#this may come as a surprise but i was killer in that conversation

[comicarc]

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Part 1

wc: 1833

365 Days After That Night

Jason Todd was the Red Hood. Jason Todd was a criminal. Most of all, Jason Todd was a murderer, for he murdered the only remnant of love I had left in my soul. He was my breaking point. 

It’s been a year since the night he left and though I tried my hardest to bury his memory in my mind, his recent headlines made for incessantly annoying reminders. Though the ghost of Jason’s lacking presence haunted me every day, I was able to suppress those thoughts. Luckily, my job at the Gotham Gazette came with a considerably generous salary, often encouraging me to forget all the undesirable aspects of the job, including him. 

Tonight, I was staying late at the police station, waiting for my interviewee, Dick Grayson, to arrive from Bludhaven. He had been working a case on a notorious serial killer who had recently broadened his horizons and began to kill in Gotham. He was the only one overseeing it, thus, taking note of his busy schedule, I had set up an appointment weeks prior. Though he was already an hour late, I decided to wait, for an opportunity like this may not come as easily again.

I sat at his desk, resting my head in the palm of my hand and darting my eyes across the room to cure myself of my boredom. One particular photo caught my eye as my gaze trailed to the framed pictures on the desk. Dick was with a younger, lively boy, posing for their photo in front of Wayne Manor. Curious, I inspected the photo closer to notice that the other boy had azure eyes and curly black hair, just like–

“–Ah, I see you’ve taken an interest in my brother, eh? It’s my favorite photo from when I was still living in Gotham.” Dick had finally made his entrance.

“Detective Grayson,” I said, surprised by his voice. 

Sitting down he asked, “You must be y/n? I’m sorry for arriving so late, the route from Bludhaven to Gotham is always littered with traffic.”

“Yes, I’ve heard.” With that, I began my questioning. It eased into a conversation the deeper we dove into the topic until eventually a few hours had passed and Dick had to head off to another crime scene.

“Before you leave, may I ask…which of your brothers is that? I’ve only heard of two others and they seem to be too young to have been in that photo when it was taken.”

“Jason Todd. He kinda of fell off the face of the Earth on his enlightening retreat, so almost everyone forgot about him. Now that he’s back, he's done well to stay out of the spotlight.” 

To ask more questions would be to intrude on his personal life, and so, tempering my desires, I quickly left.

Jason Todd was Red Hood, a criminal, a murderer. And a liar. 

4 Days Later

Days passed, giving me barely enough time to digest the information that Dick had given me. After some of my own research, I found that Jason was alive and well. The night he left me was the night he reunited with his family. The very family he claimed to hate…he left me for them. 

Now sitting in my cubicle at the Gazette, my thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion, for my feelings for Jason had begun to resurface. I longed to see him, to hear him to be with him. But I couldn’t blame him anymore, for my fantasies led me to break my own heart. I wanted something that was never there, and I had to accept that. I shook my stupid ideas away as I looked at the whiteboard across the room to see my next assignment. My stoic expression turned into one of horror as I read: “Y/n → Wayne Gala”.

I rushed to the chief editor’s office and begged to be reassigned, but all my pleas were in vain because no one else was available to cover for me. Begrudgingly, I went back to my desk and looked down at the invitation that was put on it. The bold letters embedded at the top of the card were as searing as a blade, for they sliced my heart into a million pieces. I went home immediately, for I had very little time and a lot to do to prepare. 

Jason would be there as well and I wanted to catch his eye to make him feel jealous and regretful for leaving me, but for that, I needed a statement dress. Thus, I decided to head to a nearby shopping plaza, to spend as much money as I could on a dress that I would never wear again, all for a man that may not even remember me. 

After a successful trip, I roamed around the plaza in search of a light snack before getting ready for the night's festivities. Wandering my eyes, I caught sight of a familiar man on the other side of the nearly empty area. Walking closer to clear my suspicions, I recognized him to be the one and only Jason Todd. 

He was with another woman who seemed to be a thousand times prettier than her. Her gorgeous red hair was tied in a high ponytail and fell down to her hips, her lean figure resembled that of a model, and her face seemed too proportional to be true. She was perfect. And she was kissing him on the cheek. The sight made me want to cry out right then and there. He had moved on. 

Later that Day, in the Evening

As I made my way through the entrance doors entranced by the beauty of the domain, I was welcomed by a breathtaking display of opulence and extravagance, transforming the Manor into a realm of sheer elegance. Crystal chandeliers dangled from the high ceilings, casting a cascade of shimmering light across the grand ballroom. The walls were adorned with rich tapestries depicting scenes of Gotham's history, each thread telling a story of wealth and power. Exquisite floral arrangements of velvety red roses and ivory lilies graced every corner, their intoxicating fragrance mingling with the soft strains of a string quartet that filled the air.

Guests, dressed in their finest attire, moved gracefully through the lavishly decorated rooms, their laughter and whispered conversations creating an enchanting symphony that resonated through the space. A grand staircase, adorned with a crimson carpet, beckoned guests to ascend toward the upper levels, adding an air of regal grandeur to the soirée.

In the heart of the ballroom, stood Jason Todd. He was a magnetic presence, a striking figure that effortlessly drew the eye. Dressed in a tailored black suit that accentuated his lean and muscular frame, he appeared both rugged and refined. The dimmed lighting highlighted the chiseled lines of his jaw, the shadow of stubble giving him an air of mysterious allure. His dark, tousled hair framed his face, adding to his rugged charm. His piercing blue eyes were like sapphires in the night. He moved with a confident grace, his every step commanding attention and admiration from those around him.

He was so captivating that I continued to stare until his gaze locked onto mine. For an instant, the world around us seemed to fade into obscurity. It was as if time itself had stopped. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, a hint of regret, and a trace of something deeper, something that mirrored the tumultuous history we shared. It was a gaze that carried the weight of our past, and in that moment, I knew that the night held more secrets and emotions than I had ever imagined.

Stop. I’m imagining things.

I focused my mind on the task at hand, to distract myself from him. My every move was meticulous, like a well-rehearsed dance. My professional demeanor was unwavering as I discreetly took notes on the evening's proceedings, capturing every detail and nuance of the event. I engaged in discussions about Gotham's elite, current events, and the philanthropic endeavors the gala aimed to support. All the while, my smile remained fixed and my words carefully chosen, masking the emotional turmoil that raged beneath the surface.

Suddenly, in the midst of conversation, Jason's warm and inviting hand gently wrapped around my wrist, guiding me away from the bustling gala and into a secluded garden nestled within the sprawling grounds of Wayne Manor. 

The garden seemed to come alive under the moon's tender caress. The moon was like a radiant pearl in the inky sky, spilling its ethereal light through the dense canopy of trees, creating an enchanting interplay of shadows and soft, silvery beams. As we stood, the night's gentle breeze carried the fragrance of blooming flowers, adding a layer of sensuousness to the charged atmosphere. 

Before Jason could utter a single word, my pent-up emotions, like a dam bursting, spilled forth with a hiss of anger and hurt. “What the hell? Who the hell do you think you are?” The words tumbled from my lips, carrying the weight of a year's worth of unanswered questions and unresolved feelings. 

Jason stood before me, his expression a complex interplay of emotions. His eyes, once piercing and intense, now held a hint of regret and remorse. In the stillness of that moonlit garden, the unspoken words hung heavy in the air, waiting for the right moment to find their voice and bridge the chasm that had grown between us.

“It’s Jason…remember.”

“No.” All I do is remember.

“You’re my best friend.” 

“I’m sorry, but you’ve got the wrong girl. I don’t know anyone named Jason.” 

“What the hell is going on with you? Why can’t you remember me?”

“You’re the one that needs to remember.”

“What?”

“Remember that night? It’s been a year and you’ve clearly moved on. I’m glad you got your happy ending with a girl even prettier than me. That begs the question…why even talk to me with the intention of leaving again?”

“Y/n, I–”

“–Save it. I can’t do this anymore.”

My rapid footsteps echoed on the cobblestone path, and the sound of my heels clicking with every step rang in my ears. I paid no heed to the gasps and whispers that trailed behind me like a ghostly chorus of judgment. 

In my haste, I collided with a solid figure, and the impact sent a shiver through my frame. I looked up, and it was none other than Dick Grayson, his eyes a curious blend of mockery and amusement. In my agitated state, I only heard his attempt at humor as a blade deepening the wound that had been freshly reopened.

This gala was a set-up, a trap and I fell face-first into it. But, it did allow me to realize something. 

Jason Todd was Red Hood, a criminal, a murderer, a liar. And a fool for thinking that I may ever love him again.

[attyattlaw]

like hiring a horse to dogsit

[1-800-sin]

Slashers and Jealousy

Just drabbles for how the slashers deal with Jealousy :)

REQUESTS OPEN BTW

Warnings: some sexual themes/descriptions, maybe swearing, descriptions of killing people, people with bad intentions, Slight smut in Bo’s and Brahms’s, swearing, sexuality coded(mentions of female friends), side character OC’s (That may be included in One shots in the future),

Michael Myers(I wasn’t sure which version this suited best so you can decide)

It’s a commonly known fact that Michael doesn’t feel things. At least not like other people. He has his own set of emotions and expressions that are completely unique to him. He can be hard to understand sometimes but the closest thing to jealousy is when he sees you giving others the attentiveness you give him. It’s not like he cares. He doesn’t, not like how you care for him. He certainly doesn’t care that your showing a complete stranger the types of care you show him.(patching up their scratches and bruises, giving them a cold drink for the Haddonfield heat). The stranger had apparently claimed that he was passing through town and had gotten into an accident on one of the hiking trails. Michael knew that was a lie. The timing didn’t match up. Michael went on the trails every morning and he didn’t see the stranger or even a wreckage of any kind. Another thing the man left out. Michael didn’t miss how the man held on to your wrist whilst you cleaned his scratches with an alcohol pad. You brushed it off, focusing on the task at hand. You had had enough practice fixing up injuries from Michael. Of course he wasn’t in the room with you two, he was watching from the window outside. Michael could read people easily. He was amazing at it actually. And watching the stranger inside your home he could only read bad intentions. Michael didn’t know how the conversation went but he assumed you offered the stranger the night in your guest room. Michael entered the house silently through the back door. Then silently up the stairs of your home, he wasn’t surprised to see the stranger standing in your doorway while you slept. Michael didn’t hesitate for a moment to come up behind him and slit his throat. Blood spurting all over your floor as he gasped for breath that he didn’t deserve. You had gotten used to waking up when Michael would get home. So you immediately woke to the sounds of dying a just few feet from you. Let’s just say the both of you slept in the guest room that night. He didn’t ‘cuddle’ you per say. He would never, he’s a stone cold serial killer. But he did let you cuddle into him. Because you needed it of course. Not because he was worried about you. But he held you just a little closer than night. Let your hands wander just a little more than he would usually tolerate.

Vincent Sinclair

Let’s be honest. He’s an extremely insecure person, that fuels his jealous thoughts. Often he will be jealous of his brother. You and Bo spend almost as much time together as you and Vincent. You lived with them and Lester. Vincent didn’t get jealous of Lester though, or even strangers. He just knew that Bo was seen as a very attractive individual. That’s how most of the female tourists ended up sculptures in the museum. He handles his Jealousy with sadness and self resent rather than anger or aggression. He feels incompetent with himself and unworthy of the attention you give him. This particular time you and Bo had been working on a truck in the garage. You were both sweaty and covered in oil, in tank tops and sweatpants. The truck was on the lift and had been raised too a level that even Bo couldn’t reach the top. He had accidentally left a wrench on the hood. It wasn’t a big deal. But when Vincent saw Bo holding you up by your waist, his hands happening to be underneath your white tank top. He was heartbroken. Somewhere in his mind he knew that logically you were his partner and you wouldn’t ever leave him for Bo, but in the moment it was easy to forget. Vincent left abruptly, and you noticed. As soon as you were on the ground Bo’s hands returned to his sides. He knew what Vincent was thinking, and you did too. He nodded toward the door Vincent had left though and you swiftly went to follow the long haired man. When you found him he was in his workshop. Scribbling on a piece of paper. You slowly leaned over his shoulder and what you saw shocked you. A drawing of you and him, scribbled out and ripping. Vincent’s breath was jagged and frustrated. “Oh Vince” you whispered into his neck, as your arms came to wrap around him. He froze as if being caught. “I love you. Not Bo. You, Vincent Sinclair” that sentence, plus a lot more physical contact the next day reassured him immensely. He still struggles with insecurity, but you always know how to make it better.

Bo Sinclair

Unlike his twin, Bo’s jealousy is angry and possessive. He’s used to being left behind, he doesn’t want that scenario to happen with you. Let’s be honest Bo is the type to jealous fuck. Aggressively slamming into you over and over. Making you cum over and over again. Reminding you that only he can make you feel that good. Bo uses sex as a coping mechanism. Something he knows he’s the best at so he can hide behind it. It gives him a sense of security. Now though you wouldn’t let that slide. Your legs were already wrapped around his waist as he lathered your jaw in sloppy kisses. Pushing your back up against the wall of the storage closet in the auto shop. A customer was getting just a little too bold with their eyes and Bo hated it. He said he needed to talk to you ‘in the back’. There wasn’t a ‘back’ in the shop. There was a tiny storage closet around the corner, and that’s where he took you. The customer could definitely hear the two of you. You weren’t loud often but Bo just got a rise out of you. His kisses moved down to your neck and collar bone. He growled and moaned against your skin, sending harsh vibrations up your spine. You nearly got lost in the moment, he felt so good against you. But then you remembered that you had been thinking about this for a while. The fact that whenever a customer would interact with you in a way that could seem flirtatious in the shop, it would almost always lead to spontaneous sex with Bo. At first you thought it was a kinky thing but over the course of a while, after taking the time to examine him in these moments. You discovered it wasn’t a kink or turn on, it was a coping mechanism. He always got so fixated and rough in the moment. You didn’t mind the roughness, if anything it was a preference for you, but when he did this it was like he was tranced. Like he had something to prove to you. You swore that the next time he did this that you would confront him on it. Knowing Bo if you asked any other time he would deny that it ever happened. You moved your hands from his neck to his shoulders, pushing him off of you and unwrapping your legs from his torso. He was too caught up, taking this is a change of positions. He continued smashing his lips into yours, practically shoving his tongue with down your throat. “Bo! Mmm… stop it!” He kissed you hard and sloppy between your words. But at the word stop he slowly stepped back, still holding your waist with both hands. “What?” His face was neutral with a pinch of concern. Jealousy still ever present behind his eyes. “What’s up with you? Every time a customer gets a little flirty you freak and drag me back to the storage closet” my fingertips trace the bone of his jawline and move to cup his face in your hands. “I don’t know what what you mean sugar” he smirks and rolls his eyes. You don’t play along though. Instead staring into his eyes with an eyebrow raised. He tries to say that it’s seriously nothing but eventually he cracks. “I don’t-…I don’t like watching people eye you up right in front of me…” he avoids your eyes as if he has anything to be ashamed about. “Bo…it’s ok to get jealous. I get jealous all the time. But we can’t just fuck it out whenever, we still have customers.” I run my thumb along his bottom lip in an attempt to make it more intimate. Being as that is when Bo learns the best. He pays the most attention to you when your being physical. He nods and rests his head on your shoulder. The fabric of his blue coveralls brushing across your arms(that were exposed as you were in a tank top, because you were supposed to be doing car mechanics). You thought that was that but suddenly you heard him chuckling. “You get jealous all the time eh?”.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas’s jealousy(much like Vincent’s) stems a lot from insecurity, being told all his life by people like Hoyt that he was ugly and that no one could ever really love him. But alternatively when he gets jealous he hates the fact he’s feeling that way at all. He treats it like he’s disrespecting your trust in him by resenting someone else for getting your attention. Most of the time you stay at the house with Luda Mae and there isn’t many occasions where Tommy would get Jealous, however this time you, him, Luda and strangely enough Hoyt, were going grocery shopping in town. He was already getting strange looks from everyone in the store from his appearance. Normally he wouldn’t even have come along, but Luda was getting older and needed more help carrying things. No one knew why Hoyt had come along. He wasn’t going to help, if anything he made it more of a chore than it had to be. Luda had sent you to go grab a bag of sugar, causing you to need to separate from the group. Thomas watched you walk away, worrying. To which he had every right to worry. You couldn’t find the sugar. You had been to this grocery store what felt like hundreds of times and yet you couldn’t find it. You saw a person who worked there though and proceeded to innocently ask him where to find the sugar. He lead you to the shelf. The bags that Luda wanted were big, and heavy. The man took the liberty of offering you help(he clearly wasn’t aware that you could carry it yourself. You lived on a farm for gods sake). You just let him carry the bag. He followed you back to your group, cracking a few jokes that warranted laughs out of you. You clearly didn’t pick up that he was flirting. Hoyt smirked at this, noticing an opportunity to torment Tommy. He elbowed him lightly and laughed smugly. When you got within 10 feet of Tommy you picked up your pace and ran up to him. The worker seemed shocked that these were your people. An old fashioned looking woman, a sheriff carrying a gun obviously on his belt, and Thomas. To strangers Thomas was hard to describe. He was obviously a big man, and the mask situation wasn’t helpful for new interactions either. “Oh right. Thank you!” You smiled brightly at the worker, who’s expression was wary and still surprised. You went to grab the large bag from him and hauled it into the cart. As the four of you went to walk away he called out after you again. “Um here! My phone number.” He slid a small piece of folded paper into your hand before running off. You looked at your hand oddly, that was weird. You didn’t miss how as you walked alongside him, Thomas’s eyes lingered on your hand that slid into your pocket. He was distracted as he walked, bumping into Luda once or twice. Luda being Luda, done with getting her heels stepped on by a man that towered over her, decided to solve the problem. “Tommy, why don’t you and them go get me some butter.” She pointed down the aisle where the butter was. As you followed Thomas you turned your head to see Luda looking at you with a look that said ‘talk to him about it’. So that’s what you did. He had his hands placed on the plastic boarder between the walkway and the shelf. Sometimes you forgot just how big his hands were. You slid one hand overtop of his and intertwined your fingers. “Im not keeping his phone number Tommy.” To prove your point you used your free hand to pull the paper out of your pocket and with help from your teeth you shredded it in half. Both dropping one piece and spitting the other one on the floor of the grocery store. You looked at him from the side of your eye and saw him smiling through the hole in his mask. You grabbed a stick of butter and ran back to Luda and Hoyt, Tommy’s hand still in yours. Hoyt almost said something but before he could he got the back of Luda’s hand to the back of his head.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is a tough one. Again not many situations when he would get ‘jealous’ per say. Possessive and protective as fuck? Definitely. The idea of you leaving the house scares him, and yet when grocery boy comes around he gets moody. It’s a lose lose situation. You know better than to let Malcom in the mansion, Brahms would lose his shit. But he is the only other companionship you have other than Brahms and your family over a phone. Some days in the mornings you’ll sit on the porch and have a conversation with him over coffee. This has led to many temper tantrums from Brahms. But you always make it up to him. He’s not mature, like at all. We all collectively know that. He’s an eight year old in a 40 year olds body with the horniness of a virgin teenager. You swear he likes to fight you on everything after Malcom’s been around the house. This time he wanted to fight you on bedtime. He had already avoided you all day, only interacting with you to eat. He was touch deprived(more than usual). So, when you went in for his bedtime kiss, even the slight touch made his resolve crumble. His hands grasped your hips roughly, pulling you to straddle him. “Oh, now you wanna talk to me?” Your hands were resting on his chest as to keep yourself upright. “Im not complaining, but your a jealous guy yknow that.” It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement. An incredible accurate one at that. You could see he wanted something, the look in his eyes told you everything. Beautiful forest green eyes clouded with want. “All you gotta do is ask Brahmsy” you lean in to his face, not quite touching him. Just to tease him a little. “Please…” he rasped. His actual voice evident and gruff. “Kiss me…” he leans in just a little leaving barely an inch between you. You could feel his breath on your face, thankful that he had been brushing his teeth. You couldn’t help smashing your lips into his. It was aggressive and needy. He clearly missed you even though it had only been a day, and quite frankly he had probably been watching you through the walls all day. His hands groped at your sides and your chest. All whilst you continued to kiss him. Needy and clingy, two key words when describing Brahms. That night he cuddled into you extra tight. With no intention of letting you up the next morning.

Billy Loomis

Billy doesn’t get jealous unless he’s already having a shitty day. He’s pretty calm and collected. When he does get jealous he starts fights, with everybody. You, Stu, random strangers, teachers, everybody. He’s pretty unstable as is in the terms of emotions. Especially in relationships. His mom made it real hard to trust that someone won’t leave him. In this instance he was jealous of your friend Connor. Connor was generally nerdy, spent all his time in the science labs at school. That’s how you met him actually, a science project. He was the exact opposite of Billy. Frankly you were more of a ‘smart nerdy’ type yourself. It was ridiculous how it all started anyways, you had a study session already planned with Connor. You made sure to tell Billy that a week in advance, knowing he doesn’t like surprises. But apparently he forgot all about it and made plans with Stu and his new temporary girlfriend. Obviously you told him you couldn’t go because you already had plans that you told him about. He got frustrated and jealous as expected. Connor showed up at your house at the worst moment then possible. If we’re gonna be honest Connor never liked Billy much either. Billy was extremely popular and kind of an asshole to the smarter kids at school. Not to say he wasn’t smart, he’s just quiet and friends with Stu so people assume his grades aren’t great. You and Billy had been yelling at each other when Connor opened your door. What happened next was all a blur, memorable events include Connor and Billy getting into each other faces, Connor pushing Billy, and Billy knocking Connor on his ass with a punch to his jaw, Billy had a reputation of overdoing it. Evident in this situation because Billy proceeded to get on top of Connor and continue to punch him. By the time he stopped Connors whole face was bleeding and bruised and Stu and his girlfriend had come into the house. The only reason he stopped was because Stu pulled him off. Sure they killed people but not as Billy and Stu, so he wrapped his arms around him and dragged him off of Connor. You had to call him an ambulance but you knew about Ghost face. “Both of you go. I’ll call an ambulance.” Stu understood why you wanted them gone, so he left. Dragging Billy out behind him. The next few days were lonely. Billy didn’t come back to your house, you assumed he was staying at Stu’s. But around a week after the incident you received an anonymous call. When you picked up you heard the voice of Ghost face over the line. “What’s your favourite scary movie?” If Billy planned on killing you it was a little too late, so you played along. You told him your favourite. The voice over the phone laughed and said something along the lines of ‘So I do know a thing or two, huh?’ The voice then told you to go outside into your backyard. You did as it instructed and stepped out of your back door to see a large sheet draped on the wall of your house, with a projection on it of the title screen of your favourite horror movie. In the centre of it all stood ghost face. Your ghost face. You walked up to him and once in touching vicinity you flipped the chin of his mask up over his mouth and kissed him. No matter how irrational and irresponsible he was sometimes, you missed him. When you pulled away he fully took the mask off, tossing it on the grass somewhere. “Forgive me?”

Alright have whatever this is. I would’ve done more characters but im having some writers block. If you want a part two with someone I missed just comment or ask me. Requests are open sooo yea.

[puckarchives]

basement yard conversations: l. hughes

blurb: in which you overhear luke say that you’re much more attractive than him while he’s talking to jack and quinn.  / word count: 1.7k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

The conversation had taken place on the back deck of the Hughes Family lake house, and to be fair, you don’t think you were supposed to be particularly privy to it. It was nearing almost 11 PM at night, and you had just come out of the shower— clean and sun kissed and reveling in the after effects of a day well spent out in the sun with your favorite boy and your favorite family. 

This was the second summer you had spent with Luke, and by default, the entire Hughes gang as they took a much deserved rest in the off-season, now that both the Devils and Canucks had ended their seasons. So, with you being off from college and the boys not starting their training for at least two more weeks, you had opted to spend some time at the lake house in Michigan. 

That particular day, you had spent most of your morning (and afternoon, if you were being honest,) out on the lake, simply laying on the boat or joining in when the boys began wakeboarding— falling a few times, but ultimately being able to hold your own before Luke had jumped in with you, and caused you both to go tumbling into the water. 

From the boat, you could hear both Jack and Quinn laughing at you and Luke, both of you making your way over to where they had stilled in order to let you reboard, and where Luke readied himself to begin his turn— which didn’t last long, as he began swaying to the point where he just simply fell over. 

Once the four of you had come back in, it was straight to the shower for you— a moment to wash off the lake water and reapply aloe vera before your skin began to get dry. 

Walking towards the back porch, you could see the boys huddled around the fire pit— Jack and Quinn sitting in their designated chairs, and Luke in a larger seat, waiting for you with a blanket in his hand. As you walked closer however, and before you could open the screen door, you overheard a snippet of their conversation— something that always surprised you, as their conversations could exist on a spectrum of simply talking about dinner plans, to them arguing over who the most problematic Pokémon character they played with growing up; currently, Charizard was in the lead because, as Luke had stated a few weeks prior, you can’t spell the world ‘Charizard’ without ‘hazard,’ an explanation that still made no sense to you, but that the boys had agreed to almost immediately. 

Stilling at the fragments you could piece together, you could hear Jack repeating that he “definitely did have it,” but that for him, “it was louder than it was for Quinn.” You didn’t know exactly what “it” was referring to, but quickly pieced together your answer as Quinn spoke up.

“It’s like, the internet thinks I have no rizz. I got called a fucking wet cat the other day,” he said, waving his hands around. It was true— you had seen the tweet first, and then sent it to Luke, who promptly sent it into their group chat. So that’s what they were talking about— rizz. 

Although you didn’t know exactly how that had come up— when you left, they were discussing the intricacies of Zegras’ worst choices— it was still a novelty to take in— the way that Quinn would talk in his broody way, only exacerbated by the winces he would occasionally give off because of his gnarly sunburn, whereas Jack was all excited hand movement and loud laughs. But it was your boy, specifically, who had all of your attention— Luke’s soft smirk on his lips, the way he would wait until either boy was finished talking before including his own thoughts, and the way he would keep egging on his brothers. However, you didn’t miss the way he would open his mouth to say something, but automatically be either shut down, or have to wait for another turn to avoid interrupting his brothers. While Luke may have been a killer on the ice, he was still the youngest brother— caught up in trying to work his hardest to be on the same level as his brothers, but still always beating himself up for it. 

You didn’t think there had been a day where Luke went without comparing one thing about himself to his older brothers— whether it be simple comments about how he needed to get faster in order to compete with Quinn’s own speed, or even have better hand-eye coordination in order to keep up with Jack, it was always something that he lacked, and he never paid attention to the things he did have— things that you loved about him, like the way he would always bring his brother’s up in conversation— always with a smile on his face, and always reminiscing on their childhoods. He never spoke ill of anyone, (even when they deserved it,) and when he had hurt another player on the ice a few weeks back he had made it a point to apologize personally, and even send them a card. Luke, for all the faults he saw in himself, had one-hundred times the good parts, even when he didn’t recognize them. 

It was the next few sentences, however, that caught your attention; now, the conversation had switched over from Jack and Quinn’s respective levels of charmism and ability to, as they so eloquently put it, “pull and have game,” to Luke’s, he looked down, still with a small smirk on his face, and played with his thumbs. 

“Well, you see her,” Luke said. “She's definitely much more attractive than me, and if anything, I have the rizz because she was strong enough to get my head out of my ass and see that she had been there the entire time,” he laughed. 

His brothers only egged him on, adding in moments where they saw Luke, quote on quote, ‘have game,’ including earlier that same day, when the four of you were out on the boat. When you had been putting together the coolers for the boys to lug on to the boat, Luke hadn’t missed a beat and, while you were chopping up pieces of fruit on the kitchen island, had flirted with you like he had never met you before, and hit on you. 

“Well hello, pretty lady,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, and flexing his arms above his back. He puffed out his chest in a mock bravado, and continued. “You come here often? Because you’re a sight for sore and beautiful eyes,” he said, scooting closer to you. For as cheesy as he was, Luke loved doing this— hitting on you as if you were two teenagers in the 80’s, and as if he hadn’t been your boyfriend for the past two years. 

“You know, I’d love to take you out on the boat sometime, if you’re free?  I’ll even let you drive it if we leave your boyfriend on the shore,” he said, now with his arms actually up, and him, (once again,) flexing. God, you’re boy was a total softie. 

Your only response was heaving laughter, as anytime Luke got like this it only brought a smile on your face. “Well, sir, my boyfriend would surely be disappointed in me if I just left him on the shore” you jokingly replied. “And besides, he’s old. I’m not sure his fragile heart could take it if I just up and left,” you said, before closing the cooler and making your way outside. 

Luke scrambled after you, only to grab the cooler out of your hands, open the door, and drop it right outside. Before you could ask why, he whistled over at Quinn who was waiting for the two of you on the deck, and scooped you up in his arms, before making his way to the dock, you still laughing, and him looking at you with a look of pure adoration, and, in your opinion— full of love. 

Now, however, as you stood on the other side of the screen door, you opened it, automatically calling all three heads to look in your direction, and, as you walked towards Luke who had his arms open to you, said: “No, Luke’s definitely lying. This man has ALL the rizz. How do you think he keeps me coming back over-and-over for more?” you asked the other two, giving your boyfriend a kiss on the forehead as you stood between his legs and pet his still-wet curls. 

“He can say that I’m the one who got him to notice me, but your brother? The ultimate rizz king,” you laughed, trying to mimic what you heard the gamers on TikTok say about rizz the other day. 

“But, to settle your debate once and for all, I have literal proof of who has the most rizz,” you announced, to which the other two Hughes brothers cheered and egged you on to show them. Pulling up Twitter on your phone, you scrolled through your favorited tweets before getting to one that had made you bust out laughing only days prior, but that labeled what kind of “rizz” each Hughes brother had. 

“According to this tweet, a certifiable source if I’ve ever seen one,” you joked, “Quinnjamin Hughes has the rizz level of a wet cat you want to take home, and of a man that just makes your “I CAN FIX HIM” fever go crazy, Jacket Hughes has the rizz of a man who had a borderline homoerotic relationship and a praise kink all in one, and Lucas Warner Hughes has the rizz of a man who will always shoot up and knows it,” you finished. 

As you closed your phone and set it down, you looked up at the faces of the Hughes dynasty around you— Quinn was shaking with laughter, his head in his hands, Jack was wheezing in the corner over you calling Quinn “Quinnjamin” and the way they had gotten all of their names wrong, and Luke despite the jokes, was looking directly at you. He wasn’t laughing like his brother’s, but instead looking at you with the softest smile. 

“And don’t I know it, sweetheart,” he said.

[wimble-warcrime]

Ooh can I request how you think kid and killer would show their interest in you? Basically their way of courting you/beginning of a relationship. Together or separate, whatever you feel like 🖤🖤

hi anon, thanks for the ask! i'd be happy to do both :)

im a big fan of the concept of courting in general (to many period drama influences) so some of these may seem weird or ooc

kidd-

different from killer, who would take a more traditional approach to courting/wooing a potential partner, kidd's approach is more... chaotic... we'll say

we all know that this tulip head has the emotional range of a teaspoon, and therefore struggles with expressing any emotion other than rage and pride, so be prepared for a whirlwind of whiplash

he doesn't know what he wants, you don't know what he wants

killer knows what he wants, but won't be at all helpful in this case

while he will staunchly deny this until the day he dies, kidd's love language is acts of service (beating the shit out of people for you), gift giving (making you things to beat the shit out of people) and quality time (discussing in depth on how to beat the shit out of people)

expect a lot of shiny things, handmade metal contraptions, and requests for you to just sit with him (he tells you he needs someone to hold something for him, or shine the light at a particular angle, but we all know he just wants to be around you)

he fails miserably at any attempts of flirtation

the first time you cackle at him for his terrible pick-up lines, he shuts himself away for a few days. the second time, (with killer's guidance) he realizes that making you laugh would be great way to warm up to each other.

it becomes a witty back-and-forth of banter and cheesy pick-up lines, and a solid friendship is formed. you talk about whatever, he gives his (sadistic) input, he rambles on about his latest invention (probably a weapon) and you give your feedback

you don't know that each of these conversations are pertaining to the same creation, he's (very secretly, and quite skillfully (to killer's surprise)) getting your input, because he's making it for you.

it's months in the making, he probably started right after your first lengthy discussion about preferred weapon types or something like that.

i'd like to think that for kidd, it's obsession at first insult with him, so you'd probably be relatively new to the crew. he wouldn't last long enough to have known (and liked you) for years, no patience with dis man

he gets talkative when he drinks, so i guarantee you the first time he gets like black out drunk around you, he spills his guts. its an unspoked rule amongst the crew, that any 'gushy' feelings that come from that captain while he is inebriated, are not to ever EVER be brought up afterwards.

so you kind of just. sit there. thinking abt the fact that this angry tulip man like you. and wont admit it to your face.

after the first emotional moment TM you guys share, things start to pick up. you are witness to a softer side of the one-dimensional captain, and quite like it.

start seeking those out more. he won't, but the best progress is one made in emotional vulnerability. (dr. wimble advice corner approved)

he cant take a hint, so dont bother dropping any. if you wanna go forward, say something. kidd cannot read (alegedly), let alone between the lines. your best bet is to whip out your tits (gn) in front of him.

i will die on this hill, kidd is firmly a boob guy, dont try to change my mind. he lov em

there is no "so, should we date now?" phase with this guy, he just skips right to the "fucking them with the lights on" phase. a hot and heavy encounter later, and he has firmly planted himself at your side, no takes-backsies~~

you wake up the morning after hovered in hickeys and bite marks, and EVERYONE know your his now. he wont say it, but you are.

killer-

killer on the other hand, is a traditionalist, an 'el hopaness romtic' if ya know what im sayin

he will woo the pants right off you, season two anthony bridgerton wet shirt scene style (iykyk)

you probably aren't new to the crew, kil strikes me as the kinda guy who doesn't know he likes someone until it's too late. like man's good at self reflection and all, but it takes TIME to get to him, so there is no 'love at first fisticuffs' with him.

it starts with friendship (demi killer till the day i die), you two are like each others bestfriends. no one tops kidd (ehehe) for this guy, but you can tie

it's the little things at first, and more one-sided at the beginning (on your end), like complimenting his cooking, offering to help with dishes

maybe you buy him some hair stuff, he did mention that he was running out, off handedly. or, you sharpen up his knives for him while he's away

Killer's love language is also acts of service, more so on the receiving end tho, but he likes to give gifts. he'll cook for you, personally

like one meal just for you type thing. he says he wants you to try out a new recipe of his, but really, he just made you a nice meal, and cant say it to your face.

you two act like a couple already, but both deny it, saying youre just 'really good friends'

he first really realises that he likes you, seriously likes (maybe love) you when you get injured. and not like, oh little scratch, but like, almost died injured.

a foe has never been downed faster, than when killer heard your scream of pain and terror from across the battle field, and fucking flew across to get to you.

it's obvious to anyone that mans got it badd. he doesnt leave your side until youre concious again and the promptly blows up you for being dumb and reckless and almost getting killed. its a nasty fight, one that shatters your friendship. no one expected anything like that from him. probably the most anyone has ever heard from him in one go

he is just worried, but cant tell you that he loves you, without fully knowing how you feel back. not a guy who readily takes risks like that.

it's a few weeks before he's talking to you again, afraid that he astronomically fudged it by his little outburst. the exchanges are clipped, (you, who had been pining hard for him for like ever) and you're positively sure he hates your guts (he doesnt he just scared)

he avoids you, trying to put as much distance between you two as physically possible, trying to get rid of his feelings for you. but the you go and get yourself hurt. again

it was an accident this time, he saw it happen. like slow motion, the knife you were holding was bumped out of your hand by someone backing into you, it fell, cutting your hand open, before notching itself into the flood

he blows up at the person responsible, before dragging you to the medbay to patch you up. all the while, muttering about how clumsy you are, how much of a danger magnet you seem to be.

its at that moment you know how he feels. it's not said outright, but the care he takes with you, treating you like you're glass

you lean down to kiss his mask. just a small pec, an utterance of a 'thank you' whispered after

but

his heart is beating like a wild mustang, and he freezes. he makes sure your affection wasn't just because you were grateful (after he starts working again)

your reassurance is like cupids arrow for his heart. you like him, have liked him for a while

nothing really changes between your dynamic after that, at least from the outside. really, you've started to be more physically affectionate behind closed doors.

it's a huge step when he takes his mask of around you. the lights are off, and you can't see his face, but he lets you touch it. huge step in your relationship

he's still a baddie, violent and unhinged, (to keep up appearances), but when no ones looking, he'll love on you

this feels kinda rushed ngl, but alas, when is it not? anywayz anon, hope you like it! iv'e already done poly! kidkiller here, i hope you enjoy :)

btw my requests are open, but im still in college, so be mindful if it takes me a hot minute to reply to them

[justcallmefox89]

Inferior Part V

Nothing is as it seems

Gale huffs, glancing over at the portal for the tenth time in as many minutes, then resumes his pacing.  Lae’zel and Astarion exchange a brief glance but otherwise leave the wizard to his thoughts.

It’s taking too long.  Why did I agree to let him go in alone?  Stupid, stupid, stu-

The portal flashes and X’aa’nath tumbles through, wild-eyed and breathing harshly.  Gale rushes to him, catching him by the shoulders and helping him stay upright.

“Kin!  Have you done it?  Have you killed our Queen’s enemy?”

X’aa’nath flinches, a barely noticeable thing Gale only catches because of how close they are.  He quickly straightens up and faces Lae’zel.  “I tried, kin. I tried… but the target is unkillable.”

Surprise, then anger flickers across Lae’zel’s face.  “Unkillable?  I don’t believe you – show me your mind.”

X’aa’nath looks like he wants to protest, but he relents, and slowly his unconsciousness unfurls, allowing the other three into his mind. 

“I may have made a mistake trusting you.  I told you to stay away from the githyanki.  But you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”  X’aa’nath’s dream visitor, a handsome elven warrior, turns to face him.  “And now you’ve come to murder me.”

“My kin offer me cleansing!  And my Queen has told me who you really are – an agent of the Illithid Grand Design.”

“I told you I stole the artefact from someone- well, I stole it from Vlaakith.  Since then she has become desperate.”

X’aa’nath scowls.  “So you admit to stealing from my Queen as well.  Why should I not kill you where you stand?”

“Vlaakith wants me dead because I know her secret,” the dream visitor protests.  “It is a secret so great that if your people ever found out, that would be the end of her rule, the end of her.  That same secret is how I have been protecting you from the Absolute.” 

X’aa’nath frowns, shaking his head slightly.

“I can hear your thoughts.  You think I’m lying.  Vlaakith warned you that I would try to deceive you.  But consider this – what reason do I have to deceive you?  I want the same thing as you do – freedom.  I am on your side.  I have been from the very beginning.”

“No!  Do not try to trick me.  Vlaakith does not lie to her faithful!”

The dream visitor draws his sword and kneels, offering his weapon to X’aa’nath.  “I already told you I protect you, that I saved you.  That I’m just like you.  If this is not enough to convince you, what more is there to say?”

“I am githyanki,” X’aa’nath snarls, snatching the sword out of his dream visitor’s hands.  “I am nothing like you.  I am loyal to my Queen.  I will bring her your head and be blessed with ascension.”

With no further hesitation X’aa’nath thrusts the sword through the dream visitor’s chest.  Blood pours from the wound and the dream visitor gasps in pain.

“I really though you wouldn’t,” he grinds out.  “We could have been so much more.  But you had to choose this.”

The dream visitor fades from existence, then quickly reappears, completely healed and glaring at X’aa’nath.

“So you are not to be trusted.”

The sorcerer stumbles back, shaking his head and staring in shock.

“I don’t intend to make a habit of conversing with my killer, so I will be brief.  Your survival depends on mine, and mine on yours.  It is less than ideal, but it is where we stand.  I know a secret that Vlaakith never wants to be revealed.  It is the reason that she mobilized her people to retrieve the Astral Prism.  It is why she sent you to kill me.  And why she will kill you once you leave this place.  Since we are both dependent on your ability to survive that, you would do well to remember that without me, you would become a mind flayer.”    

“Lies!” X’aa’nath cries out.  “You know nothing of my Queen!”

The dream visitor sneers and rolls his eyes.  “Leave.  I have a battle to return to.”

He waves his hand and X’aa’nath is thrown back through the portal.

Gale blinks, dazed as he withdraws from X’aa’nath’s memory.

Lae’zel scowls.  “Vlaakith tavki na’zin!  I see – only madness.  My Queen knows my faith.  She would never condemn me.  But you… you have failed her.”

X’aa’nath’s eyes widen.  “No, kin!  I did as Vlaakith commanded; you saw the truth of it!”

“I should have been the one to go,” she growls.  “I knew you could not be trusted with this.”

“Kin…?” X’aa’nath voice is small and unsure.

Lae’zel’s hand whips up and strikes X’aa’nath’s face with a sharp crack.  “You are not my kin.  You are not githyanki.  You are the unwanted one… and you will always be other.” 

A soft sound breaks in X’aa’nath’s throat, but otherwise he stands stoically in the face of Lae’zel’s condemnation.  The red imprint of her hand blooms across his right cheek, standing out starkly against the pale gold of his skin. 

Gale steps closer to him, attempting to be a reassuring presence without overwhelming the skittish sorcerer.

“Enough, Lae’zel!” Astarion snaps, stepping between the two gith, casting a slightly worried look toward X’aa’nath.

The younger gith avoids the vampire’s eyes, resolutely looking out at the broken rocks and gleaming stars as they drift by. 

“Yes,” Lae’zel agrees.  “We must go to the ch’r’rai.  He will summon Vlaakith – she must know of this… this apostate.”

W’wargaz is waiting for them as they exit the planecaster, surrounded by a group of warriors.   “Lae’zel – I have been waiting.  You are named hshar’lak.  Bend your head, for my blade is ready.”

“Ch’r’rai please summon Vlaakith!” she cries.  “There is much she needs to be told!”

“She speaks truth, ch’r’rai!” X’aa’nath adds.  “Please, allow us to explain.”

“She already knows of your failure, ghaik wretch,” W’wargaz sniffs disdainfully.  “The queen has spoken – her death is decreed and yours will follow.  You have shamed Khou’zal for the last time.”

Gale shoulders sag as the realization hits him; no matter the outcome of their trip to the Astral Plane, Vlaakith had no intention of letting any of them live.  From the look on Astarion’s face, Gale surmises he has reached the same conclusion. 

The faint hint of burning ozone fills the air and a brief touch of static caresses Gale’s exposed skin, sending a shiver crawling up his spine.  He sucks in a deep breath as X’aa’nath takes a protective stance in front of his party members, his skin rippling with lightening he’s barely able to contain.

X’aa’nath grins maniacally as he stares down the ch’r’rai.  “You want my head W’wargaz?  Come and get it.  Htak’a!”

He launches himself at W’wargaz and chaos erupts.

[soapyghostie]

Hi!! I was wondering you could do a legion (Frank or Sally will do just fine?), ghost face, and The Knight with a killer s/o whose like that Jack Goodman guy from An American Werewolf in London or Beetlejuice,, from Beetlejuice? Obviously dead as hell but still a sarcastic and joking person while looking like torn up teddy bear. Just reacting to pieces of themselves just falling off as an inconvenience while talking about some stupid shit.

Also, Love your writing man, hope to see more of it!! Hope you have a nice day/night :)

Awwwww! Thanks Anon! I’m glad you like my writing! I hope you have a blessed day/night as well! ❤️ Here’s your request. Enjoy!

The Legion/Frank Morrison

Frank would be taken aback and stare at you in confusion as pieces of you fall off your body. He might even express concern before realizing that being dead, you're not exactly endangered. Once he comprehends the situation, Frank would chuckle and shake his head. He appreciates your dark humor and the fact that your dismembered state doesn’t seem to bother you. 

Frank loves sarcasm and teasing. He’ll engage in lots of teasing and corny jokes about your ‘shedding’ (Frank’s word for your body parts falling off). He’ll playfully ask if you're molting or suggest giving an offering of some of your pieces to the Entity for extra bloodpoints to enhance your abilities in trials.  

Frank gets used to the sight and starts making casual remarks when parts of you fall off during conversations. It becomes a normal part of your dynamic, and he finds it oddly endearing. In the midst of chases or trials, Frank will point out your ‘trail’ of fallen pieces, turning it into a morbid joke between the two of you.  

Frank will collect some of the fallen bits as ‘souvenirs,’ which is kinda gross in my opinion, to display a twisted sense of affection that he has for your torn-up teddy bear appearance. If he is in a mischievous mood, he may playfully remove a piece and run off with it with you chasing after him. It becomes a game of hide-in-seek between the two of y’all as you struggle to get the piece of your body back from Frank’s grasp: he’s pretty fast. 

Frank will come up with a lot of creative nicknames for you such as ‘scatterbrained sweetheart’ or ‘lost limbs baby” as a form of teasing, but also a form of affection. 

Frank, in a strange way, becomes protective of you, patching you up if needed or giving you words of affirmation due to your unique condition. He wants to make sure you feel loved and accepted for who you are. Despite all the teasing and jokes, Frank’s growing affection for you remains genuine, proving that even in the fog, unconventional relationships can thrive.

The Ghost Face/Danny Johnson

Danny would be startled at the sight of pieces falling off of your during y’all’s first encounter. His wide-eyed mask might express shock wherever he goes, but he immediately recognizes the absurdity of the situation. The Entity brings some really freaky shitters for killers. Sorry no offense…

Once the shock of your appearance lulls away, Danny will quickly adopt a deadpan sense of humor about your dismembered state. He’ll compare you to horror movie tropes, such as “Beetlejuice” or “An American Werewolf in London,” or crack jokes about your unraveled state. He’ll be surprised when you reciprocate his dark humor with the same dark humor, taking his jokes very well. Danny’s mask may hide his facial expressions, but his body language suggests he’s amused by your dark humor. He may even mimic laughter through his voice changer to join in on the joke.

When seeing you perform in trials, Danny will playfully comment on your ‘trail of bits,’ distracting you from your chase. To throw him off, critique and make fun of his strategy style in trials. You’ll get him to shut up that way because joking about his killing style destroys his ego. He deserves it for distracting you from your chase. 

Danny will propose a horror movie marathon, making light of your undead state and turning it into a movie night, complete with popcorn and snarky commentary. He’ll comment a lot on how you look like the villain of most of the movies y’all watch.  

Danny likes to mess with you and will definitely hide some of your fallen pieces during trials, challenging you to find them later. Also with Danny being the king of puns, he’ll weave a lot of puns about your torn-up teddy bear appearance into y’all’s conversations. From ‘losing your head over something’ to ‘falling for you in pieces,’ his humor takes on a morbid charm that gets you laughing every time.

Despite all the macabre jokes, Danny’s actions show a peculiar form of affection. He’ll retrieve your fallen pieces, even if he’s the one who stole them and hid them around, delicately place them back in their proper place on your body. In quiet moments, Danny will lean in and confess in an eerie whisper, “You’re the only one who can make dismemberment look charming.” Fucking bastard! However, you and Danny form a unique bond built on y’all’s shared dark humor that is a testament to the resilience of y’all’s connection in the Entity’s realm. 

The Knight/Tarhos Kovács

Tarhos would be surprised at the sight of pieces falling off of you. Despite your undead state, Tarhos expresses a gentle concern for your well-being, regardless of his usual stoic and knightly manner. He’ll even try to ‘repair’ you by placing the pieces respectfully back in their right places on your body that fall off.  

Tarhos engages in polite teasing about your dismembered state. I don’t know how he does it, but he knows how to do it respectfully. He’ll make chivalrous jokes, like offering to be your ‘knight in shining armor’ even if you're a ‘teddy bear in tatters.’ Additionally, Tarhos’s knightly code will take a twist as he discusses ‘dismemberment etiquette,’ establishing proper behavior for you when pieces fall off during conversations. 

Tarhos will incorporate swordplay into y’all’s dark humor, making light jabs at your falling pieces with his sword. He’ll even suggest a jousting match with your fallen pieces as targets. It’s a fun game y’all play in your spare time. 

While y’all are walking, Tarhos will be behind you retrieving any pieces that have fallen off and will hold all your pieces in his big hands, like flowers, until y’all get to your destination where he’ll try to ‘reassemble’ you. It is a cute and comical site, yet it shows his genuine desire to care for you. 

Tarhos will serenade you with medieval ballads, incorporating humorous lyrics about your ‘torn-up teddy bear’ appearance to lighten the mood. 

Tarhos’s chivalry extends beyond physical protection, he becomes your emotional shield, navigating all your worries and insecurities through words of affirmation and hugs. As time goes on, you and Tarhos embrace the absurdity of your appearance through humor and y’all’s support for each other, forming an unconventional partnership in the dark embrace of the fog.

[glitching-time-bomb]

Speaking of resting faces due to the scenario with the bad guys and a smiling resting face. What about a sad looking resting face. Just a sad looking face all the time. Because I think that's my resting face because I have been asked whats wrong on multiple occasions. How would the bad guy sans react to that

So, uhm... I'm just going to pretend that this hasn't been sitting in my inbox since February, and that I haven't posted in ages--

But, uh, surprise? I'm back, sort of!

Bad Sanses Reaction to Their S/O Having a Sad Resting Face

Dust:

Dust likely won't notice, at first

He'll mostly just think that, yeah, that's just the way you look. There's nothing weird about that, right?

But after a bit he'll end up questioning if your actually sad ,or if that's just your resting face

He's not the best with emotions, so it may take a bit for him to actually ask you if you're okay

If you explain that you are okay, and that that's just the way your face naturally rests, he's going to accept that and leave you be about it

Axe:

Axe notices pretty much everything about body language, so he's going to be very confused about why your body language says you're happy, but your face says that you're sad

You'll probably be able to notice his confusion, and asking him will spark the conversation of your resting sad face

He fully understands what you mean after you explain, he's used to feeling one way but not expressing that properly on his face

He'll try coming up with more pun than usual once he's had this conversation with you, not just because he wants you to smile, but because he just wants you to be happy

Killer:

Killer is the exact opposite in this matter, so in a way he understands what it feels like

It won't really be much of a big deal to him, it's just... something about you, just like any other trait or quirk you might have

He might joke about you being polar opposites, and he'll occasionally fake a frown if he sees you smiling just to mess with you

If it bothers you at all that he does any of these, just flick him on the skull and he'll get the gist

maybe...

Nightmare:

This is probably going to confuse Nightmare quite a bit

He can sense that you're not upset at all, quite the opposite really, so why are you frowning all the time?

Unlike Dust he's going to ask you straight away, wanting to make sure that nothing is wrong

Once you explain to him that your facial expression doesn't equal how you're feeling, he'll understand and leave you be about it

[gnpwdrnwhiskey]

Southern Inhospitality

Pairing - Dieter Bravo x ofc!Ava

Word Count - 1.7K

Warnings - God, I don't even know. Mentions of food, mentions of tense family gatherings and insecurities, just general Thanksgiving family gathering vibes....oh and also, hopefully Rhett & Scarlett don't mind I borrowed a few lines

Author's Note - this takes place like a year or two in the future of where Dieter and Ava currently are in the main story but it's pretty spoiler free. Big big thanks to @tinytinymenace for sending me this prompt for a first sentence fic thing. And to @wildemaven and @trulybetty as usual for cheerleading me through this lol! 💕

As he stepped on the escalator and descended into the arrivals terminal, he thought to himself, "this is the dumbest idea I've ever had."

Okay, maybe not the dumbest. He's Dieter Bravo, he's done a lot of dumb shit in his life. But this probably ranks right up there.

And Ava hadn't exactly invited him but when they'd talked the previous evening, she had said she missed him and that was pretty much the same thing right?

Besides, she'd sounded so miserable back in her family's clutches, it was like his duty or whatever to sweep in and rescue her. The last time she sounded that withdrawn- well, he doesn't like to think about it, but he'll be damned if they ever repeat it. Time for him to step up and white knight this shit.

He's starting to second guess the whole idea though as the Uber makes its way up the long oak lined drive, the massive magnolia tree taking up the majority of the front yard coming into view before the actual house does.

"Goddamn," he whispers to himself as the car comes to a halt in front of a true southern plantation house- fucking columns, gleaming black shutters, coach lights, rocking chairs and all.

What the hell has he gotten himself into he wonders as grabs his bag from the Uber and makes his way up the steps to the imposing front door and ringing the bell.

He's halfway expecting the door to be answered by a housekeeper or a butler or some shit and is surprised when it swings open to reveal a pre-teen boy in perfectly pressed khakis and a polo.

"Yeah?" The kid says nonchalantly, more interested in the phone in his hand than the actual guest at the door and Dieter catches a glimpse of chipped glitter nail polish as the boy's fingers fly over the keys.

"I'm looking for Ava. Ava Greene? Is this the right place?" He asks, sliding his Ray-Bans down his nose and trying to peer behind the kid into the house. "Or like the right fucking century? They know the south lost right?"

The kid looks up at Dieter and flashes him a mischievous grin and suddenly Dieter sees the family resemblance. At least he knows he's at the right house. Must be one of Drew's spawn.

"The news of the fall of the Confederacy has not yet reached the man of the house. We fear, due to his advanced age and frail condition, such a staggering blow may cause him to expire."

Dieter snorts out a laugh and the kid smiles even wider. "Welcome to Oak Hill," he says with a dramatic bow. "Please, do step inside and join us on this day when we celebrate the most problematic of American holidays."

"Harry! Who's at the door? You didn't let the Jehovah's Witnesses in again, did you??" Ava's voice comes from somewhere further in the house and Dieter finds himself automatically stepping inside as if drawn to her.

"They're actually here for you," Harry calls over his shoulder. "Something about how you've been living in sin with a cad and a scoundrel."

"Haha," Ava laughs. "Very funny, smart ass. Seriously, who's here?"

"Seriously, it's for you. Come see."

The tapping of heels on hardwood flooring comes closer and Dieter thinks maybe he's stepped not only into the wrong century but also into a completely alternate reality- Ava- his messy, wonderful, Converse wearing Ava, in heels?

His gaze starts at her feet as she comes into view and hot damn, she really is wearing a killer pair of pumps, then some long swirly plaid skirt he doesn't have a name for, crisp white button up, pearls at her ears and throat, hair pulled back in a complicated looking up-do.

"Harry, everyone I know is already here...." And then she catches sight of him standing behind Harry and he grins at the surprised expression on her face. "Dieter-- what are you doing here? What about your meeting?"

"I rescheduled. I should've never agreed anyway," he shrugs, reaching out to pull her into his arms and she goes willingly. "I shouldn't have let you come here by yourself."

"I told you it was fine, that'd I'd be fine," she says as she wraps her arms around him and leans into him. "I'm mostly fine."

"You're not fine, look at you," Dieter laughs, pulling away enough to hook a finger in the vee of her shirt, accidentally on purpose undoing one more tiny button and sneaking a peak. "You have a bra on. I didn't even know you owned one."

Ava snorts out a laugh and melts back into him, tucking her face into his neck and nipping at the skin there. "Behave, Bravo. We're amongst civilized company here."

"I'll try, but you do look like every sexy librarian fantasy I've ever had," Dieter whispers into her ear, hands sliding down her back to rest on the curve of her ass.

"You're an idiot," Ava whispers back, holding on to him a little bit tighter. "But I'm so glad you're here."

"Take your sunglasses off," Ava says as they walk hand in hand towards the family room.

"What?"

"We're inside. Pretend you're a normal person and take your sunglasses off."

"But why?"

"Are you high?"

"What? No!"

"Then take them off. Please do not make this any worse than it already will be. When we go in for dinner, sit up straight, keep your elbows off the table, mind your manners and take your sunglasses off."

And with that warning, she escorts him into the belly of the beast.

"We'll have one more guest for dinner," Ava announces to the room. "Most of you have already met Dieter, but I'll leave you to get reacquainted and set another place at the table."

"Play nice," Ava grins, leaning in to kiss his cheek and giving his hand a quick squeeze before scurrying out of the room like the traitor she is.

He can do this. He can. He's an Oscar winning actor for fucks sake. How bad can one family dinner possibly be?

Three hours later he's hating himself for putting that thought into the universe. Turns out it can be so, so incredibly bad.

Dinner itself was fine, delicious even- the turkey was moist, the potatoes were smooth and buttery, the pumpkin cheesecake was downright sinful.

But the conversation has been downright atrocious. If someone had given Conrad Greene a list of topics not to talk about at a family gathering, he's tried his damnedest to hit every single one of them.

He's watched Ava's mother masterfully try to steer them into safer conversational waters time and time again, he's listened to all the praise of Drew and the newspaper he can stomach while Ava's own accomplishments get brushed off as inconsequential and she withdraws farther and farther into herself. Even Harry is not exempt from his great grandfather's ire and he watches the bright eyed kid who'd met him at the door deflate like an old party balloon.

Dieter has always thought his own childhood was shitty, but it's nothing compared to this. Sure, he may have never known his dad and his mom may have ditched him, but between his grandparents and Ms. Rose, he'd never once felt anything less than accepted for exactly who he was. Or pressured to be someone he wasn't.

By the time the table is cleared and after dinner coffees are served, his back is starting to hurt from the damned uncomfortable dining chairs, his jaw hurts from clenching his teeth and his fucking knee hurts from how often Ava has dug her nails in to stop him from saying something he most likely shouldn't.

And he's had about enough. Of all of it.

"Are you staying here?" He leans in to ask Ava.

"No," she shakes her head. "I've been staying at Drew's."

"Great. Did you drive here separately?"

"Yeah, Harry wanted to ride in your Porsche."

"Even better. We're leaving," he announces, pushing his chair back from the table.

"Dieter--"

"We're leaving, Ava. Say your goodbyes and grab your things."

Ava leads Dieter up the side stairs and into the little loft apartment over Drew's garage where she used to live and where she's been staying for the last few days.

"I'm sorry. It didn't....it wasn't always like that," she says as she kicks off her heels. It's the first thing she's said since they left her grandfather's house and Dieter's heart aches for her.

"Ava, honey, you don't have anything to be sorry for. None of that shit is your fault. He's a bitter old man with fucked up ideas of how the world should work."

"Growing up....before my grandmother died....it was different. She tempered him I guess," she shrugs, taking off her pearls and tucking them safely in a little velvet pouch she puts in her make up bag.

"What was she like?" He asks, coming up behind her at the bathroom counter, beginning to hunt for and remove all the pins keeping her hair pulled back.

"She liked to cook and work in her garden, and take Drew and I bargain shopping. She was always smiling or laughing. A little bit mischievous. People gravitated to her. She would've liked you a lot."

"You think so?"

"I do," Ava smiles softly at him, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "I wish she would've gotten to know Harry, she would've gotten a kick out of him."

"He's a pretty cool kid," Dieter grins. "Clever, quick-witted. You sure he's not actually yours?"

"Positive," Ava laughs, spinning to face him. "But I did spend a lot of time with him when he was younger. Guess I rubbed off on him."

"Hey, that's not a bad thing, you know that, right? You're incredibly brilliant, Ava. It's their loss if they can't see it."

"I know. I'm working on it...."

"And, you know what else?" he grins, cupping her face in his hands and adopting a ridiculous southern accent. "You deserve to be kissed and often and by someone who knows how."

"And I suppose you think you're the proper person?"

"I might be....if the right moment ever came."

"What about now, Rhett?"

"Thanks not your line, Scarlett."

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

"That's not your line either."

"Hey, Bravo....shut up and kiss me already."

And he does.

[daydream-cement]

Organs in the Wash Ch. 7

Miranda Hilmarson x Reader

Authors Note: Thank u v much to my beta baby @bri-sonat <3 This chapter is a little intense so please take care of yourself during and after reading <3 but if you wanna skip and come back for ch. 8 that's okay too :) I left part of some Deseret untranslated. I wonder if one of you can figure out the translation...

Warnings: Kidnapping, serial killers, blood, torture (cutting), and psychological abuse

Relinquishing his grip on your hair, the killer backed away, retreating back to a workbench. Now given the opportunity, you were able to glance around the room, taking in your surroundings. Concrete floors, walls lined with aged bricks, and the only light sources were a few dangling bulbs. Old metal shelves lined the walls, containing old paint buckets, tools, and miscellaneous housing fixtures that he had probably used to fix things in your apartment at one point or another. If you had to guess, you believed you were in the basement of your apartment building. But why would he choose to stay so close to where he had taken you from?

“You know... I always thought I was going to be a doctor. You can see by my handiwork that I have a steady hand. Maya was an interesting case... I bled her first. Hung her from the rafters above you and let it all run down the drain.” His tone was so casual, like he was describing his last trip to the grocery store. At the mention of Maya hanging from the rafters, you glance upwards and see a chain dangling overhead. The clinking of metal against the workbench draws your attention back down to him, “Washing the organs was the fun part for me. It really gave me an up close and personal look at each of them. After I called the police, I knew I had made a mistake by putting the organs in the wash.”

The effort to talk makes your entire body ache and your voice cracks as you speak, “...So you killed Abbey?” 

He turns around to look at you, delighted you were willing to have a conversation with him, “Exactly. I disemboweled her. I’m keeping her organs nice and fresh in some ethanol on the shelves over there.” He then gestured to the metal shelf with the paint cans that you now realized were filled with human organs, not paint, “She struggled so much. It was so annoying. The police will be lucky if they get an ID on her with what I did to her. With some patience and experimenting, hydrofluoric acid isn’t that hard to make yourself... The internet really is wonderful.”

He crosses the room, approaching a different workbench. Well, you thought it was a workbench, but the straps hanging off of it told you it was where he planned to torture you. Tears welled in your eyes. You didn’t want to show your fear, but this was your nightmares come to life, “And why me?”

He paused what he was doing, only for a moment, to think. He resumed preparing the dissection table for you as he spoke, “At first... proximity. It was easy access, but in the end, it was for the challenge. I would have thought you had recognized my voice, but from the look on your face earlier, you really didn’t know it was me, did you?”

“No...”

“Of course, you didn’t... Girls are so stupid... You did surprise me with your ability to understand the Deseret Alphabet. I wasn’t particularly connected to the language, but every serial killer needs his thing, ya know?” He smiled fondly and gestured wildly with his hands, clearly passionate and remorseless in his killing, “You’re special. I’m going to let you choose the phrase I carve into you. Maybe we can write a sweet letter for your boyfriend to read when she finds your corpse.” 

------

“Repeat those phrases from the letter back to me again.” Robin requested as she moved slowly about your apartment, checking every nook and cranny for anything unusual other officers may have missed. 

Miranda pulled the notebook from her jacket, flipping through the pages to find the translation to the letter, “‘The answer is so near, yet you are blind to the possibilities. Many of these old buildings hold more secrets than you can even imagine.’ And it was also signed, ‘your neighbor.’”

Robin only hummed in response, her eyes trailing along the baseboards for anything that could indicate ‘secrets’ like hidden doors or passages that could have given the killer access to the apartment. Her eyes stopped when confronted with your bookcase and she called over to Miranda to help her, “Here, help me move this bookcase.” 

Tucking the notebook back in her vest, Miranda took two long strides to grasp at the bookcase, pushing while Robin pulled. The blonde huffed as she heaved the bookcase out of the way, “Do you think there is a hidden door or something?” 

“That’s what makes the most sense to me...” Robin shrugged, glancing around the bookcase to the exposed wall to find nothing out of the ordinary.

“Nothing... Robin... What am I going to do? I need to find her. I-” Miranda’s hands move up to her hair, ranking through the locks roughly as to take her aggression out somewhere. She began to pace across your apartment, her chest beginning to heave from the stress and panic that was setting in. The sound of Robin’s ringtone made both of the women stop in their tracks. 

“Just-” Robin pulled the phone from her pocket and glanced down at Adrian’s contact glowing on her home screen. Before she took the call, she looked at Miranda intently, providing her with a couple comforting words, “We will find her. She will be back with you in no time...” 

Answering the call, Robin placed it on speakerphone so she wouldn’t have to relay all of the information back to Miranda later on. Adrian spoke before either of the women could get a word out, “Get back down to the station. We caught him.”

Robin let out a light laugh, unable to believe Adrian could be talking about the serial killer they had been searching relentlessly for, “Caught who?”

“The killer. There is no reason for you to be in Ms. L/n’s apartment any longer.” Adrian’s voice was tainted with annoyance. 

Miranda’s eyes widened and she snatched the phone from Robin’s hand, holding the speaker up to her mouth. The way her voice filled with hope made Robin’s heart ache, “Is Y/n there? Is she with you? Can I talk to her?”

“We haven’t tracked her down yet. We are interrogating him right now to get her location. He keeps feeding us this bullshit that he doesn’t know who we are talking about. We are checking his ‘so-called’ alibis, but we are sure they will fall through.” Miranda’s face immediately fell at Adrian’s response, a scowl returning to her features. Robin and Miranda exchanged a glance, hesitant to believe they had found the killer so easily. The women were so confident in their suspicions the killer was still in the building that they doubted the other detective’s abilities. 

Robin took her phone back from Miranda with a roll of her eyes, “We are going to continue with our theories until you confirm or disprove his alibis.” 

“Waste of time, Griffin. I want you both-” 

“Yeah, we will finish up here and get down to the station when we are done.” Robin noticed the way Miranda’s face fell at the imminent order from their superior, so she opted for the path of disobedience. She cut off Adrian mid-sentence and hung up when she ended her sentence. The brunette smirked at her partner, “Let’s find a killer.”

-------

“Now... Don’t be causing any trouble. You are going to get on this dissection table without any fuss or I’ll really make you regret it, hmm?” He spoke to you like you were a toddler which was incredibly infuriating. If you were going to die anyway, wouldn’t an attempt at escaping be worth the try? On the other hand, if you were going to die, would trying to escape be worth the additional torture? 

He pulls the dissection table to your side, a horrible scraping noise accompanying the action from the metal sliding against the concrete floors. 

“After you, I think I’ll move on to Brisbane... They have the medical school there. I’m sure with all of my experience, I could really impress them with my talents. University of Queensland Mayne... I could be a surgeon.” He situated the table meticulously and moved to fetch a large overhead light he would no doubt use to accurately carve his letter to Miranda into you. His delusional mindset made your brow furrow, “Think of all of the good you will be doing by allowing me to practice on you. This is very altruistic of you.” 

Monotone and dripping with sarcasm, you couldn’t help yourself, “Happy to help.” 

Flicking on the light, he adjusted it over the table and you were then blinded by the LED bulbs, “I knew you would understand. Now, let’s get you all set up here so we can get started.” 

He squatted in front of your chair, untying your legs and continuing his friendly chatter, “I could even continue my extra-curricular surgeries for practice when I’m in Brisbane, ya know? After we are done here, I have a little timer set up to burn this apartment building to the ground. I can collect on that insurance money and buy a couple properties in Brisbane, rent them out maybe? I have time to figure it all out.”

“Oh, sure.”

Circling the chair, he began to untie your hands, reminding you to behave before he continued telling you about his master plan, “Now, no running... I made pretty good money with the laundromat and as a landlord, but you really need to follow your dreams.”

From the moment the rope slipped from your wrists, you bolted, scrambling away from him as quickly as possible. He must not have been expecting you to run as he stumbled and tripped over the chair you had been sitting in. 

You really had no clue where to run, but you dashed past his work bench, pausing momentarily to lift the far side of it and send the tools crashing and skidding across the floor. Hopefully, if you made enough noise, someone nearby would be able to hear you calling for help. You screamed for help, calling out Miranda’s name, and calling out your own name for any passerby to hear. 

As you moved through the basement, you could hear his angry shouting behind you, “Get back here, you dumb bitch.”

Glancing back over your shoulder, he wasn’t any closer, but you figured you should keep throwing things in his path. Passing by one of his beloved shelves of organs, you yanked the shelf to the floor, taking seconds longer than you should have when you saw him sprinting even closer. The horrible smell of preserved organs and ethanol filled the air when the cans burst open upon hitting the floor. 

Continuing down a hallway, you realized the opportunity for you to be trapped was growing high. He groaned in frustration behind you, pausing momentarily to look at all of his hard work undone by your action. You attempted to rattle the handle on two different doors to only find them locked. Further down the hallway, there was a final door and metal bars moving up the wall, leading to a hatch in the ceiling. 

You could hear the sound of his feet hitting the floor- he must have jumped over the fallen shelf, resuming his pursuit of you. Ignoring the door, you assumed it would be locked like the others, so you choose to climb the ladder instead. Your heart dropped when your foot slipped on the second step, knowing you had wasted a split second and the odds of him grabbing your legs and pulling you to the floor was high. 

You made it up another two steps when your foot slipped again. The adrenaline and anxiety from being caught was making your entire body shake. A glimmer of hope shone through when your hand grasped the latch of the hatch, pushing upwards. It was beyond heavy, but you were able to shift it upwards an inch. 

A hand around your ankle causes you to yelp out a final cry for help through the small opening leading to the outside world. His other hand came to grasp the back of your shirt and he gave you a yank backwards and you were filled with self-disgust when your hands slipped from their places on the latch and ladder. He sent you flying to the floor, your head hitting the brick of the basement wall. 

The last thing you heard was the hatch slamming shut under the weight of itself. 

----

Miranda was trying her best to help Robin, but the pressure of finding you was starting to get to her. She began pacing back and forth across the back wall of your apartment while Robin continued searching for anything out of the ordinary. The shorter woman shot her partner an annoyed glance, wishing Miranda could set aside her feelings for you to make headway on finding you, “Miranda! Can you help me here?”

“I’m doing my best, Robin! Get off my ass!” Miranda shouted, stopping in her tracks and stomping her foot in defiance. A hollow sound from beneath her echoed from the strike of her boot. Furrowing her brow, Miranda glanced down to the floor, repeating the action once more and receiving the same response. Shifting over a meter, Miranda threw her foot down once more to hear solid ground instead of the echo. 

“There is no need to throw a tantrum, Hilmarson. We will figure this out.” Robin must not have noticed the change in noises like Miranda had as she rolled her eyes at the blonde. The brunette’s phone began to buzz in her pocket once more and she huffed in frustration at seeing Adrian’s contact once more. Accepting the call and shoving the phone to her ear, Robin was less than welcoming to her boss, “What?”

“Where the hell are you?” Adrian shouted into the receiver of his office phone. 

Robin glanced over at Miranda kneeling on the floor, her fingers dancing around the edges of floorboards, attempting to lift them from their place, “...investigating a lead.”

Miranda studied the floorboards, noting a different wear pattern at the edge of where the hollow noise began. Pulling a pocket knife from her vest, Miranda wedged it into the boards, prying up the board enough for her to push her fingers under it and lift. A group of boards were attached to one another, revealing a hole in the floor, a ladder lining one of the walls. 

“The suspect’s alibi is airtight. The dental records came back on the second victim. Her name was Abbey Moore.”  Robin was only paying partial attention to Adrian’s words as she watched Miranda. “Both the victims and this kid all have something in common; they are all tenants of the same landlord. We are thinking the landlord could be behind it all.”

At the sight of the secret tunnel, Robin’s eyes widened, a satisfied smile spreading across her face in knowing they had been right. It all made perfect sense that the landlord had been the one to frame his male tenant, kill the two women, and kidnap you. While she didn’t know his motive, he had the opportunity and access to harm his tenants, “It’s him. The landlord did it.”

“We need to- You knew?” Adrian couldn’t hide his shock at his detective’s statement. 

Robin crossed the apartment, filling Adrian in before she and Miranda continued their investigation, “We followed Hilmarson’s theory. Send backup back to the apartment building. She found a hatch leading somewhere. We are going to follow it down and see what we can find.”

Adrian barked an order, but it was no use. The constable and detective were too determined to save you and catch a killer, “Get out of there, Griffin. Wait until I get down there with a couple more constables. We don’t know what we are up against here.”

“There is no time. We will leave the hatch open for you to find, Adrian.” Robin shook her head, knowing if she or Miranda were to get hurt due to her continuous disobedience, she would be put on desk duty for the foreseeable future. Robin hung up and shoved her phone in her back pocket, “Okay, Hilmarson. You want to go first, or shall I?”

-------

The horrid agony of a scalpel digging into your forearm brought you back to consciousness. You could sense the blinding LEDs before you even opened your eyes. Your head throbbed and there was a tightness across your chest and legs. Straps held your body in place and your head hitting the bricks earlier had left you with a large gash in the back of your head. You attempted to cry out in pain, but your voice was muffled by a rag that tasted of wood stain causing a burning sensation on your tongue. 

Glancing up from his work, he now donned a pair of magnifying glasses to make sure his work was neat and tidy. He was using a rag doused in hydrogen peroxide to add an extra sting whenever he wiped away the blood, wanting you to suffer as much as possible, not giving you the opportunity to regain your breath between cuts, “You shouldn’t have done that. Now you wont get to choose the little note I leave on your corpse.”

He had only made his way through two words, 𐐔𐐨𐑉 𐐣𐐮𐑉𐐰𐑌𐐼𐐲, and tears had already flooded your eyes and were pouring down your cheeks. His movements were short strokes, making sure to leave enough room on your forearm for everything he wanted to say. If this experience were to be reflective of your death, this was going to be a prolonged and harrowing experience.

[pochapal]

Umineko Liveblog: Thoughts/Theories [Episode 1 Chapter 13 Edition]

In Umineko chapter 13, it happened again. Barely three chapters after the previous slaughter, the second twilight unfolds. The two who are close were torn apart, in a gruesome and inevitable moment that shocked everybody and nobody. It is a compact chapter that almost entirely hinges around Eva and Hideyoshi’s demise.

However, that’s not all that’s going on here. Beyond the shock and the horrors, some of the more salient elements of the story are slowly simmering to the surface. Eva and Hideyoshi’s involvement in the first twilight, the nature of the witch narrative, Genji’s role in these grim events, and Kinzo’s potential bizarre and horrifying motive.

And also try to figure out just what went down in that locked room.

Our first stop on the chapter 13 writeup brings us to the titular two who are close. I’m not yet talking about their corpses or the seemingly impossible closed room they were killed in just yet. First, I want to think about the very loaded conversation between Eva and Hideyoshi in the opening half of the chapter.

At first glance, it feels like nothing more than an endless parade of death flags. They comment on how proud they are of George, they affirm their love for one another, and then they talk about their plans to travel somewhere beautiful once this is all over. There was never any subtlety about what was going to happen to these two in this chapter. The surface level reading is incredibly apparent.

What’s less apparent is what else can be gleaned from this conversation. Yes, Eva and Hideyoshi are having their “when we leave this place” doomed by the narrative conversation, but there is one specific death flag that doesn’t get tripped. Not once do either of them talk about the murders, or Beatrice, or any fear they may have for their own safety.

Eva and Hideyoshi not necessarily caring about their murdered siblings doesn’t come as a surprise. What does come as a surprise is that Eva, who spent the last two chapters mercilessly interrogating the mystery of Kinzo’s disappearance, has very little to say on the matter of these bizarre murders. They briefly comment on how Natsuhi is letting the power go to her head now that Krauss is dead and that it’s a relief that Shannon was killed so George now cannot marry her. That is the extent of it.

It is almost out of character how far removed from the situation Eva and Hideyoshi appear to be in this conversation. After all, the killer is still at large and there are still twelve hours until the boat gets there. So why are they so completely unbothered? It’s almost as if to them, this murder business does not concern them.

And why would that be? Why would Eva and Hideyoshi be acting without fear despite having no outward reason to do so?

If they are unafraid, that indicates that they believe, for whatever reason, that Beatrice and the killings pose no threat to them. This is something that was evident even in the previous chapter when the two of them broke off from the group despite the clear risks associated with that. It’s also reinforced by the fact that they make plans to escape to the Maldives in a few weeks’ time – there is not a shred of doubt that they will be leaving the island alive. Everybody else on Rokkenjima is panicked and terrified, but not Eva and Hideyoshi. In short, in private, they are acting as if there is no threat to their lives at all.

This is of course a wildly bizarre stance to take given the situation they find themselves in. What’s important here is trying to find a reason as to why these two would act like this and say the things they do. What they talk about is reaffirming their future and going away on a luxury trip. No mention of the murders, the epitaph, the gold, or the inheritance.

Almost as if these problems are no longer a concern for Eva and Hideyoshi, despite half their family being killed and them still in the red financially. Those things might as well not exist behind closed doors. Why is that?

I think figuring out a compelling reason for this relies on a prior assumption almost certainly being true: Eva and Hideyoshi were involved in the first twilight. More specifically, they were helped along in whatever they did by the originator of the Beatrice narrative enough that their culpability has been taken care of for them. If “Beatrice” is making their problems disappear with “magic”, then of course it would be no issue for the two of them to play along with the witch narrative as long as it continues to benefit them. Hideyoshi leaning in on the “demonic” nature of the magic circles despite his prior skepticism towards Beatrice makes complete sense under this light.

This would also be why Hideyoshi chastises Eva for her receipt ploy with Natsuhi. The witch narrative works on ambiguity and uncertainty, of not looking too deeply or closely at the mysteries. If the Kinzo death embezzlement theory is true, then the coverup is operating on the same logic as the narrative that is protecting Eva and Hideyoshi. If Kinzo’s death is unmasked by the family, then so too can Beatrice be unmasked. And if Beatrice is unmasked, then Eva and Hideyoshi’s role is exposed.

Further, this can also be used to explain away their Maldives plans. We are presented with a very Romantic vision of Eva and Hideyoshi making peace with their lot in life and renewing their love for each other in the wake of tragedy, the facts of which can only be contradicted via attacks on their character and not via logic. However, if we use the Detective’s approach and separate the actions from the emotions, what are we left with?

Eva and Hideyoshi, who are no longer concerned about the inheritance and Kinzo’s fortune, are making plans to be out of the country in a remote location about twelve weeks from the present moment. This would leave them totally unreachable and untouchable at what would likely be the height of the police investigation into the Rokkenjima murders. They would be in a foreign nation under foreign jurisdiction right around when they would be scrutinised either as witnesses or suspects. They will be out of the country, and thus uninvolved with the immediate management of the Rokkenjima estate in the absence of pretty much every other viable next-of-kin.

Why would they be out of the country at such a crucial time, and why would they not be concerned with taking control of the family’s affairs? I think two points can be extrapolated here.

The first is that they need to be out of the picture so as not to be a suspect. On its own this would not make sense because them being unreachable would only serve to make them more suspicious, so it stands that there is some kind of contingency they feel is protecting them. The second is that they don’t challenge the succession/inheritance because they either already have everything they need, or they know that it is a matter of time before they get it anyway. Eva is ambitious and desperate for the top slice of the Ushiromiya pie. She would not back off without a guarantee.

What this tells us, I think, is that there is an individual who exists to take the heat off Eva and Hideyoshi in some way. Some person who would be infinitely more suspicious than even the only surviving beneficiaries who have fled the country. Some person who, in some way, will guarantee that Eva and Hideyoshi will still have access to the Ushiromiya fortune when all is said and done.

A perfect candidate for this sort of person would be a hypothetical individual who has already seized ownership of the headship and the fortune who otherwise should not have it, and who will very quickly get caught out by the police for having wealth and power above their status. Someone who is, say, a servant who solved the epitaph and gained control of Rokkenjima and its gold. A servant who will most likely be swiftly arrested, not believed, and their stolen wealth immediately returned to the highest-ranked Ushiromiya still alive. This is everything Eva wanted and more, and all she has to do is sit quietly and let events fall as they will. Like Kinzo before her, she will be bestowed untold riches through Beatrice’s magic, so long as she keeps her mouth shut.

Ultimately, when Eva tells Battler to think more deeply on what she said before leaving the parlor, she is obviously imploring him to consider Natsuhi as a duplicitous hypocrite. However, if your thinking extends beyond the “who” and into the “how” and “why”, then Eva’s trick with the receipt provides a solid blueprint for breaking down the witch narrative. This is, of course, almost certainly not something the person behind Beatrice expected to happen when they stepped in to clean up Eva and Hideyoshi’s mess. If the witch narrative is destroyed too early, then not only does whatever Beatrice’s plan is get thoroughly ruined, but also Eva and Hideyoshi get suspected as culprits and lose everything.

Each one has the power to destroy the other. However, while Eva and Hideyoshi cannot survive without the witch narrative, the witch narrative can certainly survive without Eva and Hideyoshi. So Beatrice cuts her losses and disposes of the two of them before they can become a liability in order to keep the narrative going.

And of course, the witch narrative itself plays a central role in this chapter as an unseen yet glaringly visible force. We’ve already gone over how and why Eva and Hideyoshi would play into the witch narrative, so now let’s examine the broader narrative that exists beyond the two of them.

Until now, it was fairly easy to read the witch narrative as a mere metaphor coverup for the killing of the Ushiromiya siblings. It cloaks the murders in obscurity and makes it hard to understand anything other than the hard fact of death. The first twilight is a masterclass in a mystery that gives nothing away easily. Not so much with the second twilight.

A lot of this comes from the fact that the interim chapters between the two twilights have been peppered with glimpses into how this narrative is being constructed, and who is telling this story. The scenes between the servants talking about Beatrice reveal that whatever is going on is much more than a little bit of occult obfuscation. Beatrice is made into a consistent character with concrete personality traits that are completely superfluous to the “a witch is murdering everybody” scenario. Why does it matter that Beatrice is respectful to those who respect her in kind? Why would Beatrice have a propensity for pranking? Why does the story of Beatrice, in Battler’s words, have to bring everyone on Rokkenjima into another world?

This still mostly touches on elements of the witch narrative that are hard to figure out at this point, related to things like the paradox of an unsolvable mystery begging to be solved. I don’t think this chapter does much to advance my understanding of these issues. Instead, I want to examine the way the witch narrative is working around the second twilight, and what these features can tell us.

The first thing I noticed on this front is a soft culmination of the recurring image of the TV. Since the first twilight, there has been a narrative emphasis on Maria being totally absorbed in watching TV, except for the moments where the narrative flares up and she gets the chance to be witch-Maria. The TV here is used as a symbol for the unreality of the situation – the programs Maria watches are fictional, a fantasy to keep her absorbed in. The witch narrative is similarly an all-absorbing fantasy, and during the scenes in the parlor when everybody is discussing Beatrice and the occult, Maria is able to turn her attention away from the TV. When they are not talking about the witch narrative, Maria returns to the TV.

If you view Maria as totally fantasy-absorbed within the story, then the only times she stops watching TV are when the fantasy has spilled out into the material world. The TV, then, is a stand-in for the witch narrative – only those invested in perpetuating the witch narrative watch TV. The TV itself is also a signifier of the fiction contained within the screen leaking out into wider reality.

This is all important because in chapter 13, the TV features heavily in the guest bedroom. Alone in the room, Eva and Hideyoshi turn the TV on, and it becomes the only audible sound aside from the rain. While discovering the murder, Kanon remarks on how the light and noise from the TV grow stronger and stronger until they are the only thing he can focus on. The TV strengthens throughout the chapter, right up until the moment where Eva and Hideyoshi’s bodies are found.

If TV = witch narrative, then chapter 13 is a steady progression of the witch narrative increasing in strength. Despite the seemingly disconnected shock of the murders, there is still that Beatrice-shaped throughline linking it to the first twilight. Whatever happened to Eva and Hideyoshi is part of the same continuity of killings that was responsible for the deaths of the other siblings. This is perhaps the most important takeaway from this observation: we must consider the two sets of murders as a continuous series of events. Whatever caused the first twilight is still happening.

More than that, it also means that so much of this scene is shrouded in that misleading obfuscation inherent to the witch narrative. It’s hard to know for sure what’s going on since the important parts of this chapter were entirely relayed through a third person outside perspective and not through Battler’s eyes, so if there are discrepancies in presentation they are not yet known. All we have to work with is the singular, third person series of events. If there are incongruities to be found, it is too soon to speculate on them. The only thing that is certain is that if the witch narrative is in play as strongly as the story would suggest, then it must not be taken for granted that everything here is as it seems.

The other witch narrative element in this chapter comes in the form of more occult symbols, of which we get two: bizarrely-decorated icepick-esque murder weapons, and a freakishly elaborate magic circle.

The icepicks, or whatever they are, are a little easier to puzzle out. The characters remark on how bizarre and out of place they seem to be, not knowing how or why they got here and were used in the murders. Regardless of how truthful you may assume these observations to be, I think it’s fairly easy to say that the weird ornate weapons came from Kinzo’s collection, same as the gun. If so, then these picks may have either been obtained the previous night when Kinzo’s study was entered to prepare for the first twilight, or at some undisclosed point beforehand depending on how much in advance these murders were set up.

What the picks actually are is a little less straightforward. If you’re going by the rules of occult symbols and weapons, the first thing that naturally comes to mind when thinking of “conical object with a fancy handle” is some kind of stake – I’m thinking more along the lines of blood sacrifice than demon slaying here. It was described as being like an icepick but not an icepick, and similar to a spear but too short to be called a spear, so I think some kind of modified sacrificial stake is the best fit. I said a second ago that I think the intended evocation is of ritual sacrifice rather than the killing of something demonic, but in the prior scene Eva describes her own toxic ambitions as a “devil” in her head. Killing the “devil” inside Eva by running a stake through her has a nice ironic thematic resonance to it that I think further justifies considering this object as some kind of stake.

The other issue, however, is that stakes are almost only useful for piercing soft flesh – the traditional image is of a stake through the heart, and not through the forehead. It is far easier to pierce the chest than it is the skull, so if this is some kind of stake (not that the exact nature of the weapon matters that much), how did it do that?

I think that, both like and unlike the first twilight, it’s worth considering a more mundane tool here. In order to get something thin and piercing through a hard to penetrate surface, you need to apply a lot of force. The gun could not be used since that is still in Natsuhi’s possession, so some kind of shenanigans there is automatically out of the question. Given that, what’s left to us?

What’s worth noting is that we never get a good look at the weapons, beyond seeing their handles and that they are roughly conical in shape. How they are embedded in Eva and Hideyoshi remains unknown. My thinking is, given the size and shape and purpose of these wounds, that a drill was likely used to create the effect seen. A drill could, with enough pressure, pierce into someone’s skull. It would then either be a case of having the weapon attached to some kind of screw as it is drilled into them, or sticking the weapon into the hole after the fact. The drill could be easily sourced from the same tool storage room Kanon acquired the bolt cutters from, and easily returned without suspicion.

One question that arises from this is that it is once again very unlikely that Eva and Hideyoshi died by having their foreheads drilled through. Given the list of suspects and the logistics of the killing, it is most likely that the mutilation happened posthumously like with the first twilight. Which means, again, that Eva and Hideyoshi were actually killed in some other way that left no other visible signs. And once again, I have reason to believe that may be poison.

Before I consider who could have administered some kind of poison to the two of them, let’s also think about the magic circle for a second. According to the narration, Kanon first notices the magic circle when returning to the bedroom with the bolt cutters – a more elaborate magic circle than the first has appeared on the door. Kanon and Kumasawa both react in shock upon seeing it – Kumasawa because it is so ghastly, Kanon because it was not there less than five minutes ago.

On the face of it, this is another impossible-seeming occurrence, even more so than any other occult symbol seen so far. That said, if you keep in mind the overwhelming swell of the witch narrative and the reliability of our narrators, then it becomes less impossible to consider. Going back to the Detective/Romantic narrative viewpoint, we need to remember that these third person scenes are more about being faithful to the emotional truth than the literal truth – the why is accurate, but the how and what may not be.

For the magic circle, what we get is the emergence of this symbol accompanied by Kanon’s shock, fear, and helplessness. Kanon is not in a good place when he looks upon the magic circle – his distress culminates in the appearance of this symbol. This does not necessarily mean the magic circle literally materialised in a handful of minutes, but it does mean that the magic circle’s emotional relevance only became clear upon Kanon’s second known trip to the bedroom.

Now that Kanon has the means of entering the locked bedroom, the witch narrative bleeds out into something concrete and grim. When the bedroom was still a sealed space, there was no occult iconography. The appearance of the circle, narrative-wise, marks a point of no return. As readers, we know what this means: the epitaph murders have continued, and Eva and Hideyoshi are absolutely super dead. There is no avoiding or delaying that inevitability. Likewise, Kanon having the bolt cutters means that he, too, can no longer ignore the writing on the wall.

The bolt cutters break through the material lock on the room. The magic circle breaks through the immaterial lock of obfuscation. We know exactly what is in there, and how to get there. There is no use in pretending. Truth, or some form of it at least, rules the moment. Beatrice shows her hand when she knows we can no longer deny her presence.

So we see the magic circle and understand. So Kanon has the bolt cutters and can step into the room. If the witch narrative is about one thing, it’s the conferring of understanding onto observational parties. Despite the obscurity and mystery surrounding everything, the signs and symbols are remarkably devoid of ambiguity. Magic circles indicate that a completed murder lies behind the door. The imagery of the first twilight goes from a spectacle to a pattern.

Of course, this still means that this is the witch narrative, and this still means that the information we are receiving Is obfuscated. Under the witch narrative, the magic circle inexplicably manifested within a few short minutes as a signpost by the Golden Witch. If you take away the witch narrative and apply more of a Detective’s logic, you then also have to come up with an alternative explanation that conforms to human rules and human logic.

If there is no witch and no magic operating on the physical level, that means that the magic circle was materially constructed by a material entity. With the previous circle on the storehouse door, I reasoned that the six hour timeframe is more than enough for the culprit to draw it. With the second twilight. However, that timeframe has rapidly shrunken. The one that the story offers us, of less than five minutes, is plainly not feasible. Therefore, like other mysteries in this story, we’ll have to extend that window as much as possible.

We know from the chapter breaks that chapter 13 starts at 19:00. We also know that Eva and Hideyoshi are alive at this time. During the discovery of the bodies, Nanjo remarks that they have been dead for roughly an hour. This chapter doesn’t end with a clock transition, but from this we can roughly surmise that the family finds the corpses at 20:00, thereabouts. An hour is still a tight timeframe to produce a magic circle that complex, but infinitely more feasible than five minutes.

Another detail we’re given about the circle is that the paint still appears to “drip”, so assuming that to be true, an hour would still be enough time for the pain to be fresh enough to still run. Really, depending on the type of paint used, this “wet” period could last as long as two to three hours. This was obviously less of a problem for the first twilight, given that the paint was exposed to the rain the whole time and would therefore have difficulty drying. With the second twilight, this is on a door in a sheltered, likely heated, hallway. Even with upper estimates, the amount of time the paint can be visibly wet for is limited.

So what is the earliest that this could have been done? The first major hurdle that needs to be eliminated is Eva and Hideyoshi. If the circle was on the door before they entered the room, the initial assumption is that they would have reacted to this in some way. This, of course, is also predicated on Eva and Hideyoshi having minimal involvement in the witch narrative.

However, the past couple of chapters have proven that Eva and Hideyoshi are, if not producing, at the very least perpetuating the narrative. Like I thought about before, it’s likely that they’re choosing to play along as insurance to protect themselves against being caught out with their involvement in the murders of the first twilight. There’s also the sealed letter found under their door that we never get to see – perhaps these are/were some kind of written instructions on how they were to act for the rest of the weekend? An updated primer on the witch narrative to keep their story straight as the story evolves? Either way, given that, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to imagine that they’d ignore the existence of the magic circle under instruction. After all, whatever keeps the suspicion off them works.

Where we do run into an issue is that prior to this, Natsuhi and the servants performed a full sweep of the mansion in search of Kinzo. Unlike Eva and Hideyoshi, Natsuhi is not embroiled in the witch narrative in the same way, and absolutely would have said and done something had she encountered a magic circle while searching the mansion. This means that either Natsuhi never went near the guest rooms (unlikely) or that the magic circle was painted after her search was complete and she returned to the parlor with the gun (much more likely).

If that’s the case, then that pushes the window of opportunity back by an additional hour or so. This also, ultimately, leaves us with a very small pool of suspects. In an anticlimactic fashion, these are basically the same people who were the only ones in a position to draw the magic circle on the storehouse door: Genji and Kanon.

The servants excuse themselves from the parlor early on even in spite of Natsuhi’s attempt to keep everyone in one place. Ostensibly they are in the kitchen to prepare dinner for the family. Kumasawa is shown to be the one most involved in the cooking process, only calling upon Kanon to help her plate up and serve. This gives Kanon and Genji a lot of leeway to move about the mansion and prepare things for the second twilight.

This also, by extension, puts Nanjo in a less favourable light. He spends time in the kitchen playing chess with Genji during the timeframe when he and Kanon would be coming and going. So either Nanjo was completely oblivious to this happening, or he is complicit on some level in what is going on. As always, the dilemma of Nanjo remains ever present and ever unsolvable. His positioning here only adds to the question, and helps very little in pinning anything down. Nanjo is there. This kind of makes him suspicious. It also kind of might not.

More relevantly. I want to instead examine my new prime suspect of the day. Up until now, my prevailing theory has been that Kanon has been the one behind the witch narrative, with Genji as an accomplice. This was mostly based off considering who could have been responsible for giving the first letter to Maria, and who would have the strongest motive to tear down the Ushiromiya family. However, after this chapter (and percolating on things from the last few) I am reporting that my stance has totally shifted. Genji is the orchestrator, and Kanon is the accomplice. I got it backwards.

Too much falls into place too perfectly if you consider Genji to be the “mastermind” of the operation. The bizarre coincidences with everything on Rokkenjima either being out of service or out for repairs specifically over the weekend of the conference makes a hell of a lot more sense if you consider it to be Genji’s doing. The only people who could have done this are those with any degree of authority with household management, which shrinks the circle to Kinzo, Krauss, Natsuhi, and Genji.

Natsuhi has already been eliminated from the suspect pool a million times over, so I won’t spend time repeating myself. Kinzo is too far removed from reality to care much about the specifics of sealing Rokkenjima off from the outside world (although I do have more to say on Kinzo shortly) and also he may or may not actually be alive as of this October weekend anyway. Krauss is a possibility, but him being killed during the first twilight the way he was seems to indicate that he is not involved in any higher-level machinations. Genji, however? Genji is very much perfectly placed to do this. As the defacto senior member of the household staff and as the one person on Rokkenjima who actually has Kinzo’s favour, Genji has a lot more options open to him than the self-professed humble “furniture” would have us believe.

Of all the servants, Genji is the one who can most easily move about unchallenged. Natsuhi and Krauss distrust him too much, and fear Kinzo too much, to make any serious attempts at obstructing him. Kinzo does not care enough to take that much of an interest in anything Genji does. The other servants are either beneath him or unaffiliated with him (as is the case with Gohda). Genji just is, able to go about his business while assumed to be untouchable.

Even if you were to suspect Genji of ill intent, he very effectively wields his position as a servant to deflect. Genji is one of three servants on Rokkenjima to bear the label of “furniture” – a term that is associated with being in Kinzo’s inner circle, and with being a victim of Kinzo’s abuse. For Shannon and Kanon, to be furniture is to be less than human, it is to be the servant before the person. It is to be so folded into your position of servitude that nothing else can be permitted to exist, save for your function of being at the mercy of your superiors. They are powerless teenagers trapped in a cruel situation. For Genji, though, this narrative does not quite click.

Yes, he is bound to serve Kinzo regardless of his personal will. Yes, he has almost totally given himself over to his role as a servant. Yes, he is seemingly “stuck” on Rokkenjima. But it’s not the same as Kanon and Shannon. Genji was not plucked from birth and forced into this position. He was, by all accounts, a good friend of Kinzo’s in their youth who chose to become his personal servant at some undefined point decades in the past. Genji entered into this arrangement willingly, even if the present circumstances do not necessarily match the starting conditions.

But Genji still calls himself “furniture”. He is deliberately positioning himself as part of the same class of individual as Shannon and Kanon, despite ostensibly having more in common with someone like Kumasawa. She is another elderly servant with enough leeway to get up to antics, but she does not refer to herself, or anyone, as furniture. She lacks Kinzo’s favour, but in all other measures she is equivalent to Genji. Furniture as a term used to browbeat junior servants into complacency checks out, but furniture being used to describe a man who willingly entered into the service of his once good friend does not track in quite the same way.

In an earlier chapter, Genji pulls Kanon to one side and discusses with him how they are in service of both of Rokkenjima’s masters – Kinzo and Beatrice. There is a sense that this private conversation carries with it a degree of sincerity. Genji is autonomous compared to the other servants, and yet he is still bound. This is a glaring contradiction in Genji’s psychology that continues to undermine the notion that the Beatrice narrative is all a farce put on by a cynical and crafty servant. There is a sincere notion of a belief in something underpinning the goings-on here, something that drives Genji to step further into whatever unpleasant role he is assuming.

Genji is furniture in service of his master. This statement alone reveals much of the truth we need to understand what is happening here, or at the very least cobble together a compelling theory.

What we know of Genji is that whatever he and Kinzo have goes far back into the past. There is, or was at one point, a genuine affection between the two men. The scene between the two in the study is proof of this, no matter if you subscribe to the notion of Kinzo being alive or the notion of Kinzo being dead. If Kinzo is alive, then the affection is straightforward and reciprocal if erratic. If Kinzo is dead, then Genji is evoking a mirror to feelings that are deeply true in his own heart if nowhere else. And ultimately, what Genji feels matters more than what Kinzo feels, especially for this theory.

The theory is as follows: Genji is the orchestrator of the witch narrative, and Kanon is his coerced subordinate. Where this differs from my earlier Kanon theory is that rather than try to shoehorn a reason into why Genji would so intimately know all this occult stuff in order to deploy it for the murders, I instead think that while Genji is executing this scheme, he is not the mastermind.

The mastermind of the witch narrative, and the originator of “Beatrice”, is actually Kinzo. Or, to be more technical, the ghost of Kinzo.

In order to explain this, we need to go back to the very start of the story, to the prologue scene between Kinzo, Nanjo, and Genji where all three men discuss the issue of Kinzo’s last will and his declining health. This scene has always been a little structurally weird, owing to the fact that it never really connects neatly to anything else in the story. We have no way of knowing when or why this scene happens. All we know is what, and the “what” of the scene is that Nanjo declares that Kinzo has not got long left, and that he should really get to making a will before it is too late. And Kinzo, in response, says that all he cares about is Beatrice, and he would happily throw all his family and all his possessions in the fire for one last glimpse of the Golden Witch.

One implication of this scene is that Nanjo was subtly pushing Kinzo to seek absolution for some undisclosed sin that hangs in the air. I do not think this is what happened – In Kinzo’s own words, he has no regrets. Instead, I think the shift in conversation conveys a literal truth in reasoning. Kinzo’s final choice is to offer it all up to the Demon’s Roulette for the witch. It is not that Kinzo refuses to make a will, but that he does choose to produce one, albeit on his own spiteful, warped terms.

For this to work, I firmly believe that, regardless of everything else going on, Kinzo was definitely alive in this prologue scene. This may have taken place days, weeks, even months before the 1986 family conference, and while that could be pinned down by examining certain actions taken on Rokkenjima and Krauss’s embezzlement efforts, the exact timing does not matter at this exact moment. What matters is that Kinzo formulates some kind of rotten plan before he dies.

What we know here is that Kinzo longs to see Beatrice again, and that according to Maria and the epitaph, Beatrice is in/from the Golden Land. From the few bits of information we have, we know that Beatrice is an unreal ghost-like entity, and that the Golden Land seems to be some kind of afterlife/world Beyond. Or at least the supernatural definition of Golden Land – I also believe that the gold vault is another kind of Golden Land. Glory in life, glory in death and all that.

From this, we can extrapolate that “reunion with Beatrice” is fuelled by some kind of death drive. To meet the Golden Witch in the Golden Land is to cross the threshold of death. The material world must be departed from in all its forms, otherwise there is no point. And more than this, any deaths offered during the twilights are consigned to be little more than sacrifices for Beatrice’s power.

This poses a conundrum for Kinzo. If he dies as a sacrifice, then he is very unlikely to be graced with Beatrice’s smile. If he survives the whole ordeal, there is every chance he just does not see Beatrice at all. For him to get what he wants based on what we know of how this system operates, he either needs to die before the epitaph murders, or after. We know that Beatrice is a ghost. It stands to reason that “Beatrice” would also be a ghost. In other words, I think Kinzo died at some point between the prologue scene and the family setting foot on Rokkenjima. Or at the very least, gave the total impression of death to everyone that matters. Whatever it took to put him in a position where his last will could be carried out.

A spiteful last will, designed to ruin the family that Kinzo so loathes, and to bring him closer than ever to his deranged fantasies. A scheme twofold in its purposes, one final echo of the Ushiromiya patriarch’s abuse, inflicted from a place that totally shields him against any kind of retaliation. The abusive father “exists” in the shadows, forcing everyone on the island into the role of frightened and helpless children, where adulthood and money offer no defence against the horror. The wry and scheming Eva is, in the end, as powerless as Maria in the rose garden. The witch narrative becomes a grand and cruel equaliser only interested in pain.

And, of course, for Kinzo to be the phantom behind the stage, this means that there must be somebody carrying out this violence in the material world. We are given exactly two people who would be privy to this plan of Kinzo’s, if it exists: Nanjo and Genji. Nanjo may know, but Nanjo lacks the power and influence to do much more than potentially splutter out some regurgitated nonsense about the witch narrative and maybe a lie a little about the state of crime scenes. Genji, however, has intimate knowledge of Rokkenjima and of Kinzo, and command of the household staff, including whatever control and leverage is used to keep the other “furniture” in line. One final request to an old friend, one last blood-washed sin to see it off.

The big question, of course, is why on earth Genji would do something like this. We know that there is some kind of unfathomably deep devotion towards Kinzo in spite of everything the man is. We know that, in Genji’s heart at least, there is a fondness that is one of the major components keeping him going. I don’t think it’s as literal as I’m positing, but I do think there is a sentiment towards Kinzo that Genji harbours which goes beyond servitude and friendship and into something resembling love. Be it romantic love, or some other kind of bond formed by history, companionship and proximity, I am not sure. But Genji feels strongly enough about Kinzo that he is willing to bloody his hands in this dirty business simply to fulfil his dear friend’s final wish. The nature of this bond is less important than the fact of its existence.

Genji is acting as Kinzo’s “furniture”, as a manipulated piece on a board that further manipulates pieces beneath him to adhere to the plan. Kanon, then, is trapped under a new layer of torment and abuse as Genji’s fanaticism takes centre stage. He loses his sister and dirties his hands for the sake of a dead man. He has no other option except to acquiesce, because unlike Genji Kanon does not have the luxury of saying “no”. He has nothing of his own, nowhere to go, nobody in his corner. Kanon is little more than a tool, the ultimate embodiment of the “furniture” concept. Kinzo is gone, but the power and abuse dynamics remain as alive as ever.

This is the stage of the epitaph murders. Genji, acting out a rehearsed script bestowed onto him by the evil master he will follow into the depths of hell. Kanon, forced to play deuteragonist no matter what he would rather want for himself. The other servants, the supporting cast of varying relevance. Everyone forced into carrying out Kinzo’s final wish to see his family destroyed in the name of his fleeting, warped dreams.

Keeping that in mind, let’s now try to sketch out what I think happened during the second twilight.

We already know that Eva and Hideyoshi are involved in the first twilight, be it as culprits or accomplices. As the only surviving siblings of that eventful night, they are absolutely painted in suspicion that has taken the witch narrative firing on all cylinders just to keep at bay. And even then, it was only a matter of time before Eva’s ego and the family’s reasoning would lead them to the conclusion that the two of them had some degree of involvement in the deaths of the six. And from there, that would of course lead to the witch narrative potentially being uncovered and the entire scheme falling apart. The two of them are liabilities if “Beatrice” is to have any longevity.

I do not think Eva and Hideyoshi at any point thought they were in danger. They were so secure in their innocence and survival that, after separating from the rest of the family, were willing to make plans about what would happen after the conference. Disappearing into the Maldives for a few weeks at the height of the criminal investigation into the murders indicates that at the very least, the two expect to have the means to do this. After this weekend, they will no longer be in need of a lot of money right now. All they need to do is keep up the pantomime for a few hours longer.

Even if Eva and Hideyoshi weren’t always intended to die, their performance that morning solidified that keeping them around would jeapordise the witch narrative immensely. So either Genji/Kinzo intended to betray them from the start, or this decision came about after witnessing them flail to keep their cover in the parlour. Whatever the case, their decision to break off from the group and retire to the guestroom was actually them stepping into a trap.

Depending on the timeframe of the magic circle, there can be a case made that at some point during the afternoon Genji and/or Kanon painted the door, and Eva and Hideyoshi were told to head to this room at a certain time. Perhaps they were told that staying in a room with a magic circle would make them look like survivors of an attempt on their life in a scenario akin to the stains on Natsuhi’s door, and take the heat off them in the same way as it did Natsuhi. Perhaps they didn’t think to ask questions, so long as they were confident in both their survival and their financial gain. Either that, or the magic circle was painted after they had already entered the room. Both cases are viable, and neither one detracts too much from the overall shape of events.

While Eva and Hideyoshi are in the room talking and doing all the other stuff they were doing, Genji and Kanon are almost certainly preparing the murder. This would involve taking the picks from Kinzo’s collection and painting the magic circle, depending again on the timeframe we’re working with. Either way, that first hour is spent closing the trap in.

At some point in a nebulous timejump, either Genji or Kanon enters the guestroom. Most likely this is done using the pretence of the second letter, which they may have believed contained further instructions for the rest of the conference. I also think that, going by the pattern of culpability, that the person who greets them at the door is Kanon.

The most likely scenario is that Kanon knocks on the door a short while after Eva and Hideyoshi have finished making love. Eva is found dead fully dressed on the bed, and Hideyoshi is found dead naked in the shower. I think you can extrapolate from this their final actions: Eva cleaned herself up first, and Hideyoshi was about to enter the shower when Kanon arrived.

So it is most likely Eva that let Kanon in. She does this because she believes she is not at risk of further harm, and because Kanon and Genji have the blackmail of her involvement in the first twilight over her head. With no choice but to receive further instruction, Eva opens up the guestroom.

In order to kill them, Kanon likely serves Eva and Hideyoshi something poisoned. This was most likely prepared by Genji using whatever poison Krauss and Gohda used in the first twilight. Ironically, the paranoid Eva would not have thought to detect any poison at this stage, and will die of the exact thing she taunted Shannon and Natsuhi about earlier in the story.

After serving them the poison and having some kind of interaction with them, Kanon most likely leaves the scene. What follows next is that Eva chooses to lie on the bed, while Hideyoshi enters the shower. The poison takes hold and kills them a short time after that, leaving them in the positions the others would later find them in.

At this point, Kanon and Genji would likely return to the scene with a drill and the picks to dress up the murder scene with occult accessories. Their heads are drilled through, the picks inserted, and the letter placed under the door. Then, via whatever method achieved such a thing, they lock the room from the inside with the chain and left the scene.

An amount of time passes here where Kanon and Genji help to prepare dinner and dispose of the leftover evidence. At around eight, as we see in the chapter, they return to the guestroom to complete the charade. Genji knocks on the door, receives no reply, and then he and Kanon “discover” the letter. To keep up the illusion, Genji and Kanon return to the kitchen in a panic. Kanon and Kumasawa seek out bolt cutters, while Genji and Nanjo return to the guestroom.

Once Kanon and Kumasawa return to the guestroom with the bolt cutters, they “discover” the magic circle. Kumasawa acts shocked, but it cannot be discounted that this is also part of the act. Whatever the case, the magic circle has been here for some time, and only now is Kanon permitted to acknowledge it. Kanon then unlocks the door chain with the bolt cutters, making quick work of whatever method allowed the room to be sealed in the first place, and Eva and Hideyoshi’s corpses are “discovered” in their final occult resting positions. This is, I believe, the overall gist of the second twilight.

The major question that lingers is “how was the locked room constructed”, something for which there is no answer at this stage. The major outlier with the second twilight concerns the drilled heads. Unlike the poison, this is not something that could have been passively set in motion before the locked room’s construction. We also know that there was nobody in the room except for Eva and Hideyoshi, so it’s not like somebody could have stayed in there and done the drilling after the room was locked up.

There is also not really enough time for Eva and Hideyoshi’s heads to be drilled after the room was unlocked, either. Even if that was somehow managed, the issue of hiding and disposing of the drill becomes much harder than my earlier theory. Ultimately, while I could tie myself in knots trying to pin down the locked room, I don’t think the “how” is too important. We already know the who and the why, and changing the how doesn’t change either of these factors.

So, to sum up: Eva and Hideyoshi were killed by Kanon and Genji as part of the witch narrative. This was done first via poison, and then via posthumous mutilation. The servants took advantage of the nebulous timeframe to set the scene, and then pretended to discover the crime an hour after the fact. This was done under Genji’s instruction following a plan most likely sketched out by Kinzo in advance, carried through out of some kind of sick and doomed devotion. Case kind of mostly closed.

What now? Eva and Hideyoshi were the loose end of the first twilight. There are no such ends this time. Just the culprit and his accomplices. Kanon and Kumasawa are not liabilities in the way the other two were, so the next twilight will most likely not occur under similar circumstances. There aren’t any hostile actors left in the Ushiromiya family, either. Just Natsuhi and Nanjo and the cousins.

It is very hard to see what circumstances would breed the next murder under the current conditions. With the death of Eva and Hideyoshi, a kind of equilibrium is reached.

However, one thing worth noting is that the third twilight makes no reference to murder. All it asks is for Beatrice’s noble name to be praised. In more plain terms, this may equate to a kind of acknowledgement of the witch’s existence among the survivors. Perhaps the aftermath of this murder starts to genuinely convince people of Beatrice’s existence, and this “praising” leads to a schism between those left standing that breeds new conflict.

Perhaps the praising marks a threshold point where Beatrice can now for real start interacting with the world, growing more and more capable with each sacrifice. Perhaps we will see the witch narrative scheme fall off the rails in favour of the real murderwitch in action. I don’t know. There are a lot of directions the story could go from this point.

But let’s see how the pieces fall first before we start doom forecasting again. There is another lull between twilights to digest, and more non-murder based mysteries to consider. Let’s see what’s next.

[sheabuttahwrites]

in the Morning

story masterlist Shea Buttah Bakery Masterlist

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sounds// Peabo Bryson - Feel The Fire, Isley Brothers - Spend the Night (Ce Soir), The O'Jays - Forever Mine

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IV.

“Oh, shit. What’s up?” He smiled back and it was even more killer in person. Especially with the surprise of gleaming gold fangs and the matching slugs I could see peeking from behind his bottom lip. I had to remind myself to breathe. “You came.”

“I told you I was on the way.”

“Nah, I thought you was fucking with me.” Laughter took over the conversation as he opened the door a bit wider, stepping aside. “Come on in.”

Hell, I could barely believe I’d shown up myself. I had never really been shy, but he’d brought a boldness out of me that even I hadn’t seen.

When I passed him, I noticed that he was still significantly taller than me in four inch heels. Damn. Not like I wasn't overdue for a climbing lesson anyway. The scent of his cologne was also quite alluring. The woody, smoky fragrance pervaded my senses, warming all the spots that shot had missed. Of course he would smell just as good as he looked. He may not have believed I would be there tonight, but he had damn sure been prepared. 

“I can take your jacket.” 

“Oh, sure.” I went to slip it from my shoulders, but he circled behind me and took the collar into his hands. 

“Here, I got you.” 

Taken aback by his unexpected chivalry, I was stuck watching him walk back to the closet to carefully put it away. 

“This is dope. The gold on here go crazy.”

“Right? I thought the same thing. Had to have it.”

“Good choice.” He grinned as he strolled back over to me. “I like your whole get-up, though. You look good, girl.” The intensity he radiated in person was unreal. His blinding smile. Those piercing brown eyes. The once-over he gave me felt like he was sexing me up already. 

Of course, I was a flustered mess. “Thank you.”

“What’s in the bag?”

I held up my bottle for him to see. “Wine. Actually, could I put it in your fridge?”

“Yeah.” He reached for it, so I gave it to him. Then he nodded to the left. “This way.” 

We left the foyer and I followed him past a gorgeous living area, subtly admiring my surroundings. The height of the ceilings had caught my attention right away. All of it was stunning. Far from the bare walls, futon, and flat screens I had half expected. Off white walls and dark wood floors made up the most of it, but the decor was so sophisticated and refined. I’d already clocked a painting and coffee table that I wanted for myself. I could tell it had been carefully curated. I should've known he would give nothing less. We walked through an arched doorway into a kitchen that made me feel like cooking for some strange reason. Just like everything else I’d seen, it looked like something from a magazine. Shades of gray, black, white and green complemented each other well among all the satiny stainless steel. There were even fresh tulips sitting in the middle of the island. I was giving one of them a smell when he came over, leaning up against the marble counter with me. 

“I put it in the freezer for you.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” Having to look up was already doing something different for me, but the way he was smiling down at me made it so much worse. Prolonged eye contact was his thing, I’d already gathered. It felt like he was staring into my soul. Whew! “I’m glad you came.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Not every day something this fine just lands on your doorstep.”

My head dropped into a faint laugh. “Baby, you ain't gotta butter me up. I’m already here.”

“I ain't tryna do nothing of the sort. I meant what I said.”

“Ok. So, you just be up in here by yourself?”

“Most of the time, yeah.”

I smacked my lips, less than convinced. “Yeah, aight.”

“You a trip,” he chuckled.

“Nah, you the one.”

“How?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry ‘bout it,” I said, grinning as I waved him off. 

“I got no reason to lie, mama. Like you said, you already here.” He wet his bottom lip before moving his eyes down my body once more. I shuddered. “I really don’t be having company like that, though. I know it might not seem like it, but I’m usually a pretty private person. I don’t like too many people in my business.”

“So, why you breaking all your rules for me then?”

“I don’t know…” He leaned a little closer. “Just something about you.” 

I rolled my eyes through the inevitable smile that followed his and that sly admission. “You know what, I know I just gave it to you to put away, but could I pour myself a glass?”

“Oh, yeah. Fasho.” He walked back over to the freezer and pulled out my bottle. Then he went to a cabinet for a wine glass before taking an electric corkscrew from a drawer. Once the bottle was open, he stepped back, presenting it all to me with an outstretched hand. 

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

I poured myself a big glass, just low enough to prevent any spills while I walked.

“You only brought one glass. You don't want any?” 

“Nah. I’m more of a Hennessy man, myself.”

“Aah, ok.”

“I can put it back for you, though.”

“I think I’ma just keep it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, this is good enough.”

“Aight.” He reclaimed his position at the island. “So, um, I feel like you breaking some of your rules for me, too.” 

“…Maybe,” I said, after finishing a big sip. 

“How you get so brave?”

I frowned. “Why you saying that like you about to chop me up and plaster me into your walls?”

“Damn, girl.” I cracked at the sudden shock that appeared on his face and we laughed so hard. “I’m just saying. You know women ain’t safe out here. Especially Black women.”

“Yeah, my girl wanted me to stay home real bad. But I don't know. Sometimes you just gotta take a chance. Plus, you didn't give me serial killer vibes. Didn’t see a windowless van on the premises either, sooo…”

His smile was beaming as we shared another laugh. “You funny.”

I shrugged a shoulder, preparing for my next sip. “So I’ve been told.”

He waited for me to finish before he motioned his head toward where we had just come from. “Come on.” Then he turned to walk off, and, once again, I followed. 

“And, anyway, for all you know, I could be crazy.”

Without hesitation, he replied, “Oh, I can take you.”

I gasped in false disbelief. “Excuse you. I could have weapons of mass destruction.”

“What? Like a chainsaw?” 

He glanced back at me as we neared the stairs and I busted out laughing. “Now that wasn't even me. My girl put that one in my head.”

“What she think, I’m Leatherface?”

“Shit, you never know nowadays.”

“You ‘bout right. But you can let her know you in good hands.”

“I figured as much.”

He smiled, stopping at the stairs. “After you,” he said, holding his arm out for me to step ahead of him.  

After giving him my bottle, I grabbed the glass railing with my freed hand. I made my way up the curved staircase, swaying my little bit of booty in case he was watching, and losing count of how many steps I was taking. 

“You better catch me if I fall.”

“I got you.” I laughed to myself as we finally reached the top. I waited for him to take the lead again and he came around me, settling his hand on my waist. “This way, mama.”

A floral, citrusy scent met me as soon as I stepped into his bedroom. Probably from the candles lit in various spots all around it. They also provided the light, along with two lamps on the wall framing the head of his bed. “It smells so good in here.”

“I tried to hook it up for you a lil bit.”

“I like it.” The click of my heels on his gray hardwood floors was briefly muted as I strutted onto an oversized circular rug en route to his bed. The couch was nice and spacious, but the bed was much more inviting. The comforter looked cloudlike and the corner of the sheet that was exposed looked fresh. It was huge, too. Likely out of necessity. I sat on the edge and stared over at the window wall across from me as I took a feel. It was just as comfortable as I’d presumed, maybe even more. “Why you way over there? You got—what you called me?—‘something this fine’ all in your bed, and you just gon’ stand there?”

He smiled. “Yeah. That’s what I said.”

“Come here then.”

“You on my side, though,” he teased, swaggering toward me in his crisp white tee and gray joggers.

I kicked my shoes off before sliding myself to the opposite side. “Better?”

“Much.” He came over and sat against the fluted headboard as I sat just a couple feet away from him. At that point, I took my phone from my purse and killed the power. I was not about to let anybody spoil my night. “What kind of music you like?”

“I’m an R&B junkie.”

“Ok.” He picked up his phone, plugged up on the table beside him. “Let me guess. 90’s and early 2000’s, right?”

“Duh! I love my oldies, too, though.”

“Word?”

“Yes. I spent the first fourteen years of my life almost exclusively with my grandparents. They blessed me.”

“Ok. What you know about this then?” After a couple taps, ‘Spend The Night’ by The Isley Brothers began to play. 

“Boy, what? This my shit.” 

“…You grooving your ass off, this really your shit.”

I howled, because I hadn’t even realized. Maybe it was the near-emptiness of my glass that had my shoulders and waist moving without my knowledge. 

“Anyway. So, what’s your favorite genre?”

“My music taste kinda eclectic. I like a lil bit of everything.”

“Like what?”

“Funk. Bounce. Jazz.”

“Okayyy.”

“R&B,” he continued, making sure to look me in the eye for that one. “House.”

“Ooh, I love House.”

“Yeah. But that’s just a few.”

I nodded. “Ok, next question.”

“What’s up?”

“Why you sit my bottle so far awaaaay?” I whined, staring longingly toward his dresser as I went to leave the bed. He laughed. 

“My bad. I’ll get it for you.”

“I’m just messing with you. I got it.” I walked over to fill my glass again, bobbing my head to my jam. 

“You mind if I smoke?”

“This your place, baby. You can do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, but you my guest. And, if I’m a bad host, you might not wanna come back.”

I squinted up at him, twisting my lips to try and hide my smile, but it didn't work. The charm was just too potent. “It’s cool. Spark up.”

“Aight.” 

He leaned over and reached into his top drawer for this little box. I couldn't see inside it, but he pulled out a pre-rolled joint and I just assumed that there were more. This nigga was a stoner in the truest sense. 

The level of my glass was starting to fall again and the wine had to be going straight to my feet. Instead of returning to my seat, I opted for a cute little two-step and a couple of slow spins, quietly singing along with Mr. Biggs and Angela Winbush between sips. The song sounded better than it ever had. 

“I’m glad I chose this cut.” 

I opened my eyes to see that Yahya had changed his position, lying back on his elbows at the edge of the bed and facing me. It took all I had to keep it together. My face was on fire. “Why?”

He smacked his lips at me and took a long drag from the J. I giggled as he aimed his face toward the ceiling to release the smoke, promptly sucking it back into his mouth before it could get away. “I think you know why.” He brought his eyes back down to mine, smiling while smoke rolled from his lips and nose. 

I returned his smile. Of course I knew. “What that shit taste like?”

“You never smoked before?” he asked with a wrinkled brow.

“Nope. I told you I didn't smoke, remember?”

“Yeah, I know. But you never?”

I shook my head. “Not even once.”

“You wanna try it?”

I bit the inside of my lip, not really sure if I should. The scent of weed was something I usually just tolerated, but this didn’t smell too bad. Either that or my fascination with this man had me highly delusional. Probably. “Mmmm…” Fuck it. Might as well since I was taking a walk on the wild side for the night. Plus, I’d always wanted to try it at least once. Just to see what all the fuss was about. “Yeah.” I shrugged it off and left my glass on a nearby table, but then it hit me that I had been drinking. “Wait. Should I be doing this with alcohol?”

“It ain’t gon’ do nothing to you.”

“But am I really supposed to mix the two?”

He just sat up and reached for me, signaling me over with his fingers. “C’mere.”

I sighed, quelling most of my concerns and taking his hand. He didn’t let me make a single step, pulling me right into his hard chest. He hurried his arm around my waist as my screaming morphed into shared laughs. “Oh my god, don’t do that!” I looked down into his eyes, resting my arms on his shoulders to help get my bearings. The laughter soon faded. Smiles went next. 

“Mmmm,” he groaned, biting his lip with those gold fangs on full display. 

That same breathless feeling that had hit me at my computer, smacked the shit out of me again. Just a hundred times stronger. Seeing his brand of fine this close up was devastating. Everything that looked so damn good from afar held all of its integrity and then some. The beard, the lips, the skin, the teeth. Truly immaculate.

“Youuu… are dangerous.” I capped the sentiment with a giggle, but I was not joking. 

He frowned with a telling grin in the forefront. “What? I’m harmless.” The elevation in his tone further confirmed the lies.

I pushed myself back up to my feet, flustered as fuck and almost hating how he could make me this way so effortlessly. I really had no idea I was so foldable and, though the circumstances were lovely, I didn’t know how to feel about it.

“Fuck that.” 

He laughed and held the joint up to my lips. “Go slow.”

I looked at it and then back to him, still slightly unsure, but I went ahead. The regret was instant. I choked, coughing up what little smoke I had brought in. And, to make matters worse, he had the nerve to be laughing while I was fighting for my life. 

“Naaah, not like that.”

I shook my hanging head. “That’s ok. I don't want to anymore,” I said, fanning myself and trying to catch my breath.

“Come on. I got you.”

I smacked my lips, looking into his half-lidded eyes with my own, and caved without an ounce of pause. Shameful. “...Ok. But, if I don't get it this time, I’m done. And don't laugh.”

“Aight, aight. I won’t laugh.”

“You better not,” I teased, rolling my eyes. 

He brought that shit up to my lips again, but, this time, he rested his free hand on my hip. I didn't pay it much mind. I was more focused on preparing myself for this second pull that was probably about to kill me.

“Go slow.”

I followed his instructions and took a relaxed drag. But I forgot to stop, and this nigga just let me keep going. My eyes popped when I realized what I had done. I stood there, cheeks puffed to the brim, not knowing what the hell to do. Again, Yahya was cracking up. I, on the other hand, started to freak out, groaning frantically and tapping at his arm.

“Just open your mouth, girl.” 

I opened up and the smoke billowed out and began to float away. 

“Now catch it. Inhale.” 

I did what I was told once again and watched as some of it disappeared back into my mouth.

“Ok, hold it… now breathe.”

I let go and, surprisingly, all of it came out without me bringing a lung up with it. “I did it!” I beamed, celebrating my first successful puff of Mary.

“Started off a lil rocky, but you finished strong.” I laughed with him, feeling too triumphant to check him for rejoicing in my struggles. “You wanna hit it again?” he asked, after taking another puff. 

I nodded. I felt like I had it down, but I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t a fluke. If I could do it two times in a row, that meant I could really do it. Feeling myself, I even took it from his hand when he brought it over to me. 

“Oh, shit. Ok. You a pro now, huh?”

I was too tickled, but in the merriment I still noticed that he had led his newly unoccupied hand down to my other hip. He kneaded his fingers into me, getting a nice, thorough feel. Naturally, my mind began to wander, imagining all the filthy, disgusting things he could do to me with those huge hands. I looked down at him and he was already staring back. His face was the most relaxed it had been all night. He took his gaze down to where my thighs met and I would swear I heard my girl sigh. This man was so fucking sexy it was almost infuriating. I had to look away. I took another successful pull, reveling in all of this delectable sin, and he carefully slid his hands around to my ass. The pungent smell of weed had possessed the air, the taste of the flower and a little wine were sweet on my tongue, and the sensual poetry of love songs gave us all the right directions. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this bad. 

“How you feelin’?”

I opened my eyes, tilted my head and brought my hand up to mimic a chef’s kiss.

“See? Stick with me, I can show you some thangs.” I tucked what was left of the J between his lips and he hit it one last time before sitting it over in the ashtray. Then he pulled me closer. 

I smiled and bit my lip, gently placing my hands to his chest. When I started to back away, he smiled up at me and loosened his grip, but I could tell he didn't really want to let me go. 

“Where you goin’?”

I simply shook my head as I left his grasp. I just wanted to play around with him, make him chase me a little bit. The O’Jays were singing ‘Forever Mine’ and, somehow, I could feel it in my body. Whatever Yahya had for me, I was readyyy! I turned away and clutched the bottom of my shirt with both hands, pulling it up over my head and dropping it to the floor. Not a second later, I could see his reflection in the window standing from the bed. Off came his shirt in one swift motion as he walked, then I felt him slide up behind me. The chase was over. 

With his hands at my sides, I swayed to the hypnotizing melodies, savoring how good his bare skin felt next to mine. “I love this song.” I spoke quietly, fully entranced. My hands found their way to his, and the difference in size fucked me up even more. I was leading them around to where I needed them, when he latched onto the softness of my belly and started to move toward the window. I shuffled the short distance with him until I was standing directly in front of it. He eased his hold on me and grabbed my hand, placing it onto the glass a little above my head. I looked out over his backyard, wondering if any of his neighbors could see us. Part of me hoped someone could as he played around with the waist of my jeans, touching my skin in light whispers. He crept over to the button, undoing it, what felt to be, intentionally slow. My zipper came down at the same chilling pace. With parted lips, I looked toward his hand as I felt it slide into my pants. He started to rub my pussy over my panties and they soaked through on contact, trapping my next breath in my throat. 

“Say. How you like it, mama?” He easily caught the rhythm of my subtle grind. “You like slow and steady?” 

I scratched the glass with his hand still on top of mine, feeling his dick right against my ass. Flames flickered in the near-darkness, but, clearly, we were the hottest in the room. He moved my panties to the side and slipped through the flood until my clit was pounding into the tips of his fingers. A shy moan had barely made it past my lips when he sank them deep. I whimpered loudly, gripping his arm and bending my other hand into a fist, buckling under the pressure.

“Or you like that hood shit?” He brought his hand down from the window and fixed his arm across my chest, guiding me back into him while he clung to my breast. “Hm?”

I didn't answer. I wasn’t even breathing. Despite me being highly inebriated, my heart was about to beat out of my chest.

“Why you bein’ so quiet?” he finally asked, lips brushing sweetly against my ear. Then he laid a soft kiss just underneath it. “You said you came to fuck. Don’t get all shy on me now.” 

@19jammmy @twistedcharismaaa @lemmewritesomeish @thisiswhatshefelt @teheeboo @shanisims @honestpreference @iamfredtina @blackerthings @judymfmoody @lyrarodriguez @fendionmyfeet @fadingbelieverexpert @chaneajoyyy @astoldbychae @cecereads209 @90sisthenew80s @daddiespamm @lovethecheri @xo-goldengirl @miyuhpapayuh @buttrflybby @jiminie-08 @queengodiva619 -taglist-

[itsmaferart]

The most dangerous rose in the garden - Thorn Princess

Report: Previously, I have analyzed Agent Twilight in previous posts. Now, I'm going to analyze Yor Forger's character.  Mother Forger and the most powerful killer in the world. And personally, my favorite character from all over SpyxFamily. This woman stole my heart completely.

Returning to the beginnings of the manga, the character of Yoru is introduced to us as a simple woman who works in the town hall.

The conversation with her gossipy friends, gives us a preamble of how Yor unfolds with the world around her. Yor is seen as a woman with few social skills, who does not understand the concept of sarcasm, or perhaps, she does but prefers to ignore it. Yor doesn't mind being in a job, considered boring, with a boss looking at the employees, and having an employment relationship that is based on cruel mockery of her person. But Yor's life seems unchanging, stagnant, and seems resigned.

However, on more than one occasion, Camila and other characters subtly notice Yor's "potential." They recognize that she is a beautiful woman, with a large body and that if she put in a slight effort she could have many men surrendered by her. So, we know that, people are not indifferent to the presence of this woman.

The problem is that Yor seems so isolated from reality that her presence becomes obscured. And surely her clumsy comments, her opaque vibe, and perhaps her out-of-place reactions diminish her appeal.

Moving forward with the chapter. Then we discovered her code name: Thorns Princess . An exceptional killer who works under the orders of the Shopkeeper. However, the character of Yor as the chapters progress, meets Loid and Anya shows us that she is much more than a stereotype of killer/sexy or sweet girl/but very dumb.

Yor is a constant paradox, on the one hand you have a naive woman who believes any pathetic excuse like "concussion therapy," but on the other hand you have a woman so insightful as to go unnoticed for Twilight.

Yor in more than one opportunity has shown that he is able to see through Twilight. She perceives his emotions, and although her reasoning is generally naive, she manages to detect details that others do not. Twilight himself seems so confused with her that nothing seems to make sense when he's with Yor (and it don't have to have it)

As a mother, Yor is shown as a lousy exemplar in fulfilling a mother's "duties." That actually, it just roles that society of the time trying to portray history. Basically, Yor is lousy cooking, her food not only tastes bad, but she can send you to the hospital or the cemetery. Certainly, all of Yor's doubts about her own performance fall on her lacking ability to cook, and her lack of experience of how a "couple" should act

But, when you know its background story, every detail makes sense and allows you to empathize with the character:

On the one hand we know a lot about it, but this information is not as concrete as we would like. I'm pretty sure Endo won't stretch as far into Yor as he did into the Twilight backstory. But, come on, let's see how Garden recruited this woman. I really hope that in an arc they will explain more in depth how Jardin works.

Yor and Yuri lost their parents, under unknown circumstances. We assumed it was a side effect of the war, but it may not be the case or it may be. Yor being just a child, and being the older sister, she assumed the role of Yuri's mother.

Yor at her young age proved to have an impressive level of maturity. She was a child, surely with many insecurities, fears and sadness for not having their parents. No one was there to care for her, guide her or think about her needs. Instead, she focused on priority- Yuri was the younger of the two, so she would make sure he didn't lack anything.

Yor must have cooked, without an instruction or guide. I'm not surprised she don't understand how to use kitchen tools. She was alone and the experience gained by trial and error. And this is the most clumsy and harsh way to learn, without someone to guide you. Which, is the role of parents. Yor must have developed her "common sense" by mere experience. In the end, Yor just experimented, and Yuri was the rabbit that survived the test

It is here that I ask myself how a girl living in a field ended up recruited by Jardin?

Would she be a contact through her parents? Did Yuri and Yor's lack of memory make them forget who their father was and the work they had? or simply, her somewhat casual act similar to Twilight that was found by WISE

It seems to me that Jardin had two effects on Yor:

A job that would allow she to meet her brother's needs

But on the other hand, Garden represented sacrificing fundamental aspects of herself, causing Yor's social ineptitude.

Assassins as opposed to spies: Twilight's work requires him to be constantly interacting with all kinds of people. That's why he has so much practice and it's easy for him to handle any kind of conversation and shape his personality. Despite remaining a considerable time of coexistence, Twilight must avoid developing affection with enemies or objectives.

Yor's work doesn't need to live with the prey, or at least, she doesn't seem to need it. The assassin's job is to be stealthy and deadly, from the shadows appear and in a blink you are already in the other world. Yor must go unnoticed, make sharp sense and penetrating, perceiving danger and having the ability to react in time. By sharpening all her senses, Yor is even able to detect the desire for blood.

No wonder she's so good at feeling any minor alteration in her false husband and daughter's emotions

Yor didn't develop social skills. And I think this is very convenient for Jardin. They need an individual who this constantly alert, reacting to the slightest sign of danger, and feeling no remorse. Being so unsociable makes Yor more dependent on her work, which favors the organization. Not losing his best killer. The shopkeeper himself seems unsure about the idea that Yor is softening because of her family, or that she is losing skills.

It is seen that Yor began her missions as an assassin from a very young age. She must have heard the crunch of bones, and cleaned the stench of blood and kept smiling so as not to worry her brother. The sociological impact of these experiences would atrophy anyone's mind.

Causing Yor to see the world through the bloody eyes of a murderer. Constantly worrying about being found out, controlling her strength, and most of all dealing with the temptation to kill someone when they are an obstacle

Yor's primary instinct is to protect. Developing from the experience of raising his brother.

That is why her personality is derived in two opposite reactions: Her murderous instinct forces her to react in a violet way, annihilating whoever tries to physically and psychologically attack what she loves. At the same time, her heart and noble feelings hold her back. It reminds her not to abuse her strength and let herself be controlled by her emotions. Since it could kill an innocent civilian

I don't want to overthink. But, I think the reason Yor hits another when she's nervous and drunk, is because her self-defense instinct is so developed that when she panics. Her killer reflex is to hit whatever is in front of her.

Loid and Yuri have experienced it

All this has caused Yor to develop a lot of insecurities and complexes.

Yor thinks her strength represents destruction. What makes her dangerous, and that she is an assassin and that she has little experience in what others call "an ordinary life", does not make her worthy of anyone's love and patience.

But she forgets that her true strength lies in protecting what he loves and not giving up what she believes in. His persistence to be better is incredible and he gives everything of himself.

When Yor believes in herself and is determined, she becomes more attractive to the people around her. People are enthralled by its overwhelming tenacity

The way Loid looks at her completely enthralled, proud and happy for her ♥ ♡

We can say that Yor is a beautiful, clumsy, distracted woman and a bundle of nerves when it comes to loving proximity. But she is also the strong, deadly and dangerous assassin that no one can stop.

I hope that in future chapters we can see more and more of Yor's evolution. And that she can understand that she has no way of being replaceable by anyone. She is a unique specimen, who yearns for peace as much as Twilight does, and protecting her family is her top priority. Which will surely make her much more relevant in the role of the Forger family.

And above all, the role that she can have to obtain world peace and identity disclosure

[hyunnieshannie]

Walking On Glass

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅Master List⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅

I : Yang fucking Jeongin.

♥: Yang Jeongin x AFAB Reader ★: The author is prone to adding tags as they go, Mentions heavily of death, Mentions of Murder, Anxiety, Past Trauma, and Nightmares -- It's a dark fic.

“There is no exquisite beauty… without some strangeness in the proportion” -Edgar Allan Poe, Ligeia, 1838

The piercing sound of your alarm jolts you awake, another day passed you by yesterday and now a new one calls out to you. You can’t help but groan, at the idea of having to leave the comfort and warmth of your bed. Reluctantly and with a heavy sigh you finally muster the energy to get up and drag yourself through the apartment, still half-asleep. Gathering your things, you prepare yourself physically and mentally for the day ahead. 

 Your walk to the bus stop was rather uneventful, with cars whizzing past you, and the pedestrians hurrying along in their daily rush to work. You nod in appreciation to the bus driver as you step onto his bus, immediately drowning yourself out from the world by placing your headphones on, in hopes to avoid any sort of conversation. 

A couple of stops pass, and just as you settle into your music-induced bubble, May boards the bus in a rush, her bag half-open in her hands. Spotting you, she waves frantically and quickly pays her fare. Without delay, she darts towards the seat next to you, yanks one of your earphones out, and places it in her ear, as if inviting herself into your private world.

Surprised by May's sudden intrusion, you offer her a half-hearted smile, unsure of how to react. She always had an unpredictable energy about her, and you knew resisting her enthusiastic company was often futile.

“How’d I know you’d be listening to this song?” She laughs,

“Woke up late again?” You sigh.

May chuckles and tosses her hair playfully, her confident demeanour shining through. "Oh, you have no idea! Looking this good takes some serious effort," she teases 

“If only you’d put as much effort into your studies as you do your looks; you’d be unstoppable.” You smile back at her as she sits down.

“Not everyone can be like you, Y/N. I can’t be pretty and smart, that's too much work!” She giggles, as she pulls out a hair brush and begins to tie her hair back into a loose ponytail. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

As you arrive at the school May turns to you and says, “I hear we have a new student coming in today; I hope he’s nice.” 

He of course it's another boy, another distraction for her. 

“Great.” You sigh. 

You make your way slowly to your morning lecture, quickly finding your spot as May turns around in her seat to face you as everyone else files in, 

“He’ll probably end up falling madly in love with me an-”

“Madly in love with you?” Seungmin scoffs as he sits beside May. “I got a look at him, and you’re totally not his type.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT,” May’s flustered face says it all, she doesn’t want to be his type anyways Seungmin. 

“Trust me, you’re not his type. He looks like he’s dropped out like five times- actually, honestly, he kinda looks like the type to shoot up the-” 

“Not funny Seungmin.” You sigh, “School shootings are an actual problem, and people who do those kinds of things are mentally ill. You can’t just go and label someone you don’t know as someone who would do something like that, just because of his appearance.” 

“My bad little miss ‘I’m going to study murderers for fun’, All I’m saying is he’s the type to want to be alone. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was some creep though. He has these like-” leave it to Seungmin to remind you of your goals in the most condescending way. You love your best friend you truly do, but at times you wonder if he truly understands why you set the goals you have. Not that he would ever fully get it. Not that anyone in the room would truly ever understand your fascination with the inner workings of the mind of a killer.

“ALRIGHT CLASS SETTLE DOWN.” Professor Wade says as he walks in, adjusting his glasses and placing his books on the podium at the front of the class, “Today as you’ve all heard we have a new student. Please come in and introduce yourself to the class.” he gestures for the student to come in from the hall. 

“My name is Yang Jeongin.” He says coldly as he stares toward the back of the class. “I transferred here from another country. That’s all you need to know about me.” Your professor stares blankly at him. Seungmin was right though, the guy is offputting. Sharp brown eyes, and long black hair. Dressed in all black, and topped off with a dead look in his eyes, anyone would think he was some ‘weirdo’ - a loner. 

“Alright, now why don't you go and sit beside Y/N.” Jeongin smiles at the teacher and makes his way up the lecture hall stairs to the seat next to yours. 

“Hi, I’m May!” May whispers excitedly to him, 

“Don’t talk to me.” He says looking annoyed as he finds his pen. May looks at him with a confused expression, she reaches for her phone and sends a text to your group chat.

Jeez, what's wrong with the new guy? He was so mean… she pouts. Seungmin put his hand on her shoulder and laughs

“I told you, you aren’t his type” He whispers, May turns to him and lightly punches him, 

“SHUT UP!” she yells, the silent class looks towards her, her face turns a bright shade of red from embarrassment “Sorry.” 

You study the boy next to you as your professor recaps the last lesson. As you noticed earlier, Jeongin wears all black. He’s got long black hair, but you can see the glint of silver jewelry shining through it. Piercings. He wears a silver chain around his neck, but the pendant is hidden under his shirt. Silver rings, and black boots. Sharp eyes that stare coldly towards the front of the room. He’s pretty but rude. Arrogance, radiating off of him. Does he think he’s too good to be here? 

“Staring is rude, if you want something- ask now or leave me alone.” he deadpans, looking at you as if he was looking through you. Almost as if he was reading your mind, “Whatever it is your brain is thinking about me, forget it. Whatever assumption you’re making about me is wrong.”

“I- was just admiring your outfit” you mutter, bringing your eyes back to your notes. 

“Don’t lie to me either. I can see through that shit. You’ll do better by being honest with me.” he slowly places his pen down and shifts so that he’s leaning closer to you, “Listen. I don’t care about whatever your first-year psych brain is attempting to say about me, I’m not your patient. So stop trying to analyze me.” he turns away from you and continues on taking notes. Whatever issue Yang Jeongin has, you want nothing to do with it. You can only hope the semester passes by quickly, and that you won’t have to ever interact with the person beside you.  

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

After a few excruciating hours of listening to Professor Wade go on about the psychological effects of trauma you’re finally released from prison. “Let's go to the cafe to study today.” You say with a smile, Seungmin nods in agreement and May follows along. You enjoy going to the cafe after classes, the warm evening breeze and the smell of fresh coffee is relaxing after class and the cozy environment of the cafe provided the perfect atmosphere to study in. Seungmin heads towards your usual booth, with May tailing behind him as you go to make your coffee orders. 

“One large Strawberry coconut refresher, one Large iced americano, and one Caramel Macchiato with extra caramel please” You smile at the cashier who punches in your order, 

“Three drinks for one person? Are you that thirsty?” A voice says from behind you, you turn around and look up at  Yang fucking Jeongin. 

“I'm here with May and Seungmin actually,” you smile, it was better to be civil than to give him the actual expression your brain so desperately wanted to give. He looks down at you seriously.

“Hm. Excuse me, could you add a second large americano please.” the cashier nods as he steps in front of you and pays for the order, he was so rude to May and now he’s paying for our drinks. What’s with him? “I’ll help you take these to your friends.” he picks up the Americanos and looks to you to guide him to your spot.

“Would you like to sit and study with us?” you ask with an awkward smile,

“Sure.” you walk up the steps to your booth where Seungmin sat watching May take selfies. You hand May her strawberry drink, and Seungmin his caramel drink, then slide into your spot on the opposite side of them. Jeongin sits next to you and places your coffee by you; May makes a confused face and looks back at her textbook. 

“He paid for our drinks so I asked if he wanted to study with us. I hope you don't mind.” You kick Seungmin  lightly under the table and force a smile at him notifying him to get May to cooperate 

“Oh. OH No we don't mind at all right May?” He smiles awkwardly and May only let out a huff. You spent the rest of the evening studying and joking amongst each other, though Jeongin stayed silent for most of it, only ever talking when it came to studying. Most of the time it felt less like he was studying the curriculum and more like he was studying the group the entire time, by the end of the night you could feel he was bored of your company. 

“I should head out guys, I have things to do around the house,” You say as you begin packing up your books, 

“Your apartment is in pristine condition, what could you possibly have to do?” Seungmin laughs 

“Tidying mainly” you sigh, “Chores don't get done themself you know” You let out a small sigh, 

“Chores? You live alone and you give yourself chores?” Seungmin looks at May and laughs at the confused look on her face “What I'm serious! If I lived alone I’d be free and live as I wanted!” 

“That’s why we always go to Y/N’s place. I can't imagine what your room looks like.” Seungmin laughs, Mays's face burns red, as she looks down to hide her clear embarrassment.

“Shut up.” Seungmin you idiot.

“I should head out as well.” Jeongin says abruptly, “Thanks for letting me stay.” He gets up, grabs his things and walks out. 

“He’s so strange,” May says, as you all get up to leave. Soon after you say your goodbyes and head out. 

The bus ride back to your apartment was quiet and short. Your brain was doing its best to wrap around something you didn’t quite know. A feeling you’d never had before. Some sort of familiarity but from what? You wouldn’t be able to tell. 

After a hot shower, You sit yourself on your couch and turn on the tv. “I should eat,” you mumble to myself, you walk to the kitchen as the news plays on the screen in your living room, 

“Reports from [your city]’s 11th ward state another young woman has been murdered,” the tv blares, “The woman was found in her home with a gunshot wound to the chest, [Your city] police say they have no witnesses and no leads.” The newscaster reads out,

Another one. This is starting to get closer to home too. It makes me sick to my stomach. You close your fridge. I'm not even hungry anymore. 

Tags: @chanlixiiee @amalieworldidk @jaebaebaegot7 @maeleelee @iadorethemskz @maenijw @hangin-out-with-the-street-rats @jinniespuppy @painstakingly-juno @lethallyprotected @elizalabs3 @jisungsbff01 @seungminslittlepup @lieghscloud @foxinnie8 @scarletbedlam @kpoppin-to-the-beat @stay-berry @bbymatz @kurxxmi

[aquanova99]

Shadowing

∘◦ ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐶ ⋯ ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐶ ⋯ ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐶ ◦∘

Hotch x Reader

A/N: a requests that’s gone because my clown friend “accidentally” deleted her account. This is an AU where Haley left Hotch long before they were able to have Jack because I am not messing with that storyline.

Summary: Hotch didn’t think there was anyone more addicted to his work than he was. Y/n was almost dismissive. He wondered why he had fallen for this girl. Will they be able to make things work? Or will work get in the way.

∘◦ ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐶ ⋯ ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐶ ⋯ ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐶ ◦∘

The last thing you expected was a knock at your office minutes before you were going to drive out to the airport for another case.

 “Excuse me, are you Agent Hotchner?”

 “Yes, I’m sorry but I do have to step out soon.”

 “Well, then I’ll make this quick. I’m y/n.  I would like to get some information from some of the people you have managed to catch.”

 You continued grabbing your to go bag. You didn’t want to be rude but everything should be in the reports, “Everything should have been in the—”

 “Yes, the reports I know that. I want to know more about the families. You have troubled home life, abuse, etc. I want to know if you remember any specific details about what they suffered.”

 “I’m sorry what the purpose of this?”

 “Research. I am a forensic psychologist here. And if there is ever an opening at the BAU I want in.”

 You looked her over. She seemed relaxed, she had no issue talking to someone in a position of authority. The BAU would ruin any character she had if she didn’t get herself in trouble first. “Look, Dr. Reid will remember much more detail than I can.”

 “Perfect, may I speak to him?”

 “We have to take off soon but I will tell him to contact you when we get back.” You were at the door, opening it to suggest your time was up for now, but to also be polite.

 “Well, I appreciate the help. Good luck catching the bad guys.” She handed you a card to give to Reid and pranced off. Any job in the Bureau was enough to break whoever it was that had come into it. You should know you’ve seen it everywhere. It broke families apart, yours included. You took the car ride over to the airport to regroup your thoughts. Focus on the unsub you had to find. To be honest you thought that would be the last you saw of her. It wasn’t often you were wrong.

 It had been a few weeks when she came up in conversation. “Hey Hotch did y/n ever ask you about your cases.”

 “Yes, I told her to talk to you. Your memory should have been more valuable to her.”

 “She asked a lot of questions.”

 “Yes. Not very surprising I suppose. She did mention something about research.”

 “Yeah its fascinating did you know that a lot of the serial killers seem to have some kind of accident or surgery as a child. Usually a form of head trauma actually, she’s been looking into the exact kind and placement to see if there a correlation.” You chuckled at Reids rants, when you were busy there was often little time for them.

 “It does seem interesting.”

 “You should go see her, she has more questions about unsubs we’ve managed to catch. I think that is more of a you thing?”

 “Sure. I’ll go talk to her if we don’t have anything come up.” Another team was sent out this morning and yours reviewed cases for the following days. During lunch you asked Reid where you could find her, before going to ask her if she need any more help. You took notice of your heart rate increasing with every knock placed on her door.

 “Come in.” You walked in cautiously. Her office while tidy, had papers and diagrams up everywhere. She was sitting on the floor pouring over textbooks“Agent Hotchner? This is a surprise. How can I help you?”

 “Reid actually told me you could use my help.”

 “Oh, that would be great!” She sprung up and shook your hand, “As I’m sure you know my job is to try and figure out why people or I guess serial killers do what they do. Like you though, I need more information. I want to know if there any biological difference between serials killers and regular people.”

 While it was a fascinating aspect to her job, you were unsure where you fit in all of this, “I’m confused… how can I help?”

 “You, Agent Hotchner. Have the connections I need. I don’t know how nervous I’d be but you’ve dealt with a lot of criminals I’m hoping you can take me with you and convince them to let me get some scans of their brain. I want to see what activity levels rise when they think of committing another crime. But I can’t do it if they are unwilling to participate. You know how to get under their skin, get the answers you want to hear. I could even go on a case with you guys, maybe it would be easier to convince them then—”

 She went on for some time. You could see why Reid spoke so highly of her work. She rambled more than Reid did. You agreed to help her when you had the time. You didn’t realize you held off on leaving until she noticed the time.

 “Oh my gosh its already lunch, sorry I must have been talking your ear off. Do you want to get something to eat really quick?”

 “I’m fine I have my lunch in the office. So I’ll check in once I have more time to go and talk to some of those people you need.” Y/n smiled as she went back to studying the mountains of paperwork beside her. You came back a few days later to see who she was studying and what their crimes were. It would hopefully give you a better idea who to try and convince to have an interview. You found yourself coming back every available lunch just to get a break from work. Or moreso trying to. You were gone so often it was hard to find the time, and similarly she had plenty of classes to teach and research being done on her part. It had been almost a month before the two of you ran into eachother again. She didn’t even acknowledge you as she stepped into the building, nose deep into a folder of a case.

 “Y/n.”

 “Oh, hi Agent Hotchner. How are you doing?”

 Your own name had never irritated you more. Even more irritating was that you couldn’t profile her. Other than she seemed to be obsessed with work. And that could mean anything. Everyone you worked with had little to no time outside of the office. She however wasn’t with you during any missions or trying to find unsubs. You had no idea how her mind worked.

“I’m all right how are you doing?”

The two of you stepped in the elevator, both there entirely too early to start the day “I’m great, you guys traveling anywhere today?”

“Won’t know for sure until I get there.”

“Ah, right.” She seemed to be eager to get back to reading.

“Interesting file?”

“Yeah, it’s about Jeffrey Charles. You weren’t on that case right?”

“No I only know what the Gideon told me. Are you seeing if he fits into the theory you’ve been working on?”

“Not really, but with underage serial killers the motivation is different. Adults are seeking to satisfy themselves or get some kind of power trip. For children it seems to the prefrontal cortex which is already underdeveloped has to be highly effected in some way. Regardless part of my job is to see if we can find a cause or it’s more genetic so I like to compare age groups as well.”

The elevator stopped on her floor, “if I end up sticking around I can go over some more of thise around lunch, maybe?”

“I wish but I’ve got a lecture at 12:30 so I’ll be gone by 11. Thank you though.” She started stepping out,

“Have a good day!” “Maybe another time.”

She had waved you off as the two of you spoke simultaneously. You wondered why you couldn’t really profile her, or more interestingly why you wanted to so badly. You almost wished you would have been traveling somewhere now knowing you wouldn’t have a chance seeing y/n today. When you saw your phone ring a few minutes before 11 you tried with little success to not get your hopes up.

“Agent Hotcher.”

So serious, hello Agent Hotchner

“Y/n? This is a surprise.”

I do have to head out soon but I was hoping to pick your brains some more maybe tomorrow if you guys arent busy?

“Of course. I’d love to help.”

Great. Thank you Agent Hotchner!

Please just Aaron. Or Hotch. No need to be so formal.

Silence. Really? If you’re okay with it. I thought you liked keeping everything official.

Not always.

Okay, well thank you Aaron. I’ll see you soon

The second you heard the click of the phone, you felt an overwhelming urge to apologize. You were certainly beginning to overstep. You had avoided trying to start anything after Haley. It was too difficult with the lack of attention you could give. It was hard to understand just how much time was taken up having your job. Still, you didn’t want another job. If you ever allowed yourself to enter a serious relationship they would have to understand from the beginning. It wouldn’t be easy.

Once again it was weeks before you saw her again. Either you or her always happened to be busy. Surprisingly she was usually the one unavailable. You couldn’t imagine how Haley would have felt had they lasted through the job change to the BAU. You were leaving the building, when you finally saw her trying to go back in.

“Y/n.” You nodded to her, catching the box and subsequently her as she tripped as she was walking.

“Hey Hotch! Sorry about that. Love to talk but I have to drop off all this junk so I don’t leave anything at home.”

You half shrugged, “Would you like some help?”

“Oh that would be great thanks.”

You took the box from her hands as she grabbed some folders on top of them. You were to help her catch her breath, “You’ve been busy.”

“Always. You? Not too stressful I hope.”

“Not too bad actually.”

“Oh good, Penelope was saying you guys are due for a vacation.”

“Garcia?”

“Yeah we talk all the time. She’s a gem.”

“Yes we’re very lucky to have her. Ho-how did you two meet?”

Y/n shrugged, “I don’t know, just happened I guess.”

It was the first time you had caught her holding something back. You continued trying to make small talk until you reached her office. As chaotic and frazzled as she seemed everything seemed to be in place.

“You’re trying to profile me?”

“Hm? no.”

She couldn’t help laugh at your blatant lie, “it’s okay. It’s probably habit.”

She brought a smile to your face that seemed to so rarely make an appearance anymore, “I guess so.”

You continue to make small talk about work until you re-enter the elevator. You stand slightly behind her, unknowingly glancing at her until she turned around making eye contact with you. You both immediately looked away, both deciding to stare at the floor. You both tried to steal another glance at eachother at the same time. Effectively making you both begin laughing as you hit the ground floor, melting the tension in the air.

“No case files to look over tonight?” She asked when the two of you got quiet again

You were about to answer but you hesitated. You were quite frankly, done with pleasantries, “To be honest the last thing I want to do on a Friday is think about work.”

“We have pretty much talked that subject into the ground.”

“Agreed, any plans for the weekend?”

“The only thing I have planned is that im definitely going to get some food, I am starving.”

“Have you tried the Chinese place thats nearby?”

“Yes I love it and they’re open late too!

.

.

.

Do you want to go with me?”

You felt you throat get tight. You tried to clear it before speaking. Remaining calm under pressure had never been so difficult, “im starving.”

The two of you ate and stayed until they closed talking about your pasts until the conversation led back around to work. You stalled every second, not wanting your time together to come to an end. You decided to stop pushing whatever it was  you were feeling aside, hesitation? Embarrassment? Fear?

“We should do this again sometime?”

“Eat? Yeah I agree, its an important life function.” She sensed something off, “I enjoyed tonight. We should definitely do this again.

You weren’t sure what you had been feeling before but what you felt now could only be described on one word. Hope.

[racoonpookiedepartment]

Luis’s spooky surprise

Happy Friday the 13th all! I make this because i miss Luis i not do proof read as this was only ramble for me please do enjoy!

Luis Serra x Male Reader (power bottom Luis)

You were on a trip with your Boyfriend luis and he said he had something planned for you. He didn't explain too much, all he said was that you were in for a Scream.

You didn't understand the reference but soon you did, Luis had set up a horror movie marathon for the two of you for the halloween season. A few movies passed and now you were on edge, every little creak in your rented out house made you jump and turn.

Luis responded to your little fears by holding you closer and giving you kisses. You were half way through a movie that especially scared you when Luis got up and went to the fridge, he cursed under his breath and grabbed the keys to your car.

“Sorry Sancho, forgot something I’ll be back in just a moment” he explained and gave you a kiss.

You sank into the couch and held the blanket closer to your chest, as much as you were embarrassed to admit. For a tall man, horror movies scares you. The moment in the movie that was paused happened to be even worse for you.

All things were going well until you started to doze off and wonder where Luis had gone off to, you sent him a few texts but they went unseen. You began to doze off again when your heart jumped at the house phone ringing.

You didn't even think the old thing worked but you ignored the ringing. It rang again and now the sound was getting annoying. You made your way to the kitchen and answered the phone

“Hello?” you ask

“Hello” the voice responded, it was a man's voice

“May I ask who I'm speaking to?” you asked, you notice a popping sound and realize luis had left popcorn on the stove, you fiddled with the popcorn and before the voice answered the previous question he had one of his own.

“Hey, what's that sound?” he asked

“Uh, just some popcorn” you reply

“Popcorn eh? I only eat popcorn when i go to the movies” he explained

“Same here, but i don't go too often” you added, you didn't understand why you continued the conversation but it took your mind off being alone in the middle of nowhere watching a horror movie.

“Not too often huh?” the man questioned

“Not too many movies worth watching you know?” you replied

“I see, say, do you like scary movies?” the voice asked

“Not really, they're just.. Not scary” you lied, the man scoffed

“What's so funny?” you questioned

“Nothing nothing, i just thought it was amusing” the man said, you notice a slight accent to the man and it was awfully familiar.

“Lu-

“Mind if I ask you something?” the man cut you off

“Sure” you reply, now suspicious of the mystery man on the phone

“How about some trivia eh? To lighten the mood?” he offered, you figured it was better than fiddling with popcorn and napping while waiting for Luis to come back with whatever he forgot.

“Let's go for it, what kind?” you ask

“Scary movie trivia, hows that sound?” he questioned

“Alright, let's do it” you accepted

“First question, Who's the killer on Halloween?” he asked, you had previously watched the original halloween with Luis so it was an easy answer

“Micheal Myers, too easy” you reply earning another scoff from the man

“Oh so cocky eh? How about some harder questions” he challenged

“Go for it” you accept, you were leaning on the kitchen counter now just eating popcorn and chatting with the mystery caller.

“Who’s the killer on Friday the 13th?” the man asked, the franchise name was familiar to you and you snapped while thinking

“Was it.. Freddy? Chucky? No.. Jason?” you reply

“That is correct! Good boy” the man complimented, it entirely caught you off guard and your legs shook a little

“What do you say?” you question

“I said that was correct! Nothing else” he replied, now you were getting more suspicious of the man

“Who-

“Next question, this one will surely be easy” he cut you off again

“Alright, what is it?” you ask

“Which door am I at right now?” he asked, just as he finished the question there was a knock on one of the many doors in the house.

You snapped and looked around, it wasn't a close sound but a far one. The man stayed silent on the phone while waiting for an answer. You grabbed a knife and swiftly made your way around the home.

You felt a chilled breeze, a similar one you felt earlier that day when the basement door was open. You made your way down the stairs and just as you suspected, it was wide open.

“Ha ha very funny Luis, can you come back in now i'm getting tired” you exclaim

“Oh, i'm not luis” the man stated, you scoffed at his remark

“Yeah sure, ok you got your scare, can we finish the movie now?” you asked

“I told you, i'm not luis” he stated again

“Alright, then where's Luis? And how did you even know I was here?” you question, it was an uncomfortable silence before you heard and shuffled outside.

“One more question, who's this long haired man in your backyard?” he asked, you made your way towards the back door and peeked through. You just saw a shadow but when you turned on the light Luis was taped up to a chair.

“Okay this isn't funny Louis you can stop now” you state, getting annoyed now. There was silence as you stared at Luis, it was quite far away but you could tell he wasn't in good shape.

“Knock knock” the man said, and right after there was a knock at the front door. Now you started to doubt if it was really a joke or not, you opened the back door intending to run to luis

“I wouldn't do that if i were you” the man stated, now you were freaking out. You ran around the house making sure all the doors and windows were locked and made your way upstairs

“Ah, smart move Y/n” he stated, you stopped in your tracks seeing a shadow sprint past a window.

“How do you know my name?” you ask

“It was on your id of course, shouldn't leave your wallet lying around” he taunted

You backed up into your bedroom and locked the door, you realized the window in that room was left open and you swiftly locked it.

“Final question N/n, do you think i made it into the house before you could lock up?” he asked, before you could reply the closet door had burst open and a robed man pushed you down onto the bed.

He was wearing a ghost mask and gloves, you tried your best to struggle with the man but after a while he straddled you.

“Was a fun game eh?” the man asked

The man handcuffed you to the bedpost and stayed on top of you. You didn't say much as all you did was groan, you weren't sure if you were supposed to be afraid for your life or horny. He shoved a camera in your face and recorded your reaction, he started to grind himself on you as well.

“What's wrong boy? Scared?” he questioned, he tilted his head when he saw the lust in your eyes and felt the involuntary bucking

“Ah, needy boy aren't you? He questioned, he tugged at your shorts and pulled them off revealing your growing boner, he gently took it into his hand and stroked it

“You wanna put this in me don't you?” he questioned, he tilted his head

“Want me to suck this big hairy cock don't you boy?” he questioned, stroking harder to put emphasis on he’s words

He chuckled as you frantically nodded with your foggy eyes. The masked man titled his mask up and you observed his brown skin and his beard. Of course it was none other than Luis. his head bobbed for a while as he gently sucked on your dick, coming up every few sucks for some air before going back down. His head came off your cock with a wet pop and he slowly stroked you

“Ready for your next surprise?” he asked, you nodded again. You watched as the man stood over you and lifted up his costume revealing his hairy legs and slowly lowered himself onto you.

Luis was warm, and so very tight, it would be impossible not to moan at the feeling of him sucking you in. he bounced up and down groaning and giving you small praises

“Good boy.. Fucking me so ugh, hard” he spat out between groans

Luis’s own hard cock was bouncing up and down along with him being on you and the friction of it slapping against you forced him to cum

“Fuck! Good boy making me cum so hard” he complimented, he shifted around before getting comfortable and slowly grinding on you. He could tell from how your eyes almost rolled to back of your head that you were close

“Come on, be a good boy and cum for me” he encouraged, it didn't take long for you to start filling him up and he was loving every second of it

“Such a good boy cumming for me!” he groaned, he didn't stop riding you until you couldn't shoot anymore, even then he clenched one last time and slowly got up. He plopped onto you and panted,

“You're such a good boy, filled me up so good” he praised, he gave you a few kisses and snuggled up into you, still handcuffed.