#also walked to the gas station and back and i feel like i could kill god

[thatweirdbitchjax]

Muti slasher with an child reader headcannons request

The slasher learns about the fact their child is growing a part from them cuz of their murdering. The child has shown that they feel feel force to

plz

OK! I'm gonna choose the characters randomly through wheel and do a few of them. And I am so sorry it took me so long to get done with this.

Characters: v.sinclair, b.sinclair, c.spaulding, art, d.sawyer, b.sawyer

Warnings: teen!reader, slasherchild!reader, mentions of murder, mentions of manipulation, teen!reader runs away, theft, underage drinking, possible underage driving, drinking and driving, underage smoking, drug use, underage drug use, gn!reader, suicide mention, angst

Runaway

V.SINCLAIR

He doesn't exactly like it either, but what Bo says goes

He tried to sypathize with you, but the further you pushed yourself away, the harder he found to communicate with you

He tried taking you downstairs to his "art studio" once so y'all could spend time together but he chose a bad time to do so as Bo came downstairs carrying a dead body which sent you into a frenzy

You locked yourself in your room and cried most of the night while Vincent, silently, went off on Bo

After awhile Vincent walked upstairs to your room to apologize, just to see you not there and the window wide open

He also noticed tons of empty beer bottles and medicine containers

He runs over to the window and notices your getting into his truck and quickly rushes out after you

By the time he makes his way downstairs, you've already drove off and almost out of town

He is absolutely crushed

His darling child ran off, and it's all his twins fault

He's gonna get Lester to go looking for you, and he his going off even worse on Bo now

Bo actually feels bad now, although he is calling you a little priss, he does feel bad for scaring his brothers child away

So now Bo is looking for you too

Needless to say, they find you eventually on the side of the road throwing up

They take you home, however you start staying with Lester on the outskirts of town so you are less likely to encounter victims or the bodies of victims

B.SINCLAIR

He doesn't care

He does, but he doesn't

He loves you, but no child of his is going to be a little priss

He eventually tries manipulating you into killing people

^Like he done with Vincent

He tries talking to you about how proud he'll be of you, how proud uncle Vince will be of you, how proud Grandma will be of you

And eventually he wears you down, getting you to agree to kill

However, what he doesn't realize, is he also drove you into drug use and abuse

He only figured this out when he noticed three bottles of liquor gone from the freezer

It was a pretty rough night

A mother and her daughter had found their way into town and instead of going out himself, Bo sent you

He handed you the shotgun and sent you on your way

Well, you killed the mom, but couldn't kill the little girl (not like he would make you kill a child) so you instead took her to your dad's (Bo's) truck and told her to sit there

Anyways, at first, not thinking you would do such a thing, he asked Vincent and Lester, receiving the same answers from both of them

"I ain't seen no liquor in a while."

After a while of thinking he had drunk it and forgot, he heard a thud upstairs, in your room

The thump was followed by a small "Ow" and some giggles

He slowly made it up the steps, calling out for you

He goes to push the door open, but he hears a truck start outside

He rushes out just to see you in the front seat of his truck with a little girl in the passenger seat

You pulled out of the driveway and handed the little girl one of his liquor bottles to throw at him

And throw she did, it landed directly between his eyes, knocking him out on contact

You had stolen his wallet before leaving, so it's safe to say, you're not coming back

C. SPAULDING

He doesn't even really kill unless he's like protecting his family, himself, or his gas station

He doesn't mind you not wanting to be around the violence and won't go out of his way to shield you from it, but he'll place his hand or arm across your eyes if your close enough

Overall, possibly the best parent

ART

Definitely mimes empathy then (silently) laughs in your face

Makes sure you see so much gore it's a bit much even for the gore enjoyers

Once snatched a still beating heart out of someones chest and shoved it into your mouth, forcing you to eat it

The worst parent if you don't like killing

And you aren't running away either, he and (I'ma refer to her as ghost girl) will find you no matter where you try to go

And don't even think about killing yourself, Ghost Girl will just reincarnate you

D.SAWYER

*eats you*

I'm just kidding, but seriously?

You are in a family of cannibals, but you hate violence?

I imagine since he doesn't really like it either, he'll just keep you at the gas station with him when Nubbins, Bubba, and/or Chop-Top are killing people

He tries to be more sympathetic with you, but gives up eventually and hits you with his broom until you stop crying or Bubba runs him off

Don't get me wrong, Bubba is scared of him, but he will push him away from you or fuck something up else where to get Drayton off your back a little bit

Leave it to uncle Bubba to take a beating for you

Nubbins also tries to help sometimes by spitting at Drayton and getting him to chase him, but it doesn't really work half as much as it does with Bubba as Nubbins just runs off and hides while Bubba actually takes the beating

Chop Top doesn't really care but if he does see it getting excessive, he will throw something at Drayton and run

Once again, not as much of a relief as Bubba's unless Bubba rushes in, picks you up and hides you from him

B.SAWYER

100% the most caring one

He tries to shield you from it, can and will go out of his way to shield you from it

^A few victims have gotten away because of that

He kinda feels like if you're around it long enough then you'll get used to it (desensitized to it like he is)

He tried testing the theory once, but after witnessing you go through a panic attack so bad he was scared he almost killed you, he never done it again

He definitely shields you from Drayton too

He makes sure to send you into the field of sunflowers when he knows that they are gonna kill people that night

That ended after a victim tried to kidnap you tho, so now you are sent to your room with a pair of headphones and Chop-Tops records

Tags:

@puppet200 @zeroisreallygood @purpleeggyboi @th3-r4t-48 @im-a-simp898 @aflairforthemelodramaticc @luciluck2046 @caretaleandotherstuff @evry1h8s-me

[psychesalcove]

„ i took a little journey into the unknown, come back changed I can feel it in my bones

𝜗𝜚 luke castellan x gn reader

synopsis ; headcanons for going on a quest with our favorite hermes boy, luke castellan!! (not possessed by kronos au!!)

requested: yes, by anon !!

⚠️: not proofread AT ALL, being on a demigod quest, being injured, stealing cars, luke being a lil mean but then apologizing, mentions of eating, joking an British ppl (if you're sensitive to that sorta stuff ig)

💬: thanks for the request babe!! I hope you enjoy — I added a bit of writing at the end that isn't headcanons bc i felt like it so I hope that's okay!! Love you!

⚚ going on a quest with luke will for sure feel like a fever dream

⚚ he tries to act all tough and shit and then he'll randomly turn to you and be like: "I'm kinda scared just so you know"

⚚ he's such a dork omg 😭😭

⚚ BUT he's also really good at combat, so you don't have to worry as much about monsters getting to you when you're with him

⚚ he would probably hot wire a car so the 2 of you had a way of transportation besides walking

⚚ lukes also probably really good at talking with people and making them give him things (being a child of hermes and such)

⚚ he would also make sure beforehand that you had more than enough ambrosia and nectar,

⚚ "just to be safe" he says knowing dam (see what i did there) well he'll probably be the one getting hurt

⚚ also, if he didn't end up getting you guys a car, and you're on the side of the road, he will follow the sidewalk rule and make sure you're never by the road

⚚ I also feel like he would be really good at telling if people are monsters in disguise if he pays attention to them, so you can have a higher chance to avoid them

⚚ luke also def has moodswings of being extremely serious and making sure you are on track and being completely distracted by everything

⚚ if the two of you do come across a monster, he will not hesitate to kill it as long as your safe

⚚ and, if you do ever get hurt, either from a monster or something else, he'll turn into your parent 100%

⚚ "yknow how stupid that was of you to do? Did you like not think about what could happen to you or what could've happened? Do you just not think about that sort of stuff in your head?"

⚚ yeah my guy can be a bit rude

⚚ but lukes just expressing that he loves you and doesn't want anything to happen to you while you're out there

⚚ he would realize later that he was being a dick and would apologize: "I didn't mean what I said, just so yknow, I care about you. i don't want to see you do stupid things without thinking first."

⚚ if the two of you couldn't find a hotel or somewhere to sleep, he would happily give you his sleeping bag if you show any signs that you're cold -> and he would 100% give you his jacket if he noticed you were cold as well!!

⚚ it would probably just end up with the two of you cuddling though lmao

⚚ he's also probably really good at bandaging injuries because of all the times he's hurt himself while training

⚚ so when you do get hurt, he'll bandage it for you (not as good as a child of apollo, but it's the thought that counts)

⚚ I mentioned this in another post, but I feel like luke would absolutely suck at reading or trying to understand any type of map, so do not rely on him for that

⚚ he'll look at the map for a good 10 minutes and then point in a direction saying that's where you need to go and it's the way you just came

⚚ luke: "love, I think that I found the way to the nearest gas station" and you look and where he's saying and you're like: "hon, you know that way is just thick woods for miles, right?"

⚚ and then he'll roll his eyes and get all sassy that he was wrong about it

⚚ jokingly of course

⚚ let's say you hurt your arm or something like that,

⚚ luke will gladly tie your hair up (if it's long enough) or brush it for you if it makes it easier

⚚ like the gentleman he is

⚚ he would also make sure that you got enough food, and will even give you his food if he notices that you're still hungry

⚚ if you guys were far enough from any cities at night, you two will definitely stargaze

⚚ I feel like luke would secretly be such a nerd about space, so he'll start pointing out different constellations, stars, and planets you guys can see

⚚ he'll also be really smart with the money you guys have,and I feel like him being one of the older campers let's him have that maturity over the other campers

༉‧₊˚.

the dimly lit diner casted a yellow glow across both yours and lukes face as you took your seat at a booth. you and like had been on the quest for around a week now, and so far, nothing extreme had happened.

it was a simple quest after all, just retrieving an item that iris had lost. the quest had taken you to a more unpopulated town surrounded by woods. being in a less populated area had its drawbacks, but it also had good qualities.

monsters would be more common and would be able to find you and luke easier, but less mortals saw you two; which meant less police reports and not being a fugitive–which is something both of you were trying to avoid.

"so what do you think you'll get?" luke asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts. he had already looked through the worn down menu, you figured, looking at how it was neatly placed back down on the table and unopened.

"probably just some waffles and hot chocolate," you said, briefly scanning the menu in your hands seeing what was available. luke nodded. "how about you,?" you asked, putting down the menu.

"a burger and some hot tea," he said. you snorted at his response.

"you gonna start speaking in a english accent when you get that tea?" you said jokingly, smiling lightly when you saw him roll his eyes playfully at your statement.

"oh definitely, going to fully embrace that part of me with some tea," he said, continuing the joke. "but, on another note, how do you think we go about handling where to go next?" he asked, motioning his head twords your bag where the map was held: as luke wasn't trusted with it anymore.

"how about we talk about that when my stomach doesn't feel like it's going shrink and die," you said as a waiter; who was probably in her 80s, headed twords your booth.

𖹭 song from title: meet me in the woods – lord Huron 𖹭

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

Hell Is A Teenage Girl - Chapter 1

series summary: Y/n is finally a part of the most popular clique in school, something she’s always wanted. The only catch is they’re total airheaded bitches, making her dream life not everything she had dreamt it would be. But when new girl Hazel Callahan finds her way into y/n’s life, everything changes.

chapter summary: Y/n meets the charming girl who caught her eye in the cafeteria, feeling the beginnings of a crush already starting to form. Meanwhile, Brittany decides to take y/n to her first frat party, but a run in with Hazel at the gas station puts her plans on hold.

warnings: use of a gun (no one is injured), bullying, crying, language, tim says the f slur

word count: 2k

a/n: fem reader, no description of reader’s physcial appearance. im so sorry this took so long! i’ve been so busy with school and i didn’t wanna post this chapter if i wasnt actually proud of how it turned out. but i finally finished it, and i hope you guys like it!!

series masterlist

*****

Y/n sighed as she watched Annie run out of the cafeteria in tears, an event she made happen. She knew she should’ve found it hilarious, especially since everyone else in the cafeteria seemed delighted by Annie’s misery. But instead, there was a pit in her stomach. Since when was she the type of person to deliberately hurt someone else? And the fact that she was friends with people who did just that on a daily basis didn’t sit right with her. But they were still her friends. What could she do about it?

With her friends distracted, y/n walked off to the side, leaning against a wall in the back corner of the cafeteria, in dire need of some space. Looking beside her, she couldn’t help but notice the dark and brooding new girl sitting by herself, who also happened to be staring right at her.

“So why’d you do it?” the girl asked, clearly unamused by the events that had just transpired.

”Huh?” y/n responded, not quite understanding the question as she found herself lost in the stranger’s piercing blue eyes. 

“The note. Why’d you write it?” the girl asked, standing up and stepping closer to her.

Y/n scoffed. “As if I had a choice. Brittany made me.”

”You just do everything she tells you?”

”You make it sound like I’m a pushover.”

The girl smirked to herself. “Well? You shouldn’t do something just because you’re told to. Especially if it’s not something you believe in,” the girl said before walking away.

”Wait! I- uh, didn’t catch your name,” y/n called after the girl as she walked away.

Turning around, the girl smiled at her. “I didn’t throw it.”

Y/n smiled, feeling her face heat up as she watched the girl walk away.

~

Jeff and Tim watched the encounter between y/n and Hazel unfold, matching scowls on their faces.

”Who does that girl in the jacket think she is anyway?” Tim said, glaring at Hazel.

”Y/n’s into her act, no doubt,” Jeff said, watching the way y/n smiled as Hazel walked away. 

“Let’s kick her ass!”

”No, we can’t do that to a girl! Isabel would kill me. Let’s give her a good scare though.”

Tim followed behind Jeff as they walked over to Hazel, cornering her against a wall. 

“Hey, sweetheart! What’d your girlfriend say when you told her you were moving to Rockbridge Falls, Illinois?” Tim said, a nasty tone in his voice.

Hazel turned to face them and leaned against the wall behind her, sighing in almost boredom. 

“My buddy Tim just asked you a question,” Jeff said, glaring at her.

”Hey, Jeff, doesn’t the cafeteria have a ‘no fags allowed’ rule?”

Hazel scoffed, already past fed up with this conversation. “They seem to have an open door policy for assholes, though.”

Jeff’s eyebrows furrowed in anger. “The fuck did you just say?”

Hazel smiled, reaching into her trench coat. “Let me repeat myself,” Hazel said, pulling out a gun and firing it twice.

~

”I can’t believe she only got detention,” Brittany complained while lining up her croquet shot. “She used a real gun. They should throw her ass in jail.”

Brittany swung her mallet, sending her croquet ball across the field and knocking it into Isabel’s ball. Brittany smirked. 

Y/n rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her face. “No way! She used blanks. All she really did was ruin two football uniforms. Maybe not even that. Can you bleach out urine stains?” Y/n said with a giggle. 

Brittany scoffed. “You seem pretty amused. You like the new girl, don’t you? I thought you were giving up on highschoolers.”

Y/n shrugged, feeling her face heat up. “Never say never.”

Finally seeming to zone back in, Isabel pouted as she stared at her croquet ball. “So what’re you gonna do, Brittany? Take the two shots or send me out?”

Brittany huffed, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast? First you ask to be red, knowing I’m always red…” Brittany stepped on her croquet ball and whacked it hard, sending Isabel’s flying into the bushes. “And now this. I expected better from you Isabel.”

Isabel seemed to shrink away. “Shit.”

“It’s your turn, Isabel.”

“No, Brittany. It’s Stella Rebecca’s turn.”

Stella Rebecca perked up at the mention of it being her turn, lining up the shot and sending it flying through a wicket, squealing in delight as she did so. She turned to Isabel with a smile. “It’s your turn!” 

Isabel walked over to the bushes, searching for her missing croquet ball. Brittany couldn’t help but smirk proudly, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched. “No way, no day.”

Y/n let out a laugh. “Give it up, girl.”

Finally finding her ball, Isabel set up her next shot. She hit the ball with her mallet, sending it flying back onto the field, and miraculously through a wicket. 

Y/n and Stella Rebecca cheered in delight at the impressive shot, meanwhile Brittany huffed, seemingly annoyed at Isabel’s triumph. 

“Holy shit, Iz. That was incredible!” Y/n said, a smile on her face. Isabel preened at the praise. 

Brittany rolled her eyes. “What. A. Shot.”

Y/n walks up to her ball, lining up her next shot. 

“Tonight’s that party, right? Are you two excited?” Stella Rebecca asked, her eyes beaming with excitement. 

“I’m giving y/n her shot. Her first Emerson party. Fuck this up and it’s keggars with kids all next year,” Brittany said, yet another cocky smile on her face. 

Y/n swung her mallet, completely missing her shot. She let out a huff of defeat, moving out of the way to let Brittany go again. Brittany hit her ball again, sending it right back into Isabel’s. 

Isabel sighed, another pout on her face. “Why?”

Brittany smiled. “Why not?”

Mrs. l/n walked over, a pleasant smile on her face. “Isabel, your mom’s here.”

Isabel set her mallet down and started to gather her things. “C’mon whoever wants a ride!”

Brittany and Stella Rebecca followed suit, grabbing their things and running off with Isabel, leaving y/n all by herself. Y/n placed her own mallet down with the rest and walked over to her parents, sitting down beside them at the patio table. 

Mr. l/n turned to his daughter wearing a vacant smile. “So what was the first week of spring break withdrawal like?”

Y/n shrugged, seeming indifferent to the topic altogether. “I dunno. Fine, I guess.”

Mrs. l/n smiled. “Prom’s coming up soon. Any contestants worth mentioning?”

Y/n smiled, her mind brought back to the new girl. “Maybe. There’s kind of a dark horse in the running. She’s… different.”

“Goddamn, will someone tell me why I read these spy novels?” Mr. l/n said, setting down his book. 

“Because you’re an idiot.”

~

“BQ or plain?” y/n asked, walking towards the entrance of Snappy Snack Shack.

“BQ!” Brittany shouted back from the car impatiently, sounding annoyed that y/n would even ask such a question. 

Y/n shook her head and sighed to herself. “Right. How could I forget?” 

As she grew closer to the door, her eyes couldn’t help but linger on the motorcycle parked out front. The same one she had seen in the school parking lot earlier that day. Something about it intrigued her, and she couldn’t help but wonder whose it was.

“Hurry up!” Brittany yelled from the car, honking the horn impatiently. 

Rolling her eyes in annoyance, y/n finally walked inside and grabbed the BQ corn nuts for Brittany before wandering around to find something for herself. 

“You gonna pull a super chug with that?” an all too familiar voice said from behind her.

Y/n turned around to see the pretty girl from the cafeteria, her face heating up at the sight of her.

“No, but if you’re nice I’ll let you buy me a slushie. I see you know your convenience speak pretty well.” 

The girl smiled, taking a step closer. “I’ve been moved around all my life; Dallas, Baton Rouge, Vegas, Rockbridge Falls Illinois, there’s always been a Snappy Snack Shack. Any town, any time, I can pop a ham and cheese in the microwave and feast on a turbo dog. Keeps me sane.”

Y/n giggled and gave the girl a knowing look. “Really? That thing you pulled in the caf today was pretty severe.”

“Yeah, well, the extreme always seems to make an impression. Did you say cherry or coke slushie?”

Y/n smiled. “I didn’t. Cherry. I’m y/n, by the way. Are you ever gonna tell me your name?”

“I’ll end the suspense.” The girl walked closer and shook y/n’s hand, a slightly flirtatious smile on her face. “I’m Hazel.”

“Nice to meet you, Hazel,” y/n said, pulling her hand away with a giggle. 

~ 

The two finally walked out of the store together, y/n holding a giant slushie in her hands, along with Brittany’s corn nuts. Hazel walked over to the motorcycle y/n had noticed earlier and got on it. Y/n couldn’t help but smile wider, the sight of a really attractive girl on a motorcycle getting to her a bit. 

“Great bike,” y/n said, feeling her face heat up a little. 

Brittany honked the horn again, glaring at y/n impatiently. Y/n glanced over and huffed before returning her attention back to Hazel.

“Just a humble perk from my mom’s construction company. Or should I say deconstruction company?”

Y/n giggled, fiddling with the straw of her slushie. “I dunno. Should you?”

Hazel sighed, leaning back on the bike and making y/n’s stomach do somersaults. “My mother seems to enjoy tearing things down more than putting things up. Seen the commercial? ���Bringing every state to a higher state’,” Hazel said, rolling her eyes as she recited the slogan, clearly over hearing her mom talk about it over and over.

Y/n’s eyes widened in realization, a smile growing on her face. “Time out. Your mom’s Callahan Construction. Must be rough, always moving from place to place,” y/n said with a sympathetic smile.

Hazel shrugged, seemingly over the whole thing by now. “Everybody’s life’s got static. Is your life perfect?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure, I’m on my way to a party at Emerson University.”

Brittany honked the car horn again, shouting y/n’s name out the open window impatiently, clearly getting fed up by how long y/n’s conversation seems to be taking. Y/n rolled her eyes in annoyance and slurped on her slushie.

“I don’t really like my friends.”

Hazel scoffed, glancing over at Brittany. “I don’t really like your friends either.”

“It’s like they’re just people I work with and our job is being popular and shit.”

“Maybe it’s time for a vacation.”

Brittany honked the horn again, looking about ready to storm out of the car and drag y/n over by her hair. Y/n turned back to Hazel one last time.

“I should get going. Brittany’s even worse when I take too long,” y/n said, the smile fading off her face.

Hazel started her motorcycle, revving the engine a few times as she got situated. “See you around, y/n. Think about what I said.”

Y/n watched as Hazel drove off before walking back over to Brittany’s car and getting in. 

“What the fuck took you so long?” she asked, snatching her BQ corn nuts out of y/n’s hand. “Why were you talking to that freak?”

Y/n shrugged, a dreamy look in her eyes as she twirled around the straw in her slushie. “I dunno. She’s kinda cool.”

Brittany scoffed, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. “That’s not exactly the word that I would use. You shouldn’t hang out with her anymore, it’s bad for our image.” 

Y/n sighed, staring out the window as Brittany drove them to the Emerson party, her mind filled with thoughts of Hazel. Maybe Brittany was right, and talking to Hazel probably would tank her image. But something about her just drew y/n in. Hazel was so… different. Y/n had never met someone like her, and she couldn’t help but want to spend more time with her, no matter what Brittany thought. 

tags: @hazelvrr @ohnomywenis @fictionalgap @ihyperfixatetoomuch @usuck @mxqdii @girlsarecool @thestarkinternship @bluerazberrystarz @riverrivrio @cannibalsclass @lesbodietcoke @dangladam @bibihzel @sevyscoven

join my taglist!

[glitterhammies]

OTIS DRIFTWOOD X READER HEADCANONS

(Just a few headcanons for my favourite boy!)

-  when you first meet its probably somewhere unexpected, like spauldings gas station or if you were picking him up as a hitch hiker, either way you would be the first one to talk to him, no way is this man gonna speak to someone first. 

- when do you start getting to know each other a bit more you come to realise this man is just a big baby that needs a hug from someone.

- constantly reminding him how handsome he is even though he hates how blonde his hair is, how pale his face is and how red his eyes are. These are his best features.

- him introducing you to the family, and mama and baby absolutely falling in love with you, your the first person Otis has ever really had feelings for.

- him telling you about his past, and you telling him about yours. letting each other know that you are not alone and you have each other now.

- helping him out with his artwork in his room, keeping hold of all the drawings he doesn't like and putting them in a folder to keep safe. 

- he also does the same for yours, except if you don't like your artwork he will hang it on the wall next to his bed so that whenever he looks at it he will think of you.

- him only having a single bed so either sleeping on top of him or basically on the floor there is no in-between. 

- him drawing you all the time, he loves the way that you look. even if the drawings he does of you do come out looking a bit like a demon. 

NOW FOR THE GORY STUFF!!!

- "wtf otis why have i just walked into your room and youve got three dead chearleaders in here"

- obviously when you found out what was really going on in that house you wanted nothing to do with it, you have always been a bit sick and twisted but having the fear of going to prison for murder wasnt exactly how you wanted life to be.

- you ran out the house and puked in the front garden the first time you saw otis kill someone, thinking that he was just trying to lure you in the be his next victim. 

- once he calmed you down and got you to come back into the house he told you everything, everything to do with doctor satan, the legend, what they do every halloween and how they all get a kick out of killing people.

- you were terrified over the idea of all this but you agreed to stay with him and stay in the house, although you wouldnt sleep in the same bed as the cheerleaders that was one rule.

- after a few months of living there and helping out with what the fireflys did you started turning towards their twisted ways, you couldnt kill to start off with but you enjoyed carving designs into the dead bodies when you knew they wouldnt feel it.

- thats when otis got you to do some dirty work. he wanted you to carve the peoples skin while they were still alive, so they could feel it. you started with one of the chearleaders you realising that her screams were a lot more enjoyable than a mans screams.

- after a while you got bored of just carving their skin an went on to brutal torture, slicing their fingertips off them putting their hands into jars of sand, forcing plastic into their eye sockets. anything you could think of that wouldnt kill them but just cause them pain, otis loved watching you do all this, he got a kick out of watching you hurt other people.

- you never joined their cult with doctor satan, you just helped out every so often with the victims. you enjoyed hurting them more than you thought.

[byrdstrolls]

As You Wish

(teehee, this features a lot of guys! tythus from @moonlit-trolls, the lady of the lake from @celestialtrolls, and finala from @roetrolls!)

(Also please be so nicey to me I haven't managed to write anything in three months)

Dear Diary, 

Five perigees into my leave from the fleet, a strange calm has overtaken me. I’ve found the eye of the hurricane, or some layer of insanity that hurts less than the first. I’ve started to have lunches in the cafe down the street, on the patio. Dangerous, I know. But I am a pack animal, by nature. I could lock myself in this apartment only for so long without breaking. Sitting there, it’s like being surrounded by people while being alone. Even if I talk to no one but my waiter, it’s better than nothing. There have been close calls, inconsequential ones. 

But still too many. I do not think the worker at the place suspects a thing, or would even know what to suspect, how to suspect correctly. I feel like an open wound. But enduring in my silence, none of them can tell. Of all people to have this affliction, it could kill me most surely. I do not trust my fellow troll as far as I could throw one. Now every stranger I meet holds my soul in the palm of their hand. I could die tomorrow. I could not die for sweeps. But what kind of living am I even doing anymore? I am so bored. 

The terror has become second nature to me. I learn quickly around fear. I touch a burning stove, I pull back my hand. My only guiding light, relief, is my research. It would be so easy to fail. But I would try a hundred thousand times on the off chance I could have back my life. Even so things move…

…torturously slow. I need to understand what happened to know how to fix it. But I don’t even know where to start. I have wiled away so many hours reading, finding books to read in the bibliographies of other books. But I don’t know what I’m looking for. I don’t know how to discern esoterica from nonsense, skill from parlor tricks, grifters from sages. 

The uniform does not help. One can hardly poke around the city dressed like a fleet officer asking around for magic trolls before those very people start climbing out the back window! It’s too hot for it anyways, even in the cold season. Curse this thing. I will wear it to my funeral. But as I said at the beginning of this entry. Things are just as bad as they have ever been, but it doesn’t bother me anymore. I woke up early yesterday, and watched the sun set from the window, sky dancing in fragments through this tiny place. And I felt a certain stillness, and a strange gratitude, that no matter how humbly I lived now, how much I missed other people and my hive and ship and privileges, things could have been worse. I made it nearly half a sweep. 

I have been very lucky. 

I just need a little more luck now.

.

.

.

.

.

Midway through their lunch break, Leftie peaks over the desk of their stand at a figure who has fixed themselves at the front of the alleyway. At first they thought they were exceptionally huge, but on a second glance, they are just significantly huge, and have on an absolute monster of a coat. Probably fleet. They glance at their own signs, the sandwich in their hand, and then pointedly scot over their chair to face the opposite direction. 

“Excuse me-” The cerulean says, taking a step forward. 

“Excuse me” Leftie retorts. “What does this say?” They say, pointing at the sign on their stand. 

“It says closed, back in thirty minutes, but-” 

“Exactly” The purple replies. “Leave me alone” They order.  

“Nonononono” Viscos mutters under their breath, immediately turning away, walking down the street, they throw up their hands in frustration. 

“G-dammit” They mutter, pulling out their journal and crossing Lefties name off a list. All that poking around, and they had failed so quickly, decisively, and immediately. 

.

.

.

.

.

I shouldn’t have come here, Viscos thinks, but the same protestation entered their mind in a variety of places, from gas stations to libraries to restaurants. So it’s a little more difficult to take it seriously now, even with its precedent. An entire church sect is something more dramatic than some small time magic user. But maybe it was time to be more dramatic, it’s nearly been a half sweep after all, maybe they are this desperate. They can always leave, until they can’t. 

“I understand you are not willing to share the details of your affliction with me.” The hulking mass of the purpleblood says, his plague doctor’s mask tilted ever so slightly downward to stare at the fleet troll. 

“But is there anything you could deluge… anything at all? How does it affect the body? What organs? How did it begin?” Tythus asks. 

Viscos stares up at him for some time. 

“No,” They say. “I can’t tell you that.” 

“As… impossible a task as you have proposed” The man pauses. “To cure a curse without being told what it is, I would try for you.” He says, templing his hands, then pointing them downward. “All I would ask is you stay some time on our commune, working, to repay your debt to me”

“...here” Viscos mutters vaguely, glancing out the apothecaries window. With all these other trolls? 

“Could I serve my time after I’ve been cured?” The cerulean proposes. 

“I… need some kind of assurance you would not run off and take advantage of my kindness. Besides, to figure out your, interesting little puzzle, it’s best for the two of us to get to know each other, right?” 

Viscos stares into the dark black eye holes of the mask, thinking. They had made it this far, farther than they had with other witches. Maybe it was the time to throw caution to the wind. But the reasonable, paranoid voice in their mind that clutches caution so close to their chest their knuckles whiten, calls it here. 

“Then” They say. “I do not think we can work together.” They say, taking one last inhale of their cigarette holder, and leaving the room.

.

.

.

.

.

The next visit is also frustratingly short, or, as it was with Leftie, never really starts in the first place. They are trying to find the domain of the lady of the lake. They can see the peaking lights of hives in the distance, hidden near the water through the flurry of snow, but everytime they try to walk towards them they lose their way, and find themselves back where they started. Ever the pragmatist, they had tried to map the area, on a notepad. With leather gloves and shaking fingers, they marked down monuments and turns as they could, but even the most astute of their markings made no sense. It was as if the landscape itself was changing every time Viscos turned their back. Eventually, it became too cold even for them, and their mother of all coats, to endure, and they went back to the apartment, defeated.  . . .

. .

When they found a witch who was travelling, they thought meticulously on where to meet her. The apartment was out of the question, obviously. They did not want to easily be found again if things went horribly wrong. They could meet at a cafe, but they didn’t want to be overheard. Somewhere public enough to instill a safety that came with being out in the open, but private enough to dissuade curious listeners. They toiled over this for nights before resolving to reserve a study room at the public library. 

They’re sitting there now, foot tapping at the floor with a restless impatience. Their coat propped up on the chair. Every one of these meetings feels like russian roulette. The woman's first words upon entering feel like the sound of a bullet clicking into the chamber. 

Finala opens the door to the room gently, offering a friendly wave and smile, but it’s not long after she steps into the room that she pauses, a brief concern welling up in her eyes. 

“Oh…” She exhales. “I see. You’re cursed.” 

Viscos stands up immediately, having prepared to dance around the subject of their affliction, and unsettled by how quickly and seamlessly Finala had noticed. 

“How did you know that?” They say, guarded. 

“I have a sense for such things.” She says, raising her arms in surrender. “If it eases you, I don’t know the specifics, but I might be able to help you were you to fill me in”

Viscos stares into her eyes, unsure what they’re searching for. Their paranoia battling with their desperation, and the paranoia wins out in the end. The cerulean picks up their coat, scrambling for the door. 

“Please don’t leave” She says gently, not even knowing what she’s just done. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

And just like that, they stiffen, rooted to the spot, cursing their luck and their foolishness, turning back to glare at the woman as if she had just done something horrible to them. 

Finala traces the look in their eyes for a moment, thinking. 

“I see. It’s something to do with speech then.” She deduces. “Then I won’t speak until you tell me how to avoid it. If you’d rather simply take your leave, feel free. But know that I will not say another word to you without your permission.” 

If only it were that simple, for them to be released with a ‘feel free’. Viscos once again wills their feet forward, but their body doesn’t listen to them. They stand there, time dragging on. Trying to think their way out. It’s only after the first minute or so they begin to realize Finala is serious about not speaking. She’s still standing across the room, mouth shut, waiting. Was there some way to tell her without telling her? Viscos eventually sighs, walking over and sitting back down in the chair. 

“I can’t… be given orders” The cerulean says, gesturing vaguely. But it’s enough to piece the puzzle together regardless. The realization hits Finala all at once, and works its way backwards through the conversation that preceded it. They had not had a change of heart, she realizes. They had literally been unable to leave from the moment she told them not too. She stares at the cerulean, eyebrow raising as if asking if this was permission to speak. 

“You can speak,” They say. “If you don’t tell me to do things.” They add, as a condition. 

“Poor thing… I can only imagine the strife this has brought you” She says, taking a step closer. She pauses, thinking for a moment, and begins to speak slowly. “I’ll consider my words carefully- wouldn’t want to trigger the effect.” She turns to the side. 

“If… I told you to rest assured that I have no desire to abuse your curse, would that force your hand?” 

“Yes” They answer. 

“Well. Then if you so please, you may choose to rest assured that is the case. Is me telling you not to leave, still in effect?” 

They’re in this deep, Viscos thinks. If they’re fucked, they are already fucked. Might as well not mince words. 

“Yes,” They say. “It can only be cancelled out by another, contradictory direct order.” 

“Then, I order you to leave when you see fit.” She says. 

Viscos pauses. Surely, something like all this had been what they wanted to hear, yes? Was this not the best way this could have gone? They had not made it this far with any of the other witches. But there is no relief in it, all they continue to feel is frustrated with their own vulnerability. They stare at the ground for a long moment, before sighing, rolling up the sleeve of their uniform, to reveal a sigil, that almost looks tattooed onto the skin, a symbol of four wings, a crown, and esoteric scribbling, that had appeared, immovable, on their forearm since the moment they were touched by magic. 

“Do you know how to fix it?” They say, fighting to keep the waver from their voice. 

Finala pauses, delicately taking the arm in her hands, stepping closer to look at the sigil. 

“I’m not entirely familiar with this.” She says. “But… this mark is… it seems like someone worked hard to tie this spell specifically to its caster. You’d likely need that witch to remove it” She admits, knowing that’s likely not what they want to hear. 

Viscos gives a long sigh. Why’d they pick a meeting place where they couldn’t smoke? Their fists open and close around a lack of cigarettes. 

“I hoped you wouldn’t say that.” They exhale. 

“I’m sorry. I assume you and who made it are still on uneven terms?” 

“Worse” Viscos sighs. “She’s dead.”

[deerabigailhobbs]

Alrighty it's ramble time. Hannibal/MCU crossover in which Abigail somehow ends up in the care of Bucky Barnes. Taken place during the Winter Soldier after Steve figures out his identity. Also Abigail is 17 here.

Mizumono. Abigail has just pushed Alana out of the window. And she knows what happens now. She isn't stupid. If she walks down those stairs it's certain death. Whether by Hannibal, Will or both, it's set in stone. So she grabs a small bag of clothes she had packed, along with some money and a book, "A Good Man is Hard to Find", and sneaks out. Luckily her clothes are dark enough to blend into the dark background, her body light enough to make barely any sound. And once she thinks she's in the clear, she runs. She runs until her lungs hurt, walks till they hurt less, then runs again

She ends up at a gas station. Some poor woman is being chatted up by a man who could be her father. But luckily for Abigail, his car keys are on the other side of the table they're sitting at. She swipes them, pointing them to the only vehicle that's there, and steps on the gas, the engine drowning out the yelling of a very angry truck owner.

Now, how does Abigail exactly go to the MCU? Idk. Magic probably. We'll put a pin in that.

So the Steve and Bucky fight has just happened. Bucky's mind is scrambled. He knows this stranger. Somehow. It's overwhelming. And so, as if on autopilot, he takes the nearest car and drives. He should be going back to hydra. To report his mission. And yet he can't find himself to turn the wheel there. He simply drives. For once, with no goal. With no purpose other than to get away. It's exhilarating. It's frightening.

He's not sure how long he's been on the road, but the once tall buildings have been replaced by vast forest. "Go back" he whispers to himself. "Report your mission." But it's futile. There isn't a thing that can take his foot off the pedal.

Unless a truck would happen to be crashed into a tree.

He stops and gets out before he has a chance to think. Knife in hand, he slowly approaches the vehicle, hearing faulty breathing. He stares into the driver's seat.

A girl. She couldn't be older than 18, slouched forward. Unconscious and bleeding.

He carefully takes her out of the car and into his arms.

What is he doing? Why is he here, feeling so compelled to help? He doesn't even recognise this girl. He certainly hasn't been ordered to kill her. He thinks anyway. He's not sure about anything anymore.

Tires hit concrete, dozens of them. He looks up to see hydra soldiers stepping out the vehicles, kicking making a circle around him, guns pointed. And out of that huddle, with a sigh, steps out Pierce.

"You ran away. That's not like you." He steps closer. "That's not like you at all."

Bucky doesn't move, but clutches the girl tighter to his chest. Pierce gazes at her.

"And who is this?" No response. "I asked you a question soldier, now give me an answer."

"I don't know" he mutters out. He should just drop her. Apologise and get back to the mission. But he just can't. He only holds her closer.

Pierce looks behind, nods, and before the bullet even left the soldier's chamber, Bucky drops to his knees, left arm covering the girl's head. For such a small move, he's breathing like he's run a marathon.

"Up on your feet." Pierce demands, and Bucky obeys. Just like he's always done. It felt right after a day of... Whatever all this was.

He can hear the other man snort. "Pretty little thing, isn't she?" Bucky looks at him. Silence.

"Say, how about we take her back with us. She looks like she could get cleaned up a bit. Then we'll talk about what happened today. How does that sound?"

Another long stare before he replies back. "Good Sir. Thank you, Sir."

Bucky moves into the back of one of Hydra's trucks, ignoring the stares of the other men. Once in, he checks over the girl once more, moving the hair out of her face. And then he notices. A scar and lack of ear on her left side. Considering the freshness, these wounds weren't caused by the car accident.

It appears as though they were both missing a part of themselves.

[dragonblobz]

The Desert Pt 7

Hours pass. At first, with me holding the harness around me, wishing I could hug him. Then, with me leaning the seat back. But I’ve slept enough. I just CAN’T anymore.

I drain the last drops from my Fiji. Stare at the big empty bottle. Crap. I’ll have to get more soon.

My ghost robot, possibly alien car has fallen into silence. Comfortable for HIM maybe. My butt cheeks feel smooshed and I’d KILL for a stretch. And a burger actually……

The scenery around us gradually begins to change. Dessert, and then not. And then I spy the mother of all resources. A sign promising a gas station in 5 miles.

“Hey. Psssst.”

“Yes?”

He answers so quickly. I forget my boredom and smile again.

“I gotta pee, Brobot.”

“You’ve gotta…… what??”

I start to hiss giggle.

“I gotte pee. Loose the damn. Pop a mighty wizz. Knock the pissa.”

Just silence. And that purring engine. I groan and laugh.

“I have to put the water I drank earlier INTO something now.”

“Oh dear Primus….” He sounds so disgusted. Luckily for him, I have zero grasp on modesty. At least he gets it. I think???

“There’s a rest stop ahead. I can pee there. And also get more water and food.”

“Water and food? Ah yes, nourishment. But I’m not sure you should be around others of your kind. No one can know of mine.”

I scowl. It makes my tender face hurt.

“I VOLUNTEERED to be here, Christine. You think I’m gonna go in there and be like…”

I wave my hands around my face and squawk.

“OHMYGOD SAVE ME I’VE BEEN KIDNAPPED BY A VERY COOL ROBOT GHOST CAR THAT I’D PREFER NOT TO BE PARTED FROM BLAH BLAH BLAH. ALSO HE MIGHT BE AN ALIEN.”

“Oh shut up. We’ll stop.” He sounds SO grumpy. I try my best to hug the harness around me.

“Thanks. Thank you!”

We’re going so fast. It’s only about a minute before I see a big brightly lit building ahead. One of those big industrial gas stations. The ones with the walk in booze cooler.

“There!”

I can FEEL him huff around me just as much as hear it. And I giggle and rub my hands on his steering wheel. It’s the only form of affection I can think of to share.

We slow and pull in. I wonder what the people inside must think. Two cars worth well over 2 million dollars apiece just tooting in. It’s not like we’re anywhere near Vegas anymore.

“You’ve got five kilicks before I come in there after you….” An impatient growl around me as the driver’s side door glides open.

“I dunno about kin licks, bruh. But give me 10 minutes.” I’m just laughing as I unbuckle myself from the harness and grab my pack. Thinking about how much everyone inside would shit themselves at a giant robot peeling off the roof like “I’m looking for the annoying one. You seen it?”

I trudge to the building, aware of how much cooler the air feels now. How less dry it feels. And there’s trees all around. It’s CRAZY how far you get going as fast as we were.

There’s not many people inside, but man are they staring at me. At my friends outside. I feel an odd sort of nervousness. I might have needs, but I’d MEANT it when I’d said I’d never say a word. I’d better hurry.

I begin in the large restroom. It’s quiet and empty. Just the muted muffled sound of modern country music wafting thru the whole place.

After doing my business I go to the sink and discover WHY I’d been stared at when I look in the mirror.

Geez. My entire FACE is bruised. Still remnants of dried blood around my nostrils. And my hair looks like two birds have been fucking in it.

I wash my hands and then do the same for my face. Faucet all short and automated and just plain awkward to work with. Using the paper hand wipes instead of the blower to dry. Gently pressing at my face.

No. Nothing broken. But it’s still tender and looks hideous. I use the pick from my pack to tug at my snarled hair as best as I can.

When I exit the restroom, I zoom around the isles. Grabbing up as much as I can. Three more big Fijis. Jerky. And a mouthwatering cheeseburger spinning around in a heated display. Shitty and flappy and no condiments or veggies, and I can’t WAIT to shove the entire thing into my mouth.

On my way to the register, I spy something that makes me stop and grin. Arms all full.

I snatch it up and paw thru the rest of objects like it, looking for another color.

I’m in the car isle. And I’m giddily splurging on my new friends.

I plop the biggest insane armfull of crap in front of the cashier. And he’s looking at me like I might have just escaped from some truly unsavory prison or something, but he starts ringing up all my stuff.

“You okay?” He’s bug eyed. And so I think up a lie and I think it up quick.

“You’ve seen Hangover, right?”

I brandish my pointer finger at the two ridiculous Lamborghinis outside the big sparkling windows.

“I’m rich. I’m dumb. And my friend wants his…..” my eyes flail around my pile of crap.

“… his Tijuana Mama okay??”

I’m well aware of my complete inability to properly socialize. But I’m still COMPLETELY unprepared for this man going from nosey shock to bland disinterest so quickly.

“Alright then.” It’s like he doesn’t even care now???

Lamborghinis are wasted on the rich, I decide. It’s like a free ticket to looking INSANE. I have been ROBBED by my birthright.

I’m grinning at the man as he finishes. He looks so bored now.

“Keep the change.” I say as I collect my debit card from him, every bit aware that there’s no change with this method of payment. And I’m chuckling like a demon imp as I stuff all my crap into my pack. Still chuckling as I exit the building.

“You were dawdling.” Sunstreaker’s voice is an impatient growl as I approach him. He’s kept his drivers side door open this whole time.

“I have a Lamborghini. I do what I want.” I’m giggling as I plop inside of him again and start untangling the harness to fasten around me.

He huffs, his door gliding closed. I hiss with laughter. But…. He doesn’t argue. I fully expect him to….. but he doesn’t. My laughter dies into chortles and then into happy silence.

We leave the gas station. Engine just that nice rumbling purr.

“Hey. Once we get outta sight of this place, pull over.”

“Why…..” He sounds so suspicious. I grin.

“Because I got you presents.”

“Presents?”

He sounds even MORE suspicious.

“Oh yes.” I start giggling again.

He doesn’t respond, and I half expect him to have no response. To just keep going.

But…. We pull over just a few miles down the road.

“I’ve stopped. And you will tell me why.” His voice rumbles in grump around me as I unbuckle myself from the harness.

“Just open up!” I’m so excited. Grabbing my bulging pack as he complies, drivers door gliding open.

“Sideswipe!” I’m SO excited. Hearing a beep. The red Lambo flicks it’s headlights at me behind us.

“You’re bouncing, little buddy. You okay?”

“Oh yes! Just…. Open up! I got something for you!”

I wait impatiently for that drivers door to glide open, then plop my butt in the seat like I own the place.

His charming chuckle bubbles all around me.

“For me?”

“Uh huh!” I dig out the obnoxious pair of bright red fuzzy dice from my pack. And drape it over his rear view mirror.

“One more thing….” I pull the next object out. A little Hawaiian hula lady bobble head. Rip the paper from her base and plop her sticky feet on his dash, giggling madly.

“Do sumthin to wiggle her!”

I jerk as his engine screams under my butt. He’s not moving, but the jolt makes her little head shake. I screech gleefully and clap my hands. Lean forward and kiss the center of his steering wheel impulsively.

“Are you accessorizing me, little buddy?” I can feel and hear him chuckling around me. And I’m laughing too.

“I couldn’t help it. It’s just too cute!”

“You’d better have gotten Sunny something.” More chuckles, these decidedly more wicked sounding. And when I look out the open door, I only see a yellow Lamborghini. But the GRUMP is tangible in the air. I snort and giggle.

“You know I did!”

I exit the red Lambo, and the other car is silent. No purring engine. I’m blushing and I don’t know why.

“Did you think I’d forget about you?”

No response, but that drivers door remains open. I settle inside and start hissing with laughter as I start buckling myself in and the door closes. Engine roaring to life.

We begin moving on the highway. It’s like I can feel him deliberately ignoring me. And I’m just grinning. I just CAN’T be upset. He’s so obviously jealous.

I don’t bother to placate or speak. I just pull the bright yellow fuzzy dice out of my pack and drap them over his rear view mirror. Just smiling so largely.

“Well? Where’s my other thing?” He sounds so butthurt. And I’m just laughing for a few moments before I blush again and fall silent.

“Well… I didn’t get you a bobble head….”

I can FEEL the judgement around me. And I’m blushing too hard to do anything but clasp the last gift out of my pack.

“I don’t need anything from you.”

It does sting. I can admit it. And I’m very quiet while I rip open the scented cardboard tree. Just loop it around his rear view mirror with the fuzzy dice. And then just cling to my harness and wait for him to say more mean things.

But he doesn’t say anything. Just that purring engine beneath me. Long enough for me to nervously explain myself.

“Rose Thorn. It’s…. It’s my favorite scent from this brand. It’s really nice…”

“You’re favorite scent?” He sounds thoughtful. I blush even harder. Feeling so self conscious.

“Yes. I…. I like it a lot….”

“Then I like it as well.” Nothing else. Just the sound of that engine purring around me. All stark and sincere. And I start to smile again, still blushing.

I don’t say anything else. Just blush and turn my head to stare out the window.

We’re in trees now. Forest scrub. I have NO idea where we’re going. And I don’t really care. I’m happy right where I am.

“Hey….”

“Yes?” His voice has that same softness from before.

“You don’t have a radio?”

“A radio? I can. Do you want one?”

I hear the sounds of mechanical warping. Turn my head to watch his naked console morph into……

“Oh my god…” I start giggling. Just looking at the fancy digital stereo system that’s just…. There now.

“You’re wanting music, yes?” and music curls around me inside this car. Muted and low. And I’m snort giggling like a heathen.

“You don’t like it? I like it….” He sounds SO grumpy.

“Is….. is this….. Journey????” I'm just wheezing.

“Well. What do YOU want to hear?” Oh he’s mad. I ignore him. Giggling for a few more moments, and then humming to the song before I answer.

“Naw. I like Journey.” I chortle again and then start to sing quietly. And he doesn’t say anything else. Not for the whole song. Like he’s just listening to my idiot quiet singing.

I’m just smiling and singing and so happy. Who’d have ever thought I’d be singing Wheel In The Sky in a fucking ghost car robot alien???

The song ends. I become silence. The next song begins. I giggle.

“Led Zeppelin??”

“I haven’t heard you tell me what you want to hear.” So so grumpy. I’m just grinning. Pulling that crappy gas station cheese burger out to gobble it down. Finishing it with a huge swig of fresh cold Fiji water.

A honking noise makes me jerk my head as I’m wiping my face and hands with a wrinkled napkin. Sideswipe behind us. Flashing his lights and laying into his horn.

“We’ve got company.” Sunstreaker doesn’t sound worried. He sounds…. Resigned.

I notice another vehicle now. In that mirror outside the window. Another red one. A big cherry red van?

I feel the entire Lamborghini huff around me.

“It’s Ironhide. Act natural.” He sounds so annoyed. And I can’t help but laugh.

“Oh yeah. Sure. Natural. Is he…..” the slight prickles of nervousness. Ironhide. ANOTHER one of them, I can only assume.

“You’re safe.” It’s a final sound. Not necessarily reassurance. But it makes me feel like I don’t have to worry. But I’m still worrying.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to make trouble.” I feel terrible now. That van is right next to us. Like it’s accompanying us. Or WATCHING us.

“You’re no trouble…” It’s another new tone from him. Protective.

“Okay.” It’s a little nervous croak. And curious. I feel like something big and new is about to happen. I’m just gawping at this big red van cruising next to us.

I hear Sideswipe now. It’s like Sunstreaker is letting him talk again.

“Aw don’t mind Ironhide. He’s a pussy cat.” And that confident chuckle. And it DOES make me feel just a little bit less guilty.

“You just sit tight, little buddy. You’re gonna talk to Prime. Everything is gonna be okay.”

I see the trees around us. Spot a hulk of metal nestled in the side of a mountain ahead of us. It’s enormous. And the road we’re on is care worn gravel. It feels like a SECRET.

“O… Okay….” I feel so oddly nervous. Just cling to this harness around my body.

And it’s Sunstreaker’s voice now. Firm and confident and gentle. And it makes me feel safe.

“I’ll be there the entire time. I won’t leave you.”

Safe. It feels…. Safe….

[autffiy]

My supernatural DR Stories part 1

Hello lovelies,

As promised I would tell you some of my favorite little stories from my Supernatural DR. Grab a coffee, tea or water because hell, this uis going to be a multi part series i think. I got so much to tell.

Mind you.. this is not series accurate so please don't come for me thank tou very much.

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

First of all, I'm going to tell you a little bit about my DR self. So you guys can get to know my DR self a little better! {this will be written in my DR POV, little snippets from my DR journal. how fun.} I started writing this journal in September when I hadn't even met the Winchester brothers yet. So you will follow me on my journey when I meet the Winchesters. I started writing in this journal to keep up with my cases... and all the weird stuff happening around me.

₀₉₋₀₁₋₂₀₀₅

"So my name is Ashly Rowan, I'm a 22 year old girl who is currently moving from motel to motel because ha... i don't have a fucking steady job.. or a home. I drive a sage green 1975 ford F-100 which i sleep in most days... not the most comy tbh. It is now, september 1st when i'm starting to write this journal. I'm now in a motel in Little Rocks- Arkansas. Trying to figure out one of those stupid cases again... on my own. It's a vampire case, nothing too bad. Wish dad was here, he would be.. well probably in shock that i didn't do anything like college or something like that. But also would be proud that i was hunting the thing he got killed by....."

¹⁰⁻³⁰⁻²⁰⁰⁵

"I'm currently writing in my car.. I'm on my way to Bobby's house. Bobby Singer.. that old man. Sweet, but feisty and well.. old. But nothing i can't handle. I need his help with a case. Some nasty skin walker a few towns ahead. I need his advice.. and possible help because hell that thing escaped me many.. many times. My ribs are bruised.. and i have a few cuts on my face. Nothing to worry about. I found out that dad had some connection with the supernatural world before he died... but what?? That's what i need to find out.. Maybe i can ask Bobby? Anyhow.. I'm going to sleep now.. in my car in a parking lot at a gas station. Woohoo... goodnight."

The following day on october 31st, Halloween moring i drove the last bit to Bobby's house. Franticly knocking on his door. That's when i met Sam and Dean, their dad went on a hunting trip and hadn't come back. And Sam's girlfriend Jessica got burned up in flames a couple day's prior. Just how their mom died.. Well that's what they told me. I knew a little bit about John Winchester, because various hunters had told me about him. From what i heard he was a prick... but i didn't say that to their faces obviously.

Fast forward a few days later where the boys helped me take down the shapeshifter. We tracked its location down, it was staying in a sewer, of course. We made a game plan. All would enter different entrances of the sewer. So we could lock it in. This was I think one of the most terrible cases ever, so yada yada ya we walked our paths, all circling the skinwalker now. Then it decided to fucking run my way??? So now o was standing there.. in a sewer, covered in fucking slimy, bloody skin walker skin. Since Dean decided to blow that fuckers head off out of reflex. Fantastic... Definitely what I planned. We ended up cleaning off at the motel and meeting back at a diner to grab some food...

So this was basically my first few weeks in my DR. It was nightmare fuel in some ways, skinwalkers are definitely terrifying and I hate them. But even though, it was pretty fun if I say so. The brothers are so funny and sweet.

I will make other parts of this soon, i loveee telling you guys about my stories. Feel free to ask any questions, i'm happy to answer them.

xoxo alli.

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

Tip jar

[greenday-bingus]

[𝒜𝓇𝓂𝓎 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝓈] (JJK x Blood User!Reader)

𝟏.𝟖𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

CH. 1 CH.2 CH.3

𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛?!

♥ [Chapter 2] I know what I saw ♥

One of your close friends had invited you to dinner since it was her birthday, so of course you didn’t want to miss out on it. It was a small restaurant she had picked, it wasn’t really known so there was absolutely nobody in the restaurant except for you and your friends. The birthday girl took a 0.5 photo of you as you were distracted eating your meal. 

“Hey you can’t just take photos of me when I’m eating!” You swat your hands at her as she laughs. “You look like a chipmunk though! You’re so silly!” Your face turned red in embarrassment, while your other friends giggled lightheartedly and returned to gossiping. You sighed as they finally stopped teasing as your attention shifted to your vibrating phone.. 

“Oh my goodness I’m scared to even open my phone. But maybe it’s my notification from my cool tweet I just posted.”

You opened your phone to see Gojo has sent a photo, of what you may ask? Megumi with blood covering his face. “Oh god!,” you accidently peeped out which made your friends turn their heads at you. They all ‘ooo’ed and scooted closer to you just to see what you were looking at your phone. The friend on your right gasped, “is that your boyfriend?! He looks like he's been fighting!” You covered your friend’s eyes and blushed, “it’s nothing it just, a guy… A guy from Tumblr! That’s all, I don’t even know him!” 

They could tell that it wasn’t true but decided not to push, except for the girl on your right side. “He looks exactly your type! He’s so pretty, and has long lashes!” 

“You’re just spitting nonsense, listen we’re just friends,” you rolled your eyes and decided to text Gojo back, something along the lines of, “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!”

As much as your text was stressed, you showed no signs on your face. “Miki (birthday girl), are you ready for the cake?” One of the girls on her left side asked. Miki’s eyes looked like they were going to water, “you guys got me a cake too?! God has really blessed me with awesome friends!” You laughed a bit seeing her too excited for cake, but it made sense as to why she was filled with joy. Her parents have never bought her a cake before, so this was truly special to her, it made you feel warm inside seeing her smile. A genuine smile. 

♡

You walked Miki to her car, and waved, but she quickly stopped you, “are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Her voice was filled with genuine concern. “Yes, I’m sure! The drive is way out the way! It would take too much gas for your small, small car! I’ll be fine, trust me, nothing is going to kill me!”

“Unless it’s a special grade curse, then there’s no way I’m winning that fight.”

She sighed and then waved you off, in which you waved and watched her leave. “Anyways, time to head back home!” You skipped away into the abyss until you got a phone call.

“…”

You slowly reach for your phone, only to find out it was just a spam call. “I’m not falling for your tricks, scammers! I’m way too smart for this!” You quickly declined the phone call, and went your merry way onto the subway. Normally subways at this time were almost empty, which didn’t bother you, who would want to be pushed up against other people.

Surely not the guy who’s also on the subway, probably. When you stepped into the train station you saw a very peculiar man, blue hair, stitches, a lot of them, along with two different eye colors. You thought it was best to ignore him, he had curse energy, there was nothing normal about him. 

You had your cursed energy turned hidden since it wouldn’t be good if you were to attract curses like the guy in front of you. You grabbed your phone out to start to play flappy bird as one does, maybe afterwards you played some crossy road, because who doesn’t play crossy road. You need to keep your mind distracted from staring at the guy, but he just looks so weird.

“I can feel him staring, maybe if i sit really still he won’t notice me, it works with bees all the time!”

‘briiing briiiing’

Hearing the sound of your phone made you jump up a bit, you almost had a heart attack from the loud ringing. The caller id was from Gojo, it’s almost like he knows when to call you at the worst times.

“Should I pick up, it would be weird if I didn’t, but I’ll look like how I care about the ringing, in front of nobody, supposedly…”

“Hello?” you cautiously answered.

“You should’ve been here! Some crazy things had just happened, you know the fingers? You know the fingers, but anyways some kid ate them! Oh and then Megumi got his shit absolutely rocked!”

“That's so great! I’m so glad your book meeting is going great, mother. Though I know you’re oh so busy, how about I talk to you later when I get home? Okay byeeee!” You quickly hung up on Gojo trying to keep a calm composure. The man in front of you is looking at you like a rotisserie chicken, it’s making you uncomfortable. 

“Doesn’t this man have anything else better to do?”

You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts as soon as the train had abruptly stopped, then the lights started to flicker quickly. Your heart started to beat faster, “I’ve faced scarier things than a couple of flashing lights, I should be fine.”

Suddenly the lights were back and the train started to move again, however the blue haired guy was gone. Vanished. Absent. Maybe he disintegrated, you could care less. Maybe you should care. People don’t disappear randomly on trains, “actually where the hell could he have gone?”  

You looked to the left then quickly to the right, you covered your mouth realizing he really was nowhere to be seen. That was definitely a curse, if it took the appearance of an actual man then it had to be dangerous. Probably. You gripped onto your hand bag, your stomach started to feel uneasy. But you made sure not to crush the cake you brought for Megumi and Gojo. 

♡

You almost collapse at the entrance of your dorm, you swore to yourself to never run up those stairs again. You set the cake down on the floor as you drop onto your bed. The fluffy blanket you owned quickly engulfed you. As much as you wanted to sleep, you had to get ready for the night and give the leftover cake to your pals. You let out a groan and picked yourself up from the bed, you headed for your door as you grabbed the cake, then left.

You shut your door, you’re met with Megumi. “I was about to give you some cake!” Megumi’s eyebrow arched as he sighed, “I don’t really like sweet things…” You gasped and covered your mouth, “oh my god! I forgot, how’s your head doing? Gojo sent some photos of you and it looked like you were fighting for your life!” Your hand started to reach for his wrapped forehead, but he quickly caught your hand. “I’m fine, it’s just a small injury. Jesus, you’re acting like I got hit by a car or something!” Megumi rolled his eyes as his eyebrows knit together. 

“What happened? Actually, where's Gojo? Normally he’s yapping about missions, especially when you’re involved!” 

“Well, I was sent out to look for the missing Sukuna finger, only to be in the hands of some occult club. Oh! There was also this crazy strong kid, he ate the finger-”

“HE ATE THE FINGER?!-”

Megumi slapped his hands over your mouth, “shush! Yes he did, he’s basically now a vessel for Sukuna.” Your eyes could almost pop from your skull just from hearing this information. “I don't know what's going to happen with the kid, but I’m hoping for the best for now. But you have to keep this a secret until Gojo or the higher-ups decide what they’re going to do with him,” Megumi added. He removed his hands from your mouth so you speak, “isn’t that stuff super rare?!” 

Megumi nodded, “yeah, but I’m not surprised he’s the vessel. Without any curse energy he’s pretty skilled with combat. Anyway, Shoko said I should be laying down, so goodnight.” With that being said Megumi turned on his heels and went to his dorm. Knowing this information you were sure that the higher-ups have this all handled, nothing could go wrong. Sukuna? Pshh, what could a more than 1000 years old curse could do? 

Extra:

Maki and you have been sent to check out an abandoned hospital, the place had been said that a long time ago all the patients were treated awful, which led to the abandonment. Gojo had said something about the curses being either grade 1 or 2, neither you or Maki could remember, which was the reason you were shaking uncontrollably. When Maki looked back at your shaking figure she scoffed, “why are you shaking? We’re going to be fine, especially since I don’t have any curse energy, and you can hide yours. We have a good advantage, we can see the curse, and it can’t find us.” Her words of wisdom made you feel better, you clutched your Axe closer to your body praying you’ll make it out alive.

“You’re right! We can do this!” you confidently smiled only for Maki to pull you to the side and point in a direction. “There it is,” she whispered, she got her spear ready to lounge at it, however she was quickly stopped when you put your arms in front of her. “I got this,” you quickly threw your blood spear at the curse. “Stay behind me!” you yelled out to Maki as you started to run towards the curse. 

The curse let out an ear bleeding screech once your blood spear had hit it. This was going to be your first time to show someone your really cool technique, nothing could go wrong, you’ve been practicing this technique to its perfection.

You moved quickly and dodged every attack the curse threw at you, once you were close to the curse you touched the wound so you could spread the blood through your hands. 

“Curse technique: Spider web!”

Your puppeteer-like blood strings went to move the curse’s body, only your fingers to fall off.

“I thought you had it all under control!” Maki yelled at you. 

When you tried to use your ultimate weapon, the blood strings had cut off your fingers. “I did! I swear! I didn’t think that my own technique would cut my fucking fingers off!” The two of you were in Shoko’s office as she used her curse technique to put your fingers back. “Well, I guess it’s better to learn now. I guess I can only control curses and people weaker than me, or something.”

Maki hits you on the head, “next time, just let me handle it.”

[nonscathingbullets]

"You Dig Okay, Baby"

Two-Bit Mathews x Plus Size!Reader

-A four part story-

(It was gonna be only two parts, but I still have more to write, and I don't want the parts to be too long)

Part 2:

Part 1

Y/N smiled, handing the man his change and telling him to have a good day as she watched him leave. She adjusted her DX cap before turning around and continuing to stock the cigarette shelves. Her shoulders ached from the constant bending, but she knew if she had any prayer of keeping the house that her parents had left behind, she had to work hard. The DX wasn't the worst job to have, though it did come with its share of assholes now and then. She also got to work with Sodapop, which also made it more bearable. He was like her work best friend. Maybe even her best friend in general. Ponyboy had stopped by earlier to visit Soda with both Dally and Johnny. She made sure to give Johnny some extra food that she had cooked yesterday along with a pack that she put together for him that had some toiletries and a blanket for when he slept in the lot. He was all but a little brother to her, and she always made sure to do everything in her power to make sure he was safe. He would crash at her place every now and again when it was too chilly for the lot. She placed the last pack of Kools on the shelf, staring absentmindedly out the window. Two-Bit was outside talking to Soda, which made her smile. Though she could hardly admit it to herself, she always had some feelings for Two-Bit. He finished up talking to Soda and made his way inside, studying everything he came across.

"Don't you use those light fingers of yours in here Two-Bit Mathews," she commanded firmly. He put his hands up defensively as he walked over to her.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he countered. "But I wouldn't mind a pack 'a weeds." He quirked an eyebrow. She crossed her arms with a small huff.

"You got cig money?" She questioned. He laughed wholeheartedly.

"You already know I don't," he replied with a smirk. She couldn't help but smile as she shook her head before snatching a pack of cigarettes from the shelf.

"Fine... here you go. Just don't tell Soda, okay?" He leaned against the counter, placing the pack inside the pocket of his leather jacket.

"It'll be our secret," he winked. She couldn't stop the subtle blush that crept up on her face.

"You know, ya dig okay, baby," he stated matter-of-factually scanning her body with his eyes.

"Two!" She shrieked, slapping his arm playfully.

A few nights had passed, and Y/N was locking up the gas station, preparing to go home.

"I can walk you home if you want," Soda offered. Normally, Dallas, Pony, and Johnny were around at this time of night, and she would always stick with them, making sure they were alright and they would watch her back in return.

"Nah Soda, I got her tonight," Two-Bit's voice came from behind him, making him jump. Y/N giggled in response.

"Jesus, Two-Bit. You're lucky I didn't have my blade out!" Soda exclaimed. Two-Bit waved him off, walking over to Y/N.

"You ready?" He asked, offering his arm.

"What a gentleman," she responded playfully, wrapping her arm around his. "No beer tonight?" She asked, shocked. He smiled at her.

"Not yet," he corrected. They bid their good nights to Soda and headed towards Y/N's place.

Pretty soon, their walks to Y/N's house became a regular occurrence. It got to the point where he began to stay over often. He may as well have moved in. When the news came of Ponyboy and Johnny leaving town after Johnny had killed that Soc, it hit Y/N hard. Dally wasn't providing enough information, and the info he was giving didn't sit right with her. She was sitting on the floor of the Curtis' living room, her back pressed against Two-Bit's chest as they watched cartoons. He could tell how on edge she was. Her shoulders and neck were tensed up something awful. He rubbed the back of her neck gently as he placed soft kisses down the side of her face.

"Relax, baby. You're gonna stress yourself into an early grave, savvy?" Her hands were fidgety in her lap as she picked at her finger nails. Two-Bit removed his hand from her neck and took his black handled switchblade out of his pocket, handing it to her. "Here, babygirl. Play with this. Just don't cut yourself, okay? She's sharp." He smiled, pulling her closer. Y/N absentmindedly fiddled with the knife as she watched Mickey on TV. Her body seemed to relax ever so slightly. "Man, how'd a no-count greaser like me get land someone so precious?" He mumbled into her hair. A small chuckle escaped her lips as she blushed. Just then, Darry got a call and immediately jumped up, snatching Sodapop by the arm.

"Come on. It's Ponyboy and Johnny. They're at the hospital," he yelled, rushing out the door. Two-Bit and Y/N jumped up as quickly as they could, following suit. Y/N's stomach was in knots, and she played twenty questions with Darry.

"What's wrong? What happened to them? Where have they been? Are they okay?" All of which were answered with 'I don't knows' from Darry.

When they arrived at the hospital, they were all relieved to see Ponyboy relatively unscathed. Apparently, there had been a church fire where they were both hiding out. He looked so weird with his new blonde hair. Dally was also mostly alright and was being tended, too. The nurses were adamant about not letting them see Johnny. He was still unconscious, and from how they were talking, he seemed pretty bad off. Y/N was seething the whole way home in Two-Bit's car.

"I can't believe this. This can't be happening," she cried out. He placed a hand on her thigh, rubbing it comfortingly.

"I know," he stated simply. His own tears pricked his eyes. "We'll try again tomorrow."

"I'll have to see if Steve will mind working the store tomorrow."

"I already took care of it. He said it wouldn't be a problem," Two-Bit said with a small smile. He parked the car in her driveway, and they both got out and made their way inside. She changed into one of Two-Bits old Mickey shirts and hopped into bed, though she was fully confident she wouldn't be able to sleep at all that night. She tried to imagine how Johnny would look when they went to see him in the morning. It made her stomach sick. Two-Bit wrapped both arms around her and tugged her securely to his own body.

"Stop thinkin' so much. Tomorrow will come when it gets here. For now, try to sleep," he cooed, stroking her hair. She snuggled into his chest and closed her eyes, trying her best to shut her mind off.

The next morning, Y/N and Two-Bit got showered and dressed before heading over to Darry's with Steve. "Anybody home?" Two-Bit called as all three of them opened the front door.

"Yeah, in here! Don't slam the door!" Ponyboy said from the kitchen. Steve, of course, slammed the door, causing Y/N to roll her eyes at him. Two-Bit ran in, lifting Pony up and spinning him around.

"Look at the blond headed monkey!! I didn't get to tell you last night! Wild man!" He yelled. Steve rummaged through the ice box, pulling out a chocolate cake and digging in. Ponyboy complained that Two-Bit had made him ruin breakfast. Two-bit ignored his complaining as he pulled a beer out of the fridge and popped the top off before taking a swig. They showed Pony the paper, and he read it over.

"They're not sticking me in a boys' home!" He shouted, slapping the paper on the kitchen table and walking into the living room.

"They won't, Pony. Don't worry," Y/N reassured him.

"Yeah, they don't stick heroes in boys' homes," Steve added. Darry came through the house dressed in his work clothes. After some rough housing with steve and getting onto Pony for smoking too much, he left for work with Steve and Soda.

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Twenty Two

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross posted on my Wattpad and AO3, if you prefer those formats. Here is a link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted.

"But that night you got hurt, I enjoyed killing them. I liked hearing them die in front of me, their blood staining my hands."

Joel and I don't stay in the town for another night, we continue on. Our pace is slower than what I've become accustomed to, but Joel's wound isn't completely healed yet. The two of us have been silent after our discovery, Joel didn't have anything to say after I declared my death threat. No, instead of saying anything, he just handed me the photos and nodded solemnly.

With the two of us getting closer and closer to Omaha, I find myself feeling appreciative of Joel's slower pace. This gives us opportunities to find things we may have otherwise missed. And it also gives me more time with him. Since his near-death experience, I find myself trying to memorize the way his eyes shine golden in the sunlight, the way his voice sounds in the morning, how his shirt clings to the broadness of his shoulders, just small details. The small details are the ones I know will fade first, and I want to be able to hold onto them for as long as possible.

I know this to be fact because I can no longer quite remember what Ryan's voice really sounded like, and I can't quite remember just how soft Lucas' hair was. The simple things about them have slowly faded from my mind without me realizing it, until I thought about them one day and could never truly remember. I've never been able to forgive myself for forgetting, and I know I don't want to forget these things about Joel. After all, he's the man who has kept me alive all this time.

A part of me wishes I could be there when he's reunited with his pseudo-daughter. I wonder if he's going to tell her about this, or never mention it to her at all. She would have no idea I exist, or that Joel and I took this trip together. I know Joel is trying to protect her from the people of this world due to her immunity, so it makes sense if he never tells her about any of this. She's still a child at the end of the day, and no child should hear that there's a bunch of crazed men out there trying to find and kill them. Even if she never knows about me, or any of this, I know I'll still be able to rest peacefully at night with the knowledge that I helped protect her.

"This okay for tonight?" We stop walking as Joel points out a small, run-down gas station. It's likely the only building for miles, and so I agree to stop here for the night.

As we set up our makeshift camp, I continue to think about the girl waiting for him back in Wyoming. After hours of on-the-road thoughts, I can't help but to be fascinated with someone who is immune. It's glaringly obvious that she's one of a kind. Sure, I've known for a while that she's immune, but I think it just took some time to process it, to really understand what it means and the ramifications of it. But mostly, I just want to know how it happened. What caused her to be immune and why it's not being replicated anywhere else, that we know of.

My eyes follow Joel's form as he starts the fire for the night, my thoughts anywhere but the present. I watch how he situates the flammable material while wondering what his life is like in Wyoming and if he's excited to be back. Obviously, he's probably eager considering he's got family waiting for him. He lights the fire and the amber glow illuminates his features in soft light. His eyes look warm and inviting, the curve of his nose beautifully adorns his face with unique character, the plumpness of his lips reflect with the drink of water he just took. As if he feels my eyes lingering on him, he looks over and meets my gaze.

"What's on your mind?" He asks, shifting back from the fire a few feet as it takes flame. My eyes dance between him and the fire, debating if I should confess or not.

"I um, I've just been thinking about a lot of things." It's not a complete lie, I guess. Orange flames rise and dissipate, crackling in front of us.

"About what? You've been quiet since this morning." Instead of confiding in him my most recent thoughts, I decide to unload the other thing that's been bothering me for a while now, since he was stabbed. With a sigh and a quick lick of my lips, I tell him my moral dilemma.

"I've never been one to enjoy taking a life. Didn't like it when I was on FEDRA gate duty, and I didn't like it when we ran into the Fireflies. But that night you got hurt, I enjoyed killing them. I liked hearing them die in front of me, their blood staining my hands. And I've been having these thoughts of what it's going to feel like to kill these people. It's almost anticipatory." Our eyes stay locked on one another as I speak, my words quiet and somber. With a shaky breath, I continue,

"And I'm not sure what that makes me. Am I really any different from them if I look forward to killing?" My throat constricts, like my body doesn't want me to voice my fear. The silence between us is palpable and dread grows in me with each second Joel doesn't say something. Not being able to handle the criticism when he opens his mouth, I focus on the fire.

"Doesn't make you a bad person, if that's what you're worried about." He finally speaks, and his words catch me off guard, the total opposite of what I was expecting.

"Then what does it make me? Because it isn't good." My voice cracks. I know it's not fair to be asking him these questions, but, I can't stop from asking them. He shifts his weight to his other side and leans forward slightly, looking deeper into my eyes and I fear if he looks too hard he'll be able to see right into my soul.

"Makes you human. Means you have purpose, something worth protecting. Or, in your case, a ledger to balance." There is no trace of anything but authenticity as he speaks, his words settling into my mind. My eyebrows come close together as I mull over what he's said and I realize he may be right.

"You know I really thought you were going to die that night." I change the subject slightly, not wanting to admit to him that he's becoming my 'something to protect' and a part of my 'ledger to balance'.

"And if I did I suppose it was just my time." He relaxes his posture as if the thought of death is no more stressful than deciding what he's going to wear the next day.

"Don't say that." I shake my head, not wanting any more images of his dead body in my mind. The one from this morning, from the photos, still haven't left my mind. Each time they pop up behind my eyelids, it instills a new fear in me each time.

"You did a damn good stitch job." He tries to lighten the mood, pulling up the hem of his shirt to show the still intact sutures.

"It's a wonder you didn't bleed out. Do you even remember what happened?" I'm not entirely sure how much he saw, or what he remembers. To answer my question, he shakes his head.

"Not really, just remember you gettin' there and the rest is just kind of-" He motions with his hands that his memory of the night has become scrambled.

"One of them got you real good with their machete. I stuffed the wound with my shirt to try to stop the bleed and then I had to get you to another building. On the ground just outside of where we ended up there was one of their torches, barely still burning on the sidewalk. So I took it and heated the blade of my hunting knife, then I cauterized the cut. Found the sewing supplies when I was looking around and just did my best. Truthfully, you lost a lot of blood, like, way too much." I give him the brief recounting of the night. His fingers lightly trace the stitching before he meets my eyes again.

"Thank you." He tenderly says, dropping the hem of his shirt.

"It was the least I could do." I shrug one of my shoulders. The silence between us returns for a few more moments before Joel announces that he's going to get some sleep for the night. I tell him I'm going to as well, but end up staying awake.

After a while, the flames of the fire begin dying off but my eyes remain affixed to the back of Joel. The shirt across his shoulders is drawn tight, battling to stay intact. His dark curls are barely brushing the collar of the shirt, more prominent from the humidity of the day. As my eyes wander down his solid form, the chain around my neck seems to burn my skin. Disgust with myself boils up from within, and I force myself to look away from Joel.

My gaze turns up to the ceiling and I try to flood my mind with how Ryan sounded, how he felt, how he loved me. Bits and pieces come back, like how his hand felt on my cheek, how solid his chest felt when I hugged him, but I cannot remember his voice. I can feel the timbre of it, but can't place the true tone and inflection. Tears well in my lower lash line as I accept that I genuinely can't remember him fully anymore. I've known for a while that certain things have faded, but I never took the time to mourn that loss, I have not allowed myself to mourn Ryan the way I should have all those years ago.

My hands curl into frustrated fists, my nails digging crescent shapes into my palm as silent tears run down my face. Tears of guilt for forgetting, tears of sadness because I can no longer remember all of my husband. Tears of fear because I realize that I may be falling in love with another man; one whom I cannot be with. I grit my teeth together in lieu of screaming and a hollow feeling opens in my chest.

Moving faster than my mind can keep up, I go outside where the air hits the wetness of my face and sends a shiver down my spine. Once I'm sure that I'm far enough to where Joel can't hear me, I let myself cry. With each ragged breath I take my chest heaves up and down unevenly. Tears uncontrollably run down my face and I grip the chain around my neck tightly, wishing I could just have one more second with my family, wishing I could feel the warmth of their skin on mine, to tell them how much I love them one final time. Hoping and praying that my love for them and their absence is enough to stave off the feeling blooming inside of me for Joel.

All through the past ten years I've yearned to have my family back, there's been a hole in my heart, a void that has never been filled since outbreak day. A void that hasn't been hurting as much the past couple of weeks. I've always missed Ryan and Lucas, but lately their absence has been a dull ache as opposed to the sharp stabbing I'm used to. I'm not sure what this means, because I know I love and miss them vehemently. But I also know how I feel about Joel.

Unable to stay standing, I lower myself to my knees, burying my face in my hands. My eyes squeeze shut and the tears fall off the ends of my eyelashes. Guilt overtakes me as I remember how on outbreak night Ryan protected Lucas and I to the best of his ability. How he told me he loved me, and that we were going to be alright. If only I had turned that corner first. Why was I the one to survive, but they had to die?

Guilt burns into anger and I blame myself for what happened. If only I had been brave enough to go first, then maybe they would still be on this Earth. I know they could've forged a life for themselves somewhere. Meanwhile I was content being shipped everywhere and ended up being a lowly pill runner. Why couldn't that FEDRA guard have shot the infected two seconds earlier and spared them? It just isn't right.

Sobs strain my throat while I try to stay quiet and I use the sleeve of my button up to wipe my nose. The stars above me shine brightly and I stare at them, stray tears falling down my cheeks. If only they could reach out to me and let me know that wherever they are, that they're together and they're not suffering, that they're not angry at me for feeling this way about Joel.

Ryan and Lucas will never be able to be replaced, they will always occupy a special place in my heart. I know I can never have them back with me physically, yet I know that they are forever with me, tethered to the very fiber of my being. But I feel that my heart is opening up a new spot, and I'm not sure I'll be able to kill whatever is blooming. I'm not sure I want to.

With wide eyes I search the sky for some sort of sign, some indication that my feelings are right or wrong. But my search is cut short when I hear the door of the gas station open. Quickly, I use the sleeve of my shirt to wipe my face and hope that the darkness of night will conceal my puffy face. As my head turns to face Joel, I can almost swear I see a streak of light in the sky. But by the time I do a double take, whatever I thought I saw, is gone.

"Are you okay?" Joel's voice cautiously asks as he slowly approaches me. The stars are shining so bright tonight that I can see the familiar crease between his brows. His boots crunch softly on the loose pebbles on the pavement and I nod my head, trying to stabilize my breathing.

"I'm okay." My voice betrays me as I speak, it comes out hoarse. Joel comes to my side, and lowers himself next to me, crouching instead of resting on his knees.

"Why don't you come back inside? I'll get the fire started up again." I feel his eyes on me as I stare back at the sky, one last lone tear sliding down my cheek. Joel's words are smooth as honey, calming and soft. A gust of wind blows past us, sending another shiver up my body.

Joel must see the slight quiver as the breeze passes, and he puts an arm around my shoulders, the other under my elbow, and he helps me back to my feet. He keeps his arm gently wrapped around me as we go back to the gas station, and I lean into his touch out of instinct. Before we enter the building, I stop and take one last look at the sky, hopeful to see whatever it was that zoomed past when Joel stepped outside just to confirm what I think it was. But nothing happens.

I step back into the building in front of Joel, who works to get the fire reignited. My body begins to physically calm down from my crying, jagged breaths turn into hiccups. The first one shocks us both, but after the second I think I can almost see a tiny smile on Joel's face. However, when he turns to me after the fire is rebuilt all signs of a smile are gone and is instead replaced with a caring expression. Joel's dark brown eyes are wide and I see how his eyes look over my face, his shoulders aren't tight and rigid, he almost looks relaxed.

He walks over to me and leads me to what I've claimed as my spot for the night, marked by my backpack. Gingerly, he sits me down and crouches by my side once more, moving a rogue strand of hair out of my face that was plastered to my cheek from the tears. His fingers are warm against my face, and he lets them linger there for just a second longer than he needs to. My eyes slowly blink, appreciative of the contact. He licks his lips and his eyes look over my face once more, trying to piece together what's wrong.

"You don't have to tell me why, but I just need to know that you're alright, that you're not hurt." I look into his eyes that are inches from me and I nod with another hiccup jolting through me.

"I'm not hurt." My hoarse voice confirms to him and I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand to dry them fully. I feel that my eyes are puffy, my lips swollen from keeping quiet and I hope I don't look as disheveled as I feel inside.

"Okay." Joel nods and only then does he back away from me. Though I wish he would stay. However, I know that with my uncertain emotions, that it's probably better he that he doesn't. For his sake. He doesn't need to be roped into my personal shit show.

Every few minutes a hiccup interrupts the quiet, and each time I see Joel struggle to keep a smile at bay. I'll admit, they do sound a little ridiculous and if I weren't so upset I'd probably laugh at them too. But as my hiccups calm down, I find myself transfixed by the dancing flames.

Perhaps I needed to come to terms with my reality, accept my losses, and understand how Ryan and Lucas are still a part of me to be okay with something new. And perhaps this something new is for the better. Even if it doesn't work out, at least I know I'm still human enough, capable enough, to keep going.

Twenty Three

[seasons-beatings]

Happy holidays, @whumperwithwings!

From your gifter: aah i had so much fun writing this ❤️ also just wanted to mention i totally forgot until halfway through that the ask said apartment but hopefully that wasn’t a big thing </3 anyways i hope you like it!!!

Nothing could have prepared Whumpee for the day ahead of him.

It started like any other. He went to his classes, then back to the dorms to focus on some of the assignments he’d gotten. He was decent at keeping up with the work. It was easier when he stayed focused on that and that alone. He tried to still go out with his friends when he could, but with the amount of work he’d been getting, he’d been spending less and less time with them.

Whumpee looked down at his watch. He had time for a quick snack run. It wouldn’t take more than thirty minutes.

He threw on a hoodie and began walking down to the gas station down the street, arriving in a matter of minutes and immediately walking over to the coffee station. The winter air made him crave something a little warmer to hold on his way out, and the caffeine would keep him awake long enough to focus.

The sky was already so dark. It made everything look so much more ominous. The gas station was nearly empty this late in the afternoon, and the only other people he saw were a disgruntled employee, probably the same age as him, and a woman wearing glasses and a black face mask over her mouth, typing away on her phone.

After grabbing a few bags of chips and his coffee, Whumpee walked over to the cash register. The other woman soon joined in line behind him, holding nothing but a box of cigarettes. He left after paying, cold air instantly brushing his face, only combated by the coffee warming his hand.

He’s maybe fifty feet away from the door— Just past the end of the building and out of the light of the streetlamps— When something heavy collides with his back, sending him stumbling to the concrete.

Whumpee screams as the steaming hot coffee hisses against the skin of his arm, but any noise he makes is quickly muffled as a slender yet firm hand forces itself over his mouth, and another arm yanks him into the space between buildings.

This can’t be happening. This is a good neighborhood. I didn’t do anything wrong. I haven’t done anything wrong.

Whumpee’s mind swirled with thoughts, tears brimming in his eyes as he whimpered into the hand covering his mouth.

“Don’t scream or else I’ll fucking kill you.” A feminine voice hisses into his ear, making him go as silent as he possibly can.

The stranger slowly lifts her hand away from his mouth and into her pocket, still holding him down against his stomach. He expects a knife, or some weapon. Just something to keep him in place while she takes his wallet.

He closes his eyes and prepares for another threat, or the feeling of cold metal against his throat, soothing himself with the promise that he’d be back in his dorm soon. His panic kicks into overdrive when he feels a sharp prick in his arm, rough and unpracticed.

What was happening to him? What was going on?

Whumpee tried to open his eyes, but they were feeling heavier by the minute. The dull throbbing in his head from its collision with the ground made everything so much harder to focus on.

After only a few minutes, his shallow breaths deepen, and the rest of his senses shut down as he enters a restless state of unconscious limbo.

——————————————————————————

This isn’t the kind of job that she’d usually take. She’d done plenty of shit like this before, it wasn’t like it was above her, but it just seemed too… Strange.

Normally, she’d finish a job and she’d never have to see the face of a victim again. They were just another name on a missing poster. She never had to see the aftermath. But…

She looked back towards the trunk, then sighed and turned back to the wheel.

Once a day she had to come out and fix whatever mess this freak had left behind for her. That’s all she had to do. The client had made it abundantly clear that she wouldn’t be held responsible if they went a bit too far, and that the only scenario in which she wouldn’t be given her paycheck was if he bled out on her watch.

God. This was so fucking stupid.

In a month or so, it wouldn’t be any of her business, and she’d be a little richer. It was more than she’d ever been offered for a job before. That was the only reason she’d agreed to any of it. It was an easy job, all things considered. The victim really wasn’t anyone important. She wouldn’t have any targets on her back. All she had to do was keep him alive.

She checked the address, then looked at the house she’d pulled into the gravel driveway of. It wasn’t nearly as isolated as she’d like it to be. Sure, it wasn’t as populated as a regular suburban neighborhood, but the fact that she could still see a few other houses around wasn’t a good sign.

An expensive looking car pulled up next to hers. Well, at least she wouldn’t have to wait around for long.

——————————————————————————

Whumpee woke up to the sound of two people having a conversation. Even in his hazy state, he recognized one of them almost instantly.

The memories of what brought him here flooded in. Terror bloomed in his chest, and he did his best to scream, only to discover the cloth tightly wrapped around his mouth. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t see anything. Was he going to die? Why hadn’t he already?

The blindfold was ripped off of his face, and he was met by two figures. The first, he noticed, was the woman from the gas station. The second he didn’t recognize. It was a man— Maybe a bit older than him— with a muscular build and a giddy expression. Neither of them were making any effort to cover their faces now, which only frightened Whumpee further.

“…I still don’t think it’s a good idea to have him here. With everything you’ve told me so far, wouldn’t you prefer somewhere a little more… Y’know.” The woman acted as if Whumpee wasn’t even there.

“C’moon! You’re worrying too much about it. You really think he’s gonna be a problem? You don’t need to worry about the neighbors either. I mean, my dad owns most of the property around this area. The tenants aren't gonna say a thing.”

The man shot Whumpee an eager smile. Way too eager.

“You really know how to pick a good one. I mean, wow. Did you see his face? And he’s got the perfect ratio of everything too. Plenty to try. You’ve really outdone yourself!” He hummed, looking over Whumpee like a slab of meat in a butcher shop.

The woman leaned against the door and stared down at them. “Gee, I’m so glad…”

He rolled his eyes and faced Whumpee, eyes boring into his with uncomfortable intensity. “You can call me Whumper, okay? Ignore her, she’s just in a bad mood because she doesn’t like my preference in setting. She wanted to set you up in some cold, distant warehouse. Tied to a chair and all. This is a lot more domestic. What do you think?”

Whumpee hadn’t really bothered to take in the rest of everything. Upon closer inspection, he’d been shoved and tied up in a small coat closet. The floor had been covered in tarps and newspapers. He tried to squint to see if he could read some— Figure out how far away he was— But it was too dark to take in anything other than a few cheesy headlines.

Still, the implications of everything were clear.

He was going to die here.

“Don’t look so glum! You’re gonna be fine… Well, hopefully. The idea here is to keep you alive as long as possible. Don’t want anything going to waste, after all…”

Whumper crawled a little closer. Uncomfortably close. He grinned.

“I was hoping we could start here,” He ran a finger just below Whumpee’s kneecap in a quick, cutting motion,

“Then work our way up to the thigh… Obviously repeat the same process for the other side. From there, I’m thinking we move up to here,”

A cut in the air over his wrist,

“here,” Elbow.

“—Aand finish here.” Shoulder. “It’ll probably be best to kill him then, but I’d like to try to keep him alive while we prepare some areas of the chest and pelvis. I know that’s probably where the extent of your skills probably taper off, though. I’d get someone a little more specialized with this kind of thing, but I figured the less people involved the better.”

The woman crossed her arms. “Got it.”

“Other than fixing him up after that, you’ve just gotta keep him fed. Simple enough, right?”

“Right.”

Whumpee’s head felt light, swimming with the influx of terrifying new information. They were planning on cutting him limb from limb, for fuck’s sake. Anything he could have imagined couldn’t have possibly been as bad as the awful reality. He might have preferred just a normal, quick death.

He was going to die slowly at the hands of two people who had enough experience to cover it up, but definitely not to make it any less agonizing.

Then again, maybe that was part of the appeal for them.

——————————————————————————

He had no idea how long it had been since he’d been kidnapped. It couldn’t have been more than a few weeks. He should be worrying about exams, not the suspense of being cut up into pieces.

Then again, if it really had been weeks, exams were probably over now. He wished he could afford to stress over it.

The woman, who’d provided no name or any details about herself, came by once a day— give or take— to feed him. That’s how it had been for the first few trips.

One day, he’d tried to bite her after she’d removed the gag. She cut her trips down after that. Not enough to let him starve, but enough to make it hurt.

The man’s visits weren’t much better. They were a lot less frequent though, which was a mercy in itself. Whumper had left a few bruises the first time he came by, but nothing that went any deeper. The pain was nothing in comparison to what Whumpee knew was coming.

——————————————————————————

“Well, today’s the day we see if you’re money well spent. Feeling excited? I know I am!” Whumper hummed as they strode over to the closet door and swung the door open.

Whumpee stared up at him weakly, trying to manage a plea through the gag. It only came out a muffled, whiney sound. Whumper just grinned in response.

He set a duffel bag in front of Whumpee and began pulling out a few tools. A meat cleaver, a bottle of pills, and a bonesaw. Whumpee just hoped they were painkillers.

“These’ll keep you conscious throughout the whooole thing. I don’t want you passing out on me during this. I want to hear every last scream. It’s a shame I have to keep that gag on you during this. I’ll loosen it a bit though, just since it’s a special occasion.”

The knot at the back of Whumpee’s head released for a brief second, letting him breathe in through his mouth for the first time in weeks. Every attempt at exhaling was followed by a pathetic sound he didn’t even know he was capable of making.

Whumper shook the bottle of pills, then unscrewed the lid. “Open up. If you faint from shock, I’ll do so much worse than taking off a little bit of your leg.”

The threat was more than enough to get him to obey.

Dread began pooling in Whumpee’s stomach when the pills were finally put away and the gag was fastened back around his head. Whumper’s attention had shifted over to the array of weapons, eyes ablaze with sick glee.

“I mean… We shouldn’t have to rush into this,” Whumper started, both of his hands on the cleaver. He ran a finger over the blade and looked up at Whumpee. “We should have a little fun with it. Meat’s no good unless you tenderize it first…”

He brought the cleaver close to Whumpee’s sternum, then moved it down to his leg, ghosting over it all without actually making a cut.

Whumpee shivered in horror, inching away from the blade whenever it got a bit too close to skin. With a low laugh, Whumper suddenly dug the dull end of the blade into his leg.

Whumpee gasped in shock, cutting off his own scream midway up his throat. The cold metal stung against his leg, but thankfully it only lingered for a moment before Whumper pulled it away.

“Geez, we haven’t even gotten into the main event and you’re already crying? You’re gonna want to save those tears for later.”

Whumpee had barely even noticed the hot tears streaming down his face. He’d been too focused on the terror of everything else. It wasn’t like it mattered anyways. He didn’t have to put on a brave face when there wasn’t anyone to do it for. Besides the monster holding a cleaver to his thigh.

He whimpered a last-ditch effort plea through the gag, but it only came out as garbled, incomprehensible noise. Whumper grinned at him and pulled away the cleaver.

It landed on Whumpee’s ribs a moment later, knocking him into the wall, sending him gasping for air. He could have sworn he heard something snap.

The second blow struck him in the hip. The pain was instant, branching and lingering across his leg. He screwed his eyes shut and groaned out in pain, but received no response.

The last was right where it had started. Somehow it felt even worse the second time around. When the cleaver connected with his leg, he couldn’t help but scream, sobs becoming even shakier than they already were. The lack of air felt so much more suffocating than it ever had before, an overwhelming and burning sensation that hardly even distracted from the rest of the pain.

Whumper grabbed a fistful of hair and dragged him back up into a sitting position, then brought his face level with Whumpee’s. A finger pressed into the poor man’s chest, tracing a deep circle around his heart.

“That got your blood pumping, huh? Thing’s going a million miles a minute. You’re not wheezing either, so probably no punctured lungs… Mm. Looks like you’re doing well then.” He hummed and took his hand away, eyeing Whumpee with a hungry gaze.

He was doing anything but well. Everything about this, from the bruising blossoming down his side to the tears and snot mingling on his face was beyond awful. Whumpee hoped there would be a small break in between the torment, a chance for him to catch his breath, but as he saw the man in front of him, the thrilled way he was already reaching for the cleaver again, he knew better than to beg.

Whumper flipped the knife in his hand, the sleek, sharpened side now directed towards his captive, who was actively trying to make himself seem as small as possible, curled into a fetal position.

With a harsh yank to Whumpee’s legs, he’d unwinded him completely. No more collapsing back into himself.

“You know… Maybe it’s not a good idea to do this without giving you anything to bite down on. I’m aiming for the leg, not your tongue.” Whumper sighed and cautiously undid the gag, then shoved the cloth into his mouth.

“Don’t spit that out. For your sake.”

He wasted no more time with pleasantries and grabbed the weapon once more. Somehow, even to Whumpee, it was obvious he didn’t know what he was doing. He was moving the blade around as if he wasn’t completely sure where to start cutting in.

This wouldn’t be quick. He’d probably just hack away until he reached the bottom.

The metal made contact with Whumpee’s skin, grazing the top layer. It gave way to the blade even with the minimal pressure, and little red droplets began to form and pool at the site of the cut.

Whumpee winced as the blade cut deeper into his leg, slicing past flesh and fat. When Whumper raised the cleaver out of the wound, the cold air surrounding them rushed in, sending a dizzying wave of pained nausea up his throat.

He glanced over at Whumper, eyes pleading with him, searching for any trace of empathy or regret. He just wanted this to stop. This was insane. He had to realize that, didn’t he?

When Whumper finally noticed, his expression was devoid of anything he could cling to. The only thing there for him to find was pure, unfiltered joy.

“I can’t wait to see how you’ll taste. If that part is even a tenth as fun as this, then it’ll be worth it. Maybe I’ll even share a bit with you!” He didn’t try to hide the elation in his voice. His breathing was almost as quick as Whumpee’s by this point, for all the wrong reasons.

Before Whumpee could even recognize it, Whumper swung the blade down on his leg, ripping his tendons apart with horrifying ease. A line of yellow fat bubbled up at the entrance and dribbled down his leg, smearing together with blood and viscera.

The blade left his leg with resistance now, followed by a wet, suctioned noise. His screams, which he was sure even the gag couldn’t fully cover, bounced off of the walls of the closet, ringing back into his own ears in some sick twist of fate.

To his absolute horror, Whumper poked at the wound, dipping his finger into the cut until the first digit was completely gone. The pain of his skin pulling even further apart was enough to make him see stars.

His throat was raspy and swollen, but all he could do was scream and kick and flail. The rope around his legs tightened with every movement, but with all the rest of the pain it just seemed like a futile addition.

Whumper stared at him for a moment, taking in the primal fear and pain in his eyes.

Without a word, he removed his blood soaked finger from the wound, licked it, and moved back over to his array of weapons to get the bonesaw.

He looked back up at Whumpee and smiled. “We’ll need to salt that later… Just wanted a small sample, but I probably should’ve just taken some from the cleaver, huh?”

Whumpee was too shocked to even react, temporarily stunned in absolute terror. Petrified. Everything Whumper said left his head the minute he’d even spoken. When he finally mustered up the energy to respond, he just sobbed.

The bonesaw wasn’t any better than the cleaver. The back and forth motion was predictable, at the very least, but every movement made him cry out and flinch. The pain was unbearable. If it wasn’t for the pill keeping his systems ablaze, he would have gone out ages ago. His vision had gone red and white, swirling and unable to focus on anything at all.

The other party seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, sawing through his tibia as if it were a piece of stubborn plywood. When it eventually snapped and cracked apart completely, he grinned, face shiny with Whumpee’s fresh blood.

Thankfully, the rest of his leg came apart with ease, now that the only parts still holding it together were the more squishy bits. Whumper’s work definitely hadn’t been clean. Every cut he’d made had been uneven and jagged, and the stump that was finally left over looked like someone had to go at it from ten different angles.

He ripped the leg away from Whumpee and set it aside, then took out a flip phone and dialed a number into it. Whumpee couldn’t focus on the conversation. Everything around him blurred and slogged together.

Even with the medicine in his bloodstream, he felt himself fading in and out of consciousness. Did he even want to stay awake for whatever happened next?

Was he going to die like this?

Time spun and warped. He wasn’t sure how long it had been. The woman had joined them now. They were both working to clean and patch up the area where his leg had been chopped off. They were talking to each other, but the ringing in his ears was too loud to focus on anything else.

Then, a bright light from the window. A wailing sound. A chance to sleep.

——————————————————————————

When Whumpee opened his eyes again, he was in a bright room, lit by fluorescents. The ropes around his wrists were absent, as well as any sort of gag. He blinked, then sat up, feeling the soft cot beneath him.

He was safe.

He looked over to his leg, and a jolt of panic shot through his system when he saw the bandages. That same dizzy feeling from before hit in waves. It felt as though it was still in the process of being torn apart.

His whole body was sore. Bruises covered his entire side, then crept over to his stomach and chest.

But he was safe.

A little while later, a nurse came in and explained to him that someone had heard screaming from the house and called the police. His two captors had been arrested. His leg, however, hadn’t been recovered.

Even if it had been, they’d explained, they probably couldn’t have done much to save it.

Everything constantly played back in his mind any minute he was left alone. A terrible horror movie he couldn’t shut off, him as the star. How long would they be in jail? Would they come after him once they were out? Would someone else?

For now, he was safe.

Even if it didn’t feel that way.

[a1307s]

Flickers of Green #2

(Dick Grayson & Jason Todd)

[Art is not mine! Credit to fish-goat]

Requested by: quirkyshortdumbo11

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 6,214

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Cursing

Mentions of Death

———————————————————————

I walk out of the abandoned building, the sounds of my gunshot and the now-dead drug lord's screaming still ringing in my head.

Nowadays it seems that these sounds comfort me more than Bruce ever could. Fucking Bruce. I hate him. I hate Batman. I hate the Joker. I hate myself for letting Y/N die. For dragging her to her death. For not being able to save her. For me being the one that's alive.

I can't let guilt cloud my mind right now. It's hard to kill someone as you're feeling guilty for causing the death of someone else. I need something to clear my head, something to reset myself. Coffee should help, it always did when I was originally alive.

I glance around, trying to get my wits together and figure out where the nearest coffee shop is. I tug my phone out of my jacket, taking a glance at the time. Nine thirty-two. Late but not too late, except for coffee. I don't know if anywhere with a decent cup of Joe will be open. I don't need that watered-down bean soup shit they serve at gas stations.

Pamela's cafe will be open. They're always open. I don't want to go there though. The last thing I need is more memories of Y/N.

I do a quick Google search, hoping to find any other cafe open, but I don't. I don't need coffee, but I do need something to eat and a donut sounds so good right now. I can't even remember what a donut tastes like. I'll just have to eat my feelings alongside the donut then.

I pull up Google Maps, glancing over it quickly before heading towards the cafe. The plus side of Pamela's is that the staff is pretty chill with anything; heroes, villains, and citizens alike.

It seems that in the past couple of years, the girls on staff have been adopted by some of the villains. I see Ivy, Scarecrow, and Harley coming and going from there a lot.

When I was at the Iceberg Lounge - aka Penguin's bar, strip club, and not-so-underground business - he mentioned that he "keeps up" on the girls and pays some of their tuition. He also mentioned there's a new girl that started a couple of months ago and that she's "a feisty little one that doesn't fear shit". That coming from Penguin is a bit of an honor. Not many people can get a compliment like that from him.

Maybe I'll meet this feisty new girl tonight. Maybe I'll take her home. I could use the distraction. However, I don't usually end up doing anything with them when I do get them home. I usually just lose my shit cause it's not the same as it was with Y/N.

I switch between being mad and being indifferent about being unable to move on from her. She died only ever loving me, why can't I live only ever loving her?

The neon lights of the cafe cut into my line of sight along with cutting through my thoughts. I forgot how obnoxious all the neon was. Standing right outside the cafe is Penguin and a young girl. She's in the 50s dinner uniform Pamela's staff wears. She's also wrapped up in a fancy-looking coat.

I feel half bad for the girl. If she's working at a cafe, she can't afford a coat like that, which means it's from the Penguin. It's never good for anyone - much less a young girl - to be in debt to Penguin.

My pace slows as I approach them. "Come on Feisty, just let me pay for your courses. Then you wouldn't have to work so much."

"No, I'm good. I don't mind supporting myself." The girl's voice is soft but firm as she speaks. Maybe she isn't as stupid as I thought.

"Listen here you little bitch-"

"No, you listen here you fucking flightless bird," the girl yells back, causing a bit of laughter to brew in my chest. "I already told you I don't want your money and unlike most of the other girls, I don't owe you shit so back off."

"And if I don't?" He asks, starting to turn the head on his cane. Under the head is usually a knife that Penguin is known to use on people when he doesn't get his way.

The girl yanks the cane away before any damage can be done, causing shock in both the bird and me. "If you don't I'll stab you to death with your own cane. Go back to your dumb pimp square." Penguin stands there for a second, just staring at the girl before he walks away mumbling to himself. His wobble is more present than usual now that he doesn't have his cane to support him. The club owner wasn't kidding about this girl not being scared of anything, or at least she was good at pretending.

Now that the fat man isn't in the way, I'm able to see the girl he was talking to. As my eyes scan over her my mind both empties and explodes. Standing in the neon lights is the spitting image of Y/N, which is impossible... because she's dead.

Or is it? I'm technically dead and yet here I am. But if she was alive, she would have looked for me, right? Like I did for her? She would at least be at the manor, right? Bruce would take her back in or at the very least Dick would... right? Or maybe she didn't want to go back to them. Maybe she's mad at them too.

Y/N - I think it's her - turns on her heels, heading down the road. I need to follow her. If she is my Y/N I need to know. I need to be a hundred percent certain. At the very least, if it's not Y/N I should still watch the girl get home safe after she disagreed with Penguin.

What if it's not Y/N? What if it is? What if this is a trap? Is Al Ghul fucking with my head again? Did he set this up to trap me back within the League? Even if he did, I need to know what's going on. Just in case it is a trap, I stay hidden. I'll have the element of surprise if shit does go south.

I follow this girl, not paying much attention to where she's going but making sure to keep pace with her. If it is my Y/N I can't lose her again from careless mistakes.

My mind runs a mile a minute as I trail her. I need answers, I need to hold her, I need her to be Y/N.

Maybe-Y/N turns, making my heart race. Fear of losing her around the corner mixes with the joy of a split second of light enveloping her.

I catch a glimpse behind her ear. When we were twelve, right before Bruce took us in, we thought it would be a good idea to give each other stick-and-poke tattoos. We tattooed each other's names behind our ears. My name is there, behind her left ear, in my chicken scratch handwriting. It has to be her. There's no way Al Ghul could know about that. I don't even think Bruce knows about our matching tattoos.

My pace quicks as I slide around the corner after her. I need her. I need to tell her I'm here. I need - it's a trap.

Hands land on me, throwing me to my right. My boots slide against the gravel on the sidewalk, aiding in me losing my balance. I fall hard, harder than the Roman Empire.

On my way down, my helmet comes into contact with a trash can. The noise echoes within my disguise, promising to give me a headache.

"What the hell?" I bark, quickly getting back to my feet. I should have known this was too good to be true. I should have known it was a trap. I should have known to pay attention to my surroundings. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Once the sound rattling around my helmet quiets some I'm able to get a grip on my surroundings. Standing in front of me is Dick Grayson in his signature black and blue spandex suit. "Fucking Nightwing," I husk out, shaking my head to get the last of the echoes out.

"Hood," he answers, positioning himself for a throwdown.

From my last run-in with Bruce, it's evident he knows who I am. Despite his attempt to hide it, the Bat was throwing his punches. I'm guessing from the greeting that he didn't share his findings with Dick.

But fine, if a fight is what Nightwing wants, a fight is what he'll get. It shouldn't be difficult to get him down.

I cautiously walk toward him, preparing myself to swing. One easy hit. Just one to knock him down long enough for me to sneak off and find Y/N.

I swing at him, but he ducks. What a little shit. I don't want trouble, I just want to go find - he thinks I'm stalking her. Dick thinks I'm stalking Y/N. Does he know it's Y/N?

"Just move aside, Wing, it's not what you think," I call out louder than I meant to. I throw another punch, trying to get him down again. I don't have time for this. I don't have the want to explain who I am and who I'm chasing after.

Dick needs to get out of my way before I lose Y/N. I can't lose her again. I'd burn the Earth to a crisp before I let that happen.

My thoughts distract me, making me lag as Nightwing tries to sweep my feet out from under me. I almost managed to avoid it but do end up tripping a bit from my late reaction.

"You're a notorious killer chasing after a girl, what else am I supposed to think?" Grayson calls, his cocky attitude present in his words. Well, that answers my question; he doesn't know it's Y/N. Or who I am. Or maybe he does and doesn't want me to know that he's connected to her. I hate the hush-hush behaviors we both inherited from Bruce.

I stumble back, again causing my helmet to come into contact with more metal. I'm definitely going to have a piercing headache for the next couple of hours. Great.

As the object behind me catches my fall, my guns slide across it, reminding me of their presence. If he's not going to go down with physical force, a gunshot sure as hell will work.

Nightwing approaches me, pulling his weapon out from behind his back. He's mumbling, probably answering whoever is on the other end of his coms. Great, I'm going to have to go through Batman too to get to Y/N. If that's the case, so be it. Bruce's name is as good as carved into my bullets if that's what it takes to get Y/N back.

I take Nightwing's distraction as a chance to get the upper hand. Being the asshole I am, I sweep Nightwing's feet out from under him. It's what he deserves and quite good karma. He stumbles back, landing on his back a couple of steps ahead of me.

No time is wasted as I start closing the gap between us. My gun feels heavy in my hand as I pull it out. Richard made his own grave trying to get between Y/N and me again, but that doesn't mean I like laying him in it. I watch as he grabs for one of his sticks as I tower over him. He can try all he wants but it won't stop me; nothing will stop me. Y/N will be safe from him, from Bruce, from the life I dragged her into it.

I level the barrel to his head debating if I should just end it here. It would be quite the message to Batman. "Lady don't!" A young voice screams out.

I glance up to find who else is present but before I can my eyes lock on Y/N. She's rushed and flustered as she races towards me. Before I can stop her, she's shoving the gun up towards the sky. "Don't shoot!" She shouts, her words followed by the sound of the gun going off.

Fear flickers through me before my senses come in. Y/N isn't shot, she can't be, the gun is pointed too high.

She stands in front of me, anger rooted in her eyes as she looks at me. There are flickers of green mixed in with her normal eye color. I take in the rest of her, letting my mind go silent as I look her over. Y/N has a strand of grey mixed in her hair, just like me. She has to be alive because of the Laza pit. She has the same greying hair and recent green added to her eyes, just like me. Mine were caused because of the pit, so hers have to be because of it too, right? Is she suffering from the same side effects I did because of the pit?

"What the fuck is your problem, you daft cow?" Y/N yells, tugging the weapon from my hand before I can stop her. I have to stop myself from laughing at the situation. It's too much like it was when we were younger. Dick and me going toe-to-toe and Y/N swooping in to break us up once again.

"Don't stand there and look dumb at me. What do you think you're doing?" She repeats herself, her attention turning towards the gun.

I shift to point it down, so she doesn't accidentally shoot herself, but she beats me to it. The barrel is pointed at the open pavement between our feet as her hands work on disconnecting the bullets from the gun.

Y/N's fingers look smooth and soft as they work. I want to touch them. I want to hold them in my hands. I want to press kisses into them. I want to touch her. I want to know she's real.

"I..." I start, my mouth feels heavy and suddenly full of cotton. "Hi." The word sounds loud when it tumbles out.

"Hello," Y/N says back, her eyes sparkling. The color I've grown so used to comforts me despite the newly added flickers of green. She's so bright and here and alive.

Her focus stays on me for a beat longer as she hands me back my gun. Our fingers bumping into each other, sending shivers up my spine. She's alive.

I let the feeling envelop me as my eyes switch from her face to staying locked on the shitty tattoo behind her ear. My mind is on overtime, running through a million questions even as Y/N moves up and down in front of me. I can hear her voice as she talks to Dick but it's hard to focus on processing her words.

My eyes snap back up as Y/N stands. She whispers something, the words lost in her uncomfortableness. Am I making her upset? Is Dick? I glance around her to hopefully see what shifted her tone. Since being distracted, Bruce's new Robin has appeared in front of us. Is he making her upset?

Y/N starts walking away, causing panic about losing her to wash over me. Before I can stop myself, I reach out for her, my hand wrapping around her arm to stop her movements. "Let..." I start again, my mouth still feeling dry, and it gets drier as Y/N turns towards me. "Let me walk you home." The words come out quieter than I thought they would.

Her eyes harden as she looks at me and shakes me off of her. "What the fuck is with all you superheroes? Two days ago, I had a frantic Batman shoving hundred-dollar bills into my hand. You have been trailing me for three blocks, you-" So she knows I was behind her? Does she know it's me? Does she not remember Bruce is Batman? What does she remember?

I shake my head again, trying to Etch-A-Sketch the thoughts out of my head. I focus my attention back on Y/N. Her hands are on her hips, her right one popped out. I want to touch her again. I want to put my hands on her hips. I want to feel her between my fingers. I want to feel her warmth against me. I want-

My thoughts are cut off again when Dick starts touching her. "I... Y/N?" Dick says his tone as quiet as mine was. All the love-struck feelings wash out of me and are replaced with anger and jealousy. I don't want him touching her. I should be touching her. She's mine. She's always been mine. What the fuck does Dick think he's doing?

"Good guess," Y/N answers, her figure relaxing some. Does she remember that Grayson is Nightwing? Why does she remember that but not that Bruce is Batman? Does she like him touching her?

"Y/N?" He repeats, his face scrunched up in confusion. He needs to stop touching her before I lose my shit.

Almost as if Y/N can read my thoughts, she shrugs him off and starts walking away again. "That's my name, don't wear it out." Her tune is light and happy, making butterflies flap around my stomach. Nightwing and I stay frozen, watching her slip out of the alleyway before vanishing from our sight.

Dick's attention turns back towards me. His eyes are watery. Apparently, I'm not the only secret Bruce has been keeping from him, how in tune for the bat. "What's next? You going to end up being Jason Todd?" He asks, a sad laugh following. It tinges my heart, almost making me regret being willing to kill him a few minutes ago.

I hum a bit, turning towards the direction Y/N went in as I think about what I'm going to do. I start heading after her before changing my mind. I know she's alive and in town. That's all that matters. It'll be best for her if I back off, give her time to think over the event, and give Dick time to tattle to Bruce so I can see how they'll react. I glance at Nightwing behind me before opening my mouth again, "We both know that Y/N being alive isn't the only secret Bruce Wayne is hiding from the world."

I let the words hang behind me as I walk away. Waiting to go after Y/N also gives me time to think over what I'm going to do. If she doesn't remember parts of her life - if any of it - I don't need to scare her away by coming off too strong.

———————————

My heart jumps around as I walk up the path from the other day. The neon lights are still obnoxious as fuck, but I don't mind. Y/N will be there. I know she will. I've been watching her, keeping tabs on her, getting the hang of her schedule. I know, I know, I know. I sound like a stalker. But it's not stalking. It's... intel collecting.

I know she'll be here. She works until nine-thirty, so unlike the other night, I come in earlier, so I have time to see her. Time to talk to her. I also know they're not too busy at night so the cafe will at least be mostly empty, if not completely deserted.

From my stalk- intel collecting, I know Dick came in earlier to talk to her. I don't know what they talked about though. I don't know if I want to know. It pissed me off seeing Dick with Y/N. Pissed me off seeing him touch her again. Pissed me off seeing the smile that stayed on her face even after she left the cafe for class.

What does Dick think he's doing? I'm not stupid or blind. Hell, even a blind man can see how down-hard Dick is for Y/N. Even when we were younger, he pretty much had hearts in his eyes anytime Y/N was around. She wanted me last time; she'll want me this time too... I think.

The jingle of the bell on the door competes with my heartbeat for space in my ears. Sitting in one of the bar chairs at the coffee island is Y/N. Scarecrow is next to her, helping her with her chemistry homework. I'm not thrilled about this arrangement but at least Y/N is getting the academic help she needs.

"Hello!" Y/N peeps out, sending a smile at me as her attention turns away from Scarecrow. Her eyes soften when she focuses on me. "It's you again."

"It's me again," I mumble, taking slow steps towards her.

Scarecrow stands up, placing himself between Y/N and me. He's always been a small man, even when I was a kid, but he seems even smaller nowadays. "Again?" He asks, trying to look intimidating. He's barely intimidating when he's in his suit, and definitely isn't when he's dressed like a civilian.

"Again," Y/N peeps up, her voice still airy and soft. The same voice that used to whisper sweet nothings into my ear until I fell asleep most nights. "Helmet man here walked me home after I argued with Penguin the other night."

"You got into an argument with Penguin?" Crow asks, turning his attention from me to Y/N. "What did he want?"

"You know, the usual. He wants me in debt to him for another body to do his bidding," She teases a soft smile on her face in an attempt to comfort Crow. Scarecrow shifts around a bit glancing at me a few times.

I step aside, standing next to the skinny man and joining him looking at Y/N. She's so pretty, even out of her style and in the dumb uniform for the cafe. "Can I buy you a coffee?" I ask her, slowly tugging my helmet off as well as making sure the mask under it stays in place. The last thing I need is Scarecrow knowing I'm Jason Todd.

"Look at you, pulling all the guys today," Crow half teases, sending glares my way.

"I guess so," Y/N says, her smile even bigger as she scans over my face. Maybe she does know who I am.

"I have something to deal with. Will you be okay if I leave?" Crow asks, his attention not being pulled from me.

"I'll be fine. I'm pretty confident that I can take him if need be." Y/N giggles at herself, pulling a soft chuckle from Crow as well. He nods at her before turning on his heels and walking off. "What do you want to drink?" She asks, standing up and sliding behind the counter.

"I'll have whatever you're going to have." She hums, starting to make whatever it is she's making. I watch her move around, my eyes drinking in every moment. Memories flow in and out as I watch her. Memories of her hands on me, her lips on me, of her laugh, of her. "What do you think he's off to go do?" I ask, being careful not to call him Scarecrow in case she doesn't know. It would be better if Y/N didn't know; it would be one less person to protect her from.

She hums, her hands working at pouring our drinks out. "He's probably going to go line the fog machines in the Iceberg with fear gas. He gets pretty pissy when Penguin fucks with the staff." So, she does know. Is that good or bad? Probably good in this situation. "Here you go," She murmurs, pushing my cup towards me before walking back around the counter with her drink.

Y/N slides back into her seat, patting the one next to her. I obey, sitting down. Her eyes stay locked on me, the flickers of green swirling around them as she stares. The space is quiet, the only sound being us sipping on our coffees. "Are you stalking me?" She asks, filling in the space and causing me to choke a bit.

My lungs force out a cough in an attempt to counteract my choking. Y/N's eyes stay locked on me, the green standing out as she watches. "I... no?" Why the fuck did that come out as a question? That's pretty counterproductive. "No, I'm not." That's better... maybe.

She hums again, sipping on her coffee as she thinks over my answer. "Defiantly seems like you're stalking me. Most people don't sneak around and follow me all day." Once again silence falls between us. How am I supposed to respond to that?

Y/N sits in silence, enjoying her coffee as she watches me. Even though I know she's suspicious of me, I still find comfort in her gaze. "I don't remember much of my life before six months ago so if I'm supposed to know you, I'm not avoiding you. I just don't know who you are, so you don't need to sneak around me; you just need to talk to me. Well, and be patient please." She says, being the one to break the silence again.

Oh... So, she doesn't know anything. That's... scary. For many reasons. "Is there anything you do remember?" I ask, gently pushing my coffee back and forth between my hands.

"Snip bits of stuff. Though some things have started coming back since I ran into Nightwing and you. Some more came back after my coffee chat with Richard Grayson too."

Don't fucking say his name. Don't say it. You should be saying my name. Should be remembering stuff because of me. Not because of fucking Dick. "Oh ya?" I peep out, glaring ahead of me at the menu instead of focusing my anger on Y/N.

"Mmhmm..." She falls silent, nodding her head back and forth as if she's trying to wiggle her thoughts around. "Helmet man-"

"Red Hood," I say, cutting her off with my correction.

I turn my attention back to her, being met with her eyes already on me. "You're my Jason, right?"

"Ya," I push out, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. The word 'my' repeats nonstop in my head, bouncing around my brain as I try to sort through my feelings of bliss.

"I think I love you," She whispers, her hand dipping back behind her ear to mess with her tattoo.

The bliss is all washed away once the words hit my ears. She thinks she loves me? Does she not remember loving me? Of course not, Y/N doesn't remember anything. Well, at least a small piece of her remembers me. Remembers me enough to know she's supposed to love me and that's good enough. There's enough hope there for me to build on.

"Well, I know I love you," I whisper back, keeping my eyes on her to see her reaction. She's still looking at me, her eyes shining.

She hums a bit, tilting her head as she scans me again. "Can I take your mask off?" Y/N asks, her hands slow and gentle as they slide over my cheeks and come into contact with the mask covering my eyes.

"Ya."

Her fingers are soft as they snap off my mask. The joy drains from me as the warmth from her touch is removed. "Your eyes are green... I remember them being blue," Y/N says, her fingertips soon back on my cheeks.

I can feel my cheeks heating up, both from a blush and the hands present on my skin. "They used to be, now they're green." Y/N hums, running her fingers over my cheekbones before sliding them into my hair. I let my eyes close, soaking in her touches. It's calming, being able to be so close to her again, feeling her touch me again, feeling proof that she's alive. I lean forward a bit, getting close enough to feel Y/N's soft breathing coat my face. "Can..." Asking to kiss her might be a little much right now. Maybe I shouldn't ask.

"Can you what?" Y/N prompts, her hands dropping down to my shoulders.

My eyes snap open and once again they're met with the familiar color and the newly added flickers of green. Why did she only get slivers and mine completely changed color? "Can I take you on a date?" I finally ask, shifting a bit so our noses are touching. God, I want to kiss her. I want to hold her. I want her in every way possible. It's going to kill me having to work back up to that.

"I'd like that, Jason."

Yes. God, yes. "Say my name again," I mumble, rubbing my nose against hers.

"Jason," She whispers, bopping my nose with her own before pulling away from me.

———————————

Butterflies flap around my stomach, threatening to come up in a not-pretty way. My hands shake as I lift one to knock on the door of Y/N's apartment. The knocking feels loud as I do it. Maybe I knocked too loud.

The door swings open soon after, the door frame filling with the image of Y/N. She's dressed up with her hair down to cup her face. "Hi," I breathe out, my eyes drinking her in. She's so pretty, so perfect, so alive.

"Hello," she answers back, her eyes glancing at my hand. "You got me flowers?" Y/N asks, leaning against the door frame.

"Oh ya," I bark out, definitely too loud, as I push the bouquet toward her. I couldn't decide what flowers to get so I ended up getting three different bouquets and had the lady mix them. "Your favorite flowers are orange roses, but I didn't know if you still liked them or not, so I panicked and got more flowers than you probably need or want." That was dumb. Why did I say that? I feel like a thirteen-year-old with his first crush again.

"I still like orange roses," Y/N tells me, taking the flowers from me before walking back through the door. I follow after her, making sure to close the door behind me. Her apartment is small but cozy. There's not much in her home either but I guess that's expected since Y/N doesn't know herself.

There is a small couch and one of those old, bulky, shitty TVs tucked into her living room. The apartment smells nice, like pork and chili pepper. A million different dishes are stacked up around her countertop in the kitchen. "What are you making?" I ask her, sliding my jacket off before laying it on the couch.

"I'm making Pozole. I remember you liking it. Or I think you liked it. Somebody did at least," She mumbles a bit, keeping her attention to the pot on the stove in front of her.

"I like pozole. Alfred and you used to make it for me all the time."

Y/N's eyes light up at my words, making my chest fill with the warmth of joy. I walk into the cramped kitchen, making sure to stay out of her way as I stand in her presence. I watch her like a hawk as she works away, letting the warmth of the stove and the smell of dinner fill the space between us. For the first time in two years, I finally feel okay, finally feel at peace.

"You didn't answer my question the other day," I voice, sliding in closer to her. I want to hold her; I want to wrap my arms around her waist. I debate it for a second. I don't want to scare her off.

"What question?" Y/N asks, glancing at me before turning back to her project at hand.

"Is there anything you remember from our - er - your life?"

Y/N snaps the heat off, continuing to stir the pot as she thinks it over. "There's not a lot I do remember. I'm starting to remember this dude named Wally, I think. I don't know. I'm going to talk to Dick about him tomorrow. I remember a bit about Dick too but not much. I remember a bit about you... about us." Her eyes glance at me, before turning back to our dinner. She picks up some heat absorbers, wrapping them around the pot before setting it on a cutting board on the counter.

She's talking to Dick? About her memories? Or lack thereof, I guess. I don't want her talking to him. What's he going to say to her? What has he already said to her? What ideas is he putting into Y/N's head? Has Dick tried anything with her?

"What do you remember about us?" I ask, trying to push for more information as I try to forget my worried thoughts.

Y/N floats around the kitchen, taking out dishes for our food. My eyes trail her as she moves around the small space. "Umm... I remember us kissing a lot."

I chuckle a bit at that response. We do - did kiss a lot. We did other things a lot too. "Ya, ya we kissed a lot. We were very... touchy." Y/N giggles a bit as she makes our plates. My eyes keep glancing from her face to her hips. I really want to touch her. Before I can stop myself, I push off the counter I'm leaning on and wrap her up in me. My hands are firm on her hips and her back is pressed into my chest as I bury my head into her neck.

Y/N stiffens a bit in my hold before relaxing her muscles again. "We danced a lot too," I mumble into her neck, softly shifting her hips so we can sway together. She sways with me, her body weight feeling so good against mine. "You liked to read out loud to me too."

"Do you not know how to read?" She teases, shifting in my hold so we're face to face.

"I know how to read, I just read too slow for your liking."

"Oh ya?"

"Absolutely not, I just like your voice," I answer, lifting my head from her neck and placing our noses next to each other.

Y/N's hands slide up my arms, resting on my shoulders. "Our favorite book is The Great Gatsby, ya?"

My heart swells a bit at her words. "Ya, it is," I whisper, trying to focus my eyes on hers instead of her lips. It doesn't work so I decide to close my eyes, letting myself focus on her body heat instead. We stay silent, sitting like this, with me holding her. I could stay like this forever.

"Could you kiss me?" Y/N mumbles, shifting in my hold.

My eyes snap open, taking in her face. I roll the words over in my head. I already thought holding her was much for a "first date" and now she's asking me to kiss her? Maybe this is a trap. Maybe I'm making her feel like we have to move fast. Maybe Al Ghul is fucking with my head somehow. "Why?" I peep out, loosening my grip on her.

"Well, my therapist says doing stuff I used to do can help with my memories coming back. We were together ya?"

"Ya, we still are." Her face pinches some as her body stiffens again. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. It isn't fair of me to expect a relationship from Y/N. She doesn't even know who she is, let alone who I am.

"Well, I thought maybe kissing you again would help. We don't have to-"

"I really want to kiss you," I say, cutting her off, and tightening my grip on her again. Y/N's hands slide to the back of my neck, her fingers shaking a bit against my skin but her body relaxes again. "Close your eyes," I mumble, sliding my nose against hers again.

Y/N obeys, fluttering her eyes shut. I take my time, trailing kisses across her nose, her eyes, and her cheeks, before placing myself above her mouth. I soak this scene in for a second before closing the gap between us. Her lips are soft against mine and taste like mint gum.

I shift my hands up, cupping her neck with one and softly dipping the other into her hair. All my need and want and love is boiled into the kiss. Our lips shift against each other for a while, the kiss getting heated way more than it meant.

As my lungs start burning, Y/N pulls back, making me a bit sad. I'd gladly suffocate to death from her kiss. "Jason," She murmurs, her words a little slurred.

"Say it again," I whisper back, tilting my head so our lips are close again.

"Jason," She mutters again. Her lips brush against mine as she speaks.

Fucking Christ. This is too hot, too heated, too much for her right now but I can't stop thinking about hearing her whisper my name all night. "I can't wait for you to fall in love with me again," I say, keeping my tone at a whisper as I glance over her face.

"Why is that?" Y/N asks, her fingers tangling into my hair.

"Because I still love you so fucking much."

———————————————————————

[viva-la-vernal]

Chapter 2

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

wc: 787

You approached the porch, tightening the already strong grip on the bag of weed in your hand. It was starting to get clammy. Not a good look. The sun was beaming down but the wind was cold. The boy had on sunglasses and a big jacket, his curly hair was blowing in the wind, you spoke up.

“Hey, i saw you smoking and was wondering if I could bum one, i mean, if that’s alright, if not it’s cool, also if you smoke weed i have some of that too, like if you want it.” You could feel your face turning red hot with embarrassment, why did you have to say all that?!

“Oh hell yeah I’ll smoke that” replied the boy. “Heres ya a cig” he said handing you the cigarette.

You realized you didn’t have a lighter, he noticed and cupped his hand outside of yours to keep the wind from blowing the flame out of his lighter, his hand was bigger than yours. “Thanks.” You replied briefly.

“So d’ya have a name?” He asked. “Oh I’m sorry, it’s (Y/N)!” You said feeling a bit more confident now. “I’m bam, it’s good to see we have some alright neighbors in this shithole.” You were almost taken aback, sure this town wasnt the greatest but it wasn’t horrible either? Maybe that’s just your opinion. He’s only been here one day anyway, what does he know? “Where did you move from?” You ask. “The city, it’s nothing like this, i dont understand why anyone would move here” He said looking away. You could tell he was upset, like he had left a part of him back in wherever he moved from. You continued talking with him, small talk, about the weather, or some crows in the street, or whatever else you could think of to kill the awkward silence. You mentioned how you saw him yesterday when you were on the porch, with his skateboard. You inquired about it. “Yeah i like skating, it’s about the only thing im good at.” He said. You were going to bluff and said you skate too, but instead said “I’ve always wanted to learn.” He looked at you. “I could teach ya sometime if ya want.” You almost didn’t know what to say, trying to hold your excitement you reply, “yeah! That would be awesome!” He smiled at you. Your cigarette burned out and you dropped it on the ground, crushing it with your foot.

It’s like he could tell you were going to leave, right as you inhaled to say “Welp, I’m gonna head home now, nice meeting you.” He whipped out the bag of weed, smelling it. “Damn! This smells strong!” He exclaimed. “Haha yeah, my friend keeps a couple plants. It’s some good bud.” You said smiling. He asked if you’d like to smoke, but honestly you were freezing. It was colder than yesterday and you werent prepared. As badly as you wanted to say yes, you parted ways with him, mentioning “If you ever need anything, give me a shout, I’m always home.” You said looking up at him. “I sure will, thanks.” he said as you gave an awkward smile and turned away to walk back home.

When you got home you were giddy with excitement. You actually talked to him and things (for the most part) went well. You hope he needs something soon so you can talk again.

Shortly after returning home, you realize you still don’t have cigarettes, and now you don’t have any weed either. You get dressed with a big coat and beanie and head out the door. The gas station is just down the road from your house. Walking with a steady pace you start down the road. It’s so windy and cold but the sun is nice. You approach the gas station and notice two rowdy guys outside, laughing and smoking and talking. They get quieter as you walk beside them to go inside. You get the usual pack of smokes, and a drink and snack for the walk back home. As you make your way back up the road you notice the guys in front of you. You don’t recognize them. They branch off at Bams house. You figure they must be friends…

Not sure how i want to continue the dynamic of this fic. It wouldn’t make sense that they all moved to this small town together but idk. Leave ideas if anyone has any or if it matters LOL

also let me know if u notice any errors/plot holes/etc i will fix them hope u enjoy oke byee

[herarcadewasteland]

happy death day

A/N: Purge night.

-SKZ x reader, 18+.

mature content, violence etc. its the purge. more warnings later

next!

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

You hated this “holiday” with a passion. It was cruel, violent and in your opinion, completely unnecessary. It wasn’t worth a few years of lowered poverty in the country to let everyday people become murderers just for fun. And you stood by it. Declined participation, parties, even hanging out with friends. You did none of it. Never would. You swore to yourself that after that one night when those eight men held your father and mother hostage while you were tied to a chair, which was in turn tied to a wall, torturing them slowly before killing them in front of you, you would never even acknowledge the horrendous night. So, you didn’t. You saved up and bought the best home protection you could, hiding away under blankets until your ears were blasted by the alarms that signaled 7am. 

Tonight was the annual purge night. Work was filled with preparing purgers stocking up on their energy drinks and snacks. Oh the joys of working at a gas station. Gas prices were lowered for the day so purgers could fuel their vehicles of carnage, bullets and pocket knives were also half off. You hated that the most, your stock in the back was mostly shotgun shells and 12mm’s stacked beside boxes of pocket knives and ball-point pens because people had a strange liking towards pens around purge night. The 4:30pm close could not come sooner, your eyes staring daggers at the clock beside you. It was almost painful waiting, your stomach twisting, head a little fuzzy and hands sweating. It was far from your best feeling. You’d place an orgasm at the top of that list for sure. 

The small chime of the bell hung above the door caught your attention, eyes drifting over to watch as eight men sauntered through, broad shoulders clad in leather, boots clicking against the tiled floor and faces already covered with black face masks. Some sported black caps, others slicked back hair and one who had achingly bright blue hair. You blinked at the bright colour, your eyes scanning the others as they spread out, gloved hands tracing shelves before your eyes caught the muscle of one of their arms, the veins in his arm pronounced as he lifted a case of diet soda. The realization he was grabbing diet soda made you laugh a little, not noticing the set of eyes it drew towards your position leant against the counter. 

His intense gaze soon registered and you glanced in the general direction it was coming from, one of the tallest staring straight back at you with unblinking and dark eyes. It made you clear your throat and turn to start locking up the nicotine products for the night, time flying away as you glanced back at the clock which now read 4:20. Great, you thought, almost done. You locked up what needed to be locked behind the counter with practiced ease, muscle memory guiding you as you started zoning out. You didn’t even realize you completely zoned out until one of eight cleared their throat to get your attention. Turning in an almost graceful circle, your eyes widened slightly as you saw them all gathered with armfulls of things for the night. You huffed a small sigh and walked back up to be nearly flush with the counter, hand grabbing the scanner in preparation. 

“You guys got everything? Not gonna be breaking in when I close up to get something you forgot because you were distracted by the soda choices?”

A few of them chuckled, the clear ring leader shaking his head as the one holding the soda visibly shrugged in a clearly unfazed motion. You hummed as the leader started piling items, your hands working double time to grab, scan and push away items as they slid one after the other. It took you two minutes to scan everything they had gathered in their tour, your hands now busy bagging as the leader typed in his card pin. Everything paid for and most things bagged, you could feel their eyes on you as you neatly placed the last of their protein bars in a small paper bag. 

“Okay. That should be everything right?”, you sighed as you glanced up and accidentally made eye contact with every single one of them. 

Their eyes almost made you zone out, something about them so alluring and dangerous… it made your heart race as you shakily pushed their last bag forward as the leader nodded again, his eyes catching yours for an unnerving moment as they began exiting with bags in hand. You cleared your throat to rid yourself of some nervous energy as you rounded the corner as the leader left, hands turning the lock quickly, your back meeting the cool glass as you let out a large sigh, your head dropping forward as the revving of a clearly modded engine filled your ears. The muffler shot twice before the heat of eight gazes left you free to sprint around, shutting off lights, locking things down and couple checking the front before you booked it out of the side door to your little punch buggy. 

The click of the locks echoed slightly in your car before you started it, the time ticking slowly towards 7pm as you released a long breath. The journey home would be stressful. All the purge goers taunting the scared people with machine guns and shotguns as they drove past, cars bumper to bumper as you crawled through the streets to get home. The main street was the worst of it, your eyes scanning over 70 cars in front of and behind you on both sides of the road. It made your hands sweat more, small shakes running through your body as the clock ticked to 6:30pm. Half an hour to get home and activate your systems. Fuck. You glanced around frantically, the side road blissfully empty of large amounts of traffic, the crowd generally being too afraid of more secluded zones to take side streets. 

Using that to your advantage, you swerved off onto the side street, speeding up significantly as you took a new, slightly longer route to your house. Well, technically your parents house. Your childhood home actually… you just stayed in it due to the convenience of owning it and the short distance from many stores you frequented often. Taking slightly sharper turns than normal, you arrived home with three minutes to spare, the sun setting peacefully in a mocking show before the carnage of the night began. Hands trembling and fumbling with your keys, you dropped them as you approached your doorstep. A loud curse and you were bending to grab them in a panic, eyes scanning your peripherals as the announcement froze your body mid bend.

Your heart beat faster as the announcement progressed, your body kicking into flight mode as you sprinted into the house after unlocking the door, your harsh breaths filling your ears as you locked the door, hand already punching in the security code and locking down the house. Your wide eyes watched the metal plates slide down over your large living room windows, the large black truck across the road sending a tingle down your spine before the barricades slammed shut and locked in place with a resounding clang. The loud alarms rang out seconds later, the noise making you jump as gunshots rang through the streets already, screams echoing from people who couldn’t make it inside in time. 

Relaxing with the added noises and suffering outside was easier said than done, your tv on 45 to block it out but failing as trucks sputtered by, screams following, guns firing, more screams. It was torture. You needed a larger distraction, you decided as your security camera showed you a large black van blaring its speakers, a man's voice breaking through the static of it periodically.

“Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!”

A disgusted shiver ran down your spine, neck curving back and shoulders scrunching up before you shook it off and headed upstairs. A shower would help. Yeah, you thought, a nice warm shower, some music, a candle. Perfect way to distract yourself from outside. So gathering a change of clothes, sleep shorts and a nice big hoodie plus your comfiest pair of underwear, you started the shower, your music blasting. Stripping went quickly, your eyes avoiding the mirror as you walked past it. Stepping into the shower, most noise drowned away, “Boss” by NCT U guiding your head as you bobbed it along to the beat, lip syncing your favourite parts as you ran your hands through your hair. Your eyes closed in bliss as you let yourself float away in the beat and the comforting embrace of the water as it streamed down your body.

Your bliss was slightly disrupted as the next song started, the hard-hitting drum resonating in your bones as the lyrics started. 

“나나나나나나나나 나나나나나나나나나,”

You nodded along, your body rolling slightly as the beat picked up further, your mind partially blanking as you got lost in the routine of your shower. 

“Happy death day, happy, happy worst day,”

Foot tapping in tune with the chorus, your eyes opened to reach for your body wash and loofa, scrubbing away the nervousness in eucalyptus and mint as the song echoed in the small room. 

“Wе're closer to death,”

You lost track of time, the last few verses cutting through the air as you turned off the shower slowly, towel wrapping around your body as you shivered in the rapidly cooling air. Your hands almost vibrated as you dressed quickly, your hands pausing as the song finished itself off a little too slowly for the moment. 

“I'm so sick of the fakes, I'm so sick of the fakes,”

You mouthed the words, hands straightening the hem of the hoodie once you pulled it on properly, your eyes scanning your reflection with a certain distaste as you brushed your hair. 

Vroom. Vroom. Vroom.

You rolled your eyes at the revving, placing your hairbrush back down on the counter and flicking off the light with a sigh.

Crash.

“Run, run for your life, run, run for your life.”

————

tag list: @artisticbirb

-----

next.

[glorixuspurpose]

Help.

Leon Kennedy x Black!Fem!Reader

A/N: finally did it yall

warnings: not much except canon-typical violence...and zombies. No swearing in this christian minecraft server!!! the ending is cringy as usual, aaaand reader also knows Chris Redfield(because I love him).

ao3 link here

 Of course the one time you actually needed help from the police, or any kind of law enforcement, the line was dead. 

‘It’s probably just because of the rain…’ You thought to yourself. Your car had stopped in pretty much the middle of nowhere(which was really just the outskirts of Raccoon City), and you managed to push the car to some gas station that was 200 feet away. 

 You got back in the driver’s seat, the door still open just in case someone decided to be a good samaritan(though you were pretty sure those didn’t exist anymore), and used your chunky “mobile” phone to try and call 911 again. Of course, the only answer you got was the dead ring from the other side. You would have paid for gas…if you had money. You only planned to drive to a family member’s house and back, with all of your gas. 

 You lightly tossed the phone to the passengers seat in defeat before getting back out of the car just to sadly lean on the car door. 

“Is everything alright, ma’m?” You heard someone, supposedly a man, ask. 

You turned your head, fully prepared to give some sarcastic remark to make them back off, until you actually saw him. 

 There was no doubt that he was quite handsome, with his strong, but soft features and his ash blond hair, and you were hoping that he knew something about cars. 

“Uh, not exactly. My car stopped like, two hundred feet back, and I had to push it here. Unfortunately, I didn’t bring my wallet, or any cash for that matter, and I’m pretty sure no one is inside.” 

 He raised his eyebrows, almost in an “I’m sorry I asked” manner, before shoving his hands in his front pockets and looked towards the store. 

“I could look for you…if you want.” He asked timidly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“We should probably just go together, I would feel kinda guilty if you got killed or something in there ‘cause of me.” 

 Your remark seemed to get a soft chuckle out of him. 

“Hopefully I wouldn’t go down too easily..if there were danger in there. I am a police officer after all.” You sighed heavier than expected out of relief, but quickly regained your composure. After all, it’s the 90’s. How much sense would it make for a white male cop and a black female to be together in the middle of nowhere with dead powerlines? 

 You two walked up to the entrance, but quickly stopped. “Are you sure about this?” He asked you, his tone laced with worry. 

“Yeah, totally. Let me just…” You started jogging in place for a second, trying to hype yourself up, before quickly realizing how stupid you looked. 

“Sorry…I was trying to get amped up.” Now it was your turn to be timid. 

 He laughed. “It’s fine.” 

It took a strong pull on the door handle for it to open, but you two finally managed to get inside. There wasn’t a single light on in the place, and there was a strong sweet-but-disgusting smell. You looked over at the male, to see if he was smelling the same thing, just to see him making an adorable disgusted face. 

 “Wait,” You said, putting your hand in front of him. 

“What? Is there danger?” You shook your head, even though you really had no idea. 

“What’s your name? In case I do need help.” 

“Leon. Leon Kennedy.” He held his hand out for you to shake, and you gladly accepted. 

“Y/N L/N.” 

  “Eugh…” He said under his breath. “You smell that too?”

You silently nodded, before seeing him start to walk the other way, most likely trying to figure out where the smell is coming from. You grabbed him by the wrist, trying to stop him. “Have you seen a single horror movie? Don’t split up!”  

He rubbed the back of his neck again. “Sorry. We’ve been in here a while, and we still haven’t found out if anyone was here.” 

 Absent-mindedly, you yelled: “Hello? Is anyone here?” 

Both of you stayed still, hoping for a response, but got nothing in response except for a pained groan. You two quickly looked at each other, as if saying “Should we go check it out?” Before going on to do so. 

 You two ended up finding a man sitting against the wall, with many gashes on his body. 

“Holy crap…” You said to yourself. “Do you need help?” You asked, before mentally facepalming. Of course that poor man needed help, but still, all he did was groan. 

You and Leon looked at each other once more, then stood up from your kneeling position. 

 “We should call for help. I take it neither of us have any idea what to do..” Leon suggeste, but you vigorously shook your head. 

“We should, but we can’t. The lines are dead. I’m lucky you showed up, because I’ve tried for hours.” 

Leon sighed. “We can’t just leave him here!” 

 You warily kneeled back down and pressed two fingers to the man’s neck. He was barely breathing, and his heart seemed to be going five beats per minute. 

You stood back up. “He’s pretty much on the verge of death. That might be the only option. Come on…” You told him, gently grabbing his wrist again to lead him out, as if he were in shock.

 “What now?” He asked as you two stood outside. 

“Could you give me a ride?” 

“What about your car?” 

“It’s a piece of junk anyways. I just need to get a few things.” 

He scratched his head, then looked back at his car. “I guess I could do that. I can’t just leave you like that man. I’ll…go start it.” He answered, before awkwardly jogging off to the car, leaving you the privacy to go grab your things. 

 After taking everything you needed, you hopped into the passenger seat of his car. 

“So,” He started, hands on the wheel. “Where too?” 

“The station, I guess. Maybe I could reach someone there.” 

He pulled the car out of the parking lot. 

 “Not to pry…but who?” 

You shook your head, like the topic wasn’t that important, which it really wasn’t. “Just someone I used to work with.” 

Leon nodded. “I was thinking about heading there too. I guess it was a sign. I was seeing if I could reach someone too, I’m looking for him.” 

 You lifted your head off your hand. “Not to pry,” You started, sort of mimicking him. “But who?” Another chuckle. 

“Some guy named Chris Redfield.” 

You whipped your head towards him. 

“That’s who I was trying to reach!”

 “Jeez, just coincidence after coincidence. Would you happen to know where he is?” 

You leaned back. “Nope. We aren’t super close. I’m closer to his sister, Claire.” 

Leon nodded. “We should be close to the station now.” He told you as you two reached the city. 

 “Why are there so many people out there?” You rhetorically asked, looking out the window, until one tried to jump right at you, which made you thank every existing god that there was a window to keep the contact from happening. 

“Wait…are those…zombies?!” You yelped. 

It was about to be a long night.

A/N: kinda feeling like i want to do a prequel(-ish) to this where Chris and reader meet? idk lmk if you would want one :p