#i was dragged kicking and screaming down to the pits of hell

[weaponizedducks]

guys the voltron phase has consumed me i don't know what to do send help

[eiightysixbaby]

a haunted house with a very handsy steve || 18+

Your body jolts when a pair of hands grips your shoulders.

“Steve!” you scold, spinning around to face the culprit.

The pathway around him is dark, save for a few colored strobe lights shining in an erratic pattern. Your heartbeat races, the haunted house keeping you on edge.

Your boyfriend snickers where he stands in front of you, though the sound is mostly drowned out by the noise machines playing throughout the attraction.

The hair on the back of your neck stands up, on high alert as you wait for the next monster to jump out at you. You have to stop and wonder how and why you let Steve drag you in here in the first place.

“It’s not funny,” you pout at him, moving your face away when he tries to kiss you better.

“Baby, c’mon,” he says, trying to coax the attitude out of you.

You keep walking forward, letting him follow hot on your trail. He wraps his arms around you from behind, strong and muscular as they pull you against him.

“Steeeeve,” you whine for the second time, eager to just get the hell out of this haunted house.

His lips press to the shell of your ear, and you can’t deny the way your heart flutters in your chest. The feeling of his warm body molded to your back makes heat pool in the pit of your stomach, and now you really need to get out of this damn house.

You’re about to round the corner into another scare zone — you can tell by the shouts that come from up ahead — when Steve pulls you off into a side room.

“Babe, what—” you start to speak, but he cuts you off with a hot kiss to your mouth.

You’re hidden behind a curtain, definitely not supposed to be back in this area, and you wriggle in your boyfriend’s grasp where he has you pressed against a wall.

“Steve, what if somebody catches us?” you ask, trying and failing to escape his pleading mouth. He chases you in whichever direction your head tilts, pressing kiss after kiss to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your cheek.

The thought of Chief Hopper raiding the attraction and kicking you two out is mortifying, but your brain is saying one thing and your body is saying something entirely different. You’re pliant beneath his wandering hands, letting him caress all the softest parts of you.

“Nobody’s gonna catch us, honey,” he murmurs, letting his hands slide up beneath your shirt. When his fingers reach the cups of your bra and dip under, you shiver.

You bite your lip, a quiet moan escaping you. Your clothes suddenly feel too tight, your panties clinging to your skin with wetness that seeps through to your jeans.

You clutch the collar of his sweater in your hand, pulling him to you in a heated kiss. You let your tongue trace his bottom lip, satisfied when he groans into your mouth. His noises are barely audible with the screams of teenagers getting scared in the maze, but the vibrations reverberate against you.

“Baby…” he whines when his fingers cup your heat, feeling how soaked you are even through a layer of denim. “She’s so fucking wet for me.”

“Steve, please,” you beg, craving his touch, ravenous for it.

He moves to unbutton your pants, tugging the zipper down with haste. You know you’re about to get the sweet, sweet fullness of his fingers inside of you, and your body prickles with anticipation.

Before he can pull your jeans out of the way, though, the curtain is yanked back, a loud voice letting out a booming roar of a noise.

“Jesus!” Steve yells as you scream bloody murder, a masked figure standing in your once private space.

A laugh comes from beneath the mask, smug and gravelly. Your heart pounds so hard you can hear the blood pumping in your ears.

“Wait a minute,” Steve grumbles, reaching forward and ripping the mask off the stranger’s head.

A mop of curly brown hair and a shit-eating grin appear before you, your hand over your heart as you steady your breathing. Your body relaxes at the sight of the familiar face.

“Eddie, I swear to god, man!” You watch as Steve shoves the other boy, making him erupt in another fit of laughter.

“Got you, fuckers,” Eddie says, smirking. “No playtime in the haunted house, kiddies,” he taunts, waggling a finger like a teacher scolding some bad five year olds.

“Screw you, dude,” Steve grumbles, all the while you’re buttoning up your jeans and reaching for his hand.

“C’mon, big boy. Let’s go back to my place,” you coax, dragging him out from behind the curtain, Eddie gesturing in the right direction with an outstretched arm.

“Behave yourselves!” he calls after you, getting the middle finger from Steve. You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes at the antics.

“Bye, Eddie!” you call.

“Get back to work, asshole!” Steve yells over his shoulder, before turning his attention to you. “I forgot he was fucking working here,” he tells you, pouting and petulant.

“Don’t be all mopey on me,” you coo. “The sooner we get out of this haunted house, the sooner you can finish what you started.” You say this with your lips nearly pressed to his ear, placing a teasing kiss on the harsh outline of his jaw.

“So, should we start running? Cause I’ll run,” he suggests, making you laugh once more.

“Beat you to the exit?”

“Not a chance, honey.”

[storywriter007]

You Promised - Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader

summary: in which y/n and percy realize they will never be the friends they used to be as not even time can fix these wounds

warnings: betrayal, sadness, cursing, anger

genre: angst

word count: 1k

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

y/n watched as the argo ll struggled to get the athena parthenos on deck. she tried desperately to help, but had to stop when she saw annabeth slip into what could be tartarus. y/n jumped down carefully, and clung onto the very edge of the wall.

“don’t let go! i’m going to get you out of there!” she yelled to annabeth and percy, who were holding on for dear life.

although annabeth and y/n had never been great friends, they were on the same team and they were fighting for the same cause. what kind of hero would she be if she let her own teammate fall into hell?

y/n reached a hand out to percy, telling him to hoist himself up to her and then they could pull annabeth out. suddenly, the large statue hit the wall, causing an earthquake, and y/n slipped.

“ah!” she said, dragging her sword into the wall. 

she was to annabeth’s right, but below her. both hands on her sword for her life. she pulled herself back and swung, and kicked annabeth upwards. percy was able to pull her up and jason lifted annabeth up, back onto the argo ll. the force was killing y/n. percy then pulled himself up, while clinging to the small side of the wall.

“percy! please, help!” y/n cried, trying to get back up, but she couldn’t, she needed another hand.

“i promise nothing will happen to you y/n!” percy yelled back.

another piece of the rock percy was standing on fell off. he stood on a thin narrow piece of rock. the terror y/n felt for both herself and percy was unmatched. they were friends, and you’re supposed to help a friend, right?

“percy, get up here!” annabeth called frantically.

“what about y/n?” percy yelled back.

at this point, y/n was holding back tears. annabeth wouldn’t leave her here, she wouldn’t. despite their differences, she was a good woman, and she wouldn’t do this to her teammate. at least, that’s why y/n prayed.

“percy please!” annabeth screamed, desperation filling her voice, and tears coming to her eyes. “i can’t lose you again!” 

percy looked down at y/n, who’s arms were sore. she gave him a look, don’t do this to me, but he did it. percy took annabeth’s hand and got onto the argo ll. pain ran across y/n’s already sore body, as tears filled her eyes. she saw percy’s sea green eyes looking down at her.

“hold on y/n!” leo yelled. “we’re going to save you!”

“you promised.” she whispered, before her sword gave out.

y/n felt herself fall, fall deep into the pits of hell.

what y/n saw in tartarus was something no average demigod could withstand, and she did it alone. she fought for her life every hour while the betrayal sank in every minute. torturing memories replayed in her head, and she was forced to relive them. 

just when y/n thought she couldn’t be more messed up, she ended up on an entirely different level of insane.

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

when she saw the seven again, relief filled her veins as she ran towards leo with a warm embrace. the two had grown close, often working on machines together and cracking corny jokes. she hugged hazel as tightly as she could. hazel was like y/n’s younger sister, and y/n so desperately wanted to protect her innocence, so that she would not end up like herself, corrupted and ruined. she never knew she would miss frank, but she did. 

jason and piper were greeted with short side-hugs, and a half-smile. but the rage that filled y/n’s veins when she saw percy and annabeth was demonic. just when it couldn’t get it worse, she got stabbed in the back. she walked straight past the two, not even acknowledging their presence, and gave nico a warm hug, which he reciprocated. 

“i thought you were dead.” leo said, smiling.

“you’re lucky, i would’ve made my ghost haunt you for years to come.” she joked back.

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

the seven, y/n, nico, will, and reyna were all discussing the prophecy and the attacks, and what was to come. when they had come up with somewhat of a plan, percy asked to talk to y/n, alone.

y/n would’ve done anything but talk to him, but she politely nodded, following him into a small room.

“i’m glad you’re back.” percy started.

“really? because it seemed you were keen on my death.” she spat back.

pain and regret filled his eyes.

“not a day goes by without me regretting my decision.” he said.

“that’s not my problem.” she said, angrily.

“i’m sorry y/n. i’m so so sorry.” he said, sincerity flooding his eyes.

“i didn’t have to dive in, but i did, to save annabeth, because even though we have our differences, we’re fighting for the same cause. i saved you perseus.” y/n said, the thoughts her mind had piled up finally releasing. “all for you two to stab me in the fucking back. the back that took all sorts of slashes for you.”

“i know-”

“y’know what i know? i know that if i were annabeth hanging, about to fall into literal hell, you would’ve gone in with me. i get that, that’s boyfriend duties. but we were friends. you were supposed to pull me out of tartarus, not push me in.” she continued. 

the silence was loud because percy knew y/n was right.

“you promised percy. You fucking promised.” she finished.

it became clear to percy that day that they would never be like the friends they used to be. she would never forget, and he couldn’t blame her. from that day onwards, y/n never called percy, ‘percy’, again, it was always ‘perseus’, or she rarely acknowledged him. they never hung out in the same room unless either hazel, frank, or leo, were there. she quit calling him a friend. time could heal everything, but not this betrayal, not this wound. whatever trust she had in percy deteriorated to nothing. why trust a man who couldn’t keep his promise?

[love-lilly02]

The Challenge: Chapter 6

Chapter warnings: Talk of insomnia, torture, not eating, depression, brief hyperseuxual mention, physical and mental scars, nightmares (please let me know if i missed any or if any need to be added!)

“MIA”

The words bore into his mind, tore a hole in his frontal lobe. He felt like he was drowning, sinking deeper into a black pit, the dark whispers of your voice and the blaring words of black text against a white screen. 

“MIA”

They haunted him, day and night, hour after hour. when he blinked the words were there, when he ate the hologram of them passed in his view. 

Never, in his life had he had to suffer with someone being marked as MIA. he had dealt with deaths, he had survived both others trauma along side his own. He had watched teammates get blown up, shot down, stabbed dozens of times. 

They all recovered or died. 

None of them went missing. 

None of them haunted him like you did. 

Sometimes, he would hear your voice calling to him. He could be filing paperwork, sitting in the mess hall, doing fucking anything. 

And you were there. 

Asking him to double check your mission reports, wondering what he was doing, if he was hungry, wanted to get something to eat. Sometimes, he would swear on his boys life that you were behind him, sneaking up to scare him like you always did. and he would wait, see if you realized he had heard you coming from a mile away, heard you whisper “scare cam” into your phone camera. He waited and waited, till your calming presence turned into a threatening one, till you weren’t holding a camera but a knife, a gun to his head. 

Those were the worst. That and the nightmares. 

He had stopped sleeping since you left, to afraid of the version of you he saw in his dreams. You terrified him, and not in the good way you used too. You would kick and scream at him, say it was his fault for allowing the mission, his fault for not watching you closer, his fault you disappeared. You would scream and beg the Russians to leave you alone, sob that you didn’t know anything, you had no clue what was going on, who they were, that you just wanted to go home. 

You wanted your boys.

And you would scream for their help, call each of their names in turn. That’s what always got him, hearing your blood curdling scream as you were cut into again, burned again, slapped again. And every time he screamed back, every time he tried to move, tried to help you, but he was rooted in place, stuck in this hell forever. 

Yeah. Sleep became a foreign concept. 

The others noticed. Of course they noticed. Each of them had their own way of dealing with your disappearance, but it showed. Simon would have to double wrap his hands at the gym, Kyle stopped eating for weeks at a time. Johnny was just quiet. 

It scared him. Your loss scared him. It scared him how loosing one person was able to break apart his team, the men who made it through thick and thin. And he had seen these same men live without each other, on solo ops or when one of them was hurt. They missed each other, sure. And it hurt like fuck to not have the other fourth there, like a piece was missing. 

But not this. Never this. 

This was new. This was raw, this was foreign. 

This was hell. 

And as far as he knew, no one was lucky enough to crawl out of it alive. 

Exhaustion tugged at your body, dragging you down with every step.

sleep was a foreign concept, something you abandoned back at the Russian base. 

You abandoned a lot at that base. 

You abandoned them. 

You told yourself that they didn’t care, they didn’t give a fuck if you left the team. They wouldn’t care if you never came back, if you just disappeared without a trace. Protocol stated that, with the way you went out, you were to be declared as MIA for seven years before you could be presumed to be dead. It wouldn’t take you seven years to get back to base, but it would take you way longer to get over what happened. 

Much. Much longer.

It was an illusion, honestly. Something all basic magicians could perform, but not with a grenade. It was that or be shot down, although you were beginning to think being shot was the better option. It was certainly easier to deal with a bullet wound than second degree burns. 

Maybe. You had never been shot before, who were you to know? 

Anything had to be better than this. The burns scraped against the material of your suit, sending your body into intense amounts of pain with every step. It felt like someone was pulling you through a cheese grater, constantly, until you were nothing but shredded meat and skin. 

The price you have to pay to live. 

In order for the “trick” to work, you had to throw the grenade right at your feet. Which meant that your soles and legs were the most burnt, whereas your torso and upper body only suffered mild burns. Your hands were done for, completely charred to the point you could hardly flex your fingers anymore. 

The reasoning behind that was your escape. Once you had thrown the grenade down, you used the five seconds it bought you to flip over the drain cover you were standing next too, effectively falling into the sewers and out of bullet range. 

The cover, however, was red hot from the impact. 

You would take it over being a goner. 

Everyone else probably thought you were dead, or had died from the resulting explosion. You didn’t know if enough blood was left for it to be believable, you hoped so at least, that bought you some time. Immediately upon hitting the water you went radio silent, cringing at the disgusting slop that came up to your waist. Being in the water helped a bit, allowed the burns to be surrounded by something that was at least cool. 

Open air did the exact opposite. 

You weren’t sure exactly where you were, some rural town in Russia, that’s for sure. The only reason you could tell that was because of the signs that you saw every so often, each one written on in their harsh language. Of all the things you studied, Russian was among your least favorite, and while you were conversational you couldn’t read it to save your life. 

A fucking shame, really. 

Which left you to the next best thing, pray to some god for a way out of this hell. 

There was a list of things Johnny McTavish hated to do. It wasn’t a very long list, but it was there, in some corner of his mind. 

He hated being forced to stay still, he hated being told to be quiet when he was overexcited. He hated confined spaces, and— in the wrong situations— he hated being tied up. 

But the number one thing on that list, the thing he despised the absolute most was disappointing his boys. Tied, of course, with making them worry. Just the thought was enough to make him spiral, a fact that had been proven dozens of times. 

And a fact that was not helping his case right now. 

Truth be told, he didn’t mean to switch up on them. He understood that they were used to Johnny always being loud and obnoxious, that it was something they had come to love about him, how even in their worst moments he was able to at least make them smile. 

Which was the problem. This was a pretty bad moment, and he couldn’t even make himself smile. 

And he had tried, honestly. Not in front of the others— he couldn’t embarrass himself like that— but alone, he tried doing some of the things he would do on a good day. Drawing, dancing, cleaning his rifles. 

But he just… couldn’t. 

Johnny was no stranger to depressive episodes, he experienced them all the time in his youth. Of course, back then he would have a quick fuck and make himself feel better, or maybe a few rounds from a few different people, but now adays that old trick didn’t work anymore. Usually he would just stay with Simon, talk it through with him. 

But that wasn’t really possible. Not with this problem. 

He hadn’t realized just how much the team was dependent on your being there, how different things were without your presence. You balanced things out perfectly, acted as a moderator for the four of them. 

It was no surprise they fell for you. Anyone would have, after all. 

It kind of reminded him of some Shakespeare play, or like a hallmark movie. They found you, fell in love, never said anything, and they lost you. 

In any other situation that thought would have made him chuckle. 

Now it just makes him even sadder. 

He wants to help, he wants to do something. He wishes he could make the nightmares Price has go away, he wishes he could make Simon understand that no amount of training could prepare him for the situation you had found yourself in. He wished he could make Gaz eat something, anything, with the thought that you wouldn’t want him to starve, you wouldn’t want anyone to hurt themselves in the way the four of them were doing.

That didn’t stop them from doing it, of course, but he still wished.

Salvation came in the form of a video. 

Gaz had called a mandatory meeting, claiming it was something of the utmost importance. They all met in Prices office, cramping into the small space. 

Soap and Ghost took a seat on the couch, leaning into each other slightly. Price stayed at his desk, mounds of paperwork shoved to the side for Gaz to sit, perched as if he would have to make a run for something at any given moment. 

They stayed quiet for a while, all of them just drinking in the atmosphere. 

This wasn’t unusual, being called into the office like this. Usually it was by Price, who wanted to either scold them for their behavior or inform them of a mission. The only difference was your absence, your spot on the doorway glaringly empty. It felt like a black hole, sucking them deeper and deeper into their depression. The tense silence of the room didn’t help at all, and it was making each of them antsy. 

“Right.” Gaz said simply. “Gonna keep this brief, then.”

He removed a computer— which the others hadn’t noticed was there— from his lap and placed it on the desk for everyone to see. A video was pulled up, paused on a black screen. 

“Not before her junior year, but it’s bloody close.” Gaz mumbled, clicking start on the video. 

After a few seconds of silence, your face came up on the screen, sitting next to a girl they don’t recognize. She begins talking first, introducing herself as Amy. Your voice fills the room next, proudly saying your name and grade, the very beginning of your junior year. You opened your mouth to keep going, before Amy turned to you and laughed. 

“Fuck wait I forgot my grade.” You stared at her for a while, and then rolled your eyes, cutting the footage. The video resumed in much of the same fashion, and they realized what this was. 

A blooper reel, for something you had tried auditioning for. 

As the video continued, it slowly became more clear what the audition was— a performance at your school. You and your friend kept goofing off during the recording, resulting in multiple takes of one clip, regardless of how long it was. For some of them, you would press record and step away from the camera, then just start laughing uncontrollably. 

It took a long time to realize that they had forgotten your laugh. Having gone weeks without hearing it was hard, and watching a younger, clearly happier you laugh so freely was odd for them to see. Your face was just about clear, missing some of the scars you now possessed from your years of experience with field work. 

You were right, you did look different. 

“Where did you find this?” Price asked, leaning forward. The glasses he used to read had long ago been thrown on the desk, all his attention on the computer in front of him. 

“Did some digging.” Was all Gaz said. 

It was all the answer they needed. 

They watched the video all the way through the end, and when it finished they watched it again. And again. Till the sound of your laugh was engraved in their minds, till they were able to smile along with your jokes without having to wait for your explanation, till it felt like you were right in the room with them. 

Finally, the video stopped repeating, and the office was quiet again. Simon tugged off the mask and ran a hand over his face, signing loudly. “She’s got seven years before we can jump to conclusions.”

“I think if i tried to jump right now, I’d fall flat on my face.” Price said, leaning back in his chair. The office went silent again, before a quiet chuckle came from Soap. He covered his moth quickly, failing to suppress his giggles at Price's statement. 

If there was one thing the boys loved about Johnny it’s that his laughter was infectious. Once he started laughing, Gaz was smiling at him, and Ghost was smiling at Gaz’s smiling at Soap’s laughter. Eventually they were all giggling, each at each other in turn.  

“Fuck—“ Soap said, wiping a tear from his eye. “Even when she’s not ‘ere she’s makin’ us laugh.” 

“She’ll be back. Seven years couldn’t keep our girl away from us.”

“Our girl, eh?” Simon asked, throwing an arm around Johnny’s shoulders. Soap leaned into Simon’s side, smiling against his chest. 

“Our girl.” Price confirmed, nodding. “No matter what happens, challenge be dammed, she’s our girl. Nothing’s changing it.”

“Excuse me sir? Do you speak english?”

“We no take foreigners-“

“Please—“ You begged, looking at him with your best puppy dog eyes. You watch as his gaze trails up and down your body, stopping at the marks on your hands. "Please I really need your help.”

The man looks around for a moment, double checking that no one is around before he grabs you by your collar and pulls you inside harshly. He closes the door, grumbling for you to sit in the kitchen.

You follow his instruction, taking a seat in the too cramped space. You watch as he moves around the room, throwing things into a pot and getting different medicines from the cabinets, mumbling to himself in Russian all the time.

After a few moments of tense silence, the man places a small container full of white ointment on the table.

"Will help with burns," He says.

As if that explains anything?

You let it go, however and smile at him in thanks. The moment you put the cream on your hands you fight the urge to scream at just how badly it burns, opting instead to bite your tounge till you can taste the blood in your mouth.

The man watches you struggle, and takes a seat across from you.

“You American spy?”

“No, sir, I just work for the army.” 

The man nods, standing up “You will have more burns, I leave you to apply the rest.”

He walks out of the kitchen, and you hear the closing of a door some feet away. For a brief moment, you consider the thought that he might have cameras in the kitchen, that he's watching you on his phone through the system.

Just as quickly, you dismiss the thought. The man is absolutely huge, not Simon level but pretty close. If he wanted to do something to you he would have.

As it did with your hands, the ointment burned on each part of your body. It was like getting blown up all over again, and you kept your teeth grit so as to not scream out. Once you finish, however, you do feel better.

Slightly.

You leave the kitchen, wrapping the tatters of your suit around your body in a makeshift robe. Just outside of the room you see a set of clothes laid out, as well as a pair of gloves that look slightly too large for your hand size.

By the time you finish dressing, the man is back, carrying some vegetables with him.

“Who do you work for?” He asks, grabbing a knife from a drawer. You watch in awe as he makes quick work of the mound of food that was in his hands, throwing it into the pot without a second glance.

“A task force, sir.”

“The one four one?”

The room is dead quiet. For a moment, the only sound that can be heard is the boiling of water, and you take a cautious step back towards the front door. Running isn't something you want to do, and you're pretty sure it's not something you're 100% capable of, but if you had to get out of here you were willing to risk your health further.

Anyways, you still had that ointment. Technically that's all you really needed, and he wouldn't have given it to you if he didn't want you to use it.

“How did you-"

“Nikolai." He interrupts, holding out his hand. "I worked with them a long time ago."

You remember the name, it was heard in dozens of the stories Gaz and Price have told you about their missions before you joined. You take his hand, biting back a wince at the sting of your burns against the gloves.

“Do you think you could help me get back?” 

AN: VERY IMPORTANT INFORMATION

Hey guys, so while technically this is late i was hoping we could just ignore that fact for a while. If you couldn't tell by the contents of this chapter, this fic is going to take a darker turn than i even thought (this whole thing is written on impulse, i only have the reader's backstory planned and that's it) Future chapters will feature mental health issues, and some abuse so i just wanted to release an early viewer discretion to warn anyone who wouldn't be comfortable reading that stuff.

I promise i'll give you guys a fluffy BTS to make up for this angst bomb. Hope you enjoyed!

My Masterlist

[heartfullofleeches]

Could we maybe see the first meeting between fast food worker reader and the handpit

"Y/n! Some kid lost his teddy in the ball pit!"

You peel yourself from the breakroom chair with the minuscule amount of energy you had regained from it. You learned the first week on the job to never expect a moment of rest, but that didn't make losing precious break time any better.

The ball pit had been a pain since its reopening a full week back. Customers loosing precious items, child claiming to have been scared out of the pit by a scary monster. In defense of the first thing it probably isn't the greatest idea to wear great grandma's wedding ring to a restaurant where the police leaves the phone on the receiver when they call in.

You enter the main area. A parent shouts at the cashier while clutching a sniffing child's name; a glimmer of hope in their eyes as you walk out.

"This is exactly why I don't let my children into those disease pools! If you don't bring my son, his toy this entire franchise is going under!:

Your coworker's eyes water. You throw them a thumb's up as you pedal to the playarea. It's common knowledge you're in this nightmare together so most helped one another when they could.

The play area was your average child's environment. Overhanging tubes leading to a twisting slide. Colorful walls and statues of the mascot looming in watch. The ball pit. The windows to the parking lot had been painted over after similar reports of odd behaviors outside.

You walk over to the wall where the net for such occasions was stored, but it's gone. Figures. Nothing's easy around here. You pop your shoes off and squeeze them into a cubby as per comand of your commerical marketed overlord. You fish around at the top before doing as expected and climbing into the pit when you can't find it on the surface sweep.

The balls come up to your waist, but you can feel they go further than that as you kicking through them. The ball pit was as big as your average swimming pool, so you definitely had your work cut out for you. Better than being screamed at by customers from hell you suppose.

The search is gruelling. Each ball you push out of the way is replaced by a tidal wave of more. You unknowingly sink down to your chest as your frustration rises. It feels like the pit hasn't been cleaned in ages either. Some of the balls sticky and wet, and you're poked and stabbed at by objects were too thin and hard to be a plush bear-

What was that?

You freeze. A pocket forms in the sea of balls to your left, sucking the plastic orbs into themselves like a technicolor sinkhole. You figure its because you had previously just lift that area and swim forward. Something tugs on your pant's leg mid stroke, but your other foot kicks it away as you move. As the lights flicker you get the feeling someone is messing with you.

"Not funny!"

So much for being a team player. You better hurry and find this thing so you can head out early today. About tew feet in front of you, the bear's button eye watches your struggle. Stopping it, you dart towards it, but it sinks into the pit. It then reappears another foot away.

"What the hell.... This really isn't funny.."

You try again. It disappears. This time it teleports behind you. Stagnate in the spherical waters, you watch as the bear disappears and pops back within view in a different location. Sometimes it's at the end of the pit, sometimes it's mere inches away. This definitely isn't right. You need to get out of here. As you swim for the ledge, something drags you below.

You kick and flail, a scream fighting its way up your chest that you shove right back down to save energy. You can't breath. Your body feels weightless like you're swimming in a lake, yet the same air as falling out of the skin. Hands grab at various parts of yoir body. Items flash by as you're dragged further. Ancient photos, priceless watches- name tags.

As a hand wraps around your throat, you scream.

"You..."

Your plunge takes an abrupt stop.

"We did not recognize you at first, but that voice. It is unforgettable."

The hands turn you over. You can't tell if it's onto your back or your stomach. All you really can see is the plastic balls, but if you squint you can make out two white dots in the endless sea.

"So this is your face. We have only seen it in passing from your memories. How peculiar is man that in our eons of evaluation, your cerebrum is the single power that has twine our minds into one? In this "pit" of all things."

The hands stroke at your face; force your eyes to remain open. They carcass your tense form, easing your body but not your spirit. You want to cover your ears, but you can't. The voice is so loud; what feels like millions cramming into your small brain at volume which makes your teeth rattle with each syllable. In the same vein, it is the softest melody you've ever heard - splitting your fragile mind in two and sewing it together again with its gentle hush.

"You are different. You cannot enjoy us. The honor of being your new home would be wasted with your mind lost to the masses. You are to remain in this establishment until we decide what to do with you."

The hands center on your torso and push you upwards. Light pokes through the spaces between the balls as you're forced to the surface of the pit. The teddy bear lays on your chest as you surf atop the balls, staring down as if it's wondering the same thing as you.

What the fuck just happened

[ornii]

Do you still do requests?

Can you please do Wednesday Addams X reader who has abilities, powers, and a backstory similar to John Constantine? Thank you.

Black Rum

A little short and sweet.

Nevermore really didn’t change much after the attack, and overall some things never truly did change. But what did was the relationship between (Y/n) and Wednesday, she was cold and standoffish towards him in the beginning. Slowly he melted her icy demeanor and made himself home in her heart. Whether she wanted to admit it or not; she loved him. While continuing their studies, the two participate in… extracurricular activities together.

(Y/n) stood in an old Church, dark magic swirling around him as a magic pentagram was drawn around him. He stood calmly in the tornado of darkness as from that black mist, a demon made purely of shadows reaches out, calling his name with his ethereal voice. “(Y/n)… your soul, is mine…” the ethereal voice called out to him, its arm elongated and askew of humanity. Its bony fingers ready to tear his soul apart.

“Any time now love..” he grumbled, ready for a fight to the death. Standing upon the scaffolding of the interior. Wednesday drew an arrow, dipped in Silver. Her eye focused on the demon, ready to reveal itself. Its body began to open up like a cage of bones, darkness emitting like smoke. What was there was a black heart, beating so callously.

“Dammit Wednesday..” was his final thoughts, until the arrow let loose. It flew though the air and it struck true. Nailing the monster right in the heart, Wednesday began to descend the scaffolding, the beast reels in pain. Screaming as the silver sears his heart and thematically seals him to this world temporarily. The monster collapsed down, writhing in pain. (Y/n) sighs with relief, as the monster spirals in pain. Wednesday stands next to (Y/n) as they look over the monsters body.

“I..I will have my revenge!” It calls out, (Y/n) raises his hand.

“Sure lad, you try that, back to where you came from.” He said, the monster growls.

“W-wait! Fine, perhaps we can, strike a bargain?” He said.. (Y/n) scoffs and shook his head.

“Heard that Wednesday?” He said.

“A god begging for mercy.. pitiful.” She said, the demon reaches out but (Y/n) raised his hands to seal his spell.

“Attiuaiasis Qutendo Beneesta Sulpus Accuule!” He chanted, the spell holding the demon in this world was shattered. And once more he was dragged back to the pits of hell. The two stand there and (Y/n) kicks some of the salt, breaking the spell circle and putting an end to it all. Their peace was interrupted by a priest slowly opening the door, he peers in to see the two standing there. (Y/n) casually motions the priest to follow, the middle aged man looked around to see books everywhere, paper, and the unnerving sense of evil.

“Alright Bishop, your Church is free of the vicar curse.” He said, The priest blesses them.

“May god bless you both a thousand times over. We had no way to deal with this dark energy alone.” He explains, and Wednesday wasn’t the one for chit chat.

“We take our payment in cash and check.” She said flatly. (Y/n) glares at her, before the priest nods and hands them said check.

“Of course, like the Bible says; ‘You shall not muzzle an ox when it treads out the grain,’ and, ‘The laborer deserves his wages.’” He said, Wednesday takes it and departs, (Y/n) sighs and shakes the priests hand.

“If you require any other services or know anyone who does, give us a ring.” He said and catches up to Wednesday. She looks at the check but it’s suddenly pulled away from her and flies back, she watches it fall into the hand of (Y/n). The two begin to walk together along a barren plain like trail.

“You could at least say goodbye to the old man.” He says.

“Why?”

“Because we’re in Kansas and I highly doubt we’ll come back. Plus clientele.”

“I don’t see the point of pleasantries, we came to do a job, simple as that.” She says, (Y/n) shakes his head and they reach a building, but they didn’t need the building just the wall. Reaching into his pocket the reveals chalk, he draws a door on it.

“Point is love, we want this “Black Rum: Occult Detectives” thing to work out, we have to actually be like able.. well I have to be. You just be cute dark and broody.” He said, he then turns to the chalk drawing and spoke. “Ecrumis Queeyela Various.” He then blangs on the wall and it crumbled and behind the chalk outline was a door. (Y/n) walks on as Wednesday grumbles “I’m not Broody.” She said, they walk in and suddenly appear back at Nevermores Quad, (Y/n) closes the door and it crumbed to dust.

“So, why don’t we cash this in and ..Spend some quality time together?” He said raising an eyebrow.

“Fine, I suppose your company wouldn’t be an entire bore.” She walks off as the Magician follows. Chucking to himself.

[orcasoul]

Din Djarin Headcanons:

Din When You're Injured

Warnings: injury, mention of blood.

Oh how we love a protective and attentive man, and Din Djarin is the perfect example :)

Word Count: 1,278

Din shifts nervously, head searching in every direction. Something's wrong. He can feel it in his bones, in the pit of his stomach. "She should have been here by now," he mumbles nervously to Grogu, while placing a hand gently on his tiny head. Grogu wriggles in the satchel at Din's side, a little wimper of concern coming from him. This was only supposed to be a quick supply run on Tatooine so where the hell were you? And why, as the minutes pass, does Din's chest feel like it's about to cave in on itself?

When contact via com link fails, he decides enough is enough. He's waited too long as it is. "Don't worry, pal," Din said, softly, "We'll go find her." The market is still quite busy as Din and Grogu make their way through the crowded streets. Ten minutes of searching has turned into twenty, and still, no sign of you. Apprehension swirls in Din's gut, anxiety conjuring up the worst things imaginable in his head.

'What if she's hurt? What if shes scared? What if she's screaming for me right now?' He can't lose you, can't let anything happen to you! Why the hell did he let you go off alone? His heart beats wildly behind his ribs, panic and frustration taking root the longer you are missing. After questioning a few of the vendors, a woman informs Din that someone fitting your description had come to her stall earlier, pointing in the direction you'd left.

With a nod of thanks, Din immediately makes his way to the outskirts of the market. It's getting late now, the side street he's searching eerily empty and still. The silence is broken by a wailing Grogu, causing Din to look down at his side. Grogu's large brown eyes stare worriedly while pointing ahead. Din's stomach sinks when he sees it; Your satchel. Your unmistakable sage green canvas bag, with a picture of a loth cat on it, abandoned with it's contents strewn across the dusty ground.

With shaking hands Din picks up the bag and calls your name, over and over. The silence is deafening. He just needs to hear your voice, to know you're okay. 'Please, please answer me, Cyar'ika!' The world is suddenly too much, too suffocating, oppressive darkness closing in around the edges of Din's periphery. To lose you would be to lose the very best part of himself. His breaths begin to come shallow and quick, causing his head to swim.

Squeezing his hands into fists, he takes slow, deep breaths, trying his best to maintain some composure. He'll be no good to you if he falls apart now. Engaging the sensors in his helmet, Din urgently scans the ground. Dank Ferrick, there are too many footprints to discern. But then, an area of kicked up dirt at the entrance of a nearby alley catches his attention. Upon inspection, it's obvious a scuffle had taken place here very recently.

In true hunter mode, Din follows the telltale signs of dragging, all the way to a dead end, to be greeted by a sight that almost stopped his heart. There you are, face down and unmoving! Din's legs move of their own accord, carrying him to you by pure instinct and adrenaline alone. He drops to his knees beside your prone body, your name leaving his lips like a prayer, a prayer he's desperate for you to answer. Gently cupping your shoulders, he rolls you over onto your back.

Din chokes on a breath at the sight of you. His vision now clouding over in a sweeping tide of red, rage boils his blood to the point where he feels like he's going to explode. Your face is almost unrecognisable. Two black and swollen eyes, a clearly broken nose -still trickling blood - a split lip and a nasty gash across your forehead is the last thing he would have ever expected to see on you. "Cyar'ika?..." his voice trembles while trying to rouse you. "Can you open your eyes? Come on, sweet girl, I need you to open your eyes for me!"

Grogu reaches out for you, whimpering. Din can see he's distressed but what can he do? He could say you're okay, he could tell him not to worry, but how can he try to comfort him when he, himself, is cracking at the seams? Din cautiously scoops your unconscious body into his lap, handling you as if you were made of fine china. With your head lolled back, he can now clearly see big purple bruises littering your slender neck, bruises in the shape of fingers.

His whole being is now shaking with outrage, teeth almost cracking from the pressure of his clenched jaw. Who the fuck did this to you?! Why would someone do this to you?!.... And where can he find those fuckers?! A small groan slips from you, and Din released a breath he didn't realise he was holding, shoulders slumping, slightly in relief. You're alive. Thank the maker you're alive!

But that relief is snuffed out when you weakly cry out and clutch your side. Din removes your trembling hand and gently tugs up your top. How the kriffing hell did he miss this?! He'd been so preoccupied with trying to wake you, that he'd missed the stab wound, which is still oozing blood. "Dank Ferrick!" Din curses under his breath while inspecting the wound. To his relief, it doesn't look too deep. Clutching your limp form to his chest, he quickly rises, being careful of your state, and also trying not to jostle Grogu too much, who's sad eyes have not not left you.

Back at the Razor Crest, Din is silently seething. He cleaned and applied bacta patches to all lesions and stitched up the knife wound. A part of him is thankful that you'd lost consciousness along the way. The last thing he would want is for you to have to go through any more agony. Grogu has become your shadow, refusing to leave your side and snuggling up to you in the bunk. Now that the adrenaline has vacated Din's system, and you are home safe with him, he feels like he can breathe again.

He could have lost you today. It's unthinkable, the very notion that you could have been ripped from his life in the blink of an eye. How could he exist in a galaxy where you don't? He'd failed you toady. He should have been there to protect you. He'll never forgive himself! Looking at your battered and bruised face, Din is overwhelmed with a primal and desperate need to shield you from succumbing to harm ever again.

It brings tears to his eyes and a lump to his throat, seeing the brutal devastation left all over you, painting your body with all the horrors this cursed galaxy hides around every corner. This will never happen again. He'll make damn sure of it! He will destroy every bastard foolish enough to even try and lay a finger on you or Grogu ever again, starting with the pieces of Bantha fodder who attacked you. But that will come later. The main priority now is you. Din sits beside you on the bed, holding your hand and smoothing his thumb gently over your knuckles.

His heart skips a beat as your eyelashes flutter open, your heavy and exhausted gaze meeting his behind his helmet. His taut shoulders instantly relax and a warm wave of reassurance fills his aching heart with the smile you give him. You're okay, you're home and you're safe and he'll never let anyone hurt his Cyare again!

[y-rhywbeth2]

Was musing on what Bioware's original BG3 ('the Hounds of Iyachtu Xvim,' or something along those lines iirc), where the main character is Charname's kid, would've been like, aside from Bane-centric, and had an absolutely cursed Durge thought.

Brain: 'Hey, how can I make the deranged incest crap in BG3 worse while tying it to BG2 and the og concept for BG3? I KNOW!'

PC of BG3 is Charname's kid + the fucked up family shenanigans of Larian's BG3 where Bhaal has no fucking standards...

So Charname becomes reigning God of Death/Murder. Xvim seemingly successfully replaced his dad as god of hate and tyranny just like you did to your daddy, but oops! It's 1372 DR and Bane just fucking hijacked the kid's ascension to be reborn.

Time to make your own 'backup plan' and drop by a certain rock floating in the Astral Sea to cut a deal with daddy dearest, mayhaps. Failing that 5e Bhaal isn't OG Bhaal it's just Charname using his name and face to cash in on his reputation, but I like to keep some of canon for the weight.

Since we've gone to the pits of no return, let's go full gothic: we could even install the Sarevok romance mod to enhance the state of the family in BG3! Have hate sex with your half-brother who you hate for killing your adopted father, who hates you because you stole your shared birth-right and condemned him to hell, but who is the closest to being able to understand you and the position you are in. Work out a horrible dysfunctional relationship between you. Become goddess of death, appoint him your chosen. Later become your own father as well due to sharing the office with Bhaal as aspects of each other (either Angharradh or Mystra style). Use brother-son-husband, child-sibling and grandchildren-children-sibling-nephew/nieces for murder plans!

The downside of this is that I'm probably going to have to make an elf charname or something just to make Vel fit, because unfortunately I am attached to him being an elf for some reason... she'll just have to be a very short elf so that I can keep my tiny tyrannical librarian concept.

I can throw in the Xan romance! Young woman develops fascination with the first member of her culture she's ever met. Turns out to be an abomination which simultaneously repulses yet fascinates him because the dude is obsessed with doom and nihilism and how we're all marching to our inevitable miserable deaths. A year down the line, once all the youthful optimism has been crushed she has embraced the divinity and lost interest in you. She fucking leaves you for her brother who tried to kill you both.

Everybody needs therapy, but only Durge and Orin will be going (dragged kicking and screaming). There's a post-game adventure somewhere down the line where Vel goes to Gehenna and drags Orin back and they don't really ever get 'fixed' nor good, but they do get slightly better and some degree of happy.

[obsessedwhim]

A Lovely Evening

Fingers clawed at concrete slabs in pathetic efforts to savour every last second to save your own life. Horrible sharp libs grabbed at your kicking legs as you screamed as loud as you could. Your lungs found it difficult through your panicked heaves but with every squeeze of your airless sacks, an unknown saviour drew closer. 

The hideous masked creature pulled you closer, delighting in how your scratches drew blood leaving small paths of smeared crimson behind. His grin ever bared until you threw a bag at his arms, "Stop! Don't Touch Me!!" You demanded with fright in your stare, more white than pupil in your eyes as the monster's nauseating breath drew near in hot waves, as if he were laughing at your last attempt. Awarding you with a first-class seat to his stomach. 

The Hollow's jaw lowered as he continued to drag your struggling body into the bellows, but in a stricken hurry, the beast clamped down on your leg and bound you backwards with a threatening growl.

Although you couldn't see what caused your captor to suddenly drop you to the floor you were thankful, until you were picked up by your bloodied ankle and you screamed in retort. 

The monster waved you mindlessly, much like bait on a string, "If you want to kill me, Soul Reaper, you'll have to kill this silly little human too" He giggled with another wave of your meat sack.

"Put me- AAArrrGGH! PutMeDOWN!" You dug your nails into its hairy hand. Scratching and clawing to raw the skin before taking a big chop of your own, which gained the Hollow's attention only for him to attempt to shake off your imbecilic attack.

Grabbing you in his fist the Hollow was ready to smack your tiny melon skull right in front of whomever spooked it enough to use you as a pathetic excuse of a meat shield. Just as the air rushed passed you the ground was stopped mere seconds before your cheekbone was crushed against it, and then you fell again, meeting the ground in a hurtful gasp.

You could only roll and grovel in your pit of airless pain until you noticed that there was no longer a claw surrounding you. Eyes widened as its flinching fingertips began disintegrating and the owner of said fingertips squealed in anguish, bounding away once more while watching a man clad in dark robes step from the shadows with the glare of a lifetime.

Taking his eyes from the Hollow Ichigo knelt with twitching brows. The creature still crying in the background, proclaiming that there was no need for such division between himself and the vanishing limb.

Some sort of growl came from the ginger's throat before he tossed his sword, pinning the Hollow to a nearby fence. 

"I.. chi.." You fought every grave feeling telling you to stop moving, and you forced your eyelids to flutter open "...go?" You gasped unevenly as he stared into your wincing eyes with a monologue of apologies hiding behind his sight.

Ichigo took your hand and grazed his remote orbs over your broken leg and various wounds before lifting your knuckles to his cheek to comfort you, "I'm sorry this happened to you, I'll be right back"  

Though his tone was reassuring a terrifying shadow overtook the male's brown. Once he stood the air seemed to be thicker than water, and breathing became more difficult than ever but boy would you sure as hell not look away from this moment. 

You had never seen Ichigo so angry in person before. You'd heard stories but you figured they were stretched for entertainment purposes... now it seemed as though they were played down for supernatural purposes. Who'da thought? Clearly not you. 

You watched as a strange white mask overtook his handsome features and you had never felt so close to the devil. A powerful feeling of eager eeriness drifted through the small alleyway where your attack had taken place. His sandaled feet standing where your bloody smears had been left behind. 

Ichigo's sword released a strange vibe but there was no way to study it before it was thrown through the body of the one-armed Hollow, its legs and torso splitting from each other as though he had been like that this whole time. Just like his arm, the rest of his beaten body began collapsing into nothing, as if Thanos himself had snapped the creature away. 

The mask and monster alike vanished into the night but your pain had only just begun setting and it was getting harder to keep your eyes open, maybe just a little sleep. You were sure none would mind, concrete has never been so comfortable... 

"Hey.. Hey! Wake up, you can't sleep here!!" Ichigo shook you from the dozy spell as he raced over street lights and household roofs, "Don't worry, I know someone who can heal you.. you'll be alright by tomorrow, I promise" He mentioned with a tough scowl, though you knew better than to assume he was thinking clearly right now.

Those thoughts could be dealt with tomorrow and, for now, you just wanted to enjoy being in Ichigo's arms and watching the town lights below the two of you- despite having a leg now consisting of bone fragments. 

Ichigo raised an odd brow at you as you nuzzled yourself into comfort and thanked him for such a lovely evening. 

[shbtcklyy]

bop it

a writing warm up :)

(lee!Levi, ler!Erwin)

[modern au, handcuffs mentioned]

w/c: 520

"... why are you looking?"

Erwin was standing with a feather on a short distance, he was not moving. Levi, on the other hand, WAS getting nervous.

"M-m, I don't know," Erwin murmured, circling the feather in his hand, "you just look so unrestrained from here. Don't know where to start."

"Well, you should start somewhere or I'll beat shit outta you," Levi said and raised his eyebrow.

"If you ask," Erwin shrugged his shoulders and disappeared behind the chair.

What the fuck.

Levi closed his eyes. Not a big deal (something sulking in his stomach, but it's fine), just a regular session. With regular Erwin. With regular feather in his hand- oh fuck!

He started slightly at first - gently flowing near the ear, Levi twitched. The feather followed him, he opened his eyes - a threat! Erwin was just near.

"Hey," he smiled.

"I'm going to twist your fingers," Levi said, but immediately regretted it - those fingers went under his chin down to his neck, "no-no-NOHOHO!"

"Me first", joyfully said Erwin, tracing the lines on his skin. Levi clenched his teeth. Fucker.

He moved away his head, trying to get rid of the warm fingers, but they found him here and there, light lines, itchy fingerpits, dragging up and down. Why the hell does this man need a feather?

Erwin couldn't reach his palms today though - it was a win for Levi to be only in handcuffs and fully restrained.

...it didn't mean that Erwin couldn't reach the other parts of his hand though.

"What... what, you, you bastard don't go there, I'll fuck- fuhuhuhuck!" he pulled his hand, the feather danced on the inside of his elbow. "Youhuhu, I-i you!-"

"Me? I'm not touching you," Erwin said, his feather was focusing on one spot.

"Youhuhor feather doeHEHEEEHEHEE!" he screamed when Erwin suddenly tickled his tummy with his whole palm, putting every finger under his shirt. "LeHEHEHEABE ME ALOHHOHONE!"

"Nuh-uh," Erwin smiled. Levi wanted both spit in his face and kiss it. He felt remorse. There was something in his ears again then, but he was getting sweaty. Erwin didn't stop there - the feather travelled to the back of Levi's neck, it couldn't reach his spine as Erwin LOVED to do (Levi wanted to kill him), but what it definitely could was his pits.

"Okay, thahahat's a NOHO-NO SPHHHAHAHA!"

"FUHUHUCK YOU EH- EHERWIN!" Levi decided to spit in his mouth, but missed.

He dragged back, legs almost kicking reflectivelly, wide smile - a grin - a short smirk, a loud giggle (leave me alone!) a try to bite! Erwin was still calm and looked like a bitchiest bitch in the world.

Then, of course, there were some hysterics - he went all red and angry, especially for the last few minutes where Erwin tickled his tummy again and then bit it a few times, so at the end of the timer Levi was drained, heavily breathing.

"How're you, dear?" Erwin asked, kissing his forehead

Levi closed his eyes again. He heard Erwin unlocking the cuffs.

"Good enough," he answered, "but we're ordering pizza today."

Erwin started massaging his back and kissed him. "Sure."

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Can you do Vincent Sinclair with a bass guitarist s/o?

Lucky Man: Vincent Sinclair x bassist!reader

Warnings: reader wears black eyeliner and lipstick as clown makeup (makeup is gender neutral but still), reader also smokes

A/N: okay I know it says s/o but I kinda wanted to do a little fic where they first met. So uh, yeah :3

Masterlist

The bar is hot, music is loud, and people are already head banging when Vincent and Bo walk in. Vincent and Bo stopped going to these in their late 20’s. Why they were there tonight, only God knew.

Vincent felt himself though as soon as he followed Bo to the bar and the two sat down a little distance away to watch one of the 7 bands play tonight.

They watch as college kids thrash about the mosh pit, often times punching the shit out of each other and kicking.

That was honestly why he stopped going. Vincent felt too old to do all of that and the music definitely fucked up his ear drums. Bo stopped a year or two after him, getting a few kills in before that. Bo still listened to all of the music but Vincent changed to classical, felt easier on his mind and helped him focus. He’s sure the same could’ve been said about Bo’s music taste.

The band cleans up, 80’s music plays during the break as another band sets up. His eye is set on the most attractive bassist in the world, they wear platform boots and chunky jewelry, skinny jeans and a tank top that showed off every part of their torso.

Your makeup was just as sexy, it ran down your face like you’d been crying while the lipstick looked like clown lips.

You set yourself up and waited idly to start playing, swinging your bass around as you swayed.

You move your pick to the bass and start playing. The lead singer of your band screaming into the mic, Vincent wasn’t even paying attention to the words, only you. You head bang roughly and Vincent nodded along at a less aggressive pace.

Five songs later and your band was cleaning up. He watched as you made your way off of the stage, packing up your bass and heading out the back door, he quickly follows you, lucky that Bo isn’t bitching at him to stay where he is.

You’re leaning against the wall when he gets out there, a cigarette in hand and your bass gone.

He walks up to you wearily and you can’t help but smile. He looks over you, waving politely.

You introduce yourself and hold out your hand, he doesn’t hesitate to take it.

“Vincent.”

His voice sounds like it’s been grated by sandpaper one too many times, you don’t mind it a bit.

“I gotta ask, cause I hate talking to dudes younger than me. How old are you?” You put the cigarette back up to your lip and take a drag, moving your lips as to not blow smoke into his face.

“32.” He replies, you click your tongue and smile.

“Thank god, sick of younger people comin’ up to me and tryin’ to chat like I’m fuckin’ them. I can tell from your vibes you seem like a nice guy Vince.” You slide down the wall and sit with your boots making your feet fall to the side. He sits on the concrete too, just across from you. “I don’t do none of that fuckin’ shit. Most I’ll do is a high five. I promise you that.”

Your tone sounds exhausted, sick of life, but at the same time not so much. You wipe your face, sweaty is disgusting the clown makeup smears.

“I like your mask, you just wear that for fun? Or do you have some sick scar you’re hidin’?”

Vincent shifts in his spot. “Scar.”

You smirk. “Hot.”

The long haired man tilts his head at you. You shrug and laugh a little. “Scars are cool, they’re sexy and hot. I ain’t ever met a man tryin’ to hide that shit. I hope you weren’t shamed into hidin’ it. If you were you should just take it off here or whatever since we welcome freaks and shit.”

Something comes over Vincent and he takes the mask off, your smile grows bigger and you light another cigarette. “See? Sexy as hell, and you don’t have an eye? You’re badass. I’ll tell you that. You’ve barely even talked in the last… 10 minutes we’ve been in each other’s presence, yet to me you’re the coolest bitch out there.”

Vincent smiles and lets out a laugh, it’s too good to be true. You’re too good to be true.

You two spend the next two hours chatting, he talks about his art, going to these shows when he was younger, and Bo and Lester. You talk about how long you’ve been in your band, all of the shows you’ve done, you sneaking into shows when you were younger, that you live close by,and the little hobbies you do on the side. It’s 12 AM by the time Bo finds you and Vincent behind the bar.

Vincent had his mask still off and a cigarette in his mouth. The shocked look on Bo’s face made Vincent almost put his mask back on, both of you were quick to stop him.

“Shit man, took me over a year to finally get you to stop wearin’ that shit around the house and them how fucking long?” He gestures to the mask and then you. “You gotta be a real lucky son of a bitch.” Bo smirks. Vincent blows smoke from his mouth and gets up grabbing his mask. He helps you up with his other hand.

“Guess I am.” You laugh. You feel around for the unused napkin in your pocket. “Either of you have a pen or pencil?” You raise a brow. Bo’s honestly never seen Vincent react so fast, feeling around he pulls out an art pencil, you write down your number on the napkin against the wall then hand it to the longer haired twin. “I’ll be gone for the next two weeks, but text me and call me. When I get back we’re hanging out okay?” You explain. Vincent nods. You kiss his cheek. And wave at the two of them as you head out to your car.

“Ho Lee Shit! Look at you Vincent! You got a date in two weeks! Haha look at you! Look at you!” Bo was practically jumping up and down, so unlike him but it felt good. Vincent blushes and scoffs.

“Shut up.”

Bo wraps an arm around his twin and the two head through the bar and two Bi’s truck to head back home.

Now all Vincent had to do was get a phone and figure out how it worked.

[luchadorbard]

Tag game: Find a word!

Thank you @fortunatetragedy for the tag game!

My words are: mouth, pace, pit, cell

I've got the Shadowrun obsession bug as of late, so I'll be using a fan fiction I've thrown together for this tag game. Here are some experts from my WIP. Give and Take.

Mouth

Vickers flicked the lighter with his thumb, trying to coax a flame to light, the Seattle rain denying him his Cuban. He checked the metal case he kept them in. Only two left. He sighed as he pocketed it, eventually a spark took hold; allowing him to finally take a deep inhale of his prize. He'd have to arrange to get more, which meant either paying smugglers a king's ransom in Nuyen or doing jobs out in Florida. He gritted his teeth, his Trollish tusks allowing him to hold the cigar in his mouth as he groaned. Flights to Miami are a pain in the ass this time of year. Such plans would have to wait for now. Right now he and his team needed a new decker after that last job. He took another long drag on his cigar and exhaled.

Cell

The team all looked to each other as the red and blue lights flashed in the dark outside of the complex. Helicopters flying low with a fully outfitted sniper team. The sound of megaphoned sergeant barking orders to the terrified chip-heads on the lower floors. A full red carpet from the Division of Special Tactics? We really kicked the hornets nest. Lone Star came in force, with some serious fire power. Vickers glanced at the rest of the team, Tat and Longstreet already taking up positions on the door they came into to. Iron Crow looked out the window and then back to Vickers. "Shouldn't we try to find a way to escape without a fire fight? They seem to have the advantage." It was one of those questions that seemed a logical thing to ask if one was new on the job. Unclear as to how this was going to play out. Guess the twins really are newbies in the Shadows, just my luck. He glanced back at her and readied his sidearm. "We ain't doing this quietly, and trust me when I say this. A blaze of glory is sure as drek better than winding up in a Lone Star cell, let me tell ya." Gun fire rang out below them, followed by the screams of the chipheads as they bolted in every direction. "TacDiv isn't here to take prisoners either." Tatiana drew her sword.

Pace

Tatiana paced around the underground floors of the Seamstress Union. The fast pace steps being her 'thinking' fidgeting and not her 'panicked' fidgeting. "So...we have the package, but can't deliver it. Lone Star is willing to frag entire blocks to get it and our contact is late." She turned to the rest of the crew. "I'm open to ideas on how the hell we navigate this drek-show." Vickers looked down at his metal case with the last of his cigars and fought the impulse to light it up. His fingers twitched as he ran a hand over his brown hair. "Finding out who just set us up couldn't hurt."

That's all for now. I hope to post the full part one of this fic soon. Consider this an open tag game for anyone else to keep going!

Words are: Crew, Quick, Draw, Home

[dontaskwhybutarsonsoundsokay]

No More Sunshine…. || Ghost

[there are a lot of time jumps in this piece. Lots of it is one of the girls looking back at the past, realizing how much light sunshine brought to them]

[Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6SUSAYetOdHSWo3UiTYH8q?si=001bd5c700af413e

Cumulus and Cirrus did not want Sunshine to go. But Sister was serious, the two of them watched as Sunshine was dragged down the corridor, knowing this would probably be the last time they get to see sunshine for a while. It was at that moment that they realized they could be next…. 

[ Two Weeks Earlier ] 

“Cirrus stop!” Sunshine was yelling while Cirrus was tickling her sides furiously. Sunshine was rolling on the floor, her feet kicking aimlessly. The two of them so distracted that they didn’t notice the third ghoulette enter the room. The laughter fills the air, Cumulus’ face lights up as she realizes whats playing out. “OOOHHH, TICKLE TIME” Cumulus shouts while almost tackling the two ghouls on the floor. Her soft tail flicks around like a cat waiting to pounce onto the red dot of a laser pointer. Soon, Cirrus finds herself on the ground, being tickled mercilessly by Cumulus. The room fills with warmth as the girls all have fun while periodically ganging up on eachother. After a while, the laughter dies down and they all lay on the floor, chests heaving up and down. All of the girls have smiles on their faces, laying on the cool marble of the piano room in the ministry. The smiles that they wanted to last forever before they heard the all too familiar clacking of Sisters high heels on the tile. 

The feeling in the room shifts as the door creaks open, a familiar face looking at the three girls, “Try to be quiet, Nihil is trying to rest,” Her voice echoed in the room. The girls nodded their heads trying to not look scared, once Sister was happy with their response, she turned away, and closed the door, the heels clicking down the hallway, till they could no longer hear. 

[two weeks later- back in the corridor] 

Sunshines feet trying to grip onto the floor to get her footing, tears streaming down her face. “No! Please! I can’t be on tax duty this soon!!” her voice is straining from crying and yelling.Cumulus and Cirrus shake at the sight.

 Cumulus’ eyes fill with tears, as a lump forms in her throat, she screams “NO WHY.” The shrill fills the air, and suddenly the corridor goes quiet. Sister looks over her shoulder, smirking, as the Sunshine ghoul lays limp. 

[ four days before ]

“Guys, I think Sister hates me,” Sunshine whispers, her body hunched over. The girls show a sign of confusion on their faces. “I don’t think she likes me at the rituals, I’m too-” suddenly the heels clack down the hallways, getting louder, before getting softer again, “I’m too troublesome.” Sunshine looks down at her lap, Cirrus looks at her. “That's not true Sunny,” Cirrus’ hand rubs the small of sunshines back. Cumulus’ arms wrap around both of them. “You are a valuable member, and you are like a sister to the both of us” Cirrus’ voice cracks lightly, as she plants a soft kiss onto Sunshines forehead. 

“You can stay with us,” Cumulus’ voice rings softly, “Stay with us forever Sunny.” Cumulus’ arms tremble around the two other ghouls. Her eyes squeeze shut, the thought of losing Sunshine or Cirrus breaks her heart, a tear rolls down her cheek lightly. 

“I just can’t go back to that place” Sunshine chokes on her words. Hell was very rough on her, the poor ghoul had to claw herself out of that pit. 

[ 2 years prior- Sunshines summoning] 

The voice screamed as the ghoul clawed its way out of the pit. Its summoning was the longest, most difficult summoning yet. The ghouls were tired of this hours ago, but they couldn’t just give up yet. If they gave up the ghoul would fall down into the depths, being burned and stabbed as they fell, to a second death. A much more painful death. 

“Veni ad me. in tenebris manebis.” The ghouls continue chanting, their hands clasped together. Cumulus and Cirrus’ knees grow weak, Swiss and aether basically holding them up. As time goes on all the ghouls continue chanting, and slowly we see the new ghoul emerge. Her body is small, but slowly unveils itself.

Her feet plant themselves on the ground, as she gains her footing the other ghouls practically collapse around her from exhaustion. Her eyes dart around her, shes scared. One ghoul, Sodo, walks up to her, and welcomes her home with a hug. “Welcome home” his voice rings through the dark room. 

“H-Home?” Her voice cracks softly, “What do you mean home” she looks around. This place doesn’t feel like home. 

“This is where you belong” another voice rings out, this voice more nasal and sing-songy than Sodos. The new ghoul turns around to meet a man in blue robes, and face paint. She jumps back from fear. 

“Who are you? Where am I? What's going on?” The new ghoul cries out, her knees hitting the tile floor beneath her. She feels a hand touch her shoulder, and she pushes it away. “D-Don’t touch me!” her voice shakes, she's scared, she's hurt. 

“Oh goodness! I’m sorry little ghoul,” The man looks down at the ghoul, “You are in your new home now. The ministry.” He smiles, the new ghoul looks up at him, her eyes full of tears. She stands up slowly. Her head shakes slowly.  “I dont have a home.” 

[ 2 years later- sunshine being dragged down the corridor] 

“STAY WITH ME” Cumulus screams, the kind of scream that digs at your throat. She’s failing to choke back tears, “PLEASE, JUST STAY, DONT GIVE UP,” her throat feels like she swallowed a cheese grater. She pushes herself out of Cirrus’ arms, trying to gain the ability to stand. 

Her feet hit the floor, she levels herself and runs after Sunshine. Her body leaps towards her, grabbing Sunshines leg. “You are staying with me” Cumulus shakes. Sisters heels stop, she drops sunshine and turns around. Her face seems twisted, as her hand swats at cumulus. 

“No, Sunshine has serious duties to attend to” Sisters voice echoed in the corridor. Sunshine’s body twitches before she looks up at Cumulus. 

“It would be easier to just forget about me” Sunshine whispers. A tear falls down her dry cheek. “I don’t deserve a home, I didn’t deserve this wonderful ability to have,” she chokes on her words, “a family.” Her head falls back down. As Sister grabs her arm and starts pulling Sunshine back down the hallway. 

“Please-” Cumulus watches as Sunshine is dragged away. She repeats herself “Please-” her voice growing more desperate for her friend.

Cirrus’ body raises to her feet, she walks to Cumulus. Resting a hand on her shoulder, Cumulus trembles under the touch of Cirrus. 

“She can’t be gone” Cumulus sobs. Cirrus looks down at the crying ghoul, “She’s not gone. She’s just…. Away for now.” Cumulus wipes the tears from her eyes. Her face red, and burning. She thinks back to the night after Sunshines Summoning. 

[ The Summoning- 10pm] 

Cumulus and Cirrus welcome the new ghoul, Sunshine, to their room. “It’s not the biggest room in the ministry, but we love it!” Cumulus smiles brightly. Sunshine Smiles back at the short ghoul, still warming up to the new environment. 

“Thank you” Sunshine whispers. Before sitting on the plan bed. Sunshine watches as Cumulus and Cirrus go and grab a bin from a drawer. The little bottles clack around as they both make their way over to Sunshine. 

“Sooooo,” Cirrus starts giggling lightly, “we have a little tradition, whenever we get a new ghoul” Cirrus smiles, and cumulus hops onto the bed. Cirrus shoves the bin of nail polish at Sunshine. “Go ahead, pick a polish” Sunshines eyes scan over the polish options, she randomly picks a polish, examines it and then puts it back.

“This one” Sunshine smiles, the polish in her hand is a gorgeous black lacquer with yellow and gold sparkles throughout it. Cirrus grabs the polish and shakes it up, before grabbing Sunshines hand. Sunshine pulls her hand back causing Cirrus to look at her concerned. “I-I went through a lot in hell….” Sunshine looks down, and her entire posture shifts. 

Cumulus looks at Sunshine “hey, its okay. You dont need to talk about what happened” 

[ the corridor ] 

The door closes behind Sunshines feet. The door that is labeled “Tax room” Both ghouls look at the door. Before standing up. Turning away from their now locked away friend.

[underratedcockblock769]

A Conversation - Horrors AU Mini-Fic

“You’re odd.”

Jeff jolted, the sudden vocal intrusion breaking his focus. He blinked away the trainwreck of jumbled thoughts he had been focused on, turning in his seat to look towards the voice. Shanx’s words were strangely brash against the hushed quiet of the room, his bloodshot eyes focused on Jeff as he leaned against the doorframe. Jeff shifted, shaking off his initial surprise.

“I’m..odd?”

Shanx nodded, hesitating before taking a slow step into the room, keeping his eyes settled on the older Horror in front of him. He hadn’t quite gotten used to being around Jeff and his group. Hell, it was only a week or two ago when he was taken from the Arena when it was busted. Still, everyone seemed nice enough, Jeff especially had taken to comforting Shanx as other Horrors were rescued or killed in the Arena. Still, it was good to be cautious. 

He took another step forward, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet. 

“Yeah. You’re odd.”

“Oh. Well, uh, care to explain?”

Shanx stepped around one of the chairs in the room opposite of Jeff, slowly settling down just on the edge of his seat. Jeff watched him carefully as he sat, blue eyes catching every move despite his calm disposition. He didn’t know what to think when he took Shanx in from the Arena, his first priority being to get him away from that damned place and somewhere safe. The only real time they spent together one-on-one was in the Arena, when Jeff dragged Shanx kicking and screaming from the current fight to get him out of danger, taking several blows in the process and making sure he was alright as the others killed who and what was necessary and searched for others to rescue. This calm interaction, their first domestic talk, made Jeff nervous, and Shanx as well. The young Horror shifted, picking at his nails as he spoke. 

“You cared enough to break up the Arena.”

“Yes, I did. And I still do.”

“Why?”

Jeff slightly raised an eyebrow, shifting in his seat. Shanx shifted as well, anxiously mirroring Jeff's movements. Jeff decided not to comment on it. 

“Because it’s not right. Fighting against your will for the entertainment of people who are that fucked in the head, just to cover your own ass and not get killed. Hell, you could have died every single fight, so it’s not like you had guaranteed safety. You didn’t have anything guaranteed. They pit you and others against each other like a dog fight. Like you were animals. Why the fuck wouldn’t I care?”

“Because it didn’t involve you?”

Jeff paused, gaze sharpening as he focused on Shanx. Shanx shifted uncomfortably, still picking at his nails as he avoided Jeff’s eyes. 

“I mean, it’s not like it was hurting you or Briar or Jack or-”

“Do you feel like you weren’t worth saving?”

It was Shanx’s turn to pause, his voice faltering at the interruption. He shrank slightly under the sharp intensity of Jeff’s gaze, the older Horror leaning forward in his seat. He let his question hang uncomfortably in the air for a long moment, his gaze unwavering as he watched Shanx, until Shanx finally broke the silence, his voice hushed and strained.

“..excuse me?”  

“You talk about the arena bust and saving you and the others as if it weren’t worth it, or it didn’t mean anything. So, answer the question. Do you feel like you weren’t worth saving?” 

“No? Of course not, I mean, I’m glad I was saved, and I thank you for that. But it didn’t really concern you.”

“It did concern me.”

“How?”

“Because it wasn’t fair. Not for you, and not for the others you were fighting. You were fighting because you had to. For your survival. You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“That still doesn’t tell me how it concerned you. I mean, it wasn’t really your issue.” 

Jeff let out a frustrated sigh, Shanx stiffening slightly at the sound before anxiously shifting immediately after.

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not understanding.”

A raised eyebrow and a confused, concerned stare was Jeff’s response, eyes focused on Shanx as the younger Horror tapped anxiously on the arm of his chair. Heaving another sigh, Jeff leaned back in his seat, watching Shanx intensely and scratching lightly at the scar tissue on the corner of his mouth. 

“You know it’s not your fault that you don’t understand, right? Why are you sorry for something that isn’t your fault?” 

Silence. Shanx stared hard at Jeff, his bloodshot eyes clouding with confusion and a type of silent rejection that he couldn’t quite place. Jeff silently stared back, watching as the other silently grappled with the notion that he wasn’t angry. That he wasn’t blaming him. He let the silence grow and settle, finally breaking the silence after a few minutes with a heavy sigh.

“You don’t need to be sorry for not understanding. You don’t need to be sorry for anything, and you don’t need to understand why I intervened. You’re safe, and I’m not going to let you go back there, or anywhere like it. Got it?”

Another heavy silence as Shanx shifted uncomfortably, blinking rapidly against the burning threat of tears. He hesitated, then nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of Jeff’s lips as he did. The elder Horror stood, hands in his pockets as he looked down at Shanx. 

“Let yourself be comfortable. You’re safe. I promise.”

Jeff took a few steps to the doorway, almost out of the room before he heard Shanx finally respond, tentative relief evident in his tone. 

“Thank you.” 

A smile, and a nod, blue eyes meeting teary, bloodshot eyes as Jeff spared a glance over his shoulder. 

“You’re welcome.” 

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

Hello! This is another short little mini-fic for my OC and @world-of-horrors-au Creepypasta Horrors AU. You should totally check them out if you haven't by the way, they're super talented! Thank you for letting me post this my friend, and I hope that anyone reading enjoyed this! I may or may not have more on the way, it really depends on how productive I can be, but I will try my best!

[theengguy]

Demonic Pursuit: A Chaotic Escape

Just another ordinary day unfolded before us. My closest companion, the person I'm engaged to, and I decided to take a leisurely walk outside the bustling city. Out of nowhere, my fiancé nudged me and pointed, "Hey, do you catch that? Over there, some guy's hanging around, giving us this big creepy grin."

I glanced in the direction he indicated, reassuringly chiming in, "Hey, don't sweat it, Fiancé. Probably just some stranger goofing around. What harm could they possibly stir up, especially with you by my side you hunky man of you?" As I spoke, I sealed the sentiment with a gentle peck on his cheek. Time ticked on, but it became evident that the man hadn't budged an inch; he stood there, still fixed on us, that same peculiar expression plastered on his face.

I narrowed my eyes, mimicking the expression of a senior with failing sight attempting to make out the finer details. I squinted at the guy, my mind racing to identify if there was any familiarity in that face. And then it hit me, like a bolt out of the blue, "Hold on a sec, could that be Logan Paul?"

His eyebrow raised, "who the hell is Logan Paul?" I shrugged, "I dunno Jake Paul, either, but I think they're the same person."

Suddenly Logan started sprinting to us with something in his hands. "HEY GUYS DID YOU HEARED ABOUT PRIME HYDRATE?!?!?!?!?!" he said in a eccentric way with a big grin in his face while shoving that bottle in our face.

It only took my fiance two sword swipes to take down the man lunging toward us, bringing a smile to our bloodied faces.

The moment we turned around to keep doing what we previously planned, when he suddenly jumped up again placing his head on my shoulders and telling me in a breathy and heavy way "We even have now Prime Energy that will give you the extra kick into the start." I couldn't move its like my whole body is in a sudden state of fear. When I thought to myself "What is going on? Whats this guys problem!!"

With no viable options left, my fiance's sword flashed again as he impaled our assailant. He was then dragged to a nearby tree, where the sword was plunged through as well. "Oh good, he's been impaled." We called for guards with rope and, like, a ton of knives, and stuck those in for good measure (and for stress relief).

When we finally breathed a sigh of relief to end this horrible situation once and for all, something unexpected occurred as we were about to step back into the city. "Oh no, my dearest Fiancé, this is an earthquake! Please hold me tight." I exclaimed in a dreamy voice, leaping into his arms. He replied with a smile my attempt to hug him. However, what we didn't know was that this wasn't a normal earthquake – it was the impaled Logan Paul, screaming in agony and despair. His voice grew more and more demonic as he became larger, grabbing some of the guards and devouring them. As he tossed the guards into his mouth, all we could hear were their screams echoing from the bottomless pit that was his stomach.Locking his gaze onto us, I moved closer to my fiancé in fear, hoping he could protect me. Logan advanced toward us, his gigantic head looming, and he spoke in a demonic voice, "Prime costs only $9.99 and is available in all local stores in North America and the UK." Trembling in fear, we fell to the ground on our rear ends.

Rear ends now in a defensive position, I shakily held my hand up. "C-can I hold the bottle? I'd like to see for myself." Jake or whatever grinned a wicked grin, placing the bottle in my hand. I began twisting off the cap, and my fiance looked at me in horror. "Dearest, no," he whispered. "You don't have to do this." He had placed his hand on top of the bottle, eyes pleading. "Cap?" I shook my head, "no cap." Tears sparkled in his eyes, "Frfr?" I nodded, "Ong." I winked both eyes at the same time to make him double sure that I was alright. I looked the beastly demon in front of me, new-found resolve in my soul, as I poured the drink directly into the dry soil below. I grabbed my partner's hand. "Run."

The moment we started running, the beast jumped up in the air and screamed in a hateful manner, "MY NAME IS NOT JAKE, BUT LOGAN!" We both ran into the city, hoping to hide there and that the town guards could deal with it. We somehow managed to outrun the beast as it continued screaming that its name is Logan. After a few minutes, my fiancé and I reached the city gates and begged the guard there to close them because there was a terrible beast in front of the city. After a while of begging, and oddly enough, the guard demanded that he could cuddle with my fiancé for a few minutes. He then ordered to close the gate. Just as the gate was closing, we heard the demon Logan running on all fours toward the gate, screaming in a demonic and horrible way, "CONSUME, PIGGIES, CONSUME, AND LET CAPITALISM DESTROY YOUR FUTURE." When he reached the gate, there was suddenly silence. However, a moment later, an aggressive knocking on the door began. It was so loud and terrifying that we all recoiled in fear. The knocking grew louder and more aggressive, the kind of intensity only a demon could create. "Shit, what are we gonna do?" the guard screamed in fear. "We need to alert the Queen so they can save her. Yes, that's the right way. You two try to hide somewhere while we try to hold it back as long as we can," he said to us, even giving my fiancé another kiss on the lips, which was oddly peculiar. I looked at my fiancé with a weirded out look and asked him why the hell he had even embraced it, and he just shrugged it off.

The two of you huddled close together, several barrels and boxes hiding your shaking frames. "Darling, I'm frightened. Frightened by Logake... Jagon?...Paul??... I don't fucking know, it's the same guy, so it really doesn't matter... wait... what was I talking about?" Your fiancé looked back at you with empty eyes, "What? I wasn't really listening, I was wondering what to have for dinner." "...I don't think this is the time for that." My face hid nothing of my confusion. "What do you mean?" He tilted his head. "We have a lot of uninterrupted time right now. We keep having meatloaf I've noticed. Like, I don't mind meatloaf, but it's been every week lately." Your jaw dropped. "Well that's news to me! What, were you just going to pretend for the rest of your life?? I thought you loved meatloaf?! I don't know who you ARE anymore!!" Your voice echoed throughout the room, sealing your fates. Claws raked against the door of the left side of the room, as the previous guard burst through the right door. "Thank god I got here in time! We must hurry!" The guard waved us over, but I shook my head. "My good sir... I must ask you to take on a horrible task." The guard's eyes widened, an audible gulp rising from his throat. "You must sacrifice yourself for the good of this country. For my safety." The guard stared at me, appalled. "The fuck?Jakaul is going to keep relentlessly making me drink that shitty, overpriced drink for the rest of my life! Why the hell would I do that?!" "I'll give you this meatloaf-hating asshole of a fiancé," your tone was flat, but your offer was firm. "BET." And with that, the guard launched into my ex's lap, and they got comfortable as the last of the door was being raked down. I ran through the right door, thankful to get rid of 3 weirdos in one transaction.

As I stepped out of the door, my heart raced with a mixture of fear and determination. I could hear the sounds of chaos behind me as the guard and my now ex-fiancé dealt with the monstrous demon Logan Paul and his Prime Hydration. But for now, my focus was on escaping this nightmare and finding a way to end this madness once and for all.

As I walked through the city streets, my mind was racing with thoughts of what had just transpired. I couldn't believe the bizarre sequence of events that had led me to this point. The encounter with Logan Paul, the demon transformation, and the desperate escape with finding out that my fiancé was gay for the guard – it was like something out of a surreal nightmare.

As I wandered through the city for a few hours, I found myself drawn to a quieter part of town. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the cobblestone streets of this town. My heart was still pounding from the adrenaline, but a sense of calm started to wash over me. I needed a moment to collect my thoughts and process everything that had happened.

Lost in my contemplation, I suddenly heard a gentle voice from behind me. "Are you alright?" I turned to see a woman standing there, her greenish-hazel eyes filled with concern. She had a warm and caring aura about her that was both comforting and familiar.

I took a deep breath, my voice shaky as I replied, "I... I think so. It's been a strange day." She gave me a reassuring smile, stepping closer. "I understand. Sometimes life has a way of throwing us into the unexpected." Her words resonated with me, and I couldn't help but feel a connection to her.

Ana's appearance had a timeless elegance to it, her white hair cascading around her are like a waterfall of wisdom. The lines on her face told stories of a life well-lived. Despite her age, her eyes held a youthful spark that was both captivating and reassuring. I could easily forget myself in them.

"I'm Ana Amari," she finally said, extending her hand toward me. "And you are?"

I hesitated for a moment, then took her hand in mine. "I-I'm Dearest. N-Nice to meet you, A-Ana." Our hands lingered for a brief moment longer than necessary, and I felt a strange sensation in my chest.Ana's smile widened, and she gestured toward a nearby bench. "Would you like to sit and talk for a while?" I nodded, grateful for the opportunity to share my experiences with someone who seemed genuinely caring.As we sat down, Ana listened intently as I recounted the events of the day. I could see a mix of sympathy and understanding in her eyes as I spoke about the strange encounter with Logan and the chaos that had followed. Her hand reached out to gently rest on mine, a gesture of comfort that sent shivers down my spine.

"It sounds like you've been through quite an ordeal," Ana said softly. "But you're safe now." Her words had a soothing effect on me, and I found myself opening up to her in a way I hadn't expected. As the evening sky turned into a canvas of soft pastel like hues, our conversation flowed effortlessly. We talked about life, our experiences, and our hopes for the future. I learned more about Ana's strong sense of responsibility, her caring nature, and her unyielding belief in protecting loved ones.

Ana's stories were filled with a ton of wisdom and insight of a well lived live, and she spoke about her daughter, Pharah, with a mixture of pride and fondness. "My daughter has always been a source of inspiration for me," she said, her eyes glistening with emotion. "I've always hoped that she would follow in my footsteps, albeit in a more peaceful way."

As the night grew darker, Ana looked at me with a soft smile. "You know, sometimes the most unexpected situations can lead to the most meaningful connections, Dearest." Her words resonated with me, and I found myself leaning in slightly, our faces now just inches apart.

Suddenly in that moment, time seemed to slow down for me as our lips met in a gentle and tender kiss. The sensation was electric, sending a tingling warmth through my entire body. As our lips melded together, I felt the soft press of Ana's fingers against my cheek, her touch gentle yet firm, as if she was savoring the moment as much as I was.

The kiss deepened, our mouths moving in a slow and synchronized way. Ana's other hand found its way to my hips, her touch sending shivers down my spine. Our bodies pressed closer, and I could feel the steady thump of her heart against mine, a reassuring rhythm that echoed in the silence between our breaths.

As we continued to kiss, the connection between us grew stronger, as our bodies instinctively gravitating towards one another. Ana's lips traced a path down my jawline, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses that sent a rush of warmth to my cheeks. Her hands explored my form with a tenderness that only comes from a lifetime of experience, her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

When we finally pulled away from that session, our foreheads pressed together, our breaths mingling in the cool night air. I could see the desire and affection in Ana's eyes, a reflection of the emotions swirling within me. As her fingers gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, I couldn't help but lean into her touch, craving the closeness that had blossomed between us.

Ana's smile was a mixture of contentment and anticipation, a silent promise of what was to come. "I'm glad we met." she whispered, her voice carrying a depth of emotion that resonated within me. And then, as if unable to resist the pull any longer, our lips met again in a passionate embrace, a silent affirmation of the connection we had forged.

Our bodies molded together, the warmth of Ana's embrace melting away any lingering traces of fear or uncertainty. Her hands traced the contours of my body with a reverence that sent my heart racing, her touch igniting a fire that I had never experienced before. Each caress, each brush of our bodies, felt like an unspoken promise of the intimacy that was building between us.

As the night grew darker around us, our bodies found solace in each other's arms. Ana's aged body carried a wisdom that was palpable in every touch, every whispered word of affection. And as we held each other close, I felt a sense of completeness that I had never known before, as if all the chaos and uncertainty had led me to this very moment.

Hand in hand, we walked back through the city streets, our hearts intertwined in a way that felt both exhilarating and comforting. The journey ahead was uncertain, but with Ana by my side, I knew that I had found someone who would be there to protect, care for, and love me – just as she had always hoped for her loved ones. After a while of spending time more time together with Ana we decided to offically start our relationship. Everything works perfectly and I really hope that she will one day make me her wife.

The End.

[waloed-steed]

The very fucking reason why I am even here. Forcing me at gun point. Dragging me to HELL and back, kicking and SCREAMING. Then burying me into the same pit of abyss and despair TWICE? My Ride or Die. Guns Blazing. Best Waifu. 100/100 🏅🥇🎖️ALWAYS FIRST PLACE IN THE RACE. I WILL NEVER HAVE PEACE AGAIN AND I'VE NEVER LOOKED BACK.

HUUUBUUUUUUN!!! My ride or die, my bae, my boo boo beeeearrrr!!!! WE REALLY WENT FROM ONE SHIP TO ANOTHER THEN LOOKED DOWN AND REALIZED WE WERE STILL ON THE SAME SHIP HUHH???? MMWAAHAHA I regret NOTHING! You fell into this pit with me and im hanging onto ur leg and not letting you out uwu BEST HUBBUN 100000/100 IM NOT SORRY BAAAAE CHUUUUU~ <3