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Whether or not he actually killed that Taraldsen broad, Stuart didn't give a shit.

Sitting quietly on the bench in his prison cell, he placed his hands on top of his folded knees. It was cleaner than the hobo camp, but that didn't necessarily make it better. The beams of sickly silver light hit his face through the prison bars. Occasionally, a cop would pass by, but Ackerman had nothing to say to him.

There was the detective, Cole Phelps, Cole Phelps, Cole FUCKING Phelps! He remembered seeing that pretty face on the front of a newspaper that lined one of the camp's lean-tos. Women Stuart had put his hands on in the past had pretty faces. He'd put his hands on Phelps, too, and rip that pretty face to shreds. Would the everyday law-abiding Mr. and Mrs. Smith still love him with his skin torn off?

Empty eye sockets bleeding, Cole would shake his head wildly at the cocking of a pistol. "Let me tell you about justice, Phelps—"

A shadow fell across the bars.

"—it's nothing but a fairy tale the good old boys on Capitol Hill sell every day to cannon fodder like you."

"Stuart Ackerman?" The policeman called softly.

Stuart, despite himself, was caught off-guard by the surprisingly gentle tone of his voice. What game was he playing?

"There's been a mistake."

"Mistake?" Stuart repeated. What did these idiots fuck up now?

"You're an innocent man, Stuart. As of now, you're free to go."

Stuart snorted. "I'll miss the free meals." Narrowing his eyes, he asked, "Sun out?"

"Yes," the policeman replied as he took out his keys, "It's always sunny in California."

Stuart shook his head. "It was raining when he took me."

"Who?" He asked blankly.

He waved his hand. "Forget it, you're all the same."

The key worked slowly in the lock as the policeman chose not to reply.

Ackerman climbed off the bench to stretch luxuriously.

He had a jack-in-the-box as a kid, the laughing face bright-colored and bouncing. Smile for me, Phelps.

"Kill a cop, and it's the electric chair!" Phelps had yelled at him. Stuart knew better; Uncle Sam would rather throw the switch on his poster boy in an ultimate heroic sacrifice than on a washed-out bum like him. Headlines had to be made, after all. Dance puppet, dance on the electric current to earn your Purple Heart! I'll carve open your chest, and rip it right out!

"Oh, just one thing," Ackerman began innocently.


"The guys at the camp, they aren't bad. We wouldn't be angry if we had something to eat. Even some scraps of that free food would be okay."

"Sure, I'll see what I can do," the policeman replied with a clearly forced smile.

Wipe your ass with “protect and serve.” Stuart would rather eat shit for the rest of his days than eat anything the fascists served again. Funny thing was, he'd still be cleaner than them.
White Mask (L.A. Noire 4F)
Oh boy, this fic was a long time in coming. I found the interrogation scene with Stuart Ackerman to be one of the most haunting in the game, since, as I have inferred in other stories, that Cole might have turned out similarly to him. On top of that is the fact that despite his clearly violent tendencies and need for mental help, Ackerman was released back into society. Should he have been caged like an animal? Without proper evidence that he killed the women he said he did, no, but the fact remains that the truth as to what he did or didn't do wasn't divulged.

I'm sorry if I plunged a little too deep into violence and profanity into this tale. I was trying to focus on the sheer rage this man might be feeling, despite his lack of verbal demonstration of it. 

The inspiration for the story itself came from "Vengeance Is Mine" by Alice Cooper. 

Prompt: "Grammar Tip(s)." From a  list of several common grammar goofs below, (and links to their correct usage) choose one, or more, of them and include the correct usage of the grammar in your 4F. If it compares two or more words, choose one to use correctly in your 4F. Of course, you're always allowed to include more than one, if you'd like.
Those I chose: 
Semicolon usage:…
Everyday vs. Every Day:…

Words: 496
Music hauntingly drawled out of the car's radio as Cole drove, the breeze whipping through the open window. While the city slept, a killer remained on the loose, though it was one that really existed more in his head, it seemed. Maybe he was just losing his mind.

There were similarities between the victims, though. The women had unhappy relationships, for instance.

Flickers of movement, like the rustle of a coat, or a disembodied laugh, proved the alley's lifelessness a façade.

One figure appeared in full sight.

Her hands slung aimlessly, and her dark curls bounced. Turning, she revealed a disappointed expression, her mouth curled in a scowl. She paused, one hand drawn into herself. Her face was distorted, as if beneath moving water.

She turned out of his field of vision as he passed.

His eyes widened. It couldn't be—glancing at the rearview mirror, he found no further trace of her. He didn't believe in magic, but ghosts, Okinawa had proved, were a different matter.


Marie, a few strands of her black hair loose, leaned over a cup of steaming coffee. The radio on the kitchen table mumbled to itself.

Cole rapped on the doorframe.

Marie glanced up, blinking. "I'm not—dreaming?"

He shook his head as he entered.

Marie smiled bitterly. "Los Angeles swallows you up." Nudging her coffee cup, she added, "There's more in the pot."

"I'll have some later," Cole assured, taking a chair, "Is something wrong?"

"Can't sleep," she muttered, "Do you think of San Francisco?"

"Not so much anymore."

Reaching forward, she grasped his hand to squeeze. "Maybe Los Angeles will swallow me, too."

Seized by a sense of dread at her words, Cole wished to divulge everything about Elsa and the war. Marie would understand; she was his wife, after all. They'd take the children, and go far away before Los Angeles could have them all. In anguish, he realized that it was pointless; Marie's responses wouldn't be lucid, and even if they were, the result would be disastrous.

"Lights out, everybody," the radio declared solemnly. A bell clanged.

"It's—later—" whispered the radio as Cole rose, "than—you—think."

Marie's eyes widened, and she withdrew her hand. Catching it, he brushed his palm against it.

"'Lights Out' brings you stories of the supernatural and the supernormal, dramatizing the fantasies and mysteries of the unknown. We tell you this frankly—"

Cupping her chin, he stroked his thumb along her jaw. Marie closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

"—so if you wish to avoid the excitement and tension of these imaginative plays, we urge you calmly—"

Cole sighed heavily, defeated.

"—but sincerely, to turn off your radio—"

Leaning forward, he chastely kissed the side of her head.



Garrett drew up his collar as he turned off of Sunset Boulevard, with a few notes, such as Detective Phelps's house number, stashed in his pocket.

Phelps sure had a pretty wife.
In Your Headlights (L.A. Noire 4F)
Prompt: Magic (can be used as theme or wording)
Words: 497

An old friend and I were talking about the Werewolf Killer, and I noticed a similarity between Cole Phelps and Elizabeth Short: both had gone into Los Angeles to pursue their dreams, but each had met disastrous ends. Added to that was Garrett Mason's fascination with Phelps, and I figured that Garrett developed a bit of an affection for Cole, as he had for Elizabeth. In this case, it's more of a predatory type of affection, such as a hunter develops for the stag he brings down. 

This story was inspired by "Anamoly" from the Metro 2033 OST.

The program that plays in the background is "Lights Out," a radio program that played during the witching hour from 1934 to 1947. The summer of 1947 served as the swan song for the series, as it was the final revival attempt for radio that only lasted a month. Since L.A. Noire seems to use a floating timeline (see: number of months that pass between Traffic and Homicide) I squeezed in the show. The show was adapted to television in 1949, and the (reportedly quite gruesome) recordings from the 1934-1936 era have been lost.  Admittedly, the introduction I used for the show was from a few years prior to L.A. Noire, as the closing of the show's story (about a werecat, nonetheless) makes a public service announcement about the American war effort during World War II.


Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
Current Residence: Atlantis
Favourite genre of music: Symphonic Metal, Industrial Metal, Gothic Metal
Favourite style of art: Literature and photography
MP3 player of choice: I've got an iPod touch
Shell of choice: Conch
Wallpaper of choice: Steve and Natasha
Skin of choice: Planets
Favourite cartoon character: Mr. Freeze
Personal Quote: You may say your piece. Even if I don't agree with you, I'll still lend an ear.
New entry, new avatar.

Sorry about the lack of journal updates for months; I had been tied up with the last semester of my undergraduate courses. Now that the semester has ended, I have my bachelor's degree in hand. One year of integrated graduate courses remains, and then I will have my master's degree. It's funny, really; I discovered this site when I was thirteen, I got an account a month after I turned fourteen, and now, on the eve preceding my twenty-second year, I still hang around.

Enough sentimental waxing. I owe an explanation for the L.A. Noire overload; one of the groups on this site that I am a member of has a flash fiction prompt posted on a weekly basis. I said in a conversation with someone back in January that L.A. Noire has a big enough world to create many stories out of, and decided to challenge myself accordingly by filling each weekly prompt with one L.A. fanfic per week. 

I'm working on filling out a few requests I got, as well as White Feather and Red Poppy at last, but the projects are on the back burner for the moment. I'm not leaving this hobby behind, but it is what it is, a hobby. Welcome to my account, and welcome back, respectively, and feel free sit back; aside from the flash fiction prompts, time frames will be relaxed.

I issued a second challenge to myself to this year: get into more anime. So far, I've watched ten serieses to the end:
-Big O
-Serial Experiments Lain
-Ergo Proxy
-Outlaw Star
-Tiger & Bunny
-Paranoia Agent
-Wolf's Rain

If anyone has any anime recommendations, let me know. I'm pretty much riding by the seat of my pants when it comes to what series to watch next (as long as it's good), but please, no 100+ episode anime! :faint:
  • Mood: Peaceful
  • Listening to: Stray- Steve Conte
  • Reading: Transcend by Christine Fonseca
  • Watching: Casshern Sins
  • Playing: Second Sight
  • Eating: Nothing
  • Drinking: Nothing

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LadySark Featured By Owner Jun 12, 2015  Hobbyist Artist
Thanks for the fav! 2015YupiANanEmoteGIF00202 
nightchildmoonchild Featured By Owner Jun 12, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome
Manda-of-the-6 Featured By Owner May 20, 2015  Student General Artist
Hi there,

I would just like to extend a warm welcome for joining Video-Game-Nation!

Currently we are voting for the theme of our group's first contest. Be sure to vote for your top three favourite themes in the group's journal.

If you have any questions or concerns regarding the group, please don't hesitate to send me a note.




Emmers29 Featured By Owner Apr 30, 2015   Traditional Artist
Thanks for the fave! :aww:
nightchildmoonchild Featured By Owner Apr 30, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome
CyrilGlerumArt Featured By Owner Mar 21, 2015  Student Traditional Artist
Thanks for the fave ! 
nightchildmoonchild Featured By Owner Mar 21, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome
mylesillustration Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2015  Professional Digital Artist
Thanks for the fav on Urdnot Wrex!
nightchildmoonchild Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome
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