#scrutinized kidnapper

[ividicrous06]

BALD! BALD! BALD! BALD!

[dinglefu]

Some Tanner stuff lol

I have slight art block and boredom rn so I decided to practice my shading and also use some expressions as well..

He isn't all twinkish like last time I drew him (for context I deleted that bc.. EW.. HORRIBLE MISCHARACTERIZATION... EW...)

Also for context about the expressions, imagine he's at a bar or something idk.. I kind of see him being skittish and judgemental towards strangers, not like "uwu I'm so SHYY" but like the "ew wtf get AWAY from me" type yk?

He's still a serial killer and stalker at heart but when he's out of his hobby, out in public (which he barely is because of how interpersonal his obsessions are with his lifestyle), he HATES people. To the point where he will AVOID touching or talking to anyone, almost ignoring them.

Like he will take the most elaborate path to have the least people in his way, even if he's stalking someone (probably Luna or some other unlucky person). AND he's especially hyperreactive because some specific bald man saw him one night and wants to get rid of him or team up (?)

He isn't taking the RISKKKKK.. 😨

It also takes him a while to warm up to anyone, like actually want to spend time with them and value their health. Usually he views his relationships as transactional than romantic or platonic; his "obsessions" feel more natural as an affectionate feeling to him so he's... ehh... not really used to the actual process of relationships (healthy ones.)

Oh yeah, speaking of relationships, Luna almost shot Tanner, because freaky men need to have a girl glock pulled on them. He still watches her from a distance though, but Luna makes sure he doesn't get ANY closer. And Dimitri and Tanner have this weird situation: they keep finding each other in public but Tanner quickly disappears into a crowd or a shadow when Dimitri tries to get closer.

[tacticalhimbo]

SCRUTINIZED FILE FINDS - KIDNAPPER'S TATTOOS

These are screenshots of the model's full texture mapping, which I will not re-upload for obvious reasons.

[artvitorianoir]

Hate you stop

[egophiliac]

Do yoy like their silly little dance

the inside of my brain at any given moment:

[vendettapandav]

""ничего личного. это просто бизнес." (It’s nothing personal. It’s just business.)

The Kidnapper - Scrutinized (2020) by Reflect Studios

[daagwr]

I'd just like to say that as a reminder, if you can look past what the dollmaker does and genuinely like him, get the fuck off my page.

Same for Kidnapper, Lydia and Donald.

All the WTTG characters are bad people (asides from Clint and Luna and such) but there's no excuse for purposely going for the worst of the bunch. They aren't silly, they are rapists. Thanks!

I have drawn the dollmaker before, but it was never because I liked him. I believe that he's a very well written scary character and I'm not just going to ignore all the writing that's been put into him.

But I'm talking if you like him the same level you like other characters, then get off my page.

Tanks

[nowimjustastranger]

How would STCMO!Ford react if Lee hid an injury or a sickness from him? Worried? Hurt? Scared?

“Ugh… shit. Ow.” Lee hissed, slowly easing his shirt up to get a look at the nasty bruising practically on top of his poor kidney. Damn, it was the kidney that he’d grown back too. The scuffle that resulted in said bruising had been short but vicious, Lee taking a bony elbow to the side two or three times before the would-be kidnapper succumbed to lack of oxygen –courtesy of Lee’s chokehold– and passed out.

Ford had been too busy soothing the kid Stan to give chase, the boy clinging to him and wailing his little lungs out. Honestly, Ford had looked torn as Lee surged into the alleyway to pursue the fucker who had tried to drag the kid off, but Ford had ultimately trusted Lee to catch the creep considering that the old fart was still with Stan when Lee hauled the asshole back to the scene of the crime.

Lee had left the unconscious fucker in a dumpster to collect later before emerging from the alley, brushing his hands off on his sweatpants as he sauntered onto the sidewalk to rejoin the sniffling boy and his now kneeling brother. Ford had managed to calm the kid down with a vibrant red toy race car, speaking in low tones as gloveless hands that were scarred from a rough life wiped away the boy’s tears with heart-wrenching gentleness.

The kid had been delivered to his shitty ass parents with a curt explanation of what happened, Lee tuning out Caryn’s hysterics and Filbrick’s attempts to speak over his distressed wife in favor of watching little Ford cling to his brother with huge eyes. The kid was already so smart at his age, fully grasping the severity of the situation if the way his face rapidly blanched of color as Ford spoke of the incident was any indication.

Stan was crying again, hiding his face in the crook of his brother’s neck to muffle his already quiet sobs. And Lee could hear the boy speaking, but he couldn’t make out the words. Lee could guess what the kid was saying though, it was written all over little Ford’s face. The kid’s wide eyes darted from Stan to the adults as his grip on his brother tightened, crushing Stan to his chest like he wanted to absorb his brother into his body.

After Ford calmed things down, Lee was really feeling the aches and pains of a quick and dirty fight. So when they got back home, Lee immediately distanced himself with the excuse that he needed a shower. And, in his defense, he did need one. Grappling in dirty and dank back alleys meant that Lee was covered in questionable substances and didn’t exactly smell like roses. But whatever, it was nothing that a thorough wash wouldn’t fix.

Which led him to this very moment in time, scrutinizing his reflection as he gingerly pulled his filthy shirt up over his head.

It wasn’t a pretty sight, but he could tell at first glance that it wasn’t anything serious. Wouldn’t be the first time he had to figure out whether or not he had internal bleeding by sight and feel alone. Thankfully, there was no swelling or unmanageable pain, so he resigned himself to just keeping an eye on the ugly patch of blues and purples that colored his skin for a few hours to ensure that it didn’t get any worse.

Lee stripped naked and fiddled with the knobs until the water was just shy of scalding, steam rising from the spray. When he stepped under the showerhead he very nearly moaned at the amazing water pressure, the hot water soothing his various aches and pains like nothing else. He braced his hands against the wall and tipped his head down to watch the filth swirl down the drain, lulled into a trance.

“Lee? I brought you a towel and a change of clothes.” Ford called out after delicately knocking on the door, his voice muffled by the obstruction. Still, it was more than enough to snap Lee out of his daze. He poked his head out as Ford entered the steamy bathroom, the older man unfazed by the drastic increase in temperature.

“Thanks, Ace.” Lee drawled with an appreciative grin, running a hand through his hair to slick it back. Ford spared a moment to give Lee an answering smile before he dutifully placed the stack of folded clothes on the counter, hanging Lee’s favorite fluffy red towel on the rack. But, instead of leaving afterward, Ford lingered.

“Somethin’ the matter, Digit?” Lee prompted when it didn’t seem like Ford was going to speak his mind anytime soon, opting to pull the curtain open further so he could just focus on covering himself from the waist down. Although he may not have thought his plan through because Ford’s eyes immediately honed in on the bruising, his kicked-puppy expression rapidly darkening as he swiftly closed the distance between them.

“It seems I’ll have to reevaluate what manner I dispose of the maggot in the basement.” Ford stated with a chilling calm that didn’t match the rage that colored his face, stormy eyes examining the bruise. Ford’s tender fingers mapped out every little cut and scrape that littered his torso, his previous scarring long gone thanks to Ford’s serum.

“So long as it’s painful, I could care less how the bastard dies.” Lee huffed with a shrug, his callous words drawing Ford’s intense gaze from a scabbed up scrape that he had gotten when he tackled the would-be kidnapper to the ground. And once Lee had gotten the man pinned, he had been awfully tempted to just handle the matter himself, his fingers itching to curl around the man’s throat and squeeze until he saw the light leave the fucker’s eyes.

You don’t mess with kids. You just don’t.

“I can arrange that.” Ford murmured with a decisive nod, as if Lee’s verdict had sealed the man’s grim fate. It was an addicting kind of power, to hold someone like Ford in the palm of his hand. Lee could ask Ford for anything and it would be given to him. He could ask Ford to do anything and it would be done without hesitation. And Ford didn’t go along with Lee’s every whim because of something as cheap as worship; it was love.

“You told me that you weren't hurt, Lee.” Ford grumbled disapprovingly, his eyes narrowing. Lee… hadn’t actually considered that it might occur to Ford that Lee had technically lied to him earlier. Lee hadn’t exactly known that he wasn’t seriously injured until he was able to get a look at his side, not that he would ever admit to deliberately hiding a potentially life-threatening wound from Ford.

“I’m not.” Lee sighed with a decidedly fond roll of his eyes, though he was forced to amend his statement when Ford pointedly poked Lee’s bruise like a total asshole. “Not seriously, at least. You don’t need to make a fuss over every little bump ‘n bruise, Ace.”

“Is that not my right as your big brother?” Ford challenged and Lee found himself far too stunned by the casual declaration to protest, blinking dumbly at Ford’s annoyingly smug face. Ford had never outright said that Lee was his brother before, so Ford blatantly claiming the position of big brother had Lee’s insides squirming with both joy and no small amount of anxiety.

Was he really allowed to have this? To have him?

Lee still had an older brother out there, a brother that had joined a psychotic sentient nacho chip in destroying the world. Lee was supposed to die there, driven to take drastic measures in order to escape the gilded prison that his brother had put him in. Ford had reluctantly coughed up that little tidbit after several bottles of the good shit a few months ago, and thankfully Ford doesn't remember that he told Lee.

Still, the knowledge had burrowed deep, growing and festering with every moment Lee spent second-guessing his existence.

“You got me there, Ace.” Lee managed after a lengthy pause, hoping that his smile wasn’t as strained as his voice. Fortunately, Ford seemed to be under the impression that Lee was all choked up because he was overwhelmed with happiness and not because he wanted to scream or cry or possibly even both. Ford took Lee’s trembling hands into his own and gently squeezed before guiding them up to his face for a sweet nuzzle.

[cindythecyclops]

A scene idea for the Twin AU I was talking about earlier, here are some crumbs for all you little AlCale shippers.

Alberu went out to the garden during a banquet for some reason and some guys jumped out from the shadows and like fed him poison and chased after him.

Callie, who was also in the garden, gives chase once she sees this.

She managed to hit the guy carrying Alberu with a blow to the head (she threw a rock really hard) and used that momentary distraction to snatch the crown prince back and set him down a few steps away.

She then realizes that she is surrounded by like 20 armed kidnappers, she is wearing a beautiful elaborate deep mauve gown with heels, her hair is down and she has no weapon.

What she does have is her swordmaster aura, her fists and war-honed instincts.

So, she leans down and pinches Alberu’s cheek gently before whispering in his ear, “Don’t worry, your highness, I’ll save you.”

Callie proceeds to fight all 20 of them at once, burning skin and freezing organs and breaking bones before she steals one their swords and then cuts the heads off all of them in one round slice.

Alberu, who is sitting on the ground, hyperventilating from poison and panic is wide-eyed and in awe and kind of scared.

Callie approaches him, scrutinizing his state. She cleaned her hands from blood with her handkerchief and a nearby pond before sticking her fingers in Alberu’s mouth.

Alberu is, understandably, flustered. His cheeks flush red and his already uneven breathing gets worse. This is intensified when Callie puts her fingers in her own mouth to taste his saliva. She’s trying to figure out which poison it is since the symptoms are too common for her to figure out anything.

Ignoring the sputtering prince, she reached into her spatial pouch and procured a makeshift antidote before picking up Aberu and throwing him over her shoulder. She then begins rushing to the palace, keeping the stolen sword just in case they get attacked again.

So, Callie barges back into the banquet hall and it goes silent. She’s covered in blood, has a sword and some minor injuries and has the crown prince thrown over her shoulder.

Before anything is said or done, she takes him to the King and informs him of what happened, not caring about the eyes on her. Alberu is taken to the infirmary, Callie hands over the sword so it can be investigated and she gets a room to stay in at the palace.

And that’s about it. Also, just thought I’d mention it, I’ll probably post more ship posts about this AU because I really like romantic tension and sort of harems that edge the line of platonic and romantic.

[space-mermaid-writing]

Of monsters and men [IronStrange]

Summary: Some kidnappers fucked up big time and now Tony is bonded to this strange demon he continues to summon by accident.

Tags: demon!Stephen Strange, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Whump, body horror, protective Stephen Strange, Stephen Strange needs a hug

Author's note: A short interlude chapter, because life is full of coincidences. Beta by @harpywritesfic and @kvjjjjjj.

Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 0.7k | Previous | Next

Chapter 12: A piece to the puzzle

At some point, Tony crossed paths with the Order of the Mystic Arts. It was by complete accident.

Tony stepped outside into the bustling streets of his city, a steaming take-out bag clutched in his hand from a small, bustling Thai restaurant.

Suddenly, without warning, a figure hurtled out of a shimmering portal that appeared before his very eyes. The man collided with Tony, knocking him backwards.

Time seemed to hang in the air for a brief instant as Tony froze, his mind racing to comprehend the surreal situation unfolding before him. The attack on New York had been years ago, but the fear of portals – of the threat that lurked behind it – had been burned into his very soul.

Hot on the heels of the first man followed two more figures, chasing him. They were clad in some kind of robes that looked awfully familiar in style. With fluid movements and an air of practiced skill, they threw sparkling discs of some kind of power through the air. They crackled with magic as they zipped past Tony, barely missing him.

Of course, because life was never just about enjoying take-out.

Tony decided to get involved.

Of course.

____________

After the fight, Tony swiftly intercepted one of the magic ninja monks before they could disappear. He wasn't about to let them slip away without some answers.

“I’ve seen this kind of power before. You wouldn’t happen to have people in Nepal, would you?” Tony queried, hoping to draw out some information. It was where Stephen had been last seen.

The sorcerer - an Asian man - looked at the Avenger with a cautious eye, carefully assessing his demeanor and intentions. “We might,” he replied, his tone measured and guarded. “But it depends on why you’re asking.”

Usually, Tony would appreciate a good mystery but this guy was clearly hiding something.

“I know someone who possessed skills very much like yours,” he admitted, his voice low and serious. “He just so happens to have vanished without a trace. In Nepal.”

The sorcerer scrutinized Stark. Judging by his stoic face, he wasn’t easily impressed by celebrities. Rather the opposite. So he couldn’t play that card; it would likely do him no good and might even work against him.

“I just want to know what happened to him,” he added, the urgency in his voice unmistakable now. “It’s very important." Clenching his fists, he leaned in slightly closer, his eyes searching for comprehension or even a flicker of sympathy in the man's expression.

The sorcerer’s face softened, if only a bit. “Tell me his name, and I’ll see if I know something about him.”

Well, that was at least something.

“Stephen Strange.”

The way the sorcerer instantly reacted to that name, told Tony that he knew something. It was surprise, but also grief.

It was a moment where the air seemed to shift, hinting at a past connection or a shared history between the sorcerer and the demon.

“I knew Stephen,” the sorcerer said. His somber recollection added a layer of solemnity to the conversation. He raised a hand, on which he was wearing an obnoxiously big and antique looking ring.

“But I’m afraid he is no longer on Earth with us.”

His words carried a sense of finality that echoed through the silence.

He moved his hand and an orange glowing circle opened. The sorcerer stepped through it, but before the portal closed, Tony spoke up again.

“Yeah, I know. And I want to know why. Or how that happened,” Tony persisted, his voice resonating with frustration.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you more.” The guy ended the conversation by closing the portal in Tony’s face.

Tony ignored the rudeness in order to get his pulse and anxiety down to a reasonable level.

“Friday��”

“On it, Boss.”

It was a new lead. And when Tony wanted to get to the bottom of something, he was like a bloodhound, chasing it.

______________

We all know that was Wong.

[thecryingcl0wn]

The Princess And The Mage

Little fic inspired by my friend Mori's fic, but this time, with my OC Roxxie!! (Keep in mind that this is just the first part of the story, I swear I'll finish this soon lmao 🙏🙏)

“ ‘Where are you, my lady?’

I've been in the basement.

She tied up my ankles,

As a near defacement.

It's so charming, charming,

He'll find a replacement for me.. “

Diana stood in the crowd of the local tavern, a place she would never dare step foot in under normal circumstances. She stared straight ahead, marveling at the band of performers, the four members played a rather beautiful melody. 

Though the music wasn't the only thing that had captivated her attention, a certain black haired woman, who looked to be about her age, sang up on stage. 

Her singing voice wasn't enough to take her mind off of her current dilemma, however.

She had just been exiled from the palace by her mother, the Queen, which had left her wandering the streets like some sort of- peasant! She despised this, and only wished she had concealed her secret for a while longer..

“Pardon me, Madame. But you seem rather distressed, is there any way I could help?”

Diana jumped, her eyes going wide as she whipped her head around to face the owner of the voice she just heard. When she did, the familiar face of the woman on stage just moments ago came into view. 

‘When did they stop performing?’

The girl quickly composed herself, before taking on an uptight stance.

“Yes.. Yes, I'm quite alright actually.”

She assures coldly, taking a step back from the strange woman as if she had some sort of contagious ailment. The woman's shoulders fell and Diana could tell she had upset her in some way, and she couldn't help but feel a little bad about it.

“Are you sure? I assure you, I mean no harm, Madame..”

The black haired girl insisted gently. Diana was silently thankful at the fact that she didn't step any closer, most of the men that tried to comfort her in moments of distress would get all up in her personal space. She hated that.

“Sigh.. I Suppose I could tell you. But you have to swear that you won't tell a soul.”

Diana warned, trying her damndest to sound stern. She cringed a bit at how silly she sounded, normally it didn't take much to bend the palace guards to her will, being royalty and all. It upset her greatly that she couldn't intimidate the people around her to her will anymore.

The dark haired woman chuckled under her breath before answering, “I swear, my lips are sealed.” She smiled, her eyes taking over Diana's form, taking in all the rather expensive looking accessories that adorned her person.

“Well, you see.. I'm the princess..”

Diana confessed in a hushed whisper, leaning in closer to the woman before her as she did. She stepped back to see the woman's reaction, would she be shocked? Maybe she'd kneel before her? Or maybe she'd have heard of her banishment and turn her in? Or worse, she could be some sort of kidnapper!

“Hm.. Is that why you carry so many wonderful trinkets with you?”

The woman questioned, cocking her head to the side, eyes sparkling as she stared at Diana. No- at the jewelry she had on. Diana felt herself blush under the scrutinizing gaze of the other woman, though she quickly pulled herself together, getting all flustered from attention like this was unfit for a lady like her.

“Uh.. I- Yes, I suppose it is..”

Diana muttered out, trying to ignore the way her heart raced in her chest. She didn't want to admit it, but this strange woman intrigued her. Which didn't happen very often, much less with commoners such as her. 

She wanted to say something, maybe ask for her name or what she was doing after this, but she just couldn't seem to get the words out. Her mouth suddenly felt very dry.

“Hey.. Not to be a bother, but we need to get back to performing.”

Diana snapped her head towards the source of the voice, one of the band members from earlier had come up to the pair, probably to come fetch the strange lady. The two shared a knowing glance, before the woman made her way over to her bandmate, but not before flashing Diana a wink.

Diana felt like she got the air knocked out of her lungs for a moment, her face flushing beet red and she thanked the Gods that the woman didn't see it. She placed a hand over her chest, staring at the spot the mysterious stood in just seconds ago, with only one thought swirling through her head.

'I wonder what her name is..'

Okay so, this part of the story is just a dream lol and Diana wakes up right after this. Diana is a MAJOR medieval nerd in this, and knows just about everything about it. She tends to picture people she knows as fantasy characters, kinda like a form of escapism. Her dreams are supposed to mirror her real life, though she hasn't been kicked out or anything yet Thats just a fear of hers.

Roxxie is supposed to be a mage/witch in this, so I kinda wanted to give fantasy roles to the rest of the gang^^

•Dee: Prince - Diana thinks he's super pretty, like a prince, which is why he is one in her fantasy

•Heavy: Prince - Doesn't really know much (or care) about Heavy, but if he's related to Dee he has to be royalty too!

•Fierce: Knight - I'm not too sure on this one, there's probably much better roles for her, but I can't think of any rn (let's just say it's because she protects Dee or smth..)

•Cassie: Knight - Sticking with the knight theme lol, though I feel like Diana views Cassie and Fierce as knights because she wishes they'd 'save her' in a way

•Penelope: Barbarian/Warrior - Much like Heavy, Diana doesn't pay much attention to Penelope, but thinks her violent attitude fits that of a warrior

@mori-bound @fiercestyourmajesty @tacticalsp

[gloryy-vs]

Hehehehe so about scrutinized maybe a lovesick tanner or kidnapper I don’t mind and another one is yandere kidnapper wanting to keep them for himself but they have a lover or crush on someone please and thank youuu❤️❤️😘🫶🫶

heueheueh. this will be a multi chapter! ||

Love Sick

tanner x (fem implied) reader , stockholm syndrome , kidnapping , jealousy , stalking , creepy behavior from tanner ||

your computer screen began to slowly burn your retinas, the blue light had formed a headache long ago. going through countless reports, sorting out the bullshit karen complaints and filing the ones that screamed ‘suspect’. all while being oblivious to the well suited creep making rounds around your home.

you couldn’t be to blame, each time you checked your home security cameras, not a single thing seemed out of place. it was like whatever wanted in was serious, and took a good look at all the blind spots around your home to avoid getting caught. you checked the clock, realizing you’ve been up almost 24 hours. pushing yourself from the desk, you stretched your arms up to break the tension.

“rather call it a night now. don’t feel like adding insomnia to the list of medical concerns.” glancing to your phone, you had three missed texts from your current fling, a fine man with a good job who had taken you on a few dates. checking through them, you resorted to responding later. it’s not like they’d be up at 4am anyways.

clearing up your work area and double checking to make sure your windows were locked downstairs, you sauntered up to your room, holding onto the railing to aid your fatigued eyes that could barely stay open now that they had no reason to. you skipped the shower, as all you did was sit at home all day in the same clothes with minimal movement. slipping into bed, you got real comfy.

“oh fuck..” you mumbled, looking up the window above you. you forgot to check it. but in theory it shouldn’t be unlocked. you never open it. shrugging the anxiousness away, you turn on your back, letting your eyes shut to fall into a much needed sleep.

that’s when he creeped in, white suit and blood red tie. fidgeting with window locks was nothing new, sneaking into women’s homes was routine, and watching you, well that was an everyday thing. every date you’ve been on, every grocery trip you made, all the reports you’d file. tanner was there, watching everything. seeing how ambitious you were to catch criminals, low scale ones compared to him, but bastards nonetheless.

creeping towards your sleeping figured, admiring the way your chest would rise and feel with each breath. his calloused hand slipped into the picked of his doctors coat, revealing his syringe. tanners eyes never left you, wanting to make sure he could strike unbeknownst to you. repositioning the needle in his hand, he crawled on the bed on top of you, his left arm pressing into the mattress by the side of your head.

feeling the weight shift and mattress dip, your eyes fluttered open, only to be met with his face mere inches from yours. gasping, you gripped onto the sheets in fear. within seconds he sunk the needle into your neck, injecting you with a small dose of midazolam. “let’s talk.” was the last thing you heard before your vision blurred, and thoughts became clouded. and the very last thing you could feel was being hoisted up and thrown over the culprits shoulder.

[puppyxaegon]

Yours, pt. 1 Captor!Ramsay Bolton x GN reader

Okay, realizing I teased this fic like A MONTH ago and just left yall hanging so I do apologize for that,,,anyways this was another of those situations where I start writing HCs but I get overly invested and filled with ideas so I want to make it a fic but then I get overwhelmed and overthink and excessively scrutinize and end up just putting it off. The neverending cycle as it were. But I've decided to take some pressure of myself and just make this a short part one/teaser! So here you go, please enjoy and leave feedback if you like!

Tags/warnings: SFW, Captivity, memory loss, mention of drug use

As you awake, the first thing you feel is discomfort. You’re groggy and vaguely stiff and sore all over. Your mouth feels dry and stuck together, and crust around your eyes begins to sting as you come into awareness. Everything is oddly fuzzy, muffled or blunted somehow and your whole body hums with a kind of numbness you can only associate with a limb that’s fallen asleep and lost most of its sensation. ‘A dream’, you think. Every breath feels like a concerted effort.

It doesn’t take long after you open your eyes though to take in your surroundings in the fairly well lit room. You use all the strength you can muster to lift your head enough to look around. You feel your stomach cramping with the effort as you shake slightly, but the pain is far away. The room seems empty, barren of furniture or any semblance of décor. The grimy concrete floor combines perfectly with the stone walls, weakly buzzing lightbulb that hangs from the ceiling, and the rickety wooding staircase ascending into nowhere to create the stereotypical image of a ‘creepy kidnapper basement’. It was something straight out of a trashy torture porn exploitation film. The thought made you chuckle, but you were faintly aware that the sound was more of a dry grunt.

 As you move to sit up further, you feel your right arm weighed down by what you turn and see is a cuff and heavy chain, no longer than a foot and attached to a disused radiator. As you trace the links with your gaze, you notice what you’re sitting on, a lumpy and yellowed mattress which had certainly seen better days. ‘This is too fucking good’, you think to yourself. You’re well used to strange and foreboding dreams, but this one feels a bit on the nose. You want to laugh again, but recognize the feeling of your mind becoming more and more withdrawn from your body and lacking control of its functions.

You feel yourself lay back, suddenly uninterested in the previous line of thinking. Your head was beginning to spin, and the pain in your stomach threatens to break through the delirium. All you want to do is sleep, but aren’t you already asleep? The quietly growing pain is what makes you question your state of consciousness because as far as you can remember, dreams were not supposed to feel this sharp.

As you recede into exhaustion, your vision dims and your mind attempts to reach out past the island of your thoughts in the moment.

Where was I before this?

What had I told Alys before I left her?

Who was the man with the dog?

You can’t answer any of these questions for yourself or make out exactly what they mean. You fall back into what should be sleep, but are assailed by images, vignettes, fragments of some story or memory that nags at you.

Alys’ copper hair catching the glow of the streetlight and her radiant smile that evaded the appreciation of the man who’d wrapped himself around her.

“GO, have fun! I’ll be fine, its beautiful out anyway, I could use a walk.”

The night which got so dark and so quiet more quickly than you expected when it’d felt like you just left the concert. As if the world had simply fallen away from you.

The park bench where you lay, staring up at the stars and ignoring the cavernous pain in your chest and the urge to cough as you inhaled again from the device Alys had left you with.

“She’s friendly, help yourself.” The voice of the man shrouded in darkness which carried an odd tone as you found yourself kneeling and reaching out to pet a huge back dog, with floppy ears and some of the biggest eyes you’d ever seen.

“You know, It’s not a good night to be out here all alone.”

A cruel stare.

Rough hands.

A sharp pain at the back of your head.

And then nothing.

No more memories, no more thoughts, no more images.

Nothing but the bitter, coppery taste in your mouth as the last of your consciousness winked out of existence.

[artvitorianoir]

Haha haha life sorry art

[tsunflowers]

obviously the person who's holding out refusing to join the team needs to reveal that they have secret soft feelings but I don't think they've ever given that plot to a woman in this same way before and it rubs me the wrong way a little that the only woman on the team had to be like "I love helping people more than anything <3" I guess hoeru also showed us that he's rough but has a kind heart in the first episode. and she's extremely charming and reaffirmed her desire to physically destroy her sister's kidnapper at the end so it's all fine

it just reminds me a little of sakura jeanne failing to transform the first time where I'm like "this plot is fine in a vacuum but it's not in a vacuum, it's something happening after 50 years of kamen rider." ultimately I am glad that they're giving the role of "guy who is a real piece of shit and works against the team at first" to a woman but since she's the first one in this role and the only one on the team I can't help scrutinizing it more

[anasyabulbulbul]

Обратный AU

There were no stars or moon that night, only the dim light from the old desk lamp and the shadows lengthening on the walls. Sunatta sat in the semi-dark room, cross-legged and leaning back in a narrow chair. Her figure seemed to blend into the surrounding darkness, with only the reddish strands of her hair shimmering in a golden glow. Opposite, head bowed, sat he, her hostage, silent and seemingly submissive.

Sunatta leaned forward as if about to share some amusing secret. A sly smile played at the corners of her lips, as if she was already anticipating how she would describe this situation in a future article. She liked to "dig up" other people's stories, color them in bright colors and turn them into a sensation.

– I don't understand, – she said softly, as if thinking about something important, – what is more in you: naiveté or courage?

She scrutinized his face, trying to find fear or even a hint of despair. But there was no horror or resistance in his eyes, only a surprising calmness that turned to unconscious admiration.

He looked at Sunatta as if he saw not a cruel kidnapper, but a young queen from an ancient legend. In her every smile he read not a threat, but something girlishly innocent and beautiful. And even at that moment, when his hands were bound and his freedom was taken away, he felt a strange, almost tender attraction to this mysterious girl.

– I know, – he answered, without averting his gaze. - I know I can't get out... but I can't stop thinking how amazing you are.

Sunatta arched an eyebrow, embarrassed for a moment by such candor. In the back of her mind she felt a slight pang of curiosity-did he really see her as anything more than a cranky sensation hunter? However, she quickly banished this thought: he was still just a new object for her, a fascinating find, which could be favorably described in the "yellow" press.

– Amazing, you say? – Sunatta hummed softly, fixing a loose strand of hair. – Well, perhaps you're lucky enough to be part of the biggest story of the year.

She stood up and walked slowly around him, glancing at every detail of his appearance. Her movements were both graceful and dangerous, as if she were a predatory cat studying her prey.

He kept his eyes on her as if mesmerized. Suddenly a warm wave of sympathy surged in his chest, the same wave that comes when we see beauty in its original form, even if it is painted in dark colors.

In the silence of the room could be heard only the quiet ticking of the clock and the breathing of two people bound together by an unusual, almost painful attachment. Her cold interest and his unsolicited adoration intertwined, creating a tension that made the air seem thicker and heavier.

– I really can't get out, can I? – He repeated a little louder, trying to catch a hint of compassion in her face.

– Probably not, – Sunatta confirmed with mocking calmness, sinking back into her chair. - But you don't want to run away, do you?

He thought for a moment and realized that perhaps she was right. There was something mesmerizing about her, and he could hardly imagine that there was another world beyond these walls. Staying here, a prisoner of this unpredictable person, seemed more tempting to him than leaving her and returning to his old life.

Sunatta caught a glimpse of that recognition in his eyes and felt a strange mixture of pride and inner trepidation stirring inside. She enjoyed controlling a situation, and even more so watching a victim fall into her net of his own free will.

After all, all she needed was a compelling story. But looking at him, at the trepidation in his gaze, Sunatta began to suspect that this "story" might become far more personal to her than she'd expected.