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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

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Twisted 27 - When The War Comes [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, guns, knives, sharp objects, stabbing, hallucinations.

Word Count: 7500

Summary: Who will you become?

You had to control your anger. You had to control the fire in your veins until you were sure that your niece was safe, that your family was safe, then—

Then you would handle this situation. Until then, it had to wait.

All the training your father had given you was basically screaming at you to attack the threat, but you managed to keep yourself from doing so while you followed him through the woods, paying close attention to your surroundings.

The cabin. This was the way to your father’s cabin in the woods.

You had counted ten armed men on the way here but you had to assume there were more scattered along the woods. You stepped over a tree root before you looked up at the night sky and quickly found the stars that would help you. Thankfully it was a clear night, and your father had taught you long before how to read the sky for direction, in case you needed to-

Hunt.

A shudder went down your spine but you quickly shook your head, you had no time for that fear lurking in your head.

Fear could wait until you made sure you and everyone back home survived.

Considering how your family had no boundaries when it came to you, you were one hundred percent sure that by the time tonight was over, they would arrive at your apartment to see where you were.

“So what is your game here?” you moved your wrists that he had bound the moment you two had reached the end of the road and got off the car to walk into the woods, “You take me there and what? You’ll kill me?”

He looked over his shoulder, “How can you ask me that?” he said and you raised your brows.

“How can I not ask you that?”

At least you could leave a note. Lincoln was just that stupid.

“They’ll come looking for me,” you told him as he rolled his eyes, still pointing the gun at you.

“Who, your boyfriend?”

“He works in the FBI, you fu—“ you had to remember to stop yourself. He had access to Lily, so you knew you had to play it along, even if you barely felt anything other than anger. “Yeah. My boyfriend.”

“You broke up with him once, you can do it again,” he said and pointed at the pen and paper on the kitchen island, “Just write you need some time or whatever, he can see it when he gets here. Less suspicions.”

You grabbed the pen and paper, then clenched your teeth, your mind working nonstop.

“I’m waiting, Y/N.”

You stole a look at him, then leaned in to write on the paper;

Hamlet,

I need some time alone.

Ophelia.

Ophelia died in a lake, and you hoped that Spencer could make the connection between that and the time you had told him about Lincoln pushing you into the lake by the cabin.

He took a look at the note, then made a face.

“You call him Hamlet?” he said, shaking his head, “I never really liked that play. Let’s go.”

“Do you seriously think I would harm you, in any way?” he asked when you got to the stone stairs leading to the cabin, “I will explain everything once we sit down.”

“Will you untie me?”

“I’m not an idiot,” he answered as you climbed the stairs after him, his grip on your arm almost too tight and you gritted your teeth to stop yourself from coming up with a comeback. You looked up at the cabin, the memory of the last time you were there hitting you out of nowhere and churning your stomach, but you managed not to throw up as he slightly pushed you through the open door.

Don’t be scared, you commanded yourself in your head Fear is useless.

That was one of the things your father had taught you during those predator and prey games. Prey always got scared, which led them to panic, which led them to making mistakes that would cost them their lives.

You were a predator. You had always been a predator, since you were a child, and there was no fucking way Lincoln of all people could turn you into a prey.

He pulled a chair, then motioned at you to sit down.

“Remember, if you try anything…” he said, “If I don’t send the code to my friend—“

“Yeah, you’ll hurt my niece,” you spat, “Some man, aren’t you? Threatening a kid.”

He untied your hands, then pulled them behind the chair and started tying them again, and you raised your brows slightly.

Rather than wrapping the rope around your wrists separately then pulling them together, he was just tying them together, which was a terrible rookie mistake your father would never have done. Escaping from those, especially with a rope was almost easy with enough knowledge, and you slightly widened the gap between your wrists by pressing your thumbs together, not wide enough to make him suspicious but wide enough to give you enough space to move your wrists when you wanted to get rid of the ropes.

Almost everything was automatic at this point, you were following everything your father had made sure to engrave into your mind.

“There, that’s better,” he said and let out a breath, a small smile pulling at his lips, “Hi.”

You tilted your head, looking at him silently.

“That was a bluff by the way. I would never hurt anyone you love, I thought you knew that by now.”

That seemed to distract you from the fury, “What?”

“Everyone that I killed,” he pulled a seat for himself so that he could sit across from you and leaned in slightly, elbows on his knees, “Everyone, that was for you. I did it for you. Don’t you see that? From that childhood friend to your douchebag ex?”

Oh God you were going to be sick.

Spencer was right. You were sitting with the copycat killer back there, at the charity auction.

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” he ran a hand through his hair, “You told me what was happening, when we were kids. You told me a week before that night in the graveyard, that’s how your father let me come with you both. My parents had drunk too much at your parents’ party— you don’t remember any of that? I was the one who you shared that sacred secret with, no one else, not even your family. It was me.”

“Sacred?” you repeated, “My father was a monster, Lincoln.”

“Don’t say that,” he shook his head, the glare in his eyes sharpening, “Never say that. He…he is way ahead of all of us, if he didn’t get caught he’d be an even bigger legend than he already is. He brought us together.”

“You brought me here by threatening me and you tied me to a chair. My father is a terrible person, but this right here is your choice you fucking asshole.”

“Because I need you to understand,” he nodded to himself, “You will understand.”

“I will understand what?”

“That I did this for us!” he snapped and he swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath, “That I love you.”

A hysterical laugh escaped from your lips and you gawked at him.

“You love me,” you repeated, “You— you have been terrorizing me for months, you killed people, you fucking destroyed my life because you love me?”

“I’ll set you free,” he said, “Free of all these bounds everyone else put you into. I’ve seen your potential back when we were still kids, then after your father was arrested they turned you into something else, some shadow of what you’re capable of. Then I came back and you…” he ran a hand over his face, “You decided to get into an agent’s bed.”

“Don’t even—“

“He would try to change you,” he cut you off, sniffling, “He would, Petal. He would smother you with these stupid ethical rules and all that bullshit, but I’ll— we’ll be free together.”

If your last encounter with your father had taught you anything, it was that delusional killers didn’t exactly react well to a reality check. You moved your hands under the ropes, pulling at them just a little.

You would just have to play along until you were free, then you could be out of there.

The more you know about your prey, your father’s voice echoed in your ears, The easier it will be to take them down.

“How about your girlfriend?”

His head shot up and he shrugged,

“I mean,” he trailed off, “She thinks she’s my girlfriend.”

You gritted your teeth. “Erica,” you said, “Right. My girlfriend doesn’t have the same financial status as we do, huh? My fucking assistant, Lincoln? What did you offer her?”

“Offer her?” he asked, “I didn’t have to offer her anything. Who did you think your father’s outside source was?”

You pulled back slightly and he scoffed a laugh.

“I know,” he said, “She wants to kill you, not that I would ever let her, but she can believe that for the time being. I know you feel betrayed honey—“

“Don’t call me that.”

“But we only need her until a point, after she makes a phone call to get your family off our backs, she will be my gift to you.”

You dug your fingernails into your palms to remind yourself to focus, “Your gift?”

“There’s nothing like killing someone you know,” he dragged the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, “It’s not like strangers, not at all. That shit’s special, Petal. You’ll see when the time comes.”

Before you could even think of an answer, you heard the footsteps coming closer and the door opened, making you turn your head to see Erica who almost looked intimidated for a moment upon seeing you, but she managed to pull herself together.

“You might want to check out the west team,” she told Lincoln and he paused.

“Can I trust you with this?”

Erica frowned, “You can trust me with anything, you know that,” she said softly and you closed your eyes for a moment, pulling at the ropes tight enough to hurt before you felt it get loose just a little. The rough material of the ropes almost burnt your skin the more you kept moving your hands, but you gritted your teeth, trying to ignore it.

You heard the door close and the lock sliding into its place as you opened your eyes, and saw Erica putting the key into her pocket.

“I like your dress,” she said as she sat down, “Too bad it’ll get bloody.”

“You were my father’s outside source?” you asked, trying to ignore her comment, “You?”

She gave you a bright smile, and rested her arm on the back of the chair, making herself comfortable.

“That’s right.”

“Whatever he’s paying you—“

“He’s not paying me,” she spat as if she was insulted at the implication, “You ungrateful little bitch. I’m doing this because I want to, because I respect him. I believe in what he stands for, not like you would understand.”

“Jesus, you’re one of those freaks,” you muttered to yourself, tugging at the ropes around your wrists, “Serial killer groupie huh?”

“I’m not a groupie,” she spat, “I respect your father, not just any serial killer. It’s him. No one in your family deserves him, much less you, and—“ she shook her head, “The way you disrespect him and his name…”

“Disrespect him?” you let out a laugh, “Oh that’s rich.”

“He was right, you know?” she said, “Only the smart and strong is supposed to survive in this world, not weak. And he tried to raise you to follow in his footsteps, but you were too weak to do so. He just doesn’t see that.”

You clicked your tongue, “But you see that?”

“If he were my father,” she leaned in, gritting her teeth, “It doesn’t matter. By the time this is over, after I get rid of you and prove myself, he will see me as a daughter. Not you. You’re not strong enough to survive in our world. Lincoln agrees—“

“Lincoln is using you,” you cut her off, “He’s going to get rid of you as soon as he’s done. Let me guess, he told you you could kill me?”

“We’ll make you regret disrespecting father’s name first, then I will kill you, yes.”

“Yeah that’s not gonna happen,” you said, “Face it, you fucking idiot. He’s using you, just like my father is using—“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence when she lunged from her seat and slapped you across the face, her ring splitting your lip. You made a face, and spat out the blood filling your mouth, trying to ignore the sting on your tongue upon biting it.

“You know what?” she asked, “Lincoln always said no for some reason, but if you keep going like that, I can make you hurt really bad.”

“Aw sweetheart, you don’t have enough training for that,” you cooed, “What, you did some google search, looked up my father’s methods and now you think you can torture people? You think that’s how it goes?”

“I didn’t say it’d be physical,” she curled her lips, “You wouldn’t want your family to get hurt, do you?”

Your eyes snapped up to hers, that fire awakening at the pit of your stomach. She tilted her head, obviously pleased with your reaction.

“I suggested Lily instead of your ex….Anthony, was it? I said we should kill her and put her in the middle of your living room back then, but Linc said no. He said it’d hurt your father too.”

A numbness spread over your forehead, then went to the back of your head, reaching your spine as you blinked a couple of times.

“You were going to kill my niece?” you heard yourself ask and Erica crossed her legs.

“I bet that would’ve made you think twice before you disrespected John.”

You could almost feel it. Feel the fury taking over, that anger your father had always insisted you possessed roaring through you until it reached your heart, wrapping itself around it tighter and tighter.

Let the predator come out Petal, your father used to say Let it come out.

You rolled your shoulder back and cracked your neck with your eyes closed, an exact copy of your father as you twisted your hands under the ropes before you opened your eyes again to look at Erica.

“You don’t deserve him,” she insisted, “You all—you all just locked him away and forgot about him until Linc came back, until we started this. He will see soon that blood means nothing, me and Linc are going to be his legacy, not you.”

You tugged a little harder around the knot, then turned your wrist and managed to pull it out of the tight rope even if it scratched the skin over your wrists, making the burn spread over your arm.

“He taught you some stuff, big fucking deal,” she said, “I learned by myself. Without anyone to help me. Without someone else holding my hand.”

You clenched your fists, trying to ignore the throbbing as you slowly pulled your other hand out of the knotted rope.

“Yeah you missed a rule though,” you asked, dragging the tip of your tongue over the dried blood on your lip, “You’re not supposed to make them bleed unless you can kill them.”

Erica pulled her brows together, then a shriek escaped from her lips as soon as you let the rope fall, raising your hands in a mocking manner so that she could see.

“You chose the wrong victim, baby,” you said and she kicked the chair at you, then darted for upstairs, screaming while you just raised your brows, rolling your eyes.

Panic always led to mistakes like these, like rushing to somewhere one couldn’t escape from.

Upstairs was always a bad idea.

You made your way to the kitchen and pulled open the second drawer where your mother used to keep the knives, then grabbed a huge knife before you flipped it in your hand.

“Erica,” you called out, “Get back here, you’re fucking fired!”

She slammed a door upstairs and you scoffed a laugh, adrenaline pulsing through you as you dragged the tip of the knife over the walls, climbing the stairs.

“You know, if you give me the key I might make it quick,” you flipped the knife again, playing with it before you ran it over the steel staircase finial, letting her hear the sharp noise, “No promises though.”

Silence.

“I know you’re in here,” you sang, looking into the dark. Your father had taught you this long ago, if you couldn’t see, you had to make sure how to listen in the dark to find the location of whoever you wanted to hunt.

You took a deep breath and held it, not even moving a muscle and sure enough, a very faint creak reached your ears and you turned your head.

Second door to the left.

It used to be Mina’s room.

You let out a whistle echoing in the otherwise silent hall, disappearing into the dark before you stood in front of the door and ran the tip of the knife over the wood, almost relishing the slight whimper coming from the other side of the room.

“You were going to go after my family?” your voice rose as you kicked at the door, and Erica let out another scream.

“Lincoln!”

“Oh come on, where’s that strong survivor you’ve been telling me so much about?” you taunted, kicking at the door again but it didn’t open. “Hm? I thought you were going to prove yourself?”

“I-I swallowed the key, I can’t give it to you!”

“Ah well, I guess I’ll have to cut you open!” you shouted and kicked at the door once again and at last, the lock broke with a click and the door swung open, hitting the wall. Erica grabbed the chair closest to her, holding it up.

“Don’t!”

You flipped the knife in your hand, the grinned and took a step to her, so focused on adrenaline pulsing through your system that you didn’t even notice her eyes focusing on something over your shoulder until it was too late. Before you could even turn around, someone pulled you back, expertly avoiding the knife by bending your arm back and pressed a cloth over your mouth and nose, that sharp scent making you gag.

Chloroform.

Lincoln.

A tingling reached your head and that fuzzy warmth reached the back of your head, then closed your eyes shut.

***

You had no idea how long it took you out, but when you opened your eyes, it was still night. You grabbed at the side of your head and sat up in the bed, the whole room spinning around you.

Your childhood bedroom. You were in your childhood bedroom in the cabin.

“Hey,” Lincoln’s voice reached you and you turned your head to see him leaning on the doorframe.

Shit.

That was a mistake. Of course that was a mistake, and you couldn’t even believe yourself just how stupid you had been to act so careless.

“Easy, chloroform messes you up,” Lincoln said, “I’d stay in the bed for a while if I were you. You can’t attack anyone like this, you know?”

You weren’t supposed to follow your dad’s example in a situation like this. There was a reason why he was locked away, a reason why people had caught up with what he was doing, he was way too impulsive, way too destructive in terms of physical means. You had been so focused on protecting your family and going after the nearest threat that you had forgotten who you were.

You weren’t just your father’s daughter, you were also your mother’s.

And this right here? It wasn’t your father’s expertise yet, his time would come when you would have to fight your way out.

It was your mother’s.

Manipulation.

It was time to channel her, not your father.

“What happened?” you asked and Lincoln heaved a sigh, then pushed himself off the doorframe.

“You went after Erica,” he said, “She’s pretty shaken, but I told you Petal. You need to be patient, we just need her up to a point. After that, she’s all yours.”

You narrowed your eyes and slowly swung your legs over the edge of the bed, running a hand through your hair.

“And how much longer will I be subjected to this humiliation of yours? Can you give me an exact time or should I just wait here?”

He stared at you for a moment, trying to understand what you meant and you just arched a brow, a look of completely nonchalant sneer flashing over your face, the exact same expression you had seen on your mother countless times.

“I’ll take this silence as a no.”

“Humiliation?” he repeated, “When- how did I humiliate you?”

“How did you humiliate me?” you scoffed a laugh, “Are you serious right now?”

Jesus, your head was absolutely killing you but you had to focus.

“I’d never humiliate you, I love you.”

“Yeah yeah,” you waved a dismissive hand in the air, “You love me, we’re supposed to be together. I guess I’ll have to take your word for it while ignoring your actions, is that it?”

“My actions? Y/N—“

“So you bring me in here,” you cut him off, glaring at him, “You give me this whole speech about how you’d do anything for me, how we’re—we’re meant to be, and then you leave me in the same room with your ex so that she can boast about you? How you two are in love, how you two are together?”

“I told you, we just need her until—“

“That’s your love?” you interrupted him again and pushed yourself to stand up, crossing your arms while looking him dead in the eye, “Is that the proof of your love? Rubbing your girlfriend on my face? All the while she talks about how you two are going to be my father’s legacy together, like I don’t exist?”

“She just thinks that, I made her think that so that we can use her—“

“And then,” you said through your teeth, “You stop me and knock me out while I’m going after her to get rid of her?” you clapped your hands slowly, “Yeah. Proclamation of love right there Linc, congratulations.”

He licked his lips, obviously taking aback. “Y/N, we need her for now.”

“Mm hm, exactly,” you shot him a sweet smile “Looks like you need her a lot.”

“Not like that,” he shook his head, “Not what you think, I swear. She’s nothing.”

“No, I think she’s not nothing,” you clicked your tongue, “I think you formed some sort of attachment to your prey—“

“I didn’t!”

“Because you grew soft for her, and now you’re confused whether you want me more or her.”

He strode to you in three steps and pulled you closer, tilting your head up, and you had to command yourself not to make a face.

“I want you,” he said, “I always have, you know that.”

“Bullshit.”

He groaned, “Y/N-“

“No, it’s fucking bullshit.” You pushed his hands away, and searched your mind for the final nail on the coffin.

“Did you sleep with her?”

The expression on Lincoln’s face shifted and he averted his eyes.

Bingo.

“Did you? While you were in love with me, while you knew that we were meant to be, did you or did you not sleep with her?”

“You slept with that agent,” he shot back and you shook your head.

“I didn’t know you would do anything for me,” you insisted, “I had no idea—you said you had a girlfriend, I barely remember anything from my childhood let alone sharing so much with you and you didn’t tell me. But you knew,” you dug your finger into his chest, “You knew everything and you kept it hidden from me, so answer me this, did you sleep with her? While you knew you were in love with me?”

He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, then closed it again, and you took a step back, trying to look heartbroken.

“Wow.”

“Y/N.”

“Wow. You actually did.”

“Listen to me, she doesn’t mean anything, I swear to you. It was just to manipulate—“

“Get out of my room.”

He frowned, “What?”

“Get the fuck out of my room and leave me alone until you’re ready to show me you actually love me.”

“You don’t mean that,” he started and took a step towards you, but you grabbed the nearest object which turned out to be one of your old dusty plushies and threw it to him.

“Get out!” you yelled and he took a step back, raising his hands.

“I’ll… I’ll come back when you’re calmer,” he said and closed the door behind him, and you lost your balance, falling on your knees.

People were just so easy to manipulate, thanks to your mother.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “Thanks mom, time for dad’s turn.”

Weapons.

You reached under your bed to take a look at the secret compartment that your dad used to make you put your knives, but it was of course empty. Lincoln was stupid when it came to you, but he wasn’t a complete idiot, apparently. You pushed yourself off your knees and stood up, then closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, trying to clear your mind.

Your father had taught you this long before, in every room, there was something you could use as a weapon or turn into one.

You took a deep breath, exhaled it and opened your eyes.

It would have to be something precise, Lincoln had a point, you were in no shape to get into an actual fight with him. So you would need something sharp, and something that you could hide in either your sleeve or somewhere easily reachable. Something that Lincoln wouldn’t see until the next time.

You could tear down the bed to get to the bed springs, but it would take a long time and there was the danger of him walking in on you.

There was a chair and your post-its, some tape, small notebooks by the corner, hair ties and a music box on the desk in front of the window—

The music box.

The music box had a mirror.

“There you are,” you muttered to yourself as you took the music box, then grabbed the tape and your hair ties. You checked the door, then sat down, covered the mirror with the long skirt of your dress, then pushed on it with your elbow until you heard the small noise of the mirror breaking. You pulled back and uncovered it, then grabbed the longest shard, ripped out a couple of pages from your notebook and started taping it around the shard before you wrapped your hair ties around it so as not to let it slip or hurt your hand.

By the time you heard Lincoln’s footsteps coming upstairs, you had spent almost an hour preparing your weapon. You looked up, then closed the music box and put it back before tucking your newly made weapon under the lacy sleeve of your dress, and got on the bed, leaned your back to the bedframe and crossed your arms.

“Petal?” Lincoln called out and you gritted your teeth and turned your head when he peeked his head in.

“Hey, do you want to join me for some food downstairs?”

You narrowed your eyes, “Depends. Will your girlfriend be joining us?”

“I knocked her out and put her in your dad’s basement,” Lincoln said, “She will stay there until you feel like getting rid of her, and I won’t stand in your way this time. Okay?”

He offered you his hand and you eyed it, then pushed it away and managed to stand up on your own.

“Still dizzy?”

“A little,” you confessed, “Still angry too.”

Lincoln chuckled and heaved a sigh, “We need to talk about this jealousy of yours babe.”

You managed to control your expression and ignored him as you went downstairs. The rug was pulled to the side so that you could see the hidden door to the basement, but it was closed. You looked at the table in the middle of the living room that was covered in food, and there was a vase of jasmine flowers between the lit candles. You were still sure that you couldn’t engage in an actual fight until the chloroform was completely out of your system, but you didn’t have to worry about it since Lincoln seemed not to put any knives on the table. Your dad’s old vinyl was playing by the corner, the soothing melody creating a complete contrast with what was happening.

“A dance before dinner?” he asked you, “Come on. That dress needs to be used in a dance, don’t you think?”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders and took his hand, then wrapped your arms around his neck as he pressed his hands to the small of your back, pulling you closer before you started swaying with the melody.

You just needed an exact time for him to lower his defenses completely, because you only had one shot at this.

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

“You have no idea how much I waited for this,” he said, “When I was in Italy, I would….dream of this at night.”

You didn’t answer, you just made sure to keep your wrist at an angle so that the mirror shard wouldn’t slip.

“And when I came back and saw you for the first time in that red gown…” he murmured, “I thought I would drop dead. You were even more beautiful than I pictured.”

“Why didn’t you tell me back then?” you asked absentmindedly and he shrugged.

“I didn’t know how you would react.”

“And all those people who died?”

“Some of them were diversion,” he said, “Some of them were chosen. I promised myself no one could make you sad, ever. I would’ve killed that agent too if he was the one to break up with you, but then you said it was your choice, and… I don’t know. I thought it’d raise suspicions.”

Spencer.

He had considered killing Spencer.

Goosebumps rose on your skin but you reminded yourself to stay calm and focus, you had already slipped once because of your anger, you wouldn’t get a second chance.

“What about Anthony?” you asked, “You killed him… was it to frame me?”

“God no,” he said, shaking his head, “Of course not. Erica thought it was revenge for how you were treating John, but I wanted to make you remember how it felt to be in the scene of your father’s doing, how….how powerful it made you feel. I thought that would make you see how everyone around you was trying to make you into something you’re not. Deep down, Y/N, you’re just like me. That’s why we will be legends.”

A bitter taste appeared at the back of your throat and you swallowed thickly.

“And my father?”

“He knew we were supposed to be together,” he said, “He knew you would need a…companion in this. Us, free together. That’s why your father failed, because he couldn’t share who he was with your mother. It won’t happen with us, ever.”

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

You moved your wrist so that the shard could slip low enough for you to hold it and Lincoln leaned in slightly, his eyes closing.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips and you smiled.

“Oh Lincoln,” you murmured, your heart beating in your ears, “You should’ve known better.”

With that, you drove the shard right into his stomach, making him gasp and open his eyes. Betrayal was written all over his face, it was very clear he hadn’t expected it as you twisted the shard, making him lose his breath before you pulled it back, blood splashing over your face and your dress. You shoved him, making him lose his balance and fall down, taking the coffee table with him, causing some noise and as if on cue, Erica started screaming his name from the basement.

“Erica, shut up before I come down there and break your fucking neck!” you called out and the screaming stopped.

“Thank you,” you said and turned to grin at Lincoln who was breathing hard, his face pale.

“Y/N—“

“Oh don’t worry, you won’t die right away,” you said, “Dad taught me that one, ages ago. I stabbed you in the stomach, and it’s a pretty thin shard, so it’s not the blood loss that will kill you. It’ll be the toxic shock, because right now everything in your stomach including acid is contaminating your system. Should be fun, huh?”

“Why did you—“ he coughed, and you snapped your fingers.

“Hold that thought, I gotta get something from the kitchen,” you said and walked to the kitchen to open the drawers, then grabbed some knives and scissors before you want back to the living room, “Yeah, you were saying?”

“We’re meant to be,” he managed to say, trying to breathe and you hopped on the table before you cut the floor length skirt, ripping it out.

If you were going to run through the woods, you needed to be in something you could easily move and fight in.

“Nah we’re not,” you said, “You’re delusional, that’s it.”

“Petal—“

“See, I could’ve gone easy on you,” you said, wrapping the cloth around your injured wrist, “Really. I could’ve just escaped and handed you to the FBI and be done with it, but no. You two had to bring my family and Spencer into this so now,” you tut-tutted, “Now you get to suffer.”

“He doesn’t understand you,” he said, pressing on the wound and leaning his head back to the wall, “He never will, not like I do. We’re meant to get rid of every weak person in the world, everyone who deserves to die.”

You let out a laugh, now wrapping the cloth around your knuckles, “Uh huh.”

“You’re meant to be the legacy.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just meant to be a wedding planner,” you pointed at him with the knife and walked to him to grab the key from his pocket, then you pulled his boots off his feet, took off your heels and started getting into his boots.

“Petal, we’re supposed to be together.”

“Because my insane sadistic father said so?”

“Because I know you.”

You looked up from the boots you were tying as tight as possible, “Hm? You know me?”

“I do.”

You put two of the knives in each boot and jumped down to rock on the balls of your feet, trying to see if you could move well.

“That’s your first mistake buddy,” you said, now wrapping the rope over your boots, “See if you knew me, you wouldn’t be so careless, would you? You took me here and what? You didn’t think I’d kill my way out? You didn’t think I’d turn you and your serial killer groupie partner into my prey?” You pulled at the rope, “Honestly, you two fucked with the wrong legacy.”

“I don’t—“

“My father raised me to be unstoppable,” you said, “And apparently you know that. So you should’ve considered that it’d take more than two copycats to take me down, and—“ a manic laughter escaped from your lips, “Did you seriously think you could beat me at my own fucking game?”

He coughed, making a face and closed his eyes.

“You have hours until you die, but if I make it out on time, maybe I’ll send some medics here. Maybe. Depends on if I feel merciful, who knows?” you grinned, “Your survival depends on my mood, isn’t that ironic?”

“There are ten men between here and your weekend house, you’d never make it out.”

“I’m not going north,” you said and Lincoln frowned.

“South? That’s just woods.”

“No, it’s a longer way than north, but there’s a road at the end. Dad once made me find my way through the woods.”

“You can’t leave me behind,” he coughed again, “We’re meant to be together. We’re meant to work together and kill together, that’s our love story.”

You pursed your lips, then grabbed a jasmine from the vase and walked towards him.

“Even if I wanted to follow in that monster’s footsteps,” you said, looking down at him, “Even if I wanted a companion, it wouldn’t be you. You’re fucking dead weight, Linc. You don’t have what it takes.”

With that, you let the flower drop on him, unlocked the door and stepped outside, the chill air filling your lungs. After looking around to see whether it was safe, you went to the back of the house, and looked up at the stars, calculating which way to go.

Then, you tied your hair up and started running.

***

As it turned out, Lincoln had fewer men on the south of the woods, but there were still people. You had gotten rid of two of them and tied them up with the rope you had taken with you, but it would take one mistake for them to drag you back to the cabin, so you couldn’t take any risks.

You heard the faint noise of a radio and looked over your shoulder, then climbed up to the nearest tree, keeping as silent as possible. The light of a flashlight soon lit up under you and a man came into your view.

“South number five is clear,” he said into the radio and as soon as he put it into his pocket, you jumped down silently, standing behind him for a moment before you smacked his head into the tree, making him pass out. You unwrapped a part of the rope and tied his hands and feet before you stuck the cloth around your arm into his mouth so that when he woke up he wouldn’t be able to ask for help. You let out a breath and walked deeper into the woods, but as soon as you jumped over a tree root, someone grabbed you by the hair and slammed you head first into the tree. A ringing echoed in your ears, getting louder and louder but you managed to pull the knife from your boot and drive it into his leg, making him grunt and you used your whole body weight to turn around with his arm around you, popping it out of its socket and he dropped you with a yelp, kicking you in the ribs and a fire spread from your ribs into your whole body, making you stop the scream at the last minute.

“You fucking bitch-“ he said but as soon as he grabbed you again, you managed to push yourself up and grab the rest of the rope you had left. You kicked him back and jumped on his back, wrapping the rope around his neck as he tried to get you off.

“I’m not killing you you fucking idiot!” you grit out as he slammed back into the tree to get you off, “I’m making you pass out, that’s all!”

Soon enough, he dropped to his knees and fell to the ground while you tried to catch your breath, but everything hurt. You wiped at the blood that was seeping from the cut on your forehead, drenching your face and your dress but managed to tie him up and get away from him.

It didn’t take you long though. It felt like the whole forest was spinning around you and you felt someone pulling the ground from under your feet before you fell back, your eyes closing.

You had no idea how long you stayed there unconscious but the unmistakable sound of a shot being fired made you open your eyes with a gasp as you winced at the pain pulsing through your whole body.

“It doesn’t sound so good.”

You slowly turned your head to see your father sitting by the tree, his arms crossed and you let out a groan.

“Is this hell?” you asked, “I just died and it’s hell, right? There’s no way I’m hallucinating about you.”

“You didn’t die yet,” your father said as he looked at the way the shot was fired. “I assume you didn’t search for Lincoln’s gun before you walked out of the cabin?”

“Lincoln can’t move,” you said and your father tut-tutted.

“Erica could move just fine the last you saw her though.”

“Shit.” You closed your eyes for a moment and your father heaved a sigh.

“So what do we have here?” he said, “Head injury, concussion, loss of blood, and that guy over there just broke a rib or two, right?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, you wouldn’t stand a chance against someone coming at you with a gun when you’re like this.”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes burning.

“I can’t move,” you managed to say through your teeth, “It hurts.”

“Does it hurt enough to kill you? Because that’s what will happen if she and her men find you here.”

You tried to blink back the tears, “What if it’s supposed to end this way?”

“Supposed to end this way?” your father stood up and glared down at you, “Petal, I didn’t spend years to train you just so that you could die in a forest in the middle of nowhere. Get up.”

“Dad, I tried to survive, okay?” you said, “I tried—”

“Well, that’s not enough right now, is it though?” he asked and snapped his fingers, “You’re a survivor, your mother and I made sure of that. Stop acting like a prey, get up.”

“Dad-“

“Get up!” his voice shot through your head and you opened your eyes again, coughing, that ringing in your ears due to the pain blocking out everything but the gunshot that sounded much closer than before. You dug your fingernails into your palms and pulled yourself up by grabbing at the nearest tree, then wiped the blood off your face again.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, “Okay, Stop acting like a prey. Which way to go?”

You looked up at the night sky and found the star you were looking for before you started making your way through the forest, even if it felt like you could pass out any second. You had no idea how long you had been walking when all of a sudden the brightness of flashlight entered your vision, making you hold your breath and grab the handle of your knife tighter, thinking that it was Lincoln and Erica’s men.

It was only when you saw a very familiar face wearing an FBI vest that you let out the breath you were holding, the knife slipping from your grip.

“Spencer?” you rasped out and he just stared at you before he started running to you.

“You’re alive,” he managed to say before he pulled you into a tight hug, making you wince in pain. He pulled back immediately, his hands cradling your head.

“Are you—“

He didn’t get to finish that sentence. It happened in less than a second, but the sound of a gunshot that rang through the forest echoed in your ears before blood splattered over his face, making you stumble as if someone pushed you from behind.

“Why is there blood?” you managed to ask before a fire spread through your chest, taking your breath away and Spencer’s eyes widened as he lowered them to the gunshot wound bleeding on your chest. Everyone ran past you, yelling something into the radio and shooting their guns at someone behind you while the fire made its way through your whole system, the ringing in your ears getting worse.

The last thing you remembered was Spencer catching you before you hit the ground but whatever he was saying to you got drowned out in the loud noise of the helicopter flying above you. The lights of it got brighter and brighter before a warmth pulled you out of the pain and surrounded you.

Then everything went black.

Chapter 28

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer #reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #twisted

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yourfinalbow · 3 years

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hi lol this is totally random but based on a harry potter post you just reblogged and you can completely ignore me if you want, but do you think snape deserved better, or are you a quote unquote "snape apologist"? I'm genuinely curious cuz I've come across a lot of different opinions on severus. Again, feel free to ignore :)

This ended up way longer than it needed to be, and I apologize for that lmao.

Hi! Hmmm I have many mixed opinions on this. First we have to talk about which Snape. Book!Snape is actually kind of an asshole, and not in the fun way. (Way more than I remembered.) But but but Alan Rickman!Snape I like a lot.

And no I'm not mentioning Snape from TCC. That was not Snape and that world was not Harry Potter.

Snape is an interesting character because of how flawed and layered he is.

(Putting a cut because it's so long, and tw for non-detailed mentions/reference to abuse, as well as both trauma and death.)

He wasn't born in a very good household, which I can definitely see as being a reason for why he is who he is. (A reason, not an excuse. Those are two extremely different things.) You look at Sirius, who also came from a horrible household, yet he managed to dig himself out of the mud and make his own path for himself. (Though I have many angsty headcanons for the thoughts he has and being afraid of what he will do and in turn his own mind. WolfStar solidarity. Neither one of them know what they are truly capable of, and both are completely afraid to find out.

Ahem sorry I got a little distracted there.

During the Marauder's era, Snape wasn't a good person in general, but he tried to be nice to Lily. (One of the only exceptions he made.) That being said, (sorry, going on a tangent again), it does not excuse what the Marauders did. As much as they are, in my humble opinion, JK's greatest creation, they should be held accountable for both the prank, and dangling Snape upside down. (Though Remus does make a few good points in their defense later, it's still not an excuse.) Two wrongs never make a right.

Snape doesn't deny Lily's claims at him wanting to join a supremacy group, nor does he say he isn't friends with Death Eaters.

It's clear through the flashbacks we're given that Snape is apathetic in the face of innocent people dying, but once again Lily is the exception.

Dumbledore defends Snape by saying it wasn't his fault that Harry's parents are dead. I actually semi-agree with this. On one hand, he was directly at fault, but on the other hand he had no way of knowing. As a severe Loki apologist, I do not blame Loki for Frigga's death. He may have led the dark elves to her, but he didn't know it was her she was sending them to. That's the comparison I make in my mind, and so I don't completely blame him like other people do. (One could also make the argument that Sirius is to blame. Sirius, who is 100% my favorite character in the entire franchise, gave the secret keeper job to Peter, thinking it would be safer with him. However, he had no ill will or malicious intentions towards Lily, James, and Harry, so I don't blame him.)

All that being said, Snape not only would have been fine with random people dying, he also didn't care whether or not James and Harry lived.

For context:

(Dumbledore is speaking, right after Snape comes to him for help.)

"You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child?" They can die, as long as you have what you want?"

Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore.

He has a strange relationship with Lily. He obviously loves her, but not enough to want to stop Voldemort from killing the two things that bring her the most amount of happiness. It's clear he doesn't care about anyone except for Lily. Which on some level, I can understand why. When people have traumatic childhoods, they tend to hold on to a person that was there for them. Sometimes it can be the hands of the person who caused them pain in the first place, but other times it is another person who was there for him. He holds Lily's opinions of himself higher than anybody else, and he holds Lily above anybody else, and I think this can be attributed to some sort of trauma response, which is why his love for her is so unusual. That doesn't mean I think he should be fine with killing innocent people.

On the topic of trauma, I think joining the Death Eaters was another response to this, as well as a result of what kind of family he had.

Similar to both Harry and Voldemort, Snape much preferred Hogwarts to where he lived, and such the castle became his home more than his house ever was.

The Death Eaters could offer him something he had never been offered before. He belonged to something. In his own, twisted, traumatic mindset, he might have even almost seen the Death Eaters as a family. Not consciously of course, but there was definitely a feeling of belonging they gave him.

And there's something to be said about the fact that many serial killers in real life come from an abusive family. I don't pretend to understand the minds of someone who can do something so vile, but I have watched enough Criminal Minds episodes to know what they long for is control.

So being apart of this supremacy group, even though he was a half-blood himself and undoubtedly didn't entirely share Voldermort's racist beliefs, gave him both control and something he belonged to.

It's not an excuse, but it's a reason.

Alternatively, you can look at it through a quote from the most recent episode of Loki.

"It's part of the illusion. It's a cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear."

So it's also possible that when he was a kid, he thought being a villain was the only way to prevent others from being one to him.

Ok sorry, back on the chronological track.

So he agrees to change sides and work with Dumbledore. (Who must see just how distraught Snape was over Lily's death, to trust him immediately.)

Snape spends most of Harry's time at Hogwarts humiliating his own students. He particularly calls out Harry and his friends a lot, but I can definitely see this being a defence mechanism. He assumes Harry is James and reverts back to what we talked about earlier. (Becoming the villain so nobody else has a chance.)

But but but, he does a lot of good throughout the books. Snape mutters the countercurse, saving Harry from Quirrell during the Quidditch match. He then actually referees at the next match, preventing anything from happening altogether.

In retrospective, we see that he spends most of the first book helping Dumbledore by protecting the stone, and helping Lily by protecting Harry.

Now I could go through and list the goods and the bads of Snape throughout the entire series, but I have neither the time nor the patience, and I think you get the point.

(Except I would like the mention that Snape becomes a double agent for Dumbledore in book four, and risks his life every single day by constantly betraying Voldermort, and never once does he use this as a way to double cross Dumbledore. This was actually probably really hard on him. You can assume that having to pretend to be a Death Eater means he had to do some despicable things just so he didn't blow his cover. If he really has changed by this time, which I would like to think he has, is a lot of added guilt to live with.)

(I would also mention that he tried to save Sirius in book five, but... *falls on floor dramatically* I don't want to think about it.)

Severus Snape's time comes to the end in book seven. At the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, his death is a valiant act of sacrifice. Protecting the living and defending the honour of the fallen.

So, he has done a lot of bad in his lifetime, but by the time we as readers get to know him, his fundamental set of beliefs have begun to change. Through the eyes of what started as an eleven year old boy, you can definitely see that even after this he wasn't necessarily a good person.

And that's because his good is behind the scenes. He's good on a larger scale. He's chosen the light over darkness, but in his everyday life he's still the scared, traumatized little kid he's always been.

And him being this way has reasons, but these reasons are not excuses.

Sorry anon, this kind of turned into a long winded review of the entire character. I know that's not really what you asked, so I'll sum it up in a final few sentences sentence.

Yes. I wish Snape had gotten to live. Not because I'm necessarily a "Snape apologist", but because I find his character interesting, and seeing his reaction to his sacrifice could have been a really good read. Also Harry coming up and thanking him would have been really touching, and as a cherry on top maybe we could have gotten to read Harry apologizing for his father. Maybe even Snape sharing memories of Lily?! (Sorry that might have gotten a little to fanfic-y.)

That being said, his death being a final sacrifice towards the good of everyone, and a final testimony to his change of heart, was -- and I'll give JK credit just this once -- good storytelling, and a good way to end it.

Also I like movie!Snape because fuck yeah he's just so awesome.

If anyone has anything to add/take away, or they just want to discuss the wonder that was Alan Rickman, let me know! (Ask/Comment/Reblog/Etc.)

#ESPECIALLY you anon #I never get HP asks so this was a treat #Harry Potter #Severus Snape #Character analysis #Maybe?!#Lampswered #*Spongebob Imagination Rainbow

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canonicallysoulmates · 3 years

Text

🎃Halloween themed wincest fic rec🎃

This fic rec is, primarily, Halloween themed but you’ll also find some horror as well as just in general autumn themed fics all to, hopefully, get y’all in the spirit of the spooky season!

There’s all sorts of ratings, some weecest, a non-related Hocus Pocus AU, hopefully you’ll find something to your liking among all of these fics.

As always please head all warnings and tags as some of these fics do contain graphic and heavy topics.

Happy reading, and Happy Halloween my fellow wincest shippers! 🎃

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Halloween

Eight-Legged Freaks. by anniespinkhouse

Sam/Dean (Wincest) Outsider POV. Takes place early in season 8 but no particular spoilers except for Sam’s hair. Biddy owns a candy store. She also talks to spiders. When FBI agents Sam Smith and Dean Jones investigate a possible haunting, on Halloween evening, the consequence of Dean eating too much candy is disturbing. It’s a race against time for Sam to find a way to return Dean to normal.

The Rocky Horror Sam Show by RockSaltandCherryPie *

Sam goes to a Halloween party and dresses up like Frank N. Furter but ends up looking more like a girl than anything else.

the one that lives behind his heart by Addie_D_123 *

Dean is the spark, Sam is the fire.

The Witch's Dance by brimstonegold and virtualpersonal *

It's either coincidence, or irony, but Sam and Dean find themselves hunting for a witch at The Witch's Dance, a party being given at the local haunted mansion on Halloween. What they find is not the kind of dance they expected.

hell is empty; all the little brothers are here by bellaaanovak

Dean just wants to make the rundown house they’re squatting in look cool for Halloween, but Sam isn’t so excited about strangers in corny costumes knocking on the door for candy. Not when there’s a gang of ghouls wreaking havoc in the neighborhood, anyways.

Greaspaint and Fairy Dust by Syls Darkplace (sylsdarkplace)

It’s Halloween. Sam’s least favorite holiday, and what should be the investigation of a simple salt and burn goes awry when Dean gets caught with his hand in the candy cauldron.

Here is where you’ll stay by belyste

Sam, Dean, and haunted hayride. Halloween!fic.

A Winchester Halloween by ello_kitty *

A short story about how the brothers spend the holiday.

Triple XY Or The Hunter, His Bitch And Their Offspring by mpregloveranon

This is the answer to this Halloween!Prompt over at the spnkink_meme. Without reveal to much already I’ll just keep the summary really short. After being cursed Sam is knocked up by his brother. On Halloween he is heavily pregnant with triplets and completely miserable. Dean feels sorry for his baby brother, especially because he pissed the witch off who cursed Sam, and takes good care of him. Throw in raging hormones, some schmoop, some angst and cute little kids and you’ll get the idea what this fic is about. ;)

Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) by Ignited *

It’s Halloween, and the locals aren’t clued in to the fact that those things going bump in the night are much more than fabric and latex. Sam and Dean learn this fact the hard way as the clock winds down and a town’s about to be overrun by monsters.

The Witches of Salem by Revenant

There's a legend in Salem, of three sisters accused and hung for the crime of witchcraft, but not before they had killed several of the local children and placed another under a terrible curse. It is said that on Hallowe'en night, when the moon is full, the witches will rise again when a virgin lights the Black Flame Candle.

A little over three hundred years later, Sam Winchester is passing through town trying out his newly awarded independence on what he suspects will be a simple salt-and-burn; why can’t things ever go like he plans?

Why not stay and be caught? by deirdre_c *

Sam wishes to go to The Palace.

Pretty Princess by orphan_account *

Sam is excited to go to a Halloween Party… And then his first heat hits.

Take a Good Look by BewareTheIdes15 *

Sam, Dean, and a haunted house with a mirror maze - sounds like pwp to me!

Kids These Days by Magz (sparklepocalypse) *

Halloween parties are never simple when there are Winchesters involved.

Thy Back to the Forest (and Thy Front to Us) by PetraPan *

For the last three years in Stillwater, Oklahoma, children have disappeared—always five young girls, always on consecutive days, and always during the week of Halloween. By the day the Winchester's pull into town, Sam is enrolled for school, he’s stuck once more on research duty, and Dean already has a date. Sam juggles his new schoolwork, the case, and the ever-growing bitterness at the desire he feels for Dean as best as he can, but at some point he can no longer manage all three. With their father constantly absent and a nasty time constraint, Sam and Dean struggle to figure out who—or what—is taking young girls, just as they struggle to find the balance between brothers and something more.

Sugar Sweet by fallingintodivinity

“What’s all this stuff?” Sam asks warily. He gingerly picks up a bottle of red fluid and squints at it.

“Fake blood!” Dean says cheerfully. “It’s cherry-flavored,” he adds helpfully.

“But why,” Sam says, bewildered.

“Dunno,” Dean says. “It was on sale. Tastes pretty good, actually. Here, lemme show you.”

Halloween by EasyTiga *

Sam and Dean go to a Halloween party for a case and at least one of them can't keep their mind on the mission because of the outfit choice.

Hush Little Baby by hellhoundsprey *

Together with his friends, Sam visits a haunted house. It's Halloween. (Sam is 16, Dean is 20.)

Halloween and High Schoolers by onesillygoose *

I'm realizing how bad my summaries are. Anyway... Sam gets invited to a Halloween party. Dean tags along. Things never go as they should for the Winchesters.

Pumpkin Patch by KissingWinchesters

It's Halloween and Dean decides to steal a giant pumpkin.

VII - One candy left by KissingWinchesters

There’s a piece of melting, sticky caramel pressed into the centre of Sam’s back.

Candy, Pumpkin Spice, And Orgasms by KissingWinchesters

Dean takes Sam to a quaint town on Halloween. Their relationship develops.

He Never Saw the Look by orphan_account

Sam's got a secret. He's in love with his big brother. Little does he know, Dean shares the same dirty little secret.

Pretty Little Thing by Miss_Lv *

Teenager Dean goes to a Halloween party for some fun, he spots a pretty little thing and chases her all evening, flirting, and eventually cornering her. Once his got his hands on her though he realizes she is actually a he, but he's fine with that. Sam snuck out after Dean just because he could, he picked a costume he knew Dean would never recognize him in. After spending the evening being chased by his brother Sam ends up in a semi public place with Dean all over him. Sam's stupid crush on his own brother is not helping matters either.

this way comes by estrella30 *

Written for spn_halloween based on prompt #127: Sam goes to a Halloween party his first year at Stanford and gets dragged off by a guy in a mask who makes out with him. He discovers it's Dean, and the making-out continues with a vengeance.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Horror

Diamond Dogs by kassidy *

Prompt: Supernatural, Sam/Dean, werewolfism - one turns and takes the other down (interpret as you will) for dark_fest LJ comm

A Silent, Creeping Killer by lily rose (annabeth) *

Not long after Dean picks Sam up from Stanford, Sam and Dean go undercover as an engaged couple to investigate the murder of a lesbian hockey player in small-town Connecticut. Along the way, they meet dedicated lovers, frightening ghosts, and the possibility that their ruse might be becoming all too real. How will they handle their changing feelings for each other? Who will protect the lovers and tenants of the Windsor boarding house? And what does all this have to do with the play 'Arsenic and Old Lace'?

darling by allwellandgood

Dean is dead. Sam has a theory that nothing will ever hurt again.

I Wonder as I Wander by dollylux

Bobby sends Sam and Dean to investigate a strange town.

Let Me Take You Far Away by orphan_account *

Season 10. It's exactly what they need. A vacation. That's how Dean can make everything else go away. Cas was right. That's all they need. A nice, little vacation.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Fall/Autumn themed

Death of the Petals by doctor__idiot

Dean has always thought that fall held some sort of magic.

Where You Are [Is Where I Belong] by non_tiembo_mala

Sam is stuck in class on a beautiful fall day. His mind wanders and it always ends up on Dean.

Hazy Hunter's Moon by GhostlyVoid *

Sam saves a hunter who got attacked by a werewolf, knowing exactly what trouble he's inviting into his home. The hunter, Dean, is predictably less than thrilled owing his life to a witch.

Delicious Autumn by sammichgirl

Dean just wants to give Sam a great day full of some favorite things.

Autumn Leaves by dragonspell *

In the weak light of early morning, the autumn leaves are starting to paint the woods in reds and golds and a burning orange. On some level or another, Dean knows that it’s beautiful; he does. He's just got to find Sam first.

#wincest #wincest fic rec #mine #this was supposed to be up on monday but life hapened #so...it's still halloween in places it's fine #this is probably the longest fic rec i've done

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weasleydream · 4 years

Text

The girl of the 12, Grimmauld Place

Hey guys! Here is a Fred imagine!

I have to say I’m quite proud of this one, it’s a bit longer than what I’m used to but I really like it. Plus I’ve discovered I’m a sucker for Wolfstar in the role of the protective fathers and it gave me another idea. I don’t know yet if it will be a series or just very long but I can ensure you our dear Sirius and Remus will be there! (and it will be angsty but you don’t need to know it right now)

I guess I can say there’s a light mention of sex but really nothing shocking.

Anyway as usual feel free to give me feedbacks, and I hope you’ll enjoy!

Masterlist

(gif not mine)

The night was cold for a June night. The skin of my arm was bare but the occasional goosebumps were nothing compared to my tremors of fear. I was holding firmly my wand, in fact, I held it as if my life depended on it. Which was truer than ever.

A few hours earlier, my life was totally normal. Well, as normal as it could be for the daughter of two members of the American part of the Order of the Phoenix obsessed with revenge. My parents were both locked in an office arranged especially for whatever concerned the former Death Eaters, probably mumbling incoherent things they were the only ones to understand, and I was in my room, staring into emptiness while daydreaming about futile things when everything had begun. I didn’t know when the Death Eaters had intruded our house, nor did I know how they had managed to do it, but I had understood something was wrong the moment my father had screamed. I had quickly grabbed my wand and made my way downstairs, having good sense enough to stay hidden despite my fear. The four men hadn’t had any difficulty to kill both my parents, and I had heard one of them shouting the others to come upstairs find me. My heartbeat had increased at an incredibly speed and I had done the first thing I had thought about: getting out by the window. With a wave of my wand, I had freed the tiny bird my parents kept in a little cage in case of emergency (“It will know where to go if something bad happens.” My father had assured me.)

And now, I was walking at a constant speed, always glancing above my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t followed and cursing because I was unable to apparate. I had been raised like a soldier, yet my parents had never thought it would be useful for me to be able to apparate. I groaned and turned in another empty street of the neighborhood without history of the suburbs around New-York. The neighbors would gossip for sure.

A cat ran between my legs and I jumped, ready to cast a spell. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know what the bird would do, and I didn’t know what the Death Eaters would do. It was a lot of unknown. Suddenly, I heard a pretty melody. Looking up, I saw the red bird I had freed half an hour earlier. It landed on my shoulder, repeating once more its song, and vanished as quickly as it had came. Roughly three seconds later, I heard a soft pop and Remus Lupin was standing in front of me.

Remus was the only British I knew. My parents had been close to him and his friends - the Marauders, if I remembered correctly - one of them being my mother’s half brother. It was her favourite tragic story to tell, how her beloved Peter along with James and Lily Potter had been betrayed by this awful Sirius Black. Remus was the only one who had bothered to come in America to see my parents and me, and I had seen him a few times in my life. He had always seemed quite sick and tired, but it was nothing compared to what he looked like tonight. I glanced at the sky - yes, almost the full moon. I knew about Remus’ secret, he had told me about it when I had asked him why he had scars when I was seven. I had never been afraid of him, he was the only one I could consider like a friend.

“Y/N, what happened?”

His voice was quiet, and he grabbed my arm.

“My parents are dead. Death Eaters. How is it possible?”

Remus groaned. In a few words, he managed to explain me what had happened in England the day before. It looked like the 24th of June would stay in the world’s memory as the day He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned.

A few hours passed - the time for Remus to summon a Portkey and contact Albus Dumbledore with a bird like the tiny red one. I was now in front of the safest place for me, in Remus’ words.

“Welcome to the Order Headquarters, Y/N.”

The 12, Grimmauld Place was quite a strange house. Its facade was completely run-down and the windows were dirty. I had imagined a lot of things for the Order of the Phoenix, but not this. Remus had told me about the Secret Keeper, that it was protected with strong spells, but after entering, I was pretty sure it was useless. Who would approach these giant cobwebs and this awful portrait screaming whereas I had just hit the umbrella stand?

I followed Remus in a long corridor and he gently pushed me into a big living-room. Three persons were here, but I only recognized one: Sirius Black. I groaned and narrowed my eyes. My mother had told me a lot about him, how he was the biggest git at school, how is family was the typical pure-blood-and-proud-to-be family, how is own brother had been a Death Eater. I had learnt to hate him just because my parents did. He had massacred Peter and was the very first one to breakout from Azkaban.

“Y/N, we have a lot to explain you.” murmured Remus. He was looking carefully at me, maybe he feared I would explode or worse - cry in front of them. “But I guess it can wait if you want.”

“No, I want to know everything.” My voice was secure, without an ounce of sadness. It obviously surprised him. “You know I had never been really close to them.”

Remus nodded.

“In a first time, let me introduce you to Alastor Moody,” a scary man with a magical eye nodded abruptly, “Nymphadora Tonks -”

“Just Tonks.” She had bright pink hair and smiled softly at me.

“And Sirius Black. No, he’s not a murderer.” Remus added quickly. “As I said, we have a lot to explain.”

Long story short, Peter was the git of the story. He had betrayed James and Lily Potter, condemning them to death, before fleeing. Sirius had tried to kill him, yes, but he had failed, and the coward had faked his own death. He was the one to help He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, it was because of him he was back, and probably because of him my parents were dead. Quite ironical, wasn’t it? Then he had processed to explain what had happened during the Triwizard Tournament, and now, Remus had finished his story, and I felt four pairs of eyes on me.

“That doesn’t explain why they have killed my parents.” I said.

“I guess they haven’t been as discreet as they thought. Now that You-know-who is back, maybe his followers will feel free to attack everyone who’s against them.” suggested Remus.

“Anyway, you’re safe here, Y/N.” said Sirius. I nodded and yawned. “Let me show you your room.”

I followed him without a word. He gestured me to stay silent in the corridor, obviously not wanting to wake the portrait up. We climbed the stairs, ran into an ugly house elf and finally reached a room I could actually sleep in.

“I guess your parents have only told you what an abominable man I am.”

I nodded.

“You know, Y/N, back at Hogwarts, I really liked your parents.” Sirius’ voice was strangely emotional. “I remember when they had announced they would be parents. Yes, I’ve seen you when you were just a baby. In fact, I have seen you regularly during two years, until… Their death.” His eyes darkened. “I won’t tell you I’m sorry, I know what you’re feeling. I’ve never really liked my family, you know. I’m nothing like them. I just wanted you to know it.”

Sirius turned his heels. I decided I trusted him.

“Sirius?” He turned toward me, clearly surprised. “One day, do you think you and Remus could tell me some stories about your Hogwarts years? It seems pretty fun.”

He smiled, and for a brief moment, I saw a younger man. A man whose life hadn’t been destroyed unfairly.

Thinking my life in England would be more entertaining than it was in America was undoubtedly a big mistake. Indeed, the next morning, I was eating some eggs when Alastor Moody arrived while muttering. It seemed to be his only way to communicate, and I was almost surprised to hear a true sentence.

“Look at that.”

He threw a newspaper on the table in front of me. A photography occupied the front page. It showed a girl that looked vaguely like me, but her hair were longer than mine, her face was rounder and her teeth - God, it was horrible. Above the photo, a title in bold caught my eyes: Y/N Y/L/N, a dangerous murderer. Underneath that was written Reward for whoever give us her localisation. It was ridiculous. I quickly scanned the article. Killer. Muggles and children. Psychopath.

“What the hell is that?”

Remus was behind me, his eyes fixed on the photo.

“I think it’s the proof we were looking for.” answered Moody. In front of my interrogative look, he added: “We know for sure the Ministry is infiltrated.”

I had spent my first week here hidden in a room, only joining the others when I was hungry or when someone dragged my downstairs. I was in the same boat as Sirius now, wanted for something I had never done and forced to stay in this horrible house. I was pretty sure I would kill someone if I heard once more the portrait of Sirius’ mother screaming me insults.

I was currently in the same room as Buckbeak, a beautiful hippogriff, when my stomach started to rumble. I decided to sneak into the kitchen, hoping I wouldn’t run into Kreacher, the ugly house elf. I tried my best to be quiet and I was on the verge of entering the kitchen when I heard my name in a conversation.

“Sirius, have you seen Y/N today?” It was Remus. He had been really worried about me since my arrival, and he didn’t like me being alone all the time. I guessed he didn’t want to force me, maybe he thought I needed time. It wasn’t totally a lie.

“Who is Y/N?” I didn’t know the woman who had spoke.

“The Y/L/N’s daughter.” answered Sirius. “They are dead.”

The woman gasped.

“The poor girl! And you let her alone?”

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t need anyone to worry about me, thanks. I showed myself, passing in front of a plump woman with ginger hair. I ignored everyone, grabbed some sandwiches on the table and left without a word. I thought I could join Buck’s room without seeing anyone, and I groaned loudly when I came face to face with three boys and a girl, all of them having the same ginger hair as the woman in the kitchen. Two of them were twins.

“Look who’s also in this fantastic house!” It was one of the twins. “Why is a cutie like you here?”

His face when I forced my way between him and his twin without answering was priceless. I quickly gained Buckbeak’s room and enjoyed the silence. Two hours later, the door opened and Sirius sat next to me.

“Our guests are quite offended,” he laughed. “Fred wants you to think he’s blubbering right now. If you want my opinion, he wants your attention.”

“How long are they gonna stay?”

“Until September.”

I groaned, and Sirius chuckled. He patted my shoulder, telling me diner would be ready soon, and left. I sighed, I knew I didn’t have the choice. I left the room and came downstairs. The kitchen was way more animated than usual. The woman I had seen earlier was there, preparing something that smelled really good, along with her children. Sirius was talking with Remus and Mad-Eye Moody while Nymphadora Tonks - who wanted to be called just Tonks - was listening to a man with ginger hair - again? I caught a glimpse of the twins standing in the corner of the kitchen. It looked like they didn’t want anyone to interrupt, so I walked straight toward them.

“I thought you were crying like a baby because of me.”

One of the twins smirked. He was slightly smaller than his brother, and I was pretty sure he was Fred.

“Why, love, were you worried?”

“No, darling, I just wanted to tell you that you look cute when you’re offended.”

He laughed frankly, and a sparkle appeared in his eyes. I had to admit he was quite cute when he laughed too.

“I’m Fred, and this is George.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

Fred and George exchanged a surprised look.

“Don’t ask: yes, I’m a dangerous murderer and yes, if you bother me, I’ll kill you.”

I turned the heels and sat next to Remus without hearing Fred mumbling “I like her.”

The next day, the woman with ginger hair, Molly Weasley, came in my room and woke me up.

“Hello dear, how did you sleep?”

“Well, thank you Mrs Weasley.” She scoffed, not wanting me to call her that. I had understood that quite well after the fiftieth time she had told me so the previous day, but what do you want, old habits die hard.

“Sirius wanted me to tell you he needs to see you.”

I nodded in agreement and quickly put on a jumper, it was an unusually cold morning. I followed her downstairs and ran into Fred and George. They were arguing with their father.

“Why can’t we stay? We’re adults now!” protested George.

“Because your mother thinks you’re still too young. Don’t argue, George, you neither, Fred, and go to your room!”

They sighed a bit too loud for it to be natural and finally left the living-room where the meeting would take place. Fred winked at me and followed his brother. When I entered the room, I came face to face with a man I had never seen before. He was wearing a black robe and had oily black hair, but what I saw first was his big crooked nose. We looked at each other a few seconds and I looked away only when Sirius coughed. He put an arm around my shoulder and dragged me away, not without glaring at the man. I couldn’t help but notice two things: first, a true hatred had arisen from the man as soon as Sirius had arrived, second, Sirius had stood straighter and lifted his chin.

“It’s Severus Snape.” he murmured me. “A total creep.”

“Why aren’t you besties then?” I smirked.

“I’m afraid my hair will become like his if I stay next to him for too long.”

I rolled my eyes. However, my smile faded when I saw how worried Remus looked. He was frowning and his grin seemed a bit too forced when he saw me.

“Y/N, how are you?” His tone was too cheerful. Yep, something was wrong.

“I could ask you the same question.” I eyed him suspiciously. He promptly looked away.

I asked Sirius what was happening and he shrugged. Now that I thought about it, Molly had seemed worried too, but she was nowhere to be seen. A regular noise indicated me Mad-Eye was approaching.

“Y/L/N, can I talk to you for a minute?” I nodded. “Soon we will send you back to America for a mission. You don’t have to know the details for now. I will talk to you about it later.”

Even if a lump was forming in my throat, I nodded once more and hurriedly headed toward the door to leave the living-room. No one followed me; the meeting had probably begun and that meant I wasn’t needed anymore. I was on the verge of running upstairs when I stop dead in my tracks. You’re going crazy my dear Y/N. An ear was floating in the air. I saw it rising, my mouth wide open, when I heard muffled voices from upstairs. Sighing and rolling my eyes - it was another of my bad habits - I dragged myself to my room. I stopped when I heard Fred’s voice.

“Y/N has the right to stay for the meetings,” he mumbled. “I wonder why she can and not us.”

“Because her parents didn’t forbid her to.” I had never heard this voice. Maybe it was from the twins’ brother.

“Have you seen them? Her parents?” It was a girl voice, probably their sister.

“No, you’re right. You know what, maybe we can ask her to tell us what happens in the meetings?”

“Yes, Ron, obviously no one has told her not to tell anything.” It was George.

“I’m sure we can make her talk.” Fred’s voice was now cheerful. “I’m sure with a little Tickling Charm -”

I decided to open the door. Clearly surprised, the four siblings turned simultaneously their heads toward me. Their mouths were slightly opened, they looked like fishes. Stupid fishes, might I add.

“It wouldn’t work Fred, I hate tickles.”

“What a shame.” he replied. “Are you here to tell us everything you know?”

“No way.” I saw the boy who had to be Ron frowning. “I’m here to tell you to be more careful when you try to spy on the meetings. I’ve seen the ear.”

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea!” hissed the girl.

“Don’t worry, I’m the only one.” I add. I winked at Fred, quite happy to see him smile at me, and I left.

“Wait!”

I let the door of my room open and sat on my bed, looking curiously at Fred. He passed an hand in his hair, ruffling it a bit, and joined me.

“You seem upset.”

It wasn’t a question, and I didn’t deny. Of course I was upset. I didn’t want to go back to America. I hated this country and I hated the memories I had there.

“Why do you think I’m upset?”

“Your eyes seem darker, and your smile isn’t the same either.”

It was scary, how well he could understand me. It was the very first time someone saw through my armor, and I wasn’t sure how I had to react.

“You can trust me.” Fred added softly.

“They want me to go back to America for a mission but…”

“You don’t want to, right?”

I nodded. Fred slowly put an arm around my shoulder and, seeing I didn’t push him away, he pulled me against him. I enjoyed this embrace and after a few moments, I put my arms around him. None of us talked or moved, we were just melting in this hug.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” He murmured in my ear. I sighed sadly.

“I don’t have the choice.”

“Or you murder everyone.” His tone was playful and when I raised an eyebrow at him, he pretended to be deadly serious. “No one could force to go anywhere.”

“That means I would have to murder you too, right?”

“You wouldn’t do that.” He seemed pretty confident.

“And why?”

“I bet you’re a little angel behind this facade of sarcasm.”

After this day, I grew closer to the Weasley siblings, but I had something way more special with Fred. He just seemed to know me perfectly even though we knew each other for barely two weeks. Molly was lovely with me, but I wasn’t sure it was because of my friendship with her children. She acted like a mother to me, and I had to admit it was new for me. My own mother had never been particularly tender or loving with me, neither had been my father. Our interaction consisted in homeschooling and training with plenty of spells, along with the history of the Order and of course, the life of Peter Pettigrew. That was it. I had never really left the house I had grown in, and the only person other than my parents I knew back there was Remus.

That’s why having a family as loud and joyous as the Weasley family was strange, but I couldn’t say it displeased me. The only thing bothering me in this new life was the Weasley siblings’ obsession with what happened during the meetings. I hadn’t had news about my mission yet, but I had to stay to describe the surroundings of my house and how was the American part of the Order.

However, I never assisted to the meetings until their ends, and when I had to leave the living-room, I usually joined Fred, George, Ginny and Ron in the twins’ room. Today was no exception: Molly had hurriedly gestured me toward the door - she didn’t like at all my implication in the meetings - and I quickly climbed the stairs. When I opened the door, I immediately felt Fred’s look on me.

“It was an important meeting today, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was, and no, you won’t know anything.”

He sighed and I mimicked him. He was cute and kind, and very funny, but he was also irritating as fuck when he wanted to.

“Why won’t you say anything?” It was George. “We need to know.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” I replied. “And your mother would kill me if I even told you on which chair Moody sits.”

“We don’t care about Mum!” Ginny lost her temper. “This is too important, we need to know everything Y/N! Why can’t you understand this?”

“Why can’t you understand Molly wants to protect you?” I felt my blood boiling in my veins, not a good sign. “She loves you. You can’t blame her for loving you, you don’t have the right!” I had screamed the last words and the four ginger heads in front of me stared at me in shock. I didn’t know why, but I felt like the next article about me in the Daily Prophet would be perfectly justified. “Why do you want so badly to know?” My voice was quieter. “These people I see during the meetings, each member of the Order, everyone is threatened. You know what happened to my parents, right?” Their guilty looks gave me my answer. “As soon as the war will start, we will be on the front line, maybe all of us will die. Why would you want to be a part of this? Trust me, you should run away, not rush into the battle. At least I would know you’re normal.”

A silence followed my last words, and I caught myself hoping they were convinced. Note to self: never think Fred can be serious if the situation isn’t immediately life-threatening.

“We’re quite proud to say we’re not normal.” He had a big grin.

“Idiot.” I muttered.

He stood up and walked toward me. I knew I was supposed to be angry at him, but when he opened his arms in front of me, I couldn’t help but throw my arms around his neck. It felt too good to be here, it felt right.

“I promise we won’t bother you with that anymore.” His voice was muffled by my hair. I heard the floorboards creaking and the door softly closing. We were alone. “Can I ask you something, Y/N?” I nodded. “Were you close to your parents?”

“I think you know the answer.”

He sighed, and I reluctantly looked him in the eyes. I didn’t want to see the pity I always saw in Remus’ eyes, or in Molly’s. To my surprise, it wasn’t the case. Fred had the same look in his eyes as Sirius, which I saw like a it’s-sad-to-know-you-weren’t-close-to-them-but-I-swear-I-won’t-bother-you-to-death-with-that-and-I’ll-try-to-make-you-forget-that look.

Our faces were only inches apart, and not really knowing why I did that, I grabbed his face and kissed him. His lips were softer than I had imagined. My hands slowly made their way to his neck and to his hair. Our lips were moving in sync and muffled groans escaped our mouths. I felt my heartbeat increasing and way too soon, I ran out of breath. We reluctantly broke the kiss, keeping our foreheads pressed against each other, and I couldn’t help but smile brightly.

“You’re a good kisser, Fred.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Y/N.”

I was quite happy Sirius hadn’t the same way to make me forget, it would have been awkward.

I was really comfortable with the new kind of relationship I had with Fred, but I didn’t know how to tell Remus. The guy had always acted like a father to me, even back in America where he would bring me chocolate each time he visited us. And I had a feeling he wouldn’t be overjoyed by what I had to tell him. Fred understood perfectly my state of mind, obviously not really wanting everyone to know either. We had never spoken a word about it, yet we had both kind of agreed we would hide our relationship, for a little while anyway. That resulted in us sneaking into every room of the house and snogging as long as we could, until one of us was needed and our name echoed in the corridors.

George had been the first one to become suspicious, and he figured it out approximately two hours after our first kiss. From this point - and after a pretty convincing threat from Fred and I - he had promised not to tell everyone and to help us keeping the secret. He usually lied well and was able to cover us long enough for us to appear reasonably presentable. Unfortunately, swollen lips were difficult to hide. I guess that’s why Ginny soon understood what was happening, and Ron couldn’t stay oblivious when his sister was constantly joking about a certain leech unable to let me alone. Molly had become quite suspicious too, but the incredible thing was that Remus hadn’t any clue of what was happening. Sirius had begun teasing me the day the Weasleys had arrived, it had never really changed.

Fred and I both wanted to keep this a secret, but that didn’t prevent us from touching each other. We were always sitting next to each other during the diner, and when we couldn’t hold hands, we just made our knees or our elbows enter in contact. Fred winked at me approximately a dozen of times per day, and each second we could spend alone was used very wisely. However, a sort of tension was building itself between us. It wasn’t the bad kind of tension, it was the intimate kind. When we were alone and kissing, our hands moved more and more, and our bodies were closer and closer. I discovered a new kind of need, the one that was felt deep inside me, I needed to feel him closer to me. And I could tell that Fred was thinking exactly the same.

I was sitting in front of my opened window. The fresh air of the night was slightly caressing my face as I was thinking about Fred. Again. God, what had he done to me? I was unable to get him out of my head. I groaned and sat on the floor, the back resting against the wall. I was simply unable to sleep, and unfortunately, the sparkle in Fred’s eyes and his soft hair weren’t the only thing preventing me from sleeping. Mad-Eye had told me, a few hours ago, that I would soon receive the details about my mission in America. I wouldn’t admit it, never - I had a reputation of murderer to preserve, after all - but I was terrified. I wanted nothing more than forget about this part of my life. It wasn’t perfect right now either, I was locked up all day in this house, but I had parental figures that loved me - Remus, Molly and even Sirius, I had friends and I had a wonderful boyfriend. It was closer to perfection that it had never been.

I knew I wouldn’t sleep, and I decided to be a bit selfish. Fred and I almost hadn’t seen each other this day and I missed him. I got out of my room, tiptoeing to avoid this creepy house elf and I made my way to the twins’ room. They weren’t sleeping, I could hear their muffled voices. I slowly opened the door and, after the second of shock, they both smiled at me and Fred extended an arm. I sat on his lap, snuggling up with him and vaguely listening to them.

Eventually, George yawned and announced us he would go to sleep.

“Don’t do anything nasty while I’m here.” He winked.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find another room for tonight.” Answered Fred.

I smiled and grabbed his hand, leading him out. We barely heard George’s comment (“Try not to wake everyone up!”) and I was going to join my room when Fred stopped me.

“No, love, follow me.”

We climbed the stairs and I noticed he had two pillows and blankets under his arm. We choose one of the room of the top floor and sneaked in. With a wave of his wand, Fred lighted a fire in the chimney and he put the blankets on the floor, one laid out and the others stashed next to the first one, in front of the now burning fire. Then he turned toward me and put his hands around my waist. He slowly leaned in and kissed me.

“Are you sure you want to do it?” His voice was a whisper.

I nodded, I didn’t want anything more than to feel him against me in the most intimate way possible. We shared another kiss, and another, and we slowly undressed each other. We laid on the blanket without breaking the kiss, both naked and discovering our bodies in a new way. This night was full of love and full of trust, Fred and I weren’t just two young adults hiding and snogging, we were now two lovers.

My head was resting against his torso, and his heartbeat slowly becoming normal again was the sweetest melody to me. We were still naked and laying on the blanket, Fred’s head resting on the pillows. His arms were around me and I was literally laying on him. A comfortable silence took place, only disturbed by the crackling sounds of the fire. A shiver ran down my spine. Fred grabbed a blanket and covered me.

“Better?” he whispered.

“Perfect.”

He chuckled, and the vibration in his chest seemed to echo in mine.

“Fred, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, love.”

“Promise you won’t laugh.”

Without seeing him, I could tell he was raising an eyebrow and a smirk was on his lips.

“I will try, but I can’t promise.”

I sighed, knowing my question would seem quite strange, but I was imagining a perfect life and I needed him to help me.

“What is it like to go to school?”

Much to my surprise, Fred didn’t laugh. He didn’t let out a sarcastic or incredulous comment, he just tightened his grip on me and kissed my hair.

“You’ve never been to school?”

I shook my head. He sighed sadly, probably imagining a little girl locked up in a cold house, her parents only teaching her the strict necessary, an unhappy girl only dreaming to have friends and be normal. He wasn’t really wrong.

“Whatever we say, going to school is incredible,” he started. “especially if you go to Hogwarts. That’s where I go. You live with your friends, you can do everything with them. Eating your breakfast, playing Quidditch, sneaking into the kitchen for the parties -”

“Is it even allowed?” I laughed.

“Well, you’re missing the point.” He chuckled. “And as cliche as it sounds, it’s the most magical way to learn. Sometimes, you miss your house and your parents, along with your siblings if they aren’t with you, but your friends in there, they are your second family. You would do anything for them, and they would do anything for you, even going to detention. And even detentions are fun if you’re with the good persons. And you can explore each corner of the school and live wonderful adventures.”

Fred stopped, obviously feeling my tears on his bare skin. He murmures apologies and stroke my hair.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I shouldn’t have -”

“No Fred, thank you. Now I can imagine my perfect life.” I murmured.

“Am I a part of it?”

“Of course you are.”

And I fell asleep.

The castle towers were illuminated by the sunset. The sky had taken a bright red tone, and a sweet breeze ruffled our hair. Fred was in front of me, running slow enough for me to follow and holding my hand. We were in a park, surrounded by huge trees. The air was fresher here, and the grass underneath my bare feet was soft. Some birds were still up there and singing for us. It was truly perfect.

Suddenly Fred stopped and turned toward me. His eyes were shining, he had this sparkle that showed every time he was happy.

“Ready for our adventure, my love?”

I opened my mouth, eager to tell him I would follow him everywhere, but it wasn’t clearly not my voice that echoed in the peaceful atmosphere of the forest.

“What the -”

A sudden airstream made me shiver and I snuggled closer to Fred. I didn’t want to open my eyes, my dream was too beautiful. Maybe if I could go back to sleep right now -

“Good job, Mum. You might want to close the door now, no?”

I heard the door closing and I sighed in contentment. I felt myself falling asleep again when two loud sounds made me jump. The door had been slammed open and a loud gasp echoed in the room. Instinctively, I tried to get up but Fred pulled me against him.

“Don’t think you want to get up right now.” he murmured with his husky voice in my ear.

I turned my head, ready to scold whoever had disturbed my peaceful dream when I saw him. Remus was on the threshold, his face as white as the hairs of Kreacher’s ears. I was sure mine was dark red by now, and I caught George’s look behind him, silently telling he was sorry. Finally, this little bastard pulled Remus backwards and closed the door, not without dodging the pillow I had thrown him for daring wiggling his eyebrows.

“I’m going to die…” I murmured.

“So am I.” answered Fred. “At least we’ll be together.”

“What a consolation.” I muttered.

“Oi! You didn’t think that a few hours earlier.” He winked at me and grabbed my arse.

“Not now, love, I promise in ten minutes you’ll wish you’re facing a banshee and not an angry Remus.”

Once dressed - and Fred’s giggle gone after he had seen the hickeys I had in the neck - we finally got downstairs. We entered the living-room, not really knowing what was going to follow. I wanted to tell Fred to let go of my hand, but it felt too right. I didn’t say anything.

Remus was pacing in the room, groaning at Sirius who was laughing. They were alone in there. When he heard us, Remus looked up and Fred shifted next to me.

“Where’s your courage, my dear Fred?” I whispered.

“Shut up.”

I wanted to chuckle but in front of an angry werewolf it wasn’t a good idea.

“Y/N, in the kitchen, please.”

I bolted, surprised by his tone. It wasn’t sweet but it wasn’t harsh either. I barely heard Fred groaning (“Courage my ass.”) before running face to face with Molly. She was probably as red as me, and I remembered George’s voice a bit earlier.

“I’m sorry Mrs -”

“Molly, dear. You don’t have nothing to be sorry about.”

She smiled and I let out a sigh of relief, one I didn’t even know I was holding. However, my smile turned into a grimace when I heard a scream in the living-room. Molly and I immediately ran behind the door and listened closely.

“I’m sorry, Professor… Mister… err…”

I chuckled, mentally promising myself I would tease Fred as soon as I could. Molly rolled her eyes.

“She’s fragile right now!” I snorted. “She doesn’t know how to feel and you just take advantage of her situation!”

I furiously shook my head to reassure Molly, whose eyes were wide open. I was ready to barge in and calm Remus’ ass down when Fred spoke up.

“I didn’t take advantage of her Remus! She’s an adult, she can make her own decisions whether you like it or not!”

“Maybe she wanted it but how can I know you -”

“Because fell for her! I love her!”

Fred’s voice was clear as crystal, and so was the love in it. I gasped, and realized I was feeling exactly the same. I loved him. I loved Fred Weasley. This time, I barged in the living-room, yes, but I ran toward Fred and kissed him. He gladly melted into the kiss, pulling me harder against him. We quickly interrupt, not wanting to shock poor Remus more than he already was.

“I love her, Remus, and I know what she went through. I would never, never, to that to her, I swear to you and everyone here.”

Fred’s voice was sweeter now that he didn’t feel threatened anymore. His arm was around my waist and he didn’t loosen his grip when Remus sent him a harsh look.

“I think the boy is sincere,” softly said Sirius. “Maybe you don’t have to murder him right now.”

Remus groaned, looked at me and left in the kitchen. Catching the message, I pecked Fred’s lips - doing it in front of everyone was so strange - and I followed Remus.

“How long has it been?”

“Three weeks.”

“And when did you… you know… for the first time?”

“Yesterday.”

My voice was quiet. Among everyone who was in this house, Remus was the only one I couldn’t bear to disappoint. He was like my father since I was seven, and I knew he wanted nothing more than to protect me. God, I couldn’t even look him in the eyes. What if I saw anger, and disappointment? A shaky sigh escaped my lips.

“Hey, Y/N, look at me.”

He lifted my chin and I saw a small smile on his lips.

“You don’t have to be sorry, I am the one owing you apologies. It’s just that… You know, I know you since you’re a baby, and I saw you growing up into a beautiful woman, and when you send this bird to me, I swore I would protect you. And I will protect you, from everything you need to be protected from, even if it’s a boy.”

“You don’t have to protect me from Fred, Remus…”

“I know that. But I hope he’s scared enough to know what will happen if he hurts you.”

“I bet his pants will remember for him.” I chuckled.

And Remus did something he had never done before, something no one had never done before: he hugged me, and I felt the love of a father enveloping me like a protective cocoon. I even felt a tear rolling down my cheek.

Later this day, I learnt that Mad-Eye was on his way to the 12, Grimmauld Place when Molly had been looking for me. Not finding me in my room, she had wanted to ask Fred if he had seen me, only to find out he was missing too. She had understood that we were together, and George, who had been roughly woken up by his mother, had panicked and had been unable to say anything.

Mad-Eye wanted to explain me my mission, which happened to be less difficult than I thought: I had to go back to my former house, find an highly important file and come back. Fred had refused to let me go alone and, an hour later, we had taken a Portkey. Finding the file hadn’t lasted more than half an hour during which Fred had never let go of my hand, and we came back with the same Portkey after I had cast a spell for it to bring us back to London.

Fred leaving for Hogwarts had kind of broken my heart, I wasn’t ready to spend moths without him, but he had promised me to send me a letter each day. He kept his promise, and while reading it, I had the impression I was with him.

I was still locked up in this awful house, but I was with Remus and Sirius. And I loved Fred, and he loved me, and I had friends.

My life was closer to perfection than it had never been.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #fred weasley #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #remus lupin

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

The Wedding (Part 1) The Trap is Laid

Oh yeah... It’s all coming together... @rurifangirl

Thanks to an entire bottle of vodka you slept soundly. The sun was well up on the horizon when you crawled out of bed and took your time in the Jacuzzi. Your heart was beating fast both with excitement and nervousness. But you had to stay in character. You loved Chime. He was wonderful, sweet, shy and beautiful, so beautiful. You dressed in a comfortable robe and reminded yourself of Z’s advice on the night of Chance’s death. Ignore everyone and speak to no one unless absolutely necessary.

You open the shades to the windows over Tokyo and gasp.

Hydra’s minions had all left last night. The owner of the Takamagahara had a 75% stake in Hydra assets. If she sold it all, she could bankrupt the entire organization in an instant. So she had forced them to hold off on their assault for 24 hours.

But the Hydra were still the owners of Tokyo itself. Hydra still blockaded the area and controlled the subway station from the outskirts a few kilometers from here. The vast majority of merchants cooperated with them and the streets were desolate. This is called ‘clearing the area’, clearing out all the irrelevant people before the important people meet. After the clearing is done, Takamagahara will become the lone store on the street. If the negotiations failed, Hydra could go on a killing spree. The police department won't care about it, and there won't be anyone on the street to bail you out.

The streets were deserted, businesses were closed. There were signs on the doors saying "Sorry for the suspension of business". The police have set up barricades at both ends of the road so that cars without special permits cannot enter.

Taking advantage of the empty streets, the staff had lined both sides with garlands of roses, lilies, poppies and baby’s breath. Ribbons were tied to every tree. Ice sculptures of famous romantic scenes from classic literature were on the way. They were setting up stations with booths for food and souvenirs. Huge banners announcing the marriage between the “Dragon Lord Chime Gen and his Dragon Lady MC” hung over every major intersection. It looked more like a fairy tale royal wedding than a meeting between the Yakuza leaders of Japan.

Your heart beats faster and you hurry out of your executive level bedroom and head to the first floor where redecorating was in full swing! With the help of the construction team they had dressed it up as a night scene of the Shinjuku district, with neon signs of all sizes and an elevated bridge spanning from above.

“I hope everything is to your liking?” Su Enxi, the owner of the Takamagahara smiles smugly behind you.

“This is amazing! It’s like Tokyo Nightlife has come inside!”

“We chose the theme of a Yakuza wedding! So everyone here will be dressed as gangsters.” She held out one of the fancy invitations. The art was in the style of a Yakuza Tattoo with dragons, koi fish and tigers crawling in that traditional Ukiyo-E style that the Hydra Executive Board were famous for. On the inside was a lot of Japanese text you couldn’t read, but the art depicted shadow figures standing in a desolate alley.

“I love it!” You hand it back to her.

“Good. Here’s the guest list.” She hands it to you.

You blinked a bit. You didn’t recognize any of these names.

“We didn’t know who you would like so we invited pretty much every major powerplayer and celebrity in Japan. Only women of course.”

“These are all celebrities?” You stare at the list trying to find at least one name you knew.

Enxi frowned slightly and you flinched. How should you know? You were born nearly 40 years ago and you didn’t know any of these people from Adam. She expected you to be impressed. “Oh, right! Yes, I … yes I”m happy they’re coming!” You say, trying to recover.

It didn’t work and she takes back the list with an annoyed huff. “Don’t worry about learning their names. They’re only here to serve as shields and bargaining chips. The Hydra won’t be able to clear the area quickly if these celebrities are having a great time. If they try, it will be too much of a propaganda scandal.”

“I see.” You nod sagely. “Thank you.”

“Now go upstairs, eat, and get to the salon at 4 pm.” She checks her watch. “Guests will start to arrive at 8 pm tonight.”

“Where’s Chime?”

“The groom? Hiding. It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.” She doesn’t even look at you as she walks away and claps her hands. “Chop! Chop! Let’s get moving!”

You return to your room with breakfast and hear a soft knock on the door. You open to Caesar who steps inside. “Ready for your big day?”

He was dressed casually again, just jeans and a muscle shirt. After all, he was going to work soon and probably wanted to relax. He looks over at the bottles of vodka and the bit of cigar you’d left on the table and raises an eyebrow. It looked like you had guests last night. “Did you party without me?”

“You can say that. Just some old friends.” You walk over to the massive floor to ceiling liquor cabinet and open the door. “Can I get you something?”

“I’m good.” He pauses again. He didn’t follow you. He’s staring at you.

“What?” You stare right back.

“Aren’t you going to ask about Zero?” Caesar asks.

You frown and close the cabinet. “Oh, that girl? Is she recovering alright?”

“She is. Lu Mingfei is looking over her for now. I’m surprised you didn’t come down to visit?”

You bat your eyes innocently. “Did she ask for me?”

Caesar turned away and walked over to the dining table, dropping the subject. The man was sharp. No doubt he saw the photo of Renata and immediately recognized Zero. When you met Zero, he likely noticed your reaction. He didn’t understand but he would drop it for now since it was clear that despite your obvious past affection you weren’t going to talk about her. “I want to say you came through again with this sudden wedding. I did not think you would go this far. How did you convince that Gen brother?”

“I just framed it as a way to convince Chisei. Is it extreme? Yes, but he’s that desperate.” You deliberately avoided mentioning anything about King General and moved away from the liquor cabinet to make tea instead. “Have you talked with Chime?”

“He’s still asleep.” Caesar picked another cigar from the box and lit it. “I trust you’ve thought through all the implications for going through with this?”

“Yes.” You say, putting the tea kettle on and waiting for it to boil. “I’ll start with the implications if things go badly. Let’s say that Chisei is a bigger idiot than we thought and he does kill Chime. As his wife, I won’t be spared. This marriage puts me not only in the Devil Clan officially but also in the upper rankings. At best, I’ll be imprisoned forever. But more likely I’ll be killed as a Devil.”

“Should our special guest arrive and I can’t use my love effectively, hundreds of people could die, all of them top celebrities. More importantly, I’ll lose my entire world even if I do manage to survive.” Everyone you ever knew was here. Z, Renata, Caesar, Chu Zihang, Lu Mingfei and Fingel. If they all died tonight, you would be desolate with nothing left.

You return with the tea and sit down across from him. “If things go right, then a lot of things will be in your hands, not mine. You’ll be negotiating my place in Japan with Chisei. Once all the things are completed, I’ll be in a position to help run the Devil Clan just by my position alone as his wife and I'll be easily installed as Japan Branch lead should Chisei and Chime follow through on their desires to vacate those positions.”

Caesar nodded slowly but then he shuddered. “So cold.”

“What?” You look up.

“If you marry that guy I won’t see you for quite some time. You won’t be coming back with us.”

You smile over your cup. “Oh don’t give me that. An old friend is better than two new ones. As the saying goes.” You quip, slyly referencing Chime’s split persona. “I still have your wedding to attend. And I consider you my best man at this wedding.”

“Brides can have a Best Man?” Caesar asked.

“It’s my wedding. I do what I want.” You rest your chin on the heel of your hand.

Caesar took a deep breath and took the cigar with him as he stood. “Well, I gotta do what I gotta do. There’s going to be shows before your appearance and I'm in one of them.”

“Break a leg.” You say as he leaves.

You still feel uneasy. You want to talk to Z. You stand up and leave that room and go to the bathroom, a spot Fingel had described as a blind spot. The bathroom was empty when you got there but when you turned to the mirror, Z was standing behind you.

You whirl, with a ferocious look. “Stop doing that!”

“Why? It’s fun!” He’s dressed in a tuxedo with golden cufflinks in the shape of dragons. “Why are you the only one who gets to have a good time? Enjoying the festivities?” He asked coyly.

“Yes I am. You’ve really outdone yourself. Thank you.”

Z suddenly frowned. And then he smiled again. “Hahaha… you almost had me there.”

“Yep! I hate you. You didn’t tell me Renata was alive. Go find a city bus to lay under.” You wink, but your words are serious.

“I’ve got my finger in so many pies right now. It’s not even funny. Show some respect. I just stopped by because I’m just so excited for this!” He held up a poster.

“I can’t read that.” The poster was of an evil man with a white rose in his mouth and a blood-stained sword across his chest, his eyes fierce, yet irresistibly sultry.

“It’s a wanted notice for the dangerous Ruri the Midnight Ripper!” He breathed excitedly, reading the poster. “The dangerous killer Midnight Ruri is active in the nights of Tokyo. He has killed countless young women, and the yakuza clan has offered a reward of 10 million yen for his head. Every woman going home tonight should be careful. It is said that he only attacks the most beautiful women, so the most conservative dress is the safest.” Z licked his lips and chuckled.

“Ugh. That’s insulting to the groom! Why would you do that?”

“It is the groom! You marry one, you marry the other!” Z laughed incredulously, slapping at the poster with his hand. “Did you forget? Or do you think it doesn’t matter who he kills so long as you’re alive?” He gives you a long glaring smile.

You gaze at him silently while he rolls up the poster. “It’s a beauty contest! All the ladies will read this and get excited. They’ll say ‘I’m the most beautiful. I hope to get targeted by Ruri!’ They will dress provocatively in hopes of attracting the attention of Ruri the Ripper. The venue will be loaded to the brim with delicious tempting targets!” He lets out another bird-like ‘ke-ke-ke’.

You can only scowl because you can’t argue.

“I didn’t tell you his true nature when you fell in love with him, I just told you not to do it. So… you can be forgiven for that. But this? Oh no, sweetheart. This is on you.” He points the poster at you. “But, don’t back out now!”

“I won’t. A lot is riding on this. I feel like there’s a dagger at my back if I don’t go through with it…” You trail off, eyes lowering to the dagger that Z always kept at his side.

“It’s a hot, sexy dagger right?” Z swayed his hips and then turned around. “You kids have fun playing dress up. I’m going to get back to work.”

He took one step and vanished.

You would spend the rest of the day in the beauty salon. Your dress was pure white, embroidered with pearls and diamonds that gave off the impression of scales, as though you were dressing up as the White King Izanami herself. Your hands were covered with elbow length princess gloves to hide the black veins on your skin, but then they stuck jewels in a mask like pattern on your face, trading your real scales for artificial ones. Your hair was piled high on your head in a traditional Japanese bun with silver sticks resembling horns.

The night fell and the desolate streets flooded with hundreds of Tokyo society elites as well as Hydra elite warriors. It turned out that Enxi used her financial clout to grant traffic passes to all the guests. Traffic was bumper to bumper. Every guest invited showed up to this wedding that shut down a major part of the city for an entire day. No one wanted to miss such an exclusive event.

The Takamagahara was filled to the brim with sleeveless and backless dresses, fishnet stockings in high heels, dangerously short skirts and perilously low cleavage.

The waiters wear black uniforms. They roll up their sleeves to reveal dragon and tiger tattoos. To light a customer’s cigarette they will draw out a waist pistol. The muzzle of the gun produced bright flames. It was impossible to tell who was armed with the real thing or with these toys. Because everyone was dressed as a Hydra Yakuza, it was hard to tell the Hydra members from the guests!

The men and women shouted and played craps. The wine flowed endlessly. Occasionally the Whale came on stage to say two silly and majestic words, followed by a performance. Diamond was here to do his sexy rodeo strip show. There were popular shows such as BasaraKing's "Cleopatra" and Ukyou's "Sakura Falling on Itsuru Island". Armani was here to entertain guests with card tricks. Calypso dazzled a few of the younger guests.

The sound of a powerful engine drowned out the music. A Harley Davidson motorcycle pulled into the middle of the dance floor. Caesar was dressed in a tight leather jacket, all covered in silver chains, with a shiny Desert Eagle stuck in his belt. He took off his sunglasses and threw them at the guests, "My engine is burning hot, are you ready?"

“BasaraKing! BasaraKing!" Hundreds of roses were thrown onto the stage.

White rose petals fell from the sky, and Chu Zihang, wearing a red leather trench coat with a skull mask, crashed from the sky to the center of the stage. Caesar drove his motorcycle towards Chu Zihang, and the two faked a fight, as if they were performing some kind of gangster stage show.

You watch from a hidden spot near the stage. You still have not seen Chime and Chime hasn't seen you. But it was almost time for the main event. Your wedding. All of this celebration was a luxurious trap for the King General and you searched the crowd looking for him. But if he was here, he wouldn’t be in the crowd. He’d be somewhere where he could see you. You were his target. You were his prey.

After a few rounds of fighting, Chu Zihang had picked up Caesar's dropped Desert Eagle and shot him through the chest, but then he suddenly swooped in and hugged Caesar, who was about to fall down.

The scene is about a pair of mob brothers, Caesar as the unruly brother and Chu Zihang as the lonely and sensitive brother. They grew up alone, but determined to be the best of the best. The brothers heard that politicians and gangsters must cooperate with each other in order to go higher and higher. So the two brothers drew lots, one to grow up as a gangster to defeat various gangs as the king of the gangsters; one to go to the University of Tokyo as a famous lawyer, and then enter the political world as a great politician. The result of the lottery is that the unruly brother Caesar is going to be a politician. While the sensitive brother Chu Zihang is going to break into the difficult underworld.

But they obeyed their destiny, and the two agreed not to contact each other again. But they always helped each other in critical moments. No one knew that the brother of the mob boss was a rising star in politics, and no one understood why the brother's gang always survived in the anti-gang operations.

Twenty years later Caesar’s politician character became a member of parliament and became even more headstrong, wanting to be the overlord of all Japan. So he set off a storm of anti-gang raids, and all the gangs were badly hit. Chu Zihang’s character had to intervene to stop the brother, saying that the yakuza had a long history in Japan and many people depended on them for their livelihood. If the yakuza were destroyed, it would be impossible for the brother-led government to support so many of the underprivileged in society, which would be tantamount to destroying the underprivileged in society. But Caesar’s character said that there is no such thing as the yakuza in his future plans, and it doesn't matter if he sacrifices some people's interests. Everything has to make way for his political future.

Finally, the brothers meet under the Over-Sea bridge in Tokyo Bay and duel in the same way they did at the place where they first drew lots and parted ways. In the end, it is the Gangster who shoots through the Politician brother's heart.

Chu and Caesar are acting out the ending of this ski. Caesar is dying when he finally tells the truth. Because he has a terminal illness and can no longer protect Chu Zihang secretly. He fears that after his death his introverted brother will not be able to control so many yakuza gangs, so he sweeps the yakuza with his own iron fist.

"Remember our original agreement to be the number one yakuza emperor of Japan!" The brother's last words, "My brother will be number one in Japan!"

The applause was deafening and the guests were in tears. The play actually was acted very silly. Chu Zihang's mouthful of second-hand Japanese looked like he learned it off Duo Lingo, but the women who came here either loved BasaraKing and Ukyo or both, and those flaws were overlooked.

A sad song started playing as the cherry blossoms fell over the two brothers. It was a popular song, only marginally appropriate, and the gist of it was two people who declare to each other how much they truly mean to each other, only after it was too late.

You didn’t know they were going to put something on like this. It was clearly directed at Chisei. Even though you were the main act, Caesar and Chu Zihang were supporting you and Chime in their own way.

Once the stage was cleared. The lights went up. Caesar hurried backstage. “Hey!” He whispers. “Knock ‘em dead!”

You give him a grin and a thumbs up.

#Dragon Raja

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sword-dad-fukuzawa · 4 years

Text

they took her, oneshot

I wrote this a bit ago too, and this is a crosspost from Ao3. It’s my first attempt at horror/mystery themes. CW for canon-typical gore. The Port Mafia, after all, doesn’t take kindly to people muscling in on their turf. -- -- -- --

A building with red brick walls looms onto the street. The night is cool and dark, with the moon hanging above like a fat fish. Most of it is obscured by thick grey clouds, but moonlight filters down and onto the street anyway. There is a lamppost by the door of the building, and the light doesn’t so much as flicker. For anyone who takes a walk on this particular street at this particular time, they wouldn’t have noticed a thing. No shadow darts through the lamplight. The door doesn’t open. There is no other sound than the moan of the wind.

But there is now one more person inside the building than before.

The light doesn’t flicker. The door doesn’t open. The wind howls.

Inside the large building are nearly a hundred men. They all wear the same colors and walk the same path. Each and every one of them is a smuggler for a burgeoning illegal organization, trying to muscle in on Yokohama turf. This is a port city, after all. They are no strangers to smugglers.

But these poor fools are American. While most of the established and even up-and-coming gangs in Japan know about Yokohama, know that the city was claimed long ago, they’ve only heard rumors. As criminals, they should know the value of rumors. There is no shortage of whispers. Not in Yokohama.

The man with the power of a god running through his veins, who turns gravity against his enemies and takes no prisoners. The laws of nature don’t apply to him.

The rabid dog who stalks the night, with a penchant for grisly and bloody executions. Once you’ve seen him, it’s too late.

The squad of highly capable killers, led by a man who’d gladly smoke a cigarette as he made your body crumple in on itself. They take no prisoners and have no mercy.

These are the three that Yokohama’s underbelly talks about, always in hushed tones because the walls have ears in this place. Few people in this city don’t know about the Port Mafia, and fewer still have never had dealings with them. Almost everyone that can be hired or bought off in some way has interacted with their agents. Never the higher ups, not unless you were incredibly unlucky. But the Dragon’s Head Rush is still fresh in their minds when the American smuggling group lands on Yokohama’s shores.

—

“Those poor bastards,” says Hirota Takeshi, as he takes a sip of his drink. He’s a part-time bodyguard for hire, and the Port Mafia has called him a few times for gigs they didn’t want their names on. Unlike most people, he’s actually met one of the Port Mafia’s executives—a woman named Ozaki Kouyou, as pretty as a spider-lily in bloom and deadlier than a typhoon. He hasn’t seen her ability up close, but he saw it once from a rooftop building. He doesn’t think he can forget a demon with a flashing sword, not when it had left the street covered in blood.

“Who?” asks Kazuhide Eiji, a man he’s worked enough gigs with to know fairly well. He’s tipsy already, Takeshi notices, and tries not to sigh. Kazuhide has a surprisingly low alcohol tolerance for a man of his size.

“The Americans,” Takeshi reminds him, and Kazuhide nods with big, exaggerated movements. “Right, right,” he says. His caterpillar eyebrows furrow. “Why?”

Takeshi tries not to roll his eyes, but he ends up giving into the urge anyway. “Didn’t you hear the beanopole?” he asks, referring to the tall, skinny blonde man who’d sauntered in a few hours ago. “They’re setting up a smuggling route involving the port, and they were looking for manpower.”

Kazuhide’s ruddy face pales slightly. “Smuggling?” he asks rhetorically, and Takeshi nods.

Kazuhide takes a deep drink from the glass in front of him. “They’re fucked,” he mutters. “Poor bastards.”

Takeshi sighs.

—

The room opening out onto the street is brightly lit. There are people bustling inside, despite the late hour. A woman in business casual, her tie slightly askew from the long day and her updo starting to come undone, stumbles as if pushed. She glances down, realizes she tripped over a bump in the flooring, and thinks nothing of it.

Her name is Morozumi Alice, and she lives alone. She washed out of college back home and ended up getting dragged into shady operations by her boyfriend. She’s still with him, though she wishes she wasn’t. Every morning, she wakes up and tells herself that she’ll break up with him. Every night, she slips back home, annoyed at herself because she didn’t. And yet she goes to work for annoyingly little pay, just like clockwork. She’s nobody important here, and she is painfully aware of it.

Maybe she could’ve been someone important if she’d just tried harder in her classes, Alice thinks bitterly to herself when she gets time alone. This place worries her. She has a pistol in her handbag that she just barely knows how to use. She remembers Finn’s face as he pressed it into her hands, sad eyes focused for once. “Just in case,” she hears him say in her memories, and the very thought of him annoys her.

She yanks herself upright, her back protesting, and adjusts her tie to lie straight. She has one last meeting, then she can go home.

Home, with her overweight cat and fuzzy blankets and half-broken coffee machine that works, but only if she bops it with her fist. She wants to curl up on her ratty couch with her cat and stare out into the city. As much as she hates being here, Yokohama is a beautiful place.

Alice allows herself one tiny sigh, before she heads down one of the hallways on the left side of the building. She is alone, but she likes it better this way. It means she has to interact with people less, and the people her organization employs scare the hell out of her. She’d never say so to Finn, because he would probably tease her, but she keeps the thought close to her heart. Her low heels make soft noises on the tile as she walks.

Her handbag swings from her arm in a familiar rhythm and the manila files, tucked close to her chest, press comfortingly. Just one more meeting, she thinks.

The light flickers.

Alice glances up and squints, adjusting her sensible black glasses. The light fixtures embedded in the ceiling rarely do that, even though the building is old. The bulbs don’t flicker again, so she pays it no mind.

Then there’s a sound, and Alice’s blood runs cold. She turns her head slowly, coming to a halt in the middle of the hallway. She heard footsteps—not the click of heels or the heavy thud of boots, but just…footsteps. Regular ones. But the hallway is empty. “Who’s there?” she asks, but she doesn’t get an answer.

I’m imagining things, she thinks to herself, and takes a steadying breath. Her pulse is jumping like an erratic hummingbird. She silently curses her boyfriend’s stupid stories. She hates the late night shift and they make it so much worse.

Alice turns back around and starts walking again, clutching the manila folders more tightly. She pays attention to the sounds her feet make on the floor, but there’s nothing more than the typical clack of her heels. The light above her remains steady, and she rounds the corner cautiously. This hallway is empty too, which seems strange. Normally there are more people down here.

It’s just a slow day. She breathes in deeply, then exhales. She’s almost to the right room, anyway. She walks to the end of the second hallway to a nondescript wooden door. She knocks twice, quiet and polite. “It’s Morozumi Alice,” she says, loud enough for the people inside to hear. But nobody calls for her to enter. Perhaps they’re still in the middle of the previous meeting?

But she had checked the schedule. There shouldn’t be anyone before her.

Part of her hesitates when she puts her hand on the doorknob. She could be barging in on someone, maybe even the executives, and then she’d be in trouble. She’s barely keeping up with her rent as is.

She shakes the thought away and turns the handle.

The first thing that hits her is the smell. It smells terrible, like the one time she walked into an open-air market on a humid day, and it hits her with all the subtlety of a freight train. Alice barely registers it.

She was supposed to meet with a team that was going to manage the shipping operations. All highly capable, trained, and intelligent people with more years in the business than she’d spent in any one place. She walks into the room and is faced with their bodies.

The manila folders slip out from her slack grasp and fall to the floor. The papers spill over her shoes, and if she was in any state to pay attention to them, she would notice the red leaching into the important paperwork and save them. As it stands, she can only stare, horrified, at the seven corpses strewn about the room with abandon.

One woman is slumped over the table, her neck at an unnatural angle. Her red lipstick seems to glare eerily under the harsh office lighting. Next to her is a man, middle-aged and balding, with a bright slash of red across his throat. Two other corpses were killed in the same fashion, sprawled in their chairs like macabre dolls. Another woman, this one older with graying hair at the temples, lies on the floor with a mutilated eye and another slash. There are more corpses in the back of the room, but Alice can’t tell how they died.

The room bleeds red, and Alice falls to her knees. She’s vaguely aware that she started screaming, but before the noises she’s making can alert anyone, she feels a hand clap onto her mouth. She starts struggling against whoever it is, feeling their arm lock around her neck and pull her roughly to her feet.

Some part of her keeps her head and she bites down, snagging some skin between her teeth. The hand comes away and there’s a muffled curse from behind her. It’s a man, she realizes faintly. The hand comes over her mouth again and instead of an arm on her neck, there’s a cool press of metal. That’s a knife, she thinks, and her gaze darts down. Bright, jagged steel reflects light from the office into her eyes, and she shuts them with a gasp.

“Sorry about this,” murmurs a voice in her ear, and it’s surprisingly young. It’s the last thing she hears before there’s a sharp pain, and everything goes black.

—

Takeshi’s tired. He’s been at this dimly lit bar for hours, watching Kazuhide drink too much alcohol and get progressively rowdier. At this point, he’s ready to go home.

“Oi, Kazuhide,” he says, but the bigger man ignores him. “Kazuhide,” he says, louder this time.

He turns, face flushed. “What, Hirota?” he snaps, and Takeshi can’t be bothered to be annoyed. He stands from his seat and takes out a wad of paper money, setting it down next to him. “I’m going home,” he says, and Kazuhide doesn’t stop him as he walks out of the bar. He wants a smoke, but he’s also tired enough that he might choke on the nicotine like a pansy fresh off his first job. His pride can’t take the hit, so he walks home without touching the lighter in his pocket.

Or, he starts to. He passes down a side street because he knows it leads to a shortcut, and passes a red brick building. Something about it makes him stop. The hairs on the back of his neck rise, and a prickle goes down his back as he stares at the building.

Something’s wrong.

Takeshi glances up at the moon. “The onryou are out tonight,” he whispers, and the wind picks up as if to confirm it. He shivers and tugs his jacket closer. The building in front of him looms, and he can’t hear anyone inside. It’s strange, considering the lights are on. His unease ratchets up several notches as he stares, waiting for someone to move inside. But no one does.

I should go home, he thinks, but he doesn’t move. He’s rooted to the spot.

No, not rooted. He’s drawn towards the door by some invisible string, making him reach for the handle and tug it open. It offers no resistance.

Takeshi walks inside, knowing that he could probably get fined for trespassing. The area at the front, with a reception desk, is empty. Instead of turning around, he continues deeper into the building. The lights are all still on in here, too. There isn’t a single sound.

Where is everyone?

He walks down the left side hallway. It’s as empty as the foyer, and his shoes make very little noise against the tile. There’s no sounds to show people up ahead, not even the little eddies of air from people walking.

His adrenaline spikes and he turns around, half-expecting someone to materialize out of thin air from behind him. There’s nobody there, and there hadn’t been anything to set him off in the beginning. He swears under his breath, reaches into his pocket, and takes out his lighter. If he’s going to be in some creepy abandoned building at night, he’s going to have a smoke, too.

He lights his cigarette and holds it between his teeth. The adrenaline makes him feel awake, and the nicotine wakes him up even more. Takeshi walks down the hallway, glancing around for anybody, but he sees no one. It’s strange.

He exhales, blowing smoke into the air. Isn’t there anyone in this building? Or…maybe the janitor just forgot to turn off the lights, and he’s being paranoid, and he’s very much trespassing. “I should go home,” he says aloud, but he keeps walking forward.

He rounds the corner and sees an office room with the door slightly ajar. He approaches slowly, making his footsteps as loud as possible so he doesn’t startle anyone inside. He even knocks. “Anyone in there?” he asks, and he gets no answer. He’s about to push open the door when there’s a strange noise, like the sound snow makes when it’s crushed underfoot.

Takeshi whips around, cursing himself for not even bringing a weapon. The hallway was empty, he thinks, his heart jumping into his throat. He was so sure it had been empty.

But now, leaning against the wall with a careless sort of grace, is a man. He’s young, and skinny enough that his sweater hangs off of his frame. His hair is a bright orange under the institutional lights in the ceiling. He’s not even looking at Takeshi, but he freezes all the same.

“I don’t think you should open that,” says the man—boy, really—but doesn’t make a move to stop him.

“Why?” Takeshi asks, aware it’s a silly question. “Who are you?”

The boy raises his head, but he still doesn’t look at him. His shaggy hair hides his eyes from Takeshi’s view, but he can see the boy smile. It’s a sad smile, and it makes something in Takeshi ache.

“You can’t really unsee it,” says the boy.

Takeshi ignores him anyway and pushes the door open. He registers what’s inside before he feels the urge to be violently sick. True, he’s a bodyguard, and he’s run enough semi-illegal gigs to not be squeamish at the sight of blood. But inside that room….

Bodies. Piles and piles of them, leaking blood onto the floor.

The boy sighs. “I told you,” he says, and he sounds vaguely apologetic. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Who are you?” Takeshi repeats, backing away, and the boy finally looks at him. Overbright hazel eyes, almost feverish, lock with his. He doesn’t look crazy, Takeshi thinks. He looks tired, like a man who’s been running for a long time and knows he’s nowhere close to the finish line.

His hand flicks out, and he’s grasping a knife where there hadn’t been one a second ago. Takeshi revises his opinion of the kid. He’s not just tired.

He’s desperate.

The boy peels himself off the wall, and Takeshi backs up further, holding up his hands. “Look, look, can we talk about this?” he pleads, and the boy shakes his head. “Orders,” he says, almost helplessly.

Takeshi suddenly understands why the building had drawn his attention. The American smuggling organization’s agent had given an address to Kazuhide and him. This place is—was—their headquarters.

“I’m not with them,” Takeshi pleads, painfully aware that he’s unarmed. But he’s strong, and this isn’t his first time confronted by someone violent. He can probably take him down. The kid’s built like a stick.

“Doesn’t matter,” says the boy, and he sounds regretful as he advances.

I’ll get this over with, Takeshi thinks grimly, and rushes forward to disarm the kid and put him into a headlock. But as he makes his move, the boy smiles. Something’s wrong.

As soon as he touches him, the boy dissolves into particles of light that fall slowly to the ground, almost like snow. Takeshi whirls around, looking for him, but the hallway is empty.

“Shit,” he whispers, before there’s a sharp tug at his throat and he can’t feel anything anymore. The last thing he hears is a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

—

Tanizaki stands over the body of the man who’d been unlucky enough to wander into this particular building on this particular night. He wipes the blood off onto the man’s clothes and sighs. “That makes 203,” he murmurs, because he knows there’s no one around to hear. He reaches into his pocket after holstering his knife and pulls out a flip phone. He opens it, scrolls through his contacts, and picks one of the numbers.

“Ichiyo,” says the person on the other end of the line, and Tanizaki grits his teeth. “Mission complete,” he mutters. “Tanizaki reporting in.”

“Body count?” asks the woman, and Tanizaki grips the hem of his sweater to stop his other hand from shaking. “Eighty seven.”

There’s an approving noise from Ichiyo and Tanizaki has to push down his rage. “Can I see her?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady. The woman hums, deliberating. She drags it out for longer than she needs, he can tell, and it infuriates him. “You get fifteen minutes,” she says finally. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you,” he chokes out, hating himself for thanking her, for meaning it, because his gratitude is an ugly thing that rises in him alongside the fury.

“We reward success, here at the Port Mafia,” Ichiyo says, her voice almost proud. Tanizaki bites back a retort about where she can shove that success. “I’ll be in touch,” he says, tone biting, and hangs up before she can. It’s a small, petty thing, he knows. But it tempers his anger a little.

He’ll be able to see her tomorrow. It’s worth it, all of it is worth it.

All for her. Everything for her.

Tanizaki leaves the building with his phone and knife tucked away from sight. But he stops before he leaves the front of the building behind, tipping his head up to the moon. He closes his eyes and takes a breath. “Fifteen minutes, huh?” he says.

He wonders if it would be enough. -- -- -- --

"His ability is terrifyingly suited for assassination." (Hirotsu, episode 33)

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brvisedmorality · 4 years

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[ TESSA THOMPSON, 37, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER ] Have you seen BENTLEY BOURDEAUX down in St. Landry again? I heard they’re one of the BOSS, for the KELLEY’s now. They’ve been so CUT THROAT & GUARDED lately, it’s no wonder. I’ll sure miss when they were CREATIVE & SENTIMENTAL. I wonder if they’re going to stop listening to HEAVEN KNOWS by THE PRETTY RECKLESS. now, or if LILY TATTOOS WRAPPING AROIND HER HEART, A GAZE THAT DEFINES IF LOOKS COULD KILL & A RUSTED WEDDING RING BURIED IN THE SWAMPS will still announce ‘em.

Violet Maheaux was born in the backwoods of the bayou as a chilling side effect of what could only be called the hate fucking exchanged by her parents. She was the kind of woman that you admired for both her inherit, natural beauty and her dreams. The dreams were always the big ones, the ones that involved making a name for herself and leaving the sleepiness of this little town behind forever. As pretty as she was, that was all that the ancestors saw fit to give her, nothing much more. They didn’t see it important to offer the woman the tools that she needed in order to make it out of her circumstances, there was no second chance at a life unless she learned to use the one thing that she did have – her body. Violet learned at her young age that for as many dreams as she had, her parents had that many less. They could barely spell the word dream let alone live it, so there was no other choice for her to start to get creative. She managed to learn that the world would open up to you just as soon as you opened your legs. Pussy, that was the one marketable talent that she was born with and she decided to use it as such. The phrase gold digger was one that had been coined especially for her, the girl with champagne taste and beer money. Through the years she had found men here and there but she never really managed to accomplish anything great from sloppy blowjobs and quick sex until she met Weston Bordeaux.

Weston was not only the most desirable man that she had ever seen, his bank account reflected just the right amount of zeroes to make him the prime candidate to run her right out of the woods and into the penthouse. There were two dates before she found herself pinned to the backseat of his Bentley, a chorus of convincing moans and slick sheen of sweat resulting in her golden ticket, the baby that he put inside her that night. In all her glory, she managed to rope on of New Orleans’s most eligible bachelors. Weston’s parents were not about to let a bastard child be born with the prestigious Bordeaux name so he had no choice other than to marry the downgrade that he had made the mistake of impregnating. Their marriage was one that sealed fates ticket to bring the poor house to the Hamptons, so to speak. In commemorative fashion of their fuck trophy, Violet elected to name their first born child Bentley. The keep sake that lived and breathed was born shortly after they were married and there were days where she regretted even that simple, silver spoon mistake.

Bentley’s childhood was one that was filled with attention from anyone other than her parents. The people that whispered through the halls of their house, the ones that dusted ancient heirlooms and tended to the children were the ones that she knew the best. Her mother was a ghost of a woman, a woman whose only goal had been to get somewhere where she didn’t need to worry about money. She accomplished that goal on her back but now there was nothing left for Violet to aspire to. Weston on the other hand was miserable in the begging of their marriage and subsequently, while Bentley was growing up. He drank too much, worried even more and then of course eventually succumbed to his fate of loving the backwoods Barbie doll that he had been forced into marrying. The hurricane that was Bentley Mason stormed her way through the house and the grounds, never a soul to settle for too long. The wild child that her mother had been in her youth was the only trait she was thankful that she was passed down. There was no way to calm her waters or cage her desire to learn, love, hate, anything. She was as unpredictable as they came, something that her father saw as an immediate danger and attempted to cut off at the neck just as soon as possible. Weston’s suggestion for calming down their daughter was to all but sell her off to the highest bidder. Arranged marriages were a thing of the past, everyone said but what high society wanted, high society got.

The attempt to clip wings that were made for flying made Bentley more than enraged when she started coming into her teens. It was delicate age, the age where rebellion could come running into the back of your head and make its home there. It did just that, as a matter of fact. She was a wild horse that bucked the saddle they were trying to fit her with in every sense that she possibly could, but eventually daddy won out. He managed to rope her into a relationship with a man who was ten years her senior, ignoring the obvious age gaps and general inappropriate nature of their pairing, he was just happy someone would continue the prestige that was promised by the life he knew. The one thing that daddy didn’t know was that he had just pushed his darling daughter into the arms of malice, abuse, and violence all rolled into one. That was her dance with the devil, her chance to lose the wide eyed innocence that she had been born with. Her only saving grace was her sister, Delilah.

Bentley only stayed around for as long as she did because of her little sister, someone needed to be there to hold the hand of the most precious thing that shared her bloodline. Delilah Lily Bordeaux was the one thing that brought her head back down from the clouds and centered her in a way that one other hand that had ever touched her managed too. The problem with that was that Bentley was only human (as far as she knew), she could only handle so much. The straw that had broken the camel’s back was the last time that her husband to be busted her lip wide open. The copper taste of her own blood in her mouth was enough to break down the last of her defenses, leaving her with one choice at the ripe age of sixteen and that was to leave. She abandoned the family, the money, and the manufactured sense of both safety and love, making the last strike the last time that someone would ever put their hands on her without regretting the decision.

Leaving the house on the hill that she had been born in and subsequently her sister, affectionately coined as Lily, was the one thing that will constantly be a soft, untouched mistake that she still didn’t speak about. It was the reason that some nights she woke up screaming, other mornings she contemplated just ending the suffering that radiated from that hole that was left in her chest by the happenings at that house. Shortly after Bentley left home, Lily then twelve would just so happen to go missing. They searched for her for days, spending minutes, hours, days trying to find any sign of what had happened to the small girl with the sincerest of smiles. Local law enforcement combined with neighbors and friends scoured the woods, the swamps, everything that they could to find any sign of the youngest Bordeaux sister. The overly eager attempts to find the child by one neighbor in particular would be the downfall of the whole scenario, eventually finding that he had raped, brutalized and then killed the light of Bentley’s life weeks earlier, not even bothering to bury the body but instead leaving her in the basement of his oversized home right next to the Bordeaux’s house. This is what heart break feels like, this is what heartbreak sounds like, hell – this is what heartbreak looks like.

Bentley’s lines were blurred forever after that small, simple incident that came to define her own personal views on morality. She didn’t mind becoming the judge, jury and the executioner because that final kick in the balls so to speak came when they acquitted this man on a technicality that she was sure that his lawyer bought with all that money that they had to offer him. It was the law, the government that allowed him to not only kill her flesh and blood, but turned the blind eye to it. It was then that fate decided to brand itself a killer at the ripe age of sixteen. It was the first body that ever disappeared under Bentley’s name, but it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last one. That was the thing about blood, once you got it on your hands, those stains never did come out.

True to the saying, the first cut was the deepest, but that didn’t mean it was going to be some kind of well learned lesson. Instead, it became a means to an end. Regardless, the one mistake she’d made was getting caught. The person who caught her had a badge that she assumed would somehow steal the loyalty from her to it, but she was pleasantly surprised. The pair eventually took off together, until he’d left her in a cheap, roadside motel, to deal with the reality of her hand written tragedy. Upon coming back to town, Marie Kelley took her in. After all, she’d always known the girl, and something told Bentley, that when she looked at her? Somehow, she didn’t see the same monster that B did when she looked in the mirror.

The Kelley family became the only family she knew and loved, aside from her sister, that she carried with her every day. That was the only reason she was allowed to climb the ranks the way she did, and it was at Marie’s dying recommendation, that she took the throne. A gift, that she hadn’t intended to waste then, and surely wouldn’t now.

#renn.intro #bentley #tbt

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wotnahq · 4 years

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Lucy Marie Cage • 26 • Female (she/her) • Metahuman • Astral Manipulation • Civilian

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGER WARNINGS: STRONG VIOLENCE, BLOOD AND GORE

Lucy was born to Alec and Bianca Gale on 17th June 2019 in the city of Charlotte, North Carolina. She was the second child of her family, and the only blood descendant of her parents: Brendan, her older brother, was adopted before Lucy was born; Felix and Harriet, the twins among them, were adopted together when lucy was 2; Lily was fostered when she turned 8, shortly after Lucy’s 13th birthday. Cora was the eldest, a runaway from an abusive family - she sought shelter in their home, and ended up staying to become part of the family. Their father worked as a history professor at Queens University of Charlotte, while her mother was a secretary for a law firm, and so they lived in a large apartment near the city centre.

Despite their wealth, Alec and Bianca attempted to provide their children with as ordinary a life as they could. The siblings were sent to a nearby public school, where Lucy’s kind nature made her extremely popular, and her diligence for study propelled her through elementary and middle school. She was even offered a scholarship for a prestigious private highschool when she was 13. Although she would be attending a different school to Cora and Brendan, she jumped at the opportunity - taking a particular shining to the theatre and dramatic arts classes, she quickly found her niche and settled into the routine relatively quickly. The variety there astounded Lucy: she was part of the training group for cheerleading and played for the girl’s basketball team, but especially loved the opportunity to be a part of the school production that year. The time commitments placed a heavy strain on her, although she ensured she kept the stress and panic away from her family.

Three weeks before her 15th birthday, Lucy was woken up in the middle of the night with an excruciating burning sensation on her arm. In front of her eyes, a transparent black rune scorched itself onto her flesh, and she quickly showed it to her parents. Alec was confused, but Bianca already knew, from her position as a secretary, about the stories of the Metahumans that had recently begun spreading after an incident on the east coast. She knew in her heart that her daughter was another one. Initially she wanted to take Lucy for tests, to see if she was in danger, but Alec convinced her to give it time. Lucy herself was scared of the pain, as the rune burned like oil against her skin, but after seeing the panic and fear in her mother’s eyes, she did her best to keep a brave face and hold it in. It wouldn’t last long.

A year passed. Time revealed a dramatic alteration to Lucy herself: she became angry, hateful, and confessed to her parents that she had urges to hurt and even kill people. These initial shifts were contributed to her natural development, however the increasing urges were never diagnosed properly, even by mental health professionals. Although her parents were prepared for Lucy to change over her growth, especially with her differences, it quickly escalated - anger turned to threats, threats turned into violence, and violence turned to danger. Her father ended up locking her into a modified cell he had been building in a back room of their apartment, and there she remained for 5 years. The family claimed whenever necessary that Lucy was busy most of the time, which many believed after her dedication to work growing up, and all the while they kept her in the cell to prevent her from lashing out, with almost daily visits from her siblings and parents in her calm periods. Lucy would read books, play video games, and try to let them see that she was the same girl she’d been years ago, but keeping up such a façade became more and more of a challenge for her skills. The solitude of her new life - no more school, no more friends, no more nothing - combined with the violent thoughts and hatred that had spawned in her head began pushing her further and further from the girl she once was, and yet she kept it suppressed to convince her family she was okay.

On the night of her 22nd birthday, Lucy’s increasing talent for manipulation and acting paid off, and she was finally let out of the room to celebrate with her family. But this was the first time she’d seen the life they led without her, and it only fuelled her anger - how could they keep her trapped in that tiny room for years, while they lived like nothing was wrong? Did she, their own daughter and sister, mean so little to them? Nevertheless, keeping up her act of 5 years, she managed to get through the night, and stashed the knife they used to cut her birthday cake down the side of her boot before she was locked up again. The experience of that night brought back her happiest childhood memories, and she began to have second thoughts about her plan, but the later the hour became, the more those thoughts morphed into hatred: her childhood, a time that could’ve been filled with joy, was stolen from her by the ones who promised to give her the best life possible. They had promised her they’d never hurt her, that they’d do what they had to to protect her, but locking her up was not what they’d had to do. It was what they’d wanted to do. And she needed to make them pay.

Lucy used the knife to crack the lock of her cell and initially returned to her old room, to find that Cora had now moved in. Her bedroom, completely erased of her memories and made up for a girl who didn’t belong. The anger flared in her and buried any remaining hesitation lacing her heart, and after pinning the sleeping woman to the bed, she began garrotting her using wiring from the utility cupboard. The struggle didn’t cause her to think twice, she felt no guilt hearing Cora struggle to breathe, and she continued to slice the wiring deeper into her flesh. But it was now that Lucy finally discovered the purpose of her powers: as her sister ran out of oxygen, the essence leaked from her lips and curled up like a mist, and Lucy unwittingly breathed it in. Her adrenaline, her bloodlust, shot through the roof, and hatred overwhelmed the only human elements she held in her heart - her newfound strength turned the wire into a blade, removing Cora’s head under her push. Blood coated her hands, pouring across the sheets, and black mist poured from the parted lips of the head, filling Lucy’s lungs. It made her feel more powerful than she had ever been, but more importantly, it gave her the strength to decide that Cora would only be the first to die that night.

Each of her siblings fell victim to her one by one. Brendan was next, and a knife through the throat put him down quick enough. The twins would be harder, as one would attempt to save the other if Lucy was too loud, and so she slit each of their throats, leaving them to bleed out in mere seconds. And Lily… poor little Lily. Lucy would have fun with her. She nudged the girl awake, ensuring she hid any of the blood that dyed her hands, and let her give the killer one final tight hug. She soon lay in her bed, knife wounds dotting her stomach and chest, her eyes devoid of life. Lucy’s lungs were filled with each of their essences, her rune now pulsating on her skin, and her parents were next. She remained silent entering their room, and soon had her mother at knifepoint, drawing drips of blood as she taunted Alec to his feet. Every plead that the man made, every grovel, just pushed Lucy to realise how truly pathetic he was - he’d stolen her childhood because of his fear of what the girl could become. And now he saw how sadistic she could be: she slowly slit Bianca’s throat, absorbing every drop of essence, and let the bleeding corpse fall onto their bed. For Alec the knife wouldn’t be necessary, so she dropped it and pounced at him to pin him to the wall, her hands locked around his throat. Her transformed eyes finally revealed to him the last traces of his true daughter - dark, hollow, filled with nothing but hatred - before she snapped his neck. His essence was the strongest from the overwhelming pain and fear he’d felt in his final moments.

Now came the complex part: disposing of the bodies. A burial would raise suspicion and open Lucy to witnesses, so a crude disposal might be necessary. Only a few miles outside of the city was an old abandoned meat packing plant, and so every day, one by one, she transported the bodies to the plant to dump them into the grinder, smuggling them into the car Alec’s keys unlocked by stashing them in her gym bag when she left each day. Within a week her family’s bodies were disposed of, but even after the month ended, she felt not a tinge of guilt or sadness for what she’d done: finally she was allowed to feel the sun again, to leave her apartment, and if that meant she had to eliminate the obstacles, so be it. Lucy finally understood what her power was and what it could do, and she knew it was all that would keep her going now. The strength, the power, the control, it all flowed from the rune she’d once considered a curse and that had changed her life, and she had to keep it satisfied. But to do that properly she’d have to find a new home.

Lucy allowed herself a year to readjust to life, and over that year, she heard of the Nephilim’s attack on Pansaw, California. The organisation had quickly dropped into hiding, but their motivations sparked a thought in her head: what if her parents had only done it because she was a Meta? What if it was only for her differences? She managed to get access to her father’s money, which would help to maintain the façade that he was still alive, and used it to fund her identity change and facial surgeries, transforming her into Lucy Cage. Two months later, with every trace of blood and flesh cleaned away, Lucy called and organised removalists, and soon her family’s apartment was nothing but an empty shell, waiting for the next group to move in. She moved soon after to Pansaw, renting an apartment in Bostwick, and easily passed off her rune as a tattoo - nobody suspected her of being Meta, and there was no way she’d register with this new system. The Nephilim were right - they were the supreme kind, and humans would one day face a newly reformed Nephilim, with her as part of it.

By 2045 Lucy has settled into life in Pansaw - she has no work, but instead extorts and steals from victims she meets, and uses the money to fund her training in the dramatic arts at Pansaw University. A variety of disappearances and gruesome murders by a seemingly nonexistent killer have earned her the nickname of Ghost in the media, but now trained in her abilities, Lucy is in little to no danger of getting caught. She’s a new girl, with a new personality, new career, and new life, and no human will lock her or her kind up again - if they ever dared to try, she as a Metahuman would slice them down like she’d done to her family. She’s done it once, what could stop her from doing it again?

POWERS

ASTRAL MANIPULATION: Using essence harvested from dying souls, Lucy can create, shape and manipulate astral energy, allowing her instantaneous manipulation over the astral plane. She can interact with and see spirits, make spirits visible to others, tear holes in the barrier, and potentially even harm or kill the living utilising the spirits that cross. She can manipulate her own physical form and cross between the planes, allowing her movement and combat enhancements, as well as increase her strength and endurance using a liquefied version of essence.

WEAKNESSES

Her actions and powers can be suppressed, nullified, or reversed by other Astral Manipulation users. Steady source of essence is required for any and all powers. Very low levels of essence causes extreme grogginess, slower reaction times, and lowered coordination of any kind. Requires consistent concentration to maintain Astral Pain Suppression, Astral Attacks or Astral Phase. Concentrations of corruption, whether by natural cause or Lucy’s abilities, nearby in the astral plane has a severely adverse effect on Lucy when her rune attempts to absorb the excess as fuel. It then overflows into her physical form and temporarily causes extreme pain, as well as physical malformations.

PERSONALITY

+ Intelligent + Resourceful + Charismatic

– Fiery – Brutal – Destructive

#lsrp #mutant rp #superpower rp #oc rp #jena frumes #character #lucy cage

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atamascolily · 4 years

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Lily liveblogs: “The Rise of Skywalker,” part two

Neener, neener, world-building is for losers. Not to mention plot, character development, and general coherence.

(Or, fifty ideas in a trench coat pretending to be one movie.)

Look, you get ONE fetch quest per film, and we've already exceeded the limit here, please stop... [does not stop]

Poe literally has to ask to kiss Zorii because she's wearing a mask, lol. I mean, I like to think he would anyway, but... just saying.

They literally slot the medallion into the designated coin slot and that's it, it's over so fast, lololololol.

Like, the FO lets them in because they have a medallion and then only sends two troopers to investigate because Something Is Clearly Up? LOLOLOLOLOLOL.

Okay, they're just going to straight up assault the Star Destroyer. 10/10 for style. Refuge in audacity and all that. Fine, whatever.

Finn ought to have some idea about the layout of the place, didn't the FO teach him that stuff when he was a stormtrooper? Or at least enough to have a hint. Or are they just going to wander around without a clue and magically find the right spot??

Oh, Rey's mastered the mind-trick now, good to know. (*Legally Blonde voice* "What, like it's hard?")

Poe's question if Rey does that to him and Finn is 100% spot on and he is RIGHT to ask that because the mind trick is SUPER INVASIVE and can be badly misused.Given how recalcitrant Poe’s been, I’m sure she’s been tempted.

Rey is so concerned about Chewie until she gets distracted by the dagger, sigh... [Han Solo voice] Convenient. [/Han Solo voice.]

Why do they need the dagger macguffin if they already have the coordinates? What a stupid thing to get Rey alone so she and Kylo can have a moment.

Kylo searching through Kijimi for Rey like he's got no fucking clue, lololol. So much for their "Force bond" here.

Does Finn feel, like, anything for the troopers he's shooting? I mean, obviously not in the heat of battle, but like, ever? Considering that his friend's death on Jakku was what snapped him out of the FO brainwashing in the first place... so he knows it's possible for the others to change. So... what a wasted opportunity here.

Literally, all of the troopers are patrolling either in pairs or alone, that is so dumb if there's actually an alert out on the ship for them.

Is Poe having PTSD flashbacks to the last time he got captured by the FO? Because I would, if I were in his shoes.

Rey picks up the dagger and has flashbacks again PSYCHOMETRY PSYCHOMETRY PSYCHOMETRY PSYCHOMETRY

Okay, the FUCK is going on with this fight scene. Where is she, really? Is she Force projecting? How can she do that when it killed Luke? How can BOTH of them be in two places at once? Ie, it's not that Rey is suddenly having an out-of-body experience and fighting Kylo on a spiritual plane in Kijimi - she's also fighting in Kylo's room, and even though I could see her body moving in time with her mind, is Kylo projecting himself into his room with HER, too? What is happening?

I feel like this scene would be so much more powerful if we established some parameters for HOW THIS POWER FUCKING WORKS so I know what the stakes are. Wouldn't it be interesting if this moved used life force, for instance, the same way that healing did? What are the restrictions/limitations? Why is none of this ever explained? It just happens... waaaaaahhhhhhh

I really love it when this is an open question in works that are thematically ABOUT "is it a dream? is it real? is it a mindfuck?" [see: Inception] but that's NOT THE POINT OF THIS FILM, this is a side issue, so it SHOULDN'T BE A MYSTERY, it should be actually intelligible to me what is going on even if I don't understand all the intricacies.

It does look cool, though. I'll grant them that much. The aesthetics of a night fight in the falling stone are ON POINT. Too bad the fight doesn't really use much of its scenery to any advantage. This could be literally anywhere for all that the characters draw on their surroundings.

"Wherever you are, you are hard to find." So smooth, Kylo.

Rey VERY CLEARLY SAYS "I don't want this!" in response to Kylo's "I've been in your head". Because consent is for LOSERs, am I right? [/sarcasm] ugghhhhhhh

"Your parents are no one...." but turns out they were actually someone! Never mind we never get their names or backstory anywhere! That might make them... interesting! Or even RELEVANT.

Okay, so stuff from Kijimi is literally spilling into the star destroyer and vice versa, is that actually happening or is that just a visual metaphor/dream sequence, I really need to know wtf is going on here.

Kylo using his knowledge of/from Palpatine to manipulate Rey is terrible but actually something he would do... and kinda clever. I'll grant him that much.

Ochi looks just like a twisted version of Maz, except taller... does that mean anything? probably not!

We literally have no connection to these two random new characters so their fate does not resonate as much as it SHOULD HAVE. Which one was Palpatine's kid? How did he HAVE kids in the first place? What was said kid's life like? Why did they grow up to run away and defy their dad? How did they meet the other partner? How did all this, you know, HAPPEN??

And why did Palpatine send an agent to kill them instead of killing/tortuing them himself, since they clearly had info he was interested in? THE FUCK.

I was hoping the Vader mask would finally be destroyed, but NOOOOOOOOOOO.

Lol how Kylo's like "I'm gonna only tell you the rest of the story in person" as if they weren't already fighting face to face in some weird dream-reality hybrid thingy. Kylo, you are so desperate and so so so so dumb.

LOL, Hux being all dramatic here. "I'm the spy!"

This just gets funnier when you remember how Poe trolled the SHIT out of him at the beginning of TLJ, so Poe has NO CLUE (because the writers didn't either until just now, natch), AND why Poe's reaction when Hux says he's gonna "do it himself" (ie, murder Poe) is so on point.

I approve of Rey looting Kylo's room before running off. Too bad she doesn't smash the Vader mask and be done with it. At least Chewie gets his crossbow back.

"I don't care if you win. I need Kylo Ren to lose." 10/10, excellent character motivation, and I approve. Hux is such a bastard and Kylo totally deserves this betrayal. (also: the Imperial philosophy in a nutshell.)

I'm not averse per se to Rey Palpatine, but this way of handling it is total bullshit and an asspull, sigh.

Oh, no, here comes the Force dyad nonsense. "We have no choice but to be together because we're SOULMATES! I'm stalking you because I LOVE YOU and it's DESTINY, Rey!" </sarcasm>

Oh, the destroyer is still in the atmosphere over Kijimi and not in space, I see. getting bespin feels here. This should have happened in the second movie not halfway through the third.

Yup, there's the "join me and rule the galaxy" offer right on cue.

Taking off your mask does not help here, Kylo. No one cares about your puppy dog eyes, you fucking stalker.

yeah, she would have jumped if the Falcon hadn't shown up right at the last minute, lol.

[Honestly, I would have had her jump and land smack on the back of the Falcon, but that may just be my twisted sense of humor talking.]

love kylo's dismay as she gets away. EXCELLENT LEAP. And Finn is wearing an oxygen mask, which is a detail which I <3!

Hux just dies with no drama, which is too bad, but also soooo typical of Imperial/FO management style. Live by the sword, die by the sword. Good thing your pettiness lives on!

(Pryde is clearly the Real Villain now that Hux is Actually Good, I see what you did there.)

I hate how Rey literally shuts Finn out here, when he is TRYING TO DO THE RIGHT THING AND REMIND HER SHE'S A GOOD PERSON and Rey is so confused by Kylo's constant gaslighting that she ignores him. Like, psychologically understandable (and sad) but I fucking hate it. Finn deserves so much better than this.

Palpatine talks in Kylo's head... how? why? Why does Palps have this kind of connection with Kylo when he had to make hologram calls to Vader the old-fashioned way? (I know they established at the beginning of the film that they had this relationship, but it's still odd and inexplicable. Like the whole thing that was supposed to make Mara Jade special was that she could hear his voice anywhere in the galaxy... and Kylo's just... got that... for no reason? Because Palps targeted him since he was a kid???

(Keep in mind Kylo was concieved RIGHT AFTER ENDOR, so I dunno what Palps was up to or how long it would take him to get a body or LITERALLY ANY WAY IN WHICH THIS WOULD MAKE LOGISTICAL SENSE.)

It's a moon of Endor, but a DIFFERENT moon of Endor, fine, okay, and we're going to ignore the whole "How did the Death Star ruins get here, anyway?" because that's a world-building problem of an entirely different order of magnitude and just roll with it.

I do believe Rey is mentally running the numbers on Death Star scrap/value of kyber crystals on the open market here, because old habits die hard. And that is such a gorgeous shot, with the cliffs and the churning sea and the ruins.

Oh, I see, the wayfinder was on the moon because it was in the Death Star with Palps and somehow... didn't explode or get sucked out into the vacuum of space. That's a leap, but okay, whatever, fine.

using a macguffin to find another macguffin, wow.

I don't literally don't understand how this dagger is supposed to work as a compass, but fine, whatever. now we will never see it again.

Jannah looks great, I love her character design, but unfortunately, this movie is going to spend very little time exploring the world she lives in because we have to rush onto the next thing, sigh. And apparently, they know about the Resistance! Okay. And they know Babu Frik... or Babu Frik knows them enough to call in some favors...? WHAT.

So it's too dangerous to travel on the water because the waves are so big... which means some killer tides! That is actually interesting, but Rey just overrides everyone and goes anyway (alone!!) so I don't even know why this comes up as an obstacle if it is instantly resolved. This film keeps doing that, and it is not as cute as the director thinks it is.

Finn and Jannah bond over being ex-FO, and this film should spend wayyyy more time on this than it does. THEY BOTH HAD "FEELINGS" ABOUT WHAT WAS RIGHT AND THEY OVERCAME THEIR BRAINWASHING -- Finn is talking about the feeling and calling it "the Force," this is great, AND MY HEART IS DISSOLVING IN A MILLION FEELS AND I JUST... WANT THIS TO FREAKIN' MATTER... why is Finn so sure the Force is real? Faith? Or because he's actually a Jedi, too? (You already know which one I believe here. MAKE HIM A JEDI YOU COWARDS.)

Rey just fucks off and steals Jannah's boat? Where... was it? How did she find it? What... how does that even make sense??

too bad they don't have a working ship, they could just FLY over the ocean instead of surmounting the waves for extra unnecessary drama, lol.

Please keep in mind that Rey grew up in a fucking desert. That she cannot (despite what TLJ might have told you) swim. Yet she is on a boat in an ocean alone. This is a terrible idea. (I'm not going to say it's OOC, because Rey would, in fact, totally do this--just emphasizing how bad an idea this is.)

Finn says, "You have no idea what she's fighting" to Poe... who does know, actually. Kylo tortured him at the beginning of TFA, just like he tried to do later in that film to Rey. Surely Finn should... know this?

If Finn and Poe are going to fight here, fine, this is just a stupid argument. Finn says he and Leia know what Rey is up against and Poe says, I'm not Leia, YES WE NOTICED POE.

Whyyyy is Poe the Team Skeptic here and such a grouch?? not cool.

"That's for damn sure." OH SNAP. And also, actual profanity in Star Wars? Whoa!

Of course Finn is going to go after her.

I will say this: the Death Star ruins look hella cool. also, a nice callback to the beginning of TFA where Rey is exploring the Star Destroyer ruins.

my goodness, the upper arm strength required. I love this scene. they should have made Palpatine's ghost haunting the ruins so we could have the final boss fight here - that would make so much more since than him fucking off to Exegol of all places.

(the ruins are totally my aesthetic, tho.)

And the Sith wayfinder.. is just floating in midair. In the ruins of the Death Star that shouldn't exist. In some sort of chamber with no security whatsoever. wowwwwww. Oh, okay, it's in some sort of suspended chamber thingy, but still.... security measures??

Hey, Rey touches it, and experiences a creepy vision--PSYCHOMETRY, ANYONE? A security measure? Oh, no, just a crazy Force vision... maybe? I don't know anymore. I don't know why.

The double-bladed quarterstaff lightsaber is super cool, though.

Rey fighting her evil self in the crumbling tech ruins is TOTALLY MY AESTHETIC YESSSSSSSSS.

since Rey gets a vision when she touches the wayfinder and is released when she lets go of it, I honestly wonder what the other wayfinder said to Kylo, if he experienced anything when he touched it.

speaking of which, there's kylo! ughhhhh.

Like, literally Rey could have stolen the Sith wayfinder from Kylo if he had left it in his room, and she blew up at least one of his TIE fighters that had it so... I don't even know if Kylo has one anymore. Maybe he doesn't need it? WHATEVER.

Rey is not amused. GIVE ME MY MACGUFFIN!

This is, for the record, the THIRD FIGHT between Kylo and Rey in this film, please just kill him already.

Kylo trying to gaslight Rey about not being a Jedi and how she's proven she's not and she'll disappoint Leia. HOW THE HELL DO YOU THINK LEIA FEELS ABOUT YOU, KYLO??? PROJECTING MUCH???

"Like I can't [go back to Leia]." Ooooohhhhhhh, forced teaming there, way to make your move by claiming to show vulnerability. YOU CHOSE THIS. YOU CHOSE THAT PATH. SHE SENT HAN TO BRING YOU HOME AND YOU MURDERED HIM BECAUSE SNOKE TOLD YOU TO SO YOU COULD LEVEL UP IN HIS STUPID DEATH CULT AND SNOKE TURNED OUT TO BE A PUPPET SO IT WAS ALL FOR NAUGHT, YOU ASSHOLE, and NOW YOU'RE TRYING GASLIGHT REY BY PROJECTING YOUR FAILURES ONTO HER.

And he shatters the macguffin rather than let her have it because he's that much of an asshole.

He doesn't pull out his lightsaber until several seconds in, just moves around because he genuinely doesn't want to hurt her even though he just provoked her into losing her temper to prove a point.

It's raining back on Jungle Planet for ATMOSPHERE and Leia is having a Force Vision of DOOOOOOOM, this was oh so clearly supposed to be for Han's death in TFA, but noooooooooooo we're using it here.

(Also, how is it not raining on the tech, I think there are roofs, but it's so hard to tell.)

Maz is so dramatic about this. "Leia knows what must be done, Artoo." Yes, Kylo is going down.

The aesthetics of the ocean ruins fight scene are 100% my jam, not gonna lie, it looks very cool.

So, once again, the Supreme Leader went off on his own... without backup... not even his own private biker gang.... AGAIN. I just.... can't even... what an idiot. What an absolute idiot.

Good thing Finn and Jannah are here, though I doubt the narrative will actually let them do much. I wish Finn and/or Jannah would just shoot Kylo here once Rey gives them an opening, but no, they're just going to stand there helpless.

I get why Rey pushes them away so Kylo won't use them against her as hostages, but STILL. THERE ARE THREE OF YOU AND ONE OF HIM. USE THAT TO YOUR ADVANTAGE, REY.

drenched unhappy Kylo Ren is excellent, yesssss.

This is the first time I've seen anyone use the Force to halt the blade of a lightsaber... interesting.

Rey is treating her lightsaber like it's one-half of a quarterstaff, I LOVE it, but it also begs the question why didn't she just make a double-bladed saber (with, say, a split kyber crystal from TLJ?) in the first place instead of using a weapon that clearly doesn't work for her as well????

Leia could have reached out to her son at any moment, but she chose not to because she needed to save her strength... but Palps can talk to Kylo across the galaxy and he's fine?? And Kylo and Rey can be in two different places and be just fine (yeah okay, Force dyad soulmates whatever whatever)??? THIS MAKES NO SENSE.

Rey stabbing Kylo with his own damn blade is POETIC CINEMA and also justice. FINALLY.

I think if there were any questions about whether Rey has killed someone, the answer in this scene is no. I can't tell if she's crying for Leia, for shock, for relief, for grief and regret over murdering Kylo, or what.

WHY DOES SHE USE HER LIFE FORCE TO HEAL HIM? WHY? WHY? WHY??????????? (give me a motivation, I dont know what her motivation is here, I dont know why she makes this sacrifice to HIM of all people and I feel like I really should know for this scene to have emotional impact but it doesn't).

LEIA SACRIFICED HERSELF FOR YOU, REY, AND YOU'RE JUST GOING THROW IT AWAY LIKE THIS???

Now, if this movie were actually serious about Kylo and Rey being a Force dyad or two halves of the same whole, then we, the audience, would realize along with Rey that she can't let Kylo die without hurting herself... which I'm not sure I would enjoy, but would at least be COHERENT and fit into the ESTABLISHED WORLDBUILDING even if said worldbuilding is dumb and personally offensive to me. I'M JUST SAYING THERE ARE OPTIONS HERE, YOU TOTALLY HAD OPTIONS THAT WOULD HAVE MADE NARRATIVE SENSE SO I DIDN’T HAVE TO DO IT FOR YOU ON THE SPOT.

"I did want to take your hand. Ben's hand." We know that. That was the whole ending of TLJ. Why is this such a shock now??? She already said that at the end of the last movie, so what have we accomplished since? Absolutely nothing has changed on that front, Kylo!!

Also, Kylo--she saved your life when she didn't have to, and you can't even say Thank you? YOU UNGRATEFUL ASSHOLE.

{there's one hour left in this movie WHATTTTTTTTTTTTT how is that even possible}

lol, she just straight up steals his ship.... which is just perched on top of the ruins nearby and hasn't been damaged at all by spray... and which should ALSO have the wayfinder macguffin in it.... so she's going to Exegol, right? The thing she's been wanting to do for the whole movie? The thing that they only have what, four hours left before the attack or whatever?

NOPE. She goes to Ahch-To. Because of course she does.

I hate this fucking movie so much.

#star wars #WHY DISNEY WHY #lily liveblogs

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procrastinatingsab · 4 years

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Chapter 2 of Trapped is up! please let me know what you think ;3

Summary: A woman disappears. She shows up two days after her husband reports her missing, gives no explanation of what happened and takes her own life the next day. Is she the only victim? Is it really suicide? And what happened when she went missing? Bright and the team investigate the mystery, and Malcolm finds himself in danger yet again. Will he come out unscathed?

AO3

Read Below.

Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Suicide, PTSD, Claustrophobia, Panic Attack, Kidnapping, Implied Brightwell

note: This chapter has mentions of suicide, nothing is explicitly described, but please be warned. Note: I am sorry in advance if any of my medical knowledge or drugs is unrealistic. I just had an idea and I am rolling with it.

Chapter Two: Edrisa Brings in a Case

It was a good day. He navigated the streets of New York City with ease. His footsteps were happy, bouncy even. And why wouldn’t they be? There is a Case Afterall!

And nothing makes him happier. It’s not like he enjoys murders.

No.

He just likes to catch killers, bring them to justice. He wants to protect his family and his community. He's told John Watkins that already. He also admits that it keeps his mind off things. Keeps things at bay. It's also a good challenge, a euphoric experience. Almost like ecstasy. That all he admits.

But what he fails to admit is that he feels it's his personal mission to atone for what Dr. Martin Whitly has done. The pain he has imposed on the world. The wounds he inflicted. Wounds that did not only affect the victims and their families but also his mother, his sister, and himself. Wounds that cannot heal. Wounds that continue to bleed twenty years later.

No.

He does not admit any of this. Because this thought redeems him, makes him a good person. Like some good Samaritan who saw the world was suffering and decided to help. But he knows he's none of that. "We are the same." He is not a good person. He's just to blame for what his father did. He is not any better. He is broken.

Yes.

He's serving his penance. Atoning for those sins, he somehow feels responsible for. And even though he can't seem to close the old wounds, he was at least sparing others the all-knowing pain. That’s why he loved his job at the FBI. This is why he loves working for the NYPD.

Today was a different case, though. It wasn't Gil who called him, like usual, but Edrisa. He could feel her excitement radiating from the text. Or rather a string of texts. Edrisa was the type of person to shoot 10 texts to get through one idea. Blurbs of text came to his phone as he was sipping his morning coffee.

Bright!!!

You need to see this!

I need to talk to you.

It’s about a case.

Like a very cool one!

ASAP.

Really! It’s a good one!

He was out of the house as soon as he read the word case. Malcolm liked Edrisa. He could always be himself with her. She doesn’t judge him or give him creepy glances when he’s fascinated by murder. She's actually into the same things he likes. They share the same fascination for science and anatomy. He’s grateful for his team in the NYPD, more so now that he feels accepted by them. However, Edrisa was the first to accept him right away, and for that, he will always be grateful. After years of being considered a freak, bullied, harassed, and looked down upon, bright couldn't shake the amount of relief he felt about being so fully accepted and so fast. Even when she knew who he was, what his father was.

He reached her office, and through the glass window, he saw her frantically typing on her computer. Her eyebrows were creased, and she was deep into whatever was on the screen that she startled when he opened the door.

"Bright!" she exclaimed, "what took you so long! Come…come in quickly."

She was hopping on her legs, and in her hurried pace, she managed to hit her funny bony. "Aow Aow Awo,” she repeated and muttered, “why does it always hurt that much.”

Malcolm smiled. It was a quiet and rueful smile, the only smile he ever gives. She doesn't remember ever seeing him truly smile.

“ Hello Edrisa,” he looked at his watch, “I had to walk here. Your texts said you have a case?”

“ Yes, yes, YES," she said with a pointed finger up in the air while navigating back to her desk, and he followed to sit at the chair there. "Okay, so it's not really a case per se,” she said and saw his shoulders drop. “Wait, I mean it is, I really think it is. But when I spoke to Gil, he did not see it.”

He frowned, "Why would, Gil ..."

“haah! Because the victim wasn’t killed.”

His frown deepened, but it wasn't an impatient frown. It was leaning more towards perplexed, thoughtful, and definitely not judgmental. She looked at him for a second.

"No, no, no. Let me explain. Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?” she pushed the rims of her glasses to her nose and started.

"So yesterday was a normal day. All cool. Daily work, nothing out of the ordinary, really. I was working with a poor Jane doe but then. Oh, by the way, did you know that when the lungs are submerged in water for so long, they kind of… oh, Sorry, sorry, of course, you do! Where was I? I got carried away,” she smiled sheepishly. Malcolm smiled back. He knows how Edrisa gets carried away, he does so himself more often than ever, so he's not one to judge. On regular days they can both start talking and jumping from topic to topic that by the end of the conversation, they would have discussed ten different things and forgot what the initial topic was even about. Today was different though, this was not an idle chat. They were discussing a case, and so he curbed his itch to ask about Jane Doe and silently let her continue her narrative.

“Back to our story,” she continued, “ So, I get a call from a colleague of mine, Dr. Mathew Brown, he was working with a victim…um, a Mrs. Lori Stewart. Poor soul took her own life. Husband found her in the bathtub, having slit both her wrists." She hung her head low for a few seconds in dismay, and her voice was less enthusiastic, more apologetic, "She left behind a two-year-old. The husband was devastated."

He lowered his head in turn. One would assume that after so much death surrounding them, that it will get easier. It never does.

“So, Mathew, he um... wanted my opinion on her. He thinks it might not be as simple as it looks.”

In reply to his arched eyebrows, she continued, " Lori went missing a couple of days before the accident. Her husband filed a missing person's report forty-eight hours after she disappeared. He insisted that something terrible must have happened to her because Lori rarely left the house. Never without letting him know. Never without lily, their daughter. He was frantic, according to the reports here,” she moved the monitor on her desk a bit to show Bright the police report.

“However, she turned up two days later, completely unscathed, gave no explanation to where she was. Said she just wanted time off. So, the investigation was closed.”

Malcolm’s hand moved to his face stroking his chin. Edrisa knew he was processing the information, thinking of the hidden angles, something he always does, so she let him be.

“She was not restrained?” his head jerked towards her.

"No. There were no marks anywhere to indicate she has been restrained or held captive. Her clothes were in pristine condition. In all outward appearances, she looked fine. The police ran the S.A.K, and the results came back negative. Apart from her apparent silence, there was really nothing to do.”

Malcolm eyed her, and his lips curled playfully, " but that's not all. Right Edrisa? Tell me what is missing. What did you find out!”

She smiled, not at all flustered by his sassiness. He was not the best profiler she knows for nothing.

“That’s what Mathew contacted me about. He found a very carefully hidden needle entry point. She has been dosed with something. So, when checking her tox screen, he found some anomalies. Lori had a history with depression, recently she suffered from postpartum depression and was still on mood stabilizers, among many others. The bloodwork that was taken back when she came home, and that after her death gave perplexing results. Supposedly, she left her medicine at home, so her blood shouldn’t have any traces of the drugs. Yet the levels in the report indicate that there were drugs in her system. The person-in-charge back at the time did not notice. The total concentration was within limits and in line with what's expected, given her medication list. However, if you look closely at the chemical's concentrations, you can see some of the peaks belong to model drugs that mimic the behavior of a conventional drug. It is very easy to miss if you are not looking for it."

“So, she was given another cocktail of drugs in different concentrations such that the overall concentration was within the limits? That way if you are not directly looking for it, you might miss it. Fascinating! Any idea what could those drugs induce?”

She shook her head, “Unfortunately, by this time, the drugs were flushed out of her system and also mixed in with her normal pills so further tests could not run accurately. She was missing for four days, two before Mr. Stewart was able to file a report. According to Mathew, if she was dosed, she must have been dosed on the first day. That's roughly six days ago, so it is not easy. But we know an excellent forensic chemist. We sent her the sample. Amy Garcia will figure it out, she’s the best!”

Malcolm gnawed at his lips. Something was missing. The case sure was a mystery, but he has nothing to work with for a profile. No pattern. Just a suspected foul play that might have led a poor woman to lose her life. Nothing concrete. He understood why Gil did not see a case yet.

“Edrisa,” he started but was interrupted.

"Okay, now you know the specifics. umm, you also know that I um kind of follow lots of real crime blogs?" her voice continued to drop as if she was ashamed of her hobby and expected the usual judgemental looks she normally received. He said nothing, just looked at her expectantly, and waited.

“ Lori Stewart was not the only case. In fact, this is the third case this month alone!”

That’s it. she hit the jackpot.

He shifted in his chair and looked back up at her, his blue eyes shining with radiant excitement.

She liked how excited he usually gets, and a deep sense of pride invaded her. She had to admit he had pretty eyes. The type anyone can get lost into. And they got all the much prettier when they gleamed this way. Edrisa liked Bright. No. Not in that sort anyway. Malcolm bright was not her crush, despite how she always makes it seem. He is a friend. If anything, she just loves his brain and is fascinated by it. However, that does not mean she can't appreciate art, and his eyes were art.

“The reason why the two cases passed under the police’s radar was that the victims were not reported missing. Here..” she passed him a file with two names and some information.

“A college Freshman, Alex Sanders, and Patricia Young, she is an artist. Here is all the information that I found. I will also let you know when Amy gets back to me about the drug."

“Thank YOU, Edrisa," he said with excitement while hopping off his chair. He steadied his clothes, "I will start on a profile right away. But I will need more information."

She smiled playfully, “You could probably ask Detective Powel. I am sure she will be happy to help.”

He did not seem to hear her because he offered no comment, but she could see his cheeks flush a little. He waved her goodbye and rushed out.

Edrisa eased in her chair. She already felt better. Whoever was behind the death of those people, and behind orphaning a two-year-old will not get away with this.

Edrisa tensed while she sat in that metal armchair. She was terrified beyond measure. Her wrists were tied to the arms of the chair using duct tape. Her ankles were tied together as well. She felt a searing pain in her limbs like fire every time she struggled against them. Edrisa knew that they won’t give away, they were wrapped at least five times, but that did not stop her. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears, and she was struggling to breathe. The duct tape gagging her made matters even worse.

She sat in that chair like some damsel in distress, she couldn't even lift her glasses up when they kept slipping off the bridge of her nose. Not like she loved what she saw, but she has to be able to see. A wave of helplessness crushed her even more, her heartbeat beat even faster. I am a damsel in distress, and by the looks of it, I am not going to be leaving this place alive.

She could not have imagined that she would ever be in such a position. Sure, she had a gun pointed at her once before, and she did not imagine that as well.

No, but no, this was different. This was hopeless. This was futile.

She looked at Bright, a few feet away, and her eyes welled with tears again. She was astonished that tears kept coming. They kept pouring down her face unchecked, and she let them. This was all her fault; she should never have gotten involved in that case. She should never have sent bright those texts.

#prodigal son #prodigal son fanfic #malcolm bright #edrisa tanaka #my first attempt

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

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Twisted 23 - Surrender [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 4400

Summary: Secrets can’t stay hidden forever.

The possibility of you sitting with a killer who had sworn to destroy you was scary for sure, but thinking that the said killer could be much closer to you than you had thought was enough to make your blood freeze in your veins.

It was as if you were going through the same thing that had happened with your dad ages ago, but with a small difference;

Your dad had never tried to hurt you, but this time the killer was coming after you.

Spencer stood beside you as you exhaled the smoke of your cigarette into the air, your hands still shaky but you forced yourself to focus on the police and the FBI escorting people out of the building while he kept his gaze on you.

“You might be wrong though?” you managed to ask, looking up at him, “Right? Maybe it’s not—maybe it’s not someone as close to me?”

Spencer heaved a sigh, “We need more evidence, but you need to keep that in mind that it is possible. I mean— it makes more sense than it being just a stranger, don’t you agree?”

“I don’t agree that I’ve had the misfortune to be close with two serial killers throughout my life, no,” you murmured through frozen lips, “Maybe it’s me. Maybe I was doomed to survive one serial killer to be killed by another.”

“I will never let that happen.”

You took another drag of your cigarette, “I have a feeling the killer might end up not asking for your permission, professor,” you stated and turned your head when you heard the sound of heels coming closer. Mina ran a hand over her face, clearing her throat.

“I sent Kenz away from here,” Mina said and it didn’t escape your notice how she was deliberately avoiding giving any details, just in case. “We’ll regroup at mom’s place, you, me and mom.”

“Just us?”

Mina clicked her tongue, “All things considered,” she murmured, “So I’m not going to beat around the bush; we both agree that it’s not Kenzie right?”

You nodded, “Clearly,” you said and pulled your brows together, “Wait, we’re sure it’s not Kenzie but we still suspect each other?”

“I don’t know, do we?” Mina asked back and you shifted your weight, looking down at the cigarette in your hand.

“Mina, I don’t—”

“Listen, it’s not the place for this conversation,” she interrupted you, “Mom’s place, half an hour.”

“That might not be the best idea,” Spencer said, looking between you two and Mina scoffed.

“It’s not our first rodeo with a serial killer among us, Dr. Reid,” she said, “I already gave a list of my alibis to your colleagues, so did my mother. There’s nothing to keep us here.” She nodded at you, “Don’t be late, we have a lot to talk about.”

With that, she walked away from you two and grabbed her keys from the valet while you stubbed your cigarette.

“So did you check everyone’s alibis?”

“Yeah, at least the people close to you,” Spencer said, “They all look solid.”

You raised your brows, “But?”

Spencer clenched his jaw, “I need to go over all the files, all the recordings with your father—”

“I don’t think it’s my father who’s behind this. Not this time, and not at the cabin. He wouldn’t dare.”

He frowned, “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Well think about what happened the last time I-“ you snapped your fingers, “Right. You weren’t there.”

“What happened? Luke just said you walked away because your father got on your nerve.”

“That’s one way to put it,” you muttered and motioned at the valet to give him your ticket so that he could bring your car, “Listen, I gotta go. Mom is probably at home and Mina is going there and I can’t….I need to talk to them.”

“It might be dangerous.”

“Spencer, it’s my family we’re talking about,” you insisted, “I can’t— if I start suspecting them too, I have nothing left to hold on to.”

He opened his mouth to disagree but you saw Luke coming closer to both of you.

“Hey, Rossi says we need to get back to the office. Emily and Tara are already there,” he told Spencer and turned to you, “We need to stop meeting like this, trust fund baby.”

“Dude, you guys are the ones who show up and scream murder everywhere I go.”

Luke chuckled, holding up his hands and mocking surrender while valet pulled over in front of you.

“Here you go ma’am.”

“Thank you,” you offered him a small smile before you looked up at Spencer. “I’ll see you later I guess.”

“Call me when you get there, we’re also sending a car to your mother’s place and your place just to be sure.”

You nodded, heaving a sigh and Spencer squeezed your arm as if to assure you before pressing a kiss on top of your head.

“Be careful.”

“Hey I was trained by a serial killer, how many people can say that?” you tried to joke as you walked to your car, “I’ll be fine.”

You got into your car and valet closed it, then you started the car and drove off.

***

The living room was completely silent in your mother’s house. In fact, the whole house was silent, the only noise was the constant ticking of the huge clock on the wall while all three of you sat still, waiting for someone else to talk. Your mother drummed her fingernails on the table, something she would reprimand you for doing if it were another time, Mina bit inside her cheek, her gaze fixed on the wall and you downed the whiskey in your glass, then filled it again.

“Okay,” Mina said and sat up straighter and looked between you, “I just want to say, if it was someone in this room this whole time, we can- I can fix this.”

“Jesus Christ, Mina!”

“You can’t possibly suspect-“

“We’ll say it was dad’s influence, we’ll call it trauma after-“

“Do you hear what you’re saying?”

“I’m just saying, if it is one of us, it’s dad’s fault.”

“It’s not one of us!” you insisted but then you turned your head when you heard the doorbell ring. The sound of heels came closer and Mina threw her head back as soon as Kenzie walked inside.

“Kenz, I told you to-“

“Yeah, spare me the bullshit, I came as soon as I made sure Lily was alright and safe,” she waved a hand in the air and you closed your eyes for a moment.

“Kenzie, you really shouldn’t be here.”

“Why? So that all of you can dramatically blame each other? I know how you guys get, there’s not an ounce of logic between the three of you.”

Your mom heaved a sigh and got the whiskey bottle from you, “What did Spencer say again?”

“That it was possible it was someone at our table. It’d make more sense than it being a stranger.”

“So either one of us, or Lincoln, or Nolan.”

Your mom gasped, “Nolan had nothing to do with that!”

“Just saying, it wouldn’t be the first time some man you loved didn’t turn out to be the man he pretends to be-“

“Mina, low blow,” you cleared your throat and your mother narrowed her eyes.

“I know it’s not him.”

“Then it has to be Lincoln.”

You let out a small laugh, “Dude, don’t you remember what he was like when we were children? He cried when he saw me scrape my knees and his mom had to take him away.”

“People change.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d know if one of my best friends were a serial killer, Mina.”

“He came late to the auction.”

“So did all of you!” you insisted, “You don’t see me blaming you- by that logic where were you?”

“Are you kidding me? My meeting took longer than I expected, go check my security camera footage. Where were you?”

“Mina!”

“I was literally talking to Spencer while it was happening!”

“Are you two seriously blaming each other?” Kenzie gawked at you and Mina shrugged her shoulders before turning to your mother.

“How about you mom?”

“What is this, an Agatha Christie novel?” your mother asked, exasperated, “Ask the driver, it took us more than an hour to get there because of the accident.”

“It could be anyone in that auction hall, yes, including someone in this room but they checked our alibis. Spencer said it was a possibility, not that it was certain,” you managed to say, “They still need more evidence and I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to start blaming the only people in my life that I actually trust.”

A silence fell upon you and Kenzie sat down beside you, then filled herself a drink as well.

“The moment we start blaming each other, we’re lost,” she said, looking Mina in the eye, “Your dad almost tore this family apart once, don’t let this copycat do the same. It’s not one of us and you know it.”

“No one is blaming you Kenz,” you rasped out and Mina ran a hand over her face.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, “Jesus, I’m— it’s just that… It fucks with my head.”

“You get used to it,” you sipped your drink and turned to your mother, “For what it’s worth, I really don’t think it’s Nolan either. I mean what are the chances of getting married to a serial killer twi—“ you stopped talking as soon as Kenzie kicked you under the table and Mina gasped, shooting you a look as you covered your mouth. Your mother stared at you, her jaw dropping and you cleared your throat, trying your hardest to come up with something.

“I mean—“ you stammered, “I’m drunk and I just saw Spencer being all hot and whispering in my ear after there was a murder so my feelings are all over the place, I don’t know what I—“

“Now that she fucked up first, I can say it.” Mina said, “Nolan will ask you to marry him.”

“I was un-fucking it!” You hissed and Mina scoffed.

“You haven’t un-fucked a thing in your goddamn life.”

“I can’t believe this is how I’m finding out about this,” your mother breathed out, still staring at you two and you let out a whine, burying your face into your hands.

“I’m sorry!” your voice came out muffled and Kenzie let out a giggle, patting your arm as you raised your head again, “I- well- my dad was a serial killer!”

“What is that, your out of jail card?” Mina asked, “The same guy was also my dad but you don’t see me giving out secrets and spoiling surprises.”

“When did he say that to you?” Your mother asked, sitting up straight, “Y/N, you’re telling me everything right now!”

“I saw my ex looking hot tonight and someone got murdered while I was flirting with him, I’m allowed to mess up once or twice!”

“That’s a strange way of describing your whole life.”

“Shut up Mina or I swear—“

“Y/N!”

“He asked for my blessing and I said yes,” you murmured, “So did Mina and Kenzie. But I think we all threatened him first, right?”

“Nope, you’re the creepy one in this group.”

“Yeah I think it was just you.”

“Fine! Okay, I threatened him first,” you admitted as your mother stared at you, “In my defense, I was also pretty drunk back then because of my break up with the love of my life, in case anyone at this table forgot—“

“I wish. Maybe I could try to forget it if you stopped talking about it for five fucking minutes though.”

“Babe!”

“And my serial killer father—“

“Having daddy issues isn’t an excuse to be a snitch, bitch.”

“Mina, stop insulting your sister for a moment,” your mother told her and turned to you, “What did he tell you?”

“That he has been in love with you for… I don’t know, centuries because he’s like a five hundred years old vampire.”

“He feeds on money though, not blood.” Mina pointed out, “I actually can see him as an evil lord somewhere, now that you mentioned.”

“Getting information from this family is a nightmare,” your mother heaved a sigh, “And?”

“And nothing. Make sure to get your nails done when he takes you on a dinner now that we all gave him our blessing but I’m so not planning your wedding, my client list is full.”

“Nobody buys that excuse Y/N,” Kenzie reminded helpfully and your mother shook her head.

“Oh but I can’t possibly—“ she heaved a sigh, “I can’t marry him yet.”

Instantly, all three of you turned to him with the same surprised expression on your faces.

“…Were you gonna hit it and quit it mom?”

Your mother pinched the bridge of her nose “Mina, what is wrong with you tonight?”

“I have no idea. Is this what being traumatized is?”

“Yeah welcome to the club, I’ve been here for a while,” you waved your hands in the air, “Mom, I thought you loved Nolan. Don’t you?”

“No, I’m completely in love with him!” your mother said quickly, “He’s the best man I’ve ever known or been with.”

“Meh, let’s not pretend the bar is—“ Mina started but stopped talking when Kenzie elbowed her, “Sorry. I’m just going to keep drinking over here to keep my mouth busy.”

“But?”

“Sweetie, I can’t get married when…” your mother gestured at you, “When you haven’t found a partner yet!”

You made a face, “Why did we teleport into Jane Austen times all of a sudden?”

“No, you know what people would say.”

“Since when does that stop you?” you asked her, “Come on, who the fuck cares what anyone thinks? They can all go to hell.”

“Y/N, I appreciate the thought but-“

“Mom,” you said, “I might just end up alone, okay? You can’t spend the rest of your life waiting for me to get married or find a partner or something just because of some stupid unwritten rule. Fuck those people, let them talk.”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to have an actual wedding either.”

“Who’s coming up with these rules?” Mina exclaimed, “Mom, do whatever you want. This family threw appropriate out of the window long ago.”

Kenzie nodded fervently, “People will always find something to criticize, you can’t let that get to you. If you love him, go for it.”

“But wait for him to propose first, I have a feeling it’ll be the biggest ring I’ve ever seen,” you clinked your glass with hers and wiggled your brows, “Can I please be the one to tell dad though? I want to record the look of devastation on his face. I’ll make it my wallpaper.”

***

The next day, you tried your hardest to focus on work. Even if Spencer’s words kept echoing in your ears, you couldn’t help but think that he had to be wrong.

Maybe he was. Maybe it was someone else in the hall, other than your family or Nolan or Lincoln. It was impossible for you to suspect anyone in your family, and Nolan and Lincoln had had more than enough time to be alone with you and hurt you, but neither of them had given you any sign of being dangerous.

Besides, you were sure that after spending so much time with your father, you’d be able to tell if it was someone around you.

Or at least you hoped so.

You took a sip of your rosé and bit inside your cheek, staring at your dinner table in the middle of the living room which now looked like something pulled out of a horror movie. You heaved a sigh, holding your hand over the various types of knives, the memory flashing in your head.

“Alright Petal,” your father tugged you by the hand so that you could get closer to the coffee table full of knives, “Let’s see if you studied like I told you, hm?”

“I have!” you gave him a bright smile before you bit at the stick candy and he raised his brows.

“Honey, don’t bite at candy, you’ll ruin your teeth.”

“No I won’t,” you said stubbornly, still holding the candy tight, “I’ll brush my teeth afterwards.”

He heaved a sigh and grabbed a blade off the table, then held it up.

“What is this?”

“A trench knife,” you said, looking at the handle that looked more like brass knuckles your father had shown you before, “You can hold it over your fingers so it’s better for…for…”

“Close combat.”

You nodded, still chewing on the candy and your father put it back, then showed you another.

“This?”

“Push dagger!”

“How do we use push dagger?”

“When you hold it in your palm, the blade is between your fingers.”

“So that…?”

“So that the prey can’t see it until it’s too late.”

He nodded, “You really did pay attention, Petal,” he commented and you giggled, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet and turned the candy in your mouth as he held up another blade.

“This?”

“Butterfly knife!” you said and motioned at him, “I want that one.”

“Because it’s called a butterfly?”

“Daddy I love butterflies!”

He smiled, then grabbed another from the table, “Do you know what it is?”

“Another butterfly knife?”

“No honey, this is called a trainer, see?” he showed you, “I want you to practice with this first. It has no knife, so you won’t be cutting yourself until I say you can switch to an actual one.”

You clicked your tongue, twirling the butterfly knife between your fingers, the motion almost automatic. You had become so good at it when you were a child that you didn’t even need to think about how to flip the knife after all these years, your hands already remembered it.

“Trench knife, push dagger,” you counted slowly as the thunder lit up the dark sky outside, “Good for close combat, good for stealth….Stiletto, good for deeper wounds. Bowie is good for—“ you were cut off when you heard someone banging their fist on the door. You could feel your heartbeat getting faster and you flipped the butterfly knife in your hand, approaching the door but as soon as you looked through the peephole, your stomach made a happy flip.

“Spencer?” you muttered and opened the door, “What’re you—”

“Are you insane?” he cut you off, glaring daggers at you and you pulled your brows together.

“Huh?” you asked as he walked past you into the apartment and you closed the door before following him. He ran a hand through his curls, clearly the rain outside had made his hair even messier and he turned around to say something, but then got distracted.

“Why are you holding a butterfly knife?” he asked and you flipped it again before throwing it on the table and he frowned at the sight on the table.

“What the hell is this?”

“Uh, butterfly knife, trench knife,” you pointed with your finger as you counted them, “That’s a stiletto knife, that’s a switch blade, right next to it is a push dagger and the one over there is called—“

“I know what they are, why am I looking at them?”

You arched a brow, “Take a guess.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“What?” you let out a bitter laugh, “I’m done taking it lying down, okay? Last night was the last straw, if that copycat wants to come after me, I say let them. The man who they’re looking up to was the same man who trained me for my whole childhood, I like these odds.”

“Yeah?” he scoffed, his eyes narrowed in anger, “Is that why you threatened one of the most dangerous serial killers of our time?”

You tilted your head, “My father?”

He threw his hands in the air, frustration getting the best of him,

“Yes, your father!”

“So you basically ran all the way here to yell at me because I threatened my father?” you asked as you walked past him, then grabbed your wine glass and leaned back to the table, “Don’t worry professor, it’s a family thing. We’re impulsive. He’ll be fine, unfortunately.”

He ran a hand over his face, “What were you thinking?”

“To be honest with you, I kind of wasn’t thinking,” you pointed out before you took a sip of your wine, “How is he these days, by the way?”

“I’m glad you find this entertaining,” he said through his teeth, “Because I can assure you, this is not funny.”

“Oh come on, it’s a little funny.”

He took a deep breath as if he was trying to control himself, “You think threatening a serial killer with murder is funny?”

“I mean have you seen the look on his face? I don’t know if the video got that but—“

“Why did you break up with me?”

Well, Spencer had a way of taking you by surprise, that was for sure. You lowered the glass and blinked a couple of times, trying to pull yourself together.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Why did you break up with me if you were going to threaten a damn serial killer because he implied he might come after me?”

“I hope you know that normal exes don’t have these kind of conversations,” you tried to joke but he only raised his brows.

“Y/N.”

“Spencer,” you heaved a sigh “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think I do,” he said, his voice almost too low, “You just don’t want me to know what I’m talking about.”

“Listen, I know how it might look like but I can assure you I’d do it for any—“

“Garcia was with me while I was watching those tapes.”

Your eyes snapped up to his as your breath got caught in your throat. You swallowed thickly, painfully aware of how he was probably seeing all your tells but even that thought didn’t stop you from drumming your fingernails on the fragile glass you were holding, pursing your lips for a moment before you cleared your throat.

“What—um—what did she say?”

“You mean before or after she said you broke up with me to protect me even if I’m an FBI agent already working on this case?”

God damn it Garcia.

The thunder boomed outside again and you frantically tried to find the right words, but it felt impossible to do so. He took a step closer to you while you stared at him, completely frozen and you closed your eyes for a moment.

“Spencer…” you muttered as you opened your eyes again, “Whatever training they gave you, trust me, they didn’t train you for my father.”

“Is that why you said all that stuff back then?” he asked slowly, “When we broke up?”

“It doesn’t matter—“

“Yes it does.”

A sad smile pulled at your lips as you put your wine glass down, and shrugged your shoulders.

“I thought—um, I thought it I hurt you that badly, you’d never want to see me again,” you admitted, “So if you were away from me, you’d be safe. Away from my father, away from the copycat, away from all of this. Working on this case is not the same as being caught in this fucked up web, you know that.”

“You didn’t think you should’ve at least asked my opinion on this?”

“You would’ve said no.”

“Of course I would’ve said no!”

“Exactly!” you threw up your hands, “You might not care about your survival in this situation, but I do, okay? I love you too much to let you get hurt because of me—” as soon as your brain acknowledged what had just slipped from your lips, you stopped talking, your breathing getting faster while panic seemed to flood your system. He stared at you, a soft light appearing in his eyes and you shook your head at yourself.

“Fucking great,” you muttered, “Yeah, um you— I’m— it doesn’t matter. Do whatever you want to do with that information.”

You took a step to walk past him but he had already grabbed your arm and pulled you back. Before you could even ask him what he was doing, his lips found yours, letting that warmth shoot through your stomach into your whole system. The feeling was so sudden but so mind numbing that you thought Spencer was right before, this was definitely like a drug, an addiction. His fingers caressed over your neck while your body pressed against his like some sort of a magnet and a soft whine escaped from you as he pulled back slightly.

“Don’t run away,” he whispered against your lips “Not this time.”

You felt the tears rushing to your eyes. “Spencer-“

“I love you.”

“You shouldn’t,” you murmured before he stole another kiss from you.

“I love you,” he repeated, his hazel eyes locked in yours, “And I’m done pretending like I don’t.”

It was a bad idea. You knew it was a bad idea, you knew it would put him in danger, but none of that seemed to matter to you after hearing that he loved you. For some reason, you were convinced that you two would find a way, that everything would be alright as long as you loved each other, naïve as it was.

The happiness burst through you, wrapping you in a soft and warm haze as you reached back with one hand to sweep everything off the table, sending all the knives to the floor with a loud noise before you jumped to sit on the table. A small chuckle left his lips when you tugged at his jacket and he tilted his head.

“What, you don’t have a bed?” he taunted you and you grinned.

“The bed can wait,” you murmured as he dragged his fingertips up your bare legs to pull you closer to him, drawing a giggle from your lips before he kissed you again.

Chapter 24

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagines #spencer #reid

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pluckyredhead · 4 years

Text

Daredevil 101: Eurotrip!

This is going to be a long one, folks. I tried to trim it down as much as I could, since I don’t want these sort of intermediary stories to be taking as long to cover as they have, but I was left with cutting it up into two short chunks or giving you one hefty meal. I chose hefty meal, so loosen your belts and tuck that napkin into your collars, kids!

...This metaphor may have gotten away from me.

Last time, Matt escaped from jail and headed to Monaco to track down Alton Lennox, the elusive lawyer who, for some mysterious reason, hired the convict who killed Foggy - who the reader (but not Matt) has just found out is actually alive! We’re picking up with more of the Brubaker/Lark run, DD v2 88-93. The official storyline name is “The Devil Takes a Ride.”

Content Warning: Image of a dead body, mention of murder made to look like suicide.

We start with Foggy, who is trapped in Witness Protection, unable to contact Ben or Dakota or anyone else who might be able to get through to Matt:

It’s not actually clear who the FBI is claiming to be Witness Protecting Foggy from, at this point? All they know is that he was stabbed by a guy at Riker’s, who is now dead, and also Foggy isn’t in Riker’s anymore. Matt’s enemies in general, maybe?

Anyway, this issue is called “The Secret Life of Foggy Nelson” and it’s basically a love letter to Matt. Foggy's narration boxes are all directed at Matt (who can’t hear him, of course), as he explains that he’s always wanted to do the right thing, but he’s been so afraid, especially with the dangerous life they lead:

I’M CRYING. Also, I’ve always loved that Foggy envisions Matt saving him, not Daredevil. Even after he learns that the two are one and the same, Matt is always the part he loves.

Foggy eventually gets so desperate to escape Witness Protection and talk to Matt that he sneaks out of the house he’s being held in and hails a cab that is...idling around this remote suburban neighborhood...suspiciously...

Hmm, yeah, that’s not good.

Luckily, Foggy is rescued! By ninjas!

Foggy’s face in that first panel is amazing.

Anyway, I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. Elektra is leading the Hand at this particular point in time, and she has ordered them to keep Foggy safe. Matt has no idea she’s doing this, of course - he doesn’t even know Foggy’s alive - but she knows what Foggy means to him. Also, she has a demonstrated soft spot for Foggy. I just love everything this says about all of them so much, even if I don’t know why the mafia wanted to kill Foggy. I guess they just be like that.

Thwarted in his escape, Foggy settles in to essentially wait for Matt to settle things in Europe and come rescue him. Meanwhile, Matt is being tormented by dreams of a bucolic Silver Age life with a living Foggy (and Karen!):

Aw, baby.

You can see that as is traditional for when Matt goes to Europe (or imagines going to Europe), he has dyed his hair black.

Matt is in Monte Carlo, because the only client he can find for Alton Lennox in Monaco, a mob boss named Tybold Lucca, runs a casino there:

Matt and his ill-fitting suit - I’m sorry, “Ray Mallory” and his ill-fitting suit - have been using his powers to win like crazy and thus draw Lucca’s attention. It works, as Lucca’s daughter Lily herself shows up to invite him to an exclusive party at the Lucca estate:

When Matt gets to the party, Lily doesn’t seem to be having a great time:

The scent thing is important. Lily reminds Matt of something, and he’s conscious of it enough to realize it’s making him want to bend over backwards to help her, without realizing exactly what - or who - she reminds him of.

The centerpiece of the event is a bullfight. After the bull is killed (Matt doesn’t enjoy that), Lucca announces the aforementioned deal with his “Spanish associate,” i.e. the bullfighter, Juan: Lily’s hand in marriage!

Matt’s moralizing over these strange cultures in the first panel makes me laugh. I know it’s another continent, Matthew, but it’s the same century.

Anyway, yikes! Juan has just killed Tybold Lucca! Also I don’t know how Matt knows the guy with the gray temples is Alton Lennox but whatever!

Matt Daredevils up, but Juan kidnaps Lily and Lennox and escapes in a helicopter. And that’s when something clicks into place, nose-wise:

I love this page. Why does Lily smell like Karen? Who is the mysterious mastermind behind, uh...a matador stabbing a gangster and said gangster’s daughter being kidnapped? What does this have to do with Foggy’s death? It’s a bonkers and extremely extra way of "explaining” this plotline, Brubaker, and I salute you.

Matt pursues Lily and Lennox, because they’re his only lead and because, well, it would be shitty not to. Lily’s scent haunts his dreams:

I love that all of Matt’s sweaty shirtless dreams about his conflicted feelings towards his love interests have Foggy in them, too. Just bro stuff!

Matt tracks the kidnapping victims to another opulent European mansion and finally catches up with Alton Lennox...but too late:

The man who hired Foggy’s killer has taken his secrets to the grave. But Lily is still out there. In fact, not only is her scent all over Lennox’s room, she’s actively being re-kidnapped:

This is Tombstone, who I don’t think has shown up in these recaps before? He’s a mob guy, gray skin, very strong, basically made of stone. A better sparring partner for Luke Cage than Matt “The World’s Most Breakable Bones” Murdock.

Tombstone gets away with Lily. Matt goes on the hunt:

This just makes me laugh. (In the first panel, I believe he’s saying “I can’t promise that you will land in the river.”)

Finally, one of the people Matt beats up mentions seeing Tombstone - and the woman he’s working for. And the whole plot flips over in Matt’s mind:

Yeah, Lily’s not the victim here - she’s the mastermind, or at least she thinks she is. Tombstone is working for her. She killed Lennox, or at least was there when he was killed. And that dude is Juan, the bullfighter, who killed her father so that they could be together and have all her father’s ill-gotten gangster money.

But how can she smell like both Juan’s mother and Karen? IS KAREN JUAN’S MOTHER??? (No.)

Matt finally catches up with Lily and her “kidnappers”:

Matt, you absolute tart.

Matt manages, rather ingeniously, to take down Tombstone, and the powerless Juan absolutely panics - like, to the point of something chemical going weird on him:

Juan kind of collapses after slicing Lily with the sword (not too badly; also wasn’t it a rapier before?) and Matt knocks him out. Matt then tells Lily he knows she’s been playing him, and demands that she come clean:

And so Matt finally confronts the mastermind behind all of this, the person who had Foggy Nelson killed, who hired Danny Rand to pretend to be Daredevil, who hired Lily and Juan and Tombstone, and who has had at least four loose ends murdered by now:

VANESSA FISK???

But why? Well, as far as she sees it, her life was destroyed by Fisk and Matt’s endless battle, in which she was essentially a pawn. (They don’t mention it directly, but it’s very worth noting that Matt once essentially held her hostage, after she had spent god knows how long as a presumably sexually abused prisoner, in order to manipulate Fisk. Matt didn’t, like, promise not to be a gangster and then marry her and then go back to being a gangster, but he’s not exactly innocent here either.) She is now dying of Killedherownsonitis - seriously, she’s like “the doctors don’t know why all my organs are failing, but it’s because I killed Richard” - and before she goes, she has a deal to offer Matt:

She has enough pull to get the charges against Matt dropped, meaning he can resume his normal life. In exchange, he will get Fisk out of jail. And from then, he’ll know that every time Fisk kills, it will be on his conscience. This is the kind of tortured logic superhero comics end up with, in a world where no one except civilians stays dead and jails have revolving doors, but trust me when I say that this reveal and all of Vanessa’s supervillain explanations absolutely work in context.

Matt’s like “YOU USED TO BE COOL, MAN”:

He refuses to take the deal and storms out. Vanessa tells her minions to put everything into motion anyway, because as she sees it, Matt is essentially selfish, and will ultimately act in his own self-interest.

And so, the FBI Guy who has been trying to bring Matt down for issues and issues and issues is found dead in his apparent from apparent suicide (killing people and making it look like suicide is Vanessa’s signature move, it’s the third one in the Brubaker run so far), along with a note saying he framed Matt who is totally super duper not Daredevil. And Really Incredibly Blind Matt Murdock is found wandering a road back in the States, having “escaped” from being “held captive.”

Matt being Matt, he decides to hold a press conference to explain his kidnapping/disappearance/reappearance, because Matt fucking loves holding press conferences:

Fratt shippers, please take Ben’s line as the gift it is.

Rather than spin the erotic tale Ben is clearly angling for (and that Frank, watching his on his Murder Van TV, is dreaming of), Matt spins some bullshit about Frank hating defense attorneys for putting criminals back on the streets and wanting information on Matt’s clients and yadda yadda. Basically no one actually believes him but everyone likes Daredevil so they’re all like “Welcome home, Regular Matt Murdock Who Isn’t Daredevil!” and then they wink a lot.

Matt is back home, reunited with Milla and Becky and Dakota, when he senses something impossible in the hall:

I will never be over this hug, or those tears, or Foggy’s joyous face in the fourth panel.

Anyway yeah, now that Matt’s officially Not Daredevil, Foggy I guess no longer needs to be protected from Daredevil’s enemies? Or more accurately, the only reason the FBI was really holding him was because of Vanessa’s machinations, and she’s now released him.

What I find really interesting is that she basically justifies it to her minion by saying she’s showing Matt how sweet life can be so that it will hurt more when he inevitably ends up bleeding out in the trash again, but Matt sees it as proof that the Vanessa he knew, the good person she once was, wasn’t totally gone. I think he’s closer to correct.

In return, even though he got what he wanted from her and never promised her anything, Matt gets Fisk out of jail. (Which is, again, the tortured bullshit morality of comics, where you have to get the villain out of jail to do more villain stuff.) The FBI case is so hopelessly compromised that it’s not even hard. But he makes Fisk promise to renounce his American citizenship and leave the country forever, AND he waits until after Vanessa has died so that Fisk can’t bury her, which is pretty vicious. (Matt’s, like...not a nice person, guys.)

And thus this storyline’s all over but the rooftop heart to heart with Foggy!

They are textually talking about Fisk here. They are also textually talking about Karen, who Matt admits that he’s still not over.

But Karen’s death didn’t change Matt so much that the freaking Punisher had to get himself arrested to remind him who he was. Matt has acted erratically since Karen’s death, but Matt has always acted erratically. Foggy’s “death” made him go feral.

So yeah, I think Foggy is talking about two people here (and I think Brubaker wrote the conversation to be about two people). But Matt is talking about three.

Next Up: Lily Lucca comes to New York! It doesn’t end well for anyone!

#daredevil #daredevil 101

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lili2424 · 5 years

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One of the ‘Riverdale’ Season Premiere’s Saddest Scenes Was About Betty, Not Archie

By Alex Zalben @azalben Oct 10, 2019 at 10:50am

In the midst of the Riverdale Season 4 premiere, “In Memoriam,” which dealt with the real world passing of star Luke Perry, as well as his character Fred Andrews, one of the episode’s most heartbreaking scenes had nothing to do with Archie Andrews (KJ Apa). In fact, a mostly silent, less than 30-second long scene featuring Betty Cooper (Lili Reinhart) got across an entire story without saying a single word.

Early in the episode, which takes place on July 3 and 4 before the teens of Riverdale enter Senior year of high school, Archie finds out that his father Fred has been struck down by a hit and run driver. The rest of the hour jumps between the minutiae of dealing with a funeral, to Riverdale-esque tropes where Archie tries to grapple with the event like a typical mystery on the show, even though it very much is not. And all throughout the hour, Archie’s friends are there for him. Jughead Jones (Cole Sprouse) writes Fred’s obituary, Veronica Lodge (Camila Mendes) takes care of the funeral arrangements (only to find out that her father Hiram, shockingly, has paid for them himself from jail), and Betty Cooper (Lili Reinhart) provides emotional support throughout for the boy next door, her best friend for as long as they both can remember.

It’s only after Fred’s funeral that we get the scene in question. As everyone else shuffles out of the cemetery, Betty stands alone at the grave of her own father, Hal Cooper (Lochlyn Munro). Betty always had a complicated relationship with her father on the show, but that got extra complicated when it was revealed in Season 2 that he was the masked killer known as The Black Hood. He was arrested, thrown in jail, and then throughout Season 3 Betty and Hal built their relationship back up through a twisted Hannibal Lecter/Clarice Starling style dynamic.

And then he was shot to death, right in front of her, in the Season 3 finale.

In the Season 4 premiere, Betty stands alone at his grave, which is covered in trash and been defaced with spray-painted words: “The Black Hood burns in Hell.” Betty brushes some of the trash aside, and in a wrenching final shot, we see how utterly alone she is, as the camera cuts to an extreme wide shot of Betty standing at the grave, tiny in the frame.

This could have been enough to underline the disparity between how the town treats a true hero like Fred — the annual July 4th parade is hastily reassembled to become a Fred Andrews celebration, as the Core Four brings his body back to Riverdale — and a monster like The Black Hood. But there’s an extra detail that’s important to note, and that’s the date on the grave. Hal didn’t die years ago, or even months ago: he was killed on May 19, 2019.

Inasmuch as Riverdale deals with any sort of actual passage of time (let’s not discuss FP Jones’ fiftieth birthday, please), given that Hal died on May 19 and Fred’s funeral is on July 4, while Betty is standing as the emotional rock for Archie, her own father was murdered in front of her less than two months earlier. You can certainly write between the lines here, that in the scenes we don’t get to see Betty’s friends were there for her the way they’re there for Archie. But it’s a very specific choice on the part of writer/showrunner Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa to not have Betty mention her own father’s death at any point in the episode.

At least a bit of that, I’m sure, is to keep the focus on Archie and Fred, and by extension Luke Perry. But as a result you get two other impressions from the scene. The first is the strength of Betty Cooper as a character. She’s dealt with unimaginabletragedy over the course of the past three seasons, experienced events that would break anyone, and she’s only come out stronger for it. Part of that is Lili Reinhart’s performance, which is beautifully nuanced in every episode of the show — her speech about the day Fred Andrews was her Dad in “In Memoriam” was so searingly real, it felt like it might have actually happened — and manages to get so much across with just a few flicks of garbage off a grave and a look. Part of that is how the character has been treated; where most shows would turn Betty evil, or break her, every new fresh hell she has to face only makes Betty Cooper stronger

But the other, important impression the scene gives is that we never really know what other people are going through. The episode very firmly sucks the viewer into Archie’s perspective, and that’s important as he’s acting as the audience’s surrogate, walking us through the seven stages of loss. But while we’re feeling our own heartbreak, other people may be feeling other things, as well. In fact, there’s a very good chance that they’re going through heartbreak of their own. That, too, is part of the grieving process, to revisit past pain; and that’s what Betty is doing here. It’s not just a one-off scene to tie into the overall plot of the show (though it serves that function, too), it’s to momentarily take us into what loss feels like for others. Archie’s plot is all about sympathy; Betty’s is about empathy.

It’s a remarkably complex scene for a show that usually deals with bear attacks and corpse brothers, but that’s always been the beauty of Riverdale. Like the town itself — and Betty in particular — there’s always a lot more going on below the surface.

Via Decider.com

#lili reinhart #betty cooper #riverdale #decider #bughead #riverdale season 4 #riverdale spoilers #betty riverdale

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jammyjess · 4 years

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Hey friends!

I found King Falls AM at a time in my life where I felt scared, hopeless and alone. I didn’t want to be here at all, and I thought for the most part I’d never be happy again. I’m still most of those things, but every day in King Falls makes that a little easier to be okay with. I thought long and hard about what I could manage for this, but most of all, I just wanted to say thank you. So. Here goes.

Thank you for Sammy Stevens, who is my favourite kind of character. He’s sassy and pretty and humble and full of love.Thank you for his cynicism and snark, but also for his ability to push aside his own beliefs and ideas and wants when it matters. Also, for letting him Suplex Grisham, because that was pretty neat! Thank you for the way he relates to the people around him, but especially to Lily. For a character who makes mistakes and actually tries to learn from them - he doesn’t always get it right, but he tries, and that’s so important. He’s made me laugh, he’s made me cry, he’s made me want to scream. I adore his backstory, it means more to me than I can say, but also thank you for the way you handled the events around 75. It was so meaningful. I love him with everything I have, which is why it hurts me to thank you for his pain, which is so unbelievably relatable to my own. For my own hurt that comes out of his mouth. The kind of hurt that transcends circumstances. I was in a dark place before this show, and parts of me are still there, but watching Sammy grow, and change and heal has meant everything to me. It gives me hope for better days. For Sammy, and for me too. Thank you for giving him the courage to stick around, and for giving him hope. Thank you for Benny Arnold. Who I can’t write about coherently without bursting into tears. He’s messy and flawed and just absolutely gorgeous. Seeing him grow through the years has been an absolute joy, but most of all, I love his ability to remain untainted by the horrors he’s been through. He’s still got the same heart, and it’s the best heart there is. I love his passion, his hope, his resilience. His belief in everybody around him. He remains unapologetically himself through everything, and I adore him. He is The Good, and I’m so glad we have him. Noah brings such complexity to him too, and I can listen a thousand times to a single episode and continue to feel all the things.

Thank you for Emily. For making a strong, intelligent, badass women who’s also soft and desirable and loving. For letting her write her own story and for letting her be more than a prize to be won. She’s so good natured and considerate and thoughtful, and even in her worst moments she never loses that. Every moment she appears is wonderful and Jess KILLS IT every time! I’ve especially enjoyed phase two Emily, as her relationships with other characters become more integral to the story. Thank you for speaking out against the Frickards of the world through her, because it hurts and it’s hard but it’s so important. Using your audience for good means so much. Thank you for the thoughtfulness and care with which you consistently apply to sensitive subjects. For day-to-day happiness, for happy places and for months of quiet kindness without ever being asked.

Thank you for Jack Wright. For the reminder to choose love (even when it’s hard. Maybe especially when it’s hard.) For the reminder that we’re all worthy of love, in all its forms. The affirmation that nobody corners the market on sadness, but also that we don’t always have to go it alone. That grief is universal, and that’s not always a bad thing. For quiet moments of humanity in the midst of absolute tragedy. For vulnerability, for heartbreak and moving forward together. For forgiveness and acceptance, and humility.

Thank you for Dwayne Libbydale, who’s a special kind of chaos. I am again lost for words, but I love him, I love him, I love him.

Thank you for Pete Escobar Ed Edwards Yardboy Myers and his funyuns and disdain and snark (even if me saying I love him means he’ll never listen to this show again.) Thank you for PHENOMENAL journalist Lily Wright, who is an absolute delight! She feels like the personification of grief, loss and trauma, but at the same time so, so real. Her reluctant acceptance of King Falls as home is beautiful, and I hope she gets ALL THE HUGS really soon. She’s not afraid to speak her mind, even if it means alienating the people she loves. Her shaky vulnerability with Sammy, Ben and Emily is so good, and I’m so excited to see where the future of Lily Wright lays. King Falls Chronicles was some KILLER story telling, and Candace was the icing on the cake. The acting chemistry she has with everybody is absolutely on point. I’m so glad we get to keep Lily. That she’s found home. Thank you for #DeputyDead. His unwavering optimism and willingness to see the good in everything and everybody is absolutely wonderful.

Thank you for Debbie and RoboTim, who I still believe in, despite all evidence pointing to ‘don’t do that.’ Thank you for Maggie Masterson, an Actual Icon. And for our Man’s Man’s Man and his lil Kingsie Bab. For Regan who is a sweetheart and Chet who I hate to love.

Thank you for villains that fill me with white hot rage. Who’s actions are explained, but never excused. For Frickards and Gundersons and ShadowFUCKS and HFB3’s and Leland Hills and Ernies and Grishams. They’re different levels of despicable, and I adore hate them all.

Thank you for ridiculous caricatures ; the Gwendolyns and the Cynthias and the Jacob Williams. Thank you for SPORTSBALL (CHOP. DAT. WOOD.) and WALL CRABS and GARBAGE BEARS and DANGER NOODLES and every other ridiculous Benism.

Thank you for Teareal and serendipity and redrum roses and for the inability to see the word ‘ghost’ and not correcting it to APPARITION. Thank you for Dan & Larry and boy band battles and Doyle’s Conspiracy Cavern and Devon Hamptonframptonshire. For Golden Owl, Finn and Gator Jack and Alvin and every other ridiculously loveable character you’ve created. Some of them barely last longer than an episode, but their chaos will fuel me for a lifetime.

Thank you for Mary Jensen, who is the mom I wish I had. All moms are champs, but Mary is perfect. Thank you for Betty and Nancy and Loretta and Marigold. All who I expect deserve the praise they’re given.

Thank you for Herschel and Cecil, who are cranky old bastards and who probably shouldn’t fit together, but they do so effortlessly. The care and compassion they have for each other is inspiring, and I too hope to have a friend like that someday. Trent is wickedly skilled, and I’m sure he hears it so often but!!!!

Thank you for BE WELL BUDDIES and silly puns in the titles, and short jokes and RoboTim mixups and Science Institute break-ins with vigilante superheroes and mysterious callers. Thank you for love through overnight oats and moustache talk and non-binary pals. For a willingness to grow and change and learn and laugh. For the electrolocaust and my favourite threesome and for sammiversarys. For Ben posting Sammy’s bail, and heart-to-hearts in jail cells. For stupid bets and bensplosions and the fucking kickball story. For creepy dreams and technical terms, for badly timed BEEPS for awkward flirting and on-air confessions. For idiots who can’t keep secrets, let alone not talk about them on air for more than five minutes. For missing hikers and weird shadow tornados and notebooks and shooting down UFOs and death by damnation. For the SECOND BEST small town in American Celebration, for Christmas Gifts for Ben’s Mom and Jupiter Jaundice. For Ben’s monopoly tactics and Sammy’s audible eye rolls, for prophecies and ‘legend-has-it’s and for love and love and love.

Thank you for the mysteries, and for the constant need for MORE. You do cliffhangers so wonderfully, and I feel like I’ve never anticipated anything so keenly in my life. Tim Jensen, The Dark, Merv, Death by Damnation, The Rainbow Lights, The Zombies.

Thank you for Cameron Chambers??? How does he do it?? I have no idea, but I hope he keeps doing it. Especially all them Christmas BOPS. Legendary. Jazz-Hands worthy!

Thank you for making Zombies the F- plot.

Thank you for the Eagle Screech in the DALE’S DOLLAR TREE ad. And all the other ads too, I guess. I don’t understand The Fucky List, but thanks for that too! Thank you for JACK IN THE BOX JESUS which has caused my internet to constantly recommend me eat at Jack in the Box, despite the closest one being literal continents away.

Thank you for continuing to choose this. For being open to sharing so much of yourselves with us. Thank you for fan interactions and live listens, Q&As and twitter replies and twitch streams and retweets and Beyond the Falls. Thank you for the love and care you show us all, which above all feels genuine.

Thank you for being the catalyst for a community where I finally feel like I belong. Like I’m important. Like I matter. Thank you for being the reason for hours and days and weeks and months of in-jokes and teasing and theories and head canons and screaming and food talk and love. For so much kindness. And acceptance. For a space to be myself without fear. For people I feel like I’ve known lifetimes, and for whom I hope I can love for lifetimes more. For people to cheer on, and cry with, and poke fun at. For stupid nickname changes, and memes and words in reactions. For making me feel like i’m part of something much bigger than me. For a place to be passionate without judgement. For a place to just be. For friends. For family.

Thank you for the push I’ve needed to create again. And for all the others you’ve inspired too.

Every moment inside King Falls have been an absolute blessing, but the impact it’s had on my life outside of it is absolutely everything.

Congratulations on (almost) 100 episodes. What an adventure it’s been. I’m so excited for everything the future of King Falls holds, but most of all; Thank you for making this fuckin’ mean something.

#contest entry #100 eps!!#kfam100 #king falls am #kfam #thanks #kfam discord #ramble #unashamed fangirling #long post #text #words

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