#because I think up until rivulet he’s in such deep denial that he can’t help himself or reverse what he did to moon with a simple solution

[apotelesmaa]

Objectively yes five pebbles deserves most of the blame for every problem in rain world but I think seven red suns does not get near enough flack for knowing five pebbles wanted nothing more than to end it all, knowing he shared resources with moon, knowing 5P trusted and looked up to him and STILL choosing to send him the information on the very risky plan to die that requires constantly utilizing every drop of water at your disposal and requires complete perfection in execution to avoid giving yourself super turbo mega cancer. & then going Omg I can’t believe five pebbles has done this :( why is he so mad at me now :( my iterator in Christ you literally gave him step by step instructions on how to ruin his life and accidentally kill his sister what did you think was going to happen.

[lady-of-endless]

Quit smiling at me (Trevor Belmont x Reader)

The relevance of thinking about something for an unnecessarily long time was and still is a mystery. From his mindset and previous experience, it was all just a waste of time that slowed him down, as useless as a blunt blade. The only exception was when he was thinking about his family. What happens with a family name when its members are gone except for one becomes a reason to fall into deep thinking from time to time. Does that name become a burden or an honor? When Trevor Belmont was thinking about his family he was only remembering the past and nothing else. His chest and back were marked by the family crest on his old shirt, a distinctive symbol that meant danger for some or salvation for others. He would never give up on that emblem even if it was capable to start random fights in darkened taverns of this place.

Wallachia was a damned land that offered both beauty and madness. With large tree trunks more than inviting for you to rest against, shadows that caress your face when the sun rays are too harsh, gentle wind that plays with your hair. Far away from the city, where the taverns are, it is much quieter, Trevor had to admit it. There was only one problem that was keeping him away from enjoying everything, only one dense cloud on his sky. As days went by, Trevor could always escape rapidly from that pointless state of mind that would cage him into his own thoughts either with alcohol, either with sleep or snapping his whip in the face of some disturbing looking beasts. All of these solutions, and he could not to use any of them now, knowing very well how none would work. Along the wonders of Wallachia, he found you, the source of those vexing feelings.

In the forest, sitting on the ground with his back against a tree trunk, Trevor took his time to sort things out alone or just bottle everything up if nothing worked. Today he was the day in which he will put an end to that overthinking, motivated enough not to leave that place until all those useless emotions were gone. Those were feelings he wanted to call unwanted even if it was difficult when those were bringing comfort, warmth and other things he lacked since he started traveling alone. You were exactly what he needed without him accepting this for even one second. Trevor thought how he was fine even before you, without those emotions and without your care and soft voice when you called his name. Focusing on what he had to do started to get harder during the day and night when thoughts about having you for himself appeared randomly in his mind.

He had to put this to an end today.

Spacing out with his eyes fixated somewhere in the distance, Trevor caught a glimpse of someone approaching him and almost groaned because of the identity of that someone. Instinctively, the man touched his empty flask and cursed. It was a shame how things where not like this from the start. The feelings he was fighting with grew stronger and inescapable in time when you helped him heal his injuries after some fights, when you napped together accidentally, when you planned attacks or drunken nights. With each step, your lips curved into a smile when you saw him, making Trevor ask himself why were you always so damn glad to see a disaster of a man like him. His head turned away.

“What do you think about some company?” You asked instead of greeting him, eyeing the spot next to him.

“A nap would’ve been better.” He responded crossing his arms in front of his chest and shrugging as a reaction to your voice. “But do what you want.” Trevor sighed when he could not decline your wish.

It was such an irony, to try to get rid of some emotions and exactly during the process, the source of it all sits down next to him. That cloud from his mind was looking heavier and now he was on the point to get caught in the rain of his own reasons of denial.

As no one dared to say anything, not even a usual bad joke, you looked over at him, not denying the worry for a second. Worry for him was not the only feeling you did not deny, unlike Trevor. You knew how you were feeling about him but decided to take things slow, sensing how he had something else more troublesome on his mind. Little did you know.

His attention could not be fooled but his understanding was something else. Confusion flowed through Trevor when he knew that your eyes were on him. If only he could give up on being stubborn and ask what were you looking at and why were you wasting your time with him even if he was also unsure about wanted to know or not.

Your company is something he never asked for and never thought it would grow on him so much. Every person who stayed got tired of him at some point and then left him out of something more than just plain annoyance and frustration. He would say that a lot of time passed since you two met so how come was not his behavior enough for you to leave his side? Even if the answer was unknown, Trevor did not want to stop something that offered him a well state of being, but he still did not want to recognize that fact as a truth.

From the first time you saw him, you had a feeling that you will always have to take a good look at his details. That was what you were doing now. Rough stubble but soft lips, blue calm eyes but a sharp scar traveling down over his left cheek, broad shoulders weighed down by a white colored, shabby, but comfortable fur. His hair was messy and somehow different today.

“Your hair looks weird.” You blurted out, squint-eyed trying to find out why but praying that he will not get the idea that you were staring.

“Haven't washed it.” Trevor simply stated in a flat voice wishing that his apparent lack of will to continue the discussion is going to make you leave as fast as you appeared.

The solution to his problem was just on the tip of his tongue but stubbornness and denial ran into the whole Belmont bloodline.

“Well, there’s a rivulet over there.” You said, pointing to somewhere in the distance, having something in mind. “Come on, I'll help you. What do you think?” You asked giving his shoulder a slight push to provoke him.

The constant desire to help him drove Trevor insane. From always being alone to always being helped when needed without him having to ask was still a divergence between the life he used to have and the one he has now.

“I bet that you can't handle it without getting your clothes wet.” Trevor said in response, raising one eyebrow.

“Why don't we try and see?” You went on with the teasing if he was the one to start it.

A long sigh was his first answer, followed by eye-rolling.

“You're a mess.” He said getting up from his spot as a pointless complaint.

“Your hair is.” You responded before starting to walk next to him.

Happily, in a short time you found a wooded bucket from a little cottage that looked abandoned. Coming back with the tool, you could see Trevor throwing rocks in the water, one by one, increasingly harder while sitting on the ground, waiting, his fur was off from his shoulders. You could tell that there was something on his mind that troubled him but knowing his ways of handling it, you decided that it will help more to distract him.

Once you appeared in his eyesight, Trevor stopped and watched your moves. Maybe the way to escape those thoughts of him will come if he took a better look at you.

Carefully stepping closer to the rivulet, you lowered yourself closer to the surface of the water, under his gaze. His eyes moved lazily over your body and how it moved when some skin was exposed in the process of lifting up parts of your clothing so that those would not get wet. The want for you to move slower made him clench his jaw. At that point in his haze, Trevor thought how if you caught him staring, he couldn't care less, not regretting anything. Finally, the thing that made him snap out of it was the sight of that bucket from your hands. Now your intention was clear, and he was not in for it anymore.

“Fuck no.” Trevor said watching you fill the bucket with water, only realizing what he accepted earlier almost mindlessly. You started laughing at his reaction and that froze Trevor once again. The bliss that sound offered him was able to both please and annoy him, being more capable to make him feel dizzy than any drop of alcohol. That thought made him stop in his tracks and forget for some seconds about everything around.

Those were precious seconds in which the bucket was emptied over his head.

Now his hair was wet and all over his face that was rarely as stoic as it was in this moment. Frustration came back like a wave when Trevor remembered how even if he wanted he could not get fully or seriously upset with you.

“I fell into a disastrous ruse.” He mumbled getting the hair away from his face.

“Don't get that grumpy, get ready for a second one instead.” You said smirking and feeling more motivated because of his reactions.

“Like I'm going to let you do that one more time.” Trevor said while getting up from the ground, drenched in water. “I think you have to cool off a bit.” He said at the sight of your smirk.

Without any rush, he stepped closer to you with a sudden illusion of composure on his face. As his chest touched yours, your smirk faded away gradually, and he tilted his head interested in what you were going to say next, from this position.

“Trevor, you’re standing a little too close to me...” There was a warning in your tone while starting to back away. Tricking you to maintain eye contact, he took the bucket from your hands and threw it away without even looking where it landed in the back. “Fine, fine, I give up, but don’t expect me to apologize.” You started to stutter while Trevor started to step even closer, pushing you closer to the water without even touching you.

“Mhm, whatever.” He said as your hands tried to push his chest away. “You had too much fun, I won’t go easy on you.” Trevor whispered into your ear after catching your wrists.

With an even faster move you did not expect, your feet lost the contact with the ground and your hands clung to his shirt instinctively, pulling his body along with yours.

You both closed your eyes in that short fall.

When you opened your eyes, exhaling sharply, your attention fell upon only one thing from above you. Indecision was creeping in when you tried to understand what was icier in that moment, the temperature of the water or the blue from his eyes that were wide open.

The water was not that deep, reaching only your temples as you were on your back. It was cold but the complaint immediately disappeared when you realized that Trevor was not just on top of you. His left arm was around your  body, protecting your back from falling right on some large stones and his right hand was giving him stability, stuck on the rocky bottom next to your face. Some drops of water that were desperately sliding to the ends of his hair fell on the base of your neck, your face was dewy, your lips parted, and your cheeks turned scarlet. Trevor had no idea on what to focus first, starting to blush as well.

A shiver ran through your body warming you up at the sight of him blushing. From the position you both were now, you were forced to look in each other’s eyes. Trevor’s eyes were half lidded and lost in the details of your face, a sight you never thought you will be lucky enough to see. Feeling his breath on your wet skin was also not helping you.

“Let's get out of this water already, Belmont.” You said rapidly trying to sound serious and not flustered, moving to get out of the water and out of his embrace.

This was not the usual Trevor who tried to annoy you with little things, smiling proudly when an exasperated sigh escaped your lips. Now it was the hushed version of him, trying to get something that was bottled up for a long time out, while looking at you.

“Wait.” He stopped you while he shut his eyes tightly, trying to focus on the sound of the rivulet one more time to ask his logic if letting it all out was the right thing to do. A droplet of water slid down his temple when he frowned.

“I'm cold, Trevor.” You said in a soft-spoken voice, clinging to his shoulders, sticking his wet shirt to his skin making your touch feel more prominent to him and making him feel you closer. That was the last drop, the single gesture that was able to make the decision for him.

“And I'm tired of holding it all in.” He finally said it, mirroring your complaining in his own way. You opened your mouth to protest but Trevor was fast once again. “Listen, I want you. But not just in the way you would think I do. All I know is that I want to have you closer to me.” The last few days were a hassle, a headache, and a mess for him, not being sure of how to handle it. You were always there and made things better for him, and he should have admitted that and not getting as drunk as he could to try to forget about his feelings.

“Is it my turn now or is there more that you want to say?” You whispered lifting your face closer to his, curious and already greedy for more of his words.

Trevor swallowed hard when his attention naturally fell on your lips. Taking a second to check if that cloud is disappearing along with the fog from his mind, his face got closer as well, chuckling in a low tone.

“Don't get ahead of yourself.” He murmured against your lips before pressing his lips against yours.

Unfortunately, the kiss was shorter than expected. He started the kiss before letting you really give an answer and as fast as that thought struck Trevor’s mind, he rapidly broke the kiss to catch a glimpse of your reaction in order to read your answer.

Your pupils were dilated, your breathing got deeper and more irregular and so everything was clear from him.

He looked into your eyes, sticking his forehead before jumping in another kiss, only hungrier for your lips and your taste.

Even if the water ran cold against your skin, Trevor's body that was also against you was warm enough to help. The relief the kiss offered him made him greedy with each move of your lips and it could be felt and heard by you because of his groans.

“If letting you wash my hair ended up like this, I wonder what will happen if I’ll let you wash my shirt.” He said after the kiss, voice sounding hoarse.

“Says the one who’s panting.” You tried to think of a better comeback but failed finding one.

After saying that, he helped you get up. Trevor felt you trembling in his arms and as much as he wanted to joke around and ask you if he is the one that is making you shiver, he had to take care of you not to get too cold. When you were both out from the water, Trevor lifted his fur from the ground and threw it over your shoulders without saying or expecting anything in return.

Looking from the corner of his eye, glancing casually at how you looked, he smirked to himself. That fur of his being impregnated with your scent was quite a pleasurable idea.

“Let's not tell Alucard and Sypha about this.” He said, crossing his arms in front of his chest but still being red in the face.

“You mean about us or about what happened?” Asking in a fake seriousness, you moved your shoulders under his fur.

“Both.” He said putting an arm around your shoulders pulling you closer to him lazily. “Let’s confuse them.”

“Agreed.” You decided while both of you started to laugh at the idea.

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER TEN: Witch Mountain - Part 2

Like gunfighters in the Old West, they glare at each other through narrowed eyes. A bead of sweat runs down Shizuka’s forehead. She glances away from Moya for an instant, in the direction where Kilo stumbles away.

“I can’t let him hurt himself,” she thinks. Her mind races, searching her surroundings, “Whatever this woman did to him to take control of him, I won’t let him die!

“I don’t see any cops around, so he can’t just grab a gun and shoot himself. But what about knives or razors? There’s broken glass all over the place, how can I--?”

Her thoughts are interrupted by WITCH MOUNTAIN’s fist swinging towards her, which she narrowly avoids, whirling out of the way to Moya’s flank.

“Don’t get distracted!” Moya shouts, and WITCH MOUNTAIN opens its fist into a claw and swipes its arm, flinging droplets of dark oil at Shizuka. Before it can hit her face, ACHTUNG BABY manifests and waves its billowing sleeve. The oil hit the sleeve, staining the patterned cloth with black marks.

Wasting no time, Shizuka orders her Stand to disturb the sand with a high kick. WITCH MOUNTAIN is quick to defend its master from the sand. Nonetheless, the technicolor girl uses that brief distraction to dash in Kilo’s direction.

“Oh no you don’t!” Moya cries. She chases Shizuka and is upon her in an instant, but she knows something is wrong when she goes to grab her arms and her fist closes around air.

What she thought was Shizuka winks at her, then crumbles into dust before her eyes. The human shape explodes into a whirling sandstorm. A completely silent whirlwind, Moya knows it is only an illusion, yet another of ACHTUNG BABY’s light tricks. And yet she squints and shields her face, reacting to the “sand” in spite of herself.

Those watching from outside see a dome of spinning sand, and out of the dome comes Shizuka sprinting down the beach, discarding her flip-flops, her feet landing on the hot sand. She catches up to her companion, who is walking listlessly.

“Kilo! Kilo, we have to go!” she cries, but he keeps walking. He ignores her. She grabs his arm and planting herself on the ground, pulling, but that hardly does anything to slow him down. “Kilo!” she cries, her bare feet scraping through the sand as he pulls her along. “Kilo, you have to stop!”

“No… I have to do what’s right.” he mutters under his breath, not turning to face her.

“Nonsense! That woman, she’s messing with your head! Come with me, I can help you!”

“Why?” he asks, stopping and looking at her. He sounds genuinely confused. “I do nothing but hurt. The world is better off without someone like me.”

Shizuka grabs his arm. “No! That isn’t true! That woman is controlling you with her Stand, she must be! That black stuff is clouding your vision, you have to fight this!”

“...I don’t think… This stuff hasn’t blinded me at all. It’s made me see. It’s finally made me see.”

With that, Kilo shoves her away from him, sprawling her across the sand. She scrambles to get up. “Have to do what’s right… have to do what’s right…”

Before she can protest further, Shizuka hears Moya’s voice again.“He’s right, you know. I’m not doing anything to him right now. WITCH MOUNTAIN brought to the surface his true self, that’s all.”

Shizuka whips around to see the gangster woman emerge from the illusory sandstorm, having gotten over its psychosomatic effect. Shizuka grimaces, holding onto Kilo’s arm and fixing her eyes on Moya. She growls “Like I said, what does that even mean!? How can you let a person kill themselves!?!”

Unaffected, Moya continues in her moralizing tone, striding towards them “All of us know the difference between right and wrong. We all know the right thing to do. But with practice and denial, that sense can be ignored. Contradicted. But never forgotten. The result is guilt.

“In this city, there are lots of people with guilty consciences, that they bury and cover up so they can go on hurting others, their homes and themselves. WITCH MOUNTAIN's power draws that guilt out, forcing all those rotten bastards to confront the truth. When a person is faced with the full magnitude of their sin, they have no choice but to atone.”

With that, Kilo shoves Shizuka away from him, sprawling her across the sand. She scrambles to get up, and realizes with horror: he is going to drown himself. As she prepares to dash for him again, she senses Moya looming behind her and dives to avoid a stomp from WITCH MOUNTAIN, which causes a small eruption of sand. In the same motion, she turns invisible.

“That won’t work twice!” Moya shouts, swiping WITCH MOUNTAIN’s arm forward, spraying its black oil. But the droplets don’t hit anything. Too late does she notice footprints in the sand approaching her from the side. Before she can move to counter, Shizuka reappears, leaping into the air with a kick across Moya’s face that sends her to her knees.

Upon landing, Shizuka turns to Kilo, and stretches out her hand, in a desperate gesture. He is unaware, or uncaring, of the showdown going on behind him. His eyes stay fixed straight ahead, on the ocean and the flat horizon. “Always hated the ocean…” he thinks, his thoughts numb. Gray. “But it’s good for this at least.”

It takes him a moment to realize how long its taking him to reach the water. He walks forward, at the same pace as ever, but no matter how long he walks, he is always just at the water’s edge. “...Shizuka,” he mutters. Behind him, Shizuka watches him listing to the left, before coming around to start walking in a circle. ACHTUNG BABY holds the illusion in front of his eyes, keeping that view of the sea in his sight.

A little boy, none other than the same little boy from the airport interstate, points at Kilo and calls his father, “Daddy, that man is walking around in circles.”

The boy’s father glances up from his smartphone, sneers, muttering “Goddamn junkies,” then returns his gaze to his phone.

Shizuka breathes a sigh of relief, then immediately tenses back up at the sound of Moya’s voice. “So you managed to stop him, for now. Nice going. But you’re only delaying the inevitable. WITCH MOUNTAIN compels the wicked to do what’s right. There is no escape. No practice or denial can drown it out. Until atonement is achieved, then WITCH MOUNTAIN will never release its hold. And if the sins are too great, if the guilt is too heavy…

“Then the only release is death.”

“You just shut up... You don’t know what you’re talking about...”

“Don’t I? I know, Shizuka Joestar. I know you think you can handle whatever this city throws at you. All I’ve tried to do today is explain to you--”

Suddenly, WITCH MOUNTAIN hand shoots out to its side and grabs something unseen. In the same moment, the Shizuka that Moya was facing disappears, and the real Shizuka appears, her face held by the enemy Stand’s grip.

“--You can’t handle shit.”

WITCH MOUNTAIN throws Shizuka away from it towards a palm tree. She hits the tree hard and falls to the ground again. Moya crouches over her, casting her in shade.

“Making a clone right as you finished talking. Nice try. For the final time,” she whispers, “Go home. Before you get hurt.”

Shizuka growls and ACHTUNG BABY emerges, before becoming a horde of flashing lights. Moya shades her eyes and backs up slightly, while Shizuka leaps to her feet with the lights flashing minutely around her fists and legs.

Kicking off the palm tree, she aims a flying kick at Moya's jaw. This is dodged easily, but it was a feint anyway, because the lights around her ankles suddenly flash white and bright. Moya winces as her eyes sting, and she instinctively raises her hand to her face, exposing her side.

Shizuka tries for a punch. WITCH MOUNTAIN moves to catch her fist, but this is also a feint. Instead, Shizuka swivels to her knees and sweep-kicks at Moya's calves. But her legs stay firm, unflinching. Shizuka rolls out the way just in time before WITCH MOUNTAIN's fist crunches into the sand. A single bead of sweat rolls down Moya’s forehead.

“You can’t beat me.” she says, exhaling as she catches her breath. “And you know the saddest part? I'm not even the toughest there is. I don't mean to be too modest, but my Stand's nothing compared to some of the guys I work with.

“If you can’t defeat me, then you don’t have a hope against the rest of the gang. You’ll have to face all of them if you want to find your mama. That’s how things work here. And you’re too weak to handle it.”

Shizuka pants heavily, sweat pouring down her face in rivulets. She grits her teeth, but despair begins to surface in her expression. Moya gestures with her chin towards the sea and says, “Just look how easily your concentration is broken.”

Shizuka turns to see Kilo is already knee-deep into the ocean, wading out into the depths. “KILO, NO!!” she cries. In that moment, WITCH MOUNTAIN appears in front of her and twitches its head, flicking oil from its hair straight into her eyes.

“AAAAHHHHHHH!!!” she yells out, as she feels the burning sensation in her eyes, trying desperately to rub them out. “DAMN IIIIIT!!!!!” But before long she settles down, hands covering her face, lying on her back, breathing labored.

Moya dips a tender hand under her back and lifts her to her feet, gently. Shizuka doesn’t look up. Stooping slightly, Moya says in soothing tones, “You’re not a bad person, OK? You’re just misguided. What you’ve done here today, was done out of ignorance. That’s not unforgivable.”

She turns her around, directing Shizuka away from the sea and Kilo, toward the city. “Go on home now, chica. It wasn’t meant to be.”

Shizuka says nothing, but turns wordlessly turns and walks up the beach. She doesn't look up. She is dead to the world, insensible to the flurry of activity.

Several feet behind her, Kilo walks in the opposite direction, straight into the ocean. He is up to his chest in water. His eyes are as dead as hers, swimming in old regrets and weeping black tears.

People are making a commotion now as it becomes clear what he's doing. Shizuka stops at the edge of the beach as the sounds of voices grow. She stands still, not looking up. The wind plays with her hair. Kilo's head dips beneath the waves.

“Ow! Owowowow…” says Moya as she washed the sand out of her wounds, using water from a faucet near the sidewalk. She notices a shadow approaching her and tenses, only to hear a crooning voice.

“Hey there, sweet thing, how ya doin’?” says the young man in the open yellow aloha shirt swaggering towards her, sweeping his hair back in a practiced gesture, “You havin’ fun playing with the water? Maybe you and I could--” And then he flicks down his sunglasses and notices her wounds. “Oh shit, you’re bleeding, what the fu--?”

Unseen to him WITCH MOUNTAIN appears to fling oil into his face. He doesn’t see the oil either, but he does feel it, and winces as it burns into his eyes. “I… I should call my mom��” he says once the oil has worked its trick.

“You do that,” Moya replies, stepping over to him to dry her hands on his shirt, then sending him away. The young man stumbles away, and Moya turns around. A flash of pink and yellow catches her eye and she sees Shizuka sprinting down the beach, slipping through the gathering crowd and leaping into the water after Kilo.

[lowat-golden-tower]

Trapped

AO3 Mirror

@caustic-synishade

Bear traps. It was always fucking bear traps!

Mark swallowed down another guttural cry as pain shot through his leg. He was never really the type to stifle screams or shouts, as his fan base knew all too well, but right then being quiet was of the utmost importance. All those stealth games he’d played where noise making was a death sentence were coming back to haunt him now. All the instances he’d exclaimed, ‘Oh boy, if this game could actually hear me right now, I would be so dead! I would be utterly boned and dismembered by this monster coming for my asshole.’

Well, he certainly hoped the things chasing him down weren’t coming specifically for his asshole. The situation was terrifying enough with several razor sharp, iron teeth digging into his calf. The irony of his predicament was truly palpable. Were it not real pain radiating through his system and his real, very important life blood steadily trickling into his sock, Mark might have found it all quite humorous.

Instead, he was trying not to outright panic as the seconds steadily ticked by and he remained an absolute sitting duck. He had no idea how huge this cabin was Tyler and Ethan had rented out, but there were two of them. It was only a matter of time before they found him. Especially if they’d laid out this trap specifically because they knew he was enough of an oblivious dumbass to run straight into it.

Huffing out another shaky breath, Mark squinted in the darkness in some effort to examine the trap once more. So far as he knew, all the lights in the cabin were off and the windows were shuttered tight. The monsters chasing him probably had flashlights or, Hell, maybe they could just plain see in the dark. That would be his luck.

Unfortunately, night vision was not an ability Mark had. In fact, seeing as he required glasses, his vision happened to be below average. Thankfully, he did still have them, though one of the lenses had been cracked. They didn’t help much with the dark, though, and Mark cursed as his shaking hands fumbled over the smooth metal. “Don’t these fucking things come with some kind of a release?? Fuck,” he hissed. Gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw, Mark again tried to pry open the metal hinges that had locked up tight. He was strong, but not strong enough, and the trap’s teeth sunk back into the meat of his leg with a sickening “squelch”.

Mark had to bite hard into his own wrist to suppress another cry of pain. He could feel fresh rivulets of hot blood flowing from the semi-deep wounds to join the rest in steadily soaking his sock and shoe. The growing pungency of the smell was becoming nauseating and part of Mark was relieved he couldn’t see just how bad the damage was. He knew the material of his jeans was likely the only reason metal hadn’t gone straight to bone.

“Hnnngh… c’mon, c’mon, c’mon what do I gotta do to get rid of you, you fucking fuckerson?! You simpering pile of-”

“Ooooooh Markimoo~ Markle-Sparkle~ Where aaaare you? I can hear you cursing, y’know! This isn’t like your video games. Keep talking and one of us is gonna fiiiind yooouuu~”

“Fuck my ass.” Mark muttered fearfully under his breath as the familiar, but warped sing-song echoed his way from further down the corridor. That was definitely Ethan- or, well, what was left of Ethan. Mark still wasn’t sure about just what the Hell happened after they arrived at the cabin to shoot his “punishment”, but something insane and diabolical had overtaken both of his friends. One minute they were fine; laughing and joking around as they played up a menacing act for Mark. The next, Tyler was pulling a knife on him and Mark had been told to run. He thought it was all part of the act at first, until he’d careened straight into his old childhood friend and very nearly gotten his throat slit. The knife wasn’t fake. There weren’t any cameras rolling.

Something had gone terribly wrong.

“Markimooo~ Oh Markimooo~ I know you can hear me! C’mon, we only wanna play a little! I thought you liked horror games! You can’t keep us waiting forever. It’s too late for you to run away. I can sense your dread… I can smell your fear… it smells a lot like… blood!”

Ethan’s normally childish, bubbly laugh rang out, much closer now, echoing and bouncing off itself in a discordant mess that almost made Mark’s ears hurt. At the same time, it made him want to laugh as well and he almost swallowed his tongue at the sensation. He was in excruciating pain and bleeding heavily from his leg, so why the Hell would he want to laugh?! Mark shook himself and decided to try the chain keeping him pinned to the floor instead. It felt like it was heavily bolted to the wood beneath it, and neither of the attaching clasps were any weaker than the thick links in-between. All the metal did beneath Mark’s desperate tugs was jingle a little in tandem with Ethan’s giggles, which were steadily drifting closer… closer…

“Found you~!”

Mark gasped and snapped his head around to face the voice with wide, frightened eyes. In the darkness, all he could see were two glowing pinpricks of brilliant crimson. If he squinted, he could make out the hint of a silhouette, and his mind called back The Joy of Creation: Reborn with dread. He couldn’t run. He didn’t have a flashlight. But he wouldn’t be able to laugh off getting caught here. Mark leaned back far as he could from those burning eyes; dragging the short length of chain along the floor with him. His chest heaved wildly with panicked breaths and he gulped. “E-Ethan… Ethan, man, fuck… y-you scared me, ha ha….” His attempts at normality were flat and awkward. Mark swore he saw the stretch of a toothy grin in the darkness.

“Oh, Mark. Mark, Mark, Mark. You’re cute. Denial comes so easily to you, it’s adorable! Don’t you think so, Tyler?” The crimson pinpricks shifted upwards.

It was all the warning Mark had before there was a hand gripping roughly at his hair; dragging him up. He screamed in pain and immediately began clawing at the offending appendage with absolutely no success in doing much of anything. His feet scrabbled at the bloodied wood, left leg a useless mess, and the trap’s chain pulled taut as a knife came to rest snugly against his throat. Instantly, he stopped struggling, though with his wobbly knees the hand in his hair was just about the only thing keeping him off the ground. It stung terribly, and Mark knew more than a few hairs had been ripped out of his scalp. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. “St-stop, stop! Wh-why’re you doing this…?!”

“You talk too much. You always talked too much. I think… we need to fix that. Ethan?”

In contrast to Ethan’s higher pitched, ringing tone, Tyler’s voice had degraded to something rough and rusty around the edges. Equally compounding and discordant, Tyler’s voice was more liable to send chills running down Mark’s spine, whereas Ethan’s just outright gave him the creeps. Both sounded inhuman. Neither carried the warmth and affection Mark had grown accustomed to over the past few months. It was as if Ethan and Tyler had been sucked out entirely; their hollowed bodies used like empty husks with a set of hands and feet. Surely, if they were still in there somewhere, they wouldn’t be letting this happen. Surely, they cared about him enough to fight back…

Ethan was getting close; directly into Mark’s personal space and he released another shaky, anxious breath. Those red eyes hadn’t lost an ounce of intensity, but now Mark could make out more of Ethan’s face. It looked the same. Even the broad smile it bore was strikingly similar to Ethan’s usual grin. However, there was just something sinister about the whole thing; about Ethan’s expression. Those eyes never left Mark’s, burrowing and burning their way past his retinas into his brain as pain abruptly tore up through his knee and into his pelvis.

Ethan had kicked his injured leg. Not just a nudge, either. Mark had felt the toe of Ethan’s sneaker purposefully strike at the spot where metal met flesh and the agony it triggered for Mark almost left him dry heaving. Instead, as he opened his mouth to scream, some kind of balled up cloth was crammed in past his teeth. He choked a bit and gagged, but Tyler’s hand was quick to release his hair in favor of clamping firmly over Mark’s now stuffed mouth. He whimpered on reflex.

“Easy there, Mark. You seem a little unsteady on your feet. Lean on me, pal. I’ve got ya, buddy. Easy… eaaaaasssyyy… shhh…..”

Mark could feel the slight vibrations of Tyler’s voice against his back as he was tugged up against his friend’s broad chest. It was, again, the only thing stopping him from simply collapsing back onto the floor. He muffled out a few more cries but the start of any wiggling was quickly put an end to as the knife returned to his neck. Mark swallowed hard and could feel the wad of cloth in his mouth already soaking up all the moisture there. He wheezed softly from his nose.

“I think he’s scared of us, Tyler.”

“Dumbass would be scared of his own shadow if he was smart enough to find it. Where’s the tape? Don’t tell me you forgot it.”

“Oooops?”

Ethan’s giggles filled up the corridor again and Mark could just envision Tyler rolling his eyes- well, whatever he had for eyes now. The grip on his mouth tightened almost to the point of being painful and he winced as he felt the knife slice just barely into his skin. A bead or two of blood trickled down and the delighted sound Ethan let loose made Mark’s stomach turn.

“I wanna play with him some more, Tyler. C’mon! Can we? Can we can we can weee? Pleeeaaase?? He’s like a scared little bunny! I want to chase him some more!”

“I know what you want. You think I don’t wanna have any fun with our friend here? But someone forgot the tape. Again. Don’t you have anything on you??”

“Only this!”

There was the sound of something heavy cutting through the air and Mark’s eyes frantically watched Ethan’s silhouette in the darkness grow. He couldn’t make out whatever it was, but he knew it probably couldn’t be good. Still, he wasn’t able to move an inch without running the risk of Tyler really slicing his throat open. It was all Mark could do to keep taking quick, wheezing breaths through his nose as one of his best friends held him steady. He felt more than heard the deep rumble of a hum from behind him.

“...that’ll do.”

“Oh, fantastic!”

They were the last words Mark heard before the sting of the knife left his neck and something heavy crashed hard across his skull. He slumped instantly in Tyler’s strong grip and in seconds his vision had gone black.