#but god cornfield chase sounds so GOOD

[starryeyesmasc]

learning some interstellar soundtrack pieces on the piano is so fun but man I’m stretching wrist tendons I didn’t even know I had

[reiding-writing]

hi red !! i'm sending through a rec for your climacteric event hehehehe <3

spencer reid x fem!reader with the colour prompts red 1 ("You're bleeding."), green 2 ("You're safe here, I promise."), and purple 1 ("You know you're my best friend, right?") please? LOVE YOU LOADS RAHHHH

SCARECROWS [CLIMACTERIC]

1. “You’re bleeding.”

2. “You’re safe here, I promise.”

1. “You know that you’re my best friend, right?”

WARNINGS: reader injury, blood duh, mentions of being stabbed <3

spencer reid x reader || hurt/comfort || 1.6k || event page!!

a/n: you adding the direct quotes made my job so much easier in finding them rip 😭 thanks for the request ml <333

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ event masterlist!!

Sometimes you wondered why you joined the FBI.

If by making one different decision you’d be in a completely different career in a different part of the country with a husband and children living in a two story house with a white picket fence.

Spencer would probably fill you in on the butterfly effect, how a single flap of a butterfly’s wings could change the trajectory of the wind and spin into a tornado, or in your case, leave you stranded and unarmed in an overgrown cornfield with your only company being the crows flying overhead.

It was arguably, definitely, your fault, but what were you supposed to do when the unsub was running off into the night after you’d finally tracked him down.

He’d slipped under the radar for too long, you weren’t going to let it happen again.

Though you weren’t going to lie, you were starting to regret not waiting for the rest of the team.

How were you supposed to know that the welfare check you were sent on would turn into a chase?

They were twelve minutes out last time you checked. You didn’t have signal anymore, who knew how close they were now.

All you knew was that you were a sitting duck with an empty magazine in an unfamiliar location with a light level so low you could barely see your own feet.

You’d lost the unsub a good few minutes ago, and you weren’t about to stand around with nothing to protect yourself with, so you started running back the way you came, hopeful that it would bring you out back at the farmhouse, with floodlights and a phone signal.

You weren’t that lucky.

You never were.

—

“Oh my god—“ Emily sounds like she’s seen a ghost as she cups her left hand over her mouth, her right lowering to her side until her gun is limply resting in her fingers.

Her face is a mix of relief, astonishment and absolute horror, and as the team follow her gaze they mirror one by one until the whole group is frozen in abject shock.

You were alive, thank god, but you were also stumbling backwards out of the corn field like a final girl in a horror movie, completely disheveled and torn up with your attention completely focused on the rows of stalks in front of you like you were afraid something was going to pop out and finish you off.

The sight was enough for Spencer to feel like he was going to throw up his stomach, although whether out of relief or anxiety he wasn’t exactly sure.

Either way he was pocketing his gun and practically sprinting in your direction the second he got a full view of you, no care for what you were running from in his mind whatsoever.

At least you were okay.

“Hey-” His hand barely grazes over your shoulder before your instincts kick in and you swing your elbow outwards with the intent of sending it straight into his face.

It hits him directly underneath his nose, sending his neck back sharply to stop any worse injury occurring under the force of your arm.

It doesn’t deter him though, and he doesn’t so much as even cover his nose from the pain as he takes your arms in his hands to swivel you in his direction so that you can see that you aren’t in danger.

“Hey- Hey, it’s just me you’re okay, you’re safe here I promise,”

The flicker of absolute terror in your eyes makes him swear his heart is going to shatter, and even as he watches it fizzle out under the realisation that he wasn’t someone to be afraid of that small pit in his stomach didn’t disappear.

You looked bad.

Your hands were grazed and raw, you were covered in mud, half of your shirt had been ripped from the hem and tied around your left thigh — presumably as some sort of makeshift bandage, and you were so much paler than you usually were, all of the colour completely drained from your face until you looked almost translucent under the mix of moonlight and blared foglights.

“You’re bleeding— Did I do that? I’m sorry—” You reach up your hand towards and he swerves to take it in his own with a shake of his head, clasping his fingers gently around your shaking palms, careful not to irritate the angry red covering them.

“Don’t worry about me, are you okay? What happened?” His eyes roam anxiously over your frame, lingering specifically on the torn piece of fabric around your thigh that is slowly but surely turning from a charcoal grey to a dark maroon the longer you stand talking.

“I- He ran and- and I followed him and then I lost him and- I don’t- He doubled back on me and I didn’t-” Half of the words coming out of your mouth were almost completely incoherent, and he could see your pupils refusing to dilate even under the direct beam of one of the SUVs’ headlights.

“Okay okay, calm down, take a breath for a second,” Spencer gives your arms a small squeeze to cut off your attempt at an explanation, glancing over your shoulder where the team is still grouped together, with Morgan and Hotch on the phone — presumably for an ambulance and some backup respectively— and the others watching you cautiously, unsure whether they should join in on Spencer’s examination of your health.

“How did you hurt your leg?” You follow Spencer’s gaze downwards towards your thigh, and it’s like the second your eyes recognise what it is you completely loose control of all of your motor functions from waist down.

“Woah—” Spencer takes the sudden change in your weight distribution in his stride, or at least he tries to, shifting his arms underneath your armpits to stop you from hitting the ground underneath you and supporting your weight with his own as he stumbles a few steps backwards. “Guys—”

Emily is at your side immediately, alleviating some of your weight onto herself so the two of them can hold you upright.

“He had a weapon…” You wince under the searing pain in your leg, the adrenaline wearing off fast and hard now that your body knows it’s no longer in danger.

“What kind of weapon?” The concern seeps from Spencer’s voice to soak into your skin, leaving your heart to accelerate under the knowledge that you were injured bad.

“A uh… fork, like a gardening fork… He stabbed me with it…” Although more coherent now, your voice was slowly fading into small mutters and whispers, like the exhaustion in your body was catching up to your mind and making even your tongue too languished to move. “I’m really tired…”

“Hey no- not yet-” Emily shakes her head with a conviction. “There’s an ambulance on the way, you have to stay awake until then,”

“But…”

“Emily‘s right, stay awake you’ll be fine,” Spencer sounds like he’s more trying to convince himself than you as him and Emily support your weight back towards the cluster of SUVs, and the added weight of your head resting against his shoulder doesn’t help his anxiety whatsoever. “Hey, come on…”

He lifts his shoulder slightly to shift your head and you let out a soft noise of discontentment. “I’m awake I’m awake, just conserving my energy…”

“Just keep your eyes open okay?”

You give him a small hum as the two of them sit you down on the hood of one of the cars, and Emily leaves you in Spencer’s care to check with Morgan on the arrival of the ambulance.

“You know that you’re my best friend, right?” You turn your head a little further into Spencer’s shoulder as he becomes the sole pillar of your support, blinking slowly in an attempt to keep your eyes open.

“Don’t say that to me right now,” He shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, a dark line forming between his eyes as the skin pinches together in his worry.

“But you are though,”

“You can remind me of that after you’re in the hospital,”

“I hate hospitals,” You let out a small, fatigued huff, rolling your eyes at the prospect. “I’m gonna be in there for god knows how long and I just wanna find this guy before he hurts anyone else…”

“Well, he has hurt you, and that’s what’s important right now,” Spencer’s tone contradicts itself between concern and relief. You’re alive, but you’re not in good shape. “We need to make sure that you’re okay before anything else,”

And in an act of holy divination — or just coincidence if Spencer was concerned — right as he mentions making sure that you’re okay the blaring lights of the called ambulance come into view, joined by a shrill, sharp ring that seems to echo over the field.

You all but hobble over to it once it’s parked, successful only in the fact that Spencer is actually supporting more of your weight than you were.

At least he stays by your side the entire time.

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

Ooh request:

Reader and Hotch are together (either in the open or a secret from the team) she finds out she’s pregnant, but they get called on a case so she keeps it to herself. Reader & another team member get taken and she tells the person with her while they are held captive. Eventually rest of team finds them but either reader has to tell Hotch in front of everyone or she is unconscious and the other person does. You decide 😌

Surprise

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings: none

Keep sending in your requests guys!! The amount of feedback I’ve been receiving is amazing and I really do appreciate all of you 💜

MASTERLIST

———-

“Aaron, you busy?”

Walking in his office I shut the door behind me as he looked up from his computer, smile prominent on his face

“For you, never” sitting down by his desk I fiddled with my fingers, something I do when I’m nervous

Yesterday I had found out that I was pregnant, I had planned on telling him and Jack over dinner but he had to stay late to finish up some work and before I had the chance of doing it this morning he had left for an early meeting with Strauss

“Everything okay?” snapping out of my train of thought I started back at his confused state

“Yeah, yeah, we just need t-“ the sound of his phone ringing filled the quiet office, sighing he excused himself and answered the call

Great, now I’m gonna have to wait to tell him that he’s gonna be a father of two

You could always blurt it out and be like ‘Hey guess what, I’m pregnant!’

Nope, I’m definitely not doing that

“We’ll be there” hanging up the phone he rose from his seat

“We’re are we going?” pushing myself up on my feet I stuffed my hands in my pockets. Aaron walked over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist

“Texas, you were saying we needed to talk?”

“It could wait, let’s go” I quickly pecked his lips before heading back into the bullpen

Damn you criminals

———-

“Anything?” Spencer asked breathless from our chase on the two unsubs in the dark cornfield

“Nothing” my chest heaved every breath I took, we stood next to each other eyes scanning our surroundings as best as we could considering that it was pitch black

“Maybe we should head back to the others” nodding I turned to face him only to be met with a falling Spencer

“Spence?” dropping to the ground I tried to turn him over but failed as I felt my limbs give away

No, no, no, no this cannot be happening right now

They trapped us and shot us with tranquilizer darts, how fun

“Well would you look at that, we got ourselves two federal agents” my eyes drifted from the starry sky to Spencer who was already staring at me

The rustling of leaves and footsteps were heard as they came closer to where we lay. The older one, Lucas lowered himself and smirked at me, running his fingers through my hair

“We’re going to have a lot of fun” his large hand came around my throat, squeezing hard, thanks to my lack of movement I couldn’t fight back. Tears pricked my eyes as he continued to squeeze harder, coughing and gasping I tried to hold out for as long as I possibly could

Unfortunately for me, that didn’t last long as the darkness took over

———-

“Y/L/N, Reid, do you copy?”

Silence, that’s never happened before

“Y/N, Spencer are you there?” my eyebrows knitted together in confusion as they didn’t respond

“Does anyone have a visual on Y/N and Spencer?”

“Nope”

“No”

“Negative”

Everyone responded with no luck, God this cannot be happening

“Hotch I found their vests, coms and weapons”

———-

“There she is”

Groggily I opened my eyes and the first thing I see is the ceiling above me. Turning my head to the side I saw Spencer chained to a nearby chair. I tried to move my arms but surprise surprise, they’re retrained to the table that I’m on

“Trying to leave already darlin” Lucas trailed his fingers across my cheek, smiling down at me

“Can we skip all the small talk? I’m getting irritated” staring him dead in his eyes I spoke, I’ll be damned if I show this man that I was indeed freaking out

“Feisty, I love it” he started undoing the buttons on my shirt, his cold fingers brushing against my stomach as he went lower

“You really wanna rape a pregnant woman?” he froze his actions

“Are you?”

“Three months today, is this what you really want to do? Harming a mother and her unborn baby?” he grunted before angrily stomping out of the room. Looking over at Spencer I couldn’t miss the huge smile he has on his face

“You’re pregnant”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, chained to our deathbed and this is your takeaway right now?” I couldn’t help but laugh at our predicament

“Does Hotch know?” he stuck his fingers in his back pocket fishing for something as he continued talking

He’s up to something, whatever it is boy genius I hope it works

“No, he doesn’t” I sighed, regret and guilt washing over me as I laid here

“I can’t get to pick this stupid lock” just as he said that the walker brothers walked in

“You trying to leave boy!” they younger one, Liam charged forward and punched Spencer earning a groan in return

“Don’t touch him!” I fought against my restraints which was a complete waste of time and energy

“Shut up!” Lucas smacked me across my face

“Y/N, I could take it”

-------

“Garcia did you manage to get anything else on the twins?” my grip on the steering wheel tightened as I sped down the street

“I did sir, Lucas and Liam grew up on a farm in Driftwood, Texas”

“I thought they were from Dallas” Rossi piped up from the passenger seat

“That is what came up in my inital search, but I did some more digging and found out that their mother, Riley Barnes, isn’t Riley Barnes but Stacey Colt”

“Do we have an address on where she lives?” 

“Uh, sir she’s dead, she took her own life six months ago after years of being abused by her husband”

“That’s around the same time young women started disappearing”

“Garcia I need her last known address, I think they’re holding them there”

“Already on your device” the call disconnected and my foot pressed harder on the gas. Rossi shifted in his seat tugging on his seatbelt

“Uh Aaron, I get that we’re against a clock here to get our people back but we can’t do that if we’re both dead from a car crash”

“Sorry” I eased my foot off the pedal a bit

“They’re strong, she’s strong”

———

“Spencer! Stop hurting him!!!” tears of frustration and anger poured from my eyes as they kept beating on him

“You don’t call the shots sweetheart”

“Spencer!!” he grunted from the blow to his stomach, his face had cuts and nasty bruises that were sure to be there for some days

“FBI!” Morgan’s voice echoed throughout the room as the team rushed in. Lucas whipped out his knife and held it against my throat and I tensed up at the feeling of the steel blade on my skin

“Drop the weapons” Aaron ordered and he laughed

“You come any closer I’ll kill ‘em both!” his hand reached down to mine and undid the shackles. He moved me to my feet and held his blade against my neck using me as a shield

“You guys know exactly how this is going to end so just drop your weapons” Aaron and I stared at each other

“You’re not going to do that” he taunted them nudging me

“Tell them why” my heart rate sped up as he pressed the blade harder on my neck

“Tell them!”

“I’m pregnant”

As the words left my mouth Aaron’s frown deepened and before I knew what was happening two hun shots rang out and Lucas fell to the ground, blood pouring out from the bullet wound in his forehead. Looking over at Reid I noticed the lifeless body of Liam that laid before him

“Spence” the others rushed to his aid while I stood frozen in my spot

“You’re okay” Aaron wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly against his tall frame. I finally let out the breath that I had been holding in as I clung onto him

“We’re gonna have a baby” he kissed my forehead and pulled back so I could see his face

“You weren’t supposed to find out like this”

“Congratulations you two, we’ll celebrate properly when we get back” Dave came over and kissed both of our cheeks, the others followed his lead

“I hope it’s a girl, this team cannot be bringing boys alone into this world” Derek joked and we laughed. Aaron pulled me closer to his side as local P.D. filled the room

“Once the baby’s healthy I’m fine”

EMS came and sat me down on a chair and started looking me over for any injuries while they all gushed about the growing baby inside of me

“There’s no way you’re going to be in the field, you’ll be traveling with us but you’ll only be at the station working through the case files and no, it’s not up for negotiation” Aaron stated in full boss mode not even giving me a chance to argue with him

“Understood” they others chuckled at his sudden change in tone

“Good, our job is done here let’s get going, I believe we were promised a party”

[ramble-writes]

Hola <3 I love your work!! I would love to see your take on Danny Johnson (ghostface) with a Gn or male S/O who is also a slasher! I hope you have a good day! <333

What's funny is that you caught me at a good time of a dream I had I was a killer. Couldn't speak for shit but I had a scythe :v And you kinda strike me as a duel wilder so das what u gonna get gods i need to write more Anyway enjoy this tiktok too lol. Also from now on any sort of Entity mentioned is Sock nao LMAO unless otherwise. And Imma go for a male reader here.

A Killer for a Killer

TW: blood, mention of attempt of r*pe, minor gore

Don’t forget to like, reblog, and follow if ya wanna see more! (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

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

It was a gift you were given from the Entity. A gift of a single mori. That sausage bodied lizard had dragged you a charm of a green head for whenever you feel the need to use it... Which you did upon the next trial you went into.

It was in Coldwind Farm: Torment Creek. The artificial sunset lighting honestly felt warm on your face before you tugged up your scarf to focus on the task at hand. Moving forward, you progressed into the cornfield where you hoped to catch sight of a survivor so you know who you’re going up against. The sound of a gen being worked on caught your attention that you got low into a crouch, then lept up and crashed down onto not one, but three survivors. Bill, Felix, and your least favorite: David.

You hit someone, hearing one of them cry out and feeling the warmth of blood on your hands. Looking up you spotted Bill hobbling away in a hurry with his hand holding his now injured arm where you see the damage you caused. A gash from his bicep that spans to the back of his shoulder. 

You didn’t give chase, instead you went and chased after Felix. The more injured, the more harder it is for them to heal each other to survive. Catching up with the German man, you brought your blades down to create an X gash on his back, smiling at the way he cries out . He stumbled over his own feet from how blinding the pain was and landed on his back that he yelped. With a grunt, you flip him over to grab him and slung him over your shoulder to make your way to the nearest hook.

A gen went off which drew your attention and you made your way over. You saw a flash of blond and heard the familiar sound of legs flopping around in boots. Looking over, Kate was running off with a toolbox in hand. You went to go chase after her, that was till a bright blinding light went off that you couldn’t see. You took the time to furiously rub your eyes before looking around to see David. Great. You remember vividly that the last time you had an interaction with him that he socked you in the face hard. And some... “attempts” were made had you not grabbed his throat and ripped it out with your bare hands.

A growl rose in your throat that you lost track of the others. Th others noticed and did their best to hurry along to not witness the oncoming slaughter. Dwight can vouch for it when he saw how you had ripped into the brute and shoved his heart into his mouth. He only had gotten as far as removing your pants and grabbing at your dick, but you had reacted fast upon realization and a knife to the shoulder had got him to get off. End result was blood that coated your arms up to your elbows.

You couldn’t kill him yet, so you were stuck with hooking him for now. Felix, the ever observant, slowly made his way over while taking glances at David and carefully got your attention. The way your head snapped to glare at him made him jump a bit before clearing his throat.

“Would... Would you like for me to unhook him?”

You realized what he was going to do and the tension in your shoulders relaxed a bit before nodding. The German went over and unhooked the Brit who had started to struggle when he noticed the sudden alliance. Blondy made a run for it from the other’s wrath, but he didn’t get far as you brought one of your knives down hard on his back which knocked him flat on his face. His scream broke out when that dirty, bloody hook slipped back through the hole in his shoulder, but it tore open more that he tearing of muscle was audible.

Once again, Felix approached and looked to you as David started to struggle from having to keep those horrid claws of the Entity. It’s strange how such a small lizard is also an old eldritch being that feeds of the suffering of others, when the reptile likes any kind of bugs or veggies in his little gullet. But you didn’t question it. Sock is fun to keep on your shoulders and watch struggle having to get over small ledges.

David was off the hook again, but he wasn’t safe from you. Felix made a run for it the moment you advanced forward. Mind you, he went off on the brute when Dwight told the others what happened. His words were met with retaliation and slurs like calling him a “Nazi” due to Felix’s German roots.

Along with Felix, Bill and Kate had escaped thanks to the luck of a key being found. That left you with David, which you took your sweet, sweet, sweet time to make an example of him. You may have gotten some “inspiration” from a certain killer with how you made his still living body a display. Gut torn open, intestines pulled out and formed to make the Star of David to mock his name despite it being a common name. As a last show, you had cut off his dick (which you cringed after realization) and stuck it in his mouth as the very life faded from his eyes.

Trial over, back wandering a sort of forest that serves as an in-between for those without realms, you felt satisfied. You felt eyes on you, watching your movements even though that’s common in this hell. A shift of wind, a soft whisper of words that sounded amused graced your ears.

“That was quite the show that was put on, my dear~” The voice purred. Strong, yet gentle arms wrapped around your waist to pull your form close to a more sturdy one.

“My pretty boy all gory and satisfied I bet~”

This made you chuckle as you turned your head to see the familiar mask of the Ghostface pushed off to the side to show one half of his face.

“And I’d do it a thousand times over. Didn’t know you were watching, Danny.”

The taller man let out a low breathy laugh before tilting your head up more with rough leather gloves holding your jaw to then grace your smiling lips with his. The kiss was deepened when you managed to loop an arm around his neck, a hum rumbling in his chest that you snickered a bit and broke from the kiss.

“I may have drawn some inspiration from you on leaving a lasting impression on people~

“I’m touched~ And honestly, I think a sort of prize is deserved.”

You arched a brow, only to let out a yelp when Danny picked you up and peppered your face and jaw in kisses and nips to your neck. You didn’t need to question what the prize was. With Danny, it’s obvious since the sight of blood and dead gazes get a rise out of him and drive him mad like a male rabbit in a rut. But hey, you never minded a single bit.

[theechotrain]

Thomas Hewitt Punish Fuck

The lack of any sound of a struggle is enough to convince me that this girl is most likely the last one alive. The bat held above my head, ready to be swung down upon her, falls to my side. What is it about her? What with this particular girl that makes me want her to just leave and never look back?

She whips around, spots me, and in a panic, lets out a shriek. My hand dives for her mouth and covers it. "What are you thinkin', numbnuts? Screaming like that, you're gonna get the wrong attention." She unfreezes from her spot and I drop my hand away. I crouch down and motion at her to do the same. We both make our way around the Hewitt building towards the front, where I know the teen's car was left.

But before we manage to get around to the front, I spot a familiar person. Turning back to my pursuer and holding up a hand to get her to stop going forwards, I stand and walk out into the opening and towards Hoyt, his shotgun in hand.

"No one's hiding out round the back and I'd think we'd know if someone was still in the house. I reckon we got them all." The bat swings slightly at my side. He nods his head slightly at me. "Sure fuckin' hope so. Wouldn't want a good piece of meat running out on us. I'm gonna go and make sure our Thomas isn't late for work."

He heads back inside and I wait for a few seconds to make sure he doesn't came instantly back out. A few seconds go by before I signal for the girl to come out of hiding. She crouch runs her way over to the car, climbs in and begins to start it. The key is turned and the sound of the ignition comes to life before it dies down again. It comes to life a second time before dying down a second time.

I give a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure we're still alone before placing my hands on the boot of the car and begin pushing. The teen hops out again and joins me in pushing. Together, we manage to get the car to roar back to life for a third and final time. But it is not the only sound that I hear. Standing behind us is Thomas, his chainsaw spinning dangerously and a mad glint in his eyes.

"Get in, get in!" I shout at the girl next to me. She obeys,  clambers her way back into the driver's seat and manages to get the car to move on its own.

I watch the car as it heads in the direction of the road. Thomas runs past, chasing after the car with his beloved chainsaw. He eventually stops running, most likely realising he's too late to catch her.

The chainsaw is turned off. Thomas continues to stare at the fleeing car before he starts heading bck towards home. His eyes don't reach mine when he arrives at my side but they don't need to for me to know that he is furious.

"T-Thomas, I-" But I don't get to finish my sentence before I'm flung over his shoulder. Thomas begins walking again, not towards the Hewitt home this time, but in the same direction the car went. He can't be taking me to that old slaughter house with him, can he?

Four months later

After all this time, Thomas has had me following him round everywhere. There's no place that he goes that he doesn't take me. On the rare occasion that Thomas can't keep his eye on me, it's someone else doing the watching. As if the disappoint from the rest of the family wasn't bad enough, the fact that my beloved Tommy doesn't trust me anymore is practically heart wrenching.

Once again, Thomas has me sitting by his desk while he's chopping meat. He's been here for so long now that it's gone dark outside, which means it's going to be nice and cold outside. Just like I like it.

My mind wanders back to this one time when Thomas once let me cockwarm him through the night. He wasn't sure if he would like it, but his mind had changed when I ended up begging to let me ride him. I think back to how he felt and that familiar feeling of longing comes over me. Thomas hasn't really been wanting me to give him any affection when we've been alone lately and I've missed being in his lap.

While my imagination has been acting up, Thomas must have finished for today because he stands before me, still not bothering to meet my eyes. He must forgive me at some point; It's not as if he can pout forever. We leave the slaughter house and begin going our usual way.

An idea that might get his attention hits me. I pick up his hand from his side. "Tommy, dear? He doesn't look at me. I place his hand on my neck, just bellow my cheek. "I need you badly." His head only turns slightly. "Please?"

His head turns enough for me to see the side of his face. I don't even know what I'm asking for. My hands move from his and it stays there. We've both stopped where we're standing but yet I'd rather be anywhere else than here right now. I continue walking and his hand falls from me, his head turning to watch me pass.

"Come back."

I continue walking.

"You get back here."

I break out into a run. The sound of his feet hitting the ground behind is enough to make me run into the cornfield. I manage to get far enough in so that all I can see is corn all around me before stopping for air.

An arm snakes its way around my torso and a handful of my hair is grabbed from behind. My head is pulled back and I realise who it is. Thomas has found me. "You need me? Right now?"

"Yes sir, please."

He removes the arm from around my torso and uses his free hand to take off his mask. It's not often that Thomas takes off his mask, even around me. After freeing his real face from his 'leather' one, he places his hand back on my cheek. "Oh darlin'"

His hand travels down; But not to the place that I was hoping it was going. Next thing I know, my ass is stinging slightly. I whine at him as he continues to make eye contact with me. Once again, a series of slaps are delivered, stinging my skin and most likely turning it red.

After a while, it stops. I feel Thomas' hand thread its way under my shorts and whine when his fingers press up against my damp underwear. "Oh sir..."

He begins running his fingers back and forth, massaging my opening. "Strip. Leave your panties on. I'll wait." His other hand leaves my hair.

The cold night's air hits my bare skin and I want nothing more than to have Thomas fuck me to warm me up. But the hand between my legs is now rubbing my clit and the other is holding me in place in his lap. My legs are being held up to my chest by Thomas's tie and he has fully stuffed himself into me. He keeps us in this position for a few seconds before beginning to slowly thrust.

He doesn't pick up the past in time, but keeps a slow pace in me, no matter how much I beg. "Please, sir, faster.. Oh god..." Even his continuing of rubbing my clit is slow.

One of my hands is on the back of his hand that's holding onto my hip, the other is rubbing at my thighs. I'm secretly loving being slowly fucked by my Tommy. If this is what happens when I get punished, I'll do it more often.

[caslikescoffeeandfreckles]

The Heart Will Lead You Home

A very late spn finale fix-it fic based on an addition to this Tumblr post! Word Count: 1.9k Read on Ao3

There was no stopping the way Dean’s heartbeat stuttered when he saw Ohio on the map, the wound still too fresh. Every press of his foot to the gas pedal felt like stepping on his own neck as they cruised along the highway, cornfields turning to soybeans turning to green galaxies of fireflies at night. He thinks he likes these stars better; the blue ones just hurt.

When they cross from Indiana to Ohio the stuttering becomes an ache, like the valves have shut down and the arteries are cut off. He keeps his breaths short and measured, careful, while his hands white knuckle the steering wheel and he presses a little heavier on the gas. It costs him a breath, that foot still on his neck. But he keeps driving. 

The case is a weird one and Dean hasn’t been paying enough attention to explain how he ends up driving out in the middle of nowhere by himself. He can’t even tell you what town they’ve been in the past few days, just knows that there was a lead Sam needed to follow, leaving Dean to cruise down dark country roads that shouldn’t feel so achingly familiar and his chest shouldn’t feel so painfully full and empty all at once. 

But Dean’s not an idiot. He does know these roads and he knows what waits up ahead. He keeps telling himself it doesn’t mean anything. This isn’t some kind of sign, his heart choking and coughing and lurching like a car on its last wheel with every stretch of mile. 

At the sight of the barn he almost turns around. The aching in his chest is seeping into his bones, it feels like they’re breaking from the inside out, like there’s something swelling inside his chest cavity and pushing bone through tissue and skin. 

The barn looks almost exactly the same as last time, the old wood boards grayed and weathered and hanging from the frame with just a few nails and the grace of God - or Jack now, he supposes.

It takes Dean a good thirty minutes to make himself get out of the car. And it hurts. Every movement hurts down to the flex of his knuckles, each foot fall against the hard dirt path. 

Dean stands outside the door, his hand raised to pull it open but unable to follow through. 

Cas isn’t going to be there, he tells himself. Stop being an idiot. Because he has to make sure any lingering tendrils of hope are gone. For whatever is left of his sanity, he just has to. 

He doesn't realize until he’s already opened the door that he hasn’t drawn a weapon. There’s a dark growling voice in the back of head calling him a damn idiot, but it’s not as loud as it used to be. It’s been fading over the years but ever since - ever since… well, it’s been pretty radio silent in the last few weeks.

 It turns out there’s no need for a weapon anyway. The barn is empty save for some abandoned farm equipment and hell’s entire population of spiders. The ground crunches beneath him and Dean looks down to find broken glass everywhere. There are scorch marks on the walls. The air is stale, untouched for years. The last time Dean had been in here it had smelled like lightning. 

With that thought the pain becomes unbearable and Dean shatters like the glass beneath his feet. His hands reach out without thinking, seeking something to grab, to hold onto, but he can’t find anything. He can’t see, can’t hear, all of his senses drowned under the wave of agony ravaging his chest. 

He’s dying. Dean just knows it somehow. But he doesn’t want to fight it this time. The desire isn’t even there. He doesn’t know when that had left him, maybe the night the Empty claimed Cas with a confession of love still wet on his lips, maybe in that void of loneliness once Cas was gone and Dean had sat decimated on the cold floor for hours trying to understand what the fuck had just happened and why he hadn’t been able to say something back, maybe just before Dean had walked through the barn door. Whenever it had gone, it had clearly gone with the angel and Dean didn’t miss it. Didn’t have a reason to anymore.

He’s not going to be there either, Dean hears the last bit of his self-loathing whisper, like one last punishment because even in death, Dean Winchester can’t let himself have peace. 

I know, Dean thinks. He knows Cas is gone, somewhere no one can ever reach him. He’s done the research. But how can you document the existence of something that represents Nothing? That is Nothing but the absence of everything in all of time and space? But he wishes Cas could be on the other side. Even with all hope gone, he still wishes it was possible if only to give Cas the one thing both of them thought they could never have. Because Cas deserved that much. Cas deserved more than the world had ever been able to offer. 

Castiel… Cas… I-

“Hello Dean.”

Dean’s heart stops and his eyes fly open.

He’s here, just feet away, in the same oversized suit and dirty trenchcoat. He’s here.

“H-how,” Dean starts, his mouth too dry. “I don’t- C-Cas how…��� 

Cas doesn’t move except to blink. “I think we have Jack to thank for this.” His voice is a deep and gravelly as the day they met and it’s like a soothing balm over Dean’s aching body, chasing all the hurt away like his grace has all these years. 

“He found you,” Dean says because he needs to hear it again. “H-he found you.” Jack did what Dean couldn’t. The pain that has been raging inside Dean is gone, replaced with a weight of gratitude for the kid. 

Cas nods like it’s that simple. “It took a while, but yes. Jack is very… determined. I think he gets it from his father.” The corners of Cas’s mouth soften into a small smile.

Dean doesn’t know how he finds the energy to blush but he feels the heat seep into his cheeks all the same. He has a million questions and another million things he wants to do with his hands right now but they’re safer in his pockets. There are too many words rushing around his brain and none of them feel right, none of them feel like enough. “Did you- what you said,” he tries, desperate to know but not sure exactly what he wants to know first, “when you- did you… mean it?”

A shadow crosses Cas’s face and Dean immediately regrets asking. “You still doubt me?”

“No, no,” Dean hurries to say. Cas hasn’t moved but he feels further away and that alone makes Dean’s chest hurt again. “I know- I know you meant it, Cas. I mean, I-I watched you…” get ripped away again. Cas had said he loved Dean and been swallowed into nothing. It left little to be misunderstood. It was just that… “You’re an angel, Cas,” Dean says, his voice sounding weak even to himself. “You’re like a million years old and - and I’m - you’ve never… is it the same kind of…?”

“You think I do not understand love the same way that you do,” Cas says, voice clipped and dry. It cuts like a blow and Dean can’t help but flinch. But he nods. Cas watches him carefully before nodding himself. “You are right. I am an angel, I was not designed to experience emotions aside from love and loyalty to my creator.”

Dean is deflating before Cas finishes his sentence. 

“And yet… since the moment I first touched you in hell, there has been no being or entity I have trusted more without question,” Cas continues and Dean meets his eyes, confused and dangerously hopeful. “There has been no one I desired to follow to the ends of the Earth as I have desired to follow you. I do not love you the way humans love. Because I fell in love with your soul before any other part of you.” Cas’s arms rise to cross over his chest and there’s a faraway look in his eyes. “I have seen inside of you, Dean, I have seen the core of who you are and carried the roots of you in my arms. I held your soul against my chest and felt the greatest warmth I have known in my entire existence. I felt the true depth of your compassion and love, deeper than any ocean God could ever craft. And I knew before I rebuilt your body that a part of me would always belong to you, and no other thought has ever brought me such peace.” 

When Cas’s eyes refocus they snap to Dean and his next words sink past every barrier of defense Dean has left. “I don’t love you in the same way as a human. I love you more than you could ever truly fathom, Dean. But I know that it is love because you taught me how to recognize the signs. You defined love for me. And even though you don’t feel the same, I am-”

“But I do.” The words jump from Dean’s throat before he can think them through but there’s no way in hell he’s going to miss another opportunity. He’s lost Cas too many damn times to waste a single minute. “I do, Cas. I- I can’t see your soul or whatever but I - you’re the only - Cas, I don’t want to breathe when you aren’t here.” He feels feral as he speaks, ready to jump out of his own skin, and honestly isn’t sure if he’s saying actual words. But the movements of his tongue and lips feel right so he keeps going. “Everytime you leave or get taken away it just gets harder and harder and I don’t- I can’t do it again.”

Cas is watching him with careful eyes, but Dean can see the hope blazing just under the surface. “So what do you want, Dean?”

“You,” Dean says and takes a step forward. “Us. I want us.” 

The hope bleeds through into the blue and Cas’s eyes shine like the stars Dean’s been avoiding. “Is that all?”

Dean shakes his head. There’s a new life unraveling in his head as he takes another step closer to Cas. A life far away from hunting, with a cozy little home with enough yard space for a vegetable garden, a garage to shield Baby when they aren’t filling her trunk with suitcases instead of weapons and driving to the ocean just because. A life with kids and familiar faces at the supermarket and big family dinners with friends on Friday evenings. And Cas. Every minute of every day there is Cas. The only constant, the only necessity. “I have a list,” he admits and takes another step. “But you come first.”

Cas is close enough to touch now and so Dean does. His hands fall on Cas’s waist and slide around his back to pull the angel forward and Cas comes with no resistance. He falls into Dean’s chest like a missing puzzle piece, his arms wrapping around Dean’s shoulders and clutching tight.

“You have me, Cas,” Dean whispers into his angel’s ears. It’s a moot point by now but he thinks they both deserve the reassurance. “You’ve always had me.”

“I want to go home,” Cas says, his voice soft but still sending a rumble through Dean’s body.

Dean clings even tighter. “Then let’s go make one.”

[dust2dust34]

Fate (Olicity, College AU, T)

Written for the super fun Halloween Prompts posted by @olicitytropes - check it out here. The prompt I’m using is: Person A is an actor in a haunted house. Person B is the friend in the group who didn’t want to walk through the house. Person B gets scared and punches Person A in the nose.

Rated T for language.

(read on AO3)

*

“I don’t want to be here.”

“Yes, you said that already.”

“I’m serious, Tommy,” Oliver hissed.

He grabbed his best friend’s shoulder and yanked him back as the group of women before them went inside the haunted house. Thankfully the guy managing the door held his hand up, indicating Tommy and Oliver had to wait before they entered. 

The door took its time shutting, letting Oliver hear every single scream and shout and terrifying whoosh echoing from within.

A shiver scraped down his spine. From the crisp night air, he tried to tell himself.

Tommy’s shoulder shook with a chuckle.

Oliver punched him.

“Ow, hey!” Rubbing his sore arm, Tommy glared at him. “This was your bet, not mine. I didn’t tell you to tempt the fates by playing chicken with Slade Wilson.”

“You didn’t have to tell him how much I hate these stupid things.”

“Nice try, but I’m pretty sure that was your drunken ass telling him that, not me.”

“Well, you didn’t have to say ‘Too bad it’s Halloween, haha.’”

“How the hell was I supposed to know he was pulling extra hours at this place? That guy’s shut up tighter than your asshole right now.”

“You’re hilarious.”

Tommy tossed him a cheeky grin. “I know.”

Another scream erupted from somewhere deeper inside the hulking beaten-to-shit barn and a cold sweat broke out across the back of Oliver’s neck.

“Listen,” Tommy said, “we get in, get out, and then it’s over with.”

Easy for him to say.

The man waved them forward.

Oliver’s stomach dropped and for a split second, he considered running. But then he’d never hear the end of it - from Tommy or Slade. He settled for glaring at his friend when Tommy turned to walk backwards so he could shoot Oliver an overly-exuberant grin.

“Just think, all that spinach you’ve been eating means your muscly ass is too heavy for the zombies run off with you - glass half full, buddy!”

“I hate you,” Oliver grumbled as they entered.

Oliver kept himself rigid as they made their way through the maze-like haunted house. It was stupidly dark, and the flashing lights made his head ache as his eyes strained to see. But it was okay. Ish. Even though his heart pounded, his palms turned cold and clammy, and prickly heat inched up the back of his neck to creep over his scalp. It was fine. 

They got through a large room where furniture moved on its own and the walls rippled before a ghost floated towards them. They rounded a corner to a clown jabbing a fake knife at them to the sound of maniacal laughter. A masked man with a chainsaw burst out of a room and ran through the hallways, chasing after at least half a dozen people who took off running. Tommy wound up a little further ahead of him, laughing and jumping accordingly, and catching up to ingratiate himself into the group of women from earlier. He did keep looking back to check on Oliver, which was nice, but the son of a bitch clearly didn’t care that much.

Despite that, Oliver maintained. His shirt was maybe a little sweat-soaked, and his jaw ached a little too much from being clenched so tight, and all the pain in his head was definitely focused on his furrowed brows, but he maintained.

Until a zombie lurched out from behind a curtain and grabbed his arm.

Oliver shouted and punched it in the face.

The zombie’s head rocketed back and Oliver’s jaw dropped on a mortified, “Oh shit.” Shame and humiliation eradicated any ounce of fear he’d harbored as he stumbled after the zombie. The very small zombie who fell back against a wall, her hands on her face. Definitely a her, he realized, and he felt even worse.

He’d just punched a girl.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Oliver babbled, hands hovering over her arms as he bent down to her height. People shoved past them, but he barely noticed, only seeing the dark-haired zombie and the pain on her face. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t-”

The woman abruptly dropped her hands and straightened.

He had enough time to see furious eyes and the smear of blood before her fist collided with his nose.

Pain exploded through his skull, radiating out in a whip of fire. He cried out and crashed into the opposite wall, narrowly missing a couple. He ignored their gleeful laughs - as if this was part of the stupid haunted house - and grabbed his face to assuage the vicious throbbing. He instantly regretted it when an even hotter burst of fire shot through his head.

“Ow!” he groused, opening watery eyes to a makeup-covered hand waving a pointed finger in his face.

“You punched me,” the zombie snarled. Oliver wanted to glare at her - because she freaking punched him, too! - but he didn’t have the right. Because he had punched her. And hard. The lights flashed at too random of intervals for him to see if the blood on her face was from her nose or just makeup, even as she got closer. She seemed fine, though, because she was nowhere near done reaming him. “Who the hell do you think you are? Why are you in here if you’re going to be punching people? I should punch you again for even thinking of coming in here if that was how you were going to react-”

She continued on, her voice growing louder, her yelling including colorful name-calling and a shove on his chest for good measure.

Then she was done.

Somehow the silence between them was louder than the hiss of dry ice underlying eerie music and the terrified shouts echoing through the halls. They stared at each other as people continued streaming past them. He noticed she had a nose ring and that she had black hair - purple, too? But it was her eyes that captivated him. Even in the shadowed hallway, he could see the flashes of blue with spikes of gold striking out from her pupils. They were fierce, matching the passion emanating off her in spades.

Oliver wanted to say something, but his mind blanked.

All he could do was stare.

She exhaled loudly, rolled her eyes, and grabbed his hand. “C’mon.”

A tiny zap shot up his arm when she touched him.

“Where?” he asked dumbly.

“Well,” she replied caustically, her words hard to hear because she didn’t bother looking back at him as she dragged him back towards the front of the house. “We just punched each other, so I’m thinking ice is on the menu.”

Yeah. That was probably smart.

The haunted house still had zero appeal, but the terror that had dogged him since Slade had issued his challenge was nowhere to be seen. It was probably the pain more than anything, and the shock, but he wondered if it wasn’t a little bit of her too. Her hand was so tiny where it was tucked inside his, but he knew nothing bad would happen with her by his side. That was a completely ridiculous thought, wasn’t it? But it still rang true.

If she noticed his hand tightening around hers, she didn’t say anything.

They burst out the front door.

“Hey, Doyle,” she said in greeting to the guy manning the door, but she didn’t stop, even when he asked, “You okay, love?” in a lilting Irish accent.

“Men are stupid,” she shouted over her shoulder.

Several people in the line shouted their agreement as Doyle yelled back, “You’re not wrong!”

The sun had long ago set, leaving low-lit lanterns strewn about to light their way. His zombie dragged him from the haunted house-slash-barn, around the beginning edges of the cornfield maze, and towards a rows of food tents. When they reached the back of one, she told him to, “Stay,” and disappeared inside.

Oliver did just that, not moving even an inch, not until she swept back out with two packs of towel-covered piles of ice.

He got his first good look at her face. No blood, he saw with relief. Just makeup.

And a beautiful girl.

His heart skipped a beat as she glared at him.

“Here.” She shoved one of the towels into his hands and nudged him over to a rickety picnic table. It was covered in random crap that she unceremoniously pushed aside so she could plop down on the tabletop and prop her feet on the bench. “I’m not sorry.”

“I am,” he told her, leaning against the other end of the picnic table. He hissed when he pressed the ice to his nose. “I am very sorry.”

She stared at him for a beat and then huffed. “Alright. Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

She pressed the ice to her nose, not even flinching. “Tell me why you punched me. Because there better be a really good reason for it.”

Oliver grimaced and dropped the ice to stare at his hands.

“Put that back on your nose unless you want to look even more like an elephant’s ass tomorrow.”

He laughed, even though it hurt. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re pushy?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Do you want me to punch you again?”

“No, no, please.” He sighed and did as she said. “I don’t like haunted houses.”

“Obviously.”

“No, I mean…” Oliver’s chest tightened as the memory came back up. “I’m terrified of them. I have been since I was little when a, uh… when a zombie grabbed me and ran off. It wasn’t far, it was maybe ten feet, but I was…” He blew out a heavy breath and blurted out the rest. “I was having a recurring nightmare at the time of my best friend’s mom grabbing me from under the bed. She had just died - shot, actually. Tommy and I were supposed to be with her that night, and I don’t know, I think I felt guilty or something, so she was kind of… haunting me. I guess. Then that guy grabbed me and it all, you know…” He made a clicking noise. “Linked together.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “Oh.”

Oliver blew out another breath and was grateful for the ice when his cheeks heated. “I’ve never told anyone that was why I got so freaked out that day.”

“And you went into a haunted house now, why?”

“Because my friend Slade is an asshole. And I lost a bet.”

“Let me get this straight: you dove into a house full of childhood trauma because you lost a bet?”

“Well, when you put it that way.”

“What was the bet?”

Oliver’s cheeks warmed even more and he ducked his head. He’d already spilled his guts about one of his deepest, darkest fears, so why not give her all of his shame?

“We bet the other couldn’t streak through one of our classes without getting caught.”

The beginning of a laugh fell out of her. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes. He cheated, just so we’re clear - he’s sleeping with the TA of the class he chose, so he knew when the professor wasn’t going to be there. Me, on the other hand, did not have that advantage. And on top of that, I went all the way and skipped shoes, so when I was running down the stairs of the classroom, my bare foot slipped about halfway down, and I proceeded to fall down the rest of the steps.”

“Nooo,” she groaned on a laugh. “You fell down the stairs naked?”

“Naked. Landed on my back right in front of the podium. Somehow hurt my junk in the process.”

She laughed again, and this time he joined her, shaking his head in amazement as she laughed harder. He watched her, transfixed, all the pain disappearing. She had an amazing laugh. She didn’t stop, not until she had to with a pained, “Ow,” and her hand hovering over her nose.

Oliver hissed and slid closer. “I am so sorry.”

“I believe you,” she said sincerely, touching his arm. Warmth blossomed from the spot and he smiled wider. “I’m still not sorry I punched you back.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he agreed. “I deserved that.”

“Although I do feel a little bad yelling at you now, considering why you punched me in the first place.”

“Don’t. I’m the idiot with too much pride to tell my dick friend to screw off.”

“Hey,” she said, gripping his arm with a little shake. “At least you know yourself.”

He snorted. “Thanks for that.” He held out his hand. “I’m Oliver.”

“Felicity,” she replied, taking his hand.

“Felicity,” he repeated, unwittingly dragging it out. It felt good on his tongue, and he repeated it silently to himself. He felt like he was tasting something incredible for the first time, and instead of satiating a craving, he found he wanted more. “This probably won’t end well for me, considering how we just met, and that I basically confirmed that I’m a walking moron, but…” Oliver took a deep breath. “What are the chances of you giving me your number?”

“Hmm.” Felicity rolled her lips into a line and narrowed her eyes. “Pretty good. If you do one thing.”

“What?” Oliver shifted to face her. “Anything.”

Amusement and what he hoped was delight lit up her face before she pressed her lips together harder, as if fighting back a smile.

“Okay.” She pointed down the makeshift walkway between the food tents. “Run through there. Naked.”

Oliver’s jaw dropped, but then a second later, he was on his feet. Felicity snorted out a half-laugh as he set the ice down and started undressing.

“Oh my god, you wouldn’t-”

And that right there was a dare.

“Oh yes I would,” he replied, shrugging out of his jacket before grabbing the bottom of his t-shirt. He paused. “You’ll give me your number?”

She shook her head in disbelief, grinning, but she did confirm, “Yes, I will give you my number.”

That was all he had to hear.

In the next minute, he had his clothes off and he was streaking down the line between the tents. He heard the gasps and shouts of surprise and more than a few people laugh when they realized what was happening, but he didn’t care about any of it.

Because that was the second time he made his future wife laugh that night, and in that minute, he vowed to do everything in his power to hear that sound as often as possible.

*

I think we can all agree that college-era Felicity would have definitely kicked college-era Oliver’s ass. 

Thank you for reading!

Reviews literally feed the soul and muse.

[dweetwise]

A cute Ace x fem reader where they play hide and seek during a trial

i don’t think i’ve ever written a request this fast but hey, strike while the iron is hot and all that! it’s a little dumb and a whole lot of fluff but i hope you enjoy <3 (disclaimer: i don’t actually play immersed in dbd pls don’t mori me)

word count: 2543

Ace X f!reader: Hide and Seek

“You want to do it now?”

You glance up from rummaging through your offerings to look at Ace. He's smiling wide and there's a mischievous glint in his eyes, kind of like whenever he tries to get one of the others to play poker with him—oh, right. You’d made a bet a few days ago. 

“The killers are so blind!” Ace had laughed when you both managed to escape another trial, you without even taking a hit. The others sometimes made jokes about your sneakiness, claiming your ‘blending’ abilities were rivaled only by Claudette. This particular trial, the Pig had been visibly annoyed, completely ignoring Ace after the last gen got done and only focused on finding you, muttering something about ‘losing her fourth stack’. “I run into you several times each trial. You’re not that hard to find,” Ace continued, taking a good-natured jab at your skill to stay out of sight. “Because I don't actually try to hide from you?” you argued, raising an eyebrow. “Wouldn't find me if I did,” you added, challenging. And you should have known Ace never backed down from a challenge. “Wanna bet?” the man grinned. “You manage to avoid me an entire trial, you win." “Oh, you're on.”

It took a while for the opportunity to present itself, as you'd been thrown into trials either separately or with some of your more serious teammates. You're pretty sure Laurie would have kicked your asses for slacking off, and you didn't want to set a bad example for the new girl, Cheryl.

But now, you're waiting by the pre-trial campfire for the Entity to pick which killer it wants to torture you with, taking in the sight of a yawning Quentin and a grinning Nea loading her flashlight with batteries like it was a lethal weapon. You figure this opportunity is as good as any.

“Hey, guys,” you start, getting the duo’s attention. “You mind if we fuck—" ‘Around this trial’ would have been the rest of your sentence, but Nea interrupts you by bursting into laughter and Quentin makes a disgusted face. "Oh my fucking god,” Quentin visibly cringes, glaring at Ace. “Keep it in your pants, dude.” “If you would let the lovely lady finish,” Ace starts with a smirk. “She was about to ask if we can use the trial to settle a bet.” “With hide and seek,” you add before they get any more lewd ideas. “Go nuts,” Nea quips and Quentin just shrugs with a “Whatever”.

You return your attention to the task of choosing an offering, settling for a reagent to increase the mist. When you go to throw it into the fire, you see Ace fiddling around with something, his back turned to you.

“Are you bringing bond!?” you squawk, grabbing his hand and yanking his sleeve up to display the familiar aura-reading twine wrapped around his wrist. "No, no! These are… bracelets! All the rage, back in my day—” Ace hurries to explain, gesturing animatedly with his other hand. The movement causes some cards to fall out of his sleeve. “And open-handed!?” you demand, hands on your hips. “Oh my, how did those get there?” Ace feigns ignorance, kicking the cards under a log. You bite back a laugh at his cheating antics, at this point knowing better than to expect him to play fair. “Guess that means you're scared of losing,” you say, a smirk pulling at your lips as an idea forms in your head. Predictably, Ace immediately perks up, taking the bait. “In your dreams, princess,” he says, puffing up his chest. “How about we raise the stakes? No perks.” You hesitate for a moment. Spine chill and urban evasion have saved your ass on countless occasions, but since you were only going to be hiding from Ace and not the killer… how hard could it be? “Deal.” When you fade back to consciousness, you’re standing by the Thompson house. You’ve spawned right by a generator, but instead of getting to work, you make your way towards one of the outside walls of the trial, crouching down to hide with a good view of two of the closest generators.

Soon enough, you see Ace make his way over to the machine you were just by, pushing through the corn and glancing around. Not seeing anything, he seems to frown before kneeling down to start his repairs. You snicker to yourself and start sneaking to the other generator, keeping an eye on Ace the entire time.

Halfway through your repairs, you hear Nea’s pained scream of taking a hit somewhere within the trial. It seems like she’s keeping the killer busy.

As soon as you hear Ace’s generator pop, you duck down and start making your way along the trial wall. You flatten yourself against a tree when you see Ace approaching, before he disappears into the pallet gym your nearly finished generator is at. With the wall blocking the crucial line of sight, you seize the opportunity to bolt away, the sound of your footsteps drowned out by the machine. You hear him opening a locker and scoff at the action; like you’d make such an amateur mistake.

Another gen pops, apparently Quentin’s handiwork, while you cut through the cornfield. You run into Nea, being chased through the corn, and quickly dive out of the way and crouch in a row of stalks as the killer—the Wraith, good to know—follows, not far behind her. Predictably, he doesn’t see you.

By the time you get to your destination, the second story of the house, Ace has gotten your generator done and Nea has been hooked and unhooked. The killer is once again chasing her, and from your vantage point you can even see her repeatedly clicking the flashlight in the Wraith’s face while looping the cow tree.

The generator on the balcony hasn’t even been started, but you’re waiting for Ace and Quentin to finish theirs first, working on a machine together in the corn right below the balcony.

Ace’s back is turned to you and he keeps glancing around, trying in vain to spot you in the field. Damn, if you'd only brought diversion into the trial, you would have thrown a pebble at him to confuse him further. Feeling cocky, you lean over the railing and wave down at the two instead. You see Quentin glancing your way with a smirk, before looking back at the generator.

“You need some glasses, old man,” you hear Quentin snark. “Huh?” Ace says, getting his wires crossed and making the machine explode as he whips his head around to look at the house, but you’ve already ducked down safely behind your generator. You wait for the duo to finish their repairs and disappear in the direction of the shack before starting the generator in the house.

When your generator pops and the exits gates get powered, Nea is just about to be death hooked, and hearing her final scream, you feel a little bad when you make your way to a corner of the map instead of pressuring an exit gate. But soon enough, you spot Ace running to the house to try to catch you leaving after your repairs, proving your hunch was correct—he’s so predictable, bless his heart. A little while later, you see him come out of the house and look around in confusion, but then you hear Quentin’s pained scream and Ace seems to sigh and utter a curse before running in the direction of a gate.

You try to find the hatch but have no luck, and then you hear a screech as one of the massive gates slides open, followed by Quentin’s wail as he finally goes down. You spot his prone aura by the shack, before it disappears into thin air; huh, guess he managed to crawl out.

Now knowing which gate is open, you start walking to the other, a little on edge not knowing where the killer is after losing his last prey.

To your surprise, Ace is pulling on the other exit gate’s lever, effectively ruining your plans. You start making your way back towards the shack, taking a detour to avoid the killer's patrol route between the gates.

You're a little nervous Ace is going to get found, taking an unnecessary risk in getting both gates open. If he gets caught, you're throwing your little game and saving him, the bet be damned. Though it's not going to be easy, with Nea dead and Quentin out and neither of you having any perks. Even though you’ve known the entire time you were both likely to die from this dumb game, thinking about Ace getting hurt still makes you uneasy.

Exit gate now in sight, you carefully look around for any signs of the killer. The Wraith could just be standing still in the exit, completely invisible to the naked eye. Even if he was there, you could just run out and take a hit in the back before escaping, as you know from Quentin’s chase he doesn't have NOED. Still, you'd rather not get injured at all.

There's no telling shimmer in the gate, so you decide to just go for it. You walk into the structure, and nothing happens. You're nearly out when you hesitate, turning to look back into the trial; what if the Wraith has found Ace? What if he comes out of nowhere, grabbing Ace off of the exit gate lever since neither of you has spine chill and—

There's footsteps right next to you and you try to whip around, but then someone is grabbing you from behind and your heart leaps into your throat as you let out a startled yelp—

“Gotcha,” Ace's voice whispers in your ear. The relief floods over your body even as you shove at him playfully, making him let go of you with a chuckle. “Fuck you! You scared the shit out of me!” you argue even while your face is splitting into a grin. “You're not the only one who can be sneaky, doll,” Ace quips, returning your grin with a self-satisfied smirk. “What are you even doing here? I saw you at the other gate!" “Ah, the old bait and switch," Ace chuckles. “I wanted to get both gates for you, so you didn’t have to risk the killer finding you. And then it was only a matter of luck! A classic 50/50,” he grins.

Damnit, what a stupid and dangerous and— …Kind of romantic�� —and unnecessary and idiotic stunt!

“Get over here,” you say, yanking him closer by his shirt. “I missed you,” you mumble softly, hands wrapping around his neck as the surprise makes way for familiar affection. “I missed you too, sweetheart,” he says, eyes softening and a hand wrapping around your waist, the other coming up to cup your cheek. “I missed seeing this cute little face,” he says, pecking your nose sweetly. “You avoiding me wasn't nearly as fun as I'd imagined,” he jokes, but there's a tinge of uncertainty in his voice. “If it makes you feel better, I basically stalked you the entire time,” you murmur, leaning your forehead against his and a hand scratching at the baby hairs on his neck. “Though I almost threw a rock at you at one point.” He chuckles at the confession, a warm puff of air in the space between you. “Can't take your eyes off of me, eh?" he grins. “Not when you're being so oblivious and adorable,” you murmur. “Well, I clearly underestimated you," he admits, and is that a little blush you can see on his cheeks? “Likewise,” you smile. “So, what do you want for your prize?” “Oh I'll think of something, don't you worry,” he wags his eyebrows suggestively and you roll your eyes from the corny gesture. “But here's your consolation prize,” he says, finally leaning down to capture your waiting lips.

You eagerly respond to the kiss, moving your lips against his while your heart flutters from the affection, even moaning a little when Ace pulls you even closer against him. It’s all so familiar; the scratching of his goatee, the way he playfully nips at your lip, the scent of his cheap cologne lingering even after all these years stuck in the realm. You don't even mind losing the bet, not when you get to be in his arms and kiss him silly.

But then Ace is suddenly pulling away, lifting his head up to look back into the trial over the top of your head.

“I think we have an audience,” Ace says and you glance over your shoulder, his arms still around you.

There's a slight shimmer just beside the exit gate where the Wraith seems to jolt from surprise. A small pause later the familiar bell rings, and then you have an embarrassed killer in front of you, looking at the ground and sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. You just stare at him stupidly, a little ashamed over being caught making out in the exit. How long has he been standing there?

“Hey bud, thanks for letting us goof off this match,” Ace is thankfully speaking so you don't have to, but the words manage to confuse you. Was the Wraith in on it? You genuinely thought you'd been able to hide from the killer the entire time, especially since he was so focused on Nea.

The Wraith looks up bashfully, nodding his head and shuffling his feet. Then he pauses, points at you and then Ace, and makes a heart shape with his hands. Ace huffs out a surprised laugh while you blink owlishly, and the killer hurries to leave, ringing his bell and the sound of his footsteps scurrying away from the exit.

“Looks like we have a fan,” Ace muses, turning to look at you again. You smile up at him and you’re just about to lean back in for another kiss, when a realization hits you.

How did Ace know the killer was there? You saw him take off spine chill before the trial, and he hadn't even flinched like the perk usually makes you do when the killer is looking at you. Unless…

“Did you bring premonition!?” you realize, and now Ace does flinch a little from being caught off guard. “So, err, remember when you said some perks are so bad they shouldn't even be considered perks—” Ace hurries to make excuses. “You little shit!” you exclaim in mock offense. “You cheated! No prize for you!” “Aww,” Ace whines and honest to god pouts. “Fair enough. Damn, and I only did it to keep you safe… oh well, still worth it,” he mumbles defeatedly, mostly to himself. “Ugh, fine, get back here,” you grumble, pulling him into another kiss to stop him from moping because it's breaking your heart. 

When Ace just chuckles against your lips, you realize you've been played. Instead of snarking at him some more, you take advantage of his open mouth to shove your tongue down his throat and relish in the way his laugh turns into a needy groan.

And next time you're bringing the pebble, rules be damned.

[scriveyner]

let it rest in peace - 3/4

James made it an hour before he pulled the truck off the highway, onto a deserted exit ramp with old green signs and a bent route number, and not even so much as a gas station. Keith didn’t say anything as James got out of the car and walked down the embankment, away from the road; though after a few minutes James heard the passenger door slam.

“So we’re talking about this now, huh,” Keith said, arms folded, and James, with his back still to Keith, pushed a hand through his hair and exhaled, looking at the pale blue sky.

“Guess we are.”

Read on AO3 or

He didn’t turn around, listened to Keith shuffle and say, finally, “what the fuck was that, Griffin? You said your family died in a fire.”

James rubbed his hand over his mouth, put his hands on his hips and hung his head. “They did die in a fire.”

“Don’t lie to me, James.”

“I’m not. It’s,” he turned now, felt so, so tired. “It’s complicated.”

Keith snorted. “Complicated.”

It felt weird to be discussing this, standing in green grass and under a blue sky. “We lost my dad first. Mom locked us in our bedrooms, we heard the hounds outside, and found him in the cornfield in the morning.” He rubbed his mouth again, looked past Keith, past the cars on the turnoff, directly into the memory.

“So the hounds killed him.”

“No, that’s just it. He was alive. But he wasn’t… there. Lights on, no one home.” His mother standing dead-eyed in the kitchen, the phone to her ear and cord wrapped around her fingers, staring at nothing at all. “I don’t know what they did with him, but you can’t call that alive.”

Keith was silent, watching him.

“I was too young, I didn’t understand it until I heard the horn myself.” Distant again, his brother’s eyes fixed on the window, their bedroom door locked from the outside. “My mom did everything she could to stop my brother from joining the Hunt, locked him in his room when you could first hear the dogs, but.”

Seeing the fire engine and the ambulance both tearing past, the light of the fire illuminating the countryside for miles, the smoke billowing into the air, and just knowing.

Seeing the horned figure in the flames and hearing the bark and bay of hounds that the fire crew, the paramedics clearly did not.

James swallowed, crossed his arms, looked at Keith, and said softly, “my family’s cursed. I’m the last. The Hunt will come for me, someday.”

Keith crossed the distance between them, put his hands on James’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

#

James stretched out on the bed, luxuriated in the faint ache in his muscles, and buried his face in Keith’s pillow happily. He could hear the shower running, listened to Keith hum a little, probably washing his hair, and thought about joining him. His stomach reminded him of other priorities, though, and regretfully he emerged from the cocoon of covers.

By the time Keith wandered downstairs, damp and dressed, James had the coffee on and was scrounging in the fridge, disappointed. “Didn’t even leave us any groceries,” he huffed, leaned on the door with one elbow. “Bacon sounds heavenly right about now.”

Keith fetched his own coffee, leaned against the counter and watched James. “How you feeling?”

“Hungry,” James grunted, without taking his attention off the contents of the fridge. After a moment of silence from Keith, he lifted his head and gave Keith a look. “You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves,” he said. “I’m fine.” Better than fine, actually, he felt rather like he could take on the whole world right now, if only he could get a little meat in him to jump start the engine.

Keith smiled into his coffee, holding the cup cradled between his hands. “I can see if I can’t grab a deer or something,” he said.

James thought about it, imagined he could hear a deer right now, stepping softly between the trees that had been cleared out by the new construction. When he looked at Keith, Keith’s head was tilted, somewhat distracted—and in the direction James had imagined he’d heard the deer. “In fact,” Keith said, placing his coffee on the counter. “Hold that thought.”

Fear spiked in his chest, and James grabbed Keith’s wrist. “On the other hand,” he said, hoping he masked well, “scrambled eggs sound good too, right?”

Keith leaned a little bit away, considered, and finally said, “yeah, that sounds great.”

They ate in the kitchen, at the small table, and James tried not to think about how his mouth watered when he imagined the deer, the meat fresh and hot, flush with blood and entrails, steaming in the morning sunlight.

“You all right?” Keith gave him a weird look, and James stuck a fork full of eggs in his mouth and smiled, nodded, and really, really hoped he was.

#

Summer dawned hot and muggy, and the salt air rolling off the sea bit at his bare skin as Keith straddled him in the bed of the truck. It was deserted here, always was—there was no beach to speak, but the overlooks were fantastic and there was something about fucking in the open air, where he could hear the waves hitting the shore that really drove Keith over the edge.

“No sex on the beach ever again,” James had said in the shower, still scrubbing sand out of crevices he didn’t even realize he had; Keith laughed and carded his fingers through James’s damp hair in response.

Now though, Keith panted loudly, moving slowly as he rode James, sunlight dappled on his shoulders through the trees. James was breathing equally as hard, fixated on Keith’s face, watching the pleasure chase across his expression with abandon. Keith was close, he batted James’s hand away when he reached for his cock, and braced his palm on the window behind James’s head.

James laughed, unsure how exactly his head was still screwed on enough to murmur, “want to come on just my cock, huh?”

Keith shuddered, gave a little moan of encouragement, and shifted his weight, sitting all the way down on James’s cock. There was a weird bit of resistance as Keith shifted, and then it was gone and Keith’s head went back, hair flying loose and eyes wide as he climaxed, tightening on James harder than he’d ever done before.

God, he was so tight—James’s fingers left bruises on Keith’s thighs, holding him, keeping him flush on his lap as Keith milked him dry. Spent, James’s shoulders hit the dirty window and Keith… didn’t move, palm still on the window beside James’s head, other hand stroking his cock now, languid, slick with spilled seed.

Keith lifted his head, pupils blown wide, wet his lips and kissed James. James panted into his mouth in return, and Keith rested his forehead against James’s, looked him in the eye and said, dazedly, “do you have a fucking knot?”

“What?” James asked, surprised his brain wasn’t leaking out of his ears at the force of his orgasm.

“You,” Keith laughed, eyes gone closed and looking content. “God, it’s good, it feels so good, James.” He hummed a little, and when James released his legs Keith pulled slightly, but his cock did not slide free. “Fuck,” Keith breathed, tilting back. “Just, shift a little—“

Obediently, James shifted, moving Keith slightly on his lap—and suddenly Keith jerked and let out a strangled gasp, and his cock dribbled as he shook. “Fuck!”

Later, when he finally slipped out of Keith’s battered hole, Keith ran his fingers down his half-hard cock and over the still slightly-visible knot. “You do,” Keith breathed, wrung-out. “Fucking hell, James…”

#

“So what else have you been hiding from me?” Keith asked, and James, sitting cross-legged on a rock in just his briefs, shook his head.

“I mean, I’ve been able to hear things better and see a little better, but I didn’t think it was worth mentioning, they measured all that shit in the hospit-OW.” Keith yanked on his ear and James smacked his hand away, rubbed his ear. “I’m not a fucking child, Keith, don’t do that.”

“You have a fucking knot.”

“Yeah, it’s news to me too,” James said, dropping his hand and glaring at Keith. “So my senses are a little sharper, I thought it was a win considering I almost fucking died.”

Keith had his arms crossed, standing naked on the shore. He exhaled in aggravation, looked to the water and then back to James. “Can you shift?”

“What? What the fuck, no, Keith, I’m not a wer—“

“YOU HAVE A FUCKING KNOT, JAMES.”

James swallowed hard, rubbed his mouth, looked away. “No,” he said.

“Is that a ‘no, you can’t’, or a ‘no, you haven’t tried’?”

“What does it even matter? The answer’s no either way.” The two men glared at each other in the sunlight, and then Keith groaned and pushed his hand through his hair. James pointed at him. “Don’t you fucking dare call the Blade,” he said. “I do not want to be their lab rat again; besides they fucking cleared me, Keith. Said I was human.”

“I know, I know.” Both hands scrubbed back through his hair, and Keith crouched for a moment, thinking hard. “You don’t want to even try to shift, see what happens?”

The flat look James gave him made Keith groan. He dropped his elbows to his knees, hung his head. Then he laughed a little and pushed himself upright. James eyed him warily, and Keith patted James on the shoulder before walking past, back toward the truck. “What,” James said, turning, and then getting up himself. “Why are you laughing, what? Keith!”

#

They lay side by side on an old quilt under the stars, just like they used to when they lived out of his truck and old motels. James watched the thin clouds scuttle across the night sky, startled only a little when Keith woke, threading his fingers through James’s as they lay shoulder to shoulder.

“I’ll have to tell the Blade eventually,” Keith murmured, sleepy, and James sighed because he knew it was the right thing to do, even if he didn’t like it. “They need to know.”

“Is that a normal thing, to be infected by blood?” James asked, and Keith shifted, turned his head to look at James.

“No,” Keith said quietly, and James laughed softly. “Shiro’s...special,” he said. James knew that much by now, a werewolf unbound by the moon.

“How much blood did he give me?” It felt like something he should have asked ages ago, still in the observation room without windows, but now was better than never.

Keith was silent. “I don’t know. I wasn’t… I wasn’t there, James.”

Lance, in the hospital room, voice haggard and repentant. “It was my call.”

James exhaled, squeezed Keith’s hand. “Well, you’re here now,” he said, and Keith squeezed back, then rose up on his elbow, touched James’s face tenderly, and when he tilted his face into Keith’s hand, leaned down and kissed him.

[gyromitra-esculenta]

Because I’d been kind of goaded into it, Sabbath scene for The Bureau, mostly unedited - this happens long long after cornfields and nephilim.

Warnings: violence, character death (widowmaker), gore (with a bit of rituallistic cannibalism)

*

A restless murmur - a hushed whisper of dissent - spreads among the witches. It is the night of the Sabbath yet no moon shines on Château Guillard, the sky empty of its presence, and the stars are the eyes of the avaricious angels clawing at the reality in their hunger. Under the ruined archway, Queen of Spiders sits on her throne of the broken altar. Once, it had been the chapel of Saint Adelaide - the headless statue a shadow behind her - its hands sculpted stretched forward in a gesture of reverent supplication.

The witches part for there is an intruder between them they would not suffer any other night but this, the moonless one: a man. The witchcraft has always been a woman's domain, an no man had ever been a witch, such things were impossible and unheard of.

No such sentiment hinders Jack's step, his skin smeared with blue pigment in the patterns of clawed handprints and horned crown of warm bone on his head, his left hand buried in the fur of a great white wolf that had carried him here.

In her, he hears the discordant melodies of the void and the singing whispers, and she in turn sees the Herald of the Lost speaking in the voice of the angels.

"You had failed us, Herald," Queen of Spiders speaks from her perch. "Yours was a stillbirth."

A wrong choice that had made a right, his own words marking it as such, the last fragment passed from hand to hand, and an angel born dead to the world from a kiss.

"I have devoured the Moon. It is my right to challenge your rule, and no right of yours to refuse me."

"You, a man, dare to challenge me for my rule?" She snarls rising to her feet, tall and indignant, and Jack turns, not to her, but to the witches in attendance, the wolf circling him with a warning growl from the maw kept low to the ground as it casts around the glare of its eye.

“I come to you with the moon in my belly. I come to you with my brow adorned by the Lord of the Hunt and the blessings of Herne on my thighs. I come to you bedded by the Seven Year King."

He looks back to her over his shoulder, offering her a humorless smile full of teeth.

"What have you to show for yourself, Queen of Spiders, but a crown forged with the still hearts of your dead lovers?”

She throws the purple swath of fabric off her shoulders, fingers enveloping the hilt under the bejeweled hand guard, and points the tip of the rapier at him.

"So be it then, Herald, I'll bear your insolence no more."

Jack brings to his lips his own blade: forged with bog iron as is her crown, tempered in the heart of dwarven fires, cooled with Morgaine's tears, sharpened on a single hair of Freyja's, and bathed in the gaze of Hecate.

They circle each other, vipers with venomous fangs poised to strike, bare feet on the slippery stone cautious - Queen of Spiders rigid and cold, him flowing and warmed with the moonlight.

A moth's wings flutter in the air and they clash, the rapier grinding on the knife.

The dance is an intricate one, not a pause between the ebb and flow the Moon dictates, breaths curling in wisps of condensation as neither of the them gains the advantage - until the rapier pierces his side and Jack snarls, snatching her wrist and pulling her close. The blade runs him through but the knife is on her neck and his lips at her ear, the fight finished in his favor.

"I want you to know," Jack whispers, "that even when he was yours, and the mask was unbroken, he still came to me when I was ten and out there, in the cornfields."

He pushes the knife in, slowly, with satisfaction trickling down his spine and warmth unfolding in his belly.

Queen of Spider meets the end of her rule with sneering dignity, hand growing lax and slipping from the rapier as she falls to the stones as the blood pools under her.

He rips the blade out of his stomach, turning in silence, his gaze sliding over the transfixed witches; Ana in the back giving him a small nod of approval, both ravens sitting atop her shoulders, and Gabriel by her side, his face contorted in a mixture of worry and bewilderment.

The rapier, thrown to the ground, clatters in the quiet.

Jack reaches deep into himself and extends his arm towards the sky putting the moon back in its rightful place. Lost angels close their hungering eyes and the sweet cadence of the whispering void under his skin subsides.

"You all bear witness to my right to rule, as it has been witnessed by the Moon. Is here any witch that would challenge it?" Unrest and disquiet, yet not one of them steps forward. "Let it be known then there is no challenger, and only the Moon will judge me."

He kneels by the body, the bloodied knife held fast in his hands, and stabs its breast - the bones crack under the repeated onslaught, still hot red splatters on his face, and only after he is sure the work is done, he pries open the ribs, fingers grasping at the heart inside.

The crown of the witch is wrought with bog iron, and the heart of the witch turns into bog iron, her power and her weakness. Witches guard their hearts, hide them under the mountains or in the skies - but to rule the witch needs her heart, even if that heart is a heart no more.

Jack bites into it, chews through the muscle as blood trickles down his chin, and, with his throat seizing, swallows.

The successor always carries a part of their predecessor with them, and with it, all of those that came before. It had been a young witch that cut Hecate's heart out and put it in the sky - and, in turn, it had been the young witch's heart that became the first crown.

Jack approaches the broken altar and places the heart into the waiting hands of the headless statue of the saint.

He takes the stone-cold throne under its shadow, the wolf at his right laying down with its eye turned on the crowd and teeth bared for all to see and know. The light of the moon spills inside through the collapsed roof illuminating the altar, moths dancing in the shine.

The statue shifts without sound - moves as if made of flesh and blood, still a crumbling stone - fingers gently lowering the wreath of thorns to rest on Jack's head betwixt the horns of Herne's crown before it becomes immobile yet again.

"By the law of the first witch, Hecate, Queen of Night, I am your king," Jack speaks, his voice carrying in the hall. "Henceforth, all debts owed to Queen of Night are paid in full. The war of hers is over, and no witch will side with singing whispers. Those are my decrees."

Cold slowly seeps into his hands and feet, the kind that hurts to the bone unlike the pain that numbs his side, blood oozing from the wound and gathering between his crossed legs. His stomach turns with disgust.

"Walpurgisnacht is ending, you can swear your allegiance to me."

The first is witch of the woods, all three of them, with small seashells sewn into their hair clinking melodiously. The girl giggles when she kisses his knee, the crone lowers herself leaning on her cane.

"Lead us into new as you are wont to do," the mother whispers.

A procession of witches follows, some offering him their words - the most keeping to themselves - until the moon is gone from the night sky and only Gabriel and Ana remain.

The wolf snarls at them approaching Jack. Neither of them pays it any attention.

"I think my aunt kissed your knee," Gabriel, holding bundled fur, speaks at the same time as Jack lets go of his focus, shaking violently with his eyes open wide, frantic words leaving his lips.

"I'm going to hurl."

True to his words, he turns left, sliding off the altar, sticky clumpy blood between his thighs - god, the feeling is horrendous - finds blindly purchase with his palms, and retches. It still doesn't come out. It won't. The knowledge only makes him gag and heave more. Between the bouts he barely notices being wrapped in the fur and shifted, something's propping his forehead - leather, glove.

Slowly, he regains the control of his breathing, the awkward position borderline uncomfortable but now Jack cannot imagine anything better. His feet are smushed between Gabriel's thighs, palms pressed to his chest, pinned by his arm, the heat painful but it's the good kind of pain chasing away the ache in his bones.

"Fuck, you're cold."

"No shit," Jack murmurs. "She told me, one king will fall..."

"...in his place another will rise," Gabriel finishes. "I think I liked it more when I thought I made her up."

"You've got, you know... paint, face."

Gabriel laughs in relief.

"Shower's been out of the question."

"Brought the guns."

"Excalibur and Caliburn would help if..."

"I'd either be mad or dead on the floor," Jack cuts him off, coughing in the middle of the sentence and wincing as he finishes.

"But you did it. We have to get you patched up."

"We did it." Jack closes his eyes, letting the weariness overtake him for a moment. "Banshee's next."

[beeexx]

Set after 2x6, Alex and Kyle talk about things.

You can read it here  on my ao3 too. Just a little snippet I wrote after everything so to say.

“I need a friend.” That’s the words Alex wakes up to when he finally crawls out of his bedroom to open the door to Kyle’s persistent ringing. His cheek has a crease from sleeping in a weird position on his pillow and his hair is sleep tousled.

At the sight of Alex Kyle’s eyebrow shoots upwards and his mouth open.

“Wait, were you sleeping?” Alex is too tired to feel bothered by the fact that he is indeed only wearing sweatpants and a blanket wrapped around himself.

“Maybe.” He mutters

“Dude, it’s like 1pm.”

“Yeah well…”

“Okay, maybe you need a friend too, can I come in?” Alex bites back the reply of we’re not friends which threatens to escape. Also, the fact that he steps aside to let Kyle in probably means they are. From behind him Kyle picks up two plastic bags and sidesteps Alex to get inside. 

“Just make yourself comfortable.” He mutters to the empty space and closes it slowly. His brain really hasn’t woken up enough for this. He walks into his bedroom and puts on a t-shirt and an old ratty jumper lying at the back of his closet. When he finally makes it to the kitchen where Kyle is he decides that Kyle and him are definitely friends because a cup of hot steaming coffee is pushed into his hands. He can’t help the moan he lets out at the sip he takes. Kyle just chuckles and leans back against the counter, looking happy. 

“So, what’s up?”

“Ugh, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, if you’re not here to talk about it then why are you here?”

“Well it was this, the gym or gettin drunk, and before you ask, yes I already tried the gym. It didn’t do the trick. And the second option being alcohol, it is 1pm and I am not in the habit of getting drunk at that time, and I also have a job to go to tomorrow and I didn’t think you would appreciate getting drunk with me. Because, well because you have a job to go to as well. So I had to get creative and hanging out honestly seemed like the best option I had.”

Alex takes another sip.

 “Should I feel offended by the fact that I rank the lowest on that list?” 

“I thought you might say that so I bought bribing material.” He looks through one of the plastic bags and holds up a couple of Airheads and a packet of flaming hot Cheetos. Kyle wiggle his eyebrows.

“Yeah that is definitely not bad bragging material.” Alex puts the coffee down and takes the snacks off Kyle.

“I haven’t had Airheads in so long.”

“They used to be your favourite when we grew up.”

“You remember?” Alex is actually surprised to hear that.

“Of course I remember. I don’t even know why you like them so much but today I am definitely not judging because on the way here I stopped and probably bought mine and your weights combined in snacks.”

“You really must be having a bad day.” Alex laughs.

“I drove all the way here and brought enough snacks to give me diabetes in 20 years time, so yes I definitely am.” Kyle says and picks out a bag of Moams from the bags. Alex peeks over his shoulder to see that Kyle definitely wasn’t lying. The bags or filled up with different kinds of snacks to honestly last Alex 6 months. 

“Did you at least bring anything to drink with all of this?”

Kyle replies by taking out a six packs of Mountain Dew and Coke and Alex shakes his head but goes for the Mountain Dew.

“I haven’t had this shit since I was a kid, that’s for sure.” He takes out a glass and hands one to Kyle before he fills his glass up with the soda. He takes a sip and it tastes just like he remembers, sickly sweet. He takes an even bigger sip.

“So, what’s next then?”

“I have thought of that too my friend.” Kyle says and apparently he has because what he does next is that he he puts a stack of DVDs in front of Alex and steps back.

“Wow, you really have.” Alex leans over and looks at the selection. He spots Back to the Future at the top. 

“I have.”

“Star Wars? Really?” Alex holds the DVD up.

“Oh yes, I am desperate enough to watch Star Wars, that should tell you something.”

“Yeah, but Star Wars, that’s a new level even for you.”

Kyle snorts and pops some popcorn into his mouth. 

“I didn’t know you even owned this.” Kyle shrugs.

“I bought them a while back but I’ve not really had the time to watch them.”

“I see… well you know what sure. Let’s watch Star Wars.” Alex picks up one of the bags along with his snacks and walks into the living room, Kyle in tow. 

“This is a nice place.” Kyle notes as he lays himself down onto the couch like he owns the place. Alex lets him, just because he’s having a day. He sits down on the other end and opens up the Cheetos. 

“Thanks.”

“The military pay for this?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm, not bad.”

Alex picks up the DVD.

“Are you sure you want to watch this?”

“I’m probably the only 28 year old who hasn’t seen Star Wars, I feel like I’m missing out on part of my culture.”

“I mean yeah you probably are the only person our age who hasn’t seen this. You know you’re supposed to start with episode IV right?”

“What? How does that make any sense. Why?” 

Alex laughs at the obvious confusion Kyle seems to feel over this.

“George Lucas had the idea for Star Wars for a long time and while he was making the first film he had already figured out a lot of the backstory and what happened before it. But because he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t completely flop he waited to make the others after the success was already certain of the three first films.”

The room’s silent and Kyle’s looking at him like he’s slightly insane.

“Okay, you asked.” Alex says, his cheeks only heating a little.

“Yeah, no, okay that was totally on me. I did ask.”

Alex replies by chucking a Cheetos at his face and Kyle’s reflexes kick in and he catches it mid air. He looks proud and Alex just rolls his eyes. 

“Okay, are you sure you want to spend the afternoon watching Star Wars of all things? I’m sure I can find something that you’d actually enjoy.”

“Nope, I’m certain.” Alex relents and puts on episode IV. He’s having a little bit of a hard time  believing this whole to be fair but whatever if Kyle doesn’t want to talk about it then he’s not going to push him. 

Alex lasts about 40 minutes of munching snacks and drinking Coke like he’s 15 again, and a part of him enjoys it because he doesn’t have to think about…...things……. but he’s been living by his own motto when it comes to everyone which is that he left bullshit in Iraq. He sighs and presses pause.

“Hey, that Luke person was just about to do some training with the erm stick….oooo lightsaber, why did you turn it off?”

Alex is surprised Kyle actually seems to have grasped what is going on.

“The fact that you’re keeping up tells me this is serious enough that we need to have a conversation.”

Kyle’s eyes widens and he slumps down in his seat and crosses his arms.

“Are you pouting like a child??”

“No.” The tone is so petulant Alex laughs.

“Come on, what’s going on? I’m trying to be a friend now. For real totally trying.” Kyle grimaces

“I’d rather watch Luke Skytalker.”

“Walker.”

“Yeah, whatever, I’d rather watch him and Han Solo save Carrie Fisher.”

“Princess Leia, also you know who Carrie Fisher is?”

“Of course I know who she is, I was a jock but I wasn’t blind.”

Alex can buy that.

“Nope, we’re still talking.”

Kyle sighs and lies down completely on the couch. 

“Okay, well the other day was definitely weird. I’ve been avoiding Liz because, well I am struggling a little bit with having to deal with her choosing Max and me doing her every bidding which is clearly not healthy so I went to this gay bar just to get away a little from everything and I ran into Isobel. Now I like Isobel, and we danced and had a good time and then we were totally gonna sleep with each other but I chickened out because I kind of like this other girl so I went back to the hospital to see if she was still around only to find out that she was in surgery, all alone without telling me anything…. and I’ve been feeling kind of off since.” He rambles on.

“Wait, did you just tell me you went to a gay bar?” Alex cannot believe this. Kyle groans and hides his face.

“My hopes were that you would hyper focus on me and Isobel almost sleeping together rather than the gay bar part.”

“Oh you and Isobel almost sleeping together that doesn’t surprise me one bit to be honest. I thought it would happen sooner than this.”

“....what?” Kyle shouts.

“But you, Kyle ‘Hyper Masculine’ Valenti went to a gay bar?”

“Can we focus on the other parts of the story?”

“No, definitely not.”

“Ugh, well I’m very comfortable in myself and my sexuality thank you very much but even us straight guys enjoy putting glitter on our faces from time to time.”

“Oh my god.” Alex laughs, loving this. “You had glitter on your face?”

“Totally.”

“Please tell me you have pictures.”

“Sorry.”

“Well that’s just a crime, you went to a gay bar with glitter on your face and didn’t take any photos?”

“You can just come with me next time and see.”

“Honestly I might, it sounds very tempting.” Alex jokes and Kyle smiles. 

“Back to the issue please.”

“What is the issue exactly?”

“I don’t even know, I like Steff and I thought we had something going on. But now I’m worried about her too, and then the whole Isobel thing and it’s all just messed with my head.”

“I don’t mean to make it into a competition over who’s had a worse day out of the two of us, but I honestly think I win.” Alex says without thinking. His eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“No I mean nothing by that.”

“Pfft, you left bullshit in Iraq, well I left bullshit in high school, so what’s going on? I’m only going to assume it has something to do with you staying in bed like a teenager to 1pm.”

“I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this... Well I went with Maria to find out more information about her mom’s disappearance and we ended up in the middle of nowhere with this crazy guy who stabbed me in the chest and chased Maria through a cornfield. Michael came later too, but Maria had already disabled the guy by then and I was mostly fine. Then we find out the crazy guy has a twin who is well, not crazy and shoots his brother in front of us and tells us to call an ambulance and then get the hell out of there. Which we do and then after coming down from the adrenaline of almost dying well, I have a threesome with Maria and Michael….”

Kyle spits the soda out. 

“What the fuck?!”

“So I win then?”

“Oh totally, but also what the fuck? You had what now? A threesome?”

“Yeah.” Alex runs a hand through his hair and avoids looking at Kyle. 

“But you’re gay.”

“Yeah definitely.”

“Erm so why? I mean not that I’m against threesomes, you do you if you know what I mean. I am however having a little bit of trouble understanding why you slept with the love of your life and your best friend in this world?”

Alex tries not to flinch at the words because he’s kind of tried to stay in denial about the whole goddamn thing and when it’s put in the terms of love of your life and best friend in the whole world it sound really stupid.

He shrugs.

“I just… I just… I don’t know I didn’t want to be alone after everything that had just happened. I mean getting stabbed is not something that’s ever happened to me. It wasn’t exactly common when I was deployed so getting sneaked up on and then assaulted wasn’t something I wanted to go home to an empty house with. I have enough PTSD already and that was just doomed to set of insomnia for a while. So staying was better than leaving and then one thing led to another.”

“Wow man...that’s tough. How are you feeling?”

“How often do you think I end up sleeping to 1pm?”

“So, is this one of those instances where I have to go beat Michael up?”

Despite all it makes Alex smile. He feels grateful for Kyle.

“No it wasn’t his fault. And also we’re not in high school anymore, I could totally take the both of you on even with just one leg.”

“Yeah that’s definitely true. Well you say the word and I will drive over and drag him out the junkyard myself.”

Alex smiles again.

“Thanks, but no need.”

“So you’re not angry?”

“No no, not angry, I just…”

“He chose Maria again?”

Alex wonders if it’s all written on his face and that’s why Kyle seems to be able to read it all.

“No it’s not really that. I just. I feel anger towards my dad sometimes. Because he fucked me up so badly when I was young.”

“Hey hey, there’s nothing wrong with you.” 

Kyle puts his hand down between them on the sofa, leaving it there for Alex to take if he wants to. He exhales.

“I went to therapy after I lost my leg. It’s the first time I went. I should have gone way earlier because my pile of issues were huge even before I lost it. I was forced to go when I lost my leg, because even then I was convinced I didn’t need help. Because going to therapy is the weakest thing a man can do. That’s what I heard on repeat in my head when I was being wheeled into her office a month after the truck had exploded with me in it. It was his voice saying, “You’re weak Alex, you’re weak” over and over again…”

Kyle doesn’t say anything, Alex has turned his head away, staring in the opposite wall so he doesn’t have to look at Kyle’s face. 

But…

He does take Kyle’s offer up on support and grabs his hand on the couch in reassurance. Kyle grips it tightly and Alex continues.

“We didn’t really talk too much about my life before the Air Force. She was a good therapist, she really was but I wasn’t really there to unpack the trauma of having all my self worth being beaten out of me by my father, so we didn’t. Which is why, now that I’m back here that the things that happened before I enlisted have just been pushed away and undealt with for years. Which is not the ideal way of dealing with issues. They are all just being dragged back up again and I keep going in circles around it. So sleeping with Maria and Michael really wasn’t the solution to anything, but I’m not sure it made anything worse either.”

Kyle grasps his hand again encouraging him to go on. 

“Michael’s the only person I’ve ever had any sort of relationship with, the only person I’ve ever really wanted to be with too but when we met I was young and the issues had only just begun. Michael had his own set of problems too and while I am definitely guilty in how things went down between us then and now I still even now, I just…”

He starts scratching at a loose thread on the sofa, just to have something to do. 

“Love always comes with some sort of conditions. That’s all thanks to my dad… I can’t escape the feeling of every time I let myself be vulnerable something is going to happen that ruins it. That I’m not good enough or that I’m not loveable because I am who I am… I don’t like myself at times because my dad drilled that into me, that I am unlovable, and if I don’t love myself how is anyone else supposed to? I never feel secure either, in myself or any partner. It’s just a big mess tangled together.”

Alex takes breath and bites down the tears. Even talking about it is really hard for him. 

“I love Maria as a friend, but I guess she’s just had this ability to make me feel safe where no one else has, not even Michael. And it isn’t Michael’s fault really, because he didn’t know what I needed, how could he? I didn’t even know at the time… I just know that after what happened between us that it’s time to move on, move forward and demand better for myself. I just want more than what I’ve been given before…”

“Wow, I really should have brought alcohol shouldn’t I?”

Alex chuckles watery and looks over at Kyle who looks like he’s been hiding his own tears.

Ugh, not really how he planned for this day to go. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to put all that on you.” He clears his throat in embarrassment.

Kyle looks annoyed and pulls on Alex’s arm. He doesn’t understand but moves closer to Kyle. When he’s close enough Kyle wraps his arms around him and Alex is stunned into silence.

“Don’t ever apologize to me Alex. Especially not for something like this, okay?”

Alex nods silently and for a moment allows himself be held. After a while he distangles himself and moves away. Kyle lets him. 

“So, are you and Michael over then, for good?”

Alex takes a long moment before he replies.

“I always had this idea that we would end up together, but after everything I honestly don’t know any more. If I live long enough then maybe yeah in the future. But not for a while. I need some time to figure out who I am.”

“Okay, well even so, even after what you and Michael have been through, however bad it was at times it would make some sense too if you wanted to give yourself some time to mourn him and whatever you had together. If you don’t then that hole in your chest might just expand forever.” He says softly. Alex gulps and sighs, refusing to cry again.

“Y-yeah.”

They’re both quiet for a while, Alex just sitting with what he’s come to terms with.

“So, more Star Wars?” Alex nods and jumps on the distraction Kyle offers. He opens up a package of Maryland cookies and munches them down.

All this food is looking more and more like comfort food to him.

…….

Two films later Kyle is laying on the floor, crumbs on his chest and his head in his phone trying to figure out tiktok dances. Alex has taken up the whole couch and he feels drunk. He probably is going through a sugar high because his whole body is buzzing with energy.

“I can’t remember the last time I had this much sugar.” He groans and eats an M&M.

“Me neither.” Kyle is definitely looking way to concentrated on that tiktok thing.

“Kyle you’re almost thirty, are you sure there isn’t an age limit on the app?”

“Shut up.” Kyle mutters but puts the phone down. Alex snort and throws some popcorn at him.

“Do you have any food around?” 

Alex shrugs, he has no clue. Kyle groans but gets up and walks into the kitchen. He’s wearing a pair of Alex’s sweatpants that are way too small for him, but the day spent eating just junk food, the jeans he arrived in had long gone been discarded of. Kyle bangs about in the kitchen for a while and Alex doesn’t move because he’s kind of comfortable where he is.

“You have pizza, that will do.” Kyle declares and comes back out with the stack of DVDs that had been left in there earlier.

“So you pick something. I need something other than the force, lightsabers and aliens. I feel like we should both be done with aliens for the night.”

“Then why did you bring Infinity War?”

“What? I like that film.”

“God who are you?”

“What? It’s really good, also Captain America is inspiring.”

“Patriotism and steroids your thing Valenti?”

“Funny, no, well you know what he’s actually pretty hot and he’s workout routine is impressive as hell.”

“Honestly, I’m more into Robert Downey JR. and that man is over 50.” Alex quips back. Kyle looks thoughtful.

“Nah, still digging Chris Evans more.”

“I mean blondes were never my type.”

“Yeah that much is clear.” Kyle snorts. Alex throws some more popcorn at him and Kyle whacks him with a pillow.

They end up watching Legally Blonde instead and this is definitely one of the strangest days Alex’s ever had. But it’s also kind of the best ones he’s ever had too, not that he’s letting Kyle know that of course.

It gets late, way after 2am and Alex is not cruel enough that he is going to let Kyle drive home at that time.

“Okay, I’ll stay but I am taking the couch.” Kyle says. Alex scoffs.

“Don’t be ridiculous, this couch is really uncomfortable, it will mess up your posture for sure.” Kyle eyes it suspiciously.

“My bed is big enough for two.”

“Are you sure?” Kyle looks uncertain.

“I’m sure.” Alex says reassuringly. 

So, they end up sharing a bed just like they used to do when they were kids and things were good and normal between them. Also Alex’s bed is definitely big enough for the two of them. He invested in this bed when he decided to stay here long term. He’s spent too many years of his life sleeping in uncomfortable beds that he’s done with that forever. So he had splashed out on this because he deserved it. And he was nearing 30, his back definitely deserved it.

“This reminds me of us as kids.” Kyle says later when they are comfortable. Ales chuckles.

“Yeah same, I hope you’re not still a snorer.”

“I haven’t snored a day in my life.”

“That’s definitely a lie and you know it.”

Kyle laughs and fake snores. Alex snorts at the ridiculousness of it all.

He falls asleep feeling a little better though.

……..

At 4:30 am they are abruptly woken up by someone knocking on his door.

“What the fuck?!” Kyle groans. Alex doesn’t even turn over, instead he starts poking Kyle’s arm. He refuses to get up. Kyle groans some more but after a while he gives in and leaves.

Alex is so tired he doesn’t even listen for who it is. That’s a mistake.

The person who has decided to come disturb him at this god forsaken hour appears to be Isobel, and her voice is loud. 

“Oh my god Kyle, you left the bar a changed man I see. I can’t believe you slept with Alex.”

Alex sits up immediately, as quick as he can with just his one leg and pulls the duvet up to cover himself. Her eyes trail over him and Alex brains clicks into action because that’s definitely what this looks like to an outsider. Kyle comes running in, his hair a mess, shirtless and still looking half asleep.

“That’s definitely not what happened.” He says, Isobel narrows her eyes.

“Well it’s not really any of my business. I hope you used protection.” She sits down on the bed and Alex doesn’t understand what is happening because Isobel and him are definitely not close, and for her to sit down on the bed like she knows him is strange as hell. 

“What are you doing here Isobel?” He asks.

“Oh, well we’ve been trying to get in contact with both of you for hours, but none of you have been replying. You usually answer when Michael or Maria calls but you dodged those too, which is strange but whatever.”

Alex honestly doesn’t even know where his phone is, he hadn’t looked at it all day yesterday, so he definitely has no clue what has been going on in the life of people outside this house.

“But after everything that happened I felt like being nice and charitable and drive all the way over here. I also thought you’d be up by now Captain, doesn’t your day start at 5 normally?”

Normally yeah, he might be up by this time, but not when he’s consumed his own weight in sugar and gone to bed late while dealing with things, then he doesn’t.

“So I’m charity now?” He says instead.

“Something like that, come on let’s get going. Chop Chop.”

“What happened?” Kyle asks.

“Max remembers something, from a dream maybe. Alarming things, so come one. I’ll buy you two coffee on the way there.” 

She blows a kiss at Kyle and leaves the room. Kyle gives him a look at Alex sighs.

Yep, no rest in Roswell, that’s for sure.

[skiller0dani]

Lost in Love | Part Five

Summary: You’re Hank Anderson’s daughter, Claire- and you have an obsessive nasty ex fiance, Gavin Reed. A police officer at the DPD whom you’ve been seeing for a few years. He can’t stand the fact that you fell in love with an android of all things. But no matter what he does, leaving him feels like the best decision you’ve ever made. Claire is the source of the humanity that grew in Connor, she showed him how to love- and how to feel.

Pairing: Connor x Claire Anderson (OC)

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Detroit Good Ending Spoilers, Violence, Abusive Ex, PTSD

A/N: READ TEXT BELOW. IT’S VERY IMPORTANT TO THE STORY.

SO! Connor is my favorite and this precious baby boy deserves a small fic c: enjoy! The bold word at the top of every part is the corresponding chapter in the game this chapter takes place in. This fic is going to have Connor’s chapters only, and the dialogue will be altered- this isn’t supposed to be exactly like the Game. It’s my adaptation of the story, with my own personal additions added to it. Some of the story will take place after the game’s end.

Also the whole mood for this Part is Already Gone by Kelly Clarkson. If you wanna listen to it while reading I 10/10 recommend.

Part 4 Part 6 Masterlist

The Nest 

Connor finds himself, unsurprisingly, on Claire’s balcony as the sun rises. Claire is still asleep in her bed, her ankle looking much better than it did the night before. The birds chirp and the wind is bitter cold, feeling like it’s biting Connor’s skin. He looks down, noticing that Claire is still wearing his jacket. Claire’s alarm goes off and Connor moves into her bedroom, shutting and locking the doors to the balcony. Claire swings her legs off the side of the bed and Connor notices she’s not wearing any pants- it makes him blush. He turns and heads back to the living room as Claire finishes getting ready. She emerges from her room with a slight limp and hands Connor his jacket with a nervous smile. They’re getting closer- Claire can feel it. Being with him in her apartment is beginning to feel normal- it’s beginning to feel natural. Like he’s supposed to be here. 

“Ready to leave?” Connor asks as she pulls on a jacket. Claire smiles and nods, lacing up her shoes before slightly limping to the door. “Are you going to be okay?” Connor asks, his hand on the door handle. Claire nods, “yeah don’t worry about me.” She tells him as he holds the door open for her. “You look nice.” Connor smiles, noticing how beautiful she is- she really is very beautiful. Claire blushes as Connor lets the door close, “oh Connor I wanted to give this to you.” Claire smiles, handing him the key to her apartment that Gavin gave back. Connor looks surprised but smiles as he takes it from her. They walk down to the car, they’re supposed to meet Hank at the Police Station. Sitting in the car, Claire looks out the window as Connor sets the directions to the Police Station. 

“Been a wild couple of days.” Claire says, and Connor nods. It really has. Connor has never worked with anyone like Claire before. She’s changing him and he hasn’t decided if it’s for the better or not. He feels more vulnerable around her- weaker and stronger at the same time. “Took your time huh?” Hank teases as they approach him, Claire jokingly rolls her eyes as they all climb into Hank’s car. “I’m starving, you hungry sweetheart?” Hank asks, looking at Claire through the rear view mirror. Claire shakes her head, looking out the window. Hank pulls over as they reach a little food truck, he gets out and makes his way over. Connor sits in the car for a little, wondering what’s wrong with Claire. But he gets out and follow Hank. 

Claire stays in the car, trying her hardest to distance herself from Connor for a little bit. She loves him, she knows she does but he can’t love her back. He’s an Android, and him being nice to her is what he was programmed to do. All the nice things he says is what he was programmed to say. She’s trying her hardest to remember that but this connection she feels with him- it just feel so real. She doesn’t feel like it’s all programmed. It can’t be. It has to be real. Claire watches Connor lean against a table with Hank, talking to him. He looks Human, sounds Human, but he isn’t. Why did God have to send her the perfect man that isn’t a man? Why does her heart have to betray her like this? 

Walking up to the apartment, Claire can’t ignore the smell of pigeon shit, it’s everywhere. How the hell did so many pigeons get in here? Connor knocks on the door, and on the second knock there is a loud thump followed by the scuffling of feet. “Stay behind me.” Hank instructs and Connor moves behind him. Claire smiles, despite Hank saying how much he hates Androids, he still protects Connor. Claire tries to walk through after Hank but Connor’s hand stops her, and gently pushes her behind him. It feels like he’s trying to protect her, but why would he want to do that? Claire follows Connor into the apartment, becoming overwhelmed by the smell, “This has to be Deviant’s hideout- only an Android could live with so many damn pigeons.” Claire says, covering her nose with her hand. 

After a bit of poking around they soon discover that this Deviant has the same obsession with rA9. With a journal with writings in it that are undecipherable. Connor gets this look on his face as he slowly approaches a hole in the ceiling- in a flash the Deviant drops onto Connor and sprints into the hallway- Connor stands, “Chase it Connor!” Claire yells and soon he’s down the hallway like a bullet. Hank runs out into the hallway with Claire following behind him- but they can’t match an Androids speed. Watching Connor jump off a moving train Claire follows Hank through a shortcut through other buildings. When they emerge the Deviant is heading straight towards them, “Stop! Police!” Hank yells but the Deviant is barreling towards him. “Dad watch out!” Claire yells, jumping in front of him to shove him to the side. The Deviant shoulders her and skids off to the right, Claire looses her balance and tips over the edge of the building- her hands grabbing onto the sides.  

Hank is scrambling to get up, when Connor bursts out of the cornfield, and straight towards her. He doesn’t even glance at the Deviant as he jumps to another building. Connor takes Claire’s arms and pulls her up back onto the roof- his arms finding their way around Claire’s waist. Connor looks off to where the Deviant escaped, “Connor, you saved my life. Again.” She breathes, her heart hammering in her chest. Connor releases a breath as he gently leads Claire away from the edge of the roof and down the stairs. 

Claire and Connor enter Claire’s apartment, both silent. Neither of them spoke on their way back to the apartment. Claire sinks into the couch as Connor shrugs his jacket off, and hangs it on one of the hooks. Connor slowly makes his way besides Claire and she can’t help but be confused by the fact that Connor took his jacket off. He’s never done that before it’s just so...human. Connor rests his head back against the couch, his eyes closing. “Connor, do you sleep?” Claire asks suddenly, causing his eyes to pop open. He turns his head to look at her, his hands interlocked on his chest. “I can, but I don’t need to. I was designed to adapt to any and all work hours- including late hours.” He explains and Claire nods, “I wasn’t.” She joke and to her surprise- Connor lightly chuckles. 

“I thought I was going to die today.” Claire admits and Connor looks over at her, his hand reaching for hers. “I will always be there to save you Claire. I promise.” Connor says sincerely, and Claire looks up at him- there’s something different about his eyes. They look Human, and Connor he just- he feels so Human. “What about when you get sent somewhere else in the Country? You won’t always be here Connor.” Claire tells him sadly, and he doesn’t say anything. It’s true- he could be sent somewhere else at a moments notice. And its strange, but Connor doesn’t want to be sent somewhere else. He want’s to be near Claire, so he can keep his promise. For the first time- Connor is caught between his Duty, and what he truly wants to do. For the first time, Connor feels like...like he’s a slave. For the first time ever- he doesn’t want to do what he was designed to. Stopping Deviant’s is beginning to feel less and less important. 

Without thinking Connor leans forward, and brushes his lips against Claire’s- before they press together fully. The kiss is brief and Connor pulls back in surprise and Claire’s eyes are wide. “I- I should...” Claire stammers, tears in her eyes. Is he trying to hurt her? She loves him, and he can’t love. It’s like some twisted game designed solely to hurt her. Claire stands and rushes back to her bedroom- closing the door behind her. Connor sits up, feeling a horrible heavy pulsing through him. Suddenly he feels something wet on his cheeks and reaches up to touch his face- tears? What is happening to him? Is he crying? Connor stands, he wants to apologize but he doesn’t know why he did that- or why it upset Claire. He gently knocks on the door- leaning against the frame. “..Claire?” Connor says hesitantly. He hears her soft crying and he swears he can feel his heart breaking. 

“Claire can I come in?” Connor asks and when he doesn’t get a response he slowly opens the door. He doesn’t see Claire which makes him panic until he sees the door to the balcony slightly ajar. He gently opens the door to see Claire sitting on the bench with her knees pulled to her chest and tears in her eyes. “Claire I-” “I think you should go Connor.” Claire says softly, tears spilling over. Connor feels his eyes mist and he nods. He doesn’t argue or plead with her- he stands up, grabs his jacket, and leaves. When she hears the door close, she begins to full on sob. Her head down on her knees as cries ripple through her. She feels as though her heart has split into so many pieces she doesn’t even know if she can put them all back together again. Her fists ball and she continues crying on the balcony. The balcony that helped bring them together and the very same balcony that split them apart. 

[quentinsquill]

Eliot Waugh and the Case of the Cocooned Conjurers: Chapter 6

This is more of an interlude than a chapter, but I hope you enjoy it! 

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17218352/chapters/41841959

Much later, as more ale finally carried me off to sleep, I was again jerked awake by cries of either fear or pain—I couldn’t be sure. I stumbled from my bed and pulled on a robe as Margo sat up in her own bed on the other side of the room.

 “What the hell?” She questioned sleepily, and I put a hand up.

 “Stay put. I’ll see to it.” I hurried out and down the back hallway, suddenly aware the sounds were emanating from the guest room. Quentin hadn’t warded the door and I was both surprised and touched by his trust as I turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

 Quentin was writhing on the bed, his nightshirt twisted up around his hips, the sheets pulled free of their corners, wads of their fabric balled in both hands. The cries were wordless but full of such pain that my stomach clenched in sympathy. I lit a lamp with a motion of my left hand and its light showed me the doctor’s face, tense and slick with sweat and tears, even though he was still asleep. I leaned over him.

 “Dr. Coldwater?” I touched his shoulder. “Quentin!”

 The young man came awake with a shriek that made me flinch backward. His dark eyes seemed sightless for a moment, locked in the grip of whatever he’d dreamed of, then they met mine. As he became more aware, shame filled his expression.

 “Eliot . . .? Gods above, I’m sorry.” He sat up and ran a hand over his face. “I woke you.”

 “It’s all right, I don’t always sleep soundly myself.” I went to the wash basin to fetch a cloth, which I soaked with cool water. Quentin looked almost boyish in the lamplight, and I gave into the impulse to wipe his face for him. He jerked back and I sat on the edge of the bed. “Easy, easy . . . I won’t hurt you.” I wiped his smooth cheeks, removing the drying sweat and tear tracks. His shame was radiating off him in waves and I set the cloth aside. “The Great War must have been very difficult.”

 “Yes. I’ve done almost everything I can to forget its events, but as you can see . . .” He looked down at the twisted sheet in his hands and tried to smooth them out. “Look at the mess I’ve made.”

 “As messes go, I’ve seen worse.” I rose. “Wait here a moment,” I told him before ducking into the kitchen to grab a bottle of brandy and two tumblers before going back to him. He’d arranged his nightshirt back around his thighs and was tucking the bedsheet around the mattress corners.

 “Don’t bother with that, my good fellow, it’s all right. Here, have a drink.” I poured him a tipple and he accepted the glass, sipping from it a few times.

 “Thank you, it’s excellent.”

 “I usually spare no expense when it comes to my liquor. Margo complains about my expensive tastes, even though she denies that she shares them.” I took a sip of the brandy.

 “You said you and Margo left Brakebills after only one semester?” Quentin asked after a few beats of silence.

 “Indeed. It isn’t the right path for every magical adept.”

 “But you found your way there, like most students do?”

 “Yes. I chased one of my father’s milk cows down into a dry wash and into a cornfield. I got lost and the next thing I knew, I was pushing my way out of the stalks and onto the front lawn of the school. You?”

 Quentin took another sip of brandy.

 “I—I was a special case. I didn’t find Brakebills—they came for me, instead.” He paused, turning the brandy tumbler over in his fine-boned hands. “You see . . . I was—I was in an asylum.” His dark eyes flicked away from mine. “My father raised me on his own after my mother died of smallpox. I was three and I don’t remember much about her. But from the time I was small, I wasn’t—uhm—usual, I suppose the word is. I was a good student, especially with creative writing and figures, but I didn’t enjoy playing with the other boys, who liked to scrap and play stickball. I liked to read and wear costumes and daydream. When I was sixteen, my father sent me to a mental facility in Brooklyn, not far from where I grew up. He insisted they evaluate me because I wasn’t maturing properly. I was very frightened, and then one night the Brakebills professors came for me. I realized then that I was a magical adept and that’s why I was so different. Two years later, I left my studies to fight in the Great War.”

 I paused and did the calculations.

 “That would make you 22 years old?”

 “I had a birthday in July,” Quentin nodded.

 “My Gods,” I muttered. “You’re two years younger than I, and—”

 “I know. I look like an old man.”

 “That’s not what I was going to say!”

 “Sorry, go on?”

 “What I was going to say is that I find your courage extremely impressive. You were just a boy when you joined the war.”

 “I felt like I had no right to refuse. Magic had given me so much—a way out of Brooklyn, out of a future as some bored accountant or law firm clerk, an extended stay at the asylum my father sent me to. There were no other healers that specialized in battle magic, and our ranks were dwindling.”

 “So it’s the war you dream about,” I deduced, and Quentin drained the rest of his brandy with one long swallow.

 “Certain aspects of it.” One hand rose to his silver hair and finger-combed a tangle.

 “Margo told me she delivered herbs and potions to a magical clinic during the war and that she saw a man with hair like yours. He’d fought in the fairy realm, but the doctor told Margo he’d gone mad there. She doesn’t believe he survived because she never saw him there again.”

 Silence spun out as Quentin stared down into his empty glass.

 “She’s right. There were ten of us that traveled into the fairy realm. Three returned. One died at the hospital. The other, an older man who acted as our general, ended his own life a few weeks later. I’m the last of us and I fear I’m going mad—” Emotion broke the last word in two and Quentin clapped a hand over his mouth. I took the glass from his other hand and set it aside before touching his arm.

 “You aren’t,” I said, leaving my hand there, just above his elbow, when he didn’t flinch away. “What you are is traumatized by your memories because you choose to avoid other people. They’re all up here—” I tapped his temple—” “with nowhere to fly to but your dreams. I want you to know, Quentin, that you can tell me about your experiences if you wish, and I’ll keep them. I won’t even share them with Margo if you say not to.”

 The young doctor looked up at me.

 “Why would you want to help me, to keep memories that I can barely stand?”

 Why indeed . . .

 “Eliot?” Quentin asked, prompting me from my thoughts, and I patted his arm.

 “Many hands lighten the burden, my dear fellow. Now, try to get some sleep.” I glanced out the window and guessed that sunrise was only a few hours away. “We have a long day ahead of us.”

[endlesstomorrowstory]

II. Indecision

Genesis believed that every person should know something about the people who bore them. Especially as Genesis Adams felt like she was on the cusp of being an adult. 

At 21, the end of her junior year in college, Genesis only knew very few things about her birth parents. She had two favorite memories:  her mother had smelled like dew and fresh cut grass, and her father had once told her ‘every person has a place in the universe, even if you don’t know where it is, it will find you.’

 Most of her early memories were in tatters. Which caused a gaping rift in Genesis’ heart, because she knew something was missing.

 Not that her life had been bad. Her aunt and uncle had done everything in their power to make sure her childhood had been happy.

 They had been more than kind. Especially as Aunt Catherine had not meant to take in her sister's daughter. Genesis had heard the story of her arrival on exactly five occasions. It mostly occurred around the holidays, when her aunt had had a bit too much eggnog.

 This had never been an issue until last night, during the last recounting. It had been her cousin’s birthday dinner. Trudy was 18 years old and had just graduated high school that spring. The kid was about to go off to college – now only three weeks away. Her aunt was thrilled to have her two oldest girls going off to college, and that Trudy would be at the same school as Genesis so they could keep an eye on each other. Trudy had always been sister like to Genesis, so it wasn’t like she minded. Though Trudy was in a bit of a rebellious stage and chafed at the idea of having a watcher.

 Anyway, at Trudy’s birthday her aunt had had one too many glasses of wine. As Genesis had slung her aunt’s arm over her shoulder and helped her off to bed, her aunt had started recounting that story again. But this time her aunt had let slip a detail that Genesis had never heard before.

 Until the moment Genesis had arrived at their door on that fateful winter night, Aunt Catherine hadn't even realized her sister had a daughter. And for a second, when she’d first seen little Genesis in the doorway, Catherine hadn’t quite remembered ever having a sister.

 This was world shattering for Genesis. Because how did one forget having a sister?

 According to her aunt, the man who’d brought Genesis to her had smiled, and Catherine had shook herself. Her aunt had nodded, because clearly she had a sister. She just couldn't quite place her name, or face, or anything.  But then, the man smiled again, and Catherine stopped thinking about it and offered the man who said he was from Child Services a glass of water. The man declined, saying he had to be on his way.

 He’d told Catherine her sister, whom she still couldn’t picture in her mind as well as her sister’s husband had died in a tragic accident. As next of kin, the child was brought to Catherine. Catherine, having a daughter who still just a baby, agreed to take her niece in. Her husband, a God-fearing man, would not hear of doing anything different. Especially as the child was quite adorable and sadness seemed to seep off of her in waves.

 Somehow Catherine never thought to ask what happened to her sister, beyond it being a tragic accident. She forgot to ask how the child had come to be on her doorstep clothed in odd styled clothing - which looked better suited to a beach. She forgot to ask the man's name.  She forgot to ask a lot of things.

 But most importantly she's forgotten to ask a child's name. Or anything about her sister or her sister’s husband.

 So Catharine had been left with a child, with no background and no information. And finally, when they were alone and the child turned her sad blue eyes up at the Catherine, she was struck speechless. It was her husband that had the wherewithal to ask the child's name. Well, when the child said she needed a new name, her husband laughed. But the child would give no name. Catherine, snapping out of whatever daze she'd been in at her husband’s laugh, decided to call her Genesis. Because this was a new beginning, a new start for the young girl. Catherine had named her Genesis.

 It was all very tragic. But Genesis, as an adult, finally understood why her Aunt never spoke about her sister. Why she seemed to avoid the topic completely. In fact, it explained the glazed eyed look her Aunt got at the very mention of Genesis’ prior life.

 It was because she had no memory. Because, maybe, there was no sister, and her Aunt wasn’t really her aunt.

 But Genesis maybe was reading too much into her Aunt’s drunken tale. Maybe her Aunt was just so saddened by her memories that it was easier making stories up.

 And Catherine had been a good parent. Genesis had fond memories of growing up in New Hampshire. She could remember summer days on picnic blankets, her cousin – a toddler – chasing butterflies. Her Aunt, arms around Genesis, sitting out in the sun on a grassy hill reading them stories.

 Aunt Catherine, Uncle Mark, cousin Trudy, and later her young cousin Katie had been all the family Genesis had needed. The four of them had been a family to her when she had nowhere else to go. Genesis had lived in the small town of Groveland Falls since she was five with them.

 It was where grew up. Where she’d had her first crush. Gone to school. Shared her first kiss. Where she’d broken her leg falling out of a tree chasing Trudy.

 It was home.

    Today was a beautiful day, and even though Genesis’ thoughts were stuck on her Aunt’s latest recounting, she tried to shake off the weight and enjoy the day.

 Autumn had come again to Groveland Falls. It was a small farming community, named for a beautiful waterfall that cascaded down a nearby mountain. A couple miles from the center of town. There was a walking trail and everything. Tourists loved to go there.

 Genesis was out and about, heading the opposite way from town. She stood on the dirt road that ran by one of the farmer’s fields on the outskirts of the town. Two years ago a new, shiny paved road had been laid through town, making the dirt one unnecessary. Genesis still found it to be the fasted route back to her Aunt’s house from the Farmer’s Market in town square. The dirt road also ran parallel to Haven Woods, the haunted and much feared forest. The only time the town’s people had ventured in was to look for children that sometimes disappeared.

 The local news blamed ghosts in the woods. The national news blamed a serial killer they’d caught four years ago.

 Genesis blamed herself. The first girl to go missing had been her best friend. Thus Genesis swore tragedy seemed to follow her, even to the quiet town. It had happened when she was in elementary school. Her best friend, Alexis Gordon, had disappeared from the woods.  It still weighed heavy on Genesis’ mind that she had been the last one to see her friend. The town had since given up on finding Alexis; Lexi’s parents had even moved way, not being able to stand the loss of their daughter. Four other little girls had gone missing after Alexis.

 Genesis blamed herself in some ways, though the rational part of her brain said she had been too young to do anything to prevent it. Still, the human heart was not the most rational of places.

 The smell of autumn drifted through the fresh, crisp air. The soft wind picked up red, orange, and gold leaves flinging them around in a playful dance, it tossed the corn silk in the fields making it fly off and into the evening air. The sun was just setting over the mountains that lay far off in the distance; coloring the open fields with glorious shadows. On a day such as this, most people chose to stay indoors and sip warm cocoa by the fire with a good book or movie.

 Yet, the silence of the late afternoon was broken by the melodious clip of Gen’s shoes on the road that ran by the fields. The clip ended shortly as she stopped on the edge of the fields and brushed the corn stalks aside peering into the golden abyss. She shivered slightly, the chill finding its way to her, even though she was snuggled into a soft brown sweater and faded jeans.

 Genesis sighed, still on the edge of the field. It would be easier to follow the road back home, but something tugged at her. Even after Alexis had disappeared she couldn’t help but go back to the woods. She had snuck in after school, or before dinner, or whenever she got the chance. When she was in high school her Aunt had finally realized where she was going, but she didn’t complain. Her Aunt was more understanding than anyone else Genesis knew. Plus the killer had been caught and was in prison, several states away.

 Debating whether to go straight home, Genesis stood a moment more then headed into the cornfields. Her hair snagged on the stalks of corn until she finally tied the mid-length mass at the nape of her neck. The wind, soft as it was, was still crisp enough to stain her cheeks red with cold. Her blue eyes sparkled with delight at finding no one in the fields. Sometimes the farmer or the seasonal workers were moving through them, but not today.

 The play of the wind in the trees, the sound of a babbling brook not far off, these were enough to make one girl happy for just a few moments in eternity. Since no one was around she slipped out of the fields and into the deep serenity of Haven Woods.

 As Genesis’ eyes adjusted, they focused on her marker. The woods had gotten more and more overgrown throughout the years, and she had grown tall enough that she could no longer duck under the brush. Instead she had marked the easiest route with light blue ribbons, the color only visible if you were looking for them.

 She stood at the first marker watching the blue ribbon flap slightly, as a stronger bit of wind gusted by. Genesis shivered slightly, and hugged herself tighter. Without thinking, her legs moved of their own accord, drawing her onto the overgrown path that hadn’t been well used since the eighteen hundreds. Most people in the town would not step foot in the woods at all, let alone far enough to find any semblance of the path that was left. It was rugged and scary looking on the outside, so most people thought it was haunted. Superstitious fools.

 But then, the woods on the other side of town were much better maintained, almost manicured. That set of woods had hiking trails and worn dirt paths – like the one up to the falls. It was much easier to explore those woods. Genesis understood why people preferred Grove Woods.

 But Genesis had a taste for wild things. For shadows and dark hidden paths.

 If there were ghosts or spirits in Haven Woods, well she wasn’t scared. Genesis figured the only ghosts here must be lonely. Their souls still clinging to earth, wafting through the trees and bushes, sending animals scattering away in surprise. She had been coming through Haven Woods far too long to be scared anymore. To her, the ghosts were welcome. They made better company then her cousins most days. Genesis rolled her eyes heavenwards at the thought of her 14-year-old cousin, Katie. Just young enough to still idolize her, but too old to admit she was. And of course, rebellious Trudy. They were both wonderful girls who Genesis loved, but sometimes she wanted to be left alone.

 The thing she loved most about the forest was that it felt alive. It was overflowing with of magic, dancing all around her, stemming from the very heart of the woods. Old magic was here; the kind that brought to mind of faeries or mythical creatures. But if they were here, Genesis had never seen them. And honestly, it was probably her active imagination that thought that.

 Genesis finally broke through trees and from the sort-of-path and entered into a clearing. The weathered and worn Cross Creek Graveyard still stood where it always had. Genesis had figured out that it was mostly Civil War heroes and pioneers that had been buried here. Her last year of high school she had etched the words onto paper and found records in the local library. No one alive remembered these people but her. In middle school, during one flight of fancy, she had dubbed herself the guardian of the place and guardian of the lost souls who lived there.

Once a year, around Halloween, as close as she could come, she polished the stones and cleaned them. In the spring she planted new flowers on every grave and raked the leaves that had fallen.

 Last year during summer break she had untangled the black picked fence until it was once again straight and good as it was going to get. There still wasn’t a gate though, it had fallen off and rusted to long ago for it to be usable. With a smile she stepped in and over to the stone she’d rolled in so she could sit and rest. Setting her small backpack down, she collapsed on the rock and just sat, enjoying the autumn day.

 Dark long lashes veiled her soft blue eyes as she took in the sounds of little animals and birds, the smell of fallen leaves and earth. Genesis at 5’5 folded her frame with pristine grace, the sort that only the young had, until she sat crossed legged and staring at the statue that seemed to guard the graveyard.

 Well, it was more of an archway. A small star supported by two angels who stood in silence, stone eyes tilted skyward. It was almost as if they were reaching for the star, and each other.

  Genesis had always wondered about the angels, who was the architect? Why an archway in the graveyard?  

 Alexis had said, upon first hearing of them, that it must lead to someplace wonderful. Genesis, who loved fantasy and prized freedom above all else, was skeptical but loved the idea of a gateway to another world. It was too bad Lex wasn’t still there to help her speculate why it had been built in the first place. Genesis sometimes imaged what it would be like if Alexis was still there, what they would talk about, the things they would do.

 The leaves rustled behind her, and Genesis whipped her head around. Her eyes settled on two birds, perched on the limb of a lumbering oak, their eyes watching her. “Hello, pretty things.” Genesis murmured. She thought it odd that a dove and a raven should sit together on one branch, but there they were. The two birds stared as if waiting for something to happen.

 The wind picked up so suddenly that Genesis was unsettled from her perch on the rock. It dashed over her, causing her to shutter.

 All around her the forest was coming alive. The birds within the forest took the air crying out in dismay. The raven and dove were the only birds not on wing. The woods seemed to be chilling, getting darker. Genesis felt the edge of fear stab at her, like a snake ready to strike. “What’s happening?” She murmured, as the shadows somehow seemed to spread out, becoming more real. The only time the forest had ever felt scary was the day Lexi had disappeared, but it had not been like this. This was spine quivering fear that stole through her. Shakily, Genesis pulled her backpack back on and stood. Maybe it was time she went home. It was getting dark after all. Genesis gave a half laugh, the sound eerie in the sudden silence as the animals and bird sounds seemed to have completely disappeared.  

 Genesis took a step toward the entry. But without warning, Genesis was pulled from her feet. Lurching to her side she looked to see what had caused it and found nothing there. Genesis screamed as she felt a pull on her leg, though the only thing there was shadows. The inky blackness seemed to be wrapped around her ankle, pulling her toward the stone archway.

 It must be her imagination right? She had an abundance of imagination. Hell, her creative writing teacher at college even told her she might have too much. Yet, it was as if the shadows were a real tangible substance, like molten ink burning her skin.

 Struggling to get up, Genesis made it to her knees when she felt another sharp tug. Soon she was back on the ground and being pulled through the archway.

 When she opened her eyes again there was no other side, just empty blackness and the feeling that the world was falling away.  

[rp-meme-central]

Jacksepticeye plays “Inside” - sentence starters - Part 1

1. “This is what I love. You just hear the trees. You just hear nature. That’s it. You don’t need anything else.” 

2. “I can literally just jump. That’s it. That’s all there is.” 

3. “Was that a bunch of kids in the back of the truck? Is s/he kidnapping kids?” 

4. “Let’s Indiana Jones this shit and get in the fridge.” 

5. “Careful. Don’t fall and break ankles.” 

6. “You don’t see me! You don’t see me, I’m hidden! Look!”

7. “Go! Go, little boy/girl! Go!” 

8. “Oh thank god. That legit like scared the fucking shit out of me.” 

9. “It’s so eerie.”  

10. “Okay, s/he didn’t kill me. I thought s/he was gonna drown me.”

11. “You have to hide long enough for the truck to go by, and then you run.”  

12. “Oh my god, that was terrifying! It was super fucking cool though.” 

13. “Am I safe?” 

14. “This would be terrifying in real life.” 

15. “There’s something really cozy about this. Like, the rain and everything.” 

16. “Oh, cornfields. These are like a horror movie trope.” 

17. “You have to admit, it’s pretty fucking cool looking.” 

18. “What’s that on the ground next to me? Are those like little chicks? Aww, they’re cute!” 

19. “This is awesome.” 

20. “Aww, the little chicks have nowhere to go and they’re following me.” 

21. “Oh! Nice parkour roll.”    

22. “Can I let the chicks in? I feel bad that they’re all out in the rain and I want to save them. I love the little chicks.” 

23. “Oh god, I’m running through pig shit.” 

24. “Are you dead? Oh fuck, no you’re not.” 

25. “What does this thing do?” 

26. “Please don’t get crushed ‘cause of me.” 

27. “But what’s wrong with you guys? Why are you like that?” 

28. “God, that looks painful.” 

29. “Ah, it’s daytime. Yay.” 

30. “Beautiful scenery. What’s that in the distance, though?” 

31. “Oh, those are my footsteps. I thought I heard something chasing me.” 

32. “If I had stayed on it, I would have died.” 

33. “Sorry for all the comparisons, but it’s incredibly like ______.” 

34. “Let’s Batman this shit.” 

35. “Can I jump into this thing again?” 

36. “What was back here, though?” 

37. “What did I just do? What was that?” 

38. “Okay, get ready to jump.” 

39. “Don’t slip and fall and die. That would suck.” 

40. “I’m in the building anyway. That’s all I wanted to do.” 

41. “That’s such a creepy sound. Just listen to it.” 

42. “They’re not moving like humanly. They’re moving like zombies.” 

43. “Nobody notice me please.” 

44. “I didn’t think s/he could see me. Fuck me. Scared the shit out of me.” 

45. “Not enough time!”   

46. “It’s so creepy!” 

47. “Imagine if the world was like that, and you couldn’t go outside because it was just giant robots coming to kill you at all times.” 

48. “So if I act out of place you’re gonna get me?”

49. “Why are they all staring at us?” 

50. “Oh crap, now we have to turn around.” 

51. “I’m perfectly in sync now.”

52. “No. That’s too close. That’s too close. Keep going.” 

53. “Such simple little puzzles, but they’re so good.” 

54. “I think you have to push it and let it roll.” 

55. “Oh, this is some Inception shit going on right now.”  

[thedbdhillbilly]

The Case of Max Jr. Thompson

 No one knows for sure what happened to the Thompsons. Just one day, they never returned to town. Everyone just assumed they had become quite busy on the farm until they noticed how the once green fields of corn had begun to brown and eventually perish. Sure some brave soul would go out to see what had become of the Thompsons but they would never return. Rumors have it that if you were even near that god forsaken field, you’d hear the faint sound of a revving chainsaw. 

That would give some indication of life, right? Of course. But not just by any ordinary person. Not all of the Thompsons disappeared. Little did everyone know, there was a Thompson that the town wasn’t even aware of that had been on that farm his entire life. Born with extreme deformities, Max Thompson was the son of the farmer couple. Ashamed for what they brought into this world, they kept him locked up in a bricked off room and fed him through a hole in a wall for most of his childhood. Max Jr. may have not been very smart but he wasn’t dumb either. He was capable of human thought and his thoughts grew more and more with each passing day. Confusion reached him first. Why was he not allowed to leave this room? Why did the way his parents spoke and treated him not feel good? Was this how he was supposed to be treated? Then, anger enveloped his very being. He deserved better! He wanted to see what was behind that wall and he wanted to explore the world around him! Only at night, did his mother tell him stories of the outside world and described in vivid details of what it’s like. It almost felt like she was mocking him that he’d never see that. 

 It was difficult for Max to speak. With his face underdeveloped, it was already hard enough for him to breathe through his nose. His mouth hung open most of the time to make it easier for him to breathe but when he did speak, it always sounded more like a low growl and his speech was rough. He would always ask his mother when he would be able to leave but her response was always ‘soon’. It was never soon enough for the boy and if he ever asked his father, he would only be scolded for even bothering him with such a question.

 That was until one day he waited for his parents to go out. And when they did, he continually collided against the wall with his shoulder. He was going to break out one way or another. Clouds of dust swirled around him as he continued his efforts into busting down that wall. And with all that hard work, he eventually did. It was his first time in years was he able to see the inside of his house before his parents barricaded him inside that small room. It all felt so familiar and yet so new to the Hillbilly. Was he really in there that long? 

 He explored his home for a while before taking his first foot outside. Seeing this much green overwhelmed him. Why would his parents keep him away from something so beautiful? The air was crisp and felt good against his skin. His mother never said it, but his father always reminded him that he wasn’t a looker. Max hasn’t seen what he really looked like before and with the thought in mind, he looked around his home for a mirror. One he eventually found in his parents’ room at his mother’s amoire. His hair was patchy and extra sheets of skin stretched over his face awkwardly. His ears were folded in in a dopey fashion and his eyes weren’t positioned right at all either. He always knew he was probably not the most attractive guy since the most he was able to see were his arms and down. His skin wasn’t the softest and some of his bone was exposed through his limbs along with bulbous boils. But never before did he think he was this disgusting in appearance. He was a monster.  Again, he grew overwhelmed. He was beyond angry when he saw his own reflection. It was almost like he was taking it out on himself when he discovered a thick stapler in his father’s workshop. He grabbed it and went back to his parent’s bedroom to use it against himself. Maybe he can fix his appearance! Max tried his best to make the flesh on his arms more smooth and flat before stapling it down. It hurt much more than he expected, prompting a pained howl from him but he had to keep trying. He repeated the same process to his face but when he was done, he checked over his work but it didn’t seem like much had changed. He was doomed to look like this forever, wasn’t he? At the sound of the bedroom door opening, he was faced with his parents. Max, covered in blood from where he tried to fix himself, stood as straight as he could though hunched over somewhat due to the curve in his spine he was born with. His parents stood in horror to see their son with blood all over him, the floor, and on the amoire. How did he get out? The idea of trying to coax him back into the room was the first idea his mother came up with but he only argued back that he wanted to live more normally just like them. Then, his father barked at him and made remarks that reminded him of his monstrous appearance but that’s where he had crossed the line.

No more would Max take this. He deserved much more than this and it wasn’t fair that his parents kept so much from him and treated him the way they did. Out of anger, he grabbed for his father by his neck and slammed him against the wall. His grip grew tighter and tighter as his father struggled and grasped to get away from him. And then, his neck snapped. He let go of his lifeless body and turned to his horrified mother who turned and ran out.

Not allowing her to escape, he chased after her. She was just as guilty as he was for doing this to him. He didn’t ask to be born and deciding not to kill him when he was an infant and forcing him to live in that hole for so many years was a mistake. If they chose to let him live this long, they should have at least granted him the ability to roam this world. This isn’t his fault, it was theirs. She brushed past the fields of corn and into the slaughterhouse where she climbed past the gates and hooks until she subsequently tripped in a puddle of uncleaned cow blood. Paralyzed with fear, she couldn’t stand back up. Max grew closer and closer to her until his gaze turned to a heavy hammer fitted against the tool rack. Curiously, he picked it up with ease and looked it over before deciding this is what he wanted to use. 

 His mother tried to crawl away but it was a fruitless effort. He stepped a dirty boot over her back to keep her in place before bashing it down against her head several times. She screamed before it made contact with her cranium but the second it made contact, she went quiet. Her muscles spasm’d as brain matter and skull fragments splattered all over the two. When he had his fill, he stepped off of her and carried her body back inside and tossed it unceremoniously into the hole in the wall along with his father’s corpse. Over time, he sealed them inside there with new bricks.

But still, even after killing them his rage continued to fuel him. He grew fond of the tool rack and fancied a shiny looking chainsaw. Sure it took a few times to understand how the strange machine work but again, he wasn’t dumb and was able to teach himself eventually. It also grew to be his favorite tool to use. The sensation of the vibrations surging through his hands and the thrill of sprinting out and slicing through a cow always felt good and relieved him of this pent up anger.  If anyone even dared to step on his farm, he would go out of his way to get them. He wasn’t going to let anyone ridicule him anymore. Max wasn’t going to even let them have the chance of doing so and he’d do anything to prevent that. This is his land now and no one was ever going to touch his beautiful cornfield. Unfortunately for him, Max didn’t know how to take care of it. It only saddened him more when it began to die out and turn brown. He did all he could to save it but nothing he did worked. Maybe everything he touched died, he thought. And if that was his purpose, then so be it.