd like to do so.

below is an example of the type of request I'll be looking for.

"Charlie Barber invites you trick-or-treating with him and Henry. He gives you a little extra treat once he's asleep ;)"

for werewolf wednesday...

characters:

jacques le gris, flip zimmerman, clyde logan.

AU's:

historic (ex. medieval, victorian, salem witch trials), werewolf.

length & genre:

🕸️ all fics will be blurb-length pieces, meaning ~500-900 words a piece.

🕸️ all genres are fair game for werewolf wednesday (fluff, smut, horror, spooky, etc).

additional notes:

🐺 I only accept requests where the ADCU character is the werewolf, there will be no werewolf!reader fics.

🐺 I will not write A/B/O, however I will write ruts.

for spooky sunday...

characters:

same as the door fic character list.

spooky AU's:

historic (ex. medieval, victorian, salem witch trials), vampire, beast ("beauty and the beast"-type), devil/demon, dark/fallen angel, ghost (depends on the request), witch/sorcerer, serial killer (can be masked, like a Ghostface-type character), requester’s choice (not guaranteed to be accepted but I enjoy hearing new ideas).

length & genre:

🕸️ all fics will be blurb-length, meaning ~500-900 words a piece.

🕸️ all genres are fair game for spooky sunday (fluff, smut, horror, spooky, etc).

banner credit to @firefly-graphics

if you have any questions about requesting for this event, please don't hesitate to ask in either the comments on this post or via an ask in my inbox! I monitor both pretty consistently so you'll definitely get an answer from me in a timely manner.

>> to join the fic-or-treat taglist, you have to send a message to my inbox!! your username must be included in some form. I will not accept tag requests that don't come through my inbox. <<

[devil-doll13]

🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊

Title: Hair.

Includes: Adam.

Tw: Angst, War, Implied Neglect, Character Death

He still remembers the days when his hair grew overlong and blinding over his eyes like the forelocks of a donkey. He didn’t understand then why his parents never bothered to take him to a barber’s. Charlie had to smuggle a stool into the bathroom and raid the medicine cabinets for scissors and do it himself. They were always together then, so close he wishes he could’ve braided their hair together and never let him be taken away. Never let him die.

The older he got the more self-conscious he felt about the whispers and jeers the other kids directed at him. Behind his back, they thought, but he knew they wanted him to hear and feel shame, feel like an Other. There’s the Sage twins, they’d laugh, “careful you don’t catch a case of head lice.” He cleaned up his act to fit in better with the other kids and because he wanted to impress girls. Boys, too, but he couldn’t tell his Pa that. He was too scared to tell Charlie.

When he joined the army they shaved his head so close it was like they’d cut right down to his skull. It felt like he’d been naked, then, reaching up to brush away bangs that weren’t his there. This was how they forced you back into the crib; one made of barbed wire and practice drills, bald like a baby. You’d soon be reborn as a perfect killer, uniform and obedient, impossible to tell apart from the other. When you get blown up, the only thing they’d identify you with is your teeth anyway. If they can find them. They never looked. Never cared to.

There was nothing left of Charlie. Not even teeth.

You’re not allowed to complain in the army. Not when you get thrown out either, or when you can’t get a job and are forced to live in a box. Boys don’t cry, and men don’t feel pain. He’s in pain all the time. He takes anything he can to get rid of it. Sometimes he gets so high he thinks Charlie’s sitting right there beside him again, and he’s braiding their hair together so they can’t get separated. It’s so long now, no employer will take him. “Get a haircut, hippie,” they’d always say. “Clean yourself up for goddsakes!”

But he lets it grow, and grow and grow. Everything grows, fertile and beautiful in his wake. Adam was born out of needles and smoke. Out of Love, still, for that woman more nurturing to him than his own mother, incubating brilliance in her mind. Love is freedom and Love is peaceful and Love is knowing the earth will embrace you when you die, and Love is and Love is and Love is and Love is

[carlosroborto]

Part 3 - Albert Anastasia Escaped the Electric Chair to Die in a Barber Chair - Part 3

Albert Anastasia (born “Anastasio,” the masculine form of the Italian name) was a mobster who came out of the tough streets of Lower Manhattan to run one of the Five Families of La Cosa Nostra through the first half of the 20th century. Along the way, he built a reputation as one of the Mob’s most feared killers. Anastasia was reportedly a member of Murder Incorporated, the kill-for-hire crew that worked for Charlie “Lucky” Luciano and others in the years of Prohibition. Anastasia was, according to reports, one of the four men in 1931 who assassinated Giuseppe “Joe the Boss” Masseria, a powerful Mob boss, in the bloody gang rivalry known as the Castellammarese War. Anastasia was charged in three murders – in 1928, 1932 and 1933 – but in each case, witnesses either disappeared or refused to testify. Two other high-level Mob informants, both under police custody, died before their testimony helped bring Anastasia to trial, in 1941 and 1942. During World War II, Anastasia joined the U.S. Army. He also reportedly helped engineer the deal that eventually allowed Luciano, then ostensibly serving a life sentence for multiple prostitution-related convictions, to get out of prison (and go into exile in Italy) in exchange for keeping the New York City docks free of wartime Nazi infiltration. Anastasia worked for the Army training longshoremen on the East Coast. In 1943, he received U.S. citizenship for his military service, and he was honorably discharged from the Army in 1944. Eventually, Gambino moved against his sometime family boss. Anastasia was gunned down while he was sitting in a barber chair in Manhattan. Gambino assumed the family leadership, which would eventually become known as the Gambino crime family.

[alfredsonger]

Part 3 - Albert Anastasia Escaped the Electric Chair to Die in a Barber Chair - Part 3

Albert Anastasia (born “Anastasio,” the masculine form of the Italian name) was a mobster who came out of the tough streets of Lower Manhattan to run one of the Five Families of La Cosa Nostra through the first half of the 20th century. Along the way, he built a reputation as one of the Mob’s most feared killers. Anastasia was reportedly a member of Murder Incorporated, the kill-for-hire crew that worked for Charlie “Lucky” Luciano and others in the years of Prohibition. Anastasia was, according to reports, one of the four men in 1931 who assassinated Giuseppe “Joe the Boss” Masseria, a powerful Mob boss, in the bloody gang rivalry known as the Castellammarese War. Anastasia was charged in three murders – in 1928, 1932 and 1933 – but in each case, witnesses either disappeared or refused to testify. Two other high-level Mob informants, both under police custody, died before their testimony helped bring Anastasia to trial, in 1941 and 1942. During World War II, Anastasia joined the U.S. Army. He also reportedly helped engineer the deal that eventually allowed Luciano, then ostensibly serving a life sentence for multiple prostitution-related convictions, to get out of prison (and go into exile in Italy) in exchange for keeping the New York City docks free of wartime Nazi infiltration. Anastasia worked for the Army training longshoremen on the East Coast. In 1943, he received U.S. citizenship for his military service, and he was honorably discharged from the Army in 1944. Eventually, Gambino moved against his sometime family boss. Anastasia was gunned down while he was sitting in a barber chair in Manhattan. Gambino assumed the family leadership, which would eventually become known as the Gambino crime family.

[iamburdened]

Reader’s Masterlist #10 (ten?holy shit)

Not my stories. Just my favorites from other writers. All credits and support to the original artists. My purpose for doing this is: I need a place to dump all my favorites so I can reread a thousand times.

IMPORTANT: like and REBLOG all the fanfics you read to support the writers, please.

No keys for NSFW fics this time, because like, all of it is nsfw.

Link to all my masterlists (+ Kylo Ren/Ben Solo, Pedro Pascal characters including The Mandalorian, Marcus Pike, Javier Peña, and others, MCU related, TMR, Shawn Mendes, Fantastic Beasts…, MacGyver, look, it is a lot)

This one is going to be a little different:

All fics here are for Adam Driver characters, expect horror fics as well. Be aware of trigger warnings in each piece. 

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

Recommendations under the cut

HORROR STORIES

Wet Work @safarigirlsp

Summary: Killer!Clyde in a chainsaw massacre kinda of way. It’s horror but it’s romance and look, is that a plot twist? Damn, it’s got all things nice. (Okay, I can’t say it in a cute way THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER! READ THIS)

Fortune favors the bold @safarigirlsp

Summary: look I can’t stress enough how freaking AMAZING this is! My absolute favorite here. Hitman Kylo x reader this is so super great I cannot even begin to express . The plot twist?????? Don’t even get me started. I was NOT ready! Read it.

Bloody Valentine   @safarigirlsp

Pairing: Hitman Kylo x Assassin Reader 

Mirror, Mirror    @safarigirlsp

Pairing: possessed!SuperDark!Ben Solo x ILoveYouAnyway!reader

 Short horror stories   @safarigirlsp

Summary: the is a collection of horror blurbs for Adam's characters (Kylo, Flip, Charlie, Pale, Clyde - my favorite blurb here -, Ronnie, Dan, Sackler, Altman, Toby)

Did their headlights look like heaven? @babbushka

Summary: 20k of the purest country creepiness . There is something really fucking wrong with that city, and she finds out about it when a certain friend comes back from war. (Look... this is creepy and brilliantly written. Read it!)

Masterlist  @ohdamnadam

Summary: there are a few dark themed fics here, but there is a lot more of a lot of characters. 

Masterlist  @direnightshade

Summary: they have more killer!Charlie under the tag

Masterpost with dark fics recommended  @safarigirlsp

Summary: a masterpost inside a masterpost. 

Masterlist   @safarigirlsp

Summary: tons of dark fics

Another masterpost with dark!fics recommendations  guess by who?  @safarigirlsp yep 

Summary: well...

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo x reader 

Untitled series AO3

Summary: oneshots in non chronological order of Modern Kylo Ren and his fuck buddy who are actually in love. A great dd/lg story with lots of fluff and nsfw.

@babbushka and everything she’s got going on on AO3

Summary: this is just a reminder to myself that Z is going to start publishing exclusively on AO3 and it’s worthy to go take a look there every now and then

Indebted AO3

Summary: a day in the life of Kylo Ren’s pet. He is soft for her. NSFW. The knights watch… bdsm, master/pet dynamic.

A Mediocre Proposal @azwriting

Summary: Commander of the Resistance!Ben x childhood best friend turned lover!reader. This is what canon should be if movies weren’t chaotic and full of conflict.

Untitled  @feed-the-rats

Summary: Kylo x empress!reader have a baby girl

dd/lg Masterlist  @cosmic-rich

Summary: works on Kylo x little!reader

dd/lg Headcanon  @mandosmimi

Summary: She has more smaller heacanons under the tag.

dd/lg headcanon  @itsmentalillness

Luxury  @daddyrenn

Summary: Picked up from the desert planet Altran, you were the prime gift given to Supreme Leader Ren. He saw a concubine, a pet, given for his pleasure. The underlying message was simple: you were to absorb his negative energy, and direct it elsewhere. No more destroying consoles. No more Force-choking officers during meetings. Well, no killing officers with the Force-choke during meetings. Either way, you were His, and when He wanted you, He would have you. (iambrdened's note: a lil bit of soft Kylo)

Untitled  @thepilotanon

Summary: Kylo's kid braiding his hair.

Interview with a daddy  AO3 link by  ravensandviolins 

Summary: Daddy Dom Kylo, was betrayed by his former little girl and now he seeks a new submissive; will you heal daddy Kylo's broken heart?Modern AU

You belong to me  A03 link by ravensandviolins

Summary: Kylo is controlling and possessive of reader. Need I say more? :-> (iamburdened's note: this takes an unexpected turn)

Prelude series    @thepilotanon

Summary: badass!cute!reader, cute!kylo. I love this series. 

You're mine   @contesa-lui-alucard

Summary: behold Kylo's best AU fanfic ever. It's a 4 part story, Mob!ExtremelySoft!Kylo.

My Kind of Rain  A03 link by clumsycopy, direnightshade

Summary: Soooo cute! Ben after redemption is a lil puppy after friend reader

Size kink!Ben   @direnightshade

Size kink!Ben again   @direnightshade

NSFW heacanon   @novakspector

Summary: Master!Kylo x dark side Padawan!Reader

Masterlist @azwriting

Summary: I am in love with all her work

More Kylo Ren/Ben Solo fic recommendations here

Misc. 

Headcanon masterlist   @feed-the-rats

Chase Me   @sydwritess (Flip Zimmerman)

Summary: not dark, little red riding hood themed, not AU either.

Amateur Hour @safarigirlsp (Flip Zimmerman)

Summary: dark!fic. Flip and his girl go to a camp to investigate some disappearances and face a serial killer on the loose (Jason Voorhees style)

Masterlist  @roanniom

Masterlist  @ohiobluetip

Summary: they have dd/lg Charlie

Flip NSFW masterlist  @babbushka​

[direnightshade]

By now, you all know that @leatherboundbirate​ and I were (and still are) working on a dark!fic collab involving Matt and Charlie. This is it, pals. We couldn’t wait any longer. We were too excited and we had to share the first chapter with you all. Harley and I will be alternating posts, so if you’re not already following her, please do so so that you don’t miss out on the next chapter once it’s posted!

Note:  This is a pretty heavy fic, friends. I am urging you to look at the tags before diving in. Please also be advised that the tags may be updated as the story progresses, so proceed with care and be sure to avoid this altogether if it contains themes that you are uncomfortable with.

Word Count: 1,574 Warnings: Kidnapping, Strangulation, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Cutting, Non-Con - Tags will be updated as the story progresses.

As always, this can be found on AO3.

Chapter One: Patience

“Goddamnit!” mumbles Matt as he swipes the sweat from his brow and pushes his wire-frame glasses up the bridge of his nose. He glances down at the body on the alley’s pavement flooring; fresh ligature marks marring the delicate skin of his victim’s neck--chest no longer heaving with breath. With life.

“GODDAMNIT!” He kicks the big steel dumpster, raging.

“Too fucking quick,” he scolds himself, pacing back and forth like a feral animal, “they always die too fucking quick.” He punches the brick wall of the adjacent building. The black leather gloves protect his knuckles from getting scuffed up, but it doesn’t stop the pain that radiates through his bones, re-centering his focus. He lets out a deep sigh, calming his breath.

“Next time,” he nods, stalking back over to the body after his tantrum and hefting it up over his shoulder, “we’ll get it next time.” Reaching for the dumpster lid, he shoves it with a grunt, the sound of plastic hitting the wall and echoing through the tight space. He hoists the limp body, draping it over the steel edge of the opening, preparing to fling the bottom half in when he spots movement in his peripheral. Swinging around, he sees a tall silhouette approaching.

‘Fuck, fuck, FUCK!’ Matt panics, heart thundering in his chest. ‘Just what I fucking need.’ The stranger’s footsteps echo as they approach closer.

Adding another body to the pile wasn’t on his agenda for the rest of tonight, but ‘Fuck it. No better time than now.’ He shuffles forward, moving to meet the stranger, eager to get this over with and get the hell out of here before anyone else can stroll by this mess. Matt let’s the corded material of his handmade garrote slip out of his hands a bit, just to give the intruder a little taste of what was to come. He stops dead in his tracks at the deep chuckle coming from the shadows.

“I would urge you to strongly reconsider what you are about to attempt. You are in no proper position to overpower me with that.” The voice that emerges from the shadows is calm, cool, and collected—almost as if they are unbothered at all by the garrote dangling from Matt’s hand and the threat that he poses.

A scuff of a sole against the alleyway’s pavement sounds, followed by another, until the stranger in the shadows materializes beneath the single source of light in the entire space: a wall-mounted bulb that has been installed so carefully above the nearby door of one of the buildings the men are sandwiched between. To anyone else, the man would appear severely out of place here; the shoes that he wears are far too clean, too immaculate for a filthy area such as this, his pressed trousers and button-down free of wrinkles combined with the watch that adorns his wrist scream of someone meant for places nicer than the one the men find themselves in currently.

But Charlie Barber is far from out of place here.

These are the places in which he feels most at home, where he feels most alive when his victims are nothing more than lifeless shells of their former selves dangling precariously in his strong, capable arms. The very same that make quick and easy work of ripping the garrote from the blonde’s grip when Matt lunges towards him with a snarl. The weapon barely makes a sound when it lands, the wooden ends clunking against the pavement with a dull thud.

Even in the darkness of the shadows cast by the barely lit space, coupled with the cover of nightfall, Charlie is still privy to the look of sheer surprise written across the man’s features at having been bested. A smirk curves Charlie’s lips upward, satisfied at having been the best once more.

“Dumping a body in the dumpster?” Charlie clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth to form a tut of disapproval. “Bit amatuer hour, don’t you think? Though,” he says, pausing more so for dramatic effect than anything else, as he steps around the blonde and towards the dumpster, “judging by the sound of it upon my arrival, I’d say this night hadn’t exactly gone according to plan.”

Charlie lifts the lid, taking a curious look inside to spot a pretty young thing growing as cold as the night they find themselves in, her skin already losing its color. With a nearly inaudible ‘hmph’, he closes the lid and turns to face the other man. “Seems as though you could do with a bit of help—in more than one arena, I’d say.”

Matt suppresses his barely contained anger at being caught. Even by someone so seemingly calm after witnessing a body being dumped--especially by someone like that. ‘Who the fuck is this guy?’

“And you’re the one to help me?” Matt questions with a bite, fists clenching at his sides,  suspicious of the too-comfortable stranger. He eyes the man, taking in his appearance. Really taking it in. It just doesn’t add up; someone this...clean...so put together would normally be running for the hills, dialing the police as fast as their fingers could type the three digits. “You look like a fuckin college professor or some shit.”

The left corner of Charlie’s mouth curls into a lop-sided smirk upon hearing the other man’s statement. He could have been once, had he actually taken the offer presented to him upon his last visit out West. But Los Angeles never did hold the same appeal to him as New York; he’ll take this concrete jungle, over-stuffed as it is with its population, everyone cramped and compacted into three hundred and two square miles. It is so much easier to hunt here, less effort but with more reward.

“You didn’t even take your time with her, did you,” he asks, avoiding the question altogether. Charlie stuffs his hands deep into the front pockets of his slacks, the fingers of his right hand now touching the metal of the scalpel that he conceals so well. “Didn’t even take a moment to savor the fear, no doubt. Not judging by the way you’ve hauled her up and dumped her in here.” The side of his left shoe taps against the metal of the dumpster whilst he speaks. “Which is another problem in and of itself, I might add. Did you not think she wouldn’t be discovered the second she begins to rot; when the smell of her is so strong not even the rats will want to come here?”

He takes a step forward, hands still firmly in place within the confines of his pockets. “Did you even think to check the garbage collection schedule? She’ll be here a week, plenty of time for her to be found.”

‘Shit,’ Matt thinks to himself. ‘Fucking sloppy.’ Of course he knew the schedule--very intimately. Working in the New York City Sanitation department offers its own...benefits; knowing when and where dumpsters would be collected, for instance.

“Like you said, this night did not go according to plan,” Matt grits through clenched teeth.

He had planned to play with her for a few days before wrapping his rope around her delicate neck and pulling; watch her face puff up and eyes water from the lack of oxygen; see the rope-patterned indents left behind on her skin afterward. Then he would have dumped the body in whichever dumpster in whatever section of the city that was doing pick-ups.  But he got so caught up in the irritation of his own impatience, having to think on his feet, making amateur fucking mistakes and getting caught.

Stalking, that shit was easy. He never had any trouble sneaking up on his prey. He blended in with crowds so well; just a quiet, average-looking guy, nothing suspicious about him...until he loses it in a fit of rage and frustration. For the most part, he is able to keep at-bay when in the general public, biting down his anger and saving it for when he is alone, not wanting to draw attention to himself--he doesn’t even acquaint with his coworkers. The difficult part was strangling his victim just enough to make them pass out so he could get them moved to a discreet secret location.

‘But that all went to hell when this pompous asshole marched into the alley.’

Even in the dim glow of the single bulb overhead, Charlie can still make out the time on the watch that adorns his left wrist. It is still early yet, and though tonight was meant for him and him alone—lest he forget that KC is still back at home awaiting his arrival like the good pretty thing that she is—he supposes he can make time to instill in this man before him what he seems to be lacking.

“No, it surely did not.” Charlie inhales a deep breath through his nose just as he drops his arm down at his side once more. “The night is still young, however, and if you are amenable, I am more than willing to show you the few tricks I keep up my sleeve.”

The smile that Charlie had worn so easily previously now shifts, morphing into that of a smirk. “Let me show you what a little patience can do for you. Let me show you how thrilling the hunt can be.”

[star-killer-md]

Happy Hunting

A/N: Hello everyone, two updates in one week I know. Very out of character for me. Anyway, this is my first like actively dark fic so please be warned and mind the tags, it is dead dove. This has been sitting in my docs since October and I’m excited to get it out. There will be a part two to this with way more smut if y’all want it. And of course credit to @direnightshade for coming up with serial killer!Charlie, go check her out! Thanks to @sacklersdoll as well for being an absolute babe and reading over this for me. 

Warnings: Dead Dove, mentions of murder, mentions of fantasized violence against reader, Charlie is a murderer in this so ya know, drugs used on a non-reader character, mentions of blood, mentions of sex, implied noncon, stalking behavior, allusions to predator/prey dynamics reader is implied afab/fem presenting but no pronouns are used for them, once again, this is a dark fic so be mindful of the tags and let me know if I’ve missed one. 

Part 2

Ship: Serial Killer!Charlie x Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: Charlie is branching out, searching for some new hunting spots when he finds the perfect next victim. Soon he decides he wants more than to simply add you to his body count, but murder is tricky and not everything goes as he planned. 

He’d been frequenting different bars as of late, branching out into new territory. There were rules to these games, after all—rules to the hunt, rules to keep it sustainable. Charlie knew well by now that staying in the same place for too long would only deplete his selection of targets. And he couldn’t have anyone making connections, so he moved around but always stuck to what he knew. 

That was another rule: never hunt on unfamiliar land. It was just asking for trouble. With such a sensitive, calculated act, one could never afford any random variables. 

This was how he’d been so successful. 

He knew the rules, he played by them and he reaped the rewards. 

And he had just found his next victim. 

You were ordering a drink, lovely figure bent over the bar top while you waited. The curve of your back, exposed by the sheer lack of fabric, and the flicker of your tongue over the rim of the glass told him all he needed to know. 

Yes, you would be a perfect addition to his collection. 

But this was still too new, too fresh. So he settled for watching, memorizing the way your throat moved when you swallowed and the crease of your thighs as you crossed them. His hands itched to spread you apart, see how wet he knew you’d be. Soon, he reminded himself. 

Patience was the mark of a good hunter, and he’d have you in his hands if he simply waited for the most opportune moment. He’d get to watch your throat collapse under his weight and feel the fluttering of your cunt as he fucked you through the fear. 

It would be glorious. 

And well worth the wait. 

***

One week later saw him back in the same bar, ordering a drink and watching as you swayed to the soft music playing. He knew you’d be here, Charlie had a sense about these things. 

It helped as well that he’d trailed you to your apartment, curiously far away from this section of the city. But you seemed to spend quite a bit of time in this area. Took walks in the park nearby, and stopped in the odd cafe every so often. Maybe you worked around here, he hadn’t quite figured that out yet. Though, it had only been a week. And where you worked wasn’t all that important to him. 

No, what was important was now. 

Now that he was sipping his Old Fashioned and watching you make eyes at another man across the room. 

He was shorter than Charlie, but not by much. The way he stumbled a bit when crossing the dance floor to you told him your new admirer had more than a bit to drink as well. 

What an amateur. 

You didn’t seem to mind, though, as you guided his hands to your waist and moved your hips with such fluidity, Charlie couldn’t have torn his gaze away if he’d wanted to. This man with his dark hair and hands that engulfed you let you lead him in clumsy circles, trailing like a puppy. 

He was very nearly drooling and you knew it. 

Charlie sneered and nursed his drink, taking it all in. The way your feet avoided being trodden on, the way you pretended not to notice when the man’s hands wandered lower, the way you glanced up through your lashes and smirked when he followed your lips with his. 

All so practiced. 

But the lumbering idiot grabbing handfuls of your ass in front of the whole bar was so predictable, Charlie wasn’t surprised in the least. 

You wouldn’t look so self assured when you were with him. 

Charlie was too full of surprises. 

He was something you’d never encountered before. 

And wouldn’t again, he thought with a chuckle. He’d be your best and your last and that was how it should be. 

Charlie knocked back the last of his drink, setting his glass down on the counter as you led your new find in his obnoxious, neon green sneakers off towards the doors. Your eyes never left the man trailing behind you, locked in place even as you disappeared into the New York night. 

He wouldn’t go after you this time. 

But soon, he thought. Soon those pretty eyes would find him and wouldn’t he be a magnificent last sight?

***

Charlie was trying something new again. Dangerous maybe, but progress was never made without taking a few risks. 

So here he was, walking through a park in broad daylight. It was the same one he’d seen you only days before, walking through the canopy of leaves that were so hard to find in the city. There was a bench positioned right under a few limbs that were already shedding red and brown onto the asphalt path. He sat on the cold metal and waited. 

You’d show up momentarily. He had learned you came here around this time in the afternoon during the week. Always dragging your feet through the grass and staring at the sky while you walked the little looping path. Maybe you came for inspiration. It was a nice place to write, he thought. He’d have to bring his notebook next time. 

That could be his keepsake from you, this place. He could come to this bench and sit and remember how you looked scuffing your heels in the dirt, facing up to the heavens. 

Just like you were now. 

Right on time as well. You’d always stuck him as a creature of habit, something he supposed you both had in common. 

Your hands were buried deep in the pockets of your coat, collar turned up against the wind. He watched the subtle shake of your spine, working its way from your head down to your fingers as you shivered in the cold. 

His teeth caught his lip, sucking it between them as he thought of all the ways he could warm you, make your skin sticky with sweat and cum and blood, make you tremble all over again with the pleasure from his cock sinking into your warm, wet cunt. Charlie could quite nearly taste the hazy tang of you on his tongue, feel the way your thighs would tense and pull to pin his head, but he’d want you tied down. He’d need you splayed out and restrained, he could already tell—having only observed you this short time—you’d be a fighter. 

And didn’t that make you the best kind of prey?

He loved it when they fought, when they struggled, when they kicked and spit and bit at his hands. Or when they were so broken, bloody and hopeless and crawling on their knees, scrambling to get away. 

There was something in the way their eyes looked, something primal, like they knew what he was. Like they knew he was a hunter, a predator, and they were trapped under his claws. Wild and insatiable and delicious. 

He was hard in his pants just thinking about it—at the images his mind concocted. You with your sultry hips swaying in the dim bar light and that locked in look in your eyes. You, in that barely there clothing and the set of your jaw that says you’re just begging for him to catch you in his snare. 

He knew you wanted it, even if you didn’t quite yet. 

Charlie’s hand dropped down to palm at his throbbing length, his long coat covering most of the movement. It was cool enough that no one else but the two of you had wondered out this late in the day. So he brushed over the sensitive head of his cock and watched you making circles around the path until you stopped. 

That was new. That was a break in the pattern, and it made his hand pause. 

You froze and planted your feet on the earth, staring intently into a little copse of trees and shrubs. The barrier of leaves formed a small hidden space that you slip into easily, practiced and lithe like a cat weaving through iron bars. He could only catch glimpses of your face from between the branches, tilted up with eyes closed. 

You looked alive, that was really the only way he could put it. Charlie watched as the shadow of your body lowered itself onto the cold dirt and breathed in the scent of the dying foliage. Under the curve of the roots he could see it: your face scrunched up, lips parted, plump and bitten with your chin tilted back towards the sky. 

He couldn’t look away from the strange display. 

Couldn’t help but feel like he knew the look on your face. 

***

This time, running into you really was an accident. 

He was just stopping for coffee, on his way to work and rushing. Traffic was bad, but it was his turn to run for drinks and there would be an uproar if he showed up empty handed. And there you were, headphones in and seated right by one of the windows in the little cafe. 

Your face was half lit by the laptop screen you were leaning over. Writing, he supposed based on the way your fingers flew across the keys. So nimble, he thought, how skilled those hands must be. How lovely they’d look wrapped around his dick, lips spilling drool and split open— 

“What can I get started for you today?” the barista asked. 

Charlie’s head whipped back around to the overly cheery face behind the counter. He frowned, throwing glances back at you while he rattled off his list of orders. 

“Alrighty, can I get a name for the order?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw your fingers still on the keys, “Charlie is fine.” 

“Great, I’ll get that out for you as soon as I can.” 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, tucking his wallet away and moving to lean against the far wall. 

From here he could look at you head on while everyone else would simply assume he was staring out the window, watching the way today’s light drizzle had doused the city in sepia grayscale lighting. You had gone back to typing, foot tapping on the rough wood floors. He studied your legs, the way they bounced to whatever rhythm was playing in your ears. 

They’d look good shaking, he thought, crawling breathlessly away and scrambling against the cool tile of his kitchen. 

What a joy it was to see you so unexpectedly. Certainly one of the better parts of this morning, even if it was a bit strange as well. This part of the city was a considerable distance from your apartment building. Maybe you liked the shop too, stumbled across it the way his crew had and been drawn in by the aesthetics and quiet atmosphere. Charlie didn’t have many regular stomping grounds but this place was one of them. 

If he was a better man, he might have taken you to coffee here, participated in banal small talk and gotten to know your favorite authors, where you worked and what a creature like you did there. If you hated your boss, if you were quiet about it, if you sent emails with exclamation points to seem friendly and non-confrontational. 

But this was sort of like a date. He had learned something new about you every time, even if you weren’t aware of it. In time, he’d learn even more, see all of you. See what you looked like in your purest form—primal fear in your eyes and blood on your lips. 

And you would get to know about him as well, in time. He’d show you everything, all of it. 

With every new meeting, the feeling grew stronger. 

This wasn’t just about the kill anymore. 

You would be the one, Charlie knew it in his gut. Different from the others who fell so witlessly into his trap, took the bait and barely had the wherewithal to even struggle as he reeled them in. They were dead fish on his hook, limp and rotting before he could drag them to shore. 

But not you. 

You were alive and kicking and perfect. 

You would be so good for him. 

“Charlie!” the barista called, breaking him from his reverie. 

As he swooped in to grab the two drink trays and hurried back out into the rain, he stole one last glance in your direction. 

Silhouetted by an errant ray of sunlight, you struck an immaculate picture. So much so that he missed the way your eyes trailed him out the door, catching on the edge of his coat and following him out into the gloom of the New York streets. 

But he was too busy engraving the image of your slightly curved spine, the arch of your shoulders and neck, to notice your stare on him all the way down the block until he melted into the background of the city. 

***

It was late and Charlie felt worn thin. The subway platform was crowded as always, despite the hour encroaching closely on midnight. They really were true, all those awful cliches about how the city never sleeps. 

He sighed, moved farther to the tile wall so he could avoid being tossed into the tracks by the rustling of passersby. There were dozens of people shuffling around on their tired feet, bitching about any number of things or playing music too loud. The smell of stale piss and the bleach public transit staff used to mask it was even stronger after the rain. Charlie wrinkled his nose against the onslaught and watched the westbound train come and go, rattling like a bull down the tracks and sweeping away passengers as it went. A slip of paper from the wall fluttered off in the draft and settled in a puddle on the ground. 

And a familiar face stared up at him. 

Large black text framed the photo. “MISSING” it read in all caps that quickly dissolved in the New York rain water. Rain here had a tendency to wash away everything just when he needed it the most. He reminisced about the way her blood had slipped down the sewer grates so easily, leaving his shoes free of any evidence. 

She had been particularly sloppy—not something to be proud of—but Charlie was nothing if not adaptive.

He learned from his mistakes.

His eyes flicked over the subway wall and was met with a plethora of blank xerox faces staring back. Most were young, photos taken from cell phones with lips stretched wide and smiling. There were more than a few men as well. Those he did not recognize, with dark hair and dark eyes, and arrogance clear even in pictures. Some of the others he did know, with softer looks—he always had a weak spot for faces like that. 

But they were nothing like you. Besides, all that pretty had melted away so quickly under the knife. And you would be different. 

You would bear him well.  

You would look so pretty hanging from the subway walls, grinning out from the tile or the occasional telephone pole. Charlie didn’t think he’d mind it much if someone made a poster for you. That way he’d get a pleasant surprise while walking down the city streets when he was coming home late like this and had been away from you for too long. 

It had been so long since he’d seen you last. Opening night was quickly approaching and work had been taking up far too much time. It had gotten to the point that he saw your face in every crowd. Walking from the station to his apartment he’d see you in the figures smoking on a neighboring balcony or in the cereal aisle at the grocery store or mingling with the backstage crew out behind the theater. 

And now as well.

In the crowd, peeking out from behind one of the dusty, graffiti-covered columns, he swore that were standing—the curve of your back, the set of your shoulders, the lock of your jaw. Charlie’s feet moved without his noticing, carrying him towards you. 

In the distance, the northbound train was approaching, he could feel the rumble of it in his bones as he pushed and maneuvered a trail through the crowd, but you were still slipping away. Faster than him and smaller, weaving easily through bystanders without notice. 

The train rushed past him, blowing locks of hair into his face that whipped at his eyes and forced him to stop. He cursed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair and trying to catch sight of you again. Though as he looked closer, the figure retreating was just another faceless traveler, their gate was similar but not quite the same, steps too short and heavy. 

Charlie felt scoffed at himself, at the shameless desperation, and allowed the tide of people to sweep him into the train compartment. 

His hand gripped the standing rail hard in a fist and his eyes stared out onto the platform, tiled wall of monochrome faces staring back. He looked out until it disappeared as the subway roared down the tracks once again and left them all behind. 

***

He was finally here. 

Finally after weeks of rehearsals running into the small hours of the morning and a mess of late night dinners, rounds of drinks with cast mates, he was finally here. 

In your bar, watching you dance again in the dim light. 

Charlie would never tire of the sight, the way you moved to the music was addicting in its own right. He’d only just wandered in less than an hour ago, ordered his usual and taken a seat at the bar. From here he had the perfect view, the door was behind him so escape was simple and you were visible just across the table top, swaying to the soft beat. 

He wanted so badly to devour you. 

It was a hunger the likes of which he had never known. It made him reckless, excited him as nothing had in so long. He’d always heard hunters talk about their most prized prey. Seen the massive antlers hung on walls in sets and in film, and he understood it now. You were a trophy, a wonder of nature and he would be the one to win you. 

Keep you in your own trophy room for him to see you dance like that whenever he wanted. 

There were not many people tonight, so you were still swaying alone, not having found a partner  yet for the night as you had done before. 

Charlie was stuck on the way your jugular was highlighted amongst the shadows of neon lights when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He was nearly blinded by the bright white screen as he read the notification for an incoming call from his stage manager. 

Shit.

He left his drink at the bar and stepped away for a moment, to the corner farther from the speakers and swiped to answer. She sounded frantic, muttering and hard to hear over the music. His supporting actress had broken her wrist from what he was able to gather, an understudy was being arranged. He huffed and thanked her, asking to be kept updated and saying that no, he absolutely could not give his input at this very moment, he was, in fact, preoccupied. 

When she finally consented to calling back later, he turned and immediately stopped in his tracks. You were there, standing at the bar right next to his abandoned seat and staring right into his eyes. There was a subtle smile playing at your lips, and you rested an elbow on the counter, never breaking your gaze as he slowly walked back. 

Had he been caught? 

Charlie cleared his throat and cursed his racing heart. A sweaty palm combed through his hair as joined you at the bar. Your smile only grew. 

“Mind if I join you?”

He nearly choked on his spit. 

“No, of course not,” he grabbed his glass and you clinked yours against the rim. 

You both sipped, and he tried not to stare too long at how your arms looked resting on the wood. This was...not something he had anticipated. But leave it to you to surprise him. 

“Do you come here often?” you asked, swirling the liquor in your cup. 

Odd that you hadn’t asked his name, but then again, he hadn’t bothered to ask yours either. He knew the constants and vowels of it by heart. 

“I wouldn’t say often,” he shrugged and took a long drink, something to numb him a bit and calm the shaking in his hands. “Only when it’s convenient.” 

“It’s nice here,” you said. “I like the crowd.” 

“Yeah?” Charlie didn’t know how to reply. He hadn’t expected to actually speak with you so soon. 

“No one really comes in to talk, if you know what I mean.” You pulled your lip between your teeth and nibbled at it. 

He could feel his cock twitch in his jeans at the way you bit at the flesh. 

“Is that so,” he mused. 

The look you gave him was succulent, mouthwatering and exquisite, “Wanna dance?”

He shouldn’t. It wasn’t time. There was an order to these things, there were rules and this was breaking them but, oh fuck you just kept looking at him and he was going to drown in how good it was. Charlie downed the rest of his drink and let you take his hand, pulling him slowly into the crowd of other dancers. Just as he had watched you do a dozen times, like he fantasized you’d to do with him. 

Dancing was never really his thing but when you placed his big palms on your hips and let him feel you sway, his feet found their place. You turned in his grip—back to his chest and ass pressed to his front—and moved. 

His vision tunneled. Homing in until the room melted away and there was nothing but your body and his hands. 

***

The streets were dark and empty, but your hand was so scaldingly hot in his that Charlie barely noticed. 

“Do you wanna go back to mine?”

Your voice rang out in his head. The music and the lights were brighter and louder and everything grew hazy the longer he touched you. 

God, he shouldn’t. 

It wasn’t time and hunting had rules but…

But this could be good. Go back to your place, learn the way in, maybe where you keep your keys, the door code and placement of security cameras—make it much easier on himself further down the line when you were ready. When he could take you. 

There were leaves crunching under his feet and the night seemed to grow darker and darker as you led him forward. 

“We can cut through here,” you said, turning to flash him another smile, tugging at his arm and making him stumble. 

He was losing track of where his limbs existed in space, strange since he’d only had the one drink. His eyes were dry trying to adjust to the pitch blackness he was so unused to. It never got this dark in the city, too much light pollution but there were barely any shadows here, too far away from the bustling center of town. 

Something cold and metal brushed his thigh as he followed you deeper into the darkness and towards the twinkling street lamps in the distance. 

The bench, he realized, where he sat and observed you walking your circles. 

This was the park. 

The copse of trees was just ahead. 

Charlie knew where you lived, somewhere far into midtown and not near here. Something unfamiliar was taking over him. His mouth felt thick, his face beaded with sweat and his chest was growing tighter by the minute. This was wrong, he should go, but his legs were like lead and as much as he tried to wrench his hand from your grip...he couldn’t. 

The shrubs caught on his pants as you yanked hard on his arm and sent him tumbling forward into the dirt. He tried to catch himself, but his arms stayed limp at his sides. Face down, he landed with earth and dried leaves sticking to his cheeks. Your weight settled on top of him, thighs gripping his hips and hands planted on either side of his head. 

“You bitch,” he gasped into the ground. “What did you give me?” 

“It’s nothing you’re unfamiliar with,” your breath was so hot on his ear, tongue flicking out to lick up the shell of it and bite down hard on the lobe. 

“You fucking whore,” Charlie hissed, trying to throw you off. He wanted to pin you down, fuck the plans he’d choke you out right here, right now. Wrap his big hands around your throat and watch you claw and grasp at him— 

You were supposed to be perfect. 

Supposed to be his. 

Your nails skimmed up his scalp, grabbing a handful of his hair and jerking it back. His neck strained as you pressed your cheek to his, other hand coming to cup his jaw harshly. 

“Listen to me you arrogant piece of shit,” you snarled, no honey sweetness dripping from your lips now. He still wanted desperately to taste them. “I’m assuming you're new to this game so let me explain some things to you. Now be a good boy and listen, yeah?” 

Charlie tried to shake his head from your grip, work your fingers into his mouth and bite but your hand slipped to his throat and tightened just enough to restrict the blood pulsing through his carotid. He stilled, pursing his lips and nodded.

“Much better,” you whispered. He could only make out the blur of your face from his peripheral, feel the heat of your skin pressed to his. “There is one rule and only one to this dance of ours, do you know what it is?” 

He grit his teeth, silent until your nails ripped into his hair again and he groaned as the strands separated from his scalp

“Why don’t you tell me,” he bit the ‘t’ and waited. 

“You never shoot another hunter, dumbass,” you spat. “You make sure whatever the fuck you go after it isn’t wearing a bright orange fucking vest.” 

“What?” he was panting now, the ground fading in and out as his vision went dark. 

“Did you know prey animals never have forward facing eyes?” you stroked a finger down the bridge of his nose. “Cause they’re always looking out, always watching the horizon for predators and the sign of a good predator is that we never let them catch us.”

Charlie’s neck grew weaker, the only thing holding him up was your hands on his throat and buried in his silky hair. 

“So the next time you go scoping for your next pretty young thing to kill, make sure it can’t look you in both eyes.” 

“You, you’re—” his speech was slurred, the words tumbling out in a jumble. 

Is this what they felt like? All the others when he was tying them down and preparing for the slaughter. 

“Yeah. So next time you think about branching out, don’t,” you let his head drop to the dirt and pressed his nose into the soil. 

This is where you took yours. That man with the neon sneakers. When laid here, when he watched you breath in the earth. This is where you came to remember. 

“These are my grounds, so stay the fuck off of them,” you slid off his back, pressing a knee into his hip and pushing so he flopped over limply on the leaf litter. “I won’t be so nice next time.” 

He watched blearily as you leaned over him, settling back and straddling his lap. You rocked your hips once lazily against his cock, still half hard and tenting in his jeans. “Pity I’m letting you go, you’re exactly my type.” 

Charlie swallowed, tongue like chalk as the world faded out around him. You leaned in close, patting his cheek twice and chuckling. It was so dark in this part of New York, he could actually see the stars as you shifted away and sauntered off into the night. Your parting words echoed in his head as he stared, immobile, up at the night sky.

“Happy hunting, Charlie.” 

[mandymc]

I didn’t really love you But I’m pretty when I lie (x)

(killer!charlie)

[candycanes19]

@direnightshade

Did you ask for more Charlie??? Lots and lots of Charlie is needed!!!!!! ❤❤❤❤❤❤

[mrs-gucci]

sunday funday #5: WORD SEARCH PROMPTS!!

this weekend, I’m doing something pretty different that I think will be super fun for everyone involved: word search prompts!

here’s the Sunday Funday Masterlist in case you’re new around here and/or just have no idea what the sunday funday dealio is.

directions for requesting are below the cut! **I will only be accepting requests from Sat. 1/15~Sun. 1/16. my general writing requests are not open, so please don’t send any to me, and any late requests for this event will not be accepted.**

before you begin, though, I’d like to say something. 

this activity relies heavily on an honors system, aka I’m trusting you to not just pick the AU and character pairing that you really want instead of doing the steps properly. I ask that you please go through and do the activity properly & be honest with your answers in your request, because I think it could be really interesting and a lot of wacky & fun pairings could come out of it!

thanks y’all :)

STEP ONE: find an AU!

look at the word search puzzle below and THE FIRST AU WORD/s (there are some 2-word ones that are combined as one word) THAT YOU FIND is the one you request :)

AU’s included in the puzzle: Law Enforcement, Serial Killer, Angel, Demon, Sugar Daddy, Wild West, Porn star, College, Firefighter, Royalty, Doctor, Priest, Werewolf, Lawyer, Mafia, Pirate, Boxer, CEO, Hogwarts, and Professor.

[obviously, if the AU you end up finding first is uncomfortable for you personally, then you’re more than welcome to choose another/the second one you find]

(note that there are NO DIAGONALS on this one. only straight across or up-and-down)

STEP TWO: find an A.D. character!

look at the word search puzzle below and THE FIRST ADAM DRIVER CHARACTER THAT YOU FIND is the one you request alongside the AU you found in the first word search :)

Characters included in the puzzle: Maurizio Gucci, Flip Zimmerman, Clyde Logan, Kylo Ren, Charlie Barber, Jacques Le Gris, Henry McHenry, Adam Sackler, Paterson, Phillip Altman, and Ronnie Peterson.

(again, note that there are NO DIAGONALS. only straight across or up-and-down)

STEP THREE: give me 3-5 “plot” words or a setting/dynamic for your word search combination!

sticking to the usual Sunday Funday format :)

need an example of what I mean? here’s a variety of ‘em! (all of these I’ve written already on my first SF, if you’d like to read the works)

“power outage in the building”

“tour in Vegas”

“late on the rent”

“stuck in a elevator”

“you have work early tomorrow”

“forgot you’re in pjs”

“campfire, stars, & meaningful conversation”

so, by the end of it, you should have a request that goes somewhat like this (this is just a random, bare-bones example): Doctor Charlie Barber needs an extra set of hands in his office.

each piece written for this event will not exceed 800 words. I’m limiting my allotted word count in order to, hopefully, be able to get more pieces written. requests for this event are open now and will close at 10pm on sunday.

all requests must be submitted to my Inbox. please take a look at my Requests FAQ post if you aren’t familiar with my body of work or haven’t read through it yet before submitting any requests. thank you :)

I can’t wait to see what amazing (and potentially crazy/weird-ass) combinations & awesome ideas come out of this!!

(gold glitter graphic courtesy of @firefly-graphics)

[iamakiller]

the apt pupil

Wordcount: 2000

Warnings: Murder, obviously.  Mention of drug use.

Notes: Interacting with the charming Mr. Massey the other day reminded me of another insufferable (un)creative type I once knew.  Or did I?  This is fictional, of course!

His name was Chad. Of course it was.

Chad came from a fine theater pedigree.  His father, a renowned director.  His mother, an eminent producer.  The mantel in their Upper East Side home was brimming with awards, and there was no doubt in Chad’s mind that someday soon, he would be adding to the collection.  

However, as he entered the final year of his bachelor’s in theater production, it was starting to become clear that perhaps his lineage, charm and considerable good looks were not quite enough to allow him to continue to coast.

For the first time in his life, Chad was failing.

And that’s where his classmate came in.

***

Charlie Barber ...

Quiet. Unassuming.  His nose always stuck in a book.  Nothing special to look at, in his thrifted clothes and unflattering glasses.  Nothing remarkable at all.

But this unobtrusive exterior belied a considerable amount of talent, which even self-obsessed Chad couldn’t fail to observe.  It shone out of him with the radiance of a thousand suns.  Every piece of work he produced was undeniably brilliant.

What a pity for Charlie that in the theater world, it isn’t what you know, but who you know that makes or breaks a career.  

But what good fortune for Chad.

He made his approach after class one Friday afternoon.  “I’ve got a proposal for you,” he said, without preamble.  “You need my help.”

Charlie clutched his books closer to his chest, and looked at him without saying anything.  

Chad felt very uncomfortable for a moment, before his usual overconfidence settled back into place, and he blustered on.  “Talent can only get you so far, my friend.  You need connections.  Influence.  Social skills.  I can help you with all of that.”

His classmate cleared his throat, and shifted from foot to foot.  He chewed on the inside of his lip.  He was definitely considering the offer.  “Why?” he ventured, finally.

A wolfish smile spread across Chad’s handsome face.    “Let’s just say I’m an altruist.  Genius like yours deserves to be nurtured.  Let me be your friend, Charlie.  I only ask one small thing in return …”

A pleased flush had spread across Charlie’s pale, freckled cheeks at the word genius.  He was eating out of Chad’s palm already. “What do you need?” he breathed.

“Perhaps you would be so kind as to help me with my studies, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble?  Given all the networking I do, I may have found myself falling slightly behind.  What do you say?”

Charlie accepted.

Of course he did.  

This was going to be so easy.

***

Chad “networked” at least five nights a week, if not more.  After he achieved a C on his latest assignment, he kindly allowed Charlie to tag along one night.

Charlie watched with big eyes as Chad snorted a line of cocaine from the bathroom counter. Chad straightened up, rubbing at his stinging nose, and offered Charlie the little white bag of powder.  “You should try some,” he said.  “It’s the best.  Makes you feel like a god.”

“Sounds awful,” said Charlie, with a wry little smile.  “No thank you.”

“Oh go on, Charlie, don’t be a bore.”  Chad’s voice was louder now. Everything he had to say was even more important than usual.  “You need the confidence boost, don’t you?  It might even finally help you to lose your virginity.”

Charlie blushed, and pushed his glasses up his nose.  “I’m not a virgin, you know,” he said.  “I’ve had sex before.”

Chad raised his eyebrows in disbelief.  “Oh really?  And how was it?”

Charlie closed his eyes for a moment, remembering.  “She just lay there,” he admitted, eventually.  “And it was a bit awkward afterwards.  But … I really liked it.”

“Perhaps you’re not as hopeless as I’d feared, buddy,” Chad said, slapping him on the back.  

After a couple of drinks and another of Chad’s coke-fueled pep-talks in the bathroom, Charlie disappeared into the night with a brunette friend of a friend who was wasted enough to not seem to mind his inept attempts at following Chad’s instructions on how to be smooth.

With a smile like a proud father, Chad watched him go.

***

Another assignment, and a B this time.  Chad celebrated by taking Charlie to see an optician, and then on a shopping spree.

In his new contact lenses, and wearing clothes that actually fit him for once, Charlie looked like a completely different person.  He stammered his thanks all the way back to the subway, and Chad basked in the spotlight of his gratitude.

As they waited for the Sixth Avenue Line, Chad’s attention was drawn to one of the many missing person’s posters that had been pasted to the pillar next to them.  It was a brunette female, about their age.  Very pretty.  She looked vaguely familiar.

Charlie followed his gaze.  “It’s terrible, isn’t it?” he said, softly.  “All these girls going missing.  I heard them say on the news that they think there might be a serial killer on the loose.

“If you ask me, they deserve it,” Chad scoffed.  “Those dumb bitches shouldn’t be so trusting.”

Charlie nodded earnestly.  “You’re so right, Chad,” he said.  “They shouldn’t.”

***

After an A on an assessment right before Christmas, Chad invited Charlie over for the holidays.  He knew he was an orphan – some tragic tale that he hadn’t bothered listening to properly because quite frankly he didn’t give a shit – so he really was being quite selfless, saving him from yet another day spent eating ten cent ramen noodles on his own and doing god knows what he did in his free time.

Chad’s parents took to Charlie immediately, especially his father.  They spent almost the whole of Charlie’s visit talking enthusiastically about plays and novels that Chad had never even heard of, let alone bothered to read.  Chad had never seen his friend so talkative, so alive as when he talked about the productions he’d seen, and the ones he one day hoped he’d have the opportunity to make.  

“What about you, Chad?” asked his father, trying to bring him into the conversation.  But Chad just shrugged, and went back to his cellphone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to the theater. Probably the last time he’d been forced to attend one of his dad’s boring opening nights …

He felt relieved when Charlie was gone, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on why that was.  But he definitely didn’t like the way his parents kept mentioning his friend fondly over the weeks and months that ensued ...

***

There was only so much that Charlie could do to help Chad with his final piece.  The old adage was true: you can take a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.  And you can give a budding young director all the help and advice in the world, but you can’t make up for a lack of imagination or creativity when it comes staging a performance …

Charlie’s piece – which happened to directly precede it - was lauded by their tutor, and their classmates.  Years from now, everyone would still be talking about it.

Chad’s was ripped to shreds.  He was humbled, humiliated, in front of everyone he knew.

When he walked into the party that night, Charlie was already there.  He had one girl sitting on his lap, and another clinging to his arm.  A large group of people had gathered around him, and they all seemed to be hanging on to his every word.

Chad hung back, watching.  Something twisted in his gut.  His blood felt like it was rising to a boil.  In the entire duration of his short, charmed life, he’d never felt anything resembling this sensation before.  Had he been more self-aware, he might have realized that it was jealousy.

As the night wore on, he made trip after trip to the bathroom, until the little plastic bag was empty and he had given himself a nosebleed.  He drank so much cheap Scotch that his limbs went numb.  But the burning, boiling, itching sensation in his veins only grew worse.

Finally, he found Charlie out on the roof, having a cigarette.  It was the first time he’d managed to catch him alone the entire evening. And since when did he smoke?

“Congratulation on your success,” Chad choked out.  The words tasted like ash in his mouth.  He took a couple of staggering steps forward.  God, his head was spinning.  

“Thank you,” said Charlie, evenly.  “I’m so sorry things didn’t go to plan for you.  I know how hard you tried.”

“You were supposed to help me,” Chad whined, sounding exactly like a petulant toddler. “Like I helped you.”

Charlie smiled lopsidedly.  “I did my best,” he said.  “But there’s only so much you can do with such a hopeless case.”

It took a while for the words to sink in, and for Chad to realize that he was being insulted.  “Fuck you!  Don’t start getting above yourself! You’re still a nobody,” he spat out.

Charlie was still smiling.  “I was a nobody,” he corrected.  “But now I’m somebody. Thanks to you, friend.  I’ll always be grateful.  I’ll always remember you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Chad slurred.  “Why are you talking about me like that?  Are you going somewhere?”

He watched as Charlie dropped the cigarette butt on the ground, and stubbed it out.  As the other man advanced toward him, he wondered why he’d never noticed how tall he was.  How broad.  How strong. “You shouldn’t stand so close to the edge,” Charlie told him. “You’re drunk, and high as a kite.  Something bad could happen.”

Nothing bad had ever happened to Chad in his entire life, until today.  He couldn’t relate.  “Like what?”

Charlie’s smile was a wolf’s grin, sharp and dangerous.  His eyes were razor-bright.  “Even now, you don’t get it,” he said gently. Softly.  Like he was talking to a particularly naive child.  “You’re so dumb, Chad.  So trusting.  Like those bitches on the missing person’s posters.”

Chad was so wasted he couldn’t even process what he was hearing.  He just didn’t get it at all. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Charlie sighed, and rolled his eyes. “This isn’t my usual style,” he said.  “But needs must, I suppose.  Oh, Chad.  I told you not to stand so close to the edge.”

And with one hand on the middle of Chad’s chest, he gave him a little shove.

By the time Chad registered what was happening, it was too late.

***

It was such a lovely memorial service.  

Everybody had such kind things to say about Chad that it was obvious most of them hadn’t known him well at all.

Chad’s father came and found Charlie at the wake, and pulled him into a hug so unexpected that it took Charlie a few moments to reciprocate. “Thank you for trying to save him,” he said.  “His mother and I are still reeling.  We had no idea how depressed he was.  Failing that last assignment must have been the final straw.”

Charlie nodded, sadly.  “I’m so sorry for your loss.  He wanted me to tell you both how much he loved you.  It was the last thing he said before …”  He tailed off, averting his eyes and swallowing thickly.  He let his lower lip tremble, like he’d seen people do in movies when they were upset.

“You were such a good friend to him.  I’m sure he appreciated it.”

“Thank you.  I just wish I could have saved him, you know?”

They stood in silence for a long while, and then the older man cleared his throat.  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, Charlie.  His mother and I have decided to set up a foundation, to honor our son’s memory. Something that will help young people with talent to build their career in theater.  And we can’t think of anyone we’d rather have as the first recipient than you.  What do you say?”

Charlie accepted.  

Of course he did.

This had all been so easy.

[carlosroborto]

Part 1 - Albert Anastasia Escaped the Electric Chair to Die in a Barber Chair

Albert Anastasia Escaped the Electric Chair to Die in a Barber Chair True Crime | True Crime Podcasts on Youtube | True Crime Documentary **After watching this video, watch Part 2 here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D6kj2JumhqE&t=11s ** Next, watch Part 3 here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OhXPorMk-IM Albert Anastasia (born “Anastasio,” the masculine form of the Italian name) was a mobster who came out of the tough streets of Lower Manhattan to run one of the Five Families of La Cosa Nostra through the first half of the 20th century. Along the way, he built a reputation as one of the Mob’s most feared killers. Anastasia was reportedly a member of Murder Incorporated, the kill-for-hire crew that worked for Charlie “Lucky” Luciano and others in the years of Prohibition. Anastasia was, according to reports, one of the four men in 1931 who assassinated Giuseppe “Joe the Boss” Masseria, a powerful Mob boss, in the bloody gang rivalry known as the Castellammarese War. Anastasia was charged in three murders – in 1928, 1932 and 1933 – but in each case, witnesses either disappeared or refused to testify. Two other high-level Mob informants, both under police custody, died before their testimony helped bring Anastasia to trial, in 1941 and 1942. During World War II, Anastasia joined the U.S. Army. He also reportedly helped engineer the deal that eventually allowed Luciano, then ostensibly serving a life sentence for multiple prostitution-related convictions, to get out of prison (and go into exile in Italy) in exchange for keeping the New York City docks free of wartime Nazi infiltration. Anastasia worked for the Army training longshoremen on the East Coast. In 1943, he received U.S. citizenship for his military service, and he was honorably discharged from the Army in 1944. Eventually, Gambino moved against his sometime family boss. Anastasia was gunned down while he was sitting in a barber chair in Manhattan. Gambino assumed the family leadership, which would eventually become known as the Gambino crime family.

[alfredsonger]

Part 2 - Albert Anastasia Escaped the Electric Chair to Die in a Barber Chair - Part 2

Albert Anastasia (born “Anastasio,” the masculine form of the Italian name) was a mobster who came out of the tough streets of Lower Manhattan to run one of the Five Families of La Cosa Nostra through the first half of the 20th century. Along the way, he built a reputation as one of the Mob’s most feared killers. Anastasia was reportedly a member of Murder Incorporated, the kill-for-hire crew that worked for Charlie “Lucky” Luciano and others in the years of Prohibition. Anastasia was, according to reports, one of the four men in 1931 who assassinated Giuseppe “Joe the Boss” Masseria, a powerful Mob boss, in the bloody gang rivalry known as the Castellammarese War. Anastasia was charged in three murders – in 1928, 1932 and 1933 – but in each case, witnesses either disappeared or refused to testify. Two other high-level Mob informants, both under police custody, died before their testimony helped bring Anastasia to trial, in 1941 and 1942. During World War II, Anastasia joined the U.S. Army. He also reportedly helped engineer the deal that eventually allowed Luciano, then ostensibly serving a life sentence for multiple prostitution-related convictions, to get out of prison (and go into exile in Italy) in exchange for keeping the New York City docks free of wartime Nazi infiltration. Anastasia worked for the Army training longshoremen on the East Coast. In 1943, he received U.S. citizenship for his military service, and he was honorably discharged from the Army in 1944. Eventually, Gambino moved against his sometime family boss. Anastasia was gunned down while he was sitting in a barber chair in Manhattan. Gambino assumed the family leadership, which would eventually become known as the Gambino crime family.