#and my cabin itself is manifestation of dad taking care of me

[fennopunk]

I've talked before of the ways my dad shows his love to me (aside from straightforward ways like saying it and hugs and kisses etc), but the way he makes sure my cabin has power and light and is warm always makes me bit emotional 😭

Like, he knew the path to my cabin is dark and uneven, so he put string lights over it so I would better see where I step! And heating an unisulated cabin in winter isn't cheap, even with the ridiculously great electricity contract my parents have, but he does it anyway so that I have somewhere to decompress.

[missblissy]

Rebirth (Chapter Eleven)

Alastor x Human!Reader ((Reincarnation!AU))

Prologue || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven

It was unnecessarily dark. You looked around at Alastor’s bedside and did your best to lighten it up. You moved to a window and began to pull open the drapes, hoping the daylight might help. You were instead met with a red sky with permanent overcast and endless screams that seemed to vanish into silence as you closed the drape back up. So much for that idea…

You found some extra light switches to flip and in an instant the darkness vanished, aside from the shadows in the corners. You found yourself in a room so otherworldly, you weren’t sure it was entirely a room. The walls were decorated from an era long before your lifetime, with the majority of its color in a deep shade of red and black with gold to compliment in details and outlines. Everything about this room shared a reoccurring color pattern. Bookcases littered one corner, making it into a makeshift office of sorts with desks and cabinets as well. A bed stayed in the other corner where Alastor laid now, then a fireplace in another corner and the last one had several doors, however one of them poorly stood out. It looked like a shabby ply wood door you’d find on a hut or a cabin.

Pictures littered more than half of the wall space. Most of them were small and yellowed, with no color to them other than shades of brown. There were pictures of mostly people and larger paintings of places aside from one large portrait above the fireplace. It was large, definitely larger than you. The colors were faded in some places, while the paint had only started to crack in the smallest of fissures. It was like looking in a mirror, you saw yourself painted stoically onto the portrait hanging high above your head.

You took a deep breath in as you stared at your demon self, perfectly captured in oil sitting in a chair with Alastor who was off to the side and standing behind you. You both had smiles, but they were small, baring no teeth and relaxed. You were in a golden gown that looked straight off the red carpets of hollywood. It was long, with embroidered patterns all along the skirt and torso with long lace sleeves. Alastor didn’t look any different than how he did now, the only thing different about you was just your clothes at this point. You looked exactly like the demon staring back at you.

The sounds of Alastor’s soft snores fizzled in the air due to his static nature. You looked over your shoulder at him, watching him sleep for a moment before you looked back up at the painting. A breeze drifted by your shoulder, through your hair and caused the low fire to flicker only slightly more. Did someone open the door? No, it was still closed.

You looked over to the windows, nothing about them changed. As you turned your head, looking around the room slowly, you felt the breeze again…

“Scared yet?” Smoke started to encased you and you nearly screamed before a foggy hand slapped itself over your mouth. How could… smoke have mass? How could you feel it’s wispy skin? In a swirling whirlwind of shadows and smoke, it took the form of a dark body that looked very similar to Alastor’s own shadow… “Forgot little old Eon?” You could see his hollow eyes and mouth from the lack of mist in those areas. It moved and shifted as he spoke, “How are you?”

He moved away, floating wherever he liked while staring at you. It took you a second to respond, the Xanax was still in your system and it made you more and more groggy as time passed, “I’m fine,” You paused, “What do you want?”

Eon flicked a smokey ear and you could have sworn you saw the flash of an earring dangling away, “Clever girl,” He clicked his tongue once then rolled his eyes with a grin, “So smart! Gets straight to business!” He started to float around the room with crossed arms, “But I’m just dropping in, my vessel,” He paused and looked at Alastor’s sleeping figure, “Has taken on a lot of damage it seems. I haven’t seen him passed out like this in years,”

You weren’t sure what to say, “That’s nice of you… I guess,” That made him laugh. You’ve never heard such a hollow and empty laugh before. It was so small, quick and short.

Eon shrugged his shoulders and gazed at you with a sharp and toothy grin, “What about you? Why are you still here?”

“Because I look like this,” You held one of your arms up then gestured to all your new demonic features.

“Oh! That’s what’s different! I could hardly notice!” Another hollow laugh, it was a few seconds longer than the last one, “Is that it?” He asked, “You seem like you might be.... Looking… for something?”

You narrowed your gaze and pointed a look at Eon, “No,” You said quickly, “Stop trying to get in my head,” You walked past him and towards the fireplace. You stood there and held your hands out flat, taking in the warmth of the fire.

“I’m not trying anything,” Eon said with a false sense of innocence, “You’ve been asking questions all day about him,” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at Alastor, “You’ve been obsessing over a diary with nothing but him in it,” Eon moved his ever twisting and smoking body into the large chair resting beside the fireplace, “Seems like to me you’ve been given the perfect chance to finally answer all those questions once and for all,” He gave you a look, a smile, a lifted brow and some kind of twinkle in his empty eyes.

“Are you telling me to go through his stuff?”

“Maybe?” Eon shrugged and his grin only grew larger, “I mean, who knows how long he’s gonna sleep like a dead baby? Last time he was out for about a month or so. And the diary can only tell you so much, and Alastor doesn’t want to tell you anything at all.”

He had a point. You looked around the room again, trying your best to avoid eye contact with the portrait. Maybe you could just… look around a bit. Where would you even start? You looked back to Eon, you couldn’t believe you were waiting for his wicked influence to push you further down this hole.

As if he could read your thoughts, he chuckled lowly and got up from the chair, “I’d start with that,” He pointed to the corner of the room that looked like a neatly chaotic office space. Everything was in its place, but there was just too much of everything in the way to make it look any nicer than a cluster fuck of personal items.

The thing that stood out the most to you was a stone bird bath crammed into the corner and wedged between two bookshelves. Other wall shelves hung above it within the corner. They were littered with photos, jars, plates and other personal items. You tiptoed over, like Alastor could hear you walking despite being totally knocked out.

“What is it?” You asked Eon. He was still wandering around behind you, floating here and there like a leaf lost in the wind.

“It’s called a Water Well,” Eon explained smoothly, “It’s what demons used to use before phones were invented. It also can be used for other things as well,”

“Like?”

He chuckled slightly, “Why don’t you touch it and find out?”

You looked at him with a raised brow, “This thing isn’t gonna kill me, right?” Why were you even asking? And why would he tell you the truth? He just shrugged and smiled at you and waited.

You peered into the Water Well, it’s water slowly rippled from within, creating small waves that lapped at the edges of the bowl. You reached out then paused with great hesitation. You were scared something bad was going to happen, and yet at the same time you didn’t seem to care all that much, maybe that was from the help of the Xanax.

Eventually you hovered your hand over the bowl filled with water. You quickly dipped a finger into it’s chilly embrace then yanked your hand away as if you expected to be attacked. Instead you were met with a faint blue glow that sparkled underneath the surface of the water.

Soon you could clearly see the image coming through. You found yourself staring into a one way window. One side was you, peering into the depths of the well, and on the other side was your family. Your mom and your dad. They were in the hospital and you could see them through one of the hospital windows. Your father was sleeping while your mother sat beside him, holding his hand and reading a book with the other. She must have been reading to him because her lips were moving but you couldn’t hear anything.

Suddenly you heard Eon’s low voice right beside you, “Interesting…” He paused then dared to dip his own finger into the water. It quickly changed and you saw the view zooming out. You could see the city, then the state, then the country, then the entire planet. It finally stopped on a picture perfect view of earth in the daylight.

You didn’t understand, what exactly was this Well trying to show you? By that point you were almost certain Eon could either hear your thoughts, or he was just really good at reading facial expressions despite the lack of his own.

“It shows what the heart desires the most,” He explained, “It’s gifted, and the only Well of its kind. It doesn’t show you what your soul wants, nor your mind. The heart is an incredibly tricky manifestation of many emotions, some find it very hard to listen to their heart,” You watched as Eon turned his gave slightly to Alastor.

For the first time you could just make out all the features of Eon’s face. That’s when you took a closer look at this smokey spirit. It was like he was here and somewhere else at the same time. His body was nothing but shadows and fog spinning around constantly as if they were covering up what was underneath. Every once and a while you could see colors peak out from behind the smoke, you could see skin or piercings for half a millisecond. It made you wonder, who was he? Or more so, what was he?

All you could remember was the rushed words Vanderlinde told you not long ago, that Alastor harbored an incredibly powerful spirit from another realm that no one could comprehend. And now apparently his heart desired the earth.

“Who are you?” You asked, your question surprised him enough to float away some and put a little distance between the both of you, “Really,” you went on, “Who is Eon supposed to be?”

He gave you an odd look, then smiled, “Me? You’re asking the wrong person, sweetie,” He tried to brush your question off but you weren’t having any of it.

You shook your head then pointed a finger at him, “No, I want to know who you are before I dig any deeper into this. I know you’ve got something to do with him. If you’re a part of Alastor then I need to know who you are too.”

Eon was fairly surprised by your demands, but he didn’t deny you, “Okay, fair point,” He shrugged then then gave a quick nod of his head, “Alastor summoned me many years ago, when he was alive. He sold his soul to me in exchange for power in the afterlife. All I asked for in return was that he give me more souls, because I do so love eating them!”

“Then what exactly are you?” You lifted a brow at him while looking him over for good measures. He didn’t have any feet, his legs just ended with little wisps for tails when they got too close to the floor. His form was just a black cloud in the shape of a tall limber body. He had a little devil tail that flicked around like that of a cat’s, with his puffy ears to match and sharp toothy grin.

“I’m just a spirit without a body. My soul is attached to Alastor’s by the laws of our contract, but I can’t have his body, because he also doesn’t have one, he’s dead!” Eon smiled at you and shrugged as he started to float circles around you, “That’s pretty much it,” He said, “There isn’t all that much more to know about me,”

“I’m sure there is,” You said with your lips pressed thin, “I doubt you’ll tell me, though,” His laugh only made you roll your eyes, “What about him then? What does his heart want the most, or does he not have one at all?”

“Oh he does,” He nodded his head. Eon wandered back over to the Water Well and stood right beside it. You stood in your spot and watched as Eon snapped his ghostly fingers and you watched a manifestation come to life in his hand.

You inched closer and watched a machine put itself together out of the smoke that was Eon’s palm. It ticked away, humming a pulse and formed into what looked almost like a radio, “It’s very broken,” Eon said with a nod of his head, “There’s not much there anymore beside wires and bolts,” That’s when you put together what he was saying.

“That’s Alastor’s heart…” You walked up to the Water Well and watched as Eon put the radio heart in a dark purple bubble of safety. He let it float around the Water Well for a moment before it slowly drifted in the slow current of the whirlpool. It didn’t take long for you to see a third person view of yourself. When you looked behind your shoulder towards this hidden camera, you were met with a familiar face instead.

Buck, your orange tabby cat was sitting neatly in a chair with his tail resting on his paws. You took a second glance into the Well, then to Buck, then to Eon. As soon as he took Alastor’s heart out of the well and made it vanish, so did Buck. He flew away in a cloud of smoke in the wind, gone from your sight and to God only knows where. It didn’t take you much longer to realize that you were what Alastor’s heart wanted the most.

You weren’t sure how to handle that information. You looked at Eon while you began to run a hand through your hair, “Okay,” You let out a shaky breath, “Who is he?” You looked up at Eon with a wary gaze. He was right, there really wasn’t anything else to know about Eon anymore. Alastor was the one who wanted you.

And Eon was going to point you in the right direction, literally. He lifted a finger and jabbed it to the bookcase behind you. Though he was pointing to the top shelf where several large folders, maybe six or seven total, sat neatly collecting dust. You narrowed your gaze and read the hand written notes on their spines.

1926 (1),  1927 (3), 1929 (9), 1930 (11), 1931 (12), 1932 (14), 1933 (XXX)

Each folder had a year, then a number on it, besides the last one, which also happened to be the smallest of them all. When you looked over your shoulder, Eon was gone, though you knew he was watching from whatever corner he was hiding in.

[universe-n-3276]

Carrying the Moon

Chapter 16

It had been almost a year since Charlotte had left, and life had gone on for everyone.

Time is something ethereal, ineffable, theoretical, and relative. Usually, when someone disappears as Charlotte did, after some time, no one can perceive how many days have passed. One closes his eyes and suddenly, it's been ten days. Ten months. Ten years.

But, of course, Charlotte didn't like conforming herself to the regular conventions of life. She vanished, but she had left Hero behind her. On his face, everyone could almost count the days one by one. The passage of time was so clear, it was scary.

It was mid-July.

In a month, Hero would be one year old.

He could walk and talk, or at least he tried. He often made very long speeches with words that were mostly made up, or that only his dads were able to understand the meaning of.

Their life was tiring, but beautiful and happy.

Everyone had survived, even without Charlotte, and Sander would never expect it.

They had graduated, and although the future was still uncertain, they allowed themselves to relax and have fun without thinking about anything, during the last months of summer.

Jens and Lucas, who had returned home from the hospital, were thrilled at the prospect of finding a full-time job so that they could finally afford a larger apartment, in which they could welcome all their new and old friends.

That morning, Sander and Robbe were driving north to the beach house Sander had rented for a well-deserved weekend of relax. Hero had been left in the loving care of his grandmother, with the promise of two FaceTime calls a day. His parents wanted to take him with them to see him play in the sand and have his very first experience on the beach, but after so much effort to graduate on time, the two of them needed to spend time alone.

Sander was driving because Robbe had always flatly refused to take a driver's license.

He had one hand on the wheel and with the other, he was holding his fiance’s. The car was being filled by Bowie's warm voice, which was entertaining them towards their destination.

Sander momentarily took his eyes off the road, hearing Robbe laugh. He was looking at his phone with a happy expression painted on his face.

“Hey, only I can make you smile like that!”

Robbe rolled his eyes and shook his head, trying to hold back a smile.

“First of all, watch the road. Second, it’s your mother. She sent me pictures of Hero taking a bath. He's so cute.”

“I want to see them too!”

Sander pouted and pushed his lower lip out, looking at his fiance who promptly made him turn his face back to the street.

After a while, the music was again the only sound filling the car. Robbe was staring blankly out the window as he listened to Sander humming along with Bowie.

Just a few months earlier, their everyday reality would have seemed only a pipe dream. Robbe touched the ring on his finger and smiled. The thrill of being officially engaged to the love of his life hadn't left him yet, and he wished, he could go back to when as a teenager, he had felt lost, alone, and scared, to whisper in his ear that everything would have been fine in the end.

When the car's GPS showed them that their destination was nearing, both boys looked up to the dark sky above their heads and sighed. It would have probably rain soon. It was certainly not the weather they expected to find, especially Sander who had planned everything.

The beach house was beautiful. It looked like it came straight out of a movie, with the terrace overlooking the sea, and despite the bad weather, the view was still breathtaking.

They brought their bags inside the cabin, just before it started raining, and decided to explore the house they had rented, knowingly looking at each other, as soon as they saw how inviting the bed was.

They kept exploring the remaining rooms as the storm raged outside. They could hear the rain hitting the windows and the sound of the waves that almost drowned out the thunder. There was something strangely relaxing in it, despite the anger of nature manifesting itself, in all its power, before their eyes.

Abandoned on a piece of furniture they found a deck of UNO cards and decided to play a few rounds to spend some time. Sander and Robbe weren't used to having anything to do, but they swore to themselves, they wouldn't spend the whole weekend in bed.

They had been playing for about an hour and Sander kept losing each round. By that time, all his competitiveness had vanished due to the humor of the situation, and his fiance too had begun to cheer for him, despite being playing against each other.

When Robbe laid another +4 on top of the discard pile, they both screamed in amusement and Sander threw his cards on the table in a dramatic way.

“Nooo! Robbe! I thought you loved me!”

“Sorry!”

“Why are you keeping doing this to me?”

“Because you suck at this game, babe.”

“It's because when there are only two players, it's only a matter of luck.”

Sander suddenly looked down at his phone, frowning. He had behaved like this for days, but when they sat face to face, it became very evident.

“Why are you so jumpy every time you get a text lately?”

“I'm not jumpy.”

“Sander, I know you.”

Robbe was looking at him skeptically, with a raised eyebrow. Sander could often read him as if he had his thoughts written on his forehead, but the other way around was also true. Robbe knew his fiance’s every gesture and knew when he was acting weird.

“I'm not! I swear!”

“And now you are hiding your phone! Who are you texting, Sander?”

“It's just my mom.”

“Let me see it, then.”

In seven years of relationship, neither of them had asked the other to read his texts, and neither of them had ever hidden anything. Sometimes Sander or Robbe got a text and the other read it, just because they never had this kind of boundaries. That situation seemed very unusual, and it was a symptom of something.

“No! Why?”

“Are you texting Noor?”

“Noor?”

Sander's mouth dropped open, looking at his fiance as if he just grew another head. He couldn't believe Robbe thought he was cheating on him. Especially after less than a month since they were officially engaged. He felt offended by that thought and that sudden insecurity on Robbe’s part. Sander wanted to say something about it, but he couldn’t because he was actually texting someone without telling Robbe.

He had texted Charlotte about their engagement, and she had replayed immediately, but the conversation died there, although Sander still hoped that his sister would start a conversation sooner or later, so every time he got a text, he was afraid it was her and that Robbe would find out.

He hadn't told him about it yet, because somehow if Charlotte got closer to them and eventually wanted to take Hero away, it would be his fault, and he didn't want to give Robbe any worries.

“We just got engaged!”

“Robbe, I'm not texting Noor, or anybody else. Just trust me, okay?”

“I'm tired of playing. This game is boring if it’s just the two of us. I'm gonna go to bed.”

Robbe got up, leaving his cards on the table, and disappeared into the bedroom. Sander buried his face in the palms of his hands and sighed. He hated hiding things from his fiance, making him feel insecure, and worried but at the same time, he didn't want to talk about Charlotte, especially at that moment, when they should have simply been happy, enjoying some freedom.

He stood up to join Robbe, finding him curled up against a pillow, lying on his side with his eyes closed. Sander lay down behind, spooning him.

“Baby.”

Robbe said nothing, and Sander sighed, starting to rub his nose on the back of his fiance’s head, as he held him tighter against his chest.

“I know you're not sleeping.”

“Have you already regretted it?”

Those raw words left Sander breathless for a few seconds. He really couldn't believe Robbe was asking him such a thing.

“I hope you're not talking about our engagement because you can't possibly be serious.”

Robbe turned slightly, to look his fiance in the eyes, and at that moment Sander wished he didn't know how to read the other so well because his face was painted with mordant emotions that had the power to hurt both of them.

“Why are you being this weird? It's because I wanna adopt Hero?”

“What? No! Absolutely not!”

“I just don't understand.”

“Because there’s nothing to understand.”

Sander felt guilty. He was making the love of his life believe that he was seeing things that weren't there. He was making him question his instincts, deceiving him. He felt terrible, but he had to do what was best for both of them, so when Robbe pushed him away, he pulled back, trying to make his most convincing puppy eyes.

“Robin.”

“Don't call me that when I'm mad.”

“Robin, please.”

He begged, pouting this time because Sander knew very well that no one had ever been able to resist that combination, and he also felt that Robbe was letting himself go in his arms.

“I hate you.”

“We came here to celebrate, don't be mad.”

“You and your puppy eyes. Fuck.”

He said, burying his face completely against the Sanders' chest. Then he smiled, intertwining their legs together. Their love getaway could officially start.

***

Jens woke from his nap at the sound of a broomstick falling to the floor. He frowned and stood up, still sleepy, walking towards the source of that noise. Standing in the kitchen, with a mop in his hand and a bucket full of water and detergent at his feet, there was Lucas who was trying to wash the floor with just one hand.

“What the hell are you doing, Lucas Van der Heijden?”

“I'm just trying to help!”

Lucas's voice was frustrated, just like the expression on his face. Since they got back home from the hospital, Jens had prevented him from doing anything but staying in bed, watching tv, or going to the kitchen to eat. He was afraid that Lucas would get hurt again, and that his complete recovery would be further prolonged.

Also with a broken wrist, there was very little he could do. But as usual, he had underestimated his boyfriend's stubbornness.

“Put that mop down!”

“No! I wanna help!”

He said, pouting. Jens had never thought they would argue for who should not do the cleaning, and instead there he was, trying to take the mop away from Lucas's hand, while he spun around with the agility of a ballerina.

“You have a fucking cast!”

“Right! But I have two hands. The last time I broke my wrist, I kept skating. Besides, chores are not dangerous!”

“When you broke your wrist at 14, I wasn’t your boyfriend.”

“Jens, please. I'm almost done.”

Lucas knew perfectly well that Jens couldn’t resist him at all, so after a little bit more of pouting and begging, Jens just sighed, going to lean on the door-frame.

“Fine. But I'll stay here to check on you.”

Lucas smiled and resumed fumbling with the mop, in a strangely effective way for a single-handed person. He finished cleaning the kitchen in five minutes.

Jens let him put away the bucket and mop without saying a word, and when he was done, Lucas walked over to his boyfriend, looping his arms around his neck.

“See? It wasn't that hard.”

“You could have slipped on the wet floor.”

“But I didn't. Now, kiss me.”

Jens smiled, happy to please his boyfriend, and pressed his lips against the other’s. Lucas slipped his fingers through Jens' hair, pulling them slightly, and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, moaning when his tongue met Jens’.

They hadn't had sex in a while, so it was very easy for both of them, to heath up at the bare minimum.

Jens stroked the back of Lucas' thighs and lifted him off the ground, while the other tied his legs behind his waist. They kept going like that until both had to break the kiss to catch their breath.

Lucas rubbed his nose against his boyfriend's, smiling softly at him.

“You're so handsome.”

“So are you.”

“Sure, must be that purple bruise under my eye, or the greasy hair.”

“It's just a few more days, Luc, then we can shower together.”

“So hot.”

“Yeah, so hot.”

They both laughed, and Jens carried Lucas into their bedroom, making him sit on the bed. They continued to cuddle for a while, while a comforting silence reigned throughout their apartment. It was nice to be alone, slowly rediscovering each other. Taking their time to admire every detail on the other's face, since other areas were still off-limits. It felt like they were teenagers again, when they spent hours kissing and laughing, hidden in their bedrooms, without the world disturbing them.

Lucas leaned on Jens' shoulder, playing with the neck of his boyfriend's shirt, suddenly becoming more serious. It happened often since the accident and what worried him ended up being always the same matter, Jens knew it.

“Lucas, stop thinking about what happened. You said sorry a million times.”

“I know, but I realized that pushing you away, being angry and mean, is my coping mechanism. I saw my parents do this so many times during my childhood, especially my mom, and I don’t know. Maybe I was just trying to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself from what?”

“From the idea that eventually I’d get hurt. I always saw Sander and Robbe as an ideal couple and when they broke up I thought they didn’t make it, so why Jens and I should? I kind of convinced myself that we were about to end things up too.”

Jens was confused. No matter how many times they talked about that, there was still something new coming up to the surface. It was good because it meant they were working things up, and their relationship was starting to heal.

“Why haven't you mentioned this before?”

“It wasn’t something I did on purpose. But you know what? we survived Jens, thanks to you.”

“Next time something bothers you, even if you don’t know what it is, please tell me, and we’ll try to figure it out together.”

“I promised.”

Lucas smiled, pressing little kisses to Jens' jaw, who closed his eyes and sighed, completely touch-starved. He wanted to feel Lucas everywhere again, but he needed to be responsible for both of them, so he gently squeezed his boyfriend's hand to make him stop.

“Jens, please. I want to make you feel good.”

“But you are already making me feel good by saying all of these things. Besides, I'm super hungry, we should start cooking something!”

Jens freed himself from his boyfriend's arms and quickly got up before the other could reach him again. It was painful but necessary. Lucas rolled his eyes and grunted crossing his arms on his chest, and that was it. There was no way he couldn’t kiss away that adorable pout from his face, so taking Lucas by surprise he crushed his mouth against his boyfriend’s, because maybe if they were really careful, there was something they still could do to make each other feel good.

[previous] / [next]

[ziracona]

Of the post-Ghost Face killers, do you think any of them would have a chance to be redeemed and/or escape the entity in ILM? If not, what would be their most likely fate?

Yeah, certainly. Let’s see, as of rn that’d beeeee Demogorgon, Kazan, Caleb, Pyramid Head, and Grimes. Demo probably not, since it’s like, an evil wild animal. Although, it really depends on ST lore, but sadly ST doesn’t have its lore together, so. :/  Kazan I don’t really have any strong opinion on? He’s a pretty terrible person, albeit more from pride and sheer idiocy than intentional cruelty or malice. All things considered, he’s probably not at 0 humanity in there, which means he’d be possible to redeem, but I also don’t really see anything sympathetic or worth saving in him personally, so I don’t have much real interest in him like, getting a redemption arc? He’s not the most developed character, and I know he’s really popular with some people, but what is there didn’t appeal to me much personality-wise personally. Caleb on the other hand is an interesting character, and while shitty for sure, does have some redeeming qualities, and I’d be pretty interested in seeing where that took him. Also, since that like Caleb accidentally ends up dad to Rin idea got pitched around, I’ve kind of loved it.  Pyramid Head it depends wildly on which version of Pyramid Head he’s supposed to be??? Because they’re very different. If he’s the one that kind of decides to help Cheryl, then yeah. If not, uhhh, probably not. And his AU options range from Monster, to Guardian Angel, to literal object, to element of one dude’s mindscape, so yeah, it’d super, /super/ depend. Lol, knowing me, I’d be tempted to take whichever of the ideas I found most compelling--probably OG--and find some way to make it make logical sense for him to still exist and explore some kind of tulpa-esque personhood stuff or something. Could be quite interesting. Grimes is a no. Grimes goes straight to hell, do not pass Go, do not collect $200. Bastard was a nasty evil eugenics science rich privilleged shithead who got a second chance at life he didn’t deserve and fkn instead of being better went right god damn back to where he’d been, and then got worse. :’-) Also tortured many killers I care about deeply: Philip, Anna, Lisa, Rin, Adiris. Fuck that guy. 

Uhhh, fates. Well, Grimes would probably die in a very karmically just way not because I especially want that to happen--I just want the man dead--but because that’s the kind of vibe he gives off. Like, every time he chooses to fuck up, it bites him in the ass, and I just kinda feel like it’ll be what kills him too. Demo might die, might have just been trapped in-realm, or run off into the woods. Probably dead? Kazan would probably die because he refused to back down and just stop fighting when Survivor Team people tried to just get him to stop, and so they have to kill him. Epic fight vs someone. Caleb ends up either kind of chill with their side, or in a bit of a ‘enemy of my enemy is my friend’ schtick and kinda helps at the end, then they look the other way and just let him vanish and go like, live in a cabin in goddamn peace somewhere now that his enemies are all long dead. Pyramid Head depends on which version, but is either part of the team by the end, or killed in an epic fight--probably vs Rin, because tbh, I don’t know who else really has the juice to maybe beat him. Michael really pushing that near invulnerability to the max? Sally going full poltergeist powers like never before? Vigo coming back from the dead to manifest some wild shit with willpower and save the day??

Also, while technically not post-Ghostface killers, if ILM had gone on longer, Adiris and Max both I think would have ended up eventually on the escape side in some fashion. Adiris for sure. Max maybe, because I’d like to, but like, God, Max would have been so hard to reach. Given his backstory. But I would have been interested in trying, like I was with all the feral killers. I think there’s a lot to and to work with with both characters, and some very sympathetic qualities. That’s why those two ended up with uncertain fates in ILM itself. ^u^

[grizztomysam]

Put Me Back Together

Grizzam Reunion Fic

Another one...bc there are a good handful of amazing reunion fics from our talented fandom writers.

Disclaimer...it started as one thing and then grew into this monster a crazy thing that’s probably all over the place but c’est la vie...so here it is people. From the depths of my unfinished drafts list to you. I just Thank the Lord it’s one more unfinished work finally finished.

LOWKEY NSFW and some trigger warning for brief suicidal ideation. 

============================

When Grizz returns, it’s to an angry and chaotic New Ham, now under moronic leaders puppeteered by a literal psychopath, Allie and Will in jail, his friends manifested into some modern type gestapo and his relationship with Sam as uncertain as the future of New Ham. 

Threat of burning into ash is strong and imminent.

He longs to march straight to wherever Sam is, start anew from where they had left off that day he decided to put down his hurt and pride and promise Sam he’d return. Wants to steal him away far from everything and into the woods. But he heads instead for the long trek to the other side of town towards his childhood home, empty and unused since New Ham happened.

He ignores how his lips still smart from their last kiss in the clearing by the woods, so sudden and ending too quick. Ignores how he can still feel Sam’s hot breath, hurried and aching against his neck, hear the quiet whimper when he hugged back, tight, that almost made him fuck it all and stay.

Almost.

But he can’t. He won’t. He mustn't.

Eden has arrived and Sam needs to step up to necessary obligations. Put all focus on keeping some semblance of peace and safety for his family. Becca needs him more. More than Grizz believes he does. Because he does not fit into the equation that is Sam’s life now.

Grizz had promised to come back safe, he did, but nothing more.

Perhaps if Campbell wasn’t sitting on the throne, orchestrating their little world to fall into rubbled ruin....

But things are different now then they had been two weeks ago. So much, too much has transpired.

A new born baby, a young mother and the possibility of everything ending in violent dissonance trumps romantic love.

Because it’s love for Grizz. For years, even from afar, it’s always been love.

Others would argue it was infatuation or some concentrated form of obsession for the forbidden. But you don’t ache like Grizz did or know for certain without hesitation you’d step into the line of fire if ever Sam’s life was in question if it wasn’t love. He would have sacrificed everything if it meant Sam would hurt a little less.

And that one night that had been so perfect he had stayed awake, his eyes wet long after Sam fell asleep, happy and sated, his head nestled close into Grizz’s chest. Stayed awake, tracing sonnets onto Sam’s arm in the dark, because he lacked the courage or his own words to say I love you in the light.

Even if the gnawing sting from his chest to his throat does not ebb after his fifth shot from the secret reserve in the bottom drawer of his dad’s home office. Even if the pain that pricks his eyes and makes his nose run wants to rip him in two when his mind clears once again from the haze and he’s left with nothing but a quiet that screams and won’t let him sleep.

And when he does it’s always filled with brilliant blues, freckled skin that tasted of salt and cinnamon, strong limbs tangled with his and a “Come back to me” whispered in his ear.

==========

A couple weeks pass and he’s proud of his resolve.

Though there is a small part that thrums with an ache. Wonders where Sam is, how the baby and Becca are doing. If she has the same brilliant blues of her father’s. Wonders why Sam hasn’t tried to contact him. He is quick to tamp it down and bury it deep with earth and cement. 

He keeps his head low. Stays home if he can help it, only ever venturing into town when summoned by the current counsel to report about there findings. He and the explorers inform with vagueness, a silent understanding and agreement to not divulge everything to the coup government. 

Because something is brewing. It is with lack of words or official declaration, but the air is thick with promised revolution. If Campbell knew this he had yet to act. But it was a matter of time before everything would come to an angry and bloody head. 

And there will be bloodshed. It’s certain when Campbell has an artillery to his disposal of almost half of the town’s confiscated guns. If only Allie had destroyed them all.

But there was a lot of things Allie should have done. 

It would be a matter of time before plans materialize and a new leader defacto arises among the rebels to free Allie and Will and save New Ham.

Matter of time.

But for now he’ll be a coward. He’ll turn from the pointed looks Gwen and even Gordie keep giving him. Refuse to open or read the growing ignored texts from the explorers and the committee for going home after catching them in a huddle one day hearing “Grizz” and “leader” among the heated but hushed exchange. Because for once he wants to be selfish.

Wants to wallow and be miserable and miss Sam and forget everything that has to do with starving to death, trials and killings, and growing up. 

==============

Week three begins and a brief snow storm falls, turning into sleet and icy roads. Activities lessen, tho the garbage piles still grow in heaps across town. The cold giving small mercies as the stench is not as potent if it had been under smoldering heat of summer. Everyone stays inside with the roads becoming dangerous to even walk the small distance from home to the cafeteria.

No one thinks to salt the road. But there’s not much thinking done under the new regime. At least for rational decisions that will benefit and keep the town afloat. 

Grizz is forced to venture into town. His food rations had gone down considerably low and he needs some type of ointment for a stubborn cut he’d acquired from the expedition that has turned into a rash on his forearm.

He laughs, the sound maniacal and foreign. This human thing to want to survive and live, despite the times when he’d flirted with dark thoughts. Skimmed his fingers against the plastic, orange containers in his mother’s vanity cabinet. Solitude can be loud in letting monsters you never knew you had take havoc. Can be frightening in it’s influence. But he could never do that to Sam. 

He’d promise he would come back. Even if he had to stay away.

=============

Its a slow and bitter cold walk as he inched his way to the nearest store, hoping the free for all terms Harry has laid out to the people hasn’t already depleted there food reserves. He’s careful not to slip and bash his head on the iced concrete below, but the harsh wind is a welcome distraction from cabin fever. He also admits to the sudden sharp want that perhaps he might see Sam today.

His head falls down quick onto his chest as he submits to an almost frenzied energy. It’s chanting incoherent nothings, forming into images of Sam’s lips on his. He can almost taste him. 

Fuck it all to hell because he needs to see him. 

As his feet move by some force that’s tethered to the direction of Allie’s, a pained almost animalistic cry cuts through the air and a thud as something or someone falls fast and hard on the icy ground. He thinks he hears a crack on impact.

His head turns so quick towards the fall, he almost snaps his own neck, eyes blurred against the flurries from the sky.

The figure is laying on its side at the bottom of the steps leading to the loading dock of the convenient store. Its unclear who at first, but it’s favoring its right arm, cradling it against their chest, their head curled into itself. 

When he sees the rust red hair against the garish white, curls peeking through a dark green hood, he knows its Sam. He almost takes a fall as he runs with a speed that threatens to pummel his ribs into his lungs, needling cuts into his already cold, dried and split lips.

Please be okay, the thoughts taste acrid and sour.

He skids to a stop and lands on his knees, immediate in taking Sam’s hooded head into his lap. He’s gentle but shaking, trembling hands cup Sams face, thumbs soothing against cheeks frozen and pale. The smaller boy is unusually quiet, no wails of pain. Its more choked and gutteral, broken hitches of breath, his eyes shut tight, jaw tense and clenched.  

“Baby!” he gasps “ I’ve got you--Fuck!” his lips against Sam’s furrowed forehead. One hand moves down the line of Sam’s bent and cradled arm to see if he can feel exposed bone. Sam winces sharp against the pressure but Grizz feels nothing although its hard to be sure against the layers of coat. 

“I’m here now, it’s gonna be okay” he whispers against Sam’s temple. 

It’s futile assurance. But he needs to hear it out loud. 

Then he feels a sticky wetness against his lips.

It’s blood. 

He blanches but swallows his panic, lifting the hood and combs back hair with a finger to see it’s but a small cut. He wipes the red from Sam’s hairline and from the corner of his mouth into the snow by his thigh, then moves one hand to feel into Sam’s hood and the underside of his head. He steels himself but his fingers feel only matted curls. 

He breathes, pressing once again his lips against Sam’s forehead. Sam has yet to open his eyes, but he’s leaning his head into the kiss.

He lets out a pained sigh, “Grizz?” 

And Grizz almost weeps. 

He tighten his grasp on Sam’s face, gives him another kiss, firm and on his cheek and moves himself back on his haunches. 

He squat and his thighs strain as lifts Sam to a sitting position, gripping the underside of Sam’s uninjured arm and holding steady over his bent one. 

He waits against Sam’s back when  Sam breath becomes more labored and heightened. Grizz sooths his fingers against Sam’s waist and can feel Sam’s stomach move in sporadic spasms. 

They need to get to the hospital now, but Grizz realizes that Allie’s house is closer, hoping to God someone will be there, preferably Gordie or Kelly.

Gripping his back and the underside of Sam’s uninjured arm Grizz hauls him up as gently as he can, gritting his teeth to the pained hiss from Sam’s twisted mouth. They stand for a minute, Sam’s back flush against his chest, his arms wrapped tight around his waist. Then he feels Sam nod twice against his chin, a small but brave sign and his heart is so full for this boy.

He maneuvers himself to Sam’s side, tucking with one hand Sam’s head into the crook of his shoulder, the other still wrapped around Sam’s back and holding firm, Sam’s bent arm against his chest. With careful steps he leads them both towards Allie’s.

============

It’s a long walk as he tries his best from moving too quickly as to keep from hurting Sam more, the only sound is the wind that’s grown angry and harsh, whipping the loose strands of his hair from its topknot hold into his stinging eyes, and Sam’s low whimpers he can feel the younger boy is trying to hold back. 

There’s also a small feeling of shame. Perched itself in the corner of his eye, shaking its judgmental finger in his periphery. 

Because it feels entirely too good to hold Sam again.

The panic and the fear of the moment is gone and now he’s drowning because Sam is in his arms and the universe would have to pull tooth and nail to get him to let go. 

He looks down when he feels a movement against his neck. Tears have fallen now, a blue gaze is looking back at him, dull but coherent. 

And he has to summon some unearthly strength from reaching down and touching lips against lips. 

So he faces forward, blinks hard against the telltale pricking of his eyes, tightens his grip on Sam as they walk onward, a hand cradling Sam’s cheek against his chest and tells his heart to fucking stand down as Sam nips at the knuckle of his thumb that has somehow found its way to his lips.  

============

The house is empty as they pass through the foyer and God he had missed this place. It’s warm and looks as it had more than a month ago before the coups and expeditions and heavy things like Sam being a father. 

He brings Sam to sit on the weathered leather couch closest to the living room archway and motions for him to stay. He’s relieved Sam’s breathing has evened and a warm blush has crept on his cheeks as well as a redness to his lips. 

Lips so lush and taunting, he finds himself moving closer and closer for a stuttered minute. 

But he forgets himself.

With Sam he’s come to realize he always will, because the circuits in his brain backfire and synapses no longer synapse and he’s mush. Pathetic gooey mush.

He can’t help it.

Like he even wants to.

So he forces himself to remember. 

Remember Sam is hurting something awful and he needs to prioritize and compartmentalize. Needs to go find the first aid kit and text Gordie or Kelly to get there as soon they can. He knows the basics of splinting a break if there is even one, hoping again to God there is none, but he needs help.

Turns from the flash of disappointment that flits through Sam’s eyes as he heads towards the kitchen. Pays no mind the feel of Sam’s gaze following him, burning into his back through so many layers until it reaches skin that’s grown coal hot, marked with memories of tongues and teeth. He almost moans as he grips the edge of the kitchen counter, willing himself to stop.

Now is not the fucking time.

It’s a quick search when he finds the a large first aid box in the wood framed glass case by the fridge. He grabs it and hurries back.

Hurries back to something so precious he both wants to swoon and go “Awe” with the same lilt he once heard from Bean after she’d found a baby orphaned squirrel near the football bleachers at school.

Sam has laid himself back, clutching his right arm tight, like a cocooned little thing. His shoes are now off, polka dotted socked feet propped up on the coffee table, and his long lashes against freckled cheeks with his mouth in a pout.

Grizz is sure he’s grinning like fucking goon, but he’s feeling all soft from the lightness he hasn’t felt for a long time that wants to swallow him whole and he’s okay with that. 

“Stop standing their like a creeper and come fix my arm..it still fucking hurts”.

Grizz starts, a piece of errant hair falling in front of his brow, and brushes it back, a nervous tick that always seemed to appear whenever Sam’s around. The boy in question is squinting back but there’s a quirk to his lips and the crinkled lines are showing in the corners of his eyes. 

Grizz shuffles forward, with a rolling of his own and slowly helps Sam back up, propping him with several couch pillows as Grizz settles himself on the edge of the coffee table, the first aid kit by his side.

He taps his finger on Sam’s chin when the younger boy’s gaze gets preoccupied in following the movements of his hands and an almost glazed hungry look stares back at him, lips slightly parted.

Lips that almost always looks bitten and swollen and made for kissing.

He’s definitely going to hell at how fast he feels himself go hard. There has to be some hidden commandment. Thou shalt not lust after ye patient.

He blames whatever Sam is feeling to the drunken haze of pain from his arm and busies his focus on telling the younger boy he needs to take off his coat so he can properly see his arm. Its slow work and he’s trying to be careful but he almost jumps up desperate, wanting to find scissors or something sharp and pointed so he can cut Sam from this damn thing because Sam’s breathing is heavy again and his lips have gone pale from the pain. 

And when it’s finally off he tosses it angry across the room, almost clipping the framed picture of some Pressman ancestor from its hang on the wall. 

The muffled chuckle that answers is worth it.

He’d miss Sam’s laugh. Sam’s laugh, which was some addicting thing he felt he was always chasing to get a high from.

He thanks the Lord above, who’s been unusual in his merciful generosity that the shirt underneath is short sleeved. The freckled skin of Sam’s forearm has turned a mottled angry mix of purplish red and there is slight swelling near his wrist, but there is no broken skin or exposed bone. He signs for Sam to move his arm at the elbow, which he does with little difficulty but when Sam moves his wrist it’s with a pained grunt, his eyes shuttering tight. 

Grizz is quick to grab his other hand, squeezing and encouraging to squeeze back, anchoring his thighs to steady Sam’s own that has now come to be between Grizz’s legs. He wants to spout some poetic line of how he’d take on his pain.

Let me be the balm to your hurt. Can I kiss it away?

But instead hes rifles through the kit for gauze and anything else he can fashion into a makeshift splint while they wait for Gordie or Kelly to answer and arrive.

He finishes wrapping the gauze securely around the splints that’s keeping Sam’s arm straight to the wrist and shakes to activate an ice pack from the kit, placing it firm against the gauzed covering. As he keeps the ice pack in place, he keeps his head down focused on Sam’s arm, anywhere but his eyes and lips, a finger trails the edge of his untucked shirt and slips under to skim against skin now pebbled with gooseflesh. 

His breath grows shallow as he looks up to see Sam’s stare, intense and unwavering, his bottom lip between his teeth. The blue in his eyes have gone a midnight hue. 

Grizz almost drops the ice pack. Or punctures it with how tight he’s now clutching the bag.

“You have anything in there for the pain?” Sam slurs, half signing with his left hand, his gaze travel to Grizz’s mouth, eyes fluttering languid and with purpose. 

He can only nod, his tongue grown thick, words having lost meaning or connection, his brain matter having melted into a liquid mess as he turns slight to rip open a small sachet of aspirin. When he attempts to place the pills into Sam’s free hand, Sam pulls away shaking his head. He tips his chin up and opens his mouth.

Grizz swallows the “Fuck” that wants to spill out, his nose flaring as he exhales and proceeds to offer the pills into Sam’s eager lips, his tongue darting out and its tip licking at Grizz’s forefinger. 

Grizz slips and catches himself with his hands on either side of Sam’s hips before he can fall onto Sam’s injured arm, but theirs a smirk on Sam’s lips as he leans forward, cutting the distance between them.

Sam has a fucking pain kink, his heady thoughts conspire. It’s the only explanation how Sam is currently trying to seduce him rather than writhing in pain.

Fucking wrong choice of words because it goes straight to his already hardening groin. And now surely he’s headed for the deepest level of hell.

“My head still hurts...kiss it better?” 

The words pull him from the fog in his head and he’s all too quick to comply. 

Because fuck it all he wants to play too.

He holds himself up, careful not to put any weight onto Sam and shift his head until his lips touch the clotted cut near Sam’s temple. He nips the spot twice then parts his mouth slight, leaving lazy open kisses that travel down until he’s sucking onto the soft pad of Sam’s ear that’s got the younger boy clutching tight onto the collar of his t shirt, his head lolled back, his spine arching and desperate. 

“Kiss me! I want you!” 

The plea is wanton, dripping with sweat and dirt, that the sudden urge to rut and shed his skin to howl at the moon is strong and overwhelms.

Pushes him over the edge as he grabs Sam’s nape with a growl, crashing hungry lips against hungry lips.

And its fire and ocean water salt and a spice he has no name for but heats the tips of his toes to his tingling scalp as he grapples and wrestle between control so he doesn’t crush and hurt Sam and the encompassing desire to devour him.

He is drunk on the mead of Sam tongue against his; wants the taste to become imprinted into the strands of DNA; wants this to go on and on forever. 

Because he doesn’t know if he can stop. 

Until a loud rapping on the wall and a clearing of one’s throat has him jumping back as if scalded, leaving Sam to chase after his lost lips, brows knitted together, eyes still shut.

“Um...I guess Sam’s all better now?” 

Kelly stands outside in the foyer having the decency to act sheepish. 

But Kelly’s always been kind. And Grizz is tired of pretending and running and staying away.

==========================

Hours later, Sam returns back to Allies from the ER, his arm having been xrayed and confirmed to have a minor hair line fracture to the wrist and forearm and his splint reinforced. Kelly is nothing but professional, doesn’t try to wheedle out details he feels others would.

“Becca’s staying over with Gordie at my place to wait out the storm with Eden. She won’t be home until later this week. But I’ll let them know Sam’s ok and wants to stay at Allie’s since its closer to the hospital.” She offers this with a small smile as she hands Grizz a packet of prescription grade painkillers.

Kelly had always been kind.

And now Grizz, has, once again, Sam’s back flush against his chest as they sit up against the cushioned headboard of the guest room Sam has adopted as his own. 

“It got too dangerous, with Campbell and all.” Sam whispers this, trailing a finger down Grizz’s arm wrapped around his waist, his breath steady and calm, lids heavy, the painkillers doing their job well. Whispers it before Grizz can even ask. 

“That’s why I didn’t bother to talk to you. I heard you’d returned. I wanted to see you I really did.” 

Grizz reassures that he believes with a soft kiss into his palm, intertwining their fingers.

“And I know why you had to stay away and didn’t come back to me” Sam lifts up and turns his neck to kiss him. 

There is no need to repent.

It’s a moment he wants bottled and preserved, placed high above some tall shelf that no one can reach. Not even Campbell and his militia and guns and the need to destroy and hurt and kill. 

But he knows he can’t hide forever. Doesn’t want to really anymore. 

Sam is back in his arms, where he belongs and soon he’ll meet Eden who he certain he’ll love fierce, as much as he does Sam.

And it’s fucking time to fight back. Stop being afraid.

Because he has been. 

Stop using reasons of staying away because it’s safer for all against monsters with human skin. when in reality they are invincible together.

I Love You, he signs onto Sam’s chest and he holds him closer, the moonlight twinkles and casts shadows from the filtering light through the window.