#but he’s a mass murderer with no intent of stopping | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yandere-romanticaa · 7 months

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🍂 tear you apart.

❝ i want to hold you close, soft breasts, beating heart. as i whisper in your ear - i want to fucking tear you apart. ❞

yandere! various! ghostface! characters x gn! reader.

inspired by the song "tear you apart" by she wants revenge.

just a compilation of characters that i think would be interesting for this. happy friday the 13th!

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 ! (genshin impact.)

After years of training and endless carnage, it's only natural for a person to develop specific tastes for the darker aspects of life. Battle and blood were Childe's bread and butter but due to his friendly and frankly charming exterior no one could tell that the young man was a ruthless killer.

Provided that he hides his Harbinger status that is.

There were times when his status was a hastle but there were always some perks, always some string for him to pull and make everything go in the way he wanted them to go. Sometimes, that would include people.

But now, that included you.

Upon first meeting him there was an addictive and boyish charm to the ginger haired man and he had you completely wrapped around his fingers. His pockets were deep but so was his heart and frankly, how dare you just steal it? How dare you be so careless? Don't get him wrong, he wasn't mad per say but he still wanted to teach you a lesson or two, just to make it all stick to your feeble little mind.

He started with your neighbors first.

Childe watches comfortably from high above, hidden away in a tea shop as natives of Liyue Harbor scamper back to their homes as darkness nears. A serial killer is on the loose and the shop owner in which Childe was in had no idea that he just served the man responsible for the deaths of 3 different families. He sipped his tea with content, his heart pounding with excitement. The blade in his pocket was itching for its next victim but he had to be patient.

Patience was a virtue after all.

And once he was done, he was going to claim his prize.

In the meantime, he was going to be nothing less than a sweet and doting friend who was just worried for you. It was only a matter of time when you would fall into his greedy hands and you didn't even know it.

𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐆𝐎𝐋 ! (bungo stray dogs.)

Meeting him was not by choice but you were bound by fate, or so the clown liked to tease.

He stopped you on the street in order to show you a card trick. It was simple but it did the job, he impressed you even if just barely. You'd sigh and turn your head but Nikolai did not fail to see the blush on your cheeks.

He was a man on a mission. Why not indulge himself, just for a little bit?

The public always was fond of a good show and why not give them one in the form of a crazy mass murderer? Donning on a mask and a long black cape his escapade began, his ability was so useful for this.

However, you were always his favorite target.

It started out small, at first. He would use his ability to touch you and to steal your things, particularly if he knew you were alone at home. Seeing that confused expression on your face became a past time of his. His fingers would brush against your cheeks, his touch barely there, like a wandering phantom. Sometimes he would be bolder and press his hand gently against your ribs, maybe even be cheeky and smack your behind ever so playfully.

After a few weeks of this song and dance, watching wasn't enough.

You answered his first call, which pleased him greatly. He gave you impossible riddles and forced you to answer humiliating and degrading questions, all under the threat that he was in your house and was going to kill you lest you complied.

Of course, he had no intentions of doing that. Perhaps he would one day. But for now, he would continue to paint the streets crimson with blood and make you squirm in your seat.

It became his reason for living.

𝐊𝐀𝐅𝐊𝐀 & 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 ! (honkai star rail.)

Ah, these two psychos. Where do I start?

Their plans are at first glance, all over the place. Attacks are random and they do not necessarily always go for the big fish too. Sometimes it's a poor street vendor who was just doing their job but his life meant nothing in the end.

Kafka was the main mastermind. Blade was the one who did most of the dirty work.

Her plans were meticulous, deadly. She would come crawling to you from the shadows, her jacket draped over your shoulders as she'd coo into your ear, her face bloody from her latest victim as she toyed with her mask, a carefree smile on her face. You couldn't see him but Blade was also behind you, his presence was impossible to miss. He was large and imposing, like a phantom that couldn't find peace.

Could you perhaps give him something that he couldn't have? If he can't have you in life, can he have you in death?

There was no escaping them, never ever. Dare to try and there would be consequences.

They were so in love with you to the point of madness. The question was - were they going to keep you alive and leashed or were they just that insane to stab you in the heart?

If they can't have you, no one can.

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 ! (Moriarty the Patriot.)

The streets of London are filled to the brim with gossip and paranoia as the Lord of Crime made his move the previous evening, slaughtering yet another poor noble in his family home. The papers reported that his own children found the corpse, the poor little things.

You hurried to show William the morning paper, morbidly curious about his opinion on this.

Said man could be found lounging about in a cushy, plush red love seat, a hot cup of tea served in front of him by none other than his brother. The two were lost in their own chatter until you abruptly stopped them. Like a sudden storm you pounced on William, his red eyes widening in shock as he tried to calm you down with a sweet smile on his face. You bombarded him with endless questions - who could do something like this, why was it this messy, was the killer sending a message? - all of it came out at such lightning speed that William didn't really understand half of what you said.

It was wrong to corner him like this and let out your frustrations on the man this early in the morning. You knew every single person that died in these past few weeks, all of which were either minor annoyances or massive obstacles in your day to day life.

When it came down to it, their only connection was with you.

Was the police going to come knocking at your door? It was possible! You had no involvement with the crimes but it was incredibly suspicious how everything was connected, like a spiderweb that was being crafted day by day.

It was difficult for William to keep his smirk concealed that morning.

Hours had passed since that interaction and he was back at it, his new victim. He incorporated the fact that you were most likely going to be incriminated in this scheme but it was still in his best interest. It was not difficult to tamper with evidence and blackmail people if need be and best of all, you would always come running to him, scared and worried, for both yourself and the people around you. It was beyond precious how you tell him to not go after sun down, how you made sure to check to see if he was injured or ill.

If you kept doting him like this, he might just slit the throat of every single person that steps foot into London.

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vmpyria · 9 days

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— SAL FISHER X READER : psychiatrist’s office.

NSFW! p in v, fem!reader, creampie, blowjob, etc etc.

reader is basically my oc, BUT it’s all in the full pov of an x reader fic, so enjoy! i looove prison sal, he wants me so bad teheheheh, i wish i could’ve made him a bit darker, but for this one i wanted to stay with a sal interpretation that fit canon! reblogs and replies motivate me to write more!

your sessions with the mass murderer, sal fisher, are weekly — up until his trial date.

“good morning, mr. fisher.” you said calmly as he was forcefully pushed inside your office. the guards aren’t good people, their position fuels their head with power, making them all believe they were some sort of god.

you frowned as you saw the man stumble after a shove, sal’s gaze was on the floor when sat down. the guards glared down at him.

sal had been pleading not guilty, your job was to examine him mentally, to dissect his mind.

you were tasked to find out why he killed everyone.

in all of your meetings, the man explained a detailed story about his life, about the paranormal activity he came across with. you could even say you believed him, he told his stories clearly.

you asked him the same questions over and over, for him to tell you his past. even with all the repeated questions, he also repeated the same story, no faults, no missing points.

you believed him.

as your meetings progress, you began to enter the realm of..unprofessionalism.

your gaze would linger, your eyes would subtly examine his body, you would stare at his chest, then at the slight chub of his stomach that was covered by his loose inmate uniform.

this wasn’t good.

at night, you would fantasize about him, about what he would be like on top of you, under you, how he would feel between your legs —

it was bad, to the point that when your hand would slip down your pajama pants and all you could think about was him.

you have seen his face too, and for some odd reason..it attracted you more.

you were playing with fire, one wrong move and all of those years spent in university to get your degree would be down the drain.

but, fuck.

you couldn’t deny the fact that you wanted him badly.

looking at the man before you, his gaze was focused on you intently.

he knew what was happening, you may think you were sly, but he’s seen your gaze travel, the way occasionally your cheeks would heat up.

you were still professional in your speech, but he knew.

he could see the way your legs crossed and the way your thighs squeezed together.

it was surprising for him. you, his psychiatrist, seemed to be fantasize about him. him? a deformed, scarred, mass murderer that everyone believed was a psycho path.

“how are you today, mr. fisher?” you asked calmly, lowering your glasses so they framed your nose, your hair was held back by a claw clip and overall you looked good, professional and pretty.

sal stared at you, his gaze focused on your pretty face.

he let out a breath, “not good.” he replied.

“whys that?” you asked with a hum, your legs crossing. you let your papers rest on your lap as you stared up at sal.

he let out a small breath, “i’m in prison.” he replied, a bit of attitude laced in his words. you stopped yourself from scoffing.

“well, you killed people, sal. of course it bounded you to end up here.” you stated, looking at him.

sal shrugged his shoulders.

you stared at him and let out a sigh, “is there anything specific bothering you? other than the fact you’re in the facility.” you asked, curious on how he’s getting along with the inmates.

sal hummed, given the fact he had committed mass murder, most of the inmates didn’t mess with him. they didn’t push him around, they didn’t fight him, or any of the sorts.

he’s heard people call him names, but that’s not unusual.

the inmates were scared of him.

though, as time ticked by, other things began to bother him.

privacy wasn’t an option in prison, he was shoved in a room with four other guys, sal keeps too himself, but given the amount of people around him constantly he couldn’t do much to relief his urges.

it’s been weeks now, and though he doesn’t complain, he desperately wants to satisfy himself.

to put it lightly, he wanted to beat his cock until his body couldn’t take it anymore.

“hm,” sal wasn’t sure what to say, honesty is what’s required in your office, but he didn’t have to air out his dirty laundry like this.

you tilted your head slightly, “mr. fisher?” you mused, “is everything alright?” you asked genuinely.

sal raised his gaze back at you and let out a breath, “how do inmates generally relief their..urges?” he asked, his voice trailing off slightly.

it was embarrassing to ask, especially given the fact you were a woman. he didn’t enjoy having to speak of such topics like that, but you where his psychiatrist — you should be able to understand, right?

you were surprised by his question, given that hasn’t been the topic of discussion you expected, but you didn’t mind.

you have learned many things by working in the prison, so you could help.

“well, most prisoners, they find satisfaction between themselves while some go to secluded places and relieve themselves there.” you explained, though your mind was going wild.

the fantasies you had about him were reflowing your brain.

this wasn’t right — this was illegal, you could get in serious trouble for this.

“..i can help you.”

your voice was quiet, you didn’t even think much about what you were going to say until you said it, the need had clouded your head for a moment.

sal stared at you, behind the prosthetic his eyes were blown wide.

what?

now it was his time to squirm, his cock beginning to harden under his orange jumpsuit. he looked down and cleared his throat, staring down at the bulge in his pants. his face was hot.

you swallowed a lump in the back of your throat before clearing it.

“my apologies, i— i wasn’t thinking. im sorry for my unprofessional behavior.” you stammered horrified by your lack of self control.

you grabbed your papers hurriedly, “how about we just continue with your session?” you said, hoping to forget about what just happened, but sal couldn’t.

his cock was hard, straining against his underwear. it was so sensitive too— it had been so long.

his hands were cuffed in front of his body, so in desperate need for relief, sal’s palm pressed against his boner.

you stared at the man, noticing what was happening.

looking around your office, you gulped.

there weren’t any cameras installed in your office, it was something to have the patients feel less paranoid and more relaxed in your office.

you had a button that was there in case of emergencies if anything where to happen.

biting your lip, you stood from your chair was walked around the corner to where he sat. hearing your heels with each step, he looked up at you.

“mr. fisher..do you want help?”

sal’s breathing got heavy behind the prosthetic, where you really going go do this?

you were looking down at him, waiting for his reply, heat pooling between your legs, coating your pretty red panties.

sal shuddered and nodded his head, his hand pressed against his bulge to find any form of friction that can help him.

“we don’t have cameras here..” you said softly, sal scooted his chair back and you slipped between his legs. you slowly sank down to your knees and your hands gripped his inner thighs as you made yourself comfortable.

sal’s legs were spread, manspreading, you looked up at him.

adjusting your glasses, your gaze fell back onto his boner, gently you moved his hand away and pursed your lips.

sal was looking down at you, now that you were so close you could notice how intense his stare is. you even noticed his pupil was large.

undoing the knot of his waist line, you slipped your hands under and shyly pulled his pants and underwear down.

sal shivered at your touch.

he moved his cuffed hands and let them rest on top of your head so they didn’t stand in the way of your actions.

he looked up and let his gaze focus on the wall in front him, he felt your fingers trace his skin, making him a quirm, then your hand wrapped around his shaft.

a groan left his lips as his head bowed down again, lidded eyes watched as you pulled his cock out.

looking up at him, your eyebrows were raised.

slowly, you leaned down and licked his tip, sal’s body shook.

you leaned your head down and pressed your tongue at the based of his cock, you held his dick up and licked from the bottom up, following the line back to his tip before your lips wrapped around the head.

a breath left sal’s lips as his head leaned back, his eyes shutting as he savored the warm, wet feeling of your mouth against his cock.

one hand held his cock at the base, while the other slipping down to fondle him.

holy fuck.

sal’s head felt like it was going to explode. he felt so good with you wrapped around him, it was killing him.

his hands gripped the back of your head and eagerly forced you to down his cock. it felt so good — he couldn’t control his actions.

your head was pushed down, his cock reaching the back of your throat while your face was pressed against his pubic bone.

you gagged, your shoulders shaking, your hands moved to grip his thighs, your nails digging into his pants. your eyes got overwhelmed with tears due to the gagging, but sal was too lost in his own little world.

he panted quietly as he fucked your mouth.

he moved your head up and down with a lot more force than you had imagined before a shaky grunt left his lips.

he kept your lips pressed against the base of his cock as he threw his head back, cum spurted out of his head, filling your mouth.

you almost choked, gagging as the cum slipped down your throat, luckily sal pulled your head back. one of his cuffed hands moving to jerk his shaft, trying to unload all of the pent up cum.

you shut your eyes as sal finished himself off on your face.

thank good for your glasses.

the man panted heavily, his body seeming a lot less tense.

he continued to grip his now softening cock as he regained himself from the fuzzy feeling in his head.

you sighed and took off your glasses, looking at the milky thick liquid that stained the glass.

wiping it off with you thumb, then rubbed the glass with the end of your shirt and then let them rest on the top of your head.

sal let out a deep breath before his hands moved to shove his cock back into his pants.

you quickly regained yourself and stood on your feet, your knees hurting from the extended time spent on them.

quickly remembering you just sucked off a mass murderer you cleared your throat and walked back to your chair. “this never happened, mr. fisher. understood?” you said, looking at sal with a firm look.

the man nodded his head and cleared his throat, “yeah—“ he stammered, his face was still flushed, but due to his prosthetic you couldn’t see.

looking up at your wrist watch, you hummed.

“see you next week, mr. fisher.”

sal couldn’t stop thinking about you, about what happened. it was infecting his thoughts with ideas that made him uncomfortably horny.

practically counting down the days until his next session, he was excited when the day rolled around and he could see your pretty face again.

“fisher!” one of the guards stood outside his cell, looking up, the guards glared down at him. “get up! you have your meeting with dr. ramirez today!” he yelled.

standing up, sal stepped over quietly and let the guards handcuff his arms in front of him.

the path to your office was one that he had engraved in his head, one female guard was walking in front of him, leading the way, while the male guard stood behind him.

after a minutes long walk, the three arrived to your office.

the female guard knocked loudly on the wooden door, hearing a voice call from inside, she opened the door.

“inmate sal fisher is here for his appointment.” she informed, opening the door wide so you could see the man standing by the side.

when you heard the knock on your office door, you had been reading up on sal’s file, again, and again, and again.

the case was so interesting to you, sal looked sane, he wasn’t showing signs of anti social personality disorder, he was polite — so why? you weren’t a skeptic, you believed his story, but a cult that is trying to take over the world? that seemed a bit too far fetched.

your outfit was professional, yet pretty.

a pencil skirt that hugged your hips, a white button down shirt, black thigh high stockings, and heels. your hair was being held back with the same claw clip you used before.

you looked good, though maybe your shirt was too tight for your chest..

“come in!” you called, still reading through the man’s archive. “yes?” you mused when the door opened, upon hearing sal’s name you looked up.

was it already time for his appointment?

adjusting your glasses, you looked up. “oh, yes. let him inside, thank you.” you said, nodding your head.

the male guard shoved sal inside the room and slammed the door shut. the automatic lock clicking.

“good afternoon, mr. fisher.” you hummed, putting your papers aside. “how are you today?” you asked, watching as the man sat down before you.

he hummed in response, “i’m okay.” you nodded, “better than last week, yes?” you asked, beginning to jot down his answers.

“mhm,” he hummed.

“well that’s good! i’m glad to hear you are doing better.” you said, clasping your hands together. “before we begin, is there..anything you would like to mention? about the prison, cellmates, how you have been feeling in the past week?” you listed off, placing your pen down and listening to him intently.

sal stared at you for a moment, his mind drifting up the last session he had with you, he remembered the way your lips pressed against his head, the way your lips wrapped around him — the way he shoved your head down.

he swore he could feel his mouth salivate and his blood swirling.

he cleared his throat, “uh,” he could easily say that his tension only heightened. the fact it was a problematic situation made him ache for you more.

he didn’t know what to say, was he supposed to ask again? to beg for you to help him again?

you sat across from him like before.

after last week, you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. the thrill of it all had your mind in a chokehold.

at night, before bed, you would use your vibrator and pretended it was him, you would fuck yourself with it, starting off slow and steady — feeling the way the silicon would press on your walls, then you would increase your speed until your body couldn’t take it anymore.

thought you wished it was the real thing.

the crush you had on this man was wrong, very, very wrong. he killed an apartment complex filled with people, and yet you dreamed about having his cock fill you up.

how sick where you?

biting the inside of your lip, you cleared your throat.

“mr. fisher?” you asked, wondering where his mind had trailed off. he seemed to snap back to reality after hearing you call for him. “uh, what?” he said looking at you.

you squinted, “what are you thinking about?” you mused, asking for the sake of his case. in your assumption, you believed it could be related to the murders, to his past — but no.

he was thinking about when you gave him head, his thoughts filling with other ideas, how would you feel like when wrapped around him?

he paused. “oh, uh—“ he wasn’t sure what to say, you caught him off guard, now he was put on the spot

“you can be honest.” you reassure, trying to stay professional.

he squirmed in his seat, “you.” he replied, glancing away.

oh.

you thought, clearing your throat. “mr. fisher, what happened last week was an act of unprofessionalism..” you paused, “and it shouldn’t be repeated given the circumstances. i put my job at risk over what happened.” you explained, though your mind begged for another time spent with him.

sal nodded in understanding, but he wanted to beg for you to touch him again.

looking away from him, you let out a sigh, leaning back against your chair.

“but..” you began quietly, “if you make it quick, we won’t get caught.” you said, turning your head to stare at him.

sal gulped, feeling his cock twitch in his pants again.

“really?” he asked quietly, scooting his chair closer to the table.

nodding, you stood up from your chair and rounded the table, before sitting at the edge of the table. “really.” you confirmed, your hands moving to undo the buttons of your shirt.

your bra was black and lacy, holding your breasts perfectly. sal’s mouth felt dry as he watched you with widened eyes.

his gaze focused on your tits, how good they looked with your bra. you didn’t take off your shirt completely, but the buttons were completely undone.

sal’s cock was pressing tightly against his pants his hands trembled under the handcuffs.

you pulled your pencil skirt up and let him see the matching black panties. he let out a breath, “did you match on purpose?” he asked softly, staring at you intensely.

you smiled, “maybe.” you said, spreading your legs for him — inviting him in.

sal felt a shiver go down his spine, “fuck.” he whispered, “c’mon, stand up.” you hummed, “you have to be quick if you want do do this.” you reminded.

sal was at a loss for words, he stood up and stared down at you, your hands reached out and you tugged at the waistband of his pants, you didn’t pull them off, you simply lowered them to his mid thighs for easy access.

sal moved his cuffed hands down and he pulled his cock out from his underwear before staring back at you.

you slipped your lacy panties down and let them dangle from one of your legs.

sal watched as your pretty cunt was exposed, he was grateful his prosthetic was on, because he would he embarrassed if you saw the way he was flustered.

your cunt was slick, wet. you were already so wet for him.

he bit his bottom lip and his hands moved to grip your thighs, he yanked your thighs towards him so you were closer to him.

sal was standing between your legs, you looked down and watched as sal’s calloused hand gripped his shaft, his hands jerking himself for a bit before he pressed the girthy top against your entrance.

your body shook, wishing you had lube with you. sal moved his prosthetic hastily and exposed his lips before he spat down on his hand and spread his saliva and pre-cum down his shaft, coating it with faux lube.

after coating it with a hefty amount of saliva, he slipped his cock inside your glistening pussy.

a small gasp left your lips as his cock pushed your spongy walls apart, his cock had more girth than length, but it felt so good.

your head leaned back as a choked breath left your lips.

as he slipped inside a guttural groan left his lips, your slick walls stretching to accommodate his girth. hugging him snuggly.

your lips were parted as a soft sigh left your lips, you felt so full — no dildo could compare to the girth of him.

your hands gripped the table, trying to stabilize yourself.

sal’s grip on your thighs was tight, bruising almost.

after he bottomed out, he leaned his head back with a breath as he savored the heat you brought him. he swears this is the best pussy he’s ever had.

his hips pressed against yours, moving his hands up to your hips, he gripped them tight before pulling his hips back and pushing back inside.

his movement was hard, putting his weight behind the thrust.

your eyes shut as a small whine left your lips, leaning down, sal rested his body on top of yours and his hips drawled back again.

his thrusts weren’t fast, but they were hard, letting you savor the way the his cock rubbed against your walls, your legs were next to hips, dangling in the air given the fact you were at the edge of the table.

sal’s arms slipped under your back, almost as if he was hugging you, his face pressed against the crook of your neck, hiding his masked face.

you had the delight of hearing the muffled heavy breathing and the small grunts leaving his lips.

your arms moved and you gripped his shoulders, digging your nails into his uniform.

your moans were soft, choked, trying to stay quiet.

though your office was private, the halls weren’t. if you weren’t quiet you risked getting caught which would put you and sal in a bad situation.

sal grunted, his hands slipping down to your lower stomach.

one of his cuffed hands pressed against where your womb would be, while the other slipped between your folds.

the pressure of one of his hands pressing against your stomach combined with the feeling of your clit being pressed on made you let out a broke moan.

“shhhh,” sal reminded you, his face still nuzzled on your neck.

you bit your bottom lip and nodded your head, desperate trying to keep your composure.

sal’s finger pressed on your perked clit, slowly rubbing it gently, a heat began to spread on your lower stomach, your hips unknowingly grinding up to meet his hand.

his experience surprised you — that and the fact he wasn’t fucking you in an uncomfortably rough manner like would expect from an inmate.

your eyes shut and your eyebrows furrowed.

“s—sal—“ you gasped out, your nails still griping his uniform.

he hummed, letting you know he was listening. “feel good?” he muttered, pressing his hips against yours firmly.

you nodded your head, “yes—“ you agreed desperately.

your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him close to you. sal’s fingers rubbed slow circles on your clit, he was driving you insane.

the noises of skin slapping and the wet squelches of your cunt sucking his cock back in were present under the moans and whines that left your lips.

sal’s head was fuzzy again, he hadn’t been able to fuck someone in what felt like forever now, so this felt like a godsend.

the way your walls hugged his cock was too good, spongey and warm.

as he angled his hips, his thrusts increased a bit of speed, with the angle he was able to press against a gummy part inside you.

he felt as your back arched and your grip tightened — but before you could cry out in pleasure his he pulled back and moved his hands to cover your mouth forcefully.

he was hyper aware on the fact they were walking on thin ice, and he couldn’t risk getting caught and putting your job in jeopardy.

you stared up a sal with lidded eyes, your eyebrows furrowing upwards and your eyes blinking slowly as they

sal’s cock was still buried deep inside you, he stared down at you, his blue eyes seeming to shine under the light. he let out a breath and then pulled back again and shoved his cock inside you again. you let out a muffled whine and slipped your hand down to your clit, you toyed with your nub hastily as your legs shook in anticipation.

sal’s body was hot, his skin was coated with a thin layer of sweat, his cock was tense and heavy.

he wanted to cum so bad, but he wanted to wait for you.

luckily, it didn’t take long as your fingers toyed with your clit, your hips rolling up to meet his thrusts, after feeling your walls flutter around his shaft, he knew you were close.

his hands stayed covering your mouth when you came.

your back arched and your legs trembled, your hips rolled up, riding out your orgasm.

sal was grateful you came quickly, because he couldn’t keep edging himself any longer.

in a hazy moment he leaned back down, moving his hands from your mouth so he could land his final few thrusts properly.

he put his weight behind his thrusts, his body pressing against yours as his hips slammed against yours.

when he came, a muffled groan left his lips.

your eyes were practically rolled back, a shaky sigh leaving your lips when you felt sal pump his cum inside you. he coated your walls with his thick, milky cum before letting his body rest on top of you.

his face moved down to nuzzle your chest, you were the closest thing he’s had to comfort in so long, he just wanted to cherish it — just a bit more.

you let him rest on your chest, your arms moving to wrap around him, you held him firmly. hugging him.

sal nuzzled against you and sighed, he let his eyes slip shut for a moment before your fingers tangled themselves in his blue locks.

“i don’t think you’re a murderer, sal.” you whispered.

sal’s eyes opened, “you’re the only one.” he replied, pulling away from your touch, he slipped his softening cock out of your cunt and hastily stuffed it back in his pants.

you sat up on the table and started to re-button your shirt, “all i’m saying is the truth, doctor.” he added, looking at you through his prosthetic.

you slipped off the table and readjusted your panties before fixing your skirt.

“i know.” you nodded, fixing your hair too.

he looked at you, “go to the apartments..the treehouse. you’ll see.” he said before plopping back down on his chair.

adjusting your glasses you let out a hum.

“i’ll see you next week, mr. fisher.”

tags !! @chaobun @dollface6666 @airenaa @instanttacocoloreggs @rottindecay @sebastitties @sinisteryanderescribe @mrzombielover

#sally face x y/n #sally face x you #sal fisher x you #yandere sally face #sal fisher x reader #sally face smut #sally face x reader #sal fisher #sally face

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matan4il · 20 days

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Update post:

It's exactly six months since the start of the war. Six months since the worst massacre of Jews post WWII. Six months since the worst tragedy in Israeli history, for Jewish and non-Jewish citizens, and for non-citizens who happened to be here. Six months of still not understanding how it could happen. Six months of looking for a way to comprehend that the age of defenceless Jews being mass tortured, raped and murdered isn't behind us. Six months of watching people deny the murders, the rapes, the intentionality of these crimes, the identity of the perpetrators, the pain that we feel, the fact that on October 7 we were the victims, all of which denies our very humanity. Six months of even more Israelis getting killed, soldiers and civilians, in Israel and in Gaza. Six months of wanting my people back. All of them. Alive. The kidnapped and the massacred. Like having an adult's brain, which understands the finality of death, and a child's heart, which doesn't. Six months of trying to process images and realities I will never forget, and never understand. Six months of watching with horror as my Jewish brothers and sisters abroad are being targeted as well, of searching for ways to stand with them even from afar. Six months of hearing some non-Jews (and a minority of Jewish people) acting as if Israelis' right to live is dependent on how many Gazans the antisemitic, genocidal terrorists of Hamas manage to get killed, in order to turn the world against us. Six months of having to realize those terrorists, who never made it a secret that their intents for every Jew in the world are genocidal, might succeed. Six months of wondering how the Holocaust, the genocide perpetrated against the Jews for being Jewish, is being hijacked, distorted, and All Lives Matter'ed, by the same people who would have screamed against how wrong that is, if it were done to any other marginalized group. Six months of finding comfort in the compassion, strength and solidarity of the Jewish People, of the Israelis, and of our true allies. Six months of working to allow joy in again, even as the pain doesn't let go for a second. Six months of having to face the devastating fact, that the family scars, born out of millennia of antisemitism, are not going to stop with this generation, either. Six months of experiencing the betrayal of people who were supposed to be friends, and to listen, and to know better. Six months of discovering that there is no limit to the human heart's ability to break. Six months of grieving every day like it's the first one, because October 7 never ended here. Six months of knowing I will never be the same, right from the start, from the very first horror video I happened to come across online. Six months of never being more Jewish in my life, or closer to what my Holocaust survivor grandparents had gone through, or more broken, or stronger, or prouder, or braver, or more full of love, for my people, for my friends, for my heritage as a Jew that teaches choosing to hold up even one little light, because in a world so full of darkness, so willing to embrace it, nothing matters more than the light we choose.

<- -> <- -> <- ->

Yet another Palestinian terrorist attack happened today. Two people were shot by the terrorist attacking vehicles driving by, and one of the vistims, a 19 years old female soldier, is said to be in serious condition. The other victim is a 50 years old man. The army is in pursuit of the terrorist.

We learned that yesterday, four more Israeli soldiers were killed during the fighting in Gaza, bringing the totaly number of fatalities in the ground operation to 260, and in the war and Hamas massacre combined to 604. May their memory be a blessing.

A 17 years old Palestinian was detained, searched and then arrested yesterday at the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem, when they found a concealed knife taped to his body, stopping him before he was able to carry out a terrorist attack. In a Facebook post, he talked about martyrdom and the road to heaven, a message typical of Jihadists.

Liri Albag is one of the four young Israeli female hostages, who were featured on the cover of the Daily Mail, showing them before the kidnapping, and just several hours after. Her family was sent a funeral laurel wreath, and security forces believe this was done by Iran, as part of its psychological warfare against Israeli civilians.

Here's another reminder that Hamas operates outside of Israel, and is a danger to all Jews, not just to all Israelis. This week, German and Dutch police jointly arrested four Hamas terrorists. While investigating their intent to launch attacks during Christmas, these forces ended up uncovering a Hamas weapons cache in southern Bulgaria, meant to be used against Jewish targets in Europe.

This is 47 years old Elad Katzir.

He was a farmer, and a passionate soccer fan. On Oct 7, his dad Rami was murdered in their community of kibbutz Nir Oz. His mother Chana was abducted, then released during the hostage deal, at the end of November 2023. The Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ) claimed she was murdered, but it turned out they lied. Yesterday, we got the news that Elad, who was also kidnapped with his mom by the PIJ, was murdered in captivity, likely back in January. Intel that the IDF had collected led soldiers in a risky operation to the spot where Elad's body was buried. They brought him back home. As he volunteered so much, in so many domains, with so many people, his friends described him as, "a bachelor with many children."

May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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katherinearandez · 6 months

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I don’t think Tessa is one of the good guys

I have a lot of questions about Tessa. What are her goals? Is she really on copper 9 for the reasons she told us in episode 6? Does she have hidden motives, and if so, what are they???

The lines of “morality” in this show are super squiggly, so by “good guy”, I mean an individual with positive or helpful intent toward the main characters - in this case, drones. The concept of Tessa bearing ill-intent for drones as a ‘species’ seemed contradictory at first: after all, she’s so nice to N, V and J, right? We’re talking about someone who, as a kid, saved zombie drones from the dump(cough, mass grave, cough) where their human owners left them to rot after creating them by means of improper disposal. Why would she want to kill drones? Especially in the same callous, procedurally improper ways that created the threat of Cyn to start out with?

Well…

Let’s not forget about the evil AI that massacred her family and the guests of their gala. AFTER Tessa took her in as an act of kindness, against her parents wishes. Parents who did seem to look down on her pretty severely, regularly chained her up in her room as punishment(you don’t install heavy duty, floor anchored chains for the occasional time out) and possibly kept her socially isolated???

That last point is pretty speculative, since a lot about the earth of N’s flashbacks screams post-apocalyptic vibes. Maybe there just aren’t a lot of humans left for Tessa to socialize with. Tessa’s dad reinforces this idea in his speech by listing “currently being alive” as an attribute the Elliots are known for. It could just as well be a meta joke(since they are killed in the next few seconds), so lacking more context, I hesitate to extrapolate from this point alone.

Anywho, back to Tessa’s callous drone murder. Even if her parents were crappy by the usual standards, she clearly didn’t want them/the other gala guests to die. She tried to save them by “murdering her a robo-child”. Idk, does this blacked out redacted image of Tessa in the aftermath of the massacre seem upset??

Reasonable assumption. So adult/older teen Tessa has changed the way she feels about drones after these traumatic events. Maybe she doesn’t outright hate them, but she views them from a colder, more pragmatic angle than she did in her younger years. Does she still feel empathy for them and the horrible mistreatment they suffer at the hands of humans? Probably. But she’s now aware of the danger they truly pose and has good reason to eliminate them to ensure the absolute solver mutation no longer has a pool of hosts in which to spread and evolve.

So why the callous drone murder at the end of episode 3? We know you’re supposed to follow a 2 step procedure for decommissioning drones. Software death via lethal injection of a kill program(sounds fun!), followed by hardware death via “core removal” to ensure the decommissioned drone doesn’t reboot with corrupted software and an “increased chance for future errors”.

Did she hastily kill this random drone to keep her arrival on copper 9 secret, foregoing procedure for the sake of urgency? If so, who is she keeping her presence secret from? Is it the remaining drone population of copper 9, who Cyn used to collapse the planet core and kill all humans there? Possibly, Uzi is a prime example of anti-human sentiment, and during Mr Doorman’s parent-teacher conference he mentioned being on a “kill all humans kick when he was her age”. Perhaps Tessa assumes all the c9 worker drones are hostile to humans.

When you start making assumptions about what characters are assuming, it’s generally a good time to stop and just accept you don’t have the answers 🫠 so that’s where I will cut that line of questioning short. That being said, I’m not quite done yet…

What’s with this shelf of small human skulls in Tessa’s room? Why are the trash robots she “rescues” her only friends? Do her parents chain her up in her room because they suck? Or… do they have reasons not yet revealed to us, the audience?

Tessa’s perception among most of the fan base is fairly positive and on the surface there’s good reason for this. She’s presented as peppy, compassionate(except toward that one worker drone, lmao), ~tenacious~ and resilient. Actions like salvaging drones from the dump and perceived displays of affection and warmth for the disassembly drones leave viewers with the impression that she’s a good, kind person.

There is, however, another light in which to view her actions, and it casts a shadow on the motives we may have assumed were pure up to this point.

While it’s easy to parse Tessa saving drones from the dump as an act of altruism, it can also be interpreted as sinister. It could be an example of a character with a savior complex; a power dynamic wherein the “savior” exerts control over those they “rescue” by taking advantage of their gratitude and using it in manipulative ways. If this is the case, Tessa’s motives take a sharp left turn, flipping from selfless and kind to egotistical and controlling.

The show actually gives us direct evidence of Tessa using manipulation to get her drones to do her bidding.

“It wants paid time off…”

This instance of her using corporate buzzwords to drive J into a rage strong enough for her to bite through metal chains. Or how about her outright lying to the drones at the start of episode 6? Asserting that her intention was to “burn to the ground” labs Cyn was interested in, while later that same episode revealing to N that her “true” purpose was to obtain a list of drones infected with the absolute solver?

Preeetty manipulative. She manipulated and/or coerced Doll as well, in order to obtain the keybug. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if come episode 7, she switches it up yet again, revealing a new manipulation or perhaps, finally, her real mission.

Tessa’s manipulation of the drones she supposedly cares about isn’t the only hint that she might have a savior complex or similar egocentric tendencies. She’s also shown that she’s not very respectful of the drones autonomy, another red flag that can signal a propensity for narcissism and the controlling behaviors associated with it.

N is the example this time.

Tessa’s signature greeting for N, which is to grab his face and swing him around with excitement that borders on aggression. Maybe it’s just me, but his expression doesn’t suggest it’s mutually enjoyed. Looks more to me like he’s uncomfortable and only humoring her pep because he feels like he has no choice… after all, none of Tessa’s “dumpster pets” want to let down their saving grace.

We see this same kind of contact again throughout episode 6, with Tessa grabbing N’s face as a greeting again, and also playing with his hair on the way down to cabin fever labs. The way Tessa interacts with the drones(J and V as well as N) shows that she sees them as objects in her possession, rather than friends, peers or their own individuals with unique thoughts, wants and feelings.

Uzi even calls her out on this very mindset at the end of episode 6 after Tessa asks her sardonically to “don’t date my robot, please.”

Granted, I’ve got no solid backing, just observation, speculation and a suspicious mind. Tessa could be a great person… “good” or “bad” though, she’ll definitely try to kill our main character sometime soon, so… yup. Killing even an anti-hero typically slots you into the bad guy category, even in a show where the moral lines between good and evil are so artfully blurred.

TLDR; I think there’s more to Tessa than meets the eye, and even though Cyn is still probably Murder Drones “big bad”, I feel like Tessa has an element of villainy to her that I hope will be further explored in canon.

#murder drones #uzi doorman #tessa james elliot #theory #serial designation n #serial designation j #serial designation v

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moongothic · 5 months

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The worst part about trying to figure out what Crocodile's deal is that because he's so fucking irredeemably evil in Alabasta... Like... Yeah he's just irredeemably evil. Like I love him but he did cause countless casualties, a ton of pain and suffering and literally attempted to blow up a million people

Like no amount of theoretical "trying to do it to save his son from the Government" or "trying to stop the Government from hurting anyone else" or just "doing it for the greater good" is going to make him any less of a mass murderer

But also Robin absolutely 100% helped with all of that shit simply because she wanted to read the Poneglyph for herself.

No amount of her intending to betray Crocodile from the begining and sabotaging his plans erases the fact that Robin also caused countless people to starve to death and die in the civil war. Her sabotages only succeeded out of sheer luck, and only spared the lives of the people at the final battle. She has the blood of countless innocents on her hands. Because she wanted to read history.

But her crimes were swept under the rug because she has a sad backstory and her sabotages worked out just at the nick of time by sheer dumb luck

So Croc??? Just??? Is there a chance??? At all???

But also he did literally intend to sell Buggy into slavery

Like, fuck Buggy, but jesus

What's also killing me is that we like. Don't know what Luffy thinks of Crocodile right now. Which really is like. The thing that will decide how we, as the readers, are supposed to feel about Crocodile. Luffy is our POV

Like we don't know what Luffy's opinion of Crocodile is after he helped save Luffy (and spared Ace once) during the Summit War. Like Luffy clearly fucking hated the man in Impel Down and the two interactions they had during the War weren't like positive (in the sense that Luffy himself didn't think of the interactions as particularly positive. Defending Whitebeard from being attacked once and then being like "wait what HIM?!" when Crocodile defended Ace. To be fair, in the midst of the chaos, there wasn't much time to spend on Pondering On Such Things because Ace needed to be saved, and Oda goes out of his way to not show us what's going on inside Luffy's head, because it's all meant to be out in the open anyways. Regardless, these weren't like "yay it's Crocodile! :)" moments for Luffy is what I mean)

But also Luffy was very grateful of Law for saving his life and was willing to put his trust into Law for their alliance- of course, they weren't explicitly enemies to begin with, rivals at most, but still. Luffy respects those who help him.

But also Luffy grew during the timeskip. Like he's not that clueless anymore (like he finally understands Hancock is in love with him etc), and similarly Luffy gets that Buggy is an absolute loser now. But also Buggy did also help save Luffy's life (even if it was by accident), and while IDK if Luffy is aware of that, I don't think that helped improve Luffy's impression of Buggy

So like. The fuck does Luffy think of Crocodile, at this moment? Even with the Cross Guild reveal, he didn't even really comment on Croc and just focused his energy on being confused about Buggy being "the leader" of CG. IDK it feels almost intentional or something, that we don't know what Luffy thinks?? Especially since we did get Zoro's opinion on Mihawk in the situation?? Or am I delulu?? (Sidenote. I'd love to know what Robin would have to say about Crocodile helping save Luffy's life. What Jinbei might think of the final words Crocodile left him with before blasting them out of Akainu's reach. But mainly just Robin's thoughts)

Like IDK my best guess would be that Luffy still hates Crocodile just the same but is like grossed out by technically owing him one??? In the classic

-kinda way, you know? And that he'd be just kinda confused about it?

Because I can't fucking imagine Luffy being like "oh we're cool now" with Crocodile, let alone "Yay Crocodile :) He saved my life!". But also like. Luffy does kind of owe Croc one. Kind of. And Luffy is usually very respectful of that kind of thing. Aaaaaaaa???

(Also does. Does Luffy even know it was Crocodile who yeeted him and Jinbei out of Akainu's reach to begin with. 'Cause he was unconcious. Knocked the fuck out. Does. Does Luffy even know. Did anybody tell him???)

I just.

There's the reasonable part of me that knows Crocodile is an irredeemable evil dickbag and everything he has ever said and done up to the most recent chapters support that. He is too far gone.

And then there's the absolutely delulu part that loves a tragic villian who gets a heartwrenching redemption that's looking for any fucking sign that could indicate Crocodile could maybe be one

#Moon posting #OP Meta #OP Spoilers #Sir Crocodile #Crocodad #Haunted by thoughts of one (1) evil middle aged man #IDK I was rereading Punk Hazard today while on the train and just. God there's like no difference between Alabasta Croc and Ceasar #I mean there is but no there isn't. Dude was doing essentially the same shit just this time with much more child abuse #And we all agree that Ceasar is scum of the earth and irredeemable.#But also he was doing everything PURELY out of self-interest without ANY sad backstory to counter balance it #I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO THINK ANYMORE MAN I AM LOSING MY MARBLES #Kuma Flashback I Love You but I need to know what the fuck is happening with Crocodile so bad pleeeaaase #There's also like that note about Kuma saying he'd be wiling to make a deal with the devil just to protect his daughter #And If Crocodad Real. What a greater evolution of that but being wiling to BECOME the devil himself to protect your child #Also sorry about the Buggy slander but also not sorry. All that man is good for is being a punching bag for comedy as far as I'm concerned #He's very funny I'll give you that. And I'm looking forward to him and Shanks getting married

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 1 year

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monster - haegeum, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: Mafia boss Min Yoongi. Bodyguard Jeon Jungkook. And the weapon. The monster. The violent creation of the shadow king. You.

please, read the following.

As you can see, this is not the story. This is your warning. Only this post should be tagged / reblogged and not the actual post. This is intentional.

Some of you have read the 'monster' AU. The 'monster' AU is based off the world within the Daechwita MV. It was also written back then, in 2020. What many of you don't know is that the three parts on this blog (part i | part ii | part iii) are only some of the sex scenes of a much larger story. Mhm. I have never posted 'monster' in full anywhere. It would be misconstrued and misunderstood too easily. It is not for unprepared souls.

The gist of the story is that black-haired mafia boss Min Yoongi wants to kill the blond-haired Mad King, and he does.

I often get requests to revisit this AU.

My original intent was to not write anything more. I thought about taking the posts down at one point, as they are technically parts to an incomplete story I will never publish on here. Eventually, I decided to just let it be. People enjoy guilty pleasures. As long as you have your head straight and know this isn't real.

If there was any time to revisit these three, well, it would be after the release of Haegeum, wouldn't it?

Again, this is your warning. The following is not for the faint of heart. I am not holding back. If you click forward, that means you have read the following warnings below and you still wish to proceed. You know what you are getting yourself into. This is violence. This is insanity. This is 'monster' and there is no redeeming them.

Remember, everything is fiction. Read the disclaimer in my masterpost.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; premeditated killing and mass death with all three contributing; graphic descriptions of murder; blood; gun + knife violence; arson > explosion; thievery (money); mentions of reader placed in solitary confinement as punishment; physical abuse; sociopathic and manipulative behaviors; intense smut (fem reader, threesome, unprotected penetrative sex [reader is medically sterile], restrained [arms pinned down], choking with leather collar and with hand, heavy bite / scratching / bruising, stimulation to climax with the handle of a switchblade and said closed switchblade inserted into reader's vagina; reader being spit on and licked degradingly; cum-covered switchblade and later fingers in JK's mouth by Yoongi; standing sex, standing doggy, multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation, m-masturbation onto reader's face); non-idol!AU - mafiaaboss!AgustD!Yoongi (long black-haired Daechwita/Haegeum AU), longhaired!tattooed!bodyguard!Jungkook; mercenary!reader; m/m tension between them; JK has a praise kink; you have a pain kink

This is after the death of the Mad King.

Now, Min Yoongi has all of South Korea within his clutches, puppeteering the dirty money that goes in and out of this country. The underground ruler of the inhumane ruthlessly takes out anyone that is stupid enough to step forward and challenge his rule. Oh, they will always come, their greed tempted by the prosperous forbidden fruit flourishing in the darkness. Foolishly thinking, ah, but who could stop me? After all, no one knows who the shadow king really is – not until they are already locked within the fangs of death.

by proceeding, you are verifying that you have read all warnings.

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #yoonkook x reader #bts mafia au #yoonkook smut #yoongi smut #jungkook smut #yoonkook x you #jungkook x you #min yoongi x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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smartycvnt · 6 months

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Anti Hero

Title: Anti Hero Pairing: Poison Ivy x Reader Summary: Y/n gets captured by Poison Ivy while helping Batman, but learns that she's got a lot in common with the villainess. NR WC: 799

"Casper, do you copy? Casper?" Bruce asked frantically over the comms. He could feel guilt begin to consume him with each passing second of silence. Poison Ivy didn't take too kindly to trespassers, and he had sent Y/n straight into her lair. Bruce thought that she was ready, the thought never occurred to him that she wouldn't be able to make it out okay. Y/n had gotten herself into much stickier situations without so much as a scratch. Poison Ivy was a madwoman, but Y/n would be the one who knew how to talk her down. "Casper, do you read me? Casper, do you copy? Y/n?"

"Y/n, huh..." Poison Ivy trailed off as she lifted the hook and mask covering Y/n's face. "Interesting. Come after me, and I'll slit her throat Bat brains."

"You don't have to do this. You can let her go," Bruce tried to reason. Ivy crushed the communication device in her hand and tossed it aside. Y/n felt something slither up the side of her leg, prompting a fit of panic. Ivy bound her arms and legs with vines and left her suspended with a particularly thorny vine resting over her throat.

There were thousands of places that Y/n felt she could have ended up, and in the clutches of Poison Ivy wasn't one of them. She had started her day in her little studio apartment, located just off the campus limits for Gotham University. The rent was cheaper, and she honestly had less of a chance to being attacked by some second rate villain off campus. The commute was more than worth not having to buy a new wallet or backpack every other week. Y/n had gone to her one class of the day before heading over to the gym. She taught her beginner's martial arts class to the little kids who came through and was cleaning up when Batman left the message for help. She should have known to be biting off more than she could chew with Poison Ivy, but Y/n wanted to make her name as a hero in Gotham City.

"I swear that he gets a new one of you little idiots every other months. What happened to the last one?" Y/n watched as Poison Ivy sauntered around the room. There was something menacing about it, but Y/n was also very attracted to her.

"I am not one of his. I usually work alone and by my own rules," Y/n told her. Ivy threw her head back and laughed. Most of the underlings that she caught trying to stop her weren't nearly as brave as Y/n.

"Then why are you here?" Ivy asked as she caressed Y/n's cheek. The movement was unnerving for Y/n, but not nearly as unnerving as Ivy had hoped it would be. There was something in Y/n's eyes that told Ivy she had more to tell than she was letting on. She had gone through something that had led Batman, who was notoriously picky about his sidekicks, to trust her. Ivy studied Y/n for another few seconds with the intention of piecing together what exactly it was that had "hardened" her.

"Because I'm not going to just foil your plans like the Bat would. You have a point, even if some of your approaches are inhumane to say the least. I'm not for the killing of mankind, but I do want to save the planet," Y/n said. Ivy froze completely as she came upon the realization of who exactly Y/n was. "Humanity can be redeemed, I'm proof of that."

"Well, from one eco terrorist to the other, it's not all of mankind I want to destroy. It's the cities and the power plants and the mass pollutants that need to go. Surely you understand that, don't you..." Ivy trailed off as she tried to remember what Batman had called Y/n over the comms. "Casper. You'll never accomplish what you want playing second fiddle to someone with morals like Batman. I could use a helping hand, and you look like you could handle it. What do you say?"

"I don't want to hurt any more innocent people, but I'm sure that you've got ideas for me to help you with that don't include civilian murder." Ivy let one of Y/n's hands free for them to shake on her newfound deal before she let the woman go completely. Y/n rushed out of Ivy's lair and back to her apartment, where she checked in with Batman to let him know that she was safe before she dug up some of the files she had gathered while she was with a less than heroic group of environmentalists.

#my writing #one shot #dc x reader #dc #poison ivy x reader #poison ivy #pamela isley x reader #pamela isley

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spiderboykingoftheives · 6 months

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“I Met Spiderman”

Word count: 1.4k

spiderman x reader

Summary: Spiderman saves his girlfriend who doesn’t know he’s Spiderman.

Warnings: narrator @ttacked by strangers

—————————————

I was walking home from the night shift. The air was colder then usual and I could see my breath as I walked to my apartment. As I walked I held my jacket close to me to keep all my body heat in.

That’s when some men smoking cigarettes look at me and give a whistle. I ignore them walking faster not making eye contact, so they get in my way. Slowly surrounding you so there is no way out.

“Hey little lady what are you doing out here so late and all alone?” One of them says as the slowly close in on me.

“I’m walking home to my boyfriend if you would be so kind as to let me pass,” you say still not making eye contact with them.

“Well you have to do something for us before that,” a second man says coming in reaching for me but I move away just far enough to miss his grasp and not run into another man.

“We can take payments in favor,” a third man says looking at me over and over again. I hold my jacket tighter wanting to cover myself up as much as possible.

“Please leave me alone-“ you say feeling stressed and scared. The first man to speak steps forward and grabs my jacket pulling it off of me. My purse and phone fall to the ground and the second man kicks it away.

“You haven’t given us our payment yet though,” the first man says looking at me. I can see his bad intentions just from his eyes.

The third man grabs a knife and holds it to my throat as the first man holds me against the wall.

“Get off me!” I yell trying to break out of his grasp. In response they push the knife to my throat even more and I can feel some blood drawn.

“Slow down man she’s already bleeding,” the second man says moving the knife away from me. As soon as it was clear I kicked the first man in the balls and pushed him off of me. The second man grabs my hair and pulls me to the ground. I land hard on my knees and the second man keeps a grip on my hair and pulls it so it faces him.

“That was a mistake,” he said and the third man fist make a direct hit to my face. The rings on his fingers cutting through my skin and I feel warm blood trailing down my face. The second man then kicks me in the stomach and drops my hair. I fall onto the ground now laying down fetal position as I feel more kicks being thrown at me. They occasionally pulling my hair and dragging my bruised and bloody body across the alley. I feel the world begin to fade out and close my eyes in exhaustion when the kicking and pain finally stops. I open my eyes and see a red and blue blur now webbing the criminals down and disarming them.

Once they were taken care of Spiderman turns to me and the eyes on his suit were as wide as they can be.

He rushed over to my side grabbing my face and inspecting it.

“What did they do?” He said and I could hear the anger even through my disorientation.

“I don’t feel good,” I say slowly closing my eyes but he shakes my shoulders.

“No you have to stay awake okay? You can’t fall asleep on me.” He says holding her closer I can tell he is inspecting my wounds.

I stay silent just trying to get my eyes to focus but there was three Spider-Man’s in front of me. I feel myself being lifted into the air and thought I was hallucinating but I soon realized Spider-Man was now running me to the nearest hospital which luckily was close by.

“Tell me what’s your favorite color?“ he says trying to keep me awake.

“Purple. There’s not that much purple in the world, so I like it when I see it.” I say trying my best to keep my eyes open.

“What’s your favorite movie?” He continues

“Star Wars: Attack of the Clones which is episode two. I always wanted love like Anakin and Padme as a kid.”

“Did you ever find that?” He asks and looks down at me.

“I think so. Hopefully it’s better then that though and he doesn’t end up being a mass murderer” I say and notice him slightly chuckling.

“What’s his name?” He asks next.

“How did we get from what’s your favorite color to who are you in love with?” I laugh at him. “But it’s Peter if you’re so curious.”

“That’s a good name.” Spider-Man says and I can tell he’s smiling under the mask even though I have a concussion.

“Why’s that Spider-Man?” I ask looking at him.

“Oh uhhhh I have a friend named that,” he says quickly.

“Okay…” I say not pushing further. “Wow you have friends. I never really thought about you’re life outside of- well this” I say gesturing to the costume.

“Sometimes me either,” he says and I can hear a sadness in his tone.

“Are you dating anyone?” I ask him now. “It’s only fair you share now that I’ve told you mine.”

“I guess that’s true,” he says nervously. “I am dating but don’t ask for their name I can’t give away my identity now,”

“What are they like?” I ask now curious for me.

“Well she’s smart, smarter then me. She also has this laugh that just fills the whole room. It’s like everything gets hundred times brighter when she walks in. She always thinks of others, the kindest person I’ve ever met-“ he says and I can tell he would have kept going but we arrived at the hospital. Nurses see Spider-Man caring a girl and immediately rush over to help with a gurney and other supplies.

“Thank you sir, I can’t repay you for this.” I say as I’m placed on the bed.

“You don’t need to just please get better fast,” he says to me then looks up at the nurses. “I need you to make sure that she gets extra care please.” He says almost like he is begging. I’m surprised at how concerned he is for me when I was just another strangers life who was saved, he must really take his job seriously.

The next morning

I wake up and see my boyfriend Peter Parker sitting in a chair by my bed. As soon as I wake up and turn over to look at him his head shoots up. I’m surprised he could tell I was awake from such little movement I made. He looks at me and smiles, walking over to me and placing his hand on mine.

“Hey I heard you got in attacked, how are you feeling?” He says looking at me with concern.

“I’m okay. I met Spider-Man actually. It was cool except for the part where I almost died. Did you know he’s in love? I was only half conscious but man the way he talked about her was how everyone woman wants to be talked about.” I say and I’m about to keep going but I realize I’m rambling and stop. I see he is blushing a slight bit and squeezes my hand a little.

“I’m just glad you’re safe.” I can tell he was about to start another sentence and stops.

“You know when I got attacked all I could think of was you. Even Spider-Man sounded like you, I must have really gotten hit in the head.” I say laughing and I can see him laugh too.

“I’m sorry this happened to you. I just wish I could have done something to stop this. You didn’t deserve this you’re to good-“ He says and I stop him by placing my hands on both sides of his face.

“Peter I’m fine,” I say looking at him and giving a reassuring smile. “It’s all going to be okay.”

He looks into my eyes for a minute of silence. I can tell he’s thinking of something in deep thought before he finally says something again.

“I love you. I’ve been wanting to tell you since the day I met you but-“ I stop his rambling by kissing him. My hands moving from my face to his hair as I pull him closer to me. His hands find their away around my waist as he pulls me in as well.

“I love you too. I always have.” I say as we pull back to catch out breath. I smile at him and place my forehead against his. “I’ll always love you.”

#peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #angst #fluff #comfort

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mxtxfanatic · 1 year

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Thinking through the misconception that Shen Yuan is a self-serving individual who spends most of his time as Shen Qingqiu doing what he can with the motivation of “saving his own skin,” thereby negating his acts of kindness as innately selfish, and how this is all wrong. When he first transmigrates and finds out that, rather than it being at the beginning of the novel, he is more than halfway through Luo Binghe’s disciple arc, he panics:

That meant that at this point, this master and this disciple, Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe, had already passed the incident at the mountain entrance. There, the latter had been forced to kneel as punishment.

It meant they had also passed the incident where Luo Binghe’s fellow Qing Jing Peak disciples had pummeled him en masse, as well as the incident where he’d “backtalked” Shizun and been strung up and beaten, in addition to the incident where he’d ruined the peak’s talismans and been punished with hard labor... Such a glorious track record.

(Shen Qingqiu waved goodbye to his last hope of survival.)

—Chapt. 1: Scum, official

Luo Binghe had already been a Qing Jing Peak disciple for four years, all of which he had been subjected to horrific abuse at the hands of Shen Jiu. Shen Yuan is well aware of this and clearly believes that everything that Shen Jiu has done to Luo Binghe is already enough to damn him to an early, vengeance-fulfilling grave. Despite thinking that his death was predestined, though, he spends the entire time that the OOC function is frozen fighting with his system about being kind to Luo Binghe, showing kindness to the boy multiple times and arguing after the fact that he should not be punished by the system for acting in such a way. In a way, he is already courting death via system by fighting against his system to be kind with all the risk and no benefits, since he keeps his acts a secret from everyone, most of all Luo Binghe, his would-be murderer. It is only after the OOC function is unfrozen that he decides to enact his plan of “earning a less painful death” by overtly being kind to Luo Binghe. So while it is clear that Shen Yuan thinks his kindness is only a cosmetic salve, not a solution that will save him, he still chooses to show kindness to Luo Binghe at imminent risk to himself.

Mind you, though, we’ve only covered Shen Yuan’s actions and intentions towards Luo Binghe, not counting all the times Shen Yuan was life-changingly kind to “meaningless” side characters. His motivation for redirecting Ming Fan’s anger from Luo Binghe was that he didn’t want the boy to die a needless death just so that the plot could give Luo Binghe another chance to flex. His kindness towards Gongyi Xiao who Shen Yuan thought was guaranteed a good (albeit banished) ending was purely borne from the fact that he liked the kid (and also a little bit from him reminding Shen Yuan of Luo Binghe), and it was enough to get Gongyi Xiao to turn against his own sect to protect Shen Qingqiu. And not only did he stop Gongyi Xiao from killing the snake hybrid demon they found in Bai Lu Forest—even though it would have been expected of them as cultivators—he even left a magic mushroom for him, paving the way for Tianjun’s and Zhuzhi-lang’s reemergence into the narrative. Shen Yuan doesn’t do any of these things with the intent to change the narrative. He does them because they were kind things to do, and it is that selfless kindness that changes pidw into the world of svsss.

All this to say: from the very beginning of the novel, Shen Yuan is introduced as a character whose transmigration is meant to bring humanity into the aloof, abusive Qing Jing Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu, thereby injecting kindness into the story where there had previously only been cruelty, and he is shown to be the perfect man for the job as someone who is willing to put himself at risk to do good. This is why it is Shen Yuan and not Shen Jiu who is able to save the world pidw and it’s protagonist from their original destructive trajectory.

#svsss #human metas mxtx #me: let me take a break from reading today #also me: let me write metas on the other books instead #it's really because i DO want to be reading #but today has been rough so i don't have the energy #also fuck whoever says that lbh didn't experience 'real abuse' at the hands of shen jiu #and that shen yuan is just a 'modern snowflake' for calling it abuse #stringing a child up to beat them and locking them in a barn as well as having a bunch of other children beat them to unconsciousness #is the DEFINITION of abuse; there is a reason pidw fans were calling for the original sqq's blood #stop rewriting the book just because you've imprinted on the resident child abuser!

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egg-emperor · 9 months

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It's unfortunate how people have forgotten how cool Eggman is lately. Like he isn't some innocent old man, or a soft wholesome dad, or goofy harmless clown, he hasn't been at any point in the games. He's genuinely super cool and badass but it's being downplayed in favor of presenting him as some silly harmless docile domestic old man

I genuinely see him reduced to things like "silly angry dad" in those posts about summarizing Sonic characters for example- and despite it being a joke (one that really misunderstands his character), it does seem it's all the majority of fandom sees him as now. It's sad when you want to appreciate the cool stuff but nobody around you seems to like it or care

Now he's mostly treated like he's just a guy who doesn't really want to be evil and is actually innocent or excusable, or wants to be a villain but he's hardly one and is just very silly and not a threat at all (that's Boom Egg not game Egg), or is just A Dad to all the characters and an uncharacteristically perfect one at that. But man I just like him as he is in game

He's a villainous egotistical scientific genius, a dangerous destructive diabolical world conquering threat! He has dark intentions and builds epic machines, has thrilling intense violent fights with enemies, is selfish, threatening and murderous, commits world shattering atrocities, enjoys being terrible and causing trouble!

One of the ways he's most entertaining is through all the crazy diabolical shit he does! He's responsible for tons of the coolest moments in the series and many of the stories wouldn't even happen without him and his schemes! A lot of his charm and charisma is in the way he thrives as a villain with his showmanship, dramatics, and passion

His determination to keep trying to reach his goals and not let anyone stop him is a strength and admirable, it's not something he needs to give up and become good and sit around doing nothing like in Frontiers forever. His agency, security, and genuine confidence in himself and is villain is great and he doesn't need to lose it

Both his creativity and how fucked up he is shows in his awesome destructive robots, weapons, and dangerous theme parks and that makes it so fun and fascinating. His qualities and what makes him entertaining and admirable are all in his villainy, showing not in silly cute harmless ways but thrilling entertaining badass ways which is great

The way he's selfish, manipulative, dangerous, and lethal makes him an exciting threat and results in shocking and impactful moments in the series when other characters are affected by his harmful actions. It also makes him and his mind interesting to dig into and explore to understand his mindset and what makes him tick too

He wants to conquer the world, make everything about him with the entire world changed and built in his superior image with his logo on everything, and rule a glorious empire full of crazy creative deadly theme parks and robots, where everybody is forced to worship and serve. And he'll raise hell and cause mass amounts of destruction to get it

He builds dangerous destructive violent robots and traps poor critters inside and theme parks designed to kill you that throws you off the coasters, tries to wipe out cities, blows up government facilities, blows up half the moon and threatens to destroy the world next, holds people hostage sometimes with a gun to head, literally broke the world apart, and awakens terrifying eldritch horror monsters to use in his plans and will fight to the death to accomplish his goals and much much more

THAT'S COOL AS FUCK

It makes me more sad than angry that this isn't recognized, appreciated, and explored by more fans and people don't get that. I just want to find more people who enjoy this and are fascinated by this and want to talk about and explore this as much as I do but most people hardly ever really give it much thought. I only know a very small amount of people who actually talk about what Eggman does in the games at all, even though everything he does is badass and exciting and deserves so much more attention

Eggman is FUCKING AWESOME and I'm always going to emphasize and appreciate that here 💜🥚

#inspired by how someone saying they wanna see more cool stuff than cute in the fandom in general #but all they see most of the time is cutesy stuff. god. felt that hard #why is it so rare and so controversial #dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #my post #eggman is cool

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sethcertified · 1 year

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「 SCREAM FOR YOU ! 」 . . . 📁 04

scream : billy loomis, stu macher

wrd count : 2.4k

⊹˚.⋆ synopsis . . . [name’s] life is in stake when billy breaks into his room

⊹˚.⋆ starring . . . billy loomis, stu macher, & male reader

My shoulders tensed at the threat. He could be bluffing, but I wouldn't take the chance. Looking out from my peripherals I saw Dewey and Mama giving me concerned looks. It left me no chance but to mask my panic as best as I can. I had no intention of freaking everyone out even more.

Mama walked up to me and began to inspect my face with her diligent eyes, "Who was that?"

"Nothing, Mama. At most, it was some stupid prank caller trying to freak out Sid"

She just caressed my face, "I'm glad you got it sorted out. You've always been such a brave little boy."

"I'm not little anymore, mom! I'm 17 for Christ's sake!" I whined.

"You'll always be my little boy no matter how old you get."

I just gave her a loving smile as I began to retreat up the stairs. She returned it as she hobbled her way to her room. Dewey had already left to go put back his gun I guess. I dropped my happy facade as I hiked up the stairs. I needed a weapon just in case the caller was keeping his word.

There was a broom in the storage closet between Tatum's and the bathroom, and I searched between the cleaning supplies to find it. Reaching into the dusty depths of the closet I gripped the handle of the broom.

Pulling it out of the closet I swung it a few times for practice. It was reliable enough to save me from a possible murder in my opinion. Stalking towards my door with my weapon pointed forward I began to peek into my room and creep the door open.

Opening the door I began to swing it blindly everywhere I could reach. When I felt a body mass I frantically swatted the broom against it.

"Ow! Ow! Stop it! Stop it!"

I peered from under my eyelashes to see Billy there trying to grab hold of the broom. He eventually got ahold of the other side, and we yanked it back and forth.

He yanked it towards him harshly, and I tumbled into his chest as he fell against the wall; dropping the broom. Billy wrapped his hands around my biceps and held me against him, "What was that for?"

"What do you mean? Why are you here?" I questioned Billy.

"I told you I was coming over!"

I blinked at him, "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that."

Billy just leaned his head against the wall, "God, [Name]! How do you forget that so quickly!"

"If you must know I was just threatened for my life!"

I felt Billy's grip on my biceps tighten, "I'm sorry; what now?"

"The killer-" I started to move my hands around in frustration, "He called Sid. I interrupted, and he was like 'check your windows,' so I prepared to defend myself."

"With a broom..?"

"Yes! With a broom!"

Billy started to laugh at my antics, and I just crossed my arms around my chest. Staring at him I couldn't help but notice how nice of a smile he had. Billy smiling was a rare sight to see, and I couldn't help but appreciate it.

As his laughter died down, he caught my gaze, and I immediately looked away embarrassed. Tension started to fill in between the short space between us. I slowly backed out of Billy's hold. The warmth leftover from his hands still burned into my skin.

The two of us wouldn't dare look at each other. Billy's eyes were searching around my room as I looked at my feet. I could hear his footsteps as he walked away and I changed my focus from my feet to his movements.

Billy pointed at the mess of a billboard that hung over my desk, "You've been working on it, I see."

I felt myself grimace at his words. Billy was the one who wanted to wait 'til the next attack for us to work on the investigation again, and I had very obviously disobeyed his wishes.

"I couldn't help myself. There was so much hidden underneath the surface of the case I had to try and figure it all out."

I watched carefully as Billy scanned the board. He motioned with his fingers for me to come over there, and I followed his instructions. Standing next to him he started to point at the board, "What's this about."

My face fell as I saw him pointing at the section I dedicated to Sidney's mom. My stomach felt queasy as I felt his stare burning through me.

"It's nothing. Believe me."

"It's not nothing if it's on this damn board!"

My eyes widen as Billy's voice escalated. Why was he so mad? I placed my hands forward trying to motion to him that I apologize, "It's nothing, man. Just some theory I had, but it doesn't make sense. I'll scrap it soon."

"Tell me the theory then if it isn't that big of a deal. How hard is it to fucking spit it out?"

My brows furrowed at him, "What is wrong with you? I'll tell you it, but holy shit dude; lay off."

I let out a shaky breath as I backed away from Billy towards the location of my abandoned weapon, "I think the current killer going around could be the same guy that killed Sidney's mom."

"What!?"

For the first time I saw panic in Billy's eyes, "H..how'd you come up with that?"

I tried to subtly drop down to the floor as fear continued to spread across my body, "It can't just be a coincidence that these murderers are happening as the anniversary of Sidney's mom's murder is coming up, you know. It has to be connected somehow, and that just seems the most obvious way."

Billy moved closer, and I begged the universe for him to back away from where I sat on the floor. My hand searched for the broom behind me as he itched closer to my body.

He still held that mean, panicked look in his eye as he approached. I wasn't sure of Billy's innocence at all, and adding that on to the fact he climbed up here after my threat? I had a reasonable reason to be afraid of him.

I grabbed the broom and pointed it at Billy when he was about 3 feet in front of me. My hands shook as I tried to hold my ground with my pathetic excuse for a weapon. What was I thinking about getting a broom instead of a knife?

I stood up still guarding myself with the broom in hand as Billy just looked at me with an odd look on his face.

"Are you scared of me?"

"I'm sorry... What?"

Billy walked a little closer, and I backed up in return feeling my back hit my door.

"Do you think I'm going to kill you?"

My eyes widened at his words. It was Billy. I felt my thoughts scatter with the possibilities of how I could survive this, "You may want to, but you won't."

"Is that so?" I saw Billy's eyes narrow at the challenge.

"You're too clever to kill me here. There are 4 other people in the house; one being a cop, and the other being your ex-girlfriend who is convinced it's you who attacked her."

I pointed my other hand at the billboard, "The motive is too clear here anyways. Unless you were to take the billiboard which you won't because you walked here, and it would be far too risky to carry it all the way home."

Billy just chuckled, "Stu was right."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Now stop quivering like a kicked mutt."

I saw him move towards the bed as he sat and patted the spot next to him. My legs shook, but I refused to move in his direction.

"Why won't you come sit next to me, [Name]? Scared?"

"Well, you just admitted to 3 murders, so yes Billy; I am scared. Thanks for asking."

"You have such a loud mouth, you know that right?"

"I'm aware."

Billy sighed, rubbing his eyelids with his thumb and index, before giving me a dead, killer-like stare as he patted the spot next to him again; "I'm not gonna kill you, [Name], trust me. You even said so yourself."

Me? Trust him? Trust him?! He must be delusional to even suggest such a sentiment!

"Can you stop staring at me like I'm crazy now?"

"I could try, but I'd fail."

Steam was practically blowing out of Billy's ears. I was running out of cards to play with, and I knew Billy was getting more irritated with me. With shaky steps, I sat beside him on the bed.

Billy pointed his finger at the investigation board, "Tell me everything you have."

"Will you tell me what I have right?"

"No."

I frown etched my face at his denial. Billy's keen gaze was burning into my face which wasn't helping my mood.

"It's a lot, but I'll keep it short as I possibly can. I think the first murder could be Sidney's mom which I already explained to you."

And which I now know is true based on your reaction.

"That theory ties in with another one I had of the killer having experience in killing. Gutting someone; let alone two people, the phone call, and the whole display thing at the end? That requires experience."

"Oh, and I think there's more than one killer! As I said gutting people takes experience, but even with experience the effort and time it takes to gut two people is too much for one person, especially in the short time frame it took for Casey's murder."

"Am I right? I think I have most of it right.." I mumbled, overlooking the bulletin board that held all of my information, theory, and clues. Pinned sticky notes, rarely any photos were present, and red markings were on the bulletin as well.

Billy only shrugged his shoulders, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the bed's frame, sleep consuming him like a tsunami.

However, I paid no mind to Billy; blissfully unaware of his sleeping state with my ramblings. They gave me distraction and comfort from the fact a murderer was in my room who intended to murder me just a little less than an hour ago.

Eventually, the writing on the notes got more and more blurry, and I could feel myself dosing off. Yearning to climb into the comfort of my bed was overtaking me, and I was swaying toward my bed's direction.

Billy's sprawled-out body against my bed was my only problem.

In a fruitless effort, I grabbed his leg and tried to drag his body off my bed and onto the floor. His body moved barely an inch, and I heaved my shoulders in frustration. Out of everything I had gone through today the minimum I deserved was a good night's rest!

Pushing and pulling Billy's sleeping body away from my bed continued to fail as the minutes flew by, and my body weakened with want to rest. Even in his sleep, he was stubborn..? Come on!

I yanked out the pillow from under his sleeping head and smacked him square in the face, "Wake up!"

The pillow fell out of my hands as my wrist stung in pain. Billy gripped my wrist with an unholy amount of strength and pain seared throughout my arm.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What the hell is wrong with you!"

"You slapped me in the face with a pillow!"

"You tried to murder me!"

Billy's glare hardened as he tossed me onto the bed and held my hands above my head, "You-"

He slammed his arm down next to my head, "are so irritating."

I didn't dare to respond. I could feel his shallow breathing on my neck, and if this were some cheesy vampire thriller it wouldn't have been out of the picture for him to take a bite out of my neck, and drain my body of its blood. Billy's nose traced the shape of my neck, and I could feel my chest heave in fright. What was happening?

Our gazes met as Billy's eyes drooped, "You know I saw you at the police station."

"Yes?"

"You and Sid."

A wave of panic crashed into the forefront of my mind. What was he getting at?

"Are you into her?"

Oh, God. That was what he getting at.

"What? No. No! Never."

"Why not?"

A small frown crossed my face as I avoided his gaze. Staring at the ceiling I thought of Stu. He was the why. Stu and so many others were the why. I couldn't tell Billy that.

His breathing got slower as I felt his grip on my wrists loosen while he waited for my response, "Not going to say why?"

"If you think hard enough you'll figure it out."

Billy's mouth felt hot against my ear. Less than an inch away laid his mouth. The proximity of our bodies increased as Billy's body fell on top of mine.

"You.. don't swing that way; do you."

I closed my eyes, "No. I don't."

The heat radiating from his breathing fanned my ear. Nerves raked against my body. He did know.

"Good."

What?

...What?

Questions floated mindlessly in my brain as Billy's body closed in on mine. Our bodies were one at this point. I glanced at his face which held a relaxed expression. Eyes closed and mouth slightly agape I knew Billy had fallen asleep.

Cursing out to the universe for putting me into this predicament I questioned what had just happened between the two of us. Was he taunting me? He knew I was... Did he think I was into him? Was this a trap?

The longer I thought about it the more it seemed likely. Just because I hated the guy didn't mean I couldn't acknowledge his... looks. His sharp, movie star looks... His really good looks. But that didn't mean I liked him! It didn't mean I liked it when my body felt like it was set on fire by his touch!

Billy's hands were moving ever so slightly along the edges of my torso, and small mumbles left his mouth into the corner of my neck. I couldn't possibly like Billy. I could never like a murderer. A cold-hearted killer. Never. No matter how he made me feel.

✎ notes . . . yes, this is a repost. tumblr deleted my old acc >:( ⟡ . ⛪ ◦ ✺ 03 ⇿ 4.5

#☆ — sethcertified #☆ — scream for you #scream #scream 1996 #scream x male reader #scream x reader #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #billy loomis x male reader #stu macher #stu macher x reader #stu macher x male reader #ghostface x male reader #ghostface x reader #ghostface #x male reader #male reader

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matan4il · 4 months

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Daily update post:

Two Arab men loyal to ISIS were arrested for intending to carry out a terrorist attack in the Old City of Jerusalem. They were going to use explosives, and were considering buying a drone to drop the explosives from. I just wanna remind everyone, that every new terrorism tactic developed against Israelis, eventually makes its way to other countries.

On Israel's northern border, Hezbollah fired a barrage of rockets into the city of Kiryat Shmona, causing widespread blackouts. Among the buildings his is a school. On our southern border, a TV reporter shared that over the first 9 days of 2024, 17 rocket barrages were fired into Israel from Gaza. It's a lot less than it used to be, but it's still not zero. I want people to understand that until we can guarantee no rockets are going to be fired at Israeli civilians living along the country's borders, those communities can't go back to their homes. They'll remain evacuated, homeless, without any possible change on the horizon. It's an abnormal and impossible situation for any country, if its citizens can't live on their own land. No country would take it, and frankly, it is only the strength of spirit of Israel's northern and southern communities, that allowed Israel to overlook the tens of thousands of rockets being fired into this land for 22 years. NO COUNTRY would take this. And after Oct 7, Israeli civilians are done taking it, too. Which means Israel as a country can no longer accept this abnormal reality either.

This is a map of how Hamas' rockets cover Israel (and how this progressed through the years). It doesn't show Hezbollah's rockets. If Hamas has tens of thousands of rockets, Hezbollah is said to have hundreds of thousands. It also doesn't show how far drones from Gaza can reach, or how Israel has had rockets fired at it from Iraq, Syria and Yemen, too. And that Iran's rockets can also reach us.

After undergoing surgery, and still waiting to learn the extent to which his serious injuries will affect him, singer and actor Idan Amedi sent out a message through a friend (an Israeli politician) who was visiting him. Idan said, according to his friend, to forget about him, he's not important and he will deal with what he has to, what matters is that the People of Israel will stay strong together. One journalist IMO nailed it, when he said about Idan, that it's not that Amedi as an individual matters more than the other soldiers in Gaza, it's that he's a symbol of how much Israelis are putting aside and sacrificing in order to protect our country and our people.

The less interesting part of the lawsuit by South Africa (organized behind the scenes by the Palestinian Authority) against Israel was concluded today, the part where we already knew what lies and distortions will be employed. Tomorrow, Israel will get to respond, and that should prove more interesting. For now, many have condemned the biased stance that SA took, especially as in 2015 it enabled the return to Sudan of Omar al-Bashir, who has been guilty of mass rapes and murders in Darfur. SA was asked to arrest him for his crimes against humanity during a visit, but they enabled his safe return to his country and to his crimes. He was only stopped in 2019. That's on top of SA siding with Iran, a country that finances terrorism globally, kills its own civilians, and is implicated in the Oct 7 massacre carried out by Hamas, the antisemitic genocidal terrorist organization. SA omitted the massacre from the lawsuit it filed against Israel.

Before the trial in the Hague started, the head of Israel's criminal forensics institute, Dr. Chen Kugel, has published more evidence from the horrifying crimes of Hamas, committed on Oct 7, and which were motivated by genocidal intent. A part of the current antisemitic farce is, of course, that while Israel is wrongfully being charged with genocide, the actual crimes perpetrated due to genocidal intent can't be prosecuted in the International Court of Justice, because Hamas is not a state, and did not sign the convention for the prevention of genocide, as Israel did. There's an irony here that only antisemitism can turn into a reality, that the first heinous crimes in this war were committed against Israel, yet the first trial over any crimes in this war is also targeting the Jewish state.

They're saying it will take years for the lawsuit to be concluded. But the accusation, the libel against Israel (and possibly an intermediary junction against Israel, for which the bar is very low, and which SA is asking the court to give), that's happening RIGHT NOW. It's why some people are calling this the modern Dreyfus trial. For those who don't know, Dreyfus was a loyal French officer. He was also Jewish. That was enough to convict him in the court of public opinion as a traitor, and it was enough to bias the actual court in which the trial was held. Dreyfus was found guilty of treason, dishonorably discharged, and exiled. The injustice was evident in real time, as Emile Zola's famous op ed "J'accuse!" shows. Decades later, Dreyfus was exonerated of all charges against him, and a non-Jewish French officer was exposed as the real traitor. But it was too late for Dreyfus, and for all Jews at the time, who had witnessed the modern, supposedly liberal west fail them.

The same Iran that finances Hamas, including the Oct 7 massacre, and has invested in SA, has also been confirmed to have attacked a ship in the Oman bay. It's the second time (at least) that Iran has attacked a ship directly rather than use proxies, like the Houthi terrorists in Yemen, to target international shipping.

Today, Egypt refused an American request, to allow a UN delegation entry into the northern part of the Gaza strip, so it coud evaluate the needs of Palestinians. This is a reminder that if anyone tells you Hamas' reports on the number of fatalities has been independently verified... no, they weren't. No one impartial is found in Gaza right now. Also, that if people blame everything that's happening to Gazans right now on Israel, they're intentionally leaving out both Hamas, other Gazan terrorist organzations, and the Egyptians.

The other day, Hamas claimed that two journalists were killed in Gaza. Yesterday, the IDF released records showing they were both memberes of Palestinian terrorist organizations.

Across Israel, people are getting ready to hold many events and strikes as we're getting close to the 100th day since Hamas and other Gazans kidnapped Israeli civilians from their homes. 136 Israelis, alive or dead, are still held hostage in Gaza. The youngest of the hostages is Kfir Bibas, was just 9 months old when he was taken from his home at gunpoint, together with his 4 years old brother Ariel, and his mom Shiri. Next week, Kfir will "celebrate" his first birthday on this earth in captivity. Yarden, the father, was also kidnapped, but he was taken into Gaza separately. A Hamas released vid shows Yarden being told that his wife and sons are dead. We don't know if this is true or not, as in the past, these terrorists have lied about hostages being dead, when they turned out to be alive. Hamas' vid also showed Yarden Bibas in great emotional distress, and one hostage, who was held with him in a terror tunnel, but was later released, said he was in a terrible mental state, and she feared for his life. Here are images of the Bibas family before they were kidnapped:

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish

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xmo-rmon · 3 months

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You know, I am by no means a fan of anything joe smith did, but I feel like, despite what he might have said or thought, his intentions were ultimately relatively small-scale because his con was entirely for immediate personal gain. ie: getting to do whatever he wanted with no consequence, mostly in the form of fucking as many women (and girls) as he wanted to while also claiming ownership of them. It was entirely about his own ego. I think mormons like to go “well he allowed a few black men to have the priesthood! he wasn’t racist!” No, he definitely was. He held no respect for black people, but he held no respect for anybody. You think a man who manipulates everyone around him into being his loyal followers is choosy about who can come and tell him he’s a good boy and back him up on the idea that he should get to do whatever he wants? That’s like saying “well he allowed women to be mormons, so he wasn’t misogynistic.” Uh-uh.

And I really do wonder, if things had gone differently, if he had not met the people he did, if he had lived out his life, if his little cult would have fizzled out or at least ended up very fringe today. Men like him start cults all the time. I mean look at jared leto and his harem island.

What I mean to say is, I wonder where the church would be if he never met brigham fucking young.

mormons love to either bury the horrendous things that man did or said, or even say “he said some things that would be considered racist today” and “we need to forgive past prophets for saying things that were normal at the time” and “the church as a whole can’t be represented by one man alone and it’s easy to understand what we truly believe.”

You absolute buffoons, the things he said and did were outrageously racist even for his time. He was a completely batshit mass-murdering maniac. Yes racist sentiments were common in his time but they were not universal, and even then, the average consensus was absolutely not “black people were cursed by god and the greatest blessing we could give them would be to kill them all.” Even in the speech where he says that he acknowledges that most people will not agree with him.

And you cannot create a system where one man is the king that speaks to god and go “well one man doesnt represent the church.” Yes he does, by your design. And no, it’s not easy to understand what you believe, because you’re so flowery and vague in order to avoid taking responsibility for anything. You worship joe smith for giving you the church as you know it today, but he fucking didn’t. You have the church as you know it today because a heartless, cruel man turned it into a colonizing force and literally called to exterminate the indigenous people that stood in his way. The church as you know it today was only made possible by mass fucking murder; you don’t get to go “well that’s not what the church is actually about”. If all that never should have happened then you are basically saying that there should be no mormon church. The very foundation of your institution was built on suffering and death.

“At some point the church stopped giving the priesthood to black men and we have no records as to why”

I wonder who you named your fucking university after then you fucking lying coward

#exmo #exmormon #apostake #apostate #feast and testimony #if there is an afterlife i will find brigham young and rip him apart with my teeth

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sketches4mysw33theart · 2 months

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Omnia Redit Ad Pulverem

Omnia Redit Ad Pulverem ~ Everything Returns To Dust

Henry Winter (The Secret History) Story

Warnings: Minor TSH plot spoilers, murder (ofc)

Synopsis: The murder of Bunny, from the eyes of Henry Winter's partner

It was quiet. Too quiet. We'd all heard the fateful thump around 30 seconds before, but still, we stood there staring at the edge of the ravine like rabbits poking their noses out of their warrens. Twitching in the silence, waiting on tenterhooks for the oncoming predator. Charles risked a look at Camilla, but her thoughtless eyes remained on the slippery tracks that led over the drop. Besides that, we were as still as a photograph.

Of course, it was Henry who moved first. It was always Henry who moved first. He broke the heavy quiet with the snap of a twig beneath his polished shoe, sweeping the tumbling locks of hair that hung over his forehead back into place as he tentatively approached the edge. "Careful," Camilla called, reaching out a hand as though to stop him. He waved her back without a glance and poked his head over the ravine.

For an infinite moment, Henry stood there looking over the edge, his body a mass of black, a tumultuous thundercloud in the otherwise clear countryside sky. With a heavy exhalation, he stepped back again and turned to face us all. He confirmed our worst wish with a curt nod.

It was like a green light for us. Everyone moved at once, I to place a hand on Henry's arm, Camilla to grasp Charles' sleeve, him to lean close and whisper to her in response, Francis to press his knuckles into his forehead with a loud groan, Richard to blink stupidly as though someone had turned on the overhead light in a dark room and turn to look at us all in bewilderment.

Only Henry remained still. He was staring ahead, seemingly at nothing, the swaying silent trees of the ravine's forest reflecting in the circles of his glasses, menacingly disguising the icy blue of his eyes.

The clearing was full of murmurs from the others, who were shuffling on their feet, tentatively making their way to the edge. I stayed by Henry's side, watching him curiously as he stared off into nothingness for a moment. His guarded face gave nothing away, and his shielded eyes made my guts feel like ice.

I wanted to do something - say his name, shake him, turn back time. But, I could do none of these things, and so I stayed staring at him with a heavy weight in my stomach as the others edged their way closer to peep down into the Hell that waited below.

When Henry did move, mere seconds later, it was as though someone was pressing play on a VHS. He sprung to life, immediately turning to look over the edge, his chin deliberately pointed, eyes glittering. Gently but with intent, he tugged me back with a hand on my sleeve, away from the edge, away from the grooves in the dirt where Bunny's desperate hands had tried to take hold. Staying where I was put, I lightly wrapped my fingers around his wrist, a little support, and glanced at the others.

Francis had gone pale and refused to get too close to the edge of the ravine. He made a show of poking his head over, but he couldn't have seen much and did not leave it over there long enough to see more. The others looked on with the same morbid curiosity that I'm sure was glistening in my eyes, but their high inquisitiveness pushed them towards the edge while the protective nature of Henry kept me back from it.

And, yet, he wanted me to go with him to make sure the deed was done. I knew. He'd turned to give me a pointed look as he'd mumbled the necessity for someone to go down for a closer look. But I was glad that Camilla was so ready to volunteer. She had a stronger stomach and a steelier heart than me. She gave me a fleeting smile as she walked deliberately past me, leaving a little pat on my hand as she went.

Instead, I sat on the dew-damp trunk of a fallen tree by the ravine's edge with Francis, who was cradling his head in his hands, glazed eyes staring over the infinite edge and alternately busying his mouth with a flaming cigarette and mumblings of woe. Being closer to the edge, I could see, with a sickening twinge to my stomach, Henry approaching Bunny, searching for a pulse, luridly rolling his head about, bringing to ghastly light the one trickle of blood on the otherwise unblemished face. Those same fingers that explored the spaces between my own so gently now prodding harshly at cooling flesh, the hands which guided me through crowded places and up steep stairs tightly gripping a fistful of sandy hair to move the head. Camilla stood several feet behind him, watching warily but maintaining a full view of Bunny over Henry's shoulder.

Bun's eyes were open, a glacial lake reflection beneath his broken glasses of the ravine, the sky, our cloud-like faces floating above. It was a miracle Francis didn't lean far enough over to see. Not that miracles had helped any of the rest of us.

With an unsteady hand and even less steady words, I tried to comfort Francis, but I didn't think he could even hear me. He did, however, hear the approaching footsteps as Henry and Camilla returned.

They didn't say anything in response to our flood of questions. They didn't have to. "Has everyone got everything?" Henry asked briskly after moments of pregnant silence, sweeping the clearing with his falcon-like eyes.

We all bumbled around the clearing for a few seconds, checking for any dropped belongings before moving back as one into the safe dankness of the wind-swept forest and heading back to Henry's car.

Although I had been privy to the rituals my classmates had been trying to achieve, I was wary of them. Not only were they dangerous, even in print, but they were also incredibly complex, with historical recounts that were sketchy at best. But, more than that, was Bunny's surprising eagerness to be involved.

I had known Henry and Bunny the longest of anyone from the Greek class, having met them both on our collective first day at Hampden, when they were introduced to one another as roommates in freshman year. I'd also had the incredible misfortune of being pulled into the Corcoran clan that same day, who had come to help their boy move in but were seemingly ready to do so themselves.

Now, I may not have understood much in the world too implicitly besides Greek and Henry's secret smile, but I could say for sure that I knew Bunny. I knew what he was capable of. And, more to the point, what he was not. As such, I had chosen not to take part.

Yet, when things had gone pear-shaped, as I inevitably knew they would, it seemed that I was the only person Henry wanted to see. The night after the murder of the poor farmer, after Henry had slept for long-lost hours, he came to me with thunder clouds in his eyes and trembling lips.

I'd sat him down with whiskey-laced tea and listened in fearful incredulity as he'd recounted, with alarming clarity, the events of the previous night. From the drive up to the country house to the gathering of the four on the moonlight-drenched grounds, the roaming through the woods like vengeful sprites to the eyebrow-raising carnality of events, the final, damning image of an innocent man lying at Henry's feet with his life ripped from his limp body to the unfortunate discovery of Bunny on Henry's sofa.

I was speechless. My teacup was twitching between my quivering fingers, untouched by my parted lips. As he drew to the end of his story, Henry sighed heavily and collapsed back into his chair, his elbows resting on the armrests but hands lost beneath my small dining table. His eyes were closed, nostrils flaring, but there was an uncharacteristic smile on his lips.

I had no comfort to give and, quite frankly, did not want to provide any. Not that Henry wanted it either, I don't think. He simply wanted someone who would listen and, in time, understand. That was how it always was between us. Henry may have been only a few leagues behind Einstein in brains, but I was capable of giving him a run for his money when the situation arose. So, we listened to one another, and we understood that, no matter the act, we had done it for the right reasons.

And yet there was no reason for what had happened. Not even any fault. It was simply an accident, albeit an unfortunate one. I asked him some questions, about the ritual, about the state of the others, about the possibility of a next time. We discussed the matter as though we were discussing classes the next morning or going over homework we had yet to do. With the calmness of an ocean, the conversation drew naturally to a close, and we then began to decide whether we should eat out that evening or order something.

I was worried that a headache may come upon Henry in the days after, potentially the worst he'd ever had. But, on the contrary, he seemed content with what had happened. Almost thrilled by it. As though it were some predetermined fate finally coming true. But, that was not the case with what happened next.

I feared from the first that Bunny would present the biggest problem in the situation. The police of Hampden town were bumbling cartoons, the teachers of the college slow and old, the townspeople confined and unaware of others. But Bunny was not. For all of his idiocy, he had a social smartness, a warped understanding of people that simultaneously awed and frightened me, but never more so than during those arduous few weeks. If anybody would sniff this out, it would be him.

And, of course, I was right. What I came to understand rather quickly, though, was that I didn't in fact know Bunny at all. Some of his reactions I had predicted - the anger, the hurt, the pettiness - but his persistence, his narrow-mindedness, the aim of his trajectory and the fragility of his mind I did not. I came to fear him, more on Henry's behalf than my own, and could barely stand to be in the same room as him, let alone remain chummy and nonchalant with him.

I knew Henry had a plan. But he didn't reveal it to me all at once. Only hinted at it, reminding me of the terrible things Bunny had done and dropping little lines such as, 'Don't you want it to all go away?'.

Eventually, though, it came out. Although I insistently disagreed with Henry's diabolical solution from the first moment he hinted towards it in my presence, he pulled his scrupulous trick of drawing me around to his side. Convinced me there was no other solution. It was easy for me, he said. I was not involved in the triggering murder, and I had an alibi to prove it - I was possibly the only one of us in the Greek class to have friends outside of the Lyceum, whom I had met in high school and moved to Hampden with.

And, as time wore on, I was able to reason, with terrifying clarity, with Henry's point of view. Bunny was becoming unbearable. Initially, the jokes were easy to brush off, but when he knew what had truly happened, he was like a bloodhound free of its leash.

Henry, whom Bunny blamed primarily for the mess, managed, in some strange twist, to avoid the heat of his petty wrath. Although it was Henry he was most angry at, it was everyone else who took the brunt of his emotions. It was only because of my closeness to Henry, I believe, that he spared me the misogyny he so delightedly dished out to Camilla. And yet, despite him not knowing I knew, it didn't mean that I was completely out of the firing line.

I found him popping up miraculously wherever I happened to be, trying, as I discovered later via Richard following one of Bunny's drunken rants, to catch me messing around behind Henry's back with an old friend who just so happened to be, in fact, meeting with Francis regularly.

Although he could find no proof, Bunny poked this sore spot like a red button, enjoying my furious rebuttals of his accusations. Not even Henry's warning voice or waning bank account could cease Bun's glorified barking.

At first, Henry had insisted I stay away from the ravine. A white knight gesture. I hadn't been involved thus far, and Henry stressed to me after another debate on the topic that he didn't want me getting involved in this either. I was adamant, however, that I be there by his side. I understood the gravity of the act far more than I believed he did. For days he argued and beat back my insistence that I be involved, until one evening after yet another of Bun's onslaughts, when I'd collapsed in near-tears onto Henry's sofa. Then, finally, did he relent.

And that was how I found myself walking with my head down and fingers tingling, away from the ravine on a late Sunday afternoon, feeling the unseasonal biting chill in the air and thinking, surprisingly, of nothing in particular.

My friends seemed to be having the same experience, walking silently beside me. Out of habit, more than anything, I slid my hand into the crook of Henry's elbow, a comfort in all hard times.

He barely acknowledged the touch besides a squeeze of his inner elbow, a Henry-esque reassurance. I clutched on tighter as the clearing in which we had left the car came into view, no longer illuminated in a weak spring sun but covered in cloudy shadow.

With Richard now in tow, I elected to perch myself on Francis' knee in the front seat. Despite a rocky start, we eventually got on the road, pulling mercifully further and further away from the ravine.

We drove back in silence, a painful comparison to the noisy car rides we normally embarked on, talking and tittering like children. In a way, it was a blessing. My mind was pulsing, and idle chatter might have made it snap.

I occupied myself with the window, careful not to block Francis' view even though he was distracted mercilessly chewing his thumb and unconsciously drumming the fingers of his other hand on my hip with his eyes closed and head leant back against the seat rest. There were warm lights in unfamiliar, welcoming homes as we drove past, twinkling scenes of families eating, playing, and watching television together, all flying past the car window in dream-like snapshots. I was starting to feel a little sick, but fortunately, we made it into town sooner than I realised.

Somewhere along the way, much to everyone's utter surprise, it started snowing, as though, in another torture from the universe, we were thrust back to better times - watching the first snowfall of the previous winter through the windows of the Lyceum, Henry and I choosing to walk, arm-in-arm, to school during the petering end of a snow storm, a snowball fight with myself, Bunny and some of my old friends, watched over by a disgruntled Marion, saying goodbye to one another before we all departed for our separate Christmases. By the time we got back into town, it may as well have been December. This did nothing for my glacial mood.

We all left the car at Francis', where Richard and the twins would make their way home. Camilla, Charles and Richard all left Henry's car with awkward attempts at goodbyes and shocked shivers and groans at the sudden fall of snow. When, finally, Francis had made his sullen way out of the car to reluctantly grab a bucket of soapy water and cloths with which to clean the car, brushing wrinkles from the arms of his suit as he went, I sat back in the front seat and let out a loud sigh.

It seemed a silly question, but I had to ask it anyway. "What are we going to do?" I turned to Henry with eyes that I didn't realise had widened, and he looked back at me momentarily with a vulnerable look that didn't sit right on his set features.

Quickly, he diverted his gaze, looking instead out of the windshield upon the flakes of snow that were beginning to fall at an alarming rate. I knew, somehow, that he was thinking of how this would affect his prized rose bushes.

Pragmatically, he said, "We'll clean the car, and then we'll go home." By home, of course, he meant that I would spend the night at his place. Home was no longer my pokey apartment in an off-campus Hampden building, not far from Charles and Camilla's place.

"But, Henry," I was staring now out of the window too, "look at this snow."

"I know." He was quick to respond, and for the first time, I thought I saw a glimmer of fear fleet across his face out of the corner of my eye. After a moment, he glanced back at me, and I must have looked some kind of state, because he reached over and clasped the back of my hand in his, closing his fingers over to stroke at my palm.

"It'll pass. We'll go to the nice café tomorrow, the one you like, yes?" I managed a smile, one that just managed to satisfy his piercing gaze, and he nodded. "Good. Look, here's Francis. Let's get this done."

Henry and Francis sorted the car with little help from me - I sat inside it watching with awe as the snow fell like a cinematic Christmas morning. Snow, of course, wasn't uncommon in Hampden, but in April? There may as well have been a hurricane blowing through the sleepy mountain town.

It was late when we eventually left Francis' apartment, after a long, anxious discussion on Francis' part and a troubled phone conversation with Richard. I felt terrible leaving poor Francis alone, but I was crazed with fatigue and his fearful ramblings and defensive arguments were elevating my fragile psyche into a paranoiac state.

In the car, Henry held my hand tightly the whole way home, an unusual (but not unwelcome) gesture. I stayed with my forehead against the chilling glass of the window, watching the condensation form from my breath and the snow, still falling steadily, with a numb feeling.

Henry bundled me inside quickly despite the thick darkness, and we pulled off our coats and shoes in silence. Neither of us mentioned the snow, the unsettled faces of the others disappearing into the night, Francis' trembling hands as we left him in his armchair, Bunny at the bottom of the ravine. Truth be told, I barely thought of these things. I barely thought of anything.

We moved through the dimly lit hall, Henry holding a lit oil lamp aloft to illuminate the familiar way. It threw strange shadows onto the walls around us, morphed shapes that danced and twirled as though they were teasing us, moving in closely and then dashing away as we came towards them. God, I was tired.

Henry left me in an armchair in his front room, momentarily in the peace of darkness as he moved to the hallway to collect another lamp. My forehead fell to my hand, cradled between my thumb and middle fingers which massaged the tight skin. I stayed there, massaging my head, when Henry came back into the room, placing one lamp down and lighting two others to illuminate the room. The candles were almost burnt down, I knew, but Henry didn't take the time to replace them yet. Instead, he came instantly back over to stand over me, smelling now of fire and oil.

With a gentle, firm hand, he gripped my wrist and pulled my hand from my face. Now lit by the ominous lamps, I could only see part of his face but, standing out like a thorn among roses, was the scar above his right eye.

I thought he was going to speak, and I watched him thoughtfully waiting for his words. But, instead, he kissed me fiercely, honey on his lips and fire on his tongue, hands anchored on my shoulders and forcing me into the chair, demanding me to stay. I took his aggressive affection and matched it, gripping on to his shirt with vice-like fingers and yanking him closer. He almost fell on top of me with his ferocity, only managing to balance his weight with the grip of his fingers on my shoulders.

Then, like water to fire, Henry released me as gently as he did not kiss me. "Are you okay?" I asked immediately. He took a moment, scanning my face with his shielded eyes, running the thumb of the hand he'd moved to my face along the bone of my cheek.

Bending his knees, he kissed my eyelids, then nodded curtly. Outside, a sudden wind was gaining momentum, blowing someone's hanging shutter back and forth against the wall, and I jumped at the sudden noise.

Unstartled, Henry moved his hand back down to my shoulder and said, "It's only a shutter. I'm going to get a drink. Would you like one?"

Despite my lethargy and the lateness of the hour, I stayed up with him, a glass of whiskey in both of our hands and the noise of the silence putting things into place.

We were quiet so long I thought Henry had slipped off to sleep. Or that I had, and lingered in some terrible dreamscape. My head lay almost flush against my shoulder, eyes fluttering shut, body heavy against the thick, worn cushions. The glass of whiskey was almost out of my hand, my grasp was slackening so.

Then, another gust of wind attacked, and the shocking 'thwack' of the shutter forced a breath of consciousness into my body. I was drowsy and half mad with tiredness, and in my state, momentarily thrashing against the sofa cushions, I mumbled Henry's name.

I felt him next to me, his leg mere centimetres from my own, the warmth and familiar smell of him, and quickly I came to my senses. Batting my eyes open properly, I looked up to Henry.

He was staring thoughtfully at his glass of whiskey, holding it up to the flickering light and watching the amber liquid turn into spun gold. He mumbled almost unintelligibly, "Omnia redit ad pulverem."

I stared at the side of his face, sharp and buttery gold in the soft light. For a moment, I didn't even recognise him. Then, the shadows fell back into place, the lamp's final revolution quelled by the fierceness of the strengthening wind flowing in through the open window, and Henry was back, the shutter outside silenced, the room like twilight once more.

He turned to me with a smile that didn't reach far. "Let's go to bed." With not a word, I agreed, and together we moved to Henry's room while outside the snow fell onto the unsuspecting spring ground, onto the rose bushes in Henry's garden, onto the colossal roofs of Hampden College, onto the budding trees around the town, onto the river that ran through, onto the yellow rain slicker and stiff flesh of someone I had once loved and who I would never see again.

I thought the fitful sleep I had that night, tossing and turning beside Henry, who lay awake until dawn with a book in his lap and his hand clutching my wrist, would be the worst of my life. As ever, I was wrong. There were worse nights to come. Far worse.

#the secret history #tsh #henry winter #francis abernathy #charles macaulay #camilla macaulay #richard papen #donna tartt #bunny corcoran

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