somewhere in a faraway dream...

22 | She | Angst and Fluff fuel my will to live

[ackermanrage]

ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ!ʟᴇᴠɪ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴꜱ :)

~ Husband!Levi wakes up before you every single morning. He pads around the house barefoot, starts the kettle, and takes his time preparing tea, one cup for himself, and one exactly the way you like it. He just sits beside you on the bed, watching your chest rise and fall. There’s something calming about the sight of you tucked under the covers, wearing one of his old shirts.

~ Husband!Levi is absurdly territorial, not in a jealous way, but in a quiet, calculated way only people with survival instincts notice. He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t argue. He just watches. eyes sharp, jaw tight. When someone gets too familiar with you. He steps closer, hand resting low on your back, fingers lightly tapping your spine. If someone pushes past you in a crowd, Levi’s the type to grab your waist and reposition you next to him with zero hesitation.

~ Husband!Levi keeps your home cleaner than most hospitals, but he doesn’t mind your clutter. Only yours. Your clothes on the floor? He folds them. Your hair in the drain? He scoops it out. You could leave makeup all over the sink and papers scattered on the table and he wouldn’t say a thing, he just cleans around them. He once found your necklace tangled on the bathroom counter and spent thirty minutes undoing the knot before hanging it carefully on your nightstand.

~ Husband!Levi wears his wedding ring like armour. He’s not flashy. He didn’t want some expensive band, and he didn’t want to make a big deal about the ceremony. But that ring? He touches it constantly — when he’s thinking, when he’s irritated, when he misses you. It grounds him. If he has to take it off for work or training, he keeps it in a tiny cloth pouch tucked inside his inner jacket pocket, and he checks for it twice before putting his gear on.

~ Husband!Levi remembers every tiny thing about you, especially the things you forget. He knows your coffee order, your shoe size, what side of the bed you prefer, and exactly how long your bad moods last when you’re sleep-deprived. You’ll mention craving something in conversation, days later, it’s in the fridge. You’ll complain about a headache, he’ll hand you water and your preferred meds before you even ask. He doesn't make a show of it. He just...pays attention

~ Husband!Levi doesn’t verbalize “I love you”, but when he does, it means everything. He’s not careless with words. He’ll call you “brat” or “woman” or “pain in my ass,” but when it comes to the real thing, he doesn’t waste it. He says “I love you” on nights when the world feels too heavy. When you’re curled up in bed, when you’ve had a terrible day, when you’re not even looking at him and he can finally say it without being overwhelmed by your reaction. It’s always low, always gruff. Sometimes it slips out when he’s holding you too tight. Other times it’s whispered when he thinks you’re asleep.

~ Husband!Levi is physical, not in a lustful way, but in a grounding way. He needs to touch to believe you’re real. When you sit beside him, his hand will automatically land on your thigh. When your cooking, he’ll press a kiss to your shoulder. If you’re standing together in silence, he’ll brush his fingers along your arm or let your pinkies link. You once asked him if he even noticed how often he touched you. He stared for a moment and said, “Not really. Feels normal.” And that’s the thing with Levi, touching you isn’t supposed to be showy. It’s instinct.

~ Husband!Levi is surprisingly soft when you're sick or injured—even if you're being a stubborn brat about it. You could be sneezing nonstop, wrapped in a hundred blankets, claiming you’re “fine,” and he’ll just frown and say, “Bullshit.” He’ll monitor your temperature, feed you soup (homemade or not, he makes sure it’s hot), fluff your pillows, and glare at you if you try to get out of bed. The only time he ever truly panicked was when you got hurt badly once, he didn’t say much then, just held your hand until you came to, knuckles white from how hard he gripped you.

~ Husband!Levi doesn’t believe in grand romantic gestures, but you’ll never have to ask for flowers. He brings them anyway. Not for show. Just… when he’s thinking of you. He’ll come home after a long day, toss his coat on the chair, and hand you a small bouquet without saying anything. Sometimes they’re wildflowers, sometimes fresh lavender, sometimes from a stall near work. He acts like it’s no big deal. “Don’t make it weird,” he’ll say as you smile and coo over them, cheeks turning pink. But he likes seeing them in a vase on the windowsill. He glances at them every time he walks by.

~ Husband!Levi doesn’t smile much, not with his mouth, anyway. But with you, his whole face softens. His voice drops a little lower. His brows relax. His shoulders ease. You tell a bad joke, and while he doesn’t laugh, his lips twitch and he shakes his head like he can’t believe he married someone like you. He stares at you sometimes when you’re not looking—long, quiet stares filled with so much weight it knocks the breath out of you when you finally catch him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, grinning. He shrugs. “Just… still figuring out how I got this lucky.”

taglist: @lvstyangel @alebrasil0101 @creati-bunny @porcelain-soupspoon4 @r4td0lll @wedypopcytragedy @nxcxllxsevens @levkuna @glads-stuff @bnbaochauuu @maskedbunni

©ackermanrage - please do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work!

[thefavouritelamb]

GOLDEN CURLS and your BLOOD-STAINED KNIFE

premise . . . you should be terrified, you should be fucking horrified. all the annoying bitches around you drop dead like flies and the masked hottie man in front of you is about to kill you. and, oh my god, it's that nerd from chem ( requested by anon ! )

CAST virgin!slasher slutty!final girl TAGS plot with porn, murder and attempted murder, mentions of attempted suicide, crack treated seriously, possessive behaviour, light obsessive behaviour, light knifeplay, light femdom/dominant reader, light submissive slasher, brief breeding kink, creampie, unsafe sex done by unsafe people

affiliated links ─── pinned patreon inbox requests (closed for now) download this fic on my patreon !

death clings to your scent—everywhere, it knows where you are. it started small, seemingly a one-time thing. some old hag dies and everyone assumes it was from old age. it wasn't. god forbid, it wasn't. whispers echo through the hallway and doesn't leave your ears; it was a murder. who the hell gave a shit though, right? you didn't. you couldn't care when that hag refused to give you the mark you deserved. fuck her.

then, mechanically, it comes after one another. you're starting to think of moving, really. like flies, your contact list fills with dead bodies. literally. name after name, vague description after just another number, the men you've slept with are all fucking dying. if you were superstitious, you'd think this was karma. yet, you're not. you're realistic. you know someone is haunting your trail and they aren't fucking stopping.

the world stops for a moment. the only thing you can hear is that repetitive bounce of some... fucking tennis ball or something. the house is dreary, the silence occasionally stabbed with the thrumming of the ball bouncing around. your heart pounds against your chest. you can't feel your fingers though they tightly wrap around the handle of the kitchen knife. you've been sensing you were next for a while. you just wish that it didn't end like this when you're half naked, a nameless man dead on the floor of your bedroom, and pussy out in the fucking cold.

it's getting closer. your hands are grasped in prayer as you pull it close to your chest. when the pounding stops, you know he's there.

quickly, you turn to face the man in the doorway. you raise your hand to stab yet he halts you by your wrist. fuck. all your anger and frustration bubbles into a punch but it comes out fruitless. his fist hammer to your ribs. you're promptly pushed down; weak, hurting, and pathetic. this was not how you wanted to die. the man towers over you as he drags you by the hair—a string of whines fall from your lips as you struggle out of his grasp.

"get the fuck off me, you sicko!" you scream, the sting at your scalp more painful than a knife stab. you think so, anyways. "i won't fucking report your ass just please! leave me the fuck alone!"

if he's been operating systematically, killing off your contact lists one by one, you just knew that telling him off wouldn't stop him. still, he drops you on the floor. you find yourself on your back, staring wide-eyed as the mask looks into your eyes. he has no eyes, not really. he has one mouth, a grin so wild. his entire body is cloaked and with it soaked in blood—you were too. both of you were bathed in the blood of some bloke you didn't even remember the name of. you hoped, just a little, you get to have one good fuck before you died.

"do you like pain?" he says your name, his voice unnatural and a deep monotone. "i know you do." fucking pervert, watching you getting your masochistic streak on. "you like inflicting them more than you receive them, though. i know you do."

"i don't know what you mean," your voice trembles. he slowly squats down to your level, his bloody gloved hands making a print on your cheeks. "j-just..." his knife kisses your jaw, "if i did something or i said something to you—... i'm fucking stupid. you can ruin my life however you want just let me live! wouldn't that be better? let me live with my own mistakes?"

his laugh comes out a growl through the voice changer. it's animalistic. "you have been living with your mistakes," he tells you, "everyday, every man you bring home. every single one of them is a man who doesn't even care for you. they're a mistake. you've lived far long enough with them, haven't you? i'm here to finally—" the edge of the blade traces a line on the bottom of your jaw, leaving a heated pain behind—"dissolve you from your past."

before you try to reason with him, he grips his mask. the white sullen face is pulled upwards revealing—revealing...?

him? "you?" this feels like a sudden joke. "no... oh my god, no fucking way."

you want to laugh; hat was, of course, your attempted reaction before you felt the blade go deeper in your skin. fucking ouch. the man above you is none other than that nerd in your chem class. you remember months ago how you laughed because he continuously tried to flirt with you. his attempts all but adorable with his soft face and thick glasses. it was endearing back then. you almost slept with him just because you thought he was cute.

but now? holy fuck. now, it's different. you almost couldn't tell they were the same person if not the mole on his lips, a gentle kiss from the gods that turned his mouth a shade of pink. the soft cheeks have slimmed into a distinguished jawline. strands of hair curl at the top of his head, almost shielding his watercolour eyes beneath those stupid glasses. you can't believe it. that fucking nerd, after disappearing for months, came back to do a killing spree all because... you didn't sleep with him?

"you embarassed me," he says, his voice almost whiny. "do you know how hard it was for me to go around school? everyone picked on me because you said that i was... i was a good for nothing fucking virgin! you made fun of me and the entir..."

it's odd how his words dulled into a muffled tone. from this angle, the cloak falls off a little and you see a glimpse of his collarbones. he lost weight, didn't he? that's slightly sad, you quite liked him in his softer body. you mourn it silently but you notice how his voice trembles into a deeper tone—had he gone through puberty again? jeez. he looks and sounds cute. you're smiling a little as your heart skips a beat from anything but fear.

"what the fuck are you doing?" he asks, snapping you out of your trance. before you could notice it yourself, your hands already moved down to your crotch. you haven't even came yet, not even a fake orgasm. you're only slightly bit shameful that you're touching yourself while he's having his villain monologue.

you hum, spreading your legs. "look, i feel a bit bad and all, but you really caught me at a bad time." you see his eyes trail to your cunt, seeing where your fingers disappear between your legs and how he gulps down in want. "come on, he didn't even have his cock out, baby. i was just barely taking off my panties when you interrupted us. and... you're kinda hot."

"you're sick." hah! the irony in that. "you want to fuck me now?" he laughs, gripping your hair again which makes you moan this time. you can see how his face loosens for a moment at the sound. "y-you only like me now because i lost weight! i starved myself from the bullying, and planning on how to fucking kill those people!"

"but baby, you're cute the way you are," you pout. "the only reason why i didn't fuck you was because you were just kinda weird at times. it was cute how you thought flower facts were going to get you pussy. and it was going to give you pussy, baby. but i can't risk my reputation if i fucked a cute nerd like you. can't give it all up just for one dick, you know?

"but now...?" you gasp, reeling in his attention with how two fingers slip in with ease. "you fucking killed those dickheads, baby. i fake orgasmed with most of them. i don't need a reputation when you've killed my audience."

his face drops into one of shock. you're not surprised that he's surprised. you're a bit surprised too—hah, you're kinda going delirious, maybe you are insane after all. despite the festering pain on your face, the stickiness of blood, you curl your fingers perfectly into your g-spot that has you moaning. you admire the way his eyes are trained onto you, his desires unfulfilled coming back again like a pest. he's tried to get over you but he hasn't. you're not letting him. absolutely fucking not.

his knife moves and you stick your tongue out, chasing the tip of it. you moan, looking into his eyes as you lay your tongue flat against the plane of the blade. "co' fu'h me?"

the words "come fuck me" were muffled but it seemed like he got the gist.

like how it was meant to be, you lay on stained bedsheets. it's a bit disgusting but you're too distracted with how cutely he's hurrying to undo his jeans. the cloak is pulled apart and you see how his hands struggle to undo his belt. silly boy. you reach out, hands expertly taking them off as he melts in your hold. it's thrown away along with your underwear, wherever it may be, as his pants are roughly pulled down by him.

you can't help but tease him, "feeling excited, baby?" he moans, hips grounding against you with a sticky fabric bordering you two. "so cute. did you cum in your boxers already? why's it all wet, baby boy?" he blushes, silent as you pick him apart knowingly. your hands make it inside his briefs and both of you moan at the contact—he's fucking wet, almost gushing. you would think he already came with the pre-cum leaking at the tip. despite that assumption, his cock is an angry red demanding warmth. your warmth.

"such a pretty little boy for me. take that off," he does so obediently. his fat cock—and it is fat, the length of it just nice but the thickness of it makes you drool in want—slaps against his stomach and makes a patch on his happy trail. "good boy, such a pretty and good boy for me.

you ask, "wanna shove it in?" and he moans, an echo of agreement and pleas falling from his mouth. he's pressing kisses against the open wound, a silent apology as he begs to be touched by you. the pain doesn't feel that bad now. it's numbed as his cockhead presses against your wet heat, wanting an entrance. you can only hear his ragged breathing as his tongue laps up the blood. your heart races against each other, the two of it throbbing with only both your flesh and bones separating them from mauling each other.

it's a miracle how he hasn't combusted yet. however, you hold onto that as he shoves the first inch inside. you've barely stretched yourself with two fingers and you almost wish you took more. the stretch of his cock punches a moan out of you, unwilling. the little thing above you whines and moans, "so good, so good, you feel so fucking good." it's the only thing he can muster in his brain as your cunt grasps him in a tight embrace, slick gushing around it as it tries to ease the slide.

"so good," he draws out in a tight moan. "i've never... you—i can't fucking believe it." you almost forgot the nerd was a virgin. "you feel so good around me. your pussy is so tight but it's, oh my god, it's opening up so nicely. so nicely for me."

your hands tangle itself in his hair after you pulled his hood down. "yeah, is it how you imagined? how does my pussy feel in comparison to your hand?" he's barely understandable with how fast he repeats so good so good so good. without prompting, one of his gloved fingers reach down to play with your clit. mostly the men need a signal or even a guide to do that. the leather is an odd feeling against such a sensitive area. still, it's not unwelcomed. you moan freely, your legs moving to wrap itself behind him. you want him to start moving. you need him to.

"come on," you goad, "need your fat cock inside me. you gotta start fucking me how you did in your fantasies, baby." then, that he does. he pushes inch by inch in, making you moan with the delightful and painful stretch. it's a feeling you're never going to tire yourself from. his cock splits you open more than anyone ever could. he presses it nice and deep, the tip kissing your g-spot gently. he doesn't move his hips, the vice around his cock too tight. he understands immediately and flicks your clit, a rapid motion that has you grinding against his hold.

that gets him to move. he starts to fuck his cock in and out of you. it's slow, pulling out until the tip is left just for him to fuck it deep again. his playful hand gets distracted but it's okay. every thrust you're groaning, your head having swivelled backwards from the pleasure. it's getting your legs to numb out. his balls slap against your ass and there's lewd sounds of skin slapping with echoing moans from the both of you. it's textbook erotic. you crave his cock just as much as he's craving your pussy.

"faster, come on." he's a show dog who's memorised all his cues. he moves his hips faster, opting for a more chaotic pace to chase both of your orgasms. he moves his hand again, a slower and more gentle act of circling in contrast to the impaling of his cock. your cunt is leaking in wet arousal as your breath is stolen from you. you can barely feel your legs when he's going ballistic. he mouths delightfully at your face now, just shy of kissing you.

you don't let his fantasy go to waste. eagerly, you tilt your head so your lips meet in unified desperation. he's moaning into the kiss. his pace stutters as he loses himself to the pleasure of being kissed. you're not surprised if you took all of his firsts tonight. in eager motions, he's chasing his orgasm orgasm. his first orgasm inside a cunt raw. you don't really mind that he's without a condom. you know you're safe when you've made everyone who tapped to wrap it up. this little killer of yours is, of course, a special exemption.

"'m gonna cum," he whines, dick hammering into your cunt. "gonna cum inside your pussy. gonna make it mine. gonna breed your pussy and you're gonna be all mine, all mine, all mine."

his free hand goes to grip your waist with one final thrust, both of you pulled into waves of orgasm. he's cumming inside of you and you mirror as you squirt all over him. the orgasm is intense as he gently plays with your clit, easing it with a slow lull. all of it becomes just a bit too much and you're writhing beneath him. he gets the point and moves away, carefully moving out of you.

in between the post haze, you feel the sheets move beneath you and you lay on the mattress. he wraps you in his arms and you're being embraced by the warmth of his body and the feel of his tongue against your lips. his kissing could be improved, you think with a laugh. that pulls him out of his cocoon-like touches. an insecure question of, "what are you laughing at?" has you smiling a little.

you answer him truthfully, "you fuck like a menace and kiss like a virgin. it's cute though, don't get me wrong." he blushes like a virgin too. you can't help but squish his cheeks. "gosh. you're adorable," the fog thins and you smell the corpse rotting at your feet, "and... you're a serial killer. how are you going to get rid of that dead fucking body?"

he looks down, almost surprised that there was a dead body there. "oh," he says, quite dumbly, "i actually don't know. i really did plan to kill you and then kill myself afterwards. i don't want to go to jail."

oh. o-fucking-kay.

you two sit up and you pull at your hair. the golden curls fall in front of your face in anger. "why the fuck would you go through all this just because you couldn't get some pussy?" he's about to answer you and you know he's going to repeat his monologue. "no, no. okay, i get it. i'm sorry. but seriously, i don't want to die and i don't want to go to jail because i fucked the murderer." this is bad. his knife is on the bed and you're thinking about just stabbing him.

wait, that could work. you grab the knife quickly and stab him. that immediately gets him to yelp, "what the actual fuck!?" he glares at the knife in his stomach then at you, "why would you do that?" he's looking at you like he's about to cry. you actually feel a little bit bad.

"sorry," you say, letting go. "i just needed to come up with a story." you pull your hair back, sitting cross-legged in front of him. "so, you were fucking me. he came here and tried to kill the both of us. he's all jealous that i was fucking other people—sounds familiar? yeah, well, this time, i kill him with this knife and now he's framed for the murder. assuming, of course, you don't have any incriminating evidence inside your house."

"no," he groans, hands hovering above the handle in wanting to get it out but knowing it should be stuck in. "your cameras are all dead too, by the way. it's been dead for a few days and no one saw the two of you when you sneaked inside from the back door. no one saw me too."

"great!" you promptly pull out the knife and he screams. "sorry! sorry! i just need to stab it inside of him and then call the cops." you put the knife right where he put it in earlier, right between his crotch. if this all goes well, you all go home without a worry. if it goes bad, well, you could always run away, right? you look at the killer bleeding, cock out and cum dribbling down his thighs and squirt on his stomach. you don't think both options are that bad.

"the costume?" he asks, looking down head to toe at himself. you're about to undress him gleefully and play dress-up with a dead body.

written and posted by thefavouritelamb

[a-mint-bear]

No One But You

Male Yandere x Reader

Still trying to keep a low profile, you are once again out in the city. Just one random face in a sea of strangers. But by now, you've learned that it's wise not to dismiss what feels like "just being paranoid". Someone is following you, and you're starting to miss your weird internet stranger...

Parts: [ 1 / 2 / x ]

[content warning for depicted violence and mentions of violence/murder and sexual situations, not for readers under 18]

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It’d been a long time since he’d lost control like that. 

Staring at the drain, he silently watched the water circle it. It was tinted with He couldn’t remember if he’d ever killed someone if it wasn’t to sleep. It felt… different. 

He’d killed someone just because he was mad.

Because he hated them.

Because they got in the way of you. 

And…

He would do it again.

He’d had the thought to himself that the reason he wanted you with him, wanted you at all, was so that he could sleep. That the intense need he felt was some baser instinct of his to help control the things he couldn’t, to make his life easier. 

But now that you were gone, killing didn’t seem as… effective as it used to be.

The voices were already creeping back in, and he felt exhausted. And even with the blood of his former employer still all over the motel bathroom, sleep felt just as out of reach.

Had he built up some kind of resistance to his old band-aid solution?

Now, it looked like you were the only thing that would work, maybe… Or was this something else entirely?

Maybe…

He just needed you.

The heat of you next to him in the night. The stillness of his thoughts as he studied every detail of your face. The steady rhythm of your breathing as you held him close.

The beat of his heart under his hand as he steadied himself against the shower wall.

His other hand creeping down his chest, he closed his eyes as the uncomfortably hot water ran down the same path. The steam was becoming a bit suffocating, but it felt amazing on his sore muscles.

His breath caught in his throat when it was your hand replacing his own, drifting over his stomach, the sensation soothing his nerves after overextending himself.

It was you.

Calming the voices. 

Consoling him. 

Praising him.

Calling him yours.

Your lips grazing his jaw as your hand trailed down, your fingers ghosting over his skin.

He choked out a gasp as you whispered in his ear, your fingers wrapping around him.

You told him he looked so cute, all flustered, Colin gasping and panting as you bit his neck.

“Don’t… “ He cried out, biting his lip. “Don’t st… stoooop…”

A soft chuckle was all he could hear, his own moans and whimpers drowned out by the tinny hiss of the shower head.

It was all too much… You were talking to him the whole time, telling him exactly what he needed to hear to feel just a little bit more. More more more… He needed something, something else… It was right there. He just had to… had to-

You told him to let go, to give in to you. He chased after that feeling, his nails digging into his shoulder. You…

You were everything to him. He wanted… He wanted you. It wasn’t enough, but it was too much. Too much…

“Yes…” He moaned, muffled as he pressed his mouth to his shoulder, feeling so damn overwhelmed. “Please please please PLEASE-!!”

A strangled, choked sob escaped his throat, it felt like his whole body was in spasms, and he wished you were there to hold onto. He wished it was your shoulder he was biting instead.

“F-fuuuuck” He mumbled around his own skin. “I can’t… it won’t stop…”

His legs trembled and almost buckled under him, his hips bucking into a painfully empty space where you should’ve been, not just his hand. Panting hard, blood dribbled from his mouth onto his chest, circling the drain alongside everything else.

“Fuck…” he panted, his wet hair clinging to his face. 

He felt like it’d been a long time since he’d done that. He wondered to himself if it’d always felt that intense…

Or was it because of you?

The water was getting cold. Maybe it had been for a bit. He couldn’t remember. 

His thighs burned, but it felt… nice. So much warmer and almost… comforting compared to the burn he felt after a kill. He let the water roll over him for another minute or so to cool him down. 

You were gone. You’d been gone that whole time, but the you that he’d seen, that he’d felt… they were gone now too. He stared at his own hands, wishing yours would come to him again. 

You were… changing something inside him. He’d been so empty for the longest time, something about you-everything about you was filling him up, making him into something new.

He was thinking a bit more clearly lately. Just enough to… remember how to be a person again. Or at least… enough of a person to realize he needed to calm down. To get his head on straight long enough to figure out a few things.

. . .

“Yeah…” he sighed, pulling back the curtain. The floor, the sink, the mirror… Everything was still covered in blood. “There’s still so much to do…”

. . .

“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve cleaned up…” he sighed, grabbing a towel for himself. “I know how to get rid of this. I need my tools…”

. . .

“There won’t be anything left when they come back.” He squeezed his eyes tight in frustration. “They won’t see. I wouldn’t scare them like that…”

There was a lot to do. But something stuck out to him.

“I guess I lost my job.” He hummed to himself. But spying what was left of his boss, he had an idea. 

Being a small part of the motel’s business, he knew enough to keep things running, to keep up standing reservations with big regulars and creeps. 

And given the kind of customers the boss catered to, it wouldn’t be… unthinkable that he’d crossed the wrong people and those same people were the new management of the place, the most hostile of all hostile takeovers. 

And, if they just so happened to imply that the old boss was hiking up the rates and a bit too loose-lipped to the wrong people, which in fairness, he was… They probably wouldn’t mind staying again, if promises were made. 

Of course, all new staff would be employed. No one left from the old regime. New cleaners, new front desk guy, so Ryan had to be let go. Same way his boss was, as far as they would know.

He would have to be a few new people, behind the scenes. But the money would all be his now, and with the right words to the right people, the real him would still go unnoticed. He could take just enough bookings to get by, plus it would lessen the chances of getting found out. 

Chris could just not show up to his shift at the bar, and eventually they’d just assume he wasn’t coming back. He had too much to do here.

After all, the money would go a long way towards finding you.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

The money you’d gotten had been some relief to your situation. The last few days had been… okay. 

You’d used some of it to get a gym membership in cash and under a fake name. It was a cheap, reliable way to get a regular shower and a locker to store some of your stuff that was too risky . The money would also go a long way at a few different cheap hostels for about a month or so. You could afford some cheap food and the occasional trip to a laundromat, the one downtown with the broken cameras, but all of it was just a temporary fix.

You still had to hide like a scared animal. Your old life was so far away now, it almost seemed like a completely different reality. There was no looking for a permanent place, no job search, no trying to figure out what you would do long term. Though that was probably the smartest thing to do, it just… wasn’t really possible then.

Anyone you spoke to could be the person that would later realize who you were and who was looking for you and then it would all be over. So you never walked the same route anywhere, and you never stayed anywhere more than an hour, all the while watching doorways and jumping at every sound.

You didn’t used to be so jumpy. 

Back when things were normal. 

You tried not to let your mind wander often, because if you did, it usually went back to the same place.

The small motel room.

The safe and secure feeling. 

The warmth of him against you.

The sound of him mumbling in his sleep.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to tell yourself it was for the best. You would’ve had to leave eventually. That you couldn’t stay in one place for too long.

No matter how safe and hidden away you felt you’d been. 

No matter how much you maybe kind of regretted leaving.

No matter how much you missed him. 

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

It wasn’t long until things started to seem off.

First, it was this instinctual fear, the cold, panicked feeling of someone looking at you from somewhere you couldn’t see. 

In the past, you would’ve just dismissed it as feeling anxious. But lately, being paranoid had been your saving grace as of late. 

A few days later, some of your things in the gym locker seemed just slightly out of place, just enough to set off alarm bells.

Not long after that while walking to your hostel, you noticed footsteps behind you. Alert to their presence but not initially suspicious, you slowed your pace just a bit. Sure enough, the unseen stranger down the sidewalk slowed, their steps falling in line with yours. Another test, your pace a tiny bit faster, and suddenly it was obvious someone was following you.

Quickly cutting through an alley at random, you circled back a few blocks and headed in a completely new direction, successfully shaking your tail. 

You canceled your stay through your phone, booking another on the other side of town and taking only side streets to get there. You didn’t know who had been behind you, but you didn’t get to sleep that night, your mind racing with the worst possibility.

If it had been some random mugger or worse, it would almost be a relief. But you couldn’t help but suspect the obvious. 

That someone had found you.

In the voices and noises of the city streets, you could swear you heard your name. No one was calling out to you, it was more of a hushed whisper, like someone was noting where you were or telling someone else about you. It was so faint you almost wondered if you imagined it. But that wasn’t the way to think when you were actively hiding yourself away. 

Little things kept piling up, and you were more on edge than ever. But there wasn’t much you could do about it other than try to stay hidden.

Every time you had to go out into the city, it was agonizing. You were no longer just scared, you were tired.

Tired of always having your guard up. Tired of lying awake at night, wondering if tomorrow would be the last day you’d be able to hide. Tired of all of it.

You didn’t deserve any of it, you didn’t do anything wrong…

But you still were being made to suffer like you were, and you didn’t know how much longer you could do it.

You were leaning against the side of a beaten-up food truck downtown, waiting on your order. No cameras, no names, cash only, and you couldn’t get cornered. A quick getaway was easier here than if you’d gone indoors somewhere with exits that could get blocked. 

But it meant that the cold air was beginning to bite at your fingertips. It wouldn’t be too long until you were warming them up with your order as you walked back to your room for the night. Your breath would have to do for now, wispy puffs of it slipping from between your fingers and up into the air. It was a quiet moment where you could just breathe.

But it didn’t last for long.

“I knew it.”

Your first instinct was to run. You practically threw yourself off the side of the truck when your frantic gaze finally found where the voice had come from. 

But you froze, your voice caught in your throat.

It was Colin.

“I thought that was you.” he seemed so relieved, like he’d been so… worried?

And there was that smile you couldn’t stop thinking about, and you could feel that same familiar warmth in your chest, despite the cold.

But you felt stuck. How was he here? In a city with millions of people in it, what were the chances that the two of you would run into each other again?

“It’s good to see you.” He stood in place, maybe seeing how nervous you seemed. “Are you… good?”

You didn’t know how to answer him. You wanted to talk with him, maybe just to be near him again, maybe just to hear his voice. But it wasn’t safe out in the open. You didn’t know who exactly was after you, or what they wanted with you, but that meant you also didn’t know if they would hurt Colin if they saw you with him. 

He took your silence for what it was. 

“Hey, are you free? Can we talk?” He asked, looking hopeful.

A beat, then you nodded. But you told him it couldn’t happen right then. You checked your phone, asking him if you could meet him in an hour.

“Okay!” He quickly agreed, not even trying to hide his nervous smile. “Where should we meet?”

Just to be safe, not to say it out loud, you told him to meet you where the two of you’d first met, your “special place”. He grinned, saying the phrase to himself under his breath as started to walk off.

He froze, thinking something over, before stepping back to you quickly and taking your hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

“Promise you’ll come?” You’d never seen what could almost be called “puppy dog eyes” on a grown man before, but they were practically pleading with you as he held your hand. 

It was cheesy, but your heart raced. You hoped he didn’t notice you trying to avoid eye contact.

You agreed, and though he seemed reluctant to let go, eventually he did, and you watched him slip away into the crowd.

A few minutes later, the food truck vendor called your number, and normally you weren’t one to eat on the move, but you felt like you needed to get moving. 

It was a bit of a trek to the motel, and you took a lot of side streets jut in case, but there weren’t a lot of places in the city where you knew you wouldn’t be spotted. And a lot of the public transportation had cameras, so walking was really your only option nowadays. But you also just… wanted to go back there again. Once you finally got there, it all just felt…

Right. 

You’d been so on edge the last few weeks, you never really felt safe anywhere. Every new room or building was just a place you could exist. But here, you felt like you knew what everything meant. Like it was all going to be okay.

And you knew it was because of him. 

Just like that first night, he answered the door, but he was almost like a different person. 

He was still kind of a mess, but there was something in his eyes. He looked less… lost. Kinder. Much less nervous. But the way he looked at you had changed the most. 

You weren’t afraid of him, or what he might do. Not anymore. 

“I didn’t know you were coming, so this is all I have…” He handed you a mug, the little pod coffee machine having just finished up. 

You smiled, telling him it was okay. The coffee was wonderful after you’d been out in the cold. He was making a cup for himself now, trying to choose between the little pod flavors. 

The machine whirred away as it made his coffee, he looked like he was trying to say something, but it seemed like he finally tried because as he stirred in a bit of sugar, he let it out. 

“I… I really missed you.” He muttered, maybe hoping you wouldn’t hear him. But he perked up with this bright, dumbstruck look when you finally said that you’d missed him too. 

“You did?” He seemed genuinely surprised, like he would’ve never expected you to say that in a million years. “That… that makes me kinda happy, won’t lie…”

A minute of somewhat awkward silence as he finished preparing his coffee, you still sipping away at yours with a comfortable smile behind the mug where he couldn’t see. It had been a bit since you’d been able to smile like this.

“How, uh… How are you holdin’ up these days?” he asked, plopping down next to you. 

The almost automatic, small talk response of “Fine” nearly slipped past your lips, but even the thought of saying it felt so… upsetting? Wrong? Like you didn’t want to lie to him.

Colin seemed to pick up on the change, because his face clouded with worry. Setting his coffee down, his hand crept towards yours, hesitation, then his fingers brushed yours. Despite yourself, despite all your uncertainty, you laced your fingers with his.

Everything just kept spilling out of you. You finally told him about everything. How you’d just been a normal person living a normal life and then it all changed in an instant. How you’d been out on the streets for a long while, how you were hiding from someone-or maybe a few someones, you weren’t sure-who wanted to hurt you? Or track you down, at the very least. There was so much you still didn’t know.

And how you just couldn’t keep it up. How every day felt worse than the last and it was just so hard to keep going, or… to keep finding a reason to at all. 

Suddenly, you were pulled against him, pressed into his chest as he held you close to him. A pang of guilt in your gut, you hadn’t meant to dump that particular feeling onto him. But, when you’d reflexively tried to apologize, you couldn’t even finish the word “sorry” before he held on tighter, shaking his head.

He held you for a long while. It wasn’t uncommon for him to have fallen asleep to the sound of your heartbeat, and you could see the appeal now. When you finally pulled back, you’d calmed down a bit. With him so close, you really got a good look. 

It was impossible not to notice the state of him. His disheveled, greasy hair and the slump to his posture, the horribly tired look in his eyes. The dark circles were just as bad as the day the two of you’d met.

You asked him.

Did he not find someone else?

“Someone else?” he asked. He seemed confused.

Someone else to sleep beside, after you were gone.

His palm held your cheek so gently. His hands were a tiny bit cold, but you found that you didn’t mind. 

“I didn’t look,” he sighed. “Ever since you left, I’ve just been… surviving.”

That same pang of guilt hit you. Did he really not? Or was he just trying to seem…

Loyal? Committed? But why?

“I was really hoping I’d see you again.” His hand left you, and you hated how you wished it wouldn’t. “You just left without saying goodbye.”

Some part of you was still trying to push him away, telling yourself that you didn’t owe him a goodbye. That it wasn’t your fault if he had felt…

Disappointed? Empty? Maybe even a bit abandoned… 

It felt both wrong and cheap when you offered a simple apology, when you told him you didn’t know if you could do it when he was there. But…

“But you had to move on.” he offered, a tired smirk silently telling you he understood. Or at least you hoped. “I was kind of worried though… Your note made it sound like you were in some kinda trouble…which I guess was true.”

The note that you’d rewritten so many times that day, you’d been worried you’d run out of time before Colin got back that day. It had so briefly explained your situation, and what you thought he needed, and maybe deserved, to know. 

Colin, 

I have to leave, and you’re reading this, so I’m already gone, I hope.

It’s not safe for me to stay in one place for too long. 

I want to, but I can’t stay.

I felt safe here, with you. You don’t know how much that meant to me these days.

I know you’ll find someone to help you sleep, but it can’t be me anymore.

Thank you for helping me,

And when you’d been about to sign your name at the bottom, you’d worried, maybe needlessly, that it would leave a sign of where you’d been. If the wrong person could see it, Colin could get caught in the middle of all this. 

But it felt wrong not to.

So you did.

It was just a simple thing meant to be a simple goodbye, to make leaving him seem easier. But it hadn’t gotten any easier. 

Colin seemed uneasy with how quiet you were being. He seemed to be searching for what to say, but he was getting… sidetracked. 

You noticed his eyes kept darting down, then sharply meeting your gaze with a few flustered blinks, like he was trying so hard not to be obvious. 

He was watching your lips. And when your eyes lowered with an amused grin, you swore he blushed all the way to his chest.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. You… You just, well, more like I just got uh…”

You offered one word: Distracted? And he squeezed his eyes shut in a panic, lips pressed in a thin line as he dragged a hand down his face. 

You didn’t know where it was coming from, but you boldly asked him:

Do I distract you?

“Yes.”

You froze, wondering if you’d heard him right. His eyes were avoiding yours, but his words were more direct than you’d ever heard from him. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you…” He muttered behind his hand, still looking away. “ I never stopped.”

It was such an uncharacteristically forward thing for him to say that for a moment, you just froze. While you were still processing it, he kept going. 

“I’ve lost so much of myself. I barely knew who I was anymore. But with you…” His breath was shaky, and he was idly tugging at a loose thread in the bedspread. “With you, I can feel myself becoming… a person again.”

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, he still wasn’t finished. 

“If you leave, everything… it’ll all go back.” he muttered. “Back to what it was, who I would be… I… I don’t want to go back to that. You’re the only thing keeping me here.”

You questioned: Here?, your eyes darting to the room around the two of you. 

“No!” He sounded pained, dipping his head in exasperation, looking so worn down. “No… no, here. Here.” 

He held his head in his hand, breathing heavier.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been here, really fully here, w-without anything creeping in.” The room was so eerily, suffocatingly quiet apart from his forced words. “If I go back there now, it’ll be so much harder to find my way back. Here. To you.”

You weren’t sure you really understood the panic in his words, but if you being here really was helping him, even a bit…

Taking his hand in yours, your thumb grazed the back of his hand as you figured out what to say. 

“I need you…” he whispered, looking almost ashamed of himself.

You told him the same. You needed him. And that was the truth. 

His eyes were wide, and then it was your turn to avoid him looking at you.

And… more than that… 

You felt your face getting hot, but you pressed on and said it.

More than that, you wanted him. 

You felt his hand on your cheek, and his lips swiftly pressed to yours. 

It was intense and sudden, but it was true. You wanted him. Grabbing his shirt, you pulled him closer, softly moaning against his lips.

“I want you… It’s been so long… since I wanted anyone… Anything.” he gasped between each kiss. 

Somehow, you knew what he meant. Running for so long, wanting someone… something, was practically a luxury. You had to focus on what you needed, what would keep you alive and safe. 

But Colin…

Needing him was easy. 

You wanted every bit of him. 

He pulled back, just enough to pepper your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your shoulder with those same desperate kisses. 

“Stay…” he pleaded, pressing himself close to you. “Please… stay with me. It hurts…”

He held your hand to his chest, and you could feel how hard his heart was pounding. His head dropped to your shoulder, the heat of his breath on your neck.

“It hurts when you’re not with me… When you disappeared, it felt like my heart got ripped out. Everything was so… numb.”

He kissed at your neck, pressing in further when you scrunched up at the sensation. 

“I won’t let you go again.” He muttered into your skin, his teeth grazing it as he panted. “Stay with me… here.”

His lips on yours again, his hand crept to your thigh. Hesitant. Waiting for some sign of your discomfort or rejection.

But it never came.

You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him with you as you leaned back. He pulled back, still panting, his eyes searching your face.

You told him to stop worrying. That you weren’t going anywhere.

And that was all he needed.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

“Are you up?” A soft voice called to you, the light of the new morning spilling into the room through the blinds. 

Half-awake, you pressed yourself against his chest, tucking yourself further into the arms wrapped around you. 

You stirred at the laugh he couldn't help but let out, a deep rumble in his chest under your head. Running his fingers through your hair, you seemed to settle at his touch, sighing softly against him. He wondered if you were really asleep or just being stubborn. 

“You’re holdin’ on tight… such a  cuddlebug… Bug. My lil’ lovebug.” he muttered to himself, a hand rubbed soft, little circles in the small of your back. “… It’s hard to believe you’re actually mine, bug. All mine…”

He kissed the top of your head, and you smiled a little bit in your sleep. He had to bite his free hand to keep it under control, to keep it from touching you like he had that night. He missed your noises, the face you made when he kept getting you so close and then slowing down again, hearing you beg and plead for something you were too wound up to really put into words. 

He hoped you would stay here with him this time.

He wanted you to be his, but he… he wasn’t sure he wanted to force you. Not yet at least.

He’d already crossed a line he couldn’t come back from. And he was going to keep that to himself. If you ever found out…

You’d been so hard to find.

He’d spent weeks putting out feelers for you. Looking around places to get cheap, warm food and a bed for the night. You stayed away from places with a lot of cameras and anywhere you had to be I.D.’d, so you weren’t gonna get found like that.

Using his new management persona, he’d asked around the bigger crime folks the old boss was associated with if anyone was trying to find you. 

And eventually, it all paid off. 

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

A few days earlier…

In an “office” downtown, which was really more of a crappy apartment above a seedy massage parlor, Colin met a man.

His business associates called him “The P.I.”. Whispers in the wrong circles said that this was the guy you hired when you wanted to find someone, but couldn’t risk a paper trail. He wasn’t cheap, and he was willing to get his hands dirty, but he usually got the job done. And discreetly at that. It helped that he wasn’t a real private investigator. Just some asshole who could get shit done.

“Now we can discuss things properly.” Colin sighed, wiping his knife on his jacket lining. 

“I noticed you following them, and it was just too easy to follow you back.” He laughed. “And some contacts of mine said that you advertise yourself as a P.I., but really you’re a killer…”

But The P.I. didn’t respond. Or rather, he couldn’t.

“Now, I dunno your side of the story. Maybe you’re just some hired gun protecting your boss by tying up some loose ends. Maybe it’s person? Maybe you loved them and they rejected you, do you have a hard time takin’ no for an answer, my guy? Maybe someone else loved them and used you to get them back, whether they want to or not.”

He walked around to the back of the man, gasping on the floor, clutching at his neck.

“Hell, maybe you’re like me. Maybe you just want to kill. Maybe the thought of their blood between their fingers is the only thing that makes you feel alive. Part of me can understand that. Maybe…”

He groaned, crouching down.

“Maybe maybe maybe maybe…” Colin muttered, shaking his head. Dragging a hand down his face, skin tugging down with it, somehow soothed his tired eyes. “Too many unknowns, too many fuckin’ variables here. I’m done, ya know? With you gone, my little bug’ll feel safe. That’s all I give a shit about.”

The man’s eyes were darting around, like he was still trying to find a way out of this alive.

“Now… maybe- god, there’s that fuckin’ word again… But you might have friends, out there somewhere. They might want to get revenge, or finish what you started, for whatever the reason. So, nothing personal. But I think I’ll just…”

A sudden stab to the man’s gut, and a wet, gurgled scream somehow managed to escape.

“Yeah, I think I’ll use you to… send a message.”

. . .

He usually wasn’t one for theatrics in his kills. No fuss, no muss. They usually just “disappeared”. He had no impulsive, childish desires to play with them or open them up to see what made them tick.

You wouldn’t know it, looking at his handiwork here. 

He made a mess. Nothing too dark, like a weirdo art project to taunt whoever would find him and care. But enough to say that whoever had hired him shouldn’t have.

He found a “file” on you, if you could even call it that. Photos, habits, ways to find you, names you might go by… How you were meant to be killed. Someone had hired that man. He sighed, not remorseful, but almost annoyed. He’d gotten a lot of… joy? Something like that, out of imagining he was killing a former lover of yours or another stalker, competition either way. 

But, this also (annoyingly) meant that this wasn’t over. 

A pause. His thoughts raced as he put the pieces together.

This meant…

This meant that you still needed him.

He’d come here with the intention of keeping you safe, he knew that. He’d considered not telling you he’d come here, or what he’d done, so you’d stay scared. Uneasy. Dependent. 

So you’d stay with him. Lie next to him at night, hold him, be held by him.

But now, he wouldn’t need to lie…

Maybe… 

Maybe… you’d even love him.

He smiled, biting his lip, your face the only thing he could picture. He’d never felt so… light. So… happy? Like the thought of you made him so detached from everything else in the world, tethered by you to everything he was or would ever be. You were everything.

This was love. It had to be.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

Someone was looking for you. The details were under wraps, but someone out there was desperate to find you, and he knew that they wanted you dead. 

And they had a rough idea of where you were. 

He needed you. He wanted you. And once he knew why you were so closed off, why you’d built up those walls, he’d had an idea.

He would keep his eyes on you and anyone else after you, and steer them in the wrong direction. No one else was going to touch you.

So making you a little more afraid would leave you no option but to come back to him. 

You needed someone to trust. And he needed you to trust him. 

In the time you’d left him, whenever he’d see you freeze in your tracks on the street, trying not to let on how scared you were at whatever you did or didn’t really hear, his chest ached. He wanted to be with you, holding your hand, letting you know he was yours, that you’d be okay. But he couldn’t, back then.

Not until he was sure you were his. For good.

And he’d done it! He’d led you back to him. You were lying against him and he could feel your body heat, listen to the sound of your breathing, watch the rise and fall of your chest. And just as he'd felt before, he felt his muscles relax, his eyes felt heavy... You were here. And everything was exactly as it should be.

“You’re mine, Bug.” He kissed the top of your head, holding you in his arms. “I’m never lettin' you go again…”

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

this took FOREVER lol

it just kept gettin longer and longer, and then i kept having to go back and re-read my own writing to make everything at all coherent D:

but it's done! more Colin writing could happen, but this is the end of the "main" story. i will take writing suggestions/requests for Colin and his Bug, if only to get the creative juices flowing again

the nsft scene at the beginning is as explicit as im gonna get without like a sperate nsfw account i can verify ages on lol, i don't write a lot of straight up smut, and i like that kind of writing when things are more alluded to rather than relying on over-describing everything with words that make my little ace brain feel fried 😐 (it's not that bad lol, but i know some of y'all ain't 18, and trying to purge/verify 1000+ people sounds exhausting)

followers/reader who asked to be tagged, i remembered y'all :3 :

@lost-in-the-night-skiess @unabridgedjournalsofaloser @iamapotatoe @fem-dom-roze @caged-birdies-blog @fandangoballs @ameliachastain @ssak-i @thigh-o-saur @sharkcravingcables @btsgangleader @httpsgiaiko @satoru2716 @greatwitchsongsinger

(hopefully that's everybody)

im pretty sure this is all well and edited, but knowing me i'll re-read it again and find a typo or an unfinished sentence and fix it.

until next time ✌️

-minty

[jupitersmusings]

good things will happen 💫

things that are meant to be will fall into place 💫

[merakiui]

no because skully is actually so sad when you think of him in every context (platonic, romantic, a fleeting crush, etc) because imagine meeting this guy who is in a very similar situation to you (trapped somewhere in a new world with no friends, all alone, and everyone thinks he's strange because they just don't understand him) and so he can sympathize with you and your situation. he completely gets it, and maybe you just,,, get him. maybe in a way no one has before.

over the course of this predicament, you form a fast friendship that's very meaningful to both sides. for skully, it's finally a friend who can understand him and isn't a complete idiot like his dull classmates. he finally has someone. and you finally have someone who actually pays genuine attention to you, doesn't call to the front the obvious power imbalance between you (magicless human) and a school full of talented mages. for once, you're just (name) to someone. not the magicless human or the beast tamer or the person dropped in twisted wonderland from a far, far place. you're just (name). skully sees you for you, and you see him for him. maybe that's why he comments on how similar the two of you are so often because he wants to cling to this connection. maybe he sees parts of himself in you and you see parts of yourself in him.

it's a connection that seems so real and raw and heartwarming. right place, right person, you'll both think.

but all of that is rendered meaningless when you're destined to come out of the book, having forgotten all inklings of halloween town and its residents and, most importantly, skully. the one friend who could understand you in a world where no one is able to. and now whenever you look at the portrait of the halloween king you're filled with so much sadness and longing. but why? you've never met this person before.

you never will again. even skully recognized that when it was time for everyone to leave because when he leaves the book he'll be dead, but you're still alive. the both of you are from vastly different times.

right person? definitely. but you met him at the wrong time. a little too late.

or maybe in a bittersweet way it was the right time. even if you can't remember your experiences, the both of you imprinted something special on the other. when you think of halloween, you'll think fondly of that unique portrait and a grin that seems eerily familiar. and maybe if he was still alive today he'd feel comforted every time he thinks he's alone only to feel as though someone, if only for a moment, was able to really, truly know and understand him in the ways he hoped to be known and understood.

[lilintiel]

this year's halloween is anything but happy

man...

[lilintiel]

i just really want to read / write about a yandere fic that would make anyone double check their locks, or like at least make them wanna step out of the house to touch grass for a moment and ponder the meaning of life or smth idk

rant below ugh just ignore it

like cant there be a yandere or dark romance fic wherein the "dark" aspect is not just limited to sexual abuse?? seriously almost every dark romance fic i read, there is always SA in there i mean yeah fine it's a given but idk aren't there other ways that would make a reader be scared out of their wits other than..that?? im just really tired of going thru the tags and almost all the posts have smut at the get go idk maybe make me feel creeped out first?? make me want to triple check if i locked my doors and windows right?? tbh i literally dont mind the the horny stuff but the lack of horror and overall creepiness in the setting / plot is really annoying. might as well just read porn i guess

anyway these are just my personal opinions there is no need to agree or fight over it. continue to consume / produce your media the way you prefer. im just ranting because this is my personal blog and i can write whatever tf i want

[boyteal]

was having a minor crisis but this appeared in my head and it was so stupid it just snapped me right out of it

[lilintiel]

i feel like the horror aspect of newer yandere fics are nonexistent...everyone is just so horny nowadays sigh

[yanderedreamer]

If requests are open could you pretty please do some Merlin hcs? 😩🥺

GENERAL YANDERE HEADCANONS.

➸ Yandere Merlin.

➸ Gender-neutral reader.

➸ Blood-drinking.

✧ When Merlin realised that you're someone whose future he couldn't see, his interest is immediately piqued. His younger self had been hurt by the truth that no matter what he did, he can never alter the outcome of a predetermined future. But you were an anomaly he found, a sliver of hope that the cycle of destiny can be broken. He then decides to dedicate his time in watching over you from his tower in Avalon.

✧ He eventually finds himself clinging to you like a child and calls you his Hope of Avalon, which he chants under breath whenever his eyes follow your form. Soon, he realises that simply watching you isn't enough; he needs to be near you, he needs to feel you.

✧ Since his illusions can affect the human psyche, he can easily invade your dreams and interact with you there. You were surprised when you first met him in the middle of a spring flower field under the winter stars. The fact that a beautiful and charming man like him knew you made you flustered, and that sight of you made Merlin unable to resist covering your mouth as he kisses the back of his hand.

✧ Thanks to his unique skill, Independent Manifestation, he was able to summon himself as your Servant while you were wishing for the male Arthur Pendragon, effectively sabotaging the summoning ritual. Merlin's unexpected appearance surprised you greatly but you were happy about it nevertheless. Merlin then invited you for a hug by spreading his arms, which Mordred who was with you at the time found odd. She later warns you to not fully trust Merlin but with how kindly he treats you, you heed her warning lightly.

✧ Although Merlin is mostly used as a support for your Buster Servants, he'd insist that you use him as a damage dealer too. His B strength isn't just for show, and he proves himself when he effortlessly decimated the enemy Servants that attempted to take you hostage with his Excalibur during a mission. With his signature smile, he happily announced that you're safe before hugging you tightly.

✧ When you've rayshifted to another era for an expedition, Merlin would make you sleep on his lap, claiming that it's more comfortable than the cold ground and that it'll be easier for him to watch over you this way. Unbeknownst to you, once you have fallen under sleep's spell, he would devour your dream and absorb the emotions within it. He then cups your face, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he licks his lips. Your dream is wonderful, and he wonders if your blood will taste the same? Baring his fangs, he brings his face closer to your lips but swiftly pulls back when Bedivere shows up with a blanket for you.

✧ The Magus of Flowers thinks that you're not appreciated enough in Chaldea. You have worked so hard to save humanity and proof of your efforts are shown in the scars you got from the countless battles you fought in. As he traces every scar, he sings you praises and tells you how proud he is to have you as his Master. You take comfort in his embrace and miss the eery glow of his violet hues.

✧ Merlin follows you around Chaldea much like Fou does. He speaks of the king's tales and the fascinating events he observed from his tower in Avalon. You're unaware that as he chats away with you, he also uses his clairvoyance to steer you both clear of the Servants seeking your attention. How foolish of them to think that an inhuman mage like him is generous enough to share you with them.

✧ When Merlin devoured your dream for the first time, he was overwhelmed. Your dream is so pleasant to the heart and he immediately became addicted. Your dreams are full of love that every time he absorbs the subtleties of your heart, his obsession for you only grows - to the point where he'd lose touch with his human side and give in to his carnal desires.

✧ As he removes his intricate white robe, he crawls into bed with you in the middle of the night just to watch you sleep, his arms carefully holding your delicate body that could easily snap under his full strength. It reminds him just how weak yet strong humans are against fate. Merlin can be as lecherous as his incubus side, but he'll save that for the inevitable moment he traps you in Avalon with him.

✧ Merlin's addiction to your dreams should not be taken lightly. He'll run around Chaldea like a starved beast if you're separated from him for even a day. Once he finds you, he'll pounce on you without warning and sink his fangs into your pulse in deep bites. He immediately laps up the blood drawn and since there's mana in your blood... you'll be in for a long night with a hungry incubus.

✧ Sooner or later, Merlin will whisk you away to his tower once he feels that he's had enough fun in the present world. You'll spend the rest of eternity in the sealed utopia with him, where you'll be happy and protected by his magic. At least, that's what he believes.

✧ Don't be sad, you can dream as much as you'd like in Avalon - and he'll make sure that they're pleasant dreams too! He casts a powerful illusion spell on you when he kisses your forehead, and catches your body in his arms as you fall in an unending slumber. You won't be alone in your dreams because he'll be there, spending your happily ever after with you. You can never run away from him, even in your dreams.

[cosmosrival]

oh you know

[neondreamsareforteens-deactivat]

The Night Shift

18+ Please

Just read and find out 😈

Picture the love of your life. Can you see them? Good, now take that image and apply it to the reality in which we live in. Can you find them? Can you see them? Regardless of what you determine the desirable outcome usually is the one that is either twisted with a “but”. Like a double edged sword your lover can be the funny charismatic person you desire so. But when in reality they’re an unforgiving monster who’s greed singes the earth with each breath they take.

“Ma’am can I have my receipt please?”

Crumbling the note within your sweat slick hands you nod, furiously spouting apology after apology. As you collected the paper bill and collected her change the woman quirks a brow at your distressed form. Her stance gives off the indication of annoyance, probably from your less focused persona. Bidding her a farewell you drop the forced smile with a heavy sigh. Amidst the dark atmosphere of the darkening evening you watch her car ignite with life, the truck’s headlights blare on illuminating the gas pumps with its blinding light. Carefully reversing from her parked spot the women speeds off the station and enters the lonely highway just beyond the gas station you worked at.

Collecting the note pad hanging off the wall behind you check the contents of the long list. “Re-stock, open bathrooms, take out trash, swap chips, and don’t die. Ha, very funny.” Looking down at the signature you notice how hastily your manager “Ritchard” left his signature half done. Confused but not surprised you smooth out your shirt and rub your arms. Goosebumps littered along your skin. Pricking each hair molecule to stand up and high. Observing the empty gas station through weary sleep deprived eyes you eventually fell back to the note crumbled by the register.

“Just some prick trying to scare me.” Gathering courage and trash cans you head through the backdoor just near the liquor aisle. Passing storage was somewhat frightening in the sense of the lights flickering on and off and boxes stacked high above your head. Coming outside you curve around the building towards the dumpster just near where you parked your car. Struggling to throw lift the lid and hold the bags you shriek when the plastic ripped and a coffee cups spills onto your chest. “Shit!” Dropping the bags to clear the trash from your chest you watch in horror as papers float among the wind.

As the sky darkened some more you sprint like a mad woman chasing after the litter. In the parking lot you manage to step on one piece of plastic. Bending down to pick it up you chuckle lightly to yourself. Standing straight up you squeak out a fearful noise. Standing in front of you several feet away by one of the gas pumps a figure cloaked in darkness watches you. His body is inhumanly tall, the hoodie he wore was filthy as was his pants.

You two stood there in the presence of the full moon. Not a single car passes and only the chirps of nearby insects bring the comfort of noise that diminishes the eerie silence. Clearing your throat with a shaky laugh you awkwardly wave at the individual whose face you could not identify. “Hello, do you want to come inside for coffee? Or maybe a snack?” You swore on your life you tried to sound strong. Even to a deaf person they would’ve known that was a lie judging by your trembling stance.

The figure doesn’t respond. It or he just stands there watching you with an unmoving stance. Panicking when he takes a single step forward you race back to the front. Locking the doors behind you. Racing to the front counter you check the surveillance cameras of the pump stations. After an incident involving a drunk man pissing on the pumps and teenagers stealing food your manager was forced to supply the station with cameras both inside and outside the station. On Cam AB you see Pump 3 was completely empty, devoid of any living being.

Checking through all the cameras you exhale upon finding that the creepy figure was not in sight. “Just a drunk homeless man. Nothing more. Nothing less.” Plugging in a single earbud you lean forward on the counter. The crumbled note immediately catching your view. Staring at the note you shoot a glance back at the computer monitor. Satisfied at nothing you reach for the note, carefully unfolding the damaged paper.

I was taught from a young age that no one is perfect. Even god himself was not the pure loving individual whomst many compare themselves too. I’m not perfect. As much as I disagree with the fact, my dear (Y/n), you are not perfect. You are of the rare gems upon the world that has yet to be encased with taint.

Tires screeching onto bare pavement snaps you into reality. Holding the note close to your chest you see a huge truck pull up onto the trucker’s only gas pump. Placing the note down you walk around the counter and unlock the door. An older man with a fading hairline waves eagerly at you despite the tiredness eating at his face. Waving back you return the smile. As he turns to refuel you couldn’t help but observe the desert landscape now blanketed with darkness. Flies buzz around your face. Heading back inside you shake off the paranoia messing with your mind. “Just nightshift jitters.”

Repeating the mantra you focus yourself on finishing the list. Restocking and swapping out outdated chips was easy as your colleague and best friend Carla had done so before you. All you really had to do was to open the bathrooms. Something you were less than pleased at doing. Checking the cameras one last time you were struck a nerve when the trucker lights a cigarette. Leaning at the microphone by the monitor you hold down the only faded red button. “Can’t smoke near the pumps.”

Startled the trucker looks around him with a confused race of movements. “Up here smart guy.” You chuckled. Dropping his defensive stance the man turns to face the overhead camera. Raising his hands in defeat the man places the bud on the ground. Smashing it beneath his boot. “Thank you.” You chirped.

Through the front and curving on the opposite side of the dumpster you jungle the keys in your hand. Unlocking the men's first your heart nearly skips a beat upon the eerie squeaks of mice. The desert was prone to these little buggers. As you struggled to lift the lock on the female padlock you notice the camera above is off. The iridescent red light was off. “Son of a bitch.” Entering through the front again you notice an immediate foul odor. Shielding your mouth you trek further into the building and to your utmost horor find the source of horror to be a pile of garbage on your counter.

Your eyes well with rich vibrating anger. A truckers horn blares through the harmony of night. Snapping your head just a moment too quick you are able to see the ass of the truck exit the station and high tail on the lonely road. Frustrating screaming you throw the trash off the counter onto the freshly mopped floors.

“This is the last fucking time i’m taking this god aweful shift!”

Finishing cleaning the mess you painfully sat on the wooden stool. Holding your head in your head you stifle a silent sob. You hated this job, this way of life. The only reason you even agreed to take the later shifts was to cover the cost of your shitty apartment in the middle of nowhere in a shitty state. The crumbled letter once again is the turning point in your night. Wanting to rid your mind of one trouble with another was a toxic habit that somehow suited you well. Smoothing out the wrinkles you bring the paper close to your face.

I met you at my mother’s funeral. Such a strange place for soulmates to find each other don’t you think? While we mourned the loss of the departed somehow the universe saw best to unite two lovers together. In death there is life and love. I felt it, i’m not sure you felt. That’s okay, I understand. As you read this (Y/n) there must be an impressive amount of questions in that mind of yours. I can answer a few but others I cannot not. Will not. Not until we meet. Will I hurt you? No. When will we meet? Soon. What do I want. Your heart.

You pause, an unfathomable certainty of deepening terror floods your mind of rationality. There is a the heart wrenching sound of glass shattering a horrendously horrific shout. Not just any shout, the type of shrill roar that comes from a wounded animal. As much as you wished to check to cameras you wanted this hell to end. So you finished reading the “note”.

Do I want something from you? Yes, your love. As much as I wish to hold you in my arms I realize that if I do so it will only be detrimental to our story. So I will wait until we’re both ready. It may take weeks. It may take months. I don’t care if it takes years, we will wait until our hearts are ready to grow and nourish the sprouts of our love. I love you (Y/n). Forever and ever.

Love, Your fool.

As the paper slips from your trembling hands you slowly move your intensive stare at the monitor. The back was safe, the pumps were safe, the storage was safe, the back rooms were safe. Each and every room was safe. All except for the employee parking lot. Your war had a huge hole in the driver’s window, mysterious liquid drips onto the pavement from the window. Grabbing the baseball bat beneath the counter you slowly edge out of the store. Into the cold of night you trudge forward to your car.

Approaching your car the metal bat slips from your grasp. Clanking against the pavement the metal weapon rolls to your tires. As inspected by the camera your drivers window was broken into. Glass shards in the seat reflect light from the neon lights above you. Blood drips from the car door. There is a letter spelled out in the blood. And another. And another.

Taking a step back you drop to your knees at the horrific message.

“1 Corinthians 13:4-7”

[starnightaesthetics]

nobody requested: “Hideyoshi Nagachika aesthetic”

-Mod Chess ❀

[bunnythekaijuslayer]

Iskandar is red,

Arturia is blue,

Diarmuid is Lancer,

like Karna and Cu.

Gilgamesh gold,

Ozymandias too,

if you spend Saint Quartz,

you’ll pull Mapo Tofu.

[silverquillsideas]

My thoughts on the ending of banana fish

Banana Fish ended on the 20th, and then onward, a lot of posts have been made regarding the ending and what people thought about it. I’ve seen mostly negative posts, where fans were openly hostile to the ending and I get where they are coming from. There was the occasional positive response, and I understand their views too.

My stand on BF and whether the ending was justified falls on the grey area. I tend to oscillate between hating the ending, and liking it for being a powerful, emotional, and haunting experience. Why can’t I decide? Because I’ve got questions I just can’t justify in my head. I can’t come to a reasonable conclusion because of the loose ends that I feel were left in the manga by the author.

This is not meant to be an emotional rant, please bear in mind. I finished the manga back in July, and I’ve had months to ponder over these questions, and reached no conclusion.

Hence, I’ll just place the specific issues I personally had, and hope that, I’ll eventually figure out why it was created the way it was.

I’ll divide this post in 3 parts :

1. The events leading up to Ash’s death

2. Ash’s choice to die

3. The role that other characters played, and why the author chose to ignore their “fates” if you will, and only deemed it necessary for ash to meet his end in that way

I’d like to thank @angofwords, @lynxash @yoru-no-gaspard @ash-callenreese @saishii , with whom I discussed this over months, and finally @shu-kaku, who practically kicked me in the butt to get me to write this post, because I wouldn’t shut up about the  arguments :’D 

Also, to @zaenaris and @soso1777, my replies have been abysmally late, but here is what I had planned to say in response to you both.

A. THE EVENTS LEADING UP TO ASH’S DEATH

The battle at Mannerheim’s institution finished with Dino, Foxx and Mannerheim dying. Blanca, Sing, Ash, Cain, and all the gang members return safely, with few casualties on their side.

Afterwards, there were clearly two days before the manga ended : Day 1 , where Sing confronted Yut Lung, and Ash and Blanca talked in the park.

Day 2 : where Eiji leaves for Japan, Sing gives Ash the letter, Ash gets stabbed, the story comes to an end.

My question is regarding the behaviors of the characters in these two days, or rather, how Yoshida-sensei chose to write them.

Firstly, Sing Soo Ling, the very competent gang leader, who knew that his brother, hell bent on hating Ash for being a “monster who killed Shorter” and apparently on the mission to “harm Sing” , was missing, never once thought of tracking him down? Provided he had two days at hand? Sing had cleared his animosity with both Ash and Yut Lung, and I’m pretty sure, as a gang leader, he had conveyed both these details to his underlings. Therefore, it’s unlikely, that Lao, could NOT have heard it from at least one person in the gang (even if he was not a part of it anymore, I’m sure he had people close to him), if not from Sing directly. Lao was the only family member Sing had in the Chinese gang, so it seems a very far stretch that he would not have made any effort to get him back in the ring.

Ignoring the above question, assuming Sing was very busy, or the question escaped his mind, my second problem, Lao Yen Tai.

He was under the impression that Ash was a deadly enemy to Sing. His goal : kill Ash anyhow, even if he died in the process, so that Sing could be saved.

So, on that day, he followed Ash around (there is no other way he could have known Ash was at the library)

This is him spying on Ash and Sing talking in the reading room : 

Ash and Sing then went outside, and argued loudly for sometime. Lao, of course, followed them, and saw Sing and Ash yelling at each other. Sing ran away, very much unharmed, and alive, after yelling at Ash Lynx’s face. Lao saw the whole thing.

So, my question is, Lao DID NOT come out of nowhere, he was observing the whole exchange. If Ash Lynx was bent on killing Sing, or fighting him one on one, he had plenty of room to do so, but he didn’t. so, why didn’t Lao, go after his brother, and try to clarify the situation before going at Ash on a suicide mission? The excuse that he was “scared and confused and wanted to protect Sing” breaks down here. Logically speaking, Lao should have followed Sing, instead of going at Ash with a dagger. But Yoshida mysteriously chose to overlook this.

Third question : the blatant disregard for reality, in the following situations :

1 A gunshot going off, no one comes to investigate

2 Ash drips blood all over the staircase and goes back to the reading room 

No one notices

3 A human being bleeds out, sitting in a chair, in what I’m assuming is the Rose Reading room of the NYPL, which is very much NOT CARPETED and no one notices the blood (~3 to 4 L of bleeding is needed for an average human to collapse and die) in fact, in the screenshot I see, there is NO BLOOD, running out on the floor, not even a single splotch. 

Very interesting choice on both the author’s and animators’ parts

4 Also, since the anime time-line is the present day, I’m assuming there will be stuff like surveillance cameras present, so, my question is, what were the security people doing?

The readers are expected to keep the sense of reality suspended for all of the above points.

B ASH’S CHOICE TO DIE

First off, I’m a staunch believer, that Ash wasn’t suicidal, and that he didn’t actively go out and seek situations that would put him at risk of dying. I don’t know how the fandom views him as, but to me, Ash is an extremely resilient human being, and he wouldn’t give up his life just like that unless something major was at stake.

Ash says in ep 13, at the pier, that “there were times I felt that death would be a better option than what I was going through at those moments”

This is not the statement of someone who was trying to give up his life willingly, but only considering that choice under extreme situations. Ash had gone through a lot, more than any one of us, and especially me, who has had zero experience of depression or CSA or trauma of that nature, can fathom. And of course, there were times he felt that death would end his suffering, but also, he had a strong desire for survival and freedom from all that he was going through, and the goal to get revenge on those who had wronged him. 

In Angel Eyes, he says this to Shorter, and I think that’s proof enough of how Ash was ready to bend his horrible destiny to his favour and survive whatever he was going through. 

With all of that out of the way, I’ll point out the reasons which (according to me), served as his reasons to choose to die:

Why Ash did not seek medical help/call out to someone : Ash’s legal status was still that of a criminal, a gang leader, and whatever might have been his reasons for committing those crimes (ie -for survival), the law wouldn’t see him as anything but that.

The reason Blanca prevents him form going after Eiji to the hospital after he is shot, is precisely this :

There would be too many questions about who he was, what he did, etc, and invariably, the police would’ve been called on him by the hospital staff, since he was technically being treated for a potential homicidal would (a stab to the abdomen). Ash would’ve been questioned by the staff, asked for records, etc. If the police got involved, he’d have been taken into custody after being recognised. Even if Jenkins and Charlie stood up for him, and his status as a victim in the Club Cod trials was taken into account, Ash would not have been able to escape some sort of legal penalty, imprisonment or otherwise.

On further questioning, the names of his accomplices, ie, Eiji, Blanca, Max, even Sing, would come into the light. That was a mess I’m sure Ash wanted to avoid.

Any sort of contact with legal or law enforcement was a big no no in Ash’s current situation, and remember that the police were already looking for Ash at that time, and how Eiji refused to give them his location.

Let’s assume that Ash goes to the hospital / is taken there by people who saw him bleeding out, and he is eventually tried for his crimes. His case is widely publicised, since he is the biggest witness/victim in the Club Cod case. The Corsican foundation was still active, and Ash Lynx was still a successor of Dino Golzine, who had previously bought legal custody of Ash from the state of New York, which means, Ash’s identity as A J Callenreese, was no longer valid. The Corsican hotshots would still come after him, one day or the other, in order to go after Dino Golzine’s empire.

I’m excluding petty gang violence from being a threat to Ash, since at this point, all the major street gangs of NYC were Ash’s allies.

The Govt officials being tried by the court were also potential enemies. Club cod trials would mean more exposure of the politicians, more risk of Ash being the target of thugs or assassins in revenge (like it happened before with Kippard, where he sent the female assassin after Ash in the hospital)

Considering all of this, it’s obvious to me why he didn’t want to drag his life on, especially after the stabbing was done.

A more poetic explanation would be : to keep Eiji safe. It’s needless to elaborate. Ash had already made up his mind that he would remove himself from Eiji’’s life altogether, since he couldn’t risk putting Eiji in the position where they would have to look behind their backs all their lives, or be on the run, or worse still, his enemies tracking back to his friends, including, Eiji, Max, Sing, (or even Blanca), to hold them as leverage to get back at Ash. 

Yes, I do agree that his decision was majorly influenced by this wish to keep Eiji safe, forever, by choosing to get himself out of the picture, but only because he was put into the place of choosing in the first place by the author. 

I don’t agree with stuff like destiny, or fate, or paying for your actions because of a mysterious force in the universe decided so, because all of those are apt for ballads and fairy-tales, not real life. The above were reasons I could come up under realistic settings. In an ideal black and white worlds, all crimes are punished and all wrong doings are judged fairly, but not in the world we live in , and certainly not in Banana Fish’s world, where the “good guys” paradoxically suffer much more than the “bad guys”.

I’ll also don’t agree with Yoshida on Ash having to “pay for his crimes, as he had blood on his hands, so he had to die” mindset that she allegedly had. If that logic is applied, then I don’t see why she applied it selectively to Ash and not to Banca, Yut Lung, or Sing or any other person involved in gang life.

Instead of that, I’ll see Ash’s death as his choice, and his alone, not because he had to pay, but because he had decided to let go of all this continuous tug of war with his life and end it on his own terms. I don’t think Ash would’ve liked to suffer alone, all his life, in imprisonment by the state (if he was caught), or being held captive by another Golzine/Foxx wannabe.

I respect and agree with his choice, even if it’s not possible for us to ever know for sure why he did it.

C. THE ROLE OF OTHER CHARACTERS

The best possible outcome for Ash’s story, as I see it, would be taking up Blanca on the offer, or at least, if not go to Caribbean, then let Blanca provide him means to remain in NYC in a safer way.

Blanca is an anomaly in Yoshida’s world. He’s the only person who mysteriously remains alive, despite being an assassin, and committing perhaps even more crimes than Ash. He not only escapes his work related enemies, but the entire USSR (during 1980s) and manages to remain under an alias/ second identity. He escaped from the Kremlin, and its ruthless organization, the KGB 

If living such a double life is possible in Yoshida’s world, then why did the author not find a similar way out for Ash? It looks a feasible option to me at least.

Second comes Yut Lung. His situation is made prey clear in the manga. The whole fiasco with Banana Fish was cleared up, the Lees died, Yut Lung got his revenge, and struck up a potential friendship / truce with Sing. It’s made clear that he repented his decisions to go after Eiji, or to get Ash to acknowledge his worth as a rival, by whatever means he could. 

He let down Sing and Blanca by how he acted, who were the only two positive influences in Yut Lung’s life at that point. He would not have gone after either Ash or Eiji afterwards. So his status as Ash’s enemy was nullified.

The options open to Ash at that point (if the very stupid Lao fiasco did not happen) :

1. Live his life as a gang leader, and always stay on the lookout for his life from his enemies

2. Remove himself slowly from the violent life and maybe assume a different identity like Blanca did to escape all of that for good.

But under no circumstances can I see Ash and Eiji reuniting immediately after the canon events. Anonymous communication, or though friends like Max or Ibe-san, that I can picture, but not ash risking Eiji’s safety by meeting him. Not until years have passed, and Ash’s life became somewhat stabilised, if that were even possible.

It would have hurt, sure, but his unnecessary death could be avoided.

TL;DR : 

My point is, I wouldn’t have been confused by Ash’s death or even agreed with it, if only it had been written in a more natural fashion, in accordance with the rules Yoshida set for the ENTIRE manga. She wrote Ash to be a superhuman being, dodging bullets from automated weapons, surviving gunshot wounds that would be fatal on other people, and being able to completely override the effects of anesthetic drugs, in the final battle at Mannerheim’s (as a med student, that is one fact the I find ridiculous, only because its so unrealistic, and impractical) and lots of other fantastical characteristics.

So, his death at the end felt like the author had already decided on having a certain ending, and then lazily arranging characters and scenarios to fit her choice.

That’s why, my stand on the ending will remain ambiguous, because I cannot accept all these logical fallacies and call the ending realistic or well thought out. Did it pack a punch and make me cry? Yes. Was it haunting and emotional? Yes. But was it a justified or logical ending? No.

The decisions on Ash’s part were consistent with his overall characterisation, but not the circumstances which lead him to make that choice. The arguments that “Ash’s past will definitely catch up to him one day, so death was the best option” is pretty ambiguous. Even if it did, choosing Lao to stab Ash as an example of it, was poorly thought out in my opinion.

The points I wrote above are subject to faults, of course. This is just one way to look at it. Feel free to counter my points, I’m not a US citizen, and I don’t know how politics, law or gang life works there, hence, my reasoning is based off common sense and parallels under similar situations. Maybe I am wrong in certain aspects too. I’d love to hear what you all think.  

[cursedcatimages]

[startouches]

wow I can’t believe Ash faked his death again and took the ticket and is now living in Japan with his photographer husband and learning to live a happy, normal life. iconic. 👏🏽

[valtsv]

admit it, we’ve all fantasised about slow-dancing in the kitchen barefoot in our pyjamas at 2am in the arms of someone we love while old romantic jazz songs play softly on the radio