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mmoxie · 11 months

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Part 9- History Lesson

News was starting to spread about the sudden disappearance of Sean Gracie, the young mayor of Eureka, NV and producer of the popular Mayor Sean YouTube channel, where he cultivated an audience of politically active conservative men between the ages of 18 and 34.

Craig was keeping Dani apprised of these developments on their weekly visits, but the other six days when she retired to her motel room, she was much happier to put on an Ancient Aliens marathon or professional wrestling.

Work was fine, but Fourth-In-Charge Redd Lake was starting to make more advances on Gina Lincoln. He wasn't bad looking or anything, but he was aggressive in a pitiful way, flexing rank and saying things like, "I think you owe me," as he tried to leverage Dani into dinner-dates and venues outside of Fish Camp.

The thought of reducing him to ash had crossed her mind, but she was supposed to be better than that. She had completely let herself come unglued from the world and its consequences when she immolated Mayor Sean- and according to Craig, the only way to duck those consequences was to go to Peru.

After a while, it dawned on her what she actually had to do. She was up late in her room, sitting on the edge of the bed with a pint of moose tracks and watching Star Trek. Profit and Lace, the episode where Quark has himself a couple sex changes.

Man, people hated this one, she thought, twirling her spoon around in the carton, pushing around the few bits of chocolate she saved for last. I dunno, Quark looks kinda good like that. The writing was disastrous, but the costuming was spectacular. Dani wasn't the turn-your-brain-off style of watcher, but she tended to find something to love about the worst of it, like getting excited over seeing a pug, despite it being a complete ruin of a dog.

Drink Slug-o-Cola, the slimiest cola in the galaxy!

Stupid show. Unforgivably boneheaded writing. Total ass.

She loved it.

And that's when it clicked. She found all this affection in her heart for anything that made her laugh, anything that gave her brain- her complete nightmare of a brain, which fired its neurons wherever the hell it wanted, whenever the hell it pleased- another handhold. Actor names, cameos, slogans- wasn't Andy Dick in Voyager? Must've been around the same time he was in Just Shoot Me. No, wait, that was David Spade. God, I should watch Joe Dirt again- her train of thought snaked through mountains of bullshit to get from any Point A to any Point B.

But by god, it had gotten there. She couldn't un-kill Mark LaGrange, and she'd have to reckon with that. Hell, she wanted to reckon that. The thought had occurred to her of attending his funeral, if ever he had one. No telling if they were still searching, but she'd find out.

No, what she had to do was fall in love with this dangerous new ability, and to do that, she had to make herself laugh with it. It couldn't just be "you ignite when you're suicidal" if it was ever going to be anything other than a means of lashing out in deeply sick circumstances.

Still, she was suicidal from time to time. Mayor Sean being in the news didn't help with the urge to disappear. But she had a feeling that if Craig heard this idea, the old cokehead might get a kick out of it.

She slept, eventually, worked, eventually, and returned to the houseboat on Sunday for her weekly check-in with Seebs.

"I'm glad you've been introspecting, Dani. I've got pamphlets for some retreats you're gonna enjoy. But, uh- tell me again, how I'm supposed to help with this?"

Dani leaned back on Craig's sofa and held Seebs in her hands. The old man was slow and saggy as ever, but excited to see her as always, in his own way. She listened to him purr for a a little while before replying.

"You remember the field test, on firetower road? You said something about not being comfortable triggering... the kind of emotion that would lead to me blowing up."

"I'm still not comfortable with it."

"That makes two of us. But it got me to thinking- I've got perfect recall, but only for garbage. Go ahead, ask me anything about a show from the past forty or so years."

Craig shook his head and opened a bottle of Inca Cola. "Alright, I'm game. We all know Peter Falk played Columbo, but -snif- what about... Missus Columbo?"

"His wife or the spin-off show?"

"You tell me."

"Well, she never had an actress in the Falk show. But Kate Mulgrew played Mrs. Columbo. She was gorgeous in that role, and all those years before she'd pick up in Voyager. Imagine getting your face out there with a show that bad, and then turning around and being the best c-"

"Jesus, Dani."

"See, man? When I like something, it's always like this. I can't just be all, 'Hey, I liked the new Hulk movie," it's always, 'I wish Lou Ferrigno and Arnold Schwarzenegger did more together. They were both in Pumping Iron, can you imagine if they were in this? Arnie could be Juggernaut and they'd just be hucking buildings at each other-"

"I get it, you have brain damage. How does this circle back to the fourth-dimensional pit of repressed anger we're working on?"

"Well, this sense of recall I've got. I know it's a stretch, but if I have this good of a grip on bullshit, maybe there's a way to extend that grip to... all the bad stuff."

"What, you want to watch -snif- Dan Akroyd reenact you vaporizing Sean Gracie?"

Ugh, don't remind me.

"No, man. I just think if I could like myself the way I like all this junk, I might be able to reach into that pit and grab what I want."

"All the more reason to go to Peru! Great place to clear your head. Clean mountain air, friendly wildlife, affordable living..."

"Craig, you called yourself a cocaine engineer recently. Now, I don't know your life, but it sounds to me like you didn't always make the most responsible choices."

"Now Dani, I'm not sure we ought to dig into that..."

Dani chuckled and relaxed her grip on Seebs. He curled up on her legs and was back asleep in seconds.

"I mean, it can't have been that bad, right? I don't think I've ever heard of such a thing. Sounds like a bunch of nerds getting high."

Craig adjusted his glasses and huffed, that big white mustache twitching. "I know what you're doing."

"Then skip ahead to the part where I win so we don't hafta fight about it. Begin at the end and work your way back, isn't that how you said your process usually goes?"

Craig sat in his boxy old easy chair, sinking into the orange-and-brown plaid. After some digging in the side pocket, he found the remote and turned on The Weather Channel. They were running the ball lightning story again.

"God, are you ever Jolene's kid. You know she used to play peaknuckle whenever she wanted to prove a point."

"Pinochle, like the card game?"

"No, the one where you lace your fingers together and then thump each others' knuckles until someone wants out."

Dani rolled her eyes, and they sat idle for a moment, watching the weather radar. The chyron across the bottom simply asked- MAYOR SEAN, BALL LIGHTNING VICTIM?

"Look, we would ride the rails back in the '70s, yeah. But we did it so we could talk to computers. That was how we partied, eheh. We got tore up and hooked a Xerox Alto into a ham radio aerial, then coded ourselves up a cosmic bluebox and started cold-calling anyone in the galaxy who was out there listening."

There was a nostalgic glint in the grayish eyes behind those thick, grandfatherly bifocals. He only sniffed at the end, and even then, regarded Dani with a toothy grin.

Oh, those are weirdly perfect. Probably false. My man looks like Teddy Roosevelt with those choppers.

"Alright," she finally replied. Her tone was even and patient. Moreso than she could usually muster, certainly. "And was anyone out there?"

"Ohoho, yes. Yes, yes, yes. I never met him, but Andi did. Sat in his chair, too. I never had that sort of impulse. Takes a real uninhibited flower child type."

"And that's... Andi?"

"Andromeda Rainflower, god bless her. Never did find out her birth name, but I suppose that's none of my business. She and the rest of The SLAPP would get zooted on mushrooms and go out-of-body, seeing what they could see."

"Do you know anyone who isn't doing hard drugs?"

"I mean, none of us are doing them now. At least not regularly. Most of us eased off, some of us died, and- hell, the real loss in our little community came when 'ludes got the axe in '85. All of a sudden none of the Dreamboats could get their fix, and they just... disappeared. They didn't have anything like beaver math or spiritual astronomy to fall back on, so anything they knew, we lost."

"Any more weird little team names?"

"Come on, you're into this. We used to get away with a hell of a lot. --But no, far as I know, it was just the three of us. And we only touched base and started working because of the craziest kind of coincidence."

Dani raised her eyebrows and took a drink. If Craig was going to talk, there was no sense stopping him.

"We- Milton, who you've met- and a man named Reese Castle, and myself- were up late one night playing with some data from the Big Ear. We were experimenting with something that we'd later name the Langolier Mechanism- had to wait for Steven King to help us out- basically it's time shear, if you move across a fourth-dimensional axis against the grain, you invariably incur damage that isn't undone by the reversal of time. This is why it's so hard to build a time machine that doesn't just strand you with the dinosaurs."

Time machines, now? She stopped herself from speaking, and drank again. Pretend it's not bullshit. He's crazy, but he's gotta be getting at something.

"I'm getting off track."

"See? Happens to everybody."

-snif-

"Long story short, we ran into them while they were tripping out. We fired off our signal expecting to bounce it off some space rocks and write down some numbers, but instead, we hit people. And they were out there at the edge of everything, checking out some... structure."

"What was it?"

"Now Dani, I respect you, but take my word for it that you aren't ready to hear that. It'll just make you mad at me. Maybe I'll get Andi on the phone sometime and she can tell you."

"Alright, sure. So you were just, sending signals off into space, and you happened to hit... as you say, people."

"Sure did. And they followed the signal back to us, and next thing you know, we've all got pen pals. So, to circle aaaaaaall the way back," he held out his arms dramatically, then flit a little ash into the ashtray. "Sometimes when you reach out, you find something. In our case, it was something good. In yours..."

What if there's something good in there?

"...In your case, I suspect there's only pain in there."

"Are you willing to help me check, Craig?"

At that, he grinned.

"I'll get the Alto."

<-Prev Next->

#IPYIHGU #dani from my bullshit #today's part is a lil subdued and dialogue heavy but i still like it #warming me up after a couple days off

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jijipeaches · 7 months

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Hi! I'm Jillian Mae, you can call me anything. But before I tell myself I just want to let you know that this is my first blog. At this time let me tell you a little bit of information about Jillian. May you be happy and understand my short story for you.

To tell you more about myself. I live in Brgy. Solong, Can-avid Eastern Samar. It is a rural area but full of nutritious crops and most of our area are farmers. I grew up with gratitude to my family. We are not rich, we are not poor either. I'm the kind of idealistic woman, I really do love arts like music, drawing, dancing, designing interior and exterior house all just about art.. If I remember, I think I have an awesome childhood, all we want we get. But as we grow older, I notice why do I feel different from them? Why do all my cousins seem so easy to make friends with other? Why do I always feel so quiet? I don't even have a friend at least one?. Fast forward in 2017 of course that's at the level of curiosity. As a teenager, I try to find out where I belong?, Who am I?, What should I contribute, or what should I do to do to love someone else?. I was so happy, I made a lot of friends, I became better known throughout our campus because of my friends. But as long as I think I don't belong to it, why don't I really enjoy it? Why is my real personality coming out?. It seems like it's not right to please everyone else. Then, I say Lord, I'm so tired. I also saw in their eyes that were full of bitterness, hard hearts, wounds and problems that I just realized that they were rebels but the advantage of them is smart and really good in academics.

When I became a senior highschool, I started to stay away from them. It's changing, but I have to get away from toxicity. There I was more into who I was? And at the age of 18, it was funny, that I knew I was an introvert. Why am I gentle and modest. There I also saw myself in the mirror that I had suffered from depression and suicidal thoughts, so I was looking for validation for other people because I couldn't find it within my family. Because we were a broken family and it was harder to admit to me that they had their family. But now that I'm 20 I found myself forgiveness and acceptance not only for myself but for others. There I realized that when I was lost, the Lord was just there and I now understand why I need to get away and grow more of what I have because God preparing me for the upcoming breakthrough and the purpose of me Why did he raise me.

I share this to you because, in the world that is full of problems, I am strengthened by the time and will be strengthened by the coming. I wrote this not because it's my blog, but for the young people who wandered away, young people were full of questions. I just want to tell you that if I miss it, not by shouting but by faith. Because of the emergence and forgiveness I was released from the darkness, pain and the chaos of my life back then. If I had been able to handle my challenges as a teenager, you would be able to now make more powerful resources to make you stronger 💪.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

September 08, 2023

Padul-Ong Festival 2023 in Philippines

By: Hellotravel

The Padul-ong Festival is the province’s way to pay homage to its Patroness, the Blessed Virgin Mary. The capital city of the province, pronounced as “bo-rong-gan”, was derived from the Waray-waray word “borong” which means “fog. The festival commemorates the day they received the image. It depicts a mythical presentation on how the image of the Blessed Virgin Mary was inexplicably transported to Borongan City all the way from Portugal. The festival also illustrates the legend of a mysterious “Lady in White” who allegedly visits the Hamorawan Spring regularly.

According to the locals, the Lady in White has been blessing the spring waters with miraculous healing powers. Every September 7 or 8, Borongan City celebrates an early morning mass in a quaint chapel at Barangay Punta Maria. The mass signifies that the Padul-ong Festival has officially started. From the chapel, the small image of the Blessed Virgin Mary is transferred to Rawis Port. The first part of the festival which usually starts at 5:00 in the morning is the fluvial procession where boat owners can join along with the official boat carrier of the small image across Rawis Bay.

The image is then paraded through the town going to Borongan Cathedral. At the Borongan City plaza, you can watch the re-enactment of the transportation of the Blessed Virgin Mary. It tells the town’s old legend on how the image was brought to the Philippines. Celebrate with the Boronganons, join the procession and be amazed at the colorful costumes of the performers while enjoying the lively beat of the drums during the street dancing parade.

Reference/Resources:

Hellotravel (2023). Paduol-Ong Festival 2023 in Philippines. Hellotravel. https;//www.hellotravel.com

#inspiration #home

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barbaramoorersm · 11 months

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June 18,2923

June 18, 2023

Eleventh Sunday of Ordinary Time

Exodus 19: 2-6a

God reminds the Israelites that they are God’s special possession.

Psalm 100

The psalm confirms the special relationship between God and the Israelites.

Romans 5: 6-11

Paul speaks of our reconciliation with God through Christ.

Matthew 9: 36-10:8

Jesus commissions the twelve and sends them out in ministry.

The grand feasts are now behind us and we return to Ordinary Time. The readings today show a movement and progress on the part of God. What does that mean?

Our Exodus story focuses on the history of the Israelites, how God claimed the people as special to God, and how the Divine One saved them, and brought them to freedom. This is how the Israelites saw the power of God in their lives. “You have seen for yourself how I treated the Egyptians and how I bore you up on eagle wings…”

In Matthew’s Gospel we see elements of that view when Jesus tells the twelve Apostles to “go to the lost sheep of Israel.” He also advises them not to go into “pagan territory or enter a Samaritan town.” But throughout the Gospels Jesus does just that. Remember the Samaritan woman and the visit he paid to her village. Perhaps, he wanted his Apostles to start with their own people because he knew just as Moses did, that they were special to God.

But, at the end of Matthew’s Gospel, he presents Jesus with a much broader command. Jesus remained a faithful Jew from birth to death but perhaps by the time of Mathew’s Gospel the early Church inspired by the Holy Spirit, feels the call to go further and to spread Jesus’ message beyond their own community. Jesus’ closing command is shared by Matthew’s Gospel in its closing verse is, “Go therefore making disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey all that I have commanded you….”

The message becomes much more expansive. Perhaps Jesus was gradually preparing them for the future which involves a much more embracive view.

That view is expressed today in the words of Paul to the Romans. Paul reminds the Romans that God proves Divine love as Paul writes, “for us” that is the Romans, the Gentiles, and the pagans. Paul is the great ambassador to the “outsiders.” He identifies with them. He presents a gradual and at times a very difficult call to expand the Christian message to include but to also reach beyond the Jewish world. A call to reach “all nations.”

What might be the lesson for each one of us in this gradual opening and reach of God’s message? It was an awareness on Jesus’ part that so many were suffering and were “troubled and abandoned.” The issue is the same for us these days. Our baptismal call is to “reach out” to the “troubled and abandoned” of our own day. Who are they?

The list is enormous. Who are abandoned these days? You must have a list but let me share a few groups. Transgender children and their parents whose health privacy is ignored by some laws. Health care for Black mothers, anxiety of children during a digital age, victims of gun violence, and high rates of suicide among younger folks. God’s heart must be moved with pity for so many these days. And Jesus’ instructions were to serve the very ones suffering in his day are a model for you and me.

“The harvest is abundant but the labors are few….” We may respond and say that we are not equipped or trained to serve in that way. But we are invited by word and deed to do the ordinary extraordinarily well. To listen, assist and encourage when and where we can. “Jesus’ heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned….”

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loudtrashphantom · 2 years

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I just need to rant.

I grew up with my aunt and uncle and cousins as I was taken away from my parents and jy was either them taking me in, or me staying in a foster home until I'm 18. I lived with them from ages 11 to 16, and then ages 17 to 19. I moved in temporarily with my parents but the situation was extremely abusive.

My female cousin has been a control freak and always disregarded me, telling me I needed to be grateful to have a roof over my head and clothing and food. She always picked fights with me and I was never good enough. I wasn't allowed to go spend time with friends or have after-school activities, but her son could. She wasn't even my legal guardian but she forced her way to take control of my life which is why I ended up moving out. When I moved back in, I was diagnosed with depression but I wasn't allowed to not have a reason to be depressed, because, as in her words, there's always a reason.

Anyway, I started dating someone that she didn't approve of (and I mean that he wasn't hand chosen by her) because he wouldn't take her constantly putting me down, and he helped admit me when I attempted suicide. She hates him. He ended up letting me move in with him about 4 months into our dating after she told me that I wasn't welcome back into "her" home. No one else fought her on it because whatever she wanted, she got.

That's right. My legal guardians didn't say a damn thing. I was 19 by the time I moved out anyway so I guess they didn't have the right to say anything either. But after that, she stopped contacting me and I blocked her on Facebook. I stopped seeing the majority of my family for about a year (I was still in contact with my youngest cousin - who's 2 years younger than I am) and I slowly let them back in. She was the last one I let in and she pretended nothing happened when confronted, she said that it didn't happen and it wasn't that serious. I ignored this jab. I got engaged to my boyfriend and found out I was pregnant. Everyone was overjoyed when we found out it was a boy.

Another cousin announced that she was also pregnant and was due the day after me. Fast forward, I give birth and she gives birth 23 hours later. We are then posted to our current city and everything goes fine. I found out I was pregnant 9 months later. No congratulations except by my aunt - who keeps messing up my daughters name.

She's born and I get a few likes on a Facebook post and, again, congratulations from my aunt. My uncle dies of cancer and we go to see them as we had planned our wedding to be with them a few months before his death. We asked if they wanted us to reschedule, and they told us no as it would be something that would bring a little joy to their lives. We go down there and...nothing. It felt like no one wanted anything to do with us. They literally kept their distance the entire time, and I asked them if they were sure about the wedding. They said that it should stay on track. We ended up leaving early and driving home - which was about 18 hours away with a 3-month-old and an almost 2-year-old. I understand they were still grieving which is why I offered to reschedule the wedding and give them time. And in hindsight, I probably should've anyway because now, when I look back, all I see is the distance and the feeling of not really being wanted there.

A year later, they have their children visiting from the States to spread my uncle's ashes and they have done all sorts of activities with these kids, taken them to explore places, read books together, played outside, let them play with the bunnies, and I can't help but feel a little jealous. Because all of these activities never happened with my kids, not even before my uncle's death. My cousins took 3 weeks off work for the kids so they could play and have fun and I can't help but feel that my family and myself would never be good enough.

I know I sound selfish, and probably like a jealous freak, but I look at the photos on Facebook and all the activities they actively planned and when we were there, they worked themselves from 7 am to 9 pm with no room for any kind of family time or movie or game or anything.

I'm just defeated and jealous.

#family #jealous

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starglow-xx · 3 years

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(About the brother!atsushi) aRE YOU READING MY MIND MISS?! Because that has been on my mind for MONTHS. TYSM For writing it was amazing!! If you don't mind, may I request (if requests are open) atsushi, still an older brother, but with a sister that's 10-13 yrs old? It's totally fine if you don't wanna do it. Keep up the good stories, ily mwuah!

*sobs* you’re so kind thank youu 🤧🤧

i wrote this a bit differently i hope that’s okay anon! at first i planned for this to be mainly abt atsushi and the reader, but i decided to add in relationship hcs with the agency bc i ran out of ideas

if you guys liked this don’t worry! im planning a special part two for this one so be the look out for it hehe

atsushi with a tween! sister

ft. the armed detective agency

like in my baby sister hcs, you’re still the most important thing to him period

the two of you got picked up by dazai and kunikida when he was 18 (obviously) and when you were 12

for a 12 year old, you were a bit small bc of malnourishment (which makes atsushi feel so bad) so both dazai and kunikida thought you were a bit younger than you actually were

they assumed you were about 9-10ish

you and atsushi both share a favorite food !! chazuke :)

so when kunikida treated the two of you, he made sure you got more bowls bc like i mentioned above, he feels really bad that you were malnourished and under weight

(don’t bring this up but kunikida felt bad too hehe)

when dazai went with your brother to the warehouse, you were with kunikida

imagine the surprise of the other ada members when kunikida came in with a little girl dressed in rags that popped out from behind him

kenji was the one who vocalized his thoughts

“kunikida-san you have a daughter?! wow! i didn’t know that! :D”

when you found out your brother was a tiger, you were a bit concerned but you were actually kind of excited

you were even more excited when you found out the two of you were going to be taken in by the agency

anything was better than the stupid orphanage

and besides!

you got a tiger for an older brother and a bunch of other super powered agents to take care of you! who could want anything else?

at your age, you’re very impressionable and can be influenced easily so atsushi makes sure to teach you more in depth of good morals and the importance of kindness

his heart swells with pride and relief when he catches you being kind to others

pride bc he’s proud that even after all the two of you have gone through, you still ended up being a good kid and having a bright view of the world

and relief bc he hasn’t failed as a big brother

pfftt like he could ever fail

but please, from time to time reassure him that he’s perfect and the only big brother that you’d ever want bc he rlly needs that kind of validation

with his salary and savings, he tries to buy nice things for you

what a sweetheart 🥺

he saw you eyeing that one dress at a store window? fast forward abt a week and half and it’s inside a pretty gift bag for you

you wanted to try that dessert from the nice bakery? that’s dessert after dinner at one point

but other than buying you things, he sets money aside for you

like all the time

(y/n), here have this, you might need it”

“but nii-san you just gave me—”

“take it”

#1 spoiler

also your #1 confidant and source of physical affection

you tell him anything and everything (except crushies and those kinds of things)

atsushi loves it when you talk abt your day and he can see the big smile on your face and the sparkle in your eyes

it gives him the strength to keep going 😖😖

the two of you aren’t as touch starved as you’d probably think, but that’s only bc the two of you had each other

in your opinion, no one can match the hugs of your big brother

and it got even better bc YAYY he has tiger arms now ٩(◕‿◕)۶

if you ask, he’d carry you around too hehe

you also get nightmares quite often so he’ll always be there ready to calm you down, talk if you need to, and rock you back to sleep

god i love him 🤧🤧

atsushi will do everything in his power to protect you and make sure you get to grow up happy, supported, and loved

port mafia attack? oop he’s already taking you to the nearest escape route

someone is starting to harass you? they just got suckered punched into the next week

you want to go out to have some fun? he’ll go ask the president for a day off

you’re not feeling well? he’ll take another day off and take care of you

whatever you want to do, he’ll do it with you! (as long as it’s within reason)

will always be your #1 supporter! and he’s the president of your fan club hehe

he loves you so so much and will do anything for you; your life and happiness will always be more important to him

you are his reason to keep going

agency head canons !!

atsushi is your big brother, but kunikida is most definitely some sort of father figure

everyone can see it

except kunikida of course

kunikida scolds you lightly if he thinks your manners need work or if you make a mess in the agency

you listen to him of course and in turn as some sort of a reward, he’ll give you pieces of stationary

he always gives you the nice, good quality kind and you’re over the moon

atsushi adores it when you come running to him showing your new notebook or fountain pen and blabbering what you’re going to do with it

sometimes it isn’t even as a reward for being a good child; he’ll just give it to you and he’ll say smth like “i noticed you’ve used up your last notebook quite quickly, so here’s another one” or “did you run out of ink? here have this then”

he usually has a soft spot for children in general, but he most definitely has a soft spot (or a thousand) for you

yosano is kind of like a motherly figure to you

she gives you the guidance a mother should and goes on shopping trips with you!

atsushi always gets dragged along by you, but he thinks it’s worth it seeing you look so happy

yosano being a doctor also tries to teach the things you should know, or things that would be helpful to you

she’ll teach you the basics of cooking, sewing, how to treat a cold/fever, etc

also gives you excellent advice 1000% of the time

“remember (y/n)-chan if someone hurts you come tell me and then i’ll chop them into—”

“yOSANO-SENSEI DONT TELL HER THAT—”

fukuzawa is like a father to most in the agency but you see him more as a grandfather figure

bi weekly tea and gossip sessions hehe

along with cat talk!

most of the time though, it’s just you talking and him listening to you, but the two of you enjoy it nonetheless

“and then kunikida-san ended up crashing into a pole and dazai-san started to laugh at him and i did too because it was really funny but we ended up getting scolded—”

“hmm i see...”

he’ll let you stay in his office as he fills out paperwork; you’re usually doodling or drawing in your notebooks

sometimes he’ll meditate and you’ll join him, but 4/7 times you’d fall asleep

you always wake up with a blanket over you

dazai is like a cool but a highly concerning and kind of high maintenance uncle

frequently takes you out with him when he ditches work

walks in the park, eating at uzumaki so he has the excuse of treating you so he doesn’t have to pay his tab avoiding kunikida and sometimes chuuya and akutagawa, all that fun stuff

also tries to not talk abt suicide in front of you especially if it’s just the two of you alone

he knows that you mean the world to his pupil and that said pupil would probably hate him for putting suicide inside your brain

he teaches you random but useful things like how to pick a lock, how to steal kunikida’s notebook if you’re looking for some information, how to sweet talk your way out of things, etc.

is also the one to tell you that if you ever get a significant other to introduce them to the agency first

he always wants all of your gossip; some of them work pretty well for blackmail

“dazai-san! dazai-san! did you know that kunikida-san lost his glasses and he was looking for them for nearly an hour when he was just holding them the entire time??”

“woah really (y/n)-chan?! hey hey can you say it again into this recording device so kunikida-kun would believe me when i tell him—”

always ends up giving kunikida a heart attack when he says that you’ve been with him all day

ranpo is also like a cool but a highly concerning and kind of high maintenance uncle

will share some of his snacks, but don’t push it or you might not get anything at all

loves it when you compliment him

if you tagged along with him and your brother on a case, he will show off to impress you

“...and that’s how the crime happened”

“UWAHH RANPO-SAN YOU’RE SO COOL”

atsushi is lowkey and kunikida is highkey stressed that ranpo’s eating habits will rub off on you

“ne (y/n)-chan do you wanna try this highly caffeinated drink and this concerning amount of sugar filled snack?”

“can i really?!”

“rANPO-SAN NO—”

ranpo definitely does stuff like that on purpose

the tanizakis are like siblings to you!

a weird set of siblings but siblings nonetheless

the two of them adore you and think you’re precious

atsushi definitely knows how to do your hair whether it’s long or short but he got even better at it when he asked the two

hehe braid trains are definitely a thing + kyouka and kenji (and maybe even dazai)

sometimes you have sibling swap days

you’re with junichiro for most of the day and atsushi is with naomi

strange i know

each of the tanizaki siblings try to make it fun bc they know that the two of you did not at all have a happy upbringing

junichiro likes spending time with you by taking you out to different places that naomi likes to frequent

like the mall, different stores and restaurants, the park, places like those

naomi does the same thing with atsushi so if you ever bump into them, you go out and eat together :)

besides atsushi, the next one in line who spoils you the most would be junichiro (and yosano & kunikida both coming in at a close third)

he honestly can’t help it; you remind him of how naomi was when she was younger

and besides

he’s always been a sucker when it came to the happiness of a little sister

“would you really buy this for me junichiro-san?!”

“of course! don’t worry about it” :)

wanna talk abt boys/girls/celebrity crushes things like that? naomi is your girl

you feel a bit embarrassed to go talking to yosano or your brother abt that and kyouka does not know a thing abt them either

“uwahh naomi-san look at all these people in this magazine! they look so good!”

“right?! but of course onii-sama is still the best—”

you get along with kenji and kyouka quite nicely being roughly the same age as them; they’re also like siblings!

just pure, wholesome vibes from the three of you

you’re over the moon when she finds out that kyouka is staying with you and your brother

atsushi is twice as happy seeing you talk your mouth off and finally having a girl around your age to talk to

“do you think demon snow can change how she looks?”

“hmm... im not sure...”

you and kenji talk abt anything and everything

he even teaches you how to take care of plants!

sometimes the two of you are kind of in the same boat bc you don’t know much abt yokohoma being stuck in the orphanage and kenji doesn’t know much abt cities in general

“wait where are we again kenji-san?”

“ah we’re close to the ports! but im not really sure how close because i don’t know what the symbols on this sign mean”

“don’t worry! neither do i!”

bonus things!

yosano was kind of too late teaching you abt you know what

“NII-SAN IM BLEEDING IN BETWEEN MY LEGS”

you’re sobbing in the agency’s bathroom and atsushi is panicking trying to get you to open the door

“Y/N?! H-HOLD ON LET ME GET YOSANO SENSEI”

ranpo overhears and cackles making everyone around him confused

suddenly atsushi bursts in the agency basically on the verge of tears rambling incoherent sentences abt the bathroom, you, and blood

it just clicked for everybody in the room

(im going to pretend that kenji has sisters back home so that atsushi is the only one who remain oblivious here hehe)

atsushi is genuinely confused and sort of concerned that no one is freaking out with him

yosano waves her hand saying smth like that she’d take care of it and junichiro pulls atsushi to the side to talk to him

fast forward like half and hour and dazai and ranpo are cackling on the looks of both of your faces

honestly not sure who’s more traumatized, you or your brother

“why does this have to happen” :(

“ne ne (y/n)-chan!~ you’re too young but at some point you’re not going to have it!”

“uwahh really dazai-san?” :D

“yeah! but first you have to have ANFK—”

next thing you know your ears are being covered by your brother and dazai is thrown across the room by kunikida

you know

the normal

you’re twelve and have never gone to school, but the agency takes care of that

it’s too dangerous to go to school so they teach you what’s necessary and whatever else they can

kunikida takes care of math (obviously)

yosano takes care of science/biology/anatomy/health (whatever you wanna call it)

ranpo even dragged poe to help you with english

atsushi even got lucy to help you out with english too!

as tanizaki and naomi used to be students, they give you their old work books and they try to teach you all the other subjects

sometimes kyouka and kenji are there learing with you too!

sorry if there’s some errors! i’ll read through it again later :)

and as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize! the reblog button is there for a reason

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Part 1

Co-written with @southerngracela

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela for @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide.

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone.

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue.

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but, not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink.

A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood.

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you.

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places.

Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room.

The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host.

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone.

With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream.

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything.

“Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat.

“Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall.

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne.

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize.” You bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination.

Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Alongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background. And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby.

You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway.

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his.

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes. With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!"

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet.

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away.

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask.

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system.

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked.

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow.

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness.

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission.

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you, Sweetheart? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did.

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even,

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out three vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby.

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end.

The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his.

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** Part 2

#murder he wrote #j's haunted house 2020 #dark ransom #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #reader insert #chris evans #chris evans characters

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punkylilwitch · 3 years

Text

Covens vs Cults: How to tell if its a harmful cult or a helpful coven!

A picture of a helpful and beautiful coven! :) <3

Cults come in many forms, and they also indoctrinate people in many ways as well. Here is a list of red flags for cults, and after I’ll talk about how to see these when looking through covens.

If the leader is treated as infallible; If the leader is “always right” and believes themselves as smarter or otherwise above the other members of the cult. Those who ask questions, point this out, or try to correct the leader may be victimized/targeted for these “offenses”

If the leader advertises that they can secure a spot in heaven, allow for spiritual or mental relief, separate its members from anyone outside the cult, including family, then this is a major red flag that the group is a cult. Cults operate on the basis that all of their victims are vulnerable in some way, and open enough tom be manipulated. Manipulation itself is much harder to detect, but if you believe the leader is doing these things, then they may very well be lying and manipulating you about other things as well.

Exclusivity in faith; The best example of this is the example of The Heaven's Gate cult, which disallowed its members to participate in any other religious practices and isolated them from the world on false beliefs.

”The Heaven's Gate cult, which was active in the 1990s, operated under the idea that an extraterrestrial spaceship would come to take members away from earth, centering around the arrival of the Hale-Bopp comet. Further, they believed that evil aliens had corrupted much of humanity, and that all other religious systems were in fact tools of these malevolent beings. As such, members of Heaven's Gate were instructed to leave whatever churches they had belonged to prior to joining the group. In 1997, 39 members of Heaven's Gate committed a mass suicide.”

Intimidation, fear, and isolation are key factors to running a cult. Since a cult can only continue to operate with power and control, leaders do everything they can to keep their members loyal and obedient.

Historically, religious cult leaders have always been involved in illegal activities. These range from financial misdeeds and fraudulence to physical and sexual abuse. Several have even been convicted of murder.

Religious lies are another big sign that it may be a cult. They claim that god or some other higher being like aliens had instructed them and them alone to do specific things. Some male leaders have even claimed that God had instructed them to take multiple wives, which leads to the sexual exploitation of women and underage girls and similar illegal acts.

Now, lets talk about these points again under the context of Covens. Covens are places that witches are supposed to feel safe and at ease. Witches practice rituals and meditate together and aid each other in their development as witches. Typically there is a leader/organizer that is dubbed the High Preist(ess), and they are in control of the clubs activities. Here are some red flags when entering a cult:

A group requires you pay for each circle or event. Now, many covens have some type of dues even if it is just dedication of time, but if a coven is requiring you to pay $25 a meeting, then you might consider asking around in the community.

The group seems overly sexual. Now, many traditions are VERY sex positive BUT, if a coven requires you to complete some sort of sexual task, favor, or really anything that you aren't comfortable with, they are likely NOT a group you want to be involved with. Going a long with this, watch out for covens whose adults actively seek teens as members. Few reputable covens will accept anyone under the age of 18 as a member unless the teen's parent is a member of the coven - and even then, it's iffy. This is for a variety of reasons. Some covens practice skyclad - nude - and it's completely inappropriate to have naked adults in front of someone else's child. Covens that demand that you have sex as part of your initiation are BAD, and covens who are lead by adults but only/primarily recruit children are SKETCHY.

The coven starts separating you from friends and family. Sometimes this is very subtle, "Suzie has very low vibrations, and that's why you've been feeling depressed. You should avoid Suzie". But nevertheless, you will want to be aware that they aren't isolating you. No reputable coven will encourage you to forsake your loved ones, or tell you that the coven comes before any and all other obligations. Similarly, if the coven refuses to interact with any non-members or the community, this may be a very bad sign.

They require you to completely change your day to day life/ conform to their standards. Now, them asking you to shower more than once a week isn't conforming, that's hygiene, I'm referring more to things like, "you must always wear a plain brown peasant dress and Birkenstocks, and your hair MUST always be braided". There is likely something going on, so be aware.

Covens lead by inexperienced members are also a big red flag. When you ask your prospective coven's High Priestess how long she's been Wiccan, and she tells you "three months," it's time to bail out. There's no set time on learning, but someone who's only been studying for a little while simply does not have the experience to lead a coven or teach others. Use your best judgment here. Keep in mind there's nothing wrong with being a newbie and leading a study group or informal get-together, but someone who has only a short period of experience is probably not qualified to do all of the other things that coven leadership demands.

If the group tries to get you to rely on them or tries to get you involved with things that aren't legal/ are dangerous, this is a bit of a more clear sign of a corrupt coven. Any group that requires its members to participate in illegal activities - and this includes drug use - is not a coven focused on spiritual growth.

Here are some tips from Patheos.com on maintaining/creating a good coven(not my ideas):

“1.) Clearly define your organizational structure...

2.) Define the Leadership Positions...

3.) Define a Means for Hiving Off...

4.) Define what actions or behaviors aren’t OK, and outline methods by which violators would be asked to leave the organization...

5.) Outline a grievance resolution system...

6.) Set fair and equal financial expectations...

7.) Hold business planning meetings that are open...

8.) Define Guidelines for ethical conduct...

9.) Embrace flexibility...

10.) Participate as a group in larger pagan gatherings – compare stories and ideas, attend other types of public rituals to gain perspective...

11.) Create a Bill of Rights that protects all your members equally...” - Cult-Proof Your Coven: Red-Flags and How to Avoid Them By Heron Michelle

https://www.patheos.com/blogs/witchonfire/2018/06/cult-proof-coven-red-flags-avoid/

I hope you all appreciate this info and stay safe!!! :)

https://www.learnreligions.com/warning-signs-of-cults-4173088

http://www.covenantoftherose.org/blog/covens-red-flags

https://www.learnreligions.com/warning-signs-in-prospective-covens-2562848

(Image): https://northernplunder.com/creating-a-coven/

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soft-angelic-kiss · 3 years

Text

We’re all a little bit crazy (4)

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therapsit! Izuku x Patient! Bakugou x Patient! Todoroki x Patient! Shinsou x Patient! Reader

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Chapter 4 trigger warnings- swearing, Mentions of suicide, mentions of fighting, mentions of abuse and mentions of blood and acts of violence

if that makes you uncomfy don’t read!

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chapter one here

chapter two here

chapter three here

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Izuku stood staring at the shut the door with a wide eyed look. He had his assumption that shinsou was a rather chill person who wasn't afraid of anything. Making him more nervous over the last thing spoken from the lavender heads mouth

“Are you alright Midoryia?” Uraraka’s voice rang out, calling him out of his trance as he turned around and faced her once more “Uh, yeah. I’m alright..” Ochako let out a weary smile as she placed her hand on his arm and led him down to the next room, her heels clacking against the ground making it that more scary.

They got to a room that was obviously dented, the door had been hit a couple hundred times and the handle had dents on it from being gripped really damn hard..it seemed as if you hit the doorknob witha feather it would fall off

Ochako let out a deep breath and hummed “I advise you to be careful of this room, I have no doubt you’ll get hurt.. This is Katsuki Bakugou’s room..” Izuku shuddered, did OChakos voice lower just to tell him that? How dangerous really was this guy? He gave a soft nod and flipped to his file page..

F I L E 3

(Patient Name) Katsuki Bakugou (Patient #435)

(Date admitted) 7-3-18

(Patient age) 24

(Patient disorder) extreme anger issues, PTSD, Trauma, attachment issues and possessive behavior

(History/cause) He grew up relatively normal, his mother was verbally and physically abusive as a child and picked up on his mothers outrageous temper, He has a very boasting behavior and a very out there presence not wanting to be seen as weak, or incapable. He is very loud, and very angry because of his past

(Has patient...)

-attempted suicide?

-attempted homicide?

-attempted any act of self-harm?

-attempted violence on past employees?

-attempted escape?

(Other).He always references others with mean nicknames such as “twinkle toes” “dunce face” “shitty hair” “half and half” and “eyebags” The others don’t seem to mind, so we haven’t tried to stop it, beware if his temper starts to rise which can happen very quickly, run away and lock the doors, he will throw one explosive fit

(Danger level) 9/10

Izuku gave one more deep breath before scanning his hand and getting himself in just like the other times, the passing inside the second was thicker than the rest, though it was heavily torn in some places not repaired at all.

Izuku opened the door with a long sigh peeking into the room, proceeding to enter and stand close to the door keeping it open, just in case he needed to make a break, he was terribly nervous to have to talk to Bakugou, he had heard about the stories of his short temper and hard hitting fists.

“Hello?” As he came to his senses and looked around the room. It was pristine. not a single thing out of place. The bed was made not a single stain on the white sheets. Not a single speck of dust on the walls, windows or fan

. In the corner there was the spikey haired blonde reading something, he looked up as Izuku was looking around and he stood up slightly angry

“what are you doing in here?”

Izuku jumed softly “Oh, Hello I-” he didn’t get to finish his sentence before the book came flying at his head causing him to duck “hEY” he let out a yelp dropping the papers in his hands as Bakugo angrily spat out his threats “What the fuck are you doing in here.” His voice was loud and it made Izuku's knees wobble and not in the good way

“I’m I-Izuku a-and I’m gonna be your t-therapist-” he put his hands up as Bakugou started seething “Who the hell do you think you are to be coming into my room-” Bakugou cut himself off when he looked down and caught eyes with Y/N’s profile “Y/N” he paused before looking Izuku up and down, “You’re nothing. You’ll never be safe from us. From me, just wait. If you hurt Y/N I swear to god You fucking” His fist was raised and ready to swing, but a smaller voice rang out distracting Izuku making his head turn “Katsuki? ‘M here to see-” before it was cut off as well when a fist came flying to Izuku’s head

The person who spoke out previously let out a little yelp as Izuku tried to see who had entered, was it Uraraka? No, the voice was too feminine for that.. But he saw them hug Bakugou and give him a hit on the head that the blonde just responded to with a “tch” and watched as they turned their head to Izuku himself, who now had a bloody nose about to pass out on the floor

Izuku focused on the swaying of their h/c hair, his eyes slowly blinking not really registering what was going on anymore, he heard hushed whispers that he couldn’t decipher before he felt himself picked up and taken out of Bakugou's room.

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Tag List~ @buckyneedsplums @lazywrtierfullofideas09 @notchittatenn

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A/N: FNSAJKFJAK WOW WOW WOW you guys are absolutely incredible and I cannot believe how much support this series has so far.. Thank you for dealing with my slow ass writing much love to you all <3

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#therapist izuku #patient bakugou #patient shinsou #patient todoroki #asylum AU #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #izuku midoriya #deku x reader #shinsou x reader #shinbaku #shindeku #todoroki saga #my hero academia x reader #hitoshi shinsou #todobakudeku x reader #pls i love you guys

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tomhiddelstonandzaynmalik · 3 years

Text

Love at first sight?

Chapter 5

Warren Worthington III x Reader

Word count: 1340 words

Warnings: Language, suicidal thoughts.

prologue chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

"[...] I wish I was a heavenly angel

For I would always cling to my sword

But I am no heavenly angel

Hence I must fight the pain of my fault [...]".

-Heavenly Angel by an unknown author.

"Don't you have a life or something?". Warren teased Hank. It was 3:49 AM when the young man awoke from his slumber. "Not really, thanks to you". Hank's intentions had been good. To return the teasing only. But the purpose got lost when he saw Warren looking down in shame, shifting in bed as he seemed to try to make himself disappear.

It was a touchy subject for him, Hank had forgotten. He knew just how much he felt like a burden to everyone at Xavier's. It was clear Warren was not much of a talker himself. But when those sleepless nights came, where he would jump out of bed covered in sweat and breathing harshly after a particularly awful nightmare, that the idea of staying awake with his companion was more inviting than to go back to his made-up Hell.

Only then Hank had learned about the extravagant life, filled with luxurious items and exotic vacations Warren had grown in. Hank also found out about Warren's handsome but cold-hearted-control-freak father, about his loving but impotent mother, about what it was to have it all only for it to be having it taken away. The lonely days and lonelier nights that followed after, the age-inappropriate behaviours, one bad decision after another, and mostly, Hank realized just how worthless the "poor rich kid" deep down felt.

"It makes no sense". Warren said softly, looking down at the cup of freshly-made tea he was holding in his hands. "What?". The older man asked him while pouring some of it on his mug. "Me! Me being here makes no sense!", "I'm nothing but an inconvenience". Warren let out with sight. Although he was referring to him being at the mansion, the hidden meaning of it sent a shiver through Hank's spine. "Hey, stop saying that! You are NOT an inconvenience, Warren. You should be here!". Said Hank as he got closer to the boy, placing a reassuring hand onto his shoulder. There was some absolute concern in Hank's voice as he saw a glimpse of a tear peeking through Warren's eyes. "Oh! bullshit!". "You more than any other person should be pissed off with me!". "You're working extra hours on a lost cause!". Hank's heart hunched. It was true Hank had been depriving himself a lot so Warren could have the best treatment. Yes, he attempted to kill him and his friends before. But the more time he had spent with the kid, the more he had realized: Warren had been a pawn, manipulated only by the true villain, Apocalypse.

"Hey! Look at me, Warren." He said firmly. "Yes, you are right. I should be taking better care of myself. But I'm only doing so because I'm not willing to slow down until you're heald". He said, with such convincement, it made Warren believe there could be someone being finally genuinely kind to him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I- I was only, umm, you know it was just a joke, right?". Hank nervously stated. "Sure, man". Even though Warren seemed to pay no mind towards Hank's comment, his voice had failed him, having it come out on a lower pitch rather than his usual vigorous one.

in an attempt of changing the topic, Hank pointed at your still sleeping figure. "So... An old friend of yours?".

It was somehow painful for Warren to see you there, resting at the infirmary room connected to all those noisy machines. In the end, your near-death encounter, in theory, had been Warren's fault. Hank's question had rumbled within the blond's mind. You weren't friends. He didn't even know your name. And honestly, he was more preoccupied with the atrocious first impression he believed he'd made in front of you. "You are the biggest idiot on earth if you think she'll ever want to even see you after what you've put her through". Warren's inside voice scolded him.

"No". The young mutant finally answered. "oh! I see". Hank teased again. Even though what Hank was implying: The real reason You were there was because of Warren's attraction to You, was nothing but the truth. Warren couldn't stop the blush from tinting his pale cheeks." It's not what you think, okay!". "Well, your face says otherwise, Romeo". The older man was grinning at him in amusement. "Shut up!". Warren's effort of sounding threatening failed due to his face heating up impossibly harder. His natural porcelain-white face was now a deep shade of red, making his facial tattoos stand out even more. Hank was having the time of his life. While Warren was acting like a teenage boy, he couldn't stop the laughs from coming out. "You done?". Warren said from behind one of the wings he'd been using as a cover. "Hey, take it as payback from running away".

"[...] I wish I was a heavenly angel

For my heart shall always be in joy

But I am no heavenly angel

Hence I must behave just like a boy".

The atmosphere remained comfortable. After an hour or so, Warren fell asleep again, not after convincing Hank to do the same. Who after, some reluctance, finally gave in and left to his room.

"Wakie, wakie, sleeping beauty". A hoarse grunt came from Warren's sleeping form as Ororo was poking his cheeks to get his friend out of Morpheus' grip faster. "Come on, Dollface. You have to get out of bed! It's almost 9 PM!". "What the hell?" Warren shifted in bed, reading the big clock on the wall. "You little shit, it's only 9... AM!".

Ororo's giggles were resounding through the room. "Oops". "Well, now that your up, we might as well get breakfast. Don't you think?". He was going to argue about how unholy early his friend had decided to show up when his stomach gave him in. It had been more than 18 hours since the last time he'd eaten, which was why he decided to let it slip. "Fine! But you'll have to give me your bacon to make up for waking up a man who almost died in a fire at 9 AM".

"Yeez, you sure are a Drama Queen, Warren". Ororo was walking toward your bed, peeping at the monitors. "Hank said she was the one who got it bad". "Your problem was only exhaustion, which reminds me of: Hank told me, to tell you that you're free to go".

Warren zoned out the moment Ororo mention you. Under the morning's light, it was easier for him to examine You. Your H/C locks were stiff from all the dirt and ash from the fire; Your face, which had been whipped clean when you arrived, allowed him to scrutinize every inch of it. Nothing was going unnoticed. Even the tiniest of your scars located under your left brow had been seen. He was so lost on himself taking your features in he'd forgotten he was in the middle of a conversation. "Earth calling Fallen Angel, do you copy, Fallen Angel?". Ororo raised her voice. "Uh? Yes, what?". "Dear Lord, you didn't hear a thing, did you?". Ororo was irritated but decided against scolding Warren. Him showing interest in people was an odd sight. "I said if you wanted me to get you your breakfast so you could spend more time with her before your appointment with The Professor?". He only wished his friend wasn't able to see his excitement from such an offering. "That would be ni-, wait which appointment?". "What? Your pigeon brain didn't register that either? The Professor said he had something to tell you. Be at his office at 11 sharp". After that, the girl stormed off the room while yelling something along the lines of "not being people's secretary".

It had been only then, as he stood in the middle of the room when Warren heard a muffled voice behind him.

"I'm I dead?" You said.

#warren worthington iii #warren worthington x reader #archangel x reader #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy #xmen x reader #xmen #ororo munroe #hank mccoy

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promptprophet · 3 years

Text

Welcome back

I am not dead, although I am ready to throw down. Okay so there is a lot under the cut, but by every star in the sky I have been gone from all of my blogs for a while due to some roccuring issues. If any follow my main at @prophet-rebellion then you may have noticed that.

Some pro-tips:

1. Do not attend a gathering with family that does not believe in Covid. Because if they are anything like mine, someone will tell them they tested positive, your Uncle will encourage them to come anyways and not tell a single other person - and then, surprise surprise, everyone ends up with Covid.

2. Do not let your advisor plan your schedule entirely. Even if they are the Dean of your department. Because if they are still like mine, they will give you six classes. Which would not be an issue of 18 credit hours if it were not for the fact that 5 or the 6 are writing enriched. The only one that it not is math-based which is not my strong suite anyways.

But, in other news - I took a toll for the worst at one point. It has since gotten better. Granted, I had to be the biggest pain-in-the-ass to the campus physiatrist because he wanted to revoke some of my medication. Just because I am somehow making all As for the moment does NOT mean that I do not need my ADHD medication.

Speaking of! Yours truly got formally diagnosed with combination ADHD, depression, and anxiety. And after a lot of trial and error, we have found a medication and dosage that actually helps with the latter two! ADHD is still a work in progress because he is fighting me on it. He also doesn’t want me taking my meds unless I have a face-to-face class that day - as if it is some 9-5 weekdays only issue and I do not have class outside of those times, or online ones. But! A work in progress!

Also, Covid gave me the perfect chance to drop an incredibly toxic group of people in my life. One one hand, my mental health is so much better for it, and so is my own sense of self worth. On the other, it is definitely hard to do and hard to adjust to suddenly losing so many people. But I have reconnected with my 14 year old sister for the first time in 5 years - she wants to have lunch. Which is nice considering I have no spoken to my sisters in 5 years for her, 6 years for the older one (the middle). And I am also trying to reach out to my brothers more. It is interesting, because I did not know them until later. I am the oldest out of 5, 2 half-sisters of my mom’s side, 2 half-brothers on my dads, ironically enough.

I am also seeking out a competent doctor even with Medicaid, because I know need two more surgeries. This will make surgeries 4 and 5. It should have been 2 at most. But 5? And that is minimum, not counting if anything goes wrong again. It is taking longer, because I refuse to see my prior surgeon, and the only opening this past winter break as when I had to have my wisdom teeth removed, so, that did not happen.

Given circumstance I have managed to find a place to stay during breaks. Which is great because as some of you may recall I was kicked out after I turned 18 in 2019, and the room I rented over that summer was terrible (maybe leaving a known alcoholic with no regard for privacy alone with a just then 18 year old girl is a bad idea - if the number of times he barged into my room unannounced to try and get me to drink with him was anything to go by), but it was so my parents could travel full-time. Which, they are doing now and I am happy for them because my mom has 10 years maximum if she is lucky before needing oxygen (Smokers Lung), and my dad is dealing with medical injuries he got while serving - they discharged him because they would never heal right.

I have also picked back up with my job on my college campus! So money! And have secured a much better paying job over break than my McDonalds job, meaning I am not so hard pressed for cash. Which is also great because the last week of summer I had to dish out $2500 for my truck after it broke down in Tennessee and we had to get towed back to North Carolina.

So! Down to business! Now that I know what was wrong with me, and I no longer have issues with suicide, I’m on medication, and last semester I had a therapist that was a major help to me. I am actually in a better spot to be here. It has certainly taken a lot of work, and 2020-21 has thrown just about everything that it seems to have been able and hell, I am still looking for a third job.

Speaking of, god damn, the commissions! Jesus H. Christ, I wanted those done by January! And it’s March! Although I have been making progress on them, that is absolutely true - I am working on them a bit oddly though, switching between which ones I do to try and stop burn out and also because I was not drawing while mentally at my lowest. So to anyone who commissioned me who may not be looking at those messages, but sees this, I am sorry, they are being worked on. And I understand this is a ridiculous amount of time to wait for them and thank you all for being so patient.

I have also been considering if it is a good choice for me to come back to this page, and yes, I think that it is. Having something that I do every day has proven to be very helpful, and the amount of joy and love I have for these pages and the followers on them is immense. I was trying to clear out storage on my phone and I have an album just of prompts or asks that you guys have sent that continue to make my day. It really does mean the world to me.

I cannot be too sure if many have noticed my absence, if Prompt Guy did either. But I am stopping it now. I am finally in a good place. And yeah, I have a lot to do still - if all goes according to plan then I graduate next year. So after this I only have two more semesters before I graduate with my Bachelors in Business, with a focus on Entrepreneurship at the age of 20. And I better because I cannot afford to be in college much longer. I want to be back here, and return to my regular postings and interactions. I am getting those commissions done no matter what - that is a constant guilt over my head. Trust me, I know that it is there. I know. But I joined as an admin because I had followed this page the day it was created. And then I saw it had gone dead with no posts, so I applied as an admin. I got it. And things went very well. Well, I intend to hold back to what I wanted when I was first on this page, bringing it back to consistent postings for everyone.

I am here. I am back. And I am staying.

Also, I apologize if there are any typos, I have been doing a lot or writing for homework and personal work (trying to stop burn out and the threat of school ending my love to write) and my eyes have been strained the last few days, so everything is a bit fuzzy. Speaking of fuzzy! Turns out I needed glasses! So I have glasses now!

Yours truly, Prompt Prophet

#I lived bitch #but really I am back #Warning #Long post #Very long post #But god it has been so long since I have been back across ALL of my accounts #And I feel like I owe an explanation and a run down of what I plan to be doing

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softieteez · 3 years

Text

backstory

warning: death, cancer, drinking, mental abuse, some physical abuse, cussing, crying, anxiety attacks, suicidal thoughts, child neglect

genre: angst

summary: before ivy even got to her teen years, things were more difficult than most adults lives. from losing her dad, to experiencing neglect.

a/n: ivy’s story is pretty deep. feel free to skip this post if you are triggered by anything listed. also i’ll be using her birth name a lot throughout this story.

languages: normal = english. italic = korean

olivia min was born june 4, 2001 in michigan. she is the youngest of three siblings. miya, the oldest, was born february 20, 1997. and austin, the middle child, was born august 4, 1999.

growing up, olivia had an amazing relationship with her family members. her parents were always really supportive of anything she wanted to do. and her siblings, were annoying, but they all love each other so much. the family was pretty middle class, maybe more upper middle class. they had enough money to buy nice things and go on trips, which was nice and it gave the kids experiences they’d always remember.

when she was a baby, the families friend jax, had given her the nickname ‘ivy.’ the name stuck with him and eventually spread to friends at school. but her family members always called her olivia or jisoo, her korean name.

in school she was a social butterfly, running around recess practically collecting friends like they were collectors items. and because of her loving nature, no one could say no. she’s also very smart, she’s always had straight a’s and was usually willing to participate in class. teacher would say she was a sweet and smart little girl, and of course she could make the class burst into giggles at any second.

olivia started dancing at the young age of 4 when her parents enrolled her into dance classes. there, she met new friends and became one of the best youth dancers in their town.

her grandparents lived in ohio, which meant a lot of the times they would travel there for the holidays. olivia had a friend named aggy that lived there.

aggy lived next door to ivy’s grandparents. she was diagnosed with leukemia only five months before meeting the family, this was when ivy was maybe 7 years old.

through the years, ivy excelled in everything from piano lessons that she started when she was 5, to even cooking. she was a cheerful and happy little girl. until she reached age 9 when her dad was diagnosed with lung cancer.

this was a huge reality hit. she didn’t really understand it though, her dad was healthy. until he wasn’t. she remembers that day so clearly

“where’s mom and dad?” olivia asked walking into the kitchen and seeing her sister sitting next to their sleeping brother on the couch

“hospital, grandma and grandpa will be here in a few hours. for now our neighbors are gonna look after us”

“hospital? but why?” the little girl tilted her head

“i don’t know olivia. go back to sleep it’s early” miya did know, she saw her dad getting worse and worse as the months went on. but the last thing anyone wanted to do was worry anymore people. especially austin and olivia.

“okay…” she responded and went back toward her bedroom.

a few hours later she woke up to her grandma shaking her awake “wake up olivia. grandpa and i brought lunch.” the elderly woman spoke

olivia smiled at her grandmother as she sat up and stretched. the girl walked to the kitchen.

she still remembers all the yummy food her grandparents made, now knowing it was out of grief. later that night was when her parents revealed the truth to the kids.

and suddenly her whole world collapsed.

she would miss dance class and sometimes even school because her father would be in the hospital. because her mom and dad were always gone, she and her other siblings were expected to help around the house. occasionally with their grandparent by their side.

when she turned 10, she didn’t have much of a birthday blow out. and her present was some nail polish because that was all her family could afford at the time. when she turned 11, they spent her birthday in the hospital. her dads condition became so much worse that he wasn’t able to leave the hospital.

“i’m sorry you have to spend your birthday like this livvy” her dad held her had. his skin was paler than usual. colder too.

“it’s okay dad, i’m just happy we’re all here” she smiled as she held back tears. but her dad knew she wanted to cry.

“me and your mom got you something” he smiled and looked at his wife. the woman smiled sadly and reach in her purse to pull out a small purple box.

olivia grabbed the box from her mothers hand and opened it slowly. a beautiful butterfly necklace was revealed.

“it took a little while for us to find the perfect one” her moms sniffled. “we wanted you to love it”

thinking back on that moment. ivy now understood they wanted it to be special because it would be the last gift she would ever receive from her father.

“thank you mommy. thank you daddy” she whispered and pecked her dads forehead.

sadly, on june 29, her father passed away in the middle of the night. for some reason, her brain blocks this moment out. it’s all a blur.

her and her sister were sleeping on the little couch the nurses had set up and her brother was laying on the sleeping bag he had brought on the floor. it happened so suddenly. she woke up to her mom hysterically crying and weeping.

her brother and sister were frantic as nurses guided them three of them out of the room. but she does remember the last look she had at her dad.

he didn’t look real, more like a painting. or a sculpture maybe. his skin was practically white and his body was lifeless.

her whole family was in a depression, especially her mom. after losing her husband, she started drinking to numb the pain.

her grandparents left ohio and went back to korea completely unannounced. it was up to miya and austin to take care of themselves, each other, and of course olivia.

after a month of her fathers passing. the family had got a call from aggy’s mom informing them that aggy passed away july 25. so now she lost her dad and her best friend. along with that her mom isn’t stable enough to take care of her and her siblings, and her grandparents were m.i.a.

when she turned 12, that’s when her moms drinking got worse. she was living off of beer and tv dinners. she was also now mentally abusive toward her children.

austin became the child that started work. he would work late at night and then go to school all day. he was responsible for the families income at age 14.

miya was rarely ever home as well, but she was gone to escape their mom. she would rebel, hang out with her boyfriend, who ivy later found out was physically abusive.

then ivy was the kid that did the chores. she would also clean the neighbors houses to help pay her dance fees. the neighbors would always feel bad so they’d usually give her $30 for each chore she did. that was barely enough though.

and somehow, none of their friends ever noticed anything. except for austin’s, he’s always shut down plans to work and was overly tired all the time. but the friends did start noticing behavior changes

ivy became really depressed and spent most of her days just waiting for them to end.

the family got some income from the bank after the fathers passing. the kids were all in his will, earning $114k each. but they wouldn’t receive that until age 18.

around this time, ivy got into contact with her grandparent. begging day after day to move their and live out her dream of being an idol. her siblings would even call and beg the grandparents to let her, not wanting her to experience this life anymore.

after months of begging, her grandparents finally agreed to move her out to korea. she had already submitted audition videos to big companies like sm, jyp, yg, bighit etc.

she was 13 when she was officially moved into korea. she lived with her grandma and grandpa for a month before moving into the jyp dorms. she trained there for a year before being sent off to audition for produce 101.

during this time, she experienced great stress. her anxiety and depression led to suicidal thoughts and almost had to leave the show because of it. many fans who were supporting her throughout the show noticed her getting skinnier and skinnier by the episode.

somi, who became her best friend instantly, was also worried for her. ivy felt bad that she was worrying people. but she couldn’t help it, her mind controlled her. her thoughts were always telling her to do something. she would practice all the time and forget to eat.

somi would often watch after her to make sure she would at least eat a bagel and drink water everyday.

it wasn’t long before ivy would share her story, only parts of it publicly. her story reached american headlines, meaning her family and friends had seen it.

she was struggling for years. and it was only recently when she found inner happiness. she worked hard during produce, and didn’t win. and of course, she left jyp and moved to kq where she met her life long friends.

her boys have helped her so much, they were there to listen to her story, to hug her when she cried.

those are her boys, her family. her home.

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