#DI is always like cool shit or a tiny bit of body horror

[gio-goose]

I really need to stop doing this to him

[interact-if]

Umm hi 👉👈 I realized that most of the asks you guys get are about games and rec lists. You guys deserve so much recognition for the work you put in this blog, so I wanted to ask if I can do a little get-to-know-the-mods thing? If that's okay!

1. Besides writing, what are your hobbies?

2. Do you have a niche interest right now?

3. Any fave songs/artists/bands?

4. Any fave movies/tv shows?

5. On a scale of 1-10, how likely would you survive in your wip's world?

You can totally ignore this if you guys want, no pressure. Anyway, much love to all the interact-if mods! You guys are incredible! ❤

We saw this ask and we went 👀 👀 👀 so we’re happy to answer! Thank you so much for the fun ask!

 We also rated our survivability in all of our collective games, since Mars isn't an author! Fun stuff! Spoilers, though: it’s really not looking so great for me (Dani) but that’s fine!!!  😌

1. I’m a photographer as well as a graphic artist (but not like. A painter/drawer kind of artist!) and, on a general level, a maker and a tinkerer!

2. Fountain pens! I only write with ink, and only with fountain pens, and I use bottled inks/converters!

3. I’m pretty eclectic with music, but my top genres are alt rock, indie, indie pop, etc, as well as top 40s and some rap.

4. I feel like this is the hardest one for me to answer? Favorite movies/shows? Avatar: the Last Airbender has been a favorite show of mine since I was a little kid, but I have a harder time thinking of shows I would call a favorite in recent years. There are shows I’ve liked, and a lot of shows I’ve watched. But I’m picky! And demanding! It takes a lot to earn a place in Dani’s Trophy Case of Favorites. 😌 I would say I quite liked A Quite Place (movie), and I liked Us (movie). When it comes to TV shows, I have a hard time being pleased with them if they don’t end well. As a result, I have a penchant for a good limited series/miniseries (because they’re stories that have an end in mind and the plot reflects that, dagnabbit).

5. Heh. Okay.

In The Goodfellows? I think I stand I chance. I can exercise my sparkling wit and lovable personality to the best effect. I’m gonna give myself an 8/10 survivability rating. Even if I don’t have the right skills, I can go crying to the person who does and they’ll save me. Maybe.

In Creatures’ Cradle? I’m super $**!%d. 😌 1/10 survivability rating. And that 1 is me being nice to myself. The day the apocalypse breaks out I would probably be patient 0. I am self-aware. I would not do well in an apocalypse. Zombies care not for aforementioned sparkling wit and lovable personality, and I have all the muscle of a boiled spaghetti noodle. So it’s a no go.

Greater Than Gods (Cruz): Well. I’m going to be optimistic. And say that I have the wisdom not to do things I shouldn’t do and not to rock boats I shouldn’t rock. I’m going to give myself a 7/10 based on insider information, but also based on reckless optimism!

Vardir (Cruz): Cruz says this is a lighthearted game, so 10/10 LOL.

When it Hungers (Roast): I’m giving myself a nice, mediocre 5/10. I think I could put my mind to work here; I joke that I’m the village idiot, but I’m actually pretty smart! Unfortunately, I’m also curious, and maybe a little bad with authorities who won’t answer my questions. So I knocked off a lot of points due to the fact that I’d probably poke the metaphorical bear. So it’s a real coin flip as to whether I’d really make it or not.

Orthall Bay (Nines): Considering the genre is “horror” and the game intro includes the words “monster” and “maim,” I’m giving myself a whooping, enthusiastic 3/10. Yes, folks, I am that confident in myself! Once again, I can’t charm the socks off a monster (or can I?), so one of my greatest weapons is snatched from beneath my feet. Alas!

1. Beloved I’m a college student in the middle of a pandemic... i can hardly even write LOL i do draw at times which u can see in my personal blog (nothing too good really) and i used to do karate before things went to shit <3

2. Nothing niche I believe? All I do is leave Netflix as bg noise every day n play popular videgames (genshin)

3. Porter Robinson <3 I love Bea Miller a lot as well but lately I’ve been feeling Porter a lot

4. The Good Place <3

5. My WIPs:

Greater than Gods: Highly situational, the world GtG is set in is as broad as the real world LOL so I don’t have an universal answer. But keeping it vague, and knowing my own personality, I feel like 5/10. depends on my luck.

Vardir: 10/10 no one dies in Vikgade, unless you’re a hunter but I wouldn’t be a hunter <3

Others’ WIPs

I'm gonna give myself a solid 5/10 in all other WIPs because y'all aren't writing lighthearted stories either. I feel like as long as I avoid the role of the MC I will be mostly fine. I hope. But as Dani said I'm also prone to fight the wrong person and dig my own grave so 😌

1. Well, writing is a very, very, very, distant hobby since Words Hard, but I like to crochet and sculpt a little! Anything to do with fiddling with my hands and I’m good to go. And like, debatable but graphic design is my passion [insert clown emoji here since Tumblr said No]

2. Oh yeah a bunch! DnD yelling at people, thinking of arson, crocheting, rock climbing and simply vibing. I got into podcasts a few years ago and I’m always looking for more recs, so if you have some, hmu 😤

3. Pls,,,,my music taste is,,,so weird do not let me expose myself with lack of consistency but uhh. Current songs that are stuck in my head include; Cult of Dionysus , Achilles Come Down and The Last Shanty  

4. If you’ve ever spoken to me before, I probably yelled about Pacific Rim to you or at you. Plus I love all The Mummy films and really enjoyed Castlevania (s3 excluded, we do not perceive that) as well! 

5. Ah, mod survival simulator pt. 3

Alright, let’s go!  I don’t have a WIP because again, words hard, but like, considering how feral I am when not tryna seem professional hm... 

The Goodfellows: I wanna say a solid 7/10 because I’d hardcore vibe with the Traveler and probably instigate so much nonsense. I can also bribe with blueberry cake so maybe. 

Creature’s Cradle: maybe a 4/10 and only because of pure spite keeping me alive long enough to smack someone. I’ve prepared for hypothetical  zombie apolcapyses and I won’t hesitate to bap, but will be bapped back because I’m weak as hell. 

Greater Than Gods: a toss up between 2/10 and 7/10! I can vibe and be chill but I also have terrible impulse control so... 

Vardir: hm....I think pretty good survival rates all around? If you ask me to fight then like, okay sure, your knees are mine. So maybe a 8/10? 

When it Hungers: .......8/10 just because I’d refuse to die if I can be a cool creature. Living for the aesthetic can and will drag me outta hell. But I’m also clumsy as hell so I’d probably crash as a porcelain or hold a rooster and perish (aka, real rating is a good 3/10) 

Orthall Bay: 2/10, nope. Nope I’d be taken out in a heartbeat. Monsters can go pspsps and I’d head straight into the dark creepy forest like a fool if someone comes @ me. Half the time I’ll just assume it’s sfx makeup and vibe until it’s too late. 

god, never put me in a universe where I cannot squawk like a bird and throw pebbles from a window. Oof

Anon, you're so sweet! I give you a forehead smoomch <333 As for your questions...

1. If I'm not writing, I'm usually watching video essays on Youtube. My go-to channels as of right now is Disrupt and Aperture! I just really like their videos. Aside from that, I recently got into podcasts. Currently going through Hello From The Hallowoods and Shelter and Warning, which are made by queer creators!

2. Oh oof, there's quite a bit so I'm just gonna put down one thing. For some reason, I really got into collecting tiny astronaut things? I recently bought this astronaut desk light, and I've got a package coming in for the miniatures I ordered. No purpose for them other than I think they're neat <3

3. I'm a bit private with my music taste (even tho I have Spotify connected on Discord lmao), but there's 5 songs that I'm currently obsessed with. I keep replaying them over and over again. Just squeezing all the serotonin I could get outta them.

4. I can't really say I have a fave TV show or movie because I can't really just pick one, but my current fave is 9-1-1 and Resident Alien. 9-1-1 because I just really love the found-family dynamics and how the show tackles sensitive topics, and Resident Alien because it's lighthearted comedy. My all-time fave movie is Flipped! I have the book too and I like rereading from time to time <3

5. You're in for a doozy, anon, because we're rating each other's games <333

The Goodfellows: 7/10

Listen. Shenanigans with the Traveler. I would get up to so many of them and that is what'll get me possibly bodied, not the actual environment itself <3

Greater than Gods: 7/10

I like to think I have enough common sense to uhhh not recklessly flip stones that should not be flipped <3 I'm a cautious and skeptic person irl so I think I'll hold up well? Then again, it's a vast environment change and while I can adapt pretty quick, I wouldn't like the lack of control in the unknown.

Vardir: 10/10

Going off what Cruz said, Vardir is lighthearted and focused on personal growth so I think I'll be okay! Self-growth here I come, babey!

Creatures' Cradle: 8/10

Maybe I'm overestimating myself, but I think I'll be able to survive in a supernatural post-apocalyptic world! Ah, but it depends on the motivation though. I like the idea of rebuilding communities and eventually societies, but the survival turmoil would be a constant battle I'd have to overcome. If we're talking survival itself though, I think I'll do well.

When it Hungers: 8/10

That's probably my wishful thinking but I think I'll be fine. Maybe. Possibly. Don't like the idea of being regulated by an organization so if I was a non-human creature that could pose a problem but I can roll with it <3

Orthall Bay: 6/10

Assuming I'm not playing as MC, my chances of survival uhhh changes quite drastically. Not enough to guarantee an untimely demise, but certainly enough that it would constantly keep me on my toes. I think that's the safest answer I can get without spoiling anything lmao

Thank you so much for asking! It's super sweet of you <3

1. Too many :'D I knit, I sew, I do carpentry (well, learning), I bake, I'm hammering away at HTML and CSS, my job kind of encourages learning new things and I take that to picking up new hobbies!

2. My time is kind of consumed with school work and work work and WIP work so not a lot of time to pursue niche interests right now. I've been watching a lot of horror game playthroughs, true crime youtubers, and an adorable show on Netflix called the Repair Shop <3

3. My taste in music is "what am I vibing with atm?" I've been listening to a lot of 80's music atm (don't @ me), but also Lo Fang and Kaleo, and whatever spotify recommends me on my discover weekly which is usually complete chaos.

4. I love the Mummy even though it hasn't aged 100% well (I'm a librarian, of course it's one of my gotos LOL), Legally Blonde, Leverage, Jumanji (the original), I'm....very bad at having recent tastes... and very bad at remembering my favorites when asked.

5.

The Goodfellows: I'm a creature of comfort, 5/10 if I can just luxuriate in town and not actually interact with the story sfjkdbsdkf

Creature’s Cradle: I'd like to think I have a 50/50 shot XD 5/10, I want to think I'd be decent at a zombie apocalypse but ultimately would suffer an early fate.

Greater Than Gods: 10/10 if I'm just vibing, less so if I'm involved in the actual story XD

Vardir: I'd still suffer without technology but I can also knit for a living in this world so I'm down 8/10

When it Hungers: I feel like I could vibe here, there's tech if dated, hot showers, telephones are around by now... might still get bored. 7/10 though it'd be cool to be another creature....I should make a 'what creature of snv are you' quiz!

Orthall Bay: 7/10 idk I feel like after the first monster of the week I'd just skip town XDDDD I'm the worst protagonist, I see danger I just leave.

[pandoraimperatrix]

I’ll Take Care Of You, If You Ask Me To

@pcgasuss asked me for jealous Dick. I’m not very good writing about jealousy, but I tried.  

Summary:  Dick should have known that Kory and Bruce talking was not the best news to him.

1,7K | DickKory | Fluff | Read on AO3

The echo of Kory’s laugh grabbed Dick’s attention in midsentence. She was all the way across the room, actually not in the room at all, but you could see her, and Bruce, talking through the glass.

“Dick?”

“Hm?” He turned attention back to the boys slowly. Conner had his whole face frowned in confusion. It was hard to make Gar smile these days, but he had an amused glint in his eyes.

“Forget it, Con. He’s gone outer space now.”

Conner looked even more confused. Dick sighed and pretended he didn’t hear it.

“Anything else?” Dick asked dryly.

“Yeah, like you could even remember we were talking about.” Mocked Gar.

“Of course I remember.”

“What was it, then?”

“It was…” Kory laughed again, this time a little bit louder, Dick had to bite the insides of his cheeks to control the urge to just nap his head in her direction again.

��Exactly.” Said Gar very pleased with himself. “Come on Con, let’s play some videogames.”

“Only an hour, then bed. I want you both well rested tomorrow morning.”

“Sure, boss.”

“Goodnight, Dick.” Dick gave the boy a tight smile and nodded, Conner turned back to Gar. “Should we invite Hank and Rose?”

Gar answered something, but Dick didn’t listen as they walked away. He took a sip of his orange soda, wishing it was something stronger than sugar and watched them with the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t ignore the fact that both his surrogate father and his… Well, Kory wasn’t his to begin with, but they were both naturally flirty people. Kory was just too charming to her own good, no, scratch that, she was too charming for everyone’s around her own good. The charisma that Bruce so meticulously learned to perform, the same that he tried so hard to make Dick copy and never quite succeeded, Kory had it effortlessly. And Dick knew Bruce very well, there was no way he wouldn’t make any moves, even though the probabilities of him following through with them were quasi none. After all if Batman had something was work ethics. And yet… What was he saying that was so funny? A voice inside his head that sounded terrible like Donna was calling him a paranoid freak and explaining to him in painstaking detail how he had no claim for the feelings brewing in his chest. But it shut up in silent panic when he saw Kory touch Bruce’s arm. When Dick noticed he was already getting hit on the face by the cold wind as he reached the veranda.

“Hey.” Greeted Kory, the easy smile on her face not quite reaching her eyes.

“Nice of you to joying us, chum.”

“Chum?” Asked Kory in obvious delight. A little too much. She was not drinking orange soda.

Dick winced.

“Can you not call me that?”

“Why not?” Was that a little bit of genuine hurt that he was seeing on Bruce’s eyes?

“Because I’m not twelve anymore.”

“See what I was telling you, Miss Anders?”

Kory fell in a fit of giggles, and Bruce smiled fondly at her. Dick felt panic bubble inside him. He hated how Bruce would make him feel like a teenager ager just by being around.

“What? What is happening? What were you telling her?”

“About how adorable you were as a child.” Managed Kory holding on to Dick to keep straight. Her hand on his shoulder was cold. Dick frowned. It wasn’t like he spent hours and hours of what should have been sleep reliving every time she touched him but she never felt cold before, actually, she used to be almost feverish. “Nothing to feel ashamed of.”

“I can’t help but doubt it.”

“Don’t you trust me, Dick?” Asked Bruce prying Dick’s eyes from Kory’s.

“With my dignity? Not at all.”

“You hurt me, son.”

“What did you tell her, Bruce?”

“Oh, this and that.”

“Kory?”

“Oh, cool off. It was nice to hear about baby Dick Grayson. Even though by the stories you didn’t change very much.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bruce here was telling me about how seriously you took yourself, and that, what was her name? Selena?”

“Selina.” Corrected both men together.

“Yes, Selina, she was the best at making you lose it and act like a kid.”

“That’s because she was infuriating.” But when he looked at Bruce his face was softer and when he asked had a note of hopefulness. “Heard from her lately?”

Bruce straightened himself slightly, an act that would pass unnoticed to anyone, but that brought a tiny smile to Dick’s lips. So that explained the whole easy mood of lately.

“Yes, actually.” He cleaned his throat. “She has been around. But we were talking about you…”

“Around? How much around? Is she okay?”

“She is, yes.”

“And you both…?”

“What?”

“Come on, Bruce!”

Bruce just took a sip of his drink and pretended to look at something else far away. Kory just watched their back and forth like it was a very entertaining game.

“Did Jason meet her?”

Bruce sighed.

“Yes, they’ve met.”

“What? They didn’t get along?” Dick’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “They are so alike…”

“Maybe too much you could say.”

“Sorry to hear that, B.”

“It’s alright.”

Deciding to give Bruce a break, he turned back to the woman by his side.

“What else did he tell you, Kory?”

He tried to pretend he didn’t notice that her hand haven’t left his person, slipping from his shoulder to his arm, and that now she was making doodles with the tip of her fingers giving his tingles. Bruce also noticed, but besides making sure to let Dick know he did with an inquisitive look, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Well… He showed me picture too… of your first suit.”

“No…” His eyes widened in terror.

“The little short was so cute, Dick! And the booties. Adorable! I sent a picture to Rachel already.”

“You did not!”

“I did! My batteries died so I don’t know her reaction yet…” She pouted.

Horror spread over Dick’s face and he turned to his mentor.

“Why? Why do you have that with you?”

“To look at it, of course, since I so rarely get to actually see you these days. I carry it in my wallet.” Said Bruce proudly.

“You!” He pointed to Bruce. “And you Koriand’r, I thought you were my friend.”

“Such a drama queen.”

“I know.” Agreed Bruce, “and you believe he never even took acting lessons?”

“No. You two talking was a horrible idea.”

“Well, I thought it was loads of fun. But you, Dick Grayson. You have no such concept.” And to Dick’s complete shock she gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight, Bruce. It was lovely to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, Miss Anders.”

“If I have to call you by your first name, you can just call me Kory too.”

“Very well. Goodnight, Kory.”

She just smiled before leaving, her hand lingering on Dick’s arm before she was completely gone.

“So…” Said Bruce when Kory was far-gone. “There is no chance you are coming back, then.”

“I can’t leave the Titans.”

“The Titans?” Bruce scoffed.  “Sure.”

“Why are you insinuating?”

“Me? Nothing. But well, I always thought that eventually you and Barbara would settle down, I can see now it will hardly happen.”

“Bruce… Me and Babs haven’t been a thing since high school.”

“I know… I know. But Kory is really a formidable woman. Take good care of her.”

“I’m not seeing Kory either, Bruce.”

“Whatever you say, chum. I’m also going to bed. Long trip back home tomorrow. Goodnight, son.”

“Bruce, I’m not-“

But the man completely ignored Dick, leaving him alone with his feelings and the cold air.

 Later, when Dick arrived at his room, he learnt that there was already someone occupying his bed.

“Kory? What are you doing here?”

She purred softly, he had to ask her about that one day. And opened one shiny green eye.

“Dick? Shit. I think I got rooms wrong.”

“Kory, are you okay?”

She sighed, trying to lift her body starting from her head, but no such luck.

“No… Not really. Can I… I mean. Just for sleep?”

He should say no. He really should say no and help her to her room.

“Yes. Sure.”

“Thanks.”

And she didn’t say anything else for so long he was sure she was asleep.

He washed himself and joined her in bed. As soon as he got under the covers, her static form gained movement and she turned to him, pushing her face against his chest. He felt a sense of familiarity and relief so strong, he wondered if it was like that when Hank took heroin.

“I’ve missed you.” He heard she whisper sleepy.

He leaned into her hair, letting himself inhale her scent.

“I miss you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“So many things…”

Dick kissed the crown of her head, his fingers getting used to the new texture of her hair. It was so silky now, he missed the fluffiness from before.

“Me too.” He sighed. “Rest, Kory.”

He was sure she was sleeping when he heard she giggle softly.

“What is it?”

“Your dad is hot.”

“Oh my god, Kory.”

She giggled again and looked up to him.

“You are hotter.”

And then she kissed him. He held her impossibly close, and her hand felt warmer when she cupped his face, not hot as it used to be. But her lips didn’t taste the same either, the taste was somehow stronger, more intoxicating, and as he bite them softly they were even more thicker than he remember or fantasied about, her tongue even more talented.  But he forced himself to breathe before the kiss consumed them both. Kory was acting so weird. He couldn’t. Not like that.

He pulled away avoiding her seeking lips and kissed her forehead.

“Go to sleep Kory, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

She sighed and got more comfortable against him.

“Goodnight.”

--------------

Another fluffy piece. It’s my headcanon that the reason why Titans Bruce is like that is because he eloped with Selina and is living his best life lmao. Kory in this story is a bit OOC, I think she is so out of it because all her recent losses that she is trying so hard to feel anything else that’s why she is acting so weird. It was nice to write this one. I hope you enjoyed to read it too, and if you did, let me know.

Likes are awesome but if you want to support me please reblog <3

[duker42]

Hi! I was wondering if you could take us home on the “making it” series with a part IV? Where of course we *already totally know that Levi lives and everything is totally fine and y/n has the baby and EVERYONE’S FINE?!* need that happy ending for my loves!!! 💗🙃

Last one!!!!😭😭😭😭😭💖💖💖💖💖💖

💜Making it Forever💜

“Levi.” He grunted as he diligently worked, his writing style having to adapt to the loss of his index and middle finger and his pace considerably slower than before.

He had tried to write left handed, but after he couldn’t even read what he had written, he had gone back to retraining himself on a new grip. ‘New grip for writing, same grip for fighting’ he mused as he continued to write.

“Levi” he finally looked up and saw Y/N standing in the doorway. She was huge, in a fantastically ‘holy shit she’s about to pop out a kid’ way. He still couldn’t believe that his child was in that rounded stomach, and he had watch it expand as the months went by.

“Yes?” He didn’t know what to make of her mildly amused face. Was the baby stomping on her again? The little brat seemed to be as restless as Levi felt when he was trapped behind a desk.

“My water just broke. Can you grab me a mop?” His eyes widened at her words and he pushed his chair back so fast it tipped over.

“Forget the damn mop! You’re in labor? Why aren’t you screaming?” He panicked for a split second. All he knew about childbirth was the horror stories women seemed to love to share while men cringe at the thought. He wished he had listened a bit better when Y/N and Hanji were discussing it.

“Levi Ackerman, not worried about cleaning?” She tried to laugh but ended up gasping as a pain flowed over her. Levi ran over to her and steadied her as she breathed through it.

“We’re going to the infirmary, now!” Y/N looked up as she caught her breath to smile at the wide eyes of her lover.

He had managed to made a speedy recovery once he regained consciousness. He had been up and moving in hours, much to her consternation. He had grumbled when she had ordered him back to the bed, saying he just wanted a damn shower.

He had settled for a bath and she had slowly steered him up the stairs, him cursing under his breath with every step, but he made it. After that he had slept again, more so than he normally did, his body healing itself while he was resting.

He had even cracked a joke, saying his missing fingers wouldn’t be a problem if he were Eren or Armin. But he had been solemn when he told Hanji about the soldiers turning into Titans and Zeke surprising him by blowing himself up in and effort to get ride of Levi.

He would bear the scars forever, the red scars on his face would eventually lighten even more, but would never go away. Not that Y/N minded at all. As long as he was with her, she didn’t care how many scars he had, how many shorter fingers he sported.

She was brought back to reality when Levi had scooped her up into his arms. She protested by he ignored her as he carefully but quickly made his way down the corridors, winding his way to the infirmary. He had barked out orders to move as he glared at anyone who blocked their path. Still very much the feared Captain Levi on the outside as he panicked internally at everything that could possibly go wrong.

He made it to the medical bay and set her down. It was so odd for her to think about laying in one of the beds, rather than being the one attending. She wasn’t used to not being in charge. Levi ordered someone to fetch Hanji as he fussed, making sure that everything was perfect.

Y/N clutched her stomach as another wave of nauseating pain washed over her. Levi tried to make her sit on the bed, but she waved him off. “It’ll be hours before I’m ready to push.” She said, noting his pale complexion seemed to loose more color.

Levi felt sick. Hours? He didn’t want her to endure hours of pain. Hours that things could go wrong, hours for him to possibly lose her, lose the baby that has inched its way into his heart.

He didn’t know if he was strong enough to lose them. Fearing the pain of that might be the breaking point to his sanity. There was nothing for him to use his brute strength on, so his role as Humanity’s Strongest held no weight in the birthing room. He could only be there for Y/N and hope that his lot in life would show mercy on him.

He glared at the medic who tried to ease him from the room. Damned if he was going to pace the halls and listen to every pain filled cry from the shadows. He wasn’t leaving her side, he was going to wipe her brow and cringe when she screamed in agony, wishing he could take it from her. Even if it was as gruesome and graphic as that bastard Zeke had said, he would be watching very second that his lover battled to bring their child into the world.

When Hanji showed up, her smile was cheerful and her eye bright. He only glared at her a little as she washed her hands, his relief at her being there known between the three friends. “Took you long enough.” He grumbled, holding Y/N’s waist as she continued to walk the floors.

“We have plenty of time, Levi! Don’t be a nervous father.” Hanji teased.

“I’m not nervous, idiot!” He snapped, well aware that it wasn’t nervousness that flood his system, it was sheer terror. But he fought to keep his exterior expression the calm collected face he normally presented.

Hanji and Y/N both chuckled, not believing a word he said. He glared at both half-heartedly and felt Y/N’s stomach clench as the next contraction hit her.

It progressed quicker that he thought, but every increasingly loud cry ripped from her throat sent a cold shiver down his spine. She cursed him, oh the language that came from her mouth. It made him smile with pride at the inventiveness of her threats. Some of the ideas that spilled from her mouth as she crushed his hand would be fantastic to use if he ever needed to torture someone again.

He watched everyone like a hawk as they moved around Y/N. His sharp eyes narrowing in an intimidating manner, as if he could threaten them into making sure the process was smooth. He constantly wiped her forehead with a cool cloth, and fetched whatever she felt she needed that second.

When the time came, Levi held his breath, partially from the painful grip Y/N had on his left hand and partially in awe. His gaze never strayed from between her thighs, his eyes wide as he watched the small baby slip from Y/N’s body and into Hanji’s waiting hands.

It was a boy. Disgusting and beautiful at the same time. Levi kissed her hand and released it to step over to where Hanji had beckoned him. His own hands were shaking, as she instructed him to cut the umbilical cord. Levi turned nervously back to Y/N, and she smiled and nodded.

They continued to work on Y/N. Levi ignored that area, not caring to see the afterbirth Zeke had mentioned, too busy absorbing every detail of the tiny creature in Hanji’s hands.

He had a son. He couldn’t believe it as he stared down at the little body being carefully wiped down. The little hands and feet waving wildly as his powerful lungs filled the room with his cries of anger. It was the most magical sound he had ever heard.

When he’s handed over to Levi, Y/N sees the brief flash of panic on his face. She know that he thinks he’ll hurt the baby, that his hands have been too rough for too long to gently handle a new life. He looks up at her, his eyes expressing everything inside him that he can’t put into words. Y/N feels her own eyes wet with tears as she watches the man she loves hold the life they created together.

He brings him to her. His voice has already changed, its low and comforting. She’s heard him use it on soldiers as they died, but she’s never heard the love that’s now inflected in his deep timbre. “Here’s your mum. You’d prefer her over your dad. I don’t have the milk you’ll want.”

He treats the babe as if he were fragile, gently easing his hands from under him to place him in her arms. He’d learn, but for now, just watching the wonder on his face was special. He didn’t move, didn’t dare to think of leaving as he crouched down next to the bed and hovered right over their son.

His ashen orbs met Y/N’s and he twisted his lips in a brief beautiful smile. She knew what he was saying. She leaned over and took a kiss from him, not caring that anyone saw the Captain and their boss meld their mouths together. This was their moment.

A cry broke them apart and Levi looked down the the red face. “Jealous already, brat?” He mused.

When the babe settled at her breast, suckling hungrily, Levi laid his hand on the sooty black hair sprinkled across his downy head. “Have you decided on a name?” He asked. He had wanted to leave the choice to her. She knew what he wanted, but she had been the one to carry him.

“Farlan Church Ackerman” Y/N replied, looking up as he tore his gaze away from the eating child to make sure he heard her right.

“Are you sure?” Levi felt close to tears again. He hadn’t dreamed she would choose his friends name. He had hoped, but there was not any significance in the name to her. He had understood that, even as he held on to that tiny sliver of desire to give new life a chance in remembrance of the first man he called his brother.

“Yes, Levi. I’m sure.” She smiled as he leaned down and kissed her again.

They watched as the babe fell asleep, nipple still in his mouth, randomly sucking as he sighed contentedly.

“Huh.....might have to try sleeping that way. Looks comfortable.” Levi grunted as pride at his little boy filled him. Y/N flashed him an amused look.

“There’s one last thing, Y/N.” She furrowed her brow as she looked at Levi. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small simple band. “Marry me.”

It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t a demand. It wasn’t the romantic proposal that little girls dream of while they play. It was just Levi, standing there, trying not to show his worry that she might reject him, his eyes shining with the love that he failed to mention daily, but carried with him always. Direct and to the point, just like the man she loved.

“Yes, Levi. We’re making this forever.” She smiled as he sighed in relief and out the ring on her finger. They were a family, forever.

~~~~~

Levi watched as Farlan and Isabel ran in the sunshine. Their giggles filling the air as they played among the trees.

Y/N opened the screen door and padded to the chair beside him. She wordlessly offered him a cup of tea as she eased herself down in the seat.

Her sigh of relief made him look over at his wife. She was so damn beautiful, seemed to grow more so everyday. She jump, startled as she rubbed the expansive belly beneath her breasts.

“Brat kicking you?” He asked, placing the cup down so he could feel.

“Your kids have a thing for kicking, must get it from you.” She grumbled, only slightly appeased when Levi gives her a quick kiss.

She looks out at the kids playing in the yard. It had been five years since she had almost lost her husband. Four years since Farlan was born and they were married. Two years since Isabel joined their expanding family. Now baby number three was on the way.

Their lives were peaceful, boring in the best way. Levi no longer worried about dying on a daily basis, and Y/N treated more coughs and pregnant women than hurt and dying soldiers. They were content with their little piece of the world and Hanji teased them constantly they were creating their own Ackerman army. Levi just grinned at the woman, his smiles coming a bit easier as the horrors of the past grew more distant.

Their forever was perfect.

Mobile MasterList

[exalok]

whaddup my dudes!!!

i am tired and wired and this means brain no writey but brain VERY focused on absolutely all the fic i have going on at once that aren’t prompts (prompts will be incoming, no worries dissociation anon)

and THAT means y’all get to hear about my many. many. MANY projects, or at least the ones that make my heart go pitter patter when i think of them

a few examples: demon!corvo and priest!daud with extra worldbuilding ; the naptime cuddles AU ; corvo doesn’t come to dunwall so jess and daud end up arranged-married for profit (more info..... under the readmore..... i’m gonna get rambly)

also feel free to ask questions, i love questions and they get me thinking even more in depth about the world and specific instances of characters and that is the entire POINT

LIKE OKAY SO MY BRAIN PRETTY MUCH CONTINUOUSLY THROWS IDEAS AT THE WALL AND ABOUT 95% OF THEM STICK BECAUSE I’M A HOARDING RAT BASTARD i love my ideas they are my precioussss

i might have about. 25 fic more or less active at the moment? which sounds like a reasonable number but those are the ones i have an actual plot for as well as the will to get them out into the world

let’s put aside the ones i have actually posted on tumblr or ao3 (teen!daud, domestic zombie apocalypse, bondageverse, knife!corvo) in favor of those you have either no or little idea exist. begin:

I MEAN OBVIOUSLY I MADE FANFIC OF MY OWN FANFIC or as i call it parallel/companion fic, because at some point in the past a prompter inspired me and i was deep in the prince!daud fic at the time and i thought what if high chaos. what if void monster corvo? what if horrifying yet human creature of the depths!!! what if EVERYTHING was TERRIBLE and daud killed corvo as a last ditch and vain attempt to get his people out of burrows’ clutches, and it all went to shit from there??? also they’re bound by marriage contract and the vagaries of magical intention and daud becomes corvo’s life battery, in essence, which you can imagine leads to a very unhealthy relationship i think it’s not spoilering much to tell you it does NOT end well, and i’ll be writing it as a sort of foil to low chaos prince!daud

i have quite a few high chaos fics actually. high chaos is depressing to play but the story outcomes are DELICIOUS and the degrading world and character motivations are a lot of fun to play around in

weirdly enough another one of these high chaos fics is the naptime cuddles AU!!! i won’t lie it’s the one i am currently on and i want to talk about it to everyone so bad constantly. in short, corvo doesn’t kill daud and the whalers because he’s trying to get out and currently too fucked up to fight, and when he doesn’t manage to save emily despite his best efforts he comes back to daud for some kind of symbolic execution. meanwhile thomas convinced daud to take a goddamn nap with him there because daud, despite his paranoia, does sleep better with people around, and this is entirely an excuse for semi-platonic daudthomascorvo cuddles in bed followed by whaler puppypiles when the gang catches on that this is a thing they can do now I LOVE PUPPYPILE WHALERS I LOVE NAPS I LOVE REDEMPTION THROUGH THE POWER OF RESTORATIVE SLEEP please i’m so tired and i can’t actually fall asleep next to people let me live my dream vicariously additionally: this will be my contribution to the absolutely wonderful whaler vineyard of old fanon

there is also what i feel should be a classic and ISN’T though a couple of fics were written around the concept and one in particular is /chef kiss, and the concept is: high chaos corvo meets low chaos corvo!!!!! i made it a threesome with daud because no one can stop me and i fucking LOVE the idea of daud ending up capable of telling them apart through tiny details even when high chaos corvo, bastard that he is, tries to impersonate low chaos corvo, who is a bastard in much more subtle ways and would probably be better at impersonating hc!c than the other way around but finds it distasteful; also i added intense body horror because that’s how i roll and there are eventual magical CONSEQUENCES to hc!c being in the low chaos world and regularly in contact with what is essentially his narrative double when he doesn’t belong there, probably ends in a tragically bittersweet way, i’m not completely clear on it yet though i do have ideas

and oh man......... the time travel corvo fic.... the one where high chaos corvo ends up in his own seven-year-old body........... fuck i hashed out so much of the general worldbuilding for that one and ended up going way too far and imagining a sequel like i always do where corvo learns how to walk universes and gathers people he cares about from places where he can actually save them from their eventual tragic futures and the dissolution of their timelines once the outsider is ousted from the void and a new void avatar is made and SHENANIGANS YO!!! SHENANIGANS AND CAMPING!!!! SELF-CROSSOVERS!!!!!!! I COULD HAVE HIM MEET HIMSELF IF HE HADN’T TRAVELED BACK I’M CRYING I HAVE SO MANY EMOTIONS

the one where corvo is a fae child is probably a lil bit high chaos though it isn’t determined yet, and he has all of these instincts with regards to possessing and exchange and deals, and assumptions as to how other people must work approximately the same, and he is so wrong. then there’s the really creepy bad touch possible sequel that i won’t get into unless someone specifically asks because it’s a lil bit much really

oh MAN oh SHIT speaking of bad touch there’s another dead dove do not eat one where i grabbed an entire handful of granny rags’ apparent fucking around with magical arrays and rune creation and general spellery and threw it at corvo post-interregnum and he sees “ghosts” and doesn’t understand what the FUCK is going on and things go really badly for him, and one ghost, soon the only ghost, is daud, and corvo doesn’t know if he’s real, if he’s seeing things, if he’s NOT seeing things but daud is some kind of void demon, if he is and also having psychotic breaks he doesn’t remember because he ends up with some hellish bruises, but the real daud is actually still out there just hiding out and corvo will eventually meet up with him and real daud will meet fake daud and even more shit will happen

god, the demon!corvo AU gets pretty fucked up as well if i remember right; corvo is both some dude with a wife and kid and the demon that inhabits him, jess is his wife and the demon that inhabits her (to be clear, separate characters but both based on either jess or corvo oh my GOD what if i switched the demons that would be amazing but no, calm down, maybe for a short what-if scenario that will inevitably turn into its own thing), daud is the overseer with the really good exorcism record trying to get the demons to fuck off except he thinks there’s only one of them and the other takes him by surprise; cue daud being hunted by that demon, furious that daud shattered his favorite pupil, and some revelations about what exactly lives inside the abbey and also under it

on a somewhat lighter note, the one where corvo never comes to dunwall (i think his mom gets sick and he doesn’t win the blade verbena at sixteen?) is also where jess keeps losing her royal protectors to assassination attempts because the first one was decent and died protecting her and the second one was decent and had an accident and people start believing there’s a curse on the position or a curse on her, and she’s like okay so how do i make sure i don’t die now that no one is willing to become my protector since it’s pretty much a death sentence, and she arranges a meeting with the best assassin in the city and suggests an alliance -- protection and some commission overview, all secret, versus funding and housing -- in the form of a marriage and daud ends up agreeing; then later duke abele visits and corvo is among his personal guard and he gets to meet the empress, and the assassin, and there are ot3 shenanigans

oh my GOD also the kids in karnaca AU. obviously. fuck you may have seen the (dis)armingly charmed notefic but this would be them meeting as actual kids, in karnaca, just tiny babies, daud recently kidnapped and corvo doing his best to make this cool older kid into his friend and also maybe hiding him from the people who want to train him to do Illegal Things, and there are dumb childish arguments and daud goes on the run to avoid capture and there is an exchange of letters that at one point stops and corvo is Devastated and there is a REUNION and they are ADORABLE but also INCREDIBLY STUPID, AS IS RIGHT AND CORRECT, and i don’t know what happens later but it gives me warm fuzzies okay

then i have a NUMBER of oneshots that are more or less plotted out, like the one where jess has a kind of groundhog day because Heart reasons but over months and starts out not quite remembering what happened in past attempts and OF COURSE it ends with royal ot3; and there’s the one where Daud becomes the Outsider and is very temporally confused and OF COURSE it ends with corvodaud who do you take me for (including Very Perplexing arguments where daud doesn’t know at what point in this relationship’s development he is and corvo is angry or very patient depending on where he accidentally time travels to, and i make some assumptions about the non-linearity of the void avatar’s existence); and there’s the one where corvo catches the plague and gets through kingsparrow to get emily out then to people he trusts, ie the curnows and sam beechworth, then crawls away to die, but daud finds him and sighs and rolls up his sleeves and sends whalers to the Tower and emily thinks the Tower is haunted then, when it becomes very clear the Tower is not, demands one of these assassins teach her how to stab a bitch; AND THERE’S THE ONE WHERE CORVO AND JESS ARE GHOSTS AND DAUD IS A REAL ESTATE AGENT AND THE WHALERS ARE THE KIDS HE TRIED TO HELP OUT AS A SOCIAL WORKER and yes it’s ot3 and yes he buys the ghost house and ends up being filmed by the whalers to do cooking videos and fancy knife tricks and asmr because his voice is insanely soothing when he’s not being ornery; oh fuck and there’s the one where i wrote an unrequited corvodaud prompt and my brain grabbed it, smelled it, and decided that corvo very reluctantly falling for daud was necessary to the health of my feelings, and there is at least one (1) sleeping beauty coma while corvo yells at the outsider about the Heart; also there’s the one where in D2 billie was evasive about the old guy living with her on her boat and em finds daud rather than sokolov in jindosh’s basement and they have long, emotional discussions; and for the character building hell of it one that would span the outsider’s beginnings and growth and how the void tries to welcome him in

okay........................ i think i’m done rambling now

i love fanfic y’all

[stevebillyrecs]

Halloween Fic Recs

+ 1k Followers! Thank you guys so much. I love sharing my fave fics with you here, so I’m really happy that you’re having as much fun as i do!

Now, this is a bit last minute, but it’s definitely still October in some parts of the world, so let’s go! Here’s an incomplete collection of Halloween-themed fics full of parties, costumes, magic, creatures, horror, gore, and pumpkins. 

Included: Halloween, horror, or monster themed fics. Not included: The usual canon-typical Upside Down shenanigans, unless there’s a special spooky twist to it, or that one very particular Halloween ‘84.

31 fics under the cut  – Happy Halloween!

Heaven is a Place on Earth by CeruleanHeart / @highon85 (3k, T, Winged!Billy)

One late summer night Steve finds an angel crash-landed in a dirty alleyway. Or so Steve thinks, until the guy opens his mouth. Billy is a mess, drunk and mean and not angelic in the least. But he’s also hurt and beautiful so Steve stays to help despite better judgement.

taste you on my tongue by callunavulgari / @callunavulgari (2k, E, Vampire!Billy)

“You’ve never felt pleasure like it, Steve,” an old girlfriend had told him once, her eyes bright with memory. She’d been from the big city, where the vampires had their pick of willing donors, where all they had to do to get a meal was walk into a club. Some of them, the older, better known vamps wouldn’t even have to do that. They could pull someone straight off the street, roll down their windows and beckon. Steve shrugged. “No vampires here, though.” They’d broken up a few days later, and he hadn’t given it much thought. After all, what were the chances that a vampire would end up in boring, small town Hawkins, Indiana?

Gee My Life’s a Funny Thing by moonflowers / @eatingmoonflowers (7k, T, Mermaid!Billy)

Steve finds a boy in the water.

867-5309 (billy) by reject_mikeyy / @reject-mikeyy (14k, NR, Halloween)

Once he is done vomiting, Steve takes a second to rest his head on the cool toilet seat before realizing that. Wow. Ew. Not in the boys’ bathroom, thanks. Not in a homophobic way, don’t get him wrong, he’s eaten his fair share of ass but just. Germs and shit. Anyway. When he looks up from the bowl for the first time, he notices something scrawled on the wall at eye level. For a good time, text: 221-867-5309 Eyeroll. Or: In which Billy is the unlucky sucker with his number written on a bathroom stall, and Steve is the oblivious fool who actually texts him.

the wild hunt by celoica / @celoica​ (3k, E, Witch!Steve, Werewolf!Billy)

It had been his idea. Everything had been his idea. From the day Billy Hargrove had rolled up in his vintage car to the day Steve had walked into school with a fresh bite on his neck, proudly scabbed over and on display for his entire class to see, it had been all Steve’s idea. Billy did something witchy to his blood, thickening it under his skin and making it hard for him to think about anything else. At first, he’d thought maybe an incubus, something demonic and lust-driven and so out of place in tiny Hawkins, Indiana, until Laurie had leaned over and whispered about the new kid being a werewolf. The last time they’d had one of those in Roane County had been before Steve had been born. Even without the full moon to influence him, Billy was everything Steve had imagined a werewolf to be; aggressive and larger than life, in tune with the people who watched him with curious eyes, charming until it made Steve’s stomach clench in jealousy when his attention was on anyone but him. Witchy. To him. The witch.

bury a friend (try to wake up) by callunavulgari / @callunavulgari (1k, M, Witch!Steve)

Steve digs up Billy’s body on a Tuesday.

been crawling by kate_button / @un-buttoned (3k, E, Halloween)

The crop top was right there on the main aisle in the women’s section. Steve’s not entirely sure, like, why it exists, but he’s not disappointed about it. The rest of it came together pretty quickly (and cheaply) after that. So anyway, that’s how he finds himself drinking jungle juice out of a red solo cup looking like the twenty-two-year-old-man version of Karen Smith, animal ears and too much skin, bada boom, costume. I’m a dog. Duh.

journeys end by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald  (11k, M, Ghosts)

When Billy convinces Steve to spend Halloween at the Vance house—an abandoned house on the outskirts of Hawkins rumoured to be haunted—they discover that the Upside Down doesn’t have the monopoly on otherworldly.

Tell Me, What Did You Expect? by trashcangimmick / @trashcangimmick (2k, E, Tentacles!Billy)

After the battle of Starcourt, Steve wakes up on his living room couch with Billy Hargrove standing over him. There’s something a little different about Billy.

i shot the sheriff by ToAStranger / @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (800, T, Halloween)

Drunk shenanigans.

tides will bring me back to you by eternalgoldfish / @eternalgoldfish (32k, M, Ghost!Billy)

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Billy sat in the dark, eyes closed, listening to the clock on the mantle tick and the refrigerator hum. Steve Harrington was nothing to him, a regret, maybe, a bitter taste in his mouth, but not a friend. If Billy was resentful, he thought maybe he’d see the logic in the afterlife pinning them together, but he didn’t feel a sense of longing or torment, didn’t feel like he was being pulled between life and death, or between realms. He just was, painless, lead in his belly as he sat on the floor by Steve’s feet. If he was meant to be trying to get somewhere, he didn’t know where. Was he supposed to pass on? He curled his knees up to his chest and watched Steve sleep, Steve’s lips shiny with spit and hair hanging over his forehead. Or, how to find love as a ghost.

Haunted House Workers by prettyboiiharringrove / @prettyboiiharringrove (1k, T, Costumes)

It’s far from the easiest job in the world, but Billy met the love of his life through this gig and he gets to scare people on a daily basis, so most of the time it’s a fucking dream, but tonight, well tonight Billy is feeling a little concerned and a lot murderous.

teeth only for you by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald (2k, M, Vampire!Steve)

Steve has a secret. Billy thinks he knows what it is, but he couldn’t be more wrong.

No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross by Your_Iron_Lung / @godshattered​(WIP, 66k, T, Werewolf!Billy)

A strange string of parties held out in the deep woods of Hawkins, Indiana, plays host to Steve Harrington and his doubts about his future. Every weekend the party is relocated, and somehow Steve is always privy to the knowledge of where it’s going to be. What he doesn’t know is who’s hosting them, or why. There’s something weird about them that he can’t quite place, but he still finds himself drawn to them week after week, if only to use them as an escape from his stressful post-Upside Down reality. The weirdest part of all, however, is the fact that Billy Hargrove seems to be invited to them as well, and- There’s something in the woods.

a whisper in my bones (keeps me restless, whole) by tol_sirion / @etterklang (3k, E, Demon!Billy)

Steve knows not to wander off alone in the woods, has been told not to so many times. He’s never been very good at listening. It pays off.

Never Seen That Color Blue by Kerasines / @kerasines (WIP, 4k, E, Tentacles!Billy)

Billy doesn’t want to think it, but Steve goes ahead and says it anyway. “A tentacle.” He looks as apprehensive as Billy feels at the thought of a fucking tentacle being attached to Billy’s body in any way, let alone spontaneously growing out of his back. Jesus, what the fuck. But it’s undeniable that that’s what it looked like. What it felt like. “Fuck you. Christ. What the fuck.” Billy rubs his eyes until he sees stars.

You’re Dead and Out of this World by shocked_into_shame (2k, E, Vampire!Billy)

Billy’s a vampire and Steve is his familiar, toiling after him with the promise that one day he’ll become immortal too. You’d think that Steve would have a certain amount of reverence for the dead - but all he can muster is annoyance these days.

Through The Forest, Through The Trees by trashcangimmick / @trashcangimmick (WIP, 24k, E, Were-demogorgon!Billy)

Billy gets bitten by something strange in the woods. After that, life becomes even stranger.

Hawkins Hunting Ground by lonelytarot / @lonelytarot (1k, NR, Vampire!Steve, Vampire!Billy)

Hawkins is a mess, that’s normal. But Steve isn’t the only vampire in Hawkins? That’s a surprise.

like real people do by callunavulgari / @callunavulgari (2k, M, Ghost!Billy)

“No one told me that you molest people in their sleep,” he mutters, trying to keep his voice quiet. Above him, Johnny grunts and turns over. The hand goes still. “You can see me,” a voice murmurs. “Yeah.” Steve sighs. “I can see you.” “How?” Steve’s been able to see dead people since he was four years old. But people don’t tend to respond well when children tell them that the old man across the street watering his lawn had a bullet through his head, so after the fourth therapist, Steve had learned that it was something best kept secret. “I’ve got the sight, man,” he says with a small shrug. “And look, I feel for you. You’re dead and I’m not, and that sucks, but unless you’re planning on doing something about it, I’d really appreciate it if you could stop feeling me up and let me get back to sleep.”

A love of violence by gideongrace / @gideongrace (6k, E, Serial killer!Billy)

Billy and Neil are serial killers. One night, Neil brings Billy a present. The boy he’s been lusting after - Steve Harrington - blindfolded and tied to a bed in a motel room. Neil clearly thinks this is a good idea. He almost certainly wouldn’t think it would end in his death. (He’s wrong.)

this sweet plague by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald (1k, M, Zombie!Steve, Zombie!Billy)

In 1985 Steve Harrington dies. His parents and the people of Hawkins all believe it was a tragic accident. Only a small group of people know he died valiantly protecting his friends from monsters. Six months later, he is one of the dead who rise again.

unbutton my shirt, i’ve a hard day (i hate my work) by asphaltworld / @asphaltworld (WIP, 2k, M, Halloween)

Billy’s stuck working for a food delivery app on Halloween night to pay off a traffic ticket. Somebody in the rich part of town places a weird, annoying order. But he hoofs it over anyway, because he needs the cash.

a tent(acle)ative understanding by ToAStranger / @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger(WIP, 3k, E, Tentacles!Billy)

“Are you going to eat me?” Billy pauses, tongue out, halfway across the wound. He withdraws. Curiosity. Trouble. “Would you like me to?”

teething vampire Billy, okay? that’s what this is by womenseemwicked / @women-seem-wicked (1k, T, Vampire!Steve, Vampire!Billy)

Billy’s a recently turned vampire. Steve is his comforting vampire boyfriend. I don’t even know, guys. this just happened.

getting better at becoming a ghost by thecopperkid / @the-copperkid (4k, E, Halloween, Serial killer)

“What? You’re not scared, are you?” “No,” he answers, indignant, but he doesn’t even convince himself. “No, I just --” “You know what they say about fear, right?” the voice asks. “That it’s almost indistinguishable from arousal. That your body can’t tell the difference.” “They don’t say that,” Steve says, poking his head out the door and looking left to right. He’s just fucking exasperated. “Nobody says that.” “I say that.” Or: Steve gets a Scream-style call while he's babysitting the kids on Halloween night, and right now would be a really good fucking time for Billy to get home from work. Billy likes masks.

The Seventh Life by Klayr_de_Gall / @klayr-de-gall (WIP, 7k, M, Witch!Steve, Familiar!Billy)

With Allhallowtide looming two nights over, Steve feels restless and irritated, a bit on edge. The pull of that powerful event makes his bones arch stronger every year. The last thing he needs is some Californian Hotshot swaggering into his life, carrying the smell of trouble and a curse.

If You Need It (Do It For Me) by youcallherhephanie / @harring-rove (2k, T, Vampire!Steve)

Suffice to say, Billy’s neighbour was weird. Not the usual type of weird; you didn’t catch him smelling someone’s hair or lingering in an alleyway like a creep. No, he wasn’t weird weird, but there was something off about the guy. Whenever he was coming back from his morning runs, up in the early morning when the sun just barely peaked over the city, Billy’d see the guy walking through the apartment building. Sometimes, they’d bump into each other when collecting their mail, when using the elevator. It was always a nod, a hello from Billy and a terse smile from the guy - Harrington, he’d found out from the group of grannies who lived in the building. That was where their interactions left. But maybe things were in for a change.

It Happened at the Halloween Fair by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald & socknonny / @socknonny (9k, T, Halloween, Monsters)

All Steve wants is to enter his mom’s pie at the Halloween Fair… what he doesn’t expect is Billy Hargrove, sentient teddy bears, and a giant, pink monstrosity. Seems like Halloween is about to get a whole lot weirder.

Effective Immediately by lololaufeyson / @lokibi (WIP, 22k, E, Vampire!Billy)

A what-if alternate ending and continuation of the season three finale where Billy tries to get out of dodge, but finds a few too many strings tethering him in Hawkins. Now if only he can find some damn scissors....

Where the wolf bane blooms by Confettibites / @confettibites (2k, E, Werewolf!Billy)

Steve Harrington stays behind in the school gym and something very odd happens when Billy shows up.

[salutmonmec]

BOY, WHATCHA GONNA DO, WHATCHA GONNA DO WHEN I SMILE AT YOU

@choupichoups BITCH THIS IS FOR YOU GIRL 

This is a little short oneshot for the ridiculously amazing Percy Jackson AU choups and I have been giddily fleshing out over the last couple days, I apologize in advance guys LMAOO, I COULDN’T RESIST

Eliott feels a bead of sweat slide slowly down his neck, tickling on its way down to the collar of his orange camp t-shirt. He ripped off his white coat an hour ago, throwing it in the corner, unable to bear the extra heat that it insulated against his body. Who the hell needs it anyway. It’s not like he’s an actual trained medical professional. He’s just a boy with a God parent who happens to specialize in medicine, who knows every first aid basic without ever having opened a textbook. Totally normal.

It’s the middle of July, and it’s hot as all hell. So hot, in fact, that some kid of Hermes fried an egg on the basketball court. He came in for a stomach ache, and Eliott sent him off with a bottle of Pepto Bismol. Fucking idiot. It had been a busy morning, with some of the older counselors leading weapons training sessions. He could see the edge of the arena from the open med bay window, and every fifteen minutes some camper would limp or stumble their way out, holding a hand over a bloody cut. Forty-seven stitches this morning alone, and one dislocated shoulder. Just your typical Tuesday. 

He sits on the counter in the back room, eating a warm ham sandwich that tastes like absolute shit. He tries to choke it down, somewhat successfully. He peeks out the window, catching a glimpse of a familiar head of dark brown hair, but it’s gone in an instant. Maybe he’s imagining things. It’s too hot to think straight.

“Eliott!”

His assistant Celia pops her head around the doorframe, scaring the living shit out of him. His hand flings what’s left of his sandwich at the opposite wall, where it slides unceremoniously down, leaving a gross mustard streak. Celia laughs, clutching her stomach. “Gods, I’m sorry.”

Eliott turns to her, pouting. “What’s up?”

“We got another one.”

“Ah fuck me, I’ll grab the gauze.” 

He slumps against the medicine cupboard, lifting the front of his shirt to try and air himself out. It doesn’t work. He’s sure he looks like a melted popsicle. Gods, that sounds good right now. He hops off the counter, hoping it’s not another crier. He doesn’t know how much calming energy he can muster up at this point. He rounds the corner to see who it is, and he can’t help the giant grin that splits across his face. Of course.

Lucas is sitting with his back to him, legs swinging under the padded table, tapping his fingers against the blue vinyl. His camp t-shirt, two sizes too big for him, sticks slightly to his back, soaked with sweat around the collar. Lucas doesn’t just sweat though, he glistens. It just adds to his allure, a fact that Lucas himself would scoff at. He was gifted with his mother’s beauty, like all Aphrodite kids, which makes it slightly difficult to keep your eyes off him, even though Lucas would be more likely to punch you in the face than go on a date with you. He’s quiet, reserved, and grumpy with everyone. Everyone except Eliott, anyway. This doesn’t exactly help the fact that Eliott’s ridiculously in love with him. 

He leans against the back room doorframe, admiring for a tiny bit longer. “What are you in for, lover boy?”

Lucas startles slightly, turning to look at him over his shoulder, a tiny smirk on his face. Eliott’s breath catches in his throat at the sight. Lucas holds up his pointer finger, a tiny red line visible across the pad. He speaks, smooth and surprisingly deep, considering his angelic features and child-like blue eyes. “Fell into a sword. Didn’t want to catch an infection, ya know?”

Eliott raises an eyebrow at him, grinning despite himself. 

“Must have hurt like a bitch.”

“Oh, it did. Almost died, actually.”

“Wow.”

Eliott chuckles as he walks over to one of the cupboards, grabbing an antiseptic wipe and a bandaid. They always fall into an easy banter, like they’ve known each other forever. It makes him smile, the stress of the morning forgotten. It was only Lucas’ second summer at camp, and he stays with his Dad in NYC during the school year, still going to high school. Eliott was a year-rounder, his parents out of the picture for a long time, and at eighteen, he had already earned 6 years worth of camp beads. Lucas picked fights constantly during his first summer, and he ended up in the med bay at least twice a week. He didn’t really talk to Eliott at first, but after a while, he managed to crack through his hard exterior. He would even go as far as to say that they are pretty damn good friends. Lucas had been back at camp for 6 weeks now, and they fell right back into their rhythm.

He had become a much better fighter though over the past year, so he started just showing up at the med bay with random excuses, no matter how ridiculous. It always made Eliott’s day significantly less horrible. 

He rips open the wipe, taking Lucas’ outstretched hand and cleaning around the tip of his finger. Lucas looks down at their touching hands, a piece of his hair falling softly over his forehead. Eliott reaches out absentmindedly to push it back, and Lucas sighs, reaching out with his other hand to poke Eliott gently in the collarbone. 

His big eyes flicker across Eliott’s face, soft despite the slight grimace on his lips. “You look tired.”

Eliott lets out a breathy chuckle, holding the wipe to Luca’s finger with one hand as he reaches over to grab the bandaid off the counter.

“Fourteen bleeders in the morning will do that to you.” Eliott opens the bandaid with his teeth, glancing at Lucas, narrowing his eyes playfully. “I assume you and Yann had something to do with that.”

Lucas shrugs, a tiny smirk pulling up the corner of his lips. “You know how the Ares kids get.”

Eliott snorts, wrapping the band-aid around Lucas’ finger with a flourish. “Ta-da! You’re cured.”

“You’re the best, doc.”

He rolls his eyes as Lucas holds up his finger to examine the bandaid, a hideous yellow with neon pink hearts. He purses his lips, raising a single eyebrow at Eliott, whose leaning against the counter, grinning like a fool. “These new?”

“Let’s call it the ‘Lucas special’.” He holds up the bandaid box, the words “FOR LUCAS USE ONLY” scribbled across the front in sharpie. He wiggles his fingers around the box, like he’s showing off a game show prize. 

Lucas stares, bug-eyed, lips pressed together. Slowly, his whole face lights up with the most beautiful smile Eliott has ever seen in his entire life. It changes his whole face, and Eliott could swear that Lucas is actually glowing.

Before Eliott can return the grin, his vision suddenly goes fuzzy at the edges, the room spinning wildly, Lucas’ gorgeous face at the center, like the eye of a hurricane. What the fuck is happening. Lucas grin is gone as quickly as it came, expression morphing into wide-eyed horror. Eliott tries to grip onto the counter for support, but his palms are slick from the heat of the room. He falls gracelessly to the floor, head slamming into the lower cupboards on the way down. His ears ring, and through his darkening vision he can see Lucas bending down next to him, tugging rough hands through his own hair, making it stick up in tufts.

Eliott thinks he looks adorable.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!” 

Lucas flutters his hands over him, eventually placing one on his cheek, patting gently. Eliott’s eyes refuse to blink, and he screams internally at himself, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. He can’t speak yet, and his mind is replaying the last 30 seconds over and over again. He keeps seeing Lucas’ devastating grin, and Eliott realizes that he has never seen him smile with his teeth before. Lucas always keeps up a carefully placed indifferent expression, the only hint of amusement showing through tiny smirks and voice inflection. He tries to put two and two together, and he can almost grasp at it, but his neurons feel like they are firing through molasses.

“CELIA, GO GET CHIRON!”

Lucas frantically turns back to Eliott, blue eyes wild and slightly watery. “Shit Eliott I’m so sorry, you caught me off guard. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

Something in Eliott’s heart tugs, and he feels a slight tingle in his limbs, finally gaining some movement back. He slowly rolls his body so he’s completely on his back against the cool tile, reaching up to poke a finger into the dimple in Lucas’ cheek, prominent due to his worried frown. His lips feel numb, but they finally move, and all of a sudden he giggles like a 12-year-old girl. 

“Y-you’re so f-fucking cute.” 

Why did I just say that?

“CELIA, HURRYYY THE FUCK UP!!”

[hopehunted]

" 𝐈𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐈'𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐃, 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈'𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐓. " is that hailee steinfeld? oh no, that’s MALLORY MENDEL, born on the 27th of MARCH, 2020. i heard SHE (cis female) is an ARMORY ASSISTANT in JACKSON TOWN. apparently, they can be FOLKSY and SANGUINE but also known to be KLUTZY and SAUCY. spends most of their free time tinkering with old junk scraps, probably smells like SMOKE. is that a bite mark i see? no, must have been a trick of the light.

character inspirations: goose (untitled goose game), shane madej (buzzfeed unsolved), koda (brother bear), dustin henderson (stranger things), andy dwyer (parks and recreation), sokka (avatar: the last airbender), finn (adventure time), bloo (foster's home for imaginary friends), troy barnes (community), bobby hill (king of the hill).

you can find mallory’s stats right here, where i’ve also put all her links. there’s a good bit of info there, so i’ll just be fluffing her out a bit more here!

— 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐈 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍, 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐘, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄. CONTENT WARNING: the very first bullet point contains mentions of body horror / gore and death. i’ve marked that part with a ***.

mallory is a familiar face around jackson ; she's been there since the spring of 2030. so, a darn while — since she was nine. her parents are hunters that defected to jackson, because they didn't jive with the way their community was being run + feared for mallory’s safety when she grew older. her mom died en route, however, caught in the crossfire by the very group they were running from. *** it happened in the blink of an eye. one second she was showing mallory how to use a compass, and the next she’s being yanked away by her father, tripping over herself to catch up. her body was left to rot in no man’s land, probably picked over by vultures -- the infected and hunters alike. she arrives in jackson with bits of her mother’s brains still in her hair. 

despite everything, mallory stays strong. although it would have been nice to have a memento of her mother, mallory doesn’t need one. she honors her mother by emulating that which she loved most about her and taking care of those she loves. there’s a child-like quality about her that can’t be missed: she’s goofy, curious, and optimistic. in her eyes, there’s always a silver lining to be found if you just look hard enough. she can’t accept that the world is hardened all over; there has to be good places, too, and if there’s not then she’s going to make one herself. 

— 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐃. 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄.

she has adhd and dyslexia, which means she’ll never remember your birthday, but that doesn’t mean she loves you any less. no matter what, mallory will always find a way of getting out of reading anything aloud. she’s had a few too many teachers and well-meaning pals in the past assume that she was faking her learning disabilities / doing a bit, and as a result has a lot of pent-up frustration regarding her abilities in that sense. she’d rather not draw any attention to it.

while academics may not be her strong suit, mallory is really good with her hands. she’s got a knack for taking things apart and putting them back together again, learning mechanics through trial and error on her own. a hobby of hers is creating little sculptures / figurines out of metal scraps. her living quarters are littered in spare parts and pieces that she’s hoping to make something more out of. this skill also manifests more practically into weapons upgrading. she’s not a master marksman, but she sure knows her way around a gun and any other kind of weapon. eventually, she’d like to one day prove she’s not too generally messy to be an engineer. 

mallory will talk to anyone and everyone. she’s outgoing, brazen, maybe a bit too open. very much has a “fuck it - i’m inadequate. what can you do?” vibe. beneath it, there’s this itty-bit sense of juvenile-esque awkwardness that still lingers and rears its head sometimes. 

100% would’ve been a twitch streamer / video game youtuber, a la callmekevin & crankgameplays, in a non-zombie au. 

somehow always ends up hitting herself / running into things and it never gets any less embarrassing. usually has tiny little cuts on her hands and various random bumps and bruises from being an uncoordinated mess. 

the type to teach a kid a curse word just because it’s funny.

very physically affectionate and maybe a little annoying about it. she’s not shy to boop a nose, or pinch a cheek. 

loves, loves, loves gossip! doesn’t like to be included in the drama, but she does love knowing everything about it.

also the type to stay back and walk with you when you’re getting pushed off the sidewalk / out of the group.

gets tiny, little crushes on everyone that’s nice to her. You Are Not Immune To Being Crushed On!

gift giving is her love language.

mal can have some really sticky fingers. but she doesn’t think stealing is cool! so she won’t. but .. she can. 👀

tbh i picture her being like the guy in video games that you go to when you want to customize your shit / upgrade your weapons, so i mean... take advantage of it!

wanted connection ideas.

friends, friends, FRIENDS! especially best friends. 🥺  her heart is so big, there’s more than enough room for everyone.

frenemies, hateships, exes - i love me some bitterness, some melancholy, and some ire. mallory isn’t good at being mean, but she’s also not above disliking someone just because they dislike her, even if they otherwise don’t have a problem lol. this all could be over something petty or something actually serious.

exes.. but make it light! basically, maybe they dated, maybe they did the whole “will-they-won’t-they”, maybe they just awkwardly liked each other without acting on it until it blew over and they’re still friends / things are Normal between them. 

the first person mallory got to know when she and her dad arrived in jackson. she was just a kiddo then, so they’d have known each other for ages now.

someone that mentored her! maybe they showed her the ropes around here, taught her some much-needed skills, or whatever else we come up with. ( fair warning, though: it’s hard to shake her off once she’s decided she likes you. )

someone she knows/recognizes from when she was with the hunters.

i’m up for anything - always - even if it’s not explicitly mentioned here. these are just some off the cuff ideas! 

[langdvnshepherd]

Midnight City (Duncan Shepherd x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 1.7k

Anonymous asked: dad!duncan trying to put his newborn asleep but bub won’t stop crying no matter how hard their momma and dad try so duncan just puts baby and momma in the car and drives around the city for a bit until bub (and momma) falls asleep. baby stops crying and all you can hear is music playing softly, duncan looks at his wife and bub asleep and gets all mushy :))

A/N: I was just going to leave this under the ask, but I clearly got carried away. This made me so soft and if you couldn’t already tell I love dad!Duncan with my whole heart. Let me know what you think, and please send in more requests! I’m having so much fun working on them all.

Duncan didn’t want to. He really didn’t. He prided himself on being independent from her, especially after everything she’d put him through. However, right now, he was desperate. He’d do just about anything if it meant he could have just one moment of solitude in the prestigious, oversized, borderline mansion he had called home for the past few years. His fingers hovered over the ‘Send’ button on his cell phone, in denial at who he was about to call for advice, parenting advice at that.

“Hello? Hello? Mom?” Duncan yapped into the speaker, speaking a little louder than what Annette thought was necessary, but then again she hadn’t been exposed to the deafening, heartbreaking wails of her newborn granddaughter for two consecutive hours like you and Duncan had.

You laid in yours and Duncan’s bed, hopelessly rocking and swaying and patting your daughter’s fragile spine, but she wouldn’t let up. She’d been screaming like she was in pain for hours now, and both you and Duncan had tried everything in the book to soothe her, but her bawling persisted. You fought back frustrated tears of your own, feeling like shit over not being able to make your own daughter stop crying.

“Yea, we just changed her.”

“No, she doesn’t have a fever. We’ve been checking every twenty minutes”

“She ate right before she started crying. There’s no way she’s hungry.”

Duncan’s voice battled to be heard against your daughter’s as Annette ran him down her mental checklist of what could possibly be wrong with your sweet baby girl. He was pacing the room at the foot of the bed, anxiously running his fingers through the dirty blonde curls that currently laid flat against his head. He had been stressed out because of his workload plenty of times, but this was a new level of worry that consumed every nerve ending in his body. Not only was he beyond hysterical over the fact that he had yet to have one, solid second of silence, but each cry from his daughter that pierced through the walls of his bedroom was another stab wound to his gut. He was absolutely heartbroken that nothing he did could cease her sobbing. Although he knew he it was a bit dramatic to be jumping the gun like this, he felt like a failure of a father already.

“What? That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“It did?”

“Uh, okay. Guess it’s worth a shot.”

“I’ll let you know if it works.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

“Bye.”

Duncan turned to face you after he hung up with his mother.

“She said we should put her in the car. Drive her around a bit and see if she falls asleep,” he said while shrugging his shoulders and throwing his hands up in the air as if he already knew the idea was a bad one, but it was his last chance at getting any kind of sleep tonight.

“Why would that put her to sleep? you asked through a strained voice, rubbing your bloodshot eyes with your fingers, trying to stay sane.

“I have no idea. Annette said it worked with me when I was a baby, so...”

“Well, neither of us seem to have a better idea. Fuck it.”

You placed your howling daughter in the crib that rested beside your own, suddenly feeling like you were abandoning her and leaving her to wallow in her own despair even though you only sat her down so you could slide on your shoes and throw a sweatshirt on over the ratty t-shirt you hadn’t changed out of in two days.

Duncan raced downstairs to start the car, then raced back upstairs with the fancy, over-the-top baby carrier that you'd only used once before to take her home from the hospital. Whilst you were tying your hair up in the vanity mirror across from your bed, he picked her up from her crib and began bouncing her absentmindedly. He pressed tiny kisses to the side of her head in one final attempt to soothe her before he fastened her safely into the car seat that had to be adjusted in the hospital to accommodate her small size.

Her crying sounded even worse in the car. The confines of Duncan’s Audi, while sizeable compared to other vehicles, were much smaller than the four walls of your bedroom, meaning her shrills sounded three times as loud as it rattled through the leather interior, and through your last thread of sanity. Just before pulling out of your driveway, Duncan reached for your hand, his thumb automatically beginning to stroke yours the second they laced together. It was his silent way of reassuring both you and himself that everything was going to be okay. Even if that seemed like the furthest thing from the truth

“I hope to god this works,” he huffed before peeling out of the driveway and onto the busy streets of Washington DC.

And it did. Before you even left the gates of your private neighborhood, she had conked out. Her wails became simple cries, and her cries died down to blubbery whimpers. And then silence. The stream of tears that spilled for hours from her eyes that looked just like Duncan’s, but only one shade darker, had dried. Her tiny fists that had been tensed up from the continuous strain of discomfort had relaxed, they now rested folded up near her face, something you noticed she always did when she slept.

Duncan opted to keep driving. He’d barely been anywhere besides CVS at midnight since the baby was born, rushing out the door after you’d realized you were out of something for the baby or needed more coffee to keep you awake the next morning. And you’d been nowhere at all, too preoccupied with caring for your daughter to be granted the pleasure of seeing the city beyond the skyline that was visible from the balcony connected to your bedroom.

You navigated your way through the streets of downtown, watching the lights of each skyscraper whiz by as Duncan continued up the block. The two of you made small talk, referencing to the landmarks in the city that marked important milestones of your relationship with each other: the restaurant where you’d had your first date, the exact bench in the park where you’d meet for coffee on your lunch breaks at your old job, the street corner where you’d jumped out of Duncan’s car in a fit of rage, the start of the first but certainly not last rough patch in your relationship.

You even passed Duncan’s old apartment complex, where you’d argue was where your love blossomed. It was where you’d first kissed him, on the couch after too many glasses of wine. Where you’d first made love to each other, in the cool sheets of Duncan’s king-size bed that you swore to this day you’d never found anything as cozy. It was where you’d held Duncan for hours and hours when he called you over at 1am with the earth-shattering news that his mother wasn’t actually his mother. Where you’d first said “I love you” to each other after making up from a deafening argument you thought was the end.

The high-rise, steel building held a file folder full of memories of the two of you that was bursting at the seams, and a part of you often missed little things about it like the comfort of the leather sofa that you’d spent many nights cuddled into Duncan’s side on or crying into his shoulder or the small breakfast nook in his kitchen that overlooked the White House garden, but the house you moved into with Duncan after marrying him meant so much more. It was a symbol of all of the hard work that went into building up your relationship after years and years of testing its strength. It was where you’d grow old together. Where your daughter, and however many blue-eyed and curly-headed children you’d be blessed with in the future, would grow up. It was home.

You began to see why your daughter had dozed off so quickly. The consistent rattle of the car and the occasional sound of the city rocked you in a way, pulled you from consciousness and wrapped you lovingly in the arms of sleep. It had been weeks since you’d slept properly, but even with your head pressed against the uncomfortable car door that would definitely give you a crick in your neck, you’d never felt more at ease.

Duncan still held onto your hand as he drove, relishing the warmth that radiated from your palm and the burst of light that pierced through the windshield each time a street lamp cast its beams on the wedding band resting comfortably on your ring finger. He recalled the weeks it had taken him to pick it out. He swore to this day that the premature wrinkle he had on his forehead was caused by the very incident. Everything had to be perfect. The ring, the dinner, the dress, the monologue. And it was, despite knowing you’d be just as happy with him asking you over delivery pizza and a shitty horror movie. You deserved the best, because he was convinced no one in the world could or ever would love and take care of him the way you did.

As Duncan circled the roundabout that would lead you back to the house, he couldn’t help but feel another wave of relief. He’d been feeling them quite often in the past year. When you told him you were pregnant, when you’d fall asleep next to him with your soft, round belly pressing against his own, when he’d first held his daughter just seconds after you’d pushed her out, when he looked over your shoulder astonishingly as you breastfed for the first time.

It was all coming together now, despite spending his early twenties convinced he’d be a permanent bachelor, banished from having longterm, meaningful relationships and left to use one night stands and whiskey as a replacement. He had a successful business, his own house, a wife whom he loved with every fiber of his being, and now daughter that made his heart soar in places he never thought possible. Even when she screamed ceaselessly into the early hours of the morning.

This was his life now, and he couldn’t have asked for anything better.

//

Only taggin a few since this isn’t a /real/ one:

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme @wroteclassicaly @sojournmichael @venusxxlangdon @langdonshell @1-800-bitchcraft @hecohansen31 @readsalot73 @gold-dragon-slayer 

[patronusofthepugs]

Dark Prophecy Boys

Alright another crossover pair that literally no asked for except me but just imagine how well Sal Fisher from Sally Face and Kenny from SP would get along. 

  Kenny moves to Nockfell when he is fourteen and at first he’s pissed as hell. His older brother got sick of their parent’s shit and took off in his beater car with Kenny and Karen. It not that Kenny just wants to stay with his friends but he is genuinely terrified of how his curse would be affected if he doesn’t live in South Park. Perhaps the next time he dies, it’ll be for good. But when he looks down at Karen’s hopeful eyes, he sighs and swallows the fear. After all they are moving into a place called Addison Apartments, it’s such a bland name for what Kenny is sure to be a bland place filled with knitting old ladies and crotchety old men. What’s the worst that can happen? 

On their first day of moving into 404, somebody gets murdered down the hall and Kenny hears a knock at their door. 

Him and Sal become instant friends, it hard not to like the little blue dude. He’s genuinely nice and says the funniest shit with the straightest face. It becomes a game between them on who can say the most outrageous stuff without smiling or laughing. Sal has his prosthetic face which gives him an advantage but Kenny has years of practice of saying stupid shit on a daily basis so he would say that they are evenly matched. Once Kenny meets Larry, the three boys are solidified into the ultimate trio with artsy, metal head Larry, tiny, polite, blue gremlin Sal, and lanky, sardonic Kenny. 

Kenny was usually more of a pop music type of guy but overtime he grows to love metal and can be found head banging with the best of them. He spends most of his time in the basement with Larry and Sal either playing video games or rocking out on the drums for their totally sick rock band, The Face Eaters.  Kenny and Larry like to gang up on Sal with the cheesiest puns that they can think of. Their jokes and pranks usually involve lots of props and one liners so corny, Sal will literally hurl his fake eye at Larry and Kenny’s dumb laughing faces as punishment for their terrible dad humor.  

Kenny meets Todd and Ash, while he likes them well enough for Todd reminds him a bit like Kyle and Ash is pretty cool, Larry and Sal are still his main dudes. Kenny has always felt detached from the other kids in South Park, his many deaths always playing in his mind on a constant loop. it hurt too much to let his guard down especially when he knew that at the end of the day, he was going to end up dead. But living in Nockfell, it was like time has moved forward again and Kenny is able to go to bed alive every day. It’s exhilarating and terrifying for once he’s a normal kid with normal friends. He feels a strong connection to Sal, there’s some strange electricity buzzing in his bones that urges him to get closer to the porcelain masked boy. Sal would often radio Kenny every time he has a nightmare and the two boys would either go hang with Larry or sneak onto the fire escape to talk and look at the stars. 

Sal is a beautiful, sad mystery to Kenny. One minute, he’s laughing and teasing Larry and then the next, his eyes would go so dark and sad, and Kenny feels as if he’s staring into the eyes of an ancient grief that’s barely holding on. It’s a feeling that he knows all too well and it makes him to want to get even closer to him because he can’t stand seeing that expression on anyone’s face, especially Sal’s. 

Once the boys start the ghost hunting business, Kenny feels the slight premonition of the darkness that haunts the building. While Kenny’s dying days seem to be over, he’s forever connected to the other side. He can see hazy outlines of the ghosts trapped in the building. Whenever he walks over a certain spot, his mouth is flooded with the coppery taste of blood and his body aches as if he’s been stabbed. Miss Rosenberg’s flat eyes gazes at him as if he’s simply a ghost himself, and while she mutters cryptic stuff about the ancient ones under her breath, Kenny is too scared to go near her for very long. She may have answers to his questions but he isn’t sure if he’s ready to hear the exact truth. 

After the Bologna incident, things change within the group. There’s an overwhelming dread and purpose to shoulder the burden of stopping the terrible evil that sleeps under their feet. Kenny grows closer to Sal as the two boys struggle with their roles of being puppets for the eldritch horrors that are guiding them to their dark destinies. 

Kenny saves up to move Karen out of the cursed apartment building. The kids grow older and at Henry and Lisa’s wedding, Kenny is so happy and tipsy that he spontaneously kisses Sal during their first slow dance. Panic washes away the happiness but as Kenny sputters out apologies, Sal only laughs and lifts up his mask briefly to kiss Kenny back. And that’s it, Kenny’s a goner for this blue boy who can make him laugh so hard that it hurts to breath, for the one who hushes Kenny’s fears of being forgotten and the one who is so kind and good and so god damn beautiful that Kenny feels like crying and laughing at the same time. Not much changes in their relationship besides more hand holding, sly grins and cutesy nick names, and double dates with Todd and Neil. 

Kenny is so happy he feels as if he could float to the moon. They are freshly graduated and he is moving in with Sal. Karen and Kevin are set up in another part of town, away from the Addison Apartments. Larry is moving in with them as well and Ash is coming back to town. Kenny is sure that this is how his life will be from now on, filled with friends, family, metal music and the love of his life. 

But he has forgotten what the embrace of Death has felt like and Death is a possessive, jealous being. Kenny has forgotten that he doesn’t get a happy ending, none of them do. Kenny’s life is shattered with one phone call from Sal and as he races to the apartments, he can feel Death nipping at his heels. He knows that he will die tonight. For the first time in many years, Kenny McCormick will die but the question remains. Will he stay dead? 

Older Kenny Fan Art Credit to: https://www.deviantart.com/tamaytka/art/Oh-my-god-they-killed-kenny-689294649

Young Kenny Fan Art Credit to: http://ayachiichan.tumblr.com/post/157111681063/pen-pressure-sucks-but-i-still-tried-to-doodle

Young Sal- I can’t find the original artist for this. If someone has any idea please let me know so I can credit them please

Older Sal Art Credit to: https://aminoapps.com/c/sface/page/item/sal-fisher/qkex_N5Bs3IB3bXx51Zrp6xB8jQlNG2weqm

[ambroseblack]

In continuation of my improvised story/ first attempt at something horror-paranormally, here is chapter 2 to whisper. If you haven't read the first chapter, you can read it here now!

Stay spooky beloved friends!

Love and Peace,

Ambrose

Chapter 2: Daylight

I woke up with my face nearly glued to the wooden table in the dining room. I apparently had a fair amount of liquid in my body at one time, being that my face was surrounded by a pool of drool and sweat. My mouth was terribly dry, making my tongue feel like a cat's, as I licked my lips with no apparent gratification.

The soft gray light of a rainy fall morning drifted through the half-open burgundy curtains that the previous owner had left on the main floor. They were much nicer than anything I would have bought. I would have been happy with some sheets to be honest. But they did give the large house a touch of grandeur. It was fitting, being that the house was so old and well maintained. A museum of sorts. Walking through the front door was like walking into a different time.

The soft tapping of pouring rain echoed throughout the house. I always found the sound to be soothing. It was a sound I had missed in my apartment in the city. It reminded me of rainy days when I was a kid. The kind of days where one is at peace just laying in bed thinking, as the cool water pours down around the world outside.

I looked at the laptop that was resting untouched in front of me. The screen was still up at attention, but black from not being used.

I must have dreamed everything. The shadow. The whisper.

I chuckled to myself as I stood up from my seat to go make coffee in the kitchen. My knees ached quietly. They probably just hurt from being bent all night long. At least, that is what I told myself. It's always far easier to write off the truly unexplained. We are always happy remaining ignorant.

I slowly trudged into the kitchen. My crocs quietly squeaked on the tile floors. They were horribly ugly things to have on your feet, but goddam...they were comfortable. Besides, I was a writer. I had nobody to impress.

I grabbed the tarnished silver teapot that sat on the stove and filled it with cold water from the tap. The teapot, just like the drapery in the house, had been left by the previous owner. In fact, there were a lot of remnants left behind. A large grandfather clock that rang out in the most frightening of ways. An old, apparently never touched couch in the front room. A baby grand piano in the foyer with worn keys. I felt like I was living in someone else's house, being that I had barely unpacked any of my own belongings. I kind of liked it, to be honest. It was like I had stepped into the story where another left off. Or died off...I had no idea. Who really cares?

I placed the teapot on the stove and lit the burner. Bright blue flames licked the bottom of the silver, slowly tickling the water held within. I fumbled through the cabinets looking for the coffee and french press. I had still not really organized the cabinets, so I would always find things in different places each day. At last I found my treasures next to a half-eaten box of frosted flakes. The box itself wasn't eaten, however the cereal inside was. Next to the box was a gallon of milk that I must have put in there by mistake. What can I say...I enjoy frosted flakes after indulging in some fabulous things. The kind of things that open your mind up to be able to do things like write. For all you know, I'm eating frosted flakes right now as I type these words. You don't fucking know. I mean, I'm not. But I could be.

I unscrewed the cap to the milk and took a faint whiff to see if it had gone sour. It was fairly decent. Could have been worst. I took a nearly-clean bowl out of the sink, poured some of the thickening milk into into it, and sprinkled some of the flaked cereal into it. I thought about finding a spoon, but who needs a spoon when you really don't give a shit. I would slurp it like the animal I was.

The teapot began to whistle its horrible song as steam spewed out of the spout like a stoner exhaling at a Phish concert. I scooped some coffee grounds out of the bag with my hand and poured their fragrant particles into the french press. I used to use a coffee pot like a normal person, but once I found the french press I never looked back. Very honestly, it's a completely different coffee experience. Like the difference between having sex when you are a teenager versus sex when you have an understanding of what the clitoris is. Or prostate. Whatever tickles your fancy, really. Like mind-blowingly different. I'm not sure "blowingly" is an actual word, but I guess it is now. Never mind...it is...I just googled it. Feel free to use it.

The smell of coffee began to fill the kitchen immediately after I poured the steaming water into the glass beaker. The smell brightened the gloom of the gray filtering in through the windows from the outside. I was beginning to feel better. The nightmare was slowly slipping away from my thoughts.

<<<:>>>

I half-hazardly carried the bowl of soggy cereal and the mug of piping hot black coffee into the dining room. Splashes of both semi-cold milk and scalding liquid both found their way onto the flesh of my hands. On one hand, it hurt. On the other, it didn't. Pain and indifference, really. The joys of life.

I sat down at the table and coaxed my laptop to wake up with a gentle touch to its mouse pad. I nearly spit out the mouthful of cereal I had just poured into my mouth from the bowl when I read what was typed in bold capitals on the shit story I was working on. There, in the middle of the screen of the electronic page were two words.

KEEP WRITING

"Fuck man..." I quietly said out loud to myself. Even though I convinced myself I must have just written that as a message to myself in my sleepy/high state the night prior, it still gave me chills. I thought back to the dream. The sharp whisper I had heard. There it was again; that unsettled feeling in the bottom of my stomach. But that too could be explained away by the half-spoiled milk I was consuming.

I had to get out of that house for a little while. I felt like I had given myself cabin fever.

<<<:>>>

I found my old black boots by the front door and rummaged through a box to find my long black rain coat that was still packed away. I opened the large oak door that squealed when moved and was smacked in the face with a brisk wind. Deciding that I needed to re-think my outfit (which included dirty sweatpants, a faded Tenacious D t-shirt, the boots, and the coat), I made my way up the wooden staircase to find an outfit better suited for the elements. I had also worn the same sweats and t-shirt for over a week... if not, longer. Thinking about it, I had not really left the house for probably two weeks. That is just sort of my brand of a writing lifestyle I guess. Disgusting? Absolutely. But it bought the house and the things I needed just the same.

I pulled a tattered black sweater over my head and over the Tenacious D t-shirt. The fabric of the sweater was stretched in odd places, but it was comfortable and warm. I pulled off the stinking black sweat pants as well as the crispy boxers. I thought for a moment about showering and then decided against it. What good was deodorant if it couldn't cover up the smell of filth? Besides, the cigarette I planned to smoke when I got out on the porch would provide a strong enough fragrant blanket to cover up the sweaty ass smell. And if it didn't...so be it.

After completing my outfit with a fresh pair of boxers, stained jeans, thick wool socks, long striped gray scarf, and an olive-green knit hat, I was ready to be off on my way to do whatever I was going to do. I didn't really have a plan. Maybe a walk to the tiny downtown. Anything that would get me out of the house. I couldn't bring myself to really care.

As I turned to leave the enormous bedroom my eyesight caught something on the wall just above the headboard. There, on the white wall it looked like a symbol was leaking through the paint. You know how when your paint a lighter color over a darker color and sometimes it kind of comes through? It's always faint, yet always noticeable.

It was hard to see, but it definitely wasn't my imagination. A red symbol shaped like an eye was coming out of the white. Just enough to be seen by me at that moment despite the depressing light filtering in through the wall of windows.

I felt myself want to approach the wall to examine the symbol more, but found myself caught by a momentary feeling of fear and hesitation again. I couldn't stand there any longer and ponder its meaning. I had to fucking get out that house just for a little bit of time. It wouldn't take long for me to recharge.

Get out of the house.

I nearly tripped down the staircase as I feverishly fumbled to slip on my coat to get out of that prison-like space. I yanked open the heavy oak door with haste and nearly let out a scream as I found myself face to face with a tiny old woman. She let out startled gasp at my rapid presence. She was standing on my porch nearly lost within a bundle of winter coat and scarf. She had a plastic bag over her hair which I found both funny and alarming. I assumed it was to keep her hair dry. Or, at least I hoped.

"I am so sorry for startling you honey," the woman said with a sweetly calm voice.

"Uh...yeah...likewise..." I said in an almost whisper. I was internally trying to convince my heart to stop beating itself to death.

"My name is Emma," the woman said with a smile, "I live just across the street." She pointed to the historic home directly across from my house. It was in pristine condition. The beam across the woman's face as well as the intricately manicured landscape across the front of her yard revealed that she was proud of her dwelling. "I've lived there over 50 years. My husband and I..."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Ambrose," I said, cutting her off. I said it in a pleasant tone, but I secretly wished she wasn't there. I needed to get the hell away from that space. For the love of God, I silently thought, shut the fuck up...

"Oh Ambrose, what a pretty name..." Emma said with a smile.

"I thought so too when I picked it out..." I said. Annoyance peeked through the pleasantry of my tone. I needed to work on conversation and people skills. My response obviously confused the woman. She didn't know Ambrose wasn't my real name. How would she? And I wasn't about to explain how I was a writer who came up with some bullshit of a name to write under. It was far more humorous to watch her try to work it out in her head how I had named myself when I was a baby.

"I hate to rush you," I said while coaxing myself out of the door and onto the large porch, "but I'm running a bit late for an...an appointment. Big client. You know...things to do and places to be."

The woman's smile faltered for a second and then found itself back; stretched across her face as if hiding a grimace.

"Oh, I'm sorry honey. I won't be keeping you," she said while patting my hand with her pink gloved hand. " I just wanted to pop on over and introduce myself real quick. I figured you have been here long enough to settle in. I didn't want to come over prematurely...didn't want you to think you were being watched or anything...."

The way she said "watched" was horrifying, because what she really was saying was that she had been watching me. Lonely old hag just watching the new guy. Trying to spy and see what he was up to. Nosy bitch.

I faked a smile.

"Well, it was great to meet you Emma. Thank you for stopping by. Maybe one day soon we can sit down for some coffee or something. It would be great to chat with you...I'm sure you have a lot of stories of this town that I would absolutely love to hear!" I lied.

"Oh of course, of course sweetie!" She said with that same forced smile and overly sweet tone. "I brought you a little house warming gift...nothing big...just something I think everyone needs..." Emma reached inside her cartoonishly large flower-print purse and pulled out a neatly wrapped gift. It was complete with a large pink bow on top. Fucking gag.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that," I said, faking surprise and gratitude. I know she was being nice and all, but something just felt off. Like when a dog growls at one person but not the next.

"Oh, it's nothing my dear. I just hope you get some use out of it," the old woman said, handing the wrapped gift over to me. Immediately when my hands held the package I could tell it was a book. A fairly large one. My curiosity was momentarily tickled as I pondered what book it could be.

And with that, the woman was off. Not in a speedy way. She was old as shit. But at least she was making her way off my porch to leave me in peace. Wrapped book still in hand, I pulled a cigarette out of the pack that was nestled in an interior breast pocket of my rain coat that I had found earlier. I lit it with the tiny green bic that I kept in the mailbox attached to the brick by the front door. I breathed in that familiar smoke. The smoke that reminded me I was alive, even if I sometimes wished I wasn't.

I looked at the gift Emma had given me in my hand. The paper wrapped around was perfectly pressed and folded. It was a print of lavender bunches, all repeated over and over. The bow wrapped around it had been painstakingly tied. Almost too perfect. Like something a robot would do.

I exhaled a puff of smoke through my nose as I fumbled to untie the artwork. I couldn't see her, but I imagined the old woman was watching me through one of the windows of her house. I imagined her beady little eyes watching my every move. Just the thought made me shudder a little, despite the warmth of my attire.

And then there it was.

"Jesus fucking Christ..." I said out loud to the rainy world around me as I realized what the gift was. "A fucking bible?"

Yep. A bible. And not like the little orange ones the weirdos try to force in your hands at festivals. No, it was a big-ass one bound in soft brown leather. It seemed to be fairly new; the pages still stiff. I opened the front cover and found a note perfectly written in black ink on the first blank page. The letters were scripted in cursive; beautiful calligraphy etched on the paper.

The Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one.

2 Thessalonians 3:3

My heart skipped a beat when I read "evil one". Those two words were written thicker than all of the other words, making them bounce off the page and into my face.

"What....the actual FUCK!?" I whispered in horror out loud to myself.

The rain continued to pour as I stood on my porch with the half-smoked cigarette hanging out my mouth and leather-bound bible in my hand.

Maybe moving there wasn't the right decision after all.

[chocosvt]

||↠11 questions tag 🖋

tagged by: @mansaeboysbe and @sunnysidewrites! thnk u my lovs.

tagging: @whatsoodo , @bfwooz , @jishua , @teeyongs + anyone else who wants to answer the questions. ill leave my own 11 for u to answer at the bottom of the post.

it’s been awhile since ive last done a tag game. i know tht im still behind on quite a few erfhnerf but ill try my best to take more initiative w/ these things. also disclaimer; sorry if my answers are kilometers long, it should be fairly obvious at this point i never shut the fuck up.

anyways, here are the q’s im answering in case u wanna see a specific answer :^)

01: weirdest present you have recieved? 02: coloured pencils, markers, or crayons? 03: what colour would you dye your hair? 04: which concept would you pick for which group? 05: sweet or sour candy? 06: favourite quirk on an idol? 07: would you rename a fandom? 08: something you want to tell your bias? 09: kpop MV you would want and not want to get stuck in? 10: an AU you’ve always wanted to write? 11: use memes to describe 2017 and how you want 2018 to go.

[01]. weirdest present you’ve ever received?

my pals and i always exchange weird presents for one another’s birthdays! it’s pretty much a tradition at this point, tho im not sure when or how it began? im pretty sure my last birthday card had caillou on it or something lol, and at one point we got our pal a can of peaches, a container of straws, tissue packages n a remote control, all with lil puns on them.

but the weirdest gift ive ever recieved? uhh, it was probably this miniature cotton candy machine tht my friends spent way too much on, primarily bc we only used it the day i opened it. u took hard candies and put them in the machine and eventually they would be spun into the actual floss tht makes cotton candy. it was cool but my mom threw it out eventually lol.

[02]. coloured pencils, markers, or crayons?

definitely coloured pencils. markers and crayons don’t rly have an exact tip. well, unless ure using a fine-tip marker. and there’s something rly satiating abt having sharp, clean writing or outlining. i was the kid who outlined all my fucking drawings and shaded them in with coloured pencils. miss me w/ tht crayon, marker shit. also, the sound wood makes when its being sharpened? tht was my favourite part.

[03]. if you could dye your hair any colour, what would it be?

honestly ive never thought of dying my hair. i like the colour how it is, which is sort of a darker blonde/slightly goldish shade. im not sure what would fit my face? i can only see myself going beach blonde. i feel like any other colour would be a disaster on my hair and i already damage it enough bc i straighten it every few days.

[04]. which concept would you pick for which group?

i know clc just did a badass concept with their “crystyle” album (which is one of the best albums of 2017 so jot tht the fuck down) and i absolutely adore their cute concepts as well bc we got bops like “pepe” n “high heels” BUT GOD I WANT THEM TO DO ANOTHER BADASS CONCEPT I BECAME ADDICTED TO IT. IT K*LLED ME TO SEE SEUNGHEE IN ALL BLACK WEARING THOSE THIGH-HIGH BOOTS I DI*ED THEN RESURRECTED IN THE SAME BREATH. i find them to be super versatile, they can go either way and ill support them no matter the concept. their quality of music never decreases. but yep, id pick another badass concept for the ladies.

[05]. sweet or sour candy?

sweet sweet sweet!! to be fair i luv pretty much all candies, minus jolly ranchers bc ive consumed so many of them tht if i see another fucking jolly rancher i will strap myself to a rocket. ANYWAYS, definitely sweet. my favourite candies (not keeping chocolate in mind bc chocolate overrules everything) would be swedish berries and werther’s caramel. for sour candies i would choose sour patch kids and sour keys!! obviously i would d*e for candy so let’s just get tht out of the mf’ way.

[06]. favourite quirk of an idol?

oh gosh. imma have 2 think for this one. the image tht comes to me exactly is junhui’s tendency to curl into whoever is next to him! most likely when he does something embarrassing, he retreats into a tiny mass of stuffy giggling and sis, it’s the best thing on the face of this planet. he’s rly such a shy flower. also, joshua’s habit of covering his mouth when he laughs is v v endearing to me. i believe it goes to show his politeness, though it can also be a characteristic of someone who’s timid, to which i think both reasons apply here. i wish i could think of more bc im certain there are a ton belonging 2 my favourite idols, but im highkey drawing a blank.

[07]. would you rename a fandom? what would the name be?

hmm. im not someone who pays close attention to fandom names. hoshi could have very well kept us as mounteens and i wouldnt give a single cherry n a half, though at this point carats is a lot more fitting and we’ve all grown attached to it. honestly, im not tht keen on red velvet and fx’s fandom names? i know tht in red velvet’s case the option “cupcakes” was up for grabs so when in comparison to reveluv’s i’m pretty thankful the latter was chosen. im not entirely sure what i would name the fandom, so respect to whoever is in charge of the titling. as for fx, they deserved to get their fanclub name much sooner. again im not someone who cares a whole lot abt fandom names, but it would have been cool if the fandom was some mathematical formula lol.

[08]. something you want to tell your bias?

BITCH. THE PRESSURE. if i were 2 meet junhui in person i would be such a nervous wreck i wouldnt even trust myself to speak. boi, if i even spotted him on the street i’d beeline in opposite direction so fast i would just be a fucking blur of light and potential tears. there would be many things i’d want to relay to him, honestly if we were just to hang out at a café or some location like tht with the time to talk and understand one another, i’d be like “hold tht thought, gerald” n drop a whole fucking novel on the table with reasons i appreciate him. i guess i’d want junhui to know how his efforts have certainly been acknowledged and that each quirk in his personality brings a lot of comfort/inner happiness to those who are still unsure abt themselves.

i’d also like for him to know tht whilst his visual is amazing, tht is not the only remarkable thing tht makes junhui, junhui. it’s his kindness, gentle heart, and optimism. essentially i’d want him to know tht his hard work is being noticed, how much delight he brings by being himself, and tht he has many qualities he should be confident in.

[09]. which kpop M/V would you want, and not want, to get stuck in?

i’ve already answered the first half 2 this question in a previous ask, but red velvet’s ice cream cake! it has to be one of my all-time favourite music videos solely bc i luv the usage of soft colours. not to mention they’re having hella fun with their fuzzy glow-coats and dancing around a parlour eating cake? like what the fuck, i don’t know what kind of cult this is but i want in! also tht means i would get to be joy’s lesbian luver and nothing else brings me greater elation.

a kpop music video i would not want to get stuck in is exo - wolf. there doesnt need to be an explanation. we already know the answer.

[10]. which AU have you always wanted to write but haven’t?

okay, first of all, bitch. there are abt one million au’s i wanna explore so inexplicably bad but i just havent gotten the time or the energy to compile the research/plan the plot. for starters, since opening this blog over two years ago, ive always wanted to write something with a serial killer. which sounds a bit scary and fucked but i absolutely lov thriller/horror movies. ive watched pretty much all of them. i find the suspension and how the scenes manipulate your body to be something unique in tht moment and to build the talent to be able to write such an AU would be my mf’ goal. it would most likely be very long and graphic, but my descriptive brain would chew tht up.

more au’s bordering along the dark line would be ghosts, vampires and demons. those are most fascinating to me. if a softer light, i’d like to write a surfer!au (specifically for joshua) and an android!au.

[11]. use a meme to describe how your 2017 went and how you want your 2018 to go.

my 2017 was somethin like this:

and i’d like my 2018 to be a lil like this:

[MY QUESTIONS]

01: would you rather explore outer space or the ocean? 02: do you wear any makeup? 03: two idol groups you’d like to collab? 04: if you could only listen to three svt songs, what would they be? 05: dusk or dawn? 06: show a picture of your handwriting? 07: what is your favourite word that’s in another language? 08: the countryside or the city? 09: what’s better in a muse, humour or kindness? 10: choose three idols. one to be your best friend, bro/sis, and spouse. 11: something you didnt do in 2017 that you want to do in 2018?

don’t feel tht this tag is mandatory! i hope everyone has been staying healthy n well n i wish for u all 2 experience good things in the new year! <3

[thelostandforgottenangel]

Sick

Feeling under the weather and it produced this bit of smut

  Raven was grudgingly going up the stairs for the tenth time in the last hour to wake up Raphael, they were all going up into the mountains with April and Casey for a ‘Training’ session and would be gone for about two weeks depending on how much they got done each day although they knew it would turn into a snow day since it was snowing up top since last night probably leaving several feet of untouched white blankets of fresh powder for them to play in; but they were still waiting on Raph to drag out of bed since he had been out all night with Casey

“Raph come on! Dad said if you don’t get out of bed he’s sending Mikey up…”

There was no response to her words as she knocked on his door, when she didn’t hear any movement Raven pushed the door open seeing he was laying on his shell, not the most comfortable position for any of the guys but Mikey was able to sleep like that no problem, she knew he hated sleeping on his shell so something was already off about him

“Raph”

Raven stepped closer to the bed seeing he was breathing quick shallow huffs and sweat was pouring off him like he had just finished working out but he wasn’t wearing any of his gear so chances were he hadn’t been up yet.

She reached forward placing one of her tiny hands over his arm feeling the hot skin under her grasp shaking him lightly but he still didn’t budge “Leo…? Donnie something’s wrong with Raphie”

She heard footsteps coming up the stairs seconds later before her brothers were in the doorway looking at them “I think he’s sick guys” Donnie started checking for a pulse placing a hand to his bigger brothers forehead before jumping back

“He’s burning up. Leo I think he really is sick”

Their older brother came around the bed standing next to his little sister pressing his hand over Raphael’s head gaging the fever “Shit she’s right, I’ll go tell sensei we can’t go, somebody needs to keep an eye on him until that breaks”

Raven turned running out the door coming back moments later with a wet rag in hand sitting down next to her hotheaded sibling slowly blotting the sweat from his hard face as he graoned, noting he looked like he was in pain.

Mikey groaned that he was looking forward to going up the mountain for training which was unusual for him to admit but he probably wanted to play in the snow too. “Wait what if I stay home and take care of him and you guys go. Let’s face it I can’t keep up with ya’ll here no matter how hard I try you really think my butt will do any better in a setting where I won’t even be able to stand - or focus without hitting somebody with a snowball. You guys will have enough trouble just with Mikey there-”

They all looked at Raven as she moved closer blotting the sweat that dripped down his face with her sleeve thinking about it hard

“Plus if this is a bug you guys can get I’m pretty sure I’m the best one to take care of him. I’ll just work twice as hard when ya’ll get back”

She had them there; Leonardo nodded before grabbing Raph’s shell turning him over so he was laying on his side mumbling that if he was too weak to flip himself over into a comfortable position then maybe he wouldn’t cause her to many problems.

Raven wasn’t sure what he had meant since Raphael was almost never sick and in the ten years the teenager had lived there with the turtles Raphael had never been sick enough to not get up and move around.

Michelangelo, Donatello, and Leonardo had all been really sick before so she was prepared for that and it was always easy to tell when they weren’t feeling well.

Mikey would act like he was completely helpless and whoever was taking care of him would practically have to do everything for him. Donatello was usually always sick since it seemed like his immune system was slightly weaker than the others, so he would lock his self in the lab going over everything he could find on the internet thinking he had something that was worse than just a cold. Leonardo would basically sleep for hours; becoming unresponsive to the world easily knocked out from the smallest illness

How hard could it really be to take care of Raphael?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He was seeing red.  And this time it wasn’t one of his brothers who was in his sights-

He had come home from hanging out in the tunnels while he cooled off to see his six year old little sister Raven in his and Mikey’s shared room messing with his stuff, what’s worse was she was holding one of his new action figures trying to fix it

“What the hell didja do?”

Her eyes met his but when she saw him and the anger that was clearly plastered all over his face directed at her she froze holding tight to the figurine in her tiny hands

“Raphie… It wasn’t me-”

Her words were lost as he let out a growl “Don’t  give me that shit brat. Why the hell are ya holding it?” she stumbled back dropping it on the floor and two of the pieces she had been holding steady came off since the glue wasn’t dry.

 “I-I’m fixing her for you Raphie… I just wanted to fix her”

“Shut up!”

He had started towards the small child when she couldn’t form the sentence she had been trying to get out fully prepared to beat the hell out of her; she knew she was in trouble as she looked around for a way past him.

He couldn’t control his movements as he reached for her before she slipped past him spinning around his legs quickly running from his room to the stairs jumping down them “BIG BROTHER, HELP ME… MIKEY – DONNIE! DADDY!” he turned chasing after her on a rampage unable to think straight.

The next thing he knew he had her around the throat slamming her into the wall hearing a strangled yelp that broke her throat “What ‘ave I told ya about playin’ in m’ fuckin’ room ya little shit?”

“Raphie - I can’t-” her small voice sounded so weak, his grip on her throat tightened and she was gasping for air struggling to break his grasp on her neck mouthing something as tears dripped down her cheeks “I-I can’t breathe Raphie”

Those once sparkling green orbs were now filled with panic, fear, and tears. Her frail neck in his strong grasp as she tried to beg him to stop the words unable to get out of his grasp turning red as he continued to choke her

“L-LEO!!!”

He didn’t hear the scared voice that erupted from her in a frantic shriek before there was a loud CRUNCH that vibrated up his arm snapping him out of the angry state seeing her face was now blank watching the little girl’s body spasm before going limp in his grasp and the dazed over look in her eyes

“I didn’t - want you to be mad with Mikey... I - I’m so-”

“What - kid?”

Her voice died off suddenly and he was just looking at her like she was a stranger, her green eyes that were usually so full of life and happiness were wide with terror just moments before suddenly rolled back in her head showing nothing but white and she was no longer moving to push him away, her hands that had been clinging to his wrist suddenly dropped to her side as her head slumped forward.

He reached out wrapping his arm around her waist pulling her up seeing she was still limp in his arms as soon as he let go of her neck, he shook her lightly trying to wake her up dropping to the floor when she didn’t move “N-NO kid… c’mon stop playing – K-Kid… Rave - Please Raven wake up” his huge fingers ghosting over her neck looking in horror when he saw it was broken.

In a fit of anger he had crushed her neck.

 “Raven were home-”

His eyes shot up hearing Leonardo’s voice but he didn’t see him. Where the hell were they? Why weren’t they here with her? Where was Master Splinter? Why was she alone…?

“I’m sorry kid-”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He sat up quickly breathing fast looking around before someone was pushing him back down covering him back up with a thick blanket, he caught the scent of strawberries before whoever was over his was pressing a cool rag to his forehead “Take it easy there Raphie. You’re okay”

His eyes shot up at the sweet voice seeing the face that had just been in his hands, no she looked older now, when the hell had she grown up. Her neck wasn’t snapped and she was smiling; she was alive and right next to him “S-Sis” her face softened before she was leaning over him wiping his face gently again shushing him softly brushing a gentle hand over his cheek

“Been a while since you called me that, How you feeling big guy? Are you uncomfortable?”

“What happened? Ya were - I killed-” her hand was on his cheek again and he leaned into the cool grasp clinging to the gentle touch as she kissed his forehead

“It’s okay it was just a nightmare. All of it was just a bad dream; you’ve been having them for the last couple of days while you had a high fever but I think it finally broke”

He took a deep breath before looking up at her again, cupping her face in his hands taking in every small feature as her hand came over his nuzzling her cheeks into his palm, her sparkling emerald green eyes, that soft porcelain skin, her black curly hair that was carelessly thrown into a messy bun and how a few strands had escaped the loose hair tie to frame her tired face.

He knew it hadn’t been a dream; not all of it at least. He had really attacked her years ago when they were still kids.

She had tried to fix his special edition Harley Quinn action figure he had just got while the others had gone out to see if they could find him a new one to replace the one his youngest brother had broken.

Raven had just been trying to help and if he hadn’t come home early, if he hadn’t walked through the door right then she probably would have gotten it fixed in time and he never would have known it was ever damaged.

She had been so scared she couldn’t get out the words to tell the thirteen year old him what had happened, she had ran when he had went after her, how her frantic screams for his older brother had echoed through the lair.

Then the moment he had her pinned against the wall by her tiny throat choking the life out of her fragile body… his baby brother screaming for him to stop

Leo had come in fast hearing her cries for help and had pulled his bigger brother off their little sister just as his hand was getting ready to tighten up on her fragile neck.

He remembered Mikey and Donnie holding her small body up trying to check her over while she choked and gasp for air; he had lost control of his temper and she had almost paid the ultimate price. From across the room he could see her neck was already bruising. He had collapsed on the ground unable to comprehend what he had almost done in a moment of rage.

He had tried to kill her-

He had started to get up to run from the lair when his vision blurred from the tears he was struggling to keep back but before he could move she was in front of him cupping his cheeks in her tiny hands nuzzling her face gently against his softly ‘It’s okay Raphie. It’s going to be okay’ it wasn’t okay, if Leonardo hadn’t showed up to pull him back he probably would have killed her, but she hadn’t flinched as he started to push her away from him.

She stood so close to him no fear of him what so ever in those tear filled eyes, and smiling up at him like nothing had happened, her touches so gentle on his rough skin he almost didn’t feel them.

She had closed the space that remained between them pressing closer to his hulking body hugging his neck tightly whispering gentle words in his ear as she continued to tell him everything was going to be okay.

He finally wrapped his arms around her holding tightly to the tiny child unable to understand how she was so forgiving after he had hurt her, but as he sat back against the wall clinging to her he didn’t feel as big anymore, it was like when he was a child again, when he was in trouble with Sensei and his brothers would comfort him.

She had forgave him all to easily, followed him around more and more treated him no differently then she had before the incident but she was like his shadow always there next to him, and after a while he didn’t mind having grown accustom to the child who had grown into a beautiful teenager without him realizing it, still just as trusting and easy to forgive him for his faults and short comings.

He remembered fondly that he had gotten almost a whole week in the Ha’shi as punishment for attacking her, how he wished Master Splinter had given him more time or had at least punished him further but Leo had filled him in on how Raven had begged their father not to be too tough on him saying she should have took the figurine to her room instead of staying in his; apparently Splinter had agreed with their youngest family member.

As hard as their father tried to keep her away from him after that Raven was usually close by anyways, she sat in the Ha’shi with him quietly humming or singing to him until Splinter would let him off the hook for the day, just to get her to eat or go to bed.

After that horrific incident he had vowed to protect her from any harm, including him…

He had kept her at a distance never letting her too close to him in fear that he might hurt her again.

He no longer called the teen by her name either he had started referring to her as ‘Kid’, ‘Brat’, and only in those moments of weakness when she needed comforting did he use ‘Little Sister’ because he didn’t think he was worthy of using her name, he never could fully forgive himself like she had.

“Raphael… Earth to Raphie can you hear m-“

His hand was on the back of her neck pulling her closer until she was pressed firmly to him it was then that he kissed her neck hearing her giggle before she pushed herself up smiling down at him in a way that had his heart beating faster in his chest

“Leo was right you do get really affectionate when you’re sick. Glad to see you’re feeling better though. Are you hungry? Made your favorite” he slowly shook his head no even though he was starving but didn’t want to trouble her if she had been here at his side for as long as he thought, but she was helping him sit up propping him in a more comfortable position with pillows before sitting down on the side of the bed next to him a steaming bowl of loaded potato soup in hand mixing it slowly

“I said I wasn’t hungry kid”

“I heard you, but your stomach growling told me different” her lips curved into a small smile as he reached out for the bowl groaning as he sat back against the pillows feeling stiff seeing the kid looked worried as she blew on the spoon full of the amazing smelling soup, he watched as she held it to his lips but he still didn’t open his mouth even though it was watering like crazy “Come on Raph, please eat. The guys ain’t here, just you and me… I won’t tell them” he looked up at her before leaning forward letting her feed him blushing when he saw her smile.

“I can feed myself”

“I know but your still sick, just let me take care of you for now and once your back to full strength I’ll stop with this torture“

He grinned seeing the care she was putting into each movement, he hated to think it but this wasn’t torture; he actually liked having her care for him.

He jumped growling under his breath as some of the hot soup dripped on his chest making her jump apologizing as she wiped it off cleaning him off carefully not meeting his eyes “Sorry” he let out an involuntary groan as her small hands gently touched his plastron her green eyes were gazing up at him and he felt frozen, she quickly looked away grabbing a cup from his side table placing the straw to his lips grinning as he sucked the drink down not realizing just how thirsty he had been, she reached down pulling another can from an ice chest on the floor filling his cup once more sitting down next to him “Here drink this one slowly, don’t want you making yourself sick” he listened and did what she asked sipping at the ginger ale before she was back to feeding him, he wanted to look away but something kept his eyes glued to her face

“You okay?”

He hadn’t realized she has said anything until he looked down seeing she was still holding the spoon up with the last bits of the soup, he nodded slowly before taking another mouthful of food glancing over to the drink about to ask but she was already picking it up before he could say a word

“Hey… Uh thanks for - this” her eyes met his and in that instance he saw the look he had seen all those years ago, that soft grin that made the world feel right around him

“Well somebody has to take care of you otherwise you’d be lost without us dummy”

“I’d be lost without ya-”

The words had left his mouth before he could stop them and when her eyes were on his once more he knew she had heard them, he was about to say something else but in a second she had placed the bowl on his side table and was scooting closer to him.

Slowly her face came closer and before he could process what was happening her soft pink lips were on his in a gentle kiss, her hands cupping his cheeks in a way that made his pulse race and all to soon the warmth of her was gone, he saw the blush that developed on her pale skin before she was shifting back going to move away “I’m sorry-” in that instant his hand had her wrist holding her in place, she looked up at him and he knew if he let go now she would move out of his reach “Raph-”

He gently pulled her closer until her body was pressed against his, Raven froze looking him over several times before his lips were meeting hers firmly holding tight to her arms until Raphael felt her fingers brushing up his arms finally releasing her once she was holding onto him returning his kiss with vigor, her lips moving over his softly enticing him to be more courageous, to move forward.

His tongue drifted over those pink velvet like lips finding they were even softer then he had ever imagined; holding her closer to his body tightening his grip on her waist until her mouth opened under his allowing him to delve deeper into that hot cavern.

He groaned as his tongue brushed over hers finding a sweet taste filling his senses as she chased his tongue back into his own mouth shifted slightly when his hands pulled her body closer.

He sweep her up on the bed until she was straddling his thighs hearing a startled cry seconds before her hands were gliding up his neck, she was driving him crazy and for once he didn’t care, he wanted to feel her move against him, wanted to hear that breathless gasp when he nipped at her bottom lip, finding the most elicit pleasure pulsing down into the lower part of his plastron when he heard her whisper his name into the kiss nipping back at him playfully, clinging to her face gently as the kiss slowed.

She pulled away brushing her fingers over his bottom lip as he tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened feeling awestruck when Raven’s sparkling green eyes fluttered open looking at him in a way finding he felt lost “Why did ya forgive me kid?” the words left him before he even knew he was thinking them

“W-What?”

“When I attacked ya - why did ya forgive me?”

“Raph - that was over… twelve years ago, are you still worried over that. It was an accident-” his eyes flew up when she stopped in mid-sentence looking his face over carefully before grabbing his hand gently in hers kissing the palm before she placed it around her throat holding his hand there when he tried to yank away from her “Look at me Raphael” he could hear her words but his eyes were glued to where his hand was not seeing when she let go of him “-I trust you-” his eyes shot up looking at her as she carefully pressed her neck into his grasp smiling softly “You wouldn’t really ever hurt me Raph. I know that, so forgiving you was like second nature... I trust you completely” he slowly nodded before she leaned closer lying on his chest inches from his lips smiling softly up at him when he wrapped his arms around her ignoring how bad they ached “Do you trust me Raphie?”

“With m’ life kid” the words were soft spoken into the fragrant locks before she pulled away from him, he saw when her face dropped before she was nuzzling his cheek

“Raphael… please say my name - please” he looked down on her as her tiny hands inched lower pressing down into his stomach making him groan as her lips hovered over his just out of his reach “Come on. Say it for me, please.”

“…Kid I-”

“Raphael, say it. Call me by my name; I want to hear you call me by my name”

His voice wouldn’t come out; he opened his mouth but nothing would come out. He still didn’t think he was worthy to say her name.

She pressed closer licking over his neck seducing him slowly kissing over a spot that made a small moan break his dry throat “Do you even remember what it is Raph?” she stopped before her hands were on his shoulders as she slowly licking over it gently making his head tilt to the side giving her more access to the skin she was attacking feeling incredibly hot as she continued to mess with his neck until he felt her teeth gently clamping down over his pulse point sucking softly at it

“R-Raven” she froze looking up at him when she inched away hearing his husky voice next to her ear “Rave - I could never forget yer name, because it has to be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard”

He watched as tears welled up in her eyes smiling at him as they dripped down her flushed cheeks before he was pulling her close to him holding tight to the teen whispering it softly next to her ear again as a sob broke her throat “I’ve been waiting forever to hear you to say my name again”

She was messing with his neck again with a new intensity pulling another groan from his throat until her lips were against his cradling his head in her arms pushing her lips firmly against his when he pulled her closer holding onto her until she was pulling back from him breathing fast before she was smiling up at him

“Don’t ever stop saying my name Raphie”

He didn’t even get the chance to say anything before she was lying on his chest resting her head on his shoulder with a small sighs smiling to herself as he wrapped his arms around her again holding tight to the teen.

He laid there thinking this couldn’t be real before he realized her breathing had become steady and shallow, her grip on his hand had relaxed, and she was softly snoring against his neck.

She was fast asleep on him.

She suddenly shifted curling up on his chest before he turned over placing her next to him on the bed, kissing her forehead gently so as not to wake her before pulling the blanket over both of them nestling in to the mattress beside her “I’ll call ya Rave as long as ya never stop calling me-”

Her lips were on his in a sweet peck before he saw her emerald green orbs open for a second looking into his golden a small smile pulling at her soft pink lips

 “You got it Raphie”

[chinxino5-blog]

It’s A Package Deal - Five

Bryce was tugged out of his rest with a hand pulling his wrist. His dream drifted away from him, and he put all the effort he could into rolling over to allow the hand looser access to his arm. Instead of leaving him be, the hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him roughly.

He was just about ready to hold a pillow over his face until his offender left him alone.

“Get up and shower now before I go to bed,” Ohm’s voice cut into the void of his thoughts and he groaned loudly to show his blatant lack of enthusiasm. He was comfortable to sleep for twenty hours, if only he could, and being woken up after only a few wasn’t something he desired. Ohm cared nothing for his desires, clearly, and shook him by the shoulder a second time. “McQuaid, get up.”

With laziness heavy in his mind, the blonde complied with reluctant haste. No matter how exhausted he was, he didn’t want to piss Ohm off any more than he had to.

For that reason he allowed himself to be lead to the bathroom by the irritated brunette and left alone to undress and step under the cold water. He let his head fall to rest on the soft pink tiles. Water ran from his hair down his face, pooling in the creases of his closed eyes, and catching on his eyelashes, lips and jaw.

He barely managed to stay awake, resting against the shower wall, before Ohm was knocking on the door and demanding he get out. After towelling himself off and changing into thick pyjama pants, he removed himself from the room and dragged his feet over to his bed. Actually getting under the covers, he curled in on himself, feet and fingers freezing as he tucked his hands under the waistband of his pants to keep them relatively warm.

To his sorrow, the cool shower had woken him, and he didn’t manage to drop into sleep the moment he had returned to the bed as he’d hoped.

Ohm had watched the blonde over the top of his book as Bryce’d left the bathroom and moved to his bed. He watched, unnoticed, as the drowsy man slipped under the covers. Bryce only looked over when Ohm stood, fetching a pair of handcuffs from the bag and moving to the other’s side. He held out a hand, and Bryce shuffled back to sit up a bit. His blue gaze trained on the waiting hand and he reluctantly offered his right wrist. He was swiftly cuffed to the bed post before Ohm returned to his own bed and switched off the lamp.

For a moment, Bryce didn’t move – a floodgate opening to allow the constant rush of thoughts to filter back into his mind. He hesitantly laid back down, his toes cold under the thick blankets. Why was Ohm so closed off? Was he always so controlling? So threatening, and overpowering?

His gaze stuck to Ohm’s clothed shoulders which rolled away as he got comfortable in his own bed a few metres away. Bryce withdrew from the dark room, wondering about the man across from him. What got him into such a business? Was Bryce the first to be kidnapped? What else did he do?

“Do you fucking mind?” Bryce startled out of his thoughts as Ohm rolled over and glared at him through the dark. His voice was as sharp as ever, not even the slightest amount of tire or exhaustion resting on his words and his glare was just as strong through the night. At Bryce’s confused, shocked silence he huffed, turning back away from him. “Stop staring holes into my fucking back and go the Hell to sleep.”

Embarrassment softened Bryce’s shock and he felt his cheeks glow in the night. “S-sorry, I zoned out.” He turned away also, facing the faded cream coloured wall. Ohm grumbled something inaudible and silence once again began forming between them. The brunette glared at the lamp beside him, aggravated over every little thing Bryce did.

He knew he wouldn’t sleep, settling in to have a strong ten hours of thought and paranoia. Fortunately, the silence of the room was beginning to settle over him like a thick blanket. It warded off any unwanted thoughts and dreams and people and allowed him to process his thoughts in peace. It allowed him to rest and think and-

“I can’t sleep.”

Ohm’s eyes rolled back in his head, holding back the over exaggerated groan that was ready to stab Bryce in the throat. Instead, he forced himself to breathe and calm down. “What do you want me to do about it?” It was hard to keep himself from growling at the boy, and no matter how hard he did try, his words were sharp and angry. The sarcasm was definitely thick in his tone and the other scoffed softly.

He heard Bryce shuffle between the sheets, and the cuff around his wrist clinked, forcing him to shuffle back to however he was laying in the first place. Ohm shifted to lie on his back and stared up at the roof as Bryce struggled to find a comfortable position to lie in with the cuff on.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked, settling somehow and Ohm closed his eyes, head falling to stare through the darkness in Bryce’s general direction. Truthfully, the brunette was glad of the blonde’s silence for the entire day – he was genuinely surprised at how true to his word he’d been – but that didn’t make him any more accepting to hearing his voice.

Especially when he wanted to rest.

“No.”

“Do you usually do this?”

A heavy sigh left his lips. It was hopeful to wish for a silent night. “Do what?”

The hand cuffs clinked again and Bryce coughed into his pillow, staring into the void around him with calm, big eyes. “Kidnap people.”

Ohm snorted, his lips quirking in a slight smirk at the word “kidnap”. It was an odd word. It made it sound like he travelled in a white van and offered children candy. It made him sound like a paedophile and he found amusing, seeing as it indicated that Bryce himself was a child. But no, travelling with Bryce was decidedly worse than travelling with a child.

“No.” His voice was slightly softer, Bryce noticed, almost humoured by what he’d suggested.

But no? He didn’t kidnap people? “Well then… what do you do?”

Again, Ohm smirked to the darkness around him. It grinned back. “I don’t think knowing will help you sleep,” he told the blonde, arching his back in the uncomfortable bed. He didn’t like the idea of waking up sore, and he almost thought sleeping in the car was a better idea.

The pillows were stuffed with feathers, which some people may assume is soft and comfortable, except it wasn’t. A million tiny needles were pricking the back of his head and neck and no matter where he lay his head, he couldn’t find comfort. Nor were there any other spare pillows that weren’t used for torture. He wondered how Bryce wasn’t complaining about his pillow yet, seeing as he had a voice for everything. Perhaps he’d believe Ohm would be able to conjure up a silk one out of air just for him?

“It might.” Bryce’s voice sounded just awake as his own, seeing as the two were far too wound up, and far too deep in thought to get anywhere close to sleep.

Bryce hated sleepless nights. He hated not doing anything. It wasn’t that he was impatient, he just didn’t like sitting still and doing nothing. He liked to use his fingers, tapping or clicking or holding a pencil – he liked to be using time for things other than staring at walls. He liked to talk, tell stories, ask questions, sing. He liked to be doing things, and with one hand cuffed and his movement restricted he felt extremely uncomfortable and unhappy.

Having the chance of making actual conversation with Ohm, even if it only meant learning his favourite colour, was something to do. Plus, he hated having to be joined at the hip with a man he knew nothing about. Nothing but a nickname and a face. Bryce at least wanted so know something about the guy’s life.

“I’m a hitman,” Ohm’s smirk faltered slightly as the words left his mouth. He thought it would be a little bit more satisfying to scare the guy. It only left a bitter taste on his tongue at the thought of his job. How he did have so much money. How he lived. What he’d done. What he would continue to do for a long time…

Bryce didn’t say anything. The word “hitman” was a bit hard to swallow, a bit thick to sink in. The fact that he was a hitman’s subject was even harder to understand. Anyone sensible would be just as horror-struck. For one, he was travelling with a hitman. A murderer. A guy who killed people for money. Two, he was the subject of a hitman. He was going to be turned into money the moment Ohm dropped him off on some gang’s doorstep. Fortunately, he wasn’t supposed to be killed, but being dropped off by a hitman didn’t make him happy. He wasn’t going to be dropped off at Disneyland or some shit, he was going to be interrogated, and likely tortured. He was going to be used as bait for his own boyfriend.

The fact that he was sleeping in the same room as a hitman had shivers crawling up his spine like spiders, his arm awkwardly twisted up because of the cuff. He couldn’t lie comfortably and the cold that washed over his body like ice made him feel like he was going to shatter where he lay.

He couldn’t control his thoughts, thinking about the gun on the bedside table on the other side of the room. He thought about the hands that pulled him across the road; that cuffed him to the car and to the bed. What his gun had done. How many times the trigger had been pulled. How many times the trigger had stolen lives. What he’d used his hands for. How many people had died to them, how many times had he grabbed people, or held guns, or held knives, or held throats.

“O-oh,” he murmured, his voice clogging up his throat with fear and concern and the cycling thoughts of panic whirling around his mind. He cast a worried glance in the direction of Ohm’s bed. The darkness was too thick around them to let him actually see the man but his presence was definitely felt. It was cold.

Ohm’s smirk had faded to a grimace as he flipped over and faced back away from the now silent blonde. He’d clearly shocked the guy speechless and felt far less great about it than he thought he would have. He thought it would bring him joy to cause the other fear, to make him worry and stress and be so scared he had nothing else to talk about.

Instead he felt sick. He felt like he was covered in dirt, covered in blood. He felt disgusting. The fact that he took lives and ruined lives and shattered lives, a reminder of how he made money. A reminder of the fear that settled in stomachs at the idea of him. A name. A symbol. A gunshot. A reminder that he didn’t have a family, he didn’t have friends, he didn’t go to college, or work at the hospital he always dreamed of working at.

He was a hitman. And that was all he’d ever be.

But despite the heaviness and filth that settled in his lungs, the silence was sweet. The peace that settled among them again. The soft nothingness that could consume him, nothingness that could swallow him up. He already felt the thoughts filling up his lungs, and let his eyes rest shut as he drew up different ideas and hopes for his future.

Forgetting the murder. Forgetting the blood. Forgetting the horror of every day where he was hunting, killing, stalking someone. Where he was counting money in brief cases and spending it all away to drag himself through the days.

A future alone with a small cat, in a small house, with a small life. A new life. A life with less murder and blood and horror. A life where he could breathe.

He loved the peace. The serenity of just him and his thoughts. He couldn’t get enough, he could never get enough. He drowned in it.

“How’d you end up becoming a hitman?”

This time Ohm didn’t try to restrain his loud groan, flopping over onto his front and pressing his face down into the torture-pillow. “Go the fuck to sleep Bryce,” he snarled with a voice completely lacking malice.

Bryce didn’t say anything more, but didn’t find sleep either. He resorted to laying still and silent. He let his thoughts swirl around him, flashing in the darkness and lifting him into the void. He let his mind wander, thinking about how much nicer “Bryce” sounded on Ohm’s tongue instead of “McQuaid”.

First: Prologue

Previous: Four

Next: Six

Check it out on ao3!

Ayyy we got some bonding going on~ They’re tolerating each other! <3 

Lemme know what you guys think!! 

gi

[elkrs]

Red Suns: Let's Make A Dungeon - The Slithering Shade

I started designing the Red Suns setting as a world to play in, and so far, I haven't. Well, actually, if you are reading this on the day it came out, then I have played it once. I'm running a game for NotACon 2018 (see Red Suns III for deets) set in Red Suns, and so I want to prep my first session for it on here. You'll see some parallels between the Scarlett Citadel Conan story, and that is because it was the inspiration for the adventure. At the bottom of the page you'll find a link to the live play of this session, so you can watch how my prep played out in the end (if I remember, if not, look in the top corner, press the three lines and you should see a YouTube link)!

Initial Thoughts and Goals

This is a fairly new part of my preparation process that I have begun to find exceedingly helpful in staying on-task with both prep and running the game. I take 3-5 ideas, goals or cool things that I want to be in the game, and I note them down at the start. It gives me a very quick and easy reference during the session, as well as making sure that the session runs how I want it to.

A twisting labyrinth filled with unspeakable horrors - I want to have the players explore a weird dungeon that could very well threaten to swallow them.

An evil shade, determined to end the world - I want the player to fight the Shade. I want them to have to deal with the fact that this person has no qualms about doing unimaginably awful things to themselves and others to achieve their aims. I want the player to go "Oh shit... This guy will kill us all and himself."

Weird, lasting effects on the characters - I want the players to feel as though any moment could be their last. I want them to be scared to go around corners and nervous about touching ANYTHING.

Gonzo, crazy NPC - I want them to meet someone who will drill home the fact that, if they get lost, they are doomed to end up like this guy.

I think that'll do it. I can always add to this if I want to, but this will keep me in check for how I want the game to go.

The Dungeon I - Why and Wherefore

When I prep a session based around a dungeon, I do so in a completely different way than I would for a dungeon-less session. Normally, I'll prep some scenes, a combat or two and have a narrative structure in place. Very light, very LITTLE prep. However, for dungeons, that simply will not do. Instead, I think about the dungeon itself. The first part of which, is why?

Why is this dungeon here? A dungeon for dungeon's sake, does not for a good session make. As such, the first thing I want to think about, is the purpose behind it. Who built it and why? For this dungeon, that's easy.

Ocotl is the bad guy for this session. He's a nasty boy who wants to... Well, what does he want?

World domination is dumb, and boring.

Scorned and seeking revenge is better, but I don't feel like that fits my vision of Ocotl.

Got it. Ocotl was always the little guy. A worthless worm who cowered in the shadows of his betters, mocked and ridiculed (so I guess there is a bit of revenge, but hey, that's good). Anyway, he got some sorcerous power, then found that he wasn't so little anymore. Thus, his crusade to gain  A B S O L U T E    P O W E R  began.

He started messing around with the darker stuff, and eventually turned into a Shade. He was now powerful enough to do horrid things to those who wronged him, but it wasn't enough (never is!) and so he decided to try and attempt the Ritual of Red Tears (see Red Suns I, or below) in order to become a demon of immense power.

To do this however, he needed a space to experiment. A hidden space where he could practice in peace, while also having access to lots of people and bodies to play with. Hence, he needed somewhere in a city, hidden and safe, but in a prime piece of real estate. Also, Ocotl always had a love of meddling with the physiology of creatures, creating monstrous hybrids and the like, so it needs to be big.

That is why he built his dungeon. In the interest post, I said that it was below Ashkul's hall. This means that the dungeon is in Basharoud, and that is have a reson for existing. Now all we need is to build the darn thing! That and design some encounters, as well as our big ole' bad guy.

The Dungeon II - Structure, Feel and Execution

Firstly, the entrance to the dungeon is going to be a trapdoor, hidden in the floor of Ashkul's Hall. As a result, I think the dungeon should have a sewer-type feel. Not to do with the muck that flows through it, but more the actual building materials and such. For example, I think it should be built from huge bricks of dark stone that have been smoothed with age. I think there should be random grates and tiny tunnels from which scuttling, squeaking noises can be heard.

As for theme, well, it's a magical menagerie for malicious and maltreated monstrosities, who live trapped in the cells and cages that litter the place. I also want a clear progression towards the goal, though it should still feel like a maze. I want it to be cold, dark and smelly, with the players understanding the truly terrible place that this is.

Execution. This refers to how we want the actual session to go. Best to start thinking about this as early as possible, that way we can be sure that all the cool stuff we come up with later fits properly. We want the session to last about 3.5 hrs. I'll allocate about 20 mins for them to get into the dungeon, and about 10 mins for a quick epilogue. So, we've got 3 hrs in here, and a half hour of that should be the final fight. If we assume that Ocotl is in room 6, then our aim is to get the players there within 2.5 hrs. I don't want to do all the rooms, and many of them will be just quick descriptions, so this should fit nicely into our time frame.

The Dungeon III - Rooms and Encounters

Here we're just going to go through and have each room listed out with some ideas for encounters and the like. I'm not worried about killing players and making them go weird, because it's a one shot, so we can go a bit insane with this. In other words... Welcome to the fun part. In each room, I'm going to try and describe three things, and that's it. That way, everything doesn't take ages, but there is still enough description to go around.

Room I - The Entrance

Description

Cold air, dank and thick. Hard to breathe due to horrible smells.

The rotting corpse of an enormous anglerfish.

Strange sounds coming from rooms beyond.

Encounters

None.

Room II - The Serpent

Description

A smell of rotting wood pervades this room, and a sickly sweet odour hangs at the back of your throat.

An enormous pile of wood and rags sits in the corner, it is about six feet high and ten feet across.

Cupboard in the South wall (contains an old, gold chain. When worn as a belt, grants ADV. to CON tests. It used to be some kind of leash).

Encounters

Giant Snake: Hiding in the pile in the corner. Will attack when disturbed or when the party try to leave the room. (HD3, 2d4D, CON test or +2d6)

Room III - The Old Library

Description

Old, ruined books litter this room, as well as smashed and broken shelves.

Pools of stagnant water sit on the floor.

An old, amulet of +1 INT lies on a bookshelf in a smashed, glass case. Was used for research. when touched, it reveals a curse. When the wearer touches it, they immediately put it on and are forced to constantly read, otherwise they take 1d4 damage per round. Can be pulled off, though the reader will fight back.

Encounters

West corridor contains a Giant Ant Warrior (HD2, Poison Bite (1d6 + CON test or + 2d6)

Room IV - The Prison

Description

Decrepit, rusted cages stand everywhere.

A table with rotten food sits in the middle.

A beautiful, black dagger sits on the table. When touched, it rots the hand of whoever touched it after a CON test with DIS. They now have DIS on all attacks.

Encounters

Farruk. He is an old man, dressed in rags, who has lived here for years. He is stuck in one of the cages, and has gone insane. He keeps calling the members of the party either 'Jasaline', 'Asha', 'Denad', or 'Abbar'. He just wants to be free, and seems earnest. A successful WIS test will reveal him to be quite mad. If he is freed with the keys that sit on a hook in the corner, he will immediately attack (Human Berserker, HD1, DIS on defence tests against him).

Room V - The Pits

Description

Three large dirt pits in the floor, smelling like dung and with vague, dark shapes inside. The pits are each 10ft wide and 20ft deep, and are very dark.

Rattling sounds can be heard from below, and bones can be seen moving in the darkness.

The door closes behind them, and is locked with a magical seal. Dispel magic to break the seal or take 1d6 damage. When broken, the doors are still locked (unlock, or break down (STR test DIS).

Encounters

3d4 skeletons in the pits. (HD1, 1d4HP, 1d4D, shoot with bows)

Room VI - Ocotl's Chamber

Description

Large, round room. An altar stands in the centre.

Ruined, black tapestries cover all the walls.

They see 1d6 skeletons around them, waiting. As well as a figure on the far side of the room, sitting, chanting and coated in black blood. He has one hand, and the severed limb sits on the floor next to him. Suddenly, he begins to chant something different. He begins to cry tears of blood. He then chants even more words, before erupting in red flames. Black, obsidian skin, bat-like wings. Red eyes and curled horns. He screams and stands, now a demon of 9ft tall (Hezrou Demon, HD9, 2d10D, (2 Claws (1d3) + 1 Bite (2d8), Cause Fear (as per Banish) or Darkness (spell) - each once per fight)).

Encounters

Hezrou and 1d6 skeletons.

Room VII - The Mirror Room

Description

The walls are dark mirrors, and a shining orb of white light hangs in the centre as your reflection dances around the room.

Bones lie all over the floor here, and they crunch as you walk across them.

Black smoke burns from a censer hanging from the ceiling.

Encounters

Censer: CON test or paralyzed for 1d4 rounds

Mirror Reaper: Hands come out of the mirror, as well as a head shrouded in black rags that hang down below it. They try to grab a character (Mirror Reaper, HD4, 1d10D, Whenever it attacks, STR test or dragged into the mirror).

If they get pulled into the mirror, they must roll WIS tests each round to escape. Otherwise they stay trapped.

Corridors

There are many labyrinthine corridors that can be found throughout the temple. In each of these, we'll be rolling random encounters every time they turn a corner.

1-3. Nothing

4. 1d4 Manes Demons (HD1, 1d4D, 2 Claws (1d2) + 1 Bite (1d4), Half damage from nonmagical weapons)

5. 1d2 Ghouls (HD2 (1 armour), 1d6D, 2 claws (1d3) + 1 bite (1d4) + CON test or Paralysed)

6. Basilisk (HD6 (5 armour, +5 to tests against it, 1d8+1d6D, CON test on eye contact or be petrified)

Ending

We will probably assume that the players will run away or die. There is no way they can beat this monster. Not a chance. As a result, if any players escape, we will leave it to the players to decide what their characters do, though they will have to make a DEX or STR test to escape Ocotl back through the dungeon.

Starting the Adventure

We don't want to waste too much time on getting the characters to the dungeon, so we are going to be handwaving a lot of the earlier stuff in order to make the session feel tighter and sharper, without lots of wasted time at the beginning and the end. So, we will have the party be introduced by saying that they have been hired by the stewards of Ashkul's Hall to go down and investigate the strange noises that have been coming from the basement.

They will enter the basement, then give a brief description of their characters and introduce them, before finding the entrance to the dungeon. The basement itself is full of things like wine and food, supplies for conducting ceremonies and the like. However, with a successful WIS test, they notice a strange trap-door under a rug in the corner. Thus, the dungeon starts.

That's it, that is all you need. This is only a one shot, so it doesn't need to be a huge introduction. Just needs to get the party where they need to be for the adventure to start!

Running the Adventure

Now obviously, this is A LOT of prep for a game, and I don't like to have this much stuff to look at when I'm running. So I've taken my own notes from this, and put them into a style that I'd actually use, all shrunk down onto a side of A4. Enjoy!

Watch the Live Play on YouTube

[selfignitingimagines]

Shake It Out Pt. 1

A/N- So this part was originally supposed to be longer, but I had so much written that I just figured you would get to meet Brett in the next chapter. This is going to be a slow burn fic, and please let me know what you guys think of this. Talk to me about the characters, the story, anything! Just message me or leave a comment. 

“And I am done with my graceless heart / So tonight I’m gonna cut it out, and then restart.”

“No! No!” An girl with dark hair  writhed on the floor of the forest, fighting against the hands pinning her down. Fresh, cool earth filled her mouth as she screamed, choking on dirt.. “Mom, no! Don’t-get off of me! Get off! Please-” It was dark, and warm, and a beautifully clear, spring night in the Oregon woods. It was much too beautiful for the scene going on inside of them. Surrounded by dark shapes with no faces, another girl, not much older than the first, was in exactly the same position, except she wasn’t fighting her fate. “This isn’t your fault, Maggie.” Her voice was broken, but accepting, and it did nothing to reassure the other. “No!” the writhing one cried. “No, you can’t-” She cut herself off with her own choked breath, lodging in her throat as the light in the older girl’s eyes suddenly seemed to die. It didn’t take long for Maggie’s screams to come, and as the shapes around them slowly disappeared, she found herself free of the cold hands forcing her down. She scrambled up, darting over to the older girl on the ground. “Maya! Maya, please! Please, you can’t be... I can’t do this. I can’t-I can’t do this on my own.” Her sobs came in short gasps, wracking her body and hollowing her chest from the inside out. She reached out with shaky fingers, not caring that her nails were caked with dirt as she placed her palm on Maya’s cheek. “Please.” A flicker of movement in the older girl’s face caused her to blink, and the wistful ache of hope filled her chest. “Maya?” Her hand suddenly shot up, gripping Maggie’s wrist and yanking her down. She screamed, but she couldn’t break the hold, and soon she was eye to eye with Maya’s colorless face. Her eyes were empty and accusing, and as Maggie would think later, dead.  Maya’s words came out as a sharp hiss, causing any hope Maggie had to shatter into tiny, broken pieces. “This is your fault, Maggie. This is all your fault.”

Maggie jerked upward with a choked gasp, blinking in the light of her half-empty bedroom. Bright sunshine was shining in through the window, letting her know she was long past being on time, and if that wasn’t enough, her phone was vibrating against the nightstand. It was one of the only things left unpacked in her room, but she didn’t plan on taking it. Quinn promised she had furniture, and the more Maggie was able to leave behind, the better. She rubbed her eyes and shoved away the heavy covers, one of the things aside from the nightmare that had caused her to sweat in her sleep. She had been having the same one for the past three nights, and oddly enough, it was coming to her more often now than it had been when Maya first died. She tried to remind herself that the dreams were normal, that it had only been four months, but she knew that it was probably because she was leaving. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to go. She was escaping the terrible things that had happened in this house, but in a way, she was also leaving behind the last bit of Maya she had left- the memories they had made here. Maggie swallowed, set her shoulders, and reached for her phone. It had stopped vibrating seconds ago, but as soon as she snatched it up, it started up again. When she picked up, the first thing she heard was “Shit!” “Uh, hello?” “Maggie, thank god!” a familiar voice cried. “I get that you’re tired, but I’ve been out here for fifteen minutes and I don’t have a key to get into this hellhole. Could you come down and let me in?” “Oh god,” Maggie groaned to herself. “Quinn, I’m sorry. I’ll be right down.” She hung up the phone and jumped out of bed, glancing down at herself. She had fallen asleep in her clothes from the night before, a pair of black shorts and a burgundy sweater, because she had been packing well into the night. She quickly dragged a fresh pair of jeans from an open box and threw them on, then headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She didn’t bother with makeup, knowing Quinn was waiting. Then she bounded down the steps and wrenched open the door, only to be slammed into by what felt like a car. When she recovered, stumbling back a few steps, she realized what had hit her was Quinn. Maggie brushed strands of Quinn’s blonde hair from her mouth, and smiled at her aunt, who ran her hands over Maggie’s own hair. “God, I haven’t seen you since you were ten.” Maggie swallowed, remembering all too well the last time she had seen her aunt, which was at her father’s funeral. Quinn pulled back a little, her smile wavering. She was young, younger than Maggie’s mom had been, but she wore the weight of everything she had seen in her expression. When that brilliant smile wasn’t plastered across her face, you could tell that she was much more than just a woman with a pretty face. “I’m sorry, Maggie, about...well, everything. I don’t know if I got a chance to tell you that before. All this death and tragedy, it’s why I left. Maybe if I had stayed...maybe I could have looked out for you girls.” You girls. Quinn was right about the tragedy and death, and at her words, a shard of pain that had been lodged in Maggie’s chest since her father died seemed to dig deeper. Her sister’s death had only made it worse, and, surprisingly, even her mother’s had seemed to knock the wind out of her. “It’s done,” Maggie said softly. “I just can’t be here anymore.” “Of course,” Quinn said softly. “I have some empty boxes outside. Well, I had them before I dropped them all over the porch, just in case you need-” “I’m all packed.” Quinn blinked, looking at her skeptically with the same blue eyes that mirrored Maggie’s. It was a Monnoyer thing. “Everything?” “Everything I need,” she promised. “It’s not much, but you said you had furniture…” “I do,” Quinn assured her. “And don’t worry, if you need something, we can pick it up in Beacon Hills.” “I really appreciate this,” Maggie breathed. “You have no idea how much this means to me.” Quinn reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “You’re family, kiddo...the only decent family I’ve had in a long time. You’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you rot in this place.” She peered into the rest of the house, as if she was noticing it for the first time, and Maggie watched as her shoulders stiffened. From the cold look her eyes suddenly took on, Maggie knew she and Maya weren’t the only ones who had made some terrible memories there. “Besides,” Quinn continued, her expression lighting up again. “I need someone else to fill the space in my house. Sampson’s great, but conversation isn’t exactly his forte.” Maggie’s lips turned up. “Sampson? He’s still alive?” “Alive and kicking,” Quinn confirmed. “I’ve never met a more stubborn dog in my life. He might outlive me.” Sampson was Quinn’s twelve-year old German Shepherd, and back when Maggie’s dad was still alive and Quinn would visit, she would always bring him with her. She had never met a dog as loving and sweet as Sampson, and she had never looked forward to being knocked to the ground so much as she had when she was knew she was going to be hit by 75 pounds of dog. “Did you bring him?” Quinn shook her head. “He’s back in Beacon Hills. I had one of Satomi’s kids watch him for a couple hours.” “Satomi?” “I’m her emissary,” Quinn explained. “That’s what you’ve been doing all this time?” Maggie asked, blinking. Quinn nodded, gathering up the boxes she had dropped and tossing them inside the door. Maggie walked out to help her, listening intently as Quinn told her story. “I tried mercenary work for a while after I left Salem. I didn’t have many other skills if you know what I mean. That was what landed me in Beacon Hills, but when I got there, I realized that I’d rather help people than hurt them. I worked as a vet assistant for an older emissary for a while, and when your grandparents died, I inherited one of the houses they owned.” “They had a house in Beacon Hills?” “They did,” Quinn confirmed. “And I never even knew, but I somehow ended up there anyway. Life has a weird way of coming together.” “Yeah,” Maggie muttered. “Tell me about it.” “Anyway, the vet-his name was Alan-introduced me to Satomi. She was living  right outside of Beacon Hills, and she had just adopted a brother and sister whose family was murdered in a house fire.” “House fire…” Maggie murmured. “The Hale House fire?” Quinn shook her head. “That was something different, but Kate Argent probably set this one too. She’s responsible for much more than the media gave her credit for.” Maggie tilted her head. Kate Argent had become a horror story among hunters, one that they told their children to scare them into following the code. Terrible things happen when you stray from the code, she remembered her mother telling her when she was twelve. There are so many different types of monsters, Maggie. Her mother had neglected to mention that she was one too. Every hunting family had a code, and while there were small differences, every one said pretty much the same thing. Maggie doubted that the Argent’s included a provision for setting fire to innocent families. “Satomi took Brett and Lori in after the fire,” Quinn continued. “Brett’s your age, and Lori’s thirteen. They’re great kids, although Brett can be…” Maggie raised her eyebrows as Quinn bit the inside of her cheek. “Well, you’ll see when you meet him. You ready to start packing up?” Maggie blinked, contemplating all the things Quinn could possibly mean by ‘you’ll see’. She didn’t exactly love the idea of walking into something blind, but meeting family friends was a lot different than preparing for a fight. It’s probably not a big deal, she thought to herself. Stop thinking like a hunter, Maggie. “Yeah,” she told Quinn, glancing throughout the house. Her eyes roamed across the walls, where the family pictures had hung before her mother took them down six years ago. They stopped on the stairs, which Maya had dared her to somersault down when she was seven, and broken her arm in the process. Finally, her eyes settled on the bit of the kitchen she could see from the entryway, remembering the way she had leaned against the cabinets, sobbing with Maya’s arms around her as she tried to come to terms with the fact that her father was dead. “Yeah,” Maggie repeated. “I’m ready.”Maggie jogged up the steps, ready to grab the last few boxes from Quinn and load them into her Jeep Cherokee. It was an older car, probably from the early 2000s, but as Quinn had told her earlier “It gets me around.” “Besides,” she added. “I have a Camry too.” Quinn popped her head out of Maggie’s bedroom, which was empty, aside from the bed, the nightstand, and the last two boxes of her things. “Are you sure this is all you wanna take?” “I’m sure,” Maggie assured her. “What about this?” Quinn asked, gesturing to the wall. “Quinn,” Maggie said, her lips tilting up. “I don’t think I need a Twilight poster.” “Oh, so werewolves were off limits, but vampires were free game, huh?” she asked, grinning. “It was a phase,” Maggie said defensively. “Plus, it’s covered in knife marks anyway.” “Edward must have really hurt you if you practiced your throwing on his eyes,” Quinn remarked. Maggie stuck her tongue out in Quinn’s direction and scooped up one of the boxes. She headed out the door and hurried down the stairs, aching to finally leave. She had been nervous for weeks about going to live with her aunt, because even though she had met her, she hadn’t really known her all that well. After Quinn left the hunting game, Maggie’s grandparents had basically disowned her, and the only person from the family who occasionally talked to her had been her dad. After he died, Quinn had given Maggie and her sister her email, and they talked secretly every few weeks. Their mother would have been furious, but she never found out, and when every terrible thing started happening at once, Quinn was there for Maggie. She had wanted an escape, and even though she had only known her aunt from a handful of childhood visits and countless email correspondences, Quinn was ready to offer her one. After all, Quinn had done the same thing, and she had told her that her only regret was that she hadn’t be able to do it sooner. Now Maggie was getting her escape, and for the first time, she felt excitement jolt through her, running throughout her body like electricity. She was getting the chance to be someone else, somewhere else, and the possibilities of what could be were infinite. She crossed through the front door and breathed in the cool, fall air, letting it lift away her fear for a few brief seconds. She bounded down the steps, feeling a small smile curl onto her lips, but as she walked down the driveway, she froze. The cardboard box fell from her hands, thumping on the concrete as she caught sight of the dark SUV parked in front of her house. The figure leaning against it caused her hands to curl into fists and her nails to bite into her palms, and Maggie bristled with rage. Memories flashed through her head, memories of blood, and bruises, and cold hands pinning her down onto the forest floor. “Maggie,” he said, heading toward her. “Stay away from me, Riley,” she spat, her voice shaking. “Maggie, come on-” “I told you never to come near me again,” she snarled, bracing herself as he walked forward. He rolled his dark, green eyes, and continued to walk forward,  not bothered by her threats. They had been friends once, years ago, and at one point she had been grateful they had been born into the same type of life. Riley’s dad was second in command in the large group of hunters that resided throughout Salem. He was a strong guy, and while not as ruthless as Maggie’s mom had been, his cruel tendencies had been passed down to his son. Riley was protective, and dedicated, but when it came to hunting, and especially Maggie, he had always taken things too far. She remembered all the times in middle school when she had to break up fights where he was beating someone into a bloodied pulp, not even because she wanted to, but because the only person he would stop for was her. Everything between them changed after her father died, and Maggie no longer wanted anything to do with the hunters, or Riley, but he had different ideas. He was still hellbent on making her what he thought she should be, and even after the death of her sister, even after what he had done, he just couldn’t let things lie. “Mags,” he said, his voice wounded. “We’re practically family.” “Don’t call me that.” She reached up to shove him away, but he caught one of her wrists and yanked him toward her. “You can’t just leave, Mags. This is your whole life. What are you going to do without this? Without us? Huh?” His fingers dug into her wrist, forceful enough to bruise the skin, and Maggie felt something inside of her snap. She brought her free hand up, slamming her fist into his nose, and reveled at the crack she heard. Riley yelped and let go of her, but as Maggie started to back away, he darted forward and grabbed her by the shoulders. She gasped as her slammed her into Quinn’s car, her back pressing up against the red metal doors. “You can’t leave,” he hissed again, blood dripping from his nose. “You’re a hunter, Maggie. This is who you are.” Maggie felt a shock of fear run through her. Riley had taken things too far before, during training sessions, and that one terrible night four months ago, but never like this. She had grown up with him, with his family, and he wouldn’t have been acting like this unless he was pissed, really pissed. “You were supposed to be the leader,” he continued. “It was supposed to be you, and I was supposed to be your second. It was supposed to be us, Maggie.” She gritted her teeth and shoved against him, her voice dripping with venom. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I was never going to be the leader. I was never going to stay.” “No,” he insisted, his eyes wild and angry. “You were always supposed to stay.” Maggie tried to break away from him, shoving against his chest, his shoulder, but he simply grabbed her wrists and pinned them by her sides. He leaned closer, and Maggie could feel his breath on her face. His shadow swallowed hers in the late morning light, and she hated the way he made her feel-helpless, cowardly, and defeated. “Hey! Get the hell off my niece!” Maggie didn’t hear Quinn’s sharp intake of breath as she stepped out onto the porch or the sound the box in her hands created as it fell into the grass, but she did hear her yell. Riley jumped and looked back, but his grip on Maggie only slightly loosened. She took the opportunity to shove him away, and he stumbled back in surprise as she backed toward the porch. He made a move like he was going to go after her, but Quinn strode down the steps and came to stop by Maggie’s side. “Listen to me, Riley Durand. Stay away from my niece, or I’m going to break something your daddy can’t fix. It looks like she already did.” Riley bristled, but then he took a breath and ran a hand through his light brown hair. He looked away from Quinn, his gaze settling on Maggie. “You know they say that when you run from the past, it splits in two. One part dies, and the other walks with you*.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Maggie asked suspiciously. “You can’t just run away from this. You’ll realize that eventually.” Quinn glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest, and Riley finally backed off. With one last piercing look toward Maggie, he walked back to his car and peeled away from the curb. “That kid seriously needs therapy,” Quinn remarked, glancing over at Maggie. “Are you alright?” Maggie nodded shakily. “Yeah. Thank you.” Without another word, she headed back toward the house. “These are the last ones,” Quinn called, pointing toward the boxes. “I know,” Maggie said. “I just need to do one last thing.”Maggie walked up the steps slowly, running her hand over the wood of the banister. She trailed her fingers along it as she walked up to the second floor, remembering all the times she and Maya had slid down it with fits of laughter echoing around them. That had been a long time ago. As she got to the top, she turned down the hall, but she didn’t go into her bedroom. Instead, she walked past it and headed down to a room at the end of the hall. Her mother had cleaned it out four months ago, almost directly after Maya had died. Maggie remembered how she had screamed when she popped her head in and saw her mom throwing all of Maya’s things into boxes. It had only been three days. Her mother had ignored Maggie’s protests, but decided not to touch the pictures that still hung above Maya’s stripped bed. She reached out to run her fingers over their glossy surface, listening to the soft sound it made in the silence of the empty house. There were pictures of Maya with her friends and with Maggie, some of them from when they were kids, but a few that were recent. Her favorite was from the day Maya had passed her EMT course, and in it Maggie was leaning against her, arms around her sister in her new uniform. It had only been a year ago, but she remembered how happy they had both been, even with everything going on. Maya was the one who had protected her her whole life. She was the one who was right there, through everything, until she wasn’t anymore. Maggie took a deep breath and felt tears pricking her eyes, but she reached forward and snagged the picture from the clothespin Maya had hung it up with. She spared it one more glance, then she tucked it into her back pocket, and headed out the door. 

*Riley’s words here are from a quote by Camille Rankin.