i do consume some true crime content, so i don’t want to act like i think any consumption of the topic is completely irredeemable/reprehensible. there are some ppl out there doing genuinely good work to tell the stories of victims and survivors without sensationalizing them. and also, not all crimes are abt brutalizing ppl— i think it’s good to discuss things like war crimes and white collar crime bc those things can sometimes get swept under the rug. but delighting in learning the gruesome details of someone’s death just for the sake of it is absolutely sick. like these are real human beings they’re not just props for your weird macabre voyeurism
Self indulgent Glorien drabble 😌
CW: suicidal thoughts, low self-esteem, plans for murder
This day was rough. Glorien had wasted the entire morning by stressing out about dance practise, the show at dinner and spending the night with Feyros. So when the moment came where he had to somehow turn off his thoughts and just go through all of it, he was already exhaused.
Mean words and dirty looks came harder than usual, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find clever comebacks or bring up proud smiles.
And now that he was walking towards the couch in the guestroom where Feyros usually stayed, he could swear he felt a million knifes piercing his skin.
Feyros looked worried. He hesitated a bit - always annoyingly slow at just saying what he wanted to say.
'Are you okay? You look tired', the man finally said.
Glorien forced a laugh and sat down next to him. He held his back straight and brushed a strand of hair out of his face, making sure he looked appealing.
'I'm okay, don't worry.'
'I feel like you don't want to be here.'
'I don't want to force you to be here. If you want to go...', Feyros added.
'No, it's okay.'
'They make you do this and that, so I won't-'
Glorien sighed. 'It's fine.'
He flinched from the harshness in his voice. He regretted that.
'I'm sorry', Feyros said. 'If there's anything you want...'
'I want... I want a hug.'
It came out without thinking, so he was surprised when Feyros put his arms around him.
But it was pleasant.
Glorien closed his eyes.
'I don't know if I can do this anymore', he mumbled. 'I don't want to be some pretty captive dancer. But... I don't have anything else to be. They took away-'
He couldn't speak anymore, as tears started flowing. He wanted to apologize. This wasn't what he had planned at all.
Feyros patted his back, and Glorien liked the warmth. He took a deep breath.
'I don't want to go on. I don't know how. And that scares me. I wonder why I should even exist anymore. I don't want to live...'
His voice cracked and he started sobbing instead. Feyros only held him closer, holding his head against his shoulder.
These were thoughts Glorien didn't even know he had. He wondered why he would even tell them to Feyros.
Maybe because he had a long day, maybe because Feyros showed him some kindness after all the taunts others threw at him. Or maybe because he wasn't going to let Feyros live for that long anyway. But Glorien didn't want to think about that. Not right now.
'I'm happy you exist, Glorien. Truly.'
Everything was so wrong.
Seymour: I am very traumatized but I am being so murder about it.
Okay I have come to apologize for my last post, I did not kill a man.
playing video games is speeding dialogue of the cockiest npc in the universe while screaming, "I AM GOING TO FUCKING MURDER YOU," at the screen
Trigger Warning - This prompt includes depictions of violence, bodily injury, blood mentions and references murder and arson.
Read at your own discretion.
One cannot kill other people for a living without igniting certain… types of enemies.
Typically the righteous sort; with flares for revenge or avenging angles.
One cannot avoid these types of people, or their perfectly expected retaliations.
Even bad people have family or loved ones, after all.
‘Bad’ could even be subjective, to some.
To Shear, ‘bad’ simply meant someone might be willing to pay coin to have their ‘bad’ influence removed from their lives. Permanently.
And he would be happy to oblige their desires for the right price.
Late summer sunbeams streamed in through the window, curtains and shutters open, facing the rising sun. In the early morning, giving a stir, tanned bare skin shifted against soft-spun silk sheets with a tired groan as tiny beams of light trailed over his face.
One rosy quartz colored eye blearily peeled open, the gold flecked pupil drawing unfocused across the sun-brightened wooden walls of the room and across the grass woven mats across the floor. The room he’d chosen for himself lay on the second floor, along the east side of the building, located on the sprawling estate of Shirogane where they were staying. The muted colors of the painted walls were broken up by the occasionally specifically placed dark wooden shelves in varying leveled patterns and meticulously - albeit sparsely - decorated.
A single paneled shōji set against the far wall opposite where he lay, leading to the private balcony on the north side of the building and was closed, the latch still locked in place. The small rectangular windows set between them and the ceiling in opaque glass, brightly illuminated and unoccupied by any shadows.
A full-length, double paneled shōji was on the joining wall on its left, also still closed and latched. His ears picked up the trickling of the man-made stream that moved through the grounds, set beside the stone garden just below his balcony, and the faint chirping of distant birds on the other side of the house. The sound of sea waves were close, but still a walk down the long, winding stone steps outside the north gate to the beach.
Blonde head rising off his pillow, the viera pushed his body up to a sitting position on the thickly stuffed and layered futons he’d been sleeping on. Clad only in a pair of black cotton smalls, one palm rubbed sleepily at an eye while the other stretched high above his head. Torso twisting, the opposite of the movements were echoed on the other side.
Scratching at the base of both long blonde ears and easing that scratch along the back of his head through the blonde tangle of his overgrown bob, Shear blinked fully open both mismatched, sunset toned eyes. One the rosy quartz flecked in gold, the other sunlight golden and speckled with deeply hued pinks.
Something felt off but the rousing viera couldn’t quite put his finger on what. The estates had been rented a week prior, Kalona’s crew all having various jobs or errands to run in the nearby prefectures. With the size of the house itself, Shear had his own room, as had they all. Kolli had opted not to stay on the grounds, insisting on a room at the hot springs inn in Kugane proper.
With Manjima fucking Yohan.
Stamping down his spike of irritation at the thought of the smug, smiling xaela, Shear pushed himself to his feet. What he realized was odd, then, was that there were no close birds chirping. The bell crickets that had taken to singing in the carefully tended bushes below his window were silent.
A squeak in a floor board on the stairs - and why Shear had chosen the second floor for sleeping- got the viera moving. The pillows he’d previously been resting on were stuffed under his blanket and the blanket tugged over them. Standing from there he slipped the loose, oversized summer patterned garment hanging from the hook over his head over his shoulders, belting it closed quickly. Two curled knives from his belt were removed and placed - by the grips - between his teeth.
Slipping out of the window, he hung there curled on the outside of the wall, listening intently.
He rather liked the estate and he thought it’d be a damn shame to accidentally burn the place down dealing with whoever was coming for him. So, knives it was. Adjusting his handholds, Shear moved to the very northside of his window quietly, ear turned to listen at his balcony.
There. A scuff of a leather sole on the waxed wood. A calming, muffled exhale.
Shear scowled from where he hung on the sill of his window.
Let them calm themselves all they like.
They’d be dead before the next bell’s chime.
The figure on his balcony kicked the wooden brace of the single paneled shōji, rolling into the room with a snarl and there was a distinct whump where a weapon hit the pillows along his futon. The viera swung up onto the waxed dark colored wood, waiting there as he observed the hyuran figure stab his futon repeatedly with a short sword.
Panting, the bandana-masked hyur yanked at the blanket with a disbelieving, “He’s gone!” A man, younger sounding by the pitch of his voice, yelling in Hingan.
Someone else - the one Shear had heard on the stairs to the second floor - shouted from outside the door leading to the rest of the house. “What do you mean he’s gone?!” A woman this time, also young, also responded in Hingan. The viera’s eyes narrowed as the figure previously stabbing his futon shanked it again in frustration.
Now he was curious.
Standing up from his crouched position, the karambit knives in his mouth were eased into his palms, clamped there idly as he gave a small whistle and called out in Hingan to the man in front of him. “Not that gone, idiot.”
The hyur whirled, startled, and nearly tripped on the destroyed padding. “YOU!” He lunged for Shear on his balcony - without his sword. Shear waited until he was near before ducking low, catching the edges of both the curled blades inside the front of both thighs after the man tried to throw a boxing punch for his face. With a pained scream from the masked figure, he shot a look down at his thighs as he clutched his palms around the karambit knives planted into him.
Yanking up and heaving him up over his head, Shear tossed the younger male off the edge of the balcony to the carefully raked tiny pebbled rock garden below. He fell straight to the ground with a yell, abruptly cut off as he landed on his back with a cough. From the lack of scuffling from below and just the echoing, gasping groan, the viera figured he wasn’t getting up any time soon.
“Taku!” A different figure, the one belonging to the woman, barreled into the room after ramming it a few times with her shoulder. Another bandana covered his face and she screamed in fury not finding him present in the room.
The bloodied karambits dripped blood onto the waxed wood of the balcony floor under him. The half-dressed viera braced his legs apart and cocked his head with a broad, taunting smile. “What are you two kids doing trying to break into this place, hm? Looking for someone?”
“We’re not kids! We’re adults!” A bulky weapon snapped up in her hands, pointed his direction. Shear jerked shortly before the tiny crossbow’s string gave a twang of warning, diving to his right. The bolt thunked into the railing where his guts used to be and he gave it an impressed ‘Huh,’ under his breath before gripping for the railing.
Kicking up over it’s edge, Shear landed in the swath of pebbles below with a clatter, heading for the figure still on his back who was struggling to catch his breath. The hyur gave a gasp and a wheeze, trying to scramble away from the approaching figure but was at a disadvantage. His aching legs bled freely, still winded, and his back throbbed at the points he’d landed on it.
Reaching down, Shear hooked the tip of one bloodied karambit onto the edge of the bandana, giving a yank against the tugged fabric before flipping the blade off his finger and tucking it into one pocket of his cloth-belted shirt. Giving the younger man’s revealed face a quick inspection before reaching down to grip a fistful of his dark hair, the viera yanked him up by it and drug him backwards. He kept the hyur pressed close against him as the woman - who’d reloaded her crossbow - pressed her hips to the railing and raised it again, taking aim.
“Nami, shoot him!” The unmasked young man Shear was using as a shield shouted at her but above them, she hesitated, unable to get a clear shot. He continued walking backwards, putting more distance between them and dragging the now struggling Taku stumbling with him. The viera’s other hand settled the still-wielded karambit under his pointed chin, the tip pressing closed and the curve of the blade resting up against his jaw.
The man froze in place. Nami, the one on the balcony, gave a shout and raised her bracing arm off her crossbow. “Don’t--!”
“Drop the crossbow over the side, then.” Shear called up at her, eyes narrowing.
Taku half turned his head and ceased the motion when the karambit dug in closer. “D-don’t do it, Nami! Take the shot!”
“Brave. Stupid, but brave.” Shear muttered it near Taku’s ear, who hissed something callous about the viera’s mother and her various used holes in return. Giving an amused snort, Shear held his position. To the woman, he called up again. “Drop it or I will kill him here and now.”
“Wait! W-wait, don’t--... Please.” The crossbow was tossed over the railing, landing with a clatter below and she raised both of her hands up. “He’s all I have left. Please.”
Scoffing, Shear rolled his eyes and barked at her, “You cannot tell me that, you never tell your enemy your single weakness! Honestly, are you new? Get down here.”
“Do I jump-?” Nami’s brimming fury from earlier was deflating the longer that karambit was held so close to easily sliced skin, although the edge of her tone betrayed a lingering annoyance.
Shear gave her a long-suffering look from behind the bristling hyur in his grasp. “If you can jump it, sure. Otherwise, you took the stairs once, you can take them again.”
“You won’t kill him while I go downstairs?”
“What? No, I want to talk to you, not lose you to grief screaming. Or worse, you trying to come at me senselessly after this idiot’s death and I’d have to kill you, too. Then you’re both dead and I get no answers. So just get down here already.”
“Nami no, just leave me!” Taku shouted and gave a lurch as she turned from the balcony, heading back into the room to proceed back down the stairs she’d come up and threading through the house’s corridors quickly. The hyur gave another hiss as the ache in his legs sharpened and the karambit bit in with the movement.
“She has more loyalty to you than to leave you behind to die in my grasp. How are your legs, by the way~?” Shear adjusted his grip on the hyuran man’s hair, checking that the idiot hadn’t yanked his neck open on the knife pressed to it. There was a tiny trickle where the tip of the blade had nicked skin, but short of the furious look on his face and his blood seeping into his pants, he seemed fine.
“Fuck you, murderer!” The hyur spat the words over his shoulder, which gave Shear a bigger indication of why they were there. “My legs are fine enough to kick your ass.”
“Is that why your knees are shaking like a freshly-born ewe? Don’t struggle, I have a knife to your neck.” The hyur had attempted to lurch away again, and Shear decided then these two would live if only because they were so gods damned stupid they’d get themselves killed before it mattered if he did it.
Nami stepped out of the front door quickly and followed the wrapping porch around to the north side of the building. Shear motioned with his chin for her to approach as she slowed on arrival to the stone garden. “Sit, on your knees in the grass, just there. Pull the bandana down and lace your fingers in front of you on your lap after. Reach for the stones or for another weapon and I will give him the last smile he will ever give you. Understood?”
“I d-don’t have a-any other weapons. But a-ah, y-yes.” The hyuran woman knelt where bid, fingers clasping the edge of the dark bandana and pulling it down off her face. The tongue spoken did match both of their looks and Shear frowned at the familiar looking face she’d revealed that shared features with the hyur in his grasp.
Likely related, and both of them locals to the area, then.
She was passably pretty, not his type, but good looking, with her hair tied tightly behind her head. Speaking of looking, she barely looked of age but he took her word for it. On the back of one clasped hand, Shear could see trailing burn scarring along the uncovered skin. The scarring continued up into her sleeve past her wrist, and he could see more of it crawling at the edge of her shirt’s high collar on the same side, partially up one side of her neck and up along her cheek. Her earlobe was stuck to the side of her neck on that side, her jaw more defined by the irregular shape of the healed scar tissue.
“You really should not tell me that either,” Shear drawled his Hingan lazily, as casually as Iji had taught him. No formalities. You don’t try to kill someone while they sleep and get formalities or respectful phrasing. “Unless you are lying and you do have other weapons, in which I will kill him for that.”
“Stop!” Her clasped hands rose and Shear growled a warning. They thumped back to her lap as her lip quivered. “I r-really don’t. Please, let him go.”
“Nami, shut up, don’t tell him that-” Taku started and was silenced by the sting of the karambit once again. The hand in his hair gripped harder, making the hyur grimace.
“Mmn, I will believe you, if only because of his rude pleading for you to shut up. Since you seem more inclined to speak than he does, why are you here? More specifically, why did you target me?” Shear spoke evenly, staring at the woman across from them.
“W-we were told you s-sleep well into the a-afternoon when y-you don’t h-have work,” She spat the word bitterly. Her voice shook the longer she stared at her companion’s state, deciding to change her gaze down at the disturbed stones leading from the place Taku had fallen to where he’d been dragged and was currently. So much for keeping her eyes off of it. “So th-the early m-morning we thought w-would… Be p-perfect.”
“And who told you that?” Shear’s lip curled and Taku gave another whine as the grip in his hair tightened.
“Sto- hhhhgh, o-one of the people you t-travel with! He was d-drinking and m-mentioned this place he was staying, and c-complained that you sleep t-too m-much.” The laced fingers squeezed, thumbs rubbing against one another nervously as she watched the grimace ease off Taku’s face, Shear’s grip having loosened as she talked.
Shear’s annoyance dimmed some. Maybe this wasn’t personal then. “So you made smalltalk with one of my companions, got them talking about me, and decided to… What? Make me your mark, to rob me or something? Is that it? Do you need gil? Are you starving?”
“Screw your money! You killed our mother.” Taku snapped it over his shoulder, laced with venom. Maybe it was personal after all. “And you left the place burning where Nami was sleeping, so she got burned real bad! This is revenge, you idiot!”
“Actually, this would be you avenging your mother, and would be her revenge.” The viera’s chin motioned at the woman sitting across from them. “Although I have to say, thus far you are poorly avenging your mother, so the word choice on the matter is irrelevant.” Shear corrected Taku loftily and barked a laugh when the hyur snarled back at him. “How do you even know your mother died because of me? I do not know either of your faces, or recognize your names for that matter.”
“The neighbor told us she saw a viera man matching your description leaving, long after the flames had already been roaring. If not you, then who? Do you even remember the fire? Or our mother? Ota Emiko. Her name was Emiko.” Nami’s nervous thumbs shifted, rubbing at the scar along the back of one hand as she spoke fiercely.
That name did ring a bell. Two, even. “And you decided to not report this witness to the authorities because...?” Shear pressed for more, figuring the answer before they spoke.
Taku responded when Nami did not, her lips pressed together while she bit back tears as the painful memory resurfaced. “Because they didn’t believe her. She’s older, and claims to see things no one else can. I did though. Believe her I mean. That old lady might say she sees her dead son sometimes and some other weird spirits, but some people can just do that. It doesn’t mean she’s lying. She took care of me while Nami recovered, so we had time to figure out who you were. Not like you rabbit ijin are common in our area, it was easy to put together, stupid.”
Listening, Shear nodded and eased the karambit off Taku’s throat. His hair was also released, giving the hyur’s back a shove towards Nami. “Good little sleuths then. I would say ‘well done’ if not for this piss-poor execution of your plan so far.” Still holding the karambit in his hand, Shear’s other palm rested on his hip as Taku hit the stones with a pained grunt. The hyur crawled closer towards Nami who hesitated.
To her credit, she recalled his previous warning and did not move from her position as Taku crawled into her lap. At Shear’s nod, her hands rose and wrapped around Taku’s back in a hug as he gasped for breath on her folded legs. She eased her hold off him with a murmured apology as he whined at the squeezing.
Hitting the ground on his back had been very painful.
“As you were honest with me, I will be honest with you. I recall Ota Emiko, as well as a house fire around this area. That was a few turns ago now and that house was empty, except for the marked target left inside-- your mother, I presume. You could not have been home, you were with your brother and father at the Ruby Bazaar in Kugane that night.” Brows furrowing, Shear recalled that job and he dug for the memories of it.
He remembered all of his jobs, just not always immediately. They were daily reminders about the scum of humanity, and how easily your life could rest on the edge of a large sack of coins.
“You’re wrong!” Nami finally blurted it out, staring up at him indignantly and openly crying in frustration. “I was home. Taku was out with his girlfriend at the time and our father, not me. I was in my room, on the second floor, asleep.” Shear’s gaze wandered to the girl and her burn scars, his eyes narrowing on them.
Had his lookout been that foolish to mistake them? Had he only seen a young girl with the then-teenage boy and his father and assumed she was the sister?
That was entirely possible. Tymbask* was a hulking wall of muscle that could cleave a person in two with his axe easily, and who had been historically kind to the viera, but as his name’s literal translation meant ‘Dumb Ash’ suggested, that did not mean he was always intelligent.
“When the fire was set on the main floor, it eventually came up through the floor and caught my futon and hair on fire.” Nami choked and swallowed thickly, touching at the space above her ear under her tucked hair. The styled hair was lifted to reveal more of the scarred skin a bit above the edge of her ear. “I-I couldn’t get down the stairs. I had to jump o-out of my bedroom’s w-window, w-while I w-was on fire. I b-broke my arm w-when I landed a-and the old lady saw me jump. She r-ran over a-and helped put me o-out.”
Putting details together, Shear observed her brother push himself up to sit beside his sobbing sister, brushing at her tear-streaked face with one hand gently. It left streaks of red behind from his bloodied hand, leftover from when he’d grabbed at his bleeding thighs earlier. Realizing his error, Taku attempted to keep swiping it off in vain, spreading it further out across her face until Nami was swatting at his hands.
Shear felt a pang of pity and moved cautiously closer. Both of the young Hingans flinched, heads turning to stare up at him with a varying level of distrust and hatred. Shear reached up with his unoccupied hand, claws hooking the fabric of one sleeve and tearing it off. The torn off sleeve was then slit along it’s seam with the karambit into a wide - but now flat - arching square of blue, flower-patterned fabric.
Shear moved to just in front of them, squatting and holding it out towards the crying woman. “I was misinformed, then. You were never meant to be home.” Taku slapped at the hand holding the cloth but Shear, simply to spite him for it, leaned closer to wipe Nami’s bloodied and tear-streaked face clean instead. “Where is your father now, perchance…?” He asked cautiously while Taku simmered in his anger beside them.
Nami looked confused at the question and her sobbing eased some, responding to his inquiry as her reddened face was wiped with his sure motions. “H-he’s dead. He died a bit after our mother did, trying to barter the r-remaining things of value that survived the fire with a corrupt a-appraiser.” Her expression fell again but the tears seemed to have stopped. She gave a sniff. “But he was k-killed for them instead.”
“Nami shut up! Stop telling him shit!” Taku snapped and wiggled between Shear and his sister, shoving at Shear’s chest with one hand. The viera gave a snort at the shove, his crouched form wobbling a moment. He leaned back in, shoving the hyur aside roughly instead, straight back into the stones he’d fallen into earlier with Taku giving an indignant, pained squawk as he landed.
“You should not tell your sister to shut up while she is talking and being reasonable. It is incredibly rude.” Her face clean and dry, Shear tucked the torn cloth into the same pocket as his other karambit and crab walked back a step from her as she turned to check on her brother. Taku waved her off with a grunt. The viera continued. “Although it is a good story, and I may be incorrect on the specific details, I do not believe that is who killed your father, or for that reason.”
“What do you mean? How could you claim to know something we were assured of by the investigators? They even caught the appraiser! He was sentenced and thrown in jail!” Nami objected loudly and narrowed her eyes, shaking her head. The braid Shear had assumed was just a simple ponytail whipped behind her with the movement. “How dare you!”
“Nami- it was Nami, yes?” Shear waited and the heated Hingan stared a moment distrustfully before nodding. “Nami, you seem the smarter and more reasonable of the two of you. Maybe even older, I’d guess by at least a turn or two. Take stock of what I have said and realize I may know more than you, having been intimately involved in this already. I also described your mother as a mark earlier, and you have yet to ask me the most obvious question.”
“Wait, a mark?” Backtracking her thoughts prior to her outburst about him being wrong, her brows knit. “Oh, so you did. What does that have to do with my father and the appraiser? Who marked my mother, then?”
“Your father.” Shear sat his backside on the stones in front of her while Taku gave a shout and lunged for him. The karambit still in the viera’s hand curled up for the lunging man who stopped just short of it’s point, huffing.
“Liar!” Taku spat at him, the wad hitting his bare leg.
Shear’s other hand removed that bloodied, tear-damp cloth from his pocket and wiped it off his leg. “I have yet to lie to you about anything, least of all this.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense. Our father was distraught when he realized our mother was dead. The official reports ignored our old neighbor lady naming you at the scene. We knew better, obviously, and tried to tell our father but he told us not to make demons out of shadows.” Nami shook her head again, gripping the back of her brother’s shirt and tugging him back away from the knife.
“He would, considering he knew it was I carrying it out and that he was the demon in the shadows the whole time. Assuring you to accept a perfectly believable story is entirely why he asked for the job to be carried out in a rather distinct manner. Your mother was known for fainting, right? Something about her weak heart, if I recall.”
The siblings looked at each other and frowned. Taku decided to broach it first. “Yeah. So what? Everyone around our area who knew our mother knew that.”
“So I happen to know your father had been trying to poison her for some time, hence the strange and sudden onset of it, despite being healthy as a chocobo her whole life. All it gave her was a weaker constitution and fainting spells instead. She was very strong willed, I heard. He insisted he had wanted her to die quickly but his poison attempts were failing and he did not want her to suffer unreasonably.” Taku bristled but Nami set her scarred hand over his mouth. After her nod to continue, Shear tucked the cloth back into the pocket at his side and kept going.
“He needed distinct things, which cost him extra for finesse.” The viera counted the contracted details off on his fingers. “First, his wife dead from a posed fainting episode. That was easy. After she was already dead, I had to drop her just right as if she’d fallen and bashed her head on the edge of your living room table to make it believable. By the unmistaken damage on her skull eventually found in the fire. Some would even believe that is when she would have died, on the edge of the table itself. So the body would be next to where it would have fallen before the fire consumed it, either way.”
“Second, the place needed to burn down from the lantern she'd have mistakenly knocked over from her fainting fall in your living room. He indicated clearly he wanted her body taking the brunt of the worst of the flames so no other damage than the obviously damaged skull would be recognizable. He could claim the whole thing as an unfortunate series of events out of anyone’s control about the terrible accident.”
Shear let these details settle into the two Hingans in front of him, the both of whom looked increasingly sick as he spoke. He followed up with the next information more gently. “All this to guarantee the insurance money from your mother’s death, and for the house, which would be paid after the heart-breaking investigation into her death. You all would have alibis, witnesses of the bazaar itself and each other placing you shopping in the Ruby Bazaar during the regrettable incident. All of this plotting and planning to pay off his debts, one of which was a life debt, as well as the debt he would have with us for completing, since he was broke to pay us outright and too cowardly to kill himself.”
“You lie!” Taku exploded and pointed a trembling finger in his direction. Wisely, he did not lunge at the viera as he had during previous shouted dissents. “Our father had no debts, or they would have passed to us! He was an honorable man who did not have our mother killed for money. He loved her! He loved us! Fuck you, asshole!”
“Explain.” Nami, more reserved, stared at Shear with a level expression.
“You can’t believe him!” Taku whirled on his sibling, looking shocked.
“He hasn’t lied yet, Taku. He knew about the lantern, and where and how she died.”
“That you know of! And of course he knew the details about the crime scene, he’s the fucking murdering ijin who set all of it up! You can't trust a word he says!”
“That’s true, although for a ijin, he speaks our language well.” Nami pointed this out and Shear considered passing her compliment to Iji. They really had worked very hard on his pronunciations while sharing dumplings.
Taku did not agree. “So he’s a well-practiced ijin, who cares! He’s a murderous, lying bastard!”
“But Taku, what if it’s true?”
“Shut up! Don’t even entertain it! It’s not!”
While the two siblings continued bickering, Shear eventually cleared his throat. Taku turned his head and glared, Nami looked tired. The mismatched gaze glanced between them before the viera shrugged. “I can prove it.”
“Bullshit! You can not! Asshole! You fucking liar! Bastard! Piss off!” Taku bared his teeth. Nami set a hand on her brother’s shoulder, squeezing it. She took a deep breath and quietly counted under her breath. While she counted and Taku puffed and muttered angrily, the young Hingan eventually simmered his shouting.
Shear waited as well, faintly amused about being told to ‘piss off’ in front of his own - current - home. “Are you finished?”
“Don’t test your luck, shithead.” Taku growled it under his breath after another squeeze of the hand on his shoulder.
Nami spoke louder then, turning her head from her brother. “How can you prove it?”
“We have his contract for the job in a safe, for starters.” Taku looked less certain then and stared at the stones. “My mentor keeps them as insurance in the hypothetical scenario that should anyone who requests services from us attempt to betray us or extort us by threatening to, we would simply take them down with us. The details I spoke of I know about because they are clearly outlined, in your father’s own hand, in that contract.”
“Can we see it?” Nami frowned and pressed her lips together. “Not even Taku could deny such damning evidence.”
“Typically, no.” Nami started to ask something else but Shear continued. “However, this is… a curious case. My mentor may make an exception. Although,” Shear eyed Taku, who despite having calmed his shouting, was still openly seething beside his sister. “Would seeing the source of this pain, knowing it were true, sway you away from attacking me in the future? I was still the one who did the job. I killed your mother, and set fire to your house, and as such subsequently, set fire to you.”
“Exactly!” Taku hissed it and Nami looked torn.
“But if I’m understanding this correctly, you would not have if our father hadn’t paid you to.” Nami chewed the inside of her lip.
“That’s also true. It wasn’t personal to me, it was a job. Normally not even the type of job I would have accepted because your mother, all things considered, was an innocent.” Shear scratched at his bare shoulder with the handle of the karambit lightly.
Taku cut his sister off before she could speak to exclaim at him.“Then why did you?! She was kind! And sweet! And loving! She was innocent, like you s-said, so why d-did you kill her?!”
There, then, was the root of all of that futon-stabbing bluster. Shear grimaced and waved his free hand vaguely. “Because it was as I said. Your father was already trying to carelessly kill her, and I knew she would have died eventually anyway. By accepting and handling the job myself, I could at least guarantee her a swift death, rather than a painful, extended one. His first idiotic suggestion as a means to possible ‘painless death’ had been to slit her throat and let her bleed out. He’s obviously never choked and drowned to death in his own blood before.”
The siblings looked at Shear, clearly horrified.
Both blonde brows perked. “Oh, I see. Well, maybe he understood why I didn’t at his end then.”
“How did you know?!”
“Did you kill him, too?!”
The viera held the waving hand still up in a ‘stop’ motion at the sudden upset assault of questions. “No, I did not kill your father. I expect the ones who he owed his massive debts to did, especially after learning that instead of simply owing them his life, he traded his wife, his house - which arguably had more value than his life anyway - and nearly his daughter in exchange. Someone who is willing to sacrifice someone he loves to save his own skin is not someone to be trusted. I suppose you both should be grateful he didn’t have one of you killed instead.”
“That is not the comforting thought you think it is.” Nami muttered under her breath, rubbing the back of her neck.
As eloquent as ever, Taku glared at him before turning his face away. “Asshole.”
“I will let the two of you talk it over. It would be more likely you would both see the contract your father wrote for us and be set free to return home if you swore to drop the vendetta.” Shear shrugged simply.
“How do you know we wouldn’t simply lie about dropping it and come back to kill you, regardless? Or report to the investigators what we know?” Nami asked it, and Taku thumbed at his sister to echo it silently.
Shear’s shoulders raised in another simple shrug, flipping and spinning his karambit idly in his hand. “The investigators would not want to reopen something they have already tied closed, and especially so old. It would never pass in any kind of court, especially not hinging on someone your neighborhood has labeled as a liar.”
Motioning at Nami with the karambit and making the hyuran woman look nervous, Shear followed up. “As to the former, two words: magic contracts. My mentor knows how to do them. You both would sign one guaranteeing the dropped vendetta, even if you both still feel like doing it. But if either of you caused me harm, especially death, the contract would reap its justice against you in return.”
“So if one of us hurt you, or killed you... Say, me, I would die when you died.” Taku squinted suspiciously at Shear, who returned the suspicion with an unimpressed brow raised.
“Or be harmed equally, by cuts, stabbings, scratches, etcetera. Please don’t go thinking you would valiantly sacrifice yourself to rid the world of me, idiot. It would kill you both. Same contract, same punishment for those involved. It would also, in turn, guarantee that I could not harm either of you, either. Not that I have any plans to. Though you do owe me a new futon.”
“Owe you a-?!” Taku spluttered and sat up threateningly, and Nami’s hand plopped against his puffing chest.
“We will sign it.” Sure of herself, Nami stared at Shear hard who looked bored by that point. His adrenaline had more than worn off at that point.
Taku made another angry noise, shoving the hand off his chest. “Can we talk about this?! He’s still the murderer who killed mom!”
“Taku.” Shaking her head, Nami offered her sibling a small smile. “It would still be answers. And he was simply the tool used against her, he wasn’t truly who killed her. Even if she died by his hand, he was set against her by someone else. That is who really killed mom. Do you understand?”
“No?! Hello, did you fall and hit your head when I wasn’t aware?!” Gripping at his sibling’s shoulders, he shook her gently. “He! Killed! Her! He could have said no-”
“But he said she would have died either way! And then we would be chasing someone else in her name! But that’s not the point, Taku. He was sent after her by someone, possibly our father. I want to know the truth! I want… I want to know for certain.” Shrugging his grip off her shoulders, Nami set her jaw and stared at him stubbornly.
“And if it’s true?!” Taku scrubbed at his scalp with both hands, eyes squeezing shut. “Then he’s already dead and this asshole is still alive! We promised to kill her killer! This just… It just turned into killers, plural!”
“Except we won’t get answers unless we give up something, Taku. Aren’t you ready to go back to Old Biju? She’s still worried about us, Taku.”
“Don’t you dare use the old lady on me like that. Of course I want to see her, but we… We promised each other!”
“And if father is behind it, and he is the reason the rabbit was sent after mom, then he’s dead, and her killer is no longer alive. We would have succeeded.”
Shear considered correcting their word for ‘rabbit’ with ‘viera’ and opted that the linguistics battle wasn’t worth it at that moment.
Taku growled and rolled his shoulders, flinching when they gave a twinge. “But…”
“And if it’s not true, we did say until death we would hunt her killer. I would accept our fate, if you would.” Nami cocked her head in Shear’s direction, whose intrigue in their back-and-forths died inside his irritation.
The viera began talking, heated. “Excuse me, you would ki-”
“Of course I would accept it. So it’s settled. If … If it’s father, then the rabbit lives. If he’s a liar, the rabbit dies. That fair to you, rabbit?” Taku turned to address Shear who looked miffed.
“Viera. I am a viera. A veena, to be precise. And I guess, you could try. The first time went all sorts of in your favour.” Pulling the karambit off his hand and pocketing it, Shear rolled his eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t pop clean out of his head. Climbing to his feet and stepping past them, he waved his hand over his shoulder. “My mentor will be gone at least until midday, so either leave and come back later or try not to annoy me with your quarreling. And a reminder you still owe me a new futon!”
“Sure, yeah, whatever. That’s definitely not fucking happening, asshole. Consider it collateral damage for you being a prick.” Taku snorted and stood with the assistance of his sister, the pair of them stumbling towards the house. “Don’t suppose you got any bandages?”
Turning his head and glancing at his bleeding limbs, Shear curled his lip in disgust. “... I do. Stay on the porch. If you bleed on the mats, he will kill you.”
“He who?” The pair of them chirped the question at the same time as Shear stepped into the house.
“My mentor, Kalona.”
“Who the fuck is Kalona?” Taku snorted as he eased to the porch. “Sounds like a girl's name.”
Shear called over his shoulder. “You will find out.”
Nami murmured under her breath to her brother after Shear disappeared, nudging him gently as she sat beside him. “Think we’ll regret it?”
Taku exhaled heavily, shoulders sagging, staring at his bloody thighs. “... I got no fucking clue.”
I could only meet my best friend (in another country) at a beach, where they rode a horse while I ran alongside on the empty beach. We came home and found out that there is a serial killer who resides there? And we still decided to go there again. Turns out the serial killer was my fav band member who asked for my autograph and then killed us both.
Pov ur being murdered by Lovelace and he decides to be cursed
Lawrencij: it's 'illegal' and 'immoral' to kill people and drain their bodies of blood for ritual use in order to increase my own power?
Lawrencij, disgruntled: looks like you just hate to see a girlboss winning 😒
sae-byeok could still feel it, the feeling of the glass digging into her flesh, blood dripping down as she removed it, the way she slowly lost blood only leading to her throat being slashed. it was a pain unlike anything she’d ever felt before and oh had she been through hell, but nothing had repared her for these so called “games”. the moment she took her last breath she thought her misery had ended but instead she woke up in this new foreign place. she couldn’t explain what this place was, let alone how she’d ended up here. magically her wounds had dissapeared and the pain gone away, yet the mental scars it’d left were still present. as she approached a rather large crowd she focused on the first person she came across. “what the hell is this place ?” she bluntly inquired out loud, demanding an answer.
wednesday doesn’t remember her parents , not her real ones anyway. yet sometimes , she manages to catch a glimpse of them in her dreams. flashes of a pale woman in a long black gown , beside a shorter man with a chilling grin. in these dreams , they were often encouraging her to do morbid things that would have definitely had the delgados locking her up. they feel familiar to her , but she knows that it’s only because she wishes her family had been more like them. she’s drawing the favorable couple while seated on the sidewalk , in a way that barely passes for anything better than stick figures , alongside two young boys & an elder woman that sometimes accompanies them. the addams family , she calls them. she’s scribbling in the mustache on the addams baby when she hears the question coming up from above her. “ purgatory , ” she answers easily , not looking up from her poor sketch. “ or as most people call it , washington dc. ” // @svfetch
am i the only one that finds cuss words comforting. like. like you know when you’re walking out of the bathroom at midnight into a pitch black hallway and have the random thought, like, ”what if there’s a murderer outside this door right now?” and start to hesitate with your hand on the doorknob? yeah. my mental thought process is literally just
“…but what if there-“
”you know what no fuck off brain“
”fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” *continues mentally repeating the word fuck until i’m in my room*
*&* – was that [ ana valeria becerril ] ? oh no no , that was just [ wednesday addams ] , a [ canon character ] from [ the addams family ]. they are [ twenty ] years old & [ are not ] aware that they are not actually from washington dc. too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.
*&* ABOUT WEDNESDAY.
b a s i c s .
dc arrival : october 2016
current occupation : tbd
last canon point : post-family values
memory status : affected
s t a t s .
full name : wednesday addams
nicknames : none
age : twenty
date of birth : december 10
hometown : westfield, nj*
previous location : westfield, nj*
gender : cis female ( she / her )
native language : english
traits : clever, intense, honest, malevolent, courageous
l i f e i n d c .
she showed up without her memories intact. though based mostly on the 90s films, she has no true memory of her family. she believes that she was born with the name georgia delgado in illinois. after her parents died, she ended up in a group home which she tried to burn down at age 15, unfortunately not killing anyone in the process but giving her the push she needed to leave town. being that she believes that she’s wanted for second degree arson, she thinks that’s why she ended up in washington dc - as it’s not the last place that she would go ( like california , which would be obvious ), but it’s not the first place that she would go either. it’s a solid middle ground, being nice enough because it’s on the east coast but horrible enough because it reeks of the government. she thinks that upon arriving, she got falsified documents under the ‘fake’ name wednesday addams & continued to leave her life out normally.
b i o g r a p h y .
the oldest of three kids, wednesday was raised by loving, but abnormal, parents. she grew up wealthy, living next to the cemetery in the addams’ mansion with her immediate parents & younger brother pugsley, her grandmother, and their frankenstein-esque manservant lurch. like the rest of her family, she enjoyed the macabre, though maybe more so than everyone else -- she was likely amongst the most sadistic & stoic of them. she enjoyed ‘playing games’ that brought harm to pugsley and would rarely toss out a smile, even when she found joy in things like death.
when she was a pre-teen, the addams were joined by her long-lost uncle fester and some time after that, her baby brother pubert. convinced that there could only be two children, wednesday & pugsley attempt to murder the baby. this leads to her parents hiring nannies, which she usually managed to scare off. however, one stayed, eventually getting married to her uncle. as it turns out, this nanny was a serial killer after the addams wealth & she was nearly killed alongside her family before they were all saved by her baby brother.
a d d i t i o n a l n o t e s .
her tag drop can be found by clicking here
her fandom wiki can be found by clicking here
p o s s i b l e c o n n e c t i o n s .
sae-byeok could still feel it, the feeling of the glass digging into her flesh, blood dripping down as she removed it, the way she slowly lost blood only leading to her throat being slashed. it was a pain unlike anything she’d ever felt before and oh had she been through hell, but nothing had repared her for these so called “games”. the moment she took her last breath she thought her misery had ended but instead she woke up in this new foreign place. she couldn’t explain what this place was, let alone how she’d ended up here. magically her wounds had dissapeared and the pain gone away, yet the mental scars it’d left were still present. as she approached a rather large crowd she focused on the first person she came across. “what the hell is this place ?” she bluntly inquired out loud, demanding an answer. // @hiddenstarters
It had been forty years since that fateful Halloween night he first encountered Michael Myers. The interaction was brief, but enough to still leave him shuddering at the pure memory. That was supposed to be the last of it, though. He had been arrested and put away for the rest of his life, as he was originally planned to be. And that was to be the end of it. He didn’t expect him to escape. He, along with the rest of Haddonfield, never anticipated the hellscape he would once again turn their town into. Hearing he was on the loose sent chills panicking up and down his spine, but he didn’t have much time to allow his emotions to process. He was able to round up some of the past survivors he kept in contact with, as well as a few eager recruits from the local bar. He thought if one person alone wasn’t able to stop him, maybe twenty could possibly do the job.
But he was wrong. So wrong.
The mob split up into groups in order to cover more ground. His group (consisting of an older lady who used to be his neighbor as a kid and two meatheads he picked up from the bar) decided to check over by the schools. Sure enough, one of the meatheads found him on the elementary school playground mutilating his latest victim’s corpse. He signaled the others, but by the time they reached the scene it was too late. Michael wasn’t even remotely phased, tossing the new body onto the ground near the other before he attacked the surviving three. He did whatever he thought he could to save anyone there, but it all happened so fast. One slash to his side and he was on the ground. In almost the blink of an eye Michael was on the others, one by one taking the rest of them down until it was only Tommy left. He attempted to shoot him — and did — but he ran out of bullets before he was able to do enough damage to knock him down. And so, without much else to lose, he got up from his place on the ground and ran as fast as he could.
Tommy’s heart pounded in his chest as he continued to run through the thick forest. It was so loud he was able to hear it over his labored breathing. His legs ached, hissing in pain at him with each swift movement he forced them to make. He had taken off his jacket and used it to apply to the slash on his side. It didn’t hurt as much, but he was sure that was from the adrenaline. His body felt so weak, but he knew if he took even a moment’s break that he wouldn’t have been able to get up. And if that happened, he was as good as dead. He may have lost him about half a mile ago, but after what he just witnessed he knew not to underestimate Michael. Refuge eventually came to him in the sight of a road, that was connected to a street. Most of the lights in the houses were off —
Except for one.
He mustered up the last of his energy to throw himself in the direction of the house, all while doing his best to somewhat keep quiet. If he was still out there, he wanted to at least have a chance to throw him off. He eventually made it to the front door and immediately rested his entire weight on it. He started to knock, gently at first but turning more panicked as the seconds went on. He looked around, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of the masked murderer as he started to basically pound on the door with his fist. It wasn’t for another few seconds until the door was finally opened, Tommy nearly falling into the homeowner in the process. He pushed past the other and quickly shut the door behind him, locking every lock he was able to see on it.
“Call the cops…! Lock the doors and windows!” He warned as he continued to pant, stumbling towards each window he saw to make sure it couldn’t be opened.
( brittany snow, she/her, 30 ) - is that sherri “cherry” valance around eastcliff ? i heard that she is from the outsiders. they’re usually known as affectionate & stubborn. people often associate being known by a nickname due to your hair color, not judging people based on where they come from, & loving to watch sunsets when they look at you.
full name: sherri valance
birthdate / zodiac: march 8 / pisces
age: thirty ( though was twenty-five when she died )
family ties: used to align with the socs in high school, but thinks poorly of that now
fandom: the outsiders / post outsiders canon ( totally written by me & aspen )
job: nurse @ eastcliff medical center
sherri valance is an only child, born on the “right side of the tracks” to two loving parents who were wealthy beyond their means ( especially for oklahoma, especially for the time period when she was born and grew up ) and she never had to ask or work for anything--her parents usually just gave it to her.
got her nickname “cherry” from her natural red hair.
she always thought that the whole soc / greaser thing was stupid, but never did anything about it either -- has a lot of regrets about that even to this day because of everything that happened.
cherry was always a kindhearted person, but she did tend to fall into the wrong crowds as well. her ex boyfriend probably being one of the worst offenders of them all, a teenager who thought he was the shit when he was drunk.
despite knowing that he was bad news, cherry couldn’t exactly say goodbye to him due to her status as a cheerleader and a soc and everything else weighing on her.
though after everything happened and ponyboy and johnny were jumped, and bob was killed, cherry did decide that it was important that everyone had a fair fight when it came to retribution. she became somewhat of a spy for she greasers to help them.
while cherry could help them in that way, she still couldn’t admit everything else and forgive everything that had happened. it took her years and a lot of other things to be able to do that.
and now for the moment of post outsiders book / film canon !!!
cherry went away to college, she wanted to do right by everything that had happened while she was in oklahoma and do better. be better. make better. it was her goal in life.
and she thought she was doing that with her education: she was studying to be a nurse. & with extra curricular activities.
basically cherry got involved in this organization that she thought was helping people ( it was? it’s unclear ) but the kind of also just used her for the money she came with.
which got the attention of certain people and let’s just say it almost didn’t end well for cherry. but it’s also how she met bucky and together they were on the run for about almost a year and a half before everything caught up to them.
cherry was killed when she was twenty-five and she was killed in front of bucky, which kind of tortured both of them given their relationship at the time.
so basically cherry is now alive again, and she has no idea how or why? also this isn’t the 60s? someone explain the technology to her.
READ MORE ON HER WIKI PAGE HERE
❛ 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘆 . . . 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢
born to a picture perfect family, kate had never known how cruel the world could be. even when her father had passed away, he had been replaced with an even better father in kate’s opinion. of course, it also helped that she was fairly young when she lost her biological father. then, her father rod came into the picture, and he was the best thing that ever happened to their family.
the wallis family was the talk of the town, they were the picture perfect family with a daughter that everyone wanted their own children to be like. she was the blueprint of the skylin hierarchy without ever really realizing it. she had the perfect parents who were madly in love, a group of friends who adored her and a boyfriend who adored her even more than that somehow. and she was fine to live her life like that, until the summer of 1993 when everything changed.
at the center of this story was a scandal of infidelity that could not only ruin her family’s reputation but her family as she once knew it to be. of course, even after she had tried to confront those issues, her mother quickly shot them down. this led to their first fight of many that summer, some of which would have lasting impact on the wallis family. she was finally starting to see the world for what it was and it looked a lot more bleak than she even realized it could be.
the light at the end of the tunnel for her was martin harris, a newcomer to the town. at least, that’s what she thought it was at the time. he was the assistant principal who started up a friendship with kate, earned her trust when she was at her most vulnerable moments. he encouraged her to confront her family about the glaring issue of infidelity and that one night was more damning than anyone could ever imagine.
it ended with her mother, in a rage, slapping her daughter across the face and kate, in turn, running away from home. with nowhere else to turn to, after having seen the world for what it truly was, she turned to the only person she felt she could trust. martin harris. what sparked from that night was a relationship that should have never happened and turned into something far more sinister.
she fell for the man and he in turn fell for her but there was a glaring issue - the very obvious power dynamic and the subtle hints of grooming that had been sprinkled in over the course of that summer. now, he was the only one she trusted and he had used that to his advantage. since the moment she walked into that door, this started a relationship for a few months. she was never allowed to leave the house and at a certain point, she realized that she had to choose martin or the real world. she chose martin but as the days went by, she started to regret that very decision.
it didn’t dawn upon her the desperation she had to speak with another person until christmas time. she felt so lonely and she missed her family and friends dearly so she left one night to see them. she never stepped foot into the house and no one had spotted her. but martin did and he confronted her about it the next day.
what came next was a fight and kate admitting she wanted to leave martin’s house and go home, to her old home. he agreed and told her where she could find her suitcase. little to kate known though, martin wasn’t going to let her leave the house and locked her in the basement. he had too much at stake to let her leave his house. it was in this moment that it was clear this wasn’t love but it was something so much more sickening.
she was kept in that basement until the beginning of summer in ‘94. her freedom didn’t come until the police had started to catch onto what was happening and martin came downstairs to take care of everything once and for all. he had pulled out a gun, intent to use it on himself after declaring his love for kate one last time. however, he couldn’t go through with it and dropped the gun right in front of kate. desperate with no glimpse of hope or a light at the end of the tunnel, she shot martin. but she couldn’t find it in herself to leave him like that all alone so she sat with him, watching him bleed out.
within the next day, kate was found and the story that she portrayed had been fixed. some of that was to save face but most of it was the trauma that she endured while she had been locked away. this whole moment left her realizing that this world is cruel and brutal, in a way that her parents had refused to acknowledge until it was too late. this led to a total change in her demeanor. she switched out her flowery and light wardrobe for flannels and fishnets. this was her real world now, even now that she’s a few years removed from skylin. nothing has ever been the same for kate and what’s been broken cannot be fixed again.
this in turn has left her a bit more standoffish, hesitant to make connections. she can’t quite put her finger on it, since skylin is just a haze to her the more time she spends in new york. but there’s a sick feeling she gets in her stomach at the mention, shemaybe it’s for the best that it was left in the past.