#tw: arson

[cedric-k-rossignol]

[contextfreedungeon]

Campaign update. I should have expected this, but it seems we are no longer a story of three misfits travelling the globe to return a lost relic. It is now the story of:

1.) The Warlock's ongoing beef with a 12 year old.

2.) An 'accidental' arson spree.

3.) A mouse revolution that has heralded the druids of the party as chosen ones.

[jewish-vents]

The specifics for why I'm only attending livestream services aren't really important, but as may be obvious, I'm not actually going to this new-to-me synagogue in person at the moment. I only found out today [1 June 2024] during our livestream that someone burned the banner outside that has a daily count for the hostages [Day ### In Captivity For Hostages Kidnapped From Israel || Bring Them Home Now!] earlier in the week. It was in the wee hours of the morning before anyone was there for morning minyan, so no one was hurt. The banner was far enough away from the synagogue itself that nothing else was damaged by the fire. Still... It hurts in a way that I wasn't expecting. I think on some level, I've had to get used to the idea of people taking down signs/posters or spraypainting/chalking slogans. Fire just feels different. Like, it was in all likelihood a coincidence that this took place on the same day that the protests outside of the Israeli embassy in Mexico City involved a fire [28 May 2024], and it's not the same level of damage as someone trying to set the synagogue itself on fire (as has happened elsewhere since October 7th). Just. It was a banner for the hostages. At the closest place I have to calling 'my shul' right now. And someone burnt it - not just a little singe here or there, the news described it as reduced it to ashes. I know there's already a replacement banner in the works, and it almost feels like I'm overreacting to this. It's... Someone had everything they needed to set a fire. Am I supposed to feel better that whoever it was didn't go ahead and try to set the synagogue on fire?

.

[i-just-want-to-be-a-bumblebee]

Here is Chapter One of A-Z Sullivan whumps.

Trigger warnings: house fire, burns, vomiting, description of blood and injury.

A is for Arson

“This is madness.” Goodfellow stated. He stood next to Inspector Sullivan as they surveyed another burning cottage. This marked the fourth in the last month of fires. 

“I’m certain this one won’t be an accident either. We need to catch whoever is setting these fires before someone is killed.” The dark haired man replied. He could feel a headache coming on and the sight of a priest in a black cassock made it worse. 

The fire brigade nearly had the house fire out. Spectators had come out of their homes to watch, nearly an hour ago. It was something that bothered Sullivan, these fires were started in the middle of the day. No one ever saw someone fleeing, there was never someone who didn’t belong at the scene watching. And there didn’t appear to be any obvious link between the four houses that had been set alight. 

They were lucky so far that no one had died in the fires. There had been one case of smoke inhalation and one of the men on the brigade had received a minor burn. They needed to catch this arsonist before it got any worse. 

“Did everyone make it safely out?” Father Brown asked from where he was suddenly beside the officers. 

“Yes, please stay out of our investigation Father. Unless you know who is doing this?”

“I am afraid I have yet to hear anything of interest. I am not trying to be in the way of your investigation, Inspector.” The priest stated mildly.

“Please do. We don’t need you becoming a target and this mad person deciding to light up the church.” Sullivan responded dryly. He turned and strode toward the fire Chief, where he was talking to a couple men who had just exited the smoldering shell of a house.

“Is there anything you can tell me, Chief?” 

“It was intentional. Just like the others.” The man replied. “Whoever is doing this isn’t a random child either. They know what they are doing.”

“Thank you, Chief. Would you mind stopping by my office once you’re finished?’

“Not at all Inspector. Give me a few hours and we can discuss this more.” Sullivan liked the fire chief, he was no nonsense, work came before anything, and he took pride in his work. In another life they may have even been friends. In another life they may have been more. 

Sullivan made his way back towards Goodfellow and the Bain of his existence. 

“Dawson is going to come by once this is under control. I would like to look at the other fires and see if there is a connection between the homeowners. This can’t be purely random blazes.” He turned to the priest who made no attempt to remove himself from a likely official conversation. “Father, do you know of any links between the home owners? Any at all?”

“None that I can think of off the top of my head inspector, but I will ponder it a bit more and ask around. I am sure you’re right. These seem too intentional to be random targets.”

“Goodfellow, could you go ask around as well? People are more likely to talk to you than me.” The inspector hated to admit it, but he knew he came off as brash and insensitive to much of Kembleford. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Thank you for coming, Chief Dawson. I trust you were able to get the Thompson home put out?” He waved the other man in, offering him a seat and a cup of tea. 

“Yes. Although, there’s not much left of the place, sadly enough. Ben Thompson was telling me that they’re considering moving north, towards her parents.”

“We’ll be sad to see him leave the cricket team for sure.” Sullivan added, attempting to keep the small talk smooth. 

Dawson nodded, Ben was a good player, one that the team would surely miss. He looked up, not making eye contact with the younger man but able to see how his face remained impassive. He knew there were many in Kembleford that wanted nothing more than for the inspector to leave town and head back to London, the inspector included. But, he had always found the man professional, if a little stiff. Perhaps if he stuck around they may even become friendly. Perhaps if he stuck around they could become more than that.

“What can you tell me about these fires, Chief?” Dawson was torn from his musing at the question. 

“I can tell you that they're all the same person, and it's not a kid.”

“Just one person?” Dawson nodded, taking a sip of his tea, pleased that Sullivan got his preference right. 

“Seems likely. It’s all doable for one person, and doesn't appear to be a second source of ignition.” Sullivan saw the man hesitate. 

“What else did you notice, Chief?” 

“I think… I think it may be one of my men.” Sullivan eyebrow lifted in surprise. 

“Indeed? What led you to that conclusion?” Dawson set his cup down and leaned forward, trying and failing to catch Sullivan's eye. 

“I told you before that it's someone who knows what they're doing. But beyond that, it’s someone that has an understanding of how to put fires out as well. Middle of the day, so it’s someone local. No one is ever home, so they’re familiar with the house's routine. And, it’s never happened when I didn’t have a full house of men ready to go, so they know my station's routine as well.” He sagged back into his chair, saddened at the thought of one of his own causing this kind of harm. 

It was Sullivan's turn to set his cup down, elbows leaning on his desk. 

“I need a list of names of your men, Dawson. And I need you to tell me if any of them have been acting odd lately.”

Dawson nodded, reclaiming his tea cup. He studied the other man for a brief moment. Hard, determined eyes, clenched jaw and pinched eyebrows should not have made him attractive but Dawson found himself appreciating the look. Even with as much as he wanted to make his way back to London, Sullivan put his all into keeping this community safe. Dawson appreciated that at the very least. 

“I can’t think of anyone acting obviously suspicious. If I had to guess I’d say Nelson, McLeary, or Davis. They’re seasoned but still young, not married, dedicated.” He hesitated but continued. “They’ve been good men. They all get along with the rest in the house. But those three, I would say, run a little hotter than the others.” He shrugged, looking helpless at the thought of pointing fingers at someone under his command. 

“I would like to see your schedule for the days of the fires, and their personnel files as well. Please.” The please was tacked on. He didn’t want to appear rude. Training that had been beaten into him as a child kicking in. 

Dawson nodded and drank the last of his tea. “I’ll get that for you. I’ll stop back by tonight with it.” He stood and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. He still smelled faintly of smoke and wanted nothing more than a shower and a good night's rest. Sullivan could see the exhaustion hanging off the other man. 

“It’s late. I have a few other things I can work on. Bring it in tomorrow.” Dawson smiled in relief. 

See he wasn’t totally oblivious, Sullivan thought of himself. Dawson nodded and headed out the door, closing the door behind him with a soft click. 

Sullivan spent the rest of his evening reviewing the other fires, the owners all similar ages, all married couples, not all had children. The husband's service records varied, nothing linking them there. The wives had similar hobbies, had all attended the same secondary school but weren’t close now. Two of the families had pets, one vacationed in the north, another didn’t make enough to take vacations. Different workplaces, different social classes, different social circles. Surely there was something that connected them all.

By half seven in the morning Sullivan was once more standing at his desk. He looked over his notes from the night before with fresh eyes, enjoying his tea. A quick knock on his door had him turning away from his work.

“Come in.” Dawson’s head peaked through the crack, Sullivan found him amusing.

“Wanted to drop this before I head in for the day.” He handed Sullivan the three files. He felt… guilty? No that wasn’t it. Apprehensive? That may have been closer to the truth. He felt apprehensive about giving the files to the Inspector, he had a bad feeling about this case. 

“Thank you.” Sullivan set the files on his desk. “Chief?” Dawson straightened up, looking attentive. “You’ve been here your whole life, minus your years in service. Do you know of any connection between the victims? I’ve been looking but I am not finding much to go on, besides that the wives all attended the same secondary school.” Dawson nodded, thoughtful.

“They all went to the same school, same year possibly? They graduated…what, six years ago? Maybe go around and ask the teachers? It’s a small school, they may remember something that I never knew about.” Sullivan nodded, he would send Goodfellow. The headmaster at the school hated Sullivan for reasons unknown. 

“Thank you, Chief. I won’t take up any more of your morning.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Goodfellow came back later that morning with news.

“That was a good tip sir. Looks like all three girls were part of some club back in school. The teacher that I spoke to couldn’t remember what, but does remember that there were a few other members, all young ladies but the others moved away-”

“So it’s likely someone they went to school with, which narrows it down by age to… Johnathan Davis.” 

“Sir, one more thing. There’s one woman left from the group in town, Cynthia Pierson.”

Sullivan and Goodfellow raced from the precinct to the Pierson residence. 

“We will warn them first, then head to the Fire Station to pick up Davis. Hopefully we can keep this quiet.” As they were driving up the road they began to see smoke. Sullivan punched the accelerator and came to a skidding stop outside the cottage gate, leaving room for fire rescue vehicles. Both men jumped from the car, spotting a blonde man watching as flames engulfed the small cottage. 

Sullivan ran towards the cottage as flames burst from the windows. Goodfellow had grabbed their suspect, whom they caught with the lighter in hand, too entranced by the flames to hear them coming. He scanned the building and surrounding areas, looking for any injured. Just as he was about to relax his shoulders he heard a small cry.

“Help… please!” A child, a small boy by the sounds of it. Sullivan raced towards the engulfed cottage, ignoring Goodfellow’s cry of alarm behind him.

“Sir?! What are you doing?!”

“There’s a boy inside! I can hear him!” He shouted over his shoulder and he kicked in the front door and dove into the inferno. 

Smoke overtook his senses immediately. He covered his mouth and nose with his elbow, but it didn’t help. His eyes began to water as he scanned frantically in the blaze for the child calling for help. Finally after what felt like eons he spotted a small shoe peeking out from by the stairs. He sprinted towards the child, falling to his knees, he scooped the boy into his arms, the child frighteningly limp in his hold. He attempted to stand when a deafening crack overtook the house and a beam from the ceiling collapsed onto him.

Goodfellow could hear the house crumbling down. He could hear the sirens from the fire brigade coming closer, he could almost make out the sound of the onlookers. But he didn't hear his Inspector. He had already handcuffed their suspect to the car and he tried to keep people away from the house. Minutes ticked by and he was certain that Sullivan and the boy had already perished. 

The fire brigade flew into the drive with a spray of gravel.

“Inspector Sullivan is inside! He said he heard a child!” Two of the men in full turnout gear and masks raced past him and entered the house without hesitating. The gathered crowd was silent as they waited with baited breath to see if anyone would come out of the blaze. 

“God will protect.” If he wasn’t already so shell shocked Goodfellow figured he would have jumped at the sudden appearance of Father Brown. “They will find him and the child. I have faith in that.” The giant of a policeman nodded his head, his eyes never leaving the flames. 

The two men who had dashed into the blaze were able to quickly find the downed Inspector and his charge. He was stuck and writhing under the beam. His suit jacket ablaze. They worked quickly, tearing the flaming fabric from his back. With haste that did not allow for gentleness they pushed the beam off the man and child, amazed when Sullivan managed to stand and stagger his way towards the door, the boy clutched tight to his chest. 

Cheers of elation broke out when he breached the door, quickly turning to gasps of horror as he stumbled to his knees and fell onto his side. Firemen, medics, police and priest darted towards the downed man, moving him out of the way of the firemen who were attempting to put out the house fire. 

Sullivan’s breath was a rasping, hacking cough. His face coated in soot, dirty tear tracks down each cheek. Father Brown dropped to his knees at the inspector's head and began to pray. The medics were barely able to pull the small boy from Sullivan’s tight grasp. They passed the unconscious child to another pair of medics and dove back for their patient. His left sleeve and onto his shoulder and back were a charred mess of fabric and muscle. There wasn’t much they could do at the scene. They loaded him into the transport with as much gentleness and haste as they could manage. 

“Father, you may want to ride along!” 

The scene had fallen silent as those gathered watched the transports peel out of the drive with the inspector and his rescued child. Father Brown held onto his right hand, muttering prayers under his breath. Prayers of gratitude for the man being able to rescue the boy, who must have been little James Pierson, six-years old, and waiting for someone to come home. He prayed that the inspector wasn’t in any pain, as he was unconscious since they had left the scene. He prayed that it would be a quick recovery, or if it wasn't meant for the man to survive, that he would be taken swiftly. 

The good Father felt his prayers dry in his throat as the inspector began to shake, gaining just enough consciousness to be aware of the agony he was in. The Inspectors mouth opened, as if to scream, but only a choked out gasp escaped. 

“Inspector? I need you to take a deep breath. You’re all right. We are heading to the hospital.” The medic stated, close to the inspector's head. He attempted to take a deep breath but it caused his lungs to rattle and he began to choke on soot that had gathered in his throat and lungs. The medic jumped to turn him on his side, just as he began to vomit. Strings of ash filled bile ran down his face and gathered in a puddle on the floor of the van.

“It’s alright, Inspector. We’re nearly there.” Father Brown could see the agony the other man was in. He shook so fiercely that he feared the younger man was having a seizure. It was merely minutes later that the vehicle jerked to a stop and the doors were thrown open. Hands appeared and pulled the gurney from the bus, rushing the still shaking man away. 

Father Brown saw another ambulance pull up, slower in its approach and additional personnel pull little James from the back. He was unconscious but from what could be seen he didn’t appear to be burnt. Father Brown offered a prayer of praise and thankfulness that at least that mercy had been granted. 

It was over an hour before Goodfellow joined him in the waiting room. 

The duo sat in silence for a short time before Father Brown had to ask. “Did you discover why Mr. Davis was setting those houses on fire?” Goodfellow nodded sadly. 

“It was over childish cruelty. Apparently the girls were part of a club. One that had some influence over the dating lives of its members. I don't understand it myself but apparently they were cruel to Davis, and he decided that waiting nearly seven years and lighting up their houses was a suitable revenge. He said he didn’t know Jamie was home or he would have waited.” Goodfellow looked tired and baffled. How another person could do something this extreme just didn’t make sense to him. Father Brown shook his head sadly. A lost and troubled soul.

It was nearly two hours before the door opened and a doctor stepped out. Dr. Aoki was a man of small stature, delicate features that made him appear years younger than he was. He and his family had come to Kembleford after the war, looking to escape the poverty of Japan. They had settled in well, after the initial outbursts at least. The village could hardly turn away a trained doctor such as Aoki. Currently he looked drawn and tired. 

“Are you here for the Inspector?” Dr. Tatsuki Aoki asked. 

“Yes. How is he?” Both Goodfellow and Father Brown rose to their feet as soon as he walked in. 

“He is… settled. He suffers from second and third degree burns along his left arm and shoulder. If we can keep the infection out he will not lose the arm.”

“You may have to amputate?!” Goodfellow gasped out, his knees going weak. Dr. Aoki held up a calming hand. 

“We hope it does not come to that. I have him sedated currently. He is not breathing well. Hopefully clean air and water help to clear his airways of soot. He also appears to have broken two ribs. He is going to be my guest here for several nights. Likely a couple weeks.”

“He’s going to hate that.” Goodfellow felt the need to add. 

“Yes, I anticipate that. You are welcome to come sit with him. Please don’t touch him if you can avoid it. We are trying to keep him as free of contamination as we can.” The unlikely looking duo followed after his brisk steps towards the long term use rooms. 

Sullivan was stripped to the waist. He had been bathed and scrubbed clean before dressings had been applied; they covered him from finger tip to chest. He was reclined partially upright and turned so they could see the expansive bandage around his back and shoulder. From the doorway they could hear the rattle in his lungs as he breathed in and out. 

“Is there nothing we can do to help? His breathing sounds painful.” Father Brown whispered in deference to the injured man. 

“We are doing what we can. I would have liked to attempt clearing techniques with him but it isn’t possible with the burns and broken ribs. If it worsens then we will suction out his throat and lungs as needed. Again, hopefully it clears up on its own. For now, keep him company. He is heavily sedated but he may still hear you speaking. Please alert a nurse if you need anything.” 

Brown and Goodfellow took another step into the room and claimed the only two seats available. They sat in silence for only a moment before Father Brown spoke. 

“Thank you Inspector for saving James. His parents will be so grateful once they hear. I know you do not believe it but I will continue to pray until you are well enough to tell me to stop.”

“I’m here sir. You did really well. Didn’t even hesitate to rush in and save that boy. You’re a hero. Now you can rest and heal. We’ll be here when you’re ready to wake up.” It could have been their imagination but it seemed to them that Sullivan breathed just a little easier. 

[moonstonexgallery]

IDEAS FOR COOKIE RUN OCS LETS GO

Okay so

Bavarian Cream Cookie is the loyal sailor who had a rough childhood, but that was when Captain Caviar Cookie brings her to the Crème Republic, and has her work with him, and she helps out Oyster Cookie, and Caramel Choux Cookie at times.

Ice Cream Roll Cookie is Candle Wax Cookie's love interest, and is her devoted partner, she's a barista at the Annual Parfaedian Café, she's also really good friends with Prune Juice Cookie.

Opalite Cookie is the Wizard of Nighttime, she holds the Soul Gem of Good Dreams, she's pretty much shy, but she does everything to help out Milky Way Cookie at the Dream Express, she also sees Aurora Candy Cookie as an older sibling due to their bondings at the Dream Realm.

Passion Fruit Cookie is a resident in Dragon's Valley, she is VERY passionate about the knowledge of dragons, and is Royal Margarine Cookie's childhood friend, they met when they both had dragons (She has a Grape Jam Dragon).

Raspberry Meringue Cookie is a super gentle, and passionately shy cookie, and she likes to sing at times, but most of the time, she loves making crafts with seashells that she found at the beach at times, she's going to be shipped with Abyss Monarch Cookie.

Brownie Cone Cookie is Ambrosia Cookie's older sister, she's SUPER protective of her, unless the one is proven trustworthy, she may seem like a young, and helpless cookie, WRONG!! She has a MALLET!

Ambrosia Cookie is Brownie Cone Cookie's young sister, and she loves reading, and is very smart, and kind to others, she, and her sister visit Cuckoo Town Square, she also loves collecting flowers for medicine, and sometimes, for sweet drinks.

Apple Rosette Cookie is a resident in the Crème Republic, and her dream is to go to the Vampire Kingdom, and reunite with her best friend, Werewolf Cookie, she's gentle to the little critters, and is indepent at times, she's going to be shipped with Vampire Cookie.

Peanut Butter Jam Cookie is a resident in Berryberg Street, she's a sassy cookie, and is always ready to party, she's one of Rhubarb Cookie's besties, and her roomates.

TW: Arson mention, do not expand if uncomfortable

This is an article for a new Cookie villain, i named them Cinnabar Cookie.

Cinnabar Cookie was Opera Cake Cookie's childhood friend, due to their passion for music, they were friends for the longest time, until that one day Opera Cake Cookie was rehearsing for an opera concert, and thats when Cinnabar Cookie snapped, they snapped into jealousy, the envious nature lead to them, and Opera Cake Cookie getting into an argument, and with that last blow, Cinnabar grabs out a lighter, and lights the entire Annual Berryberg Street on fire, cookies were burnt, some injured, some completely burnt to death, they have no remorse for what they did.

[ithseem]

Gender Non-Conforming Fem!MC is Done with Guy's Nonsense and Burns the Dress He Got Her

@shaakyhaands this is for you

warnings: arson, not beta read, may be a little ooc

You have just about HAD IT with Guy and his utter nonsense. You've told him multiple times that you weren't interested in him or in wearing dresses. You've told him you weren't comfortable wearing dresses and you rejected his many, ah, advances but he still tries to win you over. When Guy bought you yet another dress and expected you to attend the upcoming ball with him, that was the last straw. You asked your friend Fenn to get a bottle of wine, but not just any old wine. You wanted only the best wine in all of Saligia. So he gets you the finest wine from Luxure. He understood where you were coming from. If you were this irritated, alcohol would do just the trick.

Or does he? He came back to the S-Ranks lounge where you did not really hide a smirk and Guy ordered Jasper to fetch Avari's finest alcoholic drink: Avarian Ale, "far stronger than the drek Luxure calls wine."

None of the men in the lounge saw what you were going to do next. You poured the contents of both bottles onto the dress Guy got you (was that with you the whole time?) and then got a lighter (where did you get that?) and lit the dress on fire

Guy

You did not just do that

How could you just burn a dress made by Avari's finest tailor?

And revel in this while keeping eye contact with him no less??

Guy was the first to put out the flames once he regained his composure

All that was left was but a small charred patch of the dress

"Bah"

He gets the message. If you were willing to commit arson over this he's not gonna get you dresses

Fenn

You had him fetch wine for this?

He cannot say he dislikes this display, but did you really have to pour his wine all over a dress to set it on fire? He was hoping to share it with his friends

Oh well. At least he got to see some chaos today

If you haven't already put your foot down, you've driven it down to the very core of Saligia now

Toa

Toa is glad you rejected his advances but was nearly setting the lounge on fire really necessary?

He understood your discomfort with wearing traditionally feminine clothes and as far as he knew, you told him and the others as much, so you had to put your foot down

He supposes simply saying no would not have sufficed, but setting the dress on fire? Really?

He has mixed feelings about this

Roy

He is utterly speechless

Maybe he should have talked Guy out of getting you a dress

But then again he doubts he would have listened

Lynt

"Why is it so hot all of a sudden?"

Lynt was asleep and the sudden heat spike woke him up

Fenn filled him in on what happened and Lynt was not happy with what Guy did. He was not happy with you either

Lynt hates discord and would really rather not argue but this has gone too far

He scolds Guy for making you so uncomfortable and he scolds you for nearly setting the room ablaze

If this wasn't enough an incentive to make sure that this doesn't happen again, Guy would be a unicorn's uncle

[your-absent-father]

*popcorn whipped out* tell me about the Harkensesses and the Lee. I’m listening.

(Also I might have spelled that wrong)

Okay the tldr can be found here for the plot. Harknesses on the other hand.

The big bad mafia corporation in the book is Harkness incorparated, organization that spans from import to hotels to entertaiment. One thing they don't advertise though, are assasinations. CEO of the company is Evalyn Harkness, the only legimiate heir, after his father died under mysterious circumtances. (See, secret assasinations lol) She is the head bitch in charge. She is hotheaded and assertive. Because the narration is from perspective of an outsider, the true crime podcaster, you can't see all the scheming she does but she has a plan to throw Valentine Lee, the unofficial third harkness sibling.

Valentine Lee is the CFO of Harkness incorparated. He is also the head of assasinations. He is the biggest scheamer and one who keeps a guard while talking, with Evalyn enjoying the flare of the dramatics. He has the plans. He has the ideas. He is planning to overthrow Evalyn especially now that all of incorparated is burning due to False Gods leak.

I am also happy to say that Valentine is one of the three love interest for the technical mc Beatrix Jones. Evalyn also has a sunshine girl as a love interest.

The last sibling isn't a schemer. Stevie aka Stefan is just... unofortunately born as a mafia heir while having a poets soul. He is the second lobe interest as Beatrix's best friend (the narrator Love is the third lol)

Bit of a snippet:

Context: Love sneaked into the Harkness incorparated and got caught by Valentine. Instead of killing her, they made a deal that Love would give a messenge to Beatrix in exchange for a story about a death of Nicholas Harkness. Now... she has found out they are planning to burn the whole place to the ground (troughout the story there are newsclipping made by three reporters. Those reporters are in that fire)

---

“You really thought you could just waltz here in normal circumstances? For someone who is researching us, you really don’t understand this company. Yesterday, we announced the whole company is closing for a bit. Tonight, someone with a vendetta against us, we still haven’t decided, is going to burn this place to the ground.” Valentine shrugged his shoulders. “We are prepping for the arson right now, so I’m suggesting you leave.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Love could feel a chill down her spine as Valentine smiled, his dimples showing. Love was perplexed how he still looked terrifying even with dimples. “Because you won’t tell anyone.”

“How do you know that?”

Valentine chuckled. “You are very free to prove me wrong. Let’s see what happens if you do so.”

Love wanted to say something back, fight at least somewhat to Valentine’s accusations og her being spineless, but a loud smack on the door made her jump. She was going to die. She was totally going to die. Very tall gorgeous woman stomped inside with fury in her eyes, her shining straight hair bouncing with the clack of her high heels. Evalyn Harkness looked at Love, and Valentine, and back to Love. “Who is she, and why isn’t she dead?”

“You are Evalyn Harkness.” Love’s mouth was open as the woman in front of her rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“She is harmless. You know the Love and Murder podcast? That’s Love from that. Found the id from the floor and was dumb enough to try to come in. She has been aimlessly walking around here.”

“Hey!” Love could feel the most dangerous woman in the world looking at her with furrowed eyes. She was going to notice his bluff. She needed to look more dumb she actually was. “Fine. I was dumpster diving after I tried to come in for the first time and I found it.”

Evalyn looked at Love up and down, a smile creeping slowly to her face. She bought the half lie easily, maybe because of how Love’s body was shaking. Slowly, a small giggle turned into loud laughter she hid behind her perfectly manicured and accesorised hand. “Just some dumbass fucking influencer. What is she even doing here?”

Love would have corrected her behvior, if she was like anyone else. “I’m… looking for your brother for an interview. “

The woman’s whole demenor changed. Love turned to look at Valentine who looked back at her like she had signed her death warrant. “Kill her.”

“What?”

“Livvie, please. Not now. The girl is completely innocent. She is just… airheaded.”

“Excuse me-”

“No, I want her dead.” Love was like air between the two powerhouses arguing over her like she wasn’t even there, like she was a thrash no one wanted to take out.

“Please, let’s not-” Valentine rubbed his temples and sighed. “We have a plan. One extra body would jepordize it.”

“I’m your superior. Do what I say!”

“Livvie, Jesus.” Valentine rolled his eyes and looked at Love. “Do you promise not to tell anyone, even your podcast followers, you saw us here, and in exchange, you won’t become totally burned?”

Love nodded furiously towards Valentine and Evalyn. Valentine pointed towards Love, making Evalyn roll her eyes. She leaned closer to the older woman and smiled with only her lips, her eyes imagining Love bludgened to the ground. “Fine. If Valentine wants to protect another dumbass, be my fucking guest. If I do find out you, yes you, look me in the eyes, have even thought about me and my brother next to a camera, I will smash your head against the wall and feed your corpse to hyeenas in my next trip to the savannah. Got it, little girl?”

Love gulped and nodded largely. “Perfectly got it.”

[doueverwonder]

Accidents happen, don't they?

Characters: Wales, England, Scotland, Ireland

Warnings: Talk of xenophobia, colonization, arson, and intrusive thoughts

Notes: I'm ok i promise, i very rarely write truly unhinged stuff and this really isn't that bad. It is all under a cut for a reason though, and i am only posting it for @the-heaminator. I wrote this forever ago, and i don't feel like editing it so whatever it is, it is.

Dylan's life had been hell since the Romans showed up.

It had gotten marginally better, then worse, so much worse. The damn Germanic tribes that showed up were worse than the Romans, they didn't just want to conquer the area they wanted everyone else gone. They wanted everything for themselves. The anger he felt at being called a stranger on his own land was worse than anything else, everyone he knew was gone 'England' taking their place. The first time he met William he thought maybe they could work things out, maybe they could agree to leave each other alone. That couldn't happen either though could it? The Englishman was no better than the tribes that had come, he was the same, he was worse. And he was proud of being worse, he took Wales, then Scotland, and Ireland. He took a third of the world, disposing of anyone who got in his way.

Dylan eventually decided he had to agree with William or get out of his way, agreeing and at least being seen, even if it was barely, was better then being pushed off to the side completely. That's not how it worked though? Even if you did everything in your power to corporate, he still treated you like trash. The flag of the United Kingdom, England, Scotland and Northern Ireland. No Wales in sight.

Dylan remembered Angus leaving back in 1607, he couldn't deal with William anymore. He went to Jamestown, Dylan had wanted to leave but both of them couldn't go. 'Go Angus, I'll be fine' Why did he tell him to go? Dylan questioned everyday why he didn't instead.

Then one day James Cook was leaving, Dylan didn't tell anyone. He didn't utter a word to a soul, he left a note. Hidden enough that it wouldn't be found immediately, clear enough that someone would find it in a few days. He sailed around the world for three years; he felt the most free he had been in over a thousand years. No one could find him, especially William. When the time came that he had to go home, he didn't want to. Three years, everyone on the voyage was exhausted and homesick. Dylan wanted to stay out there, he wanted to keep sailing and never have to return to London; never have to return to the beck and call of England. He seriously considered hopping off at a random port, far away from Europe. If he hid well enough it would take decades for anyone to find him, the empire was expanding though. The crown would find him eventually, and the punishment would not be something that made it worth it.

Angus had gotten too close to Alfred, enough that the small boy called him dad, William found a way to have him locked up for seven years. Seven years because a colony called someone besides England dad. Seven years in prison, on top of being suddenly separated from... from his own child, then the Darien Scheme failing: Angus hadn't always been an alcoholic. Don't believe anyone who tells you otherwise. Dylan didn't want to imagine what decades of disappearing would be punished with, if a three letter word from a toddler meant that much.

Three years was bad enough, he got back to a scolding from someone half his age. Then the King was mad at him, Dylan swore this many people had never even paid attention to him before. William was snappier at him after all of that, he never gave him a break. Said he had to make up for galavanting across the world instead of tending to his duties as an independent nation. Dylan had to stop himself from laughing in his half-brother's face; Wales? An independent nation? Why had no one informed him that he was one?

"You're lucky, Dylan"

He could hear Molly's voice in his head. She had told him that during the great hunger, she had shown up in London solely because Angus had promised to lend her some money so she could go to the US to stay with their nephew until things got better–if they even did–. Why? He had thought to himself, because he wasn't currently starving? Because he wasn't having to flee his home? He wasn't living in his own land though was he? London wasn't his. He had been mad at her for saying that for far too long.

Dylan knew most people didn't wish for bad things to befall other people, he wasn't even sure where the idea came from. He just knew one night he was sitting in bed, the window was open blowing the curtains a little too close to a candle that sat on a table. The first thought was rational,

"I need to either blow out the candle, or close the window, or the house might burn down"

The second thought, the small voice in the back said

'Or Angus isn't home, he won't be for a long time' Dylan was almost confused himself as to where the thought might be going. 'You could get Fiachra and go on an errand, William is sleeping, if the house happened to catch on fire and he didn't get out in time, what could be done?'

Dylan wanted to say terribly that he didn't consider the thought, he wanted to say that he almost didn't get up to get his shoes and coat. He wanted to say that he wasn't in the doorway, shoes on and coat tucked under his arm; about to go get Fiachra and make something up about a late night grocery store run: before finally realizing he was insane. Half-running across the room and blowing out the candle quickly.

You can't do that. He had to say it to himself over and over and over while putting his shoes and coat back in his closet.

He had to repeat it to himself the next morning when he turned on the stove.

He had to tell it to himself the next week when they lit the fireplace for the first time in the season.

He had to remind himself whenever he lit a cigarette, and stared at the flame on the lighter a little too long.

Something in the back of his mind always said though; "accidents happen? Don't they?" 

and if a candle was forgotten, and William was asleep in his room, Alone in the house, it would be counted as an accident.

Wouldn't it?

[lxvenderhxzehv]

Where Demons Hide

Damian Lamb Self Para

Tw: Arson, Sleep walking, Death, Murder Mentions: Reggie (@ghostsbrokenbyfairytales) & Jessie (@ofescapisms)

Damian hadn’t talked to Reggie since- Well since the fire. He was the only officer who stood by him when he was being interrogated about the fire. Any eleven year old would be scared out of their mind to find out that their whole family was dead and they were not only a potential suspect but the only suspect.

It had all blown over, he was let go and put in custody of his Aunt and Uncle. Who were loving enough but he knew, he saw the way they looked at him, how they put all the lighters up high and put away never let him cook alone in the kitchen. They thought he did it and so did many other people in town. It was a small town, it was bound to happen. However Damian moved on and lived his life, he was starting to be happy again. For the first time in 15 years Damian was getting back to normal and not living in fear that everything he touched fell apart. 

That was until his dreams at night weren’t reflecting what he had been told all his life. He was innocent, he was good, he loved his family, he loved his baby sister with his whole heart. But in his dream a scene played over and over again he was the one who did it he was the one who got his family killed. He knew he was a sleepwalker, and his parents had taken him to therapy for it. For the most part he would end up on the floor in his parents bed room or in his sisters room on the rug in front of her bed like some kind of pet dog. She had always woken him up with a giggle. However in his dreams....nightmares he was asleep, Sleep walking around the house like usual but unlike usually he was aware of what he was doing. He had turned on all the stove tops and just left them on and left them unattended. He wanted to turn them off. He was screaming to turn them off but his body wouldn’t listen. Before he knew it, the whole house was engulfed. It was like reliving the whole thing all over again. He soon would wake up shaking, sweating when he passed out in the dream. Looking over to a sleeping Jessie next to him, He sighed and curled up next to her. He couldn’t sleep but holding her at least made him feel better. 

The next day he went to Reggie and he begged the older man to tell him the truth, to tell him what Damian had been fearing since he was 11 years old. He had to know for himself, for Jessie, for her future child. He deserved to know, she deserved to know…to decide if she wanted to stay with him or not. To let her child be raised by a monster. Damian begged and Reggie finally cracked. It was true, Damian had killed his entire family that night and they decided for the sake of Damian's sanity at 11 years old it would be best to not tell him this and let him go. Now it all made sense. Everything his Aunt and uncle did to keep him out of the kitchen, the lock on his door at night, the baby monitor in his room and the motion detectors they had set up as a security precaution. It was all for him, it was all because of him. The person Damian had hated and hunted for his entire life was him.  He thanked Reggie, thanked him for protecting him for as long as he could. Damian made his way home and called off from work for a few days. He needed some time to think.

This changed everything. 

He really was a monster...

[general-kalani]

Drabbled mini fic about the extermination event of werewolves in Hope County

Prompt: None

Viewpoint is from a camera so if it's fucky dw about it LMFAO first time doing this kinda viewpoint-

"Jerome the fuck you got a camcorder for?"

"Hey I got this for my birthday lemme use it without some dipshit responses from you Barry."

"Keep it down the pair'a ya. Barry, let him record. Jerome make sure ye get my good side."

A jostling on the cameras holding had it point away from the man who was holding it to down the back of the truck to the last person who spoke.

That was Jacob, who was grinning as soon as it got turned to him.

"Ey I said good side. The fuck's this?"

"All due respect, you don't have any!"

Laughter from, surprisingly, everyone. Even a chuckle from Jacob with a shake of the head.

And then a sudden fake seriousness. "Yer on washing duties fer a month."

"WHAT! Aw man."

"Hey Jakey, what's the mission we got out here? I hate road trips I'd rather be in the air."

A hum from Jacob as he leaned back in his seat. "Las' I heard from Joseph we're dealin' with a li'l rebellion'a sorts. All I fuckin' know."

A scoff from Barry. "Sounds so fuckin' bland sir. No offense. But I'd rather be back at base cracking open a cold one."

A shrug from Jacob but the grin on his face said the same thing without him speaking it. "I'd rather be in bed falling asleep t'the sound'a the mountainside."

"Heh, always been difficult to take you away from the mountain itself."

A glare from Jacob before another shake of the head.

The truck rolled to a stop finally. Jacob couldn't help an audible sigh of relief. "Fuckin' finally. A'right, I want trigger disciplines. Tony watch that flamethrower I don' wan' this mountainside burnin'. Y'got that?"

"Yes sir, standard shit you tell me all the time. Don't waste ammunition, don't set fire to unnecessary targets. Usual procedure."

"Anyone got questions before we leave the truck?"

Silence before Jacob nodded, opening up the back of the truck. His trusty red rifle in hand as he left.

Then stopped as he stared. Confusion written on his face.

"What's wrong, sir?"

Jerome got outside next, the recorder moved from Jacob to where the destination was.

... That wasn't a Resistance base or some kind of rebellion.

"These are fuckin' civvies. The fuck was Joseph talkin' 'bout?"

Although it was muttered from Jacob too quietly for anyone to have noticed, but the camcorder picked it up.

"Jacob what the fuck are we gon' do? I didn't join up to... Do this."

"We can't disobey Joseph but this... Maybe he got the location wrong. Stiles, scope in on 'em. Don't fuckin' fire jus'... Maybe I'm missin' somethin'. See if ye can find a weapon in one'a those homes."

"Absolutely can do!"

At least someone was happy. ~`~ Although the recording ended there for a short time as the next time it started recording again, Joseph was there with Jacob arguing. Away from the rest of the group the recorder was in the bushes hiding from sight.

"Joseph these are civilians I didn't come back here to kill innocents!"

"Jacob. Are you trying to be a disappointment to me again?"

"What- no. No... But I have fucking morals and these people don't... They don't deserve to have their life stolen from them because you talk to some fucking God-"

"Jacob." Now the tone was serious. Just barely hiding the anger as his hands clenched and unclenched. "You will do as I say. They are a plight upon this land. They are cursed just as you are. You will free their souls from their confines. And you will leave none alive. This is how you can atone for your curse given to you by the devil. That's what you want, isn't it? Now go, do as I've asked."

Jacob clearly hesitated but he turned nonetheless to leave. To follow these orders.

"Jacob, don't disappoint me."

"Of course, Joseph." ~`~ Once more the recording had been shut off before turning back on again. And the village that was once before so serene was in devastation.

Fire was nearly everywhere, blood paved the ground... The man holding the camera wasn't assisting in the destruction as it moved over the bodies. Varying ages. Some as young as babies weren't spared. It was gruesome. It was atrocious.

And the camera panned over to Jacob, who sat on the ground on his knees with his hands over his face muttering to himself. It was getting to him, he was regretting it.

And yet he wasn't stopping the destruction.

And Joseph was walking over to Jacob. Was he aware of the camera as he placed a hand on Jacob's shoulder, or did he not care when he spoke next?

"Now feast, Jacob."

"What?"

"Eating their flesh shall prevent the release of the beast within your soul. Devour these people."

Once more, Jacob didn't refuse despite how atrocious of a crime this is.

The camera closed once more and didn't record again of the incident after Jacob took the first bite.

[cedric-k-rossignol]

[gxst]

a desk covered in scattered papers. rolled up sleeves. bruised knuckles and a split lip. dark circles caused by sleepless nights. a home engulfed in flames. speaking only when spoken to. stains of red wine. dried blood underneath your fingernails. waiting patiently before you strike. a tear through an old family portrait. avoiding your own gaze in the mirror.

stats.

full name : miłowit woźniak age :  34 birthday : may 27th nationality : polish gender / pronouns:  cis man,  he / him sexual orientation :  pansexual languages spoken : polish, hungarian, english

misc.

scars : burn marks on his right arm sleeping habits : irregular, frequently experiences night terrors emotional stability : what emotions alcohol use : regular but not excessive zodiac sign : gemini alignment :  neutral evil positive traits :  charismatic when need be, disciplined, hardworking negative traits :  self-serving, dishonest, secretive, manipulative hobbies : none habits : doesn't speak much, prefers to keep to himself, clenches his jaw, can't sit with his back turned towards a room fears : being alone favourite weather : sunshine after rain favourite colour : red favourite food : tomato soup with bread favourite beverage : wine favourite animal : cat tracklist : waiting room ( phoebe bridgers ), moment's silence ( hozier ), not strong enough ( boygenius )

biography.

cw: murder, arson

you’re  born  unwanted.  it’s  unfortunate,  but  there’s  not  much  to  do  about  it.  you’re  an  accident,  never  meant  to  exist,  yet  you  do.  throughout  your  childhood  it’s  an  unspoken  thing,  the  error  of  your  existence,  but  it’s  undeniable  and  it  affects  your  life  more  than  your  parents  would  ever  care  to  admit.  their  lack  of  love  is  most  tangible,  and  their  raising  of  you  is  ruthless.  for  if  they  are  to  raise  a  child,  he  will  be  a  good  one.  

this  is  what  they  say,  yet  you  are  not.  may  it  be  their  expectations  being  unreasonable  or  that  misfortune  is  written  in  your  stars  and  therefore  out  of  your  control  before  you  even  get  a  chance  to  try,  but  you  cannot  live  up  to  their  demands.  they  grow  to  resent  you,  and  as  a  result:  you,  them.  

you’re  sixteen.  you  hadn’t  done  much  planning  leading  up  to  that  night.  all  you  knew  was  that  you  had  an  overwhelming  sense  that  it  was  either  them,  or  you.  no  one  knows  what  started  the  fire,  nor  why  your  parents  did  not  wake  as  the  flames  engulfed  your  home.  you’re  assured  that  they  passed  sleeping.  you  know  it  not  to  be  true,  what  with  how  difficult  it  is  to  rid  your  hands  of  the  dried  blood  hiding  underneath  your  fingernails;  but  you  bury  this  secret  as  you  bury  what’s  left  of  your  parents,  never  to  speak  of  it,  or  them,  again.

there's no point in thinking too much about what you've already done, so instead, you leave it behind. you escape to hungary and by working hard and proving your worth you soon enough find yourself working for the royal family. what you hadn't expected, however, was how one of the sons somehow managed to turn your gaze soft.

you glue yourself to his side, more or less. you become friends, and then you become more. then, as life seemingly does not want to give you a good thing without later ripping it away, marius starts to distance himself from you. he is matched with a woman who he marries and who later bears his child. you are left at the sidelines, devoted as ever but now silently so.

you can tell, though, that he is unhappy. you know that she is not good enough for him. so, you see to it. with a hand covering her mouth and a knife across her throat. then, you do what you can in helping marius grieve.

you know it was for the better.

relationships.

marius halasz : employer, love of his whole life ilja bologh : co-worker

[bobble-hat-and-mittens]

Me, in plans: “hmm… what could work here… mental deterioration.”

Me, when writing a draft from the plans: “ARSON! DEATH! WHOOP!”

[draw-the-squad-like-this]

Draw your character doing chemistry :)

[destielmemenews]

A fire was also set at a ballot box in Portland, Oregon where three ballots were damaged.

"The Portland Police Bureau reported that officers and firefighters responded to a fire in one ballot drop box at about 3:30 a.m. and determined an incendiary device had been placed inside. Multnomah County Elections Director Tim Scott said a fire suppressant inside the drop box protected nearly all the ballots; only three were damaged, and his office planned to contact those voters to help them obtain replacement ballots.

A few hours later, across the Columbia River in Vancouver, television crews captured footage of smoke pouring out of a ballot box at a transit center. Vancouver is the biggest city in Washington's 3rd Congressional District, the site of what is expected to be one of the closest U.S. House races in the country, between first-term Democratic Rep. Marie Gluesenkamp Perez and Republican challenger Joe Kent."

source 1

source 2

source 3

[forsaken-headcanons]

tunes in again.

I've seen for the most part people hc somebody has to die to get forsakened (idk if that's actually canon or not) but I personally have always seen it as more of a hfjONE thing. So, hc;

whilst some survivors that got sent to Forsaken died, the rest were just... doing mundane things as usual, and then they suddendly were transported there

I was gonna say I had no idea but. I am Deciding (ones who we i know how they got forsakened aren't included). Have fun reading all of this, whichever poor mod is gonna answer /hj

Elliot - transported. Was having a mental breakdown in the back of the pizza place, then suddendly looked up and realized that he's been crying in some random house (lobby) for half an hour.

Noob - transported. Got drugged at a party and mugged, then suddendly the people that did it looked away for a moment and they were gone.

Shedletsky - transported. Was practicing on SFOTH, tripped, looked up and loudly went "where the #### am I??" in the middle of the lobby and got... not a good look from Builderman. Talking about BM,

Builderman - died. Was leading a renovation to the HQ and got crushed by an unanchored metal pole. Until he got forsakened aswell Shedletsky had taken over in his place.

Taph - died. Nothing tragic, the dumbass was fixing a tripmine and accidentally made it blow up in their face.

007n7 - died. I'm not gonna say how. Just know that he was not happy about discovering he got sent Somewhere ??¿

Chance - transported. Was driving. drunk. So then his car proceeded to go off road and crash

Dusekkar - died. I like to think DoomBringer had a killer episode pre-forsaken and. that's how Dusek got forsakened.

Two Time - transported. Was out foraging and lost their precious blueberries. THAT was the thing they got the most upset about (before finding out Azure was there).

John Doe - died. not quite sure how it happend but it probably had something to do both with the corruption and the admins

1x1x1x1 - transported. Had commited arson right before on the HQ (which is why Builderman later on led a renovation)

Jason - "died". Got shot around by the guards at Area 51 before being sent to Forsaken.

C00lkid - to my knowledge, apparently he got kidnapped pre-forsaken. ...Needless to say in this that did not end well

BONUSES!!!

Jane Doe - transported. Was planting lillies on John's grave.

Clockwork - died. Also was killed by MrDoomBringer in the killer episode.

Stickmasterluke - transported. Got away from DoomBringer (yippe!!! balloon!!¡!) but then got forsakened mid-air. Most shrugged him off as dead.

Cerulean - died. Was running from an admin raid and proceeded to trip and fall off a cliff.

The Ringmaster - died during some sort of trick idk...

Veeronica - transported. Tried to do a skateboard trick, got a head injury, hospital, got forsakened on the day of her discharge.

Valkyrie - transported. no idea what she could've been doing.

Noli - transported. Was watching the news, laughed at hearing about the DoomBringer disaster, got forsakened 5 nanoseconds later

MrDoomBringer - "died". Got knocked down either by the Roblox HQ collapsing since Shedletsky doesn't know JACK SHIT about construction and renovation or whatever admins were left / the police.

Sincerely, 🪷🪙 anon

glances around. WE SAW A CHANCE THERE 🪷🪙 DW DHJSND

wait. may we add for 7n7. what if he was Legally dead.. but like. ran away somewhere with c00lkidd (< hc that he doesn't even have a birth certificate either). everybody believes he was one of the few dead brought back to life for this eternal damnation. ykykyklasolkdhjaksdjm CINDERBLO

also the thought of noli getting transported Purely because he laughed at doom's suffering is freaking hilarious LMFAOJD

wait. rereads. wait. WAIT. WAIT NO. NOOB. NOOB OUR BABY. NOOOOOOO HOLDING THEM SO CLOSE RN WHAT THE FUCK 💔💔💔💔 (< biased) /SILLY /HJ