#tw: chemical weapons
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Gerard of arc
#mcr#my chemical romance#my chemical art#art#gerard way#mcr posting#gerard way mcr#digitalart#idk how to tag lmao#swarm tour#digital painting#the art is the weapon#gerard of arc#tw blood#im not entirely sure if it's needed#but better safe than sorry
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My silly little (1030 word) analysis on The World is Ugly and how it's about homophobia/transphobia for those who care.
Tw: homophobia/transphobia, hate crimes, suicide.
“These are the eyes and the lies of the taken”
When you’re openly queer it feels like all eyes are on you, you get called slurs and lies and misinterpretations are spout towards you. Especially if you were raised in a religious space, you grow up learning that queer people are going to burn in hell, that you are a failure and a sinner.
“These are their hearts, but their hearts don't beat like ours”
Straight people don’t love the same way we do, they don’t understand us. Their hearts don’t beat like ours, they don’t live the same way we do. They don’t understand us, which often leads to them fearing and hating us.
“They burn 'cause they are all afraid”
Living in a bigoted/religious family, while being queer is hard. It’s scary, you’re constantly afraid, afraid of what would happen if they find out, afraid of what they’ll do if you slip up and out yourself. You have to misgender friends around them for you and your friends safety, you have to pretend lovers are just close friends.
This could also be referring to the fact that bigots are afraid of us, they might deny it but they are.
“For every one of us there's an army of them”
It feels like there’s an army of bigots at your door at all moments, threatening you, telling you you’re a sinner and a groomer. That you'll burn in hell if you don't turn to their god and repent for nonexistent sins.
“But you'll never fight alone”
I feel like this depicts a lover, telling their parter that they don’t have to fight the oppression alone. That they’ll always have their back, that they’ll never fight alone. I see this in my own relationship, both me and my partner are living in religious households, being told that being queer is a sin. In my case as a person who is out to my family (though they think I’m nonbinary and lesbian) being told that I am a sinner, cursed to rot in hell for all eternity.
“'Cause I wanted you to know that the world is ugly but you're beautiful to me”
Here the lover/found family member telling a person that while the world may be ugly, while they may be oppressed. While the world may be on fire, and dying, while wars may kill thousands an injure many more. That they are beautiful, that they are beautiful to them.
“These are the nights and the lights that we fade in”
This could be depicting the lovers/found family running away from bigoted families to be together fading into the night to live their lives together happily. Free from the people who harmed them and kept them apart. It’s a story you hear a lot, leaving your bigoted family to be openly yourself, it’s a story that I hope to have some day.
“These are the words, but the words aren't coming out, they burn 'cause they are hard to say”
I’m going to take ‘coming out’ in the literal sense here. Telling bigoted family who you are is borderline impossible, those words are so incredibly hard to say. They’re like burning fire on your tongue, in your throat. Burning a hole through your very being because you know they could ruin your life. Being kicked out is a real possibility, a terrifying one at that. They could get you beat, shamed, sent to conversion therapy.
“For every failing sun there's a morning after”
Life feels so isolating as a queer person in a bigoted/religious space, like the sun is failing, like the night will never end. Here we see a lover/found family member insuring that even when the present is so dark and bleak, that there’s a morning after. There’s light ahead if you’re able to fight long enough to see it, that you will survive.
“Though I'm empty”
You feel so empty hiding, so empty pretending you’re okay. Like you’re a hollow shell, trying to stay alive long enough to get to that light. Looking in the mirror makes you feel sick, hollow. Your mind whispers “That isn’t you, that isn’t your body.” And you know you can’t do anything about it till you’re in a place where you can move away and live freely. You look at your partner while pretending to be just friends and all you can think of is being openly together, holding hands in public and declaring you’re taken. Every time someone asks you “Why aren’t you dating anyone yet?” and you have to say you just haven’t met the right person yet, when in reality you’ll never meet the right person because you don’t feel that way about people. It’s such a sad and empty feeling.
“Are you thinking of me like I'm thinking of you?”
A good amount of queer relationships are hidden, quiet and unnoticed. This often leads to feelings of doubt in your relationship, you struggle to tell if they do still truly love you. If they’re thinking of you like you’re thinking of them.
“These are the lies and the lives of the taken”
Bigotry kills, the lies spread by bigots leads to hate crimes and suicides. Their lie take lives, their lies lead to dead children.
“These are their hearts, but their hearts don't beat like ours, they burn 'cause they are all afraid. But mine beats twice as hard.”
Queer people in religious spaces are forced to be resilient, we all know the rules. Keep your head up, avoid questions about dating, when unable to avoid the questions say you haven’t found the right person, blend in. Your heart figuratively beats twice as hard.
“Stop your crying, helpless feeling, dry your eyes and start believing. There's one thing they'll never take from you”
Here a lover/found family member is telling a person that they’ll be okay, to stop crying and believe that they’ll survive long enough to make it to a safe space. When you’re trapped in an unaccepting space it can feel so helpless, so painful. There’s one thing that bigots will never take from us, our queerness, our existence.
#mcr#my chemical romance#the world is ugly#conventional weapons#gerard way#frank iero#ray toro#mikey way#song analysis#tw suicide#tw hate crime#tw homophobia#tw transphobes
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I did it. I made a killjoys OC.
He's called Voltage and he's a member of the Ultra V's
#he got that scar from val shooting him in the face lolll#I love them sm#tw blood#digital art#novacorpseocs#novacorpsefanartmarvel#novacorpseart#the true lives of the fabulous killjoys#fabulous killjoys#do weapons need a tw?#tw weapon#danger days the true lives of the fabulous killjoys#my chemical romance#killjoys#mcr fanart#mcr#killjoys oc
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omg i’m actually wheezing out loud... i’m doing a bit of desktop spring cleaning since all my folders have gotten cluttered as hell and i just stumbled across a draft of my master’s thesis that i suppose can be termed a director’s cut-- its much longer than the final product and has a lot of close reading that i had to eventually cut out for the sake of a streamlined argument. now in itself this wouldn’t be particularly funny, but what you need to understand is that i wrote my master’s thesis on the animorphs. as in k.a. applegate’s cult classic children’s science-fantasy the animorphs. in which at one point the protagonists use instant maple and ginger oatmeal against the yeerks (parasitic alien slug bad guys) as a chemical weapon. so there’s a point in my thesis where after a respectable 15 pages of thoughtful and cohesive analysis i’ve just got one single sentence reading OATMEAL NUCLEAR BOMB. THOUGHTS?
#ari.txt#adventures in academia#my stomach actually hurts WHERE was i trying to go with this???#chemical weapons tw#nuclear bomb tw#just to be safe
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Well, this is getting very little coverage...but the truth came out.
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The Gentleman Chapter Six: Tremble
Alfred Pennyworth x Black Dancer!Reader
Summary: Scarecrow threatens to bring Gotham to its knees while you and those you love find yourself caught in the middle
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, canon typical violence, mentions of chemical weapons, anxiety and hallucinations, mild angst and hurt/comfort, competency kink, alfred being a soft dom, smut: soft spanking tw, body worship, oral (reader receiving)
Word Count: 12.0k
This chapter is finally here and I actually cannot believe the journey it has been from when I started working on this, having months of difficulty writing and then I just write this massive chapter! I’m really happy to be sharing it and I hope it’s well worth the wait. I really appreciate and cherish all your comments and love and patience especially on this series, it means so much 🤎
[series masterlist] [series playlist]
At the mercy of impending catastrophe, an entire city was holding its breath in sick anticipation.
News of Scarecrow and his fear toxin was everywhere one went, anxiety climbing with every hushed discussion and passing day without answers.
His motives were still unclear and everyone was trying to decipher the severity of the message he had left: This is Gotham’s only warning. Fear the Scarecrow.
What was to come next? And would you be ready?
Trust in Gotham’s institutions was few and far between for most, though you did feel a little more hopeful with Mayor Bella Reál’s steady presence in public lately—even still, people were bracing themselves.
For you that meant dance rehearsals were still being held so stage time was abundant, the exotic performances and the allure of the Iceberg Lounge were quickly becoming a good means of escape for many in the city.
You wanted to dazzle the audience, satisfied when you could suspend their belief that this was just a dance and convince them nymphs and sirens were real and alive in front of them instead.
It was easy to throw yourself into the work if you thought about it; counting steps and turns while the band played their hearts out.
There was no other competition, the shimmer and sparkle of the costumes, the lingerie underneath even more dazzling, opal pearls and diamonds adorning your lush bodies caught every single eye.
Five, six, seven…a spotlight shines down upon you, such a pretty beacon of desire, of the passion flowering so strongly in your own heart until there’s nothing but you and the music.
You left nothing on that stage at the end of the night.
Especially not when Alfred was in the crowd watching you with an ever growing adoration.
He made the effort to catch a show when he could, waiting with roses for you afterwards and no compliment or praise spared from your ears if he could help it.
It was amazing how much things could shift, how nervous you had been the first time you knew he would be watching and now you welcomed it, relished in his promise to show up for you simply because he thought your talent and love for your artform was worth it, that you were worth it.
And of course how could you forget his handwritten letter with such neat and elegantly written words, the very letter that sat on your nightstand since your date in the bookstore when he presented it to you and made it all official.
You read over it in the late night hours and in the morning when you woke up wishing he was next to you, until you could recite every word he had written by heart. Weeks ago you would have felt anxious about entering a relationship, not wanting to go through heartbreak if your feelings weren’t the same but now you understood Alfred would never let you stand on unsteady ground.
He hadn’t since the first moment your paths collided, the memory of it still so vivid you could practically hear the echo of your pounding footsteps on the concrete hurrying to reach him, taking a chance on a stranger and embracing him out of fear only to come away from it with your pulse racing for an entirely different reason instead.
Something solid and gentle had formed here and you wanted to be cocooned inside of it forever.
Your friends definitely didn’t hide their excitement that you were “basically dating a member of the Wayne family!” as Roxie had put it.
She was the first to tell you she wouldn’t mind at all if you slipped Bruce her number. Bambi was already ride or die for the relationship, as was Amber and then Kiera’s encouragement of all things romance on top of it all certainly made this a fanclub if you’d ever seen one.
Truthfully though their reassurances kept you from letting the tendency to overthink get in the way, making sure you knew that the way Alfred treated you was everything you deserved.
Grateful felt like too simple a word but it’s perhaps the best word to summarize the way you felt about each of them. Elated in how they celebrated this with you, a sing-song chorus of excitement when you told them about his letter in the chat or how everything went after he spent the night at your place for the first time.
It kept you hopeful, appreciating everything you had just a little extra.
Fresh snow dusted the windowsills of The Magpie where you were counting down the time until you’d have your evening free to spend with Alfred.
You would see him in just a few short minutes anyways, with Bruce in tow for a meeting with the mayor and her team but knowing you’d still have some time before you truly got him to yourself left you feeling a little antsy.
The bar had already been wiped down twice and you just checked on the handful of people sitting around for brunch, most of them talking and finishing off their drinks for the time being.
So you settled on people-watching, polishing the crystal whiskey glasses while you did, arranging them in a stacked pyramid and you were almost done with the menial task when Bruce Wayne sidled up to the bar.
“Oh, hey! Can I get you anything, Mr. Wayne?” you greeted him with a smile, doing your best not to make it obvious you were also looking to see if Alfred was nearby.
“Please just call me Bruce, you don’t have to keep it so formal, really I insist. And just coffee if you can.”
“Sorry, habit. I can get you some coffee, any sugar or cream?” you were laughing to yourself a little, forgetting that you didn’t have to address him so properly every time.
You still did that with Alfred sometimes, a ‘Mr. Pennyworth’ at the tip of your tongue on occasion which always came with a playful scolding.
“No thanks, I’ll take it as is,” Bruce corrected, thanking you again when you set the steaming mug down in front of him. “Oh, before I forget. He may have told you this already but when time allows it Alfred likes to try and get Dory and I together for a proper Sunday dinner and if you’re able to this coming weekend, I wanted to try and surprise him.”
Oh, how thoughtful! Quickly realizing he was inviting you to join them in this tradition of theirs made your heart swell and you hastened to accept.
“That sounds so nice! Of course I can be there. Should I bring anything, dessert maybe?”
“Yes, that would be perfect actually. It’ll be nice to have you there..uh, I know we haven’t had much time to speak but thank you, it’s good to see him happy lately and that’s because of you.”
Bruce’s usual shy, reserved tone was more open, a little softer and you felt relief knowing that you had his approval in a way, maybe not wanting to admit to yourself that it had been a quiet worry all this time.
His and Alfred’s relationship was on better working ground now and you didn’t want to complicate that or make it any more difficult for them to connect in the way they needed and it was very clear from the start that they did need each other and cared for one another fiercely.
This was good, really good.
“I’m glad and that’s okay by the way there’s been a lot going on you’re probably just as busy as he is, if not more, I figured we’d get to talk at some point. I really do just want to make him happy and I hope you know he is because of you too, he’s so proud of you.”
Your last few words saw the very rare edge of a smile before he took a sip from the mug, face turning stoic again.
Speaking of Alfred, he walked in the very next moment, as effortlessly handsome as usual. His suit was a crisp charcoal gray, a black tie tucked perfectly into that pristine waistcoat you knew felt smooth under your hands, the familiar gold accents of his wristwatch and cane pulling it all together.
He always looked incredible but god did he have you weak from halfway across the room today, those kind, blue eyes finding you with ease.
Waving him over to the bar, you started making his usual cup of Earl Grey, sharing a sheepish smile when you greeted each other.
“Good to see you, darling. I hope you’ve had an easy morning.” The depth and lull of his voice and that accent sent warmth spreading across your cheeks, distracted from hearing the affection in his tone.
“I have, thank you,” setting his cup of tea down on the bar counter, you leave the milk out for him to pour how he likes, “Hope the meeting goes well, you’re gonna kill it!”
“That’s very nice of you. I imagine it will, what we’re proposing will benefit the city and they seem receptive to Bruce’s ideas, which is all we can ask for.”
Beaming at him you nodded encouragingly, giving yourself a few more moments to talk with the two men before the mayor arrived and they were whisked off to a more private table.
Kiera came in not long after that, you were really just working the morning to fill in for her until she could get here but your plans to leave with Alfred right after his meeting lined up with the timing anyways.
An hour passed ever so slowly, the meeting finally finishing with what looked like good spirits from everyone and before long you were saying your goodbye’s to Bruce since he had to head out while Alfred lagged behind to take a phone call from his office.
Bundled up in your coat, you waited by the hostess stand content to watch the snow flurries begin to fall outside, such a stark contrast to the warm, crimson interior.
Not sure how long you were lost admiring the view, a warm hand slides across your lower back drawing your attention in a gentle caress you’re sure you’d know anywhere.
“Ready to leave?” Alfred held his hand out for you and kissed your knuckles when you fit your palm against his.
The eager nod of your head and the accompanying excited giggle gave you away but you didn’t care to hide how much you’d been looking forward to this evening with him.
“Ready.”
Outside the air was chilly, coats zipped up a little higher while you discussed what the plans were for the rest of the day.
It was still fairly quiet out on the streets, the business sector in this part of the city always a bit more empty than the bustling traffic of downtown that you were used to, at least before dinner rush anyway.
Nothing out of the ordinary piqued your attention until Alfred was pausing mid-sentence, asking if you heard what he had heard.
“No, what-” but no sooner than you had opened your mouth, the faintest recognition of what sounded like a scream could be heard. You flicked your eyes up to him in concern.
Had it really been a scream? Or was the frigid wind playing tricks on you, whistling through the air?
The same sound rang out again somewhere in the distance, only this time you both were able to hear a distinct shout of “HELP!” following it.
The mood had suddenly turned urgent but it was as if you could only move in slow motion until you realized that at this very moment, the other shoe had indeed dropped.
Chaos was the only way to describe it, more shouts piercing the air but nothing prepared you for the wave of people running out into the street in every direction.
You can’t be sure exactly what’s going on or what everyone was running from but the gears were already spinning in your mind and you don’t hesitate to move when Alfred hurriedly nudged you to follow him, clutching onto his jacket as he guided you to cross the street where his car was parked around the corner.
But you wouldn’t make it more than a few steps off the curb.
The flow of the crowd was too dense, too panicked and you were jostled as you tried to keep your feet steady on slick, snowy pavement.
A gasp was knocked loose from your throat when someone shoved past you, upsetting your balance in the process, the impact forcing you to let go of Alfred’s hand.
Fingers flailed but it was no use, you couldn’t move fast enough and soon more people pushed themselves between you on all sides which meant he couldn’t reach you either. You were quickly losing sight of him, legs feeling like lead as you tried to follow the sound of his voice shouting your name but there’s too much noise to filter out.
No, no! Where is he? I can’t see him anymore.
Your heart sank realizing you’d lost him in the crowd, even as frantically as you were searching for him there were so many people dashing past as you also tried to keep moving that you knew it would be impossible to find him like this.
You were separated and on your own.
Now it felt like your sense of direction was off, not sure if you were still headed in the right direction towards his car anymore, the whole world feeling like it was swallowing you up.
Deep breaths, just take a deep breath. Keep moving.
You had to repeat it to yourself in order to stay calm, trying to reassure yourself that somehow you could make it out of whatever this was but a pang of worry for Alfred made you feel nauseous.
Unwelcome thoughts of something happening to him threatened to take root amidst your struggle to think. Hands moving on their own volition, you reached into your bag to fumble for your phone; maybe you could could get a hold of him by calling, sending a text, could find where he was and try and make your way to him in the event you ended up making it to the car and he wasn’t there.
Seconds later, up ahead of you, a truck swerved to avoid a group of people rushing into the intersection which sent everyone scrambling to move aside, inadvertently knocking you off balance again.
Stinging pain prickled in the meat of your shins, rattling all the way up to your temple when you collided with the cold concrete, eyes going wide knowing it wasn’t safe to be on the ground like this.
But it didn’t matter because had you not been knocked to the ground you weren’t sure you would have noticed it: the shiny silver canister nestled in a pile of snow not six feet away.
Something didn’t feel right about this. It felt like you were being herded to this point.
Under the noise of so many footsteps and all the commotion you heard it click, a slow whistling hiss coming after. The sound grew louder but you were already scrambling backwards trying to put distance between you and the cloudy plume of gas extinguishing from the cylinder.
This had to be the fear toxin, this had to be him.
Fresh screams dotted the blood rushing to your brain through your ears, dread forming a hard lump in your throat as you watched the gas diffuse again and mix with the falling snow.
Loosening your scarf you folded it over your nose and mouth hoping it would buy you some time if you weren’t breathing as much of it in, you couldn’t be sure you hadn’t already.
Your heart was hammering in your ribs when you finally found your footing and could stand, ignoring the strain in your muscles or how your skin felt raw from where your tights had snagged and torn from crawling on the pavement.
Now that you were on your feet again your surroundings were more familiar.
It’s how you spotted the mouth of an alleyway to your right, knowing exactly where it would lead, recognizing the rust red fire escape peeking out from the side of the building. You hadn’t realized you traveled back this far but you’d take it, at least you’d be off the street this way.
The disadvantage of this was that you were working against the flow of bodies but you tried to keep your stance wide and square out your shoulders so you couldn’t be pushed quite as easily, and there was something else…a noticeable difference in how people were acting.
It wasn’t just panic in their eyes, pupils glazed over and blown wide, this was an erratic look of fright. This toxin was confirmed to cause hallucinations which could only mean there had to be dozen’s on this street alone who’d come in contact with it.
You could only imagine what awful things they were seeing, your voice ricocheting against the clamor of sounds trying to warn whoever you could.
Just then, the quickest flash of gold appears in your peripheral and you hear your name again turning in time to see him, Alfred, shouldering his way through the crowd.
You stared in awe, questioning for a split second if you were starting to see things too but he was really there fighting and pushing his way through the packed street to get to you.
The small relief when he reached you, both of his arms locking around you this time before ushering you the rest of the way. Slipping into the alleyway was easy after that.
“Are you hurt? Darling, look at me please! Are you hurt?” His voice is chalked with concern, a clipped edge to his tone that echoed against the brick wall you had slumped against to catch your breath.
He’s already looking you up and down in careful assessment.
“I’m fine! I’m okay..I think, but wait, Alfred! This was intentional, the gas it-” the words come tumbling out but you fall short at the nod he gave you. Of course he had pieced it together. You’re gulping before noticing his cane is missing. “What about you? I was so worried when we-” the words died in your throat for a second time remembering how you got separated in the crowd.
You didn’t trust yourself not to cry.
“Me too, sweet girl but I am alright. I was far more worried about you.” and it’s the tenderness in his voice that makes you sniffle.
Screaming cuts through the brief moment of rest and you both agree you need to get out of here, deciding to stay off the main streets. If you could cut through a few alleyways you’d be able to get to his car.
His hand is once again steady in yours, thumb passing over your skin trying to soothe you while your own fingers return pressure here and there, beyond relieved to be next to him again even with a million more worries arising.
The damage had already been done though, time beginning to move slowly, buildings looming high above feeling suffocating, as if maybe you’d never find your way out, every muffled cry or scream from the streets a terrible chorus.
A loud squeal and the creaking of metal a few feet ahead halted your steps again, Alfred’s arm thrown back to push you behind him.
Four men filed out of a side door, the hoods of their jackets pulled up so they were shrouded in shadows, both of you just barely avoiding being seen.
Alfred had hastened to backtrack and slip behind an empty delivery truck in the alley that provided some cover without close inspection but was still too close for any sort of comfort.
Everything in you went quiet and still, clammy fingers gripping Alfred’s bicep a little tighter, grateful you were wedged between the side of the truck and his body. You don’t want to look their way again but your anxiety rises at the thought of not knowing how far away they were so you risk a peek over his shoulder.
Your blood goes cold almost instantly, breath sucked from your lungs when a fifth man stepped forth.
Dead eyes pierced through a ripped burlap hood covering the man’s head, its crooked stitching reminding you of an old scarecrow only the rest of him was clad in a suit. All you felt was dread.
“Keep your eyes peeled.” a distorted command came from behind the decrepit hood.
There was something terrifying about the way this man moved, it was creepy and sinister, your suspicions confirmed when you spotted more of those silver canisters peeking out from his suit jacket just before he was slinking away, moving out onto the street ahead flanked by those four men, each with a weapon in hand.
Tentative relief came seeing the distance increase between your position and theirs but you weren’t out of the woods yet by any means with one more street to go.
Counting shallow breaths one by one, you waited until the crunch of their footsteps on the snow faded enough to move ahead safely.
Alfred squeezed your fingers to get your attention, motioning for you to follow him from out behind the truck carefully. It was best not to stay idle here too long.
In the midst of trying to process what just occurred you didn’t notice Alfred pull out a small blade until you saw it clenched in his left hand, noting the way he kept it tucked in towards his palm so that outwardly no one could see it was there.
His other hand gripped your arm, keeping you from being able to move from behind his back as you crept forward together, a defensiveness in his movements that made it seem like this was just muscle memory for him.
Here he was, protecting you, keeping you calm this whole time and though it wasn’t surprising anymore you were still a little struck by just how much he cared for you, your wellbeing. It bled through into every part of him and that had your heart clenching.
When you finally made it out of the alley fresh worry spiked like ice inside your chest, attention drawn to every direction trying to make sure nothing would catch either of you off guard now that you were no longer under the cover of the city’s alleyways but at last, after what felt like an eternity, you had arrived.
Unlocking the car and seeing to it that you were safely tucked inside, Alfred was skillfully weaving the sleek vehicle through the streets in no time.
—
Everything felt like it was turned upside down.
Sirens and police cars whizzed past, headed in the direction you’d just left behind and you could only watch as the weather turned dreary.
Alfred checked in every so often, comforting you with reassuring glances, a soft squeeze to your knee which you returned with a weak smile. You were sure he had noticed you shivering as well and felt appreciative of the warm air circulating through the vents.
Remembering your phone after a moment you fished it out of your bag, replying to a string of texts from Kiera who was worried sick and thankfully still safe inside where you last saw her.
Scrolling through the rest of your messages and missed phone calls that kept pinging in your notifications you let each of them know you were safe until it hit you that something was missing, a sudden gasp catching Alfred’s attention.
“Do-do you think Bruce is okay? He left a few minutes before us. Maybe he managed to miss all that.”
“I’m sure he made it through, but he’s not been answering his phone. We’ll be at the Tower soon and we can check.”
It sounds hopeful but the crease of worry between his brows makes you wonder.
Trying to cling to the more hopeful outcome, you attempt to keep bad thoughts at bay with the idea that you’d see that swath of dark hair emerging from the staircase as soon as you step into the foyer. He just had to be there.
The rest of the drive was fairly quiet but the noise in your head made up for it.
You couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d seen—Scarecrow. How close you’d gotten to the fear toxin but so luckily managed to avoid it, a sick feeling in your stomach seeing what it did to the people around you.
Whatever his big plans were for the people of Gotham, you were sure they were horrifying.
Anxiety drips from your shoulders when the car finally comes to a stop, limbs heavy again as you soar up to the penthouse floors from the parking garage elevator and it’s only when the low hum of the lift stops that you let go of Alfred’s hand, the doors opening to a suspended silence.
It only took a few minutes and a quick search to see that it was evident Bruce wasn’t here.
Your stomach was twisted into knots again waiting patiently while Alfred tried his cell phone one more time. Each trilling of the dial tone felt longer than the last and your heart sank once it went to voicemail.
“If he has his location on, I’m sure I’ll be able to find him.” He takes a deep breath, pacing the floor trying to think, to come up with answers.
Wringing your hands wasn’t doing much to ease the tension in your body so you forced yourself to lean against the solid wood table of the main room.
Touching something solid seemed to help and you wanted to be helpful to Alfred right now, at the very least supportive in the effort to find Bruce, hoping anxiety wouldn’t take over everything.
Mentally you were running through a list of possible places near the incident that he could be, fingers flying to your phone to search news updates, find out if Bruce’s name had been mentioned anywhere.
“Christ, I’ve found him! His phone is at the GCPD building. He can’t have been there for very long yet.”
“Okay, that’s good. He’s probably okay then if he’s there of all places, right?” your question is tinged with a cautious optimism as is Alfred’s responding agreement but you still feel unsure.
“I’m going to head there regardless, surely he’s fine but I don’t want to take any chances. I wish he would answer his bloody phone, though.”
He sounded like such a dad in that moment you might have laughed if the circumstances were different.
“Maybe he’s there with the mayor too, they walked out together before us, it was probably the first place he would think to go especially if they saw something related to what we saw.” you offer a little reassurance and reach out to squeeze his shoulder.
“Smart girl. I’m sure you are right.” Alfred sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment.
Fngers pinching the bridge of his nose before he slips his glasses from his breast pocket and puts them on, focused in on what needed to be done once again, typing out a few messages to Bruce in the meantime.
“I can come with you, just in case he’s in trouble or, or.” you don’t want to go any further with possibilities and you aren’t sure how to articulate your uneasiness at him going back out there on his own even if he could handle himself.
It upset you to think you wouldn’t be there, wouldn’t know if something else were to happen.
“Oh my love, I appreciate that. You’ve been so brave through all this and I do want you with me but more importantly I need you safe and staying here will ensure that. I don’t want you in harm's way.” he’s setting down his phone to cup your cheeks, moving in close so his nose brushes yours gently.
You want to protest but understand that he’s right, the lump in your throat returning as you look at him.
He was being strong, for you, keeping it together just to make sure you weren’t any more frightened than you needed to be but you could see the stress in his features and knew you needed to be strong for him too.
“I don’t like it but I understand,” you relented with a whisper, leaning into him a little more, unconsciously trying to hold on. “I’ll stay here but just please be careful okay?”
Alfred moved back a bit so you’d look him in the eyes, a determination in them that takes away some unsettled nerves.
“I promise I will be. I’ll keep in touch as well, as soon as I find out anything you’ll get a call.” His soft murmur came in between the gentle press of his lips against your forehead.
His kisses were effective in calming you even if it didn’t help the reluctance to part from him, you know he has to go and don’t want to delay him any longer.
A new wave of emotion crests at the way he fusses over you before departing; making sure you were okay to be here alone for a bit, reminding you to eat something soon and that there was a change of clothes still in his room if you wanted to shower and take off your torn tights and snow dampened sweater.
The anxious shake of your hands was better even as you kissed him goodbye, returning his thoughtfulness by making sure he had a pair of gloves and another cane from his collection in hand before hurrying off, your feet lingering for a moment longer after the elevator doors close behind him.
Now…the waiting began.
—
Barely twenty minutes have gone by but you’re restless and there’s a sharp tension in your shoulders all the way down to your hamstrings that won’t ease up even when you try to relax.
Wayne Tower was quiet and far too empty, the methodic tick of the old grandfather clock in the foyer and your footsteps all the sound she’d bestow.
Sitting still has proved to be impossible so you wander the halls, count the steps each staircase you go up, try to roll out the stiffness in your neck little by little.
It’s only afternoon but the skies are gray and dark, some heavy kind of shadow cast over every corner that could be touched and there wasn’t a single thing you could do about it but have patience.
News updates are slow meaning no one knows anything concrete yet, just that nearby hospitals were starting to get an influx of people affected by the fear toxin and police were all over the scene of the incident and surrounding areas. You’re just glad it seemed to be isolated to the few blocks you had navigated around earlier, nothing else occurring elsewhere in the city.
That certainly didn’t mean these incidents weren’t going to spread, you were fully prepared to hear of more fear toxin attacks in the near future with so much mystery still surrounding Scarecrow.
This whole thing felt deeper than what you could see at the surface but all you could come up with were questions and more questions.
But there’s no use in giving yourself a headache, not now at least, your phone ringing abruptly and Alfred’s name illuminating the screen. You’re answering before the second ring, taking a deep breath the moment he tells you everything is alright.
Bruce was indeed at GCPD headquarters when Alfred got there and the pair were in the process of giving statements about what they saw related to the attack so it was looking like they were going to be there for a while yet.
You don’t get to speak to Alfred for long before you hear him being summoned and you’re wrapping things up, wishing him well before he leaves you with a promise that he’ll update you as things go.
Your body felt much lighter now that you knew they were safe, the tightness in your chest dissipating as you finally allowed yourself to unwind a little.
Stomach still too tense to try and eat anything yet, you opt to take a shower instead, the change of clothes and the hot steam of the water would do you good.
Finding the familiar path to Alfred’s bedroom was easy, his space inviting, kept as tidy as ever but you still see all of him in it.
The faded bookmark sticking out of the novel on his bedside table, his nighttime reading glasses that lay folded on a stack of books to the left, and the tie and cufflinks atop his dresser still there from when he was getting ready this morning you imagined.
You’re comforted knowing you’re surrounded by his things and you’re further softened seeing your clothing items amongst his from when you stayed the night for the first time, everything neatly folded in the way you’ve learned he liked to fold.
Thoughts of him lingered as you retreated into the warmth of the shower, adrenaline slowly leached from your body, swirling down the drain with the soapy water.
You didn’t realize how exhausted you were from the last hour and a half until your eyes started to feel heavy but you don’t want to get out just yet.
It feels safe here and you’re already too far gone indulging in daydreams of your boyfriend, the thrill of being able to call him that now—the same one who practically bouldered his way through a crowd of people to reach you.
In the moment there hadn’t been time to really think about it but now that you were alone with your thoughts, it’s all you could replay.
Or maybe it’s all you wanted to think about but either way you wanted to drown in whatever strength and steadfast skill Alfred possessed, heart fluttering thinking of how every movement was intentional, the way his entire body pivoted to shield you, keep you safe as you moved through the streets, the switchblade he so effortlessly and quietly had ready and the expert flourish of his wrist when he pocketed it in the car.
Yes you knew he had been a soldier, had seen combat and was skilled in more areas than you could count, you could only imagine all the technical and psychological training he had from his days as an intelligence agent and though you took those parts of him seriously, you also couldn’t help but find it all deeply attractive.
Where words could not be applied, he showed you.
Refreshed and in more comfortable clothes, your mind felt a little clearer even if having to wait was still difficult but you try and be patient for another update, checking in with your friends in the meantime.
Alfred’s bedroom was warm from the steam still escaping from the connecting bathroom and you felt far too cozy here to venture back downstairs so you climb into the large bed and curl up on his side, comforted by the fact that his pillows smell like him.
No longer restless from the quiet aura in the air, fatigue rolled in, the energy to worry had faded quickly. Instead you began to drift off, the allure of resting pulling you under so easily.
Your phone is still clutched in your hand as you oscillate between worlds, thinking of Alfred and that “oh my love” that had left his lips so tenderly, understanding now why your breath caught in your chest after, why you’d been persuaded to listen.
He refused to let you dismiss your own wellbeing when thinking of others, your importance to him was too great to let you follow him into the unknown even if he’d feel much better having you by his side.
Nothing was going to happen to you if he had anything to do about it.
You hadn’t ever been shown this much adoration before and so fiercely and consistently at that and you slip into a light slumber thinking that this must be what falling in love felt like. To know perhaps, somewhere etched deep within you that it was exactly that. Love.
An unending flame, a sewn red string, so viscerally real it had you swearing to nurture it always. Even in sleep you know you’d never dream of stopping.
—
Winter sun had just begun to set when you were woken up by the sharp buzzing of your phone. A text message.
On the way back now, Bruce is with me. Hope you’re doing alright, I’ll see you soon, lovely
x Alfred
Smiling at the good news you rub the grogginess from your eyes and reply back before tucking your face back into the pillow for a few more minutes.
Your nap had lasted an hour or so and afternoon was quickly spilling into evening as you blink the last remnants of sleep away and check the time. Anticipation and the rumbling in your tummy finally get you up.
Taking a few moments to fix where your curls had flattened to your head from laying on your side, you fluffed out the small coils until it looked the way you wanted, padding down the old staircases and into the kitchen soon after.
You wanted to try and make something quick to eat for when they got back, you were sure if you were hungry they must be too especially after everything that had happened, all the extra energy spent.
A quick browse through the fridge and pantry had you grabbing ingredients for sandwiches, absentmindedly putting everything together and you’d just stacked the last one on the plate when you heard the elevator chime and you didn't bother to put anything away, rushing out to the foyer right away.
You don’t care that you’re running, feet carrying you forward with their own motivation, you’ve waited long enough and it’s a complete and total relief when Alfred and Bruce step inside.
Alfred saw you first, a grunt that turns into a chuckle resounding through his chest when you all but crash into him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in a hug that he returns immediately, his own arms sliding across your torso to pull you in close.
Not a second more apart, that is all you wished out of the rest of this day.
“I’m so happy you guys are back. What’s going on out there?” you compose yourself after a moment.
“Half the city is shut down right now, people are scared and staying inside judging by how empty the streets are.” Bruce runs a hand through his hair while he explains.
You almost don’t notice that his fingers are smudged in some sort of dark ink or paint, the color reminding you of motor oil, thoughts racing as to what could have happened, what he might have seen.
“Are you guys doing okay?” you’re asking quietly as you all walk into the main room, hoping you hadn’t pressed too much too soon, just worried by what their faces won’t yield.
Alfred shrugs off his coat and rubs your shoulders to comfort you.
“We’re both alright, darling, don’t worry.” He's reassuring you, steady and measured voice calming you enough to where you begin to let yourself focus on how delighted you are to see them.
Bruce is the first to head to the kitchen when you mention you made sandwiches if anyone was hungry, his thanks echoing down the hall.
You take a moment then to greet Alfred properly, kissing him soundly, spine tingling when he returned the kiss with a sweet pressure that gave away how much he missed you.
“I’m so sorry it’s been hours, their investigation is a big operation and nearly everyone needed to speak to us. Are you doing alright? I’ve been thinking of you all afternoon." He's looking over your frame again, almost like he can’t help but check for himself one more time
“I’m okay, I promise! Actually doing a lot better now that you’re here. It was hard not to be a nervous wreck for a second there but I took a shower and ended up sleeping for an hour and that really helped.” you’re sighing contently against his shoulder.
“That’s my girl. I am so proud of you for how you’ve handled all this today, I really am. That’s great!”
His words were so full of praise and affection it flusters your thoughts and you’re glad he can’t fully see your face lest he notice how much you’re affected, how much that just made you want him, but you reasoned it wasn’t the right time for romantic feelings and desires to take hold yet.
Not when there were still so many questions and things to be talked about, so you stow away those thoughts for the moment, already sure the tension would be palpable when you were able to be alone.
Maybe it would only be a little longer left till then.
Eventually the two of you joined Bruce in the kitchen, everyone feeling a little more settled after eating, able to process and debrief about what madness you’d found yourselves in today.
Surreal didn’t even begin to describe how it felt but it’s all you could manage to say, not quite sure how you were able to make it out of the chaos in the streets unscathed save for a few bruises, it all felt like a bad dream come to life and everyone feared that the worst was still yet to come, that sick feeling in your gut returning with the thought that they were probably right.
Dusky colors peeked over the horizon as the three of you tuned into the five o’clock evening news hour, wary faces glued to the TV as the first solid pictures of Scarecrow flashed across the screen. Your knees bounced nervously where you were sitting on an old loveseat, the reminder of his hooded face making you shiver.
An eerie cell phone video showed him moving down a street with his henchmen, people screaming and writhing on the ground from the toxin.
It seemed like he enjoyed what he had caused, a maniacal glint to his eyes, in the way he moved his face under that hood you swore had to be fused to his skin by the way it looked on him. You had to look away after the third loop of the video, an attempt to keep any nightmares about him later at bay.
Some information was given about the initial incident that sent everyone running; the toxin had been released inside the vents at the City Hall building near The Magpie, gas canisters later found in the ducts like the ones you’d seen in the commotion, lying in the snow so coincidentally.
Having confirmation that it had been planned like you thought only produced more confusion with the sudden wish to have been very wrong about what was going on.
Premeditation like this could only mean this man was cunning and careful, that he’d only been caught on video and surveillance footage because he intended to be seen and that terrified you to realize.
When you dared to peek at the TV again you immediately had to do a double take, up close photos of the men flanking Scarecrow in the video popping up, showing you what the men you saw in the alley really looked like out of the shadows.
You wanted to throw up. You knew for sure that you recognized one of them.
The same man who had been following you when you ran into Alfred that morning you met completely by chance.
It couldn’t be, you didn’t want it to be, as if you could kid yourself into believing you’d forgotten his face no matter how hard you had tried since that day, but it was him and a shudder rolled down your spine at how much of an awful turn this was.
Your small gasp of surprise caught Bruce’s attention and you noticed his careful gaze shift from the screen to your face in a question, figuring out what you’re stuck on trying to explain before you can get any words out.
“You know one of them?” there’s something in Bruce’s tone you can’t discern right away.
“I..yes I recognize him,” your sigh was heavy, followed by the point of your finger when the man’s picture was shown one more time. “Don’t know his name or anything but I do know he works for Oz, I’ve seen him around the Iceberg Lounge pretty recently.”
You took a deep breath before turning your attention to Alfred who was also listening curiously.
“I should also mention that I found out he was the man who was stalking me the morning we met. Oz sometimes uses his men to intimidate the dancers who get out of line with him and I may or may not have injured his pride the night before. I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner I just didn’t want to upset you with it.”
You cringe inwardly, anxiety rushing in all over again now that you’d said it out loud.
That incident had been something you tried not to give too much thought to, you’d been careful, always were and hadn’t had any more issues with being followed, even got back in Cobblepot’s good graces lately as well but seeing that photo brought it all back.
“Hey, you have nothing to apologize for, darling. That’s quite alright and more than understandable, I think you know either way I’d always be upset knowing he sent that man to stalk you but I would never be angry with you about that.” Alfred spoke gently.
You’re relieved he isn’t mad at you even if the guilt that lingered made you worry.
Maybe you’d make a point to bring it up again when you were alone and able to discuss it in the full context of your relationship, you were sure he wouldn’t mind giving you a little extra reassurance about it.
“Thank you. I don’t know what to make of this but I am a bit shocked Oz would be connected. He’s looking for opportunities to climb up in the crime world, all of us know that and he can be sleazy and he has a reputation for a reason but for him to be part of something like this if he really is involved is extreme.” you chew the inside of your cheek, pondering if your boss had made a deal with the devil in his search for power in Gotham.
Men like him were all smoke and mirrors with a penchant for easily bruised egos but these revelations had you questioning things. It wasn’t a good thing to know too much in this situation and right now, you were making one too many connections for your liking.
You would just have to be more vigilant now, especially around him.
The investigation into today’s fear toxin attack was still ongoing and every news outlet was clamoring for updates and solid information that was nonexistent right now, Bruce finally turning off the TV after a while.
There would be a press conference tomorrow, maybe the city would know more by then but for now it was no use to any of you to rewatch the events you’d already experienced firsthand today.
Bruce announced he was going to shower and call it a night and wished you well if he didn’t see you again, adding that you were welcome to stay any time if you didn’t feel safe going home and he was glad you weren’t hurt after everything.
It brought about a smile to your face again to know he didn’t think any differently of you and made sure you felt welcome.
You were remembering his offer to surprise Alfred with a proper dinner this weekend and though what happened today seemed to put a huge damper on things, you hoped that could still happen.
Closeness and company was what you all needed right now.
After helping Alfred tidy up the kitchen a bit he offers to drive you home and your face must have indicated your disappointment because he was quick to explain he had every intention of spending the rest of the night with you, just thought you’d want to be in your own space after such a taxing day.
He was right, as comfortable as you felt here at Wayne Tower you did miss your apartment and your bed and the familiarity of being in your space but you were also relieved to know that he was still looking forward to making the most out of things this evening.
Of course he’d never leave you wanting or wishing.
Trying to hide your eagerness was a challenge, a new kind of adrenaline in your system as you watched Alfred gather some things to take with him because he said he’d be staying the night too which meant you’d get to have him to yourself after all, putting excitement back in your veins after you’d been quietly hoping to be able to wake up next to him in the morning.
When you finally left the Tower, the streets were just as barren and quiet as Bruce had said, it was eerie not seeing any of the usual traffic.
The only semblance of relief came from seeing that familiar bat signal lit up in the sky, a few hopeful beams cutting through the gloom in the air.
Nothing was going to be the same moving forward and most of the city had been bracing for this since the first threat. It was only a matter of time but tonight, you wanted to forget for a little while and just take all the comfort and quality time with Alfred that you could.
He was as protective as ever walking up to your building and doesn’t fully drop his guard until you’re both inside and the door is locked.
Home at last!
Falling back onto more recent patterns, the space by the door is filled in with Alfred’s shoes, his coat hanging up next to yours, his presence in your apartment making it feel the most complete it’s ever been.
He insisted that you let him make an evening cup of tea for both of you while you sank into the couch cushions, browsing through movies to watch together before you agree on something comedic and lighthearted.
Eventually he joined you and somewhere in between laying your head against his shoulder and the middle of the movie, you finished your mug of chamomile tea and Alfred had pulled you into his lap.
And somewhere between then and the end of the movie you fit yourselves together so you could be cuddled against his side, your leg draped over his to make space.
He’s so solid and warm that you’re helpless to sink into his hold, unable to explain why his arms made you feel so sweetly held, so comforted that the feeling radiated through just the mere mention of his name.
Maybe it’s why the tears eventually came, when you knew you were completely safe and able to feel all your emotions fully after hours of having to push through.
It didn’t take Alfred long to notice your quiet sniffles though, catching the moment some of those tears spill over in silence.
“Ohh sweetheart, it’s alright you’re okay. I’m right here, can you tell me what’s on your mind?” His words are soft and patient and spoken so gently you feel more tears come.
“Today was just a lot…like I keep thinking of when we got separated in the street. I don’t think I’ve ever been as scared as I was at that moment. It’s probably all hitting me now I think,” the waver in your voice could have broken his heart.
“It was a lot and you’ve done such a good job getting through it, you know that was a brilliant idea to use your scarf as a mask? You have no idea how proud I am of you! But you are right, that was terrifying, I was so worried you were hurt or trampled or worse, can’t imagine how caught off guard and disoriented you must have felt and I am so sorry for that, darling.”
Alfred kissed your temple, fingers careful when he began to wipe away the salty streaks left behind on your cheeks and nose.
You wiggle yourself a little closer and nod against his shoulder, “You found me though, you made sure I wouldn’t be hurt even if you did almost give me a heart attack thinking I’d never be able to find you again.”
This time there’s a genuine, shy laugh at the end of your words.
“I’d always find you, you know that right?” his tone shifted to a slight seriousness, still comforting but there’s a weight to his words that steals your breath. “There isn’t a time, a place or a world in which I wouldn’t come find you, wouldn’t do everything in my power to keep you safe, you mean far too much to me.”
You cried a bit more when all of that sentiment sank in because you trusted Alfred so much you knew he spoke truthfully, it wasn’t just to ease your emotions he meant every word and in turn, you’d felt every word.
“I know, I don’t doubt that one bit. I know we talked about this earlier but I do want you to know I didn’t intend to keep that information about Oz sending someone to stalk me a secret from you. I promise I’m going to be a lot more careful around him now too.”
He wiped away the dampness from your lashes before simply shaking his head at you and leaned in to kiss your forehead.
“That would definitely be wise going forward especially since we don’t know how deep his involvement goes but I also don’t want you worrying about how I feel, sweet girl. That was always yours to tell if and when you felt ready and it meant something greater that you trusted me with that knowledge, that I can be a place of confidence for you.”
When would he ever stop rendering you speechless?!
You began to think the answer was never and that was just fine honestly, your heart so taken with his patience and diligence to validate your feelings whenever it was needed, no shame or dismissal involved.
“Sometimes I think I just need a little extra reminding but you’re right I do know I can trust you with anything that’s going on, with anything I’m feeling.”
“Good, that makes me happy. I may have been thinking about putting you over my knee for thinking such silly thoughts that I would be upset, but there’s not a single thing you have to apologize for.”
Oh.
You forgot how to breathe after hearing that, something lighting up inside you imagining yourself over his knee, accompanying thoughts of being toyed with, spanked, squirming and helpless under the grip of those strong hands of his followed swiftly.
He’d figured it out now, reading the change of your expression for what it was, latent desires rising to the surface.
You untangled yourself from his embrace to sit up for a moment, further distracted when he clasped his hands behind his head, shirt pulling taut over his biceps.
“Thanks for reassuring me, if I ask again feel free to do that though, think I might actually get it through my head then,” you teased shyly, “I guess I am being silly, you did after all muscle your way through a wall of people to get to me, which by the way was very impressive.”
He laughed at your compliment, the sound low and gravelly to your ears, pulling you in.
“Mm used to be a boxer, love. I’m flattered you think so.”
Oh wow. Again your interest in his skills had been piqued and he must have seen the flicker of an urge to ask further in your eyes because he continued after a second.
“Well, field medics like to have fun too and it was the army so we were all trained in hand-to-hand combat; boxing kept us in shape and gave the lads something to do, to focus on. I still try to keep up with the training, Bruce and I spar a lot of the time, we have since he was old enough to throw a punch.” Alfred tilted his head at you a little, reminiscence on his features for but a moment.
A stray image of potentially watching him spar one day landed right in your lap and it was incredibly hard not to involuntarily scoot your leg further up from where it was draped over his thigh.
He was so damn attractive it wasn’t fair. It made sense, the boxing, connecting why his shoulders were so defined, the tone in the muscles of his back, the power you knew he had behind those thick hands and even thicker thighs.
So sturdy and agile, age and old injuries just a reminder that every move was calculated for a reason.
“That’s so cool. I bet it’s a good way to let off some steam too,” you rest your chin on the plush pillows of the sofa. Something had begun to shift, a slowly simmering tension working its way between your bodies.
“Oh I can think of other things that would do that better.”
The look on his face sends a wave of heat through you, straight to your core.
“Like putting me over your knee?”
It slipped from your lips on a whim but he was ready for it and you realized he’d been enticing you this whole time.
“If that’s what you’d like then of course. Have you ever been spanked before, darling?”
You took a shallow breath, “Maybe once or twice it’s happened in the moment but no, not really, not properly like that. I-I think I’d actually enjoy it, um have you ever spanked anyone before?”
“I have.”
He unclasped his hands to sit up next to you, eyes never leaving your face, keeping the intensity up, lighting every little flame inside you by the second. He knew exactly what he was doing and you were going to let every spark catch.
“Also impressive and yes, Alfred. I want your hands on me,” you sighed a soft plea.
“C’mere then, I’ve got you.” He tugs you gently into a kiss and your fingers slide down over his wrists when they moved in to cup your face, touching you the way you wanted, so sure and thorough until he grasps for your hips, hungrier than you’d anticipated.
He doesn’t waste time, your surprised little squeal making him smile when he moves to stand up and lifts you slightly by your hips, tipping you so you’d fall into him before he was transferring your weight so you were hauled over his shoulders, centered with such ease so that you felt balanced and stable now that you were off the ground.
Your pulse thuds in your chest as you cling to him, those nervous giggles muffled against his back while he carries you to bed.
—
The short walk down the hall made you feel jittery in the best way, a nervous excitement bubbling inside you knowing he was experienced with this, that he was going to show you and make it feel so good. You were sure he would.
It’s almost crazy to be back in your room after all that’s happened today, how tense all the minutes bleeding into hours had been.
But it could all be pushed to the background for a while, your attention locked into the moment as Alfred sat down on your bed, bringing you with him, your body positioned across his lap so prettily, angled so your legs were spread just slightly with the length of his left thigh keeping you supported.
You stretched out your upper half on the duvet, propped up on your elbows to look back at him, watching as he pushed your leggings down, throwing them somewhere behind him on the bed before warm hands were caressing up your shins, over your thighs and up to the swell of your ass.
His palm kneaded your flesh, strong fingers applying a teasing amount of pressure while you squirmed and arched back into his touch.
“I’ll start slow, is that alright? Nothing too hard, just a few spanks to see what you can tolerate. If you don’t like it or aren’t sure, we don’t have to continue.” His hand moves in soothing circles across your skin and he leans in to press a kiss to your shoulder.
“Yes, I’m okay with that.” you try and breathe.
“Good, I want you to say the word red if you need to stop, yellow if you need to slow down and green to continue if I stop to check in. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”
There’s a little authority in his voice and it made you squirm again, aroused by his establishment of cues and a safeword right away, how in charge he felt right now, you wanted this so badly it caught you by surprise. You hadn’t expected to be so needy for this.
Remembering that he was waiting for a reply you squeak out a yes and have to bite your lip to keep from gasping when he pulls his hand back and swats the center of your ass, more sound behind the movement than there was force but it still made you jolt forward.
You groaned at the dull sting that prickled your skin after and glanced at Alfred who was already studying your reaction.
“Well done, how did that feel?” he cooed praise at you and this time you don’t try to stop the sound you make in response.
“Felt good, like what I was expecting but also different but I liked it, I want more.” your legs flexed when his hands smooth over your skin one more time, his pleased smirk at your declaration making heat pool in your lower back.
You wished he would slip off your underwear too, so then he’d be able to see just how soaked you were from all this but you knew you had to be patient and the reward would be everything.
You do take a second, however, to wiggle out of your sweater, starting to feel warm under the fleece lined fabric, and when you glanced back Alfred was admiring just as you thought he might be.
No bra, nothing underneath but soft, brown skin for him to feel and just to entice him a little more, you arch your hips, making your ass jiggle, just enough to pull his steely gaze down your backside.
The next spank is firmer than the first, more heaviness to his hand that made you whimper, your mind feeling a little hazy in the best way, the kind of haze that felt like a release, a soft bed to lay down on and surrender some control because you knew you’d be taken care of.
Thwap!
Whimpers and moaned out gasps mark the smack of his palm on each of your asscheeks, only a slight increase in the amount of force so that the sting just bordered on stealing your breath.
“Christ, you’re so gorgeous like this, baby.”
His accent was deeper, that gruff voice sending tingles rippling across your spine, going down smooth like whiskey and followed by his left hand sliding over your back to rest on your right hip, making sure you couldn’t squirm away.
He made each spank hurt in the most delightful way, alternating between right and left and then across both cheeks, spreading out the sensation, giving you a feel for which areas were more sensitive, which areas you liked being spanked at.
“Oh, fuck!” breathy curses left your lips when he kept at it, precise hands giving you just the right amount of impact.
“Good girl, you are doing so well. I think it’s time we take these off, hm?” he coaxes your hips up slightly so he can hook his fingers under the waistband of your panties and you’re all but begging him to.
Nevermind if he felt like tearing them in two, you would have let him, but he’s polite in how he strips you despite the way you feel him stirring, hardening beneath where you lay. God, you wanted him so badly.
“Please touch me, oh please,” you don’t even realize the words are coming from you.
In barely audible little pleas muffled by where your face is flush with the bed but Alfred doesn’t miss anything and he’s grinning in your peripheral.
“You should see how soaked you are, love. Need my fingers there, is that right?” his fingers were already inching towards where you ached the most, his right hand circling, distracting you from being able to speak while preparing you for another spank.
“Yes! Please, Alfred, I want it so much!” your whimper leaves both of you aching.
A tremble in your thighs had spread down to your pointed toes with the way he swirled the pads of his index and middle fingers over the slick mess between your thighs.
Slow and sweet as he slid them over your folds and circled over your clit, waiting and then rewarded with the eventual roll and arch of your hips, his free hand drawing back and then coming down on heated skin.
You gave a strangled cry, the sound turning into a moan when his fingers continued to circle your clit, responding to the way your body reacted, only taking his eyes off you for a moment when he finally put aside his self control to watch your pretty pussy swallow his thick fingers.
He worked you open gently, remembering how you liked him to move, where those sensitive spots were even at this new angle.
Giving you something to clench around with his next spank, coaxing you to rock into his touch like he could see you wanted to do, the gorgeous sway of your hips trying to meet the plunge of his fingers, undeniably needy for him.
You knew he could hear it in the way you cried out his name, how sensitive your entire body was now, the broken, pleading edge to the way you praise him in return, telling him how good it felt, how much you’d been needing this.
The pleasure built higher as did Alfred’s movements, a hiss at the edge of your words at each searing swat of his hands that mixed with the scissoring of his fingers, both working in careful, measured tandem.
“That’s my girl, come on, that’s it!” he grits out when you push up onto your elbows again and grind your hips back.
The passion and possession in the way he called you his merged with the curving of his fingers and you both know you’re there, tender walls fluttering as you come, thighs aching, your whole body tingling, trembling with the steady roll of his wrist keeping the pleasure drawn out, filling your entire body.
You’re not embarrassed by the tears that prick your eyes or the sob in your throat that follow when he finally flips you over, laying you back because you’d begged for him to and who was he to refuse you, an angel.
If you wanted his face between your thighs, eating your dripping pussy until you were too sensitive to take it, that’s exactly what he’d give you and it’s why you weren’t shy, not in this moment, not when you knew he wanted it just as much as you.
Soft hands disturb the careful style of Alfred’s hair, unable to help it when his tongue licks you and the salt and pepper scruff scratches achingly over your inner thighs, daring you to try and close them.
Not like you’d want to, able to see how his shoulders curved and bulged with the stretch of his shirt as he kept your legs parted with his body.
This was everything you had wanted, moaning at the way he consumed you so lovingly, a weight in his touch and in his encouraging, filthy words that told you he wasn’t holding back now, you were his girl, he could show you the more true depth of his desire now.
And you were safe to do the same, you craved it actually, always wanting this and you reason you have this entire time, craving this level of care and need, even obsession with each other, so much trust and feelings at the center of it.
“So good, baby. Just like that, please…” you barely get the words out, lungs losing air from the focus he gave to your words even before you finished speaking.
His hands didn’t stay idle, the grip of his hands over your body like he wanted to memorize the feel of you, the way you dipped and curved and stretched and it drove you wild, the wet suction of his mouth the only thing your mind could focus on.
It’s a wonder you can even move when he finally withdraws his mouth from your puffy lips, turning his still hungry and devoted gaze towards your chest, those stiff peaks he’d been neglecting through all this, but no longer.
You squirmed into the flick of his tongue, the way he kissed your skin and praised and nipped and got his lips on every inch of skin that he could while you just laid back and relaxed, recovered from the orgasm still twitching in the muscles of your arms, your thighs, your tummy.
“Just look at you. Fuck, I am so lucky,” he rumbles against your collar and you wrap your arms around him, curled against him.
“I feel exactly the same way.”
His soft huff of breath against your neck tickled and you snake your legs around him, hoping to keep him close, just wanting to be in his arms and under his body for as long as you could.
You’d take forever, and that was all you needed to know.
The Shoreline Lofts
November 27
12:00 a.m.
The Batman was watching. Unblinking and focused, planted in place but ready for anything that might come. Folding himself into the inky cloak of the midnight hour.
The Iceberg Lounge was directly beneath the loft space but that wasn’t why Bruce had come tonight.
No, he was far more interested in what Penguin got up to in private, without guests and dancers and clients around, what secrets or clues might be yielded if he just sat and watched, surveilled for a while.
He was curious why the man you had recognized from the news was connected to Scarecrow and he didn’t believe for a moment that Oz wasn’t keeping tabs on what his men were doing, he had to have known the attack was going to happen.
Motives were unclear but pieces of this horrid puzzle were starting to come together so Bruce wouldn’t rest until he could see the grand picture for what it was.
He tipped the binoculars back up to the blackened edges of his cowl, zeroing in again on where Oz was playing pool, unaware a shadow sat spying through the skylight.
The building’s layout was already scoped out, every entry point found, tested, and memorized. Now Bruce would wait and watch until Penguin left the loft to slip in and see what he could find.
Gordon needed intel, something to go on after grasping for dead end’s, there was no time to sit on things, not after what he’d seen today.
Not after you and Alfred were almost hurt and especially not after he’d seen what the toxin did to people, recognizing the look of anguish in their eyes like his own reflection.
A waking nightmare was no stranger to Bruce so he’d make sure of this, Scarecrow would be made to answer.
A/N: It’s been so long and I have missed writing for Alfred and I’m really surprised and proud of what I wrote here! Went through a lot of emotions trying to get this on the page and there was a lot of self doubt and anxiety and unfairly beating myself up about things not coming together but here we are and I just really love that I pushed through and had fun putting this all together in the end 💕 We stan protective Alfred! Like if that’s not a whole husband right there!
Thanks for giving this a read!
no pressure tags! 💌 @flamingdisputes @saradika @ozarkthedog @tarabyte3 @tarrenterror25 @the-eyes-of-andyserkis @communism-bitches @xnodamsel @glitterjuju @mariahthelioness29 @ayoarticulate @fluffyprettykitty @unrefinedmusings @xoxovivafics @peachyteabuck
#amalia writes#alfred pennyworth x reader#alfred pennyworth x black reader#alfred pennyworth x woc#the batman!alfred pennyworth#alfred pennyworth smut#alfred pennyworth x you#alfred pennyworth fanfiction#alfred pennyworth fanfic#andy serkis
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Chemistry
JASON KOLCHEK x FEMALE CHEMIST!READER
Summary: A specialist in biohazardous materials and chemical weapons is called to Camp Slayer to assist in the excavation into a buried Sumerian temple.
TW: Mild angst, injured reader, hurt/comfort themes, guns, blood.
Jason stood outside the entrance to the building as he waited for the doctor to arrive at Camp Slayer. A helicopter appeared overhead before slowly lowering down onto the dusty ground below.
Jason watched as a young woman pushed open the door and hopped out, leaning back into the helicopter to grab two large cases of supplies. She dragged them to the edge of the doorway with a grimace at the heavy weight.
Jason quickly made his way over, "Need a hand, Doctor?" He asked loudly over the thrum of helicopter blades as they spun.
"Yes, please," She said, stepping out of the way.
Jason lifted the cases easily, "Follow me," He said, tilting his head towards the building.
The doctor followed Jason across the dusty ground and over to the building, "I'm First Lieutenant Jason Kolchek, Ma'am," He said.
"Doctor Y/N L/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant," She said, pulling the door open for him, "Likewise, Ma'am. We have a workspace prepared for you inside," Jason replied, stepping through the doorway.
Jason led her through the winding hallways of the base before turning and pressing his back against one of the doors to open it, "This room is all yours, Doc," Jason said, watching her move past him and into the large office.
"Wow, this is better than my office at home," She said, looking around at the paintings and sculptures scattered around the large office.
Jason stepped away from the door, "Where would you like these, Ma'am?" He asked.
"Oh, gosh. Sorry, um- Right on the desk would be great," Y/N said, he lifted the cases up onto the tabletop before stepping back.
"What exactly does a chemist bring into the middle of the desert? If you don't mind my asking, that is," Jason questioned.
She took a breath, thumbs popping two of the latches before lifting the lid, "A lot of stuff, actually. I've been told that the Colonel is more prepared for exposure to combat weapons than chemical ones on this mission," She said, sifting through the contents of her case.
Y/N finally found what she was looking for, pulling out a gas mask, "This is going to become your new best friend down there, Lieutenant," She said, holding the mask out to Jason.
He took the mask from her hand, "What exactly do you think is down there, Doc?" Jason asked, "We're going to assume anything and everything," She stated.
Jason watched her as she pulled out multiple boxes of medication and small med cups, "What's that?" He questioned.
"It's called Ciprofloxacin," Y/N said, opening one of the boxes and popping two of the pills out of the foil and into the two medication cups, "It's meant for-" "Anthrax," Jason stated, she nodded.
"Preparing for anything and everything," She said, picking up the two cups and holding one out to Jason.
He took it from her hand, "Cheers," He nodded, bringing the med cup up to his mouth as they both took the pills.
....
The team made it to the sight of the bunker and the soldiers went ahead to clear the compound before bringing in the Colonel, the Doctor and Rachel. Iraqi forces arrived and a firefight ensued, Jason managed to get the Doctor to safety before returning to the shootout.
The ground suddenly began to rumble, knocking Jason off balance as cracks spread quickly across the dirt. Sinkholes opened all across the compound, dragging American and Iraqi soldiers down into the caverns below.
The Doctor had disappeared somewhere in the rubble and everyone was scattered and divided. Jason couldn't help but blame himself, she was defenseless and he had lost her in his effort to protect her during the firefight.
Jason had formed a relationship of necessity with Salim in the tunnels as they fought against the vampire creatures that had been trapped below.
Jason made his way down the tunnel with Salim by his side, their weapons were raised with flashlights pointing forward as they moved quietly down the path. Jason halted in his step when he heard a noise from inside the wall of the tunnel, he and Salim quickly moved to press their backs against the wall.
Jason leaned out, hearing more rustling from the hole in the wall, "There's somethin' in there," He said quietly to Salim.
"Should we try and sneak past it?" Salim asked.
Jason shook his head, "No, let's blitz the fucker," He stated.
"This is a bad idea," Salim muttered, leaning back against the wall with a shake of his head.
"The minute we move that son of a bitch is gonna be on us," Jason reasoned quietly.
"Fine," Salim huffed, "On three?" Jason asked, Salim nodded, adjusting his grip on his gun.
"One... Two... Three," Jason counted. The pair quickly moved towards the hole and shone their lights in, weapons poised to strike.
Y/N sobbed, curling up tighter with her head pressed into the crook of her arm as she held her blood-stained hand up.
"Oh, fuck," Jason muttered, lowering his gun, "Y/N? Is that you in there, sweetheart? It's Lieutenant Kolchek," He said softly.
Her head slowly lifted, she blinked at the brightness of their lights. Y/N was sitting on the ground in a spot just large enough to fit her body with her knees pulled tightly to her chest.
Tear tracks cut through the dirt and blood on her cheeks, "Put that thing down would ya?" Jason ordered, reaching out and pushing Salim's arm down to angle the beam of his flashlight onto the ground.
"Jason?" Y/N asked quietly, Jason squatted down to see her better.
"Yeah, it's me, darlin'. Think you can come out of there for me?" He asked.
She slowly released her legs, shifting onto her knees and crawling through the short but narrow tunnel towards the entrance to the hallway, "There you go, just a little farther, sweetheart," Jason coached, reaching in for her to take his hand.
He smiled when she finally placed her hand in his, brushing his thumb across her knuckles reassuringly. Jason helped her climb out of the wall, standing up and pulling her to her feet with him.
She immediately pressed herself against his chest, wrapping her arms around him as more tears rolled down her cheeks. Jason wrapped his arm around her, his other hand resting on the back of her head.
He buried his fingers in her hair, holding her tightly, "You're okay, I've got ya," He assured softly, hand rubbing over her back as she trembled.
"She's bleeding," Salim stated, shining his flashlight at her side.
The material of her shirt that was visible below her bulletproof vest was soaked with her blood, "Let me get a look at you, sweetheart," Jason pulled away, looking down at her.
The side of her vest was shredded, deep claw marks slicing through the fabric and into her flesh, "They got you good, huh?" He asked, she shook her head stiffly and wiped her tears with the back of her hand.
"I'm okay," She said.
"Knew you were a tough cookie," Jason smiled.
Jason's eyes flickered up to her hairline, noticing the blood on her skin. Jason reached out, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger as he tilted her head up, "You hit your head?" He asked, the feeling of ice cold guilt settling in his stomach like a stone.
"When I fell," Y/N said.
"You're feelin' okay though?" He asked, eyes flickering over her body.
"Yeah," She said with a sniff, pressing herself closer to his side.
Salim leaned into the split in the wall, shining his flashlight inside, "My god," He muttered.
"What?" Jason asked, "You need to see this," Salim stepped out of the way, the beam of his flashlight still shining into the wall.
Jason stepped over, "What am I lookin' at?" He questioned, squinting into the divided rock.
"The walls," Salim said.
Jason felt the blood drain from his face when he finally noticed the claw marks carved deep into the rock on either side of the narrow passageway, "Holy shit," Jason muttered, he turned towards Y/N.
Her arms were wrapped loosely around herself as she watched them silently, "Did one of those fuckers try to get you in there? Is that-" He let out a huff, trying to calm himself down.
"Is that how they hurt you?" Jason asked.
"I didn't move back far enough," She mumbled.
"Fuck. I am so fuckin' sorry, sweetheart," Jason said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her body against his chest in a tight embrace.
She shook her head, wrapping her arms around his neck, "It's not your fault, Jason," She assured, voice muffled against his shoulder.
"I swear to God that I will get you out of here, alright? I'm not lettin' you die down here, baby," Jason declared.
#house of ashes#jason kolchek#jason kolchek x reader#dark pictures anthology#dark pictures house of ashes#jason kolchek x female reader#jason kolchek x you#jason kolchek imagine#eric king#rachel king
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Perfectly “Fine”
Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • OCD - Obsessive Compulsive Disorder • Even in the apocalypse you know how to handle things in a way that keep you steady. But now the Saviors War has come to an end…and something ain’t what it used to be • ANGST/SFW • TW: Canon Violence / Panic Attacks / Nightmares / PTSD
Requested by: Anon
“Think you can handle being with Dixon in the Sanctuary?”
“Are you asking…because it’s Daryl I’m going to be with? Or because it’s the Sanctuary”
“Mostly cuz it’s the Sanctuary. The people that suffered Negan’s wrath deserve kindness, but we also need people we trust to take out those who still believe in Negan’s ways.” Rick finishes his explanation to notice Y/N’s restless leg and the way her contoured to concern. “Y/N. If anythin’ happens. You can always radio us. Or talk to him”
It’s hard to be in a relationship
——But it wouldn’t stop me
Y/N sighs rising to her feet as she makes her way to her truck they had loaded up for the trip to the Sanctuary. Rick frowns watching her open the bed to it and double checking everything they are taking over while Daryl gives her a confused look from the side of it.
“Okay. We’re set”
“I know” Daryl states watching her face fall on her way out of the bed before closing it. Did that strike a nerve? He suddenly frowns already not liking the idea of living at the Sanctuary, but more specifically her living there as well.
Y/N followed Daryl who took lead on his bike as she couldn’t stop thinking of every possibility that could happen in the Sanctuary.
Someone could instantly kill us
——It’s fine. We took their weapons away
A root could break out
——People have straighten out since the end of the war
We should take away any chemicals that could poison us
——Don’t think any of these people know where they are
The tapping on the stick shift stopped when Y/N reached the Sanctuary. She sighs feeling a bit of relief but it didn’t take long for her anxiety to kick back in when some of the residents stepped out of the building.
“Let’s keep it organized alright? Or no stealin’ from the truck. Cuz we’ll know” Daryl states taking lead on getting everything off Y/N’s truck.
It took a few hours for either of them to settle into the Sanctuary and Daryl was surprised when Y/N offered that they’d share a room together to keep an eye on each other’s back until the dust settles.
This is purely non-romantic
——It could be
Y/N found a room that had a bed and a futon. Strange what people wanted in the end of the world. Or what people wanted in the sick twisted system that the Saviors followed. Overall just. Weird. She felt weird and uncomfortable everywhere she was in the place and couldn’t drop everything to go back to Alexandria to find her security back. Have to work on it. Finding a new security.
“The hell yea doin’?” Daryl questions Y/N who was making her bed on the futon receiving a puzzled look from her. “I’ll sleep on the couch. You take the bed”
“No I’m already…Uh.” Y/N frowns crossing her arms, her right index finger tapping her left elbow a couple times. 7 times to be exact. Before sighing and grabbing the thick blanket from the bed and tossing it over the futon. “Fine. But we’re switching every other week”
“I can work with that” the archer sighs once he sat on the couch watching Y/N crawl onto the bed curling up in herself as much as possible hugging her knees to her chest. “Rick is kind of a dick for having us do this”
“He has his reasons…” Her frown seemed to be more permanent since they’ve been there and his heart broke at the sight of it. “Do you think we’ll be safe here?”
“I don’t know”
“Oh…”
“But I promise I’ll keep yea safe” Daryl makes that promise as he watches her features relax and the frown subside.
I don’t want to be here
——But he’s here.
The Sanctuary needed a lot of work and Y/N took initiative on organizing the pantry and gun locker that had very little compared to from before. You know the reason. Daryl was helping some of the men fix the front doors that were broken do to the truck crashing into the building. They had already took care of the walkers that infested the building and cleaned up but now it was simply making it another community.
After a few hours Daryl went to check on Y/N finding her still in the pantry. To be exact it’s been three hours and Y/N had already put everything new in the pantry while keeping everything precise. Daryl couldn’t have seen anything more organized except for when the old world was still running and it used to be a person’s job to restock shelves keeping tabs on everything in stock. Pretty much saying he feels like he’s in a closet sized supermarket.
“You chart everythin’?”
“Yes. Everything is accounted—“
“Sorry I need to grab something real quick” One of the residents came running in grabbing a can of food which lead to him knocking over a couple.
“Seriously?!” Daryl yells when the guy ran off after grabbing such. “Should write—-“ he didn’t have to tell her what to do as she already realigned everything and write down the inventory number before putting the notebook away in her pack. “You’re always on top of everything”
Just bring it up. He might not like you anymore.
——Everyone else knows. He should know.
“I guess. Uh. Are we working on how to get farming going on here next or…?”
“Or. I gotta do my usual sweep. You can plan out somethin’ if yea want, I can…meet yea outside?”
Y/N nods giving him a small smile as she walks past him out of the pantry to go do such while he watches her walk away. Something is off about her… his worry made him think too much about everything she’s doing even if it seemed normal.
But it wasn’t.
Her compulsions were in the more “normal” category. Organizing over and over again. The odd number tapping patterns. The bad switched with the good with her thinking. This place made them kick into overdrive, anywhere else kept it more dormant but she felt like she was caving in in an unpredictable environment.
Rick made a mistake.
——He knows best.
Daryl thinks I’m a freak.
——He never confirmed or deny that.
I’m at my fucking limit.
——We are. Fine.
Right?
“How’s Y/N holding up in that place?” Carol questions the archer as he took Y/N’s truck to grab some of the trade from the Kingdom to help them get started with farming. “It’s a new environment”
“She’s been there before. What’s new about it?”
Carol gave him a questioning look as she thought the most observant person she knows who know by now. “It’s just a question, Daryl. How is she?”
“Fine. I think” Daryl shoves the last crate into the bed before closing the trunk. “She doesn’t talk to me if anything were to bother her”
“She internalizes just like you, Daryl” Carol states and hopefully that was enough for him to check in on her. But she should really explain to Daryl what else could be going on. “You mind if I join yea back there?”
“Don’t yea have a kid and a boyfriend?”
“Seriously?—-Yes but they’d understand if I’m gone for a few days”
“Then tell’em and I’ll be waiting.” Daryl scoffs even more confused as he gets into the car moving the things Y/N had in the passenger seat out of the way only to get a hit nosey.
This girl and her writing… Daryl had always thought Y/N was a writer of some sorts as she always had a journal in hand. Hell, when the prison fell it was the one thing she came out with and thank god he stayed a moment for her to stick with him and Beth at the time. She’s always had it with her. Never thought to ask about it. Then right now an opportunity to look in it has risen.
[Entry 54]
Today was stressful. Everything fell out of order…Carol is missing, Maggie is at the Hilltop, Daryl was taken by Negan, Rick is lost in his own mind again like back at the prison when we lost Lori, and there’s more to it. But the more I think about everything wrong, the more I want to take myself out of it. I can’t keep everything together anymore. Glenn is dead. Abraham is dead. More are going to die. He could die. Fuck I can’t. He can’t die. I don’t want him to die. It should’ve been me. It should always be me
[Entry 11]
This place is nice. We definitely do not fit in a farm house. At least Carl is fine. He’s fine. He’ll live to live in this goddamn hell again. I don’t understand how people lived as long as they have. But we’ll make this work right?
[Entry 12]
That didn’t last long.
Daryl should’ve stopped by now but he continued to read her entries and they were very…dark. He didn’t know that she’s been feeling a certain way since the quarry and it was almost always after something bad has occurred. The events have triggered her. He thought all of these entries were bad and he really wanted to stop reading, ditch Carol, and check on Y/N who he mistakenly left alone in a shithole. His anxiety only grew when he read something that brought warmth in his chest and his body to relax for a second.
It wasn’t an entry. It was a list. She likes her lists…
D.D.
He’s smarter than he looks
His tracking technique is impressive
He cares so much
The way this man gives so much for everybody else
He always brings enough for everyone
His subtle smile is perfect
He’s been through so much
He makes me feel safe
“Daryl”
The archer quickly looks up from the notebook, closing it and starting the car once Carol buckled herself in.
“You were reading her journal?”
“You know about it? What’s in it?”
“I know what could be in it. Doesn’t mean I know exactly what’s in it”
“Then explain”
“Explain what?”
“What could be in it”
“Daryl, Y/N has OCD. It’s not life threatening unless it gets bad. She writes everything down to calm herself.” Carol swiped the notebook from the archer’s grasp. “Why did you read it when you clearly didn’t know?”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean? I just thought she was…quirky?” Daryl sighs only to hear Carol scoff to the comment. “What!”
“People with mental illness still have to fight in the goddamn apocalypse. “Quirky” is offensive to some because it down plays what’s really going on”
“You know a lot”
“Daryl. You have PTSD. So do I. We have our coping mechanisms. Who do you think respects them the most?”
Her.
________
Y/N suddenly jolts awake from the futon hearing the screaming as she shot forward turning toward the sound that came from Daryl’s sleeping form. She rises from the futon and brought herself in the bed with him watching him shake in his sleep.
Daryl suddenly felt his body relax and the shaking stop as he curls up a bit in her embrace.
When the archer woke the next morning he found himself with Y/N in the bed with him. Instead of her holding him they migrated to where it was him holding her. He stayed in that position for a little while longer
________
Once the truck was parked, Carol stopped Daryl from getting out as the two look forward finding Y/N sitting on the edge of the loading dock. She heard the truck but didn’t think much of it, he was coming back that’s all she really put to thought as she looks up at the night sky.
“I’ll take care of unloading. You give that back to her” Carol handed the notebook to Daryl as he stepped out shortly after.
Her smile was the first thing he noticed as he draws closer to her, especially when it started to fade when he lifted the notebook to her line of sight handing it to her.
“Oh”
“It was in your truck when I borrowed it”
“…did you…uhm” Y/N frowns gripping the notebook in her hands tapping the back of it rapidly in another rhythmic motion. Daryl suddenly took her hands gently into his after putting the notebook to her side. Her anxiety in the moment lessen but was still there waiting for his words.
“I was worried about yea” Daryl frowns feeling her squeeze. “The longer we were here the more you didn’t wanna talk. Hell neither did I but I knew what I was feelin’…just wanted to know what you were feelin’.”
“I just…didn’t want you to think I was weird”
“Why would I think that?”
“Because OCD has always been seen like that…by everybody else. In the old world it didn’t help that movies would associate it with serial killers. Same with bipolar or schizophrenia.” Y/N frowns gripping onto him tighter as she felt the air leave her lungs trying not to over think about it but she felt like she was losing. Her anxiety caught her when Daryl pulled his hands away but before she could think of every negative thing, he brought her hands to his shoulders before bringing his forehead against hers.
“Gotta breathe for me, doll.” Daryl knew she was starting to have an anxiety attack, he wishes he could do his own research on OCD and know more so he could be more prepared. He’ll learn. He’ll learn for her, from her. All he could do right now is have her latch onto him as he helped her steady her breathing without focusing on it too much to trigger herself more.
While the archer was taking care of her, Carol kept a respectable distance from them just in case. But she never had to worry. He would understand eventually.
Months have passed and the Sanctuary was turning for the better. They had managed to get crops going where the saviors used to grave the walker graveyard, turned it into a garden for their main crop being corn that would help with gas and sustenance. The pantry has the same system as the one in Alexandria where one person would come through to do inventory and make a list for a future run. The empty cells were turned into rooms and some the doors were removed but were still used for privacy areas. It may still look very factory like but at least it wasn’t like a prison anymore.
Daryl stood outside of his old cell surprised they even changed this place for the better. His old cell being one of many solo spots to relax. A lantern, a chair or rocking chair—whatever they could find, and a small table. They looked like singular study rooms in colleges and that was the idea Y/N was going with when she thought of it.
“Hey, you ready?”
A smile was quick to form on his lips when he heard her voice. Y/N smiles warmly to the archer when he brought his arm around her shoulders kissing her forehead.
“You?”
“Mhm. I have what I need” She smiles up at the archer as he captured her lips with his. “Come on. While we still have light out”
There’s always something calming about motorcycle rides while the sun is slowly fading from the sky. Watching the sky go from bright blue to hues of orange and purple before inevitably fading to black like the end of a movie.
The difference is the sky lights up at night showing the stars that shine bright enough to get lost in her beautiful E/C eyes.
Daryl hasn’t stopped smiling since they left and when they returned it remained, unlike the other days of going to such a heavy place. But knowing that she’s safe and calm in his presence…
Everything is perfectly fine.
#cultofdixon#the walking dead#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#I hope I did Justice and not offend anybody. I did my research and included different variants in a sense#anyway hope y’all enjoy it#daryl dixon fanfiction
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I'm experiencing some Emotions atm so I'm gonna project on my little clown man -
TW for talks of periods
Trans masc Buggy who can't get cut/stabbed/sliced/diced. The availability of hormones and HRT is limited due to both canon scientific development and micromanagement from the government. He's a chemist, so he can synthesize his own HRT ((and has the survival instincts to know they NEED medical professionals, so he probably shares that info with them)), but it's not a one and done type of deal.
In Impel Down, he wasn't able to access his T. He was in there for a few months, so he was having hormone shifts there for a hot minute before finally being freed. It's one of the reasons he kept his stubble - it helped with the dysphoria.
He gets out, gets back on track, keeps the stubble bc it helped, he liked it, etc. He had a few times where he wanted to shave again but decided against it.
Now on to the Evil Polycule.
Crocodile and Mihawk's take over and implementation of Cross Guild came with some changes to the budget, including Croc just putting a full stop on Buggy's chemicals for a time. He decided to bite the bullet and send what he had to the pharmacists to keep them afloat bc he's actually a good captain. He just.. has limited meds for himself.
So it's a few months into the Guild, Buggy has been off T for a little while now, he's not having too many issues, they're all starting to get to an even keel, and they're even expanding the budget for the chemicals for the pharmacy and also his tools for his weapons. Things are looking up!!!
And then... Buggy starts his period.
And he is spiraling.
He holds up in his room, wrapped in a blanket cocoon, in the dark, curled up tightly against the cramps that are hooked into his abdomen and the sudden wash of dysphoria. He's usually better about this. He usually doesn't struggle this much. Somehow this is worse, he doesn't know why, but he is not okay.
He's not okay at all.
Mihawk and Crocodile are left waiting on him for a meeting. And when it hits a certain point, they're angry, annoyed, and they go looking for him (they are not concerned, they tell themselves, they're not-). They find Alvida, Galdino and Ritchie in the clown's quarters. Ritchie actually gives a warning growl, eyes lidded but sharp. Alvida pales but meets their gaze head on. Galdino is shaking like a leaf, but he doesn't back down.
That alone starts ringing alarm bells.
They ask, they get vague answers at best, and then Mihawk catches the scent of blood. He moves in a swirl of black-and-gold, straight to Buggy's room, straight to Buggy.
It's a bit of a hot mess, but there's an understanding that grows. Crocodile understands, sharing a vulnerability of his own, asks tentatively if Buggy has ever reached out to Ivankov.
Buggy curls up further - as much as he can, at least, with Ritchie pressed against his lap and tummy, purring a storm with kitty worship eyes - and admits that he has. Iva's hormone treatments are injections, and while some devil fruit abilities can circumvent others, that's not the case for him. They've tried. The only option to make it work is seastone or sea water on/around Buggy, which could impact the hormones or Iva's abilities as well.
Also, Buggy admits with grit teeth, Iva's tendency to force sex changes as a punishment rubs him the wrong way.
He tells the two dark haired men about his medicines, how he makes them himself and how his stash has been running low; tells them how he had thought he had enough until the shipment came in with the stuff for his weapons making and the pharmaceuticals; he tells them how he'd given his spare stock to the med tents when they joined because of the denial for the existing budget Buggy had in place.
They feel guilty with the realization.
They decide then that since their actions led to this, it is only fair that they assist. Mihawk brews a tea for Buggy's cramps, Crocodile uses his sand as a heating pad, cool fingers brush through Buggy's hair to help with the migraines, a warm hand and hook help support Buggy's weight when the pain crescendos and leaves him gagging.
Between them and Buggy's usual crew, it's the most cared for he's felt since before a booming laugh was cut shirt by swinging blades and a grin splattered messily onto cobblestone beneath sheets of rain.
#trans buggy#buggy headcanons#i will project on the clown#tw: periods#cross guild#gay gay homosexual gay#nobody is cishet here mwahaha#this is what i do with my time#make characters queer and project
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Why do some armies, militias, or rebel groups commit war crimes at much higher rates than others? If you're trying to go beyond designating good guys and bad guys by authorial fiat, what are some of the fail-safes you'd want a fictional armed faction to have to minimize their My Lais as much as possible?
So, an important warning on this, I'm mostly writing this off-the-cuff, and I'm not doing a lit review at all. So, if you're looking at this as a scholarly work, please consider this a rough draft at best. Also, somewhat obviously, the subject matter here will get pretty dark.
Unsurprisingly, TW for war crimes, and terrorism. Though, I'll try to keep this clinical.
The short answer is multiple factors with no individual one ever being universally true. I'm going to break down war crimes and atrocities into two general categories: Planned and Unplanned. This is because these spring from distinct factors.
There is another possible dichotomy, distinguishing between war crimes of action, and technically illegal behavior, such as the use of munitions or weapons that are legally prohibited, but are not directly associated with any atrocities. Examples of the latter could include deployment of chemical weapons against valid military targets, or even military buildups in violation of previous armistice treaties. For example: the Bismarckand Tirpitz were floating war crimes, simply by existing, and violating existing treaties (I'm not 100% sure which treaties off hand, and the legal status of these battleships is a little more complicated than I'm suggesting.) In general, I don't think this is what you're looking at, but it's worth remembering that war crimes cover a much wider range of topics that just atrocities committed against civilians.
Planned atrocities are intentionally executed by the faction, these are often deliberate strategies employed by those organizations. This can include things like terrorist attacks, or deliberate targeting of civilians and civilian infrastructure to demoralize enemy forces or the civilian population itself, these can also be employed to erode public support for ongoing military actions. Of course, in some cases, the deaths are the primary goal, and any effect on morale is incidental.
Unplanned war crimes and atrocities occur incidentally, often as a result of failures in the chain of command.
This isn't a strict dichotomy, a group may have policies or strategies that can lead to war crimes through insufficient discrimination (in this context, discrimination refers to the concept as it exists in Just War theory/doctrine, which is to say, discriminating between civilian and military targets.) For example, a faction who intentionally bombards military targets in a civilian population center (read, a town or city) would probably fall more on the unplanned side of the spectrum, in contrast to a faction who simply firebombs the entire city.
When it comes to planned atrocities, ideology is probably the biggest factor to consider. Particularly how their ideology regards the people they're killing. This can take a few really horrific turns, but if you have a group with no regard for human life, and no concern for international law, then you're likely to start seeing war crimes coming fast and heavy.
It's easy to simply designate these groups as, “the bad guys,” but that really undersells how subversive some of these thought processes can be. Unfortunately, the line between terrorist and freedom fighter is a question of perspective, and even groups you'd normally be sympathetic to may be responsible for some horrifying acts, which they justify to themselves by othering their victims. (Usually this othering is based on religious, ethnic, or political affiliation. Though, it can be any combination of the three.) A group of rebels may not have any qualms about “collaborators” getting caught in their attack, even if those people are considered guilty by simple proximity.
A classic examination of this is Battle of Algiers (1966), it's an excellent film, and absolutely worth the watch if you've never seen it.
Unplanned atrocities and war crimes can often lead back to two compounding factors: discipline and morale.
Discipline comes with a massive, “citation needed,” sticker, because it's not completely predictive. Nominally, well disciplined armies can engage in unplanned war crimes. Some of this ties into the second factor, morale, but some of it is independent of that.
Some of the difficulty with discipline is opportunistic crimes (such as looting), which can then spiral out into worse atrocities. In these cases, you're looking at the individual discipline and morale of each soldier combined with a lot of contextual factors, but that doesn't translate smoothly into a generalized model.
The simple model would be that low discipline forces are more likely to engage in opportunistic crimes. They're more likely to evaluate their current situation in relation to how it can potentially benefit them, and when you combine that with the chaos of war, it is a recipe for unplanned atrocities.
Morale is a little more complicated than discipline. In theory, troops who are suffering from low morale are more likely to engage in unplanned atrocities. (While it's a gross oversimplification of the background factors, this is an apt description for the Mỹ Lai Massacre. Nominally disciplined soldiers, suffering from flagging morale, who incorrectly identified the villages' civilian population as collaborators, and started murdering people.)
However, in practice, morale can be a double edged sword, low morale creates a real risk of soldiers ignoring orders for personal gain, or engaging in illegal behavior out of desperation, however, a sharp increase in morale can also result in lapses leading to criminal activities. The primary example of this would be victory looting (which is a war crime, in case that was unclear.)
In theory, morale and discipline should slot together fairly cleanly to create a single spectrum, but the reality is a lot messier.
In the case of many irregular groups (such as militias, resistance groups, and rebels), the actual forces will be a coalition of different groups that may not see eye to eye on things. In this environment, it's basically impossible to effectively police the different factions within the group. And, unfortunately, history shown that these kinds of coalitions tend to purge their less radical members as they consolidate their power. (The only case I can think of where the radical and terrorist elements were shed by the more mainstream factions would be the IRA. In almost every other case, victory filters for the most ruthless.)
Importantly, coalitions like this tend to be regarded as a single entity by non-members, with the actions of each individual group reflecting on the coalition as a whole. The major exception here is with advanced analysis, where someone who is very well versed in the political or strategic details may be able to explain the different groups and how they fit together. But, for general public opinion, the coalition may as well be a single faction.
Coalitions like this are almost certain to have members who have no qualms about civilian casualties, either due to indifference to collateral deaths, or by identifying civilians as acceptable targets. This can cause problems for these groups as they alienate less radical members of the population. In extreme cases this can even result in recruiting difficulties, and the terroristic elements can cause problems for any peaceful negotiations with outside powers.
These terroristic elements, and atrocities in general, can bolster support against a faction. In some cases, these radical elements can become more of a detriment to the coalition as a whole than its real foe.
If you're hoping for a way to prevent this, there really isn't one. These kinds of coalitions are, “opt-in.” Worse, some radical elements are likely to spin up from existing members. In theory, these internal radicals can be a discipline issue, but in some kind of rebel group, they really won't have the resources to fight a war on multiple fights, especially not against themselves while their, “real,” foe is hunting them.
Radicalized organizations (whether they're part of a coalition or not) are also dangerous to their, “allies.” This is because they can provoke an escalated response from their foes. In many cases, if a group has proven that they're willing to deliberately target civilians, it will provoke a more severe response from their foes. That can come in the form of simple retaliation strikes, or could result in enhanced security and greater scrutiny. Finally, these organizations can provoke the emergence of radicalized organizations among their foes. For example, an renegade rebel cell with no qualms about civilian casualties could become the justification for an authoritarian regime's military to create death squads and deploy them in territory that the rebels operate in, taking a scorched earth approach.
While it's not frequently discussed in fiction, cultural differences can also result in, unintentional hostilities, which can also provoke escalation. At the very least, this can provoke resentment against foreign forces, which ensures that any rebel group would have a continual supply or recruits.
So, the original question you asked was, “how do I avoid this?” And, unfortunately, the answer is, “you don't.” Wars are horrific and messy, and unfortunately, the only way to avoid these kinds of horrors is if everyone agrees to, “play by the same rules.” In an asymmetrical war (such as with a rebellion or resistance), that's not possible. The, “legitimate,” government wouldn't view the rebels as a legitimate military force, and if the rebels operated openly they'd be arrested and executed. From there, the fuse is set.
-Starke
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#how to fight write#Starke answers#tw war crimes#tw terrorism#writing advice#writing reference#writing tips
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Fear Itself
a (somewhat belated) birthday gift for @darklylucid
Jonathan Crane x reader // 1.6k
You've been selected as Dr Crane's latest guinea pig! Yay!
tw// syringes, experiments, bondage, fear toxin, nsfw, this is my first time writing for Dr Crane,
THE scratching of his pencil has permeated into your dreams, now you were not free of him even in sleep. Dr Crane is always immersed in his work, always writing something, the pencil always scratching. You don’t know how long you’ve been here, or even where here is. You maybe had some idea at first but that had been weeks ago, now the only thing your conscious mind had to cling to was him. Dr Crane, the Scarecrow.
He is working on something big and for it, his chemical weapons must be sharpened to a horrifying edge. Only the best for the Bat. The colors of the toxin vary from orange to yellow to green, the doses change. Sometimes the injections go into your arm, neck or leg. Sometimes, he fits a face mask over your mouth and nose and just sits back as you’re forced to breathe in the gaseous state of uncut terror. The duration changes, it varies from a few minutes to long hours screaming your vocal cords raw. No matter what, the good doctor seems content to sit back and watch. The only thing that doesn’t change is you. His unwilling assistant.
Your body is covered in needle pricks and track marks. Your cheeks shine with dried tears that Crane hasn’t bothered to wipe away. One of his formulas had made you hallucinate things crawling under your skin, leading you to scratch your arms until you bled and then some. Another had filled you with blind panic and you had kicked Crane so hard in the chest he had deemed it necessary to wrestle you into a strait jacket. Now, as he strips away your sanity with each round of treatment, you can only lean against the wall of the Scarecrow’s makeshift lab.
“Did you hear me?” Your head lolls to the side and you try to hide your face in your shoulder. He’s standing above you now, towering over you. “You’re awake,” He says. He has to tell you these things, otherwise you’d have no way of knowing. The syringe in his left hand catches the low light. Orange this time. The last one was green. The one before that... you can’t remember.
The good doctor kneels in front of you. He takes your jaw in his hand so he can look at you, stare directly into your eyes and though you know it’s purely for diagnostic purposes, you don’t like it. “You are awake,” He repeats. Crane moves the syringe closer, and you pull away from his grip so fast you hit your head on the wall behind you. He lets out a sigh; “None of that,” He threads lithe fingers through your hair, gently scraping your scalp, and pulls your head to the side. You cry out as the needle pricks your neck. “There we go, nice and easy,” He says, his voice completely devoid of all emotion.
Your heart begins to accelerate. This part stays the same. Your vision is going dark around the edges, you twist in the strait jacket; trying to escape the dread crashing around you. What will you see? Monsters? A family member? Will disembodied laughter fill your head? The walls close in? Or will it just be blackness, blinding you until he deems it time to administer the antidote? You start to hyperventilate.
Crane lets go of your hair and leans back, watching you closely. His face begins to contort, twisting into something somehow even more vile. In your mind’s eye, you see his face stitched into burlap, a horrible creation of the doctor and the Scarecrow. His mouth is somehow both stitches and far too many teeth. You turn away and the horrible face is still there, a monstrous patchwork with eyes gleaming orange no matter where you look. Your blood is rushing in your ears, you barely hear it when he asks; “What do you see?”
You shake your head.
“What do you see?” The voice is horrible, it’s like its sending glass through your veins, it comes from everywhere. Crane reaches for your face, and you cringe, pushing yourself into the wall behind you. It’s ike you’re in a kaleidoscope, his hands are everywhere, reaching for you. He takes your face again and the need to scream grows in your chest like fire. “Tell me,”
“No... nothing,” You say.
He waves his hand in front of your face, and you flinch. “Tell me,”
The distorted image of him is almost pulsating in beat with your heart. You can’t focus on anything except the fact you don’t want him to touch you. You barely hear your own voice through your own thundering pulse; “Scarecrow,”
You can tell that he’s smiling, the mess of burlap and skin spreads in such a way that indicates his pleasure in this answer. “Scarecrow? Are you afraid of the Scarecrow?” He touches you, bringing his scarred hand to cup your cheek and you let out a short scream as though his touch burns you. His laughter shakes your bones. You haven’t heard him laugh since you’ve been here. You bury your face in your shoulder as the laughter echoes in your head. Crane runs his hand through your hair, his touch is gentle. Soft.
A shudder runs through your body all the same.
If he has been testing you all this time, tonight you finally have the right answer; gone is the apathetic doctor who gives you your medicine and watches with detached curiosity; now Crane is leaning in close, enjoying the way you flinch and relishing when a fresh wave of tears stream down your cheeks. It’s all for him, after all. He brushes the hair out of your eyes so he can better see your face contorted in terror, he holds you in place so he can enjoy every micro expression with that horrible grin. These almost sweet gestures are so at odds with the hot, all- consuming dread racing through your veins just as the toxin does.
Crane takes every excuse to touch you just to see you flinch and cry out in protest, you can’t do much else but even if you weren’t restrained you don’t know if you’d have it in you to do anything but cower. This toxin was designed to take down people much braver than you. You are no Batman.
You feel his fingers ghost against the column of your throat and you jerk back, toppling over and falling to the floor. Your head is swimming, and you feel Crane lean over you, positioning himself on top of you. Your fear... and knowing you’re afraid of him. It’s addicting. He holds you still with one hand while his other goes for the throat, checking your pulse with his middle and forefinger. “Look at you,” His voice has taken on a purring quality and your drug addled mind makes sure to compensate, the thing above you has a mouth full of blood stained canines and deadly sharp claws like an animal, playing with his prey before the final strike. Your fear is crashing around you as Crane leans forward, pinning your body with his own. He’s trying to get as close to your eyes as possible, he’s all you see.
You have stopped screaming, opting instead to cry and twist in the jacket, the straps digging in sharply into soft flesh. You’re convinced you’re being flayed as the rough canvas rubs your skin raw. Your breath catches in your throat as the strap between your legs goes a little higher. Crane’s grin spreads across his face as he takes account of this reaction. As you continue to struggle, you do nothing but push yourself to the line between horror and neediness. Arousal is arousal and you’re having trouble distinguishing right now.
“Oh dear,” Crane chides. He’s all you can see; your vision has been narrowed to a pinprick. “Is someone getting their lines crossed?” You feel his hand pushing the strap further into your sex and you can’t help but moan as you grind yourself into it. “Do you want more?”
Yes. No. More what? More teasing? More fear? More pain? It’s like your mind is breaking. Panic spikes in your chest, wetness pools between your legs. It feels good, you want to be anywhere else. “More...” You are more aware of your lips moving than the fact you are speaking. The hand disappears from the apex of your legs, and you complain; “No...”
Crane takes care as he unbuckles the strap going through your legs. He’s amused, he can tell his toxin had had... a rare effect on you. “My, my,” You don’t have it in you to be ashamed. His fear toxin had reduced you to your base instincts. You somehow feel disconnected from your body while also being painfully aware that he isn’t touching you. You don’t even think as you spread your legs slightly. Your rational mind is eclipsed but when this is over, you’ll tell yourself it was the toxin that was making you act like this.
You sigh when his hand returns, you watch him with lidded eyes. It’s hard to believe the thing before you even resembled a human being. Instead, there is a demonic face that looks like something Mary Shelley would come up with; stitches and teeth and eyes glowing orange like the fires of Hell. You don’t care. His thin fingers are making you moan.
It’s hard to say how long you were lying on the floor with the good doctor. The entire time you feel like you’re on the edge of something while your heart beats madly in your chest and your blood rushes in your ears. Time ebbs and flows, it feels like it takes hours but you’re close and you couldn’t have lasted that long.
You finally reach the crest, and you arch your back, chasing his fingers as you go over. The pleasure has taken over the horror, at least for now, but you still scream. Crane’s laugh surrounds you, eating through your flesh to your bones like maggots.
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Ivy “The Ripper” Vanhelsing[redesign]
This is probably my millionth redesign of her and I gave up on using the One Piece style, but I think I like this rendition better than the previous ones.
(TW for human experimentation and body horror)
I wanted to lean into the more “mad science-y” route with Ivy, so I came up with the idea to have her be the doctor for the Buggy Pirates. But on the lower deck of the Big Top she has her own lab where she experiments on people from islands that Buggy raids. Ivy created chemicals that can physically alter people’s bodies, making their limbs grow or unnaturally elongating their spines.
Her main goal is to create animal and monsters from the people she experiments on. For the most part Ivy keeps these creatures on the lower deck, but when she needs to she uses them as her own mini army.
Her favorite thing to collect is bones and eyes, her current bounty is 300,000,000
She was romantically involved with Buggy and had five kids with him.
After their children got taken and Buggy allied with Alvida, Ivy ran off to make her own crew(made up of her homunculi), she earned the name “the ripper” from how she would steal bodies/body parts from townspeople to use to make new monsters.
Ivy has few close friends and rarely interacts with people. She doesn’t trust people too easily and prefers to fight/work alone. She’s skilled in various forms of combat and has weapons built into her body.
Devil Fruit
The Frankenstein fruit allows Ivy to remove any part of her body and replace it with another, or a weapon. Ivy takes full advantage of this by constructing internal weapons for herself. A Gatling gun built into her ribcage, shotgun barrels built inside of her left forearm and a blade hidden in the other arm. She’s also replaced the bones in her hands with hard steel.
She rarely ever replaces her own parts with other body parts unless she absolutely has to. In Impel Down level 5 she lost her leg so she has to replace it with a prisoner’s.
She can also attach body parts to herself it doesn’t matter if it’s human parts or animal parts, but she doesn’t do this either.
#one piece#buggy x oc#oc x canon#one piece original character#buggy one piece#one piece buggy#one piece oc#original character art#oc art
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⟡ Elisia Brown/Enid Rhee Playlist ⟡
So, this is a mixture of different genres of music that remind me of my fav girlies Elisia and Enid !! And songs that I feel suit them well, or that they'd listen n' vibe to! They both have quite a bit in common imo. (not to mention they're both isfp's with trauma and trust issues-)
Also I'd like to add a TW. Quite a few of these songs are depressing (very much s1 Elisia) and contain topics such as substance abuse, self-harm, eating disorders, etc. My dms are always open if anyone wants to vent/rant/or just talk :). I love y'all, and I'm proud of you!
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy !! 🫶🏻💖
(Also, here is My Masterlist, which is still being edited and updated. It's a wip!!) °♡✧⋆
~｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ~
₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. 0₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Bea Miller - Feel Something
Cavetown - Sharpener
Beabadoobee - Tired
Slayyyter - Clouds
mxmtoon - fever dream
Billie Eilish - What Was I Made For?
Billie Eilish - TV
Billie Eilish - Bellyache
Nessa Barrett - Die First
Doja Cat - 4 Morant
Mars Argo - Runaway Runaway
Alex G (ft. Emily Yacina) - Treehouse
The Cardigans - Step On Me
Conan Gray - Comfort Crowd
Conan Gray - Little League
AURORA - Runaway
The Smashing Pumpkins - Today
Peirce The Veil - A Match Into Water
Pierce The Veil - Bulletproof Love
Foo Fighters - Everlong
Against The Current - Weapon
Linkin Park - What I've Done
Alex G - Pretend
Awfultune - redesign
Mother Mother - Arms Tonight
Mother Mother - Burning Pile
Mother Mother - Alone And Sublime
Mother Mother - Oh Ana
Frances Forever - Paranoia Party
Olivia Rodrigo - Jealousy, Jealousy
Olivia Rodrigo - Making The Bed
Olivia Rodrigo - Pretty Isn't Pretty
Olivia Rodrigo - Ballad Of A Homeschooled Girl
Olivia Rodrigo - Love Is Embarrassing
Cults - Gilded Lily
Cults - Always Forever
ROAR - I Can't Handle Change
ROAR - Christmas Kids
t.A.T.u. - All The Things She Said
Pixies - Where Is My Mind
Pixies - All I Think About Now
GIRLI - I Don’t Like Myself
GIRLI - Dysmorphia
Halsey - Gasoline
Halsey - Control
Ethel Cain - Ptolemaea
Jon Bellion - All Time Low
Princess Chelsea - The Cigarette Duet
Steve Lacy - Dark Red
girl in red - Serotonin
M.I.A - Bad Girls
Rebzyyx - Painforever
Maejor (ft. Keri Hilson) - Gamez
Twenty One Pilots - Chlorine
Twenty One Pilots - Screen
Twenty One Pilots - Car Radio
Mitski - A Pearl
Mitski - Francis Forever
Mitski - Why Didn't You Stop Me?
Mitski - Burning Hill
Mitski - Drink Walk Home
Mitski - Washing Machine Heart
Mitski - Nobody
Madison Beer - Spinnin'
Madison Beer - Dear Society
Madison Beer - Stay Numb And Carry On
Madison Beer - Effortlessly
Maggie Lindemann - Self Sabotage
Maggie Lindemann - Take Me Nowhere
Maggie Lindemann - Novocaine
Maggie Lindemann - Girl Next Door
Maggie Lindemann - Would I
Maggie Lindemann - Loner
Maggie Lindemann - Knife Under My Pillow
Maggie Lindemann - Different
Melanie Martinez - Mrs. Potato Head
Melanie Martinez - Soap
Melanie Martinez - Orange Juice
The Neighbourhood - The Beach
The Neighbourhood - Middle of Somewhere
The Neighbourhood - R.I.P. 2 My Youth
The Neighbourhood - Softcore
Paramore - Tell Me It's Okay
Paramore - All I Wanted Was You
Paramore - Thick Skull
Paramore - Decode
Paramore - Ignorance
Paramore - crushcrushcrush
Slipknot - Custer
Slipknot - Duality
Nirvana - Smells Like Teen Spirit
Nirvana - Stay Away
Nirvana - Drain You
Nirvana - Lithium
Nirvana - Heart-Shaped Box
Nirvana - Dumb
Three Days Grace - I Hate Everything About You
Three Days Grace - Painkiller
Three Days Grace - So Called Life
My Chemical Romance - I'm Not Okay
Taylor Swift - You're On Your Own, Kid
Taylor Swift - This Is Me Trying
Taylor Swift - Seven
Taylor Swift - August
Taylor Swift - Cardigan
Taylor Swift - Lover
Taylor Swift - Paper Rings
Taylor Swift - New Romantics
Taylor Swift - How You Get The Girl
Taylor Swift - 22
Taylor Swift - Red
Taylor Swift - The Lucky One
Taylor Swift - Love Story
Taylor Swift - Timeless
Taylor Swift - Look What You Made Me Do
Lana Del Rey - Dark Paradise
Lana Del Rey - Summertime Sadness
Lana Del Rey - Cruel World
Lana Del Rey - Is This Happiness
Lana Del Rey - Flipside
Lana Del Rey - Happiness Is A Butterfly
Lana Del Rey - Get Free
Lana Del Rey - Heroin
Lana Del Rey - High By The Beach
Green Day - Brain Stew
Green Day - Give Me Novacaine / She’s a Rebel
Green Day - Still Breathing
Green Day - She
Green Day - Boulevard Of Broken Dreams
Green Day - Lazy Bones
Deftones - Bored
Deftones - Hole In The Earth
Deftones - Minerva
Deftones - Beware
Deftones - Change (In The House Of Flies)
(Literally any Deftones songs. Especially off the albums Saturday Night Wrist, Around The Fur, and Adrenaline imo !! I feel Elisia would especially love and listen to Deftones, Slipknot, Pierce The Veil, and My Chemical Romance too!)
Now, here's some of my fav wlw songs that remind me of Elisia and Enid ! -`♡´-
girl in red - we fell in love in october
girl in red - October Passed Me By
girl in red - girls
girl in red - i wanna be your girlfriend
Beabadoobee and girl in red - eleanor & park
FLETCHER - girls girls girls
FLETCHER - Becky's So Hot
FLETCHER - Her Body Is Bible
FLETCHER - Suckerpunch
GIRLI - More Than a Friend
Maggie Lindemann - Love Songs
Maggie Lindemann - She Knows It
Clairo - Sofia
Dove Cameron - Boyfriend
Frances Forever - Space Girl
Clara - Girl Like You
Sarah Barrios - Thank God You Introduced Me To Your Sister
Pomplamoose - Oh, Pretty Woman
Studio Killers - Jenny
Katy Perry - I Kissed A Girl
@enid-rhees <3 @ofcutsandoffire <3, thx for helping me out w/ this! Love y'all 🫶🏻
If anyone actually listens to these songs, beware, it's very much an emotional rollercoaster- it's a wild mix of depressing songs and upbeat songs, and everything in between lol. Also, most of these are Elisia coded, so yea :')
I still feel like there's more songs I could add to this list, but can't think of them atm. So whenever I find a new song, I'll update the playlist!
Divider credits: @cafekitsune
#enid rhee#enid twd#twd#the walking dead#elisia brown#elisia brown tagged#tagged#katelyn nacon#playlist#maggie lindemann#madison beer#deftones#slipknot#green day#lana del rey#melanie martinez#taylor swift#nirvana#i fucking love them#shes so hot#and gorgeous#and stunning#the way i love her sfm#elisia supremacy#enid supremacy#wlw#bisexual#lesbian#lgbtq#fypシ
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Firefly
Chapter Four: Happy now!?
TW: [Gore], [violence]
Chapter summery
You go with Silco on a mission for the Rebels and things… don’t turn as you want them to…
Taglist:
Taglist: @juniper-sunny @deny-the-issue @fantadym @mmartos @astudyincontrasts @averagecrastinator @ace-of-zaun @artwithvivien @zaunitekiwi @x-amount-verbs @chaoticlicense @silcosentropy @silcoitus @sirenofzaun @spoczkot @writingmysanity
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We wear red so they don't see us bleed
Hundred dollar bills under our sleeve
We intend not to sleep 'til we're dead
Drink our problems right out of our heads
Singing oh, oh-oh-oh, oh
Trouble
(Trouble)
Singing oh, oh-oh-oh, oh
Here comes trouble
(Trouble)
Valerie Broussard - Trouble
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It’s been a few weeks since your “lovely” encounter with Silco. Meanwhile you took it upon yourself to reorganize the bar. Meaning: getting it clean, organizing the cupboards for the different glasses, getting a decent tub system for a small coin, making an ACTUAL card for the drinks and beverages the Drop has to offer.
It was nothing short of a miracle that you managed to get the Drop into a decent shape, since the “tools” you were given were either broken or not present. Of course every now and then you had to weld things - which you did… every time the people were gone or not paying attention to where you went. Then you sneaked out and used your fire powers to do the welding.
But you also made some new friends. A young man named Benzo - who’s very resourceful when it comes to mechanics. He helped you get the tub system up and running. Then there was Zachariah, Alfie, Nokkad, Zer and Ive. Just a handful of the men that stare you down at the first encounter at the Drop. Some of them still believe Vander is turning the rebellion into an orphanage for all the cast outs of the Undercity. But you managed to prove a lot of them wrong by improving the Drop with the knowledge of bartending and bar-management.
Silco still manages to stay out of your way. Not like you really need him anywhere near you, while working the bar. But every now and then he comes to the side of the bar and asks:
“Can you still get a normal drink around here? Or are these cupboards just filled with fancy Topside stuff?”
He won't go out of his way anytime soon, and you don't expect him to. So you silently give him a beer - the best Undercity drink you currently have. He takes it and gets into his personal corner in the drop, where he relaxes alone or with one talkbuddy.
One morning Vander called all of the “rebels” together. You were about fifteen rounded around a table with a map in its midst.
“Alright…”, Vander starts. “…we need to start to get into the Enforcers' thinking, their routes, their mechanics. And for that: I'll pair you up to cover a larger area at once and not draw much attention to yourself.”
Everybody gets paired up… except Silco and you. Silco gives off a growl of displeasure and starts arguing with him.
“Vander… you can't be serious. You pair me with the new girl? The little girl? Pair me up with Benzo - it’ll work better than me working with… with this.. TODDLER.."
Vander sighs and turns his attention to Silco: “She’s not a toddler - she is pretty good and has a good eye. You’re both smart and have very good awareness of your surroundings. THAT’S why I paired you two and now go out there and find something out. Take the River-Side-Area… heard the Enforcers are gathering there more often these days - might be worth a visit.”
Then Vander turns around and walks off to tend the bar.
Silco sighs big time and turns to you. “Let's go - I want this to be over soon…”
“For a change: I couldn't but agree…”, you admit.
Together with Silco you walk towards the “River-Side” area. It’s a less populated area, based next to a river whose waters were polluted by the chemicals they pumped into it from the weapon factory that was just a stones throw away from the river. It smells bad. Really bad. Like you stick your head into the chemicals themselves. But it's not as bad as it once was.
Silco walks two steps in front of you, scanning his surroundings with an eagle eye, with these beautiful cerulean gems.
You shake your head.
No, no, no, no - not the time, not the place for thoughts like that!
Suddenly he holds you by your arms and pulls you behind a corner. “SHHH!” Together you watch a couple Enforcers rounding the block. Over Silcos shoulder you watch them walking around cautiously, always trying to keep an eye on the people around them and passing them. It was more than suspicious.
“They’re way too cautious for a normal patrol…”, you mindlessly say aloud.
Silco rolls his eyes. “Did you just deduce that yourself, Professor? What would I ever do without your great mind…”
“Fuck you Silco…”, you storm off in the direction of the Enforcers.
His eyes grow big in confusion and glance with a touch of anger. “What in the world is your problem woman?? Don’t go right at them or you'll get yourself killed!”
“Yeah… like you?”, annoyance drips from your voice. You are far too pissed off by him to calm your voice down.
“Listen girly, if you wanna help - help. If not: STAND. OUT. OF. MY. WAY. GIRLY”, Silcos eyes narrows you down and the both of you stand face to face again.
You make an angry - mouth closed outcry and step around him - just away from him… but definitely in the wrong direction. You walk head first into a brought shouldered enforcer. You slowly look up to the man but the only thing you can see is his eyes.
“Hey rat - Watch where you’re going.”, the enforcer sounds pissed and pushes you back so you fall against Silco.
"HEY!! Get away.” Silco pushes you away from him.
“Stop it!”, you retort and the both of you almost start a fistfight, when suddenly the enforcers surround you. Silco and you now stand back to back, facing the enforcers.
“Ey boys… time the rats learn how to be quiet and how to have respect.” the enforcer you bumped into said and even though you can’t see his face - you know he’s smiling in anticipation.
„Happy now!?“ you ask Silco. Your anger and annoyance about the situation is audible. With that your little fight begins. You take on the enforcer right in front of you by blocking his incoming fist and catching his other as he tries again. With his one fist in your grasp, you first punch him to the gut and then his face. The force of your punch knocks him off his feet and on the ground. You dodge a punch from an enforcer to your side and get a glimpse of Silco fighting back the enforcers on his side. His stance is like that of an amateur boxer - not the best technique but definitely not the worst either. He manages to get the enforcers of his neck, even though he cashes some punches.
Suddenly a strong punch hits your shoulder blade - it’s a sharp pain that goes right through every nerve of your chest and into your arms. The pain triggers your arcane magic right underneath your skin - the magic begins bubbling up from your bones and searching its way up through the fibers of your body.
No, no, no, no, no - not now!!
You panic in your head. It’s not the right time to set this place ablaze anytime soon!!
With great mental pain and effort you manage to keep your magic in check. But now you're angry - you’ve been through pain again… the thing you never wanted anymore. You turned your face - looking the enforcer that hurt you dead in the eye. The enforcer stumbled backwards - rigid with fear. Your pupil changed color to a blazing orange - the color of your fire. Unfortunately when your magic activates, your eyes change color. You attacked the enforcer right away - planting a heel roundhouse kick in his face which instantly knocked him out. Lucky for you, your eye color changes back to normal and you attack the next enforcer.
Once you knocked the third one out, you looked around for Silco. You see him struggling with two enforcers. He managed to knock two of them out, but the last two really gave him a hard time. You rushed to him and guarded his right side. He gave you a short look of appreciation and focused on the enforcers ahead. Now both of them were no problem anymore and you quickly knocked them out.
“Not bad…” Silco smiled slightly and it was a beautiful smile.
“Thanks.. not bad yours…”
“I wasn’t finished!”, Silco said in a sharp tone. “Not bad… for a little girl.”
You roll your eyes and now Silco laughs aloud.
From the cornor of your eye you noticed a movement - one of the enforcers Silco knocked out wasn’t as knocked out as he pretended to be. Be rose, this breathing mask was torn off and his nose bled. The enforcer pulled a knife from his boot - a 7cm blade, nothing bad, standard enforcer equipment. But he charged from his spot, aiming at Silco!
“Move!!” you yell. You shove him aside and place yourself in his stead. The knife hit your left shoulder from the front, piercing your flash and got stuck at with its hilt.
Silcos eyes widen in surprise and when the blade hits in… how could you name it? Fear? Surprise? As if you just did the most selfless thing pushing him to the side.
He regained his composure when the hilt of the knife got to your shoulder. Silco tackles the enforcer to the next wall and punches him twice in the face. The enforcer faints and slides down the wall - now really knocked out.
Silco sprints to you, “Girl!! Are you crazy for taking such a blow?? You could have been killed!! Janna…”
“Relax… it’s a flesh wound… nothing that won’t heal… in time.” you groan and little by little your adrenaline wears off. You begin to feel the pain and it costs you a lot of strength to keep your eyes from changing. It costs you so much that moving proves difficult for you. You begin to shiver like you’re freezing and Silco unfortunately picks up on it.
“Girl… let’s get you home or at least to the drop then I can get you fixed.”
He grabs you by the waist and lays your healthy arms around his shoulder.
“First of all: my name is not ‘Girl’ and second…” to your own surprise you mildly smile at him “…thanks Silco.”
He smiles back and the both of you leave the River-Side-Area.
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Naruto Worldbuilding HC’s: The Dark and the Dirty
(Aka a “what if Naruto were a Seinen” basically)
Naruto, as a series, has absolute shit world building, BUT it does lend itself well for that reason to coming up with something that almost-sorta makes sense.
In other words: I need a place to put these and while I’m on a nostalgic kick I might as well share. I’ve been known for these before, Naruto gets no exception just because it’s a Wee Shonen
These focus a lot on Konohagakure simply because that is where most the story takes place. If I write a fanfic about Naruto assume these are inherently applied.
— WARNING ⚠️ NSFW —
Please scroll past if you have baby eyeballs. Reader beware, TW: mentions of suicide, rape, incest and pathological behavior (I did say DARK)
Most controversial first: I don’t think there’s a whole lot of marital fidelity between shinobi. Or any other kind for that matter. And no, that isn’t based entirely on my wet slashy dreams, but because it doesn’t really make sense for there to be a culture of sexual loyalty in a profession where bodies/people are tools and relationships are frequently arranged to suit family inheritance laws or traditions. Arranged marriages are commonplace among clans and families, enough so that no one so much as bats an eye at it. In canon, we have examples of both Uchiha and Hyuuga doing not only arranged marriage but deliberately incestuous marriages (let’s get over that scary word can we? Please?) between cousins in the same clan. A predictable and historically upheld consequence of having a culture where arranged marriage is common is a culture where marital fidelity kinda takes a back seat, and having lovers on the side becomes extremely common. That is precisely where the idea of Mistresses came from.
In that vein, and adding to the reasons, most shinobi don’t settle down unless made to, and for as long as they work, they’ll try to keep away from particularly intense relationships. This is actually in the Shinobi handbook; it’s a “rule” they’re supposed to follow. Not everyone does obviously, but they’re not “supposed” to have romantic relationships at all, so the culture surrounding the subject is kinda weird and awkward, because unfortunately Shinobi are human and of course they fall in love, and sometimes want to marry that love, etc. etc. which all just makes the above point more messy and confusing and true.
Also in that vein, relationships with civilians are not only forbidden for the most part, but they are even more significantly taboo than all the rest. Like, pretty much every Shinobi knows it’s a bad idea, and very few I imagine would dare try. However … because Shinobi aren’t supposed to have serious relationships, there is quite a high incidence of promiscuity among men in particular, so while they can’t be with a civilian they can still screw them. Consequently I imagine there are actually quite a few little Shinobi born bastards out there. Though Shinobi are not supposed to reveal themselves to civilians normally, they are a big part of the military and have freakin magic, so I can picture quite a few foreign women tripping over themselves to get a bite of them regardless. A reputation for promiscuous behavior only adds to that appeal. (I think this is called the Soldier Effect? There’s a name for it IRL, taken mostly from the Korean War, but it’s been a minute)
Keeping to the sex stuff, Kunoichi are on birth control as soon as they’re able to be and they don’t quit taking it ever until they’re married off or somehow have time to stop a while. Condoms are extremely accessible and mostly free of charge; I can imagine they come with most Shinobi packs, both male and female.
Putting the rest under a cut bc TW
ANBU females carry rape guards of various kinds. — from barbed condoms to noxious chemicals, to poison and hidden weapons fit for purpose. These are available widely to any Kunoichi but for ANBU they are a mandatory part of the equipment. Men may or may not carry similar defenses for themselves; I think that very much depends on the person and where they’re going.
Love it or hate it rape is gonna happen. You got magic, you got genjutsu for gods sake, which makes a person relatively physically compliant, you got drugs and poison and all other manner of creatively making that easy. Every shinobi goes through a brief about it at least once in their career; Kunoichi are told later in their life that it’s something that can happen to them and to always be on the lookout for skeevy behavior, and they probably carry emergency contraceptives on hand just in case they either do something or get something done to them.
Speaking of drugs and genjutsu, I imagine most of why genjutsu puts people in the hospital on watch is so they can be prescribed/administered emergency antipsychotics and other psychiatric medications if needed. Yes the mental fatigue is real, but genjutsu is designed to (literally ) drive you crazy. The potential for psychosis is high, and the potential for depression and anxiety are higher.
Staying on trend: suicide among Shinobi is quite common. In some cases it’s an expectation of their job. However suicide from grief, depression or anxiety disorders is quite high. That there’s an excuse to be found at every turn and plenty of ways to off oneself by assisted means doesn’t make this less true.
In that light I can not imagine that Konoha in particular doesn’t have some type of psychiatric facility. Maybe it’s crude, rude and utterly dull, but they probably have one somewhere, devoted to Shinobi that can’t cope, but don’t want to die. However, this is a very Japanese-flavored society, and Shinobi are Shinobi, so there’s probably a taboo against using it. “It’s more noble to die than seek treatment for disease/succumb to weakness in any way” was a common Showa-era refrain in Japan and there’s a lot of heavy Showa-themed peppering in Naruto.(Showa is the pre and during WW2 era)
Murder is “uncommon” among people of the same village but that depends on which village and is more common than you’d think. Konoha has a reputation for being very buddy-buddy with each other (at least in Kiri they do) with an emphasis on teamwork, so murder is uncommon there, but far from unheard of. It is after all a MASSIVE village, and Shinobi are all about assassination and killing people. The impression is that in Kirigakure murder is actually quite common, to the point it’s encouraged to a degree. So there is certainly cultural distinctions between villages. But specifically in Konoha there’s that added incentive of it being more of a taboo thing, which of course makes it more rewarding to those that get away with it. ANBU seldom murder each other, but a bored ANBU with more time on his hands than common sense I could see turning it into a kind of dark bingo game.
ANBU are really in a class of their own. They have to be. They are Shinobi that hunt Shinobi. They are the do-the-dirty-work guys. And because of that, combined with training techniques and the appeal of the pay grade, ANBU tends to attract pathological people. Socio and psychopathy is quite welcome there. People that have malignant sadism and other injurious or murderous tendencies have a place there. Those with darker or morally questionable impulses that are looking for either escape from it (devoting themselves to the craft and trying to be emotionless) or a convenient way to make it happen tend to find a place there. Rapists, sexually malignant sadists, copycats, fanatics of several flavors, you name it. ANBU do try to police their own, and get rid of rotten eggs, but ultimately they are not people once they put the mask on. Their talents matter more than their flaws or personal failings. (This is their own canon view of themselves as a collective)
On the subject of ANBU: promiscuity is extremely high. Never know when you will die or why, so take it where you can. However this type of thing also tends to make lifelong celibates of people; so you either get the sleep-around people or the “never while I’m on duty or still alive” people. They mostly acknowledge and ignore each other but sometimes inevitably you get clashes.
A lifestyle dominated by exposure to the elements and lots of fights in close quarters with bladed weapons brings disease and injury concerns. Anything transmitted through blood becomes a hazard. Respiratory illnesses are probably quite common. Then there’s rate of injury — human bodies can only endure so much, and broken bones can kill you out there. I imagine two things that heavily skew the suicide rate for Shinobi are owed to being too hurt to go on or not wanting to deal with the disabilities, or having to deal with the disabilities in a culture that doesn’t appreciate them and suffering so much from that they can’t cope. Japan is not very disability-friendly and I wouldn’t expect a culture of Shinobi to be any nicer. If anything I’d expect them to be worse. Maybe part of why Shisui’s father went mad in canon after losing his leg and becoming unable to handle himself (though I’d love to point out that’s a Berserk reference too) he had no outside support.
Ok I think I’m done for now. I’ll come back to it later if I think of something to add. Feedback is welcome, Antis (of any flavor) are not.
#naruto#naruto shippuden#naruto headcanons#Naruto fan theory#tw pedophila mention#tw sa mention#tw sui talk#tw promiscuity#tw inc*st
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Yandere La Squadra x Fem! Reader OUTLAST AU
previous chapter: preview
next chapter: chapter two
Chapter one
TW: a lot of blood, murder, violence, dr*gs (just sleeping gas actually), cursing, c*nnibalism
MINORS DNI
Enjoy
The loud siren drowned out painful screams of doctors. Shabby walls were smeared with blood, as you ran past you could see strange symbols and phrases, but you didn’t care what it could mean. Although the only thing you were interested in was running away from that inhuman ting that was chasing you. Your breathing was beginning to hitch, but you continued to run down those dimly lit corridors not wanting to meet whatever was running after you. You tried not to think about those people lying on the floor with their stomachs cut open or limbs missing, and the smell of fresh blood made you want to vomit. You cursed your decision and this fucking interview. If only you had listened to your instincts and not agreed to go to this asylum.. Mount Massive Asylum, a place you will hate with all your heart for the rest of your life. If you survive, of course.
The most important is to avoid running into another hostile creature like that one behind you. You were never good with martial arts, either with weapons. Maybe, just maybe you will find another sane person, and if you’ll be lucky enough this person will have gun or something. Or better.. Police! Yes! Police or FBI have definitely have been notified of this incident. You just have to wait until they arrive, they’ll definitely find you. They’ll help you. They’ll save you. Until then, you’re going to run for your life. Just another turn of the corridor and no… dead end. The thing you prayed would not happen. You have nowhere to run now. Tears appeared on your eyes and ears began to ring from this sirens. You were terrified for your your life, terribly exhausted. At some point you thought it wold be better to just let this beast kill you, preferably quickly, so that you wouldn’t suffer that much. You heard this thing approaching you closer and closer. It WILL find you. The last hope is to hide in the locket that was next to you. Is this a locker of one of the staff members? You couldn’t care less, you got a chance to survive. Maybe it won’t guess where you hid.
You covered your mouth with a hand so as not to let out this ragged breath of yours.
“LIARS”, the creature were screaming while looking for you “YOU LIED TO US”.
Now through a small slit you could see this.. thing. It looked like a man, maybe even once was one. It’s hair almost torn from the scalp. The skin was pale, almost white, purple diverging veins could be seen really well. You just closed your eyes and tried not to breathe as much as possible. As long as it doesn’t find you, as long as it forgets about you or finds another victim. Your thoughts were interrupted by a dull thump. Did it fall? You look though the slid again. It.. really fell, from the hit on the head. Must be a hard one, but just hoped that this creature was dead, or at least off for a while. A strange man was standing next to his body. Did he do it? Is he a doctor here? Unlikely. His tall figure mesmerised you, he was more than two meters tall. Before you could even think about whether you should show yourself to him, you hear his deep and surprisingly calm voice.
“I know you’re here”. He turns his head and looks at the locker in which you were hiding. Red glowing eyes, dark sclera. You’ve seen him before. No, it couldn’t be. You already want to run out of this locker when you smell some kind of chemical. And you succumbed to fear and fatigue, whatever it was, and fell into a deep sleep. “You’re interesting” the last thing you could hear.
Two hours before..
The asylum gates have opened to you. Having parked the car, you headed to the central entrance, repeating you questions, before a tall man stopped you. Name “Tiziano” was written on his badge. “Excuse me, are you this interview girl?” He asked you with noticeable disinterest.
“I suppose yes, I am” You extend your hand to give a handshake but this bastard, without even paying attention, immediately goes in the other direction.
“Follow me… oh my god this stupid red press..” And you obeyed without even telling anything. What’s wrong with this guy?
The lobby oh the main building was surprisingly spacious and well-lit. You wouldn’t even guess that this place is an asylum for criminals. The man at the reception looked at you with confusion, you don’t often can see a woman here. Well, women used to work here, but for some reason they were all fired. Maybe you could ask the reason during an interview. You thought you would see dirt in the corridors and hear screams of madmen, but it didn’t happen. Everything was sterile and there was no sound except doctor’s chatting and dull sounds of some machine, perhaps an air conditioner?
“Ah miss Y/N L/N. Just in time! I got it from here, Tiziano, thank you again” a weird green-haired man in a lab coat approached you. After this words the man.. Tiziano quickly stepped into one of the offices.
“My name’s Cioccolata, I’ll be answering all your questions today” with a contempt smile he leads you into a room at the end of a corridor. The room was well equipped with various electronic devices that you didn’t know the purpose of, although it was most likely to be a patient equipment. You looked around this place for so long that you didn’t even noticed Cioccalata’s intense gaze.
“Shall we begin?” He acknowledged you of his presence.
“Oh, sure, yes, my apologies” You replied quickly, afraid to annoy him. You didn’t know what, but you were very stressed by this person, but maybe it’s just the excitement that affects you. Maybe you could even get an exclusive material! Your company will definitely get rid of all debts. And it’s better if your boss will raise your salary. Wonderful thoughts.
“So, tell me about you work, are you a doctor?” Opening your notebook, you sit in the black leather chair opposite the man.
“Well I-” he doesn’t have time to finish when someone from the staff bursts into the room “Doctor Cioccolata, we require you help immediately” he sounds nervous, even scared.
Cioccolata immediately changes his expression. From calm and professional, he becomes serious with a stern look. You didn’t even think that people can change their emotions so quickly.
“Be right away” he already starting to leave the room when he turns to you “I’ll be quick, you just wait here” after this phrase he closes the door behind him.
You left all alone. Even voices from other doctors disappeared from corridors. Something bad happened? Is this the right time? But if something really happened, it would be a great story for your newspaper. Y/N L/N solved the mystery of the Mount Massive asylum! You would be famous after this article, maybe you’ll be offered a job in a better company.
Worst decision of your life, leave this room. And you don’t even expect how much it’ll change your life.
Now corridors were completely empty, all people seem to have died out. What could have happened that they all disappeared somewhere. Time for investigation. But as you walked around the entire building you still couldn’t figure out where are everyone, everything looked surprisingly normal. You were already thinking that this was a stupid idea, and should just go back to Cioccolata’s office when you heard a loud siren through the speakers on the walls. What is it? A fire? What the fuck. You ran to the stairs that would lead to the main entrance. But as you were near it you saw a big man twisting a doctor’s neck. You froze in fear, being afraid that you’ll be next.
This man.. this was a patient. He turned to you, read eyes with dark sclera. He was scary as hell, his white hair stuck to his forehead because of dried blood on him. You couldn’t look at him anymore, you quickly turned and ran back down the stairs without turning back. The siren was bothering you more and more and interfering your thoughts, you just didn’t know where to run, but it didn’t matter.Maybe if you could run to another part of asylum you can call someone for help. Another mistake.
This wing of Mount Massive met you with blood on the floor and dead staff laying everywhere. Your eyes widened in shock and fear, legs shaking. It could be. It’s just a really realistic nightmare, you’re going to wake up soon. But you didn’t wake up. As you were standing there terrified you saw a creature, that was eating a meat.. no.. this was one of the doctors, you squeaked stepping back. But this was too late, it already heard you. You couldn’t stand here any longer, you need to get the fuck out of this place.
#la squadra di esecuzione#yandere#yandere la squadra#la squadra x reader#la squadra esecuzioni#la squadra#jjba x reader#jjba part 5#jjba fanfic#jojos bizarre adventure#jojo no kimyou na bouken#golden wind#risotto x reader#jjba risotto#la unita speciale#prosciutto x reader#prosciutto#formaggio x reader#not safe for minors#formaggio#illuso x reader#illuso#pesci x reader#pesci#melone x reader#melone#ghiaccio x reader#ghiaccio
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