Tw Murder - Blog Posts

Say her name. Ma’Khia Bryant.

When Derek Chauvin was found guilty on all three charges surrounding his murder of George Floyd, the conversation found on Tumblr (and elsewhere online) reflected two major points:

This is not justice being served. There is no justice in the face of murder, and if there were, it certainly would not be found within the American carceral system. The verdict stemming from this trial will not stop the violence and oppression Black people face at the hands of an over-policed country.

“Black people don’t need reminders that Chauvin’s guilty verdict doesn’t mean the fight is over. It’s okay to celebrate small victories.”

These truths are not at odds with each other. They can, and will, co-exist.

Take a moment today to celebrate George Floyd and his beautiful family. Keep his little daughter in your mind and hearts. If you want to feel a bit of relief that at least one person was found guilty for their hateful, heinous crime—please do so. And then remember that it was just one person. Remember that if you are an ally and an accomplice, you must not stop learning. You must not stop fighting for real justice.

Accountability for police killings is rare:

Since 2005, 140 law enforcement officers have been arrested for on-duty manslaughter and murder. Only 8—5%—have been convicted.

And that doesn’t account for the 98% of police killings where there were no arrests for murder or manslaughter.

Black people are three times more likely to be killed by police

And then yesterday, roughly one hour after Nancy Pelosi thanked George Floyd for “sacrificing” his “life for justice,” police in Columbus, Ohio shot and killed 16-year-old Ma'Khia Bryant.

That is not what justice looks like.

Rest in power, George Floyd.

Rest in power, Ma’Khia Bryant.

What if:

c!dream remembers how almost the entire server watched as he lost two canon lives; and that no one said anything to stop him being murdered.

c!dream has recurring nightmares where the server watches again, but this time it’s as c!quackity takes his sanity.

C!dream becomes so sure that there are other people in the cell when c!quackity visits him. That the people he once called friends are watching him be tortured. Sometimes he sees them out of the corner of his eye, other times he can only feel them watching. Sometimes he begs for their help, pleads with the mirages his mind has conjured. C!quackity will occasionally indulge these hallucinations, pretend to interact with them, make c!dream detail exactly who he’s seeing. Other times he taunts c!dream with the knowledge of his tenuous grasp on reality, question the logic of certain peoples presence, and do anything he can to remind c!dream that he’s alone, that he only has c!quackity now.

C!dream tells c!techno how many witnesses there had been to his torture. C!techno tells him it wasn’t real, that no one could have watched his suffering and stood idly by. C!dream is so grateful, he’d been so confused when everyone, even his best friends, had done nothing as they watched him be murdered. But it hadn’t been real... right?

The reason I bring this up is because when c!sapnap visited c!dream in prison, c!dream wrote that he’d get out eventually, and c!sapnap responded with-

‘No, dude. You can’t. Look, I love you, man, but you- you gotta stay here. This is where… this is where you belong for now. Maybe… Maybe one day if everyone’s cool with it.’

Does c!dream truly believe that anyone's’ opinions will ever change? In that same visit, c!sapnap then promises he’d kill him himself if he escaped. His best friend could vow to kill him, why would anyone else show him ‘mercy’?

C!dream knew that imprisonment hadn’t been implemented with any plans to release him.  He would have had his final life taken if it weren’t for his last piece of leverage, the revive book.

C!dream has to hold out hope for escape for his own sanity. The alternative is spending the rest of his life in torturous conditions.

Was c!dream told about this chance of release for good behaviour that c!sapnap mentioned?

Killing a surrendered enemy is a war crime

Thinking about how c!dream wasn’t left alive out of mercy, but because he was useful. Everyone watched two canon lives taken from him- one after he’d surrendered (which is a war crime btw) and no one said anything. They were perfectly willing to see him perma killed.

Dream knowing his attachments and relationships weren’t what saved his life, but his last remnant of power.

I think I'm done with podcasts made by men

I love listening to podcasts while I work. Especially ones related to history, film, and literature.

And damn near every time I try listening to ones that are made by men, I end up hitting a point where I have to stop listening and switch to something else. There's always a point where they say something that is so ignorant, blatantly sexist, etc., that I just can't take it.

Often times it's the host buying into a very male-centered lens of interpreting whatever it is they're discussing. And, you know, that's kind of expected. They're men. They're viewing things as men. I get that and I'm usually willing to just roll my eyes and move on. But then it keeps happening, or gets much worse than what can be excused by simple ignorance. And then I can't just roll my eyes anymore. I just want to start yelling. And that's not a good energy to have while I'm trying to do my job. So I switch over to something else.

A good example of this happened today. I was listening to a podcast called History by Hollywood. I found it because I'm a huge fan of History Buffs on Youtube. Comparing historical fiction to the actual history is fascinating to me. I love learning about the real event and how it's translated into fiction. But...it got bad. Real fucking bad.

Now, I can't place all the blame on the creators of HbH. They had guests who do a podcast that I think is called Green Screen, which discusses films through an environmental lens. And I definitely will not be listening to that podcast after hearing them today.

The episode was about Gorillas in the Mist, which is biopic about Dr. Dian Fossey. If you don't know who Dian Fossey is, look her up. She was one of the group known as the Trimates, sometimes called Leakey's Angels. The group consisted of three women who were expert primatologists: Birute Galdikas, who studied orangutans; Jane Goodall, possibly the most well known of the three, who studied chimpanzees; and Fossey herself, who studied gorillas. I would love to write hundreds of pages about how awesome and unbelievably badass these women are/were. Seriously, learn about these women if you haven't already. They are amazing.

Anyway, the episode was about Dr. Fossey. My first issue is that, despite her PhD, they never once referred to her with her proper title. This is upsettingly common with women who have earned doctorates. Men never want to call them Doctor. It frustrates me to no end. But that's not nearly the worst of it. They went on to discuss how she became pregnant twice during her time in Rwanda. She chose to abort both pregnancies because she did not want pregnancy or motherhood to interfere with her work with the gorillas. One of the GS guys commented on this saying "I suppose her reasons could be considered valid." Um, excuse me? First of all, why do you think that you get to decide whether or not she had valid reasons? You don't. Second, of course her reasons are valid. Whatever a woman's reasons are for having an abortion are valid. She's the only one who gets to make that decision. So fuck right off with that. Sorry for getting a bit heated here, but that really pissed me off. There was no need for a comment like that. Especially since it makes it sound like he doesn't actually think her reasons are valid, but is scared of catching heat so tried to sugarcoat it.

Moving on, TW: rape, they also got into the fact that Dr. Fossey stated that she was repeatedly raped by soldiers in 1966 over the course of two weeks. People freaking love to claim that this is "disputed" or "exaggerated" and some go as far as to claim that it was an outright lie. Why? Because she originally claimed that she was treated well and then escorted to the border. Later on, she admitted that she was actually beaten and raped. I'm not going to delve too far into this because a) this post is already way longer than I intended, and b) I will get SO MAD. For the sake of brevity, I'm just going to say that I believe that she was raped, and that she initially lied because she was not ready for this information to become public. The hosts however...well, they'd like to claim that they didn't come down on either side of this "debate" and simply presented facts. But they totally don't think she was raped. They went on and on about all the reasons that she would have lied about being raped, such as political clout, publicity, propaganda, and other dumb reasons. But just couldn't seem to think of any reason that she would have lied about not being raped. Gotta love how men are always able to come up with fifty million reasons why women would make false accusations. It's absolutely not in any way revealing how they think of women.

They also got into the admittedly shitty things that Dr. Fossey did during her time in Rwanda. She wasn't perfect, and she did do some rather bad things. Her approach to conservation work was very much steeped in a colonialist mindset. I'm not about to deny that. And they did do a good job of explaining some of the more overlooked facts of poaching--most African poachers aren't cartoon villains who want to destroy nature. Many are farmers who are killing animals that threaten their crops and/or livestock. And then they get offered lots of money to do it. It's not a simple issue, and doesn't have a simple solution. I don't have a problem with them addressing this, and I'm glad that they did. However, and this is a pretty big HOWEVER, they also didn't discuss any of the great things she did. She saved a huge number of gorillas. She helped improve the Rwandan economy. She fought against multiple colonialist organizations trying to exploit Rwanda and it's wildlife. She helped to revolutionize the field of primatology. There's so much that we know now that we only know because of her. They also decided that the fact that she's a heavily revered and respected figure in Rwanda was worth a few sentences and that was it.

They referred to her as cold and unfeeling multiple times, largely due to her relationship with Bob Campbell, who was married when they met. Apparently the fact that she didn't stick with him for her whole life means that she's cold and uncaring. Ugh. I just fucking can't with this.

And the cherry on top, they made jokes about her murder. Yep. Dr. Fossey was horribly and brutally murdered with a machete in December of 1985. And they apparently think that's funny. Now, I know that some of the people who were close to Dr. Fossey have also made jokes regarding her death. However, there are several Grand Canyon-sized differences between someone using humor to cope with the death of someone they loved, and some assholes with a podcast making jokes about the brutal murder of a woman they never met. They also said that it doesn't matter who killed her or if they're ever caught. Which...no? It very much matters who snuck into this woman's home in the middle of the night and used a machete to brutally murder her. It very much matters if this person is caught. I can't even imagine trying to say that it doesn't matter if an actual murderer is ever caught.

All of this goes into a huge problem when it comes to studying history, especially the history of science. Women are always scrutinized more heavily, always criticized with more vitriol, and always have their enormous accomplishments either left out entirely or pushed to side. I almost never see male scientists given this treatment. Edison comes close, but he always gets quite a bit of "Yeah, he was awful, but let's not forget all the awesome things he did!" Women however get "Yeah, she did a few cool things for science, but let's not forget that she had an abortion!"

I just can't handle this shit anymore. If you managed to get all the way to the end of this wall of text (yay) please recommend me some good history/literature podcasts created by women. I will love you so much.

The Whisperer

Pairing: Villain!Shinsou x Reader

Warnings: smut (18+), mind control, violence, blood, murder, yandere behavior, umm a bit of dubcon I think because of the mind control (want to be safe)

Y’ALL PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

Word Count: 2K

A/n: Alrighty roo, This was born from an idea that wouldn’t leave my head because the potential for Shinsou to be fed up with everybody sleeping on him is just GLORIOUS.  However, my mans loses his mind so this isn’t a romantic justice story aiight? It’s creepy.  Be aware it’s a bit dubious because the reader is being mind tricked so if that is something that will bother you please don’t read. 

Happy Halloween Everyone!

Special thanks to @linestrider​ for not only encouraging me to write it but ALSO beta reading it. I love you forever. 

tagging: @tomurasprincess  @pleasantanathema @dymphnasprose @elektraeriseros

Keep reading

Been seeing some discussion on Hunter’s kill count so let me throw in my interpretation

…

Hunter isn’t some cold blooded killer. In fact in the show we see him avoid doing any messy work. Like having the owl gang try to kill the selkidomous or letting Luz and the Palismen go. Or the fact that during the fight with Amity he never did anything to imply he was trying to kill her, he didn’t even try restraining her. He just was trying to snatch the key and leave the entire fight. If anything, it was Amity pulling out the hurting and restraining moves lol.

But rather where I think there is violence was because of the inherent nature of the two missions. Mission 1 was him trying to kill the selkidomous, the only reason that didn’t happen was because there was people there to do it for him (even if they didn’t). So that makes me wonder, where there other beats killing missions he had to do? I’d imagine so, and I guarantee he didn’t have anyone to the work for him those times. So there’s that, Hunter killing some beasts.

Mission 2 was the palismen , and also before the mission we see him handing a palismen to Belos. So yeah, dude has probably taken ownerless palismen in the past, and has given palismen to Belos to kill and eat so theirs that. I don’t think he’s directly responsible for the deaths of hundreds of palismen but numbers do add up.

Also another thing I want to mention is direct responsibility, I’d imagine a lot of the violence or deaths caused by Hunter weren’t directly from him but the consequences of his job.

Now next is where we can be a bit imaginative, I pretty sure it’s stated in the show that Hunter only goes on missions on the weekends. So dude is pretty much just hanging out in the castle in the weekdays. That means he was probably doing paperwork, and considering he’s a coven head, he has a lot of power. So on the weekends rather than him going on missions, he was sending out scouts. That means anything that the scouts did, that he may have sent was also partially his responsibility. So if the scouts where to arrest, or kill any witches, then Hunter would likely feel at minimum partially responsible (I feel like he’d feel incredibly guilty as if he directly killed them)

Now for the actual mission, obviously he’s likely captured wild witches. While he was shown to struggle a bit but learn and adapt with palismen magic. When we see him with his artificial staff, he’s highly skilled with it. He fought pretty calmly with Luz and Eda at the shores and can travel a high speeds with it. I’d be more amazed if he didn’t manage to arrest anyone. Anyways, so here’s Hunter, he’s arrested some wild witches and he’s proud of himself. He takes them to the conformatium, he thinks that’s the end of it only for those witches to be privately petrified. We know that public petrifications hadn’t happened in 30 years but we see that they still happen in private.

It’s a bit dubious if we know if Hunter knew of these petrifications or not, much less arresting witches knowing they’re going to be petrified. But I think he possibly may have considering in Hollow mind he excuses those death of the sigil witches as just Belos perfecting sigil magic and literal terrorism for the greater good.

That’s where I think a kill count comes to play, that Hunter arrested wild witches knowing there may have been a possible chance of them dying. Therefore making him a factor for death. (Not to confuse with cause of death)

Another idea is him accidentally killing, like using too much force or miscalculating a spell. Another idea is killing in self defense. Assassinations aren’t much of a surprise in the castle so I don’t doubt there’s a chance that he may have killed an assassin or someone trying to cause bodily harm on him. Again a situation of a fight with a wild witch going too far. I don’t doubt a wild witch willing to fight Hunter to death knowing it was likely he was going to arrest them and lead them to a possible death.

One more, a messed up one but one that isn’t too out of character is having Belos having Hunter test his loyalty by being able to kill for him. Or Belos having Hunter kill someone in the privacy of the castle, like a traitor coven member (I doubt Raine and the Cats are the first to attempt a infiltration) Hence, where the context I was thinking of for this drawing actually comes from. (“May Titan have mercy on you”).

Again this is me just counting deaths and not any other potential violence he may have committed (not resulting in deaths. Even if someone doesn’t die, the violence inflicted upon them could still be life changing. The idea of Hunter giving someone a disability or trauma is pretty sad :( and not even impossible). Hunter in the show is pretty desensitized to violence in the way he talks about it or thinks of it in Any sport in a storm and Hollow mind.

So yeah, that’s my Hunter kill count, a couple if beasts, dozens of palismen and handful of actual witches, my guess 3-6. Could be higher but I’m trying to be a bit more realistic, even if I admittedly want to dramatize it lol.

Anyways that my rambles, anyone have their own thoughts on this?

Been drawing to much cute stuff, here’s some Hunter execution trauma

Been thinking of writing something that relates to the hexsquad and other characters (Darius, Lilith, Eda, Camila, ect) finding out what being Golden Guard actually meant. In the show, Hunter is pretty isolated as the Golden guard, primarily acting out independently in missions and even then those missions were decently brutal. (Slaying a selkidomous and kidnapping palismen for slaughter). So it figures no one actually really knew what he did. So they question, and he answers.

It’s tough hearing someone you know as a victim also victimizing others. How many owners of palismen did he leave heartbroken? Any children he orphaned? Witches and demons left without their partners? Had sigils forced upon? Made into statues because of him?

I think of the Golden Guard being an icon to the boiling isles , someone who’s known widely yet no one quite knew what he actually did since it was stuff to carry out Belos dirty work.

Toh Hospital Au

(I’ve never actually watched any hospital dramas before)

This is just a adult human Au except with a focus on medicine

Luz, an oncologist, was determined to be one after the passing of her father.

Amity, pediatric rheumatologist, inspired by her own hand pain. Was originally going to be a dermatologist to make Odalia proud but met Luz in college after becoming roommates with her and changed her plans into a field she was actually passionate in. Pediatric because is Amity good with kids.

Vee is a RN in the ER. She good at adapting at different situations which is good for more high stake places like the ER. Her and Luz are sisters of course with Camila very proud of them both. She’s adopted. She didn’t want to go to medical school so decided on being a nurse instead. Worked in the hospital longer than Luz.

Gus is a patient advocate, he would be good very successful at his job and passionate on helping his clients receive the best treatment he can. He’s taken many clients with Luz.

Willow is sports medicine physician because it’s in her interest in athletics and helping others. She definitely still a plant addict and they cover her house and garden.

Hunter is a cytopathologist. He had a tough past (understatement) and was pretty isolated in college and medical school. He thought it would be the same in the hospital since he already took a no live patient job until he transferred to a different hospital and met Luz in the Cancer unit when diagnosing some patients. Where she invited him to hang out after work and they became friends along with the others.

They all look like older versions of their post-canon looks since they’re all in the mid 30s, except Gus who is like 31 to 32. Hunter still has his scars except their burn scars instead of possession ones. Luz and Amity are married and live together. Belos died sometime in Hunter stay in medical school and Amity, and her siblings are no contact with Odalia

Stringbean in a normal snake that Luz got from a rescue, Emmiline is a normal chameleon Gus recused, ghost is a normal cat Amity got in college, Clover is a bunny rescue( I’m not giving Willow a pet bee I’m sorry, instead her fathers do bee keeping as a hobby). Flapjack a cardinal that just lives with Hunter, like one day he showed and didn’t leave, he basically made Hunter his pet. Also Waffles does the same thing a few years later (because I love her). Flapjack lives longer than the average cardinal due to Hunter basically taking care of him. The other laugh when they find out he basically has two wild birds living with him.

Belos was pretty abusive to Hunter growing up until Hunter fled for college after realizing that it wasn’t right how he was treating him. He tried going no contact a few times but always broke it untill Belos eventually passed away while he was in medical school after succumbing to an illness. Belos was a successful pastor. (He was the owner one of those mega churches n stuff.) Hunters parents are Caleb and Evelyn. Caleb was killed by someone “unkown”, Evelyn died from an accidental overdose when Hunter was young, where Belos got custody of him rather than the Clawthorne family. The burn scars came from an “accident” in middle school for Hunter.

Gus went to high school early and had a hard time with people not taking him seriously in both school and even when doing his job ( no body cared in college) but was able it receive support from his friends and push forward.

They all met in college and became friends (except Hunter who went somewhere else). Amity and Willow here childhood friends before Amity began bullying her in middle school where they went to separate high schools. Gus and Willow met in high school and were also roommates in college.

Other notes,

Viney is a general practitioner, puddles is an absurdly large pigeon she has.

Emira is a paramedic.

Other characters are not in the medical field like Edric who’s a small animal veterinarian, Lilith who is a historian, and Eda who is a store owner.

Again this is basically my Human realm Au with emphasis on the medical field.

This is my first lyric comic! Just in case, tw for blood, murder, and really unhealthy relationships, I guess?

I’m not sure how well these will load, as this is my first time posting pictures on tumblr, so here’s hoping tumblr doesn’t crunch the quality! If it does, maybe I could try to repost? Idk.

This is a lyric comic using the song “This is love” by Air Traffic Controller. The characters come from the Vargas AU made by @zarla-s, and it is absolutely fantastic! If you want to know more about the AU or the story it is based on, zarla explains it pretty well, so check out their stuff! 

I tend to ramble, so I’m going to put the comic and the rest of my spiel under a read more, for the sake of not making a huge post that’s annoying to scroll past. XD

For the sake of not reposting the chorus multiple times, I put it and the bridge together at the end, but the rest is in order. If anyone is curious about my design choices, feel free to ask. If anyone wants to redraw this better, also feel free! I know it is super messy and amateur-ish, but I was inspired to make this after I saw Zarla’s post mentioning the idea!

This took quite a while to make, and I actually intended to post this yesterday, but I think the day after Christmas is probably close enough. (,^~^)

Small note, I’m sure someone will probably notice similarities between some of my art and ones zarla posted. It’s probably most noticeable with the angel, tbh. But yeah, that was kinda on purpose? I don’t draw much, even though I enjoy it, so I’m not great at things like perspective and proportions. So, I used zarlas art as a reference for poses, trying to get close-ish to the original art without outright tracing. Then once I got more comfortable drawing the characters, I branched out more, like with the dancing scene. (^w^)

Any text in light grey/white is Edgar singing, dark grey is Scri, red is Nny, black is Nny and Scriabin, and for one scene the orange to red gradient is the waste-lock parasite speaking. I hope I did alright and kept it all mostly in character!

(Also, may I suggest “Mr. Fear” by siames as being sung to Edgar by Scriabin? It just feels like it fits.) 

(I own nothing but my own drawings, the Vargas AU and fic are Zarlas, and the original story is from “Johnny the Homicidal Maniac” by  Jhonen Vasquez.)

Shadow

Masterpost

Rouge - Prompt Based

I’m a bit new here, and usually stay for art and any interesting pieces of fan-fiction that are related. Funny enough, it’s not really related at all. However, I’m feeling a bit creative to actually write something. A prompt that I found on TikTok and the ideas were just brilliant that I had to share them before my brain forgot them.

Content Warning: Murder, mild blood and gore.

Please notify me if I missed anything.

Rouge - A series of mysterious deaths linked to the color red leads a young detective into the deepest rabbit hole of her life.

The color rouge, specifically red rouge. Typically any kind of red or reddish-colored make-up that's used for tinting a person's cheeks.

However, in this context, it stained the victim's body. Her dress drenched, face frozen and petrified, their body methodically placed holding the infamous bouquet of poppies. Jewelry shining with each flashing light of the camera. Her feet dirty.

The medical coroner walked with his assistant trailing behind and arrived. My partner and I greeted them.

"To whom do I have the displeasure of, Audrey?" Benji asked. "We still haven't identified them yet but this marks the 4th victim." I stated before continuing to take pictures. My eyes drifting between each of the splotches of rouge littering the plaza. "The killer has been getting more bold lately."

"So, what'd ya got Benji?" My mentor, Larissa, questioned. Benji gave them a pointed look before starting.

While doc squatted down his assistant settled down the bags while Benji spoke. "Well, I can see there's no pooling of the victim's blood but her dress is soaked in it, suggesting they were moved. The gash to her neck, slightly cleaned as well. And they positioned them to hold the flowers as we’ve seen with past victims. Their shoes are missing as well.” Benji rambled. “Some bruising is present in the shape of a hand. Maybe we can get some fingerprints.”

Larissa turned to me. “Your turn, gimme a rundown.”

“The job seems a bit sloppy than usual, rushed even, which the killer might’ve been walked in on before finishing.” My head signaling over to the maintenance workers being given interviews. “The plaza is decorated in spots of rouge.” Larissa seemed satisfied. “We can check with cameras around the plaza to get a better view of our poppy killer. And a bit later with the local bars.” Larissa told me.

Benji's gloved hands pulled out the bouquet and examined it pulling out a paint card simply titled ‘rouge’ before handing it to his assistant to bag and tag it. He began to do some other tasks before starting up again.

"The time of death occurred between 4-5am but I won't know more until I've got them on the slab." Benji said. As he and his assistant began to lift and cart the body away.

Larissa began to trek over to the maintenance workers while I stayed behind to take more pictures before calling cleaners.

It won’t be long before the press are clamoring over us.

I don’t know if I’ll do continue to add to the prompt but I know if I did certain details may be subject to change.

- Was originally posted on my Wattpad account

this was gonna be just a sketch and then suddenly this happened-

anyways have an unhinged boi in his natural environment

Taken (Part 5/5)

Unedited, as all of these are. Took the easy way out bc I wanted them to reconcile lmao, ignore the fact that Ren would be fighting this way more. Ren and above image belong to @14dayswithyou

Summary: Angel and Ren have a heart-to-heart

4.2k words

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

I sit at the headboard of the bed, my chin resting on my knees as I consider the man anxiously perched at the opposite end. 

I let the silence simmer for a bit before breaking it, “Why did you drug me?”

Ren scratches at his jaw, “I didn’t want you to hurt yourself any further. Your stitches are still healing.”

I add, “Also it made it easier to transport me without having to deal with me struggling or alerting someone on the way back here, no?”

Ren shrugs, avoiding my eyes.

I roll my eyes, “Why didn’t you let me go into Violet’s apartment?”

He looks at me with a pout, “Like I said, you always take forever to talk to her, and I hadn’t seen you and was worried about you.”

I sigh, “That’s a great answer, Ren,” he seems to perk up a bit, “but now I want a truthful one,” and he slumps again.

He protests, “That is-!”

I hold a hand up, stopping him, “Ren, please, we’ve been over this. Are you really going to test the extent of my knowledge on every little thing? You’re great at gaslighting, but I’m not a canary in a mineshaft, I’m aware of what’s going on. And I swear to god if you say you’re not I’m going to throttle you.”

He looks at me, eyes welling with tears, “I- I don’t know what you want me to say, Angel. It’s like you already have this set idea of who I am and I don’t know how I’m supposed to convince you otherwise when you already think I’m a two-faced liar.”

He buries his face in his sleeves as his shoulders shake soundlessly. I watch with a blank expression, waiting for him to stop. He eventually does, sniffling and wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve, smearing his mascara in the process.

I tilt my head, still expressionless, “Damn, you’re really good at that. I probably would’ve caved if I didn’t have a whole file of evidence against you.”

He looks surprised, “You- you have a file?”

I scoff, “Of course not, why would I write that stuff down? The only thing I know for sure you can’t break into is my head. Well, metaphorically speaking at least, I’m sure you could crack my skull like an egg if you so chose, but that’s not the point. Why didn’t you let me go into Violet’s apartment? I don’t need your whole thought process, just a concise, truthful answer.”

Ren’s voice lowers, “I thought you were gonna call the police.”

I smile and nod, “Better answer. I was. Really thought I’d be able to throw you off long enough too, but alas.  I probably would’ve been better off insisting than trying to be honest, but oh well, I’ll still hazard my health to tell the truth. But what I’m really confused about is why I’m the one who’s trying to gain your trust right now.”

I pause, considering my last statement before adding, “Was the whole ‘pretend to be anyone but yourself’ decision your own idea, or did someone else instill that lesson?”

I see his eyes flash as I speak before returning to their carefully neutral state, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I sigh deeply, considering the man before me. Eventually I come to a decision, looking down and speaking hesitantly, “Y’know what, I’m gonna tell you about something you keep reminding me of. It’s an old, old memory, so it’s probably warped beyond all recognition at this point, and it’s from a point in my childhood I remember almost nothing from but- ugh, whatever, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t need to be perfectly accurate.”

I glance up at Ren to make sure he’s still paying attention. Luckily he was, while also mimicking my pose and staring intently.

So I continue, “When I was a kid, I don’t remember how old, my home life got progressively worse and worse. It got to the point where I dreaded going home every night, so instead, I would spend time in this dingy little playground between school and my house. There was a little red plastic tunnel I would hide in, helpful for when it was raining. Anyway, there was this other kid that seemed to do the same thing, they- no- he. He hated when… yeah, well whatever- he would kinda lurk around the playground way later than was normal too. I thought he was neat, and I dunno, I guess I related to him. He would leave little presents in that tunnel for me sometimes, he even gave me a jacket for when it was cold. So I started doing the same.”

I pause, slightly surprised at the emerging memory, “I even gave him one of my favorite stuffies, damn. That was some devotion for like, six-year-old me, don’t think I would do that for anyone now. Anyway, ugh I’m rambling, this has a point I swear. So we became best friends, in my opinion at least. I mean, I had Leon too, but I never wanted to tell him anything about home, so I would just pretend to be happy around him all the time. This other kid-”

I go off on another tangent, trying to remember his name, “Shit if I just had any sort of fucking memory space for names- why do I keep associating him with that goddamn carpet in the school? I know his name wasn’t fucking rug or ground or flower or some shit, but it was like, associated with those? I think??? I’ll just call him- uhhhhh… I dunno, Redacted I guess, heh.

“So yeah, Redacted and I could just chill together, y’know? It seemed like he had some shit he was dealing with too, definitely worse than mine from the few things I could pick up on, even as a child. I swear there were multiple times he had blood on him, but whether it was his or not was hard to say. But he was a sweet kid. Even if he wouldn’t really talk about his situation, I didn’t wanna talk about mine either. We just sorta understood that shit was fucked up, and it was so nice just to have someone there who got it without having to explain or pretend.”

I lean against the backboard, looking at the ceiling, “But all good things have to come to an end, right? Well that happened for us when he gave me a ring – proposed even, I think. Problem was, Leon also happened to be around at the time- Oh yeah- I forgot to tell you- I’m already engaged.”

I giggle, raising the back of my hand and wiggling my fingers as though showing off a ring, before dropping my hand and ruefully staring at it. When I look up, I see Ren clutching the fabric of his long-sleeve shirt in the middle of his chest. Seems like he got emotionally invested, ha, all the better for me.

I continue my story, “Anyway, I think Leon thought Redacted was harassing me, so he threw away the ring and dragged me to school. I argued with him the whole way, hell, I might’ve even hit him, I was so mad. I went straight back to that playground once they let us out of school, and I scoured that entire place for hours that night. Every day after I hoped I would find the ring, just nestled under a toy or stair somewhere I hadn’t checked. But I never found it; and Redacted never showed up there again.”

I pause for a minute, closing my eyes and composing myself, “Sorry, I’ve never told anyone this before, guess I’m not as detached as I thought I was.”

I take a deep breath, “…So after that, the few times I did see Redacted in school he would run away. It’s my fault too obviously, we were both kids, I didn’t do everything I could to check on him and make sure he was okay, but I figured he hated me and didn’t want to see me after the first few times I tried and failed. Every time I saw him after that, he just looked worse and worse, and I don’t know when it happened, but eventually I saw him for the last time. I don’t even know if he even fucking survived that goddamn place. Given what I knew about his family, probably not.”

At this point, tears are streaming down my cheeks as I stay stony-faced, recounting the story of my childhood friend. Once I had finally gotten out of my house and had room to breathe, I remembered the one who helped get me through one of the toughest years. I realized he probably never made it past childhood soon after but shoved the realization deep down and tried to forget about it, not ready to process it.

I push on now, needing Ren to understand, “To this day, despite everything else that’s happened to me, that’s my biggest regret: not even being there for him when he deserved that and so much more. And I’m not going to let that happen to a friend again. You remind me of that kid so much, Ren, and I don’t know if it’s that similarity, or the three months we’ve spent together, but despite all your insane bullshit, I do still consider you a friend. So whatever the fuck you have going on, I need you to tell me honestly. I will do whatever I can to help and support a friend, but my patience is running thin and I’m not even entirely sure what you are to me anymore. I’ve been taken advantage of before, and I won’t be letting that happen again either.”

Once I finish saying all that needs to be said, I finally look back at Ren. He’s wearing an expression I’d never seen before, filled with more conflicting emotions than I could puzzle through. His eyes were filled with tears that had yet to fall, and the clenched fist on his chest, I realized, was not holding onto his shirt, but the necklace he always wore around his neck.

He speaks in a choked whisper, “Y’didn’t throw it away?”

I stare at him, confused and concerned, but also wary of another guilt trip, “Throw what away?”

“The ring?”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Of course not, why would I do that? That would be horribly cruel, and he was the only person I could really trust at the time. I also might’ve had a crush on him, but emotions are weird and we were kids and it’s been so long I don’t really remember. But that’s not the point, did you even listen to the whole point of that story?”

He stumbles on his words, “Yeah- no- I- I heard. I just- m’having a hard time believing it.”

I bristle at his words, “Are you calling me a fucking liar?!”

His eyes widen and he jolts backwards, “NO! No no nono, that’s not what I meant at all! I just can’t believe you remembered… everything… like that. I thought you hated m- um, him?”

I glare at him, “Ren, what the fuck are you implying?”

He shakily opens his palm to reveal the ring necklace laying there, “I took it back after you left, that’s why you couldn’t find it.”

I shake my head warily, “That’s not funny, Ren, there’s no way. Don’t-”

He jumps up off the bed, “Hold on.”

I sit, bewildered, as he runs off, not waiting long before I hear the light thudding of his footsteps returning. He breathlessly holds out a well-loved brown teddy bear to me, “He’s one of my most treasured possessions.”

I cautiously take it into my hands, looking over it carefully. Its fur was stringy and far ashier than I remember, as well as slightly bald in some places, but still has the same eyes invariably covered by fur, same construction, and clearly over a decade old.

I looked between the bear and Ren in disbelief before slowly shifting to meet him at the side of the bed. He looks back at me anxiously, backing up a step to give me room to stand. I close the gap, wrapping both of my arms securely around his waist and pulling him into a tight hug, grabbing handfuls of the back of his shirt like he would disappear if I let go.

I whisper incredulously, “You’re alive???”

Ren leans into me, resting his chin on my head with a small chuckle, “Last I checked, yeah. ‘Preciate y’worrying about me though.”

My face crumbles as the tears I had finally got under control sprang free again, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Ren pulls back slightly, confused, “F’what?”

I lean my forehead onto his chest, not wanting him to see my face as I speak, “For being a shitty friend, for letting you go, for not defending you better, for not being there for you, fuck, just- everything. I’m sorry, you deserved so much better.”

Ren shakes his head, pulling me back in and speaking vehemently, “No, Angel, y’have nothing t’be sorry about. Y’didn’t do anything wrong. You’re the only one who didn’t do anything wrong. M’sorry f’being a stupid kid and running away.”

I sniffle, “You weren’t a stupid kid, you were smart as fuck, even back then. Just insecure as fuck too, but I have a feeling I know the bastard who’s responsible for that.” My hands tighten as I remember the one time I followed him from the playground to a trailer park, only to watch as he waited for almost an hour, knocking intermittently on the locked door. When it finally opened, a man flecked with blood stepped out, already screaming, and yanked him inside by the arm. The horrible sounds I heard that night caused me to sprint all the way home, practically thankful for the father I had. A feeling I had never come close to experiencing before or since. Fury builds in me as I think of all that Ren probably dealt with at such a young age.

Until his voice pulls me out of my thoughts, “Are y’alright Angel? You’re shaking.”

I glance up in surprise and loosen my grip on him, “Oh, sorry, yeah, I’m fine just… plotting murder.”

Ren’s eyebrows raise, “Mine?”

I laugh, shaking my head, “Ha! No, no, its- just ignore me.”

His head tilts to the side with a loving smile, “I could never.”

I lightly punch him, embarrassed, “Shut up.”

He laughs and pulls me back into a tight hug which I reciprocate. Catching a glimpse of his hair from my position, I hold a piece out with the arm still around him.

“Wasn’t your hair black? Why’d you make it pink?”

I feel him stiffen slightly as he seems to consider his options before answering quietly, “Thought you’d like it better.”

I squint at him, “Do you like it pink?”

He fires back, “Do you?”

I glare, “It’s your hair.”

He hums, “Mhmm, do you like it?”

I roll my eyes, pulling back so I can squish his face in my hands, “I think you’d look hot with any hair color and should choose what you like best.” Fuck. I really am a simp.

His face immediately flushes red and he mumbles, “But you like Haruko…”

I look at him in disbelief, “You really made a whole persona based on an anime character I liked? I mean, that’s what it seemed like, but I thought I was crazy for thinking that.”

He once again misses the point and focuses on an insignificant detail, “Liked? You don’t like him anymore?”

I sigh, “Do I really need to go get bread slices? Make an idiot sandwich? Of course not, I have an absolutely fucking insane boyfriend now, why would I want an anime character?”

Ren pouts at me, “M’not insane.”

I laugh, “Oh I don’t believe that for a second. That much trauma doesn’t create a healthily functioning adult, I would know.” I then realize how abrupt and harsh my words might sound and quickly course correct, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like- uh, let’s talk about something else for now. Though actually, that does bring me back to an important point.”

I pull away, sitting back on the bed and bringing him to sit opposite me. I look him dead in the eyes, “How many people have you killed, Ren?”

He answers immediately, “Just one.”

I keep my eyes on him, “Ren, I am giving you the opportunity to come clean now. I won’t be so forgiving if I find things out on my own.”

He avoids my eyes, “Why? What would you do if it was more than one?”

I maintain an even gaze, “That would depend on who, why, and how you killed.”

There’s a long silence before he speaks again, “…Two.”

I insist, “Are you sure? You seemed very comfortable using that sledgehammer.”

He internally curses his carelessness for the millionth time but responds, “I use it in rage rooms a lot.”

When I realize that is the only answer I’ll be getting out of him, I pivot my questioning, “Okay. Who was the other person and why did you kill them?”

He side-eyes me, “Would you care if you didn’t know them?”

My eyebrows furrow, “Obviously? The reason would be the main factor then.”

He pauses for a long moment, “You did know them.”

I almost laugh at the pivot, but realize he’s still manipulating his answers based on my cues, which is sobering enough to maintain a straight face, “Okay, are you going to tell me who it was? Or when it was?”

He stares intently at his fingernails, picking idly at various minor hangnails, “About six years ago.”

My eyes widen, “You were sixteen?!”

He looks defensive, “And a half.”

I smother a smile of amusement and frustration at the pointless addition and gesture for him to go on. But before he can, I come to another realization, “Wait, then I was seventeen almost eighteen. Holy shit did you kill my stepfather?!”

He doesn’t respond, which gives me my answer. I immediately slap a hand over my mouth to cover the grin that was growing on my face. When my stepfather left that night and never returned, I had assumed he drunk himself either to death, or to do something that caused him to die. I suppose now the fact that they never found a body was suspicious, especially since he apparently never made it to any of his regular bars.

Coincidentally, that was the night I had resolved to kill him myself. I remember waiting by the door for hours with a kitchen knife, aching all over from my bruises and with blood dripping from the many cuts caused by him shattering a bottle against the table I was taking cover under. In the end, I had to give up and go back to bed before my mother woke up and started to make excuses for him again.

Now, as my grin grew wider and laughter bubbled up my throat, I had to add another hand to my mouth to keep it all in. I didn’t want him to see how dementedly happy I was about that man’s death or encouraging him to continue to do such things in the future. But when he saw me shaking with wide eyes and covering my mouth, he must have assumed the worst.

“Angel, I’m sorry, I had to! He was a danger to everyone around him, especially you, he-”

I choke out a quick, “Shut up,” before returning to the increasingly impossible job of keeping my mirth in. Eventually I fail, as a violent snort comes out unbidden. After that I surrender entirely, shifting my grasp from my face to my stomach as I tip over and guffaw into the sheets of the bed. I lay there laughing for almost two minutes, probably sounding increasingly more insane, before it finally levels off and I begin to calm back down.

I continue laying face down until I have fully stopped and only then sit up with a straight face, “Okay, ignoring that, how did you kill- ugh no, don’t ask that. Violence isn’t the answer. Violence isn’t the answer, violence isn’t the answer.” I repeat the words over, trying to make them stick.

Ren seems confused, “Are you telling that to me or yourself?”

I temple my hands in front of my face with an expression of restraint, “Yes.”

Ren hesitantly asks, “So… are we good?”

I raise an eyebrow, “About the murder? Yeah, if you’ve told me the truth I don’t really care about either of those- well, you probably didn’t need to kill that other guy, but meh, I don’t really blame you. Glad you’re discerning about it at least.”

I see the corners of his mouth quirk upwards and I make a quick amendment, “That doesn’t mean I condone murder. It’s technically wrong most of the time, so you can only resort to that in life-or-death situations.”

His mouth turns downwards again and I scoff, “Hey, if I don’t get to murder then you don’t get to murder. Consider yourself lucky that you managed to get to that bastard of a man before I did, otherwise we’d be even right now.”

I sigh, bringing my fingers to massage my temples from the massive headache that had been building this whole time. Ren immediately perks up, “Are you okay? D’you need painkillers? Water? Food?”

I bring my hand up, “Quiet, preferably.”

I immediately regret my words as Ren falls quiet, not protesting or yelling as I was used to from others. I amend my words, “Sorry, that was mean, I’m just- ugh my fucking head.”

Ren nods and leaves the room. I watch him leave with widened eyes, not expecting them to just abandon me like that. I want to call out, but my pride seals my throat, choking me from voicing my desires as per usual. After all, that would just reveal my own weaknesses. So I sit and stare blankly as tears well up in my eyes, increasing the pressure in my head even more.

I furiously blink them back, cursing myself, whether for making Ren leave or wanting him to stay, I wasn’t sure. I pull the glossy sheets over my head and collapse back into the mattress, burying my face into the pillow in an attempt to beat back my headache. Only to have my hip spike in pain as well. Just my luck.

It doesn’t take long before I hear footsteps walk into the room, somehow spontaneously sounding at the entrance to the room as if he spawned in at the doorway. I don’t move, not wanting him to see the tears in my eyes. Stupid.

A soft, familiar voice inquires quietly, “Angel? I got you some water and advil.”

A hand gently rests on my shoulder blade, carefully sliding up and down in a comforting pattern. I stay still, enjoying the feeling I hadn’t felt since I was a very young child. Being cared for, safe. Crazy how this murderer was capable of making me feel more secure and loved than my “parents” ever did.

I groan, turning my head and bringing the sheets down enough to look at Ren blearily. Their eyes are full of sympathy as they hand me the painkillers. I take them, evaluating the pills to make sure they matched the container before downing two with a gulp of water. From the same type of glass I had shattered earlier, I notice with another twinge of guilt.

Ren gives me a soft smile, “Why don’t you go back t’sleep for now? It’s about bedtime anyway, and you’re recovering from a multitude of things.”

I mumble, “Mostly y’fault. We arn’ done talkin’.”

Their eyebrows furrow, “I know, m’sorry. But we can finish tomorrow, okay? I don’t think y’really in a state t’continue. I’ll leave the water here, just yell if y’need anything.”

As they stand to leave, I act without thinking, reaching out and grabbing their wrist. He turns, confused, but patiently waits for me to form my words.

“…Don’t…leave me.”

His eyes light up and he kneels next to the bed, getting to eye level with me and grasping my hand tightly, “I’ll never leave you, Angel. Never again.”

I pull them towards me, and after confirming my intention, they instantly succumb to my request, joining me under the covers. They pull me into their chest, both of our arms wrapped around the other securely, our legs tangling as we attempt to get as close as possible. I push all of the red flags out of my mind, I could deal with those in the morning. For now, we indulge in the feeling of comfort and safety we couldn’t find anywhere else in the world.

Brianna Ghey’s murder hurts.

She was the same age as my kid, just walking home along her usual path. Two other kids have been arrested on suspicion of her murder.

The UK media (in particular the Daily Mail and The Times) are deadnaming her or refusing to acknowledge her status as a trans girl.

The police are very keen to gloss over any suggestion that she was murdered due to being trans, despite people from her school (parents and pupils) raising serious safeguarding concerns.

Brianna shouldn’t have died, and if it is found that she was killed by anti-trans extremists, I hope every single terf, gender critical, transphobic, nasty piece of work (and we all know who the main cheerleaders of them are) feel sick to the pit of their stomachs. Brianna’s blood will be on their hands.

Sleep well, sweet girl.

hayley rounded the corner, anger laced in her furrowed brows as she heard the altercation miles ahead. it wasn't smart to be feeding like this just moments after the recent murders broke to the public, so she was going to make it stop. either this kid was the one going after all the supernaturals or he was extremely unaware of his surroundings, either way she could handle it. walking into the alleyway, the hybrid glared at the other, making her intentions very clear from her facial expression.

"no, i don't want to feed on someone in public after news of a serial killer is lurking these streets." shaking her head, annoyed that he used the word polite. "are you going to continue to cause a scene or finish this up?"

open ! tw: mutilation, gore, murder

This city was both entirely different and exactly the same as when he'd last seen it. The best part, of course, were all the aimless tourists, pretty college girls, and drunk bar-dwellers. It was his day back and he'd feasted like a king. It was magnificent, after so many years of desecration.

He leaned against a brick building in a dark alley, waiting to pick his victims off slowly, one by one. Whoever threw out the trash next would surely be in for a surprise. Hell, maybe he'd stick around and relish in their fear before enjoying a snack for the road. A girl stumbled out into the alley alone, clearly drunk. She spotted him immediately, covered in blood fang down. His eyes found her before she could scream. "You're going to come here. You will not make a sound. But don't worry, you will enjoy this."

Laurie tore her throat out with no hesitation, even as he felt a pair of eyes boring into his skull. "I'm so sorry, that's not polite of me, is it?" he said as he pulled away from the woman's neck. He still had one hand around the back and he pushed her forward with it. "Would you like some?" Blood dripped from the gaping wound at her neck, and her head fell limp to the side. "She's just divine."

Is murder suicide and double homicide a square and rectangle sort of situation? Because double homicide is killing two people - but murder suicide is also killing two people; one just so happens to be you.

CW: PINK BLOOD, GORE, DEAD BODY

You have been warned.

So idk what compelled me to draw this, I was kinda just bored and wanted to try something new since I don’t really draw gore and so I decided to step out of my comfort zone a bit, why I choose Taki I honestly don’t know but yeah, also this my or my not be canon to my DR but I’m not sure yet

CPD just killed a fifteen year old child.

jofcreman​:

now, on the short walk to adam’s house ( two blocks, jo walked fast ) , she’d gone through almost every possible scenario, every way this conversation could possibly go. most of the time it had ended with either jo punching him in the face or adam angrily shutting the door, calling the cops, maybe. either way, she’d been angry in every scenario, ready to haul him over the coals, ready to end him for what he’d done to jack. however - this hadn’t happene in any of the scenarios. this being adam richards hauling ass into the kitchen emptying his guts into the rubbish.

jo had followed him into the house, only because she thought he might try and make a run for it. but quite obviously he… hadn’t. and her angry features softened, made way for a dumbfounded yet slightly concerned expression, she opened her mouth, stumbling over what to say. fuck. this had - this had not gone to plan, like, at all. this wasn’t how it was supposed to go! adam was supposed to confess and - “no!” she voiced her running thoughts, dropped her bag to the ground with an exasperated sigh, threw her hands in the air, stopped herself short of stomping her foot like a defiant child. “you’re not - ugh! you’re supposed to say how you did it and why and then - then i punch you for what you did and instead youre - ugh!” she groaned and did stomp her foot like a defiant child. “you’re not suppsoed to make me feel bad for you, asshole.”

but she did, and she felt guilt as hell, too, as she slid down next to him, brows drawn together in worry. jo sighed, a weary, heavy sound. “i don’t know, richards.”, she muttered after a moment, despite knowing it wasn’t a question asked for her to answer. she gave a little shrug, looked down at her hands. “i just - after what happened at the carnival, i don’t know what to believe anymore.” why was it always this fucking difficult? “can you just - can you tell me what you remember? about that night? promise i won’t hit you, i just - i’m just trying to figure out what happened. what really happened.”

It felt too terrifying to wrap his mind around fully. Adam knew he was capable of horrible things when he had blacked out - he’d tried to help with the fireworks, and though he hadn’t lit the match that killed five people, he had still helped. But to find out that he’d done that to his best friend? Jack? One of the kindest guys he knew, who had never done anything to Adam? It felt unthinkable. As he sat in the floor, head in his hands, he couldn’t stop the tears from falling as he tried his hardest to remember doing that. 

But nothing came

He couldn’t remember any of that last week - Adam couldn’t even remember how he’d been possessed. If it weren’t for the nightmarish flash of the memory of threatening Cole, Adam wouldn’t even have any inkling of what he’d done leading up to his death. That summer had been fun. Full of bonfires by the lake, working as a lifeguard, sneaking off with Cole and making plans on their escape to California. Adam remembered being happy before it had all gone black. He remembered sharing beers with Jack at a party, dancing to Summer of ‘69 in his kitchen to make Cole laugh, watching The Price is Right with Beth, taking Cindy to see The Goonies. And then everything went black and apparently, he’d killed Jack. 

He worried for a moment that he might be sick again before Jo followed him inside. “...I don’t know how I did it,” Adam told her weakly, looking up at her as she threw her bag down. “Or why. God, I have no fucking idea why.” He was horrifyingly, blissfully glad for a moment that he didn’t know. That he might never know. Because living with the memory of killing Jack sounded like absolute torture, and maybe this was kinder for him to not. But he didn’t really deserve kindness, did he? “...you can still punch me if you want,” Adam choked out, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand pathetically. 

Jo sat down, though she seemed like she was still disappointed with the lack of an answer on why Adam had suddenly gone insane and killed his best friend. “The night of the carnival?” He repeated, looking over at her as he took a deep breath to try to calm down a little bit. “I don’t... I remember getting there. Jack and I played some game for a bit, then there was the mayor’s speech and stuff. We got on the Tunnel of Love, and when we got off...it all just goes black,” He admitted, running a hand through his long hair. “I don’t remember anything else until I woke up and everyone was hurt. I didn’t even have a scratch on me. Nothing.” 

jackforeman​:

Though Adam was right, that he hadn’t killed anyone, either, that didn’t absolve him of the guilt from hurting Steve. In truth, he probably could have killed him, if what he’d heard was true and that he’d kicked the living daylights out of someone who was supposed to be one of his best friends. For what, though? Jack had no idea. Maybe to set off explosive fireworks, but those hadn’t even been his, and he and Adam would never intentionally do something to hurt people like that. They just wouldn’t.

Jack watched Adam’s face grow colorless, as though he’d seen the ghost of himself in Jack’s own eyes as he recounted what had happened. Adam had died, too? His mind raced like the red string on Jo’s board. Adam had known for weeks that he’d been dead, even from the first day that they’d come back from the commune. The forest community that they’d apparently been sent to, but in reality, they’d both come out of the forest rising from the dead. It made absolutely no sense. 

“Hold on,” he said slowly, pulling away from Adam to place his hands on his friend’s shoulders. “You’re telling me that we came out of the commune,” he lifted a hand, flexing his fingers in air quotes, “right, but we’d both been actually dead the entire time. So, the commune … it couldn’t have existed, did it?” It sounded insane, but it was the only thing that made sense, at least right now. “Because … you were there, and I was there, but we actually weren’t. Did it not actually exist at all, or were there just some people there, and they grouped us in with them?” The questions he had were all rhetorical, all ones that neither Jack nor Adam could answer right now, but he at least knew someone who could attempt to tackle the unanswerable. “Jo has this board, this … it’s a murder board, but she doesn’t call it that. But, whatever. Not the point. There has to be something on there that would help us figure this shit out.”

Jack pulled his hands from Adam’s shoulders, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “I know. I’m sorry, too. I had no idea … I didn’t know that you, you know, died, too. I’m just glad that we have each other.” He paused, turning toward him. “Do you remember anything, at all? Like, about the afterlife? Because I can’t remember shit. It’s like it never happened.”

Neither of them had chosen to commit the actions that they had, Adam understood that. But he was struggling with forgiving himself, even now. He might not have made the decisions, but it had been him doing it regardless. While he could understand logically that he wasn’t responsible, it would take him some time to process the fact that he wasn’t guilty. That he hadn’t killed anyone - the Mindflayer had. The...Doppelganger had, if Max was right. But it was hard to believe that when those things sounded so insane. He had never heard of anything like that before, and Adam tried to be a pretty level-headed guy. Believing in outlandish stuff just wasn’t something that worked for him, usually. But he knew now that he needed to try to believe in it if he wanted a shot at forgiving himself for the things his body had done. 

As Jack put his hands on Adam’s shoulders, Adam looked at him in confusion. He could tell Jack was putting something together, realizing some truth about their situation. “...I don’t know,” He admitted, shaking his head. “I think it had to, right? Why else would Peter be around? Why would they want us to be going to therapy?” How could all of that just... be a coverup? And what were they covering up, if that was what it was? It made Adam’s head hurt to think about, and he just wasn’t sure he could believe all of that. “Not everyone could have died! How would...how could that many people just... come back?” None of this made any sense. Why them? What had Adam ever done to deserve being resurrected? “We just... maybe we came back, and it was around the time they found everyone else, and so they lumped us together?” He shook his head again, not being able to rationalize all of this. “We should talk to Peter. He would know. Right?” 

At the mention of Jo’s murder board, Adam bit his lip. He wasn’t exactly excited by the idea of going over to Jack’s house and seeing his sisters, if he was being honest. Jo hadn’t kicked his ass last time, but what if she’d changed her mind since? Or what if Julie did? 

Jack sat down, and Adam hesitantly followed. Perching on the bed beside him, he kept some distance between the two even now. “Jack, you have nothing to be sorry about.” Adam told him seriously. He was glad to have Jack too, in a way, but that seemed horrifying to admit considering Adam had been the one to kill him. He let out a shaky breath at the mention of an afterlife, hand subconsciously coming up to touch the crucifix that still hung around his neck even after all this time. “...no.” Adam admitted quietly. “There wasn’t anything. Just nothing, and then us waking up in the woods.” 

jofcreman​:

what happened? the way he opened the door, so non-chalantly, the way his brows drew together in worry, surely feigned concern for her brother, made jo’s blood boil. she flexed her hands, stopping herself short of letting her palm meet his cheek. no, the neighbourhood thought she was insane enough as is. truly, it was only her position at the post that spared her from their neighbour’s open ridicule. because a girl scoring a job like that, she had to have at least an ounce of sanity in her, right? even if she dressed like that and talked like that and behaved like that.  but god, adam richards’ face did look extremely punchable right about then.

her judgement was clouded heavily by red hot rage, jo exhaled deeply through her mouth a couple of times to ground herself. countine one, two, three in her head. as much as she wanted to end him right then and there, she needed to get to the bottom of this. if not for her sake then for jack’s. “jack’s okay. considering.” brows still drawn together, jo scrunched up her nose in disgust. considering she was standing in front of his best friend and presumed murderer. considering he had died at the hands of who he’d trusted most. this wasn’t right. “we need to talk, richards. alone.” and, with her voice lowered and leaning in, she added:  “about the summer of ‘85. remember? when you killed my brother?”

Jo seemed.... angry. With him. And Adam wasn’t sure why. What had he done to Jack? The last time they’d talked had been at the carnival, when Adam had beaten him at Down a Clown, but this was definitely unrelated to that. Before that, it had been when Adam had come out to Jack and told him about dating Cole - but Jack had seemed fine with it! So Adam couldn’t understand what he had done to piss Jo off in the last few days. 

“Considering?” Adam repeated, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Consider the carnival? He hadn’t thought Jack got hurt - he hadn’t seen him in the hospital. But maybe he had been? Maybe Jack and Jo were made that Adam hadn’t come to see him? “Did he get hurt or something?” He asked. And then he got his answer on why Jo was upset with him. 

“I...killed Jack?” Adam repeated, freezing where he stood on the front porch. “No, I didn’t. No,” He shook his head, taking a step back and running into the door. “No, because I wouldn’t...” No, Adam wouldn’t do that. He would never, ever lay a finger on his best friend. But Adam wasn’t Adam when he blacked out, was he? And there was a whole week of his life in 1985 that Adam had no memory of, except for the time he’d nearly strangled Cole. If he had almost done that to the love of his life, what was he capable of doing to his best friend? “Oh my god...” Adam slumped backwards into the house, leaving the door open for Jo to follow. Without being able to stop himself, Adam doubled over the trashcan, throwing up the contents of his stomach at the thought of killing his best friend. His teammate. The guy he’d spent countless nights hanging out with in high school, the boy who’d come over and watch movies with him or join him at parties. The man he trusted more than almost anyone else, and who should have been able to trust Adam too. 

“I don’t remember doing that,” Adam sunk to the floor in his kitchen, tone almost a whisper despite them being alone now. Head in his hands, Adam pulled at his own hair. “I love Jack. He’s my best friend. How could I... how could I do that?” He asked, knowing Jo wouldn’t have an answer. 

loverboymontgomery​:

The rush of tears made Cole feel lightheaded and, despite his frantic blinking, they spilled down his cheeks. It was him. Adam was okay. He knew it was his him when he heard the layers of guilt in his voice, when his boyfriend angled his head to the floor. Cole hated seeing him like this, maybe just as much as he hated seeing out-of-body Adam. “Sweetheart,” Cole cooed, attempting to make his brittle voice sound comforting.

“Of course… Of course I want you here. Will you come sit by me?” he asked gently, though internally he felt like he was twelve years old, begging his mother not to leave him at bedtime. He was afraid of what happened, of course. But more than he was afraid for his own safety, he was terrified of what all of this meant for Adam. A pang of guilt swirled amidst the fear; Cole should’ve told Adam everything he knew, right away.

As Adam sat next to him, still cautious, afraid of something, Cole reached out his arm, offered his hand. “I’m okay,” he promised. “I’ll be fine. Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” He searched Adam’s body for any sign of injury and met his eyes. Cole desperately wished that this was all they had to talk about, that Adam could climb into bed with him and things could be simple. But he knew better, and he wouldn’t leave Adam in the dark, not again.

Painfully, Cole twisted and picked up his water, needing some relief for his throat before he dared dive into this. “You don’t remember anything?” he asked, eyes lingering on the crease in Adam’s brow. He desperately wanted to shield Adam from this, to never tell him what horrible things had been done and said through his body.

Cole was crying again, in anticipation for how much this was going to hurt Adam. Adam, who couldn’t fathom hurting another person or letting someone down. Adam, who was always so good, who happily took on the burden of being the strong one, the shoulder to cry on. Adam, who deserved better than all of this. Cole bit down on his trembling lower lip, willing himself to keep it together, if only for Adam’s sake.

“Before you died,” he began cautiously, knowing that even saying that much was still shocking, “You were different. It wasn’t you. I didn’t know until later, but you were… possessed, I guess. By this thing they call the Mindflayer. It made you act different and then… it killed you. Or, it died and you died with it.” The whole thing still hurt his head, honestly, and there weren’t nearly enough answers. “I don’t know how or who or why but… you came back. And I think it’s happening again… it controlling you. I thought you were going to die again,” he choked back another influx of tears, remembering that horrifying moment at the carnival.

Cole had immediately recognized the similarities between Adam at the carnival and Adam the last day he saw him– the stiffness of his body, the coldness of his tone, the cruelty of his words. He hoped Adam never found out about that moment. Swiping at his cheek with the back of his hand, Cole met Adam’s eyes again and tried for an encouraging smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, and I’m sorry I don’t have more answers. But we’ll figure it out. Together, like you said.” He lifted Adam’s hand to his lips, ignoring the shooting pain from his ribcage. “I promise, love, we’ll figure it out.” He didn’t know what figuring it out meant, not even remotely, but he knew he wasn’t going anywhere until they did.

Adam wouldn’t have blamed him if Cole had told him to leave. Because Adam didn’t know what he had or hadn’t done - especially to Cole - but he knew it couldn’t be pretty. He was just so fucking worried that his nightmare really was a memory, that he’d said those things and shoved Cole up against a wall and nearly choked him. He wouldn’t be mad at Cole if he was scared of him, because until Adam got some answers, he was pretty scared of himself.

But his chest ached when Cole called him Sweetheart, voice rough but so Cole. That alone made him want to cry and hold him and tell him that he’d never ever ever want to do something to upset Cole again. And when Cole asked him to sit with him? Adam had no choice but to walk closer, sitting down gently on the edge of the bed, farther away from Cole than he would normally. As much as Adam wanted to seek comfort from his boyfriend, he didn’t want to jostle any of his injuries.

“Are you sure?” Adam asked urgently, blue eyes studying Cole closely. He knew he wasn’t physically okay - he had broken a rib. But how was he handling all of this emotionally? Cole had a tendency to be in denial of things, to want them to be perfect even when everything was falling apart around them. And Adam needed to know that he wasn’t doing that right now. “Baby, you have to tell me if you’re not okay. Please. I can’t,” He took a deep breath, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I can’t handle it if you’re not honest.”

He reflexively tried to reach for the water for Cole, to take care of him without even being asked. But Cole could do it himself. He didn’t need Adam to smother him right now, no matter how much Adam wanted to. He slowly lowered his hands back to his lap, clasping his knees tightly. “Not from the carnival,” Adam admitted sadly, biting his lip. “Just riding the Tunnel of Love, and then I woke up to you being put into an ambulance.” He finally let himself lean a little closer, needing physical contact to ground himself. His hand slipped into Cole’s, squeezing it gently.

Adam hated seeing Cole cry. If he could do something to make it better, to shield him from whatever pain he was facing, he would. Adam would shoulder any burden if it meant keeping Cole happy and healthy and safe. He would do anything in the world that Cole Montgomery asked him to do - something that had been true since they met in early high school. Gently, he leaned forward and wiped away Cole’s tears with his free hand, touch feather light against his skin.

And then Adam’s world collapsed.

“I…what?” He asked, confusion lacing his voice. That didn’t make any sense. He had been possessed? By…by a demon, or something like that? For one gut wrenching moment, Adam worried that maybe this was God’s way of punishing him for being who he was. For who he loved. But Cole called it the Mindflayer, and that didn’t sound like any demon he’d ever heard about in church on Sunday. “So I really died?” Adam begged Cole to lie, to tell him that he was kidding. But something in his eyes said that this was true. He didn’t even try to stop the tears that were flowing down his cheeks now, letting them hit the starched sheets of Cole’s hospital bed.

“What if I am?” He asked, lip trembling at the thought. Adam didn’t want to die. He was still so young - there was so much of the world he wanted to see. He wanted to live with and love Cole for as many years as possible, not die before he’d even turned 25. Right now, he needed to comfort Cole though, and he leaned forward to sob on his shoulder, free hand wrapping around his neck as gently as possible. In the nightmare he’d wanted to do that out of anger, but now the only thing Adam felt for Cole was love. Love and guilt for putting him through this.

“I do remember… something from before. Or maybe it isn’t a memory, maybe it was a - a nightmare, or something,” He rambled, tears continuing to fall as his thumb rubbed over the back of Cole’s neck from the uncomfortable position he was committing to. “I…or, it wasn’t me but it was me. It was my body. I was so mean to you, and I shoved you against a wall and told you to leave me alone. I thought I was going to kill you, Cole. But I…I stopped it. I don’t know what I did, but I stopped it.” Adam told him, sobbing into the space between Cole’s neck and shoulder. Maybe this wasn’t fair - maybe he shouldn’t be acting like this when it was Cole in the hospital, not him. But fuck, Adam needed comfort. Adam needed to know Cole was alive and that they could get through it together. That Cole didn’t hate him or blame him. “I love you.” He whispered when his tears felt like they might begin to subside. “I love you more than anything, Walden.”

jackforeman​:

WHO: jack foreman & @goldenboyrichards​ </33 WHERE: the richards’ residence

All that Jack could think about on his drive over to Adam’s house was that he had killed him. Probably with his bare hands, too, or whatever that black thing was that he saw in his head. He didn’t know what to think, or how to feel except betrayal and confusion. This was his best friend, someone he’d gone through hell and back with, and it was Adam’s fault that he had missed three years of his life. Three years of not being with his sisters, of being beside them while they mourned him, no matter where they thought he went. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were as white as the hood of his car, his breathing heavy but shaky as he made his way the few blocks to Adam’s house.

He’d waited to do this until Cole was out of the hospital, now knowing what he knew about the two. The past few days had been spent locked in his room with the occasional visit from Jo or Julie until he’d gotten the call from Adam’s sister that he was back at home. There were more important things than demanding answers about something that had happened years ago, especially when it concerned someone who Adam loved.

Jack’s heart was in his throat as he got out of the car, needing a moment to catch his breath before he rang the doorbell to see Adam’s face. It was a sight he hadn’t seen in the flesh since being in the Tunnel of Love despite replaying in his mind, plaguing his dreams since then. The look of determination before Adam had taken him into the warehouse was etched into his memory now, forever. As Adam opened the door, Jack took a step back, forcing a pained smile as he greeted him. “Hey, I heard you were home. Could I, uh … do you have a second? Can I come in?”

Some people were scared of spiders, some were scared of heights. Adam Richards was scared of letting down the people he loved the most. He always had been. Being a people pleaser was in his DNA, constructed out of the burden of being the only son and eldest child in the family. A duty to protect others, keep them safe, had long since been ingrained in him. Hurting someone? Hurting someone went against everything that Adam stood for. In his core, his very being, Adam was destroyed by the thought of hurting another person. It was unthinkable.

Killing Jack? He couldn’t fathom it.

After Jo had gone home a few days ago, Adam had barely left his room. He had known that the blackouts were bad, that they were something he should be scared of. His body wasn’t his when they happened - because Adam would never, ever hurt someone he cared about. But did that really matter? Because Adam had done it. It didn’t matter that it hadn’t been his decision; he had still killed his best friend. His body was more than capable of murder, even if it wasn’t Adam calling the shots. 

When his mom told him that Jack was here to see him, Adam felt nauseous, like he truly might throw up. How could Adam even look at Jack right now? But... how could he not? Jack had every fucking right to hate him - Adam hated himself for what he’d done while blacked out. And if Jack wanted to confront him, then Adam couldn’t and wouldn’t stop it. He shakily walked to the door, opening it and peering at Jack sadly. 

“Yeah, man. Of course,” Adam said, opening it wider and leading the way towards his bedroom. He didn’t want his parents to overhear what he had done. “Jack, I - I’m so sorry. I don’t remember... doing that. And you can say or do whatever you want to me,” He told him after he closed the door behind Jack, nervously stuffing his hands into the pocket of one of the few hoodies Cole and Beth hadn’t stolen from him. “I get it. I’m not really safe to be around right now.” 

analysis ‘ .

'𝐈 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐖𝐀𝐘.'

bold  whatever  applies  to  your  muse.     italicize  the  things  that  are circumstantial.   REPOST ,   DON’T  REBLOG.

been cheated on  |  been bullied  |  had your heart broken  |  broken someone’s heart  |  told a horrible lie  |  been betrayed  |  been framed / set-up  |  stolen something of value  |  overdosed on drugs  |  been drunk  |  cheated  |  bullied  | been publicly humiliated |   punched someone in the face |  been beaten up |  broken a bone  |  been admitted to a hospital  |  put someone in the hospital |  had a near - death experience  |  been drugged  |  done drugs  |  smoked  |  been arrested |  been homeless  |  been forced to commit a crime  |  died and came back to life  |  kissed someone you weren’t attracted to  |  bled severely  |  killed someone  |  been forced to kill someone  |  had an attempt on your life  |  made an attempt on your own life  |  lost someone |  loved someone  |  watched a loved one die  | failed to save / help a loved one  |  felt helpless  |  watched your world die / disappear  |  had your life’s work stolen  /  destroyed    

gone without food for over three days  |  gone without sleep for over three days  |  been tortured / questioned  |  been shot  | been stabbed |  been poisoned  |  been held prisoner |  been trapped  |  been buried alive  | been held hostage  |  held someone hostage  |  been stuck in a different world / universe / time  |  been abused by someone who should have loved / appreciated / valued you  | had a panic attack  | had night terrors  |  been in a car accident | lost your job  |  lost a fight  |  had sex with a stranger  |  been divorced  |  been abandoned |  passed out from pain  |  cried yourself to sleep  |  spent a whole day in bed  |  hurt yourself  | taken your anger out on yourself  |  taken your anger out on someone you love  |  been used  |  been manipulated  | felt used |  manipulated someone else  | had your memories / mind wiped / stolen or tampered with  |  been taken over by a hostile force  |  been terrified  |  played a cruel game on someone  |  been forced to smile  | felt too many things at once | laughed  when you felt like crying |  been in denial  |  been denied  | faced your demons

status : — closed for @goodgrac3s (blue)

location : — second hand threads

the  scent  of  old  fabric  and  citrus-scented  disinfectant  clung  to  the  air,  as  familiar  to  liila  now  as  her  own  shampoo.  she  was  elbow-deep  in  a  box  of  donations,  pulling  out  a  faded  bon  jovi  tour  tee  that  had  definitely  seen  better  decades,  when  the  silence  of  the  store  struck  her  harder  than  usual.  no  laughter  from  the  dressing  rooms.  no  half-assed  lizzie  commentary  from  the  fitting  room  bench.  just  the  buzz  of  the  ceiling  fan  and  the  low  murmur  of  some  indie  playlist  she'd  queued  up  an  hour  ago.  lila  swallowed  hard.  the  shirt  in  her  hands  crumpled  in  her  fingers.  she  didn't  allow  herself  to  cry  at  work.  that  was  for  the  confines  of  her  dorm  room,  exclusively.  she  straightened  up,  her  jaw  clenched,  and  shoved  the  shirt  onto  a  hanger.  when  she  heard  footsteps,  soft-soled  and  familiar  lila  didn't  even  look  up  before  she  spoke.  “you'd  think  murder  would  come  with  more  closure,  huh?”  her  voice  came  out  flatter  than  she'd  intended.  not  bitter.  not  angry.  just…  hollow.  like  she'd  run  out  of  steam  three  grief  spirals  ago.  she  finally  glanced  over  at  blue,  brushing  a  strand  of  hair  from  her  cheek  as  she  nodded  toward  the  donation  pile.  “someone  donated  a  live,  laugh,  love  wall  decal.  if  that's  not  a  goddamn  sign,  i  don't  know  what  is.”

I prepared a romantic dinner for the proposing of Zefir and Rouge, all went well until some idiot got guts and flirted with Rouge. Zefir took care of it...

just putting it out there: james potter and sirius black were bullies, remus lupin was an enabler and peter pettigrew is a literal murderer. the marauders were not flower crown wearing cinnamon rolls of goodness, they were pretty awful children.

but they were still better than snape

NEW OC RAHHHH

TW: Abuse, neglect, murder

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Just the picture: