#haunted motel au

[fighting-these-demons]

Royal Flush Haunted Honk - The Updated Bones!

Hello Internet Stranger looking up G Gundam on Tumblr dot com!

This is an idea for a Horror Alternate Universe involving Queer Non-Canon Relationships between the characters of the series.

It is based on the idea in the post that is linked above.

If you are not looking for this content please scroll on.

If you ARE looking for this content - and you're ok with reading my and other's Headcanons for this Alternate Universe I've haphazardly spun up -

Then go ahead and feel free to:

Check The Tags Of This Post For The Pairings

and click the Read More below!

Also the majority of the brainstorming is happening in the replies if you're so inclined.

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Behold! The Update! It's the bare bones intro and the outline! It's 2.5K! Whoops! 😅

Some of this is just straight copy and pasted from the notes and other bits have been lightly reworded or built upon to connect to other bits.

I've gotten some scenes sent to me by @thedragonchilde that I loved and I think will fit in well with what we've got so far for the fic.

If you'd like to link or reblog them please do!

@amplexadversary feel free to message me or reblog with scenes you've thought up or written up! I can't wait to read them!

I think we've set the stage pretty well to start brainstorming the horror and whump! 😃

I'll see y'all in the replies for ideas on new plot points! 🪦💥🌩

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This is backstory and general outline only.

It is barely edited. Typos abound.

The dialogue is extremely minimal and it is a framework upon which to build the fic. 💖

I am giving this explanation for the benefit of internet strangers as all parties working on this fic are already familiar.

Hello Internet strangers! 👋

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Wherever the tendrils of the Devil Gundam hovered over the earth, and subsequently were destroyed, are places that may have had DG cells distributed through the atmosphere.

Atmospheric DG plumes have lead to DG infection in those areas. There's also likely tendril debris.

Neo-Japan, since the Devil Gundam's destruction,  has been working with Neo and world governments on a cure for DG infection.

At the moment the current treatment involves Kyoji or Schwarz controlling the DG cells of the individual and shutting them down; however, they are making breakthroughs with advancements on a nanocite injection that they're synthesizing with an executable program that shuts the DG cells down.

The biological compatibilities are the hurdle at the moment as evidenced in animal testing.

Kyoji and Domon are traveling to some sites in the USA that were affected by tendrils. Domon is there as a body guard since Schwarz is handling infection cases elsewhere (unspecified).

Chibodee is their escort. America is a Different Beast to Japan even in the future. So they'll need an escort to get through the militant landscape and across the sheer distance of it all.

Rain wanted to come with them, but with the volatility of the current landscape of the US - Especially where they're going - Kyoji didn't want to needlessly risk her safety.

He's assured her that Domon, Chibodee, and Chibodee's team will be watching his back.

Dr. Kasshu will be with them for the first days in New York to help with setup of the mobile lab before heading back to Neo Japan to continue working alongside Rain.

Once they've rested and are ready to head out, Domon, Chibodee, Kyoji, and The Gals will take Neo America's Core Lander and a mobile lab to the TD Site and it should be a fairly straight forward affair since they've gotten permission from the national and state governments, as well as permission from Gunsinto to be in the area.

They shouldn't be more than a few days travel to get there and retrieve samples and data and get back. He should be gone a week at the absolute most.

Kyoji gives rain the contact info to their hotel in New York as well as their sponsored Gunsinto accommodations in the Midwest and lets her know that he'll call once they've arrived palnetside.

He makes good on that promise the next day, letting Rain know that their shuttle landed, Chibodee and the girls picked them up without hassle, and lets them know that they're set to have a great dinner at a favorite restaurant of Chibodee's that evening.

Seeing Chibodee is like a breathe of fresh air that Domon didn't know he needed. Life has been so needlessly complicated lately but after Chibodee releases him from the bear hug given in greeting and throws an arm over Domon's shoulders they fall into step as if they'd never been apart.

Keeping in touch wasn't exactly easy. Domon doesn't respond quite as often as Chibidee would like, but every message Chibodee left was listened to and saved.

Ever since they got wind of this mission it's all either of them has had on their minds for days.

I need some help here with feelings and dialogue and inner thoughts but Basically

They both independently realize with clarity over the days leading up and the time in New York how much they've missed each other and how easy and comfortable it all is - being teamed up again.

Domons semi-recent revelations and feelings fresh on his mind. Chibodees crush ever looming.

Hearts racing. Feeling lighter than they have in God Knows How Long. Chibodee smiling so much his face cramps. Domon feeling so comfortable and nearly zen he loses his permanent frown from constantly thinking and just vibes. Smiling occasionally even!

Chibodee proposes they spar real quick before dinner "To work up an appetite! And C'mon! I wanna see what I'm up against in the upcoming Gundam Fight!" With a grin slamming his left fist into his open right hand. (He's left handed right? Or was that someone else?)

They Spar and there's Feelings

(I have a small scene outline put together for the spar for your consideration. @thedragonchilde has submit 2 scenes that would be great for just after the spar and are an awesome read! I'll include my outline for the spar scene in a reblog)

Then they have dinner together and later part to settle in their hotel rooms for the evening. 

The next day they focus on briefing the expedition and setting up the Mobile Lab that The Gals will be in charge of transporting. 

Once the lab is set up, they see Dr. Kasshu off on his shuttle back to Neo Japan that has been on standby since they arrived.

Kyoji volunteers to ride with The Gals under the excuse of getting a head start on some data processing - to give Domon and Chibodee some time alone together. 

Chibodee is not about to let himself be alone in a Core Lander with Domon for HOURS. He may blurt out something he regrets. He insists that Kyoji ride with them and leave the Gals to themselves.

As they make their way out west, Chibodee starts explaining why they'll want to keep their guard up. 

There's been a lot of unrest recently and especially the last 10 years since Gunsinto bought out the last of their land and displaced so many communities. 

Domon asks occasional questions but Kyoji isn't saying much of anything at all. Opting to rest most of the journey. Domon seems tense, which is understandable considering the events before they left New York. 

Suddenly they hear gunfire and what might be a canon of some kind. 

They expected resistance outside of Gunsinto territory but they didn't expect it after they crossed the border!

Aren't the Greenlords supposed to be patrolling the area???

So they're on the run from a group that blames Domon and Kyoji for all the bullshit post DG Incident. The group is made up of various parties working together to hold Neo Japan responsible for their crimes against humanity since nothing held up in court and Neo Japan is currently in control. Plus near endless bitterness at America's loss of Super Power status for decades and the effect that that has had on their economy and natural resources put under stress from these Big Space Battles. 

Chibodee and The Gals are aware of THIS group of violent individuals… but they're not aware of the OTHER group of violent individuals. (The Clown gangs are kept under wraps by the Greenlords - Gunsinto's private militia similar to to the Pinkertons as going public would be an embarrassment and an open invitation to more trespassers.)

They have a good idea of what weapons they have at their disposal and what their general tactics are. 

They decide to split up and have The Gals create a distraction to lure the majority of the aggressors off before rendezvousing close to the TD Site in this region.

After they split, the core lander has some issues and breaks down in the middle of nowhere. As they break down Kyoji has an awful headache. There's a terrible signal he can feel and he knows it affected the core lander's processors but he's not sure what it is. 

(It's a device that broadcasts a malicious signal that infects the processing units of hovering vehicles - was gonna be an emp but realized that would mess up their gps. It has only a very mild effect on DG cells it seems. Their GPS was made by the Kasshus with DG tech so it's unaffected. - Their communicator was issued by Gunsinto and was not so lucky - it's dead.)

Luckily for them their map data integrated into their GPS shows there should be a former town nearby.

The nearest town is seemingly abandoned. There's simply not enough water here according to Chibodee. 

The only building not completely crumbled is a lone Motel. Chibodee curses his Rotten Fucking Luck. (Clown Music!)

They're exhausted from carrying their emergency supplies through the heat of the day. They're not going any further. This will have to be it. Domon is clearly tense and Chibidee seems about to jump out of his skin but Kyoji doesn't really know why. He could be over sensitive after sitting with their tension in the core lander and then walking with them through the heat. 

Chibodee considers attempting to convince them to camp outside but with the wind picking up as bad as it is, he has no leg to stand on. They'll be sleeping inside. 

Strange though. There's a light on. That's odd.

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

Meanwhile The Gals have incapacitated the pursuers after radioing in help from the Greenlords who are cooperating on this mission. 

They're of course like “Whaaaaaat? That's Crazyyyyyyyyy.” And don't breathe a word of the Other Issue inside The Fields. Instead electing to simply refuel the mobile lab and send some extra men with The Gals as escort.

The girls start back on their journey to Rendevous with the guys. 

The arrive at the TD Site with no sign of the guys. After waiting 2 hours they decide to try and ping their location. 

There's no result. What they assumed was poor signal is worrying them now.

As they double back in the direction the guys should have been coming from they discover the crashed Core Lander and some prints headed South West.

They check their maps of the area which indicate a former town a few miles south west. They hop in their mobile lab and head that way. 

When they make it to the town, the only standing structure is a Clown Themed Motel that looks like it was pulled straight out of a historical classic horror film. 

They share a look. There's no way Chibodee would be here. They decide to check for other towns and head further south.  Eventually as it starts to get dark the escort advises that they head to the designated accommodations for the evening and the Greenlords will start a search.

Kyoji kept his word to Rain that he and his father would check in when they arrived in New York. When the second day stretches on with no word Rain starts to worry.

Her father has made it home, but she's still heard no word from Kyoji.

On Rain's 5th call in as many hours -at about 2:00 AM- The Gals answer.... it's Bad News.

They've been separated by a roaming militia group hellbent on serving American Justice to these Neo Japan Planet Destroyers. The Gals were supposed to Rendevous with Chibodee and the guys at the TD site but they never showed and they didn't find them on their way to the Gunsinto Accomodations either.

The Gals reassure her that the Greenlords and Gunsinto are starting a search and they should have word soon.

Dread starts to settle in the pit of Rain's stomach.

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Meanwhile The Guys walk into the Hotel expecting it to be abandoned. It certainly looks that way from the outside. 

As they walk in though, they meet a rather average looking man smoking a cigar and watching some movies on a TV in the corner of the dark Lobby. 

He looks surprised (he isnt) and quickly stubs out his cigar in the ash tray nearby before walking into the only light in the lobby by the front desk.

He welcomes them with a smile and asks how many guests. Letting them know that unfortunately he's only got one room available and There's Only the One Bed. He asks if that's alright.

Chibodee sputters. Shocked that there's someone here at all. He asks as much and the man says that the Hotel is a side business of the Greenlords’ for “Employee Services” if you catch his drift.

Average guy asks after them as he's never seen them before. Kyoji has a bad feeling and smooths things over by advising that they're there as horticultural graduate students studying genetic modification with their Professor and a few other students. Kyoji tells a tale of how they got separated in the fields and this was the closest area with shelter according to their map data.

The Average guy is surprised to hear that they have a functioning GPS and says that this area has bad signal. It's a blessing they can find their way.

He directs them to their room and leaves back toward the lobby.

Kyoji has a bad feeling. He can sense a ton of corrupted DG cells nearby. Somewhere underground, but isn't sure why or what it means. 

He also keeps getting flashes of screaming men and women in clown costumes….

He relays as much to Domon privately as Chibodee is clearly already on edge and doesn't need any more stress. 

Kyoji asks Domon if Chibodee is alright. Domon informs him that clowns and clown imagery is a problem but there's really nothing they can do about it in this situation. His fists are clenched. Domon i's pissed they have to stay here.

Kyoji takes a moment to let Domon know he'll take the floor and for Chibodee and Domon to take the bed. This throws Domon for a loop, but before he can argue Kyoji insists that out of the 3 of them he can probably take the most stress and that Chibodee looks like he needs someone to sleep next to. 

Kyoji also mentions that he'll be blocking his hearing on a nano level to give them privacy in case they need to talk. Domon is a bit flustered by this but decides to take it in stride and go to Chibodee who is pacing and silently melting down. He looks like he's about to both through the window and back into the fields. 

Domon puts a hand on Chibodee’s shoulder and suggests they go ahead and bunk down for the night. 

He and Domon each take a seat on the end of the bed while Kyoji remains standing and they discuss Watch Rotation.

It'll probably be better to have 2 people awake and 1 person resting at any given time.

None of them trust this guy at the front desk. Especially not Kyoji.

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Not sure how to segue from bunking down to the horror bit below gracefully; but I know we need to.

I feel like it's the perfect time for Domon and Chibodee to take Kyoji up on his offer of audible privacy to have a quick heart to heart..... before it's unfortunately and terrifyingly interrupted. 😨

Mostly because I'm mean. 😂

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My first thought for 4 is that it probably looks like a normal-ass bed but in the middle of the night when both the guys are like half asleep, a clown hand bursts up from the center of the mattress in a classic zombie style Then an improbable amount slowly crawl out of that same hole as Chibodee drags Domon to the door (Domon for his credit is ready to beat a clown with another clown)

Since the FC does have the lightest touch of Newtype bullshit (mostly seen in the Schwarz/Rain chase scene where Schwarz gets the newtype flash), I'm interested in it being ghosts because the NT thing sometimes goes that way.

Ghosts usually have some kind of backstory as to why they're around, and I think it fits the setting to have a sort of clown culture war going on

so you have gangs like the one that killed Chibodee's mom, and then you get ordinary clowns going vigilante to hunt the ones that do that down for flagrant violation of the clown code

But the problem with vigilantism is you sometimes get the wrong guy, so that eventually happens and another group of clowns goes vigilante to go after the first group because they've gone bad (doesn't matter whether or not this is true for our purposes). And then you get more guys like the original circus terrorists playing themselves off as vigilantes as an excuse to kill people.

So now you have a clown gang war and more clown terrorists than you started with. And with the other problems Earth and the Colonies have it isn't *really* a big enough deal for anyone outside of the business to really care, so you get a sort of uneasy status quo with occasional bursts of clown violence.

The motel in question has a ghost problem because it's a former base of operations of a clown gang, where they would frequently dispose of their clown victims.

Chibodee is not at all aware of this. Or else he never would have agreed to this. He would have had some sort if Military backup. Gunsinto and The Greenlords have kept this under wraps to avoid broadcasting their farm territory as terrorist territory.

The clowns were affected by DG cells pre-murder and with Kyoji nearby they seem to be activating.

Yikes.

Kyoji can affect DG cells in a lof of situations... but can he affect them to his advantage here???

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Stay Tuned to Find Out!

[baflegacy]

an idea though…..hm…..

I live in your house is just Let's make this bed get Squeaky but Horror

[strangererotica]

my writing

art the clown x reader

art was here ✨devil in the details✨the art of fucking ✨miles county haunt✨blood lust

cooper adams x reader

headcanons (nsfw) ✨red flags ✨ your attention

steve harrington x reader

lesson learned ✨april showers ✨ delirium ✨ need ✨ dinner for one ✨ drain the snake ✨ baby-making weather ✨ honey ✨ afternoon delight ✨ brunch ✨ after party ✨campsite conception ✨ whiskey with a stranger ✨in the shower with steve ✨kitchen floor ✨toxic ex

james logan howlett (wolverine) x reader

primal fuck love ✨ swallow

joel miller x reader

definitely good ✨hands on

jim hopper x reader

hopper’s sin part 1 ✨ hopper’s sin part 2 ✨ hopper’s sin part 3 ✨ under cover ✨ love spell part 1 ✨ love spell part 2 ✨ nsfw alphabet (hopper) ✨ dolled up part 1 ✨ enemies to lovers (hopper) ✨ hot lunch ✨dolled up part 2 ✨golden and alive ✨wrong

william afton / springtrap x reader

sick fuck ✨freak on purpose

steddie x reader

two holes, one dom ✨ wet as sin ✨the devil in hawkins ✨ two towels ✨love and treason (gladiator au)

eddie munson x reader

get off ✨bark ✨ devil eyes ✨ it’s wetter inside ✨motel sex

steve, eddie, hopper x reader

dealer part 1 ✨ dealer part 2

anthony bridgerton x reader

intensity ✨ soaked ✨ soaked part 2

mike schmidt x reader

just tell me when you’ve had enough ✨visiting mike late-night at freddy’s

gator tillman x reader

tight fit

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (06)

chapter six: like lightning

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; mentions of sex, swearing, this chapter is also pretty mild in terms of warnings? the angst begins here tho !!! could've been more edited but yk lol word count: 4.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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If I never laid eyes on you Would I feel something missing? If you never laid eyes on me Would you know something’s gone?

Happy Accidents - Saint Motel

You don't know if you've ever changed, even once, in your life.

You feel like you're still 8 years old and your best friend is the neighbors' elderly dog that they let you play with every weekend. She's a golden retriever, and she would stand taller than you if she could walk on two legs.

You're still 16 and your happiest memories are of a boy who doesn't love you back. But all of your friends say that he does, and oh, how much you want to believe that their words are true.

And at the same time, you're 22, just a few months shy of 23, sitting in front of a canvas showcasing your own bleeding heart. Your growing pains, laid out by acrylics and gentle brush strokes. You liken yourself to the figure in front of you, the one that's standing in the corner of your painting, overlooking a sea of blues and grays. There's a piece of you that's left behind in everything you create. Sometimes, you leave it there on purpose, a memorabilia for your future self to look back at fondly.

You think of everything in your life that has changed and how you're the only thing that has managed to remain the same. The dog eventually dies and the boy moves on with his life. The passage of time is relentless but you seem to be the only one who can't keep up with the tireless flow. You're always running in place, always stuck behind in the end. There's a past in which you still live, one where you don’t know if you'll ever make it out of.

You think of home and the search comes up empty, like it does every single time. Home isn't here inside of your own body, nor is it within the four walls of your childhood bedroom. You've never felt like you belong anywhere. Everything is always fluctuating, constantly and unabatingly spinning and spinning and spinning when all you're asking for is a minute to stand still and catch your breath.

Home isn't always a place, that much you know. Maybe home isn't even a thing that you build but something that you find, in a person or a touch, in a feeling or a scent. Perhaps that's the problem, isn't it? Home is something you find, and you've spent your whole life searching.

People say your early 20s are supposed to be the best years of your life but that sentiment has never resonated with you. These are the years that you spend in excruciating limbo, where you're not an adult but you're forced to be anyway. The years where loneliness is an invisible friend that shadows you day in and day out, a presence you don’t want around but can't seem to shake off, a haunting that's far too gentle to be considered such. These aren't your best years; these are your saddest years.

None of it helps build character. It just hurts.

It hurts. You accept that it hurts. You keep on living, always accompanied by the hurt. At some point, it stops bothering you as much; you've grown numb to the way it stings, but it doesn't mean that there aren't days where you're pierced with a sudden and debilitating hollowness in your chest.

Here you are, half an adult but still a child, wondering if you know anything more than you did when you were 8.

You just want to go home, but you don't know where home is.

You look at the small pool of yellow acrylic paint that's been sitting on your palette for a while now. It feels so out of place among the other insipid tones, even though that has always been your intention - a burst of life amidst a sea of blues.

You don't think about anything in particular when your fingers pick up a brush and dab it in a generous amount of paint. It doesn't make much sense, but it feels right. You don't think about anything in particular when your hand smears the color on the cavas, on the figure, a startling stroke right in the center of her chest, contrasting all of the dulls and darkness surrounding.

Though, you do think of him afterward. Of him and daffodils and spring.

The rest of your friends are already present when you and Felix show up at Chan and Jess' shared apartment, holding boxes of pizzas and a case of beer.

It's a cute tradition that was started last year, when all of you promised to gather the final Friday of every month to have a cozy little dinner party among yourselves. It usually takes place at Chan's, since his apartment is bigger than the rest of yours, and because him and Jess are practically the parents of the group anyway.

The second you step into the living room, a chorus of groans erupts all around. Hyunjin and Jisung are the most vocal petulant babies, pouting from their seats, complaining that you two took too long and that they've been starving for hours.

You and Felix shrug off your jackets before delegating the tasks to the lot of them, since you were in charge of picking up the food for tonight. Minho and Seungmin grabbing plates and cups from the kitchen for Changbin and Jeongin to set on Chan's large coffee table.

You opt for a seat on the carpeted floor, next to the spot on the cream-colored couch where Minho left his phone, feeling more comfortable this way since the table is a little low for your liking. They come back a few minutes later, and you smile up at Minho when he reclaims his seat on the couch.

"Hi." He smiles back, smoothing a hand over your hair in greeting.

"Hi," you say. Even a touch so simple warms you up from the outside chill you were in mere minutes ago. No one else notices his lingering hand on you, or it's just such a you and Minho thing to be mildly affectionate with each other that the others don't care to comment on anymore.

You all fall into easy conversation soon after everyone starts digging in, chatting amongst yourselves as you always do. You and Hyunjin lament about your respective projects, reiterating the frustration that you've already expressed through your texts for the zillionth time. Chan and Jess nag Jeongin about introducing his girlfriend to the group, to which the younger one responds with an exaggerated groan as one would when their parents ask about grandchildren, though he does placate them by promising to bring her along the next time there's a party.

You don't care enough to tune into Minho's conversation with Changbin and Felix about the new gym they started going to. You do, however, catch Changbin's attempt to tease Minho. A playful scoff, followed by, "Minho lost his abs ages ago."

Your response is automatic and therefore, it doesn't warrant much thought from you before the words are tumbling out of your mouth. "No, he has abs. They're still there."

You don't recognize the weight of your words until you notice all chatter has halted, and you look up to find all eyes on you.

"How do you know that?" Jeongin is the one to voice everyone's collective thought, puzzled, a little surprised.

"Yeah, isn't Minho notoriously weird about that stuff?" Felix adds.

You blink in a daze, and you don't know if your face is reddening because of embarrassment but you sure hope that it isn't. The mouthful you're munching on gives you a reason to stall, your reputation of being a slow eater makes the excuse more believable when you don't answer right away.

As subtly as you can, you nudge Minho's leg with an elbow. He just laughs, though you're pretty certain he can tell that you're internally freaking out.

"I was walking her home from class a few weeks ago and we got caught in the rain. She let me come up to her apartment to change," he says calmly.

You remember that day. He was walking you from campus back to yours, so that part was true. But it didn't start raining until you were both sheltered in the comfort of your apartment, with him on top of you as he fucked you nice and slow on the couch. You didn't know when the rain stopped, but it must've been some time during your shower that you offered him to join with the innocent intention of cleaning yourselves up and saving water, only for him to end up on his knees with his face between your legs and his fingers buried deep inside of you. He'd made you come three times that afternoon, then took you out to udon afterward.

"And you just... changed in the middle of her living room or something?" Changbin asks, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Minho shrugs, completely nonchalant. "Yeah."

The silence in the room persists as you swallow down the bite. Their stare lingers on the pair of you, then they turn to look at each other like they're speaking a secret language that you're unfamiliar with. Why is it such a scandalous thing for you to see Minho without a shirt? You've seen your other guy friends shirtless numerous times before, when all of you are hanging out in someone's apartment on particularly hot summer days.

Though, they aren't wrong. The arrangement between the two of you muddles your memory, but you don't really remember seeing Minho flaunt his bare skin often before.

You're about to squeeze out a weak response to aid Minho's explanation, but your friends just start nodding along in acceptance.

"I guess that makes sense. If there's anyone who would see him naked, it'd be Y/N."

This definitely makes you blush. Minho laughs again.

"What?! I did not see him naked."

Well, look who's a liar now?

"Y/N, and whoever he's banging," Hyunjin supplies, which seriously doesn't help the flush on your cheeks at all.

"Why would it make sense that it was me?" you protest.

"Because you're his favorite." Jess is the one who answers, to which the rest of your friends all hum in agreement. The way they're reacting makes it seem as though it's just a fact of life that you're Minho's favorite, and that whatever boundary he lets you cross or whatever rule he breaks when it comes to you is simply a result of this fact.

Not once has it crossed your mind that everyone might have a favorite person in the group, but now that it's been said, you quickly conclude that Minho would be your favorite too (your secret arrangement notwithstanding.)

You glance up at him, seeking reassurance with a curious blink. "Am I?"

"You're alright," is what he tells you in lieu of a confirmation. "The least annoying one."

And you don't know if it's the way he speaks ever so gently when he looks at you or how his lips curl up in a knowing smile that sends a tingle of warmth down your spine. Or perhaps the culprit is the softness in his sharp eyes that makes you a little dizzy, makes a pair of butterflies go rampant at the pit of your stomach, as though they're prepared to soar when the ardor of spring begins to thaw the winter frost.

Chan laughs, "That's practically a declaration of love from Minho."

At one point, Hyunjin looks around and comments with a mouth stuffed full of pizza, "Wow. We are literally perfectly divided."

All eyes fall onto him, clearly no one is catching his drift.

Hyunjin swallows his food and washes it down with a big sip of beer before gesturing vaguely at the group, "All the singles are on the floor."

You look at the people on the couch while they stare back at you, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Changbin and Felix sitting comfortably on the fluffy rug.

"I'm single," Jisung says, pointing at himself. "Should I get on the floor?"

"No, you're not," Seungmin says flatly.

"What?"

"Didn't you get back together with your ex girlfriend?"

"What?" Jisung practically squeaks out. "Man, what are you talking about?"

"I live with you. We literally share a wall. I heard you last week. The whole two hours."

“You were home?!”

"My shoes were by the door. I had dishes in the sink. I went to the bathroom to pee several times."

Jisung gasps, growing redder and redder as more eyes start diverting their attention to him. He opens his mouth only to promptly close it as he thinks of what to say. Repeats the process a few times. "We didn't hear you. You never said anything," is what he settles on stuttering out. Then, "Why didn't you bring it up? Why do you have to air out my dirty laundry now?"

"It's more entertaining to embarrass you in front of everyone." Seungmin shrugs, and ignores Changbin's subsequent comment calling him a pervert. "And no wonder you didn't hear me. You were going at it like you were rabid."

"Wait," Jeongin says, "when did you even get back together?"

"We didn't. It's complicated! We're just… y'know…"

When Jisung trails off sheepishly with the bright blush still apparent on his cheeks, Minho cuts in, finishing his sentence bluntly, "Boning."

You send him a glare from where you're seated on the floor, to which he just gives you a lopsided grin and nudges you with his knee.

While everyone else is busy bombarding Jisung with questions on potentially getting back together with his ex, Minho quietly slithers down to the floor like a stealthy cat, squeezing himself into the space between you and Felix. Minho rests his arm behind you on the couch, leaving it stretched out comfortably on the cushions, just lightly touching your back. Usually, when you two are alone, he would have his arm wrapped around your shoulders so he could pull you close, until you're safely tucked into his side where you would remain on most of your evenings spent together. But for now, he leaves his arm where it grazes you only slightly as you sit among friends, with the exception of his hand reaching to play with your hair once in a while.

"Hey!" Hyunjin practically screeches, pointing at Minho when he notices. "Why did you get on the floor?"

"What?" Minho asks innocently. "You said the singles are on the floor."

"You're not single. You have a girlfriend."

"I don't have a girlfriend."

Hyunjin scoffs. "You have a sneaky link."

"Hmm, not the same as a girlfriend."

"Why can't you just tell us, man? There's gotta be something else you're hiding."

You stay quiet, still as a statue while they bicker back and forth, like the mere motion of your breathing could give your secret away. You don't doubt that Hyunjin has been hounding Minho about his new discovery ever since the night of Yeonjun's party, but Minho seems unfazed about it, evading Hyunjin's badgering with a calm composure that's distinct to no one else.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, quickly shuffling away as if your absence at the table would help make things seem less suspicious for Minho. You splash some water on your face, wait for a while until it feels like an appropriate amount of time has passed for them to have already moved onto another topic. You are, quite literally, hiding from your own friends.

Moments later, you re-enter the room with gentle footsteps and a certain tension in your spine, but you soon grow relieved when you find that the conversation has somehow shifted to Seungmin and his on-again off-again not-girlfriend, about which he just seems kinda sad for a few seconds before he's telling everyone to fuck off and mind their own business, always quick to conceal any and all emotions. He's similar to you in that way, you suppose.

You sit back down next to Minho who's still on the floor, though you put a little distance between your bodies that wasn't previously there. You don't know if it's enough to be noticeable, but he does look at you for a brief moment before leaning a bit closer, asking softly so only you could hear, "Walk you home later?"

You embark on the familiar route from Chan and Jess' place back to yours. It's not that late, barely even 10PM on a Friday night, but the streets are almost deserted. Barely anyone tipsily roaming the streets with their friends in tow; just a few cars passing by every now and then. You relish in the peace and quiet, sighing softly to yourself as you walk in the crisp evening air.

Minho takes casual strides next to you, letting his hand brush against your hand for a while until his pinky finds its way around yours. The tranquility of the city is nice, but being with Minho is even nicer.

Just some of the stars have come out to play, though the way they gleam and glimmer is enough to make up for what they lack in numbers. It's easy to get lost tonight, when you're looking up at an infinite sky with little light and only Minho's pinky hooked around yours like an anchor to guide you back home.

In the grand scheme of things, you're just a speck of dust. You're young and confused - 23 is still a child in your mind - and most of all, you're insignificant. Not in a self-disparaging way. Maybe in the literal sense of the word would be more accurate.

You are insignificant, merely a face among billions of faces. In a crowd of hundreds, or maybe only dozens, you're not someone who would stand out and be picked. Sometimes, it's nice to blend right in and hide in plain sight; you don't particularly enjoy being under the spotlight anyway. But sometimes, it's lonely to be just a drop in the ocean. You could sink right to the bottom and no one would even notice.

Maybe that's why you enjoy being around Minho so much. He makes you feel safe, and seen, like you matter in the end. He makes you feel like if you were to disappear one day, there's a person out there who would go to the ends of the earth in search of you.

You hope that he sticks around, that he wants to be in your life for as long as you can have him. You're not sure what it is that makes you sick to your stomach at the mere thought of losing him; perhaps because you know you will never come across another one like Minho in your lifetime. There's nobody else that can make you feel the same way he does.

I don't want to lose you. You're the only good thing I have.

An intersection, two left turns, and your apartment building comes into view all too soon.

"Wanna come up?" you ask bashfully. The streetlights do a good job at masking your light flush.

"I can't tonight," he says, a little apologetic. "I'm going to my parents' house first thing in the morning."

"Oh." You're disappointed for no specific reason. Sure, you were practically glued to Minho's side for most of the evening, but you were also surrounded by the very friends who are unaware that you two have been sneaking around behind their backs. It's been about over a week since you hung out with him alone, which isn't that long ago by any means, but still. "For the weekend?"

"Yeah, just for the weekend."

There's a selfish urge, just a tiny one, to ask him to come for a while anyway, maybe only twenty minutes or so, but you swallow it down and wave it away. "Okay, have fun. Say hi to the cats for me."

"I'll send you pictures," he tells you. "They miss you, y'know."

You smile at that, laughing a little. "They've met me once."

Last fall, you and your friends all took a weekend trip to Minho's childhood home for his birthday. It was fun for you, though you're not sure how much his parents actually enjoyed it, considering they had to house and feed almost a dozen kids that weren't their own. You remember the cats, of course you do, and how Soonie took an immediate liking to you, how he mostly hovered around your personal space whenever you were in the house.

"No, seriously. My mom says Soonie meows your name once a day."

You throw him an eye roll, accompanied by a light punch to his shoulder.

"Goodnight, Min," you say. "Text me when you get home."

"Okay."

Even after that, the two of you still stay rooted to the spot, your pinkies interlocked. Minho's gaze doesn't leave your face, and for a moment there, it feels like most of the stars didn't show up because they all left to gather in his eyes.

"Can't go up if you don't let me,” you quip, glancing at your hands, knowing full well that you can easily retract your finger if you want to.

His eyes stay on you for just a moment longer. "Let me kiss you," he asks softly, releasing your pinky only to take your hand in his, tugging you closer until you’re all up in each other's personal space.

You blink at him, your heart caught somewhere in your throat. You're close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. "Min…" you murmur but you don't actually know what you want to tell him, so the nickname hangs like an idle lantern in the bubble of space between your faces.

"Just a goodnight kiss."

"Friends don't kiss," you say meekly, reminiscent of your conversation over a week ago.

"Friends don't have sex either," he repeats.

"But we’re not having sex."

"You asked me to come upstairs. What do you think we would've done?"

And he's right. If he had agreed to come up, then you would probably be pressed against the door right now, with his hands trailing down your body, removing every article of clothing they find, his lips kissing every exposed patch of skin along the way.

Minho would've been kissing you regardless - anywhere and everywhere, and you wouldn't have had any qualms about it like you do right now, even though you want to kiss him too.

"Maybe I wanted you to come up to make you peel tangerines for me while we watch a movie."

He says nothing to that, only grins amusedly and leans in to nudge his nose against yours. It's so cute that you can't help but mirror the quirk of his lips. You're sure that no one else gets to see this version of him - the one that boops you like an overly affectionate cat and smiles like you're his favorite person not just in your little group, but in the whole wide world.

"I haven't kissed you all week," he murmurs, his voice so gentle in the quietude that surrounds you. "You were right there but I couldn't kiss you all night."

You lose yourself in his brown eyes, the same eyes that hold nothing but sincerity and fondness for you. The stars here are brighter than the ones overhead.

"Let me kiss you," Minho says, "please?"

You cave. Of course you do.

The first glide of his lips over yours has you weak in the knees. Something sinks in as he kisses you deeply. Under the streetlights, not surrounded by your familiar four walls like a long lost secret but out in the open where anyone can see, even though there's not a single soul around.

Tears well up behind your eyelids the same way they did that morning you woke up next to him for the first time. You don't know what it is, never felt this way around anyone except for him. It's akin to the feeling of finally coming home after being away for a long time, or at least that's what you think that's how it would feel.

You don't want to be caged in by the walls of your own making. You want to be seen, and you want to be seen by him. You're the remnants of snow and ice stuck between cracks in the sidewalk, and he is warmth. You're a mosaic of a daffodil garden caught in an endless winter, and he is spring. Minho is the brief but wonderful moment when cherry blossoms have yet to fall from their branches, but green leaves are already growing impatiently, resulting in the beautiful coexistence of pinks and greens if only just for a few days.

You let him kiss you until you're both out of breath, let him wrap his strong arms around your body and hold you like he could mend all of your broken pieces. Maybe he could. Maybe you'd like him to make you whole again.

When Minho pulls away, he doesn't stray very far. He puts enough distance between your faces so you can catch your breath. But even then, you have a hard time getting air back into your lungs. He's looking at you like he would pick the moon for you if you asked, like moving mountains is no more difficult than peeling tangerines for you whenever you get a craving.

The streetlights are dim, but the stars in his eyes are bright enough to tell you something that his words don't.

It hits you all at once, in a moment where even the wind is still, as if it's been reduced to a mere spectator, watching the two of you with bated breath on the sidelines. The tipping point can be something as simple as him asking - almost pleading - to kiss you goodnight with no ulterior motive, no other intention than because he wants to. As though it would kill him if he had to go another minute without kissing you.

You realize why he's the yellow to your sea of blues, why you're so happy every time you look at the bracelet on your wrist. You realize why you feel so safe around him, why he makes you experience emotions that no one else can. You realize why you don’t like hearing about Hana, or any other person in the same sentence as his name with the implication that he could be romantically involved with them.

You realize why you kissed him for the first time all those months ago, and it wasn't because you were sad and he just happened to be there and let you cry on his shoulder. The times that your friends would tell you how you and Minho would be perfect together - you wanted it to be true. You knew it was true - that he was someone you could love, the only person who's worth opening up to. You kissed him because you wanted to love him. You realize why it made you soar when he kissed you back, because you wanted him to love you too.

You realize why the thought of losing this friendship terrifies you. You realize why you asked him to stay that night after the party and the club, even though you had never allowed him to sleep over before. You realize why the other week you let him only kiss you and nothing else, and you realize why your heart is hammering in your chest this very second, why your knees are weak, why you can't really breathe here in the middle of an empty street under a moonless sky, just because he's looking at you as if it's not the sun that the earth revolves around but rather, it's a girl who has never learned how to say what she means.

You're good at leaving things alone; it's a skill that you've unintentionally mastered over the years. Nothing has to change if you let it remain the same. And yet, the one exception always seems to be Minho, and you're a mirror of yourself when you're with him. You like the version of you that only he's able to bring out, and he does it effortlessly every time. He pulls happiness out of you so easily that it's hard to ignore what you feel for him, hard to convince yourself that what you harbor for him is still only platonic affection.

It comes bubbling up to the surface without your permission. It strikes you the same way lightning splits open the whole sky on a cloudless night, abrupt and unmistakeable. Love isn't something that you've ever come close to, and you have always been an unbeliever when people answer "You just know," in response to "How do you know when it is love?"

Though as you stand right here, right now, you think maybe this is what love is supposed to look like, personified with starry eyes and shallow dimples when he smiles.

Before he leaves, Minho presses another sweet kiss to your cheek. You're still dazed by the dawning, overwhelmed by the recognition that you can only mutter a stupid "Bye," when he bids you good night.

As you watch him go, there's something else you realize, almost tragically, that you've always been a ruiner. You run away the moment shit starts getting too real, even if it means letting beautiful things slip through your fingers like running water.

Love just isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 15.04.2024]

[kylo-wrecked]

"What—?" Ben growled, narrow eyes tapering further. Customs ghosts might enjoy flashing before him. Boiling and paring the offerings. A few of those warding sigils flashed, too, in reverse. "Yeah, right."

Pinched the bridge of his nose and drew his cap back down over his brow.

"Just don't want chalk on my lungs."

He had to get out, then. He had to get out under the sky, at least, where the few stars competing with the streetlamps blinked impartially, and the steady trickling pool filters covered up some wet sound louder than the road.

Ben shrugged around the back of the building. The vending machines huddled under the patio awning, humming in sinister unison with the overhead fluorescents. Wetness. Mouth sounds.

He didn't know what he saw at first. Two men in the act, one on all fours, swaying above the other. Then, he registered the ichor, metal, and oil in the air. Then he saw it. All the blood shining black under the motel lights.

Reality folded around him like Saran wrap once he realized he was watching one man, a middle-aged, door-to-door salesman type, in long socks and nothing but, eating his own face. The same man split among two bodies now reconsolidated down to one. The back of one thinning crown, stringy flesh trembling from its chin.

That's what happens if you pay the machine? You feed it money and letter select spits out some backward version of you out from Hell to eat your face like an ape?

Didn't know why he thought a doppelganger would move like a human being.

"Nah."

The man in socks reeled onto his feet and hung over his minced corpse with the deadweight stance of a deactivated animatronic. Moonless sky, a dusty backdrop behind it.  

Even with his nails bit into his palms, prompting the tactile sense, Ben knew all the blood drained out of him. That he was feeling nothing. He was vacuum sealed, no more human than a vending machine counterpart. Stiff, abstracted. Only caught Nilza standing beside him now, could barely hear her cussing through the plastic wrap.

"Nilza," Ben hissed. "Enough chalk. Try lead."

He grabbed her arm; there wasn't time to consider either of her comforts, that they'd never touched before now, how easily the kill thought came to him, that he was wrapped in plastic and running out of air. Ben grabbed Nilza's arm and pulled her back inside. Something churning in his gut told him the thing’d already spotted them.

@southern-belle-outcasts

"It's the warding sigils I got from a witch. I don't exactly know what it all means, she wouldn't say and I'm no witch. Just that it would work to keep shit that doesn't belong somewhere out."

She had never really had it fail before, she didn't usually fuck with much that wasn't vamps if she could avoid it. There was tattoos running her body that were covering up scars from when she had run into nastier things. Although, really there was nothing nastier than a vampire in her opinion- just things she didn't have as much know how and experience with, and that was dangerous when it came to the supernatural.

The curiousity of why someone would choose to stay in a place that clearly had a thing or three off about it did make her wonder about his own scar, but that wasn't going to be revisited.

She frowned at the lack of supplies she had. Who walks around with paint sealant anyways? But she did have hair spray, and clear nail polish...she might need more of both after this, if it would even cover the majority of the sigils.

"Unless you're a spook, they're not doing anything to you. And I'm pretty sure ghosts don't eat junk food. Like, 90% anyways."

[shadow4-1]

Shadow4-1's Masterlist for Headcanons/Imagines/Ficlets (Part 1)

I finally got around to making my masterlists! Under the cut is most of my headcannons, ficlets, you name if. They're in order by character - or group! I will be making a part 2 soon as Tumblr refuses to let me edit this anymore!

All links will be tagged with either an [NSFW] or appropriate genre tag like [Fluff] next to the title. Okay, I hope you enjoy. And please remember - MDNI! No age listed blogs will be blocked! (Banner Source)

Feel free to use any and all of my headcanons, imagines, etc. to make your own content! Credit/a tag would be nice! If not, I'd just appreciate a DM so I can read your content!

(Also, this isn't ALL of the content available on my blog! It's only the stuff I'm proud of. For everything I've ever written you'll just have to go swimming through my blog!)

Group Headcanons - {141} / {Los Vaqueros} / {Kortac}

(First) Kiss Imagines w/ the 141 Boys + Alejandro, Rudy, & Konig [NSFW]

No Boundaries - Task Force 141 Headcanons/Imagines [SFW]

Smelly - Reader & 141 Drabble [SFW]

Getting Drunk Imagines w/ the 141 Boys + Alejandro, Rudy, & König [SFW]

Getting drugged at a bar with the 141 [NSFW]

Captain Price:

Heart Eyes (Love At First Sight AU/Imagine - Reader x Price) [SFW/AU]

Getting bent over Price's knee and spanked with his belt in front of the boys [NSFW]

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

Sweet n' Silly Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Headcanons [NSFW]

Man Thoughts - Ghost Edition [NSFW]

"King of the Forest" Ghost [SFW]

"There's only one bed" Trope [SFW]

You and Soap Trigger Ghost's PTSD [SFW/Fluff]

Doing yoga in secret some but Ghost's been watching the whole time [NSFW]

Ghost makes Soap get you on webcam [NSFW]

Pulling a knife on Ghost during sex [NSFW]

Soulmate!AU where you and Ghost are tied together through shared dreams [SFW]

A make-out session with Ghost [NSFW]

Ghost is a vampire AU [SFW]

Kissing both Soap and Ghost goodnight at the door [NSFW]

John "Soap" MacTavish:

Silly Little Soap Headcanons (w/ A Few Wee Nasty Ones) [NSFW]

You're Not My Boyfriend! - Crazy!Soap x Reader Imagine [SFW]

Ex-boyfriend Soap having a dirty polaroid of you [NSFW]

Doing a clothing swap with Soap for a training day [SFW]

Soap and Gaz getting unreasonably jealous over who you spend more time with [SFW]

Kissing both Soap and Ghost goodnight at the door [SFW]

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Making out in a motel bed with both Gaz and Soap [NSFW]

Soap and Gaz getting unreasonably jealous over who you spend more time with [SFW]

Konig:

Man Thoughts - Konig Edition [NSFW]

Makarov:

A chance encounter with Makarov [SFW]

Reader-Centered Headcanons:

Reader who's just trying to do her damn job. [SFW]

The first time the 141 sees you in something other than your fatigues [NSFW]

The 141 purposely picking you out of a pool of potential candidates [SFW]

Scuba diving training with the 141 [SFW]

The 141's jealousy at you harboring a crush on another task force's star member [SFW]

The 141 stages an intervention for you (they don't like you seeing people that aren't them) [NSFW]

Moments between the members of the 141 that attaches them to you forever [SFW]

Having to break up small fights between the 141 [SFW]

Your first spat with a member of the 141 and how you might be dealt with (by either Price or Ghost)[SFW]

A "lazy day" with the 141, except, it's really just you getting them to finally wind down [SFW]

The 141 wants you to leave your normie boyfriend, and you do eventually [SFW]

Being annoying as fuck and the boys decide to fuck with you back [SFW]

Waking up in a 141 dog pile [SFW]

You start to become an Omega (A/B/O Dynamic AU) [NSFW]

Texting your usual fuck buddy (Soap) to come to your room, except he doesn't - but Ghost does [SFW]

The 141 rents out a "haunted" mansion only for the place to be exactly as advertised [SFW]

Promising a kiss to whichever 141 guy wins a mock FIFA tournament [SFW]

Becoming the 141's medic by accident and tragedy [NSFW]

Doing some vent maintenance on base and getting stuck [NSFW]

Being nervous around the 141 and yet STILL garnering their attention [SFW]

A "lazy day" with the 141 (or getting them to calm down after a mission) [SFW]

Catching glimpses of the 141's search history [NSFW]

Unknowingly giving the 141 boners [NSFW]

Trapped for a week in a shithole safehouse [SFW]

[sweetenerobert]

𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄

DAY THREE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

dean winchester x vampire!male reader

genre: vampire au, explicit, minors dni

prompt: vampire au + "i can see how badly you want this, so i'm going to make sure you get it."

summary: trying to remember the last five hours of what happened after your transformation, you suddenly remember having sex with a stranger and you try to retrace your steps

warning: strong language, mention of blood, mention of dying. unprotected P in A, dirty talk, oral (m giving/m receiving), pet names, spanking, choking, creampies

word count: 2.3k

a/n: TWO POSTS IN ONE DAY?? yep! if this seems rushed my apologies.

The night sky cascaded down on you as you were shivering. The night was beautiful, but it was cold as each step you took made everything feel like you were walking closer to death.

Your blue work shirt is coated in your blood — near where your collarbone and shoulder blade rested. Your black and white canvas shoes have drops of blood on them. Tears running down your face had dried up. You hated this feeling — you felt the after-effects of coming back alive after getting your throat ripped out. This process was painstakingly slow. And you were scared — scared that you may never be the same again, scared that you might do something to hurt someone. You needed guidance from someone — anyone could help you forget about the stressful night you had.

You hear a car engine behind you, and you want to hide from the person driving behind you, but you are too weak to even jump into the bushes next to you, so you keep slowly walking. Your emotions wanted to come out; you wanted to cry a river right now. And you didn't understand everything currently, and it freaked you out how bad you wanted to cry.

The car’s engine was slowly creeping behind you, and you snapped your eyes shut, hoping that it would pass you; you didn’t want to be around anyone at this moment. You just wanted to walk — you had no idea where you were going, and you didn’t care as long you were away from everyone.

You slowly opened your eyes and saw the car driving past you, and you exhaled a breath you were holding. But then you felt the wind get knocked out of you as you saw the car approaching you in reverse. Feeling a mix of confusion, sadness, and rage all at once, you wanted to throw up, but you managed to keep yourself calm as the car slowly drove next to you and the passenger window was down.

“Are you okay?”

You glance to your left and see a dirty-blonde-haired man sitting in the driver's seat and glancing at you. You had to admit he was attractive, but you could be near. Your emotions were all over the place, and you didn't want some totally stranger being in the middle of that.

“Um—” You almost jump about how normal your voice sounds. It doesn't sound raspy or gruff, just your normal voice.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” You dismissed.

“Are you sure? I mean, I could take you back to my room and make sure you are safe— It’s no —”

“I’m okay, sir. Just a little out of it.” As persistent as this guy was, you didn't want him to be in the middle of this experience; you needed to be alone, not held up in some guy's room.

You suddenly hear his car screech as he stops and gets out, jogging towards you. He steps in front of you, and you halt your walking.

“Let me help — you need it. Whatever you are going through, you shouldn't go through it alone.”

You couldn't tell if the man’s tone was genuine or commanding, but you wanted to cry either way. You nodded your head. “Okay, I’ll go with you.”

The man guides you to his car and opens the passenger door for you. As you slip into the passenger seat, he closes the door. He was walking around the car and returning to his previous position — closing his door and looking at you. You reluctantly smile at him.

“Is that blood on your shirt?”

You glance at your shirt and look back at the man. “It’s mine?” You shrug.

You were in a motel bathroom shower, letting the water hit the top of your head as it dribbled down your body. The sadness you felt eventually disappeared as the drive here calmed you down. You found out what the name was — it was Dean. And that he was looking at his brother — younger brother, and has a love for rock music.

You weren't feeling the sadness, but you were feeling another feeling, and you couldn’t figure out what it was, and it was bugging you a bit.

The hot water weaved around your body almost like a dress made of water, and it was the heat you needed. You were sick and tired of being cold; you miss feeling warm. The soap leaving your body made a creek of bubbles and water. It almost looked majestic in your eyes, and you appreciated how it looked for a second that you were fine, but how you felt wasn't okay.

Turning the faucet off and letting the rest of the water go down the drain, your feet hitting the porcelain tile ceramic flooring as you walk towards the mirror — grabbing a towel and wrapping it around your waist. Bringing your hands towards the mirror, wiping the condensation, and seeing yourself in the mirror, hands on the porcelain sink.

You start to sniffle because of the steam messing with your nose, but you catch the scent of something you’ve never smelled before. You look around the bathroom as you try to find the source of the smell, and you can't seem to see it, but the smell intensifies as you look at the door. Whatever the smell was coming from behind the door.

You open the bathroom door, and the steam above you rises and travels along the ceiling. You see Dean looking at something in his duffle bag. You notice he’s not in the same jacket as before. He’s now wearing a flannel shirt. But with each step toward Dean, the smell becomes more intense and almost deafening in a sense.

Dean hears the floorboards creak behind him, turns around, and sees you in nothing but a towel. “Oh, hey. How was the shower?”

“It was good,” You nod.

“That’s good. I can see you're doing a lot better,” Dean nods.

“Do you smell that?”

“Smell what?”

“I don't know. But It’s almost intoxicating.”

“Huh, I wouldn't know what you're smelling. That’s how I am with pie though,” Dean chuckles.

You crack a smile and walk around Dean, and that's when the smell draws behind you. You turn your head as Dean walks towards the small table in the room.

“It’s you,” You mutter.

“What?” Dean questions.

“The smell — It’s you.”

“I stink?”

“Well, no, You smell intoxicating, and a sense a strong desire from you and — It’s lust.”

“What’s lust?” Dean asks, confused.

“What I’ve been feeling and this stupid smell and — are you horny, Dean?” You ask.

It was like a teenager who hit puberty. Dean looked defensive and scared at the same time. He didn’t know how to answer your question, so he looked at you.

You walked towards him, wanting to hear his answer, but you couldn't ask him again. You needed him to tell you. “Sorry If I overstepped my boundaries, Dean. But I would like to know.”

Dean scoffed, crossing his arms. “So what? I’ve been horny for the past couple of days. My hand isn’t helpin’ as much as I think it is.”

“You need help?”

“From who? I’ve been so busy. I can barely find the time for anyone.”

You unwrap your towel, and your cock sprung out hard as a rock, walking toward Dean, who can't seem to stop glancing at your cock. “From me, you could use me any way you want.” Days ago, you would’ve never had the confidence to tell anyone this, but this feeling sent you into overdrive, and you needed to get rid of it one way you could only think of.

Your hand finds Dean’s denim-covered cock already hard. As you rub your hand against the material, Dean inhales a breath and exhales a shaky breath. You unbutton Dean’s jeans and slide them down to his ankles. His cock leaps from the constriction his pants were torturing with. You were on your knees, and you took the tip of Dean’s cock in your mouth.

Dean slowly made his head go back as he enjoyed your warm mouth on his throbbing cock. He forgot how this felt; he hadn’t felt this relaxed in so long, and you provided him with a number one muscle relaxer.

His hips slowly start going back and forth into your mouth. You lightly gag on the tip as his thrusts hit the back of your throat. You notice Dean breathing through his plump lips; your cock throbs seeing him like this.

“Damn, baby. I’ve missed this so much,” Dean groaned.

You slip his cock out of your mouth, lick the slit of his dick, and he moans. You could taste the light pre-cum forming from it.

“Such a fuckin’ tease. I should fuck you just for that,” Dean seethed.

“I did say you could use me, so why not?” You shrug. You attempt to slide Dean’s cock inside your parted lips. He lifts you from your armpits and makes you stand up. Dean glances down at your cock and sees pre-cum leaking from your cock.

“I can see how badly you want this, so I'm going to make sure you get it." Dean kisses you passionately as his height makes you feel safe and protected, feelings you never thought you would feel again.

Your calves hit the back of the bed frame. You sit down on the edge of the bed — breaking the kiss. “Head on the pillows, now!” Dean commanded.

You comply with his command, and on your hands and knees, you crawl towards the pillow on Dean’s bed — Dean smacking your ass as you crawl to the pillow.

Dean takes his jeans off around his ankles, boots, and flannel. As he sees you lying on your back in the middle of his bed, his cock twitches, seeing the beautiful sight before him. He crawls after you and kisses you passionately, your cocks rubbing together, making this moment more intense than it already is.

Dean’s kisses trail down from your lips to your jaw and neck. Dean starts to nibble on your neck, and you whimper in retaliation — gripping the sheets, you feel your teeth getting outstretched — making you scared a little bit. Releasing your grip makes your teeth go back into their original shape.

Dean’s lips travel to your nipples as he sucks on them and pinches your nipples as he sucks the other one.

His kisses trail lower as his mouth makes contact with your hole. His tongue becomes an explorer, and he wants to explore you more. Your moans sound like music to Dean’s ear as he grips your thighs. “You taste like fuckin’ heaven, baby boy.”

You could cum hearing Dean call you a baby boy again.

Dean crawls up back to your face and adjusts his cock. You exclaim in pleasure as Dean slides his cock deep inside you. With each inch pushing deeper inside you, your moans became the sweet song Dean yearned for. You could feel your walls getting looser and looser; your hole was aching in pleasure.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect, baby boy. Just what I needed,” Dean grunted. Dean was clenching his teeth. It was a sight that made your cock happy. Dean’s thrust became faster and more intoxicating with each passing moment.

“Fuck, Dean. You’re hitting so deep.” Your pre cum was rubbing against your naval. “Your pussy wraps around my cock so well, baby. I can't get enough of it,” Dean breathed. Dean leans his head closer to yours and kisses your lips more rough than gentle like last time.

Dean slides his cock out of you and flips you to lay on your stomach. You grip the pillows as he slides his cock in you — slowly.

“Such a fuckin’ tease,” You moaned.

“Only the best for my baby boy.”

Dean’s thrust becomes more intoxicating as you feel his balls clap against your ass. Dean makes a handprint on your ass — you yelp in response. You bring your head up, Dean wraps his arm around your neck, and you both share a passionate make-out between thrusts. You moan into each other’s mouths as you feel Dean’s cock twitch inside you.

“Baby, I’m going to overflow your ass with my cum,” Dean growls. Dean lets your neck go but pushes your head onto the pillow. You roll your head to the side to avoid suffocating. Your body starts to slide down, and you stop at an absolute point. The tip of your cock starts rubbing against the sheets, and you feel the lust almost shoot out of you.

“Dean, my cock — you're making my cock rub against the sheets,” You whimpered.

“Good, we get to cum together then, baby,” Dean growled.

You feel Dean’s cock get bigger inside you, and the throbbing intensifies. Dean’s thrust becomes more demon-like, and you're enjoying every thrust. You didn't want it to end this soon. Your teeth were feeling outstretched again, but you ignored it. You left your teeth stretched, and you bit down on the pillow.

“Fuck, baby boy. I’m cumming. I’m cummin’, baby boy!” You could feel his cum shoot inside you as you shoot strings of cum on the sheets under you. Dean clashes his hard chest on your back. “Thanks for that, baby boy.”

“Who said it has to end there? I told you that you could use me. I didn't specify for how long.” You turn your head to see a smirking Dean. “Well, then, you better get that pretty ass up. I’m going to fuck you against the wall.”

“That’s what happened hours ago?”

“Yeah?” Theo, your vampire “trainer” friend.

“Wow, does that happen to a lot of new vampires?” You ask.

Theo nods. “But, you should’ve seen me when I first turned.”

“Is that a story for another day?” You question.

“Hell yes.” Theo laughs.

“I would love to hear it then.” You smile.

[incorrectbatfam]

Im writing a road trip AU and I need some advice on what each of the batfam's favorite music genres are. And some prompts if you wouldn't mind!!

I have a number of character playlists on my Spotify which you can check out as a starting reference, or you can search up the music tag on my blog as I've answered a number of music-related questions

For some prompts:

If you want fluff and humor...

Tacky roadside attractions

Trying strange local delicacies (looking at you Rocky Mountain oysters)

Hotel room shenanigans

Taking turns driving

Joint trips with other superhero families

Unique family vacation traditions

Accidentally ending up at the border

If you want emotional hurt/comfort...

Late-night campfire talks

Leaving someone behind at a stop

Someone breaking off from the party

Vacation fatigue

Someone/something getting lost

Bringing work on the trip

If you want mystery and heroics...

Cryptid towns like Point Pleasant or Roswell

Seedy motel criminals

Haunted places

Team-ups with other local heroes

Getting stranded in the middle of nowhere

Facing the North American wilderness

Encountering lesser-known urban legends

[kaylasficrecs]

conrad fisher recs

ocean eyes | one shot, flangst | @cryonme

i'm right here | imagine, flangst | @lovesickfoolwp

take care of you | imagine, flangst | @s1ater

break | imagine, flangst | @cryonme

guitar pick | au, two shot, fluff | @tatoda

starlight | imagine, flangst | @pretty-little-mind33

dress | imagine, trifecta (smut/fluff/angst) | @mvltisstuff

haunted | two shot, angst | @toms-gf

what am i supposed to do... | imagine, flangst (more angst) | @sourcherryandsprinkles

friends to lovers | imagine, fluff, smut | @cinemadaydream

everything | one shot, flangst (more angst) | @julieloves074

hugging conrad | drabble, flangst | @fitzells

mirrorball | imagine, flangst | @mvltisstuff

healed and hurt | imagine, flangst | @probably-writing-x

how to disappear | two shot, angst | @tearsoverfears

make it better | one shot, trifecta | @s-brant

clingy!reader | imagine, flangst | @conniesanchor

is that my shirt? | imagine, fluff | @sourcherryandsprinkles

motel scene | imagine, flangst | @kissesfromkiki

bet u wanna read my mind | one shot, flangst | @kissesfromkiki

wanting you | imagine, fluffy flangst | @tatoda

stanford girl | imagine, fluff | @sourcherryandsprinkles

cinnamon girl | series | @kissesfromkiki

seeing you | imagine, smut | @tatoda

this love | one shot, flangst | @kissesfromkiki

seeing each other in secret | imagine, smut | @sourcherryandsprinkles

[raaorqtpbpdy]

This Sure as Hell Never Happened on Scooby-Doo

While investigating a fairly routine haunting in a Michigan hotel, Sam and Dean come face to face with a creature unlike any they've faced before. [Takes place around mid season 1 for SPN, and at a non-specific point in the DP timeline]

Written for @crossoverdanuary Week, Day 7: Supernatural | Veil

First off, congrats to Supernatural for finally making the main prompt list after two years of being an honorable mention lol. I had a lot of trouble coming up with an idea for this one for some reason, so it ended up being kind of generic. This is, however, the first time I've ever written the Full Hazmat AU, which was pretty exciting.

AO3 Link

[Warning for minor violence, and references to suicide throughout]

As a general rule, hunters steered clear of Amity Park, although the reason why varied from one to another.

Some believed all the so-called supernatural occurrences there were just a hoax, like Bigfoot, so there was no point wasting valuable time and energy looking into them. Others swore up and down that, hoax or not, there was something about that town that made you see things. Impossible things. Things that made even the most experienced hunters pause. Some simply believed that Amity Park could take care of itself. Outside interference would only cause more problems than it would solve.

Then there were those who believed that Amity Park, that the very town itself, didn't want them there. That hunters were just not welcome.

The town was infamous in the hunter community. Grizzled, plaid-wearing men would talk about it at roadhouses and truck-stop diners. They'd warn other people away, tell them not to even drive through it on their way to somewhere else. There was nothing in that town worth dying for, and they took care of their own. Hunters weren't needed, they weren't wanted, and they'd just do better if they stayed away.

Every once in a while though, Amity Park's unique brand of freaky bled out of that isolated town. And when it did, then it became the hunters' problem. Unfortunately, more often than not, they wouldn't know it until it was too late.

Sam and Dean were investigating a supposedly haunted hotel. Staff and guests they'd spoken to had all reported blinking lights, cold spots, scratching in the walls. The staff seemed content to blame it on the owner's unwillingness to spend money to fix or update anything. The guests, on the other hand, not so much.

Those who stayed overnight reported horrible nightmares about bleeding out from their wrists. Some of them even claimed to have seen things, although they couldn't seem to agree on what they saw. A few saw a woman, covered in blood from slit writs, and crying, who vanished in the blink of an eye. But another claimed to have seen a small figure in a partially melted hazmat suit.

"Could there be more than one?" Sam asked when they'd returned to their own room in the hotel.

It was more expensive than the crappy motels they usually stayed it, but it was more convenient, and it gave them an excuse to wander around if they were actually staying there.

"Maybe, but... I don't know. If someone committed suicide in the hotel, it makes sense that their spirit would linger," Dean said. "I just can't think of any reason why there would be a ghost in a hazmat suit. Can you?"

"If the building used to be some kind of lab or research facility, it's possible," Sam said, "But this hotel was established back in the late thirties, and even if there was a research facility here before the hotel, the hazmat suit he described was much more modern than they would have worn back then."

Dean scoffed as he plopped down on his bed.

"Of course, leave it to my nerd brother to know what hazmat suits looked like in the thirties," Dean mocked. "Seriously though, that second ghost just doesn't make any kind of sense."

"We'll know more once we find info about anyone whose died in this hotel," Sam said. "This place has been in business for almost seventy years, I'm sure we'll have plenty to wade through."

"It could have been that guy was just making up a story," Dean said. "We've got three people claiming they saw a woman who disappeared, but only one mentioned the hazmat suit. Maybe he was messing with us."

"He seemed pretty shaken up about it," Sam said. "I didn't think he was lying."

"I didn't either, but...." Dean shook his head thoughtfully. "Something about that story just doesn't sit right. And you know what else? That redheaded girl who got all defensive when we started acting questions. Something doesn't sit right about her, either. She acted like she was responsible, or trying to protect the person who was. Except we already know this is a haunting. We know there's at least one ghost, so why did she act like that?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "Could be she was trying to hide something else."

"Maybe...."

"Come on," Sam said. "Let's start by combing through local death records at the library."

"You go ahead," Dean told him. "I wanna talk to that girl's parents, see if they know anything. I'm starting to think there might be more to this case than just a standard haunting."

"Fine. We'll meet back here later."

—

"So, what'd you find?" Dean asked when his brother got back to their room.

"Okay, so get this," Sam began. "There have been several deaths in this hotel. A couple of heart attacks, a couple of accidents. One guy fell out his window, which caused the hotel to seal all the windows on the upper floors shut so they couldn't be opened. There have also been three suicides since the hotel's founding.

"A World War 2 vet shot himself in the head in December of 1945, just a few months after the war ended; A girl OD'ed in 1963, leaving a note about how the state of the world had made her unwilling to live in it; and lastly, a woman in 1992 slit her wrists in room 201 after her husband divorced her, blaming her for the murder of their only son."

"Sounds like we've ID'ed our first ghost," Dean noted. "We got a name?"

"Jennifer Bishop," Sam said. "She was accused of murdering her son, but never convicted because they never actually found the body, only a whole lot of blood they identified with DNA testing. She defended her innocence until her death, but the police never actually investigated anyone else for her son's disappearance and presumed death. Once she offed herself, they just closed the case."

"Another gold standard of police incompetence," Dean said. "Did you find out where she was buried?"

"Her family was catholic, but since she committed suicide, they couldn't bury her in their family plot at their church. Instead, she was buried in a public cemetery, Lincoln Memorial Park... but it's in her hometown: Petoskey, Michigan. She was only here for the trial."

"Great, so we gotta drive all night to get to friggin' Petoskey," Dean moaned. "Awesome. This is why hotel ghosts suck. Did you find any leads on hazmat suit?"

"Nothing. What about you?" Sam asked. "Get anything useful interviewing that red-headed girl's parents?"

"Nah," Dean said, shaking his head. "Remember those hellhoundslair dorks?"

Sam nodded.

"That's what they were like," he continued. "Overenthusiastic, but incompetent. She probably realized we were asking about ghosts and was nervous they'd overhear. While I was talking to them she reminded them they'd promised not to hunt any ghosts while their family was on vacation. They didn't seem too happy about that, but they at least stopped insisting they'd help me 'catch that slippery specter', so that was something, I guess.

"I did learn she has a younger brother, though. I didn't get to talk to him, but when I was leaving, I overheard the two kids talking, and he said something like, 'there's not enough of her there to talk to', and 'there's not a whole lot left of her at all," Dean finished. "Not sure what that was all about, but it seemed like they were trying to keep it on the down-low, especially from their parents."

"You think it could be related?" Sam asked.

"As far as I know, the brother never promised not to hunt ghosts," Dean replied with a shrug. "That and a gut feeling are pretty much all I have to base it on, though."

"Well, we know who our suicide is, at least," Sam said. "One of us should go take care of Jennifer Bishop while the other stays here in case she starts causing anymore trouble, or in case the hazmat ghost shows up again, if its even real."

"Why don't you take the salt-and-burn this time," Dean suggested.

Sam froze and looked at his brother, completely shocked. "You... want me to take your car and drive two hundred miles away... by myself?"

"And if you bring her back with so much as a scratch on her, I'll make you wish you were never born," Dean said. "But I feel like there's something at this hotel that I'm missing, and I'm gonna stick around until I figure it out."

"It's really bugging you, huh?" Sam noted. "Alright, well... it's a three hour drive, so I'd better get going."

"Yeah, and don't forget to fill up the tank on your way back."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam said as he walked out the door.

They'd already brought some weapons from the trunk into the hotel room, so Dean wouldn't be unarmed if he ran into one of the ghosts.

He did some quick math in his head. The ghost, or ghosts, probably wouldn't show up until it was night. Sam had a six-hour round trip, plus a good hour to dig up old Jennifer, probably longer, since he wouldn't have help. It was early afternoon now. 1:18 pm, a glance at the clock told him, so he could expect Sam back around nine-ish, give or take an hour. Sunset was around seven.

Jennifer would be gone well before nightfall... but that other ghost... if it even existed, they didn't have a single lead on it.

Dean headed down to the lobby.

He'd noticed them yesterday, a group of older ladies with a basket of yarn in the middle of them, chatting up a storm. He and Sam hadn't spoken to them yesterday, but now that Sam was gone, it was time for Dean to dial up a very particular type of charm that Sam would tease him for mercilessly if he ever saw it. He stood nearby, waiting for his moment.

"I swear," one lady said. "I turned up my thermostat four times last night. I had it cranked all the way up to ninety, and I could hear the radiator groaning like anything, but my room was still freezing."

"Did you phone the concierge?" another lady said.

"I tried, but they just apologized and said it's an old hotel," replied the first. "Didn't even offer to send a handyman, or move me to a different room or anything. Anyway, that's why started coming down here during the day. I just can't stand it."

That was his chance. "You too?" he asked her. "Which room are you in?"

"I'm in 201, why?"

Bingo. 201. The same room as their suicide victim.

"Well, it got to a point where I got my tools outta my car and just fixed the darn radiator myself," Dean lied. "I could take a look at yours too, if you'd like."

"Would you?" she asked, sounding beyond relieved. "Oh, thank you so much. It's gotten so bad I can hardly sleep at night, so that would be a real godsend if you would do that. You're such a lamb."

"Oh, it's no problem, ma'am," Dean said, taking an empty seat nearby. "The name's Dean, by the way."

"I'm Millie," the woman said. "And these are my friends, Cathy and Debbie. We're in town for a big doll convention. We're collectors, you know. And Debbie even makes dolls herself out of felt."

"I do, and I've gotten pretty damn good at it, if I say so myself," Debbie said. "I even made a felt baby doll for my granddaughter's birthday a few months back and she was over the moon."

Upon closer inspection, all three of the ladies seemed to be knitting or crocheting very small clothes, presumably for dolls. Hopefully he could redirect the topic of conversation back to ghosts soon, because Dean didn't know Jack about dolls.

"What about you?" asked the third woman, Cathy. "What brings you to Lansing? I assume you don't live here, or you wouldn't be staying at a hotel."

"I'm here on business," he replied, silently thanking god that she'd changed the topic for him.

"What kind of business?" Millie asked. "You said you can fix a radiator, are you some kind of technician, or construction worker?"

"Actually... I'm a private investigator," he lied.

"Oooh, exciting!" Cathy said. "What are you investigating?"

"I'm afraid I can't share the details... but maybe you ladies could help me," he said. "Have any of you seen anything strange while you've been staying here?"

"I saw a man dancing near the park who could clasp his hands behind his back and pull them all the way in front of him," Debbie said. "That was pretty strange. I gave him a dollar."

"I was thinking more like in the hotel," Dean said. "Maybe like... a figure in a hazmat suit?"

Millie gasped, and Dean fixed his gaze on her.

"You have?"

"Well... you see, I have sleep paralysis," she said. "Last night, I had only managed to fall asleep for an hour or two because it was so cold, but then I woke up in the middle of the night because my room suddenly got even colder, but I couldn't move, of course. It takes me a while to be able to move after I wake up.

"And then I saw, like you said, someone wearing a hazmat suit, a black one with white gloves. They were small, like they weren't fully grown, and they were glowing," Millie explained. "Their suit was damaged, partly melted, it looked like. I'd never seen something like that before, but I just figured it had to be a sleep paralysis hallucination, and maybe it partly was, but do you think it could have been real? That someone broke into my room last night?"

"How frightening," Debbie said with a shiver.

"Maybe," Dean said. "Maybe not. I'm not really sure yet." He paused, consideringly. That was two people now who saw the hazmat suit, and this one saw it in the same room where the other ghost had died. "Did it say anything to you? Or do anything that you saw?"

"I couldn't really turn my head, but they seemed like they were looking for something, didn't seem to find it though. Nothing was missing from my room when I finally got up, at least," Millie said. "They didn't say anything, and only looked at me for a moment. Oh! But they might've been muttering something. Not sure what it was, though."

"Thanks, that's a lot of help," Dean said. "If you think of anything else, let me know?"

"Do you think I'm in danger?" Millie asked. "Should I request a room change after all?"

"If that would make you feel safer," Dean said. "I'm not sure it's as cut and dry as a break-in... but maybe you should just stay in one of your friend's rooms for a night."

"You can stay in my room tonight, Millie," Cathy volunteered.

He stayed for a little while, chatting with them. It wasn't something he wanted getting out, but old ladies always loved him for some reason. He even managed to get Cathy's key-lime pie recipe, which the other two swore up and down was absolutely to die for. Who knew when the next time he'd have a kitchen to try it out would be, but he'd make sure to write it down next chance he got, just in case.

It wasn't until he saw that red-haired teenage girl and a short, black-haired boy who was presumably her brother walk through the lobby that he excused himself to follow after them, claiming they were persons of interest in his case.

"If you didn't find anything, how did you even know it was the right room?" the sister was asking when Dean got close enough to hear.

He was trying hard not to be noticed while he tailed them, but as quietly as they were talking, he had to stick closer than he would have liked.

"That was where her presence was the strongest," the brother answered. "I just don't know how I'm supposed to help her when she's not strong enough to speak, and we're leaving tomorrow, so tonight is my last chance."

Could he be a psychic of some kind? Maybe a medium?

He turned around abruptly, and Dean barely had time to make it look like he was examining a shop's window display of... glass baubles and nick-knacks. Oh, yeah, he definitely seemed like the type to be interested in those. Hopefully they wouldn't question it.

"Is he staying at our hotel?" the brother whispered.

"Yeah," the sister confirmed, "and he was asking about cold spots and flickering lights, too. You think he knows something?"

"I think I'd rather stay away from him," replied the brother. "He could be the dangerous type."

After that, it seemed like the kids were deliberately trying to shake him, and it wasn't long before they did, almost as if they'd simply vanished into thin air.

Dean gave up searching and returned to the hotel. He found Millie in the lobby and asked if she'd let him into her room to fix the radiator, even brought the few tools that he'd had in his room to make the story more convincing.

"Even if you don't stay in here tonight, I figure I can at least do the hotel a favor," he said.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," she said. "Don't you go snooping around in my underwear drawer," she teased, and he laughed along with her until she closed the door behind her and headed back downstairs to her knitting.

Any evidence that there had been a suicide in this room had been long since erased. It was cold, just as Millie said it was, but there didn't appear to be any problem with the radiator. One of the tools he'd brought along was an iron crowbar, and he gripped it tightly.

"Jennifer, you in here?" he called out.

The time was 5:06, meaning Sam was probably digging up her grave right now.

He got no response.

"Jennifer?" he called again. "Jennifer Bishop?"

Nothing.... he was pretty sure that kid had been saying she wasn't a very powerful ghost, maybe that was why she hadn't done much. She hadn't actually killed or even hurt anyone beyond a couple of nightmares and a cold room. Maybe she couldn't show herself during the day.

The Winchester brothers had only stopped here because they happened to be so close by when Sam read an article that claimed guests at this hotel had seen apparitions, and experienced horrible nightmares about a woman slitting their wrists. But the nightmares weren't actually killing anybody. Normally, they wouldn't have even bothered, but they were only a few miles away, and nothing else was close by.

Dean opened his mouth to call out one more time, but before he could, there was a flash of light and a distant-sounding screen, and he watched as the ghost of Jennifer Bishop appeared and almost instantaneously disappeared.

One down. One to go.

And wow was this room suddenly sweltering. Millie wasn't kidding about turning her thermostat up to ninety. Dean adjusted it to a much more reasonable 74°F, and left to go tell Millie he'd fixed her radiator.

After she was done thanking him, he headed up to his room and called Sam.

"Dean?" Sam said. "I took care of Jennifer Bishop."

"I know, I saw her burn up," Dean replied. "Nicely done. Anyway, I got some new info about our second ghost."

"Yeah? Let's hear it."

"The lady staying in the room where Jennifer offed herself said she saw a glowing figure in a hazmat suit in her room, thought it was a sleep paralysis thing until I brought it up. She said it seemed like it was looking for something, but it didn't seem to find anything."

"So we have a second witness for our hazmat ghost," Sam said. "And the description lined up?"

"Exactly," Dean confirmed. "I also have a new theory about those siblings, the red-headed girl and her brother. I think the brother might be a psychic, and was looking for a way to help Jennifer pass on peacefully, except she wasn't a strong enough spirit for him to connect with. Not sure how or even if this ties into the hazmat ghost at all."

"Still no clues about who it could be?" Sam asked.

"Nada," Dean said. "I did confirm that there was no lab or any kind of scientific facility at this site before the hotel was built. According to the hotel manager, before it was a hotel, it was a movie theater that went out of business during the great depression and got torn down, and before that, it was live-theater, but I'm pretty sure that was before hazmat suits were even invented. Before that, nothing. Just an empty lot."

"So maybe we're looking for someone who died somewhere else and their spirit was brought to the hotel connected to a cursed object," Sam suggested. "Have you seen anything in the hotel that looks like it might have come from a lab? Or belong to some kind of scientist?"

"If it was something that belonged to them, then it could be anything," Dean pointed out in exasperation. "A chair, or a painting, or a vase? I'm not gonna be able to find it unless I know what it is."

"You'd better start looking into any deaths in the area that might have been related to radioactive materials then," Sam said. "Any kind of death that might have occurred while the deceased was wearing a hazmat suit."

"Yeah, something that would have burned right through it," Dean said. "According to our descriptions, the suit is partially melted."

"You got this Dean?" I still have two and a half hours of driving to go.

"Yeah, I got it," Dean replied.

He did not got it. He got nothing. He stayed at the library until it closed at eight and didn't find a single death that fit the description. He got back to the hotel around the same time Sam did.

"Did you fill the tank?" he asked immediately.

"Yes, Dean, I filled the tank," Sam replied, rolling his eyes. "Did you identify our hazmat?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I couldn't find squat. It's like this ghost is..."

"A ghost?" Sam finished for him, raising an eyebrow.

Dean scowled. That had been what he was about to say, but he knew it sounded stupid, that's why he'd stopped.

"Yeah."

Sam shook his head as they went back up to their room.

—

The brothers were still puzzling out what to do about their second ghost, Dean cleaning his guns while Sam poured over their dad's journal, when they heard a muffled gasp from above them. Floating there on the ceiling was a figure in a hazmat suit, its faint glow barely visible in the light of the room.

For an instant, none of them moved. Then, acting quickly, Dean grabbed the crowbar that was next to him on the bed and flung it at the figure on the ceiling.

Rather than passing right through, causing the hazmat ghost to dissipate, the crowbar made contact with a clang, hitting it right on the head and knocking it to the floor between the two beds.

"Quick, salt, Sammy!" Dean shouted, rather than gape at the seemingly unconscious 'ghost' on their floor.

He tried to grab the hazmat-wearing figure, and to his surprise, it worked. He dragged it into the armchair in their room while Sam laid a ring of salt around it.

"Do you actually think this'll work, Dean?" Sam asked. "I mean, it doesn't seem like any ghost I've ever seen. Iron is supposed to repel ghosts, not actually hit them. I'm pretty sure this is something else."

"Iron hurt it—"

"Being hit in the head with a crowbar hurt it," Sam pointed out. "Based on that, it could be human for all we know."

"It was on the ceiling, Sam," Dean said flatly, grabbing the iron chains from under the bed and wrapping them around their captive. "And this don't look like Spider-Man to me."

"Well it doesn't look like a ghost, either," Sam insisted.

"So, what, you think this is some kind of Scooby-Doo situation?" Dean asked. "We'll pull off the mask and it turns out it's just some shady real-estate developer who wanted to get the hotel closed down so they could turn it into a theme park? Let's try it then."

Dean grabbed the hood of the hazmat suit and tore it off. 

They both gasped at what they saw.

Whoever it was, he looked young, maybe 13 or 14. His hair was as white as sheet and floated on an imaginary breeze. His face was dark. Lightning-bolt scars criss-crossed it all the way down to the neck until they disappeared under the suit's collar. His skin appeared to be badly burned, flaking off in ashes which vanished before they hit the ground.

He groaned as he started to come back to consciousness, and when he opened his eyes, they were a solid, eerie green, glowing so brightly they almost hurt to look at, even in the well-lit room.

"Still think he's human?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam shook his head, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.

"This sure as hell never happened on Scooby-Doo."

"Ugh," the mysterious boy groaned again, blinking and shaking his head like he was trying to get his bearings. "Did you seriously throw a crowbar at my head?" he demanded after a moment. "What the hell, dude?!"

"What are you?" Sam demanded. "A demon?"

"I'm a ghost, what the hell does it look like?" the boy replied.

"You don't look like any ghost we've ever seen," Dean said.

"Let me guess, you're more used to shades like the other ghost that was floating around this hotel, right?" the kid guessed. "She seems to have left the building though. You two got any idea why?"

"We took care of her," Dean replied. "Sam dug her up and salted and burned her bones. And if you really are a ghost, then we can do the same to you."

"You... you straight up ended her?" he asked. "Just like that? You didn't even give her the chance to move on? Ancients, what the hell!"

"She had the chance to move on when she died, and she didn't take it," Dean said. "Instead she terrorized people, so we showed up to stop her."

"She gave a few people nightmares! Everyone has nightmares sometimes! You didn't have to destroy her!"

"What's it to you, did you know her?" Sam asked. "She a friend of yours?"

"Well... no, but I was trying to?" the boy replied. "She was too weak to capture, and I didn't want to destroy her by trying to fight, so I was trying to learn more about her and help her move on."

"If you're a ghost, why don't you move on?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, what's keeping you around?" Dean echoed the sentiment more harshly.

"The same thing preventing you from salting and burning my bones," came the reply. The so-called ghost did not elaborate.

"And what would that be?" Dean finally asked.

"I guess you could say I'm not dead enough yet."

"So you're not a ghost, then," Sam said.

"I am," said the boy. "I'm not a shade, like that woman you ended. I'm what a ghost is like when we actually have enough power to be a whole person and not just a shadow of our former self. I'm a ghost like you've never encountered before."

"Whatever you are, we're gonna get rid of you," Dean jeered.

"Why?" asked the boy. "I haven't hurt anyone. All I did was try to help another ghost pass peacefully through the veil. Don't you hunters have any sort of moral code?"

"So, what?" Sam asked. "You're proposing we just let you go?"

"Fat chance," Dean scoffed.

"Not exactly," the ghost replied with a smirk. "More like I'm telling you not to feel to guilty when I escape." Then the ghost stood up, iron chains falling right off him. "Iron is more difficult to pass through without destabilizing, but not too much of a challenge for ghosts like me. Sorry, but this will be the last time we see each other."

With that, he pulled his hood back on, obscuring his face once more, so the only thing visible was the glow of his eyes behind the black lenses of his mask. Then he flew right up through the ceiling.

The Winchesters tried to find him. They searched the hotel top to bottom, probably looking half-mad, but he was gone. He'd simply vanished without a trace. And they never did see him again.

[fighting-these-demons]

Haunted Honk Updated Bones 2 - Return of the Honk

Hello Internet Stranger looking up G Gundam on Tumblr dot com!

This is an idea for a Horror Alternate Universe involving Queer Non-Canon Relationships between the characters of the series.

It is based on the idea in the post that is linked above.

If you are not looking for this content please scroll on.

If you ARE looking for this content - and you're ok with reading my and other's Headcanons for this Alternate Universe I've haphazardly spun up -

Then go ahead and feel free to:

Check The Tags Of This Post For The Pairings

and click the Read More below!

Also the majority of the brainstorming is happening in the replies if you're so inclined.

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

Behold! The Second Update! 🎉🎊🎉🎊

Some of this is just straight copy and pasted from the notes and other bits have been lightly reworded or built upon to connect to other bits.

I'll see y'all in the replies for ideas on new plot points! 🪦💥🌩

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

This is backstory and general outline for the most part. There are some sort of written bits mixed in.

It is barely edited. Typos abound.

The dialogue is extremely minimal and it is a framework upon which to build the fic. 💖

I am giving this explanation for the benefit of internet strangers as all parties working on this fic are already familiar.

Hello Internet strangers! 👋

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

Wherever the tendrils of the Devil Gundam hovered over the earth, and subsequently were destroyed, are places that may have had DG cells distributed through the atmosphere.

Atmospheric DG plumes have lead to DG infection in those areas. There's also likely tendril debris.

Neo-Japan, since the Devil Gundam's destruction,  has been working with Neo and world governments on a cure for DG infection.

At the moment the current treatment involves Kyoji or Schwarz controlling the DG cells of the individual and shutting them down; however, they are making breakthroughs with advancements on a nanocite injection that they're synthesizing with an executable program that shuts the DG cells down.

The biological compatibilities are the hurdle at the moment as evidenced in animal testing.

Kyoji and Domon are traveling to some sites in the USA that were affected by tendrils. Domon is there as a body guard since Schwarz is handling infection cases elsewhere (unspecified). 

Chibodee is their escort. America is a Different Beast to Japan even in the future. So they'll need an escort to get through the militant landscape and across the sheer distance of it all. 

Rain wanted to come with them, but with the volatility of the current landscape of the US - Especially where they're going - Kyoji didn't want to needlessly risk her safety.

He's assured her that Domon, Chibodee, and Chibodee's team will be watching his back.

Dr. Kasshu will be with them for the first days in New York to help with setup of the mobile lab before heading back to Neo Japan to continue working alongside Rain.

Once they've rested and are ready to head out, Domon, Chibodee, Kyoji, and The Gals will take Neo America's Core Lander and a mobile lab to the TD Site and it should be a fairly straight forward affair since they've gotten permission from the national and state governments, as well as permission from Gunsinto to be in the area.

They shouldn't be more than a few days travel to get there and retrieve samples and data and get back. He should be gone a week at the absolute most.

Kyoji gives rain the contact info to their hotel in New York as well as their sponsored Gunsinto accommodations in the Midwest and lets her know that he'll call once they've arrived palnetside.

He makes good on that promise the next day, letting Rain know that their shuttle landed, Chibodee and the girls picked them up without hassle, and lets them know that they're set to have a great dinner at a favorite restaurant of Chibodee's that evening. 

Seeing Chibodee is like a breathe of fresh air that Domon didn't know he needed. Life has been so needlessly complicated lately but after Chibodee releases him from the bear hug given in greeting and throws an arm over Domon's shoulders they fall into step as if they'd never been apart. 

Keeping in touch wasn't exactly easy. Domon doesn't respond quite as often as Chibidee would like, but every message Chibodee left was listened to and saved. 

Ever since they got wind of this mission it's all either of them has had on their minds for days. 

I need some help here with feelings and dialogue and inner thoughts but Basically 

They both independently realize with clarity over the days leading up and the time in New York how much they've missed each other and how easy and comfortable it all is - being teamed up again.

Domons semi-recent revelations and feelings fresh on his mind. Chibodees crush ever looming.

Hearts racing. Feeling lighter than they have in God Knows How Long. Chibodee smiling so much his face cramps. Domon feeling so comfortable and nearly zen he loses his permanent frown from constantly thinking and just vibes. Smiling occasionally even!

Chibodee proposes they spar real quick before dinner "To work up an appetite! And C'mon! I wanna see what I'm up against in the upcoming Gundam Fight!" With a grin slamming his left fist into his open right hand. (He's left handed right? Or was that someone else?)

They Spar and there's Feelings 

@thedragonchilde has written a beautiful scene that I've linked below

Then they have dinner together and later part to settle in their hotel rooms for the evening. 

The next day they focus on briefing the expedition and setting up the Mobile Lab that The Gals will be in charge of transporting. 

Once the lab is set up, they see Dr. Kasshu off on his shuttle back to Neo Japan that has been on standby since they arrived.

Kyoji volunteers to ride with The Gals under the excuse of getting a head start on some data processing - but really it's to give Domon and Chibodee some time alone together. 

Chibodee is not about to let himself be alone in a Core Lander with Domon for HOURS. He may blurt out something he regrets. He insists that Kyoji ride with them and leave the Gals to themselves.

As they make their way out west, Chibodee starts explaining why they'll want to keep their guard up. 

There's been a lot of unrest recently and especially the last 10 years since Gunsinto bought out the last of their land and displaced so many communities. 

Domon asks occasional questions but Kyoji isn't saying much of anything at all. Opting to rest most of the journey. 

Domon seems tense, which is understandable considering the events before they left New York. 

A thought: can Kyoji and Schwarz communicate via cellular connection similar to a human cell phone situation? They'd both be planet-side so I feel like it ought to be possible 

With that in mind - maybe Kyoji and Schwarz have been catching up whenever they have free time and part of Kyoji being to silent is he's messaging Schwarz and lamenting his fate being stuck in the Core Lander with these two. 

Schwarz pities Kyoji but can't help the schadenfreude at what Kyoji is going through. Kyoji is understandably less amused but sees the humor in it and they start discussing progress that Schwarz has made with calming and healing people abroad. 

Kind of a nod to what will come in the scary bits. 

I'm thinking that when the emp goes off, maybe a signal scrambler starts after that interferes with cell and radio signal in the area so when Kyoji tries to reach out to Schwarz he's cut off. 

Thoughts?

Suddenly they hear gunfire and what might be a canon of some kind. 

They expected resistance outside of Gunsinto territory but they didn't expect it after they crossed the border!

Aren't the Greenlords supposed to be patrolling the area???

So they're on the run from a group that blames Domon and Kyoji for all the bullshit post DG Incident. The group is made up of various parties working together to hold Neo Japan responsible for their crimes against humanity since nothing held up in court and Neo Japan is currently in control. Plus near endless bitterness at America's loss of Super Power status for decades and the effect that that has had on their economy and natural resources put under stress from these Big Space Battles. 

Chibodee and The Gals are aware of THIS group of violent individuals… but they're not aware of the OTHER group of violent individuals. (The Clown gangs are kept under wraps by the Greenlords - Gunsinto's private militia similar to to the Pinkertons as going public would be an embarrassment and an open invitation to more trespassers.)

They have a good idea of what weapons they have at their disposal and what their general tactics are. 

They decide to split up and have The Gals create a distraction to lure the majority of the aggressors off before rendezvousing close to the TD Site in this region.

After they split, the core lander has some issues and breaks down in the middle of nowhere. As they break down Kyoji has an awful headache. There's a terrible signal he can feel and he knows it affected the core lander's processors but he's not sure what it is. 

(It's a device that broadcasts a malicious signal that infects the processing units of hovering vehicles - was gonna be an emp but realized that would mess up their gps. It has only a very mild effect on DG cells it seems. Their GPS was made by the Kasshus with DG tech so it's unaffected. - Their communicator was issued by Gunsinto and was not so lucky - it's dead.)

Luckily for them their map data integrated into their GPS shows there should be a former town nearby.

The nearest town is seemingly abandoned. There's simply not enough water here according to Chibodee. 

The only building not completely crumbled is a lone Motel. Chibodee curses his Rotten Fucking Luck. (Clown Music!)

They're exhausted from carrying their emergency supplies through the heat of the day. They're not going any further. This will have to be it. Domon is clearly tense and Chibidee seems about to jump out of his skin but Kyoji doesn't really know why. He could be over sensitive after sitting with their tension in the core lander and then walking with them through the heat. 

Chibodee considers attempting to convince them to camp outside but with the wind picking up as bad as it is, he has no leg to stand on. They'll be sleeping inside. 

Strange though. There's a light on. That's odd.

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

While the guys were crashing and walking The Gals have incapacitated the pursuers after radioing in help from the Greenlords who are cooperating on this mission. 

They're of course like “Whaaaaaat? That's Crazyyyyyyyyy.” And don't breathe a word of The Other Issue Inside The Fields. Instead electing to simply refuel the mobile lab and send some extra men with The Gals as an escort.

The Gals start back on their journey to Rendevous with the guys. 

They arrive at the TD Site with no sign of the guys. After waiting 2 hours they decide to try and ping Chibodee's location. 

There's no result. What they assumed was poor signal is worrying them now.

As they double back in the direction the guys should have been coming from they discover the crashed Core Lander and some prints headed South West.

They check their maps of the area which indicate a former town a few miles south west. They hop in their mobile lab and head that way. 

When they make it to the town, the only standing structure is a Clown Themed Motel that looks like it was pulled straight out of a historical classic horror film. 

They share a look then laugh. There's no way Chibodee would be here. They decide to check for other towns and head further south.  Eventually as it starts to get dark the escort advises that they head to the designated accommodations for the evening and the Greenlords will start a search.

—-------------------

Meanwhile, Kyoji kept his word to Rain that he and his father would check in when they arrived in New York. When the second day stretches on with no word - Rain starts to worry.

Her father has made it home, but she's still heard no word from Kyoji.

On Rain's 5th call in as many hours -at about 2:00 AM- The Gals answer.... it's Bad News. 

They've been separated by a roaming militia group hellbent on serving American Justice to these Neo Japan Planet Destroyers. The Gals were supposed to Rendevous with Chibodee and the guys at the TD site but they never showed and they didn't find them on their way to the Gunsinto Accomodations either.

The Gals reassure her that the Greenlords and Gunsinto are starting a search and they should have word soon.

Dread starts to settle in the pit of Rain's stomach. 

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

Meanwhile The Guys walk into the Hotel expecting it to be abandoned. It certainly looks that way from the outside. 

As they walk in though, they meet a rather average looking man smoking a cigar and watching some movies on a TV in the corner of the dark Lobby. 

He looks surprised (he isnt) and quickly stubs out his cigar in the ash tray nearby before walking into the only light in the lobby by the front desk.

He welcomes them with a smile and asks how many guests. Letting them know that unfortunately he's only got one room available and There's Only the One Bed. He asks if that's alright.

Chibodee sputters. Shocked that there's someone here at all. He asks as much and the man says that the Hotel is a side business of the Greenlords’ for “Employee Services” if you catch his drift.

Average guy asks after them as he's never seen them before. Kyoji has a bad feeling and smooths things over by advising that they're there as horticultural graduate students studying genetic modification with their Professor and a few other students. Kyoji tells a tale of how they got separated in the fields and this was the closest area with shelter according to their map data.

The Average guy is surprised to hear that they have a functioning GPS and says that this area has bad signal. It's a blessing they can find their way.

He directs them to their room and leaves back toward the lobby.

Kyoji has a bad feeling. He can sense a ton of corrupted DG cells nearby. Somewhere underground, but isn't sure why or what it means. 

He also keeps getting flashes of screaming men and women in clown costumes….

He relays as much to Domon privately as Chibodee is clearly already on edge and doesn't need any more stress. 

Kyoji asks Domon if Chibodee is alright. Domon informs him that clowns and clown imagery is a problem but there's really nothing they can do about it in this situation. His fists are clenched. Domon i's pissed they have to stay here.

Kyoji takes a moment to let Domon know he'll take the floor and for Chibodee and Domon to take the bed. This throws Domon for a loop, but before he can argue Kyoji insists that out of the 3 of them he can probably take the most stress and that Chibodee looks like he needs someone to sleep next to. 

Kyoji also mentions that he'll be blocking his hearing on a nano level to give them privacy in case they need to talk. Domon is a bit flustered by this but decides to take it in stride and go to Chibodee who is pacing and silently melting down. He looks like he's about to both through the window and back into the fields. 

Domon puts a hand on Chibodee’s shoulder and suggests they go ahead and bunk down for the night. 

He and Domon each take a seat on the end of the bed while Kyoji remains standing and they discuss Watch Rotation.

It'll probably be better to have 2 people awake and 1 person resting at any given time.

None of them trust this guy at the front desk. Especially not Kyoji.

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

Not sure how to segue from bunking down to the horror bit below gracefully; but I know we need to. 

I feel like it's the perfect time for Domon and Chibodee to take Kyoji up on his offer of audible privacy to have a quick heart to heart..... before it's unfortunately and terrifyingly interrupted. 😨

Mostly because I'm mean. 😂

Domon clumsily offers comfort / encouragement. 

(Watch him actually offer to beat up any clowns that show up.) That allows for a nice bit of irony when things suddenly get Worse.

Idk how Domon would say it but something along the lines of "I'd never let another clown near you" or "I'd beat down any clown any day. Don't worry.”

That would actually get a shaky laugh out of Chibodee, and maybe a joking "my hero", a sincere thank-you, and an apology for being so on edge (kind of a "thanks for putting up with me" type of deal)

Domon takes both of Chibodees hands in his much smaller ones and Chibodee really feels So Safe in that moment

"Hey, I mean it. You're not doing this alone.”

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

My first thought for 4 is that it probably looks like a normal-ass bed but in the middle of the night when both the guys are like half asleep, a clown hand bursts up from the center of the mattress in a classic zombie style Then an improbable amount slowly crawl out of that same hole as Chibodee drags Domon to the door (Domon for his credit is ready to beat a clown with another clown)

Since the FC does have the lightest touch of Newtype bullshit (mostly seen in the Schwarz/Rain chase scene where Schwarz gets the newtype flash), I'm interested in it being ghosts because the NT thing sometimes goes that way.

Ghosts usually have some kind of backstory as to why they're around, and I think it fits the setting to have a sort of clown culture war going on

so you have gangs like the one that killed Chibodee's mom, and then you get ordinary clowns going vigilante to hunt the ones that do that down for flagrant violation of the clown code

But the problem with vigilantism is you sometimes get the wrong guy, so that eventually happens and another group of clowns goes vigilante to go after the first group because they've gone bad (doesn't matter whether or not this is true for our purposes). And then you get more guys like the original circus terrorists playing themselves off as vigilantes as an excuse to kill people.

So now you have a clown gang war and more clown terrorists than you started with. And with the other problems Earth and the Colonies have it isn't *really* a big enough deal for anyone outside of the business to really care, so you get a sort of uneasy status quo with occasional bursts of clown violence.

The motel in question has a ghost problem because it's a former base of operations of a clown gang, where they would frequently dispose of their clown victims.

Chibodee is not at all aware of this. Or else he never would have agreed to this. He would have had some sort if Military backup. Gunsinto and The Greenlords have kept this under wraps to avoid broadcasting their farm territory as terrorist territory.

The clowns were affected by DG cells pre-murder and with Kyoji nearby they seem to be activating.

Yikes.

Kyoji can affect DG cells in a lof of situations... but can he affect them to his advantage now?

 Here's the scene: 

The guys are getting comfortable and about to sleep when suddenly the lamp they'd left on switches off and they start to hear a circus melody from somewhere out in the hallway. 

Chibodee freezes up and starts to breathe heavier. Domon figures the music may be part of the model's gimmick and tries to turn the lamp back on. It doesn't turn back on. He tries again. It doesn't respond.

Concept: the arrival of the clowns is preceded by *laughter*. Just voices getting louder and nearer and more numerous, building up to a goddamn chorus of infernal cackling that triggers Chibodee halfway to a panic attack, with Domon's tight grip and shouts of "stay with me" just barely keeping him in the present, and as the laughing reaches a fever pitch, THAT'S when the first hand bursts through the bed.

—--------------

Kyoji hears it first via Newtype tomfoolery but shrugs it off as just not controlling his cells well or something at first and maybe Domon getting Chibodee to laugh or something. 

Then as it becomes more numerous and he's like "Uh Oh!" And stands up to alert the guys. 

While he's searching for a way to warn them that won't immobilize Chibodee the guys start hearing it and it's sort of too late.

 So for this section we have 2 different options from two different post threads. 

In the first post thread we had the idea of kyoji having the newtype flash awareness of the zombies mentally

In the second post thread we have the idea that since Kyoji has closed his hearing off that he doesn't hear the clowns laughter so he's unaware of their approach and Domon has to alert him when he jumps put of bed. 

This specifically: 

It might be more effective to have Domon forget this and be really confused over why the noise doesn't seem to have woken his brother.

And yeah well have Domon jump out of bed at the first sign of the noise and shake kyoji awake with his foot while he keeps a hand on Chibodee to try and ground him 

We can find a way to combine these or we can go with one or the other. 

I'm cool with all 3 options but I will say that I'm finding it hard to combine them.

The only idea I've had for combining them is that Kyoji has genuinely fallen asleep first while Domon and Chibodee are on watch and interprets his Newtype Flash of the horde as a stress nightmare.

And then when Domon jumps out of bed and kicks him awake he turns on his hearing and realizes it was real after all. 

He doesn't have time to explain what's coming before the hand pops out if the bed between where Domon is standing at the edge of it and Chibodee is laying and panicking. 

I'm good for any of the 3 options though.

—----------------

Domon's instincts are screaming at him to get standing and in a ready position to fight but he's trying to get Chibodee - who has frozen- to snap out if it and stand with him when BOOM!!! 💥✊🦾🧟 The hand and several others follow. 

Domon would have been focused on Chibodee and Kyoji’s hearing would have been terminated so they wouldn't have heard a large metal bar latch into place while the laughter was building. 

Because lobby guy is outside their room's exit door planning to come in through the door to the adjoining room - not knowing his past victims have come shambling back into existence. (He can't hear them from his position in the hallway and the music he's got playing)

Chibodee's flight instinct finally triggers when the hands pop out and he's off the bed and across the room at the door in a flash, struggling to open it - finding it locked. Domon is hot on his heels with Kyoji close behind and he kicks the door when he gets to it. 

What they thought was a normal metal door seems to be solid - not hollow - and won't budge. Domon takes half a step back, and looks to the window. On the way in they noticed it was boarded up. Tornado precaution the Lobby Guy had earlier explained. That couldn't be hard to break through! 

He opens the curtains to steel panels bolted into the reinforced steel window frame. Domon is stunned. 

Someone planned this. Someone is trying to kill them.

He slowly looks behind him at the bed and the platform beneath it jumping wildly. They're trapped in here, with something Truly Awful, and There's No Escape.

He has to protect Chibodee and Kyoji at All Costs. His crest is flaring as he steps between them and the bed.

(Figured that was a good place to note the state of the Crest Connection)

But at that moment when Chibidee is frantically slamming and kicking the door and Lobby Guy thinks that all of them are focused on that door he busts open the adjoining door with a knife in hand planning to stab and kill these mid twenties and early 30s college kids.

So the room is pitch black when they hear the other door fly open and slam against the wall while they hear the bed jumping and ripping apart and what sounds like giant metal doors straining under the platform that the bed is on top of.

When lobby guy lunges at them, Domon blocks him and kicks him towards the bed. The knife falls out of his hands and as he reaches for it the platform and bed bursts apart and he's grabbed and pulled back by what is clearly a dead clown into what sounds like a crowd of clowns behind them. 

As Lobby Guy disappears screaming into the tangle of limbs clamoring for him,our guys get an eyeful of the threat. 

Chibode bolts through the door Lobby Guy came from and into a dark winding corridor. The only thing on his mind is putting as much distance between himself and these clowns as possible 

But this guy has made some awful maze to chase people through the remains of the motel and the surrounding town in case his victims slip past him.

And it's absolutely heinous with bits of the people he's taken for trophies and very saw-esque. Just like truly Nightmare Fuel that NONE of them would be prepared for.

Chibodee, however, is already running through the flames of his own personal hell- so he's still just booking it down the tunnel and straight into the start of the maze while Domon and Kyoji have taken a moment to try to fight off the pursuing horde. 

I think the part where Chibodee starts booking it might be a good time to have Domon beat a clown with another clown. Rather than freezing, he gets distracted and doesn't realize they're getting swarmed. 

Kyoji is yelling at Domon to move and finally physically grabs and turns Domon's head towards more clowns than even he can keep back.

Chibodee doesn't stop running until he reaches some bullshit puzzle barrier that Lobby guy had set up.. when he turns around he's ALONE. 

But not for long, as another arm shoots out from his right!

Chibodees screams of course

It might be scarier to have Chibodee's scream get Domon hurt; The scream comes from an unexpected direction (because maze) and Domon whirls back around trying to locate Chibodee just in time to get a good zombie claw rake down the arm. 

Ooh, might be one of those cases where adrenaline keeps him from registering the extent of the injury at first?

At this point Kyoji's retreating, telling Domon to get moving, and given no alternative direction - Domon rockets down the tunnel after them both.

Domon rockets forward full tilt into the darkness down into the tunnel (it goes down) to find Chibodee fighting for his life at the end of this nightmare tunnel in front of some strange gate in the middle of what seems to have been a section of a have caved In basement laundry room.

After a bit of distance Kyoji stops to try and corral his mind to think for half a moment. He's had a feeling that he's connected to these things and wonders if it might be DG related somehow. 

And so he starts trying to tear some of his surroundings down to slow approaching clowns and shambling corpses. If he can test on one of them, then he might stand a chance of figuring out a way to get them out of here in one piece.

—-------------------‐—-----

meanwhile, scattered across the cosmos, George, Sai, and Argo wonder why their crests are going crazy.

They're all wondering what the hell is happening and I bet George calls Rain up to be like "What In The World???" And once Rain hears that their crests are going off she knows for sure that something is going down and tries to get in contact with the girls again.

They don't have any updates. :(

Schwarz Meanwhile has gotten to a phone and lets Rain know that his contact with Kyoji was cut off and he hasn't been able to reach him for hours. 

Rain gives him the bad news. 

—------------

Previous brainstorming:

I think once they get to the SAW PARTY gate they should be together for a little bit, but the maze should either have a puzzle or a trap that splits them up again after a room or two.

Could be a classic wall or bars drop down, isolating one person and forcing them to go a different way, could be some kind of enclosed space with some bait (a key? a fuse?) that drops the person who enters to retrieve it through the floor, could be a fucked-up puzzle that doesn't let you continue unless you split up (forked "airlock" with buttons that need to be pushed at the same time maybe?)

Work that in as a trap room

...I wonder how it might affect the traps given that there's no longer a person controlling them. Will that make them easier or harder to get through?

Yeah I think the fact that Murder Manderson is dead will absolutely be a problem for them but I also think that Chibodee has the lock picking skills necessary to get them through some basic doors should they have the opportunity to get to some more normal locks which may or may not be scattered in the maze to allow him easy and quick ambush access to his victims. The added bonus if they can notice one of these is that there would be few to no dead bodies in those passageways.

So it would make their final escape just a matter of blocking the passage - dodging incoming bodies from the other doors (if they're weak or open) and speed.

IF THEY NOTICE. if not it's All Maze All The Time. GREATEST SAW HITS *BZZZZZZ*

All right, here are some notes I took between patients: 

-as well as the outside Shuffles, the crests are definitely burning on our maze boys for each other. (How do the shuffle empathy powers work anyway?) They also may indicate the presence of DG cells with the zombies?

-is the manager at risk of becoming a DG zombie?

-can they magically cleanse DG cells where Kyoji can't cover with his tech? -i mentioned to you before that there's likelihood of a Moment under fire,

an "I can't lose you" confession or "thank God you're alive" embrace or something -ohh we're gonna have fun with personalized torture methods for each of them, aren't we

I definitely think that has to happen! It would be so sweet and also I don't think either of them has the impulse control to stop themselves at this point lmao

Hmmmmm. I'll have to check the wiki for that one. 

A) I believe he would be prime for a zombie yeah because he just died and got jumped by all the cells but I also think that because of that he'd be much more sentient and Kyoji may even be able to sense his thought which might be how he finds one of the doors in the first place. 

B) I think they'd be limited to what he's directly in front of them

—------------------------------

@thedragonchilde

@amplexadversary

@cyanide-latte

@felix-cant-ski

@youreaclownnow

@zayphora

And anyone else thay wants to jump in! Feel free! I've tagged in the replies before but I want to tag as many people in thebpost itself.

All of my mutuals are welcome in on this!

[unboundprompts]

Horror Prompts

↳ a masterpost for horror writing prompts

↳ (#) is from my collection of random prompts, (list) contains multiple prompts.

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Supernatural Prompts:

How to Write a Monster

It was Coming (#29)

It Used to Be Human (#30)

The Thing in the Corner (#66)

Spirit Summoning Prompts (list)

Ancient Evil in the Library (#70)

Something in the Basement (#82)

Creature in the Attic (#88)

Hallow (#115)

Stuffed Bear, Dead Brother (#156)

Murder Prompts:

Bloody Hands (#12)

The Corpse in the Harbor (#41)

The Box with the Red Ribbon (#101)

Blood-Red Flowers (#153)

Horror Setting Prompts:

The Garden (#39)

Zombie Apocalypse AU (list)

Haunted House/Haunted Motel Descriptions (list)

Sudden Apocalypse (list)

The Old Playground (#149)

The Trek to the Graveyard (#175)

Something in the Library (#180)

Other Horror Prompts:

Different Ways to Describe Fear

Hiding and Terrified (#64)

Being Stalked (list)

The Cat is Filled with Terror (#178)

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 11: Enemies to Lovers

Bad Education | @verobatto Rating: Explicit Word Count: 20,061 Main Tags/Warnings: Buttler!Castiel, CEO!Dean, enemies to lovers, boss/employee relationship, character development, comedy Summary: When a multimillionaire grandfather wants to give his grandson Dean Winchester a lesson, he will search for a desperate method by hiring Dean's worst nightmare to be his butler. Will the charismatic Castiel be able to educate the most egocentric, selfish and rebellious rich dude and turn him into a perfect CEO? Or will they kill each other before that happens?

Better Than You | @verobatto Rating: Explicit Word Count: 21,950 Main Tags/Warnings: Light internalized homophobia, office au, coming out, rivals to lovers, childhood friends, fluff, angst, happy ending Summary: Dean has many goals in his life, but there's just one that bothers him to death: to defeat the perfect Castiel Novak at any cost. This is a self-discovering journey, in which Dean will try his best to win against Castiel and not to fall in love with him in the meantime.

Maybe not a comedy (according to Jack), but he likes the happy ending | @seidenapfel Rating: Mature Word Count: 67,602 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Canon-Typical Violence, Angels, Demons, Angel Wings, Hell, Purgatory, Heaven, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt Dean Winchester, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel's True Form (Supernatural), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, mention of Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, possible Meg Masters/Charlie Bradbury, Additional Warnings In Author's Note Summary: Dean Winchester is dead. He died ten years ago, when he sold his soul to Demon Corp in order to save his brother’s life. He has lost everything, even his dignity. All that is left is a brutal tool to torture other lost souls on Inferno just like himself. Castiel’s orders are simple. Free one random soul from the pit on Inferno in order to bring it back to Angelus Associations’ headquarters on Paradiso. No one expects him to be successful, but, as a soldier, he never questions his orders. The moment Castiel lays eyes on the human overseer, everything changes. Castiel has found his mission, the man he needs to save. An adventure begins that takes Dean and Castiel from planet to planet, from Inferno to Purgatorio to Paradiso, and beyond. It’s a journey to find themselves and each other.

Vampirenatural: The Rebellion - Rogue | @Taymarpigeon Rating: Explicit Word Count: 225,822 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, World of Darkness, Human Dean Winchester, Detective Dean Winchester, Vampire Castiel (Supernatural), Angst, Smut, Gallows Humor, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Human/Vampire Sex, Blood Drinking, Blood Sharing, sickness and injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Kiiiind of Mafia, Kiiiind of Murder Husbands, Russian Castiel (Supernatural), Implied/Referenced Suicide, non-consensual biting, BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Acts of War Summary: From clubs to underground caverns, seedy motels, haunted hotels and exclusive mansions, Los Angeles has it all. It's a place for the pretty and the hopeful, but beneath its star-spangled façade are shadowy corners harbouring the vagrant and the vagabond alike. It's a world of corruption, sex and violence, Detective Dean Winchester has learnt to navigate with ease. Eight years at Santa Monica PD could never have prepared him for the underbelly of this so-called City of Angels though. Dean knows the shadows, he knows them intimately, but is he prepared for the World of Darkness?

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 23/?

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on Ao3 (current chapter)

Read on Ao3 (from beginning)

Evan thought he should be more afraid, having a vampire’s fangs this close to a vulnerable point.

He thought he should be panicking, in fear for his life, wondering what the fuck he was thinking, offering to let Tommy drink from him.

And yet, all he felt as his vampire took his hand and brought it to his mouth, inhaling deeply as though he were savoring the bouquet of a fine glass of wine…was calm. His magic was a warm and content glow throughout his whole body, radiating the rightness of what he was about to do. He was helping his vampire, sharing the power of his blood to help him heal, to keep them both safe. He was not looking forward to the pain of the bite, exactly, but he didn’t fear it. And he didn’t need Tommy to—to hypnotize him into accepting it, or whatever it was that a vampire’s thrall did. He didn’t want to be lost in a haze of false perception while Tommy drank from him.

The bite hurt when Tommy’s fangs sunk into the flesh of his wrist. He could tell his vampire was trying to be as gentle as possible…but it was still the teeth of a predator tearing into him. It wasn’t much worse than the burn of a tattoo needle, though, and he breathed through it until he felt Tommy’s lips close around the bite, not quite cold, but not the wet heat he was used to when people put their mouths on his body. Then he felt the bizarre sensation of suction, felt a pulling draw from the wound, though Tommy didn’t withdraw his fangs.

He hadn’t pulled off to slow the flow of blood, Evan realized. To make it harder to take too much, even accidentally. His magic trembled in his chest, a surge of warmth racing through him at the simple care. His eyes fluttered shut as Tommy swallowed, mouthful after mouthful of his blood, his magic swirling inside him, the warm glow of it intensifying, growing brighter and brighter until he felt like it was spilling out of him, wrapping around both him and his vampire, rushing over the two of them like a wave as Tommy drew part of Evan into him. The pain of the bite faded, swamped under a growing sense of connection.

He swore he could feel the connection the way Tommy was—heat and life rushing through him, his heart swelling with gratitude for the gift he was being given, a desperate desire for the closeness, the intimacy of the connection to never end.

He was shocked to realize he didn’t want it to, either.

He reached with his magic, throwing himself headlong into the bond between them, letting out a gasp when he felt it surge, strengthen, grow. He could feel his vampire, could feel Tommy, could feel the two of them together…the way it was supposed to be. The way it was meant to be.

And then an electric charge raced through him, his magic flaring the way it had the first time Tommy had drunk from him, the way he couldn’t remember it had until this very moment.

He was lying on a sagging bed in a cheap motel room, his vampire looming over him, and he had never felt so safe, so protected.

He was cradling his witch’s hand in his palms, his fangs deep in the wound his witch had trusted him to make, the sweetest blood he had ever tasted spilling into his mouth, and he could not remember if he had ever loved anyone so fiercely.

He was sitting in the cold snow, his baby brother in his lap, growing limp and quiet as the spell their parents had set on them tore his magic away from his small body, and he had never felt more scared or determined.

He was standing in the moonlit, snowy field watching the shadows of the night that had changed his family forever—the night that had haunted every aspect of his life for as long as he could remember—play out in front of him as they had a hundred, a thousand, a million times before, and he had never felt more exposed.

Tommy would know. He would know the secret that Evan’s family had kept for over twenty years, the single, horrible act that had hung over Evan his entire life and colored every interaction he had with his parents, his sister, and his coven. Tommy would know it all. His vampire would know why his magic was the way it was, why Evan’s own family treated him like a dangerous animal that couldn’t be trusted, why his coven had turned on him so easily when he’d stood accused of Doug’s murder.

Why there were only three beings on the planet who had ever seen something worth loving in him.

Tommy would know.

His magic spiraled around them, fragmenting his perceptions into what felt like a hundred different viewpoints, watching the memory from a hundred different perspectives. His vampire’s hand tightened on his, the pull of his blood into Tommy’s mouth blending with the remembered pull of the spell that had been meant to steal his magic until he was caught in a dizzying loop of sensation. Tommy would know.

He blinked heavy eyes and watched a bit of color start to creep back into his little brother’s chubby cheeks, the relief sweeping through him almost great enough to cover up the pain of the spell latching into his magic.

He watched the boy he’d never known and had loved all his life bend over the baby that he’d been and kiss his cheek, whispering love and reassurance with his last breath.

He watched a child he hadn’t known existed until this very second sacrifice himself for the infant that would grow into the man he was coming to realize he’d do anything to keep.

Evan gasped, his eyes flying open at the same time Tommy’s did. He gaped up at his vampire, his chest heaving as he watched the haggard pallor and lines of pain vanish from Tommy’s rugged features. The shirt he’d been wearing was bloodstained and torn, but before Evan’s eyes, the gaping wound in his chest started knitting together at an incredibly fast rate.

He winced as Tommy withdrew his fangs, moving as though he was about to brush his lips over the twin puncture wounds that now decorated his wrist. Blood pulsed sluggishly from the punctures and he tried to pull his hand back, only for Tommy to tighten his grip. Not enough to hurt. Not enough to even prevent him from pulling away, really. But his vampire didn’t want to let him go, and God help him, he didn’t want to, either. The reassuring feel of Tommy’s calloused fingertips pressing against his skin felt grounding. Soothing.

“Evan,” Tommy said, his voice low and quiet…and faintly horrified. Evan swallowed roughly, devastation welling up inside him.

Tommy knew.

“What was that?” his vampire asked.

*

He didn’t speak immediately. He couldn’t. He’d never had to explain what had happened…everyone in his life either already knew and had been forbidden from speaking of it or absolutely could never know. Tommy seemed to understand, busying himself with gathering up the blankets and sheets he had bled on and tossing them in the corner of the room. He grabbed a threadbare, but surprisingly clean, towel from the bathroom and tore a neat strip off of it and took Evan’s wrist back in his hands, efficiently wrapping the makeshift bandage around the still slowly bleeding wounds.

He did not appear to be even a little tempted by the sight of the fresh blood, and Evan wondered how fucked up it made him that he was actually touched.

“We’ll hit up a drugstore or something as soon as the sun sets…get an actual first aid kit.” He plucked at the bloodstained shirt he was still wearing with a grimace of distaste. “And something I can wear until we get back to the house.”

Evan blinked slowly, irritated with himself that it hadn’t occurred to him to take care of the shirt yet. At least as much as he could—try as he might, he’d never quite mastered the kind of charms it took to repair things. He chanted the cleaning spell, though, watching as the horrific bloodstains that told the story of how badly his vampire had been injured dissolved away, seeming to bleed back into the fabric in reverse, any remaining traces of it vanishing from his skin.

“Can’t do anything about the hole,” he mumbled, his voice sounding slow and exhausted even to his own ears.

Tommy had been running his hand over the clean—though still badly torn—shirt but looked up sharply when he spoke. “How do you feel?” he demanded urgently.

Evan couldn’t help but smile, despite the anxiety swirling in his gut. “Just tired,” he said. It was true. His limbs felt heavy, and he wanted badly to just stretch out on the bed and go to sleep for a little while. He didn’t feel weak or dizzy, though, and told Tommy as much when his vampire pressed him.

“Why don’t you lie down?” Tommy suggested, as though reading his mind. His stormy blue eyes raked over Evan’s body, a small furrow of concern etching itself on his brow. “We’ve still got an hour or two before sunset.” He sat down at the small table, his leg bouncing slightly as he watched Evan.

Evan could almost hear the questions racing through his vampire’s mind.

Tommy was clearly willing to put his curiosity on hold for Evan’s comfort, and for some reason that simple fact almost had tears rising in Evan’s eyes. He bit them back stubbornly, breathing through his nose until the sting subsided. He had not felt this cared for since the night he’d left Maddie standing in a parking lot near the border between Pennsylvania and Ohio.

The last five years had not been completely devoid of kindness for him. He’d had casual friends and acquaintances. There had even been a few lovers, though nothing that had ever progressed beyond infrequent hookups. He’d thought Jonah Greenway had cared about him, at least a little—though of course that had all been a spectacular lie. No one had looked at him like this since Maddie and Sally, though. Like he was something precious. Like he was something that deserved to be treated gently. Like he was worth caring about.

Like he was worth…loving?

He remembered the strange feelings that had swamped him when his magic latched onto Tommy as he was drinking from him. The way that for just a few heartbeats, he felt like he was seeing through Tommy’s eyes, feeling what Tommy felt. He wondered how much of the emotion that had washed through him was what his vampire was actually feeling…and how much of it was his own desperate desire.

“Could you…” He stopped, a lump rising in his throat and his cheeks heating.

“What do you need, Evan?” Tommy asked gently.

You, Evan thought and couldn’t bring himself to say. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “Would you, uh, sit with me for a minute?”

Damn it, he was not some touch-starved child in need of reassurance. He hadn’t needed someone to hold his hand until he fell asleep since he was six years old and had nightmares for a month after Maddie snuck a copy of The Wizard of Oz into the house so they could see at least one of the movies that their parents didn’t want them watching. But…he desperately wanted Tommy close. His magic ached for it, the phantom feel of his vampire’s calloused fingers stroking the skin of his wrist driving him crazy. He just needed Tommy beside him right now.

His vampire tilted his head, a strange look flickering over his face. Evan was afraid to let himself believe it looked like longing. “Of course,” Tommy said, as though there was nothing he’d rather do than indulge even the smallest of Evan’s whims. Evan couldn’t help the sigh of relief as Tommy stood up and slid onto the bed next to him, maneuvering himself so that he was sitting up against the headboard the same way Evan was.

It was only a double—nowhere near big enough for two men of their height and bulk to lay comfortably separate. The mattress sagged even further under their combined weight, and their bodies slid naturally closer to each other. Out of the corner of his eye, Evan saw Tommy lick his lips, and then his vampire hesitantly raised one arm, reaching slowly towards Evan, giving him time to shake his head or shy away from him. Instead, Evan sighed in quiet relief as Tommy’s heavy arm draped over his shoulders, pulling him even closer. Some tension he hadn’t even been aware of seeped out of his body, his magic settling in a way it hadn’t in years. For a single, mad moment, all he wanted to do was turn and bury his face in the juncture of his vampire’s neck, let Tommy hold him until the rest of the world faded away.

“I don’t know what that was, or how you saw it,” he said, unaware that he was going to start talking until the words were already out. “I’ve never, uh, I mean…I’ve had that dream, or memory or whatever before but no one’s ever, uh, no one’s ever shared it with me. Is it—was it you? Does that happen when you drink from people?”

He could sense Tommy turning to look at him, could feel the weight of his vampire’s gaze on the side of his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from a patch of mildew on the cheap wallpaper above the old TV mounted on the wall. “Something like that can happen,” Tommy said carefully. “When we’re thralling someone. But it’s usually just flashes. Pieces. Never that clear or that solid. It…I saw something when I drank from you at Gerrard’s party. Not the—not that. I think I saw the day you were banished.”

A dull pulse of surprise shot through Evan at the admission. Then that meant…

“You already knew who I was before Grant and her coven came to your house?” he asked, stunned. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He felt Tommy stiffen beside him, felt his arm start to lift, ready to let Evan get up and away from him if he wanted to…but Evan found he didn’t want to. He was curious, not angry. After a moment, Tommy seemed to realize that as well, and he slowly relaxed.

“I mean…I think it’s obvious why I didn’t say anything at first,” he said, a wisp of wry humor creeping into his words. “You did try to fry my ass at least a couple times when we first met.” Despite himself, Evan let out a snort of laughter, and he felt his vampire relax further. “After that—it was your secret. Your business. I didn’t want you to tell me unless you wanted to.” He sighed softly. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he said significantly. He sounded like he meant it.

Evan knew he meant it.

“Daniel was my brother,” he said quietly, the familiar ache he felt whenever he thought of his older brother pulsing beneath his ribs. “He got sick when he was seven or eight, I think. Leukemia. And there are, I mean, there are healing spells and rituals, but bodies are…complicated. Witches aren’t gods, you know?”

“The spells didn’t work?” Tommy asked. Evan shook his head, biting down hard on his lip.

“My, my parents took him to doctors too, of course. But nothing worked. Not medicine, not magic. He just kept getting sicker and sicker. Eventually, there was nothing the doctors or the coven could do.”

“So, what I saw when you let me drink from you. That was a…”

“Memory,” Evan whispered. He finally turned to look at his vampire, in time to see him reel back a little in confusion.

“You were a baby,” he said. “How could you—”

“It wasn’t my memory.” He started twisting the hem of his borrowed sweatshirt in his hands, barely resisting the urge to reach over and grab Tommy’s free hand instead. “There’s a ritual. It’s left over from ancient times…back when it was a lot more dangerous to be a witch. When…when losing a powerful coven member, if, if they were sick, or hurt, or whatever—it could mean life or death for the whole coven. It lets you transfer someone’s magic to another member of their coven. To, to make them stronger, and give healing magic a better chance of working.”

Tommy’s face went carefully blank, but the faintest sheen of red shimmered in his eyes. “I’ve never heard of anything like that,” he said. “In almost a thousand years, I’ve never heard of witches being able to do something like that.”

Evan looked away again, taking a shaky breath. “It’s a forbidden ritual. The magic can only come from someone who hasn’t started formal training. It can’t be…settled, I guess? So, the witch has to be young. Too young to have a familiar, at least, but, uh, the younger the better. Apparently the spell works best with, with a baby.”

Tommy’s arm tightened around him, and when he glanced over, the red in his eyes had grown brighter. “What happens to them?” he asked, his voice deadly quiet. He sounded like he already knew the answer, but wanted Evan to confirm it.

He shrugged. “Officially? They just lose their magic, and never get to be full members of the coven.”

“What about unofficially?”

Evan’s lips twisted into a bitter, humorless smile. “Unofficially, the Venn diagram between covens who had someone ‘miraculously’ recover from something and covens who had a family lose a baby to SIDS or something would be a circle.”

Tommy let out a sharp hiss, his eyes flashing fully red for a moment before he forced it away. His grip on Evan stayed tight, though, even pulling him closer to Tommy’s side. “And your parents performed that ritual,” he growled.

Evan nodded, a barely perceptible jerk of his head. “You saw,” he said. “They were trying to save Daniel.”

“Don’t talk like—” Tommy started, but then broke off, shaking his head. “How did you…your brother did something to the spell, right?”

“He refused it,” Evan said quietly. “Refused to take my magic, so the spell turned on him instead. I was…I was only a few months old, I couldn’t…there was nothing I could do.”

“Evan,” Tommy said. Something faintly horrified in his voice. “You were children.”

Evan shrugged, one shoulder. Logically he knew it was ludicrous to think he could’ve done something when he’d barely started to sit up on his own. Logically, he knew that nothing that had happened was his fault. Both Maddie and Sally had tried over and over to get him to believe that with both his heart and his head. Some days he could do it better than others…but he didn’t think he’d ever quite gotten there entirely. After all…

“He died for me. When he refused the spell and let it reverse—he knew it would kill him.”

Tommy didn’t speak for several long moments, and only the fact that he hadn’t let go of Evan, was still holding him as close to his side as possible, kept Evan from spiraling into the fear that Tommy would see it the way his parents had—that his vampire would look at him and see only a parasite, vicious, murdering leech. “It—that felt like I was watching it from the outside,” Tommy said finally, his voice coming slow and deliberate, as though he was thinking through his words carefully. “But it was also like I was living it.”

Evan shrugged again, frowning. “That’s how it always feels. Almost like it’s some kind of divination magic? I don’t know—I’ve never been very good at divination. Or maybe it’s a side effect of me taking his, his magic. But it’s his memory. It’s…it’s the only memory of him I have.”

The only way his older brother had been real to him and not just a figure in faded pictures that his parents hid in the attic. The memory of the night he died and the magic that he’d given up to save Evan were the only parts of his older brother he had left. His parents and coven had done their very best to erase every memory of Daniel’s existence…but they could never pluck out the visions from Evan’s head. It was both a blessing and curse. The memory was the absolute worst moment of his brother’s life—Daniel had been hurting and terrified. Terrified for Evan, terrified for himself, terrified because his parents had betrayed him in the worst way possible. But it was also indelible, tangible proof that his brother had loved him.

“That’s why your magic is so strange. Why the banishment didn’t affect you the way Howie and Grant thought it should,” Tommy said, again not sounding like he really needed Evan to confirm anything. Evan nodded anyway.

“Not to, uh, brag or anything, but our coven is really strong. Buckley witches are always powerful, anyway, and I—”

“You have twice as much magic as any other Buckley witch,” Tommy finished for him.

“Even if I’d been guilty, it would have taken years for my magic to fade. Being innocent? And having so much power to start with? It’s only just started to fade in the last couple of years. Not having a coven bond is what actually holds me back.”

“God, Evan,” Tommy said, staring out over the room with an angry, bewildered frown. “And the rest of your coven just…went along with this?”

“Most of them don’t know. They think my parents took all three of us on a family trip when the doctors started talking about hospice for Daniel. You know, so they could ‘make memories’ and be together. They think Daniel died while we were all on the trip. My parents kept their familiars from talking about it. Our coven leaders swept it under the rug. Gotta protect the reputation, you know?” He laughed softly, and there was no more warmth to it than his smile.

“I can’t imagine what it must have been like to grow up in a coven like that,” Tommy said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Evan went quiet, daring to lean a little harder against his vampire, and closing his eyes when Tommy just pulled him impossibly closer, tucking Evan against his side like he never wanted to let him go. Evan was startled by how intensely he wanted that to be true. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had wanted to just sit and hold him like this, and he was seized with the need to soak the comfort of his vampire’s touch up for as long as Tommy would let him.

“I hated it,” he whispered, the words spilling from his lips before he could think better of it. “I felt like a ghost in my house. If it hadn’t been for Maddie and Sally—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I used to wish Daniel had just let the spell take me, sometimes.”

Not often.

And never for very long.

He’d had Maddie and Sally. His sister and his familiar had loved him with all their hearts, and between the two of them he’d never truly been alone until the day he was banished. Sometimes, though…when his parents seemed to look right through him instead of at him; when coven members treated him like he was something to be avoided, something that might taint them if they got too close (whether it was because they knew the actual story or simply because they saw others treating him that way)…sometimes he’d wondered if his brother’s sacrifice had been worth it.

He heard Tommy inhale sharply, and then his vampire’s arm shifted around him. Tommy turned his body slightly onto his side, drawing Evan into the same position as easily as if Evan weighed nothing. “Don’t say that,” he said fervently, reaching up with his free hand to cup Evan’s face. The touch of his rough palm against Evan’s cheek was almost electric; Evan swore he could feel sparks where the vampire’s cool skin brushed against his. “Please don’t say that.”

“Tommy,” he started, but was unsure of what he was going to say.

“I’m sorry for what they did to you. To both of you. But it wasn’t your fault…and I’m so glad you’re still here. Fuck, Evan—you have no idea how glad I am you’re still here.”

Evan’s heart skipped in his chest, his magic sparking through him like fire in his blood. He leaned forward, helpless to resist the pull he felt towards this man, resting his forehead against Tommy’s with a shaky sigh. He reached up and covered the hand resting on his cheek with his just breathing as his magic rushed through him, pulling him, guiding him, calling him ever, ever closer to his vampire.

He didn’t mean to kiss him.

It wasn’t a conscious decision on his part. Not something he thought out or considered or weighed and measured before he did it.

He just did it.

He pressed his lips to Tommy’s, and had only a fraction of a heartbeat to fear, to think he might have made the worst mistake of his life, before Tommy groaned low in his throat, shifted his touch on Evan’s cheek to grip his jaw, and kissed him back. Softly, at first, almost reverently, until Evan ran the tip of his tongue over the seam of his lips and then he surged against Evan like a starving man offered a seat at a feast. Evan tilted his head to a better angle, fisted his hand in the torn remains of Tommy’s shirt, and licked into his vampire’s mouth with just as much fervor.

He felt Tommy’s arm slip down around his waist and was ready when Tommy slid down backward onto the mattress, stretching out and drawing Evan on top of him. Evan pulled back for a heartbeat to take a breath, and then kissed him again. Again, and again, and again, and it had never felt like this with any of the girls and boys he’d kissed growing up. Never felt like this with and of the random hookups or one night stands he’d had over the years. Kissing Tommy felt like finding a part of himself he’d been missing his whole life. Kissing Tommy felt like coming home.

They only pulled apart when Evan’s lungs started screaming at him, and he sat back, straddling Tommy’s hips as he stared down at his vampire, want and desire and need rushing through him like a forest fire. Tommy’s eyes were sheened with red, and he ran his hands roughly up the sides of Evan’s thighs.

“Are you sure?” Tommy asked, sounding almost as breathless as Evan felt, which had to be some kind of feat for a vampire. Or maybe just proof that he was affecting Tommy as much as Tommy was affecting him.

He grinned down at his vampire, sliding his hands up under his torn shirt and spreading his palms against the hard muscle of Tommy’s stomach. “Are you?” he countered, and Tommy’s answering laugh sounded like pure delight.

“God, Evan,” his vampire groaned, his hands sliding up to curl possessively over Evan’s hips.

Evan shoved Tommy’s shirt up further, his fingers catching on the rough skin of a raised scar, high on the side of Tommy’s chest. He bent low, needing to taste, wanting to kiss and suck and bite until Tommy was just as dizzy with want as he was. He feasted his eyes on Tommy’s firm, broad chest, his eyes skating over the scar he’d felt as he…

Evan froze.

It was a cluster of faded red marks, the shape vaguely circular…almost like some kind of flower painted onto Tommy’s chest. He stared at it, all of his desire, his arousal, his desperate, breathless need draining away until he was absolutely ice cold.

“Evan?” Tommy asked, sensing the change in Evan’s mood and motions immediately.

“No,” Evan breathed out, a tremor running through his hands where they rested over the ridges of the scar. “No, nonono…oh God. Oh my God!” He scrambled backwards, almost throwing himself off of Tommy, scrabbling to the end of the bed as Tommy sat bolt upright, frantically calling his name.

“Sorry,” Evan gasped, almost hyperventilating, his eyes riveted on the scar, unable to look away. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry!”

[themareverine]

MASTERLIST

➢ LOGAN HOWLETT/WOLVERINE

彡 ── SERIES

▹ MARE & THE WOLVERINE - Post-Origins!Logan Howlett x fem!OC

SUMMARY: The Northern Territories were the last place Mare McAffery ever imagined herself, much less a prize fighting bar with characters the likes of the one they call the Wolverine. A logging community and living out of a Motel 6—it wasn’t exactly Shakespearean. But sometimes, survival calls for a tooth and nail fight—even for a preacher’s daughter.

▹ UNTIL WE FALL - Worst!Logan Howlett x fem!OC

SUMMARY: DP&W AU. It's been God knows how many years after Logan's death in North Dakota—and this wouldn't be much of a story without a shiny new villain with a hot new plan, or someone to save the world. Well, maybe two someones. Ok, you win, three. But first, you have track down that said someone—the Wolverine. And who better to do that than the girl who found him the first time? Logan/OC

彡 ── ONESHOTS

▹ WILD MAN - Logan Howlett x fem!OC

SYNOPSIS: Blizzards and pane glass windows—typical for a Thursday night at Laughlin City's favorite haunt. Until the Wolverine walks in, and hell hath no fury like a man ravaged by jealousy.

▹ BED OF BONES - The Long Night!Logan Howlett x fem!OC

SYNOPSIS: When he promised her something different, she didn't think it would be this. Alaskan stars, running to survive, trying to feel. Anonymous faces in a forgotten frontier. It isn't much, it's barely living—but really all she needs to live is him.

▹ DESIGNATED DRIVER - oldman!Logan Howlett x fem!OC

SYNOPSIS: "Hey driver!" Tits, yeah—counts two of 'em. What Logan can't quite shake isn't the drunk-off-her ass's $20,000 tit job, or even the way his passengers embarrass themselves with shameless come-ons, stupid amounts of money. something else, entirely—a pretty little thing all done up in makeup and curls, wishing she were anywhere but third-wheeling a drunk hen party. "Sorry about my friend, she's—" "Didn't even notice her, honey."

彡 ── DRABBLES SERIES

▹ A KING & HIS CASTLE ▹ - oldman!Logan Howlett x fem!OC

SYNOPSIS: Breadwinner. Bring-Home-the-Bacon. He's heard it all before, but it's never hit home. Until her. Coming home to her is the only thing to live for, the only thing keeping the heart behind his ribs spinning. ➢ IN YOU, MY FORTRESS ➢ MORE THAN ROCKET SCIENCE

彡 ── DRABBLES

▹ Garfield Morning Coffee - Logan Howlett x fem!OC ▹ He’s Not You - Logan Howlett x fem!OC ▹ Subaru, It's You - worst!Logan x fem!OC

➢ KATE & LEOPOLD

彡 ── SERIES

▹ ON GLASS WE WALK - Leopold x fem!OC

SUMMARY: Marketing copywriter by day, aspiring Shakespeare by night, she’s been crafting Prince Charmings and glass slippers all her life. Never once suspecting he could actually exist, bone to bone. In New York—her best-friend-in-law’s apartment complex. The stuff of Cinderella, Grimm—but her? “Oh. My. Lanta.” “Who, pray tell, is ‘Lanta?’”

➢ DETECTIVE ERIC RINGER (HALIFAX)

彡 ── DRABBLES

©️ themareverine 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated. layout idea inspired by @ ovaryracted

[frankcastlescumslut]

A House in Nebraska

pairing: frank castle x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: gore, violence, minor character death, amy bendix (lol), language, angst!!, eventual smut

summary: He was afraid of you. Afraid that you had made up your mind and had enough of him, that this was the final straw. But the worst thing, he decided, was the possibility that this, that he, was enough for you—that you would pledge your loyalty to a man like him. To a life like this.

a/n: hey! I’ve been sitting on this idea for months and finally ready to work on it :) this will definitely be a two-parter(maybe more), but I’m selfishly enjoying this little AU loosely following season 2!!!!

next chapter

comments/reblogs/likes are so appreciated, I love to hear your thoughts <3

“So… how did you guys meet?” “Stay still.” The strong stench of rubbing alcohol burned your nostrils as you leaned over, her foot tapping mindlessly beneath her crossed legs. “You didn’t answer my question.” “Amy,” you interrupted, her blue eyes baring right back into yours. “If you want me to paint your nails, sit still.” She huffed at that. You were used to it by now, never taking her attitude personally because being sixteen was hard enough, so you paid no mind. It was almost reminiscent, a painful familiarity with the way she embodied your sister, but you chose to forget the feeling like your life depended on it. In a way, it did.

Her nail disappeared beneath a glossy black polish, the surrounding skin also falling victim to an unsteady hand. She let out a sigh and continued to count the number of stripes on her socks.

“We met in Nebraska.” “Nebraska?” She sounded disgusted, and the small room filled with laughter. “What the hell is in Nebraska?” “Absolutely nothing.”

Ghosts. Distant memories. Everything was in Nebraska.

It’s where he found you, hiding as some housekeeper in a shitty motel. You were both running from things neither of you cared to talk about while sober, so you didn’t, but he kept looking for reasons to come back.

He blamed it on the esteemed breakfast, a vending machine honeybun, but you saw through him like he was an apparition haunting your strained heartstrings.

Come with me, he asked. Where to? You didn’t really care.

You were in too deep by the time you made it to Michigan—you both were, and yet neither one of you would admit it. There was something sacred about the secrecy and inability to label what you both knew was love, or something like that; it was too precious, and you avoided any chance at jinxing it.

“But you two are together, though, right?” Amy was obsessed with knowing everything. You think it’s her way of pretending that everything was fine. Fine.

“No.” “Oh.” She straightened a bit, and you didn’t miss the way her brows furrowed. “That disappoint you?” “A little.” “Good,” you smirked. “You’re too nosey.” “I call it a healthy amount of curious.” Her back hunched again, and she watched the way your eyebrows scrunched over her fingers. “You guys are shit at hiding it, anyway.” You chuckled at that, manually manipulating her hand to inspect your work. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh come on,” she says matter-of-factly. “You guys fuck.” “Amy!” You could feel your eyes bulging from their sockets. “I knew it!” She clapped her hands before jumping from the mattress. “You don’t know anything.” “Oh come on,” she searched your face, expecting to find any confirmation to her assumptions, instead finding your lack of eye contact disappointing. “Not even once?” “No,” you lied. “Happy?” “Not really.”

The mattress failed to hide the sound of her disappointment as she threw her body onto the spare bed. You allowed yourself to find amusement in her attitude long enough to sift through a dirty duffel bag, keeping your mind occupied with something other than Frank’s absence.

Gaining Amy meant losing Frank. Hour by hour, piece by piece, chunk of flesh by chunk of flesh. The waiting never grew easier, but you adjusted, just like you always do, ending up in motels that smelled like damp polyester and cigarettes.

“I’m starving,” she groaned, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’ll get something soon.” Your stomach gurgled in agreement.

Static crackled throughout the room, momentarily stunning you, before being replaced by a weather report.

High of 89 today with an 80 percent chance of rain, folks! Grab an umbrella and stay dry!

You laughed to yourself at that—stay dry—like you ever left those shitty rooms.

It was bittersweet with Amy. You missed the sun. You missed the late night diner runs. You missed waking up to forehead kisses and soft touches. You missed the easiness of it all, pretending to be two normal people that had two normal lives, and now you were confined to a room that reeked of nail polish and gunpowder. A prisoner and caretaker.

“What do you want for dinner?” you asked, attempting to lighten the mood. “Huh?” “Dinner,” you stated. “I’ll go when—“ A knock at the door ended your conversation. “Amy,” you locked eyes with her, “get in the closet.” Your voice dropped to a whisper as you pointed the gun towards the door. “No, it’s fine!“ She practically leapt from the cheap mattress. “Closet. Now.” Your arm aches almost as much as your stomach as Amy reaches for the door handle. She was so far away, it seemed, and your legs felt cemented to the floor. “I ordered food,” she smiled, opening the door to reveal a woman holding a box. “See?”

It felt like you were staring at one of your polaroids; Amy looked pleased, beaming at you with a sense of accomplishment that she got dinner. That she could do things. That she didn’t need your help—Frank’s help. Her smile was radiant, and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for her.

“You can keep the change,” Amy offered the woman a handful of cash before turning to you with that same naivety.

Stupid, stupid girl.

You knew it was coming, and yet your stomach still dropped when her smile faded and her eyes bulged from their sockets. Amy’s lips moved frantically, but you were too focused on the way the woman’s gun left imprints against her temple.

Stupid, stupid girl.

The woman looked satisfied, puffing out her broad chest while Amy tried to talk her way out of it. “Kid,” you commanded her attention, ignoring the way you could hear Frank’s voice in the back of your head. She stared back at you, tears welling in her eyes, and you hoped to God that she would understand what you meant as you meticulously cocked your head towards the closet.

The stranger wasn’t an idiot, and she shuffled backwards, somehow digging the gun further into Amy’s head. “If you try anything funny—“

Point. Shoot. Kill.

Amy flinched as warm blood decorated her cheeks like a crimson blush.

You wish you could embrace her and muster out a lie—that it’s all over, that everything is okay now, that things can go back to normal, but you can’t, so you pull her into the room. “Closet, now.”

She listened, for once, ducking her head and hurrying to the small space Frank had designated as hers. A part of you selfishly wished she had fought back against your order. Maybe then things would feel normal, and you could pretend that the brain matter surrounding the door frame was some maximalist’s creative direction. Maybe then you could imagine that the body below you was just a rolled up carpet that was being discarded because it was too much of an eyesore for the motel regulars.

You pretended, ignoring the corpse’s vacant gaze as you patted its body, shoving any remaining bits of your humanity down as you pocketed a wallet and fully loaded gun.

Point. Shoot. Kill.

It was one of the first lessons you had learned while on your own, and one that Frank never let you forget. He was right, unfortunately, and heavy footsteps reiterated the importance of the mantra as they approached your temporary home.

There weren’t many places for you to hide, but you made it work, you had to. The bathroom was small and smelled like mildew, but you couldn’t care about the dangers of black mold when you had a target on your back. The gun felt lighter in your hand this time, and your posture felt natural as you crouched against the bathroom wall.

Time didn’t exist in moments like this. The moments where the world sounded like warm, rushing blood and high pitched screeching. Moments where you become reduced to your primal state, clenching jaw and eyes blown wide as they study the mirrored motel room. Moments where you held your breath, watching and waiting in anticipation of who would barge into your temporary sanctuary, noting the constant footsteps..

The footsteps never stopped, not even as they stepped over the limp body and pooled blood. You foolishly hoped you would have been met with the familiar darkened gaze, that he would lift you by your shoulders and tell you that you did good, but the man that barged into the room was ruthless. Cold-blooded.

His gun was already drawn, spraying the mattresses and walls with bullets and fury, sending drywall crumbling and flaking onto your head and shoulders.

Point. Shoot. Kill.

You inhaled, not even considering it could be the last time your lungs expanded to its full capacity, before glancing in the mirror a final time.

You looked like a version of yourself you had buried long ago—a version that hadn’t emerged since you had left home. It was reminiscent of something you fought to avoid, but you couldn’t run this time, not as the pang of gunshots echoed throughout the motel room.

He moved quickly, and you wondered if he was trained on the same basis: shoot first, ask later. He wasn’t the first one you had encountered, trigger-happy and determined, and you knew they always ran out of bullets quicker than they should.

Your golden opportunity sounded like a few seconds of silence followed by a huff of air leaving your lips before you reached around the corner, catching the man off guard as you unleashed three rounds towards his rigid frame.

“God damnit!” he shouted as a bullet ripped through the meat of his thigh.

His eyes were black, rolling into the sockets like a blood hungry shark, and you genuinely thought his teeth would crumble under the pressure of his clenched jaw.

The bathroom was no solace; you were cornered, backed into a cage like an animal waiting for its turn to be brought to the slaughterhouse. Surrendering wasn’t an option. It didn’t exist for people like the one hunting you—for people like Frank.

The thought of Frank coming back to your makeshift home, littered with blood and bodies, made your stomach churn. It meant you failed, that you weren’t capable of keeping up with him, and it was embarrassing. You failed him; you failed Amy, and you failed yourself once again, though that mattered little anymore.

Your golden moment was quickly interrupted by the sound of grunting and a continuous stream of popping inching towards your hiding place. The wall exploded and ceramic tile flew towards your face before you realized what was happening, and you instinctively receded towards the small spot between the toilet and cabinet.

“Come on out, honey,” he called. “Can’t hide forever!”

You could tell he was hovering outside the remnants of the doorframe, probably waiting for you to crawl out so he could pretend to be merciful by putting a bullet in your head, but his labored breathing told you everything he wasn’t. Your guess was a severed artery, and although he should be down by now, you learned to never underestimate a man with nothing left to lose and steadied your gun on the edge of the counter.

“Just tell me where the girl is and we can figure this out like adults!” “Like adults?” You called out, scanning the bathroom for anything that could help your situation. “Sure,” he huffed out. “We can play house after this. What do you say?”

The toe of his boot peeked around the corner, and your body moved before your mind could catch up.

The man let out a guttural scream and folded in half, instinctively grabbing his bleeding foot. You wasted no time yanking the cheap plastic shower curtain from its holdings before leaping towards the assailant.

He looked like a beached shark, thrashing beneath the fogging curtain, but felt more like a mechanical bull as you held onto him with your thighs, tightening your grip around the curtain.

It happened quickly. So quickly that you hadn’t registered the throbbing pain in the base of your skull as you crashed into the already crumbling drywall. You weren’t sure how he stood, how he gained enough momentum to fling you off of him, but your mind and body remained disconnected as he towered over you.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time,” the man coughed, failing to cover his mouth. “Where’s the girl?”

This wasn’t supposed to be the end. This was humiliating, and yet there you were, blinking away stars and choking on dust. You attempted to sit up straight, regaining your dignity, before your knuckles hit the familiar carbon steel.

There was only one shot, and you prayed Amy had made it out and ran as far away from you as she could—this wasn’t a place for young girls, yet you felt small enough in that moment. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be.

Point. Shoot. Kill.

He fell with a great thud, nearly landing on top of you. His mouth and eyes were still open, completely unsuspecting of his demise, and you were hypnotized by the crimson dripping from the bullet-sized hole in his forehead.

It was seamless, and you think Frank would have been proud had he walked in through the blown out door, but he doesn’t. Nobody was coming.

“He talked too much.” Her voice startled you, and you instinctively reached for the gun. “Whoa,” she warned, “it’s okay, it’s just me.” She showed her palms, emerging fully from the small closet.

“Amy,” you whispered, afraid that she was just an apparition.

“You okay?” She knew it was a stupid question the second it left her mouth, but she asked anyway—she at least meant it.

“Fine,” you huffed, pushing yourself to your feet. “We have to leave.”

“Leave? What about Frank?”

You had already limped across the room, adding the new guns and wallets to the duffel bag, and didn’t need to see the confusion on her face to know she was skeptical of your plan. “He’ll find us,” you tried to believe yourself, but you knew he would understand.

You’d had this conversation before; if anything were to happen to him, you and Amy were to find a Madani somewhere in New York. It was a 10 hour drive, but you were confident you could make it in six if you left now.

The room felt smaller with two bodies and crumbled drywall littering the floor. You could ignore the claustrophobic feel, but Amy stood frozen in place, studying the tread marked puddle of blood beneath her feet.

“Hey,” you started, “look at me. Look at me, Amy.”

She was pale, her eyes sunken into their sockets. It was impossible to make sense of how she looked so young, yet so hardened at that moment, but there wasn’t enough time to wonder. “Amy, we have to go, okay?” Her cheeks were soft beneath your palms. You tried to pull her from her trance, begging her to come back to the shitty motel room of death, but she stayed tucked away in the safest corner of her mind.

“You’re bleeding,” she muttered. “What?” “Bleeding. You’re bleeding.”

Her eyes led a trail to the soft curve of your waist. Your shirt stuck to your skin with an uncomfortable warmth, and you pretended it didn’t ache when you placed a few fingers over the gash.

You wanted to laugh at the irony, deluding yourself with a false sense of accomplishment. It was always too good to be true, and you were reminded of the cruel fact that things could always be worse as the sound of heavy footsteps pulled you from the pain. Amy ran towards the familiar hiding spot without being told, and your heart broke into smaller pieces.

It was getting old, the pointing and shooting and killing. It was getting old, and you were tired of calling the shots—you were tired of waiting for Frank to come back.

Fuck him. Fuck him for leaving you. Fuck him for leaving Amy. Fuck him for making you add two more heads to your roster.

Your arm ached as you leveled the gun, and you let out a sharp cry as your skin pulled in separate directions, the cotton of your shirt peeling from the wet wound. It was a matter of seconds before you would claim your next victim, but all you felt was the burning rage towards the man that left you in this position. It was automatic at this point; all you saw was a threat, so you acted, unloading rounds until all that remained was a busted door frame and tear stains against your grimy cheeks.

“Shit,” he whispered, not even acknowledging the body that he stepped over. “No no no, what happened?” He strung a hand behind your neck, forcing you to watch the way his eyes scanned your face. He meant well, you think, but you couldn’t look at him, especially as he thumbed through the tears that escaped your waterline. “Where’s the kid?”

God damn him. “Closet,” you choked out.

He was gone as quickly as he came, and your knees took the brute of the fall with a thud, masking the sound of the closet doors falling as Frank ripped them from the hinges. The stars in your eyes glistened, your peripheral shrinking, and you weren’t even sure if he was real. If he had actually come back, if he had actually left you on the floor, face to face with your bloody work.

“You okay, kid?” He crouched to her level, but she quickly uncurled herself, practically jumping from the small space to push past Frank and joined you on the damp carpet. “Are you okay?” she asked, her brows furrowing as she studied your face. “I’m fine," you whispered, bracing yourself against the mattress to hoist yourself to your feet. Frank hovered, like he usually did, unsure of his place between the two of you. His anger was palpable, and you made yourself as small as possible, limping towards the disheveled duffle bags. He watched you, noting the way you winced with each step. It killed him, knowing that his shit would eventually catch up to you, too, but he gulped it down, turning his attention towards Amy.

“I’m sorry,” Frank started, grabbing Amy’s shoulders before bending to her level. “I’m sorry this happened. I shouldn’t have left.” “I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Seriously. It could’ve been worse.” “Yeah, you coulda been killed. I shouldn’t have left you alone.” He regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth.

Alone. The bile rose from your stomach and burned the lining of your throat at the indirect insult.

“I wasn’t alone,” Amy snapped at Frank before sinking into the mattress. “Look, this is all my fault. I was the one that ordered food, she didn’t know.” It was humiliating having Amy come to your defense like that, even though she was right. Frank’s stare burned, and your feet involuntarily took you to the destroyed bathroom to escape his attention. “What?” He spat. “I mean, really. I probably would have died but she handled them.” She crossed her arms against her chest. “It was actually kinda cool.” “There’s nothin’ cool about this,” Frank hissed. “C’est la vie, I guess.” “C’mon,” he ordered. “Pack up.” “Everything’s already ready.” She motioned towards the perfectly lined duffle bags that you had assembled.

He didn’t have much to say. He was almost relieved at the fact that you were ready to leave him. You could make it on your own, he knew that much. You were strong enough, but a part of him wished you didn’t have to be—that you didn’t have to deal with his shit.

Amy watched as he shifted his weight outside the bathroom door, his fingers flexing and clenching in anticipation.

His heart broke as he caught a glimpse of your reflection in the busted mirror, your head hanging low as you sat on the edge of the bathtub.

He was afraid of you. Afraid that you had made up your mind and had enough of him, that this was the final straw. But the worst thing, he decided, was the possibility that this, that he, was enough for you—that you would pledge your loyalty to a man like him. To a life like this.

“Time to go,” he finally knocked against the remaining wall. You were quick to listen, pretending that you hadn’t been crying, and you pushed past him. The carpet squelched beneath your stride, and you ignored it long enough to pull Amy into your chest, focusing on the sweet smell of her shampoo. She stayed there for what seemed like forever until she became cognizant of her flickering facade. “You okay?” you whispered, nodding your head as if you could somehow convince her she was. She followed suit, swallowing down any trace of emotion that threatened to spill over, but her eyes betrayed her. Frank had seen enough.

It was too much—too much of a reminder that he had failed again, that his perpetual failings would always result in the loss of a life. Your commitment to Amy’s safety was evident; it was a continuation of what you couldn’t give your sister, and he was ashamed that he brought you back to the place where he met you. “Let’s go,” he cleared his throat. You listened, as you always do, breaking your moment of respite with Amy to shove two heavy duffle bugs over your shoulder, not caring to look behind you as you head towards a bulky van. Amy watched you disappear, shuffling her feet in frustration. “You really should take it easy on her.” Frank said nothing, instead sifting through the empty pockets of corpses. “Hey,” she kicked the limp hand, forcing Frank to stop his search. “I mean it. Lighten up.” “You done?” He stood, completely towering over Amy. His jaw clenched against his will, yet she held his gaze. “Be nice.”

“Time to go.” He didn’t wait for her, so she watched her footing as she tiptoed over the broken bodies.

She lingered in the doorframe, committing the bloodbath to memory. It was fucked that she had to—that the motel room reeked of blood and guts instead nail polish remover and pizza. But that’s how these things went, and you watched from the safety of the van as she slammed the door shut on that dirty fucking room.

You pretended that her clumpy mascara was still intact as she climbed in the van's backseat. She pretended you didn’t jump at the sound of Frank slamming his door closed as he slid into his seat. He pretended that this wasn’t his karmic debt catching up to him.

A caravan of fucking liars.

“Where are we going?” Amy broke the uncomfortable silence, and you held your breath. “New York,” he said with a sigh.

New York, a Madani, and a caravan of liars.

There was a poetic moment of silence and anticipation, and then the engine roared to life.

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