#like why are you walking into the lion's den or whatever the saying is

[yamada-ryo]

You open your notifs. You see that someone has commented on one of your own posts. You check out their blog. They have a DNI. You are part of the DNI list. What do you do.

[satorudoll]

Gojo saying he hates taking care of brats and then becoming the best dad ever 🤫

💌! anon, you have NO IDEA what that panel of jjk going around was doing to me. Toru literally my cutest hubby ^^

You still remember meeting the grumpy and dork of a seventeen year old manchild when you entered the Jujutsu high's hallways for the very first time.

Your most core memories of him being the ones where he used to accompany you to your part time jobs, to babysit little kids.

While the three year old would be building blocks on the ground in front of you both, Satoru thinking of himself as the sly one would try scooting closer to your side on the couch. Softly grazing your hand and closing his one over it as he'd lean in to whisper something along the lines of,

"Baby, I think this is an amazing time to makeout before this utter nuisance turns his head arou—"

His words being cut off short with the ripping cries of the three year old who'd start to kick his feet and throw all his blocks around in pure anger.

Satoru would heave the loudest sigh,

"Baby please I just need a quick peck plea–"

But you would immediately stand up in panic and lift the child up in your arms, completely falling deaf to your touch deprived boyfriend.

"Satoru I think the baby pooped! " You exclaimed, turning the little boy left and right in the air.

"ew— EW! " Your boyfriend's second signal of disgust getting louder at what you did next, as quick as Satoru was to scrunch his face in disgust, you too were as fast to shove the three year old sobbing boy in your boyfriend's face. Forcing him to hold the baby.

"Hold him tight! I'll be right back with some new nappies and wipes! "

You stormed off, not caring about the way your boyfriend was screaming in pure horror along with the sobbing baby.

"Stop—" He tried to push the baby as far away from his nose as possible, "Stop! I'll actually die if your nasty stuff gets a anywhere on my skin! " He is yelling in pure fear, as if the kid was understanding whatever he was saying.

"Oh my holy lord, Y/n, please get here fast. I don't think I have too much time left! " He is crying out for you as the baby's face gets redder, cheeks puffier and his tiny legs kicking madly in the air the longer he stares at the snowy haired guy's disgusted face. Satoru was shriveling in pure terror by every passing second.

As soon as you enter the room with all the necessary materials Satoru dramatically gasped in relief, as if he just saw Jesus himself walk in to save him from his death.

He watches you and the baby from the couch with his big blue eyes stretched wide in disgust as you are in the process of cleaning the little one up.

"They better pay you a good chunk for that" He continues to comment while continuing to curl himself up in a ball .

You roll your eyes and turn to face Satoru who looked like he was in a Lion's den.

"Why don't to try putting his diaper on? " You ask, holding up the new pair of diaper.

"No! What if that demon has some poop left sticking around his butt! "

You sigh loud, "Toru, I cleaned him well. He is fine."

"But–" He stops, seeing the way your eyes were literally judging him at this point,

"Ugh– fine! But don't cry for me when I get his poop on my hand and die on spot! "

He walks towards you both, stomping and looking all moody and pouty in annoyance. Slumping down and snatching the new diaper from your hand while mumbling a "only coz I love you too much" while still looking annoyed as hell, but you couldn't help the small smile that slips on your face while looking at how he acts no different than the three year old right in front of you.

As the baby stares at Satoru's pouty and moody face who was wondering which side of the diaper was supposed to be in the front, the little boy lets out a hearty giggle.

That catches Satoru's attention.

Satoru raises a brow,

"Oh, So you wanna get along now? " The grown seventeen year old questions, making the baby coo and kick his feet.

Satoru's pout slowly lifts into a smile at that.

"Well, You don't seem like that bad of a guy yourself. Maybe we can get along after all." He shrugs with a smirk.

"watch me babe, I just know well enough how to make these little poopers laugh." He says in confidence and you fold your arms, watching them with a raised brow and big smile.

"Here comes superhero Gojo to save the nakey baby's day! " He lets out, in the most childish playful tone, something you were yet to experience from a 'tough guy' like him up until now.

The baby bursts out in laughter, Your smile turning into a huge grin at the sight

"Superhero Gojo?? Say that again, lemme record it! " You laugh out loud, getting up immediately to look for your cellphone

"Hello? Don't try making fun of me, I'm getting into the charac— "

Oh, the baby loves interrupting the seventeen year old boy's moments for sure.

But this one seemed like straight up hate crime to Satoru,

The baby shoots his pee right at his face.

Your jaw drops down and your eyes go wide in literal shock at the sudden occurrence and you completely freeze on your steps.

As for Satoru,

Boy, he was way too deeply traumatized to move himself right away, Eyes squeezed shut tight he felt like his soul leave his body as all his limbs suddenly became stiff and completely paralyzed.

"Oh my– Satoru— " You were trying so hard not to give up everything and burst in a fit of laughter at the entire scene that unfolded right in front of your eyes.

The baby, however, seemed to be having the best time of his life, giving out the most hearty belly laughter as he finished his work on your boyfriend's face.

"Y/n— i think— I think I'm gonna lose my six eyes— I can't open my eyes—" His hands trying to reach out for you

"Satoru! You are not even trying to open them- let's wash your face!" You immediately put the diaper on the baby yourself before grabbing your boyfriend's hand and guiding his soulless body to the nearest washroom.

As you were saying goodbye to the little boy who was in his mother's arms, you couldn't help but notice how he was staring at Satoru in disgust with his nose scrunched.

You turn to take a glance at Satoru who was holding a tight lipped smile at the boy while waving goodbye. Trying to hard to not humble the baby in front of his mom.

The walk back home that day was quite, none of you really spoke. Satoru looked like he wanted to go back to his room and dive his face straight into the blankets.

You shouldn't be surprised, None of the kids you took care of really got along with Satoru. Most either ended up pulling locks of his hair or throwing their toys at his face. You don't even know why he was still so up about accompanying you every weekend.

You both pause as you finally reach the gates of Jujutsu high,

The awkward silence starting to make you feel bad for what he had to keep going through.

"Did you see how that little clown was looking at me? After I let him pee on my precious face, that too ?!" He finally bursts in utter shock.

"Satoru, I'm sorry.." you sigh, but as much as you felt sad for him you pursed your lips, concealing a laugh.

"You know — My mom always taught me when I was a kid to never befriend your enemies, Look what happened! You just can never be good to anyone these days! This is how people end up walking all over you!" He continued to rant,

as much as you were thinking he wasn't being serious, your boyfriend's tightly knit brows and fuming face told you otherwise.

"Ugh.." He grunts in annoyance before shoving his hands in his pant pockets, looking down, kicking one of the small pebbles on the ground

"This was my last straw.. I never wanna get stuck babysitting a brat ever again" He mumbles in pure annoyance.

It's been ten years since,

the image of the childish dramatic teen still so fresh in your memories, the guy who would always mumble an 'oh god, lets run' or 'another one of satan's poop' whenever you both would be out together and spot kids running in the streets.

A soft smile spreading across your lips as you pull the duvets down at the sudden burst of memories, slowly peeling your eyes open, vision trying to adjust to the big white and beige decorated bedroom.

You get up on your feet when you hear the noise of utensils clanking coming from the kitchen.

Taking small, lazy strides you walk towards the kitchen in your white oversized shirt and fuzzy woolen brown socks.

Rubbing your eyes as you pause on your steps and stare at the scene in front of you at the kitchen.

"Does my Kana like it??" You watch the snowy haired male softly question the two year old who was sat on the marble counter.

The little baby girl nods her chubby face and suddenly clasps both sides of the spoon in her tiny palms, trying to pull back the spoon that Satoru was holding, closer to her mouth, the little baby spoon seemingly containing some yogurt.

Satoru was sitting down the floor on his knees in front of the counter where your little baby was placed, The grown man was in just a pair of his checkered red sweatpants, without even a shirt on in the cold freezing temperature. All his previous scars scattered around his bare skin that ran all the way up to his face still visible well enough, One that you and your baby girl used to cry over when they were in healing process, but grew to love so much now. As you stand there and stare at them your memories took you back again to show the contrast between the once boyish dorky seventeen year old who had now grown up into the man right in front of you.

Satoru was too focused on the little girl to notice your presence, his big blue eyes staring up at the two year old who was swinging her small feet and staring back at her dad with big doe eyes.

"wait– let papa tie up kana's hair or it'll get in your mouth, baby" he smiles, giving her messy white hair that matches his, a gentle stroke. As soon as Satoru stands up, the tiny girl forwards both her hands and starts making grabby hands at the huge man.

"pa– pa! " She coos trying to reach out to him.

"c'mere my little softie" He chuckles, quickly lifting her off the counter and letting her chin fall slump on his bare shoulders, her big glowing eyes finally falls on you while she is sucking onto her thumb messily and almost drooling all over her dad's bare shoulder, Satoru who was busy looking for her little barbie hair tie couldn't seem to care at the moment.

"pa! ma– ! ma wakey !" she immediately points at you in surprise, causing your husband to immediately turn around to face you.

Your lips melt into the softest smile at your little girl's baby voice.

"morning to the best girl " you giggle, walking up to them and landing a big smooch on her forehead.

"morning honey" Your husband throws a wide lazy grin at you, his snowy white hair still tousled and messy, eyes still looking a bit puffy, signaling he too woke up not long ago.

"morning Toru bear " you smile,

he immediately leans in to try kissing you.

You try scooting away,

"Ugh, I haven't brushed yet—" you groan, trying to block his face,

"Neither have I," he shrugs with a boyish grin before stepping forward with your little girl still in his arms, proceeding to snatch a quick peck, which just slowly turns into a little kiss session.

Kana's eyes widen at the scene, and she lifts her small hand up in the air. "me– kana too! ma pa kana too! "

It makes you and Satoru pull away from each other and giggle, You both start smooching the little baby's face together who starts scrunching her nose in response.

"ma pa stink! " she immediately voices making you laugh,

"oh? no more kisses for Kana" Satoru raises a brow, starring at kana dead serious.

That makes the little girls eyes widen and bottom lips quiver before her big eyes start getting glossy.

Satoru's eyes widens at that.

"Papa was just joking! Papa will never stop giving kana big big kissies! " He tries to rock her as she continues staring at him with big sad eyes.

"ok– let's go play, let mommy wash her face! " he is about to walk away when you stop him by his arm.

"I'll take care of her, you should first go wash up" You suggest, but he shakes his head.

"I'll miss her all day once I leave for work let me spend some time" he pouts, You sigh and give a nod at that.

You watch them walk away,

standing for a bit longer at the same spot to watch your husband put the little girl who was in her cherry printed bodysuit and frilly white socks down the ground.

"it's snowingg ! " Her dad sits down the fluffy beige carpet and exclaims, pointing at the view in the window, making her looking at him with big smile,

"snoing! " she repeats after him and also pointing at the tall windows that displayed the snow covered garden with her tiny finger, before proceeding to waddle towards Satoru and climbing up on his lap to sit down on it, while still continuing to stare out at the window and swinging her little feet out of habit as Satoru starts carefully pulling back the locks of her hair, trying to tie it into mini space buns.

Your little girl suddenly looks back at her dad while practically sucking on her entire tiny fisted hand as Satoru is still doing her hairstyle.

"papa lov uh!" She innocently exclaims, throwing her tiny hands in the air, looking at him with her big round eyes, waiting for an I love you back.

Satoru's lips pull up into a big heartfelt grin.

"love you lot lot more softie" He whispers playfully making her scrunch her nose and giggle, before turning back to look outside the windows.

"papa luv kana" your baby girl continues to sing to herself while getting her hair done by her dad,

"my cutest little fairy " he mumbles to himself while continuing to do her hair.

Your heart felt so full, You got to be in heaven right now. You enjoyed every little moment they shared, hearing kana's voice in middle of the night entering your room to tap Satoru awake every time she felt scared in her room, how you will then find them both in the morning, asleep on the couch with her sprawled on his chest and drooling over it while he had his buff arms wrapped around the tiny baby but still managing to sleep soundly with her, the way you had to rip Satoru back and tell him to go get ready for work instead of cleaning Kana's snot and drool up constantly. Having to calm down Kana who would start crying bloody murder when Satoru finally gets dressed for work and stands near the doorway, waving you both a goodbye. Satoru having to always bargain with her by leaving a bunch of endless kisses all over her chubby cheeks and forehead, and also promising to watch Disney movies with her in the upcoming weekends if she stops crying when he leaves.

Oh she was definitely a daddy's girl. One that Satoru would never get tired of no matter how much of a brat she'd become. You have to hold back a laugh every time you think about how the Satoru you knew from ten years ago would react if he would have known about this information.

[love-lilly02]

The Challenge pt. 5

Authors Note: this one is gonna make yall mad, i already know it. Also i think i'm gonna have to create a schedule of posting on weekends as apperently all my ideas for this story hit on fridays.

Chapter warnings:

minor character death, mentions of suicide

“You can’t do that!!”

“I can and I will.” Laswell said, closing the file. “She’s on a solo Op and that’s final.”

The boys all rolled their eyes, sighing heavily. 

“Let one of us go, Las. We can’t just let her walk into the lions den-“

“Price, that’s enough. She has her assignment, you have yours.” 

“But we don’t have an assignment.” Price stressed. 

“Exactly.” 

Another round of complaints. 

You had left the room long ago, departing as soon as you had received your mission. A solo op, just an intel gathering. Get in, get the information, get out. 

Get out of one of the most heavily guarded buildings in all of Russia. 

What could go wrong?

“Okay, I’ll be the one to say it.” Kyle stepped up, leaning forward in his chair. “I don’t trust that she’ll be able to get out of this place. Even with her level of skill, that’s something no one’s been able to pull off without dying.”

“If you’re worried about her, you can say that you know.” Laswell said simply, raising an eyebrow. 

The whole room went quiet. 

“Alright, look. I don’t know what’s going on between you four and her, but get it under control. I had enough of it when you lot-“ she points to Ghost and Price-“ wanted those two-“ She points at soap and Gaz- “to join your… whatever this is. I’m not dealing with four children mooning over my best asset.”

“We are not moonin’-“ Ghost protested at the same time Price said “I thought I was your best asset?”

Laswell just rolled her eyes. 

“I’ll put you boys on cam duty. How’s that?”

“It’s enough.” All the boys agreed.

You could feel their eyes on you as you adjusted your weapons for the fiftieth time. The suit they had you in was very different from the gear you normally wore, instead of cargo pants and a vest you had on a completely black bodysuit with a matching hood and shoes. Various knives and fewer guns than you would like were hidden among your body, and you kept anxiously touching them to be sure they were actually there. 

You looked like the Black Widow from the Avengers. As far as you could tell, the boys thought so too, with the way they kept sizing you up. 

You weren’t entirely sure if you liked that fact or not. 

You knew exactly why they had chosen you instead of Ghost or Kyle for this mission- you were a lot quieter. They could think quickly and kill faster, but at the end of the day you moved around quieter, left much less noticeable tracks than they did. 

This stupid challenge supported that idea. 

“Keep touching ‘em and they’re gonna rust, lass.” Soap called over the comms, and you shot him a glare. For the sake of the mission- and your life- you had decided to temporarily cast aside your feelings for their last behavior, allowing them to talk to you again. Some people, like Gaz and Price, understood you would need space after what happened. Ghost and Soap, however, did not get the memo. 

“She’s allowed to touch ‘em, Johnny. They’re her knives. ‘Sides, I don’t suppose knives can rust by just touching ‘em anywho.” 

“Awh yea they can! I’ve seen it ‘appen me self.” 

“Drop it,” Price warned.

Both boys responded with a simple, “Sorry captain,” and the helicopter was silent again. 

“Okay. One more time, what are you doing?” Price couldn’t help but be nervous as your drop zone crept closer and closer. 

“I get dropped off and enter through a side window, go through some rooms and get to the main center to put the information on the computer with a red chip into a flash drive. 

Price nodded and ran his hand along his beard, a nervous habit you noticed he developed. 

“Okay, good. The boys and I will tell you where to go and when it’s safe over comms, and-“

“Price. I’ve heard the debrief over fifteen times now. I got it.” You said, doing one more quick pat down to make sure all your knives were in order. “I trust you. Now you need to trust me.”

“Drop zone approaching!” The pilot called, and they all watched as the plane opened to reveal the darkness of the night. 

“Wish me luck,” You said, pulling the hood over your head. 

“Luck,” they all chorused back weakly. 

And you jumped out of the plane. 

Anxiety coursed through Ghosts veins as he watched you jump. A while after, thirty seconds as planned, you deployed a parachute, barely visible in the night. It was dangerous to have a black parachute in the dark but it was a risk they needed to take. 

There was complete radio silence the entire time you landed. That was another rule, unless you were receiving directions or telling them something important you were to be radio silent at all times. To “make sure no one hears or picks up anything,” as Laswell said. 

Ghost thought it was a load of bullshit. 

Simon agreed. 

Truth be told, he worried for you. Both of him did. This was something he wouldn’t be able to pull off, not even with years of training for it. And they were sending you in with less than a few hours notice?

A suicide mission. 

He hadn’t asked, if this was what you wanted to do. He didn’t ask if you were okay with risking your life, possibly dying, for the “greater good.” He honestly wanted you to disagree, he wanted you to protest, say they were stupid for sending you on this mission.

But you had just listened quietly and took the file. 

“At the drop zone, headed to the entrance.” Your messages were short and to the point, and he could see the others relax at your words. 

“Right, stay on standby,” Ghost said, loading up the cameras. 

“Copy.” Then silence. 

Once he got the feed loaded he quickly scanned the cameras for you, his eyes flicking back and fourth. 

“There,” Kyle said, pointing to one screen. You were kneeling behind a bunch of crates, watching the entrance carefully. 

“Okay. Move left, there’s a side entrance, you might have to pick a lock or two.” 

“Copy,” and you moved towards the door. They watched as you crawled, seemingly gliding across the concrete floor. Once you reached the door, it took a total of three seconds for you to slip inside. 

“Door’s are locked. What’s the next move?”

“Shit, that was locked?” Soap asked, even though his comms were off. 

“Suppose so. Two desks down to your right.” 

And so it continued. They gave you directions and watched as you absolutely flew though the levels of the building. Till finally, you were where you needed to be. 

“Okay, transferring the information.” It shouldn’t take that long, Ghost told himself. He watched as you stayed crouched behind a wall, nervously tapping on your thigh as the transfer commenced. 

“Done!” They could all head the relief in your voice, even if you tried to hide it. You put the computer back where it belonged, tucking the flash drive in your pocket. 

“Good job, now head out the way you came, it’s-“  Ghost stopped short when he saw two men walk into the room. They were soldiers for the enemy team, the Russian flags in the middle of their vests displaying that. To your credit, you heard the voices and stayed pointedly in place.  

The two of them spoke in gruff Russian to each other, monitoring the room carefully. They were going a bit too slow, getting a bit too close for Ghost’s liking. And, based on the way Kyle was gripping his shoulder, for him too. 

They kept snooping, till finally one of them jumped out into your hiding spot. 

It was absolute chaos after that. 

You stabbed the one who found you, using his body as a shield when the other started shooting. You fired your own shots and landed one with rough time to drop the guy you were holding and run out of the room. 

By this point, multiple alarms had been tripped, and you abandoned all sense of decorum, flying down steps quickly. 

“Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yelled over comms. 

Apparently that didn’t warrant a response. 

The cameras he was using to track you were being taken over, and he was quickly loosing visuals. 

“Mirage, do you copy?” 

“Mirage, what is your position.”

“Damnit Y/N, answer me!”

But he was met with silence. 

And for the first time since Las Almas, Ghost felt truly afraid.

For what it was worth, you had heard Ghost yelling over comms. And you had wanted to respond to him, but the current circumstances made that harder than you would have liked. 

There were soldiers shooting at you almost constantly, and maybe about two or three snipers on other buildings. And you had about five more stories to get down, not to mention an entire parking lot- which was swarming with soldiers, you checked- and somehow get back on the evac vehicle alive. 

One step at a time. 

Having cleared two floors already, you burst through a nearby office, breathing out a small sigh of relief when no one occupies it. Over the comms you hear a voice saying something, but it’s Price now instead of Ghost. 

“Mirage, there’s a supply drop headed your way, what’s your location?” He doesn’t sound as worried, and you can’t help but wonder where Ghost went. 

“I’m hidden in an office, sir. If there was a drop there would be no way for me to reach it without being ambushed.” 

You’re met with silence for a moment, before Price comes back into your ear. 

“Copy that, just get to the parking lot in one piece. We’ll take it from there.”

You just roll your eyes. As if that wasn’t your plan to begin with. 

The stairs seem endless as you run, down flight after flight after flight. You seriously considered taking the elevator but decided against it- they were Russian, not stupid. Once you make it to the room you entered the building through you’re throughly disappointed to find it’s occupied by a few armed guards. Nothing you couldn’t handle, so long as you went out quietly. 

Carefully, you made your way behind the first one, pulling one of the longer knives out of your thigh holster. In your other hand, you slip a throwing knife, crouching silently. 

It takes a good few minutes before you’re able to make a move, throwing the knife in the eye of the guard at the door before you stab the one in front of you in the neck. The other two load their guns, but you’re faster, flinging two more throwing knives across the room into their heads. You allow yourself the time to collect your knives and slip out of the door, just in time to hear more gaurds enter behind you. 

Close calls that just keep getting closer. 

You’re able to see the parking lot now. And as you expected, it’s absolutely swamped with enemies. There were small cracks in the defenses, however, just small enough for you to slip through if you were careful. 

You stuck to the shadow of the trees, figuring darkness was your best cover. Carefully, you picked your way through the ranks of men receiving instruction, having to duck to hide behind cars multiple times. Finally, you were close enough to make a break for it and just test your luck. 

And that dammed supply drop just had to show up. 

Immediately, it set off widespread panic, and in the chaos one of the soldiers stumbled over to your hiding spot. Before you understood what was going on you were being hoisted up by multiple soldiers and brought into the center of a light, surrounded by angry Russians who were yelling at you in one of the few languages you couldn’t understand. 

Finally, one man walked up to you and said simply, “Where is the band of coonies you work for?” He looked kind of familiar, with almost a dad bod and dark eyes to match.

“Don’t respond, that’s our target.” Price insisted, and as if he could hear him, the target looked up to your ear. 

“American.” He spat out the word like a curse, and looked at you with an even nastier scowl. “A shame, you are very pretty.” He said something in Russian, and the men all raised their guns and pointed them at you. 

“Wait!” You shouted, and to your surprise, the target stopped. He turned to you slowly, and raised an eyebrow, signaling for you to continue. Carefully, you moved your hand to where the flash drive hid, pulling it out. It glinted red in the bright spotlights, and the target stopped dead in his tracks. 

“What is that?” He asked, stalking closer to you. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You teased further. God you had a bad habit of teasing men. Maybe it’s what got you into these situations. 

“Give it to me,” He said, practically running at you. 

“Mirage, whatever you’re about to do, don’t. Do it.” Price was yelling, and you could hear the chaos of the helicopter behind you. 

“Listen to me, American girl. I will give you one chance to give me that flash drive. And maybe we will let you out alive.” The target stopped a good distance away from you, holding out his hand. You just smiled. 

With a flick of your wrist, the flash drive was replaced with a pin. “Over my dead body.”

And a grenade went off- right where you were standing.

Authors Note: this is completely random but i've decided to open my inbox for requests, not just COD but across all fandoms, and i'm doing a bit of blog reorganizing so i'll get to them fairly quickly (tonight that is)

also don't hate me lol the next chapter will be out next week if all goes well

My Masterlist

[ghostboneswrites2]

part two

obsession

series masterlist .. taglist .. masterlist

warnings: profanity, stalking/following, paranoia, mean!Daryl, aggressive Daryl, Daryl’s past, toxic relationship vibes, obsessive behavior, predator vs prey vibes

the role of the fox

You were suddenly aware of the weight of your footsteps as you carefully treaded over crunching leaves and dry twigs. Thankfully your vision adjusted to the low light after some time, but not before you got a few scrapes and bruises. In the dark, it was hard to avoid smacking your face on the low hanging branches, or tripping over the messy system of roots protruding from the earth.

Needless to say, it wasn’t long before Daryl caught wind of his uninvited tagalong. You were loud. He let you keep up the sneaky act for some time, though. Mostly, he just couldn’t figure out why you’d follow him in the first place. He wasn’t doing anything special. He had originally snuck off for a cigarette, but when he realized you were clumsily lurking in the background, he decided to just keep walking to see what you’d do. Eventually, he managed to evade you, backtracking a bit and circling back to sneak up behind you.

By then, you’d realized you lost his trail and you were just blindly feeling in front of you for the next tree to support yourself. He followed you like this for a while, just observing, thinking of the past. It reminded him of hunting with his father when he was a boy, trying to keep quiet, out of the way. Dad would often bring his old friend Bo out with them so they could drink and shoot while Daryl fetched the kills. One time, Bo brought a rabbit trap with a bunny he’d caught in his wife’s garden, eating up all her greens. When Daryl, a boy of just six or seven, asked what the bunny was for, the old man just grinned and crouched down to the boy’s level.

“Foxes.” The geezer gleamed, breathing his whiskey-hot breath all over Daryl’s face.

“Foxes?” Daryl repeated as he tilted his head.

“Yup.” Bo affirmed with a proud nod. “See, when we get on down by the creek, there’s a few dens. I seen em last week. Foxes. We let the rabbit go, the foxes’ll follow.”

“Then we shoot ‘em?” Daryl queried.

“Exactly, it’s a trap.”

So, back to you. You were clumsy, as previously stated. You stepped to loudly, not careful enough with the underbrush. Had you been hunting for food, you’d have disturbed any tracks that could have led you to a meal. You were also careless. You stumbled around blindly without a single care for whatever may have crossed your path, be it a walker or anything else. You weren’t in tune with your surroundings at all. Hell, you didn’t even notice him stalking so closely behind you. You were out of your element, but he was right where he belonged. He kind of liked it that way, too. He was good at it. It reminded him of the animal documentaries he’d seen before; he was the lion and you were the gazelle. He reigned superior.

Back at camp, he often felt the opposite around you. With so many watchful eyes, he hated the vulnerable feeling he got when you were near. He was used to the criticism of others. He already didn’t trust anyone there. He barely trusted his brother, the last of his kin. He was a loner. But you had the kind of eyes that seemed to pierce right through him, tethering him to reality he didn’t wanna face. He liked being in his bubble, closed off from the others so he could avoid unnecessary attachments. You forcibly reminded him of the humanity of others when he much preferred to consider them colleagues at best.

The more he watched you, the more he realized how peeved he was to be affected so largely by something so small; so puny and defenseless. He’d watched you enough to know you were no survivalist. Even the gazelles in the grasslands had a sense for danger when the lions were prowling nearby. You lacked their innate instinct to survive. You were more like a bunny, which inevitably meant he played the role of the fox.

Adrift in a sea of thought, Daryl didn’t notice right away how alert you’d become. You’d begun to sense the danger of being watched. Your pace quickened, you jumped at the sounds of the night. It sparked something in him. He knew he was scaring you. He could tell you were trying to get away. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Not a bone in his body felt the urge to step out of the shadows and declare his presence to be his. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t embarrassment that held him back, that much he did know. You followed him first, after all. Why was this so different? He was glued to your trail, unable to resist, regardless of whatever potential consequences awaited him. This must have been how those foxes felt, he thought. Back then he thought the foxes silly for falling for Bo’s tricks time and time again. Now he understood just how cruel this trap really was.

After trying to ignore it, you were finally sure you were being followed. The signs were subtle, but real. Even worse, you had no clue where you were. You figured the easy solution would have been to turn around and go back the way you came, as you were sure you hadn’t taken many twists or turns. It should’ve led you straight back to camp. The issue with that plan was the fact that you were sure someone was back there, and you weren’t ready to face that reality quite yet. You’d hoped you could just keep going, and whatever or whoever it was would lose interest, but you’d given up on that idea about forty paces back.

You guessed your only option was to run. Maybe you could lose them. With little time to second guess yourself, your adrenaline took over and kicked your legs into gear. You broke into a full sprint, unfazed when your shoulders smacked into passing trees. Daryl was caught off guard when you ran, but like a hungry beast, he chased after you. It was like you triggered his prey drive. His primal instincts had taken over.

Your voice began to betray you as you panted, winded from the chase already. Panic rattled your breaths. Your movements lost all fluidity. Eventually you lost your grounding and slid down the edge of a shallow basin. It wasn’t a bad drop — maybe three or four feet — but the roots and jagged layers of rock and dirt still tattered your top and scraped up the flesh beneath. Things were quiet at the bottom. You didn’t even hear any crickets as you sat there and caught your breath.

When you glanced up at where you fell from, no one was there. But, when you focused your attention to the other side of the basin, you saw him there. A tall, dark, burly figure. You didn’t recognize him at first, not until he stepped out into the light of the moon. You pushed yourself up to your feet in disbelief.

“You?” You whispered as he stepped toward you cautiously. “You chased me.”

He shrugged and felt around in his pocket for a moment, pulling a worn pack of cigarettes from within. He popped the skinny thing in his mouth and held it with his lips as he flipped open his zippo and took a long drag from the flame. A cloud of smoke shrouded around him as he exhaled. He took a step closer.

“What are you doing?” You demanded. He stepped closer. “Why’d you chase me?” You pressed on. He took a step closer. “I’ll scream.” You warned. He raised his eyebrows, amused.

“Nah. No point in that. It’s like ringin’ a dinner bell these days.” He rasped coolly.

“So then why’d you chase me?” You reiterated.

“Why’d ya follow me?” He shot back. You faltered, chewing at your lip.

“Well, why’d you come out here so late?” You wondered. He held the cigarette up. “All this for a cigarette?”

“Nah. Didn’t plan on comin’ out this far.” He admitted. “Just didn’t know what to think when I heard someone followin’ me.” He shot you an accusatory glare. You gulped and rubbed your arm in an attempt to soothe your racing pulse. You could sense his irritation. You wondered what he’d do to you for invading his privacy and following him. Surely, no good intentions could have led him to chase you so far away from the others before he finally confronted you for sneaking around. He took a final step towards you, shrinking the gap between you to about a foot of space.

You didn’t know what to say. He didn’t either. He didn’t even know why he said anything at all. He didn’t owe you shit, especially not an explanation. He should have turned around when you fell and left you to find your own way home. It would’ve served you right for creeping after him like you did.

“It’d do ya good to mind the business that pays you.” He warned, flicking ash away before taking another drag. “And, last I checked, I didn’t have you on my fuckin’ payroll.”

“I’m sorry.” You uttered quickly.

“The fuck does sorry do for me?” He scoffed. He looked down fiddled with the cigarette in his hand before he held it up in front of your face. “Here. Have some.” He offered.

“I don’t smoke.” You denied.

“I wasn’t askin’.” He whispered. You slowly reached for the nasty thing, pinching it between your fingers. The sickeningly sweet smell drifted up your nostrils. Your throat felt tight. Still, you managed a meek thanks. “My treat.” He said sarcastically.

You wrapped your lips around the dirty brown filter and took it in, exhaling smoothly.

“Pretty easy for someone who’s never smoked.” He commented.

“Didn’t say never. Just said I don’t.” You clarified. He huffed.

“You sure ya wanna be smart with me?” He asked.

“I’m not even sure I want to be alone out here with you.” You blurted.

“Just when I don’t know you’re there, right?” He retorted.

“I wasn’t trying to scare you, I just—“

A rough hand cupped your jaw and cut you off. His flared nostrils washed heavy breaths over your face. His fingers dug into your skin with a bruising force as he scowled down at you. Struggling was futile.

“Let me make one thing clear to you.” He growled. “I ain’t scared of nothin.” He spat, releasing your face harshly before he stormed away.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you rubbed over your sore cheeks and watched him disappear into the night. His chest was pounding with rage. How dare you accuse him of being afraid? Of you? Of anyone? Had he not proven himself fearless in the face of violence? His thoughts raced around his mind and consumed him. He wanted so badly to write you off as a little nuisance, nothing more. He couldn’t, though. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not that night, nor for days to come. You relentlessly invaded his thoughts at any given time. He didn’t even realize it then, just how comical it all really was. Not only were you the bunny — and he the fox — but he was also the hunter who set the bunny free. He walked right into his own trap.

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix @superbowlisgay @liizzygrant @eddiemunsonsupremecy @raeraegoaway @ophelialaufey @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfsalltheway @negansbestie @mfnqueen1

[dracaesusurro]

“You’ve got to be kiddin’ me”

Pairing: kit walker x reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, violence

Summary: kit and reader had a huge fight and reader makes him jealous and it works….

“Oh kit I have had it up to here with you and you constant goddamn paranoia” Y/n yells hands flying all over, voice enraged.

“Oh how can you be so stupid that guy was hittin’ on you harder than a hammer and your too blind to see it” Kit yelled equally as loud, retaliating with her statements.

This had been going on for an hour, yelling, screaming, insults and points practically spat at each-other in order to prove a point that neither were getting across. If it wasn’t it for some guy who happened to be gawking at Kit’s girlfriend all night and having the nerve to come over and flirt with her knowing damn well who she was here with, this fight wouldn’t even be happening. This was according to kit of course. And if it wasn’t for kits total lack of self control and anger management, if he hadn’t indented that guys face in at the pub, then they wouldn’t be fighting like two lions in one den.

“Your jealous ALL the damn time. I get it kit I’m yours, we’re together, why, gosh why on earth can’t you get that into your thick skull!” Kit wasn’t about to let that slide.

“Jealous?! Excuse me for not lovin’ the idea of that guys arms and filthy slobber all over ya’ just cause your too nice to say NO!” The whole fight was pointless they knew this, but neither wanted to back down.

They’ve been in a loving relationship for 4 years. To say they loved each other to death was an understatement. They rarely fought or had any disagreements but this was different. Not in a good way at all.

“Look listen y/n i don’t Like to share and I don’t like people thinkin’ they can come and Harass whatever they see. Yeah I was jealous but he was the asshole here not me” kit lowered his voice slightly in order to slow the fight. It only made y/n more furious.

“Oh baby i don’t need no knight in shining armor to come save me, if I was uncomfortable I would’ve said something, and I certainly don’t need you starting fucking fights wherever we go. Is that clear or do I need to yell some more in order for you to take a hint” The sarcasm and bitterness sting like venom coming from her. Kit had no idea had to response, if she was uncomfortable? She was ok with a douche hittin’ on her?

He wanted to yell some more, finish the argument, but he was confused and honestly tired but he wanted to hit her back just as equally, so he did “maybe if you like being hit on everywhere you go, you should go back right to that bar and finish what he started. I don’t care, act like some fucking tramp all ya want” He said the words slowly, and bitterly.

Y/n gasped slightly, too silent for him to hear but her face spoke louder than words in that moment. Kit was a respectable man, no matter how big the fights were shit never got to far, not this far. But he stepped out of line and Y/n was hurt. “Alright darlin’ whatever you wish for” She said loudly arms flew in-front of her gesturing anger. He gave her confused face, not sure what either meant or what they were going to do. Normally a situation like this would be resolved- well hours ago but the length of this fight secretly worried both of them.

What did this mean.

Was this their end.

Before kit could open his mouth to say anything, anything at all, the door slammed and the truck turned on and just like that she was gone. And he didn’t know where.

“God fucking dammit” he went back into their room and didn’t come out.

——————————————————-

It had been hours and still no sign of her.

This had him worried shitless at this point, he wasn’t one to back down from anything easily, he was no quitter, but he didn’t care right now not if it brought her back.

He had no truck, no car to go find her a taxi wasn’t a valuable option at 2 in the morning. So he walked to the bar they were at previously hoping to find her downing a beer, forgetting about the fight and giving him one of her famous, gorgeous smiles.

The night was cold and the music from the bar echoed in the silence of the night. She must be here, where else would she go this time of night?

He opened the door to the bar and walked through, warm air and loud noises vibrating through him. He walked over to the bar bench. Not there. Walked around the bathrooms, poked his head into the woman’s. Not there. “You have got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me!” Well the search is over, there she was, sitting on that assholes lap from earlier, he was whispering something to her but kit didn’t care to know. Something in his chest hurt, like when you tripped as a kid, fell on you chest and couldn’t find your breath for a couple minutes until the oxygen forced its way through your lungs only for you to come to you senses and feel the pain that the fall inflicted. This was like that, first his breath hitched, then came the pain. No anger. Oddly enough just plain pain.

Kit slowly walked over to their booth, maybe he was imagining it. The sound of her sweet laughter got louder and so did the pounding of his heart against his rib cage. “Mhm” he cleared his throat loudly trying to gain their attention.

“Kit, nice of you to join us. Took your advice honey” she smiled sarcastically, that hurt even more. “Ok enough let’s go…” he waited locking eyes with her. She didn’t shift. “NOW” this startled her and she got up to look him eye to eye wanting to threaten him but the asshole beat her to it. He got up with a grunt “Not cool dude back off. She can do what she-” kit swung one right on his oddly large jaw and he went flying back. Booze will do that to ya.

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Or do you wanna go for a round three big boy” kit towered over his slumped body, only to be dragged back by her frail hand and pulled outside. “Ok. Ok enough of this shit, what do you want huh?” Her nose was red she was cold. Kits eyes softened, the hurt still fresh on the surface. He lifted a finger and pointed right in her face, “ your cruel you know that, plain fuckin cruel” he felt tears coming up but he did not want to cry here. “And how’s that walker, how am I the cruel one?” She challenged still riled up, not noting his sad face. Walker? She never called him that! “God whatever your a- a AGH” his frustration is only to cover his pain, she saw through that. Her guilt surfaced and she reached over to him “kit? Talk to me?” She didn’t know what to say, they’ve already said too much already. “Why would you do that?” “Gosh cause you told me to!” What? Oh. “You can’t honestly believe I’d want to see you with another guy!” “Well you seemed super keen on it” gosh things were getting heated again. The exhaustion was present and they didn’t need any more. “I’m sorry your right” y/n looked at her feet and started walking to the truck, kit grabbed her arm and pulled her- rather harshly- into his chest and hugged her tight. “I’m sorry too darlin’. Won’t happen again” she sunk into it. Happily.

They sat in bed under the cover, cuddled up, “I’m glad that’s over” she let out in the silence.

She heard a sigh escape his lips, the ‘I have something to say but I can’t get it out’ type. She recognized it, “what is it kit? You can talk to me you know that love” she got up on her elbows and face him. She noticed his red eyes and sad posture “I was kinda scared ya know. Really scared hah” he chuckled dryly. “What? Scared of what kit” she reached over and cupped his face “you know….” He waited to see if she got it, she didn’t “us breakin up” he whispered so lightly she almost didn’t catch it. “Kit honey, you really think I can live without you? I love you more than life and I ain’t kidding” he smiled something sweet, those dimples gosh, “well mrs walker I love you too very much so” he said what now? Mrs walker? “I’d be your misses any day mr walker” she kissed his lips. “Glad to hear it, now let me show you exactly how much I love ya”

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

can you do more jealous Gwen headcanons or analysis? thanksss

I actually don't think I have more analysis to make, I don't think we have any more scenes with Gwen being jealous. And funnily enough, I don't do enough stuff with jealousy to have headcanons.

Hope this small drabble can suffice!

. . .

"Everything okay?"

Gwen normally wouldn't mind answering, yet her eyes continue to evade her friend's, since something told her that with just one look he would be able to tell.

If he couldn't do it already.

"Fine!" She answers quickly, more sharp than she would had liked "The multiverse is in danger, we are probably late to see Miguel, and Miles who is about to enter the Lion's Den with only an empanada as a sacrifice, how does that look for you?"

"First time I see you criticize a plan of Jess," he comments calmly, looking at the young spider with the older woman ordering the food that was suppose to placate the leader of this place. Hobie was one who thought if you needed to try to placate your boss, then perhaps you were doing something wrong; thought he already thinks the idea of a boss is stupid.

Shame his drummer didn't share that opinion; he could only take care of so many problems at the time. Now however-

"But I was talking more about putting our young 1610 friend on a leash like a Cherry Hogg." (Cherry Hogg: Dog.)

Gwen try to pretend she needed to think of that one before answering, as well as she hoped the hotness she felt around her cheeks didn't actually shown.

"Miguel is waiting for us-"

"Which is exactly why you were so bothered by when we did the detour- oh wait, you didn't."

Looking back at him, she notices his colours are kind of muttered, his expression almost bored, yet when finally faced him his lips shifted into the smallest smirk as his skin adopted a dark red of interest.

Oh he knows knows.

"What do you want me to say?"

"To me? Nothing, maybe why you took my chucks" He eyed the shoes briefly, before looking for a second on Miles- God he couldn't kn- "To him? Whatever you actually want to say that you refuse to admit to yourself."

Scoffing, she used Jess calling them up (probably to get moving since apparently they bought the empanada;) to start walking, "You are overthinking this, there isn't anything going on."

"Hmm, I guess I should go to talk to Margo about him, figure would be good get as much people on his side as possible, don't you think?"

As Gwen tried to not see red, she wanted to replied that there wasn't going to be any reasons to draw sides (or so she hoped at least,) when Miles drifted from Jess towards them.

"Hey! Why are you guys lagging behind?" Miles eyed both of them, specially Hobie.

Miles was a good guy, but for the life of him he couldn't hide his intentions, and Gwen wished she could had found a way to shut up Pav before he got even more dumb ideas in his head.

Nothing wasn't happening!

"Oh nothing, discussing some things," Hobie shrugged off, before casually walking pass Gwen and slinging an arm around Miles "Missions, other spiders; like Pav and Margo, what do you think of them?"

"Oh! Well-"

As they continue walking, Gwen stood up in shock as Hobie casually looked back, and mouthed "Don't be late."

If she wasn't fuming before, she was now.

Oh she was so going to kill him.

[redkpom]

RoseXtheo *** NSFW

“...It’s difficult for me to feel very sympathetic about your situation.” 

Rose’s tone wasn’t unkind, but Theo stopped mid rant and turned full around at her, completely incredulous. 

“How can you say that?” he cried. “I’ve been working at developing my craft and my show aesthetic for five years and now I've been reduced to…to…” He struggled to find the words, “…to some kind of TikTok, thirst trap, sideshow freak!” 

Rose raised her eyebrows. “You had like, two audience videos go viral from a performance you did months ago. I don’t think you’ve been ‘reduced’ to anything.” She shifted her eyes from him to the tent that surrounded them. “And I would be careful with the terms you used to describe the talent at this company. Just because we’re not Cirque du Soleil doesn’t mean we aren’t a reputable circus.” 

Theo rolled his eyes before turning back to the set pieces behind him. “‘Reputable circus’ is oxymoronic.” 

“Besides,” Rose pushed herself up from the handrail on one of the bleachers. 

The tent, newly belonging to Theo, had once been the Lion Tamers’ Den, though lots of acts had performed there before his arrival. The diameter of it, like most of the performance tents in their company, had bleachers for audience members surrounding the main performing area.

“…It’s not like people made anything up about you. They aren’t even saying anything negative! You’re getting so much good press and I, personally, can’t really understand why you’re not capitalizing off of it. Let alone why you would leave Las fucking Vegas and come here.” 

Theo knelt down and continued to shuffle through boxes of props and tricks. “Why wouldn’t I come here? Isn’t this such a ~reputable circus~?” 

Rose narrowed her eyes as she walked over to look over his shoulder. “You know what I mean.” 

Theo huffed, not halting his work to look up at her. “I came here because I’m starting over, and I figured no one here is making numbers on fucking TikTok…No offense.” he added, sensing her disapproval. “I just don’t want people to think I’m some Criss Angel knock-off or some sex addict bondage salesman who’s just using magic tricks to sell dildos or whatever the fuck.”

 Rose fought back a laugh. “Is it really the audience’s fault that they thought of bondage when they saw your set?” 

“...What does that mean?” Theo’s voice was low as he finally looked up at her.

 “Dude…come on.”

“What????” Theo practically whined as he stood up, now looking directly into her face. “What am I doing wrong?”

Rose relented, feeling just a tinge sorry for teasing her new friend. “Your stuff just looks kind of…kinky?”  She backed up, looking around at the set pieces Theo had brought out from backstage in his auditing.  “Like, what the fuck is this?” She picks up what looks like a body bag covered in chains and padlocks. 

Theo snatches it out of her hands. “It’s just for a basic escape stunt!! Harry Houdini popularized them for God’s sake!” 

Rose nods. “Okay….and this?” She places her hand on a wooden structure, with a large hole in the middle and two smaller holes on each side. “You try to escape while someone is railing you from behind?” She teased. Theo cracks a small, smug smile at this. 

“Actually, it’s called a pillory and it’s left over from when the clown show was using my tent before I started. Maybe it’s you and your friends who are the real kinky ones?” He grinned. 

Rose shot him a look. 

“...You know I'm not a show clown, asshole.” 

Theo raises his hands defensively, but doesn’t drop his smile. “Yet.” 

Rose softens at this and keeps moving forward. 

“...Okay this thing is ridiculous.” 

Rose saunters over to a rectangular box that rested on long legs with wheels. It was obviously made to split in the middle, with old brass attachments to keep it in place. On each end there large openings cut out, presumably for the participant’s head and feet.

“Don’t even try, this is as classic as it gets.” Theo counters. “Everybody knows this trick.” 

“Yeaaaah, but you do a solo show. Soooo… you’re not cutting anyone in half with it.” 

“I actually reverse engineered the trick to cut myself in half with it.” 

“Oh, like David Copperfield?

“NO, NOT LIKE DAVID COPPERFIELD. HE USED A FUCKING BUZZ SAW LIKE A HACK AND I-”

“Reverse engineered the Thin Model Sawing to cut yourself in half traditionally, right, right…Impressive!” Rose smiled cheekily. “...but still kinky.” 

“How?!” 

Rose rolled her eyes and moved to separate the box in half. She opened the lid on the Head side, hoped up on it, and looked back over her shoulder at him. “You really don’t know?” 

“I really don’t know.” Theo stares at her, completely lost. 

Rose leans back on the table back towards him, her legs dangling off the edge. She tilts her chin up to look at him upside down. “You really don’t know?” 

Theo steps forward frustrated “Rose, just tell me what you-“ 

“Ahhhhh~” 

A musical tone comes out of Rose’s mouth as she closes her eyes, opening wide as if she were at the dentist. 

No response. 

She continues her orthodontic patient impression until she breaks off into small giggles, not hearing Theo’s quick, heavy footsteps. Finally opening her eyes, Rose realized the tent was now much darker. The main entrance flap had been closed and tied shut. Theo stood above her, expression unbending. She tilts her head back just a bit further, her upside down gaze looking him over. One of his hands rests on the table just beside her head, the other, holding the button of his jeans. 

Rose brings her eyes back up to meet his, mouth still agape. She swallows hard, trying not to show her flustered nature. She still could not get used to how quick the switch in Theo flipped. He looks down at her, his gaze hard. Trying to keep her excitement in check, she coolly reached up, closing the lid of the trick box on herself. She glanced back up at Theo expectantly, now with her arms and upper body restricted. 

Theo exhaled hard through his nostrils, undoing his pants at an impatient speed. The weight of his strap falls out of his trousers, resting softly against her cheek. Rose holds back a moan at the contact. Theo traces the outline of her sparkling mouth with his thumb, staring at it with hooded eyes. He gently pushes her jaw to release even wider as he guides himself past plump lips and deep into the soft passage of her throat. 

Rose immediately hums at this already familiar sensation. Theo doesn’t pull out of her mouth yet, just holds himself hilt deep in her. She hears him trying to control his breathing as he does this. She moves her pink tongue slightly, flattening it under the shaft of his strap. Then, impossibly slow, she drags her tongue back. Rose coats the length of him before gently resting the tip of her tongue on the tip of his dick, sucking just lightly enough for him to feel the toy constrict tighter around himself. Theo’s eyes shoot down at her, as he grasps either side of the box. 

…He looks so menacing… Rose thought to herself as she locked eyes with him, …but I can tell he’s checking to make sure I'm okay before he really gets going…

Theo pulls back just slightly, standing himself up straight, and drags his hands back up from the box. He lets out a slow, hissing exhale and holds the sides of her head gently, but firmly, in his hands. He strokes her temples with his thumbs, the soft curls of her hair falling over his fingers. The tip of his strap glistens as it twitches on her full lips. Rose stares up at him with wide eyes. Innocent, and eager, and hungry. 

“Ya got plans the rest of the day, Rosie?” His voice was hoarse. 

“I-um.” she hadn’t expected him to talk to her during this. 

“No, you don’t.”

“...N-no I don’t.” 

“Ya gonna stay right here and take care of what ya started?” 

“…yes.” 

“Yes what?” 

“Yes, Sir-“

Theo forced himself right back into her mouth, in and out, pumping at a pace Rose could barely keep up with. His grip on her head was firm, keeping her in place as he moved. 

“Can ya move in that box?” he asked breathlessly, not slowing his pace. 

Rose’s eyes began to water as she swirls her tongue. Theo began to grind his hips each time her lips met his base. She looks up at him helplessly, wondering if he was going to pull out so she could reply. 

Theo stared down at her expectantly. 

“I asked you a question, Rosie.” 

Rose tried to nod, but only began to bob her head in sync with his movements. Theo’s head falls back at this and he lets out a low moan. 

“Fuck….can you move in there or not, Rose?” 

She lets out a muffled “Mhmm!” on his cock, and mascara begins to cloud her vision.

“Good, good…I want you to start touching yourself in there, but if you slow down what you’re doing, you’re gonna regret it.” 

Rose does as she’s told, slowly undoing the tie of her sweats. She reaches a hand down and isn’t surprised at the moisture she finds at her center. Rubbing slow circles through her panties, Rose let her eyes drift up to the man above her. His dark hair fell over his face, and under the stage lights it wasn’t hard to see why the videos of him were so popular. His handsome features twisted sternly, holding back what she hoped was verging on ecstasy. His hooded eyes half watching her as he pumped in and out of her hot mouth. Every now and then he would let his head hang back, letting go of groans and hisses and sighs. Rose began to wonder what it would be like to give Theo head without the strap at all. She knew he had been on testosterone for years and couldn’t help but turn herself on further, imagining the taste of him cumming all over her tongue with his real cock. This thought alone made her quicken her pace as she touched herself, and she began to moan on the strap that was finding its way even deeper into her throat

The vibrations of this shook Theo further and he tangled his fingers into her hair tightly.  “Christ, Rose…” 

At this, Rose bopped even harder, sucking fully now and heightening her cries. All she wanted to do was make him feel better than anyone else ever had. Maybe she would push the lid open, flip herself over and pull the strap off herself. Would he think she was too forward? Would he even like that? They had only hooked up a few times after all, and she hadn’t exactly been her most sober self for all of them. 

Before she could ponder further, Theo unexpectedly pulled himself out of her mouth, hunching over her. Breathing heavily, he slowly made his way to the other side of the box, wiping sweat from his brow. 

“You’re a talented girl, Rosie.” 

Theo held his cock in his fist, lazily pumping up and down. It shined in the stage lights, still glistening from her attention. He titled his head as he slowly lifted the lid of the box, and Rose shyly began pulling her hand out of her sweats. 

“No, no no,” His free hand stops her, holding the waistband himself. “No need to get shy now. Just gonna make it a little easier.” He slowly dragged the sweatpants from her form, revealing sky blue panties. Just a bit below a balloon bouquet print was a wet spot forming at her core. He eyed the spot with a satisfied smile, and Rose felt her cheeks redden. Running his hand down from the waist band to the crotch, he moves the strip of fabric aside, dragging his thumb deliberately to catch some of her slickness. Rose’s breath hitches and Theo’s eyes shoot up to meet hers. She thinks to herself that the way he smiles before they fuck is particularly kind. 

“You did a great job, sweetheart, but I’ll take it from here.”

[darkesttimelinestuff]

"I may not get another chance to say this."

Fictober Prompt #27 - "I may not get another chance to say this."

Rounding the corner to Skinner’s office, Diana came face-to-face with something she didn’t like very much. Mulder and Scully walked out of the A.D.’s office entirely too close for professionalism, his hand on the small of her back. Such an intimate gesture for work colleagues. 

Diana felt her face flush, but she forced a smile as she approached them. “Fox,” she said. “Agent Scully.”

Scully only gave her a tight smile, but Mulder said, “Hello, Diana. Into the lion’s den?”

She was relieved to see he’d stopped to talk to her. Lately she felt she’d been losing him. He was no longer interested in consulting on X-Files cases, no longer interested in meeting her after hours. He seemed distant. Distracted.

“I see you made it out alive,” she joked and pulled the door open. “Fox, can I call you later to discuss something?”

“Sure,” he replied. And with that he followed his partner to their desks in the bullpen. 

************************************************************************

The restaurant she chose lacked the ambiance she was accustomed to. There were no exclusive menus or overpriced meals. This place was poorly lit and sad. It fit her mood perfectly. 

“Thanks for meeting me,” Diana said and Mulder only nodded, so she continued. “I never got a chance to tell you how sorry I am about you losing the X-Files.”

“Thanks, Diana. I’m getting by.”

“That doesn’t negate the pain,” she said, sliding her slender fingers over his hands. 

“No, it doesn’t,” he said, and didn’t pull away. “So, is that why you called me here, Diana? This doesn’t seem like your usual hangout.”

“I wanted something more anonymous,” she admitted. Their corner of the restaurant was especially dark, away from the main street, their booth nearly cast in shadow. 

“Something away from all the Washington elites?” he asked with a wry smile. 

“In a way. And, as for why I’ve called you here… well, Fox,” she smiled, leaned in a little closer, and blinked her long lashes at him, “I’ve missed you.”

That’s when Mulder pulled away, leaning back in the vinyl booth. He ran a hand through his hair. “I… uh… I’m not sure what to say.”

“Say you’ve missed me,” she relied.

“Diana, I… I’ve certainly missed some of the good times we used to have.”

“Oh, Fox,” she said, moving closer to him so that their hips were touching, “I’ve missed you so much. The way we work together. The way we,” she leaned and whispered in his ear, “play together.” A great sense of satisfaction swept through her as he visibly shuddered.

“Hey, now hold on a second,” Mulder said, sliding down the booth to put space between him and Diana. “I didn’t know that’s what you had in mind.”

“Oh, it is,” she said. "Now, listen, because I may not get another chance to say this. I may be sent off to another part of the country. Maybe even Asia this time. Mulder, I’d… I’d like you to come with me. It would be a good move for both of us. It could be like old times again.”

Mulder stared at Diana, unable to speak. 

“I can see I’ve taken your breath away,” she said. “I hope that’s a good thing. It could be very strategic for us. We’d be… Well, we’d be protected.”

Without a thought, Mulder said, “No.”

“No?” Diana asked.

“No,” Mulder said simply and moved all the way down the booth to leave. 

“What do you mean?” She hated the surprise in her voice, the desperation squeezing her heart. “We’ve reconnected since I’ve been back”

“That was a mistake,” Mulder said. “I’ve realized since then that my life is with Scully. In whatever way she’ll have me. But I won’t betray her. And I can’t leave.”

And now it was Diana who was left speechless. Mulder turned and walked out into the night.

[marshmallowprotection]

Then... Suit Saeran is less dangerous than Ray?

Let's start off right at the gate and make something abundantly clear to everyone. Ray, Suit Saeran and Unknown are dangerous. But, I've got to warn you there's a major distinction between the threats you'll face when you're with one of them. I wouldn't say that one of them is more dangerous than the other because what's terrifying to someone might not be scary to another.

The threat level differs between them for a specific reason, and while someone might say that one is dangerous in comparison to another, I have to disagree strongly. You aren't safer with one because the other might value you in a different way. Case in point, people assume that Ray is safe because of his gentle facade. Not all of his niceties are for the sake of cruelty or evil, but it is manipulation, whether he's doing it on purpose or not.

Pointedly, one of the reasons why I coined the term Danger Ray in this fandom a few years ago is because of that misconception. Far too many people assume Ray is safe because he wants you safe. I love him the most out of all the Saerans', I'm biased when it comes down to his representation, but it's important to me that people are aware of his nature. How far he'll go to keep you with him.

It doesn't matter if his definition of your safety is keeping you like a prince/ss doll in a dollhouse, it's easy for people to disregard that because he smiles and treats you with a distinct warmth that you won't get from Suit Saeran or Unknown. Easy to ignore that when there's so much focus on his desire to be with you, and his struggle with his self-worth. Lean too far into that aspect and you'll miss the fact that—

He was the one who drugged V with no remorse in V's route. That wasn't Suit Saeran who did it. He did it. The game makes a point of letting you see that. He was more afraid of what Rika would do if he went too far than he was over what V felt. Sure, there's a part of him that hates pain and misery, but he's too consumed with elixir and a lot of cult programming to care.

Like, yes, my blog title is MarshmallowProtection because I think he's a cutiepie who needs to be protected, but let's be real if you told me to weigh my odds of not getting elixired right off the bat by deciding which one of them to be alone with? I'd probably go with Suit Saeran, believe it or not. That's not because Suit Saeran is less dangerous, I'm just well aware of what Ray is capable of.

[Post about Another Story's Prologue Bad Ending]

[Post about V Route BRE1]

[Post with general examples from VNs]

Ray is infatuated with you and will not hesitate to correct you if he needs to. So, yes, Ray is dangerous because he won't stop to get the thing he wants the most. If you need to be corrected, you will be the one that's corrected.

Whether it be from taking you from the cafe to ensure you're with him forever, correcting you on Day 4 for not being able to play his game right, taking you away to play after Rika said it would be fine, or what have you. Ray can fix you, take you apart, and rebuild you and it's fine by him. As long as he can have you, he'll do whatever it takes to make it happen. That's why you need to be cautious of him.

The reason why Ray is dangerous is that he's deceptive. You don't see it coming if you're not looking for it.

But, if we're talking about Unknown, that's very different. What's the threat with Unknown, you may ask? Well, it's largely contrasted with what Ray wants. Unknown doesn't care for you. He doesn't love you. He just needs someone to be a little sheep and follow his orders like a lamb to the slaughter. He needs a willing fool to walk into a den of oh-so-very hungry lions and play the part.

You're his new eyes, he says so himself in the game and on the title screen. That's all you are to him. A prop... a tool... a pawn. You're fun to play with, but he doesn't need you like Ray does. He gets you like someone's shiny toy he stole and holds you up to make them cry as soon as they realize they're not getting it back. So, what value does that make you to him? He's not gentle. He's not kind.

He could use you for whatever he wanted and then throw you away.

The reason why Unknown is dangerous is because you mean nothing to him and he wouldn't care if you were thrown into the basement. He doesn't have a route for a reason. He's too far gone to care about any living thing. He just cares about revenge... which is why when he gets revenge in a Bad Ending, he'll get rid of Seven or V, and then himself. That's his entire life. Revenge and then nothing but the cold embrace of death.

He has no time to give a damn about what happens to you. Sure, we see him toy with you in the Christmas DLC, but that's just a part of a game. You're crushing the RFA... you're making Saeyoung and V look like monsters... you've given him a gift and he's going to reward you... well, he'll reward you until he gets bored, anyway. You don't mean the world to him. You're a plaything with purpose until he gets something better.

Ray and Unknown are different kinds of dangerous. You decide which one is worse for you on a personal level. Do you think it's scarier if the character you're with tells you upfront that you're going to be thrown away, or when a character is too deceptive for you to realize that you can't escape him no matter what? What's scarier? The awareness of what might happen or the lack, therefore?

So, that leaves us with Suit Saeran. What threat does he pose if I've only been able to tell you why Ray and Unknown are dangerous so far? He does pose a threat, but his threat is the miserable kind. The kind that destroys him and you in one false swoop. The kind of threat that seems scary for you until you realize what's actually going on in the moment.

What transgressions does he commit against you? The worst of his threats are verbal and physical domination. His bark is larger than his bite in most cases, screaming and shouting at you, using his size (if you're shorter than him) to intimidate you to lure you into feeling like there's no hope whatsoever to overpower him or fight back.

He keeps food away from you thinking that the more he takes away, the more likely you are to give up and realize that you're going to end up like Ray. You're going to die because Rika doesn't want you to be there anymore. Suit Saeran woke up because Ray was suffering in the basement for the crime of loving you, and he knew he had to go take care of that. He tried to snuff it out and break it so Rika couldn't destroy Ray completely or you.

Dominating you isn't about trying to destroy you for the sake of it. He isn't even fully aware of this fact, either. That's why he continues to act so back and forth when he's with you, afraid and angry when the things he's doing don't hurt you or break you. He's trying to prove the pain he suffered had a purpose.

The weak die. The strong live on. There's no other way to survive.

If that isn't true, he's become a monster for nothing.

He never had to be a monster to stop his demons from trying to kill him if that's the case. Because that's who he is, he became a barking dog to keep the larger dogs away. The scary thing about Suit Saeran is that he's afraid of himself and his anger. He doesn't know what he wants and this affects everything around him.

He wants to punish you and Ray for being in love because it caused the torture, and yet, he wants to know about you because if being vulnerable was this "bad", why would Ray risk everything for you? It isn't good to be tortured... to be beaten... and Ray knows that.

The pain he and Saeran have shared is nothing to laugh about. Why in the world would Ray risk everything for you? What is it about you?

His struggle during the route to figure you out is his entire arc. But, because the problem stems from his fear of being vulnerable and weak... you see him hurt himself and everyone around him because he's dazed and confused like an animal in a bear trap that's trying to shake it off before the humans come.

[Bad Ending 2 is a prime example of when this goes too far.]

By the time Suit Saeran realizes what he wants and needs, in the worst-case scenario, he's broken you in BE2 and there's no getting you back. The scariest thing about Suit Saeran isn't the fact that he can bite you or deny you food. It's the fact that his inability to have a chance to figure himself out in a safe environment becomes his (and your) very undoing.

His lack of awareness is the dangerous part. I don't think his torture methods are scary... I think what should scare everybody is the fact that if the right situation isn't triggered, he will break you and that'll break him. I'd call him cornered... and there's nothing scarier than a man who is cornered and might do anything. You have no way to be sure of what will happen to you. That's dangerous in its own way.

So, who is more dangerous out of the three?

All of them.

[audhdnight]

Disclaimer, before I get into this: I do not believe a god of any kind exists. Some people believe the god of the Bible exists as a single entity among many other entities, and to that I say, to each their own. I personally do not hold that belief, so when I talk about what god could have done or what god is and isn’t, this is in a purely hypothetical sense. It is to draw attention to the inconsistencies in the way the Christian god is presented, in hopes that his followers might recognize a bit of their cognitive dissonance and realize they could look at things a lot more objectively.

Moving on~

The following image is a screenshot of part of a post I made last week. The entire thing is not relevant to this specific discussion, so I’ve only included two specific paragraphs, although if you’d like to read the whole thing I can post it here too. (The image description is in the alt text.)

In the comment section of this post, a Christian woman replied:

I’m going to break down these analogies because I am seriously so sick of seeing people repeat them as if they actually make any sense at all.

To start, her analogy of the lion’s den is omitting the fact that my hypothetical father in this scenario not only created the den and put the lions in it, but then also put me into it. Then he saved me, and expected me to be grateful and worship him and decide “wow, he saved me so I guess he must love me pretty much! guess that means I have to follow every rule he sets for me now!” She also makes it sound as if there are only two choices: worship this convoluted father with a praise kink, or else jump back into the pit of lions. When in reality, what’s stopping me from simply walking away from it all? Is the den and the ground around it the only thing that exists in this world? Because I would assume if I keep walking, I would keep finding ground to walk on. And eventually I’d come to a place where my father isn’t, and I’d probably just stay there.

In the second comment she uses the example of a couple who decided to set boundaries in their relationship. Right off the bat, this argument is completely invalidated by the simple fact that there is no equal partnership between a person and “God”. There is a massive power imbalance, in which no form of equality can ever exist. Even setting that to the side, though, we need to acknowledge that these are not “boundaries”, in the sense that all parties must abide by them or else part ways. They are rules, and only the non-God party has to follow them.

In a separate post I made a while ago about my issues with the god of the Bible, I brought up the fact that the true biblical God cannot be loving. He supposedly led the nation of Judah on a colonization campaign through the ancient Middle East, giving them full permission to slaughter entire cities, take all their shit, and keep their women as slaves. I said that I cannot in good conscience follow a god who says murder is wrong, but then explicitly instructs his “chosen people” to murder thousands upon thousands of people just because they were “gentiles” living on the land promised to them by that same god. In the comments of that post, another woman said this, which is a very common belief in Christianity:

This is why I hate the concept of “sin” as a whole. It’s not bad because it’s bad, it’s bad because god said so. Which means he can also say something completely different, and that makes it okay but just for him. Murder isn’t murder when god kills someone. Stealing isn’t stealing if god said you could have it. Rape isn’t rape if god told you that you could keep that woman as a slave.

So in the analogy of a woman and her partner, these are not boundaries like “we can’t hit each other or fight, we can’t lie to each other or cheat”. They are rules that say “you can’t hit me or talk back, you can’t keep things from me or leave this relationship. but me? I can do whatever I want”.

The god of the Bible is not a loving deity. He is a control freak who is perfectly happy to let you suffer for all eternity if you decide you don’t like the way he runs things. I see a lot of Christians in my comments constantly, telling me that god didn’t decide to punish you for not loving him. It’s just a natural consequence; if you decide to be separated from him, his protection doesn’t work and that’s why it’s torment.

To that I always say, why? Why did god make a reality in which his protection only extends to those who worship him? Why did he make it so that we have to suffer if we’re apart from him? He’s all-powerful right? So couldn’t he have created a reality in which, whether you liked him or not, the outcome was the same? All people, regardless of faith, had an afterlife that didn’t torture them? I don’t know if it’s just that Christians have no imagination or what, because I can conceive of multiple ways in which suffering simply wouldn’t have to exist if I had made the world.

Of course the response I always get is “But you’d have to take people’s choice! We’d be robots!” And again I ask, why? God could have made it so that we could all only make choices within the bounds of what does not harm ourselves or others. He could’ve made it so that greed and hate and apathy simply didn’t exist in people’s minds, if he wanted to. And sure, maybe you’d say it isn’t fair to keep people from being able to make those choices. But I would say that in this hypothetical reality, we wouldn’t know the fucking difference. We would be happy. Everyone would have what they needed, no one would ever suffer.

Anyway, “free will” within Christianity does not exist. You cannot give true consent in an imbalanced power dynamic, or when saying “no” is unsafe, and god meets both those conditions.

This whole thing is another great example of how Christians actively believe a whole lot of directly conflicting things, but the indoctrination keeps them from seeing it.

[butmakeitgayblog]

So I was reading (not for the first time, what's new?) CI snippets and the last one I read before deciding to go to sleep (thing that I'll do in a minute because it's late) is the snippet where Lexa and Clarke fight over Costia (more or less, you know which one) and a question popped in my head.

Does something like that happened to Lexa about Clarke? A moment of jealousy or something else that made Lexa so angry that she needs to have a discussion with Clarke like the Costia one? It doesn't need to be about jealousy per se but something about a specific thing that made Lexa insecure and that Clarke needs to solve.

Maybe somewhere in the future, when they are already married, because I can see why they would discuss before, for the Bet, for their relationships with other people or in general, but when they are already married and they are already a team that everyone knows about? 🤔

Thank you!

Honestly, jealousy? Not really, especially not late in their relationship. Any real jealousy on her part that isn't just used as fucked up foreplay gets handled gracefully and forcefully pretty quick once they get together, because Lexa's not the type to let things linger that she doesn't like. If it pisses her off she's gonna say something and, bless, she doesn't do the whole storming out way of handling thing Clarke does. Instead she gets... eerily calm. Which Clarke learns is always more dangerous.

There's a time shortly after they'd just started sleeping together that Clarke spends the night at a friend's house without telling Lexa. As in, Lexa just comes home for the evening thinking they'd spend the evening together as usual. And waits in her room as usual. And Clarke just doesn't show up. No call, no text. Just nothing.

Lexa is not pleased.

It's not as tho Clarke can't go out with friends or stay out all night or that she has to ~check in~. Nothing that childish. But when you're with someone there is a certain level of accountability you have to that person. And when an entire evening passes with no word from her girlfriend (whether Clarke even really understands that that is what she is yet or not), Lexa realizes they're gonna have to have a talk.

Because Lexa is fully aware she's taking this emotionally stunted dipshit she's in love with kicking and screaming into an actual adult relationship. And spending the night worrying about her girlfriend, only to wake up to Clarke's entire feed filled with tagged photos of her at dinner and then a party and then apparently snuggled up with a choice few acquaintances that Lexa knows quite well would fuck her very beautiful and very flirty girlfriend if given half the chance, just isn't something that's going to become a recurring thing in their time together.

However long that may be if the little dumbass doesn't get a fucking clue.

So it's like stepping into a lion's den when Clarke waltzes into her office for a surpise lunch because she's missed her and wants to tell Lexa all about her fun night out and also just maybe has a sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach over the fact that her... whatever the hell Lexa is to her, keeps reading her 'good morning baby' and 'I'm thinking about you' and her disgusting 'my lips are lonely beautiful, come home' texts, but not answering. Not an equally disgusting text back or something deliciously profane. Not Lexa's usual lamenting about missing her too or vows to take care of her and kiss her pretty face off the second she sees her or detailed plans of how she's going to lock them in her room and fuck Clarke until she can't walk.

Just her normal sweet things.

Instead it's radio silence, and with Lexa that's fucking terrifying.

Which, yeah, that feeling of doom turns out to be just good instincts if Lexa's incendiary stare when Clarke plops down on the edge of her desk is anything to go by.

[x-authorship-x]

I am SO loving this sudden influx of Shisui/Founders asks they're such interesting pairings

Also, any thought on how Shisui and Kagami would interact if Shisui was yeeted in the past? I just love the idea of Shisui sort-of adopting big-brother-style (or father-style depending on how far back Shisui ends up/how much age difference there is) his own grandfather who is now younger than him and just creating chaos together everywhere lmao

Hey, Anon!

It's a lot of fun, I'm glad you're enjoying the discourse ☺️ I'm not exactly well-versed in Founders Era Canon so everyone should please bear in mind that I'm just playing around and a lot of this will be based on Fanon too 🥹

Okay, so Kagami and Shisui are a truly excellent duo and there are a few reasons why

Let's have a look 👀

Shisui is a sweetheart and he loves his village, notable in a time when the Uchiha are increasingly disenchanted and disenfranchised. Where is this from? Kagami! If not his grandfather directly (who I have as dying young in defence of Uzushio etc) then stories of his exploits with Tobirama and the Team.

Kagami is amazing, he doesn't just tolerate the Senju but he walks right into the lion's den and is taught by Tobirama himself, who had been the Scourge of Uchiha for decades... What a king. Just from the flashes of his expression (😅) that we see, to me he looks emotionally sensitive and very empathetic, he possibly had a Mangekyou which means he was strong enough to survive whatever trauma unlocked that level of his Sharingan (as well as being a student of Tobirama, which says a lot about how good his education was). In my Headcanons, he was savvy enough to be the Ambassador to Uzushio, which is a place stuffed to the brim with creative genius, and he was an inspiration to Mikoto, who I have as his daughter.

If they meet, where they are both adults, then it's like... so much joy? Shisui is so hyped and emotional to meet the man himself and Kagami is breathtakingly delighted to meet! His! Grandson! Omg hi! It is the meeting of two golden retriever puppies, falling over each other and so euphoric to be there. Once the novelty is gone, Kagami is proven to be more politically savvy - "no, argh, take this mess to the other clan heads and form a coalition-" - whereas Shisui is physically quicker and a better fighter. Yeah, Kagami was taught by Tobirama but Shisui would out-fight Tobirama as well. Kagami might have (?) experienced the Warring Clan's, but Shisui was an actual prodigy who has lived through war as well and he's also got the benefit of the innovation of the future! Kagami is sharp and reassuring to Shisui, Shisui is proof that peace works but also that they need to lay better foundations, and they just put their heads together and get so much great stuff done 👍

If Kagami is a kid.... Shisui is gonna protect the SHIT out of him, NO ONE WILL HURT ONE HAIR ON HIS HEAD 😤 ...they will be slightly eerie together 😅 they look so much alike, especially when Kagami is young so you can't see much of his bone structure, and Kid!Kagami brings out Shisui's own joy and hopefulness, so you just get like a Big Me and Mini Me duo. Kagami is extremely excited

If Shisui is a kid and Kagami is older... It's very emotional. Shisui has been strong for so long, Kagami is gonna be like a security blanket and Shisui will trust him with everything, even news of Danzo's treachery, and Kagami will believe him because there is a bond there. Kagami might be Shisui's biological grandfather but from the moment they meet? Dad!Kagami activated. Shisui is gonna be very soft and a little weepy and Kagami's rage will be beautiful ❤️

This was so wholesome, what a great dynamic to ponder, Anon! Have a great weekend 😊

[heybabyricecake]

Reverse Columbia who’s ready?????

After practice, Riko gathered up Kevin, Jean, and Nathaniel, and then took to cornering Andrew in the locker room. Andrew was done changing into his normal clothes, and shot a bored stare up at Riko. Aaron looked on from a little ways away, wary, but he didn’t approach the - attack? Threat? - Nathaniel had no idea what they were doing. He kept shooting Riko curious stares, but Riko ignored it.

“Minyard.” Riko greeted Andrew, like they were old friends. “Nate seems to think you and I should be friends. So, how about it? Come out with us on Saturday. Don’t worry, Aaron’s not invited. Let’s see if we can’t… how do the kids say it these days… start over?”

“What?” Nathaniel snapped to Riko. Riko said nothing about a party.

“Wholesome fun.” Riko said, not taking his eyes off Andrew. “Just a little house party.”

“Trenton’s?” Kevin asked, likely already having heard about it.

Riko nodded.

“Riko, no.” Nathaniel said. He couldn’t quite keep the tremor out of his voice. “I’m not going.”

Riko finally turned to Nathaniel. “I said ‘wholesome’ fun. You’ll be fine.” He promised.

Andrew watched this exchange with mild disinterest. His gaze finally settled on Nathaniel. Nathaniel tried to give a small shake of his head - maybe a warning maybe not - but Andrew seemed to ignore it.

Andrew slid out a knife from his armband in one smooth motion. He pointed it at Riko. “Why the fuck would I go anywhere with you?”

“Didn’t I just say?” Riko replied, unfazed by the knife. “Call it team bonding. Call it a welcoming party. Call it Nate wants you to come. Call it whatever the fuck you want. You in or you out?”

“One night.” Kevin spoke up next. “One night, then you can decide you hate us all.”

“In.” Andrew said, much to Nathaniel’s surprise. It didn’t seem… right. That Andrew would agree to any of this. Nathaniel didn’t know Andrew well, but from what he could gather, Andrew wasn’t one to go walking into a lion’s den. Or maybe, he just wasn’t scared of the lion. But he should be. Nathaniel hated to admit it to himself, because he wanted to ignore all of Riko’s flaws for obvious reasons, but Andrew *should* be scared of Riko

[briefstarlightvoid]

"I chose you."

Harry was having a nightmare about the Dursleys. Dudley was beating him up, while Aunt Petunia looked on with a disdainful face. Uncle Vernon started yelling at him. "You fucking freak! You're disgusting, and no one is ever gonna want you! No one will ever choose you! You're just a stupid freak!" Then he laughed maniacally. "And that other freak, Draco? You think he actually loves you? Then you're even stupider than I thought!" Harry woke up in a cold sweat, heart racing. He started crying, knowing that Uncle Vernon had been right, and that Draco was probably only with him so that he could break his heart and then brag about having broken the Boy Who Lived. He decided to just stay in bed, because he didn't think he could deal with being around Draco today, as it would just hurt his heart as he knew Draco didn't really want or love him. He curled up around his pillow and cried silently, ignoring everyone and everything.

Draco became worried when Harry wasn't at breakfast or any of his morning classes, and approached Hermione about it during lunch. "Hey, Granger. Can I talk to you?" he asked, slightly uncomfortable as he felt the stares of the other Gryffindors around.

She looked at him, a little confused. He didn't usually talk to her, he only really ever talked to Harry. "Okay, sure." She got up and followed him out into the hall. "What's up?"

"I'm worried about Harry, I haven't seen him all day. Do you know what's going on?" he asked, a very concerned look on his face.

"I'm not sure, all I know is that Ron said he's hiding in bed, ignoring everyone, and that it was probably best to leave him alone."

Draco was even more concerned now. "That doesn't sound like a good idea. He has a tendency to get inside his own head and just self-destruct and self-deprecate when he's upset. Do you-do you think maybe-- No, never mind," he broke off what he was saying, looking kind of awkward and uncomfortable.

"What? You can ask me whatever, I'm not going to judge you, you know."

He sighed in frustration. "It's not that I think you're going to judge me, it's that I know it's bloody unlikely you'll agree."

"Well, you'll never know if you don't ask."

"Fine. Do you think you could let me into the Gryffindor dorm so that I could talk to Harry, try to help him?"

Hermione thought about it. She knew that if Harry was going to talk to anyone, it would probably be Draco. "Okay."

Draco looked surprised. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah. If anyone can get Harry to talk, it's gonna be you. Come on." She started walking to the Gryffindor dorm, gesturing for Draco to follow.

Draco followed, surprised that Hermione was actually willing to let a snake into the lion's den. Once Hermione let him in and told him which stairs led to Harry's dorm, and what room he was in, Draco hurried up there as fast as he could. He immediately located which bed was Harry's, as it was the only one with the curtains drawn around it.

He walked over and pulled the curtains open. Harry was curled around a pillow, tears streaming down his face silently. Draco's heart broke to see him like this. He carefully sat on the edge of the bed and reached out his hand to gently caress Harry's shoulder. Harry looked up at him, face red, puffy, and tear streaked. "What's wrong, babe? Did something happen?" he asked softly.

Harry started sobbing after those gentle caring words, knowing that they must be fake, because Draco didn't really love him. Draco gently pulled him up, holding him tightly in his arms, letting Harry cry into his chest. He rubbed Harry's back soothingly. "Shh....it's okay, babe. You're gonna be okay."

Once Harry calmed down and stopped crying, he pulled away and wiped his eyes, looking sheepishly at Draco. "I-I'm sorry," he mumbled, feeling bad for having soaked Draco's shirt.

"For what?" Draco asked gently, confused as to what Harry could be apologizing for.

"I-I got your shirt all wet," Harry said, not sure why Draco had to ask, as it should have been obvious what he had done wrong.

"Oh, well, that's okay. It doesn't really matter. It'll dry. I just want to know what's wrong. Did you have another nightmare?" Draco asked. Harry gave a reluctant nod, sniffling. "Okay," Draco said. "Can you tell me about it?" When Harry looked uncomfortable, Draco was quick to reassure him. "I'm not gonna judge you for it, I just want to help."

Harry took a deep, shaky breath and gulped. "It-it was about the Dursleys. D-Dudley was beating me up, a-and Aunt Petunia was jus-just letting it happen. The-then Uncle Vernon started yelling at me, s-saying that I'm a-a freak, and no-no one would ever want me, and-and that I'm stupid to-to think that you wo-would ever love me," Harry sobbed out, choking on the words. "A-and he's right," he whispered, looking down ashamedly.

Draco reached out and gently grabbed Harry's chin, pulling it up to look him straight in the eyes. "Look at me, Harry. I want you to listen closely, okay?" Harry nodded. "Your uncle was not right, understand? You are not a freak. You are wanted, okay? And I do love you."

"But-" Harry interrupted, about to tell him how that couldn't possibly be true.

"No 'buts', Harry. If you weren't wanted, then why would I be here?" Harry opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss for words. "See? You can't. Because you are wanted. I'm here because I want you, okay? I chose you."

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 52

*Warning Adult Content*

Powerless

By the time backup arrives, The Fallen Angels' clubhouse is loud with activity.

It's as packed as it has ever been with both familiar faces and new.

Knox leans against a wall barely paying attention to the commotion, too consumed by his racing thoughts.

With each tick of the clock, he grows increasingly restless.

It's taking everything in him to ignore the urge to jump on his bike and tear out of here to find Everett and bring him back himself.

It's the boy's own impulsiveness that has landed him in the lion's den.

Knox understands why he did what he did but that still doesn't soothe the sting of betrayal.

Everett should know better by now.

He shouldn't have gone off on his own.

He should've waited just a while longer to get Knox's opinion... get anyone's opinion.

Always acting before thinking and letting his emotions cloud his judgment is a flaw that continues to create problems between him and Knox, primarily because in Knox's world, that shit will get you killed quick.

Then again, who's really to blame?

Knox wouldn't be here with his anxiety on a hundred had he not allowed himself to fall for the boy.

Suddenly, a hand claps his shoulder.

Knox whips around instantly on guard until he sees it's just Finn.

"Are you serious right now? We're about to go to war."

Knox gestures to the beer bottle in his hand.

"Why the fuck are you drinking at a time like this?"

"Listen, man," Finn's chuckle is low and devoid of humor.

"If I die tonight, I don't want to do it sober."

Knox's chest tightens at the thought of losing another brother, especially Finn.

For all their head-butting over the years, the mouthy little shit has become like real a brother to him.

If anyone deserves to die tonight, it's Russell and his dishonorable fuck-ups.

Knox's fingers flex at the thought, itching to wrap around the first Jackal's throat he can get his hands on.

"Hey, you still in there?" Finn asks, snapping his fingers in front of Knox's face.

"Yeah."

Knox rolls his eyes.

"Fuck off."

"We'll get him back, brother," Finn says.

"And we'll kill every worthless Jackal in the process."

Before he can agree, Gavin bursts into the room.

"I just received proof of life for Everett. He's..." Gavin pauses when his gaze lands on Knox, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before he looks away.

"He's a little banged up but alive. We can head out."

The relief Knox feels in that moment is overshadowed by the fear that Russell could still snap at any second.

Everett isn't out of the woods yet.

Not by a long shot.

"Listen up. Here's the plan..." Gavin's command bounces off the walls as he quickly organizes everyone into two units.

Half will stake out Russell's cabin and wait for his signal to attack.

The other half, Knox's group, will follow Finn at a distance for the faux trade in case things go sideways.

As they head outside, Knox spots Gavin pulling Josie into a bear hug as they whisper their goodbyes.

In the split second that her eyes connect with Knox, he gives her a single nod, a silent promise he'll do whatever he can to keep Gavin safe.

She returns the nod before Gavin presses one last kiss to her temple and walks off.

Knox swings a leg over his bike while starting the engine.

His only thought during the drive to the drop-off location is a prayer that Everett comes back to him breathing.

He hopes the God he rarely calls on will look past his mountain of sins and grant him this one plea but with the number of military-grade weapons in their possession tonight, everyone's confidence is slightly higher than it was previously.

They're finally on equal footing to be a match against Russell.

If only things go according to plan.

Gavin lifts a hand in the air when they're about twenty minutes out, signaling everyone but Knox and Finn to fan out around the perimeter and hide in the shadows.

At the end of a closed off dirt road, a black van with tinted windows sits parked with its engine running.

Gavin, Knox and Finn park and dismount their bikes about thirty feet away.

"Can anyone see the driver?" Finn whispers, squinting through the darkness.

"No," Gavin replies.

Knox ignores them, too busy scanning the treeline for any signs of hidden men or traps.

There's no way Russell planned for this to be a legit trade, not with how badly he craves for Finn's death.

Both clubs are in the business of backstabbing each other but, so far, nothing seems out of place.

Knox's guard rises even higher because of that.

"Do you think they actually brought the kid here?" Finn asks, breaking the silence once more.

"Stop yapping and fucking focus," Knox snaps.

When the driver's side door swings open on the van, they all place a hand on their weapons, ready to draw.

Knox's finger hovers over the trigger... only to blink in surprise when a lone woman steps out.

She's slim, dressed in black from head to toe and wearing a hat that shields the important parts of her face.

Knox and Gavin exchange a quick look.

"That motherfucker knows we don't harm women," Finn grumbles, fists clenched.

"So of course he sends a woman to do the exchange. Fucking bastard."

"He's testing me," Gavin mutters.

"I should've known he'd pull something slick like this."

"Hello, gentlemen," the woman says, regarding them coolly, seemingly unfazed by the whole situation.

"Are you ready to do this or what?"

"We are," Gavin replies.

"But where's the kid?"

"Still breathing," she says, unmoving.

"Now strip him and tie up his hands."

She reaches behind her back, and Knox's grip tightens on his gun but she merely tosses something at their feet.

Zip ties.

Knox glances at Gavin, jaw clenched.

"I know we have our code but I don't fucking like this. We should kill her."

"We don't know if Everett is in that van or not, Knox."

Gavin's response is razor-sharp, logical even in the face of chaos.

"What if we kill her and go over there to find the fucking thing empty? Then what, huh? How the hell do we find the kid if our only lead is dead?"

Sighing in annoyance, Finn snatches up the zip ties and hands them to Gavin.

"Just fucking tie me up so we can get this over with."

Knox keeps his eyes on the woman as Finn strips down to his underwear and Gavin secures his wrists behind his back.

"Now, the two of you..." she says, gesturing to Knox and Gavin.

"Place your weapons on the ground."

Knox grits his teeth.

"Can we kill her now?"

Gavin ignores him, slowly lowering his gun to the dirt.

Knox reluctantly follows suit.

"Finn will come over there once we see you have the kid," Gavin tells her.

"And he'd fucking better be alive."

The woman nods once before walking to the rear of the van and opening the double doors.

Knox's breath catches in his throat at the sight of Everett.

He's curled up and shivering on the floor of the van, his wrists and ankles bound and he has a bag over his head.

He's in the same clothes Gavin last saw him in and even from a distance, all three men can see the dark splotches of dirt and blood staining the fabric.

"Get him out now," Knox commands.

The woman reaches in and hauls Everett to his feet, half-dragging him out of the van on wobbly legs.

Before Finn walks over, Gavin repeats the plan.

"I'll grab my gun and take the shot when Finn is near Everett."

Finn nods.

"I'll throw him down in time, so he doesn't catch a stray."

"I'll cover you both," Knox adds.

The woman nudges Everett forward and he stumbles, clearly weak and disoriented.

Finn inches closer at the same time, his wrists bound behind his back as Knox finds himself holding his breath.

'Almost there.'

His eyes travel over every inch of Everett, studying every visible tear and stain on his clothes.

'His clothes.'

As Everett comes closer, the wrongness of it all slithers up Knox's spine.

Everett's shoulders seem a lot broader than Knox remembers and his pant legs are riding up too high, exposing far too much ankle.

'No.'

Knox's demons, the ones he's struggled to leash since Everett burst into his life, now frantically claw at the base of his skull.

They howl one word in unison.

TRAP

"Stop," he tries to shout but it comes out more of a strangled choke.

"Finn, come back. It's a fucking trap."

But it's already too late.

The woman's arm swings, her hand now brandishing a gun that wasn't there before and she unloads her clip in their direction.

The Everett imposter's body drops first and he's dead before he hits the ground.

Finn falls backward with an agonized scream that slices Knox's heart in two, blood spattered across his chest as he writhes on the ground.

"NO," the horrible, broken wail sounds distant to Knox's ringing ears.

The last time he made a sound like that was when his mother died.

"Finn."

Then he's moving, Gavin at his side, both of them grabbing their weapons to unleash a hail of bullets at the woman as she dives behind the van for cover.

Faintly, Knox registers the roar of engines as reinforcements flood in, adding to the shower of gunfire.

The woman, however, is quick and slippery as an eel.

She yanks open the passenger door and clambers inside.

Tires squeal seconds afterward as the van lurches into motion and drives away from the scene.

"Follow her," Gavin shouts, still shooting at the retreating taillights.

Several men peel off in pursuit, the sound screeching tires swiftly fading.

Knox and Gavin drop to Finn's side to cut his hands free and assess the damage, which is worse than they thought.

They frantically apply pressure to the many bleeding holes in his body but it's just not enough.

Finn's eyes are barely open and his face is chalk-white as he lies motionless on the ground.

"We need to move him to the van," Gavin says but his voice is slightly muffled by the chaos unraveling in Knox's head.

"Knox. I said we need to move him now." 

Finn's breath is shallow and ragged.

Crimson bubbles at the corners of his mouth with each exhalation.

Shock numbs Knox's brain as he fumbles to follow instructions, Finn's blood hot and slick on his hands.

Is this real or is it all just a very bad dream?

"I'm here," one of the prospects runs up, his face stricken as he takes in his fallen brother.

"All calls to Doc are going straight to voicemail. Says something about him being out of town for vacation. What do you want us to do?"

"Goddamn it," Gavin screams, losing control.

"We have no choice. Drop him off at the nearest hospital."

It's a risk that comes with a guaranteed follow-up visit from a police officer due to Finn's injuries being gunshot related but at this point, nothing is out of the question when it comes to saving Finn's life.

More men crowd around, grim-faced but efficient as they lift Finn's limp body and hustle him toward the van.

Knox tries to stand but his legs feel leaden, unwilling to cooperate.

Meanwhile, Gavin snatches the hood off the imposter, revealing a stranger's face.

"You were right," Gavin says.

"It wasn't him."

Each word reaches Knox at a different speed.

He can barely breathe, can't move, can't think.

His pulse pounds in his ears as darkness crowds the edges of his vision.

Fury.... Madness... Sadness... he feels as if he's being stabbed over and again.

The tightness in his chest is unbearable and his bloody hands grow blurry as he stares down at the mess on the ground.

Gavin yanks him up to his feet, his eyes searching Knox's face for signs of the man he knows.

"I need you back, Knox. Your boy is still out there and so is that fucker Russell. This isn't over yet."

Silence.

"We don't have time for mental breakdowns."

Gavin slaps him hard not once but twice.

"I need you, brother. Everett needs you."

Everett's name pierces the haze and Knox drags his gaze over to the crumpled body lying on the ground.

He doesn't recognize the face.

It isn't his kitten.

Everett is still alive.

'He has to be'

But now the concern shifts.

What the fuck is Russell planning if Finn is now out of the picture and Everett is still in his possession?

"I'm about to give the order to have Russell's cabin blown to hell," Gavin says, keeping one hand on Knox's shoulder to steady him.

"I knew Russell would pull a fast one but God-damn it I didn't think it'd go down like this. I take the blame for it all..."

Knox shakes his head.

"Gavin..."

"It's my fuck up and no one else's. End of discussion," he says.

"But now we need to act fast because if the fucker couldn't come here himself to handle Finn himself, it can only mean one thing... he's planning to leave town. I don't know what he might've done with Everett but chances are he might still be alive somewhere. If he wasn't, Russell would've already bragged about killing him. So we need to go. Are you still with me, brother?"

'Kill him. Kill them all. Do it now.'

Move.

Knox closes his eyes and shoves down the despair and self-loathing.

He imagines packing it all away, walling it up brick by brick and in its place, he allows the rage to surge once more.

It burns off the shock and panic until his inner beast emerges to take control.

When he opens his eyes, a chill runs down Gavin's spine.

"Knox?"

"I'm with you," Knox grits out.

"Let's go kill that son of a bitch."

[thatforgottenbasilisk]

To the Dogs

Words: 2463 (AO3)

Summary:

Case #0151001: Statement of Tim Stoker, regarding plastic that refuses to bleed. Original Statement given 10th January, 2015. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.

For Whumptober 2023 Day 23, Prompt #2: Stalking

The tape recorder is clicked on.

Statement of Tim Stoker, regarding plastic that refuses to bleed. Original Statement given 10th January, 2015. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.

It's not right. Nothing about this is right, of course, but this... this isn't right. It's not fair.

I should get to make those damned things suffer, and yet they don't even have the decency to feel it. They don't breathe, they don't bleed, they don't fall or crash or burn and I am sick of it.

I am so fucking sick of it.

They fear me, of course. Everything does, when I feel that it needs to, but fear isn't enough. It will never be enough.

You don't know what I'm talking about, though. You don't know why I'm angry. You don't know what they are. That's alright, though, because you will. In due time.

There are monsters in this world, but you knew that. You're not that stupid. You might even be one of them, but don't worry- I don't have a grudge against you. You're safe from me, so long as you don't piss me off, but I can promise you that there is nothing that you can possibly do that can top what they've already done.

I used to be human, see. Normal. I also used to have a brother. Neither of those are true anymore, and that's because of them.

His name was Danny. He was my little brother, and I- I loved him more than anything. He'd been there as long as I could remember, the age gap between us small enough that to me, I had always had a little brother.

Then they took him. Technically you could say he went wandering in on his own, a lamb walking into a lion's den, but they are abominations. They were never mean to exist. They were never meant to be alive. A better comparison would be a person walking into a pit of demons- demons aren't real, never have been, never will be, as they shouldn't be. A child crawling under his bed, to find that there really is a monster there- moments before he is devoured by a thing that does not care that it is an aberration.

Danny went wandering into a performance hall, long abandoned by humanity and long under the control of I Do Not Know You. The Strangers.

They killed him. I don't think they even hesitated, like a pack of hyenas, filthy opportunists, no honor and no sense of fairness and that's not the point but something about it grates at me.

He never had a chance. He never would've had a chance if he'd wandered into a pack of my own kind, I know that, I know that, he'd be dead no matter what he'd run into, but I- I am still angry. I am still seeking revenge.

I hate them. The Strangers. The Circus. They disgust me.

It doesn't matter what I do, not to them. No matter how many I make sure stay down, they always come back with more numbers, more extras, more mannequins, more understudies ready to take the place of whatever so-called "performer" I managed to put down. They don't even mourn their dead.

Even animals mourn their dead.

Are they too stupid for it? Is there nothing more to them than the masks and the costumes they bear? Just made-up faces and base instincts, nothing going on behind their painted eyes?

I don't care what they are. I don't care if they have any kind of real awareness of their actions. I'll make them suffer as well as I know how, and whether that means what I do is just an inconvenience in the end, then so be it. There's nothing more than that I care about anymore.

I used to care, of course. I used to be so bitter, so angry, and that's what molded me into this. I won't pretend I'm any better than they are, now, because there's too much blood on my hands to deny it, but the difference is everything I kill deserves it. They kill whatever's new and shiny and catches their attention for more than a fraction of a second.

After they killed Danny is when I was the angriest. I was lost and confused, with nothing and no one to take it out on, or to explain a goddamned thing to me. I didn't know why Danny was gone, not really, just that he went into the wrong place at the wrong time and got what he never deserved. I didn't know what that anger, that bitterness, could turn me into, but I don't regret it. I just wish I'd been able to do it earlier, so maybe, just maybe, I could have gone in with him. Gave Danny a fighting chance.

I know it's not realistic. I know it wouldn't have happened that way, but I can still imagine it. Danny can still be alive in a fantastical other world that exists only in my head.

Enough about that, though. You want a story, right? That's what these things are for, not my ranting and raving about the fucking mannequins.

How about the first time I killed one of them?

It was barely a month after Danny died. It wasn't a full-on mannequin, barely even a children's doll on the scale of things. It was a pathetic, pitiful thing, and I was just as much killing it as putting it out of its misery. Maybe it was young, new, freshly not-all-there anymore, and it just had enough of itself left to know that something was wrong but not have the faintest idea what. That didn't stop it from trying to prey on people, though, so it received the dubious honor of being the first.

It was the end of my first week back at work, I remember that clearly. I'd had to take time off, for the funeral and the arrangements and things, as well as the police deciding to question me about it, insisting that I had had something to do with it, insisting that I was jealous, or- or angry at him. I still don't like any of the police because of that, no matter how similar some of them may be to me now.

It was the very first Friday I'd been back, and I'd gone to a pub- not quite to celebrate, more to mark off a little milestone for myself. To end that part of my life, the part where everything is all about how Danny's gone. Yeah, I was drinking alone, but it wasn't all that much and I wanted to get a little closer to normalcy without doing my usual interacting with coworkers and having a whole night out. I wasn't up for that.

I was walking back home in the dark, only a little tipsy, when I heard something in the alleyway nearby. It wasn't very well lit in that part of the street, so I assumed it was either something I had no business in or would only make worse by stepping in, so I decided to ignore it and keep walking. I nearly succeeded, I nearly just went about my night and ended up remaining the same man I was before, getting over the grief and the anger like almost everybody else, but something stopped me.

"Help me."

It was a faint whisper coming from the alleyway, clearly a woman's voice, high and broken in a way that somehow reminded me of a recording inside of one of those baby dolls that talks. Something about it felt like a broken music box, an antique made of porcelain, a cracked piece of delicate finery that has long since passed its time.

I wasn't so far gone to ignore it at that point. I pivoted over to the alleyway, hesitating only in judging if there was anything in my way, and walked inside with caution to the wind. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust, but I eventually saw the human-shaped lump sitting on the filthy concrete and leaning against the brick wall. I crouched down near her, waiting for my eyes to adjust a bit more to see what was wrong.

Her skin was very pale, almost bone white. She looked delicate, with very thin bone structure, though her hair was thin and lank and her eyes were sunken and dull. She wasn't quite looking at me, more watching the mouth of the alleyway, and she didn't move a muscle. I didn't think it strange, how still she was, and it wasn't until later that I realized she wasn't breathing at all.

I didn't know what her kind was responsible for, not yet. I hadn't gone wandering into Danny's tomb until much, much later.

I waited, for a moment, before asking, "How can I help?" It was basic, but sincere- I'd still cared, back then. Danny was gone, everything I'd had was gone, but I still somehow had hope in the world.

She didn't respond immediately. Instead, she turned her head to me, remaining perfectly level, like she was slowly moving it on a swivel. Her face didn't move, not even when she spoke, in that same high whisper, "I don't know what's wrong with me. Something's gone missing."

Her tone was so flat, and yet at the same time it was desperate. I didn't know how to respond, I didn't know how to try to help, but then she kept talking.

"Maybe you have it. Maybe I can get it back by taking it from you."

All of a sudden, she moved. She started attacking me, her fingernails turned to something clawlike and plastic, trying to swipe at my chest, just above my heart. Is that what she was looking for? Was it a beating heart that she was missing, or was it just her human soul?

I don't know, and I guess I never will. I fought her off, despite the fact that I overbalanced and nearly fell over right when she caught me by surprise, but I did fight her off. I started beating her face in, making sure that she would stay down and not try to kill anybody else, and it took more than a few moments to realize that I'd smashed her head right open.

She wasn't even human enough to bleed anymore. Her skull was completely empty, completely white, and whatever it was made of couldn't have possibly still been bone. It broke too cleanly, too neatly, like safety glass that smashes into little cubed pieces that don't cut anyone.

I didn't really register what I did until the morning. In the moment, I stood up and backed away, resuming my walk home. In the morning, I went back to that same alleyway to find absolutely nothing there.

There were more, after that. They're usually plastic, so they usually don't even have the decency to be anything approaching satisfying. Half the time they just let me kill them- it's not like they even care anymore. There's no identity to cling onto, so they know that they'll live on in the next thing that decides to take their face.

Statement ends.

- ... Well. This was... certainly interesting.

- I'd wager quite a bit that this Tim Stoker would get along quite well with Trevor Herbert, the so-called 'vampire hunter,' were he still alive. First vampires and now talking dolls, how many more delusional serial killers am I going to find Statements from in here? They really do just let anyone in here, don't they...

- Ahem. Anyway. Sasha's been doing the follow-up for this one, and though she did find police records regarding the disappearance of Danny Stoker, only vague details were available no matter where she looked or who she may have impersonated. Apparently, it's extremely restricted access, and is tied to an ongoing case, likely that of Tim Stoker himself. I would wager that he was telling the truth on one thing- he wouldn't have murdered his brother, not if that's what he's citing as the event that caused him to go off the deep end. Of course, I may be wrong, and Mr. Stoker may simply be deluding himself on the actual origin of his obvious psychosis, but I'll give the man at least a little bit of the benefit of the doubt.

- As for current records on Mr. Stoker, he apparently quit his job at a publishing company towards the end of 2013, and he has not been able to be reliably contacted since. In the time since he left his job, he has become the prime suspect for the murders of...

- [Muffled] Sasha? Can you come in here for a moment?

- [Muffled, distant] In a minute, I'm a little busy right now!

[Footsteps]

- Yes, Jon?

- Are these- is this correct? The legal names of all of Tim Stoker's alleged victims, is this the final list or are these placeholder names?

- Oh, they're all real. Believe me, I checked. Apparently their real names are John Doe, Jane Doe, and Max Mustermann, which would be...

- John Doe, but in German this time. Of course it is. So are there any bodies or anything attached to these names, or are they just pinning crimes on this random man?

- Well, see, that's the weird thing. There were three bodies, with identification cards on them and everything, except all three of their IDs are fake. Also, all three of them were suffering from some kind of skin condition, because apparently they didn't have any body hair and their dermal tissue was practically plastic. No DNA could be extracted from any of them, either, because they'd been completely drained of blood. Somehow. Just... no DNA, no body hair, and skin made of plastic. With those names.

- So- bear with me here- is it possible that this man is being held responsible for the murders of three dolls? Test dummies, perhaps?

- I think he might've been going around stabbing those animatronic things, like they've got in Disneyland? Except murder makes a better headline than property damage, so they've labeled him a murderer when he's really just a man who hasn't hurt anyone and just needs help.

- I wouldn't say he's harmless.

- Well, he hasn't killed anyone, then. At least, nobody that they can connect him to. Honestly, don't tell me you believe any of those are real people.

- Of course not.

- There we go! Anyway, is that all you needed?

- I believe so. Thank you.

- No problem!

[Footsteps]

- Right. Well. That answers that, then. There's not much information available on Mr. Stoker other than that, so... end recording, I suppose.

The tape recorder is clicked off.