#(gargling clown noises)

[chaogongoozles]

Yup yup, I've gone back to college to work on a BA in psychology! So I'm definitely gonna have more radio silences here and there, but hopefully with a proper schedule I'll be able to share my artz with y'all :'0)

Til then, buh byeeeeeee!

[yunkiwii]

✧ D-2 Making an Ugly Sweater with Yeonjun

yeonjun x gn!reader ; sfw, fluff ; established relationship, the sweaters are really ugly, a tiny blood mention ; not proof read

wc: 848

from the collection: christmas with my biases

“I think something’s wrong with my sweater.” You mumble as you lift the green knit sweater up to your eye level, lips in a pout, not understanding why the green thread you've been using to sew little red puffy balls was popping out on the outside of the sweater and not hidden on the inside.

"Let me take a look." Yeonjun places his own mess of a sweater down on his lap as he carefully takes yours off your hands, eyebrows furrowed as he attentively searches for your mistake. Your eyes were glued on him, watching as he turned your masterpiece around several times before realisation hit him like a clown car and he lets out a single, very loud, laugh.

"Try it on." The mischievous smirk on his lips makes you doubt if you should. But you did anyway. Tried to, at least, until your head is stopped middle way before reaching the hole on the top end. Blinded by green knit, you hear Yeonjun's loud laugh once more, this time more musical and accompanied by his exciting claps as he becomes breathless from amusement. 

You had sewed the tiny ball all the way through the sweater, closing the gap you so much needed for your body to go through. Despite feeling a little stupid you couldn't help but to laugh as well, pulling the sweater off your head and looking at your funny mistake with a tint of disappointment among your smile. 

"Dummy…" your boyfriend came closer to you as he calmed himself down, ruffling your hair as he took the ruined sweater from you again, solving the problem for you — since you were still in awe on how you managed to do that — by cutting the thread off and giving it back to you chuckling. "It's looking good though!" He flashes you an encouraging smile, both of you resuming your tasks.

The Grinch was playing on the TV, however, it was more as background noise than anything — not that Yeonjun would ever admit that, not wanting to insult Mr. Grinch in any way. It was his idea to binge watch some of the greatest Christmas movies but you, on the other hand, insisted you should make your own ugly Christmas sweaters instead. And so, when you failed to reach an agreement you decided to simply do both, at the same time. 

And that's how you ended up where you are now: sat on Yeonjun's couch, needle in hand and several Christmas ornaments spread all over the floor and the coffee table, as you listened to your cheerful boyfriend sing along to the song of the movie, showing off not only his singing skill but also his impersonating ones.

"You're a mean one, mister Gr- AHHH!" 

"What, what?" You stopped the difficult task of sewing the golden glittery garland around the arms of the sweater, looking at a whining Yeonjun with confusion. His right hand grabbing his index finger from the left hand as he rocked his body back and forth with a pout. 

"Stupid needle…", he mumbled as if the needle had offended him in some way.

"Did you pinch yourself with it? Let me-"

"No! It pinched me. The needle did it, it's Grinch getting revenge…" He looked at you with furrowed brows and you did your best to contain your laugh from him, placing your sweater aside and approaching him slowly.

"Can I see it? I'm sure it isn't bad." He lets you take his hand, and you miss the way he smirks, satisfied with the attention, while you analyze the invisible needle wound. "You don't have anything babe, look!" You show him his finger as he tries to hide his sly smile, and fails completely, earning a frown from you. "You just want attention, don't you? There's not even blood! But I assure you there will be if you keep on with that smug face." You let go of his hand with an eye roll, determined to finish your sweater, only that one gargle and a few bells left to add.

"I didn't get my 'get good' kiss though…", you feel your boyfriend's head resting on your shoulder and flick him in response. "Hey!!!"

"Now you deserve a 'get good' kiss." You chuckled, leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead.

"You guys are ridiculous." 

Your boyfriend's flatmate, Taehyun, had been in the kitchen all along without your knowledge, unintentionally listening to your typical gibberish talk to each other.

"Are you jealous Taehyunnie?" Yeonjun stands up, approaching the younger with his lips puckered as if he was ready to kiss him, only to be shoved away by him as he runs towards the couch.

"What the hell are those anyway?" Taehyun looks down to the green, red and golden shiny mess happening all over with disgust. "They're hideous…"

You and Yeonjun exchange looks, smiles growing on both your faces while in Taehyun's there was only confusion to be seen. What he didn't know was that he had just given the both of you the best compliment he could've ever think of.

© yunkiwii 2021, all rights reserved. please do not repost or translate

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[undertaker1827]

I'm so sorry! The two i sent in are for the Halloween prompt list. Thank you. Have a great day🥰

No worries, hope you enjoy!

Original ask; Halloween prompt 17 for Sebastian (relationship) and Ciel (platonic).

17] Visiting a haunted house

Masterlist

(So it’s November and now I’m writing the Halloween stuff. Sorry my dudes but at least I’m keeping the spirit of things (haha?) going 😂😅)

-

Sebastian (drabble)

You and Sebastian were going on a long walk in the middle of the night. You were still wearing your costumes and accompanying makeup, Sebastian having claimed he had a surprise for you. What this surprise was, especially at this time of night and in the opposite direction of the cinema you had no idea, but you were more than excited to see it. The further you walked, the louder the noise of people talking got until you finally rounded the last corner to see a massive purple and orange sign announcing, ‘Haunted House!’. You absolutely grinned, turning to your partner who was already smirking back to you. You grabbed one of his hands with both of yours and held it tightly, practically bouncing on your heels at the though of going in.

“I thought you would enjoy this,” the demon told you, producing two black, embossed tickets. You all but squealed in delight, launching yourself into Sebastian’s arms and pressing a happy kiss to his lips. He took your arm as you carried on walking towards the entrance, handing the tickets over with a positively regal nod to the zombie butler standing at the door. As soon as you stepped inside, the doors slammed shut behind you and all the noise from outside disappeared into nothing. It was incredibly cold, enough to already send a shiver down your spine. The house itself was genuinely built during the Tudor period, rumoured to be haunted for real.

A neon orange arrow pointed you towards the first door and you set off, glancing around the room at the positively impressive display of cobwebs and giant spiders. You shrieked as soon as you went into the next room, a horrifying clown having jumped out at you from behind a curtain. You grabbed onto Sebastian automatically, too frightened to see his smirk. As you moved on again, he left an arm curled around your waist, fingertips absentmindedly stroking over your side. You stayed close to him as you walked further into the house, the lights dimming accordingly and the cobwebs increasing tenfold. Your body jolted as you heard a horrified scream, giving your own a moment later when you could have sworn you felt someone - not your partner - breathe down your next and whisper something gargled in your ear.

The next room seemed to contain nothing like any of the previous ones, just empty with bare floorboards and peeling wallpaper. The neon arrow was still there to direct you to the next door, so with a final sightly confused glance, you started off once more. You heard a strange rustle from behind you and flew around to be met only with empty space. Sebastian quirked a brow, asking what was wrong. You just shook your head when it turned out he hadn’t heard something; it must truly have been your imagination. That said, you screamed the loudest you thought you ever had when something fell over your head and shoulders. Convinced something had grabbed you, you made a run for the next door, scrapping at the thing - whatever it was - and twirling around as you tried to get away from it, even though it was quite literally attached to you. You jolted to a stop as you careened into something which proceeded to hold you in place, leaving you struggling viciously and hitting and kicking at your assailant, more terrified than ever.

“Y/N!” Suddenly, you could see again, finding yourself looking up into Sebastian’s eyes, poorly suppressed amusement displayed across his features. He held a piece of thick black fabric aloft in one hand, snickering quietly to himself.

Your heart pounded even as your partner explained it wasn’t real, someone had just dropped a blanket on your head and you were alright. When you finally pulled yourself together and made your way back out onto the street, Sebastian kept a protective arm around your shoulders, holding you close to him at all times. He couldn’t help but find the whole thing quite funny though; the look of terror on your face over a piece of fabric was priceless.

Ciel (headcanons)

Okay so Ciel’s going to act all big and brave

He’s in a contract with a demon for crying out loud, he ain’t afraid of no ghosts (get it? The Ghostbuste-no? okay)

Of course you both know that whatever’s in this haunted house isn’t real

A bunch of cobwebs big plastic spiders - maybe animatronic ones - possibly people in costume

This knowledge is no use in lowering your fear

As soon as you walk in, the both of you get jump scared by a vampire

It was so unexpected that both of you screamed - you more than Ciel - and leapt out of the way

Ciel shook his head afterwards and tried to claim you were ridiculously nervous and you made more of a fuss than the actor

You retaliated of course, but he wouldn’t have it

The next thing to happen was a horrible sound filling the room you were standing in, like nails scraping down a blackboard

It sent chills down your spine immediately and you shivered, goosebumps covering your skin

Ciel frowned a little, standing up just a bit straighter and glancing around the room

You noticed his grip on the walking stick he held had tightened

It was all too easy to forget you were in an attraction rather than a real place, the whole thing had been set up so well

The scratching seemed to be getting louder and louder, closing in around you and you were still both standing still, trying to see where the noise was coming from

It seemed like it was in every wall, filling every available space

Then, out of nowhere, it stopped

You were left with your heart pounding and breathing heavy, the earl standing rigid next to you

The jumped involuntarily when a deep thud sounded somewhere beneath your feet, loud enough to send tremors through the floor

You shared a quick sideways glance with Ciel, nodded once, then slowly started making your way to the door

You shoes barely made a sound on the floor so as to avoid whatever it was hearing you

You forced to stand still once more when the lights went out

There were no windows so it was pitch black; you could hardly even see your friend, never mind how to get out

You sucked in a sharp breath then felt Ciel grab your wrist

“Walk straight forwards, the door should be right in front of us,” he whispered, waiting until you agreed before taking a first step

As soon as you did, you heard something move behind you

Filled with dread you gripped Ciel’s hand, slowly starting to turn your shoulders

You shrieked when you felt something grab you from behind and you all but felt your friend’s hair stand up on end when the same thing happened to him

You both spun around to be faced by two glowing skeletons which immediately made to grab you again

You glanced over your shoulder once more to see an exit sign which you were certain hadn’t been there seconds before

Grabbing Ciel’s arm, you made a run for it to be met with fresh cold air from outside as soon as you got to the door

You were still running even as you crossed the street and when you finally turned back, hearts racing and breathing heavily, you saw a crowd of people all laughing, someone holding up an official looking photograph of the two of you running in terror

You bought the photo just for the fun of it and every time Ciel tries to insist he wasn’t frightened, you bring it out just to prove him wrong

[wanna-rock-n-roll-in80s]

#7 Pennywise x Vampire!Reader NSFW

A/N: Sorry it took rather a long time (and came out way tooo long lol) but I hope you guys will enjoy it (at least a little bit?)! Please read warnings properly, this stuff is not for everyone!! ⚠️

Warnings: smut, gore, violence, victim, murder, death, blood play, drinking blood, injuries, oral sex

18+ please no minors

Tags: @clown-bait

You turn from your one side to another, from your back to you stomach, curl up and can’t fall asleep. Heartbeat is too loud and all your muscles tremble as if you have a flu. Hunger, again. And you surely know it will only grow until you feed it. You crawl out of your sewer nest and go looking for your mate. Of course, he’s digging though his trash mount, as he often likes to do in the evening before going to bed. “Pen?” you wrap yourself into quickly threw on blanket and he walks up to you. “What’s up, little one?” he looks worried but then he puts his large palms onto your tremoring hands. “Oh” he pulls you into him immediately, “So I suppose we’re have a night date, huh?” he giggles quietly and gives your temple a light kiss, and it is not a question.

The two of you walk around the fringes of Derry looking for late passersbys and finally you find. A figure sways a bit while passing by flowerbed and you grasp Pennywise’s forearm. You recognize. “Jerk. Bastard” you spit on the ground in disgust and a wave of shiver hits you. Penny looks at you questioningly and you explain “I thought he disappeared a long time ago but here he is. When I was in junior high he used to lock someone in lockers and laugh and there was a lot more of disgusting stuff. Bastard” you spit again. He squeezes your shoulder understanding “Sooo two birds in one stone, little one?”, you just nod and hug him. He takes a moment to think “You know, we’re just at the right place”.

You glance aside and realize there is old abandoned part of fun house here, ex-mirror labyrinth to be more precise. No one dare to approach it anymore and you guess why. “Yes, just what we need!” you smirk, wink at him and walk to chase the bastard.

You overtake him and swing you hips as you walk, you feel that gaze on you and look back over your shoulder. You already know that instead of half-ruined building he sees a fresh one with lots of neon signs and one of them says “Free booze if you pass”, somehow you’re sure that one must be there. You’re like a Siren and he mindlessly follows you as you lead him inside. Pennywise watches you with a bit of jealousy, though he’s aware it’s just performance, and comes closer as you hide in plain sight.

You glance over your shoulder again to make sure the bastard doesn’t fall behind and smile at him. “Ohh-hoh dollface, are you an angel? Don’t you want to be my date?” this drunk fucker even doesn’t recognize you, good. “Gladly” you overcome you nausea and beckon him down the mirror hall. Familiar bells jingle and you stop, “Wait a minute, I’ll be right back” you whisper and round the corner. He stays there with a dumb smile and you even don’t want to know what he fantasies about. “He’s still revolting” you say leaning against your tall clown and he feels your hungry shiver again. “Oh I see! So, that’s my part now” he gives you a peck on the temple.

“Helloooo? Heeeellooo” sound comes from nowhere, “Game ends in 5 minutes, you’ll either pass or be locked here forever?” strange merry voice with a strange intonation makes the bastard furrow his brows. “What… What the hell? Dollface, where are you?” he throws himself to the way you just went away and bumps into the transparent wall. “What the hell? Is it a joke?” his voice quavers when he rushes back and hits another wall. You even can hear his panic, his fear, his rabbit-like heartbeat as he straggles in a trap and you know that your monster can also get a great meal tonight, he’s already getting it. “Clock is broken, game over” bastard hears the sound right behind his back and hurries to turn just to see terrifying toothy-grinned clown face. In reality it’s simply the corner of the almost empty room with two mirror walls - the only thing left standing. And this jerk who’s ready to piss himself. You slowly crawl closer enjoying the show.

“Ooh ho ho wHaT tHe HeLL” clown mocks his miserable whines with a dramatic face and guffaws loudly, “W-WhAt ThE hELL” he repeats and suddenly gets serious and stretches out his hand, “One last dance?” he shakes his hair and grabs a hand of this freezed in terror bastard. You already stand near them and watch how your boyfriend tugs his arm up and spins him several times before catching him.

Finally you show up in front of them. “D-d-dollface?” bastard’s back is pressed against Penny’s chest and he hangs like a ragdoll. “Tshhh. It’s all right” you smile revealing the tips of your fangs, “All right? ALL RIGHT??” his high pitched screams make you wince, “Regale me?” you murmur to Pennywise not paying attention to the screaming body and step forward. “With pleasure” he smirks and a second later his claw tears bastard’s flesh apart from his wrist to halfway till elbow. “Here you go” clown bows his head slightly putting his palm over the prey’s mouth to muffle all disturbing whimpering shouts. You come over humming in anticipation and open your mouth looking straight into his eyes. Pennywise takes cut up arm by hand curving it to make a good angle to let trickles of blood run down your tongue. “Aaaahhhh” you can’t help but moan gulping thick liquid, your hand lays on Penny’s hand when you drag the arm close to suck directly from the wound emitting a lot of slurping sounds. “Ohhh my little one’s so hungry… Yess so hungry, shouldn’t wait so long” clown coos watching with affection how the blood is getting smeared all over your cheeks and chin and runs down your neck.

“Mmhmhmh” you hum and pass your tongue between parted sides of skin like children lick their plate clean after a delicious meal and bite your lip slightly pulling Penny’s hand down. He gets the hint immediately and bends to give you one slow deep kiss, you both are savoring salty metallic taste while he’s holding this convulsing body tight with one arm only. “More” you whisper into his mouth fondling his face with your blood covered fingers, “All for you” he murmurs and after it his several rows of spiky teeth pierce bastard’s neck and rip out a big chunk of it.

He’s so impetuous in this action that blood splashes everywhere, pulsing spurts from the severed jagular hit your clothes and the mirror wall right beside you pouring all over it. You bury your face into hot gaping hole and get what you need, your hunger gradually dies out as die out bastard’s gargling noises. You take a deep loud breath of satisfaction and smirk at Pennywise, “Feel better, little one?” he examines you, “Oh I see you do! So, let me feed you then” with this words he puts his lips on the neck wound and sucks blood into his mouth, his fingers gently lift up you chin and a thumb pushes your jaw down. He teases you letting the blood mixed with his saliva trickling slowly from his lower lip on your tongue and you swallow it longingly. When he empties his mouth into yours he lowers his hand to your neck squeezing it and pulls you for a kiss shoving his slick salty tongue almost down your throat.

“Mmmhmm that’s it” you mumble biting his lip and lean back, he dips his thumb in red liquid and passes it from the corner of your mouth up your cheek through your eyelid and brow. He drops the body on the floor and enclasps you pressing your back against his chest. The two of you stand in front of the blood covered mirror wall and he wipes clean a part of it with his glove. “Look, little one, look how alike we are” he whispers giving you a few seconds to take a glance and then nuzzles into your neck to suck and lick sticky blood up. “Oh yesss” you lift your hand and run it to pat the back of his neck, not cleaned part of wall catches you attention and you draw “I ❤️ u” on it with your finger.

He looks at it and tightens his grip on you, you see the reflection of how he draws his hand under the hem of your dress and yanks your panties to rip them off you. You squeak and his impatient fingers rush to between your legs starting to massage your clit. His glowing yellow eyes with red ridges and glistening red chin drive you crazy. You wiggle as he fondles you and then it gets unbearable, you grab his hand and push him to the floor, lay him down and straddle him.

Feeding always rips animalistic nature out of you both, and you snarl when Pennywise automatically grabs your thighs. You fall down to his chest, pull his ruff a bit lower and suckle at his neck making him growl. “As a person he was a shit, but as a meal it was, um, okay. But now I want someone really tasty” you hiss into his ear and brush your fangs along his pale skin, he arches his back under you in anticipation “Oh fuck, c'mon do it”. You take a moment to inflame your desire before sinking your sharp teeth into his alien flesh. “Mmmhmm” you whine lapping at the fresh holes and make him moan when your lips gently suck his liquid in. “Oh fuck” your ecstatic whisper causes Pennywise to seize your bare ass with his showed up claws. You can’t stand still and rub your pussy against his crotch as you’re getting your dessert, and feel his paws helping you to rub. You rise your hand and move your wrist closer to his mouth, “Please” your shaking whisper encourage him. Penny grabs your hand and cut it open with his razor sharp teeth grumbling loudly, he can’t stop and takes a long lick tasting you and all his limbs are trembling slightly. “Ooh yes” you moan in rapture and as your lips are detached from his neck thin strings of blood start floating up.

You take your hand out of his grip and lift yourself placing your palms on his shoulders, you bend to make out with him and the both of you hum enjoying the flavor of your mixed blood. He’s already so hard underneath you and you have no patience, you want to have your way with your delicious treat.

You slide down along his body leaving red splats on the clean parts of his silver costume and finally get where you wanted to. Pennywise is breathing hard, you gently tickle his obvious boner through silk fabric and smirk when his breath becomes more jerky. His loose pantaloons enable you to wrap your fingers around his dick and give it a few light strokes. He bucks his hips craving for more and you bite your lip pulling his pants down. Lust and blood cause his dick to look a bit more alien than usual and you like its velvet ridges, it’s still barely swaying after springing out and your pussy aches even worse, not to mention it’s oozing profusely. You bring your injured hand to your face and get a mouthful of your blood. You tower over that exposed part of his body and let red thick liquid trickle down his waiting member so you use it like a lube as you start stroking him slowly twisting your hand around the shaft. “Oh fuck” cracked moan escapes him when you squeeze him tighter and speed up and then suddenly stop at the base. “Little one” he growls as his boner spasms.

Mischievous smile appears on your face when you set yourself more comfortable, you slap your pout with his dick head a few times and finally wrap your lips around it. Tongue is lapping on it while your fist is sliding up and down his shaft. You take in as much as you can and glide up with your cheeks hollowed in a tender suck. Your lips slip off of the tip with a wet pop and you start again. Penny writhes and grumbles when you kiss softly the glans and begin to lick and suck it gently, you know that he loves when you pay so much attention to this sensitive spot. His low guttural noises turn you on so much, you run your tongue along his length several times licking up as much blood as you can while massaging its head with your thumb. “Oh fuck…” he gasps and clasps your hair with his gloved hand as you take him into your mouth and go fast, “Fuck, so good… You suck me so good, oh…” clown keeps whispering and you feel his tension building. Your hand fondles the base of his dick and he slightly thrusts his hips meeting your moves. You let out enjoyable hums teasing his soft skin with your tongue while sucking him and finally you feel his large member twitching as he releases his sweet cum into your mouth with a loud moan. You try to swallow as fast as you can and don’t stop stroking him while he rides out his orgasm.

When his thigh muscles go limp you let him out of your mouth and lick your lips. Pennywise just lays with closed eyes and shallow breathes, you crawl to lay on him again and put a small kiss on his parted lips. “Mmmhm right what I wanted” you smile, he wraps his arms around you “So.. Is that ALL what you wanted?” he reaches for another kiss and grinds against you slightly making it clear for you that he’s still hard. You roll you eyes as your lust goes over the edge “It’s all I wanted to taste, but now..” you have no chance to finish your thought as Penny grips you tight and rolls you on your back and you feel you got into something sticky and wet, and, oh yes, you haven’t noticed a huge pool of blood that came flushing out of the body.

“I want you” he growls into your neck after a hungrily lick, “I want you more” you moan pushing his side wanting to roll him on his back again and he doesn’t resist. You straddle his hips rubbing your clit along his boner and you feel that your stamina is not enough to play some teasing, so when he places his swollen dick between your aching wet pussy lips you promptly lower yourself on him with a satisfied groan. His hands are fresh-covered with blood after the two of you rolled in the pool of it and he squeezes your thighs and ass when you grind back and forth getting adjusted to the sensation of fullness. “Oh yes” you whisper caressing your breasts “Oh yes” your hips start gliding up and down and soon you increase the speed, all his protruding ridges are doing a great job inside of you and you feel getting closer.

Pennywise smears blood over your thighs biting his lip and you lift up the hem of your dress for him to enjoy the view of his dick sinking into you again and again. You can’t catch a word from his growls and just ride him fast with obscene slick slaps, you can’t hold it anymore and dive into breathtaking orgasm. You’re putting yourself on his stiff member in a pure pleasure and barely feel Penny’s long arms grab and tug you forcing you to lay on him. One his big hand holds your both wrists behind your back and other takes a grip on your butt as he starts to thrust into you frantically from underneath. You glance at the mirror wall resting you cheek on his chest and whine as you keep coming while watching your lewd action from the side. Your hard breathing near his neck and your contracting walls are the last straw for him. With wild animalistic noises he spurts his seed deep inside you and his hips buck a few more times before getting still.

“Mhhmhmh Penny…” you breath out, exhausted but very satisfied…or?.. You feel his cum flowing down your inner thighs and squirm “Mmm?” he hums questioningly at your unequivocal gesture rubbing your back and shoulders, the two of you are bloody and still panting. “Oh” you rise a bit to look into his gone in different directions eyes and smooch him with a smile, ruby liquid drips from your hair onto his neck ruff, “You know what? Satiating my hunger for blood is much easier than satiating my hunger for you”.

[jadenjace]

‘ TUNNEL VISION ‘ - A SELF PARA FOR JADEN LAPOINTE . ( atlanta task 006 )

tonight's the night to run a red light , drive past the words and continue despite what he said and the fact that he begged you to swallow your pride just this once . save tonight , save the show , broken glass and broken bones , tonight is all you'll know , show them how fast you can go . please slow down , you'll roll us both over the last that i heard hell had froze over ; you lost your war , you lost your race . so just swallow your pride and cover your head , because you're in the fast lane to a hospital bed . you risked it all , how fucking dare you still show your face ??

trigger warning : car accident , injury , blood , horror imagery , death .

he wouldn’t have missed this , not for the world – jaden had been nearly counting down the days until he could see ezra again , not that he was clingy at all but simply because he couldn’t contain his excitement to be going on a date with the girl that he’d seemingly been hopelessly crushing over . god , she was beautiful , and totally out of his league at that , but even though his invitation to the arcade was dorky and lighthearted he knew that this could be the start of something real . she wasn’t made up of pixels , she wasn’t fictitious ( as much as his friends seemed to tease him ) or something he’d made up to seem cool and maybe , just maybe , there was a chance that she felt the same way back . with a bunch of lilacs bundled into one hand jaden parked up his car and exited the vehicle to hurry up the staircase , tapping knuckles against the door he’d been pointed toward over and over until it cracked open ever so slightly , then more so to reveal the brunette beauty on the other side . 

“ you’re early , “                  “ you’re beautiful , “ 

he was cheesy , most of his pick-up lines learned from movies or the books he’d been reading , but it didn’t seem to matter . dressed up in what was deemed ‘ fancy ‘ in his mind ( a shirt unbuttoned a little too low tucked into dark jeans , low-ankle doc martens ) it was clear jaden had made an effort , but nothing could hold a candle to how stunning his date looked . so far he’d only seen ezra in her cinema uniform or in her comfies walking through the basketball courts , but with just the slightest lick of makeup and a dress that fit her curves just right .. he was speechless , high cheekbones flushed with a rosy pink that he was thankful the darkness masked . “ yeah i know it’s lame . let’s go , i wanna get there before the big guys get their hands on the best games . did you know that ermac in mortal kombat was originally just an error in the code ?? he was never meant to exist , but he became such a cult figure from the early games that they remastered him and added him into new releases as his own separate character , “ the oldest lapointe sibling could speak about video games for days , and he often did . between their journey from ezra’s apartment to the parked white audi outside he continued to spout off facts that anyone else would deem as useless , although to him they were priceless artefacts that lived in his mind rent-free . “ -- and tomb raider : angel of darkness was released super early to compete with the indiana jones game , so it means it’s super glitchy , but if you ask me it’s favorite one . that and legend , or maybe anniversary .. you get to stand on midas’ hand and shoot gorillas which is super , super cool .. oh god , and a fucking t-rex , ezra !! you gotta fight a t-rex -- “

babbling turned into white noise but soon enough he was opening the passenger side door for her to slide into . once shut , jaden looped around the car to take his position in the drivers seat . since passing his text ten years ago he’d barely ever worn a seat belt , not really seeing the need to since up until this point he’d been an impossibly safe driver . there was nothing to be worried about when he was behind the wheel .. or at least that was what he thought . the couple continued to be lost in conversation . perhaps that was both their blessing and their curse , the radio blaring at full volume with giggling voices only just raising above powerful speakers , finding common ground in all things buffy , the office , roswell .. nerdy things , really , that made him adore the girl even more . chatter was so relentless that he hadn’t noticed the other car driving a little too close to his own as they rocketed down maine streets . closer , closer still .. jaden’s eyes were trained on the road in front of them but that wasn’t where he should’ve been focusing , unable to react quick enough to the glare of headlights and a screech of metal , an ear-piercing wail of rubber against tarmac . in a split second all he could think about was protecting the girl beside him and so both hands turned on the wheel , veering the car to narrowly avoid the collision which would’ve no doubt stolen ezra’s life in a second . 

the beloved audi first swerved off the road and down the grassy bank , before flipping over and over and throwing the young lovers around inside like a shaken snow-globe . having neglected to pull his seat belt over his chest in the first instance jaden was smacked against the window , headbutting the dashboard , crashing against metalwork as the shell of his vehicle continued to twist until coming to a halt at the bottom . commotion was the last thing he heard . the male was knocked out on impact once his brain collided with plastic but his unconsciousness was probably for the best — if the searing pain had been felt the older of the two would’ve been screaming , sobbing for help , but instead he lay completely still among the empty mcdonald’s bags and spare items of clothing he kept in the car for emergencies . crimson pooled beneath him in a puddle that settled in the cracks of the vehicle but even when it looked like there couldn’t possibly be any more the stream continued on . jaden had never been the best at biology and science but he did know one thing – blood loss was bad , really bad , and there had been a hell of a lot of loss on his part . it was a miracle that the male was still breathing . although it was ragged , shallow , gurgling in his throat , he was clinging onto the hope that by some blessing of god he’d make it out of this alive .

the way he was laying like a rag-doll with the strings cut made it seem like the figure in the driver’s seat was a discarded mannequin , lifeless and sickly pale compared to his usual tanned complexion , but the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he lay barely conscious showed any medical professionals that he was clinging on , barely . his right leg caught between the collapsed bonnet barely resembled a limb anymore , a bloodied mess of his shin with jagged bone protruding outward , surrounding area yellowed and bruised beyond recognition . sure , he was only three quarters of a man now , but he wasn’t giving up without a fight even if his energy was dwindling now more than ever . that voice was unmistakable , and although his eyes were shut and his throat croaked whenever he attempted to speak jaden knew that if he remained in silence with only the occasional moan he was destined to die there . gritting his teeth and digging deep to muster all remaining strength , a blubbery excuse at her name shuddered from his lips . syllables were so slurred it was barely audible but he hoped ( no , he prayed ) that ezra would at least hear the grunt and turn to see the mess hidden within trash-bags .

the stretch of road had been rather deserted but to their surprise , and later relief , bystanders had caught glimpse of the incident and dialled 911 as fast as their fingers could . time seemed all but an illusion now and so it could’ve taken seconds or hours , but soon the gargling of fluids from jaden’s mouth was subdued by sirens , flashing red and blue through a treeline that he was convinced was the last thing he’d ever see . beneath broken branches and shattered trees laid the car that had once been one of his prized possessions with the engine continuing to whirr , the melodies of pop-punk records wavering in tone from a spluttering and dying CD player . the first thought in his head was whether ezra was okay , fluttering lashes forcing his gaze to the side where she lay bruised , bloodied , but conscious . the next was how , if he wasn’t dead from this , his dad would kill him for totalling the car . in reality neither of these things would be a worry , instead weeks of a drug-induced sleep and months of trauma , physical therapy , night terrors and a healthy dose of post-traumatic stress disorder thrown into the mix .

the scene was a bloodbath , taken straight from a horror movie , and it was clear on the faces of the paramedics that this was something they hadn’t experienced before . not to this level , anyway . the leg ( or lack thereof ) was mauled in such a way that it was difficult to see what was left of it , let alone the telling sharp bite marks that left jagged cuts of skin around the wound . if he pulled through they would serve as a constant reminder of what happened , of that clown who’s eyes seemed delighted at getting a taste of such a fulfilling meal . how was he meant to explain all this to the traumatised girl above him that fought to keep him awake against all odds ?? as he stared up at her , eyes glassy and fogged over , her face was illuminated as if she was his very own guardian angel . maybe he was hallucinating those feathery wings or the glowing halo above her head , his body’s way of stopping him from going completely insane from the agony , but if he hadn’t thought she was beautiful before she was simply ethereal now .

[theotherbloodfart]

Ayo, it's me, the stupid boi. ...I have no idea why I wrote that. Anywho, I have a request for Pennywise's reaction to me telling him I want to cosplay him for Halloween and what kind of pointers could he give me to achieve the look and sell the part? Like me just showing up with a similar costume and, "Okay, how do you do the thing?"

This was so much fluffier than I intended 😂😂😂

Pennywise x Treble

“What is this?” Pennywise held the silver fabric up, between the very tips of his pointer finger and his thumb. He sniffed at the material, wrinkling his nose, before holding it away as if disgusted.

“It’s a costume, like yours.” Treble said as he flopped carelessly onto his back on a dusty couch in the living room of 29 Neibolt street. He then rolled over onto his belly and placed his chin in his hands, gazing at the clown.

“Like mine?” Pennywise lifted his other hand to spread the fabric, pinching the shoulders in the same delicate manner as before, wrinkling his nose again as the material fell into place.

It was indeed a suit very nearly like his own, albeit much smaller. There were differences. The silk on the clown’s own costume was a much more bright and resplendent silver. The orange puffs on the smaller costume were larger. But overall very similar. Pennywise huffed.

“It looks nothing like me.”

Treble laughed. “Pennywise, I wanna cosplay you for Halloween. Actually I was wondering if you could help me with it. Maybe tell me how to act or how to move and maybe show me how you do your makeup…….” Treble's voice trailed off as he noticed Pennywise's expression.

The clown’s face was tense, as if he were clenching his jaw, his lips pursed loosely as a line of saliva dripped out onto his neck ruff. A low pitched, whisper like noise came from him. One of his brows was raised, making this eye wider than the other.

“You……. You want to be me?” His voice was incredulous.

Treble's laughter poured forth like the patter of spring rain. “No Penny! I don’t want to BE you.” At this the shapeshifter lifted his hands and did quotation marks in the air with his index and middle fingers. “I want to COSPLAY you. For Halloween. Now…… How do you the things you do?”

Pennywise tossed the garment onto Trebles face carelessly and left the living room, heading towards the basement stairs.

“Come along birdie. Hee hee hee HAW HAW HAW HAAAWWW!” His gargling laughter rattled the old walls as Treble spluttered hotly, yanking the costume off of his face, throwing it over his shoulder, and pouncing gracefully off the couch to follow. He was quite swift. He could hear the screeching joyous laughter of the clown mingling with the tinkling of the tiny bells of both costumes together.

“Come come come birdie!” the clown sounded excited and impatient. “I’ll show ya! Show ya how to make the kiddies SCREAM! How to make the kiddies FLOAT! Pennywise will show ya YES he will!”

Treble made it to the top of the basement stairs just in time to watch the clown leap gracefully from the third step down. He sailed gracefully, twisting like a fairy as he went, and entered the well face first. Treble could hear his giggles turning into hungry snarls as they reverberated off the walls of the basement, the well. Heard them echo off into the sewer. Then All was silent.

“You sure like theatrics.” Treble chuckled as he slid on his rump down the rickety banister, trod rapidly across the room and leaped feet first into the well. The motion of falling ruffled his pale hair and filled his ears with rushing air. He landed softly at the bottom, splashing grey water as he did so. Pennywise was nowhere to be seen.

Treble wandered around the sewers for quite some time, wondering what his eldritch lover was up to. After a while he called out.

“Pennywise! I’m not feeling the learn right now! What is the point of this? What is th…..” a furtive scuttling wet noise silenced the shapeshifter immediately .

“NOT FUCKING FUNNY!” Treble dropped to a defensive crouch and moved forward cautiously, the smoothness of his movements barely causing any ripples in the water, his fangs and claws lengthening.

“NO.” The voice was wet. Fetid. The deep coughing sound of water and shit echoing down a massive sewer pipe molded into words. Ancient. Gargling.

“NOT FUNNY. NEVER FUNNY.” A child’s cackle morphing quickly into buzzing insect wings caused Treble to whirl with a hiss.

“So what is the point then? How is this supposed to help me cos you for Halloween?” Treble moved backwards to have the wall directly at his back.

His question was met with silence. And the echoes of water dripping down the elderly sewer pipes and into the water.

The clown’s scent became cloying and strong. Hot pavement. Spun sugar. The musk of caged lions. Sweet and predatory.

Treble felt a slimey wet tentacle slither rapidly up his neck and slide along his jawbone to tickle his lips.

With a keening snarl, the shapeshifter whirled, slashing out. His claws met dead space, the longest one slashing a metallic sound on the sewer wall. There was nothing behind him. The tentacle was gone. Massive gasping eldritch clown crackles rang and echoed so loud they made Treble's ears pop. He whirled again to see Pennywise standing in the middle of the sewer, his gloved hands clutching his own sides. His mouth was opened much wider than was natural, as if to make room for all the mirthful laughter.

Treble sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The point Penny. What was I supposed to learn?”

“NOTHING!” The clown cackled between gasping laughter. “NOTHING AT ALL! THAT WAS FOR MEEEE!” Treble swore he could see tears coming from the clown’s eyes.

“Any other tips for me, oh great eldritch terror?” Treble was having trouble keeping his own grin from breaking thru. The clown’s joy was infectious.

“Oooooo yes!” Pennywise’s periwinkle blue eyes shined. “Salt the kiddies! They’re much more tasty tasty tasty that way! Omnomnomnom!” More laughter.

“Okay Pennywise.” Treble shook his head and chuckled. “I think I got the behaviour aspect down. What about the makeup and that lovely hair?”

The clown’s laughter died. His expression was wide and childlike. It was always interesting to see his reaction to compliments. He didn’t take them like humans did.

His chin lowered to his chest as his eyes glided from blue to glowing gold. This was followed by his signature loose lipped drooly grin. His obvious relishing of Treble's words was endearing. He shook his ruff briefly, a small movement, making his bells tinkle.

“You like my hair.” This was a statement. Treble nodded.

“I love your hair. I love a lot of things about you. And that is why I want to cos you Penny.”

“Very well.” The clown’s face was smooth and unreadable again. “I’ll do your makeup, little bird. And your hair. You can watch. And learn this way yes?” Pennywise tilted his head, obviously not used to teaching or gentle gestures.

“That works! Thank you Penny!” Treble grinned at the clown.

Pennywise lifted both brows in delight.

“And I’ll help you eat the kiddies! Yes I will!” More cackles as the clown turned and ran back towards the well.

Treble sighed as he realized Pennywise had literally only lured him down into this shitty water with the sole purpose of trying to scare him.

Shaking his head and grinning, he followed the clown.

[red-and-blue-sewer-circus-arc]

Rufo the Clown: Audience pt. 2 (revised)

Warnings: voyeurism, possessive behavior, blood, gore, rough explicit smut

“Just like that. Keep facing the closet for me”

Was he fucking with him? Earl made it a point not to look at another mans junk but even he couldn’t help but stare when Rufo pulled his out. His dick was the same shade of white as his face and arms! Earl watched Rufo crawled on the bed behind Miss 504 like it was the most natural thing in the world and slap her on the ass. Rufo pulled her panties up between her cheeks and spanked her again. This time he hit her harder and she gave another little yelp of pain.

“You HAVE been waiting for me, haven't you?”

504 looked over her shoulder at him.

“Of course I have Rufo. Now please. I want you so bad.”

She pushed her ass back against him, her voice was thick with lust and Earl was surprised she wasn’t panting like a bitch in heat. Rufo chuckled. That stupid cocky grin was still planted on his face as he lined up and pulled her back on his cock.

“Careful what you wish for doll.”

Earl watched the expression on 504's face change. She bit her lip while Rufo pushed inside her and when he grabbed her by the hips and started thrusting, her mouth dropped open in a little o of pleasure. There had been a few nights where Earl had jacked off to the thought of her making that face for him.

“Rufo!”

Rufo reached down and grabbed a handful of her hair. He lifted her upper body off the bed until it was flush against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. He pulled and squeezed her tits while he kissed a trail down her neck to her shoulder.

“I love it when you say my name like that.”

Rufo stared down Earl’s hiding spot and sank his teeth into her shoulder. 504 grit her teeth, but when blood started to run past his red painted lips and drip down her breast, she screamed in pain. Rufo didn't stop thrusting as he bit down again and left another set of teeth marks on her body. This time it was his name she cried.

Earl shifted his position in the closet and cursed under his breath. It was barely audible to him, but he noticed the clowns body tense. Rufo pulled his bloody lips from her skin and frowned inside his clown smile. He bared his teeth in anger and slammed her face back down into the mattress, holding her down while he pounded into her.

“You know what I would do to you if I found out you were fucking around on me?!”

He moved his hand from her hip only long enough to slap her ass again before he resumed the harsh pace of his thrusts. 504 gripped the blankets so tight Earl could see her knuckles turn white.

“Only you Rufo… you’re the only one who gets to fuck me!”

That seemed to please the clown. His smirk returned and he changed the angle of his hip to move with her instead of against her. Soon she was moaning louder than Earl thought a quiet girl like her could. Rufo pulled her head up and gave Earl a good look at her face as she came. The manic clown behind her laughed and let her body drop to the bed. He grabbed his cock, now covered in her cream, and gave it a few hard jerks before thick streams of cum shot out and covered her back. Rufo groaned and leaned his head back to try and catch his breath while 504 rolled over and smiled up at him.

“Rufo, I'm going to have to shower again.”

Rufo looked down at her, a sadistic smile planted on his face as he tucked himself back into his slacks.

“Sorry Doll. You know I just can't resist performing in front of an audience.”

Earl barely had time to stand up straight as Rufo flew across the room and threw open the closet door. Earl came out swinging. He put every ounce of weight he had behind a punch meant to knock out the clown, but Rufo ducked at the last minute and grabbed him by the wrist. 504 screamed as Earl’s forward momentum was used against him and Rufo swung him against the wall. His considerable weight busted through the plaster, leaving an impressive hole. Earl felt the tendons in his wrist snap but the adrenaline coursing through his system did wonders for the pain. He tried to stand up and throw a punch with his one remaining arm, but Rufo was too fast for him. Earl didn’t know where the knife came from, he didn't even see it until he was pinned to the wall with the long blade wedged between the bones in his forearm. Earl opened his mouth to bellow his rage and hurt but slim fingers wrapped around his face with bruising force and cut off any noise he would have made. He tried to lunge forward in one last rush but he was held down with impossible strength. He should have been able to overpower the slim man, nobody was that strong, but Rufo held him still without even breaking a sweat.

Earl’s eyes went wide as he finally got a good look at the clown face. The pattern had been carved from his skin deep enough to stick a fingertip in. Earl could make out the twisted knots of scars hidden just underneath the colored patches of skin. Skin, not face paint.

Rufo stared at him with eyes that seemed to glow with insanity from deep in their sockets. When he spoke, his voice sounded like dry, dead leaves rustling in the wind. Heat radiated off his body and Earl gagged against the stench of death.

“Early Early Early. I thought we had an understanding.”

Rufo casually reached out and Earl thought he was going to brush his hair back from his sweaty forehead. Instead, he felt the hot finger of the clown push behind his eyeball and pop it out of the socket. Rufo gripped they eye and pulled until all of the connective tissue snapped and the organ came free. Earl screamed but the vice like grip on his mouth muffled the noise. Rufo glanced at the eye before he crushed it and tossed the gooey remains to the side.

“Now that the cats out of the bag so to speak, I'm going to ask you one more time. Have you been fucking our friend Earl here behind my back?”

Earl could see 504 with his one remaining watery eye. She had been watching the whole thing, one hand covered her mouth and the other arm held across her breasts like he hadn’t already seen everything she had and then some. He silently pleaded with her to do anything, say anything to save him. She moved her hand from her mouth and grabbed the little decorative pillow beside her. It was almost comical the way she threw the pillow at the clowns head. The look of surprise on the clowns face before he turned to glare at her was even better. Earl almost felt like laughing.

“Of course I haven’t! I didn’t even know he was in there! I wouldn’t have done that stuff with you if I knew. That creep saw... everything.”

Her face burned red with embarrassment and she looked away from both of them. So much for mercy.

“I believe you babydoll, but a man comes home from work and finds some rube in his closet he’s entitled to ask a few fucking questions.”

Rufo turned his attention back to Earl, the grip on his face tightened as he leaned closer.

“Your turn now Early. I’m going to let you go and you’re not going to scream. You’re going to explain to me just what you were doing in that closet and you better make it damn good.”

Rufo moved his hand and Earl stammered.

“I was...look pal. You don’t know what she's like when you’re gone. Parading her ass all around in those skimpy outfits. She’s been begging me for attention. If anyones to blame here, it's her.”

Earl ignored the look of indignation on her face as he wet his dry lips.

“Honest man. You gotta believe me.”

Rufo looked him up and down then reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out the sweat stained stolen panties. He waved them in front of Earl’s face.

“Final answer Early?”

Earl took a shaky breath and licked his lips again as hope died. In that moment he knew he wasn't going to make it out in one piece.

“Earl. It’s just Earl. They put the E on my uniform because Earl C is the groundskeeper.”

Rufo shrugged and reached into Earl’s mouth. His bloody fingers wrapped around his tounge and he pulled. The muscle stretched a lot further than Earl would have guessed before it tore free. Earl thrashed his head from side to side but couldn’t shake the clowns hold. Blood spurted out of his mouth and hit the clown in the face, but Rufo simply smiled and tossed the tongue down beside the remains of his eye.

“Unfortunately for you, Earl, I could hear your heavy breathing as soon as I walked through the front door. I wonder what you would have done to my girl if I hadn't shown up?”

Earl tried to scream when Rufo pulled the knife out of his arm, but only succeeded in choking on his own blood. Rufo grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him away from the wall.

“You're a bad man Earl, and bad men have to be punished. Oh, I almost forgot.”

Rufo chuckled and ripped Earl’s nametag from his uniform. He tossed it to the woman on the bed.

“Wouldn’t want to make identifying the body too easy for them. Pack your bags doll, I think it’s time we relocated.”

Rufo kept a tight grip on the back of Earl’s neck as he steered him towards the bedroom door. Earl only had a moment to wonder what was in store for him before Rufo changed course and flung him towards the large bay windows that covered the far wall of the bedroom. He let loose a gargled scream as his weight carried him through the windows and over the balcony in a crash of shattered glass. Earl fell five stories, head first, while the clown laughed. His last conscious effort was to put up his hands as the sidewalk rushed up to meet him.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “One of The Kind”

The Joker was getting ready to bust you out of Arkham when you disappeared without a trace. He searched like crazy but anytime there was a lead it ended up being another dead end. Where were you taken?! A person can’t just vanish into thin air! Were you still alive? Or not? So many questions and no answers. Finally after a year, The King of Gotham found out the whereabouts of his Queen. And the discovery would change things forever.

Frost was standing in front of The Joker’s office, not being able to gather the courage to knock at the door and report to his boss. The other henchmen were silent, each of them happy they are not in the delicate position of telling The Clown Prince of Crime about what months of research and unimaginable used resources have led to. Jonny Frost took another hesitant deep breath, squeezed the thick folder he was holding to his chest and decided to make his presence known:

“Sir, it’s me. Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” J’s voice gave permission and his trusted bodyguard entered the room, straining to keep it together: he knew it won’t be pretty.

After about 20 minutes, the goons waiting outside got the confirmation of the terrible aftermath: objects were being smashed and broken, The Joker was shouting a bunch of angry things, cussing up a storm, unable to contain himself. How could he anyway? The news was shocking. Unbearable. Agonizing. No hope, no way to fix it. At least you were still alive. Sort of…

*************

He stood outside the lab forever, not hearing the explosions, not smelling the gun powder in the air. Usually it would have given him such hype. But not that day.

His men were clearing out the underground facility belonging to “ GeeNome X- Genetic Research & Weaponry”   and The Joker was deaf to all of it. No desire to move or to act. He was numb.

J could see inside the huge room through the two way mirror, glaring at the 10 monitors you were surrounded with, showing the same stuff:

Your picture, then a bunch of information typed under it with red letters:

Project Number: A526456KLP

Subject Name: Y/N

Transfer: Completed

Procedure: Irreversible

Enter Password: ___

The Joker felt he was suffocating; that feral creature in the middle of the room was his woman?! Twice as tall as him, looking out of this earth with four blue eyes, sharp claws and inward, long legs. A perfect symbiosis of strange, dark flesh, bone and metal.

The Joker’s fingers involuntarily moved on the keypad, typing in the password he paid a fortune to get from his inside contact: 17568. He was in a trance, speechless and not having a clue about what is going to happen next.

You heard the hissing sound of the opened doors and lift your huge head up, the four eyes blinking in the same time: your boyfriend stepped inside the lab you were kept in under maximum security for months, looking like he’s just seen a ghost.

You wish you were a ghost; it would have been easier.

When they transferred your conscience inside whatever the heel that was, you had no say in it or any way to fight the experiment. From the moment you were brought there from Arkham, your life has been nothing but a long string of tests, surgical procedures and biological weaponry assessments. The only thing that kept you going was the memory of The Joker and the hope he will save you. Once they took your mind away and you woke up inside the accursed weird shell, you didn’t wish that anymore. You actually prayed J will never find you. How could you be seen like that?!

You watch them cremate your mortal body; their way to show their power, the fact that you will never get it back and your old self is gone forever. You belonged to them now and that was the end of it.

You didn’t even try to escape; go where?… Do what?…

And yet, there you were: facing your boyfriend for the first time in so long, not even human anymore.

The Joker gulped, cautiously approaching, dragging his heavy boots on the immaculate white floor. He couldn’t help but stare and his woman gazed back from behind those scary eyes she had now.

The silence persisted in the air until J’s lips moved and he stammered:

“You…you’re…You’re taller, Pumpkin.”

“Hi baby,” you said but what came out was a bunch of gargled sounds, a mixture of rusty metal and screechy noise.

“Huh?” The Joker narrowed his eyes, displeased with the bizarre articulations coming from the beast.

You repeated the words and the result was unchanged: you couldn’t talk anymore, not in a way that you were understood.  It was so frustrating you wanted to cry but you couldn’t even do that.

You felt ashamed and embarrassed; why was he even there, analyzing your shape and not really bothering to hide his astonishment?!

“Do you know who I am?”

You decided to nod a yes, rattling the chains you were confined with.

“I’ve been searching for a long time…” J bit his lower lip, halting in front of the creature.

Your four eyes turned yellow, a sign you were upset but he didn’t know that yet.

“I…I have to say that I’m intrigued. Something is different about you…Did you change your hair?”

Even if you gave him goose bumps, J reached his hand for you; everything inside told him to run but he didn’t.

That hideous mouth you had opened wide, unraveling the sharp, strong fangs and your chest went up and down fast when he barely touched your arm.

“Is that a smile? Because I can’t tell…Are you laughing?”

More grumbled sounds, unnerving and difficult to hear. But he still didn’t run.

“I’ll take it as a yes,” The Joker decided, struggling to keep his cool.

Screams in the distance, mayhem and things being blown up. It was time to flee.

“Wanna get out of here?”

The monster nodded in acceptance again and J took the phone out of his coat, dialing Frost’s number.

“Take everything you can, we need to find a solution.”

****************

First night you were back at the Penthouse, you felt awkward and out of place. The Joker went to sleep and you followed him in your former bedroom, having to bend a little bit in order to cross inside. Thank goodness everything was built with vaulted ceilings, that way you had plenty of space.

You watched him get on the bed, not daring to follow.

“What, are you gonna stay there all night?” he yawned. “Don’t worry, it won’t break. And it’s big, you’ll fit.”

But as your heavy steps came closer, you noticed his body stiffening and you didn’t blame him: you knew how scary you looked.

You huffed, backing out towards the far wall of the bedroom, sliding against the wall on the floor with a loud thud.

“I’ll just sit here,” you announced and he saw your glowing blue eyes turning yellow in the darkness again: a signal of your depressing mood, but at least you were home. The Joker couldn’t understand you, yet he wasn’t stupid: he realized his reaction made you aware you startled him. It took a lot of courage, but he gathered a few pillows and blankets and came over to your resting spot. He dropped them by you, stashing a bunch of cushions on top of your petrified legs and covered himself up with the blankets, not saying a word.

You couldn’t even breathe: feeling him close after such a long time reminded you how much you loved him. Even if you looked like a freak, emotions were unchanged inside the creature you hated: you were still you under that layer of hideous monstrosity. And maybe that’s why J didn’t run: because he knew also.

You didn’t move one single inch, unwilling to wake him up after he dozed off. His dreams were restless and he wiggled all night; but the creature was there to protect that last sparkle of humanity it buried months ago.

Each time the blankets slid off The Joker, you carefully tucked them around him so he won’t get cold. How you wanted to caress his hair but you were afraid the sharp claws would scratch his skin. You ended up barely touching his face with the back of your hand, swiftly taking it away when he mumbled something without waking up.

“I love you,” you whispered in the darkness and all that came out was a low growl.

****************

It wasn’t easy. Nothing was easy. Not anymore.

No matter how assiduous the search, no solution for the state you were in was seen on the horizon.

The Joker tried to make the best out of it and you knew why: because he was stubborn, wanting to prove he was unbreakable and that nothing fazed him. You admired that, you truly did. Yet you knew it would come to an end. Your boyfriend never liked to take on hopeless cases and this is what you were now: a hopeless case, an anomaly allowed to live simply because it was needed for secret experiments.

You went everywhere he went, just like you used to: transported in a truck, usually taken to the hideout in the Sherwood Forest since it was secluded and you could roam around free. Hundreds of acres of wilderness, perfect for a misfit to blend in and for J’s meetings. You knew he was also using the unique opportunity to solidify his reputation and fierce grip over the town he owned. And you didn’t care.

At first, J didn’t know what to do so he told you to sit on the couch inside the warehouse that was customized to sustain your weight. He tried to sit on your knees and hated it.

“Jesus, this metal is hard as hell,” The Joker crinkled his nose and hopped back down. You felt big and clumsy; what was he trying to accomplish?!

“Alright, Princess, sit on top of this thing,” he urged you and you obeyed, lifting yourself up to sit on the rim of the couch. The Joker placed himself between your feet, straitening his back.

“I think this looks imposing and awesome beyond any doubt! Everyone would be intimidated to see us like this, right?”

You lifted your shoulders up, telling him to quit calling you those pretty names; they didn’t suit you anymore. He frowned at the sound of your garbled voice, not comprehending what came out of your sinister mouth.

He would get so pissed if any of his business partners or henchmen stared at you more than necessary; he found it disrespectful towards his twisted Queen.

“Why are you looking at her like that, hm?” he would raise his voice and crack his neck.”Are you jealous you don’t have a woman like mine?!”

Apologies followed and sometimes they weren’t enough; his ill will and bitterness were fastly escalating and he wouldn’t calm down until he took it on those around him, including the creature.

He would yell horrible things and you calmly listened, until one day at the hideout when you got mad also, all four eyes turning red-a sign you were furious, as he learned from repeated experience.

You howled and screeched to the point where he had to cover his ears.

“Are we having a fight??!!! Because I can’t tell what you’re saying!!!!!” he screamed and you were so frustrated you lifted your right leg up and stomped one of the chairs at the dining table, shattering it to pieces.

“What are you doing???! You know this has sentimental value!!!” he got worked up even more since that dining set was stolen from Commissar Gordon’s home and was a symbol of his defiance upon the town he owned . You lifted your leg again, crushing another chair.

He gasped, irritated.

“Goddamned  temper! Cut it out!!!! Do you hear me??!!”

You didn’t stop, breaking each valuable possession, at the end jumping on the table, and it gave in under your heaviness.

You barely had time to cover your head with the huge hands before he started shooting, unable to control his rage. He aimed for the softer parts of your body, unprotected by metal and bone, satisfied when he saw the black liquid oozing out of your wounds. Those unearthly, high pitched screams coming out of you made the windows crack; it hurt and you snarled, rushing towards him so you can tear him to pieces.

He stepped back, continuing to shoot until you clawed his hand, cutting it pretty bad. The Joker dropped the gun and you were getting ready to finish him when the sight of the red blood gushing out of his wounds halted your justified attack. The grimace of pain on his face made you realized you almost killed him: it scared you and he seemed taken aback by the whole thing too.

Your eyes turned to their usual blue color, softly cooing and grumbling while you cautiously took his hand, analyzing the damage. The Joker didn’t protest, he kept on staring at the monster in silence, feeling something strange building up inside his chest.

“It’s fine, they’ll patch me up,” he sulked, heading towards the exit. “I’ll send them to tend to your wounds too…”

When he came back, you weren’t there anymore.

He heard the branches snapping in the distance and trees falling to the ground and he ran outside, figuring out you were going away. Forever or to vent and then you’ll come back? J wanted to make sure and he started running after you.

It wasn’t hard to follow the trail of destruction, black blood from your wounds soiling the ground here and there. He finally saw you, trampling everything in your way.

“Y/N!!!! Y/N!!!! Stooop!!! Stop I said!!!”

You heard him and slowed down, waiting for him to come closer. He had to bend over his knees, inhaling much needed air after his run.

“Where…where are you going?” J panted, exhausted and out of breath.

“Go back!” you extended those eerie arms of yours, pointing back towards the hideout.

“You know I can’t understand you,” he fell on his knees, drained. “So I have no idea if we are fighting again. Where are you going ?” he insisted even if the answer wouldn’t make sense.

“Go back!” you showed him again. “I can’t be around you or anybody else. Go back!” the horrible noises made him shiver.

“Yeah, whatever!!!! I don’t know what the hell you’re saying, woman!!!”

“I AM NOT A WOMAN!!!!!!” and the sound was so loud and strong it hit him like a crushing wave.

“Huh?” he had to ask, clueless.

You pointed one of the claws towards you, repeating even if it was useless but he got the idea; it wasn’t that hard to guess.

“Well fuck, Pumpkin, what am I supposed to do?” he got up slowly, dusting his pants in a frenzy. ”What’s your great plan? To get lost in these woods?! Or are you coming back?”

You nodded a no and The Joker got flustered.

“Come on, don’t aggravate me more; let’s go back. You need bandages…” and he turned around, retracing his step towards the warehouse, hoping you’ll follow.

He kept on walking and not looking back, his heart beating faster when there was no sign you were following.

“Are you coming?!” he yelled once more and continued to strut, relieved when he heard the heavy steps behind him.  

“Wise decision Doll,” J sneered, looking at you when you caught up with him and attempted to joke. 

“I am always confused: which eyes am I supposed to look at? You have four and it’s misleading. Plus, you’re so ugly you should be thrilled I want you around.”

You elbowed him with enough strength to almost make him fall.

“This is just rude, taking advantage like that,” he sulked, regaining balance by grabbing your hand: his looked like a child’s against yours.

“Shut up,” the low gargle belched but of course he didn’t comprehend.

“Like I said, I never know what you say. So shut up!” “You shut up !” you squeezed his hand just a little bit, careful not to cut him with the sharp claws.

“What did I just say?!  I can’t understand you, Y/N!”

The creature huffed, breathing louder through its nose.

A twisted Queen with her crazy King.

No hope. No future. But still … somehow together.

Also read: MASTERLIST

http://diyunho(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

[thatmexisaurusrex]

The Shotgun Angel: Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2: THE DEVIL’S DEN

  She was a good deal taller than six foot. From what Pearl could gander, almost seven feet. She, like Ortega, felt too perfectly put together to be real. A cloud of black hair, no loose threads on here maxi dress over a white turtleneck, vibrant stockings with thick socks and doc martens. She shouldn’t look so on point. Not with a hodgepodge outfit like that. Yet so she did, standing aloof behind Noel, following her like a lost puppy hoping for scraps.

“We need coupled blood for the look up, give me your blood,” Noel demanded at the priest and the fallen angel, flailing a knife at them casually and gesturing with a particularly copper bowl.

Like that was a normal thing to do.

“What,” was the only thing Pearl could muster before the priest interrupted with a groan.

“Again? Seriously? I feel like we should just ring out a pint every other month so that you don’t have to ask us every time you want to locate people,” grumbled Iker.

“Coupled? What does coupled mean?” Pearl asked, something in her brain short-circuiting.

Ortega curled his arms around the priest like a bad joke, like snakes on prey, eyes lingering on the man who leaned into his touch.

“We called each other our own gods,” boomed Ortega with a tantalizing grin, the priest choking on his own spit.

“That’s not what we did,” panicked Iker.

“Did I not kneel upon the alter of your shrine, invoking eternal and absolute love and devotion to your being?” growled Ortega, which, wow, were all angels this intense, “Bowing to you as my new religion, revoking my rite to holy power and immortality to be at your beck and call, as are you to me?”

Iker looked away as if shy.

“Can we not talk about this here,” he murmured, “It doesn’t help with how we look amongst the children.”

“We are gods to each other, my dear, to follow to the end of our days, and there is no shame to show love. We are stronger when we show and accept our emotions near the children,” drawled the fallen angel.

Noel waved the copper bowl and the knife, rolling her eyes.

“We going to talk about eternal love and happiness or whatever or are we getting this show on the road – they got married for a case, by the way. They just never got divorced afterwards. It’s helpful but also so annoying,” remarked Noel.

Iker grabbed the knife, doing a few impressive tricks before pricking himself and the fallen angel, allowing a few of droplets into the copper bowl. He wiped off the knife, tossing it back at Noel in an honestly unsafe way, but the cursed woman caught the knife and ushered for Pearl to take it as well.

“Excuse me?” Pearl queried.

“He’s your brother. To track him I need some blood from you too,” explained Noel.

Reluctantly, Pearl grabbed the knife. It felt lighter than Pearl assumed, and looking closer, there seemed to be runes etched into the edge. Pearl pricked her finger, allowing a few drips to flow down, mixing in with the blood already there.

Noel bounded about the place as if she commanded rooms, gathering strange herbs in weird hidden spots.

“Stop hiding your things around the place like a strange hoarder or a sneaky thief,” half-heartedly yelled Iker, “Just choose a cubby or something.”

Noel headed back, crushing whatever mess she was making with her bare hands.

“I don’t know, like, a good handful of those words. I mean, what even is a cubby?” grumbled Noel, tossing a lit match into the mash as white smoke bloomed from the bowl, going straight into her eyes and Pearl still wondered if what she said about not being a demon was true.

Noel wobbled, Dru reminding Pearl she was in the room by keeping the young woman steady on her feet. It made Pearl jump. But no one cared about Pearl’s reaction, though. Noel rested her head on Dru’s shoulder, frowning.

“Well. He’s in Hades House,” said Noel.

Pearl wouldn’t have said the room was exactly a pleasant atmosphere before, but the room’s tension felt as thick as a trifle now. Iker stomped towards his office.

“I’m going with you,” said Iker.

“What? No. I can do this. I don’t need a keeper,” said Noel.

“Iker, she can work a case,” said Ortega, stopping Iker, holding his arm, “You don’t do cases anymore.”

“But its Hades House,” growled Iker.

Noel shook off whatever fears her frown hid before, shoulders stiff as she glared at the Iker, grabbing Pearl and Dru as she backed them both towards the door.

“Yeah, so? Been there before. It’ll be no problem. Better than stepping into an unknown devil’s den,” said Noel.

“Don’t worry too much, I’ll be there for her,” said Dru, chiming in for the first time since she woke up from whatever bizarre coma she was in.

Noel pulled them out of that chapel into the streets, the children from before gaggling and giggling as they watched the three leave. There were a lot of those, weren’t there? Strange little children scurrying about the place. Noel swung around, keeping her hold on Dru as she walked to the left, deeper into New Town, down narrower streets.

“What’s this about Hades House?” asked Pearl, “And devil’s dens?”

There was a rage simmering in Pearl. She loathed this. Not knowing things. She made it a point to never be at the mercy of another person, yet here she was, being dragged deeper into what could possibly be a dangerous trap.

“They’re places where darkness lurks,” Noel explained, “Where daemons make their human homes, where deals are made to particularly powerful people. It’s a horrorfest. Best to keep close, for nothing good comes of them.”

Dru nudged Noel.

“I wouldn’t say nothing good comes of them. I met you in Hades House, after all,” hummed Dru.

And for a moment, Noel smiled wistfully up at her shotgun angel. As if she were human. As if emotions can be held in those topaz eyes. That poor girl was either pitifully naïve or obtusely ignorant. Angels could have no such emotions, even if that fallen angel Ortega seemed to be an exception to the rule. Pearl almost felt sorry for Noel.

“Yeah. I guess I did,” Noel said before clearing her throat, turning to Pearl as she added, “But I’m the exception to the rule, okay? Trust me, no good comes of them.”

The first thing that felt wrong was how pristine the building was amongst all the clatter. A tall, smooth, black obelisk of a building with fire spelling out the words “HADES HOUSE” atop, fire lighting the way to the front door. Pearl glanced over to Dru and Noel, hoping for some sort of guidance.

“So, we walk?” asked Dru.

“What? No. Never. Never walk through the front door – I keep telling you that,” said Noel.

Dru rolled her eyes. As if she could be annoyed.

“You keep saying that. It always feels rude,” Dru responded.

“Well, we’re not going for a visit and a cup of tea, are we? No. This is a wreck them up sneak attack, in and out,” said Noel, pulling them around the building carefully.

Dru was noticeably awkward in her sneaking about, despite how graceful her movements seemed to be up until then. Maybe it was the whole sneaking around thing? Pearl was sure angels rarely had to do such things. They never had to with the powers they have. Noel faltered, pausing for a moment and patting herself down, tossing Pearl a breathing mechanism.

“Wear the mask. It’ll filter miasma out,” Noel said.

Dru froze, gazing down at the mask.

“Miasma? I thought that only happened in films,” stuttered Pearl.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s how it is up there in Old Town. Very cushy, good for you. Unless you want long term magicks poisoning, wear that mask,” said Noel pointedly.

Pearl grumbled, positioning the ugly mask and adjusting the straps. It felt…filtered. The gross stale kind that one could smell in the particularly old buildings that hadn’t kept up to date on their air systems.

“Why aren’t you two wearing masks?” asked Pearl.

“Oh. Right. Well, angels have no need of it and, um…due to my particular cursing, miasma doesn’t impact me like most humans,” explained Noel, suddenly stiff, “Too much talk. We’re going in. Follow close. Stay near Dru, she’ll protect you.”

Dru gave an empty smile to Pearl that Pearl guessed was supposed to comfort her, but only made her feel worse about this whole situation. To be watched over by an angel? What a monstrous thought. But there didn’t seem to be any other option but to continue on through with them, close to the strange shotgun angel and the cursed woman.

It was gaudier than Pearl expected. Like some sort of hell-themed funhouse, with bright colors and strobing lights. Whatever mooks drew the short straw for back door duty looked like they dressed circus goes punk, intense exaggerated makeup and sharp yet tule-heavy varied uniforms, like someone went to an abandoned carnival and was told to make clothes out of the broken mirrors and leftover costumes.

One stood up, a man with a fuzzy hat and a tiger-onesy, pulling down his mirrored sunglasses as he blew technicolor smoke from his glass straw. Pearl wondered if this idiot was in charge of the rest of the band around.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t lil’ Noel Baird. Haven’t seen you around in a while. Heard you’re making a name for yourself. Whispers on the street,” he said.

Noel didn’t respond. There was a guttural noise, raw and instinctual, as she moved swift, punching the man straight in the throat. He choked for a second, stumbling, gargling, and falling on his back. His friends stood up, twirling their glass straws as they grew longer into glass-like beacons, like horns, horned instruments, something to blow through.

“No, don’t start,” the man tried to warn his cronies before they all began blowing that rainbow smoke like continuous soap bubbles, a woman with half a tutu, half an intricately woven golden clown costume bringing her hands up as she started ruminating words, pulling out a spell.

Spells were usually so innocuous. Blessings by street artists to make money off of crowds. Short films. Hallucinations of a summer day in a desert of red sand. Floating for just a moment. Pearl didn’t know what was happening here. She’d never seen such a spell before. It hurt to look at it.

Noel sucked in the rainbow smoke like a vacuum, the woman starting her spell convulsing and going into shock. For a moment she kept it in, held it as the people around stared in horror.

“Oh halos and harps, she’s a Sin Eater,” a woman with a one-armed, one-legged full body suit announced, horrified, her glass horn wilting back into a thin glass straw.

Miasma. That was what it was, wasn’t it? The rainbow. Daemon magicks. Miasma. They tried to flee. Pearl was sure of it. The only one smart enough to scramble a mask on was the first man who tried to warn the others, the one who knew Noel. Maybe he was able to because he knew this would be coming. The others had no chance, did they? And just like that, Noel blew the miasma straight at them, skin flaying in her wake, all of them crumbling in pain on the ground.

“You’re sick, you know that?” the man on the ground managed to cough, still impacted despite his mask, “To your own people.”

“You’re not my people,” Noel said, stepping over him and continuing onward, Dru pulling Peal away from the carnage in this room.

They stormed quietly through maze-like hallways that didn’t seem to have any normal logic to them, though, somehow Noel knew the way with ease. Maybe it was a disconnect. She was of daemon, even if she denounced it. How could a human swallow miasma like that and shoot it back out? What even was a “Sin Eater”?

They finally reached a door at the end of a diagonal hallway, ducking away from it and stopping. Noel gave Dru a glance, a talk amongst eyes, before Dru grabbed hold of Pearl. Pearl yelped. She heard of an angel’s touch before, sure. She heard about the odd tingly sensation that could come from it, but she didn’t expect it to feel like constant static shock. Pearl squirmed under the surprise of small pain. But neither Noel nor Dru seemed to care. Noel opened the door, hopping down.

When Dru pulled Pearl in too, that was when Pearl realized the gravity felt off, falling to the ceiling of a gold-plated throne room decorated with gem plant sculptures. He was there. Aria. With his stupid expensive quaff and elaborate three-piece suit. And in front of him, a woman with the most spectacular green eyes, like a grassy knoll. Green. Pearl wondered if green was something in all daemon’s eyes. Or simply a coincidence.

The woman was all muscles. A wall draped in an outfit that seemed made of a big top tent itself. She sat on a chair of funhouse mirrors, arms opening as she noticed the intrusion, smile filled with graded down sharp teeth. Noel stepped forward, glaring.

There was something familiar between the woman and Noel. A flicker between the eyes. Of pain, of hope, of humoring the other – both taking a beat before the lava cooled and malice set in between the two. Pearl wondered if this were a different world, then they would talk like it was normal, work out whatever those looks meant. But there obviously was no wiggle room in this world.

“The Baird child. We’ve missed you. Did you come for the price on your own head? How devious of you, I might have underestimated your gumption,” she said.

Pearl knew she should be paying attention or something, but all she could think about was Aria being stupid, kneeling on the ground, gazing upon this strange green-eyed woman with rapt awe.

“You really think that, Mara? That’s what you’re reading from the situation?” spat Noel.

Mara sighed, kicking Aria to the side casually. He toppled over, rolling several times. Pearl moved to do something, anything, but Dru kept her in place.

“I was hoping you’d grown smarter since then. I thought angels were supposed to be galaxy brains or something dumb like that,” Mara bemoaned, “Azazel won’t like this. He wasn’t happy before, but this? In his own abode? You insult him? Oh, you thought it was dangerous before. Let’s see what he does now.”

Noel shrugged, too casual, like she wasn’t scared of this woman. How could she not be scared? How could she be so cool near some daemon? She even looked like she was enjoying this.

“Oh, I’ve gotten smarter. Something I’ve learned from smaller devil dens is that people without your prowess, without your level of Miasma intake? They keep pockets to break over time. They save up and use wisely, unlike the house of gluttony you run,” explained Noel, “They have to, you see, with their limited resources, their lesser scaled magicks.”

Mara was definitely bored now.

“Your point?” groaned Mara.

“It’s like you always told me,” Noel said, circling the daemon, adjusting her stance, signing something so quickly Pearl wasn’t sure if that was ASL or just nervous ticks.

Noel snapped, electricity flowing from a miasma circle surrounding the daemon. Noel grinned for a moment, victorious, seeing Mara roar in pain. She was definitely loving this. There was something in her. There had to be something in her. It horrified Pearl, she knew Noel was not right.

Whatever success Noel earned was short, the ring of lightning quickly dissipating around Mara. Mara growled, turning to a surprised Noel as the lightning soaks into Noel much like the miasma did for Noel back in that first room.

“You spoiled, ungrateful child,” boomed Mara, her hand slapping Noel over.

Like a ragdoll. She flew, broken in the air, hitting the wall hard. Too hard. Deathly hard. She wasn’t moving on the ground. Was she even breathing? Did Pearl make a mistake choosing Noel’s services?

[aalt-ctrl-del]

04 _ Straw Spun to Silk

First - A Gentleman in a Coat

Chapter 04 - Bells Chimes and Orange Rhymes

 Spate stole another step back, for all the good that would do. He sniffed the dank, humid air – picked up nothing, but rot and decay. He fought the curl of a snarl in his ribs; this was not the time.

 “Come now,” Spate rasped. With a hand, he eased Chad out from his side, his other hand adjusted the hat on his skull. He hid his eyes, hid the light, and concentrated on moving Chad without the boy panicking. He kept himself between the designated corridor passage of the sewage line, deemed occupied and teeming with hostility. “Stay close. Slowly, turn. That’s good, very good.” The boy quivered shoulder to toe, but he worked his limbs to move seamlessly; if a little disjointed. Spate only need guide him, and keep him from collapsing outright. “Good. So good. I’m proud of you, you’re doing so well, Wick. Don’t look back. There’s nothing.”

 “But—”

 “There’s nothing. And we’re leaving.” Spate hunched over, and put his jowl because Chad’s chin. “But you can’t look back. Not once. I’m here, I won’t let you go.” He nudged Chad’s upper arm with his premaxilla, and coaxed hasty progress. Faster would be good, but Chad was swathed in a daze. “Keep moving, eyes forward.”

 Movement was the essential – get away, gather distance, the more the better.

 “This is where we came down,” Spate proclaimed. The slope was steep, but he could aid Chad on his ascent. Carry him if necessary. It would be best if the boy walked. “Take your time, I have you.”

 “Chaddy,” a voice crooned. “Where y’going, chum?”

 Chad choked, and pried out of Spate’s hold. “Sterling? Sterling!” And felt instantly the gravity of his error. A piercing howl erupted from his throat – there was nothing else in his arsenal that could contend with what his gaze met. Only noise, a piercing wallow, would liberate his throttling shock.

 It was tall, built of ravels and jagged ends of splintered bone – the fetid odor that permeated it obliterated all fond recollections of food and summers long dead. The eyes in the oozing skull blazed, molten and hot and diseased. In an instant, the ghoulish marionette was gone—

 Spate whirled about lurching in front of Chad. He didn’t see scrap or bit of what terrified the boy; he glimpsed a wisp of color that splattered across his memory, and some wholly physical force collided with his body – paralyzed his entirety. Spate went down sprawling, with Chad in his arms – then the bundle was gone, his grip vacant.

 “Wick!” he croaked.

 In the furthest recesses of the corridor, the rolling wail of the boy snapped off.

 Spate roused himself, and pulled himself together in the most literal sense. He detected a definite and substantial loss of time. “Wick!” He shook out his coat and fixed his head, and stood. “Wick! Say something! WICK!”

 The solid force of silence and absence brimmed through the vastness of the sloping channel. Spate looked to an open direction, continuing directly across from his stance. Water churned and splattered in some vague pipe elsewhere, the noises whirled and intermixed with the drumming of a rapid stride. No reply, no return cry.

 No scent. None, other than….

 Spate swept his attention back onto the fresh, mutilated corpse flayed not far from where Chad had plopped down. No, no… he couldn’t be certain. He followed the scent that was Sterling, whicha clung heavy to….

 “Wick!” Spate lowered to the cement, and touched the grimy slough of the channel bottom. He dug through silt and leaves, inching forward little by little. He returned to his stance and shot off, taking the next bend to his left and picking up pace. His coat tail fanned out behind him, snapping as he hit the next turn – skimming along the wall and rolling to the opposite slope. A mesh-weave of rusted metal and left over construction supplies dipped in his path; one that Spate sprang through smoothly.

 And stopped. He pushed the hat on his skullcap back, and leaned toward the sharp slant of a corridor bend. He darted to one end of a shaft, then returned to an intersection and studied the parched mulch layered on the floor. Follow Chad. Seek Sterling. That absorbed his essence, this was what he knew… he couldn’t follow the abductor, but he could follow his client.

 The body was not only mutilated. It was practically chewed to bits. There wasn’t much left. There wasn’t much there to begin with….

 A cry burbled in Spate’s ribcage, but he maintained the minimal silence he could afford. He navigated the long and winding networks of the sewer, and came to a ledge that dropped off into a lower chute. Another network of smaller, tighter tunnels extended from this division. There was water that sloshed around his boots, and soaked into the tails of his coat. It was much more difficult to drag semblance off the soggy, warm air; too much to calculate through. So many people, so many bodies.

 Spate crouched onto a soggy heap of soil beneath the water, and watched the swirling stew twirl around his boots. The water was a constant, a moving and cleansing villain. It didn’t stop him from staring despondent, concentrating. With no fresh leads. Chads scent faded with each tick of the clock. Spate might’ve muttered about the crisis, if not for the teasing chime.

 “Bells,” he uttered. Crouched low on hands and feet, he slipped along a low slopping wall. The pathway came to an open pass, with deviating channels. He could detect the lively aroma of plants, trees, other animals vividly. However, his fixation remained on his client. Chad.

 There was a small, minuscule connector grate, at the edge of the copper wall; water spilled freely over the channel, nearly concealing it from Spate’s perceptive eye. If not for his keen sense of seeking what has no business of being. Spate was forced onto his stomach into the sludge – if he were a living thing, this would not be sanitary nor sane. Instead, he was free to swim through the shallow murk, the mud was heavily saturated and he barely made trudged out on the other side.

 Immediately, his thoughts doubted. Could they have come through there? Was this a fatal error?

 The channel Spate lifted up into was small, drab, and the tethers of roots hung low; slowing across his snout. Waterlogged materials clung to his boots, gurgled thickly with each step. He sloughed onward, taking a path to his right this time. He pursued carefully, slowly, aware of the oppressive unwanted the passage conveyed. It was a yearning, and at the same time repulsion.

 Spate skittered to a stop, and cocked his head sharply. He meandered, tense and distressed. Something wasn’t right, this was obvious.

 There was his Chadwick, partially obscured in reeds. He lay limp and folded over a greasy bar of dead grass and branches, the child looked okay – aside from some scuffing and scratches, but nothing alarming – he was alive and breathing.

 For now.

 And then spate could smell it, too. Popcorn and sweet treats, but oh so faintly, and distant from his memory. Did he ever visit a Fair when he was alive? The sewer, it no longer encompassed him; the space was something else entirely. A different place, a different time. Maybe at one time he was in the sewer, hunting for something that didn’t exist for a contract he never committed to. Not anymore. This was now a place for fun and games, the exciting sights and the flash of lights; the best food and offerings on this side of the county. There was so much to see, too much that needed experiencing. It was overwhelming. He wanted that more than anything – run and adventure, and appreciate every gleeful sensation that was stolen from him. He would have it, and a full, thrilling lifetime would be his. All of it, until he was old and worn out and his bed became a dried pine box.

 Spate dipped his head down. He shook his coat out and loosened his bones. Water and liquefied reeds clung to his collar. Wet, soggy mud.

 The Bells.

 Chad whimpered an unintelligible sound. And that was when Spate struck.

 He meant to fall upon the boy and gather him up in one decisive swoop, but his collision with Chad was arrested by a stringy mass… which growled and snapped back.

 Soured, needle teeth gnashed at his snout, barely a breath width away. Spindly hands grappled with his throat, fingers bore into his fur and bone. It didn’t hurt – couldn’t hurt what was already dead – but the mere presence sapped so much of his resolve, his existence and ether. The amber eyes burned into his eye sockets. He wrestled at the writhing mess prying into his jaw, but found his limbs entangled with rich satin and bleached fabric; the scent of the carnival and all its treasures intermixed in the heap; beneath the acrid reek of decay and sapid wallow of death.

 Something knobby and not hate fueled fury sagged against Spate’s knees. He was being folded backwards over his ankles by the snarling – this was a clown? – but when he chanced a grip out to brace himself from collapsing completely, his wrist snagged something else.

 Chad!

 Spate wove his claws into the boy’s shoulder. Chad was stiff, cold, and unresponsive, but his ribs persisted to cave and rise, shallowly. That was well and good, more than he expected.

 A nasally snicker trilled from the towering nightmare that held him pinned. The eyes brimmed with tenors akin to delight, and equal parts malice and cruelty. Again, jaws snapped at Spate’s chin, eliciting a creaking moan from his bones. He recoiled back within the limited distance allotted to his coat and hide, all of which bunched up in the constricting grip. He pressed further backwards with no leverage; could only twist his snout aside as It leered, hissing, spitting, and gargling. It whispered against his cheek, closer and closer still. A little closer….

 Like a tightly wound spring, Spate let his skull snap loose! The sharp edge of his nasal bridge connected with the white face, and an off withering yelp was his reward. Spate toppled, and somersaulted forwards. He hoisted Chad up to his chest, and twisted within the fingers locked into his throat. There was an upheaval of grumbling and fumbling limbs, but Spate broke free of the lethal embrace and bolted for what he perceived to be open air.

 He raced through the cluttered passage, utterly blind with no sight or hint of where his direction led. The shrieks faded in small portions at his backside, with each meter he stole and each turn he cut around. He had enough sense not to collide with a wall; that was the least he could fare with for now. The horror couldn’t catch what didn’t stop, and Spate was nothing but a aimless spirit.

 Chad sagged in his arms, dead to the world. Spate wanted to stop and check him over by a margin, if he could afford that, but the brutal cries echoed in the back of his essence. If he became more lost through his flight, then so be it. He doubted a second confrontation would merit his freedom, let alone Chad’s. The boy was still his client, and as such Spate would sanction his safe retrieval by whatever means passable.

 In time, Spate understood he couldn’t find his way back to the primary channel where he first entered from; with the large and open expanse, and the runoff that were discernably… cleaner. The warren he navigated remained binding and claustrophobic, the shadows and deep water clustered about his flank like needy apparitions beseeching aid. It was almost relaxing, treading water in this comfortable fashion and seeking, but finding nothing. He bowed low beneath collapsed ceiling, and detected less cement, and more natural rock. The thought discomforted him, but he tried not to focus on that. He sought openings and secret pathways that did not exist, combed the edges of perception without piercing. He felt something was amiss, but couldn’t accurately decide what. The channels looped around, went in circles.

 In the backdrop of churning water, was the delicate chuckle of bells. If Spate’s amble became too languid, he could hear them. But it was almost terrifying not to have confirmation that something was there, lurking and waiting. For all he knew, the lurker matched his pace perfectly and was toying with him. But Spate doubted that, he had a sense on it and could perceive that… It was not near. Not near enough to be a threat.

 He hoped that was the correct presumption.

 Somewhere in his aimless wandering, the ceiling began to rise higher and higher, the open channels melted into tunnels that stretched and yawned forth. The drastic alteration was unfamiliar, and the location – to what Spate understood, and what was expected – refused to match up. He didn’t like this. Everything became wrong and strange.

 There still came the narrow and tiny chutes, low in the water and nearly submerged completely. Spate was indifferent to foul liquid, but he remembered Chad would become sick. Not only from the chill, but whatever hovered beneath the surface wouldn’t benefit his health. Spate cradled Chad’s head above the surface, and resumed his sharp canter once free of the tight confines.

 In an open channel that was relatively dry, Spate redacted his stride and searched around. He sniffed at the breeze sharply; oil, tar, gravel. Fresh air. High above, in the center of the concave ceiling a manhole cover was punched in. Tendrils of light glittered down, Spate was certain he heard vehicles above. He examined the wide spread walls carefully, and evaluated the texture.

 Chad burbled nonsensical noise.

 Spate shook his coat, and moved around the channel. The only other notable detail was the center floor, a carved drain seeping. There was also rubbish, branches, and a shattered crib; nothing that would assist. He halted and listened, peering into the deeper sections of shadow. The street above sang its siren song.

 Chad didn’t rouse when Spate lay him down. He crouched low, and unbuckled the belt from his coat; while working, he turned his sight on the manhole cover above. The climb wasn’t a trail for him, but he needed his arms free. In case. He looped the belt around his torso crossways, and hefted Chad up against his chest. Both arms needed to be over his shoulder, and with Chad comfortably balanced, Spate tightened the belt. For good measure, he untied the mask from Chad’s neck and looped it around his own arm – the stain tie was long enough.

 Spate held Chad in place across his neck, and moved to the side of the curved wall. He experimented with pressing his claws into the imperfections in the cement, and put one boot to the wall. And pushed up. While he still had one arm free, he adjusted Chad a little higher on his shoulder, and surrendered his arms to the climb.

 The difficulty wasn’t climbing, but the wall arched sharply backwards. Spate claws trembled, but he put his focus on the circular cover and the flittering light, teasing. His foot lost traction and swung loose, beneath the tail of his coat. Spate waited, until he regained composure.

 “W-whuuh?” Chad came to. The worst possible time Chad came to, and pushed back from Spate, though he was tethered tight. “Holy crap!” He threw his arms around Spate’s neck and gripped with every ounce of his strength. “Where the fuck?”

 “We’re safe,” Spate wheezed.  “Almost out. Don’t worry, just hold tight.” Chad whined into his collar. Spate’s other foot swung loose, and he rocked by his claws.  “I won’t fall. You won’t fall.” His boots scrabbled with the slick concrete; he swung, and retook stability. He gained a few more feet; hand, foot, had foot, alternating, and always a firm grip with his claws. Chad continued to mewl, but that was for the best. “Not far….”

 You are not one of My children.

 Spate swung his head backwards, nearly knocking his hat loose. He was completely inverted, and Chad was in no danger of falling.

 Below, something glimmered in the depths of the swelling black. He didn’t recall it being so dark, but the hostility was familiar. Practically beamed into his skull. The eyes suspended in the miasma were vibrant and displaced from the curling shrouds; they were fastened into a pallor face with distinct red bands, like fangs. A delicate and lacey collar enveloped the steely gaze. The face smiled, and the giggle of bells alit on the air.

 Spate dragged himself along the ceiling. In less than five seconds he reached the manhole cover; there was no ladder, no wall, it was just a steel grate in the middle of a featureless ceiling. Chad whined when Spate savagely shoved his snout against the metal plate; the plate popped right out.

 The outside was balmy, saturated with night and cricket chirrups. Spate hauled him and Chad from the opening, bursting out into the cleansing natural dark free of grunge and the rot of decrepit catacombs. He kicked from the opening and hit the wall of a building. They surfaced into an alley, brimming with clutter and discarded crates. Five minutes of stunned silence, Chad had not lifted his head from Spate’s neck.

 In the ground, the sewer opening was placid and unassuming.

 “It’s okay,” Spate wheezed. “We’re out. It’s safe now. Safe. I told you. Wick?” Chad didn’t respond, except to bury his face deeper into the collar and constrict his arms around the rigid chest. Spate had to cock his head sharply to see clearly.  “I have to cover the sewer.”

 Spate undid the belt, carefully. Then, pulled the tie from the silk ribbon – the wooden mask slipped loose and clattered to the ground. Chad might’ve fortified his grip by tenfold, if that was possible. “I need to—”

 “Don’t leave me,” came the muffled whine. “Don’t!”

 “I won’t leave you,” Spate uttered. “But I can’t leave the cover off. That… person. We might let him out. I have to shut it.”

 “No. Don’t!”

 “It’ll be fine.” Spate rocked forward onto his knees. He did sling an arm around Chad’s middle, to keep him from slipping. He didn’t want the child near the sewer opening, and worked on detaching him from his arm. “Easy now. I’m right here. Everything’s fine – you’re safe. I got you.”

 Chad put his feet to the ground – his shoes squelched, drenched and ruined. He kept a hold of Spate’s sleeve, as the monster scooted toward the open sewer access. Spate did press Chad back a bit more, before he looked down into the yawning vortex.

 There was nothing reflecting their previous adventure. No cavern nor impossible climb greeted Spate’s scrutinizing leer; only the dingy floor of the channel, no less than seven feet below, and a ladder. No eyes, no face, no sounds.

 Spate shoved the steel grate over the hole with a decisive clunk. 

Next - A Gap in Wake and Dreams

[inthegrayarea]

f i r s t s

: The first time he asks for a photo, she gives him not her best one, but the one she gives out frequently to strangers who ask. She already has her photo ready, just in case someone asks what she looks like, although the face the photo shows is the face she owned months ago, and a lot of small details have changed. She doesn't care, anyway, since she pays small attention to her physique, and she's not exactly the prettiest, even up to her own standards.

: The first time they see each other through moving images, she fixes herself too much, probably too much that it does not seem natural, but in her head she wants to be near perfect, and lies straight to his face that she had just escaped her sleep. She doesn’t know if he buys the lie, and his eyes don’t give too much of his emotions either, but they talk, and talk, mainly with her speaking because he doesn’t really talk and oftentimes quiet people annoy her because it made her feel like she’s the only one giving her pieces, but with him it doesn’t matter, because he’s staring, staring, staring at her face, at her nose, at her eyes, just everywhere, like she’s the world, the sky, the moon, the sun, the stars – all combined into one huge face trying to fit inside the rectangular screen. She scolds him and tells him to talk to her back, and he tells her he just wants to listen, and she acts like she’s mad, but she doesn’t really get mad at people, and she also refuses to tell him that she loves his stare too much, too much, too much for her egoistic self.

: The first time they meet, she tells him she did not take a bath earlier that morning, but actually scrubs her skin so bad it almost bled. She meets him with the clown waving, and she does not know how to start a conversation, and he hands her delicacies from his own province. In all actuality, she does not really like receiving gifts, because she’s been so used to giving, but she gives out a huge smile, and thanks him for the small act of kindness – little did he know that she’s thanking him for going, for seeing her, for meeting her, for talking to her, and for walking next to her as they trace the steps towards her home. He does not know any of the things that she’s thankful for, and she loves words, and all kinds of beautiful noises produced by humans interacting, but with his silence she finds herself smiling, comfortable, and contented.

: The first time he holds her hand, she feels her heart beating faster than her own breath. She does not know (and is completely clueless) if that is possible, because it is a first time for her to exhibit such reactions with the slightest form of touch. He slowly reaches for her fingertips, like he longs for her, and her own heartbeats make her deaf as he fully encloses her huge hand that now appears small, because his is too big, but it does not matter, it does not, it never did.

: The first time he hugs her, she bravely steals a kiss from his lips, and contrary to what she believed, he does not taste of unicorns and rainbows and stars and comets and dragons and her favorite Sherlock series. He does not taste of anything, even fruits, like novels say, or chocolate, like sweet, sweet sex, or caffeine, and she does not find him addicting, until he excuses himself in the most adorable manner she could ever think of and tells her he has to find his mouthwash. She giggles, then laughs loudly, then smiles slowly, and realizes she gives the same reaction she does when she sees dogs, and well, she had loved dogs her whole life, like they are her kids, like she has fur, and he stops her train of thoughts, because he goes back to the bed and grabs her face and she forgets dogs and gargles and chocolates and all her thoughts are only filled of the way his lips move against hers.

: And with his raw, sincere kisses, she remembers the first time he tells her he’s lonely, and she swears under her breath, as the sun, to do everything in her power to give him all the pieces he needs until he gets whole again, even if it will leave her empty, even if it means extinguishing all her bright, lovely rays in the end.