peculiar woman

Jumin’s birthday special: day 1


Jumin x MC

“Son, just remember that being humble is never enough, apologizing is not a sign of weakness, it’s a sign of dignity and integrity.”

There are two types of advice Jumin would get from his father. The ones he could adapt and take as business tips and the ones… well, he would just listen politely and nod, knowing there would be no practical use for them in his daily life.

The business field needed him to be unapologetic. There’s no place for modesty, and apologizing is for the ones who make mistakes, something Jumin could never have the luxury of making.

He contemplates the lounge for a while before getting ready to step back to that party. Sighing, he can almost predict exactly what it’s going to happen when he’s out there: Chairman will introduce him to some rich lady whose family owns a promising company, so it would be interesting if Jumin made sure of becoming acquainted with the lady. The rest… isn’t worth of predicting it, since it’s so pathetic.

He dragged himself back there, adjusting his cufflinks and giving a quick glance around before accepting the wine offered by the waiter. Hum… where could his father be? Did he leave already? This wouldn’t be too polite…

“Excuse me, have you seen my father?” he asked to one of his associates.

“I think I saw him talking to a woman next to the bar.”

“Thank you.” He turns his back on the man, motioning to head towards the bar.

“Maybe you shouldn’t interrupt him… them…”

“I won’t, I just want to make sure everything is alright.”

But he will interrupt, only to give a passive aggressive reminder for his father to behave, it’s crowded with business partners in here.

As he gets closer to the bar, he realizes maybe the reminder shouldn’t be that mush of passive… Jumin sees his father chuckling and sipping some champagne while playing with this young lady’s necklace.


“Jumin, perfect timing! Have you met this remarkable lady here? Such a smart lady with very interesting ideas…”

“Thank you, Mr. Han.” She smiles softly at him, then at Jumin. Oh… he knows this trick…

“No, thank you for talking to this old man, sweetheart. You’re young, so you wouldn’t know, but being lonely turns into a habit as you get older, so when someone sweet and bright talks to us, we get honored… we might… even get the wrong idea…” Chairman narrows his eyes at her, and she clears her throat, widening her eyes a little. Ahh… why is she pretending to be surprised?

“Father… if she’s an acquaintance, let me take it from here, why don’t you o home and rest?”

“Yes, Mr. Han, I think you should rest, and… maybe go easy on the champagne.” She chuckles nervously, taking the glass from his hand and putting it away.

“But sweetheart, the night is just beginning…”

“No, it’s not, father. It’s very late.”

“I agree. You must have so much work tomorrow, Mr. Han. So do I, I should probably get going too…” oh, classic move! Now his father will offer her a ride home and… the rest is too disturbing to even predict…

“Yes, sure. Can I offer you a ride home, then?”

“That’s very kind, but there’s no need to. Thank you.”

“Oh, please… it’s very late, it could be dangerous.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. You should go home and rest, sir. Right?” she looks directly at Jumin, as she’s asking him for… backup?

“Yes, she’s right, father. I’ll tell Driver Kim to start the car, why don’t you get going as I tell the guests you had to go?”

“Alright… I guess I should get going to my old habit. I was delighted to meet you, sweetheart.” Chirman grabs her hands as he bows a little before her, she smiles in a kind way… It’s a very distinct smile from any Jumin had ever seen before.

“Likewise, sir. Have a good night.” She takes her hands away and pats his shoulder, waving a goodbye as he walks away.

Jumin lances at her after he’s sure his father is heading towards the entrance. Her eyes lock with his as she smiles again.

“Your father is really nice.” She smiles again.

Oh… what is her plan? Could it be that she strategically placed a note with her number on Chairman’s hands?

“He is a very smart man, but he tends to be a little weak towards women.”

“Oh, my grandfather was like that too.” She chuckles.

Her grandfather? Oh… now that she mentioned, Jumin realized she was talking to Chairman in a very patient, even condescending way, like some young people tend to treat the elderly. So… she wasn’t interested in his father? And she was genuinely concerned? How… unexpected.

“Anyway, I should get going too. Will your father be okay?”

“Yes, he gets dizzy with champagne, but nothing that some aspirins and a good night of rst won’t solve.”

“Tell him to drink lots of water too.”

“I… I will, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. He’s right, people get lonelier as they get older, all they want is someone to talk…”

“I’m afraid…” no, he should not say that… “he wanted more than just talking to you…” Uh… did he have to say this?

She just smiles in a dumbfounded way, clearly embarrassed. Oh… so she wasn’t playing innocent, she really is… innocent…

What is this feeling? He feels so bad and guilty for thinking wrong of her, but she doesn’t even know what he was thinking previously. So… so why does it bother him so much imagining if he ever spoke what was really on his mind? She would be so offended… that would be such a shame.

“I apologize.” He says bluntly.

“Hum? Oh, there’s no need for that, he was just a little confused and I…”

“I’m profusely sorry.” he even bows before her, noticing she’s surprised and… flustered?

“It’s… it’s fine…” She smiles and nods, and he smiles back.

What is this? He feels like staying and asking about her, what is such a peculiar woman doing at a party like this? What’s your name? Would you accept a ride home if he was the one to offer?

But no, he should go and check on his father. She seems worried and taking care of him it’s the least he could do.

“It was a pleasure to meet you.” He says more genuinely than he could imagine he would.

“Mine as well. Take care.”

“I will, don’t worry about him…”

“No, I mean… you take care too.”

“Oh… yes. I will.” He nods, should he take her hand and kiss it? No… she’s probably too scared by the Hans at this point. “And once again, I’m really sorry.”

Jumin apologized three times that night, and neither of them made him weak. The tipsy man leering at sweet girls can be very wise even if it’s not a business concerned matter…

And if there’s one thing he’s still sorry for, it’s for not staying a little more and asking at least for her name so he could send her flowers… as an apology, of course.


A/N: Request from @stitch2416. Álfablót described a real Norse festival towards the end of autumn, so it is actually a thing. See? I learned something new!

15th October: Álfablót. 🏹 | feat. Ragnar Lothbrok

Words: 666
Warnings: implied smut

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Wrong Place Wrong Time- The Aftermath (Epilogue 4- OT9)

Do not reuse, edit or copy and of my work(s). ©

Epilogue Chapter to conclude the WPWT Series, enjoy :)

No specific warnings for this epilogue series but I’ll keep the themes as they are just incase.

Themes=😖,🌟,💣,🎭 ,. (☠️- Harm towards characters, Strong language and Adult themes.)

Summary: Life after underground activities. (Conclusions.)

Click for WPWT(1)  Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7Part 8 Part 9Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16Part 17 Part 18 Part 19Part 20 Part 21 Part 22

Epilogues: Epilogue 1-BBH  Epilogue 2-KJD Epilogue 3- ZYX  Epilogue 5-DKS  Epilogue 6- PCY  Epilogue 7- KJM  Epilogue 8-KMS  Final Epilogue

Word Count: 1,200 (ish)


2 years later:

Jongin sat at the back as usual. Last row right in the middle. He was sat in an addict’s anonymous group; he came daily and listened to their sad pathetic stories, these ‘complaints’ and ‘issues’ seemed petty to Jongin. He suppressed a scoff after every testimony and rolled his eyes. They thought they had problems? If only they had lived his life. He had been through the absolute most for the past few years, these people knew nothing about pain and suffering, not like he did. Jongin didn’t have an addiction but listening to other people’s stories made him feel better about how shitty his life was it made him feel as though he was coping that was the only reason he attended. Life after the death of Sehun was a mess for Jongin. He was in and out of jobs, in and out of relationships life in general hadn’t worked out for him and sometimes he would cry at night to himself and wish that he could have swapped places with Sehun. Sehun deserved life more than he did. He was worth nothing and he knew it. Life for him was worse now than it had been when he was part of the Genesis underground, at least then he had the boys to laugh and joke with at the end of the day, but he hadn’t seen them for 2 years not even Kris or Baekhyun and he missed them all. But he wouldn’t reach out to them, he couldn’t. Jongin was too ashamed of his life and what he had become, he knew that he would have turned out a failure compared to them. But maybe his life was the definition of the just world hypothesis, he received what he was owed and karma sure as heck was bitch. Karma most definitely fucked Jongin over and she did an amazing job at it. He rented one room in a three bedroom flat; he shared with a druggie and a drunkard. They’d both frequently beat him. Jongin could have killed them ages ago, he was aware of that. He still had his gun and made sure he took it with him when he moved out, but he didn’t want to use it he wanted to suppress all the evil that still crawled within his body so he let them beat him maybe this way they were beating the sin out of him, it’s the least he deserved after all. He touched the cut on his face which was still quite fresh.

The session had just finished but as per usual Jongin didn’t get up and leave. He sat in his seat staring at nothing in particular and began to think about everything that had happened to him up until this point. He sighed. He knew the other guys had never felt the same way about him after he revealed himself as the Tell-Tale, but he did all of that to help them, he wanted to protect them. Why couldn’t they understand that? It hurt his heart so much, they claimed they were family yet he had always felt like he was shunned by them. He tried so hard to be loved by them but nobody understood him. He focused his attention on the podium at the front of the hall, but he had noticed that this time he wasn’t alone there was someone sitting beside him. A woman.
He’d recognised her face she came every week too and always sat at the back with him. He could feel her intense gaze burning into the side of his cheek and so he turned his head slowly to look at her.

“Hi.” She smiled coyly

“Hi.” Jongin nodded his head. There was an awkward silence as he turned his head to look back at the podium.

“You never go up and speak. You don’t have an addiction do you?” Jongin turned to face her again as he raised his brow, intrigued that she had been watching him.

“Well neither do you.” He said, looking at her. She was weird looking. Pretty, but peculiar at the same time she was a different type of gorgeous.

“Yeah well I only come here to make myself feel less shitty, their stories have that effect. A stress reliever you could say.”
Jongin raised his eyebrow in amusement, who was this woman?

“Oh yeah?” He hung his head on the side looking back into her dark brown eyes. “Well same for me, I’ve been through the shit so this helps out a little.”

“I’ve been through the shit too.” She raised an eyebrow back as though challenging him. Jongin was intrigued, now she had his full attention.

“Not worse than me.” He argued, crossing his hands over his chest.

“Oh yeah?” She smirked “Try me.”
Jongin scoffed looking at her. This woman had some nerve, but he liked it, it was compelling. He took a deep breath in before he began to talk again.

“Okay, try having your mother being killed by your dad because you’re an illegitimate kid and then your dad out to kill you because of that same fact.”

She nodded smiling at him.
It was her turn.
“Okay well try your dad beating you half to death, shooting your baby brother dead in your own arms and then blowing his brains out right in front of you. Not so special now huh?”

Jongin’s eyes widened.
Where did this breed of ‘fucked over’ woman come from?

“The name’s Mandy.” She stuck her hand out towards him.

“Jongin.” He smiled wrapping his hand around hers and shaking it lightly.

“Ah, you’re name is cute. Your face is cute too.” She spoke with confidence. Jongin laughed she was smooth, her boldness was unexpected and caught him off guard. She surely was a peculiar woman. “So, how cute is your number?” Jongin laughed again louder this time, in shock he looked at her in disbelief.

“Listen Mandy. I’ve had my fair share of one night stands and trust me when I say they do not take pain away, not even temporarily, so I’ll pass on this one thanks.”
She rolled her eyes and scoffed at Jongin.

“I don’t want to sleep with you. I just want to talk, I’ve never met someone with such similar life experiences to me maybe this could genuinely help me. You’re face isn’t that cute and I’m sure little Jongin is even uglier.” She winked.

“Wow, you’re calling him little? But you’ve never seen him before. You’d be surprised at what a big boy he turned out to be.”

Mandy scrunched up her face and pretended to vomit as she pushed two fingers back into her mouth. She really wasn’t after a night of pleasure and that somewhat warmed him.

This was the most Jongin had laughed since Sehun had died, she had a sense of humour. It’s weird that he hadn’t spoken to her any sooner. She handed him her phone and waited for him to enter his number and give his phone a missed call.

“You can just save me as the ‘cute face’ that works well.” He smiled at her and she smiled back rolling her eyes. He looked down at his phone screen. It was 6:30PM and today’s date was the 25th. He stood up slowly.

“There’s somewhere I need to be but… I guess we can meet up sometime…if you want so see you soon?”

She smiled up at him and nodded her head.
“Yeah sooner than you think cute face.”

anonymous asked:

Percy and Keyleth, #2! (also I must once again praise your writing abilities, just.. just all the feels)

2. a forehead kiss.

Percy’s still not quite sure if he knows how to handle the little group that pulled him out of that cell in Stillben. They seem like… decent people. Mostly. Although sometimes he wonders, watching the easy way the twins pickpocket, the smooth-talking gnome, the hulking mass of a man with an equally large thirst for combat.

What Percy does know is how to fix things - and how to break them, but that’s another story - so when the woman who walks barefoot through the woods and seems far more comfortable in one of her many beast shapes somehow manages to snap part of her elaborate circlet, one of the proud antlers hanging sadly off to one side, he feels it’s only right that he volunteers to fix it.

Percy’s not that great with wood, preferring to work with stones and metals, but he’s determined to keep her circlet looking as natural as it used to be. He’s a proud craftsman, after all. He grafts the antlers back on using wood that looks similar enough in color and some tricks he’s picked up over the years, and when he’s done it looks right as rain. Once Keyleth wreathes it in flowers and leaves again, even the smallest blemishes won’t be noticeable.

When he holds it out to her, her eyes go wide. “Here you are.”

Excitedly, Keyleth grabs Percy by the sides of his face and plants a kiss on his forehead, long red hair falling forward so it’s in his face. He recoils for a moment, unused to touch from other people - much less forehead kisses, but she smile and draws back almost as quickly as she leaned in, giving him a good pat on the cheek before she says, “Thank you so much, Percy!”

And before he can respond she’s gone in a flutter of green skirts and red hair, adjusting the circlet so it sits right on her head as the wind flows against her so she looks almost ethereal.

He clears his throat and crosses his arms, frowning at her as she goes.

Well, he thinks, that’s certainly not the worst thing he’s ever been subjected to.

What a peculiar woman.

Sherlock Saturday One shot (Sherlock x Reader )

Before anything, HAPPY SHERLOCK SATURDAY. Remember tomorrow is Super Sunday (supernatural). I hope everyone has a good weekend.

Summary:Sherlock, John, and Reader are solving a case with lestrads team when Anderson starts flirting with the reader and making her uncomfortable (Reader is shy). Sherlock has a crush on the reader and deals with Anderson.

You, Sherlock, and John, are working on another murder case. Except this time you all are forced to work with lestrads team at the scene. That means Donavan and Anderson. Since you are a friend of Sherlock the take a disliking to you and the fact that you’re shy means you can’t defend Sherlock….with words. In Scotland Yard you are known as a prankster because every time someone insults the Holmes, Watson, or Lestrad, you leave them a prank that embarrasses them to no end.

This case is very peculiar. A woman was found dead in a locked room with no signs of any intruder or other person. Right now Sherlock stood to your right and John to your left and each of you were taking mental notes. That was until Anderson walked in. “(Y/ N), What did you deduce?” “The killer is either a dwarf or a small child judging by the bullets entry angle. There is black hair on the suit yet the woman is blonde, so the murder has black hair.” This was said in a hushed voice because of the other people in the room. The two men that stood by your side were very tolerant of your shyness and when someone picks on you for it the defend you. “( Y/N), What’s a girl like you doing at a place like this?” Anderson had walked up to you but you ignored him. You DID NOT want this attention. John and Sherlock Co tinted to deduce but you just stuck to Sherlock to avoid the annoying man. “(Y/N), I have a poem for you. Roses are red Violets are blue, My heart skips a beat when I see you.” This one only made you stick closer to Sherlock. “Sherlock how much longer?” You whispered. He looked at you and your (e/c) eyes were filled with uneasiness and embarrassment. “Only a few more minutes.” You nodded and made sure you stood near Sherlock. At this point he might as well been carrying you. Anderson called you out once more. “Hey (y/n), you look tired why don’t you take a seat on my lap?” Sherlock turned around marched up to Anderson and punched him in the nose. Anderson fell to the floor and blood rushed out his nose. “Talk to or about (y/n) like that again and I will make sure this looks like nothing.” He and John whisked you away and into a taxi. Once seated inside you thanked them and they just told you not to worry. At the Flat, Lestrad had managed to beat you there and was asking what happened. He was one of the few people you weren’t shy around. “HE DID WHAT?!” Lestrad was a father figure to you. Sherlock went over what happens and said exactly what Anderson said. “I’ll take care of him don’t worry. (Y/n) if something like this happens again you punch him and you won’t get in trouble.” He hugged you and went off as Sherlock entered the room with your favorite drink. The two of you curled up on the couch and whatced the television. “(Y/n), remember what I said about Sentament being a chemical defect on the losing side?” “Yes.” He ran his fingers through you (h/c) hair. “Well because if you I’m going to lose my winning streak.” You gazed up at him understanding the indication. “I love you to Sherlock.” You placed a kiss on his sharp cheeks and curled up closer to him watching movies until you both fell asleep.


Imagine Being Jerome’s Sister Part 1

I did not believe it at first. But I should have known. He is my brother after all. I should have seen the signs of his change. If his sanity slipping. But I was always the truly innocent child. The soft spoken. The light-hearted. The dreamy eyed. Our mother hated the dreams in my eyes. She never beat me though. I found it unfair for her to take out her anger on my big brother. Jerome simply said that it was his job to make life easier for me. I think he wanted me to keep this innocence. This purity.

Our matching red hair and pale skin was the only thing in common Jerome and I shared growing up. As I look at him now across the tank in the GCPD interrogation room, I see that clearly now. I look into his eyes as he performs his act. I see through it. That’s why Detectives Jim Gordon and Harvey called me down to the station. They want me to rat out my brother. But I didn’t witness the murder of our mother. I wasn’t even at the carnival that night. I was at the museum looking at art. It was then I meet a peculiar woman with blonde hair. She told me she had an eye for art and I was a masterpiece to come with age. I just turned 16 two months prior to my mother’s murder. She told me her name was Barbara, she gave me a card to an agent in the west coast, and she hoped to see me in one of the paintings she’d buy one day.

It was clear to me what Jerome’s fate in this case would be. I’d most likely never see him again. I want to cry but I felt hollow inside. This would be the last time I see my brother this close. He was rambling a story trying to keep me from believing Jim Gordon’s theory on my brother. I silently watched him until he suddenly stopped and locked eyes with me. His arms resting on the table, he tilts his head side to side and something flashed in his eyes. He looked like he was about to cry.

“…You’re leaving me. You’re going to leave me here. I can see it in your dreamy eyes. They look so far away. That’s where you’re going, isn’t it?”

I didn’t even blink but he read my eyes, he always knew how. Reaching across, I lay my hands over his. They were cold.

“You are all I have left Jerome. But I’ll be out on my own. I know that I am pretty and I can make money off pretty.”

He gave me a small smile.

“Modelling. I never pictured you being a model.”

“Well, I’m no good at anything at the circus Jerome. You are an entertainer at heart. I’m…I need to find out what I am. I don’t want to be sex like our mom. I don’t want to be good for the dogs to eat. I want something more. You always told me to never stop dreaming big. I want to be seen in a different light than you and mom. You understand that I’m sure.”

He nodded but there was something lurking in his eyes,

“You’ll change.”

“No I won’t. I’ll always be your sister.”

Six Months Later

Originally posted by one-more-kiss-dear

Jerome has nothing to say for once as he looked at the commercial on the tv screen. His eyes showed disbelief. His mouth wide open in shock. His arms slack on either side of his body. He never understood perfume commercials, but when the name of the perfume came up along with the label of Chanel No5,, he knew he had been right.

l'amour de soi

Her hair that had matched his so perfectly was now blonde. A short interview clip started on the tv, showing her posing with her natural red locks. A smile full of devious joy slowly showed itself on his face. He watched her and memorized her mannerisms to detail. Forever etched in his memory. Then he started to laugh. If his sister had changed her behavior this way he began to wonder how her mind not worked. Surely, living in Hollywood, she probably had to adapt some of his tactics. Her innocence had to be only a facade now. Jerome decided then, that when he got out of that asylum, he’d find his dearly beloved sister and ask her himself.

@his-scng Sangwoo usually didn’t frequent strip clubs to find victims for a number of reasons. One, there weren’t many near her, most were in the city. Two, the men there would be mostly focused on the strippers, not other girls there. Three, she usually preferred her victims to look somewhat decent, but all the strip clubs she had been to mostly held disgusting, seedy men whose main income was lucky gambling. No thank you.
But a new strip club had opened up in her area, only a 15 minute drive away. It was also one of those rare bisexual bars, with both male and female strippers at the club. That worked well for Sangwoo.
Around 10 at night, she parked her car in the parking lot and walked into the club. It was new and modern looking, with a shiny bar and flashing strobe lights. It honestly didn’t seem too bad of a joint.
Sangwoo’s eyes flickered over the crowd, scanning for potential victims. She vaguely heard an announcer say something about a new performer, but she didn’t pay much attention. That is, until the new performer walked out on stage.
Sangwoo’s eyes were magentically drawn back to the stage when the new girl stepped out. She looked weirdly different from the other strippers- petite and no curves. But by the roar and whistles of the crowd, she seemed to be very popular.
Sangwoo tilted her head and pushed closer to the stage. For some reason, she was interested in this peculiar woman. Not only did she look weird, she had a different aura than the rest of the slutty strippers.

thevikingwoman  asked:

You know I can't resist coming up with something for Teen Wolf <3. So in case this inspires: Solas and Ghil, last call, slight of hand, empty streets, late night.

I had to go digging for this prompt. I finished it today. This is a Teen Wolf story. It is also the story of how Solas meets Mythal for the first time. (aka: prepare yourself. Lol.)

Read at AO3

Solas x Ghilan’nain. Nineteen years old. Arlathan.


Ghil was leaning against the bar at the Gumball Machine, a huge club in Arlathan with loud music and pink light and white sandy beaches and a mirror ball the size of the moon. She hated it. If she’d wanted sand, she would have gone to the fucking beach. Hallavune had wanted to come here, and to Ghil, it smelled like coconuts and burning rubber and sex.

“Tell your boyfriend we missed him at the Ring last night.” Hallavune was sitting on a table, surveying the dance floor. They kind of had to yell over the music. Two hundred young elves with two hundred bad attitudes were out there, dancing their crystalline asses off. Hallavune was wearing high heels. High, high heels. They were the highest. Ghil thought about snapping the little stilleto parts in two.

“He’ll be here soon,” said Ghil, taking a big wad of pink gum out of her mouth and sticking it under the counter. She lit a joint. “Tell him yourself.”

Meanwhile, back in the Weathers, Solas was in a hurry. He’d gotten distracted with chores. His mother badly needed to hire someone to reshingle the roof. There was a loose patch, and with the last storm, there sprung a leak in the living room. Solas still had a couple of uncles from his father’s side living in the city, but she hated to call on them for anything in a pinch, and it looked like rain that night, and there was no time. So she was halfway up the ladder herself when Solas told her to get down and then he fixed it. He’d been cutting slate and asphalt with a switchblade all afternoon and all evening. Now, he was dirty, and sweaty, and tired, but the job was done, and his mother said, One day, you’re gonna have no choice but to let me fix the roof myself, vhenan, but he just waved her off and threw on a pair of boots and told her he needed to get to the city. She didn’t ask a whole lot of questions those days, ever since he’d backed off the knuckle fights. Don’t be too late, was all she said as he went out the door. It was all she said. Don’t be late, which was to say, Please come home, and when you do, please be quiet. I’ll be pretending to sleep.

He grabbed a locomotive into town. There were steam commuter trains that passed through the Weathers about six times each day, and though he usually liked to walk when he went into Arlathan, this time, he wasn’t in the mood. He felt like shit, and he wanted a drink. He sat in the back of the very last car, slouching deep with his arms crossed over his chest in the velvet chair, looking out the window at the whirring neons and sand daisies and the old abandoned train yard and the Great Gate of Arlathan. It was a silver monstrosity. The ride was only about twenty minutes. This was a dead train. The only other riders were a pair of thirty-somethings absorbed in conversation about a crooked family member, while their redheaded toddler sat cross-legged on the floor, clutching a weird little doll and staring at Solas.

At first, he tried to ignore her, but she was like a little bird with big purple eyes and a bright beak who smiled every time he glanced, and this made him sort of weak for reasons he couldn’t pin down. He didn’t have a great deal of experience with children, other than the urchins he’d used to impress with his penny magics on street corners. In any case, he gave in, and he made her up a little butterfly on his way out the door—just for her, purple like her eyes, and like the sea. She and her parents all clapped and the mother laughed, and she was so charmed, she said, “What is your name?” and he just told her. “My name is Solas. It’s nice to meet you.” Then, he was gone.

He met Ghil at the Pink Fuck Palace. It was one of those rich kid clubs and it was actually called the Gumball Machine, but he called it the Pink Fuck Palace, because that’s exactly what it was. Inside, there were girls everywhere, a few of them he knew, and they were tipsy, and they either demurred because they knew about Ghilan’nain, or else they came on too strong. He smiled easy. He had very little to say. When he got to the bar, he found the bartender, who he knew as a dealer from one of the casinos on Winter Street, and he was polishing a glass and nodded down to the other side, where Solas saw Ghil, smoking and working desperately to ignore her rich friend Hallavune.

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Characters’ examination quotes for trinkets (long post):

Some of them are old, some of them are new, some reveal a tidbit about a character, but most of them are just silly puns.

Wilson: “They are all melted together.”

Willow: “I’ll bet the fire that melted these was fiercely hot.”

Wolfgang: “Glob of glass!”

Wendy: “Perfectly misshapen.”


Wickerbottom: “What a lovely set of bottle washers! Too bad they’re all melted.”

Woodie: “I used to play that game.”

Wigfrid: “Toys do not interest a great warrior such as I.”

Webber: “We could still play with these, if we’re extra creative.”

Maxwell: “These must have been heated to an incredible temperature.”

Wilson: “What’s kazoo with you?”

Willow: “A cheap fake. It probably doesn’t even burn properly.”

Wolfgang: “Fake bless you.”

Wendy: “Just a temptation, like death.”


Wickerbottom: “A fake membranophone.”

Woodie: “Much kazoo about nothing.”

Wigfrid: “Accompaniment for my ballad of triumphs.”

Webber: “A voiceless instrument.”

Maxwell: “A complete and utter fraud…”

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New beginnings

Loud cackles erupted from within your throat as you danced down the hallway of the Hotel Cortez. Your once neat Y/H/C hair was now wet and sticky with a red substance clinging onto your locks. Your once clean clothes were now drenched in that same liquid and revealed your voluptuous curves. Beautiful eyes now shone with insanity and twinkled in the most twisted fashion possible. The liquid left a metallic taste in your mouth and you licked your plump, red lips; savouring the taste in a twisted way. It was blood. You loved the feeling of crimson covering you and painting your skin for all the world to see. Your body was a blank canvas and now you wanted to draw on it; paint on it; create art on it. All sanity was now gone and you were reborn- like a phoenix you set yourself on fire and arose from the ashes gracefully. A content hum left your lips as you thought of the events that too place less than half an hour ago. 

20 minutes ago: 


 You called out in a confused voice as you knocked on door 42 of the Hotel Cortez. You were currently on vacation from work as your boss had decided that the stress you were under was affecting your performance in work and you needed to get your stuff together. Never mind that your crippling depression was enough to make you want to lodge a knife into your wrist or the fact that jumping to your death seemed appealing. You were always pushed around and made fun of; seen as a joke. Now you were trying to relax but your incredibly loud neighbour were interrupting you. Life was just going awfully! Loud thumps sounded from within the room before you heard someone scramble at the door. It then flew open to see a woman with a sour expression on her face. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips slightly parted in a confused expression- she seemed incredibly rude. 

“What?” She spoke sharply and in a impolite fashion but you continued shyly.

 “ Um….well, I just wanted to umm…well-” You stuttered but she cut you off; complaining about how you were ‘taking the piss’. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as a slight feeling of anger began to emerge.

Well,” You began in a much more forceful tone “I was hoping you could maybe uhh…keep it down a little. See I’m on vaca-” 

“Who the hell are you to tell me to keep it down? Ugh have you got any manners? So rude!” 

Now you were angry. Rage coursed through you as you grit your teeth. Such irritation possessed you that you thought you were going to die from it. Your eyes widened and you walked forward with a dangerous spring in your step. You then proceeded to kick down her door and grab the woman from her hair. You had enough! A life of submission and a passive-aggressive approach to life had taken its toll on you. She struggled under your grasp weakly and you laughed sardonically.

“Now now…let’s not be rude! Well, you already are judging from the way you spoke to me outside but I’m willing to forget once I teach you a lesson. I hate people like you…you have easy lives with every single thing you want served to you on a silver fuckin’ platter and what do ya do? COMPLAIN!”

You screamed the last word and she flinched. She was so weak and it made cackle with glee. Your words were laced with disgust and your mouth had a nasty taste in it. You gave her a toothy grin in a mocking fashion before glancing at the knife on the side. It looked like she was digging into a pretty nice meal! You got up and told her not to move before picking up the knife and making strange gestures in the air with it.

Next thing you knew, you were coated in her blood as her lifeless body lay on the floor with a terrified expression stuck on her face. You loved every single second of it and the realisation of how controlled life was hit you. But now you were free and had risen above all others. You were yourself.

James POV:

I watched the peculiar woman dance about my hallways. She was coated in blood with it dripping of her sticky hair and onto the floor. A giggle left her plump lips as she ran about childishly. I could not deny that behind her childish demeanour there was a lot of charisma. She was certainly a careless character but it was strangely…likeable. She proceeded to walk into her hotel room and the strong smell dead bodies wafted up my nose. I followed her and my eyes widened in amazement. She was truly incredible! 9 dead bodies lay on the floor; all faces contorted in terror. A chuckle left my lips as I watched her move around them. Her movements were fast and erratic but were also…cute? Yes, James Patrick March, one of the greatest serial killers of all time had described a woman as cute. It was fitting though so I watched her in awe. She was beautiful too with flowing hair and crazy looking eyes. She was certainly interesting. 

She then began to undress and her shapely curves caught my eye. Her perfectly rounded derrière shook and round breasts were bouncing temptingly. She was delicious! I wanted to take her right there and then but decided not to make my presence known. No…I needed to wait but sooner or later I would make her mine.

anonymous asked:

While Aldonza aids some marines in repairing the side of their ship from a storm that came the night before. She sees a stream of light zip by and onto the deck of the ship. After she hears a few words be spoken on deck, she sees Borsalino peer over the side of the ship; Possibly to look at the damage as well as the stranger down below aiding the crew. She speaks up. "Hello Dear. How are you this evening?" ( @ask-sutekinaoaldonza )

The man of light looks at the peculiar woman. “I’m fine, does the ship seem too badly damaged? The captain onboard isn’t giving a good answer.”