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papaya-047 · 3 years ago

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So You Wanna Survive? - Zombie AU P.P.

A/N : Obsessed with apocalypse movies so these was fun for me :) lowkey based on the What If Zombies episode but highkey based on marvel zombies comics.

Summary : New York! Home of the Mets, the Chrysler Building, those ladies from sex and the city, and now, the ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE! Peter and company had been travelling through the remains of NYC when they encounter you, a girl that is surprisingly still alive.

Pairing : Peter Parker x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings : zombies (obv), mentions of dying, weapons and cannibalism, me nerding out on movie references, let me know if i missed anything

Peter thought his years of nerding out to horror movies and zombie thrillers had finally paid off. The powers might have also helped, considering most zombies are limited to the ground. Still, why not pretend like those hours spent in front of a laptop with Ned watching Day of the Dead wasn't entirely a waste.

In the last two weeks, the world has changed a lot, considering more than 90% of the population is now hungry for brains. But you gotta make the best of it. Sure the lack of prom is a bummer, but you know what's more of a bummer? Dying.

Peter had found other survivors, people he never would've been hanging out with otherwise. Mostly cause he's a teenager, and they're... old. The last thing Peter thought he would be was friends with a Wakandan general.

"So Banner, if you're immortal cause of the Hulk, do you think you can turn into a zombie?" Kurt Goreshterasked asked, exhibit A of people Peter wouldn't hang out with under normal circumstances.

"Please do not ask me those kinds of questions. That's the last thing I wanna think about right now." Bruce responded with his head in between his knees. He hadn't really adjusted to the whole zombie thing very well. It's a little harder to process when you see it as abruptly as he did. Having just been zapped back to earth to warn us about some purple giant with a god complex, but was greeted by an apocalypse.

"Dr. Banner, just take deep breaths. We are totally safe up here." Peter said, trying to comfort him. But unfortunately, the awkward pats on the head were ineffective.

"We're running low on resources, Peter," Okoye said, interrupting the clumsy comforting that was still taking place.

"That sucks for you, Bruce. We have to take everyone with us, safety in numbers" Kurt finished his sentence in a sing-song voice as he slapped Dr. Banner on the back much harder than he meant to.

Peter remained with Bruce, who didn't look up, trying to help calm him down, "Kid! Come on, Groceries aren't going to steal themselves," Kurt said, as the others rolled their eyes at the fact that he continues to call it stealing.

The survivors made their way through the city, carrying all the Stark Industry Tech that Happy could get his hands on. Tony Stark probably doesn't miss it.

They walked in a weird clump, so close that Peter could smell Bucky's body's spray. Everyone is alert and ready to attack.

Suddenly, the blaring sound of gunshots comes from beside Peter as Sharon Carter starts shooting in front of her. "NO NO GOD, PLEASE DON'T SHOOT!" you shout in fear as you dove behind an abandoned car.

"Jesus, Sharon! Do you not check before you shoot at people?" Bucky said, lowering Sharon's gun for her.

"Sorry, I thought- well, we all know what I thought," Sharon said, avoiding eye contact as Bucky and Bruce rushed to see if you were ok. As the group slowly moved towards you, lowering their weapons, your hands were up in surrender.

"I didn't think my limp was bad enough for someone to think I was a zombie," you said, trying to joke about what happened.

"I didn't mean to. I'm-" you interrupted Sharons' apology.

"Don't apologize for trying to survive and protect. That's how you make it in the apocalypse, dude. This Is The World Now. Logged On, Plugged In, All The Time." she said as Bucky offered you a hand to help you up. A surprisingly metal hand greeted you as you stood up and dusted yourself off.

"That was a Terminator reference!" Peter said, probably more excitedly than he should've been.

"Ya," you chuckled at his reaction. "Apocalypse movie quotes are very easy to reference during an apocalypse," your laugh made everyone smile with you, except for Okoye, who remained alert.

"We have to keep moving to get food," Okoye stated, reminding everyone why they were there. "We run out quickly with 8 people, especially when 3 are enhanced and need twice the amount of food," she said, eyeing Bucky, Bruce and Peter.

You slowly lowered your hands as the group seemed to be calming down. "I have a bunch of supplies at my camp. It's not too far from here if you want to join me." you offered warmly. An awkward smile grazed your face as you tried your best to seem none threatening. You were met with a mixed reaction. Half excitedly agreeing and half declining the offer.

You watched everyone huddle as you tried to look around to give them privacy. However, you could still hear their attempt at whispered arguing. "What do you mean sure? Bucky, we don't know her!" Sharon said, turning to you with a fake smile. You gave her an awkward wave once you made eye contact.

"She could be a cannibal for all we know!" Bruce said, trying to be discreet but failing.

"look, she's a survivor like we are, and we need to help our remaining fellow humans. She wants to help us. So let's let her and get another ally," Bucky added to the conversation.

As they continued to bicker, you had spotted the weapon you had dropped when fleeing from the gunshots. Under the car you had used as a cover was your sword. You were now on all four, an arm stretched out under the car in an attempt to retrieve your blade.

"What are you doing?"

You jumped at the interruption, knocking your head on the bottom of the car. You rubbed the back of your head and turned to see who was talking to you. Hope Van Dyne cast a shadow over you, hand on her hips.

"I dropped something underneath the car," you said, dusting off your hands. Now sitting on your knees.

Peter walked over to the two of you to see what you were trying to get. "Is that a sword?" He asked.

"ya, I'm not that great with guns," you gave an embarrassed chuckle as you glimpsed at the arsenal most of them carried on their backs.

Hope shrank down and grabbed your sword. You quickly thanked her as she helped you up. Then, you walked unevenly over to those still bickering. When you reached them, they ceased their arguing. "I'm glad you think I could take any of you down. Really that's a compliment. But I'm not a cannibal, and I hear something I don't like the sound of, so... I'm going to my food, clean water and shelter, and I'd love some company." You smiled once more, trying to get them to calm down.

It wasn't like you had some convoluted plan to try and steal their weaponry. You genuinely wanted to help these people. Offer some kind of assistance and maybe end up less alone than you had been.

Though most of them remained skeptical, they decided to come with you. They could take down one girl. You seemed harmless, so why not get some food.

"You never told us your name," Bucky said as he eyed the blade you had in your hands. Your mannerisms had changed greatly from minutes earlier. You were on high alert, sword on the ready, and a march that was clearly hurting you but still, you tried to suppress the limp. This wasn't a stroll to you. This short walk to wherever you were taking them was life or death.

"Well, to be fair, you never told me your names either," you replied, not looking back, eyes scanning every area you could see.

"Right, well, I'm Buc-"

"Sergeant Bucky Barnes, I know who you are. The arm gave it away." you let a small chuckle when you heard him stammering behind you. "I also know Sharon Carter, Hope van Dyne, Doctor Bruce Banner, Happy Hogan, General Okoye of Wakanda, and that's a flying cloak. And I don't know the other two. I guess he's Spiderman based on the costume, but he usually has a mask on, so..." you said, pointing back at the group behind you without taking her eyes off the path.

"H-how do you know who we are?" Banner asked hesitantly.

"News, or museums in some cases." you glanced back to smirk at the Winter Soldier.

"haha, very funny," Bucky rolled his eyes.

"No, I'm not making an age joke. I'm serious. I know you from a museum."

Kurt began laughing at Bucky, but the sound of his laughter wasn't what you were focusing on. You stopped in place, gesturing for the group to be quiet. They stopped as well, confused as to why you reacted that way.

In the two weeks, you had to survive, you had learned the warning signs. The sounds and smells zombies make. You tried to identify where it was coming from, quickly grabbing the nearest object, a garbage lid, off the curb and throwing it in the alley parallel to you.

Just as you suspected, two zombies ran out to attack the noise. As if on instinct, you sprinted to them, using your sword to decapitate both of them.

As the zombie's head rolled on the ground, all you could do was add another reference. "You're Terminated, FUCKER!" you yelled out in relief. But your face dropped when you remembered that you weren't alone. Slowly turning back around and flashing a forced grin. You were met with shocked faces and dropped jaws.

Embarrassed, you tried to apologize for what they had just witnessed. Still, before you could finish stumbling through your apology, Peter shouted out excitedly. "DUDE! THAT WAS AWESOME!"

That reaction surprised you. Uncertain of how to react, all you could say was thank you.

You tried your best to move on and return to your strides, but you stopped yourself and turned to the boy you only knew as Spiderman. "I'm y/n, by the way."

"I'm Peter."

"Nice to meet you, Peter."

"Oh, I'm Kurt! You didn't know me from the news. Now that we know each other, according to the apocalypse that makes us best friends," Kurt sped up slightly to join you at the front of the group.

"You are absolutely correct, Kurt" you couldn't help but laugh at his comment.

Though the others in the party didn't have the same reaction. Whispering side comments that they didn't know you could hear.

"How has this kid survived on her own for this long?" Happy Hogan whispered to Peter.

"Did you not see what she did to the zombies in the alley?" Peter replied. He was in awe of what you had done. Replaying the moment in his head like a movie. Wishing he had caught it on video.

"Ya but she doesn't look like someone that would have a lot of training in combat..." you tried to tune out whatever they were saying. Then, of course, you could reply that you need to be a fast learner when the stakes are this high. But it didn't matter, really. They could assume whatever they wanted, that doesn't change that you are just happy to have found other people who haven't been infected.

The subjects of their comments changed rather quickly when you were hit with an unfortunately familiar stench. A foul garlic-like odour mixed with rotten cabbage had the displeasure of meeting with Peters' nose. He had never smelled a scent so strong in his life. His heightened senses not doing him any favours.

Sharon was the first to comment on the smell, covering her nose with her arm, her gun still out in front of her. All you could do was laugh. You lowered your weapon and turned back to face the group for the first time since you had begun walking. Your weapon lowered, your limp more prominent, and your expression calm.

You smiled at the sight of everyone on high alert. It was surprising that they hadn't figured out what was going on yet. "You guys can put those away. We're safe now, " you said, returning your sword to its holster and slowing down your strides, focusing more on your injured ankle.

"I hate to say the cliche, but it's awfully quiet... too quiet," Kurt said, looking over at Okoye, refusing to lower her guard.

"I haven't seen or heard anything in a while. Are the zombies sleeping or something," Bucky commented, putting his gun behind his back.

You chuckled, "We made a barrier. It got pretty big after a few days."

"I'm guessing you didn't use a fence to make your barrier?" Bucky added, looking at what he assumes is the barrier in question. He thought it may have been a speed bump, a clumpy speed bump. It sure as hell smelled worse than a speed bump.

You could hear Happy whisper his theory about you using the other survivors as human shields, and tears pricked your eye at his comments. You knew the assumptions about you seemed reasonable. Hell, you looked psychotic from their point of view. But it still stung. You sped up, trying to get away from the others. You had learned a lot in the apocalypse, but one thing you learned from life before; never let them see you cry.

You tried to blink away your tears, Maybe I could blame it on the smell. That's believable enough, right? You thought to yourself.

"Hey, um, are you ok?" Peter asked as he tried to meet your new pace.

"Ya, I'm fine. Why do you ask?" you asked, wiping your eyes to eliminate any evidence of weakness.

"N-nothing, you just walked away kinda fast," he said with a smile. "So, how does the barrier work?" he tried to change the subject.

"That's something I would also like to know too!" Barnes asked from behind us.

"Ya, no offence, but how did you get this far with a costume sword," Happy added. You forced a smile.

"First of all, the sword is real. It's from an antique store, they dulled it down, and all I had to do was sharpen it. And how I got this far, adapt to survive." you slowed down to meet everyone's pace.

"How do you know that nothing's gonna break through your so-called barrier," Bruce asked.

"You guys have so many questions, don't you?" all they could do was nod. "The barrier, as you might have figured out, is made from Zombie corpses." you explained, "Zombies are attacked by our Pheromones; they find us using their sense of smell. They can smell uninfected flesh, so you could shower to try and not smell human, but that won't do you any good for too long," you looked over at Barnes, who smelled like a bath and body works. "I found out that the Zombies only attack when they smell human, so all you gotta do is get rid of the 'Human smell' or, as I've been doing, cover it up. For example, you may have smelled my deodorant. It's not lemon-fresh if you couldn't tell. It's any remnants of zombie that wouldn't transfer the infection or known by its scientific term, Zombie Goo."

Peter was the only one that laughed. He was sweet. That boy didn't really stop smiling. It baffled you how he seemed so positive and energetic. On the other hand, you were exhausted from your unsuccessful search for clean water.

"Zombies smell zombie. They think 'no one to infect here' and leave. That's why the barrier is just a bunch of Zombie corpses, and that's why it works." you concluded your explanation with a tight lip smile.

"You should make a video. It would be better than Peters. No offence Pete," Kurt said.

"We should totally make a how to survive the zombie apocalypse 2!" Peter said excitedly.

"Why not," you couldn't help but smile wider at his enthusiasm. "We're here, by the way," you stopped in front of the building you had been using as a camp.

"You live in a high school?" Sharron asked with a look of distaste on her face.

"Ya, my room is the music room. It's carpeted!" you limped back towards the entrance and took out the keys.

"I CALL PRINCIPALS OFFICE," Bucky said as he and Peter raced towards the door.

You chuckled at their actions. They're sweet when they don't assume I'm an insane murdering cannibal.

You opened the entrance for the boys who were not too far behind. They slammed them open and continued their race. The others followed shortly after.

"I WIN! TAKE THAT, PARKER!" you heard from a distance.

They settled in quickly. The group was surprised to see just how prepared you actually were. The schools cafeteria was stocked with non-perishables and fridges filled with food you had made. Solar panels on the schools' roofs allowed for electricity. You had an abundance of supplies ranging from first aid to entertainment. The only thing you were missing was people to share it with.

Although Peter was content with remaining there with you, the others had doubts. They had decided to discuss their plans, but Peter couldn't focus, knowing you were sitting somewhere on your own.

The boy wandered through the empty, dimly lit hallways. Many of the lockers still had locks on them, some locks were broken, and Peter could see photos inside the open lockers.

The inside of one of the doors was covered from top to bottom in photographs. Polaroids of teenagers hung on the door, but Peters attention was drawn to the ones that contained you.

He scanned the pictures landing on one where you had your arms around who he assumed were your friends. You were clearly much less tired than you looked now. Your eyebrows were slightly more cleaned up, and your hair was straightened. You were laughing, a smile that made his heart flutter. And even though you looked the same, you felt unrecognizable from the girl he had just witnessed slay zombies while sporting a limp.

Peter could sense your footsteps above him, on the roof. You were sitting on the edge of the building when Peter joined you. "Hey," he said as he debated whether or not to sit next to you. You responded with a soft "Hi" that was barely louder than a whisper.

"what are you doing up here?" Peter asked as he finally sat down.

"Watching the sunset," you replied, not taking your eyes away from the view. You gazed at the sky of fire caused by the resting sun, illuminating the clouds in orange light. It was something Peter hadn't seen often in New York. "There's less pollution, so the sky is beautiful." you turned to face the boy next to you in excitement, "and cause there isn't any light pollution, you can see the stars!"

"I just realized I haven't actually been outside to see the stars yet," Peter confessed.

"I won't lie, I miss the city lights, but nothing beats a sky full of stars." you smiled up at the sky, and all Peter could do was smile with you. You were so relaxed now, much more like the girl in the pictures.

Peter noticed that your ankle that caused you to limp was now bandaged. "I've been meaning to ask, what happened to your ankle?"

"Oh, I sprained it earlier today. I was running and tripped on something."

"Does it hurt? You were walking on it for a while." Peter asked, remembering how you ignored the need for a limp before making it the base.

"A little, but if I let a sprained ankle get to me, I'd be a zombie right now. But, as they said in World War Z, Movement is life." you chuckled, and Peter laughed with you, finding your smile contagious.

Peter wanted to prevent any awkward silence between you, but it was easy talking to you. When the silence did come, it was comfortable. "You know this was my high school."

"Me too"

"I figured," Peter tried to remember your face in the halls or the cafeteria but to no avail, "It's weird that it took a zombie apocalypse for us to meet."

You chuckled in agreement. The truth was that you already knew who Peter was, despite feigning cluelessness when you first met. Peter Parker was the cute boy on the robotics team that played the trumpet and spent his free time building legos. Peter was simply out of your reach. You weren't popular at Midtown, but you didn't need to be. You had your friends, and you were content with that.

You were pulled from your thoughts quickly after remembering your time in high school. "So, how did you learn to fight like that?" Peter asked.

"I'm a quick learner, I guess. I know everyone is shocked I made it this far, as your friend Happy has clearly stated many times." Peter gave you a sympathetic smile, realizing you could hear every comment Happy had made earlier.

You and Peter sat on the school roof for what felt like forever and just a moment. The time was simple, opening up about your shared movie obsessions and your lives before. Peter thought you were the funniest girl he had ever spoken to. Granted, the list of girls in comparison was short, but that didn't matter. Your laugh was music to his ears, and your smile made his heart flutter.

The sky was now a deep red that faded to what would soon become night. You returned your gaze to the view ahead. However, Peters eyes remained locked on you, taking in your features under the golden light of the sunset.

He was comfortable, and he felt safe in your company for the first time in a while. He raked his brain at how it took so long to have met someone as amazing as you. You were everything Peter wanted and everything he didn't know that he wanted. And even though the others were downstairs debating on what to do next, Peter knew that no matter what they decided, he would stay here with you.

#my writing #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader fluff #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #zombie au #marvel #mcu #spiderman

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phantastus · 2 years ago

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Yo, if you're doing the character bingo, I gotta ask about Heather Mason

SLAMS STACKS OF NOTES DOWN ON THE DESK (jk i do not have the energy to go into full sicko mode tonite, but you know how it is).

"Everyone but me is wrong about them". I have seen some truly incomprehensible fanon about Heather throughout my years on the internet and it has resulted in me becoming incapable of being normal about her. I do my best to suppress this because despite the frothing beast within going BARKBARKBARKBARK I genuinely do want everyone to get to enjoy Heather and SH3 in each of their own respective ways. Unless you are a cishet man drawing her with giant balloon tits. I'm going to maul you like a wild chimpanzee.

"I'm obsessed with their character arc". TROUBLED YOUTH PLAGUED BY HARROWING CIRCUMSTANCES NAVIGATES MYSTERIOUS OTHERWORLD, DISCOVERS SHE IS ACTUALLY A CREATURE OF TERRIFYING POWER AND POTENTIAL, CONFRONTS PAST TRAUMA, PROVES "NURTURE" OVER "NATURE", AND SAVES THE WORLD BY FIGHTING GOD??? sign me the FUCK up 👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌th 👌 ere👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my selｆ 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠＯOOＯOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

"They got done dirty by the fans". See former note about cishet men deciding that the scrappy tomboy teenager would look much better with a real set of badonkers. Bonkhonagahoogs. Humungous hungolomghnonoloughongous. I'm going to turn into an extra from the Walking Dead and chew some skulls open.

"ADOPTION PAPERS". BABIE.... BABY GIRL...............

"I am rotating them like a fork in the microwave". See former note about me not having the capability to be normal about Heather Mason. I have been doing this for over a decade and my interpretation has only ever gotten more deranged.

"The popular ships for this character suck". Honestly I don't think there actually ARE popular ships within canon for Heather anymore??? WHICH IS GOOD HONESTLY I'm all for shipping Heather but for awhile there was a lot of Heather/Douglas and Heather/Vincent and even (puking in my mouth) HEATHER/HARRY around and let me tell u I did not care for that ONE BIT. One of the things I really like about SH3 is that the closest thing to a canon romance for its female lead is the tragic childhood bond between Heather/Alessa and Claudia. For actual SHIP ships, I will stick to putting her in ridiculous crosscanon RP ships with anime villains and also Laura Palmer.

"constantly listening to songs/holding them up like paint swatches". I have Heather songs coming out of my freaking ears please listen to them: "Black Dahlia" (Angel Haze), "God's Got Nothing On You", (Thea Gilmore), "Little Secrets" (Passion Pit), "Invincible" (OK Go), "Fear of Fireflies" (Calla), "A Better Son/Daughter" (Rilo Kiley), "Rejoice" (AJJ), "Forces of the Unseen" (Cloud Cult), "Black Eyes" (Radical Face), "Shake it Out" (Florence and the Machine), and of course that classic "Welcome to the Black Parade" (My Chemical Romance). And because I'm a fucking nerd, go ahead and also have the two songs I picked out as her main themes from the two most prominent RPGs I've played her in the past fuckifIknowhowmany years: "Inferno" (Promare OST) for the slice of life Pokemon game, "The Crow" (Dessa) for the monster-horror game where she got turned into a cannibal bird thing.

"what's wrong with them (affectionate)". [slaps top of Heather's scruffy dandelion head] this baby can hold so many issues.

"not enough screentime". More Heather is always the answer. There should be an optional setting for all SH games where there's just a live Heather reaction cam in the corner the whole time.

"My opinions would be received with wasps". I mean I am always on some level assuming that everyone around me is responding to my stronger opinions with that one photo of white girls holding solo cups and judging the viewer. AND PERHAPS THEY ARE RIGHT TO.

"The best character in the work". I mean. I am pretty biased.

#Silent Hill #Heather Mason #kit rambles about silent hill #please do not worry about me judging other heather interpretations too hard #every heather is valid and beautiful #i am just Deranged

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slutsofren · 4 years ago

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Danger Days Chapter 8: Save Yourself, I’ll Hold Them Back

summary: finding shelter in an abandoned home, you try to keep your wits about you and care for the still unconscious Joel until some trouble comes knocking

word count: 3,792

content warnings: mention of gore and impromptu medical care, more canon-typical violence, death, murder, arrival of.... cannibals, y'know the deal hurt/comfort

notes: i didn't mention it last time but yeah, your shit really can kill you if you get your lower intestines punctured lol it's a real thing and gnarly af

read on ao3 / masterlist

You woke up in a start. Heavy breaths taking hold in your lungs. The small, barely considerable amounts of sleep were getting to you as they had been for the last month as more and more night terrors racked your brain. Rubbing at your eyes, you pushed yourself up to begin your usual routine.

It had been a couple weeks since your little group found yet another abandoned home and it took some hell of maneuvering to get Joel into the basement but it worked. The winter snow was coming in full force and it was peritive you all kept Joel as warm as possible, there were too many odds stacked against him.

Walking over to his prone body, you checked on his wounds once more as you did practically every couple of hours. He was looking worse for wear, even changing out the gauze could only do so much. Whatever small amounts of clean water the three of you had went to cleaning it out, hoping to stave off the infection.

Joel was, by all means, not doing well.

To top it off, even with your meager amount of medic training from your days with FEDRA could never prepare you for the long-term haul you were in with Joel, he was dying. The bastard was dying and you couldn’t help but feel it was your fault.

Night after night you were haunted by the image of him falling off that balcony, the sounds of his groans of pain still lingered in your head even when you were awake. It fucking sucked.

He was asleep now, he barely woke up since everything went to shit at the university then at the mall. That in and of itself felt like a lifetime ago. You put a hand against his forehead, feeling how his fever still hadn’t broken. With the chill in the air as winter was fully settling in making your fingers cold as ice, he didn’t even flinch away. You closed your eyes and sighed, still not wanting to give up. Not for Ellie, not for Tommy, not even for the grumpy man himself.

A quick glance out the small basement window told you it was nearing dusk which startled you. Ellie had left when the sun was at its peak, sometime around noon, surely. She had been gone much much longer than she normally would have.

Usually it was you who left to go hunting for food once your supplies dwindled but Ellie wanted to help relieve the burden from your shoulders and you reluctantly agreed. Yo hated to admit you needed a break. She had argued she wanted to get better with her bow and arrow and she certainly did, often bringing back animals of various sizes. It was her way of coping with potentially losing Joel, something she confided in you that was one of her biggest fears.

Thoughts of Ellie swirled your mind and you paced back and forth, chewing at your fingernails. A nasty habit you suppressed most days. A part of you wanted to go find the girl, follow Callus’ tracks in the snow. Another part of you didn’t want to leave Joel by himself.

Fuck, you thought.

Compartmentalizing you figured if she didn’t return within an hour, you’d go looking for her. If you couldn’t locate her within a mile radius, a strict rule you enforced her limited hunting zone to, you’d hunker down with Joel and wait until morning to find her and scold her for being irresponsible.

You stopped your pacing to look at Joel’s face, seeing how his face was still warped in the painful scowl he hadn’t let go of. His features were beginning to slowly become gaunt as the small amounts of food you’d been able to get him to eat the rare times a day he’d wake were coming far and few in between. Even his usual tan skin was slowly softening to a cooler shade of bronze. He looked like death.

Joel, by all means, was a handsome cowboy. Even with his patchy beard that was littered with grey hair in a few spots. Now he just looked like a ghost of himself.

Okay, fine, you admit to yourself. With Joel down, you’ve kind of missed the fool. You missed the banter and arguing with him about stupid shit. He irritated the daylights out of you because he always wanted to jump headfirst into things without a care for his safety clearly but dammit, the lack of his presence was palpable. You hated it.

You sat beside Joel, removing one of his hands from under the blanket to hold. His hands still rough and calloused, mirrors of yours if you weren’t missing a finger. Once upon a time, you remembered hearing that coma patients could sometimes hear what people said to them, that it helped. Maybe talking to him now would help not just him but you as well, to keep your mind occupied. Maybe pass the time a little. Maybe.

“Hey, it’s me, you grumpy bastard,” you started off lightly. “I don’t know if you can tell but you’ve been puttin’ that girl and I through hell and back trying to keep your ass alive.”

A hollow laugh escapes you, feeling a little more choked up than you’d ever dare to admit. Composing yourself you tried to use playful banter. “How do you do it, cowboy? Ellie is a goddamned handful. Shit, I thought I was bad when I was a teenager,” you sniff, feeling your voice waver.

“When I first laid eyes on you two, I think it would have saved me a whole lotta trouble and pain if Maria let me shoot you,” you sigh dramatically. Even though there was a smile on your lips, it didn’t reach your eyes. What did were the tears that were slowly forming. The added stress of Ellie being missing was really wearing you thin.

Amongst other things.

“Y’know,” you sniffled, “you really hurt my feelings back at the university. When you thought I led the two of you into a trap.” You took a sharp inhale. “As much shit as you and I put each other through, that was the one thing that stung. More than anything.”

You squeezed his hand and sighed, closing your eyes. Admitting that was hard, stars know you’d never say that to Joel while he was conscious nor in front of Ellie.

“Don’t die, you asshole,” you begged softly, wiping away the light tears that coated your lashes, reluctantly letting go of Joel’s hand as you tucked the blanket around him tightly.

After you said your piece, your mind became overrun with the little turd you grew fond of. The more you began to worry about Ellie, the more your thoughts swirled rapidly into worst case scenarios.

Before you worked yourself into a much deeper frenzy, a loud metallic bang echoed from upstairs. You ran up the steps and came face to face with Ellie, looking just as frantic. She raised her hand and in it, a tied white rabbit, so white it was nearly silver in the dim lighting. “I got food,” she said breathlessly.

“And,” she shoved you aside and took off to the basement, “I got this. Can it help?”

Ellie reached into her pocket and pulled out a syringe and orange bottle, she handed it to you while kneeling next to Joel as he shifted in his sleep. You were still rather shocked to see Ellie who looked faintly bloodied and tired, before you could comment on the new rifle on her shoulder, you took the bottle and were damn near milliseconds from riding into her until you read the faded label of the glass container.

Penicillin.

“Where the fuck did you get this, Ellie?”

Without waiting for her to answer, you dug in your pack and pulled out some disinfectant alcohol and a gauze pad to clean the syringe and a spot on Joel’s arm. Ellie refused to look up from where she kept her gaze focused on Joel’s face, “‘s not important.”

“If I wasn’t so mad at you right now, I’d kiss you.”

Throwing away all the questions you had for her, you administered the antibiotic as quickly as you could, he sighed as the medicine entered his body. Although, it was likely you were giving him too much, truthfully, you didn’t think it would hurt him worse than he already was.

As he relaxed underneath your hands, you looked down at his wound one last time for the evening. The haphazard stitches were taut on his stomach where the swelling was, hopefully by morning, he’d be better.

You didn’t look up from Joel as you laid into Ellie, “I don’t want excuses about where you were, only that you promise me to be more careful in the future, please.”

“Ye- yeah, I promise.”

“Good,” you covered Joel back up, “Now go get some rest. I’ll take care of the rabbit and wake you when it’s done.”

You turned your back to Ellie, it wasn’t that you wanted her to feel bad for her little disappearing act. You just needed some space to gather your thoughts. Between being Joel’s caretaker, Ellie’s temporary guardian, and keeping yourself sane, you were a wreck. You needed a moment.

Before you took a step on the stairs you paused. “Good work on getting the medicine, kiddo. Joel would be proud of you too.”

She didn’t respond as you walked away, the implication that although you were upset with her, you were still proud lingered in the air. Mindlessly, you focused on the rabbit, doing what needs to be done to cook it for dinner, pushing away those lingering worries. Ellie was safe, you reminded yourself, she came back.

It didn’t take you long to finish with your meager dinner, still pretty damn proud of Ellie’s evolving hunting skills. Maybe you’d offer to teach her a couple snares in the morning to leave out overnight. Although they tended not to gain anything bigger than a rabbit or a squirrel, something was better than nothing and you’d figure it would help Ellie focus on something other than Joel’s condition.

You bounded down the stairs, bringing the freshly cooked meat with you. A small shake to her shoulder and she was awake, “Dinner’s ready.”

Ellie didn’t bring her gaze up to look you in the eye, likely still ashamed. The two of you still sat in silence eating, occasionally looking to Joel for any changes or whenever he shifted in his sleep.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice sounding small.

“I know, Ellie. I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I was just worried.”

Once again, the silence encompassed you both like a blanket, warmer now than it was before. You broke it first, “I was thinking about teaching you a couple snares in the morning. How does that sound?”

Ellie wiped the grease from her fingers on her jeans and looked up, “I think I’d like that.”

Just like that, the two of you were on even footing. It didn’t feel right to be mad at each other, not when Joel wasn’t there to diffuse. Either way, it was much like when you were the one in between their own fight that day you’d met them, it wasn’t healthy when you all had to rely on each other for survival. At least with Ellie, she was quick to forgive and forget in the face of the larger picture. A quality you kind of admired in the young woman.

Both of you finished with your portions of the meat, saving the rest for the morning or for Joel if he wakes in the night. Simultaneously you shuffled through the remaining ammo together, doling out some spare bullets to Ellie for her shiny new rifle, still not going to ask how she acquired it. Let her have her space.

She took the bullets graciously, reloading her sidearm and long range weapons and placing them in her backpack before getting ready for sleep. You stayed fiddling with your own weapons for a few moments longer before calling it quits too.

You laid down on the opposite side of Joel, biting your lip and hoping for the best. You tossed and turned, not knowing if you could take facing Joel’s sickly frame but you also couldn’t turn your back on him and Ellie who laid on her backpack on his other side.

Please, you wished, let the medicine take.

These kinds of wishes filled your mind until you slowly drifted to a fitful night’s sleep.

By morning, you happened to find yourself shaken awake with Ellie’s face close to yours, “Wake up, I need you awake!”

You jumped up, onto your knees. “What is it,” you ask startled, afraid Joel was worse than he was when you fell asleep. Looking at Joel, he didn’t look like he deteriorated in the night, but he also didn’t look like he improved any.

“I was tracked,” she says as if that explains anything. Both of you have your hands on each other's arms in a failed attempt at communicating the other’s panic.

“What do you mean ‘tracked’, Ellie?”

“Those people I got the medicine from, David and-and James, they fucking tracked me!”

“Ellie, what the fu-.”

“Look, listen, I’m gonna draw them away. Keep an eye on Joel,” she tells you in a rush, letting go of you and bolting up the stairs, grabbing her backpack on the way out.

“Fuck,” you practically shout while getting up and looking out the window. Outside you see silhouettes of a few men, searching the nearby area. Frustrated, you kick the washing machine.

Shit, shit, shit.

You don’t know what to do, you feel tied down once again because of Joel’s condition and Ellie’s neverending saviour complex. You mumble out a few more expletives at this situation just as you see the girl bound down the street on Callus shouting for the intruder’s attention. As she rides away, you hear bullets being shot at her, getting further and further away from you.

You carelessly threw your denim coat on and opted to grab your knives instead of guns, hoping to kill anybody who came close without alerting the others. Out the basement window, you could see a few of the men still lurking about, choosing not to follow Ellie.

Just before you followed Ellie out of the house, you doubled back to Joel, kneeling forward and giving him a kiss on the forehead. “We’ll come back, I promise you Joel. Just please, don’t die on me now.” Another kiss on his warm skin and you left without stopping, barricading the basement door as if it was left unoccupied.

Everything in you wanted to panic, your muscles were screaming to fold in on yourself and heave what little food remained in your stomach but you couldn’t give in. Not when Ellie was in danger. She may have been a pain in the ass, but she was your pain in the ass.

After your conversation last night, you’d be damned if anybody hurts your girl.

Taking a deep breath, you shook your worries free and cleared your mind. Although you were a field medic by title with FEDRA back in the day, working with them turned you into a killer. It was a toxic mindset for you, even when you had joined the Fireflies, they took advantage of your ability to focus on one thing and one thing only, turning it into their own game - death.

It took years to shake off that blank emotionless part of you, even Tommy was afraid of it when he saw the horrendous things you were capable of, what the Fireflies exploited from you, but Tommy wasn’t here and the people you loved were hanging on by a thread.

It was easy to see the outlines of the few straggling men who searched the nearby homes, whatever Ellie did really pissed them off. Now, these people only pissed you off.

You stayed lurking within the shadows of the homes, even with the sun just getting ready to set, it wasn’t too difficult to stay hidden. Especially to those who weren’t familiar with the layout. It was easy to spot how the few men tended to remain within a handful of yards together, opting not to venture out into the buildings alone. Alert and yet unorganized as you could see how they would often turn their backs on each other, giving you such a delicious opportunity to sneak in and out, weaving through them and taking them down one by one.

Was it absolutely horrible this was your instinct? Maybe. But you had two people you wanted to protect, two absolutely annoying yet selfless humans who gave you hope. You did love Joel and Ellie, even if you hadn’t admitted to it yet. Besides, you had a whole lot of stress burdening your shoulders and you wanna hit something.

You watched as the small group approached one of the homes off to the left, allowing you ample room to get close without having to cross the street in the open. You took off running, not bothering to try and conceal your footprints in the snow as you got to the house besides the targets. You entered through a broken window - a common for every single house on this block. Taking lighter footsteps, you ducked by the windows and reached the second floor landing.

The homes in this area were built within close proximity to the others, making it easy for, say, somebody needing to jump between windows without being seen. Perfect.

You listened hard and close as the men shuffled and tossed things around the first floor, looking for any sign of Ellie and ‘those two people she was with’. You growled lowly, really hating the implication that these people knew about the three of you.

Taking another assessment, you noticed there were two men standing guard out the front of the house, idly walking to-and-fro, their conversation remaining on wishing they were chasing Ellie instead.

A deep breath in and you jumped with an ‘oof’, trying to make as little as noise as possible, aiming for a wide open window with a snow covered bed on the other side. Between the snow and the mattress, the noise was cushioned to only a small thud, thankfully concealed by the thuds of the men downstairs shuffling through rooms. You quickly got up and went to the doorframe and saw there was only a hallway and stairs leading down.

You took deeper breaths again, trying to center yourself for what you were about to do as you heard one person come up the stairs - alone.

Placing your body flush against the wall, you waited in stark concentration, drawing your knife from its sheath. The footsteps came close, nearing the room you were hiding in and just as an armed gunman came in, you rushed him. Putting one hand against their forehead, you pulled the other hand and dragged the knife into their throat, essentially cutting off the person from making a noise and ending their life. You pulled and lowered their body as they began to choke out, laying them on the floor gently against the wall, carelessly hiding the body.

Downstairs you could still hear shuffling of the other invader and you made your way to them, silently assessing.

From what you could tell, the other person was banging around in the basement. So you rounded a nearby corner to where the open basement door was until finally, finally, somebody came through. You took him down just the same as his buddy.

So unorganized, you thought. If they were really looking for you and Joel, they were doing a piss poor job of it.

You swiped a bottle from the kitchen as you strolled past, taking aim out a broken window. Giving it a nice little toss, it shattered against the other house and without fail, you heard the tell-tale signs of one of the other men asking ‘what was that’. You ducked behind the faded curtain until one of the targets came into view, watching how he was pensive and alert, fortunately he was by himself which made the next part just as easy.

As soon as the man walked by the window, you jumped out from your hiding spot and jabbed your hunting knife straight into the soft squishy part of his eye, surprisingly facing little to no resistance.

You pulled it back and repeated the motion again once the man made an audible noise, probably alerting his friend. In only a slight rush now, you jumped out the window and removed your blade, now stalking towards the front when you could hear the other man yell the other’s names.

Wrapping around the corner of a house in a whirlwind, you surprised the last one when you stood face-to-face with him. He looked at you, astounded, mouth agape and dropped his weapon - a handgun. Looking down at his body, he whimpered as he took in the sight of your knife now buried deep in his stomach as you yanked them up into his chest piercing his heart.

Copper scent filled the air as the hunter’s body gave out. His blood spilling down your front. Under normal circumstances you would’ve likely vomited all over yourself but considering the innate need to protect Ellie and Joel, all that shit is blown out the window.

All in all, maybe thirty minutes have passed, you wanted to check on Joel but the distant gunshots were making you worried. At the very least, the longer they went off, the longer you knew your little fighter was alive.

Okay, think, you tried to get yourself to focus. You came up with a rapid-fire plan and before you could second guess yourself, you ran. Refusing to stop. Each step in the plush snow found you closer and closer to your hideout.

Entering the home through the garage, you gave Whiskey a pat as you walked on by and headed straight for the basement. You pushed the undisturbed barricade from the door, grateful it signaled that Joel was safe. Entering the downtrodden room you grabbed your holsters, strapping them maybe a little more tightly than you should’ve and throwing your backpack over your shoulders. You double-checked your weapons, making sure they were fully loaded.

Once again, you kneeled next to Joel as he laid on the dirty mattress, huffing from the rising pain from the stitch in your side. “Joel? I’m gonna go back out and find Ellie. I’m gonna go get our girl,” you said.

You hoped you were telling the truth.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller x oc #joel tlou x reader #joel tlou x you #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfic #joel tlou reader insert #the last of us reader insert #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #danger days fic #asher's writing

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t4t-lumpygrab · 3 years ago

Note

LSP for the character headcanons, please!! :o)

LSP!! MY BELOVED!! thank you for sending this ty so much... LSP... blorba from my shows.

-I think that I hc her to have a difficult relationship with her parents… semi cannon but not really bc the writers retconned her parents to go from being very abrasive and yelling at her to being super nice and concerned for her. I feel a bit :/ about removing LSP having a compelling reason for running away from home, as it feeds into her wider characterisation as a character who shouldn’t be taken seriously by making a huge part of her character (her living situation) into a joke about the capricious nature of teenage girls that she’d run away and be over dramatic for no reason, in favour of a compelling character arc about the effects of living in a household she suffers in. (In contrast, Marceline’s issues with her family are presented with humour, but also as genuine traumas. Like the fry song takes a similar overreaction joke and turns it into a deeper expression of her father’s lack of attention and love for her.)

So I kind of imagine that her parents were quite controlling of her self expression and criticised her a lot. I think LSP’s exaggerated confidence and the callous way she treats people makes sense if she had this sort of upbringing. Like she pretends she’s better than she feels she is as a coping mechanism to make it harder to insult and hurt her, and she treats people cruelly because she’s been made to feel like she doesn’t really matter so her actions don’t really have an affect on people. That and she has massive social deficit from being in a household where she doesn't get to express herself or interact normally with her parents.

-I have a lot of thoughts on trans LSP. I think that LSP realised she was trans around 13 or so bc of dysphoria due to puberty, but that she spent age 12 dealing with very rough identity issues. I can see her really throwing herself into trying to be a boy and like… forcing herself to date Melissa when she really wants to BE her and just feeling awful about it all. I think she ided as gay initially and definitely took all the "am I gay?" "am I trans?" online quizzes and lied on all the questions to get "you are cishet" as an answer.

-I think LSP… is a furry. Like she gives off that “roleplayed warrior cats one too many times” vibe. (also lol the lsp birthing stick picture I'm obsessed) Has one of those 2000s sparkle wolf ocs. Would 100% wear those lil fursuit paw things if she could get some that fit her hands.

-we are going deep into Charlie LSP daydream universe but I like to think she and Lg2 were online friends for a bit when she was 14 bc they both posted terrible quality vent fanart in whatever the Ooo equivalent of Deviantart is. Lg2 would occasionally drop v worrying things about their family situation in the middle of their my little pony discussion or whatever, and LSP would be 14 and not know how to respond beyond “ZOMG CANNIBALISM!! o.O” or something like that. She figures out years later after being with lg3 that this was in fact lg2 and feels very sad about it, and wishes she had done more to help them somehow.

-more trans LSP headcannons. So… I like to thing that lumpy people do have sexual dimorphisms that we don’t pick up on bc simplified art style. And that’s part of the reason why LSP prefers to live in Ooo, where people don’t know about her species so she’s not immediately recognisable as a trans girl. Specifically… her voice is deeper than Melissa’s and she has bigger hands, also the thickness of her fur and size plus sharpness of her teeth is bc trans. Plus we see that her dad has facial hair a different colour to his fur, so she has to deal with that too. Plus Melissa has white coloured eyes, as does her mother in her original appearance while Brad and her dad have black eyes, so having inverted sclera is another amab trait among lumpy people. She’s pretty upset about all this, especially her eyes and hands which can’t ever be changed.

#lsp #lumpy space princess #fan theory #that was my old tag I used for this stuff lol #ANYWAY LAALSSSAPP #trans tag #DO I HAVE A TRANS TAG??? I DON'T REMEBER #I should #ask to tag

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scaryscarecrows · 4 years ago

Text

Child Safety 101

AN: Continuation of ‘I Think I’ll Just Collapse Right Here, Thanks’, found in Why Do They Kick Me?

Note: Mark is a trauma surgeon, not a GP, but he’s also the only one Jason will let within doctoring range, so.

* * *

The Knight has been down and unresponsive for literal days. The first day was the diciest, because even Mark hadn’t been totally sure if he’d pull through, but his fever had gone down enough to remove him from the danger zone.

Once it had become apparent that he wasn’t going to die on them-because Antoine’s sorry, but no way is he continuing this crusade in the guy’s memory or whatever, if the boss dies, he is leaving-, they’d had a meeting and, essentially, made a chore chart for who had Knightwatch, who had Armywatch, and who got to nap.

It’s a fairly efficient rotation. And so far, at least, they’ve managed to keep the news of, well, everything under wraps. All the men know is that the boss is down but that he will be fine, carry on as normal. They don’t know that the helmet’s off.

And. Oof. Of all the crackpot theories they’ve jokingly tossed around, this wasn’t one of them. Antoine’s not sure which one he’s more stuck on: the fact that the boss is a teenager, or the fact that the boss is-was-Robin. They’re so intertwined that it doesn’t really matter, it’s just…

Antoine is not a parent. He’s happy to keep it that way; the best part of uncle-ing is dosing them up on sugar and releasing them back to the parents. So he doesn’t really get the whole ‘electrical outlets are a Great Danger’ thing. But he does get, maybe a little better than your average parent, the sick, twisted fucks of society. He’s worked with a handful. Spoken with more. He still remembers, years after the fact, that one guy...he ate people. Literally. He’d put a toddler in the oven-alive-and…

Yeah.

But this is a little different. This is...it’s one thing to hear about it. It’s another thing to be faced with it. And it’s another thing entirely to see it. That fucking tape, man…

He stretches out a bit, pops his back and rubs a hand over his side, feeling rough scar tissue. What a week. What an absolute hell of a week.

He’s on Knightwatch now, because everything outside is moving smoothly without him and Frank really, really needs the nap. The boss is finally sleeping peacefully, curled up on his side with one arm flung up to shield his face. He’s still shivering on and off, and he sounds congested as all get out, but the worst of it is over. No more screaming, no more pleading.

What now? He supposes they’ll stay the course, but he’s not sure, not really. Maybe this is the end. Maybe the boss will vanish in the middle of the night.

Jesus, that explains so much. Batman taught him all this weird shit. Batman...this is, arguably, entirely Batman’s fault. What sort of weirdo...never mind. Never mind.

As ever, he figures, this is a nasty combination of neglectful adult and opportunistic predator. This is the same thing as that one girl in his sister’s apartment complex that got kidnapped. Six years old, mother said, ‘yes, yes, go play by the road alone!’ and she got abducted and murdered. Somebody should have been watching her.

Somebody should have been watching the boss.

Doesn’t matter. People are watching him now, at least, whether he likes it or not.

He coughs and rolls over, one arm slipping off the bed. Antoine sighs and puts it back, straightens the sheets out like he’s seen Frank and his sister do, and wonders what’s going to happen now.

They could, he supposes, figure out who he-and by extension, Batman-is. Jimmy could run a facial recognition at the minimum. But they haven’t, and they don’t really intend to. Curious as they are, they owe him their lives and...and no matter how this turns out, he’s their boss and they won’t.

Antoine’s sort of lost in thought, caught up in memories of that little girl (what was her name?) and the cannibal and the utter confusion of everything, when the Knight suddenly jerks upright like he’s gonna make a break for it.

“Shit--”

He twists over and only feels a little sorry for forcing the Knight back down. The sorry feeling vanishes when the boss tries to fight him.

“No--”

“You gotta be kidding me--” It’s not much of a fight, but he’s still trying, which is incredibly unfair. “How even--there.”

Okay. There’s no easy weapons in here, which is all he can ask for. He’s not interested in being held at gunpoint again, thanks.

“You back with us, sir?”

The Knight’s quiet, breathing hard and seemingly very interested in the ceiling.

“We have an intruder,” he says, voice carefully flat. “I want every available unit search--”

Uh-huh.

“You wouldn’t have held this intruder at gunpoint, would you, sir?”

Silence. That’s what he thought. They’re professionals, for heaven’s sake. People don’t just get into their super-secret hidden base. That just doesn’t happen. Their own people have gotten lost trying to find their way back to it! Intruder, humph. That hurts.

…

Yeah, okay, he’s trying to maintain the facade of normalcy. Like. The helmet’s off, man, any weird-ass theories anybody’s had have now been put to rest in favor of the truth. But both of them are probably going to be happier if they just pretend that nothing has changed.

(Which is half-true. Baby Robin or not, the guy’s still scary.)

“What day is it,” he finally says, voice scarcely above a whisper. Antoine hits the call button.

“March third, sir.”

“Shit.”

Yup.

There’s no good response to that and the boss goes slack, one arm flung over his face. A minute later, Mark throws open the door with a grumpy, “What the fuck was that.”

“I--”

“Went the fuck down in the middle of the day thanks to a one-oh-four degree fever,” Mark seethes. “You have. The goddamn. Flu. People die from the flu, straight-up die, and you didn’t think to mention it! I’m not asking for much here. Just a little heads up. Y’know, ‘hey, Jones, I’m feelin’ pretty crappy, think you can poke your head in to make sure I didn’t die in the night?’ ‘Oh, sure thing, boss, happy to help, feel better!’” The smile he plasters on is frightening. The boss doesn’t like it, not one bit, and to Mark’s credit, he drops it pretty quick. “What were you thinking? Anything? Really, I’d love your thought process.”

“‘ve handled worse on my own,” the Knight mumbles, somewhere between sheepish and stubborn. “Thought a walk would clear my head.”

Sad thing is, Antoine believes him. The brand alone is not pretty, and while Mark hasn’t said much, what he has shared is disturbing.

And. Well. It’s not like the boss has been totally silent for the past few days. Once or twice he’d woken up screaming, the kind of awful sound Antoine associates with three-feet-thick walls and Professionals. Hell, Mark had collared Trent to come and look at something, and while neither of them are sharing, that’s Bad. Trent’s not a doctor, but he knows how to hurt people...and what they look like after.

“Well, it made you worse. You’re lucky you didn’t kill someone or yourself, parading around like that. Aight, you sit up, you clear out.”

Gladly.

“Feel better, sir,” he says. “We’ve got things handled out here, so just get some rest.”

“Oh, he doesn’t have a choice. Come on, up-up...be lucky if I let you out of my sight again after this...f’I have to give you weekly check-ups, that’s what’ll happen…”

Fuck Batman, Antoine thinks tiredly. This is his fault, things never should have advanced to the point that his...sidekick...kid...whatever ended up like this. How is Gotham not screaming about kids and guns anyway, huh? That just seems like Child Safety 101. He certainly makes sure all his toys are locked up tight when the niblings are over. He sure as hell wouldn’t give them a dull knife and tell them to, like, fight a trained mercenary. That seems like a terrible idea.

Whatever. It’s not going to go any farther. Boss he might be, but he’s just not going to be allowed to be an idiot, that’s all there is to it. No more vanishing off somewhere for three days, he’ll just have to check in or something. Frank can bully him about that. It’s for his own damn good.

THE END

#Jason Todd #Arkham Knight #Antoine Drouot #Mark Jones #identity reveal #well sorta #they're more stuck on 'Batman let a child fight crime and this happened'#(nobody is happy about it either)#Jason can kiss leaving the base after six goodbye

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yummyinmytwistedtummy · 4 years ago

Note

floyd leech (in merman form) eating a mermaid. lots of teasing, tummy play, licking lips

This was my first same size vore fic and um.... I went overboard. It’s so long but I think it’s really good. I made up the mermaid and her tiger shark attacker but I left hints of a gender neutral MC in there as well cause I can’t not add “Shrimpy-chan~” giving Floyd tummy rubs. Also please tell me what you think cause I’m new to this. Thank you! (also I can’t name anything so please excuse the ridiculous title).

Contains: same size vore, non fatal vore, safe vore, non consensual vore (but it’s chill cause he’s just trying to protect her), burp kink, belly kink

Slimy Save

The ocean was peaceful and calm. No fish swam by and not a single other living creature was around. It was boring. Floyd took a moment to pout at the sea's uneventfulness before deciding to turn around and head back home. His long snake-like tail twirled to help him change directions. He almost took off at speeds that no normal merman could achieve when he spotted something extra shiny on the ocean floor. Was it a trinket from the human world? Maybe Azul could help him sell it to the foolish merman who thought it was treasure. The dumb fishies would gasp in surprise and practically hold an auction for it depending on how rare it was considered under the waves. Floyd snickered at the thought of toying with the small fishtails before diving down to retrieve whatever the object in question was.

He came to a disappointed halt however when he realised it wasn’t an object from the surface at all. It was simply one of the fishtails scales. He hadn’t known that fishtails lived around these parts but it wasn’t unusual to find a shed scale or two where one had been. Floyd frowned that it wasn’t something precious and felt slightly annoyed that fishtails just left their scales wherever they went. He never shed and if he did it would be troublesome but he would pick up after himself. Though he supposed that could be hard if the fishtails weren’t aware they were shedding. His tail was long and smooth and never shed. It was durable, functional and fast and it didn’t leave a scale trail. Unfortunately his tail wasn’t very shiny or as attractive as the fishtails usually were. He thought about how dull his tail was very often since a merman's tail was what usually found them a mate. With the tail of a slimy eel it would be very hard to find a mate since other eel merman were rare and eel women generally went after other species with more flashy looks out of instinct. The eel merman/mermaid population was thinning because of this which was unfortunate since any eel man would love to have an eel woman and reproduce many times.

A loud cry broke Floyd from his thoughts. He shook his head and made to swim away back to his home reef. The cry came again and he realised it was a female. As a part of merman culture nearly everyone was raised to treat women with respect and kindness. They are very important because of the part they can play in regrowing the limited population of fishmen. Too many humans didn’t understand what they were in the time of the sea witch and many fishtails were killed. It could have been very easy to turn around and pretend like he hadn’t heard anything but fortunately for the damsel in distress Floyd was feeling generous today.

The source of the sound wasn’t far Floyd found. A mermaid had been the one to call out in fear. She had a short body and tail, but her hair was long and a pale orange color. Her skin was heavily tanned and gold scale spots decorated her face and shoulders, (the underwater equivalent of freckles). Her tail was a shimmering coral which flashed as it reflected the sunlight. She was truly beautiful as most mermaids are but Floyd had to admit that she would look prettier if she was smiling instead of having a panicked look on her face. And panicked she was, rightfully so considering her situation. Thick ropes of giant kelp wrapped around her tail and twisted around her arms. It tangled with her hair and left her thrashing in order to get it undone. A male mershark circled casually around her from slightly above. His gaze was dark with hunger and his toothy smile was chilling to all who could be considered prey.

In school, Floyd recalled, children were taught that all merfolk should generally respect one another since there was no need to be violent in peaceful times. They were also taught, however, that there were no laws preventing different species from attacking and killing one another, or even eating them. When Floyd had explained this to his shrimpy-chan they had stared at him in disgust and called it cannibalism. It would never make sense to a land dweller but under the water where many call home a mershark eating a fishtail is the equivalent of a shark eating a fish. Now it wasn’t like fishtails were the only source of nutrients a mershark could get since most merfolk ate what their respective sea animal origins ate but it also wasn’t frowned upon to eat each other. If the shark wanted to eat the mermaid he had a right. Floyd had no business stepping in since technically no one was in the wrong. Yes it was shameful for certain merfolk to go after someone weakend in defence or restrained as is now, but that was simply the shark way.

The eel merman made to turn around when he decided this was the excitement he had been looking for this afternoon. Floyd shot forward through the water and grabbed the mermaid before the mershark could get any closer to her. The kelp tightened around the fishtail before snapping in half as if the eel man had pulled her from spaghetti. The intense speed that Floyd swam surprised the girl almost as much as her sudden rescue. Confused the mershark hesitated before taking off in the same direction intent on getting back his meal.

Sights whizzed past in a blur as Floyd carried the mermaid to some place where they would be safe. A small grotto came into view and the teenager banked a hard turn and zipped in through the hole in the wall. He held a hand up against the mermaid's mouth to keep her quiet as he checked outside. No shark was faster than a slippery eel but he would eventually catch up and find them. That would be an issue.

Floyd let the mermaid go and held a finger to his lips before snickering, “you fishtails need to watch where you’re going. It’s a good thing I was there since that tiger shark was gonna eat you for lunch.” As if on cue when he said lunch his stomach let out a low growl signaling that it was time for food. *BWoOOorgLE* Floyd looked down at his belly and shushed it. “Hush tummy this isn’t the time to snack, besides there’s no-” He paused and shifted his gaze to the mermaid in front of him. She watched him with fearful eyes as he drifted closer to her. She flinched when he reached an arm out and pulled on the kelp still stuck to her body. “Let me help you,” he said in a toneless voice that sent chills down the mergirl’s spine.

She let him unravel the kelp, but stayed wary of his movements as he circled her again and again to undo the sea vines. Tense the mermaid let him pull the last of it from her and sighed when she was finally free from it’s lifelike grasp. Floyd smiled eerily behind her and his eyes widened with excitement. The little fishtail had relaxed too soon. Quick as an eel (haha I crack myself up), he wrapped a large webbed hand around her mouth and another around her torso in order to hold her in place. She began to squirm again but the eel man's grip was much stronger than the kelp. How could she possibly escape him when she couldn’t even break out of the sea forest. He snickered at the absurdity of it. Merfolk have gills so it was impossible to squeeze the breath out of them meaning that Floyd would have to swallow this fishy while it was still kicking. He grinned at the thought of feeling her squirm the whole way down and then continue to move once she was in his gut.

She attempted to elbow him but was stopped when he squeezed her tighter. “Hush little mermaid, don’t say a word. I’m gonna eat you and that’s for sure.~” Floyd sang to the tune of a lullaby he heard on land once. He couldn’t understand why the fishtail had to struggle so much though. It wasn’t like he wasn’t gonna let her out. That much fat would make it hard to swim. She just needed to sit in his tummy for a while until the shark guy was gone. He contemplated telling her that but decided that it would be more fun if she struggled on the way down.

“On the way down make sure to squirm. Slick as a seal and smooth as a worm.~” Floyd finished his small tune and ran his tongue along his lips. Fishies always taste good but this one just smelled so sweet he knew it was something he had to savor. “You look so tasty, little fishy. Do you think you’ll be sweet or sour? Hmm… oh I know I’ll just tell you.” The mermaid froze up as she felt a long tongue slide along her cheek. It took it’s time to coat the skin in sticky saliva as best it could underwater. Then it flicked back into his mouth and the eel hummed thoughtfully.

“You don’t taste bad. You’re kinda too sweet though, like someone accidentally poured too much niceness into you. I personally like a sweet fish that has a sour hint and flavorful aftertaste, but I suppose I can’t expect that from you. Only my Shrimpy-chan back home can taste like that.” He took a moment to think about the kind of face his Shrimpy-chan would make if he told them how they tasted. It was unfortunate that they wouldn’t be here to rub his tummy when he was done eating, they would have made the cutest noises and blushed to their toes. Floyd shook his thoughts from his mind and sniffed. The tiger shark was getting close, if he was going to eat the mermaid now was the time. He giggled one more time before twisting the mermaid around and opened his jaw as wide as he could.

Two rows of sharp teeth and a distinct smell of festering fish was the first thing that the mermaid noticed. The distance between the eels two jaws however quickly became her main focus as they stretched farther apart than she had ever seen any creature do. An unusually long, thick tongue flicked excitedly and his gut gurgled in joy as if it knew what was coming. If you could drool underwater Floyd would be doing it. As soon as there was enough space for the mermaid to fit he hoisted her up and into his mouth.

She tried to scream but no sounds came as she was pushed into the slimy cavern that reeked of yesterday's meal. Slowly she was moved further and further into his mouth. Floyd stamped down a squeal as her head reached the back of his mouth. Just one more push and a swallow and she would be on her way down to his stomach. He pushed hard and swallowed thickly and felt her head pop into his throat.

*GRRUUULRK*

The eel mermans neck bulged grotesquely as the mermaid slid, head first, into his gut. Floyd swallowed again and her head moved into his chest. Her upper body was almost completely inside of him. On the outside, however, her tail whipped around frantically, trying to find any means of escape. As it got closer to him the mermaid's tail flipped back towards his face and the tail fin sliced his cheek. He paused for a moment before growling and using one hand to grip the mermaid tail tightly while he used the other to grab the wall for support. *GUURK* *GLUUCK*.

In two easy swallows he pulled most of her inside of him. After the second one he felt his stomach swell as her head was the first part of her to reach the final destination. Now that she wasn’t squirming as much Floyd took this opportunity to lap at her scales with his tongue. She tasted well enough as he had said before but the feeling of smooth fish scales on his tongue reminded him of his unsatisfied hunger and inspired him to finish up his meal. Grunting he pushed the last of her tail into his mouth and snapped his jaws shut. He brought one hand up to push at his neck to help her go down. If he wanted to he could have easily sent her down using the muscles in his throat that rippled every time he swallowed. But that would have hurt her and he wanted to let her back out in one piece so he opted against it and took the hard way.

*GUUURLLP*

One last swallow and the rest of her slipped into his stomach. She thrashed and screamed as best she could without accidentally getting digested fish slime in her mouth. The whole thing stank like no one could ever imagine and if she took a breath that was too deep she would start coughing. It was the type of smell that you couldn’t escape, the kind where you could taste it, it was so strong. She whimpered and pushed at the slimy walls to try and upset the eel man's stomach. The lining of her current location was smooth and slick. It pulsed in beat with the drum that she heard above her. She assumed it was his heart. A thick sludge sat in the bottom of the dark pit and the mermaid was thankful that she could not see because she feared what it would be that he had eaten before her.

When the mermaid finally landed in his stomach, tail and all, Floyd let out a loud moan and shuddered with pleasure. It had been so long since he had been this full. It felt amazing. His tongue hung from the side of his mouth as he panted trying to catch his breath. With so much extra weight the eel man sank to the ground and leaned back against the stone wall. He looked down with lidded eyes and saw that his stomach had swelled out a good 3 feet in diameter. He knew it could stretch more though so he wasn’t particularly worried about the fist shaped dents that appeared repeatedly on his large gut. In fact all the wiggling and struggling that the mermaid did felt like a deep massage for his inner organs. He sighed again and waited for the merwoman to calm down. A particularly strong punch in his gut dislodged a pocket of air that must have been lingering from his time on land.

-----

The mershark was not in a good mood. He had found the perfect meal and then suddenly some random eel merman had snatched her and took off. He was in every right to eat her and he was going to eat her, no hero playing amature was gonna stop that. If only his shark senses were sharper. The tiger shark sniffed again and growled still the same old scent. They were close but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly where they were hiding.

“BWWWWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRLP!!!!”

A ridiculously loud sound alerted the mershark to a small hole in a wall where he realized was the area that the mermaid and eel man were hiding. As he got closer he could hear the eel man talking to the fishtail. “Oh excuse me. That was a good one, must have been the soda and mentos experiment Shrimpy-chan and I did before I left. Didn’t realize there was still air in there. Shrimpy-chan needs air when they're inside me but a mermaid doesn’t.”

The tiger shark paused. What in the seven seas could ‘inside of me’ mean? He shook it off and continued forwards to the entrance way. He swam through in time for Floyd's next loud eructation.

“HHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRP!”

The eel man frowned and looked back down at his stomach. “Well that wasn’t big at all.” The mershark took in the eel and his eyes widened in shock. What once must have been a slim and fit torso now bulged out enormously. The giant gut wasn’t perfectly round either, it was lumpy in some areas and the shape faintly resembled… The mersharks blood froze in his veins and he listened closely. Sure enough behind the wall of flesh he could make out the mermaid's frantic screams. The tiger shark looked back up to the eel man's face and met his eyes. They were wide and the pupils were small giving his face an eerie look. Deciding that he didn’t want to find out what that look meant the mershark booked it, leaving Floyd alone with his fishtail snack.

“HIC-UUUARRP! Ahh- hah ngh! Stupid bubbles in my tummy won’t come out” The teen groaned, wrapping his arms around his distended middle section. “Hey fishy, could you move around a bit more to help me get that before you come out of there?” The mermaid paused her panic as best she could. “Y-you, you’re gonna let me out?” she spoke timidly. Floyd giggled, “course I can’t HIC- leave you in there. I wouldn’t be able to swim home. Then I could eat lots of other wriggly fish and make my tummy full again for Shrimpy-chan to enjoy.” The mermaid shivered with disgust, how could anyone enjoy this? Either way if he was gonna let her out then she might as well help him. The sooner this was over the sooner she could take a mud bath and rid herself of this sludge smell.

With all her might the mermaid flung herself around and pushed her tail against the fleshy walls as best she could. A loud gurgle came from all around her and she felt the eel man lean forwards when the pressure finally got tense enough to be released. Floyd placed a hand on his full stomach and pushed back as hard as he could, pressing the air out of him.

“BWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!!!!!!!”

A burp of gigantic size and magnitude erupted from his lips. The force of it made the whole place shake and rock pieces fell from the walls. It lasted about 8 seconds and was tripled in volume and length due to the echo from the cave walls. The mermaid was jostled and shaken from her position inside his gut. When it finally came to a close and the sound stopped bouncing off the walls Floyd let his head fall back and he panted, trying to get his breath back. The disturbed fishtail didn’t move for several moments while the eel man gathered his bearings. When he did manage to catch his breath he laughed loudly as if the whole thing had been the most hilarious thing. His laughter cut off into an after burp which ended with a hiccup and a sigh.

“Wow fishy that was a great one. Shrimpy-chan will be sad they missed it. I feel so much better now~” He said cheerfully. “Speaking of Shrimpy-chan…” The eel man cut off and a thoughtful expression crossed his face. He wondered if Shrimpy-chan would like to be inside of him, giving him inner tummy rubs, and helping him force out belches. The only time he had eaten them was by accident when they got into the shrinking powder, thinking it was a spice. He hummed at the thought of them sitting full size curled in his stomach, comfortably filling him while also being given the opportunity to live out their fantasies. Floyd pinned that thought somewhere else in his mind and decided he would have to go back to it at a later date. He looked down at his still engorged gut and frowned.

Pushing his hands underneath, the eel man hoisted his gut up and attempted to sit up with it. He simply sank again however and dropped the mass of bloated organ back down into his lap. The mermaid made a noise of complaint and then it hit him. “Hey fishtail~ I’m so tired after protecting you from the sharky. If you do a good job rubbing my belly I’ll let you right out after I wake up, k?” The mermaid hesitated for a moment before resigning herself to her fate. She stroked the walls of his stomach as best as she could with the position she was in but it seemed to do the trick cause she heard the eel man yawn and his shifting stopped.

Floyd would have to figure out how to get the mermaid out of there at some point, but right now he could use a nap and the tummy rub from the woman inside him was nice too. Next time though, he decided, it would only be Shrimpy-chan allowed in his stomach, where he could squeeze them in only a way he could. “Shrimpy-chan…” he mumbled quietly before his eyes slipped closed and he fell asleep. He dreamed that his stomach was nice and round, filled with wriggly fish, and he was squeezing Shrimpy real close as they soothed his gut with tummy rubs and listened to it churn and gurgle lulling them into a soft sleep. “Goodnight, Koebi-chan…”

#twisted wonderland kink #floyd leech kink #bloated belly #belly kink #burp #burp kink #oral vore #same size vore #safe vore #non fatal vore #vore fic #shrimpy-chan gives belly rubs to floyd cause I say so

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yet-another-fan-girl9 · 4 years ago

Text

Different Worlds (2)

Summary: You’re the youngest Winchester, a girl who needs to show her big brothers that she doesn’t need help. Then one day, on a totally normal vampire hunt that you had all under control, three meddling Avengers come barging in.

Warnings: language, violence, canon divergence, slow burn

Word Count: 2092

A/N: Part two is already here because I have no motivation to work on anything else!!

~*~

Chapter 2: Casper the Cannibalistic Spirit

It came to that.

The Feds were on your ass again. No thanks to Twiddle-Dee, Twiddle-Dum, and Twiddle-Dumber. Your brothers had left you in the bunker for a week while they went to Nebraska and Iowa for a couple of hunts.

Recently there were a couple of strange deaths over in Utah near the mountains. At least four bodies were found mutilated, cut open, and with bites missing. Sounds like your kind of fun so right now you were begging your brothers to let you go check it out.

“Please, please, please, please,” you repeated as you followed Sam around the bunker. Maybe you could annoy him enough that he’ll kick you out. “Pleeaasse! You know that you and Dean are being irrational. We’ve been wanted by the FBI before.”

“Yeah, but you’re also wanted by the Avengers. That’s new.”

“C’mon, Sammy.” You draped yourself dramatically over a table when Sam pulled a book off a shelf. “You of all people know how it feels to be put on the sidelines by a protective older brother.”

“What’s goin’ on in here?” the protective older brother in question asked when he walked in.

“(Y/N)‘s trying to go on a hunt.”

“Please.” You sat up and gave your brothers your best puppy dog eyes. “We can all go together.”

Your oldest brother sighed and said, “What were you looking at?” You smiled mischievously at his question and ran to get your computer from the other room. “That doesn’t mean I’m letting you come!” you heard him shout at your retreating back. “I just wanna know what you’re looking at!”

You made it back to your brothers, computer in hands, and slightly out of breath. Your brothers watched over your shoulders as you dramatically revealed your research.

“So,” you began. “Park City, Utah. Pretty popular tourist place, ‘specially in the winter for skiing and snowboarding. Four people,” you pulled up the news clips of their demise, “all tourists, found dead. Their bodies were totally fucked up. You have your usual mutilation and incisions, but what really intrigued me were the bites taken out of the bodies.”

“What could be up there?” Sam tucked his hair behind his ears and leaned in closer to your screen.

“We can all check it out.” You waited for an answer with anticipation.

“Fine. We’ll go in Baby,” Dean finally answered.

“Great!” You ran off to pack your duffle bag. “I call shotgun, Sammy!”

~*~

It’s been a week since the strange woman decapitated over a dozen people, and Bucky, Sam, and Steve haven’t gotten any closer to finding her. Of course, F.R.I.D.A.Y. had pulled up a juicy cocktail of information on her, but there has been no sign of (Y/N) Winchester, born (Y/N) (Y/L/N) before legally changing her last name.

Her mother had died in a house fire twenty-four years ago in 2000 when she was six. She seemed to vanish for almost twelve years until she, along with her two older brothers, showed up on the FBI’s most wanted in 2012. Bucky did the math. She would have been… eighteen? What happened in twelve years to make an eighteen-year-old girl go on a killing spree with her brothers. Who also happened to have more murders under their belts.

Bucky sighed and the file on the Winchesters on to his bed. He rubbed his eyes with his regular hand and when he looked up, Steve was standing in the doorway.

“Still looking for her?” The Captain nodded at the folder.

“She’s dangerous,” Bucky defended. “Deaths all over the country and she and her brothers are always there. Die in a way that isn’t a natural death and she’ll be there.”

“I wasn’t reprimanding you. I was just here to tell you to take a break.”

“Do you think,” Bucky paused before shaking his head. “Maybe she—they’re…”

“Hydra?” Steve supplied and his friend nodded. “I don’t know. It’s not that much of a spectacle. It’s also not secretive enough.”

“There’s still something going on with—“

Bucky stopped talking when Sam appeared next to Steve, slightly out of breath. The dark-skinned man took a deep breath before speaking.

“Some cameras caught them. (Y/N) and her brothers. In Utah.”

Bucky shot out of bed. “Let’s go.”

~*~

You tapped your foot as the elderly lady slowly scanned your groceries. Your brothers had sent you to the little store next to the motel for a couple of six-packs, candy, chips, and of course, some pie.

The motel room was low lit, especially with the heavy curtains drawn. You walked into the boy’s room, thankfully you didn’t have to share. The only time you did was when Jack came along. Right now Lucifer’s son was being taught angel things by Cas.

“I bring sustenance,” you shouted when you made your entrance.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Dean mumbled. Both of your brothers had their eyes completely focused on their computers.

“Guys,” Sam grabbed your attention. “So get this, each victim was staying in a house that was previously owned by these guys.” He displayed his screen. A photo of a man and woman was surrounded by newspaper text. “The Walkers.”

“So what was their deal?” You placed the groceries on a bed. “I’m assuming they're dead.”

“Yep. Mrs. Walker was stoned to death by some teenagers in 1972.” Dean whistled and shook his head at Sam’s words. “Mr. Walker hanged himself after her death.”

“Poor Mrs. Walker,” Dean said.

“Don’t pity her. The teens apparently killed her because the Walkers had kidnapped, tortured, killed, and ate one of their friends.”

“Guess that ‘splains the bites.” You began to prepare the salt bullets. “Think we have to deal with both of ‘em?”

“Where are they buried?”

“Uh, both in the field Mrs. Walker died in,” Sam read out loud. “The last property they owned and not killed in yet is close.”

“Here’s the plan,” Dean spoke. “Sam, you and I go salt and burn the bones. Need you to watch my back if Mrs. Cannibal decides to pay me a visit.” He turned to you and you straightened your back. “(Y/N), go to the house and see if anyone’s renting the place.”

You nodded and smiled. Back in the game.

“Hi there,” you greeted happily to the woman who opened the door to the Walker’s townhouse. “Can I ask you a few questions? What’s your name?” You heard the Impala drive away behind you.

“S-sure,” the woman said softly. “I’m Miss. Powell.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss. Powell.” Enough pleasantries. “Has there been anything strange happening in the house?” You took in her appearance: bags under her eyes and unwashed hair.

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“I’m here to help. I believe you’re in danger. Can I come in?”

You got to work right away and made a salt circle on the ground. Spirits always thought they were the shit and always blew away the perfect circles you would always lay down, but today you were going to one-up the bitch. Before you sprinkled down the salt barrier, you had some liquid glue in your pack so you used that first.

“And that will stop the ghost?”

You had explained the situation to poor Miss. Powell. She was much more open-minded than some other people you had ‘worked’ with before. She, along with her young son Brad, sat in the center of the salt.

“If you stay inside the circle, the ghost can’t get to you.” You walked over to the fireplace and pointed at the poker. “Is that iron?”

“I-I think so.”

You grabbed it and handed it to her.

“If he gets too close for your liking, swing it at him. Should keep him at bay.”

“The ghost?”

“Or any man in general, I guess.”

Your remark got a small smirk out of the woman. Then, the lights started to flicker and the temperature in the room dropped low enough that you could see your breath.

~*~

Bucky, Sam, and Steve, all in uniform, ran up to the townhouse. Through the windows, they could see the lights flickering rapidly. Muffled shouts and what sounded like a child crying came from inside. What was she doing?

Steve tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t open. It wasn’t locked, Bucky could see the handle turn. They tried to break down the door next. It took the supersoldiers a couple turns each to finally open the front door.

Steve went in first, shield at the ready. Sam and Bucky stood on either side of him. Bucky’s eyes were immediately drawn to (Y/N) standing above a woman and a young boy with a shotgun in her hand. Then he noticed how cold the house was and the circle of white the three people were standing in.

“Hurry the flip up!” (Y/N) shouted. Was she talking to them? Bucky and Sam glanced at each other.

“I’m going as fast as I can!” The response came from a phone on the ground. It must be one of her brothers. “Mrs. Walker’s being a real pain in the ass!”

“Watch your language, Dean there’s a child present.” (Y/N) winked at the kid before she noticed she had company. “Uh, the three musketeers are here.”

Suddenly, a pale man with decaying flesh and a rope burn around his neck materialized in front of Steve. With practiced precision, (Y/N) fired her shotgun at the man. He disappeared and the round bounced off of Steve’s shield.

“What the—” before Bucky could swear, the man reappeared.

This time, Steve was ready and sliced him away with his shield. (Y/N) looked at the shield with a look of awe and confusion.

“What’s going on over there?” Her brother sounded winded and Bucky could make out gunshots from the other side of the call.

“Captain America’s special metal dinner plate can be used against Casper.” Bucky understood only half of the sentence (Y/N) spoke. “What are you doing here?” Now she spoke to the superheroes.

A strong wind blew through the house. (Y/N) smirked at shouted at the ceiling,

“Glue, fother mucker! Can’t get to us.”

The man appeared on the far end of the room, away from the Avengers. He raised his hands and the hardwood floor began to crack. (Y/N) fired her gun and the man disappeared once again. Unfortunately, the floor continued to pull away until the white circle was broken.

The man appeared next to (Y/N) and the next second, she was thrown into the nearest wall. Sam tried to shoot him, but the bullets only landed in the wall past him. The pale man turned to the woman and kid who both screamed. Bucky stepped forward and grabbed at him with his vibranium hand. The man dissipated again.

“(Y/N)?” Her brother was shouting through the phone. “(Y/N), what’s going on there? You said the Avengers were there?”

(Y/N) ignored her brother’s questions and shouted at the woman, “The poker!”

The fireplace poker flew through the air and reached her hand as the man revealed himself in front of her. (Y/N) swung it skillfully and he was gone again. She continued to glare at the three Avengers.

The man appeared in the middle of everyone right as (Y/N)’s brother’s voice shouted, “Got it!”

The pale man took one last lunge at the woman and her kid before he let out a scream and went up in flames. Everything in the house stood still as it warmed up and the lights settled. The only sounds were heavy breathing and soft cries from the boy.

(Y/N) scrambled to her phone. The three men surrounded her, they weren’t going to let her go again. Not without answers.

“Are you boys good?” She said into the phone.

“Yeah. Mrs. Walker put up a good fight though. Threw Sammy into a tree.”

“Would have loved to see that.” (Y/N) looked at the three Avengers. “I’ll meet you at home.”

“Home? That’s—“

“Gotta deal with the musketeers.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep, bye.” She quickly hung up before her brother could protest any longer. Next, she looked at the woman and her son. “You guys okay?” They both nodded. “Sorry ’bout your floor.” Finally (Y/N) turned her attention to Bucky who was standing closest to her.

“You’re not going to leave,” Steve ordered behind her.

“Yeah, I got that,” she sighed. “I’m hungry. Wanna grab a burger?”

“Only if you’ll talk,” Sam requested.

~*~

Tag List (strike though means tag didn’t work):

@grav3dollie-666

#different worlds #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x winchester reader #mcu #marvel #supernatural marvel #marvel supernatural #supernatural #crossover #supernatural crossover #marvel crossover #dean winchester #sam winchester #sam wilson #steve rogers #bucky barnes #winchester reader

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hazbincalifornia · 4 years ago

Text

I wrote down a potential writing as ‘Angel finds out that Stella has a crush on Charlie’ but the idea that Angel finds out Stella has a crush on Charlie and Alastor is just... interesting. Angel’s probably ooc but I’ve never written him before so I’m just kinda feeling him out.

Stella’s 17 here, so she’s been visiting the Hotel regularly for a couple years. I’m using that as an excuse for Angel having developed a bit I guess.

Wordcount: 1675

Warnings: Mentions of cannibalism

“Stella, would you mind putting up some fliers around Imp City? I know some sinners do work there.”

“Sure!” Stella replied, and Charlie pulled her into a hug.

“Oh, thank you!”

“No- problem!” Stella’s face darkened slightly as she felt Charlie’s breasts squishing against her own before wrapping her arms around the demoness.

When Charlie pulled back, she brushed the little black feathers out of Stella’s eyes. “I really appreciate you keeping an open mind. I know the Hellborn aren’t exactly the most fond of the Hotel since...” She clicked her tongue. “Well, since we don’t know if it’ll work for us even when we manage to figure out how to rehabilitate sinners.”

“Hell’s my home too, I wouldn’t mind there being a few less jackasses around.” Stella smiled, and Charlie ruffled her hair.

“That’s the spirit!” She smiled back before turning around. “Oh geez, it’s getting late... I’ll get you those posters by tomorrow!”

Stella waggled her fingers in a goodbye wave as Charlie jogged out of the lobby at the same moment Alastor entered it from the kitchen.

“Ah, there you are!” Alastor nodded to her. “Are we still on for that dinner date tonight?”

“Uh-huh.” Stella nodded, tail absently curling in and out in the air as she rolled up and down on her heels. “I’ll be down at 7.”

“No curfew as usual?”

She shrugged. “Eh, my dad trusts I won’t get myself killed.”

“We’ll see about that, the spice in this one is killer!” He winked, twirling his microphone stand in his fingers before smacking the end down on the floor and fading back into the shadows.

“Why he didn’t just spit that out into the radio Charlie keeps on the desk, I’ll never know,” came a comment from behind her.

Stella whirled around. “Angel!”

He snickered from his spot in the shadows, resting on one of the crates Charlie had never put away. “I can be quiet once in’a while, you know. Used to do stakeouts and shit. I just came down for some of that good fat-free ice cream Vags got and didn’t want to interrupt.”

“That’s a new one.” She raised an eyebrow. He normally wasn’t exactly subtle.

He stretched all four arms, back cracking before hopping off the crate. “I’m a complicated guy. Walk with me.”

Stella’s tail swished as she followed him down the hall to the elevator. Angel had a half-smirk, the kind of look that she usually felt on her own face when someone revealed a deep, dark secret on accident.

She didn’t think she’d revealed anything, at least not recently enough that he’d have a grin like that now. It tickled unease in her throat as the elevator dinged.

The music was soft as always, and Angel examined his nails through his gloves for some reason as Stella watched his face in the mirror. His mouth twitched slightly and he glanced over at her.

“You’re being obvious, Red.”

“Am not.”

“Standard rates apply if you wanna touch the tits.”

“Bitch.” She shoved at his side and he snickered, pushing her head with one of his lower arms.

“Joking, joking, friends get limited access for free.” The door dinged open, and he headed down the hall to his room. She’d long since gotten used to how quickly he walked with his stupid-long legs, and when she closed the door behind them, he plopped down on the bed, patting the space next to him as Fat Nuggets jumped up on his lap.

“So, you clearly want to talk about something private that you didn’t just say whatever it was in the lobby.” Stella probed. In response, Angel nodded at the small radio on his vanity and then at his closet.

She popped the closet open, setting the radio inside and then dropping a few of the thicker-looking clothes on top of it for good measure before closing the door again. “Okay, so you don’t want Al hearing whatever it is?”

“Uh-huh. He’s as big of a snoop as you are, especially when it comes to himself.”

“Comes to himself.” She folded her arms and then plopped down on the bed, bouncing Angel up slightly. What a stick.

“So, I noticed how you act around Charlie.”

Stella kept her expression neutral. “She’s nice.”

“You like her.”

“Sure I do. Like I said, she’s nice.”

“And taken.” Angel was the one probing this time. “She’s cute, don’t you think?”

“You’re gay,” Stella said flatly. “How would you know?”

“I’ve also been around a lotta people, I can guess shit by now. ‘Sides, just because I don’t play that team doesn’t mean I’m blind.” He waved his hand. “I know how infatuation works. Sometimes Val likes it when a specific person really, really likes one’a us. They’ll pay more.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“I’m just trying to let you down easy, that’s all.” He shrugged. “I like you. Don’t want you getting hurt, and Charlie seems pretty happy with Vags.”

Stella sighed, rubbing her arm. She was moving on, so... it couldn’t really hurt her if he knew since he’d already figured it anyway, right? “Okay, fine. I’ve liked her since I was a kid. She’s just as nice in reality as she seemed to be, but I always worried everybody in Hell was gonna wring her dry by the time I got my chance to shoot my shot if I ever did anyway, ya know?”

Angel patted her shoulder. “Yeah, love’s a fucky thing sometimes, but at least you know it. That’s good, that makes this easier. You tell your pops?”

“Nah, if it’s not going anywhere there’s no need, right?”

“Fair enough. He chill with you- oh, right, you said you had two dads, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well. Answers that.” Angel’s fingers tightened around her shoulder. “Now, the other thing. Charlie, I think she’d just be flattered if you ever said anything, but Al...”

Stella sputtered. “Al? I don’t like him!”

“Really? Because your tail was damn near making a heart when he called dinner a date.”

Stella smacked Angel’s shoulder. “I think I’d know if I liked him!”

“I just call it like I see it!” Angel held his hands up. “Alright, lemme just try something.” He leaned over on the bed, and Fat Nuggets jumped over to Stella’s lap, kneading down on her leggings before settling down. She started to pet him as Angel scribbled something down on a sheet of notebook paper, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he did.

After a few minutes, he ripped it out of the notebook, and Stella snorted a laugh. It was an incredibly crude drawing of Alastor. “Yeah, there’s a reason you’re sucking dick and not painting for the royalty, isn’t there?”

“We all have our talents.” He flicked at the edge of the paper. “So, you know how you feel around Charlie, right?”

“Yeah, still got some light butterflies but I’ve mostly gotten over them.” Stella narrowed her eyes. “That’s how I know you’re talking out your ass, Dust. I already know what infatuation feels like.”

“Nah, it means you’ve mostly gotten over her. Any’a the rest is just residual gayness from being around a pretty girl. Trust me, I had plenty experience of that when I was your age, just with dipshit dudes.” He held the paper Alastor face up in front of his own. “So, pretend I’m Smiles. Think about the last coupla times you saw him. How were you feeling?”

“Last couple times...” Stella bounced her knee in thought just to entertain him, and Nuggets, disgruntled, jumped off her and went back to Angel.

What were the last few times they’d interacted? Well, this morning, when he asked her to come back for dinner with the human meat she’d brought in from an IMP job where they were supposed to dispose of the body completely. He’d been delighted to get a whole corpse, and a shaved one too since it had been a woman in her mid-thirties who apparently cared about that sort of thing.

Before that... he’d showed her around the Cannibal Colony. The ladies there waved at him, and she’d felt a spike of something that she’d passed off as fear before. That was ridiculous, though. She was all muscle and sinew, and could defend herself perfectly well. Besides, she was at Alastor’s side, and if they tried anything, he’d have her back. Probably.

Last week... he’d done a broadcast about a brawl happening right outside of the Hotel. He thought it was hilarious they were trying to end each other’s afterlife right outside of the Happy Hotel, and she’d kept up running commentary with him about who was winning. He’d mentioned it was nice to have someone who appreciated showmanship, and she’d grinned back at him.

Silk caressed her face, and she snapped back to reality to see Angel had dropped the ‘mask’ and one hand was cupping her cheek.

“You’re flushing.”

“Am not!” She smacked his hand away, and he sighed, crumpling the ball up and tossing it over into the trash can.

“Al doesn’t seem the relationship type. I’ve propositioned him a coupla times, both outta habit and ‘cause he is good-looking. He always just shoots me down cold, and I’ve never heard him mention a missus or a mister or anything- even in the past, even when he was alive. I know he’s pretty tight-lipped about himself, but I feel like we’d know about something by now. Just temper your expectations. Some people are just like that.”

“Temper your expectations. Fancy vocabulary there.”

“Yeah, well, you hang around Al long enough, his fancy-pants wordage rubs off.” Angel straightened Stella’s bandanna. “Whatever weird hormonal teenage deal you’ve got with him, just keep it on the down-low to be safe, got it?”

“There’s no deal,” Stella’s face wrinkled as she narrowed her eyes, but Angel’s raised eyebrow said that he didn’t believe her.

The acid bubbling in her stomach and her thudding heart said that she wasn’t sure that she believed her anymore either.

#stella #hotel stella #shadow writes stuff #oops this wasn't supposed to be over 1k but it is now #writing about canon characters interacting with my ocs in a non-parent way is still.... an adjustment #I didn't do it when I was like 12 and I gotta do it now. I Gotta #angel #stellastor #I... guess?#that's a tag now #hh #hb #daddy blitzo

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wetlapraswrites · 4 years ago

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Still Alive

My first ever fic so please go easy on me ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story or any part of the Walking Dead, this is just for fun and entertainment only.

Rated T. Warnings: Gore, implied major character death, some language, cannibalism.

This was the VERY FIRST fanfiction I ever wrote...ANDDDD there is a part two on the way!!!!!!!!!!!!

Daryl couldn't describe with any words what it felt like to set eyes on Carol after all this time, he thought he may never see her again after Rick had banished her from the prison community. There she was, standing there with his crossbow slung over her left shoulder.

The moment his eyes met hers, his mind took over his body and before he even realized it, he was running towards her with tears of joy pooling in the corners of his big blue eyes. Her smell, oh how he remembered that now as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his body and lifting her from the ground slightly, his hand ruffling the soft hair on the nape of her neck.

As the sun began to set and the group began to make camp for the night, Carol noticed something seemed very off with Daryl, he really didn't seem to be his usual self. The adrenaline of their initial embrace seemingly fading away and a terrible exhaustion was seeping through fresh cracks in Daryl's tough outer shell. Little chinks in his armor that he would never admit were there, but Carol could see them just fine and she certainly wasn't afraid to point them out to Daryl when the need arose.

He looked completely shattered, his movements were slow, as if he were dragging a heavy weight and he was unusually scared and jumpy. Daryl was never scared, the whole group knew something was wrong with Daryl, very wrong. Everyone knew better than to approach Daryl Dixon with concerns about his wellbeing, all apart from one that is, the omnipresent Carol.

Maybe it was the trauma of what he and the group had just been through, after all the sight of other humans killing and preparing other humans for food and being seconds away from becoming a cannibal's meal yourself would be enough to shatter even the most resilient souls. Daryl also blamed himself for Beth being snatched away by the mysterious car not too long ago. A girl he had once seen as a ditzy, dumb blonde, who had well and truly come into her own as the apocalypse had progressed. Proving herself to be quite strong and capable, so much so it considerably impressed Daryl. He remembered the meek, shy teenager she had been when they first arrived at her family's farm.

They had all fought so hard to reach terminus, those signs promising sanctuary luring the fragmented group in like frustrated moths that had been denied the sight of a flame for too long. Every day the journey towards Terminus posed many new threats, from the numerous walkers lingering round every corner, to dehydration and exposure their lives were never out of danger for a second along the way. Everyone had such high hopes of finding sanctuary, a place to start again after the fall of the prison at the hands of the Governor. Little did anyone know how these hopes would be dashed in such a horrific manner, one almost unimaginable before the dead began to walk around attacking the living and the world as humanity knew it had most certainly come to an end. One could even say that the things they saw in Terminus were worse than the dead walking around killing the living, worse than pretty much any conceivable nightmare scenario.

Daryl sat alone, his back against a tree and his elbows resting on his knees, a cigarette in desperate need of a good flick hanging loosely between his lips, he appeared lost in thought. Carol got up from the tree she had been sat against and cautiously approached him, 'what the hell happened to you in there?' she asked a rather fragile looking Daryl in a low, calm voice. 'Doesn't matter' he growled, 'ain't nothing you can do about it now' he replied, stubbing out the butt of his cigarette on a stone next to the tree. 'No I know that she replied but I'm worried about you, you don't look to well'. 'I'm fine!' Daryl snarled back at her. 'Well you look far from fine to me' Carol shot back, although her voice was still quiet and unusually calm, as she didn't want to agitate Daryl even more.

Something rustled a bush nearby, Daryl almost jumped out of his skin in anticipation of a walker or ten stumbling around about to invade their makeshift camp, or worse, those freaks from Terminus, he was somewhat relieved when a large rat scuttled out of the bush and away into the dark woods, but very disappointed in himself for having such a reaction. Daryl Dixon wasn't afraid of anything, period.

He was clearly far from alright and Carol knew it, after all she knew him well and well enough to know when something was wrong. He was obviously terrified and his reaction to the rat rustling the bushes proved that beyond doubt. There had been no time for sleeping or any kind of rest during their time in captivity at Terminus. This, Combined with the battle to escape the grips of both their cannibal captors and the hoard of walkers drawn to the disarray had left everyone exhausted and on edge, far more so than what everyone now classed as normal.

'Come here, come and sit with me' she demanded, holding out her hand to him in a gesture of kindness that Daryl wasn't used to. He appeared resigned by this point.

The black darkness of the night felt suffocating, and this combined with sheer exhaustion disoriented him considerably. He placed his head in his hands and sighed before taking Carol up on her offer of not spending the night alone feeling like he did. He slowly tried to stand up but his exhausted body was working against him. He whimpered and slowly sighed, suddenly he felt very weak as the last tiny remnants of energy deserted his tired body, he swayed on his feet as he tried to stand up straight, stars beginning to flood his vision. He reached for the tree he had been sat against to steady himself. Carol was quick to intervene, jumping up from where she sat, hastily arriving at Daryl's side, she gently wrapped her arm around his middle, holding him steady. 'Ugh' Daryl grunted as everything span around him and his body struggled to remain upright. 'Daryl, you're okay, I've got you, it's okay' Carol replied quickly as Daryl struggled to get his bearings and regain his balance.

He hated the fact Carol was having to physically help him stand after all he'd done and been through. 'Fuckin' pussy' he cussed at himself silently, damn near passing out from shock and exhaustion really wasn't what Dixons did.

Carol lay a rather tatty blanket out next to her and helped Daryl lay down, gently resting his head on a soft coat she had hastily fashioned into a pillow as he lay next to Carol. Daryl didn't want to give in to the exhaustion, he was afraid to sleep after the things he had just been subjected to inside Terminus. He felt too vulnerable and exposed and he HATED feeling like that. He had to stay awake and keep watch in case any of the psychos from Terminus came back, it was his job to look after everyone, not be looked after. 'How are you feeling now' Carol asked. ' Feel very drained and ache all over' the tired hunter growled groggily. 'Want to talk about what happened in there?' Carol calmly asked as she sat against the tree with Daryl laying on his back next to her, the palm of her hand resting on his shoulder. 'Nah, not now' Daryl replied, his voice seemed weak and he was struggling to keep awake. He hadn't seen Carol for too long, he wanted to just lay there and look at her but he couldn't keep his eyes open another second. Carol moved her hand from his shoulder and rested her arm by her side, Daryl took her hand and entwined his fingers with hers, finally letting his heavy eyelids fall closed. The world around him began to fade out as his exhausted body drifted into the dark abyss of sleep.

There he was bound and gagged on his knees in front of the trough in the slaughterhouse after being dragged from the Boxcar with Rick, Bob and Glen, awaiting his fate as he watched four others die one by one, smashed in the back of the head and their throats slit by Gareth's men, the boom of the flash grenade still resounding in his head. Gareth slunk around in front of the trough like a horror movie psychopath just before he brutally executed his victim. Daryl's entire life appeared before his eyes with each sickening thud of the bat hitting the skulls of his fellow survivors, a blur of hunting trips with Merle in the beautiful Georgia mountains to the savage crack of his drunken mess of a father's belt against as his skin, then her, Carol, the reason he had fought so hard to survive some days. Even when he felt hope deserting him, the image of her in the front of his mind had driven his already well-seasoned survival instincts. He struggled in a futile attempt to free himself but it was no use. He felt sick as blood seeped down the drainage hole in the trough, blood that was soon to mix with his.

He looked up and saw corpses in various stages of being prepared for food and imagined himself being savagely dismembered in the same way. His mind shifted again to the absent Carol and how much he loved her. What he thought was his last thought, he'd survived the apocalypse just to die at the hands of Gareth and his band of insane cannibal freaks like a goddamned animal, slowly drifted through his mind. All he saw was blood, blood, filth and death, the unbearable stench of death hung heavily in the air. The clack of butcher knives resonating in his ears.

Gareth suddenly whistled to one of his cronies 'bring her out!' he shouted. A female figure was dragged out of one of the side rooms by two other men, a canvas bag over her head and her hands bound behind her back with rope. Gareth let out a sadistic, evil laugh as one of the men tore the bag off of her head. Daryl violently grunted and struggled as his eyes met those of a defeated Carol, resigned to her fate. A huge sob balled in his dry throat, he struggled as best he could against his bindings, but to no avail. Gareth approached the two men, who released Carol to him with a violent shove that caused her to stumble towards him, and without a word, he suddenly pulled out a large knife and slit her throat right there in front of the bound and gagged group.

Blood gushed from the wound, and Daryl watched helplessly as her lifeless body collapsed to the ground. His senses deserted him, all the breath he had left was suddenly sucked from his body as more blood pooled out of Carol's lifeless body right there in front of him. 'Haha, was she yoursss' Gareth taunted after witnessing Daryl's desperate struggle. 'We caught the stupid bitch outside the fence trying to blow up one of our propane tanks with a bottle rocket, must have been some half assed attempt to save your sorry asses. Hope quickly deserted him and he waited to join Carol in the darkness of death. He was screaming inside, totally unable to comprehend the horror unfolding around him. Blood, blood, blood everywhere, dismembered body parts, more blood, human entrails hanging from huge meat hooks suspended from the ceiling, NOOO he screamed inside, this simply could not be happening...NO NOO NOOOOO...

'Daryl!' a familiar voice shook him awake as he somehow found the strength to suddenly pull himself upright, yelling NOOOO!, gasping and shaking. Carol felt as if she'd only been asleep for about five minutes before being woken suddenly by Daryl thrashing and whimpering. ''Daryl it's okay, you're okay, it was just a dream, a bad dream, you're safe now' 'It's only me, Carol' she almost whispered, placing her hand gently on Daryl's back and slowly running it down his spine and back toward his neck. You're dead, you're dead! I was there, they died...they're all dead!, he killed you, he killed you!', Daryl shot back, still only half awake, his eyes wild with terror and his body shaking like a leaf caught in the autumn breeze. It was very late now, the camp was in darkness, the small fire they had lit long since gone out and the rest of the group were asleep. 'No, I'm alive, Daryl, it was just a dream' Carol whispered. The pitch darkness scared Daryl in a way it never had before, he could not remember ever feeling so afraid, not even when Merle had left him alone at the hands of his bastard drunken father or that time he got lost in the woods for nine days as a kid. He was not afraid of anything, let alone the dark. This felt different, very different, a whole new evil that very few humans had ever stumbled upon before.

He could clearly see Gareth and his men lurking in the woods, waiting for the group to all be asleep so they could finish what they started. Daryl felt cold, physically and emotionally, and he shuddered against the cool night air. Carol quietly rummaged in the bags and managed to find another blanket without further disturbing the others and wrapped it around Daryl. He trembled a little as she gently tucked a strand of his rapidly growing hair behind his ear, images of the nightmare he'd just had still too fresh in his mind. 'Shh, just be still, it's ok, those people can't hurt you now' she whispered. 'What happened in there was truly awful but it's over now, we're all alive, we're together again and we're all safe'.

Daryl lay still with his head in her lap, she slowly stroked his long, soft brown hair and reassured him it was ok and he was safe to sleep now. 'Get some rest' she whispered. Daryl closed his eyes again, letting himself be lulled by Carol's soft, slow breathing and gentle warmth, with that and the soothing sensation of her fingers running through his hair, he finally drifted off into a thankfully dreamless sleep. Carol stayed awake until she was sure Daryl was asleep, then she closed her eyes too and finally both were asleep.

Carol woke to the sunlight shining down on them through the trees, Daryl was still asleep , she looked down at him and thought how peaceful he now looked compared to when she was first reunited with him. She shifted a little, Daryl stirred, 'morning' she whispered. She placed her hand against Daryl's back as he slowly sat up, stretching out his arms in an attempt to wake up some more. Rick walked cautiously over to the pair, and asked 'what happened last night? I heard him yelling in the night, is he ok?' 'yeah she replied softly but he's pretty shaken by what went on in that awful place.'How do you feel today hun?' asked Carol, Daryl replied 'still totally freaked out by it all to be honest' Carol held his hand and he explained that he could not rid himself of the awful things he had seen and been subjected to in the Terminus compound. It didn't look like Daryl was alone in his state of shock either, the daylight revealed the looks of disbelief and horror on the faces of most of the others too. Daryl was already exhausted before this ordeal, he didn't get even a quarter of the amount of sleep his body needed. This had allowed he shock and trauma to completely envelop him, culminating in the awful night he'd just had.

'You're safe now, we will never let another one of those imbeciles hurt any of us again' said Rick. 'We all went through hell in there, you know you can talk about it with any of us anytime right?' ' yeah I know' growled Daryl as Rick slowly walked back towards the others thinking it best to allow Carol to help Daryl using that magic touch she seemed to have whenever it came to helping anyone in any kind of distress. Carol was the only one who'd ever really got through the tough hide that enveloped Daryl's psyche.

Daryl still felt exhausted, both emotionally and physically, but he was so grateful for the few hours rest he did manage to get thanks to Carol's presence. He sat up and wrapped his arms around Carol, 'thank you' he said slowly. 'What for exactly ?' Carol replied with a playful tone, 'helping me last night, I don't think I've ever felt anything like that before' 'no need to thank me hun, it's the least I could do, you've all been through something nobody should ever have to face'.

'I thought we were all dead' Daryl said slowly, staring at the ground, tears pooling in the corners of his brilliant blue eyes. He began to tremble again, as his mind recalled what he had seen in Terminus, and the bleak thought that one of the screams he had heard inside the compound may have belonged to Beth. 'I thought I'd never see any of you again', his voice starting to crack slightly with a degree of emotion he seldom liked to show, but he couldn't help it by this point. If there was one thing Daryl loathed it was this kind of desolate feeling of helplessness. 'I can still see the bodies, the blood... I couldn't do anything to help them' Daryl shook again, a tear snaking down his pale cheek.

He remembered the cries of anguish coming from the containers and boxcars that dotted the Terminus compound. I can still hear them screaming and crying out, I couldn't help them, I couldn't... Daryl trailed off, shaking again. 'You helped get us all out Daryl, we're alive' Carol said quietly as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. 'We will find Beth, I walked through a lot of that compound and saw no signs Beth was ever there', Carol said to Daryl. 'I found all your weapons and possessions but there was nothing there that belonged to Beth'.

Daryl turned to Carol, placed his large rough hand onto the back of her head and pulled her closer, his lips met hers, his tongue slowly parting them and meeting hers as their lips both locked into a slow, passionate kiss. For a few seconds their tongues danced with one another before their lips eventually parted and Daryl spoke. 'Thank you Carol and I really mean that, thank you for being here, thank you for everything you have done for me and the entire group', Daryl said in a low, gruff voice. 'It's fine Daryl, I care very much for all of you, and you, I love you'. I love you too replied Daryl, 'nobody and nothing will ever take you away from me'.

The end.

#fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon #twd caryl

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olyollyoxenfree · 4 years ago

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10 preguntas y respuestas, Pt 2

Thanks for the 10 Questions tag-back, @averysiriuschromie! These were fun!

Your Questions

1. If you get to start over your teenage years, would you change anything, or are you happy with the way things were?

I wish I could've expressed certain things better and could've asked questions to certain people, but I'm satisfied enough with how things were.

2. Do you separate your real life from your Tumblr life?

Mostly, but I do vent on here sometimes.

3. Have you ever shown any of your fanfic/fanart to person you know in real life? How did they react to it?

I don't really show my sketches, which mostly consist of fanart, to people outside of my friend group. One friend spams me with variations of "nerd", and it's great lol

The few times I have shown someone outside my friend group were to kids I tutored; they really like my art and praise it (I nearly die on the spot when they do). There was one kid whose voice was the embodiment of an eyeroll, but that was more about memories stirred up from the content rather than the drawing itself (Miraculous Ladybug; she told me her sibling would not shut up about the show and it got on her nerves. Preteens are such drama queens, I swear :P )

4. State 2 unlikely facts about yourself.

I used to have a bowl cut because my mom would cut my hair. It was bad and I refused to cut my hair for a while because I was "traumatized" 🤣 (Shows how long that "trauma" stuck, because now I keep getting my hair cut short lol)

I was kind of a tomboy growing up and a little terror to the other children around my age in the neighborhood, who were mostly boys. I'm not exploring ditches as much anymore, but my inquisitive nature hasn't changed; I just don't act on impulse if I don't have a partner in crime.

5. Ketchup on your fries or ketchup on the side of your fries?

On the side. I'm not a [completely] greedy animal like my little brother. (But most of the time, I eat them as is or sprinkle them with pepper)

6. If you were trying to convince your non-anime watcher friend to start watching it, what anime would it be?

Depends on their interests. But most of my friends already watch anime to some degree, so I don't really have that issue lol (I only have to coax Sheena with boobs :3c)

7. Since you came from Florida, what do you think your Florida Man headline would be? :p

My brand of weird is normal for me, so I had to call on my friends for answers:

Me: Really stupid question, but I'll ask anyway: What would my Florida Man headline be?

Turtle:

"Florida Woman found with millions of dollars worth of shoplifted manga".

Alternatively, if it was an online article:

"Man found dead after groping Florida Woman: 10 Reasons You Don't Mess With Lolitas"

Rebekah:

I’m gonna go with my first thought even though it might be dumb: "Gay woman from Florida runs for president, is popular candidate".

Either that or "Florida woman built so many bookshelves she can’t get out of her room"

Sheena and Ro:

Sheena: This just in: local Floridian steals a human skull from the cemetery at 11 PM.

Sheena: Authorities still don't understand why this happened

Ro: The only piece of evidence was some art pen

Me: Sadly, that really would be how I get caught

Me: I tend to drop them ;-;

Sheena: I can see the police walk around with your art pen in a plastic bag and ask "Do you know who this belongs to?"

Me: Yup. And I'd just hold up my index finger to the police to hold up, then walk back inside for a minute to apologize to my brother for assuming he took it (because they always end up in his piles somehow)

Emily:

"LOCAL NERD DISAPPEARS IN CEMETERY ONLY TO RETURN AS CHAMPION OF THE FAE"

"[Redacted] GIRL ACCUSED OF SUMMONING THE DEAD"

"FLORIDA GIRL CHARGED WITH CAUSING HEART ATTACKS, CLAIMS ALL SHE DID WAS WALK INTO THE ROOM QUIETLY"

"FLORIDA GIRL TRIPS ON THE SIDEWALK, FALLS STRAIGHT INTO HELL AND RETURNS TO TELL THE TALE"

I have been scalped 🤣🤣🤣

8. Unsolved crimes or aliens?

Unsolved crimes!

9. Name one book you can read over and over again without feeling bored.

Hmm.. I guess any of the short story collections I have:

"The Cabinet of Curiosities: 36 Tales Brief & Sinister" by Stefan Bachmann, Katherine Catmull, Claire Legrand, Emma Trvayne: off the top of my head, my favorite story from this one is "The Cake Made Out of Teeth" by Claire L. (mentions of violence, and verbal abuse, kind of cannibalism and gore, vomiting).

"More Bones: Scary Stories From Around the World" collected and retold by Arielle North Olson and Howard Schwartz (I wrote my name in this book and it has the most wear of all the books in my small collection because I read it so many times over! I kinda want a hardcover copy if it's available): my favorites are "The Gruesome Test" (warning for cannibalism and mentions of death) and "The Haunted Violin" (warning for death).

"Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark" collected and retold by Alvin Schwartz, even though it contains some words that are antiquated and derogatory: a few short stories that never fail to send chills down my spine are "Me Tie Dough-ty Walker" (warning for gore and animal death), "Wonderful Sausage" (warning for death and cannibalism), and "Oh, Susannah!" (warning for death and gore).

...I just realized one-third of these have to do with some sort of cannibalism, which I'm not sure what that says about me, other than I'm probably hungry lol

10. An OTP you’re currently obsessed with!

I'm finding it difficult to pinpoint which ship I'm obsessed with right now because all the fanart I've seen is so cute ;-;

My 10 Questions:

(See "I tag")

I tag:

No one. While I am curious to peep into people's lives, that would require coming up with more questions, and that means work :P

#olyollyoxenspeaks #quizzes and tag games #tagged #oh hey it's me

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9uk · 6 years ago

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Where Are You?

⌲ summary : Kim Taehyung. That is the name of a nobody in school constantly carrying a camera around with him. Also, the name belonging to the guy who carried your last words

⌲ pairing : thirdeye!taehyung x reader

⌲ word count : 10k

⌲ genre: pinch of fluff, heavy angst

⌲ warnings : themes of depression, suicide, self-harm and paranormal activities. character death. taehyung can see ghosts that is.

⌲ a/n: this is quite different from what i usually write but i just needed to get the plot that has been bothering my head for months out of me. nonetheless, enjoy & feedback is always welcomed.

The way life works is a true wonder.

Expect the unexpected, predict the unpredictable. It's all bound to happen one day, at a certain point of time in our very lives. You just have to catch that split moment, the millisecond on the dot—where a mini twist in your words or actions can bring about a very drastic change. It can be a tiny alteration that causes the downfall or rise of a situation. The choices we make for ourselves or others, is very much alike to a heavy dew sliding off a leaf and carelessly falling into stagnant water. The mini waves of the impact send the lily pads nearby dancing, a floating hibiscus petal to drift further into the unknown and push a sleeping fish a centimetre away from entering the opening of a heron's beak. It's the butterfly effect, minuscule yet major. Be it a coincidence or some cruel twisted joke god decided to play on you—you solemnly swear you heard a voice of another being in this house. A house you were supposedly alone in. It could be the cannibal. There is more than a fair share of emphasis placed on 'supposedly' because at this very moment, you are certain as heck that you are not the only one in here. Here being the old crooked house that sits alone by the edge of the second highest hill in town, standing obstinate to the ground despite the occasional flooding showers and hurricanes your region suffered. The old folks claim that the house belongs to a war veteran whose entire family starved while waiting for their sole bread-winner to come home. The man never made it back to his doorstep where his three children and spouse awaits, hope draining with every growl of their stomachs and in complete oblivion to the impending fall to the grave. Every so often, the family of five could be sighted behind the murky windows. However, there are also mediums who concluded from ridiculous superstitions and calculations of the house's location that a possible dead body could still be inside, and its vengeful spirit is bent on seeking retribution for the plain injustice of their murder. Depressed souls would see it as the way to the end, Blank minds and torn hearts enter the house with nothing but one wish—death. The number of suicides that occurred in the house is a little over a hundred—one hundred and three spirits to be exact, nothing more, nothing less—loitering within its four walls. There were instances of teenagers stepping foot into the forbidden site with hopeful hearts for a thrill and a video camera in hand, seeking for juicy content to gain views and be the first to break the belief — the bunch of kids were reported missing on the news a few hours after. The statistics are somewhat the building blocks to the infamous reputation it holds today. When the police went inside to search for the families' missing loved ones, it did not work out at all. In fact, the number rebelliously increased, the police force losing yet another one of their colleagues.

That's when they decided that everyone is prohibited to enter, unless they carried a death wish. It is almost like the Suicide Forest in Japan, tarnishing those who visit with a conflicted soul. Even the authorities chose to not touch the house, claiming it was still on a long-term lease. And under whose name?

They would never reveal.

The house became something everyone refuses to lay finger on, or even talk about. The ominousness it contained drove humans miles away, like a sleeping dragon not wanting to be bothered the slightest bit. It's almost like a door to a parallel universe or something. You did your homework regarding the possessed piece of property. The internet's local ghostbuster website shares more about the rumours circulating the house.

You can't escape once you make it through the two front doors. This is as clear as day already, the number of missing bodies serving as solid evidence. Questions however, still bugged at your mind.

Why exactly is that? Were all the window sills locked? Or is the door just created to be one-way? Sometimes people are so caught up with their fantasies that they forget to look at things more logically.

A cannibal was living inside. This is just a mere speculation, but it was not impossible. It seemed like the most rational explanation one could provide to the disappearance of people. Leftover bones can be easily cremated, destroying all traces of the deceased. But you had rather resort to jumping off a cliff or simply overdosing to kill yourself—than to ferociously be feasted on by your own kind.

It was some kind of portal to another world. Although these kind of things were not scientifically proven, it was still a valid suspicion because nothing ever made sense about that creepy house. Maybe people went in and get sucked into another dimension or flung into hell. Maybe the books were right. As well as the shows and movies on television. Everybody was afraid, of what the gaunt and creaky relic held between its paint-flaked walls and dirt-smeared window panes, why people went in and never got out, why citizens were constantly missing—but the discovery couldn't be anything more valuable than a life. But you clearly cared a whole lot about yours, because you are not even batting a lash when you tell your friends that you were going to check the cursed place out. All you receive is the dropping of jaws and the heavy pleas for you to not go, because apparently ten years ago a man as bold as you executed the similar plan you had and- "Guess what Y/N," Woo-gi leaned across the table, the bowl of mashed potatoes shifting forward a little. "He died. Unnatural cause of death. His body was never found and the saddest thing is that the family couldn't even give him a proper burial or send him away in peace." Her attempted blazing eyes fixes on yours, and her fingers creep to the knife resting on the surface of the table cloth.

Woo-gi is making the best efforts to get you to empathise with the family of the deceased man, knowing that trick works perfect on your soft putty heart. Lifting the cutlery up, she brings it down and mercilessly stabs into the piece of char-grilled pork chop for effect. There is a shredding sound of the piece of meat being torn apart by your dear pal. The vegetables at the side jump up in shock. "Gone. Just like that."

Her voice is a cold, menacing one which intended effect worked perfectly on your rather timid self, the bumps on your skin appearing unwillingly.

Her gaze finally drifts to the dish plate and leaves yours, allowing you to ponder over her words. In her final attempt to scare you out of the hasty decision, you only chew on your corn salad nonchalantly. She was right, it was a deadly risk but you wished you treasured your life as much as a normal person would. You didn't have any care in the world, dead or alive. So why not make the reason of your death be 'died exploring a haunted house', how cool and mysterious would that be on the headlines? "Sounds like a dream come true for me," You sweep the coleslaw you have no interest in to one side, isolated from the rest of the dish. Gone forever, just like that? You have been spending the past few years of your life sinking into the mattress and hoping the blankets would swallow you whole and cease your existence—what made her think that you would be afraid of something like that? Then you realise that your friends have no clue about your disorder. In fact, no one did. In their eyes, you were this outgoing girl who cracked plenty of jokes and lived with a happy family. At times, you would go overboard with your imagination but that's something people who felt constrained and suffocated often possess. Their stale life is the cause of their fantasies and aspirations running too wild.

But nobody would understand. She shakes her head and sighs, exasperated. It was like there were no words in the dictionary that can come together to bandage the open wound in your heart, or get rid of the black sticky substance bugging your insides since day one—even as a close friend, the most she can do is to pray for the best for you. No one can really help you out of this sunken pit, the route is yours to take.

"I'm telling you one last time," Woo-gi lunges forward to grab both of your hands, eyes glistening with worry, trying yet again, her utmost best to stop you in your dangerous expedition. For the last time. "Don't go."

Life works in mysterious ways, and you're the kind of person who would stubbornly step on a freshly mopped floor and try walk across it despite having a bright yellow caution sign shoved in your face. Maybe this would be the turning point in your life. A life which encompasses of...well, nothing much. The world's too tiring of a place to live in. And that is also why, you are in said haunted house, face to face with an unexpected human being. "Hey," Every drop of blood in your body freezes. It's the first thing you hear before a piercing scream leaves your chest, rattling the window panes. The sudden call startles the shit out of the shivering mess you were, your body jumping backwards out of reflex. You shun away from the piercing light being aimed straight into your eyes, arms coming up to block the sudden encounter. Cannibal? Cannibal! You shrieked and jumped back further upon realisation, making a beeline for the doors. Both feet took you there as fast as they could, the wooden planks beneath your heavy stomps threatening to snap. Except when you reach for the handle, the first rumour is proven to be true. The doors wouldn't budge. You shake them with all your might, only left with creaks and a stubborn obstruction to your fleeing. Your heart pounds wildly against your chest, with the knowledge that the monster is a few feet away from your panic-stricken form. "Just give up." The low voice appears behind you, the hairs on your back shooting up and your hands frozen. Why were you even so afraid? You wanted to die anyways. Nothing is able to coherently come out of your parched throat, only able to quiver in fear. "Do I really look that ugly?" The tone is derisive, so human-like and you think you may have overreacted. Whipping around, you are only met with bright white as a beam of light is pointed directly to your face. You may have been mistaken. But that doesn't stop you from feeling threatened. "Put that away." You commanded and once the shining path of white is directed to the ground, your hands slowly descend from shielding your face. "Kim Taehyung?" "Y/F/N?" The both of you speak out in unison upon the recognition, despite the low lighting playing as an obstacle. It was dark, but you can almost make out the look of shock on his face as he takes a moment to register your existence right in front of him. As for you, relief overwhelmed the surprise you felt and for once, you were thankful to see Kim Taehyung. A fair bit of questions were going through your mind now, and your heart was close to jumping out of your mouth any time soon. But somehow you managed to stay relatively calm.

As long as Taehyung was standing there, looking at you with a face of confusion, you wanted to end your life faster to escape the interaction with this guy. Or to explain what in the world you were doing in a horrid place like here. God wouldn't let you die in peace, he had to let you bump into Taehyung minutes or hours—nobody knows—before your anticipated death. The only thing going through your mind is how you have to explain why you were inside the most forbidden house in town. Then, another thought flickers in your mind. What was he doing here then? It couldn't be... For some reason, he stands there, still astounded by your presence. Wait no, it had nothing to do with your presence. It was you. Just like how having a guest in here came off as no surprise to him, but the fact that it was you... You feel like you rendered him speechless, disbelief widening his eyes and parting his lips. He was acting strange. Just a few moments ago, he was telling you so confidently about the fate of the doors and now there was a 180 degree change in his vibe. He kept staring at you, the moonlight flaunting a light shimmer to his black orbs and you felt queasy under his relentless gaze—like he held some sort of power over your empty soul. You couldn't decipher just what is it in his eyes, your head hurt as you tried to think.

It was never the same case in school though. While you exuded an aura of confidence wherever you walked, leaving a trail of your floral scented shampoo and fruity perfume, Taehyung would keep his head low and try to blend in with the shadows. He didn't smell like anything, nor did he frequently speak.

To his pals, at the very least. The moment you hear the name Kim Taehyung, the first word that comes to mind is eccentric. You weren't exactly someone to judge people in this manner, but you know him barely—only to the extent where you can only think of an adjective like that to describe him. You've seen him more than a couple of times around in school—always carrying a vintage camera around—but have never spoken a word to him. For an obvious reason, he was located in the best class—the one where the top students are—while you are in just another average class.

He was just another schoolmate to you. The both of you have never interacted during your whole journey in high school, except for that one time. However, you have only heard things about him. Unpleasant things that make your blood boil a little, because you feel like everyone should be treated equally no matter the circumstance.

One would say, "Kim Taehyung? You mean the guy who sits in the garden for an hour after school, waiting for a butterfly to land on his pinky finger? I mean, who even does that?"

Another would comment, "He's constantly talking to himself and his polaroid films, if that is even possible. Other than that, he either talks to flowers or trees. Sometimes, he eats by himself and then he raises his spoonful of rice to feed the person sitting opposite him—only that there isn't anyone there. Some girls screamed and ran away, even their boyfriends were scared of such a person. That is mainly why they didn't do anything bad to him.”

You didn’t have much thoughts about the guy, but you admired how he could be himself without the fear of being excluded from the norms of this society. He could find the comfort in being alone, and that was the type of peace you wish you possessed.

That one day, things blew out of proportion. It was a normal Tuesday, nothing extraordinary but school and sleep. You were seated with your usual group of friends during lunch, when suddenly a yell breaks through the canteen, followed by several laughters induced with pure evil. Almost the entire cohort turns to the infamous corner—just a small turn into the back kitchen where the trash is taken out by the vendors—the place where many students are dragged in there and come out with a blue black to the eye and nasty purple patches all over their limbs.

The whole cafeteria slowly fills with hushed whispers and serious gossiping, heads turning to one another unable to drop the topic for now. Yoongi walks out from the corner, followed by a few of his friends of a milksop. Wussies, you silently remark on their terribly feigned outer strength and masks of bravery. Nothing but imbeciles, you curse them in your head. Yoongi and weaklings plop right next to you, the eyes from the surrounding tables discreetly catching up on the interaction between the both of you. "Y/N! You look gorgeous today." He tries to place his hand onto your waist but you quickly shun away from him. The small action itself caused the whole canteen to blanketed with silence, every pair of eyes now focusing on the drama that was about to unfold between the notorious gangster and his proclaimed girl. "Don't fucking touch me you disgusting piece of shit." You have had enough. The menacing words seem to pierce through every wall in the school, every person at the scene being informed of your opinion towards Yoongi all this while. You stand up, pointing a finger of accusation directly at his face—to which he flinches at, caught off-guard by your swift movement. If you had the opportunity to get away with it, you would have dug your nails into his eyeballs and gouge them out of his eye sockets, then feed one each to the weaklings by his side. Instead, you take a deep breath. Small gasps leave everyone's lips and he panics—ego bruised by your harsh rejection. Yoongi was your boyfriend. You've been tolerating him for quite some time now, all for the sake of your parents. Without this relationship, your dad would have never been able to clinch the business deal with his father. All it took was a couple of sweet phrases and fake smiles, you couldn't be bothered with the rest of him other than the profit he could bring to your company. Yoongi on the other hand, seems to interpret the relationship in a very different way. He seems to have grown fond of you and naively believed that love between the two of you is real. You never put a single thought or effort into the relationship with Yoongi, not wanting to mislead him any further but some guys just can't seem to get the message, despite the many obvious hints you've dropped. You never ask him out.

Or when he does, you would only politely decline. In school, most of the time you stick like glue to your friends and try to avoid him and his rambunctious clique at all costs. Your dear friends took empathy in you and helped you out of certain situations concerning Yoongi at times. Somehow your boyfriend's pleasant way of proving his worth was to step on the backs of people who seemed inferior to him to climb his own ladder of pride.

It was like after each time he nailed someone to the ground and kicked their guts out, Yoongi feels like he reached another level of achievement. It's sickening to the thought and you want to have nothing got to do with that narcissistic asshole. This behaviour of his begin not too long ago, a few days prior when he marked his first victim. You were puzzled, but you didn't probe. He bullies physically and mentally, using their screams and pleas to feed his ego and push himself higher up the ladder. He started torturing anyone who ticks him off or come in his way to no end, and you think you may just be next albeit being his supposed girlfriend.

The conduct only made you despise him even more. Come to the thought of it, the things you do for your parents include self-depreciation and the loss of any shame left in your skin. You can feel the anger slowly twisting in his veins, radiating off his now clenched fists. Contrary to his untamed anger building within him, his friends are slowly retreating from his side, trembling in fear at your spit of acid. You chuckled, almost despicably—both at the cowering of his tough underlings and the way he almost peed his pants at the mere fling of your index finger. He realises that you are mocking his fragility and there are a couple of muffled giggles ignited in the crowd—his temper starts to get the better of his mind as the emasculation finally dawns over him. Before he can lay a finger on you, you are already a step ahead of him—grabbing the cup of hot tea off the table and splashing the boiling liquid onto his uniform, scalding his body. You thought you had might as well went all out in punishing a rascal like him. Your friends reach for your arm, trying to hold you back from going any further in dealing with the jerk and you throw the cup onto the ground, causing it to shatter into fragments—the sound of the porcelain splitting and cracking into pieces haphazardly rings through their ears. You'd like to refer it as a clear warning to everybody witnessing the event—to simply not mess with you.

You wished to be left alone.

While he screams in agony at the possible second-degree burn, you waltz away from the commotion nonchalantly. You think that that scumbag ought to have a taste of his own medicine someday, and if no one else dare stuff it down his throat, you would more than gladly do so. You find yourself striding off—to the hidden corner behind the stalls. And there, you discovered the bloodied body of Taehyung. With a broken camera by his side. A boy like him deserved more than this, no human should ever be hurt as badly as this—especially for no reason at all but one's inability to control their emotions, and the poor decision to vent it out on others can make horrible things happen. You kneel down by his side, checking the wounds inflicted on him. Fishing out a packet of tissues you always keep in your pocket for emergencies, you wipe the blood stains off his abused skin. He's in too much pain to express his surprise at your assistance, grunting as you pressed the tissue against the wound. When the bleeding on a certain cut has stopped, you offer him the support of your arm to let him sit up straight. Taehyung holds onto your forearm and pulls himself up from the ground. He groans as he does so, his back clad with bruises and soreness.

You noticed that he was stunned into a daze, probably at the grasp of realisation that someone was actually helping him. But you ignored his feelings, just shifted your attention fully onto the fixing of his injury. You recall having a plaster tucked away in your purse and you quickly take it out as well, secretly laughing at its design—hot pink with Hello Kitty.

Taehyung doesn't miss the sound of light escaping your lips, and he himself bites down on his lip to hold back a chortle at the girlish visual of the bandaid—temporarily pushing the questions behind your intentions away. You actually felt glad you could bring a smile to his face with something like the childish print of a bandaid. Nonetheless, you peel it off and gently place it over the deep cut on his forearm as he tries to control his wincing. "Hey, it's alright. You can cry out for all you want," You smoothed the plaster flat and tight on his skin. When you lightly slap the face of the Hello Kitty to tease him, he lets out a yelp—something that sounds puzzlingly adorable coming from him. "Here, have this." You fish out a piece of candy from the other side of pocket, handing it over you the victim. The amount of surprise he shows never ceases. You let out a short laugh, "I know you're not a kid, but still..." You smile up at him. "Just take it as a form of apology for what I caused you to go through." Taehyung doesn't move a muscle, just sillily blinking at your actions. You take his hand and shove the sweet into his palm, closing his fingers around it.

For a brief moment, both your eyes meet.

There is an unexplainable exchange of thoughts running through each other's minds and it was close to feeling like the two of you shared something in common. Taehyung was ostracised in school and probably the life he had out there judging by his abstruse personality and unfathomable behaviour. He was a prisoner out here in the real world.

Freedom, but yet he can't truly express himself without being placed behind bars in the eyes of others.

You are guilty of doing so in the past, when he was nothing but a lingering, mystifying shadow that held no importance in your life. That's exactly what you did to him—judge and rule him out of the ordinary. All you feel for him is sympathy, and that isn't anywhere better than the culprits themselves if you weren't about to step out and lend him a helping hand. Regret washes over your system as his dark pupils venture into your soul.

You were not as innocent as others perceive you to be. Bystanders were the invisible strokes of support to the metal bars that locked him up. His hand, although held by you, was trying to cling onto your grasp and not wanting you to leave. You would consider yourself a lucky chap indeed, having born into this world with food and shelter, kin and kith. In fact, rather luckier than the rest to be able to own what you like and not solely what you need. Above all of the materials your parents could afford, you were trapped in incongruity of being a prisoner of your own. You didn't know what you were passionate about in life, and to live without passion is akin to being dead. You just did well in your studies because the society deems that degree certificate as a strong foundation in your job. But you truly did not know if you really enjoyed burning the midnight oil to continuously mug or if the elation of attaining a perfect score on your assessment is pure, or just for the sake of your insatiable parents. Education is key. Well definitely, to a certain extent and you have witnessed how far your own set of parents are willing to go as long as you achieved soaring colours of distinction.

Sleepless nights, wandering mind and a stagnant heart. Sometimes the urge to pretend to be ill to escape the torment of school. Sometimes the subconscious act of bringing the kitchen scissors to your wrist and slit... You want to collapse to the ground and never be able to wake up again. You wished a drunk driver would accidentally run you over and end everything for you. Then nobody would know about how tired you were of this pointless life. You were a prisoner of yourself too. With no doubt, you and Taehyung are definitely similar in many ways the world can't see. "See you...soon, I guess." A soft chuckle emits from you like that happening would be a miracle, but the expression does not reach your eyes. Your eyes that were blocked by a wall of defence to your vulnerability of an emptiness. She is broken. A whisper goes by his ear. She needs help. The raspy voice travelled to his other ear, making him shiver slightly but unnoticeably. Taehyung could feel it too but he was in no place to ask about your wellbeing. He could only stare and wonder. The eye contact was broken off, before your hand recedes from his, carefully. He catches the way a faint smile ghost on your features as quickly as it appeared. A bittersweet kind of happiness. But he doesn't say a word, even after your figure grows smaller with every step you take back to class. What you missed, is the shutter of the camera lens, floating in the air. "Hey, don't touch that!" He snatches the device back and winces at the stretch he feels in his back muscle.

"Y/N." The wooden planks beneath him cursed out loud, warning sirens of his voice turning stern. Besides his low voice and creaks of weak wood and nails, there is only a dripping sound from some leaking pipe. "What are you doing here?!" It is the second time he has raised the question to you, but you only keep silent, eyes searching the room for answers.

Why hadn't you disappeared or get eaten by some ferocious beast yet? Taehyung was only complicating your attempt of suicide. You tried to keep your head clear when you first pushed the rusty front door open, disallowing the memories to flow into your mind.

It was a blockage to all forms of happiness in your life, to prevent your pathetic self from backing out. But Taehyung, an actual human being, catching you in the act of wanting to kill yourself just shot a dose of reality into your numbing heart and racing thoughts.

"Uh..." You wet your lips.

"What about you? What are you doing here?" You turn the cameras back to him. It would not be shocking if he came here to take his life as well. Taehyung purses his lips in serious contemplation before candidly answering. "I can see ghosts," He looks down like it was something to be ashamed about.

That wasn't the case for you. You were completely taken aback by his confession but you found it extremely intriguing. "Oh—Wait what?" One thing about the revelation was that it for sure explained a lot about the way Taehyung acts. You trust his words, but you don't know how to link it to the fact that he was standing right in front of you in the living room of this damned house. Raising a brow at him, you wish for him to elaborate further. "I uh, heard r-rumours circulating around in school, that uh," He pinches his brows.

"You were going to come in here. So I kind of decided to see if it was true." You were amazed by his candidness.

"And it is." You mused.

It was heartwarming to see that someone actually bothered to risk their life to come look for you. Then again, Taehyung is a guy filled with secrets. God knows, but maybe he is the owner of this house. When his eyes capture yours for one more time, it drowned you into the whirlpool of emotions he was feeling.

Something like denial, frustration and lastly, regret. The eye contact is never broken. Like Taehyung was staring so hard at you to try and figure the different parts of you out, to evaluate every inch of you and you squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?" You croaked out, beginning to feel very creeped out despite the tinge of softness laced in his eyes. "You—Urm, you—! Argh!" He only hesitates even more, turning into a stuttering mess. You jump back in surprise at his reaction. Lost and confused as to how to provide you with a suitable reply, he yells and pulls at his locks of hair. It was when he proceeds to fall to the ground on his knees and seemingly begin whimpering into his palms, all surprise turned into worry for the guy. You kneeled down and called out to him. "Shit—Taehyung!"

"What do you seek, young man?" "Your whole point here is to know and advice me." Taehyung bites back. "Very well. An unsolved mystery, something concerning a girl and regarding the old house just down the street." He shuffles his cards and keep them away neatly. It seemed like those tools will not be of any use to Taehyung, and he clearly understood why the man's face have fallen drastically—it isn't a simple case a few cards can crack. You were not only beautiful, you were inculcated with kindness, you held a type of pureness lost by many as they grow up, you spoke in a manner that is highly respectable and the crowfeet that form at the side of your eyes whenever you laughed too hard couldn't get any more adorable. He shifts uncomfortably on the hard wooden seat, and gulps anxiously. "Was her body found?" Taehyung doesn't know.

He doesn't know where the hell you went or what the fuck you were doing, he only knows that when his eyes flew open, he felt the cold of the night stinging on his skin and an empty space next to him. You were no longer in his arms and the next moment he is springing up from the worn out couch and beginning his search for you. He looked every nook and cranny of the house for you but to no avail. The only resort left got him sitting across a renown psychic. But even the expertise in this region seems to find this case uncrackable. "No." He tilts his head, bringing out a rock of some sort. Taehyung sees it as a mere rock but not to him apparently. "This is the Magic Stone." His fingers fidget around with the purple coloured object. He does this continuously, causing Taehyung to perk an eyebrow up at his claim. The psychic burrows into deep concentration, a conclusion forming in his head. Then, all movement ceases. "Her soul has to bring you there herself."

The medium's advice sounded strained, like it was the hardest thing to come to a conclusion like that. It's a clear excuse when he says the reason of those teardrops rolling down his cheeks are caused by the wind.

You want to reach out and pat him on the back in hopes of alleviating his pain but you quickly retract it back as the muffled sobs through his fingers grow even louder. All you could wonder at that point in time was whether something bad was happening to Taehyung. Maybe the demons in this house were taking him away first.

Maybe he is really going to die. Then, with every drop of care drained from your exhausted body, you placed your hand on his clothed back with a strong determination to do your best and ease him (into the underworld most likely) without any pain. "Are you okay?" Only for his cries to stop abruptly when he feels your hand smoothing over his back. Hastily, Taehyung removes his hands from his face and turns around to look at you. His eyes were red and swollen from all the desperate weeping, saliva of sorrow pooled in his mouth as he watches you with a kind of anguish and concern. It mirrored the look you gave him when you saw him lying on the ground, beaten up. This is where the two of you are similar.

Prisoners, but of two entirely different reasons. You drifted your gaze to his elbow and notice the striking dash of pink. The band aid still being there was what solidified the certainty that this was all real. This wasn't some kind of twisted dream. And that would only mean one thing. Because your hand did not manage to rub his back, for the paleness casting over it only sank into his body, deep into his spine—only for his body to be in one piece as you fast to recede it like you had just touched a strong flame—unable to feel anything touching your palm even when you made that physical contact with him. "Taehyung... why..." You inspect your hands carefully. Your skin was never this white. All the hairs on your forearm had disappeared as well, your whole body lacking any hint of life. It felt surreal. Like something that would only occur in dreams.

"Why can't I touch you?" Maybe if you try pinching yourself, you would wake up. Maybe this was just one of your daily nightmares from stress. It was when you started aggressively pinching the pale skin on your arms, thighs, waist—you realised you could still feel yourself. The only difference being that it was so, so cold. It was similar to touching an ice pack, frosty and nothing much else.

Cold. That's how you feel and the perplexity that hit you all at once began transforming into larges beams of anger, sadness and helplessness. You wanted to cry as loud as you could for help. "Why do I feel so cold?!" You refused to believe anything your senses were telling you. Everything your naked eyes were showing you.

Lunging forward, you run your hands all over Taehyung again and hope to actually feel something tangible.

To your dismay, your fist only goes through his heart like he was made of air—no, like you were made of air.

You were the dead one here.

"The police have searched the whole compound of the town and spread the news of the missing school girl country wide. In the past two weeks of finding the teenage girl, Y/F/N is still unable to be located. If you have come across—Zap." Taehyung clicks the button on the remote control and flings it to the other end of the couch in frustration. He ruffles through his hair, hoping for hints of you to magically pop up in his head. The thing is, the both of you had barely spoken to one another. Plus, he had a tough time speaking to the people at his-and your-school. One week. One whole week since the disappearance of your body. The police are proven to be fucking useless and incompetently unreliable, he mentally notes. He figured that the fastest method to locate you, would require him to act out on his own. The list of things that can happen to your body goes down a long scroll that even Taehyung himself is unwilling to imagine. He wants you to at least, still be in one piece when he finds you. He uses the term body, because your soul is for sure loitering somewhere in town. It can't go too far from your body, a rule he remembers by heart. So, it wouldn't be entirely impossible to detect where your corpse would be. Think, think, think! He repeats like a mantra in his bursting head. Where would you go if you were this free, lingering spirit? And then he recalls.

"You're up here again."

He pushes himself up onto his usual spot—a high wall surrounding the perimeter of the rooftop, granting anyone up here a perfect view of the school field and vast blue sky. The job of the wall is to prevent any students from falling over and have their bodies crush to pulp when they plop to the ground floor. But Taehyung doesn't play by the rules. Where is the fun in that? He often questions anything that has to do with system and order. As a person who lives by pure intuition, Taehyung brings himself to the top floor for the second time after just doing so the day before. It could be the voices whispering encouragements for him to pay upstairs a visit, or maybe it had to do with a very strong gut feeling tugging at his chest. Nonetheless, he was here.

The boy from yesterday is situated at the exact place as before. His skin was terrifyingly pale—but not translucent—and the cracking of his bones could still be heard whenever he swinged his legs. He must have just died a few days ago, Taehyung concludes. The boy doesn't acknowledge Taehyung, nor does he reply.

"What are you doing here?" Taehyung cranes his neck a little to face the boy properly—who in turn was staring at his feet with a strange amount of attention. Then upon following his line of sight, Taehyung realises how small and young the boy was—his own legs were almost twice as long as the kid's.

"My brother," He finally speaks, but only softly.

Taehyung digests his answer for a moment, before cautiously popping the second question. He knew better than to ask why the boy had died, it would probably even send the kid into a fury and then to hell, which was the last thing Taehyung wanted to happen to him. "If you don't mind me asking," He nervously grips the edge of wall.

The boy tipped his chin up slightly, intrigued by his words. His big round eyes came into view, leaving a heavy load to weigh at Taehyung's heart. His eyes, still freshly glistening and vibrant with blackness illustrated the bright and long road that awaited him in his life, only to be torn apart by whatever fatally tragic accident he was met with. It's a pity. It's a pity how some promising futures can be so easily robbed of in a blink of the eye. It is not a frequent occasion where tears pricked at Taehyung's eyes. He closes them for a second, before getting the question out. "Who is your brother?" The boy now turns to fully face him, legs still swinging regardless. His eyes looked way bigger and innocent than Taehyung had thought they would be. And it doubled the pain beneath his ribs.

It's suffering to bump into an innocent soul. He had rather someone who acted the way they deserved their death. The boy switches his stare on Taehyung now, silent while his orbs grow shinier. "I'm sorry in advance," The child looks like he was about to burst into tears. Taehyung felt the same. What was a sweet boy like him even apologetic for? "Min Yoongi." Taehyung blinks in surprise. The boy was gone. A series of giggles echoed in the stairway and without another thought, Taehyung hops down to hide himself from whoever was there. He does not recall any platform being built after the wall. He simply knows that if he falls over from such a risky position, he would die. He heaves a deep sigh of relief when the platform does not crumble into pieces under his full weight. He thinks it must be the doing of the boy. His smile is cut off when the footsteps and voices grow louder, noticeably two female students just hanging out. Unlike being rash as himself, they only prop their elbows on the wall, admiring the scene as that. Which he was grateful for, otherwise he would definitely get caught for loitering around carelessly. "Finally. Something great about this shit hole." Taehyung sticks onto the wall like a lizard, trying his best to be away from the edge. "Honestly, the perfect spot to take fresh breather," the other voice makes an appearance. "No one ever comes up here unless you want to be making a serious offence." A flock of birds crosses the sky and Taehyung secretly hopes they don't share the tiny space with him. "For peace and quiet, I'd give anything." The first voice replies. He silently nods in strong agreement. And he recognises it as yours, because of that one time you were called up to present a book review in Literature class. Your voice was distinct yet soft, you spoke with a sense of urgency to bring your point across and yet still manage to maintain your composure in your tone. He must say he’s never been this impressed by a presenter before.

And here he is, hearing the same voice again. This time, much quieter and lower compared to in class, but it leaves him beyond intrigued of the next content spilling out of your mouth. "Then, where are you going to get your dear peace and quiet after this semester?" The second girl with the higher pitched voice asks. "Hm, great question." The first girl ponders and probably stares into the horizon.

Then she replies, after the earth spins a full round. "Somewhere with sand and salt maybe." She answers seriously, after much consideration. "Can't you just say the beach? You idiot." "Whatever. Just checking if that peanut brain of yours is working." A gasp can be heard. "You better run before I catch you!" Their shoes leave heavy footsteps on the concrete and their voices gradually fade away.

Taehyung feels bad for eavesdropping onto their conversation, but it was something he couldn’t help even if he did not want to.

Speaking of which, Taehyung hasn’t thought about what he’d like to do during spring break. Maybe he’d bring some flowers and offerings for Yoongi’s brother and the others always by his side. Without being seen, that goes without saying.

They’d be over the moon to receive flowers because no one is really there for them. Or have simply forgotten about them. Taehyung wonders if anyone would bring him flowers when he passes on.

Still, Taehyung felt a seed of envy being planted inside of him, wishing that he could go to the beach or park during the season of blossoms with friends and genuinely have a good time. He has never gotten the opportunity to hang out with any normal human ever since birth. He told a friend he trusted about his ability of seeing things normal people couldn’t and the boy went about telling everybody about his confession which led to the beginning of his ostracisation

Weirdo. Freak. Those were the names he eventually got accustomed to being called as.

The seed of envy grows. The both of you are lucky enough to be discussing about where to head to for vacation, something he couldn’t do.

Lucky enough to be going on a vacation. Not everyone has that blessing.

He wish he could be like everyone else. Lead a normal life, have friends, and be wealthier. This way, he wouldn’t have to struggle so much.

For a moment, he wishes that he could replace the position and live the life of anyone else.

Like the girl who can play the violin.

Like the boy always sleeping in class.

Like the school’s janitor.

Like Yoongi.

Like you.

"Hey you! What are you doing up there?!" Someone like a security personnel yells at him from downstairs. Now, how the hell was he supposed to get back up there?

You must not be far. His feet dents the soaked sand beneath, leaving prints that queued in line to be washed up by the incoming waves. With the ends of his pants rolled up, he spins around aimlessly to search for you. It was fortunately a weekday, which allowed the beach to be emptier. And that would make the task of spotting you much easier. He strolls along the coast, patiently kindling his instincts to take him wherever you were to be. It feels almost surreal—the texture of the grainy sand rubbing against the sole of his feet, the gentle whispers of the arriving waves, the wind slicing through his thick hair, ruffling it like feathers—how peculiar it felt to realise that he is alive, being hyper aware of all five (or six) senses.

The tangibility of things would signal that he is actually a living human, but something intangible is missing in him and it makes the whole experience of being alive feel so...detached. Every part of his body felt like it didn't belong to him—it was his toes coming in contact with the sand and not him, it was his hair dancing with the wind and not him, it was his legs moving on their own accord and not Taehyung. This is what happens when you interact with supernatural beings for the whole of your life, he thinks.

"Hey watch your step!" A shout intrudes his thoughts. Taehyung pauses, retracting his feet back. The small kid carries on building her sandcastle with her companion. Watching their busy hands, Taehyung tries to figure out who exactly was the one who warned him. Regardless, he whips out his camera to take a shot of the girl building sandcastles. "Yay! It's done!" The girl pats the top of the castle and runs towards the benches shrieking in contentment, failing to withhold the excitement of breaking the news of the small achievement to her mother. The other girl however, only smiles at Taehyung and vanishes. He runs his eyes across the ground. Just below his toes, there laid a tiny baby turtle. It scurries, towards nowhere, seemingly unable to acquire the skill of waddling on the fine sand like all his other pals. A meter ahead, his friends totter in clusters towards the entrance of the sea. The poor buddy struggles hard to walk properly, let alone find the correct direction home. He suddenly grows conscious of the couple of seagulls chilling by the water. But he was too preoccupied with the aim to find you to bother about the weak creature. As he was just about to dismissively stroll away, something tells him to make a turn and save that baby animal. He should make a difference when he can. He definitely should. He could actually salvage a situation. A life that is. He jogs back faster than the predator birds could, quickly finding the turtle again and gently picked it up. The shell looked too big for its body and its two big ebony eyes popping out of its sockets gazing at Taehyung—are filled with gratitude. Or so he assumes. The creature makes some kind of fuzzy noise—of happiness—when it is put down onto the sea line to join its siblings. The rambunctious clique waddles their way into the ocean, gliding across and surging into the water, one by one, delightfully. The seagulls trots away, lunch stolen. He continues his trail. Slowly, a pier approaches. And similar to Yoongi's brother, a girl sits at the end of the wooden platform all by herself.

She radiates frozen, cold heat and as he gets closer, the temperature dives. He carefully crafts his steps towards the lone spirit, begging the planks to not creak too loudly in fears of scaring her away. With every inch he gets closer to the girl, the clouds present in the sky turns darker, accompanied with the flush of even more greyness which eventually overlays the initial coat of cyan. The familiarity of the uniform boosts the confidence in him to call out your name. "Y/N?" She stands up—indeed the girl reported missing—and Taehyung was glad it was you. The troubles fogging his mind seem to have cleared at the plain sight of you. He was relieved that he had at least found your soul. It was another thing to find your body though, and that is the main objective here. Connecting your body with your soul would be the final resort in sending you off in peace. He had a day left. Twenty four hours before you wouldn't be able to leave in peace. Before your pure soul would dissipate into a fiery pit of wrath, abandoned in the darkest abyss until you transform into a vengeful spirit. All the hatred, pain and misery would be instilled in your afterlife that is deadly inescapable. These overwhelming amount of negative emotions trapped in your soul would then leave you in this state, forever. The sight was inexplicably depressing. Just a few days ago, you were real to the touch. He could feel your fingers smoothing over the plaster on his arm. He could see the satisfaction radiating off the smile you flashed at him before, leaving. He could smell the light cherry blossom from your shampoo flowing in the air. He could hear the base of your sneakers hitting the floor as you paced your way to class. Yet now, the wood underneath wouldn't make a sound as you got up.

Your lips were chapped and your crusting skin was faded. Compare to a few days ago at the house, you looked much worse and haggard.

The corners of your mouth quivered, itching to bring forth expression but unable to do so. You couldn’t even smile. You couldn’t even cry if you wanted to.

Now you were toeing the line that crossed the real world and heaven apart.

Somehow he feels like it is partly his fault. Maybe if he had tugged onto your wrist and asked you to stay back a little longer. Maybe if he was quick enough to catch you after school. Maybe then, you wouldn't have had the chance to end your life. Caged by your fingers, was a head of pink.

"I heard that pink carnations stand for the remembrance of the dead,"

His brows furrows at your words. How is it that you were able to comfort him so easily, while he is here having a difficult time to even form words to express his grief. But he was sure that like him, you didn't crave for sympathy at all.

Maybe if he had clung onto the empty look in your eyes, thinking more than he should, stepping out of his comfort zone to care for you. Then perhaps, this situation would never take place. Then with a heaving chest, he clenches his teeth to embrace the fact that you are no longer existent in this real world. It was pointless to think about all the possibilities that could have dodged this situation.

"I hope someone remembers me."

Uncontrollably, a bead of tear seeps out and rolls down his cheek. His nostrils flare up as the sadness and realisation overtakes every cell in him that was fighting against the tide of sorrow. His heart feels like someone plunged their fist into his bare chest and ripped it out. Thrown onto the ground and stomped into pieces.

Lips quivering, Taehyung fights back the devastation and gathers the last scrapes of sensibility in his mind, using all the energy his rationality could afford—brings the camera looped around his neck up to his eyes, and snaps.

Through the lens, a pink carnation levitates above the pier, the ocean a transverse blue spread across the rectangular panel, accentuating the vibrant colour of the dainty flower.

The camera lowers, along with his head.

He was sobbing by now, all the while you gently hold the flower and stare at him with the same hollow eyes. “Why?!” He grits out between cries.

"Why..." The later one comes out in broken, incoherent snippets.

You are really not here anymore. With him.

"I'm weaker than you think," You breathed out with a faint smile following the confession. His heart clenches and twists into a tight knot, pulling at his conscience.

"And don't you worry, I will return to my body."

The fact that you were still trying your best to maintain cheery for him despite being dead twists his heart viciously. The world is too cruel to you, and to him. An angel like you deserves to seek your happiness in a better place like the skies above. The visage of you is becoming transparent, signalling your departure. Taehyung musters all that is left in him to take a step forward and press his palm softly to your face. He could not feel anything but his hand was just there, for support and consolation.

"I will remember you."

His words of affirmation sets your heart at ease. You finally understand how they would all say, that the true pain does not lie within the process of dying, but in truth lies within the witnessing of those who love and care for you, break down. After climbing out of your state of denial at your own death, you have come to terms with that fact and wish for nothing more than to end the whole suffering. It lurches at your heart seeing a guy like Taehyung who you were not even that close to, crying like he had just lost a precious belonging. Like the world had just lost a precious belonging. You hoped that people remember you. For all your hard work in this world, for all the full marks you attained, for all the certifications you achieved, for all the smiles you have bring and the band aids you have placed on others. You hope that when people think of you, it is nothing but filled with goodness. There were, no regrets to say the least.

Your body may not be in its best condition, but the accident pulled your death off pretty well. It left you with no second thoughts, no last words, just a brutal blow to your side and head. It killed you with perfection, leaving no hesitation and last words—just met with the end in a solid second. You're suddenly worried Taehyung gets into trouble again.

"If anything, I'll protect you alright?"

Taehyung chuckles unbelievably through sniffs.

"We'll meet again.”

Your final words splinters apart, the bottom half of your body already beginning to dissipate. You gradually dissolve into the thin air—the cold mist and you becoming one— and the skies clear up in no rush. The carnation drops to the wooden floor with a thud.

I will remember you.

It was a chilly night, an expected downpour to attack in about an hour. His curtains danced to the rhythm of the wind, flowing about violently. "The body of the missing school girl has been recovered after a hiker going for his morning exercise smells rotten flesh in the woods. The police suspect that the girl may have jumped off a cliff from above as an attempt of suicide." Taehyung shifts his attention back to the mac and cheese turning cold on his lap. At one point, the winds were so rough that the vase sitting on the top of his dresser wobbles in jeopardy before another ferocious blow arrives through his window and topples the glass over, onto the ground. Shattered into fragments. Water spills out and the pink carnation flows along on the liquid like a dead body in a river. He internally groans at the mess he has to clean up afterwards, but it is only for a short moment before his attention is snatched by the voice of news anchor on television once again. "However, the forensics department has confirmed with the backing of further detailed analysis of the crime scene, that there were skid marks indicated on the road at the edge of the cliff accompanied by scraps of car paint evident on the victim's clothes." The carnation on the ground blackens, curls up into a crushed stalk of wither.

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