#and so i went to look at my pile of refs and there's this song and specifically insta reel and it's

[averlym]

don't wanna feel anything for anyone ever again

[thebeeduo]

Ranboo: That's fine. That was on the ground by the way

Tubbo: I copped (the merch)

Ranboo: Wow, look at this. That is incredibly

Tubbo: I copped the merch! I'm not on brand

Ranboo: You too can cop the merch September 5th! *thumbs up*

Tubbo: *thumbs up*

Ranboo: That was good. That was a good transition

Tubbo: *laughs*

Ranboo: That was a good (transition)

[Lag]

Tubbo: (I did) I fixed it..

Ranboo: You fixed it? Ok, that's good

Tubbo: ..when I was inside. It does this weird thing where it goes grey..

Ranboo: Yeah?

Tubbo: ..every now and then

Ranboo: Okay..

Tubbo: That's because that thing got wet once and now it just keeps going grey randomly

Ranboo: Well, we hate it so.. *mouth fart noise* Maybe it was the tree demon

Tubbo: We don't hate me. That cost me a lot of money!

Ranboo: Maybe it was the tree demon the whole time

Tubbo: The tree demon is messing with the stream?

Ranboo: People are saying that the camera is still glitching. Are they just straight up lying?

Tubbo: That's cringe!

Ranboo: Are they just straight up lying?

Tubbo: I'll go see.. Um..

Ranboo: "It's Lani"? Lani is actually sitting right there so..

Tubbo: Uh.. Shake your hands around lots

Ranboo: *waves at camera* Greetings! I don't know what wrong with the camera

Tubbo: It's fine!

Ranboo: It's fine?

Tubbo: Yeah

Ranboo: You sure?

Tubbo: Yeah

Ranboo: Alright. Alright, "We're good now"? "It's fine now"? That's good. That's good. Alright. Subscribe for- Ok, whatever. Alright, mkay. What are- Ok, wait wait wait. We can use the ghost hunting app

Tubbo: I don't want to do ghost hunting

Ranboo: No let's see what words we can get. Let's see what words we can get with this

Tubbo: Ahh.. Can I talk to it?

Ranboo: I mean that's not the talking one

Tubbo: Hello Ranboo phone!

Tubbo and Ranboo: "Designate"

Ranboo: It actually changed as soon as it got to your hands

Tubbo: What am I designating bro?

Ranboo: What are you designating? It just gave us the words "designate" and I just don't know what that means

Tubbo: "Designated driver"? Am I the designated driver?

Ranboo: You cannot drive

Tubbo: Is this because I don't drink?

Ranboo: You just cannot drive

Tubbo: Yo, how ghosty are you? *puts phone to Ranboo's neck*

Tubbo: *Ranboo receives a notification* Oh. Well..

Ranboo: You got a notification as soon as you did that. So pretty ghosty I think. Alright, what's my ghost word?

Tubbo: Maybe if I just flip it upside down

Ranboo: No no no no, what's my ghost word? Let's put it, like, on me. What's my ghost word?

Tubbo: I'm designated *thumbs up*

Ranboo: Give me my ghost word. Give it to me

Tubbo: I'm designated

Ranboo: Give me my ghost word. It's not giving me my ghost word. You suck!

Tubbo: You're just not as cool as I am

Ranboo: You suck! and I hate you!

Ghost app: *growling/whispering noises*

Tubbo: *scared* Why did it just roar and why did it just get windy?

Ranboo: "Along"

Tubbo: You're "along", I'm "designate"

Ranboo: "Designate along". What does that mean?

Tubbo: Designate along..

Ranboo: At first I thought it said "among" and I was about to lose my mind. I was so excited for a second there

Tubbo: I really want to go inside now. Can we stop playing now?

Ranboo: No no no no no! Ok, here, let's use the radio one, alright? Let's use the radio one. Oh, I immediately get a negative.. sign

Tubbo: No, that's because I flipped off the ghost

Ranboo: Flip off the ghost some more, I wanna see what happens

Tubbo: Noo, no I don't want to. I feel like I've got spiders all over me. Ow

Ranboo: Come on! I want to be the one who got possessed, why is it you! Gosh darn it!

Tubbo: I'm not possessed

Ranboo: You sure? You're feeling spiders on yourself. That's kinda.. you know..

Tubbo: Maybe there's just spiders in your dress

Ranboo: I don't know! Let's start another seance thing. Let's do that, ok? Let's do it

Tubbo: *whining*

Ranboo: What is your name or are you here, answer one of those, I do not know.. Let us see

Ranboo: Are you here? Why are there so many bugs on the pentagram. There's like an unearthly amount of- There's actually so many.. Get the bugs off the [unintelligible]

Tubbo: Because bugs are attracted to light

Ranboo: Are you here?

Ranboo: I don't- It's just not moving anymore. You have angered it a lot

Tubbo: Nooo, I'm sorry

Ranboo: You realise as soon as you said it, it, like, turned it off

Ranboo: Do something! Please! Alright, you know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna take some recommendations from chat on what shall we do. Let take some recommendations on chat, alright?

Tubbo: I don't want to..

Ranboo: "Among us". "Tubbo is possessed let's go"

Tubbo: I'd better not- If I'm possessed dude, I'm kicking you out of my house. Go somewhere else. Go get a hotel, I don't care

Ranboo: Dude, if you get possessed, that gives me ever more reason to stay because that means I get to live with a possessed person which is awesome!

Tubbo: Noo. If I get possessed, I wanna be left alone! I wanna be left alone!

Ranboo: Which is awesome. Alright, "Say goodbye to the demon"? No, I want the demon here. I wanna fight it. I wanna fight the demon. "Tell the demon to buy merch". So true, I love the VIPs in my chat.

Tubbo: I.. am.. unhappy

Ranboo: "Put salt"? *gasp* We should put salt on him.. and see what happens

Tubbo: No

Ranboo: Hmm... Hmm... "Ever since it counted down it stopped working". That is true, you did kinda..

Tubbo: I broke it

Ranboo: You did kinda- "Ask it to scratch one of you". Scratch one of us! Scratch me! Scratch me! That would be awesome

Tubbo: *punches Ranboo*

Ranboo: That was just a punch and that hurt!

Tubbo: Good. I'm not having a good time

Ranboo: Ow! O-Ow... That a-Ow.. wow

Tubbo: I mean, to be fair, it hurt me more than you. I punched with my thumb on the inside of my hand

Ranboo: Oh that was just your fault

Tubbo: Ow.. Yeah

Ranboo: Scratch me! Scratch me! Fight me, actually! Punch me, perhaps. But not like that *points at Tubbo* You notice how as soon as I asked the demon to harm me, you punched me? *staring at Tubbo* You know w- *camera glitches and cuts off audio*

Tubbo: I don't wanna be possessed

Ranboo: "Get a professional"? I am a professional. Right? Right?

Tubbo: I need holy water

Ranboo: *audio cuts off* What do you want me to do?

Tubbo: *laughs* Boil the hell out of some water *camera and audio glitch again*

Ranboo: What do you want me to do? People are saying "lag" *stream lag*

Ranboo: Ok, that worked. That actually worked as soon as I said that. I am so powerful. Ahh man

Tubbo: I don't wanna be a demon!

Ranboo: Well.. kinda too late for me at least

Tubbo: I don't wanna be a demon!

Ranboo: How do you think I became so popular on content creation in such little time?

Tubbo: By using the- No I can't- I'm under an NDA (non-disclosure agreement) I can't say..

Ranboo: Stop saying that I'm an industry plant and just say-

Tubbo: You're an industry plant!

Ranboo: I would rather be called a demon than an industry plant

Tubbo: You're an industry plant

Ranboo: I'm not an industry plant. That is not true. That is not true

Tubbo: Oh grey screen is back

Ranboo: It went grey again? I'm gonna- Ok we're fine

Tubbo: It only does it for like two seconds. Relax, holy crap

Ranboo: But the thing is though, like-

Tubbo: What's that Harry Styles song about the watermelon? *starts dancing*

Ranboo: What does that have anything- I'm explaining to you how I'm a demon

Tubbo: Maybe the demon likes songs. Wait, I wanna play a song to the demon

Ranboo: Oh wait! Yeah let's play a song to the demon

Tubbo: Wait, no, let me pick! I wanna pick one

Ranboo: Let's play a song to the demon

Tubbo: Um.. Ok! Does the demon like "Airplane Mode" *jamming*

Ranboo: I have something. Now, here, ok. You've got yours. Now let me play my song to the demon. *white noise*

Tubbo: *starts singing Boom Boom Pow by the Black Eyed Peas* When the beat drops, gotta get that that that that. Boom boom boom, gotta get that. Boom boom boom gotta get that *dancing*

Ranboo: So how come you enjoy this? Why do you suddenly enjoy this when I'm playing the music that's meant for the demon?

Tubbo: Stooop! I was just joking

Ranboo: The evidence is piling up, ladies and gentlemen. Tubbo is possessed, I think

Tubbo: I am not!

Ranboo: The evidence is kinda piling up quite a bit actually

Tubbo: Leave me alone! I'm not possessed!

Ranboo: Quite a good amount!

Tubbo: Stop saying I'm possessed

Ranboo: So how come you keep doing things that the demon- that I'm asking the demon to do

Tubbo: I literally just did a TikTok dance

Ranboo: Yeah, 'cause I said that the demon would like the music

Tubbo: The demon wouldn't have done that. The demon would've not "hit the woah" or the weird Q&A thing (ref: The "Questions I get Asked" TikTok dance)

Ranboo: Who do you think- Who do you think invented those things? Demons on TikTok

Tubbo: *gasp* What?!

Ranboo: Yeah, that's right. TikTok is run by demons

Tubbo: TikTok demons? Tik-emons?

Ranboo: TikTok is run by demons

Tubbo: I'm not possessed dude. They're all saying that I'm possessed

Ranboo: You might be.. You could be

Tubbo: I'm not possessed

Ranboo: No, out of either of us, honestly, I would be the one to be possessed.. Honestly.. I already am *stares at camera*

Tubbo: Heeughh.. I'm sus!

Ranboo: *does hands gestures* Yeah

Tubbo: This is comfy!

Ranboo: I mean, the thing- Wow so you're saying that my merch that comes out on September 5th is quite comfortable? Wow, what a great review from Tubbo himself!

Tubbo: Oh *facepalms* It also smells of sweat

Ranboo: No, it does not! I know it doesn't

Tubbo: *sniffs Ranboo's hoodie*

Ranboo: It does not

Tubbo: How sweaty are you? *keeps sniffing*

Ranboo: I'm not at all! He's just trying to slander me!

Tubbo: *intensely sniffing hoodie* It does smell like you though. Everything that you touch gets that "you" smell. It's kinda weird..

Ranboo: That's really really weird actually

Tubbo: Like..

Ranboo: I think you may be possessed honestly

Tubbo: No!

Ranboo: How do you have a sense of smell that does-

Tubbo: No, I'm not even kidding! Where you sit on my sofa, you make the area of my sofa where you slept smell like you, and I'm like *sniffs hoodie* Eugh!

Ranboo: *silent*

Tubbo: *pats Ranboo* No, you don't smell that bad. It's ok! There there

Ranboo: *moves arms away and stares at Tubbo*

Tubbo: I'm not a demon!

Ranboo: No, I'm not doing that because I think you're a demon. I'm doing that just because it's.. weird. Just incredibly weird

Tubbo: What? No.. Sympathy pats?

Ranboo: No sympathy pats

Tubbo: Oh..

Ranboo: No more

Tubbo: Oh I just got a text message from TommyInnit. All will be ok

Ranboo: That was in a group chat

Tubbo: Wait, who the hell is this?

Ranboo: That was in a group chat so..

Tubbo: Wait..

Ranboo: That was in a group chat.. That's kinda sad that you said you got a text from TommyInnit but it was just in a group chat. So that's kinda sad..

Tubbo: Do you know that number?

Ranboo: Nope!

Tubbo: Uh oh..

Ranboo: Anyway.. "Ask the demon if he likes the Dream SMP"? Will do. Do you like Dream SMP?

Tubbo: How big is your willy?

Ranboo: It said yes!

Tubbo: Did it actually?

Ranboo: The tree demon is a Dream SMP enjoyer! Woo! Welp, and now it's just spelling out words. "S" "T" "O" "P" "W" "H". "Stop while".. "Stop while you".. "Stop while you can"!

Tubbo: I.. really hate-

Ranboo: You would like that, wouldn't you? You wimp! You wimp!

Tubbo: *takes Ranboo's phone and throws it away* Knock that off! I hate this!

Ranboo: My phone... my phone!

Tubbo: Have my phone

Ranboo: You don't have demon apps on your phone!

Tubbo: I don't like it! It's being creepy!

Ranboo: What do you mean it's "being creepy"! I told y-

Tubbo and Ranboo: *stare at demon Ouija app's planchette moving on its own in fear*

Tubbo: *scared* Why is it going on its own?

Ranboo: It's going on its own

Tubbo: I just wanna leave. Can- I'm going to bed dude, it's past my bedtime. I'm honestly- I'm gonna go-

Ranboo: Can you at least grab me my phone?

Tubbo: Yeah.. I'm done

Ranboo: You're done? What do you mean you're done?

Tubbo: Why did it just say "No"? It said "no", I'm not done *scared*. I am done! Leave me alone!

Ranboo: You're not done. You're never done

[scandeniall]

Dear Diary

song 1: dear diary |  good & bad masterlist | prev | next

Pairing: sakusa x reader

Summary/warnings: life has been kicking your ass yet you don���t want to tell sakusa/profanity

WC: 1.5K

“How’ve you been,” you paused debating on answering honestly or not. Switching your phone to speaker, you fiddled with the covers resting beneath your fingers before sighing out. “I miss you Yoomi.” A silence comes settled through the phone line. “How are you doing?” The insistence of your well being causes another sigh to escape your lips. Of course he could tell that something was off even through the phone and a part of you curses his observational skills. “Im just--really fucking stressed,” you mutter out reluctantly. 

“Have you been taking care of yourself? Eating real meals and getting proper sleep?” The questions being rattled off on the other side of the phone causes you to crack a small smile at his concern. You could only imagine the furrow in his brows at the thought of a lack of concern for your own health. You almost miss the ending of the questions as he tells you not to lie to him. Your silence causes Sakusa to sigh on the line. 

“Sometimes I hate how much you really know me.” You voice the thoughts that had previously been in your head. Sakusa could hear the slightest of background noise as you maneuver yourself under the warm comforter and shifted to get comfortable. “Do you need me to come home.” The words aren’t phrased as a question, and that causes you to quickly shake your head despite the fact that he couldn't see that.

“No-no. Yoomi, it's fine. I just- I just need to get my mind right and relax. I just needed to hear your voice tonight, that's all.” You tell him, despite wanting nothing more than for him to be back with you.He’d been on the road for the last month, a series of away games and such. And right before he left, you’d been out of town on a major business trip. It seemed as if time nor luck were your friend. It’d been at least a month and a half since the two of you were anywhere near one another. He’d still be gone another month and all either of you could do was wait it out. 

The silence that followed your response was telling. You could already imagine the way Sakusa has his eyes narrowed in thought. Thinking about whether he should push for your well being or let it go for now. The quietest sigh escaped his mouth from the other side of the phone. He’d made his decision. “I miss you too. I’ll be home soon.” 

Life after that phone call seemed to grow progressively worse. Not only had you and Sakusa not been able to squeeze in another talk in the following week, but life sucked. Your job has been giving you more and more responsibility, and allowing you more freedom. On one hand that was great, a celebratory text sent to your boyfriend at the talks of you in for a promotion, however it was tiring. You were coming home later and later, exhausted and starting to neglect your own health.

It’s not you were intentional in the neglect. It just felt too damn hard to come home after a long day and cook a healthy and fulfilling meal. When you were home you were suddenly reminded of just how empty the apartment was without Sakusa. Dust that was normally absent due to his cleanliness began to appear. Dishes piled up more than he would have liked. Whenever you did bother to straighten up at least for his sake, it drained you. 

Adulthood was really kicking your ass and it came to a head one night when you woke up sweating. As if life couldn’t drag you down even more, your AC had gone out right during the hottest part of the summer. Come morning you found out that your landlord had gone on vacation and could not and would not be able to fix the unit for at least a week. 

So you’d done what you usually did. Sucked it up and forced yourself to push through. Not a word of your woes to Sakusa who had more important matters to attend to other than your slump. You went to work, exhausted yourself there and dragged your feet into the dreaded heat of your apartment. 

Upon entering you were automatically hit with a wave of heat, making your already sluggish steps heavier. Kicking your shoes off you offhandedly waved hello to the person seated on the couch before dragging yourself towards the kitchen like it was completely normal. A moment later you stopped in your tracks. “Yoomi?”

The slightest nod from your boyfriend caused you to blink in surprise before launching yourself into his arms. “What are you doing here,” you muttered as his hands ran up and down your back. Pulling away slightly you eyed him. He looked tired. Eyes unusually sunken and you noticed the tiniest sheen of sweat across his forehead. You went to pull away knowing the touch paired with the heat would likely make him uncomfortable. To your surprise, the hands wrapped around your middle didn’t make any moves to release you. “You needed me so I came home.”

You felt a squeeze in your heart as your arms tightened wrapped around his shoulders. “But I didn't say anything—“

“Your voice. On the other week. And then your texts were different.” Of course he noticed. The conversation had already signaled to him that you weren’t the best. Your shaky exhales as you insisted that you were fine and that he didn’t need to come home. Then he noticed the jokes within your texts began to slowly subside. You’d also found yourself saying that you missed him more than usual. “So you came back?”

“I have a 3 day weekend this week. Then I’m back to practicing.” You nodded in understanding the two of you releasing one another and you noticed Sakusa frown. “Why’s it hot?” You explained about the broken AC and about the suffering you’ve endured for the past 2 days. “Did you get any more fans?” He looked annoyed once you denied purchasing any additional appliances knowing he’d had to get that done for you. “You know you’re more susceptible to nosebleeds in the heat right?”

“Thank you Dr. Omi,” you teased, laughing at his scowl from the nickname. The two of you settled onto the couch, your head coming to rest on his shoulder. “It’s common knowledge.” His replies allow a lightness to settle in your heart. One you hadn’t felt in weeks. The two of you settle into a silence for a little while his hand rubbing soft circles on your knee. “You need to take better care of yourself. And tell me when you need me.”

“I didn't want to take you away from your busy schedule,” you hum out. You feel the movement against your knee stop, a former grip replacing it. “I don't care how busy I am, I’m here. Now stop being annoying and tell me things.” You feel yourself jokingly roll your eyes before agreeing. However that wasn’t enough as you heard the scoff from next to you. 

“I’m serious. You remember what you told me back in college”

“Pretty sure I told you a lot of things back then,” you tease, taking his closest hand and interlocking your fingers. “You believed in me,” he started catching your eyes. “Told me you always knew there was no limit to me. That means I can handle it. Don’t feel like you’re annoying me.” Your eyes widened at how he remembered that very specific moment. 

It was around 4 years ago. He’d just told you that he signed to MSBY, something everyone around him was dying to know. Yet you were the first person he told. He remembered how your eyes beamed as you sat on his lap, your phone camera in his face recording the moment for memories sake. He didn’t even bother swatting it away like he usually did. He’d allowed you to place messy kisses all across his face despite the feel of your tacky chapstick. “Why do you remember that,” you questioned a soft smile gracing your own features. 

You notice the shrug of his shoulders as he helped to to sit you sideways into his lap. “Doesn’t matter. Now tell me what’s wrong. And then we’re going to get some fans.” You nodded leaning so that your lips met his for a soft kiss. “I really missed you,” you murmured into the kiss. And while he was only there for the weekend it was enough. He came home for you. The one who has loved and supported him with open arms for the past 5 years. He’d be damned if he didn’t try to make up for it. 

So you told him everything on your mind. Laughing every time he scolded you for the little things. “Don’t let the dust build up by the time I get back next month.” To “You need to sleep more.” And in return you got the same. You got the story from the exhaustion laced in his eyes. The hours it took to get to you, and the germs he forced himself to sit through to make it happen. And despite the annoying heat in the apartment, neither of you have felt that good in a while.

a/n: wow i FINALLY got at least 2 consective songs in a row done so now my prev/next is relevant for at least 2 parts. This took a different route than I initially planned for, nor is it exact in its storytelling. It was also started 2 months ago and finished now bc it was kinda hard for me. Anyways hi um did you catch the no limit to you ref? bc yeah i love that and to date still my fav piece ive ever written. you dont have to read that to understand this but its 5.4k words if you have some spare time.

anyways: im about to be on an 8hr car ride so feel free to request stuff. rules��

[proxylynn]

Lynchtale: File Name Game of Death #7

Chapter 7: Lead not into temptation but obsession

WARNING: THIS IS A MATURE STORY THAT WILL HAVE BLOOD, GORE, PSYCHOLOGICAL SURVIVAL HORROR, HEAVY CURSING, AND LIKELY SEXUAL THEMES/BONING. I DO NOT OWN UNDERTALE, THAT BELONGS TO LORD TOBY FOX. I DO NOT OWN DEAD BY DAYLIGHT, THAT BELONGS TO BEHAVIOUR DIGITAL INC.. I DON'T OWN THE AU'S THAT SOME OF THE CHARACTERS COME FROM, THEY BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE CREATORS. I NOW OWN THE IDEA FOR LYNCHTALE, WHICH USED TO BELONG TO PUNNYSIDEUP (AKA. SANSFULPUNS). I ALSO OWN MY SELF-INSERT OC ANOMALY LYNSIE AND A LOVE OF FAN PARODY. IF YOU'RE STILL READING THIS, THEN CONGRATULATIONS ON EITHER BEING ONE WITH STRONG DETERMINATION OR AN ENDLESS WILL TO OVERCOME THE CHALLENGE OF STOMACHING WHAT I HAVE IN MIND. EITHER WAY, IF YOU LIKE THIS AND/OR MY OTHER CONTENT. SIT BACK AND ENJOY THE ETERNAL PUNISHMENT. HAVE FUN SINNERS. ^_^

David and Lynsie stay in the fog for a long while. Telling dumb jokes and ridiculous stories. Wanting to build a better connection, David goes into detail on how his life changed before he found himself in this nightmare. She had to admit to herself, when he opens up, he is more enthralling than any movie.

King scrunches his broken fist. Cheers and hollers from a drunk crowd echo through the alleyway. He stares at his fallen opponent. Bleeding face. Busted nose. Chipped teeth. He kicks him in the mouth to put the finishing touches on his handiwork. He never lost a fight. Not now, not ever. Always bet on King. He glances over the crowd. Spots Donnie. An old friend with a gambling problem. Not much of a problem if he continues to bet on me. King looks at his watch. He's late for a family meeting.

King's father gives his mother hell for talking back for something he didn't quite understand. It's always the same crap. King grinds his teeth. Blood and warmth rush up his face. Every scrap. Every single one he won, because he saw his father's face on his opponent. He wants to lash out. To say something. Anything. But to say something is to be cut off. But this time he's not thinking straight. Or maybe he is. His father raises a hand to strike his mother. It happens faster than the thought to perceive it. One moment he snatches his father's arm. The next he's beating him black and blue for years of accumulated shit. He walks away while his mother tries to help his father up. You're out! Never show your face here again! Ungrateful bastard! Get out!

He never really had friends. Not real ones, anyway. He had an entourage. A group of sods enjoying the high life with his credit card. Now he has no one. Not a single bloody friend to help him out. He had friends once upon a time in school. But that was long ago. He needs money. But money doesn't grow on trees and no one wants to challenge him. Not after what he did to his last opponent. He needs a job. His accounts are near empty and his old careless spending habits are hard to break.

He meets with Tommy. Tommy has no room for him in his apartment. Wishes he did, but he doesn't. Mick wants to help but his old lady won't let him. Same with Bill and Harry. His ex has moved on and she doesn't want to see his face. Something about being a shithead. He can't live in a hotel room forever, it drains the account. He remembers a face he recently spotted in a crowd at his last scrap. They were friends since they were toddlers. He was a genuine friend even if they went separate ways. King looks him up. Castledrive. He hails a taxi.

King hasn't felt real in a long time. He sits in Donnie's apartment drinking old ale, realizing how much he misses genuine heart-to-hearts. Donnie was his friend before he realized he came from money. The rich aren't really rich. He's not sure why he thinks this or what it means. It's just a random thought. The ale talking as it were. Donnie says he can stay until he figures things out. He's not sure when that will be. It doesn't matter. A sudden rap at the door startles him. Donnie stands. Opens the door to reveal a few men in black leather jackets. Muscle. King doesn't hear much. What he does hear he doesn't like. Donnie owes money and can expect a bundle of lead in the face if he doesn't pay. He laughs when he returns to the kitchen table. It's your fault, King. I don't know who to bet on anymore.

King lost his last three jobs and is going back to what he does best. A challenger steps into the circle in the dimly lit alley. Double his size. Massive. King doesn't care. A head's a head. He'll go down like the others. Crowd calls him the Ghetto Masher. The Ghetto Masher glares at him. The ref spits out rules he's heard a thousand times. King stares at him...and sees...not his father but his opponent.

A bell sounds. With a bestial snarl, the Ghetto Masher lunges. King evades a wild blow that would have ripped his head off. He feels strange. Unresponsive. Confused. Donnie screams at him. He glances at him as he receives a massive fist to the skull. Black swirls across his eyes. He doesn't remember the thud against his skull. He doesn't remember his legs buckling. He doesn't even remember collapsing in a pile of festering, garbage. He only remembers waking up on the couch in Donnie's apartment. He's lost his edge. His anger. His rage. His hate. Was that all he was? Donnie's asking if he's okay and he's not sure. Am I okay? Will I be better? I don't know. Was it just a fluke? A lucky shot? Happens to the best. I feel wrecked. I am wrecked. Donnie bet the last of his cash on him.

King's getting the hang of working behind a bar. Donnie sips a beer and tells him he needs to find another reason to fight. King tells Donnie he needs to get home before the beer he's drinking turns to piss. Before he gets in trouble. Too late. King spots two men. They approach Donnie. Grab him. Usher him into the basement. Not a good sign. King rushes to help but his manager yells at him to stay behind the bar. Screw it.

He leaps over the bar and rushes to the basement where he finds Donnie being beaten by Ghetto Masher with Uncle Brass watching in his chair. King doesn't hesitate. He tackles him. They exchange deadly blows. Ghetto Masher can hardly keep up. Uncle Brass sends others after King. Doesn't matter. King's a whirlwind of destruction. He cracks Ghetto's knees and thrusts his thumbs into his eye sockets. An eyeball pops out still attached to a series of nerves. Cries of terror. Ghetto Masher cups his eyeball screaming for medical help. Staggers and slams against the wall as more ruffians attack. Stop! Uncle Brass stands and approaches. It's well within my power to rip your fuckin' head off for what you did to my boys. King staggers to his feet. Not a bloody joke, am I? His debt is paid if you work for me. He straightens up and brushes his jacket. Smiles. Always bet on King.

Such a tale would normally be taken with a heaping amount of salt. But he knew she believed him. No one makes that kind of crap up. Plus the scars on his knuckles that he was surprised she noticed were very telling. He found it cute that she'd absentmindedly traced her fingers across the old wounds. Yet it also proved just how comfortable she was with him to drop all guard and trust him without a word. Oh, how it tempted him. To stop being the support she needed after the unknown hell that happened with the Monsters and try again to make his move. Never did he think he'd be in a situation where he'd be mentally fighting his sex drive. It didn't help that she would press closer to him in an attempt to get cozy.

On her end, this was a much-needed peace. He made her feel safe. As if there were no Monsters. No Entity. No reason to be fearful of herself. No pricks to look at her like she's a freak. It's just her and him. The toughest softy she ever met and he didn't put up some fake act when around her. She loved that. Loved it when someone was themselves and didn't give a shit to fit some 'normal' mold that was expected. As dumb as it was, the lyrics to Avril Lavigne's Complicated were more than just words in a song to her. And David King was the guy she could tell that she'd never find faking. Such peace of mind had her wanting to stay like this forever. Yeah. To stay with him and forget everything else would be a dream come true.

Eventually, the calm placated the storm of her frayed nerves and she manages to convince him into returning to the campfire. Whispers spread from those that think naughty thoughts. While others knew better and ignored stupid rumors. More important matters were needed to be focused on. Hard and troubling times are coming. Resources will be needed. Trials need to be won. The flowers are coming.

[SOMEWHERE IN THE ENTITY...THE ARCHIVES OF THE OBSERVER]

(Arcus 337)

At first glance, the endless bloodshed seems to be an act to satisfy some destructive instinct within The Entity. This seems to me a reductionist distortion of something more sophisticated, something more intricate, something even sacred. Beyond the horror, the shedding of blood and the very real appearance of death puts us in touch with life and can be an intoxicating and highly addictive experience on the deepest and most archaic levels. When our blood, or our life-force is offered to The Entity, it can be seen as a gift that is soon returned to us so that the horror may continue again and again. The world constantly churns with life and death, and death and life — the circulation of blood through an Old One from heart to body to kidney back to the heart again to be purified and begin anew.

(Arcus 984)

More luminous energy sent to me by an unknown ally. With this energy, I was able to open a small window that allowed me to look into a lost realm where I saw to my great surprise a city with survivors living as though nothing was out of the ordinary. The window eventually closed, and I spent the entire evening imagining how such a thing could be possible or if it was merely an illusion. The same night another surge of energy permitted me to open a doorway into a realm I didn't much recognize or dare explore. I stared at the scintillating doorway until it faded out of existence. It's as though the one manifesting these sacred glyphs is trying to help me delve deeper into the mysteries of this dimension or, perhaps, he is suggesting that the answers to my salvation are hidden amongst the countless realms discarded by this Old One since time immemorial.

(Arcus 985)

Instead of reading aloud in my usual way, I clambered to the roof of my tower and conjured a fire and a radio to listen to some ghost stories from a half-remembered radio serial from Terra Dark. Without a doubt, listening to these stories has proven to be the best way to pass the time, especially when you've got endless voices clattering in your head, bringing you down with their endless agonies and anxieties. Later I used the Auris to manifest The Storyteller to read his stories like he had done for his weekly podcast. He was composed of ever-moving, black fog, and I suspect that one day I'll actually be able to recreate a more realistic person to listen to or perhaps even engage with in something that resembles a conversation.

Listening to The Storyteller and hearing familiar expressions, I am wondering: how do I keep myself out of my own creations? The memories I attempt to record as fast as I experience them prove one thing to me. They show me objectivity is impossible, or elusive at best, and I'm never quite sure if my logs are a true and accurate depiction of the subject's memory or a whiskey laden interpretation of a nightmare. To add to my frustrations, I have recently noticed other voices have made their way into my notes. Other interpretations. Other thought-patterns from people whose memories I've likely spent too much time reliving. They are becoming a part of me and that wasn't supposed to happen.

(Arcus 986)

The Storyteller kept me entertained throughout the night with his gory tales of Nosferatu, so that I almost forgot my own personal living nightmare. His stories entertain and make for a perfect distraction when smashing golf balls into the abyss just won't suffice. There have been countless tales of vampires, and to be certain I've read most of them, but to my mind...his are the most chilling. More than once now I've woken in a cold sweat with the sense that my tower has been overrun by these horrible creatures with fangs for teeth.

(Arcus 987)

Another incident woke me in the middle of the night. An incredible surge of energy coming to me from an undetermined source. At first, I thought my mind had given way to illusions and wild imaginings until I realized the energy surging through my tower was widening yet another doorway into a lost realm composed of memories from an unremembered civilization lost to time. I approached and stared into the remnants of a war-torn, abandoned city with the eerie cry of a baby echoing in the distance. Just as I made to enter the lost realm the scintillating doorway shrunk and sizzled out of existence. I soon realized it may very well be possible to explore this Old One from my tower with the help of this unique energy and the Auris.

(Arcus 1007)

A new doorway has opened. For how long? I'm not sure nor have I ever been right even with my best guesses. Through the door of my study and into a lost and forgotten realm. Moss-grown, stone homes with doorways barricaded with wagons, planks of wood, and decaying corpses tangled in barbed wire. I walk by the homes gazing at the residual memories of soldiers killing villagers with swords for no other reason than the thrill of it. I can't make out which era or Terra world this realm is from. I search the realm for hints of how one may open an actual doorway back home. Somewhere in these memories and forgotten realms is the answer to my salvation. But...which ones...which ones indeed...

(Arcus 1275)

I have often wondered if those trapped here have ever paused to reflect upon the inexplicable significance of this world that defies not only time and space but death. A world made of memories that is neither consistent nor constant. Something akin to a collective dream made of the collective memories and beliefs of its inhabitants. Sometimes I wonder if not all worlds were like this in some respect and that reality is what we in fact dream it to be or believe it to be.

(Arcus 2217)

I have uncovered to my amazement and bewilderment memories of Claudette that are unlike any of those I've previously experienced. One might even say they should not belong to her...and yet...they are hers. I surmise these memories may belong to another Claudette from another Terra world, suggesting that this Old One may have clear preferences at the cosmic buffet for certain souls. It will take more samples of these memories to know if they are in fact from another Claudette or if, and it is possible, I am having troubles deciphering between her actual memories and her creative musings.

(Arcus 5736)

I have seen into the heart of this Old One and have seen things no mortal eyes should see...things that simultaneously perplex my mind and burden my conscience. With mysterious help I have ripped open reality, searched deep within countless rifts, and seen everything tumble helplessly towards chaos and entropy...towards death and madness...and for the briefest moment I had the ridiculous thought that the mysterious ally helping me could very well be The Entity playing its game with me, toying with me as a cat does with a mouse before the claw rips the tiny jugular out. Staring out into the endless abyss of black fog I thought that this prison could very well be another form of trial disguised and designed to feast on all the psychic energies derived from alienation, boredom, and all those bouts of unremembered insanity. I can't help but feel millions of invisible hooks in my heart and millions of unseen eyes all around me...watching me...waiting for me to tumble toward chaos and madness like everything else...waiting for my mind to turn against itself. This bastard of an Old One wants me to kill myself. I am sure of it. Or maybe...Maybe I already have, and maybe I will again...and again...and again.

(Arcus 5738)

An odd impulse caused me to climb to the roof and light a single candle in the pitch blackness of it all. When the candle extinguished, I thrust myself off the roof and plunged to my certain death but somehow ended up back in my bed as though I was waking up from a nightmare. I don't know what I was thinking but what this has shown me is...death is not an escape.

(Arcus 5798)

Incidents don't make sense anymore. Nothing does. Everything is a chaotic blur of unreal apparitions and jumbled memories. I can barely recognize my own thoughts or distinguish my memories from those I've been studying. Last night I relived the most horrific murders in my collection with a strange kind of...pleasure...When I had had enough, I looked in the mirror and did not see myself but dozens of faces morphing in and out of each other. Every possible face except my own. I thrust my fist into the mirror and my hand split and blood was everywhere. What cruel fate has befallen me that I should lose myself in the darkness while trying to escape its deadly grasp? The Auris will either be my salvation or my downfall.

(Arcus 7525)

It's hard to say what came over me and I can hardly recollect the last few hours perhaps even days. I awoke with several empty whiskey bottles and dead bodies sprawled across the roof. Not too far from the scene was my gory nine iron and a phonograph playing a solemn, French song about life in a city I will never truly know. I turned the bodies over one by one and they vaguely resembled those who had forsaken me to this infernal prison. I must have conjured them and destroyed them in the same evening. But...with a nine iron? I imagined far worse fates for them. I even have a journal devoted to dark and creative ideas on how I might actually one day make them pay for their corruption and impertinence.

(Arcus 8545)

I was woken mid-slumber by a delirium of shrieks and destruction so that I rushed to the closest window to see only the endless Black Fog swirling outside. Things in the Fog were coming to life and dying simultaneously as though The Entity were sick or in some kind of shock. Creatures roared and fought and tore each other apart somewhere in the raging abyss and it was both entertaining and unsettling. I grabbed a nine iron and held it at the ready, waiting for some apparition to attack me. But within moments it was all over, and I couldn't sleep, and so I took the edge off with a little whiskey and golf on the roof, the whole while cursing this blasted Old One and hoping what I had just experienced was nothing more than cosmic indigestion.

(Arcus 8557)

I tremble as I scribble this down. Squid-like creatures difficult to describe attempt to penetrate my tower, trying to destroy my study and tools to explore and manifest. I held them off for as long as I could, then, taking the Auris and other valuables, I rushed through a doorway and hid in a lost realm. When I returned, the tower was upside-down, my study completely ransacked, the creatures lay dead on the floor with black, putrid blood leaking out of them, and the smell of decaying fish was everywhere. What are these creatures and who is sending them if not this brutish monster of an Old One? I spent hours cursing and throwing these fetid carcasses out of my window and back into the abyss.

(Arcus 8789)

There are dead bodies in my study and I have no recollection of the last few days. The bodies have been flayed from head to toe and the faces have been beaten to an unrecognizable pulp. I dragged them to the window and thrust them out into the abyss wondering who they were and why they were in my tower. Did I manifest them? Did I create them for company? Or did they come from somewhere else? Had I been the one who butchered them? Had I lost myself so deeply in a memory that I became someone else for a short time? Perhaps they are not my creations but apparitions from the Fog sent by The Entity like the creatures I hear lurking about in the Fog now and then.

(Arcus ??????)

I...I have tried to distract myself from the negative thoughts that have been plaguing me as of late. Delving into the memories of the Survivors for more wholesome or at the very least comical moments. The rumbles of King, the failings of Dwight, the never say die spirit of Bill, the laughable oddities of Ash...It helped...For a time. My curiously brought me to look into the new girl. This mysterious Lynsie King has become taken with. Surely she might have something in her past that would be worth a chuckle or two. And there were a few I managed to find. The time she ran to listen to a song she liked and fell on her side after sliding in a sudden skid. The time she was jumping from large rock to rock with her younger cousin and slipped, ripping her skirt-shorts off and she had to hold it on till she was back home. The countless amount of comedy specials she'd watch on television. I wish I had more control as I should've stopped there. A blurred memory cleared up and I fell down a dark pit of sadness.

It's dark, the trailer called home is silent in slumber. A teenage Lynsie stands in the bathroom and stares into the mirror, tears streams down her cheeks as dark whispers fill her ears. Her gaze turns to the medicine cabinet. Shaky hands open it and reach for a bottle...Iodine. She scans the label before bad ideas play in her mind. She considers drinking it. But the smell has her question the taste. She heads to the kitchen, perhaps burying the taste in something else will work. She experiments with ravioli. It turns black in the iodine. Her mind fights itself, listen to the death call of depression, or listen to the instinct to stay alive. After a long twenty minutes of standing in the glow of a small nightlight, the tainted meal is trashed and the healing poison returned to its cabinet. She adjourns to her bed where sleep fails to come. No one in the home will ever know of this moment...or of the others.

[UNKNOWN TIME PASSES]

A few harsh trials have happened since that incident with Chops and the Doctor. I've had the good fortune of encountering the Hag. Hag wasn't so bad. That trial went so well I felt bad that the others were bashing pallets on her and taking advantage of her simpleness to play mind games that had her so confused that I managed to pop three of the generators on my own. It was so very strange and not at all what I've been used to so far.

Other than that, the others are taking trials more seriously and focusing on getting currency to barter with the Entity. Why this is I know not. Some look as though they want supplies or offerings. Others maybe want objects or cosmetics. David tells me something called The Hallowed Blight is coming but not to worry about it. Monsters get more aggressive and ugly, so no big deal. He has my back if shit gets rough. Tells me to get something nice with my earnings to feel better. While as nice as that is, it brings up questions I both want to ask and yet don't. I trust David. He's not going to steer me wrong. But he's also a tough guy that will downplay threats because HE can kick ass and not give a fuck about getting names. I'm not strong like him. So when he says no big deal, I'm inclined to be more on guard.

The call of the crows is heard. The trees sway. The air grows cold and a wave of fog rolling in makes four of us stand. A new trial is commencing. The black smoke consumes the soon to be victims and takes them away. The taken...Laurie, Ace, Quentin, and me.

[INTO THE FOG AND OUT ELSEWHERE]

The darkness fades and I find myself on a rug...in a house. My brain temporarily forgets this is made by the Entity, as memories try to crawl awake and build up hope that I've been freed by mistake. But this is not my home. Never will be. This is Lampkin Lane of Haddonfield and the one that calls it home is the monster called the Shape.

Haddonfield is a calm little town in the state of Illinois, without much going on. Or at least it was. If you were to ask anyone in the town, at the school or in a bar, if there's something off with Haddonfield, they'd decline. To accept that this was the birthplace of one of the purest forms of evil is hard. People living here have always felt safe and protected. There were no boogeymen or other shady characters in the night. No lurking, no skulking. People slept perfectly fine for decades knowing this for a fact. So when Halloween came about, the town’s folks were reluctant to accept that Haddonfield is now forever known as an evil place. Gossip and made-up stories flooded the town.

Nobody really knows what happened, or if it's safe nowadays. Some moved away. Others visited as morbid tourists. During the day, a common visitor wouldn't suspect a thing. But as the sun sets and night comes, an eerie quietness devours the town. People are afraid. And as you visit Haddonfield, you too will get afraid. Not only because it sits upon a dark history, but also because something is off. This isn't a real place, but instead a warped version of a reality that is no more. An Entity version if you'd like. A simple street with houses that witnessed the horrors that took place. A jungle gym where children once learned to climb. Sidewalks where fathers taught their daughters to ride a bike. All gone. Instead, it sits in the palm of the Entity, forever held in darkness.

Outside doesn't seem to be a smart bet for safety. Even if the starry night sky is tempting to observe. Inside is probably even worse due to small spaces constricting movement. Yet I take my time heading up to the second floor of this house, greeted by tacky wallpaper and random spooky abstract pictures. Windows and doors don't seem to be a thing on certain things. The house next-door is completely boarded up. The rooms upstairs are mostly empty. There's a locker, dirty mattress, a pallet that splits a double room, a dull totem that I break with ease, and a single generator in a very small closet type space. Not sure how much time I'll have before being found by this trial's monster, I get to work on repairing the gen. It's a slow process since I'm alone, but it can't be helped, there's only space for one to work on it. The confines of the room make the sounds of progress extra loud and the lights of the once dead home flicker with reviving life, a tell that someone is inside. Does this bother me? Yeah. But I've been getting numb to this. I keep my senses open for a single sound. Once that heartbeat plays in my ears I will go full crazy in an effort to avoid this super easy kill spot. Wiring this one seems to be more annoying than I first figured. A lot of repeating wires needing to be set right in dim flicking light.

*LOW-PITCH YELL*

"Come on...I don't have time for this bull..."

*LOW-PITCH YELL*

"The fuck is going on out there?"

What killer can be hitting them so quickly? This is not going to be a good trial.

*LOW-PITCH YELL*

[Breaking Point: Triggered. Resentment Tier I activated.]

Wait...That one sounded close. I pause working as the sound of fleeing footsteps clatter on the wooden floor...then up the stairs. I back into the generator as the shadows cross the walls moments apart from one another. A small one and a massive one. There's this crunching sound followed by a low scream...and a thud outside. Did...Did they get downed in a window and plummet to the ground. Brutal.

Heavy steps creep back my way and I feel my hair stand on end. This aura is dark. So strong I can feel it through the walls yet there's no heartbeat. The killer stops near the doorway, their shadow leaking into the room as something I vaguely recognize.

"...Big guy?"

Shape leans his head into the room before the rest of his form joins, blocking the exit effectively and showing the fresh blood dripping off his blade.

"H-Hey there..."

I'm not sure what the reason may be, but I'm suddenly more nervous than I'd normally be. He looks at the generator and then me. I feel my spine tingles move throughout my system. He takes a step, my body reacts and I drop to the floor.

"Mercy!"

He pauses.

"Please...You don't have to do this. I can't do much, but I am useful. Just...don't hurt me."

He mulls his thoughts over before continuing forward. I brace for a painful stabbing...only to hear a harsh thud. I glance over my shoulder as the second thud is made, he gave the generator two harsh kicks that had fire spurting from his boots with each hit. The engine sparks and smokes, progress has been regressed with damage. He turns away from the gen and I'm not entirely sure if he'll ignore me or not. Self-preservation mode is in effect.

"The guy you followed up here...Young looking, right?"

He takes a moment before nodding.

"That's Quentin. I think he brought a toolbox. There's another, older man, that's Ace. I think he has a key. I'm uncertain of the rarity. And the last one is carrying a flashlight, Laurie."

That name has his flame burn brighter. He grabs me from the floor and holds me to the wall, his blade to my throat.

"... .... ...."

For a man so soft-spoken he can be very harsh.

"Calm down, please. Does she mean something to you?"

".........."

"Oh! You have Obsession Rights on her."

He nods and I put my hands up.

"Then by all means...Go for it. I won't stand in your way."

He tilts his head so I continue to try to seem on his side.

"What? I haven't been having the best times with other humans. Why would I get in your way? How does that help me? You and them know what you're doing out here. I'm still figuring things out."

He eyes me before removing his weapon from my tender nape. Good. He's reasonable. Wish they were all half this easy.

*SHHHHHHUNK*

It's funny. I registered the knife hitting the wall before realizing it went through my gut to do so. Not a sound is made, thanks to my Skulker's Instinct perk. Shape stares at me, taking in the lack of screams even though my wide eyes are filling with tears. A harsh yank dislodges the blade. My legs resist the urge to buckle when he lets me go. Seemingly satisfied that he did something, he goes to leave and I aim to heal this bloody hole I now have.

"..."

He gets my attention.

"... ...."

"No do gens?"

He nods.

"Okay...*wince* Can I still do bones and loot chests?"

He shrugs.

*CLANK*

With that first generator being popped he leaves the room and I heal myself. If only that gen popped before the stab, then my tier one would've reversed. Once healed, I head down the stairs and decide to creep on all fours. I don't want to be spotted by the others right now. Now knowing the monster is Shape, it makes more sense why I couldn't hear the heartbeat. Shape's power makes him undetectable until he's built up enough murder-lust from stalking victims. I pray I won't come to know what happens when he's at max power. Then again, I know not what he plans to do with me once he is done with the others.

I leave the home and feel so out of place in this strange suburb street. There are mailboxes, childish fences, trash waiting for pickup, vehicles, a playground, and a road that on one end ends at an exit gate. Everything looks so normal. Like at any second, I'll see this neighborhood come alive with people going about their lives. But seeing the border past the houses breaks such ideas apart. This place is dead. A lie. A moment in time captured with all life removed from it. Well...all life removed but us.

I find a bone totem hidden behind some trash bins and tend to breaking it. Why I have to pick it apart and can't just kick the damn thing is beyond me. The totem dismantles with a loud crack, allowing me to move on down the sidewalk and ignore all other stuff going on.

*HIGH-PITCH SHIRK*

Sounds like Shape found Laurie. I wonder where everybody is and what they're doing? How are they all able to hide in this place? Is Shape on the others so much they can't work on generators very well or does he have a perk that's keeping their progression low? My thoughts are broken by this open sitting space. Trees and unkempt grass, a circle of benches lit up by three separate lamp posts. That's not what catches my eye. Behind the benches, even the lonely bench away from the others, are these large almost boulder-like rocks that are bigger than me. Fun memories come flooding back of playing on similar stones when visiting my Abuela. The urge to relive that feeling pulls me. I choose a rock pressed on a tree. A good sprint and jump are all I need. I dash towards to rock...but my legs refuse to leap as I want them to. Finding this odd, I grip the rock to pull up for better footing...and again my legs don't move.

"The hell...?"

[Having some trouble, little worm?]

God dang it.

"What did you do to me this time?"

[Not a single thing.]

"My legs won't move. I don't call that nothing."

[Your legs are fine. You are simply on par with the other worms now. Worms stay on the ground where they belong.]

I recall something the Doctor said while I was in his so-called "care".

"❄☟✋💧 🕈✌💧 ✌☼⚐🕆☠👎 ❄☟☜ 💧✌💣☜ ❄✋💣☜ ❄☟☜ ☜☠❄✋❄✡ ☼☜💣⚐✞☜👎 ❄☟☜ ☟🕆💣✌☠🕯💧 ✌👌✋☹✋❄✡ ❄⚐ 👍☹✋💣👌📬" (THIS WAS AROUND THE SAME TIME THE ENTITY REMOVED THE HUMAN'S ABILITY TO CLIMB.)

The pieces fall into place.

"But I was able to climb before. My first trial..."

Its voice mockingly chuckles in my head.

[Just how special do you think you are? The Entity allows all prey to be free their first time. It lets the Entity know what they are capable of.]

That makes sense. No better way to measure the worth of what you have than by letting it be free...For a moment at least.

*LOW-PITCH YELL*

Sounds like Ace.

[Will you be letting Shape have all the fun? The Entity enjoyed watching your hunt of the other worms last time.]

I won't let it goad me into snapping. I just need to remain calm.

*LOW-PITCH SCREAM*

..REMAIN CALM!

I need to distract myself. If I let the failings of the others get to me I'll end up hitting tier two, and once in tier two, it is much easier to go tier three. Maybe I can hide in a locker and bash my head in till I blackout.

[If it was that easy, little worm, the lot of you would die much sooner. You are welcomed.]

"Stay out of my head, you fucking...!"

Sharp pain claws me from within. I'm brought to the ground and curling in on myself like a wadded up ball of tissue that's silently screaming.

[Do not forget your place, worm! The Entity controls all. If the Entity wills it, you will suffer horrors the likes of which would rend your mind to shreds. Your soul and very essence would cease to be. Do you comprehend this or shall the Entity prove it further?]

I fear further damage to my tainted soul. I yield. Meekly kissing the ground as penance.

[Yes. Embrace the dirt, lowly worm. The weak are bound to it. Only the strong...The beasts...Only they can rise above and know power. So, Lynsie...What are you? A worm? Or a beast?]

I can feel my soul tighten as if the tips of dozens of nails threaten to penetrate the fragile thing with each passing second. My mouth begins frothing with the start of foam from how much I'm straining and hyperventilating to just meekly resist this.

[Struggle all you wish, little worm, for it is in vain. You can either become a beast and hunt for the Entity, or you can allow your soul to become nothing and to nothing you will become. No matter your choice, the Entity will have what the Entity wants. The only difference being the amount of pain you wish to give or receive.]

It hurts. Everything hurts. Why? Why does this have to be the way of things?

"Lynsie? Is that you?"

From behind some of the bushes, Quentin crouch walks by to see my feeble form. I want to speak but can't.

"Are you hurt? What's wrong?"

Garbled gibberish is the best I can answer him with. His concern grows and my bloody shirt doesn't help.

"Are you changing? Please tell me you're not."

I shakily etch in the dirt "NO". This makes him feel better but the Entity hates it and proceeds to tighten its grip on my soul. The pain blinds me temporarily.

"Let me see if I can heal you. Maybe it'll help."

Quentin is kind. Optimistic like most teens. Even when it's very painfully clear that the odds aren't realistic. He puts his hands on me and attempts to heal. But since I'm not physically wounded...

"It's...It's not working. Why isn't it working?"

With my sight locked past Quentin, him trying his best to heal that which is beyond his understanding, I gaze into nothingness and see shadows come alive. Images of multi-segmented claws twitch and twist in unnatural motions that unnerve me to my core. Suddenly...I see a light. A faint glimmer that disrupts these chaotic tendrils of doom and restores a tiny bit of hope. Perhaps it's Laurie with her flashlight or Ace with his shiny key. Wait, was Ace downed or hung? I can't recall. The light gets clearer as it draws near. It's not from a flashlight. It's Shape. His glowing silhouette and glistening blade become easy to see as he draws near. He aims for an easy strike. I'm down and Quentin is distracted. Two birds to be killed with a sharp stone.

I...I have to warn Quentin. He needs to run while he still has the chance.

[Are you sure about that?]

I attempt to speak, to do something good, and increase Quentin's ability to live. But all that comes out is guttural hissing. Quentin is understandably confused and most likely thinks I'm responding to healing efforts. Shape gets closer, readying his weapon for a harsh backstab.

[Choose now, Lynsie. Be a worm...Or a beast.]

Panic floods my system. Even though I know death is meaningless here and I'll basically re-spawn, the amount of buildup plus the pain to my soul has logic being thrown out into the void. My body responds without thought.

[Breaking Point: Triggered. Resentment Tier II activated.]

"Wa-wait, what are you doing?"

I quickly grab at one of his ankles and gab my thumbnails as hard as I can into the thin debilitating tendon that meant the end for the great Achilles. Quentin howls in pain and thrashes away from my sudden assault.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

A low rumble reverberates from my throat and I crawl away like a nervous cat.

"I am not a worm."

My words go over his head, his attention goes to healing himself and I watch as the embodiment of hellfire stalks right up behind him.

*LOW-PITCH YELL*

The knife is plunged so deep into Quentin's back that Shape has to pull it out while pressing on Quentin with his foot. The look on his face as he locks eyes with me is one of hurt betrayal. Like, you can literally see him think "Why?" and hear the song "How Could This Happen To Me" by Simple Plan play. He doesn't get to crawl away. Shape scoops him up and glances at me. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Thankfully, he merely nods and walks away to find a hook. The stranglehold on my soul easing to stable comfort.

[Not bad, little beast. You get points for creativity.]

The Entity is pleased, causing me to shudder and wander off. I lashed out in forced desperation. Makes me feel sick.

*LOW-PITCH SCREAM*

Quentin's been hooked. This whole trial is bullshit. How is it fair that the Entity can just interfere like that?

[If you think this is unfair, wait till you encounter some of the other perks the Entity granted to the monsters. Take the Clown for instance. His "Bamboozle" perk allows his vault speed to be faster as well as calls upon The Entity to block that Vault location for several seconds. Only one Vault location may be blocked this way at any given time. But even this is enough to ruin even the most skilled of the worms.]

Are you fucking serious?

[Plague and Ghost Face have perks that affect generators. "Corrupt Intervention" answers her prayers to invoke a dark power that meddles with the Survivors' chances of survival. 3 Generators located farthest from her are blocked by The Entity for about 120 seconds at the start of the Trial. Survivors cannot repair the Generators for the duration Corrupt Intervention is active. And "Thrilling Tremors" pulls from his dark designs and shrewd composure to rouse The Entity. After picking up a Survivor, all Generators not being repaired by Survivors are blocked by The Entity and cannot be repaired for the next 16 seconds.]

Are you shitting me right now?!

[Nightmare has a perk called "Blood Warden". As soon as the Exit Gate is opened, Blood Warden is activated. The Auras of any Survivors located within Exit Gate areas are revealed to him. Once per Trial, hooking a Survivor while Blood Warden is active calls upon The Entity to block both Exits for all Survivors for up to 60 seconds.]

...Words can not fathom the levels of absolute hate I am feeling right now.

[Good. Use it. That girl, Laurie, has yet to be hooked. It would be wise to do so. At this rate, you will not earn much by the end of this trial.]

Leave me alone! I don't care about bloodpoints. Besides, that's Shape's target. I can't kill her.

[Do you really think she will allow herself to die to you? Who are you to believe the worms would actually fear death from you? Worms only fear beasts.]

I am not a worm!

[So you say. Yet you act as though you are a worm. You have fear in your soul. A beast has no such weakness.]

I know what you're doing! I won't fall for this!

[And what pray tell is the Entity doing?]

You want me to crack. To give in a be just another cog in your feeding machine.

[You are that regardless of being a worm or beast. The Entity does not care which you are.]

Then remove the scaring on my soul!

[No. You will not lose your punishment so easily.]

You're so full of shit it isn't even funny.

[All beasts have blight on their souls. You are no different. The only difference is the amount. Once you embrace what the Entity has given the scars shall minimalize. Till then, they will only grow and fester the more you resist.]

I growl to myself while stumbling upon another bone totem and begin working on it. I'll say it again, this entire trial is bullshit.

*CLANK*

Case in point, the second generator is finally activated. And not that far away either. I don't think Laurie has been downed this entire time, she's pulling her weight and more. Good for her. At this rate, she'll most likely make it out alive.

[Do you think that's fair? That Laurie will live but you will not?]

I continue to work on the totem and ignore the whispering, I don't need it listening to any more of my thoughts.

[Have you not been through enough? Everything that has tried to break you, you overcame in spite. You have had very few moments of peace. Even now, everyone and thing seeks to tear you apart for some reason or another. Do you not find it wrong for them to not aid you as they do the others? That the worms and even beasts think they can use you as they please.]

I'm finding it hard to focus when it is using truth.

[Should you let them get away with that? Letting their actions go without consequence? Where is that relentless drive to live? That spirit to prove others wrong? Where is the woman that made her inner demons submit? You do not need to put up with mistreatment. You are so much stronger than they realize. Show them their hubris. Make them regret their misdeeds. Let them know of the mistakes they made by hurting you. Give them a taste of true fear. Grant them this gift...The gift of true suffering.]

I have stopped my task at this point. It has made a very convincing plea. I am so tired of being looked down on. Being used. Being shunned. I just want to be shown respect or they very least be left alone. Why should the others treat me with such disregard? What did I do to them to call for such treatment? And the monsters...Even they have scum among them. They can't get away with this.

No! I can't give in to these thoughts. I'm better than this. Than them. I won't stoop to their level. I don't...

*LOW-PITCH YELL*

I don't need to...

*LOW-PITCH YELL*

I DON'T FUCKING NEED TO...

*LOW-PITCH SCREAM*

[Breaking Point: Triggered. Resentment Tier III activated.]

I NEED TO FUCKING END THEM!

[Special Ability: Anomaly State...Activated.]

...

Shape watches the young boy struggle against the Entity on the hook. A pointless waste of energy. No one would try to rescue him as long as he was there. At least, no one in their right mind would.

*HARSH ROAR*

This new sound pulls the monster of flame's attention.

[Grillby...]

"..."

[The little beast is free. Do not interfere with her rage. The Entity wants her to accept her place. Do you understand?]

"...Yes, Master."

A sudden flash blinds Shape, forcing him to recoil back with an irritated steamy hiss.

"Quickly, we need to regroup with Ace. Lynsie's snapped."

The sound of the hook being messed with is heard.

"Right."

By the time Shape's vision returns, he witnesses Laurie and the one called Quentin, now unhooked, flee into the street. The Entity told him not to bother with the odd one, but it didn't say stop attacking. It's time to stop playing on easy. While still able to see them, Shape stares hard at the humans, building up his intensity for the kill. The darkness inside feeds his determination to take the life of his prey.

[Evil Within II: Triggered. The Red Stain is now visible. Aura-reading Abilities now work. Terror Radius is active at a range of 16 meters. Regular Movement speed increased by 115%. Regular Lunge range open time: 0.5s. Slightly increased Vaulting speed by 1.48 seconds.]

Now that Evil Within II is active, he has no means to return to Evil Within I. Things will only get worse for the humans from this point on. Where his left hand was relaxed and swung freely mid-chase, the knife pointed slightly outwards and he had stiff restrained deliberate movement...Now left hand is clenched into a fist and held rigidly at his side, less-restrained freer movement. All the better to stab them with.

The pair race into a home. Shape follows. The Scratch Marks they leave behind in their sprint are like neon bread crumbs he can trace back to the main loaf that's itching for his knife to cut into. The scratches split, one leading upstairs and the other down into the cellar. Knowing Laurie, she's the one upstairs. He heads downward for the easy target. After all, the boy is still injured and bleeding. Save the best for last...heh.

There isn't much down here. The room loops full circle with two ways of entrance/exit. A single generator looms at one end of the room, it has not been touched. Though it's the space of multiple lockers that he knows the poor fool has sought safety in. A bad idea. The blood tells him where the boy is, but where is the fun in getting to the point? He moves to the locker next to it, his eyes not looking away from the real prize, and opens the empty box with force before slamming it shut just as hard. He moves to the other one beside it and repeats the same violent search.

*hurt gasp*

Perfect. The prey is terrorized. Nothing quite like scaring the literal crap out of someone. Shape reaches slowly for the handle and...

SLAM

The doors fling open, stunning Shape as the boy springs out for escape. Big mistake. Quickly spinning on his heel, Shape manages to catch the wounded boy with a mighty slash.

*LOW-PITCH YELL*

The boy falls and is at his complete lack of mercy. He probably had that "Head On" perk and thought it would be his trump card. Too bad for him it also causes the Exhausted status effect. Now it was time to end it. Kicking the boy over, Shape makes sure he sees what he brought this trial...an Ebony Memento Mori. Quentin's eyes bug out of his head.

"*gaps* Oh fuck..."

[Yes...Do it...Claim the kill...Do it, Grillby!]

The token glows and Shape's flame burns bright in delight. He snatches Quentin in a flash by the neck and thrusts his knife deep into the thrashing boy's chest. Bloody spills from his mouth and chest, he's choking on it. It deafens his screams. As if the human was made of butter, Shape forces it in deeper till the blade breaches out the spine. Shape watches the light fade in the boy's eyes before tossing the cold husk to the ground. More. More needs to be ended.

lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...

A heartbeat? Ah...Legion's "toy" is near.

*SCREECH*

"Shit! Fuck!"

The floorboards above clatter with panic running.

lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...

What sounds like ravenous animal chases after the male.

Knife is raised above his head, pointing downwards.

*WILD SNARL*

lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...

Hmmm...Maybe she's more interesting than first thought. At least she was smart enough to be after the male and not his Laurie. Speaking of which, if she's dealing with him then where is...

*CLANK*

...Sneaky bitch. At least that made her location noticeable. Steam escapes the mouth of Shape's mask, the thrill of killing THAT girl, his obsession...It had his heat being shown in visible air warping waves. Something about Laurie...Something in his soul burned for her death. She pissed him off. Her lack of fear towards him demanded him to break that. To go all out and teach her that was to be feared. He is what goes bump in the night. He is a devil that will burn all in fire. And she will learn this no matter how many times it takes. Time means nothing here and death has no end.

lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...

*SHARP HISS*

"Nice save."

"Run, moron!"

*ROAR*

lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...

The playground. The humans were looping the "little beast" around the objects and pallets before blinding her with that infernal flashlight. Shape supposed the Entity calling her a little beast is fitting. Her appearance...Long untamed hair flared in her anger. Blacked out eyes with glowing white irises that seeped darkness itself down her pale flesh. Her limbs looked extended slightly, claws tipping her hands and exposed toes from which she stands upon. A crazed posture and matching sadistic grin indicate she is lost, lost in the madness of kill. But for as lost as she was, the two humans were more so as they soon noticed that there was a monster to their left and right.

"Shit."

"What do we, Laurie?"

"I don't get it. Why didn't she turn back after the gen pop and flashlight?"

Was that really your great plan, Laurie? Did you fail to notice something's wrong? Someone's missing?

"Where's Quentin?"

The question is asked and it makes the air get colder.

"Hey..."

Little beast gets Shape's attention, taking advantage of the humans' lack of understanding the tongue of monsters.

"That key he has...It's a Skeleton Key."

Shape's grip on his knife tightens. A key of that level can open the hatch if spawned and found. The Hatch will become visible whenever the number of fully repaired Generators exceeds the number of living Survivors by one. 4 Survivors remaining: 5 repaired Generators/Exit Gates are powered. 3 Survivors remaining: 4 repaired Generators/1 Generator left. 2 Survivors remaining: 3 repaired Generators/2 Generators left. 1 Survivor remaining: Spawns and opens regardless of how many Generators remain to be repaired. If she now counts as a monster, then the rule of 2 survivors 3 generators is active. That means a hatch has spawned and that key is a problem, only dull and skeleton keys open the hatch.

Feeling the growing tension, Ace fidgets as if moving to break away from this awful situation but it only sets off the little beast. She lunges at the older male and in a move of self-preservation, shoves Laurie in the way as a human shield.

*HIGH-PITCH SHIRK*

Four deep gashes slice Laurie's side, putting her in the injured state. This move, however, has two effects. One, it's hurt a human that normally is tough for any monster to deal with. And two...It's pissed Shape off. He builds up his need for murder.

[Evil Within III: Triggered. Regular Terror Radius of 32 meters. Regular Movement speed increased by 115%. Slightly increased Lunge range open time: 0.6s. Moderately increased Vaulting speed of 1.275 seconds. When triggered, all Survivors suffer from the Exposed Status Effect. Evil Within III lasts for 60 seconds, after which it regresses to Evil Within II.]

With his knife raised above his head, pointing downwards, Shape wastes no time charging in and cutting down the key holder...

*LOW-PITCH YELL*

Then backhanding the would-be-monster in the face, much the shock of her and the human.

"*growl* What's wrong with you?!"

Shape rumbles like a furnace ready to blow.

"...Mine!"

He points his blade at the human that is too puzzled to flee even though she could. While understanding him, it doesn't really make the little beast any more accepting of the hit and she barks back at him.

"Don't fucking touch me!"

In her eyes...He sees that same spark in her eyes as he does in Laurie's. The lack of fear. His fire flares in intimidation, it fails on her. She takes a bracing stance before pouncing on him, the towering monster of flame throws her to the ground. She recovers quickly and attacks with all the precision of a charging rhino. It surprisingly takes some strength to hold her back and a greater surprise when she starts giving off a pure monster aura.

"I won't be treated like shit! Not by you! Not by them! Not by anyone! Do you understand?! No one!!"

He can feel it. She's pushing him back. The Entity is fueling her with strength to prolong her transformation. If this keeps up she might actually become a threat.

*whimper*

They both pause at the sudden sound. A slight look to the side shows the two remaining humans have gone to heal in some shrubbery. The realization hits Shape before her and he uses the confusion to stop this now...by punching her in the gut and stabbing her in the head. Little beast staggers drunkenly then falls over hard, not dead but incapacitated. More important matters are in order.

...

[Most interesting, little beast. The Entity never thought you would be so brazen. You have earned all that comes to you this trial.]

My eyes stiffly open. My head is pounding like it was hit by a truck. Every part of me feels like it hasn't moved in hours. With a shake of my head and a long yawn my senses return, I remember everything. I'm still in the trial.

*HIGH-PITCH SCREAM*

Laurie? Oh...Oh fuck, I cut Laurie bad. What the fuck Ace? What dick throws a teenager at a monster? I need to do something good for once.

Wearily, I get on my feet and head towards the yellow aura in the distance. I'm much slower than I remember being. Probably feeling exhausted. I hope to sleep after this. Feels like I might for a whole day. Heh...If only.

I make my way behind the houses and into a backyard. There, a hooked Laurie struggles against the Entity's claws by a grave. I ignore this weirdness and reach for her, the least I can do is free her.

"How are you alive"

I look at her funny as she grunts coming off the hook.

"What do you mean?"

"You took a knife to the brain!"

"What?"

I feel my head and my hair is sticky wet. Huh? Go figure. My focus is wavering and she snaps her fingers.

"Stay with me. We need to find Ace's key."

"Wait...You're not mad at me?"

I sound like a child afraid of being grounded.

"Mad? No."

"R-Really?"

She takes my hand and drags me along.

"Come on. We have to go before he comes back."

She seems to know where she's going. That's good. Why didn't Shape hook me? Did he expect me to bleed out? Makes sense to me.

lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...

"He's near."

lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...

She squeezes my hand.

"Laurie?"

lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...

Peering around some cover, we find Shape standing under an empty hook, most likely on top of the key.

"We need that key. He won't let us pop two gens and open the gate."

I don't think we're on good terms after my freak out. So asking him nicely is gonna be a no go.

She looks off in thought.

"I'll be bait..."

This takes me back.

"He'll chase me. I know he will. And when he's far enough away, you rush in and get the key."

I shake my head, both to get the dizziness to stop and to disagree.

"No. You can't risk it. If hooked again it's an automatic sacrifice."

"We have no choice. You're in no condition to evade him. It's the only option we have."

I'd like to say what I do next is selfless...But I know damn well it's not.

"New plan...I lure him out and you get the key."

"How? You can't possibly move as fast right now."

I rub my hands richly through my hair and coat my hands in what blood there is. I'm in the injured state so I know I'm still wounded and bleeding.

"Who said I have to be?"

It takes her a moment to put two and two together.

"Tell me what I need to do."

I smirk and give her the details.

...

It's quiet. Too quiet. No sound other than the crows. Shape stares out from his post over the key. He knows the women aren't dead. He saw the alert when Laurie was unhooked. If they're smart, they attempt to work on generators together. No sense trying for anything else. Of course, there's a shot another key will be in a chest somewhere. But the odds aren't favorable. And even if they do try repairing generators, his spot has the perfect range of both gates. This is territory after all, he knows it better than anyone else inside and out. There's nothing they can do to...

*HIGH-PITCH SHIRK*

...Surprise him?

lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...

No...She couldn't have. No human can attack another.

lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...

"Yo, big guy..."

She casually strolls onto the road and licks her hands. The crimson is incredibly noticeable on her skin.

"I see why you like her. She's fun to cut into."

Her cheeky smile makes him flare.

"Well, I'm off. Gonna go see if I can Mori her head off."

Human or monster, this little bitch needs to learn her place. You don't touch his Obsession!

"...No!"

She pauses and he bolts for her, the girl nearly leaps out of her skin before scampering on all fours. Something isn't right. There's an awkwardness in her gallop and she isn't dropping pallets. She turns around a large van but he retreats, heading back to ensure the key remains where he left it.

"Hey!"

He ignores her. It's not like he can't kill her at any point.

"Don't ignore me!"

Sudden weight hits his back. She's dared to leap on him like a crazy monkey. She's become a very annoying pest. Rather than grabbing her off, to teach her a lesson, he instead takes off running before leaping at a car and aiming for her to be slammed under his weight.

*ROAR*

The move works. She's off of him and indented firmly in the hood of a police car. She isn't going anywhere. Now to get back to the key before Laurie.

"I found it!"

Her voice echos. They baited him. Clever girls. Well, it's not like the weird one can get to her in time.

*grunt*

The sound of metal creaking as weight comes off it alerts him of his wrong thoughts. They lock eyes.

"In case you're wondering...That didn't count as a true attack."

A fiery roar bellows from Shape's core and another chase ensues. Now it's serious. She's slamming pallets and vaulting for shortcuts. Does she know he's not in tier 3 anymore and not at max speed? No, it doesn't matter. The longer the chase, the more he catches up to her and Laurie.

"Open it!"

His sight leaves the beast woman to see the blonde in the circle of benches with the key in hand. Laurie unlocks the hatch, the key staying in the latch and slowly dissolving away like a timer. Laurie leaps into the hatch and escapes in the darkness.

She gone...Laurie got away...And it's all this one's fault!

*HIGH-PITCH ROAR*

The stab catches her mid-stride, sending her tumbling and careening into a bench. This woman...This pain in the ass let his prey escape. She's just like Legion...trash.

[Such a shame. She was doing so well too. Oh well. Better luck next time then. Finish this, Grillby.]

Shape goes over to the pathetic wench and grabs her leg, dragging her over the still open hatch before pinning her partly to the ground with his blade. Panic has her clawing the ground yet she can't move without slicing into herself. The key fizzles out. The hatch violently snaps down on her and her roar is deafening out the sound of bones being crushed.

"... ... ... ..."

"*wincing* G-Go fuck yourself!"

Yep. Just like Legion.

The hatch opens, as she is the only remaining human in the trial. Yet he further denies her this freedom. He pulls her out, knife and all, then kicks the hatch closed. End Game Collapse has begun. She's doomed now. No key to re-open the hatch, no means of healing out of the dying state, no way of repairing generators, and no team to open the gate. She's all out of tricks and no amount of begging will work either.

"*coughing blood* Come on...Do it! Kill me!"

No. This one is not worth the use of his Mori or the glory of the hook. She will die right there. On the ground like the garbage she is. He walks off to destroy fallen pallets.

"*dying rage* D-Don't...Don't fucking ignore me! Kill me you flaming bastard!"

But her calls fall on deaf ears. Shape does not respond. The world rumble and the crows take the sky. She eventually becomes quiet. The sound of wood breaking is all he hears.

*SCREAMING ROAR*

That was a chilling sound if ever he heard one. The Entity has claimed her. It would be a kinder death if she had bled out, but he had no such pity for her. With her death, the trial is over and the world crumbles into a reset. He slowly removes his mask, letting his fire burn freely and stares off at the moon. Next time Laurie...Next time you won't escape.

"...Mine. Only mine."

[AT THE SURVIVOR'S CAMPSITE]

I wake up in a panic and thrash at the ground. Clawing at the dirt and biting obscenities due to the pain in my chest. It takes the combined efforts of David and Jeff to keep me still long enough to settle down. For once there is no fighting upon my return. Despite my actions, the others didn't point blame at me or tell me I'm a freak. Some wish to hear more of my aggressive turn on Shape while Laurie even goes as far as to offer to teach me one of her perks in thanks for escape. I decline for now, too shaken and sore to keep my thoughts straight. I need some time to myself. David, being my unofficial but probably gonna happen because it's obvious man, keeps an eye on me from his perch on the sitting log while I'm near the camp's border with my back to the others. The pain in my chest pleads for my attention. I don't wish for them to see this. I carefully recall the instructions Doctor gave me and summon my soul. The soft glow emanating from the multi-colored heart is warm. What ruins it are the scars. They've filled in again. Though...They don't look as bad. Shivers run through me as I slowly use my nails to scrape the blight out, wincing and whimpering when I can't hold back the pain. But I have to do this. If it buys me some time then it's worth it. It feels so weird. It's thick and oozy like blood yet solid like a clot. Gross.

[Elsewhere: Killer Shack]

*CLANG-CLANG*

"Tra la la. The meeting will now come to order."

Wraith materializes and gets the other killers' attention.

"It has come to our attention that something...odd...has taken place. Tra la la. Shape?"

Shape, leaning on a wall in the back, merely shrugs and looks at his knife as he recounts his trail.

"... ... ... .... ... ..."

The room is shocked.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE ATTACKED YOU?"

Trapper questions.

"... ..."

"DON'T BE A SMARTASS! I HEARD WHAT YOU SAID PERFECTLY FINE!"

"❄☟☜☠ 👎⚐☠🕯❄ 🕈✌💧❄☜ ❄✋💣☜ ✌💧😐✋☠☝ 💧❄🕆🏱✋👎 ✈🕆☜💧❄✋⚐☠💧. 💧☟✌🏱☜ 🕈✌💧 ✈🕆✋❄☜ 👍☹☜✌☼." (THEN DON'T WASTE TIME ASKING STUPID QUESTIONS. SHAPE WAS QUITE CLEAR.)

Doctor talks down to Trapper, earning him a nasty glare.

"Ah, it makes sense now. The girl is as rebellious as Legion. No wonder he chose her for Obsession."

Plague comments with a coy smile. Legion mumbles curses to himself under his breath.

"🏱☹☜✌💧☜...🕈☟✌❄ 🕈☜ 💧☟⚐🕆☹👎 👌☜ ☞⚐👍🕆💧✋☠☝ ⚐☠ ✋💧 ❄☟✌❄ ❄☟☜ ⚐👎👎✋❄✡ ✋💧 👍✌🏱✌👌☹☜ ⚐☞ ☠⚐❄ ⚐☠☹✡ ☝⚐✋☠☝ ✌☞❄☜☼ ⚐❄☟☜☼ ☟🕆💣✌☠💧📪 👌🕆❄ 🕆💧 ✌💧 🕈☜☹☹. 🏱☼⚐✞✋👎☜👎 💧☟☜🕯💧 👌☼⚐🕆☝☟❄ ❄⚐ ✋☼☜ ✌💧 ⚐🕆☼ ☞☜✋☼✡ ☞☜☹☹⚐🕈 ☟✌👎." (PLEASE...WHAT WE SHOULD BE FOCUSING ON IS THAT THE ODDITY IS CAPABLE OF NOT ONLY GOING AFTER OTHER HUMANS, BUT US AS WELL. PROVIDED SHE'S BROUGHT TO IRE AS OUR FEIRY FELLOW HAD.)

Doctor steps up to be front and center.

"✋ 🏱☼⚐🏱⚐💧☜ 🕈☜ 👍✌🏱❄🕆☼☜ ⚐🕆☼ 🕈✌✡🕈✌☼👎 💣☜💣👌☜☼ ✌☠👎 🏱🕆❄ ☟☜☼ ❄☟☼⚐🕆☝☟ ✌ 💧☜☼✋☜💧 ⚐☞ ❄☜💧❄💧..." (I PROPOSE WE CAPTURE OUR WAYWARD MEMBER AND PUT HER THROUGH A SERIES OF TESTS...)

"oh hell no!"

Legion barks.

"after that stunt you pulled, you aren't going near my human outside of trials."

The others look at Doctor suspiciously but all he does is look off to the side dismissively.

"🕈☟✌❄ 👎✋👎 ✡⚐🕆 ☜✠🏱☜👍❄✍ ✡⚐🕆 👌☼⚐🕆☝☟❄ ☟☜☼ ❄⚐ 💣☜. ✌ 💧⚐🕆☹ ☹✋😐☜ ❄☟✌❄📪 💧🕆👍☟ ✋💣🏱⚐💧✋👌☹☜ ☼✌☼✋❄✡📪 ✌💧 ✌ 💣✌☠ ⚐☞ 💧👍✋☜☠👍☜ ✋ 🕈✋☹☹ ❄✌😐☜ ✌☠✡ ✌☠👎 ☜✞☜☼✡ ⚐🏱🏱⚐☼❄🕆☠✋❄✡ ❄⚐ 💧❄🕆👎✡ ☟☜☼. ☜✞☜☠ ✋☞ ✋❄ 💣☜✌☠💧 💧❄☜✌☹✋☠☝ ☟☜☼ ☞☼⚐💣 ✌ ☞⚐⚐☹ ☹✋😐☜ ✡⚐🕆." (WHAT DID YOU EXPECT? YOU BROUGHT HER TO ME. A SOUL LIKE THAT, SUCH IMPOSIBLE RARITY, AS A MAN OF SCIENCE I WILL TAKE ANY AND EVERY OPPORTUNITY TO STUDY HER. EVEN IF IT MEANS STEALING HER FROM A FOOL LIKE YOU.)

His blunt condescendence only makes Legion snarl.

"Anyway...Tra la la...Aside from that, this account marks another time the Master has gotten involved in trials the lamb was in. Tra la la. Any thoughts as to this development?"

"Ain't clear? It wants the punk to be more like us."

Huntress adds.

"While I agree, the timing is something needed to be taken into account."

Pig interjects.

"She's right. *cough* The Hallowed Blight will soon be here. The signs are starting to appear in my realm. *hack*"

Clown states.

"the hell is the hallowed blight?"

Ghost Face snickers to himself.

"what's so funny, robo-douche?"

"Heh...Oh, nothing. Just ignore me."

Legion rolls his sockets.

"can we skip all this filler bull and get to the point? tell me the challenge so i can leave you assholes to fuck all."

Is it any wonder why Legion isn't respected?

Wraith nods to Nurse and she approaches Legion.

"Very well. Take this and prepare. I would wish you luck but I rather see you swallow your pride in failure."

She hands over a scrap of folded paper and Legion takes it with malice.

"yeah? i'd tell you to break a leg but it looks like you're an overachiever there."

She hisses.

"Small moronic child."

"senile old goat."

A stare down happens for a few moments before Legion takes his leave.

"...anyone else hoping that fucker gets taken this time?"

Nightmare asks, to which many of them nod in agreement.

[IN THE SURVIVOR'S FOREST]

It had been enough time in their minds. Surely she had settled down since that dumb shit went down in Léry's. And even if she hadn't, it doesn't matter, she owes them a favor she can't refuse. She belongs to them...To Legion. Plus they needed to go over the challenge so it's not like this was a social call.

{do you really think now's a good time? what if she's all worked up and the other humans spot us?}

Boo points out.

{don't be such a little bitch. we went out yesterday. we ain't goin' today.}

Chops berates.

{sounds like someone is uncertain. do not have doubts, boo. we are legion. we are only as strong as we are united.}

Dead-Eye spouts whimsically.

{*scoff* what went up your ass and made ya say such pussy shit?}

{your mom after i fucked her to death.}

{oh, ya one-eyed freak! ya wanna go?! 'cause that's what's gonna happen if ya say shit like that!}

{you do not have the guts, little man.}

"shut the fuck up, both of you! we need to focus."

Bones reprimands.

"all we have to do is stay hidden, get her attention, and lead her out here for a chat. easier than stealing chili from cannibal."

{big talk comin' from the guy that wanted to switch out to boo like a wuss forgetting we can only swap in our realm.}

Bones ignores the obvious rage-inducing jab. His sights set on more important things. Light catches his eyes. The campfire is near. And it isn't too long before he's reached the treeline.

lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...

She's close. That's helpful. Even more helpful was a sudden movement in the corner of his eye. She stands near the edge of the camp, her hands full of glowing goop.

"Yo, David..."

She looks over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of the haunting faint blue of Bones' eyes in the shadows. The sight has her forget momentarily what she was doing.

"Need somethin', Luv?"

A male built like a house sitting on a log speaks. Upon closer inspection, the guy is recognized as a notorious jackass among monsters. Great. She's close to that schmuck. Figures.

"I...I need to get rid of this gunk. I'll be right back."

The gruff man nods.

"Stay close. I don't like ya bein' out of my sight for too long."

Well, that didn't sound like a creepy dick thing to say.

"Will do."

She makes her way into the woods and he slowly follows. A fair out of earshot distance is reached before she digs into the ground with her shoe's heel.

"So...How long have you been watching?"

He leans on a tree near her. Better to keep some space if she is feeling crazy.

"not long. just got here. um...is that...?"

"Yep."

With a deep enough hole made, she kneels and drops the goop in.

"After the trial I had, I needed to clean out my scars."

She covers the blight and turns to him.

"they any worse since last time?"

"Not really."

"good."

"Bones, I get the feeling you're not here to ask about how my soul is."

He nods, retrieving the paper from his pocket and unfolding it.

"we got our first challenge."

A serious expression comes to her.

"Go on."

He reads.

"hit all 4 humans within a single use of feral frenzy with the last hit being on the obsession."

"How hard is that on the difficulty scale?"

"our power is feral frenzy. while feral frenzy is active, we move faster and gains access to the additional abilities of pallet vault and feral slash. hitting a human with a feral slash puts them into the injured state and inflicts the deep wound status effect. additionally, this refills our power and all humans within our terror radius not already afflicted with the deep wound have their location revealed to us. if the hit human was already afflicted with deep wound or we miss the attack, feral frenzy ends immediately. hitting a human with a basic attack while feral frenzy is not active will deplete the power by half of its maximum."

"In simple terms?"

"*huff* feral frenzy lasts for ten seconds, not counting add-ons or hitting boosts. so unless the four of you are within forty meters of us, it's going to be pretty damn hard."

She folds her arms.

"So we're fucked then?"

"i didn't say that..."

He pushes off the tree to stand near her.

"we've done this before. it's hard, but not impossible. the tricky part will be hitting you last. might take a few tries to nail."

She closes her eyes in thought.

"True. I'm the only one cooperating. The most I can do is try to keep the group together and push others to be in your path so I'm the last one. Other than that I can't see much else I can do."

"that's more than what we'd get without you."

Her eyes open, holding a slight sadness to them.

"what? what's with that look?"

"Huh? Nothing. Just overthinking."

He doesn't really care.

"about what?"

Yet he still asked. A weak smile graces her.

"Was...Was Shape mad at me?"

The fuck?

"what?"

"I know. You don't have to say it. I'm aware of how stupid that sounds. But...*sigh* I don't know. He didn't seem like such a bad guy. And then I went all beast mode on him. Ugh...Human, Monster...No matter what, I end up ruining anything good that potentially comes my way."

Such a pity party made him sick.

"who cares..."

He puts his hands behind his head.

"it doesn't matter what the others think. nothing in life comes easy. you just got to live for yourself and flip the rest of the world off. otherwise, you'll lose yourself trying to be something your not."

She stares at him funny.

"I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me so far."

"*scoff* don't get used to it."

"And here I thought Boo was the nice guy."

Her tease has his cheekbones lightly gaining some color. It pisses him off.

"don't make me stab you. you know i will."

"Fine, be that way. I was only trying to compliment you. I don't know what it is, but the moment we seem to get along, you default to 'gonna stab you'. Makes it really hard to want to try in this partnership."

She moves to pass him and head back to camp...but he grabs her arm.

"we didn't say you could go yet."

She eyes him funny.

"What else is there to say?"

He smirks.

"i'll owe you for it. nothing will be off the table. i promise. those were your words, remember?"

He feels her stiffen in his grasp.

"I said that to Chops. Not you."

He chuckles.

"how easily forget....we are legion. the four of us are one. what you say to one is said to us all."

She cuts an f-bomb off by biting her tongue.

"Fine. A deal's a deal, loophole or not. I don't break my promises."

His grin widens and she sneers.

"now don't be that way. i've already told you we're not like that."

She shoots him a look.

"Oh? And I suppose the knife blowjob was just a cute gesture of friendship!"

If Bones could mentally kick Chops and Dead-Eye's asses he would curb-stomp their tibias to dust.

"that...that was...uh...*groan* that's what happens when dumbasses think they can get away with stupid shit because they feel like badasses. i had nothing to do with that."

Much to her uncertainty, he lets her go and some of her guard is put down.

"ask yourself this...have i done anything like that to you?"

She sighs through her nose.

"No. You haven't. You've had the opportunity to, but didn't. So...what is it that you want then?"

He circles her a bit before stopping behind her and leaning near her ear.

"before our trial together, come to mount ormond resort. and wear something a bit more...comfortable."

Taking his words the wrong way, she spins around to slap him...but her hand is caught with ease.

"heh, too easy."

"You two-faced pervert!"

He glares.

"you were freezing your ass off last time. maybe get a jacket or something. dumbass."

Her expression softens.

"I...I'm sorry."

"damn right you're sorry."

He pushes her away.

"i like fucking with you. don't confuse that for anything else."

She pouts. This is far from the same woman that tussled with Shape.

"you can go now. we've said all we had to."

Now it's his turn to leave.

"Wait, Bones..."

Maybe it was the slight urgency in her voice or the quick footsteps that made an effort to go after him, but despite better judgment Bones comes to a stop. He wearily looks back at her from over his shoulder.

"I...I know that you all have names. Real names. Not just the ones given by the Entity or humans."

Where is she going with this?

"When I heard Doctor call himself W.D. Gaster...I've been questioning if the names you guys gave me are real or not. It's a big line I'm crossing by asking...yet...What is your true name?"

It's weird when she thinks. Such random things alter her personality. Things like this made her soft. And soft is not as appealing as one might think. Looks weak. Bones doesn't like weak.

"what if they aren't our real names? what does it matter to you?"

Her eyes dart from his, to his back, the ground, and then the emptiness behind her lids. She shakes her head and turns her back on him, slowly walking off. Why? Why did this bug him? No snarky retort or fake dismissal to cover up still intact curiosity? Just...Nothing? That...bitch!

"lynsie..."

She pauses though doesn't look at him. It pisses him off more. He runs up and punches her in the back of the head.

"Ow! The fuck's your issue?!"

"my issue? knock this shit off. it's pathetic."

"Man, fuck you."

"fuck you!"

"Fuck you!"

"fuck you, infinity!"

They glare harshly at one another. Teeth bared and growling. Tension building like a shaken soda can. This was better. There was determination in her eyes. He tosses her a bone.

"*huff* get your crap together and maybe i'll tell you later."

She becomes confused. Like that's something new.

"Tell me what later?"

He shakes his head with a small laugh.

"you're hopeless. you know that? think about it."

He takes his leave once more.

"later, meat."

He's already hidden among the darkness and trees when he hears her voice a final time.

"Thank you!"

Humble chuckles escape him.

{what's so funny, bones?}

Boo questions innocently.

"just thinking that we have an odd taste in women."

The other voices in his head fall silent, making him laugh. Things are going to get interesting next time.

[AT THE SURVIVOR'S CAMPSITE]

I arrive back at camp with no trouble. A few questionable looks are shot for how long I was gone and the shouting heard. But fuck'em. Bones is right. Screw what they think. I need to return to how I used to be before I got here. I need to focus on myself.

"Everythin' alright, Luv?"

...With maybe a random exception here or there.

"Yeah..."

I sit beside David.

"I'm feeling a lot better now."

He smirks and puts his arm around me. Nothing in life comes easy. But this? This right here? This is worth fighting for. I lay my head on his shoulder and enjoy the peace for however long it may last.

[IN THE SURVIVOR'S FOREST]

The black dirt shifts ever so slightly. A tiny withered husk barely breaches the surface with renewed life having soaked in the tainted goo that was buried atop it. This undead seed cracks. The top of its shell giving way to a small seedling. A sprout paradoxically enlivened by its death. The first Pustula has emerged. The season of Blight is nigh. And with it, hell itself is to be unleashed.

[holycalum]

vex c.h. 

word count: 3.8k+

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, swearing, drugs refs, but it’s actaully not bad at all

summary: the one where calum’s the most™ annoying but it’s cus he’s in looooove (is tht enough??)

a/n: HI yeah i know i haven’t posted in years because um (: i’ve been the most busy ever. i have so many things i wanna post i have like million half written things and ideas i just don’t have the energy to finish or start i know its bad i miss writing. anyways i hope ya like it i know i suck at writing the good ending parts where the stuff happens but i’m trying. send me requests pls it might take a while but ill defo get to them! love yall the most!

“can you please shut the fuck up and stop chewing ice for like, five seconds?” “first of all, i have an iron deficiency, calum.” you sneer, “you know i’m sensitive about it.” “you know i don’t care about your blood iron content, right (y/n)?” calum glares at you, angrily sipping his drink. “maybe you’re pregnant.” you almost scream, “stop don’t say that,” you pat your stomach, “i don’t want to be pregnant.” “cal, it’s your turn to bowl,” ashton says, flopping down next to calum on the couch opposite you. “i don’t wanna fuckin’ bowl,” calum grumbles, crossing his arms and sinking back into the couch. ashton scrunches his eyebrows, “cal, it was your idea-“ “(y/n) should take my turn, maybe it’ll help her unborn child be a champion bowler.” he mused, making ashton do a double take. “honestly,” ashton squeaks, “i don’t wanna know, (y/n), are you pregnant?” “thought you didn’t wanna know?” you joked, placing two hands on your stomach. “no, i’m not, calum’s just being a bitch.” “m’ not.” he counters, “it’s just your pregnant lady hormones are rubbing off on me, i’m surprised we’re all not crying.” ashton just sits up slowly, backing away from the couch. “it’s just, fuck you calum.” you roll your eyes, leaning back into the couch. you turn your body away from calum, focusing your attention on the scoreboard. “you’re doing really badly.” “can’t show up your bowling prodigy child,” calum hardly misses a beat, as annoying as he was being, he was on fire tonight. “wonder who the dad is.” you pull at your hair, “oh my fucking god,” you want to throw a bowling ball at his head, “it’s like you want me to be pregnant, you’re insinuating i’m getting dicked down enough to be pregnant.” “big word, gotta set a good example for the baby...” calum trails off, trying not to laugh at his constant pestering. “are you?” “wouldn’t be your business if i was, or if i wasn’t.” “then who am i to believe you’re not pregnant,” calum shrugs, finishing his drink. calum’s neck looked like prime real-estate for your fists, you had never been so annoyed with him in your time knowing him. for a while you two were actually friends, but as of lately, he seemed to seize any opportunity to push your buttons. michael slid into the spot next to you, “yanno, boys are usually mean to girls when they like them.” he whispers in your ear, “doesn’t that promote an unhealthy association or something?” you roll your eyes, burning holes into the side of calum’s head. “i’m sure someone who likes you wouldn’t claim you’re pregnant every chance they got.” “calum’s not just someone,” michael sing-songed, “i honestly don’t know what sticks up his ass.” “apparently it’s not a stick, it’s my fake baby.” you crossed your arms, still glaring at calum. “ashton,” you piped up, gripping the back of the drivers seat. “can we please stop at mcdonald’s, i have to pee.” “no.” calum answered for ashton, “i recall asking ashton,” you snapped your head towards him, “but go off i guess.” “yeah.” ashton said quietly, switching lanes to get off at the next exit. “no,” calum grabbed the steering wheel, “you peed like 20 minutes ago.” “jesus fucking ch-calum please,” ashton threw his hand off the wheel, “don’t kill us please.” “wouldn’t wanna kill the baby,” calum grinned at you, sarcasm leaking from his dimples. jesus, you think, here we fucking go. “since when are you the dictator of my bladder?” you asked, face red. “peeing a lot is a sign of pregnancy, you know?” calum said, ignoring your question. “so, you’re an ob-gyn now too?” “i’ve taken up many practices since you conceived your baby,” calum insisted, eyes glued to his phone. you desperately wanted calum to turn his head towards you, to give you his full attention. this half assed argument wasn’t cutting it. “i’m honestly so uncomfortable, we’re almost at McDonald's.” ashton announces, “i am not fucking pregnant!” you shout, slinking into the back seat, “why do i even hang out with you?” “hey, (y/n), how you feeling?” luke asks, face grainy on your phone screen. “like ass,” you croak, you’d been throwing up all morning. you thought you were on the come up, and tested the waters with a piece of toast, but you were unsuccessful. “-is that (y/n)?” you hear calum ask, and your stomach lurches, you didn’t need to deal with him right now. “yeah-she’s sick,” “with what?” “i dunno, she’s throwing up-“ suddenly the phone screen shakes and calum’s face takes up the whole thing. his face holds an evil smile and you’re far too familiar with his jokes and you know what you’re in for. “you’re having morning sickness, (y/n).” he says matter-of-factly. you feel the last of your toast threatening to inch up your throat. “it’s cus’ you’re pregnant.” you empty your stomach into the toilet, “fuck you, calum.” you manage in between deep breaths. “i have food poising.” “if that’s what we’re calling pregnancy these days.” “i’m hanging up.” you throw your phone across the tile of your bathroom, leaning your head against the cool toilet bowl. you felt so gross, and calum’s comments were not helping in the slightest. you felt like crying really, he was being such a jerk to you, for no reason. a few fever naps later, you’re woken up by a knock at your front door. you drag yourself to the door, opening it to find a bag from the drug store, with a note reading ‘pregnancy kit!’ you immediately toss the pregnancy tests to the side, digging out the gatorade. you call calum, “thanks for the gatorade, but i don’t need the tests, wanna give them to your groupies?” you say as soon as he picks up. “ah,” he breathes, “of course, how could i be so silly, you don’t need to test something you’re already sure of.” “fuck off.” “i don’t need them,” he continues, “that’s not me anymore.” “ok, bye calum.” you throw your phone back onto your couch, dropping the bag next to you. if he wasn’t such an asshole, you’d think him going out of his way to bring you things would be sweet, but you’re sure it’s just an extra step he took to tease you. if he were anyone else you might smile and blush at the thought, but thinking of calum’s devilish smile while picking things out only made your skin crawl with heat. “(y/n)...” calum pushes the drink out of your hands, “you can’t drink while pregnant.” you nearly break the bottle over his skull, “are you like deprived of sex or something? is that why you’re so edgy?” “i just care about the well being of your baby,” he rests a hand on your stomach, “seeing that it-speaking if we should find out the gender soon. seeing that its father is absent.” you flick his hand off of you and ignore the way your heart speeds up when he touches you. “let’s find you someone, that sound good?” you ask, dropping his calloused hand from your grip, and scanning the bar for anyone that may peak calum’s interest. if you were being honest, the conflict between you and calum, that you dread, lit something within you. whether it was a match under your ass that kept you on your toes, or something warmer in the pit of your stomach, you found yourself red in the face and tingly every time you went back and forth with each other. calum was pissing you off and he knew it, he had wiggled his way under your skin, and you didn’t know how you felt about it. you spot a blonde girl across the room, and you set out to approach her. “no one that’ll take away from my ob-gyn practice,” he shouts as you walk away, stomping loudly. it almost hurts how ok he was with it. you return only a few minutes later, finding it very easy to convince a random chick to talk to someone in a band. “calum,” you stand in front of him, and he glares down at your smaller frame. “this is ally-allison-um, this is allison.” you introduce her, and she giggled loudly. “oh my god,” he drops his jaw, “you reincarnated michael jackson? for me? you’re too sweet, (y/n).” something inside you relaxes at his dislike for the stranger. “what?” allison cocks her head to the side, looking calum up and down. you catch yourself thinking, me too girl. “never mind,” you mutter, “allison said she likes music, you like that too!” “yeah, i go to a lot of raves.” she assures us, “have you guys ever done molly?” “no.” calum is short, “well, i have a few in my bag-“ “nice,” he responds, “we can do a couple,” “yeah for sure,” his eyes are in slits as soon as he looks at you, you shrink under his gaze. “let’s do molly, in some bar, with ally.” “allison.” she corrects, and calum already has your bicep in his hand, dragging you in the opposite direction of allison. your brain is split between wanting to punch him for being so rough, and letting him drag you along. you go with the latter. “we’ll be right back, ally, just need to converse with my colleague.” calum has no intention of ever speaking to her again, anyone named allison, he decides. soon, you’re standing outside the bar, shooting daggers out of your eyes at calum. if looks could kill, he would’ve been dead hours ago, and you’d be beating the dead horse. your feelings were all jumbled up, in a hot, flaming, pile of trash. “it’s cold,” you complain, rubbing your bare arms. “ok well, i can’t control the weather.” he snapped, making your stomach drop, he was being so mean. “what the hell is your problem?” “i don’t need you to meddle in my love life, (y/n).” he uttered, pulling out a cigarette from his back pocket. you snatch it away from him, and he’s left empty-handed. “not good for you,” you explain, “i’m not the pregnant one...” “no one is pregnant!” you shout, throwing the unlit cigarette on the ground. “sounds like something a pregnant lady would say,” calum hasn’t missed an opportunity yet. “i literally need you to stop,” you beg, shaking his shoulders. he lets out a quiet ‘woah’ but doesn’t do anything to stop you from violently shaking him around. “i don’t know what your problem is, but like, you’ve been at this since before i tried helping you out, so what gives?” calum only shrugs in response, eyes drifting to the people flowing out of the bar. his mind sails elsewhere, wondering if the guys would wonder where you two went, if they knew how he felt, if they cared at all. “cal, there’s gotta be like, someone in there for you, if you want a wingman-“ you babble, trying to push the idea of you and calum far, far, far, out of your brain. if he could just make out with someone, you could never think about him like that again, and then you could really get pregnant, and live a calum-free life. “there’s no one in there for me.” he says coldly, turning his shoulders away from you, making your arms drop down to your sides. you can feel him closing off. you roll your eyes, “how are you supposed to know that,” you soften your tone, you didn’t really know how to talk to calum like this. “cus’ i just do,” he’s slowly inching away from you now, trying to increase the space, trying to decrease the connection. “why should you care?” he turned his difficult feelings into coldness. “you’re my friend, i think, if you’re allowed to be so involved in my uterus, i should be allowed to try and get you some!” you fume, stepping closer to him. “i’m trying to be nice while you continue to be so mean.” “why try?” “i-“ you didn’t know, “i don’t know.” “well,” he barks, “if i’m being so mean and you can’t stand it, why do you hang out with me?” “why are you so mean?” you ask, both of your voices raising. “i don’t know.” he mocks you, “you have to know!” you were being far too dramatic for where you were, but you were so blinded by rage you found it difficult to care. “if you’re allowed to not know why you put up with me, i’m allowed to not know why i’m mean to you.” he turns to walk away from you, you grab the sleeve of his jacket, blood pumping rapidly. “don’t walk away from me, calum, that’s rude as shit.” “i am rude as shit.” “you’re not!” you cry, people walking out of the bar into the cool air taking a second glance at your exchange. “you’re not rude and that’s why i’m confused as to why you’re being rude to me, you weren’t like this before.” “before you started going out on dates and shit and getting pregnant,” he grumbled, shoulders slumping into himself. you gaped, “how does that have to do with why you’re being mean.” “m’ not mean.” his voice got quieter, head now lowered. if he couldn’t just box you out he could always try retreating into himself. “you just said you were,” you matched his volume. “m’ not,” he repeated, “n’ there’s no one in there for me.” “you’re all over the place,” you’re head is spinning, and you can’t connect the dots between anything calum’s saying. “cus’ the only person for me is standing outside the fuckin’ bar.” “have i ever told you, you have such a way with words,” you were trying to be so cool, because you doubted that the middle-aged businessman standing near the entrance was the one for calum, but he was making it really hard. “you’ll never guess what i do for a living.” he jokes back, but his chuckle ends too short to be real. “ok, so, why do you think i’m pregnant? like i’m still lost.” “can we please not talk about it,” he begs, finally looking at you. your stomach flips at his eye contact, and as wobbly as your knees are, you’re unmoving. you couldn’t “that’s not fair to me, cal.” “just not here then, please.” the sound of your front door closing was the first thing to break the agonizing silence between the two of you. “so...” you lean over your kitchen counter. calum rubs his face, and groans. “it’s stupid,” his words are altered by his cheeks being smooshed against his hands. a blush creeps up the back of calum’s neck and onto his face. he wasn’t getting out of this one. “yeah,” you agree, “it is stupid, but why?” there’s a long stretch of silence, “cus i like you,” finally cuts through the thick air surrounding you two. “m’ still a little drunk.” you spit out the sip of water you had just taken. “sorry,” you sputter, wiping your mouth. sure he had implied something of the sort outside the bar, but hearing him say it was sending you elsewhere. “i um,” “you don’t have to say anything back, but you wanted to know, so i told you.” he shrinks into himself, “no, cal, i just wanna know why you thought that was how you should’ve gone about it.” you weren’t saying you didn’t feel the same, but you also weren’t saying you’d let him off so easy. “i’m sorry, if it really bothered you.” he says instead, spinning himself back and forth on the bar stool. he was looking everywhere but you. “it’s not that, it was just-“ “weird?” “yeah.” “i know id be weird anyways, so i figures being mean weird would rule out yanno, me feeling things.” he explains, playing with the cuff of his jacket. “oh,” you whisper, studying how his eyebrows scrunch when he can’t button his sleeve. “you can’t just try and cancel out your feelings...like pemdas.” his eyes flicker towards you, “wrong, i did try, it just didn’t work.” “so you still like me?” you ask, “do all pregnant people ask this many questions?” he says under his breath, and you let yourself laugh because it’s kinda funny. calum smiles sheepishly as he continues looking down at his sleeves. “just me i guess,” you decide to play along. “yeah, i do.” “cool.” “that’s all i get?” he sits up straight, gripping the edge of the counter. “it’s cool!” you defend, giggles escaping your lips. “yeah well, what’s cool about it?” he tests the waters, maybe you were interested, maybe it wasn’t so crazy to think maybe you’d like him too. even just a little bit. he leans back against the chair. “i think it’s cool...” you trail off, biting your lip, “that someone so cool likes me.” “you think i’m cool?” calum’s tone is teasing, but you can tell he’s flustered by the way his usually low voice raises a bit and the blush painting his tanned cheeks. “mhm.” you nod slightly, the little bit of alcohol in your system making it hard to hold off. calum’s stature was especially enduring right now, his soft, sleepy eyes and messy hair, your heart swelled at the sight. “cool.” he said simply, eyes crinkling. you only let out another quiet ‘mhm’ in response, taking another sip of water. “so, is that it?” “is what it?” “is that all we say, and now i just have to stare at you until you kick me out?” he questions, face dropping. surely, he thought, you were only playing him. “bold of you to assume you’d even wanna stare at my face that long.” you counter, raising an eyebrow. he thinks for a moment, “bold of you to assume i wouldn’t.” “bold of you to assume...” it was getting really hard to go back and forth with calum now, his cocky smile getting under your skin instead of on your nerves for once. “bold of you to assume i’d kick you out,” “oh?” he grinned, leaning over the counter, mirroring my position. he widens his eyes at you, “better get used to it then.” “are you flirting with me, calum?” “bold of you to assume i’m not setting you up for the best pregnant joke of all time.” you roll your eyes at him, starting to move away. he grabs your hand suddenly, pulling you back over the counter. “i was only kidding, (y/n).” “figured,” you squeak out, trying not to faulted. you swallow hard, “but why do you need to be so close to me?” you were certain if anything was obvious is was the prominent blush splayed across your cheeks. you’d be surprised if he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks. “like seein’ you blush,” you were right, “sure, i could see it from down the street, but this is a better view.” “doubt it.” you bite your lip, “agree to disagree?” “turning down an argument?” you question, “i’m sure another opportunity will present itself.” he whispers, “you know i’d stay here, but it’s a really uncomfortable position.” you speak, after a moment of silence. “and i hate being in jeans. are you spending the night?” “what does that have to do with being in jeans?” he stays leaned over the counter after you stand straight again, and start walking towards your room. “i don’t have any clothes for you, i’d feel bad if i was comfortable and you weren’t.” “not something you’d ever cared about before, doll.” he spins around to face you, relaxed against the stool. suddenly your whole body feels hot. you gulp, “i guess you’re right,” you come back later, clad in pajama shorts and a long sleeved shirt. calum’s lounging on your couch now, feet kicked up on the coffee table. “glad you’ve made yourself comfortable.” “you weren’t going to,” he speaks, eyes not breaking away from his phone. you sit down next to him, legs folded underneath yourself. he glances over at you, a smile smile evident on his lips. it felt odd, not being genuinely angry at calum for more than an hour. “listen,” he speaks, “you don’t have to kick me out, i can leave on my own.” he looks down at his hands, twisting his rings. “you can if you want,” you say softly, covering your yawn with you hand. you hoped he didn’t want to leave, cause you’d be ok if he sat on your couch forever. “do you want me to?” he meets your eyes, you shrug, inspecting your nail polish, “don’t care,” “i mean, it’d be kinda weird if i stayed cus i like you and you don’t-“ “i like you calum,” you cut him off, darting your eyes back down to your nails. “oh,” he shook his head a bit, a grin creeping its way onto his face. “glad that’s out of the way,” you say, still not looking at calum. if you looked at him it’d be real and you’d given into him, who was bullying you for a fake pregnancy only hours before. it was stupid if you put it that way. but if you thought about it another way, it was never really that deep. “then, i guess i’ll stay?” he says carefully, nudging your thigh, eyebrows raised in anticipation. “cool.” you nod, making eye contact for a split second before turning back away. you could combust then and there. “you’d like that?” he teases, inching closer to you. you swear you feel your heart stutter. “if i stayed?” “mhm.” you laser your focus on your chipping polish instead of his body heat in attempt to calm yourself down. but you’re the furthest thing from calm. “ok,” he huffs, leaning back and throwing an arm around your shoulders. you stiffen under his touch, your entire body on fire. as of the last couple of months you’d been hot out of anger, not by whatever this was. calum’s gaze was fixed on you, his eyes fond despite his cocky manner. “you gonna relax, sweetheart?” the nickname dripped like honey from his lips. “you gonna kiss me to get it over with already?” you spit suddenly, wanting to end the awkwardness. you were sick of the jitters now, and all you wanted was calum. yet, you slap a hand over your mouth. he let out a laugh, “can’t with you so far away from me.” you roll your eyes, and lift yourself to turn yourself toward him. “much better,” he grins, moving a hand up to cup your face. fuck that, you think, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pressing your lips together. you feel the tension leave your body, as calum’s lips work against yours. it feels like heaven, his plump lips against yours, hands gripping whatever they can. calum pulls away, forehead leaning against yours, panting quietly. you take in his look, eyes closed, blissed out, beautiful. “bet your baby daddy couldn’t do that?” he jokes, smiling. “shut up.”

[lauxeyson]

SUBMARINE

Pairing/Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: It’s such and ancient pitch, one he finds so hard to resist. It’s so easy, so comfortable and so much more than what he ever could have hoped for. Slow dances and slow touches, slow kisses and slow hands are all that Steve wants for his birthday. 40′s AU + My prompt was “Optimistic”. Slightly based on “Witchcraft” and “Summer wind” by Frank Sinatra.

Warnings: Steve finally learned to dance, at least in this au, Professor Rogers, fluff upon fluff upon fluff and more fluff. 

Word Count: 1,423

A/N: Written for @redgillan ‘s Steve Rogers’ 100th birthday challenge. I hope I did this some justice! And i hope it all makes sense and that i met all the requirements to the challenge and that you’ll like it. And I think I may have taken the prompt in a slightly different way than most but here goes nothing. I tried to put in some small refs to what living in the 40s would actually be like and I hope I didn’t fail miserably at it! GIF is not mine, all credit goes to the rightful owner. Feedback is VERY much appreciated!

MASTERLIST 

That sly come-hither stare, your fingers in his hair. Your lips only inches away from his own, his hands around your waist. It’s such an ancient pitch, one he finds so hard to resist, and when he looks at you, all the little control he has vanish into thin air.  

His back rests on the counter, pants hanging low around his hips. A silly grin dance across his features, his eyes gleam with joy, and you bite your lip as a wicked smile of your own claims its place. Your head snaps back, only slightly, as an idea fills your mind and you untangle your hands from the back of his neck, pushing away from him. Steve watches as you move away from his warmth, your eyes set on the record player he got for more money than what he could afford.

He has no defence for it. His heart beats so intensely in his chest when the music begins to play. The vinyl scratches as the needle hits it mark, the record spinning around and around, almost hypnotical. You turn to him, your arms held out wide in a silent invitation for him to take. Steve just cannot resist it when you arouse the need in him. The need to feel your hot, sweaty skin on his. To feel your chapped, breathless, breaths against his lips and to feel your arms around his body, clinging to him as if he is your only lifeline. He has never danced as much as he does when he is with you; never felt the pull to it, the crazy urge to get it out of his system. Working as an art professor, Steve does not get all the exercise his body craves, and his toned muscles scream in agony after a long day spent in an office chair, or on a small stool before a blank canvas, they beg for some kind of release.

And when it all seems broken, when the world’s judgment lie upon his shoulders and the scrappy economy of your time weighs him down, his body may say no even though his heart says yes to take a spin around the living room floor. He keeps on hoping, that it will all be enough, that you will be happy with him even when things are this rough. He hopes that he can give you everything you want, even if you have to ration out everything you eat and look for coins underneath your mattress every day. That smile you wear on your lips, like witchcraft, calms his mind and confirms what he so desperately needs to know. That you are happy, and you will always be as long as you are with him.

His conscious is stripped bare just by looking at you, feet already moving along to the steady rhythm. Your arms sway side-to-side, so unimaginably graceful, and the way your skirt flows along the lines of your body, the fabric seems to obey your every command, makes his head buzz.

You stop briefly to turn the volume up, your fingers dancing upon the buttons with such ease, it is close to enchanting. Steve looks at you with stars in his eyes, all the love they hold within them threaten to spill over for each second that goes by.

“Do you mind, professor?” Your voice is sultry, low, and dangerously close to making him interrupt you and the music, making him interrupt it all. His eyes meet yours from across the room, and he feels it again: the need, the urge, the pull.

Steve swallows hard, his jaw clenches and he allows the music to take control over his body. Each chord, each word, each beat seeps into his veins, into his heart, into his soul. He knows the words like they are his mantra, his prayer, and like they are the only thing that keeps him afloat. His mind races, you always play this song; you always dance to this song, your song.

“Proceed with what you’re leadin’ me to.”

He unconsciously snaps his fingers along to the tune; his feet take him over to where you stand, over to where your hips slowly sway side-to-side. The French doors of your shared apartment stand agape, the small balcony with the rusty railing stands as the only barrier between you and the buzzing city. The birds tweet happily outside, and the high sun is only climbing its way further up the sky, its rays shining through the shear white curtains that hang in front of the chipping doors. His left arm find its way around your waist, your eyes search his face and map its every detail, store it away in a vault so secure you can never forget them. Steve’s right hand grabs a hold of your own, it is warm and rugged and it fits so perfectly with your smaller one, like a puzzle finally being completed.

The two of you sway back and forth, slow at first, then quicker and quicker as you pick up your pace. And you let out a sigh of relief when the summer wind came blowing in from across the sea, when it lingered there, to touch your hair and whiff it around as Steve dips you down. It fills your gasping lungs as you let out a bright laugh, and his heart flutter by the sound of it. He brings you back up, his head coming down to meet yours, and it rests there, his forehead on yours, like a silent promise between you, two sweethearts dancing in the summer wind.

The heat is too intense for it; you are both out of breath. He brings you closer to his chest, press a kiss to your temple and he holds you, he just holds you. Your chest is heaving up and down, and the next track on the record starts to play. Even if none of you want to, you break away from each other, stretching your worn limbs and wiping down the beads of sweat glistening on your skin.

“Let’s go again, sugar,” he says and walks over to switch records, to find the next song you always dance to, make out to.

You laugh, again, louder this time as your breathing evens out.

“I need to sit down,” you say with a small chuckle and move over to the kitchen for a glass of cold water. “It is too warm to dance, it is too warm to do anything.”

He smiles over at you, his hands lingering over the stack of vinyl records that are stacked in piles on the floor. Steve knows exactly what he is looking for, and he doesn’t hesitate to rummage through them all, searching for that perfect song for a perfect day.

“Baby,” he says, almost pleadingly. “One more time,” he says and puts in a pause. “Please?”

You can only sigh and smile at his soft ask, his puppy eyes burning into your own. A far bigger smile finds its way to your features and you put the glass down, condensation dripping down the sides of it, your feet forcing their way over to him.

“We can make one more before we collapse of heat stroke,” he says and you cannot help but to laugh. “One more, I know we can.”

“Why do you always have to be so optimistic?” You sigh lovingly, your teeth grazing your bottom lip, trying to keep the smile at bay as you snake your arms around his back.

“You love that about me,” he tease and turns around in your arms, a small smile playing on his lips. “Please?” he whispers, and place a small kiss on your temple, once again, while his strong hands holds you tightly against his chest.

“Fine,” you say and throw your head back in an exasperated manor. “Since it’s your birthday and all, what harm can it do?”

He lights up, his lips connect with yours, at long last, and you can’t help but to smile wide into the kiss. His lips feels like velvet against your own and his fingers gently brush against your cheek.

Like painted skies, those days and nights went by flying, dancing, living; the world seemed new under a blue umbrella sky. You danced once more that night, and then again and again until you lost the track of time.

And he loves it, he loves and he thrives in every second of it. He swears, it’s witchcraft, and there is no nicer witch than you.

FOREVER TAGS: @imboredsueme @ex-bookjunky @daysoffuturepast @spiduhgirl @sgtjbuccky @deputy-orange-juice @sgtbxckybxrnes @sgtjamesbuchananbarnes107th @thatcraxygirl15 @cutie1365 @raindancer2004 @writingsofawaywardnerd @shieldagentofthemonth @lokiandbuckyaremine @teamironamerica @whatiswrongwithpeople @proud-of-being-me @mrs-dr-strange

Tags are open! Want to be tagged? Click HERE 

[dcuglybooks]

A short story collection featuring stories that are either mean and ugly like that turd that thudded you in school, or sweet and cuddly as a little gloomy kitten; or puppy if you’re more of a dog person.

Stories Christians don't have to read backwards. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08LGB4HGN/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_glc_fabc_UIpaGb2VC4BBX

Here’s a free short.

WAP: WEIRD ASS PHANTOM

“There’s a ghost in this house. There��s a ghost in this house.”

Linda was getting tired of the shit. Every day at exactly noon her alarm would play this shitty overdubbed version of a Cardi B song. The original song wasn’t her cup of tea to begin with, this new version that sounded like drunk karaoke was even worse. Most times she would be sitting there and the sound of a drunk sorority girl would make her jump out of her skin. She couldn’t even find the song or alarm in her phone to do anything about it.

Linda and her girlfriend, Melissa, moved into this old house last month, the rent was so damn cheap; landlord said it was because it used to be a party house so he never charged much. The logic didn’t make any sense but at $300 a month and a mile outside of town, how were they not going to sign that lease?

“I think,” spoke Melissa one night while watching her phone float around taking pictures in the air, “the reason rent is so cheap is because it’s haunted.”

“You think?” Replies Linda while snatching the phone out of the air. “I just wish this damn ghost would stop posting pictures of our bedroom to our Instagram accounts. Did you see the caption last night?”

“Oh you mean ‘Pumpkin spice is almost here. Basic bitches, rejoice!’ The comma is what set me off. Why did she put a comma in that? Why bother? It wasn’t even used correctly I don’t believe.”

“We’re being haunted by a basic bitch.”

“I think that may be offensive.”

“I hear it all the time, it just...... yeah ok maybe. I guess I shouldn’t assume this ghost is a bad stereotype, I won’t say it again.”

“True, this girl may have more going for her than just these annoying social media posts from our accounts”

“Remember the mirror though?”

Last week as the couple were eating dinner they heard a clatter and crash from the upstairs bathroom. Running full speed ahead up the stairs and around the corner Linda saw all their makeup in a pile in the empty sink. She could see a pair of red lipsticked lips floating in the air while eyeliner was seemingly drawn onto the air in a cat eye shape. She sighed and said “What now?” These types of things had been going on since the first night so at this point it was old hat.

The lipstick went to the mirror and wrote “I am finally going to kill you.” Linda took a step back prepared to flee until the lipstick wrote below it “JK LOL YOUR FACE” and then the face floated off into the wall leaving behind the makeup like some sort of painting.

The first time anything strange had happened, a pizza showed up at the front door; delivery for an Amanda Perkins. The girl who moved out recently, they took the pizza because it was already paid for and assumed the girl had made a mistake. They were sure of this as they sat and watched old re-runs of home improvement and munched away; then they noticed the slice floating over in the air above the recliner and the chewed up pile on the seat. They screamed and ran outside, Melissa forgot her phone inside and Linda’s made a ding from inside her pocket.

“Hey I know this is really weird, it’s weird AF for me too. We can make it work though, ladies. I swear I won’t bother you, I already cleaned up my mess.”

They inched inside looking around like scared toddlers and sure enough the mess was cleaned up. After that they just rolled with the weirdness.

“Are you sure Amanda left, Mr. Morris?” Linda was on the phone with the landlord.

“Yes. Positive. Why would you think she still lived there?”

“There’s been..... some things.”

“Drunk college girl, she probably stumbled home one night and forgot she went home for the summer. Its no deal. Not big or small.”

“Are you absolutely positive there is no deal? Big, small, medium, or slightly larger than medium but not quite large?”

“What do you think? I know her ex and he killed her and then buried her body in the basement so now her ghost is haunting you. This is why I charge so cheap rent! No. I don’t believe what you think. I will be going.”

He hung up without ever realizing Linda never once mentioned any of that other stuff. Linda thought, Why does he talk like that?

Turned out that’s exactly what had happened. After doing a quick google of the ghosts name they found out she never came home. After a quick Facebook search they found her ex boyfriends page. After some scrolling they found a post that said “Amanda and I broke up again and I am going to kill her.” The post had six likes and four comments.

“Get her bro!”

“Bitch ain’t appreciate you anyhow bet!”

“U need any ting lemme no”

“Fuk gr8 ass tho. Mind if I hit her up?”

These people were insane. Did not a single one of these people see the part about wanting to kill her? Actually PLANNING to kill her.

The police found it interesting enough to look into it, they found reason to arrest the guy. After a long court trial Amanda’s ex-boyfriend, Brent, was sentenced to life in prison for murder. The body was exhumed and buried at a family plot. The rent got more expensive because Mr. Morris was in prison for helping cover a murder so his aunt took over.

You win some you lose some.

Amanda did not leave though. The ghost hung out still to this day four months later. The social media posts kept going. The pizzas kept getting ordered, only now from their pockets because Amanda’s parents closed her bank account. Amanda was irritated about that, she was cut off from her parents money and stuck living with two other people.

Linda and Melissa tried to make her feel as comfy as possible, they left a pen and notebook in each room so she could communicate with them. Usually the notes were always about how bored she was being a ghost and how if she tried to leave the house it got all bright and she started floating. Amanda was “for real afraid of flying” as she wrote on a notebook.

Amanda’s behavior got strange at some point. She began doing things like drawing stick figures on the bathroom floor in shampoo, she would wrap herself in toilet paper and roll down the stairs creating the illusion of her body disappearing, the worst of it was when she would lay in bed with Linda and Melissa startling them when she pulled the blanket. It was like living with an invisible insane person. Either her mind was slipping or she was just a strange character. She would turn the TV on and watch the same episode of “King of Queens” for ten hours straight while they were at work. They wondered what would happen if they deleted it from the DVR but didn’t want to face that at all.

The alarm kept going off too; Linda had to hand out awkward smiles and apologies when it happened at work or in public. One time she had to apologize to a middle aged woman when it went off in the cereal aisle while shopping and her son started singing the lyrics to the original version as loud as his voice would allow. The mother gasped at all the words her kid knew and knocked a shelf of maple syrup over. The bottles burst all over the floor, Linda tried to help clean it up but she was shooed away by a guy with a mop bucket and a face that said he wanted her dead as shit.

They asked her multiple times what they could do to get her to move along, to which she would always write “sno-cone” on her notebook with no explanation.

Linda woke up sick on a Tuesday and didn’t go to work, she came into the bathroom and seen a note written in lipstick on the mirror that read “Baby, all my life I will be driving home to you.” She blushed, Melissa had left her a really sweet note on the mirror. When Melissa got home she surprised her with a bout of some of the best sex they had ever had, despite Linda being sick she felt overcome with love for her partner.

“Wow. What did I do to deserve that?” Asked Melissa after.

“The note.”

“Oh yes. The note, got you good with that one. So, if it was so good mind telling me what it said?”

“You know what it said!”

“Of course I do.”

She didn’t know what it said. She had no clue, but she wasn’t going to raise a stink about what just happened. No way, no how. She got up and went to use the restroom, as she sat on the toilet she looked up and saw the words on the mirror.

“LINDA!” She yelled. “I DIDNT LEAVE THAT! THATS THE GODDAMN LYRICS FROM THE THEME SONG FOR ‘THE KING OF QUEENS!’”

Linda didn’t know what to say; she shook her head and internally accepted defeat on this one. The couple didn’t talk about it again, the ends justified the means on this one they silently agreed; thanks Amanda.

The trio had carried on life like this for months, seven to be exact, when they heard a bang and a crash from the front door. Assuming this was yet again Amanda doing some goofy nonsense they ran downstairs to clean up the mess only to find a man standing their pointing a shotgun at them.

“You’re the dykes who got me locked up, aintcha?” Said a freshly broke out of prison Brent. “You know, usually I’m cool with like loving whoever and like rights and like equality and shit but tonight is not your night. Go sit.”

They were tied together on the couch while Brent sat channel flipping on the TV.

“Amanda is still here,” spoke Linda “she’s a ghost, at some point she’s going to help us and you’ll probably get hurt. She’s probably posting pictures on Instagram right now so she’s a little busy, but I promise when she finds out she’ll come running.”

“No she won’t.”

“Ok? So you think her post is going to get a ton of likes then?”

“She’s afraid of me.”

“Ugh are you generic ‘I beat my girlfriend’ guy number seventy or not?”

“Not.”

“Then why is she afraid of you?”

“I’m bigger than her…… I guess?”

“She’s a ghost.”

“I’m still bigger.”

​“How can you be bigger than an incorporeal being with no mass or weight?”

​“See, she doesn’t way anything.”

“You didn’t think any of this through did you?”

“Not one bit.”

“It shows. Why did you kill her?”

“Hey I’ve never been what you’d call a planner. I killed her because she broke up with me for the fiftieth time that year and all my friends were giving me a hard time about how I would just crawl back to her. I said ‘can’t crawl back to her if I kill her!’ They all thought it was funny so I did it.”

“Ah………Makes perfect sense to me.”

“A guy has to watch his reputation, right?”

They sat there watching late night infomercials in silence for another half hour. Linda nudged Melissa as she seen a phone floating around taking pictures of a floating can of soup.

Of all the ghosts in the world, why was theirs like this?

“Brent, there’s some stuff on the DVR” Linda told him.

“Good I hate infomercials. Oh yuck, ‘The King of Queens.’ I hate that show, Amanda loved it. That fat fucking heifer guy gets to make it with that babe every night. Fucking loser ass UPS guy”

They could see the phone slowly lower and start hovering towards Brent. They let him rant.

“And that Deacon guy, what a fucking idiot, he leaves his wife at one point which is silly because she’s so fucking hot.”

The can of soup hovered behind him.

“That guy that dates the ugly chick from the bowling alley, now I can’t tolerate him at all.”

The soup can shook with rage.

“He ends up living with the other guy right? Like what the fuck? Are they like a thing or not a thing? I didn’t pay enough attention. I did pretend to though to get some action every now and again, show fucking sucks though. Here I’ll do you guys a favor.”

As he deleted the episode from the DVR the can came slamming down into his head.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

They heard a voice yell “MY BONES ARE GETTING WEARY! MY BACK IS GETTING TIGHT!” As the can of cream of chicken turned Brent’s head into cream of Brent’s brains.

After the violence stopped the notebook hovered in front of them and said “Sorry, I was on TikTok, I’ll clean this up tho.”

Much like the first night that’s exactly what happened. They were untied and they watched as the mess was cleaned up. Brent’s body floated over to the ground and the can of soup was laid on the table. The phone floated over to Melissa who dialed 911.

After the legal mess was cleaned up they decided that having Amanda around maybe was not such a bad idea. No one could really kill them, it was like having a built in security system. They did eventually add a third line to their cell plan and let her set up social media for herself as a reclusive twenty something who couldn’t leave the house due to a skin condition.

Her pages were ok, they didn’t get much interaction or followers but Amanda was happy. Sometimes people would say they wanted to hang out with her because they lived close, Amanda just said her skin condition was contagious AF. No one ever thought to say “Hey, what exactly IS your medical condition?” People could be so polite sometimes.

Christmas morning as they all opened gifts Linda and Melissa cried as Amanda opened the complete series collection of “The King of Queens.” The three sat on the couch together that evening and watched all of season one.

Baby all my life I will be driving home to you.

The next day they heard a familiar song. Together they both smiled and thought that yes, there was a ghost in this house.

[redditnosleep]

The Terrifying Note Addressed To My Six-year-old Son

by Creeping_dread

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 (Final)

This story has a free audiobook available!

Carr picked up on the third ring.

Me: It’s Jay! Not Ray!

Carr: Wait, slow down…

Me: (I took a deep breath) Carrie looked at the church membership bulletin from 07. She recognized Jayson Fisher as the guy from ten years go...when she….

Carr: Okay….

Me: And he’s a tee ball ref. Umpire. Whatever you call them. He goes by Jay. And no one can reach him, not for the last several days. I think he’s got Andrew. We have to hurry…

Carr: Does your wife have an address?

Me: Address?

Carr: The bulletin. It should list an address. He may not still live there, but it’s as good a start as any.

Me: Okay, I’ll call you back.

I hung up and dialed Carrie’s cell phone. After five or six rings, her voicemail picked up. I hung up and texted her. Need Jay’s address. Check the bulletin!

I hopped off the couch and grabbed my keys in a mad rush to get to my truck. I climbed inside and waited, hand tapping on the steering wheel. I started to text Ryan to see if he knew Jay’s address, or could get it, when Carrie’s text dropped down at the top of the screen.

15 franklin dr

I texted her back: Thank you. Is Kyle okay?

Nursery at church. Fine.

I called Detective Carr as I whipped my truck out of the garage. When he picked up, I was almost shouting.

Me: 15 Franklin Dr. That’s his address.

Carr: Okay, got it. I’ve already radioed it in and I’m heading that way. Dean, are you on the road? (I turned down the radio, which was blasting some shitty pop song I’d heard a million times.) Look, you know this guy is extremely dangerous. (I heard his siren start its piercing wail). You and Carrie need to stay where you are and…

I hung up and tossed my phone onto the passenger seat. I knew he was right, but there was no way I was sitting this one out. Carrie and I had gotten Andrew into this mess and I had a sinking feeling he’d need at least one of us to get him out.

I called Carrie twice more on the way. This is Carrie! Leave a message. The second time, I did. Carrie, where are you? Are you okay? Please call me back.

Franklin Drive was only about ten minutes from our house, per my GPS, but I made it in about eight. The streets were always empty on Sunday mornings and I hit almost every green light. If Carr was anywhere near the police station, that meant he’d be several minutes behind me.

As soon as I turned onto Franklin drive, I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Carrie’s white SUV was parked in front of a small brick house about three quarters of the way down the street. I recognized it immediately by the purple sticker on the back window. It was from Kyle’s school. In that moment, for some weird reason, the only thing I could think was: at least I told her I loved her. And that’s a brutal thing to have to think about someone you love.

I pulled in behind her and jumped out of the truck. I thought I could hear sirens blaring in the distance, but I couldn’t wait. Carrie was inside somewhere.

I made my way toward the front door, which was closed, but then I heard some shouting coming from the back of the house, and I saw the gate on the side of the house was wide open. I ran around the side and barreled into the backyard.

Jay was standing in the center of the yard, but he didn’t quite look how I expected. He was tall— over six feet—and had a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes. The beginning of a wispy beard was showing on his jaw and neck and the hint of a belly protruded through the bottom of his one-size-too-small t-shirt. He stood as if his legs could barely hold him up anymore, like a prize fighter after a losing bout.

Andrew stood next to him, atop a box which sat on a tall kitchen stool. Duct tape was wrapped around both his eyes and mouth. He was standing perfectly still, hands at his sides, as Jay screamed at Carrie to stay back.

There was a noose around Andrew’s neck, tied to the branch of a sycamore tree which hung many feet above his head.

Carrie was standing in front of me and to the left, still in her dress from church. It billowed in the breeze around her thin frame.

When Jay saw me, he narrowed his eyes.

Jay: I wondered when you’d show up, Deano! Such a rude one, you are! Didn’t your mother tell you that wasn’t nice?

Carrie glanced back at me, but kept her body turned toward the threat in front of her. She mouthed I’m sorrybefore swinging her head back around.

Me: Just let him go, Jay! (I held my empty hands up). I’m sorry for being rude. No one needs to get hurt.

Jay: No one needs to get hurt? It’s too late for that, bucko.

Carrie: What do you want?

Jay: You, Carrie. It was always YOU!

Carrie: Why the note to the paper, then? Surely there was a better way to have me. Instead, you ruined me. And you outted yourself.

Jay: Because you lied to me! And I didn’t want you to lie anymore. If I’d come looking for you, you never would have had to tell Dean about our little affair. So, I pushed you. And then you had a choice! Tell Dean about your little secret, so he could put the pieces together, or keep it from him and let little Andrew die. Since you’re here, I guess it means you came clean. And what a wonderful little moment that must have been! Now everyone will know, and no one will want you, not even your husband! (He turned away from her). How's that wonderful marriage now? Do you like my sloppy seconds?

Me: Okay, you won, Jay. You won. What do you want to hurt Andrew for?

Jay: I don’t want to hurt Andrew! (He rubbed a shaking hand through his hair.) All this time. I’ve been good allthis time! When you’re good you’re supposed to get a treat! (He looked back at Carrie). You TOLD me you didn’t want to have kids. You said that! And then I heard them call Kyle’s name at his tee ball game, and I saw you in the stands, and I just…

He swayed a bit, and when his hip bumped the stool it almost went toppling over. Andrew reached out his arms, balancing himself, and the stool righted. But not before something fell from the back of the box—behind Andrew’s feet—onto the ground. Jay leaned down and picked it up. It was a large kitchen knife.

Me: You just what, Jay?

I needed him to keep talking. I’d heard the sirens for a moment, but they’d stopped. The police were outside.

Jay: Carrie was supposed to be MINE. And so was Kyle.

Carrie: How can we fix it, Jay? (She took a step forward).

Me: Carrie….

Carrie: Jay, how can we fix it?

Jay: We can trade.

Carrie: Okay, fine. Trade what?

Jay: Your life, Carrie.

I took a step forward, but stopped when Jay pressed the knife against Andrew’s side and shook his head. Then, he pointed the knife at Carrie.

Jay: Your life for Andrew’s. That’s the deal. That’s what all of this has come to! If I can’t have you, no one can. It’s the only way. And if you refuse…. (He brought the knife back and pressed it against Andrew’s side, harder this time). You’ll have to live with….

Carr: Drop the knife! Now!

Carr was standing in the gate, his service weapon drawn. Jay wobbled to his left and hid himself behind Andrew, putting his foot on the first rung of the stool like he was going to kick it over. Andrew was standing pretty high off the ground and I realized that if he fell, he’d probably break his neck before he had time to suffocate.

Carr: Touch him and you die, Jay! Listen to me! Put the weapon down!

There were two other officers beside him now, both with their weapons drawn.

Carrie: No, wait!

Jay paused, ignoring everyone but Carrie. His foot was still on the rung.

Carrie: It’s my fault, Jay. I know that. (She took another step).

Me: Carrie, what are you doing?

Carr: Both of you, stay where you are!

Jay: (A hint of a smile had crept onto his face). Do we have a deal?

Carrie: I can’t ever take it back. But I can make up for it.

Me: Carrie! It’s not your fault! I know he drugged you!

Jay: DO WE?

Carrie: I love you, Dean.

Me: Carrie!

Jay: DO WE HAVE A DEAL?

When Carrie said deal and charged at Jay, the entire world seemed to screech to a halt. It felt like she was running in slow motion, her tight blonde ponytail floating behind her as if gravity had no dominion over it.

I ran then, too, but I was several steps behind her. And I was too late.

Carrie— barely 120 pounds—who believed she’d made a terrible mistake and was now going to right it, and Jay Fisher—the 200+ pound tee ball ref—who had killed before and thought he owned the life of the one who’d gotten away, collided with a force that I swear was more than the sum of its parts. Ten years of shame and guilt and vengeance exploded underneath that sycamore tree, and as their bodies twisted and fell to the ground, a wayward arm knocked Andrew from his stool.

In that moment, which is now frozen in my mind, I had a choice: grab Andrew before he fell, or dive onto the pile and save Carrie. I don’t remember making a conscious decision. All I know is the next moment I was holding Andrew, the rope tightened around his neck just enough to make him cough, but not to cut off his airway, as I screamed for Carr to help Carrie.

Then I heard two shots, one right after the other.

When I looked down, I saw blood. So much blood. I wondered if Carr had missed and hit Carrie. But when Jay rolled onto his back, I could see both bullet holes. One in his chest and one in his stomach. So why was there blood on Carrie?

Once I freed Andrew, I knelt down beside Detective Carr. He was applying pressure to a wound in Carrie’s abdomen, where a red stain was spreading.

When I heard her cry, it was the greatest sound I’d ever heard. She was alive.

Yesterday, my entire world almost ended. Today, things seem a little brighter, but we still have a ways to go.

I’m sitting in Carrie’s hospital room with my laptop, watching her sleep. The knife pierced her large intestine but missed all other major organs. So far, there are no signs of infection, and the doctors believe with rest and time, she’ll make a full recovery.

I’ve replayed that moment right before Andrew fell in my brain a hundred times. Maybe a thousand. My heart tells me if I’d chosen Carrie, maybe she wouldn’t have gotten stabbed. My brain tells me Andrew would have died if I had. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to reconcile that choice, but one thing’s for certain: now I know how Carrie felt all those years.

It's a tough to look deeply within yourself, admit your sins (or mistakes) and seek redemption for them. I think that's exactly what Carrie did yesterday beneath that sycamore tree. She made up for the past. And I'm proud of her.

Andrew was returned to his father’s care completely unharmed. From what I’ve heard through Ryan, Andrew’s dad doesn’t believe any trauma—sexual or otherwise—occurred. This should mean that Andrew will be just fine, too. And that’s going to make Carrie very happy when she wakes up. Once their tee ball season gets started again—oh yes, the dads are already trying to get it going—I need to remember to sit down with his dad and explain what Jay’s note about Andrew meant. I hope he’ll understand.

Detective Carr visited the hospital earlier this morning. Jay Fisher is dead, of course, and the prevailing sentiment in the community is shock and disbelief. Apparently, Jay hid is true nature pretty well. He did use to be trim and clean cut, but word was he’d let himself go over the last couple years. Oh, and he never was an accountant. He’d applied to be an accountant, at the only tax firm here in town, but got rejected. He didn’t turn out to be a mall Santa or Easter Bunny either—so Carr got that part wrong—but they did find wigs and face paint in his home at 15 Franklin. He definitely had a thing for being a clown. And they found some other strange stuff, too. Other poems, just like the ones written to us, except about other people. Some written on paper, some in the white space of magazine pages, and some even on the walls. Carr’s checking into the ones that contain first names and other identifying information, but I doubt I’ll be privy to what he finds out. If I do, I’ll let you know.

We talked about 3 Orange Circle, too. Turns out there WAS a body buried down there, in a shallow grave about two feet deep.

Only problem was, it wasn’t Suzanne Kerrington.

Carr chuckled after he broke the news and he saw my face, but I knew it wasn’t mirth behind his smile. It was bewilderment. In a town like ours, you rarely come across monsters like this. For some reason, they gravitate to more highly populated areas, I guess so they can blend in with the crowd.

I asked him how they knew it wasn’t her. Turns out, Susie had fractured her left arm pretty badly cheerleading in junior high. Her Dad—who Carr said he’d called, although he hated to, asking for any features he could use to identify her— thought it was her ulna. I didn’t need those records, though, Carr told me. When someone gets a bad fracture, it leaves a mark when it heals. Like a scar on the bone. Whoever was buried down there in the basement had never broken either arm.

I asked him whether he thought Jay was the one who killed the woman (it WAS a women, Carr said, you could tell by the shape of the pelvis) and whether he thought he'd ever find out what happened to poor Susie, and Carr said We'll try to identify the bones, but we'll probably never hear the whole truth, now that Jay's dead. And maybe that’s for the best.

Who knows how many people Jay Fisher terrorized. Or how many he killed? There will be an investigation, and people will wonder, how did we miss this monster? Living right under our noses. And maybe there will even be some answers, despite what Carr thinks, but I think most of them are buried in the dirt with Jay.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your help and advice. Carrie, Kyle, and I WILL have scars from this. Not on the bone, like Susie, but deeper. And after Carrie wakes up and gets back to her normal self, I’ll think we’ll all be able to go on, despite them. +

[captainderyn]

Raise Hell

In apology for the pile of angst in the last prompt...fluff? I wanted to play around with Rielay in her ‘natural habitat’. So here’s some humor mixed with some fluff.

(This or this is what comes to mind when Rie sings, if anyone needs some good ol’ sound ref)

Title: Raise Hell

Summary: A date on Nar Shaddaa turns into a bit of a reunion and Rielay indulges in a part of her past that she’s never brought up. 

Esrin belongs to @delavairesslegacy

Nar Shaddaa was an ocean of memories for Rielay, worst, best and all inbetween. She had acquired a bounty on her head here, had her ship vandalised, but bought her first apartment all here. And she was back again, sitting at a table of a restaurant that was probably a cantina by any other planet’s standards, unarmored with only a vibroknife in her boot, sitting across from a soldier. Not even for the first time, this had been going on for a month or two at this point.

Well, he was a soldier by profession, Esrin by name. Soldier boy to her. By now, meeting without a conflict forcing their interactions,she hoped they had moved beyond being a soldier and smuggler only.

Near daily, at the very least weekly holo calls where business was not the subject and money was not changing hands were not something a soldier and smuggler did. Planning to meet out of uniform, unarmed was not something law enforcers and law breakers did either. But Rielay had been breaking the law, technically speaking in their first meeting, and Esrin hadn’t done a very good job of enforcing her breaking of the law. Instead, he had enabled her to go through with it  and given her a free pass to continue. It was something she was still trying to figure out.

Figuring it out wasn’t her priority right now, not when she was smiling and laughing more easily than she had in a long time, the drink in her hand having not an ounce to do with it. Esrin was animatedly retelling an event that had happened in his last bout of training and she found she wouldn’t have cared if it had been the dullest thing to ever grace her ears because his enthusiasm was enough to have her grinning like a lovestruck teenager. She didn’t think she’d ever been a lovestruck teenager, but she imagined counting down the days until this meeting and being perfectly happy to just listen to Esrin talk qualified well enough.

It was a few hours later, when they’re conversation had started to drift into a comfortable silence as they enjoyed the last of their drinks that someone approached her.

“Do my eyes deceive me or is that little miss Taqq?”

Rielay looked over her shoulder, jaw dropping before she grinned from ear to ear as she recognized the old trandoshan looked at her from over the bar. “Vi!” She greeted enthusiastically, waving him over, already pushing her chair back to stand. “I’d be her, same ol’ Rielay Taqq.”

She had gravitated to this bar on purpose, she had frequented her when she was younger but she hadn’t expected anyone she knew to still be here. Not in Nar Shaddaa where the crowds tended to run on borrowed time. Her included. The trandoshan greeted her with a hand clapping down on her shoulder, nearly knocking her over.  “Look at you, all grown up and still around to tell the tale. I think a few credits will be passing hands.”

Rielay laughed, tilting her head back to look up at him. “Who would’ve guessed, twenty-nine and still going strong. I’m hoping to break my personal record and get another year on.”

Vi’s laughter was deep and rough and he shook his head at her. “I remember when you were still a tiny little thing, singing here to scrape up a few credits.” His eyes took on a mischievous glint. “Still think you got a song or two left in you? For old times sake?”

“I still am a tiny little thing.” Rielay tapped her fingers on the edge of the table in thought, casting a glance over at Esrin. He looked mildly confused but most intrigued. Her careers between captaining the Resolution and the Promise wasn’t something that had come up yet and she was willing to bet that this wouldn’t have been the first thing that came to mind. He gave her a smile and she shrugged and looked back over at Vi. “I’ve always got a song for you old man.”

As Rielay and the trandoshan walked between the tables towards a small stage set up with the live band--she was surprised that it was still the same people from her time here, and she offered them a cheery wave,--other regulars started popping up as the recognized her and began calling out greetings.

“Here to serenade us, \Cap’?” She recognized the voice, an old, grizzles smuggler whose name she couldn’t recall. But she sure as hell remembered her nickname for him.

“You bet, Fuzzy! Betcha thought getting my ship would be the last of me.”

“Didn’t quite work out that way, huh Cap?” The smuggler called back with no small amount of teasing. “You’ve become quite a living legend here.”

Rielay laughed hard at this, feeling heat creep into her cheeks. She hoped it was her galant rebound that was being circulated, and not the circumstances of her run in with the Hutt Chixi’s bad side. “I’m nothing if not good at causing trouble.”

There was a chorus of “I’ll drink to that!” before Vi was nudging her away from the stage and towards the bar with a wink.

“Might as well have your old stage, aye?”

Rielay took his offered hand and stepped up into the bar stool before clambering onto her bar, giggling as she took in the view. She was able to catch Esrin’s eye and his smile widened at her own grin, which she didn’t think had left her face this whole night. “Sure feels funny being back up here.”

Chatter died down as the regulars sat back and looked at her expectantly while newcomers trailed off, eying the small redhead on standing on the bar with curiosity.

“What’ll it be leth?” It still amazed her that after all these years the twi’lek band member still remembered the nickname that had been given to her.

Rielay planted a hand on her hip, considering. “Well,” She smirked. “How about the very song that landed me my job here, yeah?”

It was like putting on an old glove when the music started playing and it only took a few seconds for Rielay to get into it, swaying along to the beat and singing just as she did when she was alone in her ship, if more on key. By the time the last chord of the song faded her regulars had been clapping along with even a few singing along with her. Her flushed at the raucous applause that followed, rolling her eyes at the enthusiastic and joking shouts added in for good measure. It was with no small amount of pride that put a bounce in her step when she hopped off the bar,

“You sure I can’t convince you to stick around, Taqq?” Vi asked wistfully. “We’ve missed having you around.”

“Nah, Vi. I’ve got laws to break, things to smuggle. There’s too much trouble to cause to back down just yet.” Rielay was only half joking, about her reasons for not staying yes, but all things considered she would almost consider staying and falling into that routine again.  No, it wasn’t quite her time to yield the stars to other spacers yet.

“I didn’t know you sang in a bar as a job.” Not too long later Rielay and Esrin were walking down the street back towards the spaceport, his arm around her shoulders. “You told me you got drunk once and that’s when you were singing on a bar.”

Rielay crinkled her nose at the memory of how she had landed her job. “I did. That’s how I got the job. I was all of twenty and had just sold the Resolution and needed some extra credits to live on until I found the right ship.”

Esrin looked down at her with a surprised laugh. “You never fail to surprise me, you know that?”

Rielay nudged his side with her shoulder. “That’s my job. Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.”

It was back at her ship that Rielay’s joyful high dulled ever so slightly, standing halfway up the ramp of her ship so she could drape her arms around Esrin’s shoulders comfortably. She had just pulled away from a lingering good-bye kiss when she tilted her head to the side with a sigh. “I wish you’d stay. I have a ship. There’s no reason for you to catch a shuttle back to Coruscant.”

“I would stay, but you’re headed out to Tatooine and that’s a little far to be flying out of your way.” Esrin kissed her again before stepping away. “I’ll see you in a few weeks though.” His look was playful but underneath the surface she saw the same worry she did whenever she went out on jobs alone. “Come back in one piece, please.”

She leaned on the strut of the ramp, offering her messy salute. “Sure thing, soldier boy.” With huff and pout she leaned her cheek against the cool metal as he left the hangar. “It’s only a few weeks.”

[melliesy]

Descriptive Essay

A Day Tour in Bohol

Bohol is one of the most famous and geographically distinct islands in the Philippines. With its pristine, clear blue bodies of water, white sand beaches, and unparalleled uplands, Bohol is never a miss as one of the most visited tourist destinations in the Visayas region. It was a cold, solemnly striking, the usual melodramatic midnight, when we left our house for our trip to Bohol. It was for the company outing of my mother. Our mode of transportation was a huge, fast ferry boat which has an estimated cruising speed of about 50 kilometers per hour. It is said to be one of the most convenient and cheapest way to go to Bohol. And as we arrived and explore the beauty of the island, I learned that Bohol is more than just its renowned Chocolate Hills.

Our first stop when we arrived in Bohol was, of course, the ever world popular, Chocolate Hills. The hills really looked like they were chocolates piled up, surrounded with green grasses and had a really bizarre landscape. According to the driver of the van we rode to go there, the Chocolate Hills consist of approximately 1260 hills. He also added that during the dry season the green grass turns to brown, thus the name. As I observed the astonishing view of the hills from above, some of the hills are green and grassy while some are really brown in color like chocolates. I was kind of confused if those were still parts of the Chocolate Hills. The locals there said that it was the reason why the exact number of hills is still uncertain. The hills were not that huge compared to the usual hills we see. They were almost uniform in shape and what made it more amusing is that no trees or any slumps grow on them. My cousins and I took a lot of pictures with wacky, fierce, model-like poses with the Chocolate Hills as the background. Our second stop was the Bamboo Hanging Bridge in Sevilla, Bohol. The bridge was just constructed with bamboo and steel cables. Some people say the first part might be daunting, But in my case, walking on the hanging bridge was entirely daunting. My feet were trembling, my hands were shaking and sweating, and the deafening silence of nature was for sure interfered by my scream of wild panic. And as I continued to walk, I held tightly on both sides of the bridge. But my uncle was really silly and began to wiggle, and jump multiple times to shake the bridge back and forth and tease me. I want to cry really hard at that time. Although it had steel cables to give more safety and stability, I still experienced some parts that swayed up and down and side to side to. It also bounced as if the bridge will fall down to the water. I also heard some creaking-like sounds as I made steps towards the other side of the bridge. Some parts of the bridge seemed to be broken and had lost some of its woven bamboo slats but it was still sturdy enough to carry a lot of locals and tourist crossing at the same time. At the end of the bridge we were welcomed by various snacks such as local delicacies like calamay and some chips. There were also a lot of souvenir shops selling ref magnets, wallets, ballpens, t-shirts and many more. The stores were just right next to each other and they sell almost the same products so it was really hard to choose. In the end, my mother bought three ref magnets, keychains and ballpens that were designed with the famous tarsiers of Bohol, tightly holding on a tree.

After the nerve-wrecking hanging bridge, our itinerary did not miss the tarsiers in Bohol. When we went inside the place, we had to walk in a little one-way trail surrounded with tall trees and plants which also had a lot of insects around. At first, we did not see the tarsiers but at the near-end of the trail we saw them hiding in tall, thick trees, their long-hind legs clinging vertically to trees and leaping great distances between trees. They have big, round eyes and they were really small in size which makes it difficult to find them behind the trees. The tourist guide asked us to turn off the flash on our cameras in taking pictures because they may be disturbed since they are nocturnals. They had thin, rough furs which were colored gray to dark brown. Since insects are ideal food for tarsiers, they are fond of climbing tall trees for it attracts insects such as grasshoppers. Before we left the place for lunch, I bought a hand-made, violet, dreamcatcher, as an addition to my collections of it. As we were traveling to Loboc Floating restaurant to eat lunch, we passed by the man-made Mahogany Forest which was located in the middle of the road. We went off our van and took a lot of pictures with the big trees. The man-made forest stood out because the uniformity of the height of the trees as well as the pleasing spread of their roots and branches made the road aesthetically capturing.  The trunks grow resplendently straight up which seemed to reach the sky and the rays of the sun passing through made the place look heavenly and picturesque.

Our last stop for that day was the Loboc Floating Restaurant. There were so many people-- foreigners, locals, tourists, waiting for their turn to eat in the Loay Bridge where the Loboc River Cruise starts. Our group waited for almost two hours long under the heat of the sun and all of us were really hungry after the tours we had that morning. Luckily, after waiting for a long time, we finally went inside the boat filled with aromatic, mouth watering dishes, mostly Filipino cuisines. Everyone had a wholesome and, finally, a decent meal after the exhausting trip. It is not only the food that made me enjoy the floating restaurant. The boat also had a singer that serenaded the passengers singing relaxing songs that made me feel at ease. It made a few stops along the way. We stopped at locals dancing cultural dances and there were also few, tiny, mini-falls which gave calming sounds of water and nature. The river is one of the clearest and cleanest rivers I’ve seen in my entire life. The cruise lasted for almost an hour and the whole experience of it was really satisfying which made me sleepy.

We ended our day, staying in a resort which had clear blue sea and pristine white sand that gave one of the best views of sunsets nature can offer.