#i genuinely??? miss the group of survivors i was with???????

[scattered-winter]

back at it again with another batshit dream I had but last night I was on a beach with my sister and brother-in-law, some random background characters, and eddie fucking diaz (chris was there also) and we were just hanging out on the sand but then some prehistoric alligator-dinosaur-sharks started jaws-ing people in the ocean and eddie swam in to get chris out (he was fine) and so we all went to the hotel that was for some reason right on the beach because it wasn't a great day for swimming I guess. (my sister and her husband didn't appear in the dream after the beach and I'm assuming they got gotten by the shark things but I don't know). and then we were hunkering down in the lobby for a while until we started hearing screaming and chaos and explosions outside and we looked out the windows to see that cordyceps (tlou) was breaking out and there were zombies everywhere and some were trying to break into the hotel so we all ran into the stairwell to get away from them and from there we started fighting our way up the hotel levels (it had 7 floors) and we lost a few people and had to lock them in rooms since we didn't have any guns (but eddie and I had katanas for some reason, and so he took point in the stairwell and I brought up the rear in case anything came after us) and as we went up, we all started to get to know each other. there was a very kind elderly woman who had recently been through a nasty divorce who had gone on vacation to this beach to try and recover, and she held chris' hand on the way up the stairs since eddie was busy protecting the group from the front, and she gave everyone little peppermints from her purse to keep spirits up. there was a little kid who was learning to draw and I showed him some tips and tricks during our breaks. we were all helping each other and protecting each other and we were close-knit family by the time the dream ended (I miss them). by about the 5th floor it was pretty clear that the whole world was ending because 911 wasn't working and nobody could get ahold of anyone outside the hotel, and from the windows we could see the chaos unfold like a spreading rash. the 6th floor had the prehistoric alligator-dinosaur-sharks for SOME reason (they were hopping around on their flippers which should have been funny but in context it was TERRIFYING) and eddie and I had to slice them up with our swords so everyone could get past them. we had to fight our way through a horde (miraculously nobody got bitten or scratched) until we reached the 7th floor, and the elevator that would take us to the roof so we could get picked up by one of the rescue choppers that were flying all over. (how the elevator was working when there was no electricity, I have no idea.) we tried to fit everyone in at once because like I said, we were family now and didn't want anyone left behind, but there were so many of us that we had to split into groups. I went in the first group w my katana in case something was on the roof, and chris, the drawing kid, and a few others came with me. eddie stayed behind to go with the second group since he had the other katana, and the nice peppermint lady stayed too. we got to the roof to find a few other survivors, and sent the elevator down for everyone else, and the second group got up with no trouble, and a few minutes later the helicopters came. and the very last bit of my dream was a slow camera pan over the entire destroyed city, and the camera stopped on a view of another building (an apartment complex) a few blocks over from the hotel, where the cordyceps had first broken out. the blinds were tattered and torn, the windows broken, and there was blood and bits of gore all over the blinds and walls and broken glass. and then I woke up in my dark room feeling like a zombie or alligator-dinosaur-shark was gonna jump at me from outta nowhere and I have to just live like that lmao

[steddieas-shegoes]

Requests: Steve adopting an abandoned child post earthquake in Hawkins after the spring break from hell. And him realizing all the ways he was hurt as a child due to his parents neglect. And how he overcomes it and raises his baby-child with gentleness, warmth, patience and love

OKAY GENUINELY I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS PROMPT AND IT STILL WASN'T AS MUCH AS I WANTED TO DO. FAIR WARNING: this is an emotional roller coaster. It ends HAPPY. But there are a lot of sad and bittersweet moments and feelings leading up to that moment. There is the mention of child neglect, and that can be difficult for some people to read, even with a happy ending, so please keep that in mind before starting this. Also, this is not how the law or CPS works at all, and it wasn't in the 80s either, but this is fiction and I do what I want. I hope someone can continue this idea somewhere because it is so special to me now. This is 6200 words of me not knowing how to wrap it up with a bow. I hope you love this my darling, thank you for this one. - Mickala ❤️

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

Steve spent the last 12 hours pacing the waiting room floor at the hospital. He’d promised the kids he would stay until there was an update on Eddie and Max, and their parents had insisted they go home after they’d been quickly attended to for their minor injuries.

Max was stable, but not awake. They weren’t sure if she ever would be again. Steve passed that on to Nancy so she could call everyone.

Eddie finally made it out of surgery, alive, but barely.

He’d lost a lot of blood and they weren’t able to give him a transfusion until Wayne got there to donate.

It was touch and go for another few hours in recovery.

But things calmed down a bit, his heart rate settling at a normal rate, his oxygen maintaining where it should be with the mask on, the bleeding stopped and his blood regenerating on its own.

He wasn’t awake, but he was alive.

That was enough for Wayne and Hopper to kick him out of the hospital and make him go home.

“Shower. Eat. Sleep. In that order, Harrington,” Hopper said, the gruffness in his voice overruled by the concern.

He was up to speed on everything he missed, and he wasn’t thrilled about how much Steve had put on the line for everyone.

So Steve left, even though he wanted to stay, needed to have eyes on Eddie, on Max.

He had to trust that they were being taken care of.

He made it home, did two of the three things Hopper told him to. His shower was long and hot, finally able to wash away the blood and dirt and Upside Down particles that clung to his skin for the last couple of days. His dinner was quick and unfulfilling, but frozen meals usually are.

And then he did try to sleep. He tried on the couch first, his usual go-to spot after crises. Then he tried to go to his bed, hoping the weight of his comforter would help lull him to sleep.

But two hours later, he was still wide awake.

So he got up, put on jeans and a sweater, and made his way to the school, where emergency services had been set up.

It was chaotic, still very little organization amongst groups. The firefighters had been dispatched all over town, and most medical professionals had been called into the hospital or to help EMTs on calls. A handful of teachers had been put in charge of the check-in process here, making sure anyone who came through was on a list of survivors first, then sent to help where they were needed if they were able.

Steve was able, so he put his name on the list and was told to stand with a group at the far corner of the gym. Everyone in this group was waiting for a dispatch crew of firefighters to come get them to help locate survivors.

They were given vests, gloves, and helmets to wear, and given quick safety briefings. They were told not to move any rubble, that if they suspected someone was under some, to call for the professionals. They were just extra eyes and ears because everyone was stretched too thin for a disaster of this magnitude and help from local towns was slow to arrive.

Steve figured this would help him, if he stayed busy and managed to help people, he wouldn’t think about how helpless he was when it came to Max and Eddie.

The first location they were dropped at was a small neighborhood on the outskirts of town. Most of the homes had been completely demolished, cracks in the ground swallowing pieces of them. If there were any survivors here, they would be in desperate need of medical attention.

But after nearly four hours of searching, only one person was found, their leg trapped under a large wooden beam. The leg was broken, but they were fine other than that.

Steve felt relief that nothing more serious had happened there.

But the second area was worse.

It wasn’t a neighborhood, just a small wooded area surrounding two homes a good distance apart. Surprisingly, the homes were still standing, but everything around them was destroyed. Fires had been only recently extinguished, downed trees and power lines blocking most of the driveway and road in front of them.

“This should be relatively quick, both homes are empty and cars are gone, so we think everyone managed to get out safely, but we do need to be sure,” the firefighter in charge of this group said before leading them forward.

The smaller of the two houses was empty, though a mess, like the occupants had rushed to pack necessities and threw anything else on the ground as they rushed to get out.

The other home, though, was surprisingly clean. Kept up in a way Steve wouldn’t have expected for the panic most people showed while escaping town.

Everyone assumed maybe the occupants hadn’t even been home when the quake hit.

But Steve decided to go upstairs anyway.

Something was telling him this wasn’t normal.

It felt familiar in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge yet.

No one else followed him, all of the volunteers congregating in the living room area to discuss their next location before heading back to the school for a break.

Steve followed his gut, and his gut told him to check the bedroom at the end of the hall.

He opened the door, not surprised to see that nothing seemed strange at first glance.

Then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, under the bed.

He would’ve checked there anyway, that’s where he would have hidden in this kind of situation, too.

“I guess this place is all clear,” Steve said, quiet enough not to be heard by anyone downstairs yet, but loud enough to be heard by the person under the bed.

“Wait!”

It was a kid, Steve figured as much based on the items on the desk in the corner and the poster on the wall.

The small boy crawled out from under the bed, panic on his face.

“Are you gonna take me to my parents?” The boy asked, lips wobbling.

“I’m gonna try. I’m Steve, what’s your name?”

“Elliott.”

“Nice to meet you, Elliott. How old are you?”

“Nine.”

Jesus Christ. Where had his parents even been? Why weren’t they looking for him?

He hoped they were on their way back and just stuck trying to get into town.

But a part of him had already known that wasn’t true. A part of him knew the moment they pulled into the area that he’d find someone left here, someone who shouldn’t have ever been alone.

“Alright, Elliott, let’s get you back to the school. We can put your name on the list so your parents can find you easier, okay? I can stay with you until they get here.”

“I don’t know if they will.”

Steve’s heart stopped for a moment.

Sure, his parents never came back after the Upside Down bullshit, but he’d been a teenager and adult. They probably assumed he wasn’t involved in any of it and was fine.

But Elliott was nine. Even his parents would have come back for him at that age.

They never should have left him alone to begin with, but even they knew the trouble they’d be in for leaving him at that age after a fucking earthquake.

“Of course they will, buddy. It’s just hard getting into Hawkins right now, you’ll see on our way back.”

He placed his hand on Elliott’s shoulder, not surprised when he tensed up under him for a moment before he relaxed.

Steve hadn’t been used to casual touch until he met Nancy.

But Elliott deserved to feel cared for right now, so he kept his hand there, let him get used to it for a moment, and then guided him out the door and down the stairs.

Most of the group had moved back outside, but a few people remained.

One of the few women in the group looked over at his entrance, her jaw dropping when she saw he had a child with him.

“Oh my God!”

Steve held his hand up, knowing Elliott probably didn’t want to draw a lot of attention to himself.

“He’s okay. He managed to find a safe place to hide. His parents might be looking for him though so we should get him back,” Steve said calmly.

No one crowded him, but the firefighter waiting by the van that was transporting everyone checked his heart and lungs, made sure he didn’t have any visible wounds or injuries.

Elliott didn’t let go of Steve the entire time, his hand gripping his forearm like he was terrified to lose him among the group.

Steve didn’t try to pull away, not once.

He knew Elliott needed someone. He could be that someone for him.

—-------------

When they arrived back at the school, they put his name on the list, and since he was a minor, they had him go to one of the classrooms that was being watched over by security while they tried to contact his parents.

He told them they left for a business trip over a week ago, he didn’t know when they would be back, and his aunt checked on him every morning, but he hadn’t seen her since the quake.

Steve stood by as he spoke to the responsible adults, not letting Elliott out of his sight.

Elliott begged for Steve to come with him to wait while they tried to locate his parents, so he did.

He realized pretty quickly that Elliott must not have slept last night; He curled against Steve’s side on the floor almost immediately and fell asleep, light snores making Steve smile to himself.

The floor was hard, the wall behind him was somehow harder, but he wouldn’t move short of another emergency.

They stayed like that for hours, kids coming and going as more were found and reunited with their families.

Elliott was the youngest one left in the room, all the other kids high school age.

When one of the men from the group he was in earlier came in the room to get another kid, he asked if there was any update on Elliott.

“Nah, they’re still trying to find them. The aunt um…” The guy looked nervously down at the sleeping Elliott. “She didn’t make it. Was on her way to try to get him when another crack hit the road she was driving on, car crashed. They contacted the dad’s business and were told he’s out of the country and won’t be returning calls until next week.”

“How long are they gonna make him stay here while they figure it out?”

“No clue, man. I’ll ask someone.”

But he didn’t come back and Elliott deserved something better than the floor to sleep on.

“Hey, buddy,” Steve said, gently nudging his shoulder to wake him up. “Sorry, just gotta run and ask someone something real quick.”

Elliott grabbed his shirt, holding it in his fist tightly.

“Don’t go! Please,” he begged, tears welling in his eyes.

Steve’s heart broke.

He’d been this kid for so much of his childhood, practically begging people to stick around so he didn’t have to be drenched in loneliness again.

He knew he would be right back, but to Elliott, especially after the quake, he probably felt like anyone who left would be gone forever.

“Come with me. We’ll find you some dinner while I find out how things are going.”

He stood up, his legs numb from sitting on the floor so long, and helped Elliott find his balance after waking up so abruptly.

They left the room, the security nodding them on when he saw Steve was with him, and walked down the hall to the cafeteria area.

They were serving ham and cheese sandwiches, bags of chips, and water for everyone. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.

If he could find a phone, maybe he could get Robin to bring him and Elliott more food.

Elliott shyly thanked the person handing out the meals, and Steve slowly guided him to an empty table while his eyes searched for anyone he recognized.

He almost did a happy dance when he saw Dustin and Claudia across the room.

“Hey, that’s actually my friend and his mom. Can you wait here while I grab them?”

Elliott nodded nervously, clearly only letting him walk away because he would be within his sight the entire time.

Steve ran over to them, wincing slightly when the bite on his stomach started pulsing. Probably should take it easier while that healed.

“Dustin!” Steve exclaimed as he got closer.

Dustin’s head shot around, smile lighting up his face as he realized it was Steve.

“Dude! Everyone’s been trying to find you for hours. Have you been here all day?”

“Kinda. I came to help with searching and I found a kid earlier. They’re trying to find his parents, but he’s been kind of attached to me.”

“Damn, I hope they find them soon. Phone lines keep going down. You seen Hopper come by yet?”

“No, has he gotten any sleep yet?”

“Doubt it. Ma, do you have any cookies left for Steve?”

Claudia came bustling over, digging through her purse as she walked.

“Oh, I’m sure I do! Hi, Steve, dear. Hope you’re doing okay in all this madness.”

“I’m doing alright,” Steve gave her a small smile as she managed to find the cookies and hand them over. “Hey, do you know the parents of Elliott Devers?”

“Oh, I know of them, sure. Only met them once, they never seem to be in town. He’s a sweet boy, his aunt seems to take care of him most of the time.”

Steve filled her in on what he knew so far, that Elliott’s aunt had died, that no one could reach his parents, that he’d been alone in the house for at least a full day before Steve found him.

That Elliott didn’t seem to want to be separated from Steve.

Dustin was watching him talk, eyebrows furrowing like he was trying to think of something.

“Wait, his dad’s the guy who was under investigation for tax evasion, fraud, and identity theft, isn’t he?”

Steve’s stomach dropped.

His brain made connections that only children of rich parents can in a matter of seconds.

His parents ran to another country on “business” because that was the only way they were allowed to leave while he was under investigation. No one could reach them because they gave fake information so they could go into hiding. Because he was guilty of all of the things he was under investigation for and didn’t want to lose everything and end up in prison.

Fuck.

Claudia must have realized the same thing, a deep frown settling on her face.

“Elliott is the boy sitting at that table?” She asked as she pointed towards him.

He was watching them as he ate, eyes wide as he kept glancing around the room.

Steve nodded.

“If they ran, and they aren’t coming back, where will he go?” Steve asked.

“I’m sure he’ll be placed with a family who can take him until they can figure out a more permanent place, but that may be hard right now with so many people leaving Hawkins. He may have to leave town,” Claudia said, though Steve could tell she was trying to figure out how to take him in, even if only for a few days.

“What would I have to do to keep him while they keep looking?”

“Oh, that’s a question for Hopper, sweetie. I’m not sure you’d fit the requirements, even though I think he’d be very lucky to get to stay with you,” Claudia touched his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze in comfort.

“Is he coming by?”

“Hopper? Yes, he just got done at the hospital handling some things for Edward,” Claudia said.

“Eddie, Ma, how many times do I have to tell you?”

“The tone! Watch it!” Steve said before Claudia could respond.

She smirked at Steve, then gave Dustin a look that said she wasn’t going to listen to him and walked away.

“I gotta go with her, she’s bringing dinner to Wayne at the hospital.”

“Is Eddie awake?”

“Not yet, but they think it could be anytime. They said the drugs in his system are heavy enough to keep him out for a while.”

“But he seems okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Max?”

He almost didn’t want to ask, but he had to.

“No news.”

Steve nodded once, acknowledging that Dustin didn’t want to talk about it right now, that it was tough to even think about how she was probably not gonna wake up anytime soon if ever.

“Hey, come by my house tomorrow, okay? We can watch a movie or somethin’.”

“Sure.”

Steve gave Dustin a quick hug before making his way back to Elliott, who looked like he might start crying any moment.

“Hey, buddy. Sorry that took longer than I thought, but…” Steve pulled the bag of cookies from behind his back with a smile. “I got cookies! Claudia makes the best chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. You’ll love them.”

Elliott relaxed a little, smiling up at Steve as he reached for the bag of cookies.

“Is she nice? She looks nice.”

“She’s awesome. She always brings me soup if I’m sick.”

“Is that what moms do? My aunt sometimes does, but she doesn’t know how to make the kind I like.”

Steve bit his lip.

“What kind do you like?”

“My favorite is tomato and noodles. She can only make chicken noodle. It’s okay, but sometimes it has a funny taste.”

Steve smiled at him, glad he was at least talking, even if what he was saying was heartbreaking.

“I’m sure Claudia can make you some tomato and noodles. I’ll call and ask.”

“But not now, right?”

Elliott’s voice filled with panic, his eyes widening.

“No, I’m staying with you right now. The chief should be here soon and we can figure out what’s going on, okay?”

“Like, the chief of police? You know him?”

“Yeah, Hopper’s nice. Don’t let his mean face scare you. He’s kind of a teddy bear.”

“Excuse you, I’m not a teddy bear. I’m a grizzly bear,” Hopper said behind Steve.

Elliott laughed, and Hopper tried to hide a small smile. Teddy bear.

“Are you Elliott?” Elliott nodded. “Can we go talk for a few minutes just us? I promise Steve can wait right outside the door.”

Hopper gave Steve a look that said he was about to ruin this kid’s day as if it didn’t already suck enough.

“Um, can Steve come in the room too?”

“If you want him to, sure.”

“I want him to.”

“Okay then, let’s go.”

Steve grabbed everything off the tables, throwing the trash away on the walk towards the teacher’s lounge area that had been set up for the cops to conduct phone calls and interviews as needed.

It was empty now, probably thanks to Hopper taking control quickly.

They sat down around a table, Elliott’s hand finding Steve’s quickly.

“Alright, Elliott, so I have a few questions and then I have some news,” Hopper started, his voice maintaining no emotion the way he’d been taught.

“Okay.”

“How long have your parents been gone this time?”

“I dunno. A week, maybe a little longer.”

“And you were alone that whole time?”

Elliott looked to Steve, like he needed help to answer, but Steve just smiled at him and mouthed ‘just be honest, you’re not in trouble.’

“Most of the time. My aunt came to check on me in the mornings and bring me food for the day.”

“Aunt Janice?”

“Yeah.”

“Bud, I’m sorry to tell ya this, but your Aunt Janice was in a really bad accident and didn’t make it,” Hopper’s voice started to show some emotion, but Steve squeezed Elliott’s hand so he wouldn’t focus on that.

“She died?”

“Yeah, bud. I’m sorry.”

“But who will bring me food in the morning?”

Steve couldn’t do this. Holy shit, he could not do this. How was Hopper able to do this?

“Well, we still haven’t been able to call your parents. Do you know exactly where they might be?”

“I don’t know. They don’t tell me where they go.”

Steve and Hopper looked at each other.

Hopper knew Steve had been in a similar position when he was younger, but no one checked on him. Hopper had often been the one to show up at his door during his early teens to make sure he had food and wasn’t hurt.

“What if he stayed with me until you find them?” Steve asked Hopper.

Elliott turned to him.

“I can stay with you?” He asked excitedly.

“Oh, I’m not sure about that. There’s a process for this kinda thing,” Hopper began.

“Then start the process. He’s staying with me,” Steve said firmly, not caring if he sounded rude, not caring if Hopper hated him for it, just wanting Elliott safe and in a house instead of a school converted to a disaster relief zone.

Hopper eyed him up and down, and the way Elliott was holding his hand and bouncing excitedly in his chair.

“Alright, fine. But it’s a week by week basis until we can get ahold of his parents,” Hopper said directly to Steve.

“Steve, do you have a microwave? I make popcorn so good, like so good. I can make it tonight even!”

Steve smiled at him, and then at Hopper, who was watching with a fond smile.

“I’m sure I have what you need to make some popcorn, buddy.”

“You wait here, I have to get the release from CPS. They’re in the front office.”

Elliott went on and on about all the things they could do while he stayed with him, and when he found out Steve had a pool, he didn’t even stop for breath as he explained that he was the best swimmer when they took a field trip last year to the pool and that he could probably even beat Steve in a race.

Steve just smiled and agreed.

—-----------------------

A week with Elliott went by, and it was easy.

Steve was terrified how quickly he just fit in.

He fit in at his house, making it feel like a home, with his rambunctious energy and nightly popcorn making.

He fit in with the kids, showing interest in D&D even though he’d never heard of it before.

He even fit with Robin, who kind of hated kids, but thought Elliott was probably the cutest kid she’d ever met.

One night, while Dustin and Mike were showing Elliott how to build a character, Robin asked him the question he’d been dreading.

“What happens if he can’t stay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m assuming they’ll find his parents soon, and when they do, he’ll have to go live with them again. Or at least his mom since his dad will be in prison for life at this rate. How are you gonna handle that?”

He had no clue. He wanted Elliott to have parents who stuck around, and who loved him, and let him pop popcorn every night.

But realistically, even if they did come back, that wasn’t what his life would look like.

His life would be a lot like Steve’s was, sad and lonely, and he didn’t deserve that.

“I’m gonna fight for him. I don’t know what that means yet, but I know that whatever is best for him is what I’m gonna make sure happens.”

Robin wrapped him up in a hug, her arms squeezing him to her.

“You’re gonna be a great dad someday.”

No one had ever said that to him before.

But maybe he could believe it.

—-------------------------------------

Steve was the first person to come to the hospital when Eddie woke up, Elliott excitedly chattering from the backseat of his car the whole way.

It was helping Steve’s nerves, but he knew he wasn’t giving Elliott the attention he needed.

“Sorry, buddy. What was that?”

Elliott was quiet for a moment.

“Are you worried?”

Steve smiled at him in the rearview mirror, his hands gripping the wheel tight.

“A little. You remember how everyone told you about Eddie? How he saved us all and almost died?”

“Yeah, he’s a hero!”

“He is. But he’s still healing and I’m just worried about how hurt he is.”

“Oh. So we can’t hug him or hold his hand to help him feel better?” Elliott groaned. “Oh man, I was gonna bring him popcorn!”

Steve laughed quietly to himself.

“I think he’s on a pretty strict diet right now, buddy. Maybe when he’s out of the hospital we can have him over for a movie and you can make him some.”

“When will he be out?”

“I dunno yet. I think it might still be a little while.”

“Will I still live with you then?”

Steve gulped.

“I hope so.”

“Me too,” Elliott said quietly, staring out the window as they pulled into the hospital parking lot.

His mood was a bit somber as they walked through the halls of the bustling hospital, going to the fifth floor in the elevator where Eddie’s room was.

When he got to the right room, he knocked on the door even though it was open, smiling in at Wayne.

“Hey, come in, Steve. Eddie, Steve’s here,” Wayne said as he turned to Eddie, who was awake, but mostly horizontal still in bed.

“Steve?” Eddie’s rough voice asked.

“Hey, Eds. Hope it’s okay I brought my buddy, Elliott, to say hi. He’s heard a lot about you and Dustin and Mike and Will have been teaching him D&D for when you get out of here.”

Steve walked close to the bed, holding Elliott’s hand. He seemed shy suddenly, which wasn’t like him, not since he was living with Steve.

“Hey, Elliott. You keepin’ Steve company?”

“Yes, sir.”

Wayne snorted.

“Oh, son, you don’t have to be formal with Eddie. He’s barely older than you in his head.”

Eddie glared at Wayne, but smiled at Elliott.

“Seriously, bud, just Eddie is fine. So you ready for a campaign?”

“I dunno. Dustin said maybe I can play with you guys?”

“‘Course you can. I have so many ideas when I get outta here.”

Eddie turned to Steve and gave him a smirk.

“As long as we can host at your place?”

Steve blushed, remembering the last time he had Eddie’s full attention on him, back when his words “make him pay” sounded a lot like “I love you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can do that. When do you get out of here?”

Elliott was loosening his anxious grip on Steve’s hand as the nerves wore off.

“They said not for a couple weeks, but I’m gonna walk right out of here the moment I can feel my legs again.”

Elliott let out a giggle and Eddie smiled.

“You can help me, right? I may need some support to run for it.”

“No! You have to stay until you’re all better, goofball.”

“That’s exactly what I told him, Elliott. You’re much wiser than he is,” Wayne said with a roll of his eyes.

Elliott moved closer to the side of the bed, his hands folded in front of him.

“Um. Could I hold your hand? So you feel better?”

Steve was going to cry.

Eddie kind of looked like he might, too.

“Yeah, I could use a hand to hold, bud. Thanks for offering. Wayne’s hand gets sweaty, but don’t tell him I said that,” he whispered the last part to Elliott, but loud enough so everyone could still hear.

Elliott held his hand, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed.

He told Eddie all about the character Dustin and Mike helped him build, about how they might run a practice campaign with him soon. He told him about the popcorn he would make for the first time he came over.

Steve watched fondly, realizing quickly that this wasn’t something he could lose.

Not Elliott, and not Eddie either.

—-----------------------------

Elliott’s parents were still missing.

It’s been almost a month, Eddie was released from the hospital a day ago, and Elliott was still living with Steve.

The longer he stayed, the more it would hurt if he left.

They got into a routine.

School had been canceled for the rest of the year, so they mostly just made breakfast together, went in the pool, hung out with the kids, visited Eddie, played basketball, and had popcorn every night.

Steve knew Elliott was happy, he knew he was happy.

He was terrified it would end.

They were hosting Eddie for a movie night, and Elliott was more excited than ever.

Steve was a nervous wreck.

He was in charge of making sure Eddie didn’t overdo it, making sure he took his nighttime medications, and getting him to bed at a reasonable hour. According to Wayne, his pills made him tired and he would fight sleep if you didn’t force him into a bed.

Steve spent the day cleaning, baking, and preparing.

By dinner time, when Eddie would be arriving, Elliott was starting to question it.

“What’s wrong? Do you not want Eddie to come over?”

“No! Of course I want him to come over.”

“So…why are you being like this?”

“I’m…”

“Is it because you love Eddie?”

Steve choked on air.

“What?”

“Or do you think Eddie doesn’t love you?”

“Elliott, gonna say a big kid word right now. What the hell do you mean?”

Elliott rolled his eyes.

“You want to make Eddie feel happy and safe here, and you always get this stupid look on your face when we visit him, and then when I asked Wayne if you two were boyfriends he laughed and said ‘probably soon.’ So you love him, right?”

Steve’s mouth was working open and shut, open and shut, no noise coming out.

“Two boys can be together, you know. Robin told me.”

“She what? When?”

“When she told me two girls can be together.”

Steve put his face in his hands and couldn’t help the laugh of disbelief he let out as Elliott touched his back to comfort him.

“Did you not know you loved Eddie?”

“Uh. I guess I didn’t know that other people thought I loved Eddie.”

“Oh. So are you gonna be boyfriends?”

“I…I don’t know, buddy. Maybe.”

“I think you should be. Then it might be like I have two dads.”

What?

What.

“What?”

Elliott pulled his hand away and suddenly seemed nervous.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

Steve couldn’t handle the look on Elliott’s face.

“Elliott, look at me, buddy.” He waited for Elliott to look at him. “Is that what you think of me as? Like your dad?”

Elliott nodded.

“Come here,” Steve said, pulling Elliott into a hug. “You’re the best kid, you know that?”

Elliott nodded, and Steve let out a wet laugh.

“Uh, everything okay in here?” Eddie said from the doorway.

“Eddie!” Elliott let out, and despite the mood of the previous conversation, he was smiling from ear to ear.

Eddie smiled at him and pulled him into the least hurt side of him for a hug.

He looked at Steve with a questioning look. Steve just shook his head quickly, wiping the tears from his eyes quickly.

“Can I make popcorn now, pleeeeease?” Elliott asked, bouncing on his heels.

“Yes, fine. But only one bowl right now. You can make more after dinner.”

“Okay, dad!” he yelled as he ran to the popcorn maker.

Eddie’s brows raised to his forehead as he looked at Steve, who was crying buckets at this point.

“What’s that about, Stevie?” Eddie whispered as he came up to him.

“I um, I guess he just feels like I’m his dad,” Steve shrugged.

“Are you okay with that?”

“I just don’t want him to go.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie said, pulling Steve into a crushing hug that had to hurt him. Steve sniffled against his shoulder, letting himself cry for a minute. “Did Hopper say he may have to go soon?”

“No, but I mean, if they find his parents or if CPS decides he has to go to a real family, then he’ll have to.”

“Stevie, they wouldn’t just take him. Not when he’s safe here and wants to be here. I promise.”

“But what if he goes somewhere far away or to people who won’t let me see him?”

Eddie held the back of his head against his shoulder, placing a kiss to the top of his head.

“He won’t. We’ll fight for him to stay here, okay? He’s got a family here, with us. Right?”

“Us?” Steve asked as he pulled away.

“Yeah. Us. Sound okay to you?”

Steve could only nod as he wiped his running nose.

How attractive.

“Hopper still doesn’t have any idea where they are, right?”

“Nope.”

“They’ll give up eventually. I hate to say it, but they won’t put more effort into a kid who has a safe place to go when they have bigger problems. Like how half the town is still homeless because of a fucking earthquake.”

“That’s a big kid word!” Elliott yelled from his spot at the counter.

“I’m a big kid!” Eddie yelled back, smirking at Steve.

“But I’m not!” Elliott yelled as they heard the popcorn machine starting up.

“Fine!”

Eddie placed a kiss on Steve’s forehead, then one against his lips.

It was soft, chaste, barely a kiss at all.

But it was a perfect first kiss for them.

—----------------------------

Another month passed with no news.

Eddie was at Steve’s house almost every day, spending time with Elliott, spending time with the party, with Steve.

Steve had converted the main guest room into Elliott’s permanent bedroom, but was scared to think of it that way still.

Eddie tried to reassure him, but even he was nervous that no final decisions had been made and the case remained open.

Until Hopper came by one night, well after Elliott went to bed. Eddie was doing the dishes while Steve was prepping some fruit for Elliott’s breakfast before his first day of summer camp the next day.

“Hop.”

Steve felt his stomach sink.

They were going to take Elliott.

“Steve. Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Steve let him in, his face forced into casual calm, but on the inside he was already screaming and crying about what was about to happen.

Hopper sat down on the chair, gesturing for Steve and Eddie to sit on the couch.

“So.”

“You’re taking him aren’t you? He can’t stay.”

“What? No.” Hopper frowned. “No, Steve. The opposite actually. We’re closing the case. CPS said after interviews with him, even if his parents did get found or come back on their own, he wouldn’t be put back in their care.”

“But what about putting him with another family?”

Hopper sighed. He watched Eddie place a hand on Steve’s knee to calm him down.

“They’ve spoken in detail with him about his current situation. They believe that you’re the person he wants to live with and they aren’t going to disrupt his life any more than it already has been. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

Steve felt like he could breathe for the first time in his life.

“He can stay? With me?”

“He can stay with you.”

Steve let out a sob and fell against Eddie’s side. Eddie was crying too, but trying to keep more control so he could comfort Steve.

“CPS has to do a home visit to finalize everything, but if you’re good with it, you can officially adopt him. He’s been considered abandoned by his parents, and since it’s been 60 days, they relinquish all rights automatically.”

“How quickly can we do that?”

“We? Both of you?”

“I mean, can we both even do that?”

Hopper shrugged.

“Don’t know. But they’re probably expecting just Steve for now. They’ll call tomorrow to schedule everything and give you a chance to talk to Elliott.”

Steve and Eddie both nodded.

“I’m gonna leave you two to it, but call me if you need me. Congrats, Steve. I know you wanted this. I know he wanted this.”

“Thanks.”

Hopper saw himself out, closing the door quietly so it wouldn’t wake Elliott up.

“Eddie, did that really happen? Am I dreaming?”

“No, sweetheart, you aren’t dreaming.”

“I get to be his dad.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want to be his other dad?”

“I would love to, baby. Let’s ask him tomorrow, though. It’s up to him.”

Steve nodded.

It was up to Elliott, but he knew what Elliott wanted.

He knew what he wanted.

They were gonna be a family. A real family. No more worrying about someone deciding to take Elliott away from him.

He could finally use this house that had been left to him by his parents for something other than being miserable. He could keep it filled with love and laughter and happiness and maybe the occasional stupid argument.

Maybe Elliott would make friends at school in the fall and want to have hangouts here. Maybe they could both save up some money and take him on a vacation somewhere. Maybe someday they could get married and Elliott could be the best man.

Anything could happen.

Steve couldn’t wait.

[ramblinscramblin]

Hey there! I read your headcanons and they are pretty cool! I wanted to ask for small headcanons myself

Sniper, Scout and Pauling discovers that reader is a vampire! How will they react?

Reader can be any pronounce you want. You can do romantic or platonic, whatever is comfortable with you!

-💀🌌

→With a vampire!Reader!

Genre: fluff, a lil silly

Characters: Sniper, Scout, and Pauling Warning: canon typical gore.

I love love love this request, thank you so much! This was kind of a hard prompt to get ideas for for some reason. Also I’ve actually never written for Pauling before, let’s hope I get her right!

Sniper

Sniper took note of your gloomy and loner disposition right away.

It’s part of the reason he bothered getting close to you in the first place.

He’s observant so he probably noticed everything separately even if he hadn’t fully put it together yet. Definitely took note of your fangs.

The dislike of garlic, avoiding the sun, never seen eating anything, never seeming flushed or red, your sunken in look, everyone sort of already joked about it.

So he wasn’t all too shocked when you told him.

I honestly imagine he feels pretty threatened by you.

He is generally distrusting of people normally, so you being a night stalking blood drinking beasty doesn’t do much to quell his anxieties.

Couldn’t help but feel intrigued though, can't help but feel compelled by you, even despite his reservations he can't really keep away for long.

The idea of a vampire I feel like would be something he would be very attracted too, the thrill of it all kind of excites him. Of course he doesn't say that, or act on it very often, but you know it anyways.

Idk if this is an out of character headcanon but I highkey think Sniper is a monster fucker.

Supplies you with blood if he sees your low, enjoys how much you brighten after a drink.

Overall finds you very fasicnating, likes learning how to manage life as a vampire

Scout

Scout thinks you're messing with him until the moment he watches you drain the blood from a civilian.

Cautious with the kinds of jokes he makes after that.

He guesses it does kind of make sense in retrospect, you did have a sort of dark air about you.

Honestly finds it so sick, thinks of you as sort of his personal gaurd dog at night, wouldn't say that outloud but internally yes.

He generally would treat you about the same, vampire or not.

If we're talking old timey vampires here finds it hilarious that you can't enter a space without explict permission, will torture you by not inviting you into a room as he walks right through.

Thinks you turning into a bat is one of the coolest things, honestly big jealous vibes from Scout, he wishes he was a big cool vampire too.

It’s a fantasy of his for you to drink some of his blood, is too proud/paranoid to ever say it out loud. But you don’t miss his little sighs as he looks at your fangs.

Secretly dreams of you turning him too, so very secretly.

Pauling

Was honestly so overworked she hardly even noticed.

"Huh? What did you say? Oh yeah, yeah that's nice," she said with a polite nod one day, burying a group of hippies as she did so.

Just enjoys having someone with her during the night, like Scout wouldn't realize you were serious until she sees you feed, once she does it's like a start up noise.

Genuinely uses you as an asset in her work, you turning into a bat and flying is amazing for locating survivors, youre such a big help!

Like I said enjoys the nightly company more than words can describe, she loves quality time.

Really enjoys your darker aesthetic and sometimes thinks you're way too cool to be spending all your time with her.

Will make sure you're always fed, you never have to worry about going hungry while Pauling is around.

If you've been around a few generations wants to hear what life was like before she was around, how it felt to live in a vastly diffrent time period. Finds it so intresting to hear about!

Ohhh boy I hope this is okay anon! Like I said it was kind of hard to think of things to write about for some reason,,, I hope this was good! I had a lot of fun writing it even despite the trouble I had.

[leikeliscomet]

Heartstopper's Aspec Representation Isn't For Me - And That's Okay (Mini Essay)

Spoilers for Series 3!

So I just finished series 3 and I feel conflicted. I don't hate Heartstopper at all. I think it's a very cute show. I'm happy queer baby gen z and gen alpha have something to see themselves in, I love how Tara, a darkskin Black lesbian girl is happy in her relationship. I'm happy Isaac makes my fellow aspecs happy. I'm happy Charlie tore Ben's singlet in series 2 and for once the victim/survivor is allowed to not forgive their assaulter. I like Heartstopper's little moments but I've felt like something was missing overall and now we're on the third season, I think I know what it is now. There's comments on BL and yaoi by Alice Oseman I don't fully agree with, some of the acting in the show could be a bit better I guess, most of the characters are comfortably in the British middle class and I am a grown adult now so my interest in school/teen dramas has dipped a little bit (but not you Waterloo Road ily <3). So to an extent, there were always gonna be limits on how much I enjoy this show, but nevertheless, I still think they're worth pointing out, especially if we're claiming Heartstopper for the next gen of queer rep. Because honestly having watched shows like Heartbreak High and Koisenu Futari plus being a massive Selah and the Spades fan, I feel a bit robbed in terms of quality.

Isaac still feels underdeveloped and for a show that's been going on for 3 series now this feels disappointing. Like obviously Nick and Charlie get all the screentime as they're the main characters. Tao and Elle got a lot more juicer storylines from s2, Tara and Darcy got more to work with this series even if it was rushed (oh I miss you long series 2010s shows), but Isaac still feels leaps behind everyone else. He didn't really get anything in series 1. In series 2 we saw him coming to terms with his identity which felt like a good starting point but I was still waiting for the 'big asexual plans' Alice Oseman promised and... nothing. I liked his comment about googling aromanticism to Charlie because the representation by PowerPoint style of aspec writing can get tired. I also liked his moment of feeling left out by his friends plus still wanting to know Nick and Charlie's tea, giving him sexual agency whilst aroace instead of feeding into infantilisation. But apart from that... nothing. I wanted to feel more moved by the aquarium scene, but it felt tacked on because whilst Isaac's upset was justified, Imogen just wanted to chat about gay fish, so Isaac came across as a little passive-aggressive instead of what was supposed to be his moment. Plus it feels a little backhanded how much effort series 1 went to in how big coming to terms with your identity is, plus the gorgeous way Isaac's aroace revelation was filmed in series 2 was filmed just to have him blurt it out in an aquarium and have barely any of his friends actually support him like he supported them. But life imitates art I guess. This whole season we've seen characters talking about university plans, gap years and going through the post-16 struggle. But what about Isaac? We never find out what uni he wants to go to or even if he wants to go. What subjects does he like? What job does he want post-school? What's his relationship like with his family? The people need to know! I always found it weird how Isaac was left out to the point where straight characters, whilst still bearing in mind that Tao x Elle is an interracial pairing between two POC and one of which is a trans girl and this is very rare and deserved representation too, had gotten more screentime than him. Imogen, Sahar, Mr Ajayi and Mr Farouk had all been introduced for bigger storylines but Isaac, despite being in the main group, still had to wait for his share. This series was such a huge moment for everyone but Isaac... again. And whilst I'm happy if everyone else is, I genuinely feel like we all deserve better.

Tori was given bigger moments this series and that was great because I was waiting for my introverted slurping sister to come through. Her concern and care for Charlie and jealousy of Nick were great plus with the introduction of Michael, it was all leading to the big reveal of Tori being ace, right? Right? Wrong, because this scene was cut from the ferris wheel moment and I have no idea why. Oseman confirmed it was because Tori's storyline will continue in s4 and she didn't want to rush it but like, what? Series 3, at least in my eyes, did an alright job at building up her coming out. And again, if Nick could get his bi awakening in a one series arc, why can't this asexual character then too? They also covered Darcy's non-binary transition and coming out in this series too so I don't know why there wasn't room for Tori apparently. There was plenty of room for an 'I'm asexual' within those 5 minutes. Waiting to develop her in series 4, which is yet to be confirmed and likely to be the show's last series so it will already have a lot to do with wrapping up the Nick x Charlie saga seems like a poor decision. This is the second time we've had to wait till next season for the aspec character's arc by the way.

I'd like to see some aroallo POVs on this but this season put a lot of emphasis on linking love and sex together and it felt a bit strange icl. Yes, they're linked socially/societally and it's great to have sex with someone you love and love someone you have sex with etc etc etc but the first 2 series made a point of separating the two by showing love without sex and how it was just as meaningful. Almost every time a character was sexually attracted to another e.g. calling them hot or started making out because they wanted to have sex in that given moment there would be a dialogue from one of them going 'it's okay we're in love 'it's normal you're in love' 'well that's what people in love do!' and these are all correct statements but like... we get it! You don't have to be head over heels in love to find someone sexually attractive or just want to have sex with them. It's okay if you're not in love too y'know? I'm not sure what that constant reassurance was for because depicting sex without love isn't as pearl clutchy as it seems when all parties are safe, consenting and comfortable, or, if you've ever had any knowledge about aro(allo) spaces tbf. Nick and Charlie are not aspec and are very much sexually attracted to each other so the conclusion of them having sex isn't surprising at all, especially when I already knew from tweets back in series 1 that Heartstopper the comic already had a storyline later on of the two having sex for the first time. Plus the other characters aren't aspec either so their sexual debuts are also unsurprising and deserved. Plus, I'm actually glad they included Tara and Darcy having sex because many 'sex positive' shows seem to leave out the lesbians. But for a show with an aroace creator and aspec characters, the depictions of romance and sex don't feel like they were written from an aspec lense or for an aspec audience. It's normal for people to be romantically and sexually attracted to each other and then date and have sex. But if you're aspec, you know this. We all know this. This is the mainstream and default depiction of human (hetero)sexuality. We're watching the queer shows to see something different from that. When romance without sex can only hinge on the characters being below the age of consent plus a supposed 'innocence' due to their young age and sex without love is non existent, plus when you factor in how there are no aroallo or alloace characters in the show with 'groundbreaking' aspec representation, it makes for a bit of a headscratcher. Heartstopper may be made by an aspec, has aspec characters and aspec fans, I don't consider it an aspec show. Bit sad, but it is what it is.

It's honestly strange how despite this fact, asexuality and aromanticism is barely mentioned in the main discourse about this show. Antis claim Oseman is a cishet woman despite being non-binary and aroace. They blame the sexlessness of the show on puritanism despite Oseman being aroace. There's constant arguments about how 'unrealistic' it is for teenagers to not have sex despite Isaac being a whole teenage aroace and how some people just didn't have sex in their teens... like aspecs. People are annoyed the show keeps giving Isaac aromantic and asexual storylines because it's 'not as important' and they 'don't care' as if he's not a main cast member and again, the creator is aroace! If you look at the promo pictures of the show, it has the main three pairings, Nick and Charlie, Tao and Elle and Tara and Darcy and no Isaac. Despite the fact it's supposed to be 'for' us and made by one of us, it's not. And a lot of non aspec queer fans watching the show don't see it for us despite being made by one of us either. And that's a real shame.

I'm fully aware Oseman knows about writing aroace characters from the book Loveless, which has an aroace MC. But I think Netflix choosing to adapt Heartstopper over Loveless was intentional. I think Netflix creating Isaac instead of Aled, a demi gay non-binary character from the og comic, was intentional. I think all the decisions Netlix made with Isaac and Tori are intentional, the same way bringing Yasmin Benoit to the Sex Education writers room to cut half of O's storylines was intentional. Netflix has fumbled the bag with asexual and aromantic representation several times now (Cash Piggot and Todd notwithstanding) so at this point, I'm not surprised anymore. Again, I'm happy for anyone who really likes Heartstopper, but I've finally accepted that it's not for me. And that's okay. When someone makes the predominantly aspec, slightly more grown, queer show with fully fleshed out arcs for its's asexual and/or aromantic characters or hits up Lovie Simone for the scrapped Selah and the Spades TV show, I know where I'll be.

We deserved our moments too. We deserve our Heartstopper.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi there! First off, thank you so much for y’all’s work here on Tumblr, def one of my main sources of fic recs.

I read Summer’s End by FeralTuxedo a while ago (lovely rec) and am definitely back in my TLOU-apocalyptic-setting-with-a-moody-but-calm/nature-esk-atmosphere-and-character-centred-plot era again. I just genuinely enjoyed the specific atmosphere that the apocalyptic setting gives works. Anyway, that being said, I would love any recs that would fit that kind of vibe (I would prefer less smut since I skip over it but honestly as long as it isn’t specifically plot-relevant its fine lol also not TOO much angst please, I cant deal with Az or Crow actually dying or something like that unless it is done in a comforting way).

ps: on a more specific request, if y’all know of any GO fics inspired by TLOU I would greatly appreciate recs (look, Bill and Frank’s episode in the tv adaptation is screaming to be written as a fic with Az and Crow instead- Bill and Frank’s deaths are wht I mean by deaths done in a comforting way I suppose, haha).

Wow, this is a long request, so sorry. Thank you so much for reading, have a great day and happy new year!

Hello! Pretty sure we've recommended almost all of these before, but there aren't loads of this kind of fic (and I could find no The Last of Us specific fics)...

Dead Genres by A_plus_platypus (T)

The end is nigh when a zombie virus ravages the world. Luckily, there is hope yet in the form of pharmaceutical scientist Anthony "Just Crowley" Crowley. With his adopted younger brother Adam, his other three kids The Them, and English teacher Aziraphale Fell, he searches for the fated military base in Tadfield. There, they — along with the rest of the world — have a chance at survival. And also Crowley is a disaster, and Aziraphale is a disaster, and everyone needs a hot cup of tea.

what's to come by PepperPrints, restlesslikeme (M)

Post-Apocalyptic AU. Even without the Antichrist, both Heaven and Hell insist on Armageddon. Aziraphale is missing and Crowley sets out to find him, driving through a scorched Earth with a witch in his passenger seat.

is there anybody out there? by theycallmeDernhelm (E)

Welcome to the zombie apocalypse. England has been overrun by walking corpses, everything's gone to hell, and the few survivors are scattered- among them, Crowley and his 11-year-old son Warlock. When Crowley's radio signal is unexpectedly picked up by another group of survivors, he finds himself falling, in a way he never thought he'd fall again, for the charming and kindly Aziraphale. Over three seasons and a tenuous radio connection, a romance develops between them, while a friendship grows between Warlock and Aziraphale's nephew Adam. Love isn't dead (or undead) after all.

Ouroboros Forever and One by iblankedonmyname (T)

An AU where the Apocalypse-Definitely-Did, Aziraphale is a cowboy and Crowley is on a mission from God to reboot the universe. “God gave you, a demon, a mission?” Aziraphale snaps his glass onto the table. “Millions of angels at Her disposal, and yet…” His eyes are sparkling again. It’s more refreshing than a glass of tequila in a waterless land. “You?” His eyes slip from Crowley’s toes up to the top of his head. “Well, I am certainly surprised.”

Zombie Apocalypse by AppleSeeds (T)

When a meteor strikes Earth carrying a virus that can 'turn people into zombies', Aziraphale finds himself responsible for a group of frightened teenagers at an airbase-turned-hospital in Tadfield. Aziraphale is terrified, but experiences some relief when the teens introduce him to Crowley, who has a plan to get them all to safety. When things don't exactly go according to plan and with the zombies closing in, Aziraphale must face his fears in order to protect the children from becoming infected.

My Favorite Ghost by cassieoh_draws, DiminishingReturns (T)

Decades after the world didn’t end, Heaven and Hell got their war — and nearly destroyed everything in the process. When Aziraphale finally manages to reacquire a corporation and return to Earth, he discovers he was gone longer than he thought and the planet has become unrecognizable. As he searches for Crowley and tries to figure out how he fits in a world that Heaven, Hell, and God have all wiped their hands of, nature works around him to reclaim the bones of an old civilization as the scraps of humanity build a new one. A lush and optimistic post-apocalypse story, told from the POV of an immortal who can't let go of the past.

And the one you mentioned...

Summer's End by FeralTuxedo (E)

2095. Britain is a post-apocalyptic wasteland ravaged by droughts, the collapse of civilisation, and hordes of the undead. Despite that, Aziraphale’s life is actually pretty good. He has his caravan, his books, and his work, offering his services to the men who stop by Tadfield on their arduous journey north. One day, a mysterious stranger knocks on his door. Crowley is charming and handsome and he appears to know his way around a vegetable garden. He comes with the tempting offer of a mutually beneficial arrangement. But it’s in Aziraphale’s best interest not to get too attached. A dystopian cottagecore sex worker AU.

- Mod D

[starrydixon]

Faint

*Requested from this ask :)*

Era: Farm  Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Pronouns: None-Specified Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: mild language, brief descriptions of fainting and dehydration, fluff!!

Summary: After pushing yourself a little too hard in the hot Georgia sun, you find yourself losing consciousness. Luckily, Daryl’s right there to help you out. 

It was hot—probably one of the hottest days since the apocalypse started. The blaring sun was not holding back, as there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky to block the assaulting rays from your skin for even a few seconds. The Georgia humidity also wasn’t helping; it made the air you breathed feel denser and like there wasn’t much oxygen to inhale. Sweat collected across your hairline, around your neck, and dripped down your spine. The clothes you were wearing stuck to your body like another layer of skin, and you were sure there were patches of sweat staining your shirt. Before the outbreak happened, you would have been embarrassed by it, but there were more important things to be worried about nowadays instead of people seeing you sweat.

With most of the group out of commission or being assigned to do something else, it was only you and Daryl looking for Sophia today. Daryl was heading towards the creek, seeing what he could find at the only landmark the little girl had to go by, while you searched in the opposite direction; just in case she had wandered out further than anticipated.

The water in your canteen had run out hours ago. You knew you should have gone back to the farm to refill from one of the wells, but finding Sophia was more important than relieving your dry throat. You hadn’t realized just how draining the sun was on your body until you noticed that your once stealthy footsteps had turned heavy and noisy. That should have been your other sign to go back to the farm, but you still pushed on. When your vision began to go out of focus not even twenty minutes later, you knew you were treading dangerously on succumbing to heat stroke. As much as you wanted to keep looking for Sophia, up until the hot sun began to set over the horizon, you knew you wouldn’t be very useful if you were delirious and or unconscious. 

As the blue sky began to tint with light shades of oranges and pinks, Daryl had assumed you had already made it back to the farm when he reentered the property. The hunter was perceptive; keeping to himself most days and observing the people around him. He instantly felt the lack of your presence around camp when he returned from his search. Maybe it was because you were the only person within the small group of survivors that he was immediately drawn to when he and his brother first showed up to the camp at the Quarry. You had always been genuinely nice to him, and didn’t treat him like the outsider he felt and knew that he was. So your absence was significant to him.

With Sophia still missing, and presumably lost in the vast forest that surrounded the immediate area, Daryl couldn’t help but fear that you were now lost too. Of course he hoped you were only taking so long to return because you had found Sophia, or at least found a warm trail of her, but his anxiety was getting the best of him. He couldn’t take that chance; having another person lost on his account. The archer didn’t hesitate to go back out there, find your tracks, and make sure that you were okay. 

Just as he was beginning to cross the field of overgrown grass and weeds, Daryl was met with the welcomed sight of you emerging from the tree line of the woods. He didn’t know if he was projecting his fears with Sophia on you, or if it was something else, but he was relieved to see you back in one piece with his own eyes. Daryl hadn’t broken stride, planning to meet you halfway and converse about any evidence you may have found during your search. The closer he got, the clearer your weary body language and sweat sheened face became. 

“Y/N?” Daryl called out to you, cupping a hand next to his mouth in an attempt to magnify the sound of his voice. When the only response he got from you was witnessing your body drop to the ground, his once relaxed strides quickly turned into a full on run.

Internal alarms that Daryl didn’t know he possessed began to go off, causing his heart to race and his breathing to become labored. Daryl kept calling out to you as he made his way over to you, hoping that your face would miraculously pop up from the overgrown foliage and reassure him that you were fine and had just tripped over an upturned pile of dirt. When that didn’t happen, curse words rooted from fear flew out his mouth. 

Daryl had no idea what to do when he finally reached you. Kneeling down beside you, his hands hovered around the frame of your face and sides of your head. He was worried that his touch, no matter how gentle he tried to be, would somehow hurt you. .

“Hey-hey.” The archer’s voice was soft, but still held that distinctive gravely undertone as he watched your facial expressions begin to stir. Daryl’s breath quickened and his ears had a deafening ring in them due to the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

The second you opened your eyes, just a crack, you instantly squeezed them shut again. A distressed groan sounded from under your breath as the near blinding brightness and nauseating dizziness stung your sensitive eyes. If it weren’t for Daryl’s voice sounding so close, yet so distant, you probably would have panicked at how disoriented you felt.

“Easy now…” Daryl trailed off cautiously as you began to sit up. His hands hovered around your frame, spotting you in case you fell down again.

“Don’t…don’t take me to Hershel.” You informed the archer as you blinked your vision back into focus. Your muscles still felt heavy and weak, and you were sure you’d fall over again soon as it was becoming difficult to keep yourself upright. 

“Just—help me to some shade.”

Daryl was hesitant about following your wishes, as he thought you should be seen by someone who had a medical background. You noticed his hesitation, and shot him a heated warning look with whatever energy you had left to spare. With a shake of his head and a light scoff escaping past his lips, Daryl helped you to your feet and led you over to the closest tree; which was one of the many peach trees residing around the Greene’s farm. 

“Water…please.” Your voice was breathy and weak as you slumped back against the sturdy tree trunk. If your body wasn’t so exerted of energy, you would have found the rigged wood that dug into your back uncomfortable.

“Right—water.” Daryl patted his body, searching for the canteen he often carried on his person. When one of his hands bumped into the container, the archer clumsily removed the strap from off his shoulder and practically shoved the canteen in your face due to his hasted mindset. 

A thank you barely made it out of your mouth before you eagerly drank the refreshing water. You knew you would need more than a half-full canteen worth of water to hydrate your body again, but just the mere feel of the cool liquid filing your dry mouth and going down your scratchy throat was replenishing enough. 

“You seem awfully calm for someone who just passed out.” The archer’s distinctive southern drawl seemed even more prominent when he spoke. Carefully, Daryl sat down beside you under the tree that was providing your hot skin with cooling shade. 

For a moment, you could only shrug your shoulders dismissively in response as you let your head fall back against the tree trunk. The golden hue of the sunset caused the overgrown grassland in front of you to seem like it was glowing. It was a peaceful view, and you couldn’t help but allow its peace to calm you for a few moments. 

“If I wasn’t aware of why I fainted, I definitely wouldn’t be this level-headed.” Your voice was slow, but composed and lucid. It made Daryl’s looming anxiety settle and his protective guard to slightly drop. “I ran out of water hours ago…I just wanted to keep looking for Sophia.”

For a fleeting second, Daryl felt a surge of warmth spread over the expanse of his chest. You didn’t have to explain yourself further; he understood where you were coming from completely and was perplexedly endeared that you were just as committed to finding Sophia as he was. Carefully, Daryl glanced over at you, and felt an electric shock shoot up his spine when he saw your tired eyes and half smile aimed at him. The brightness radiating off of your face practically blinded him, and he had to avert his gaze so he wouldn’t risk having you see the dust of pink he was sure was beginning to cover his cheeks.

Clearing his throat, Daryl only hummed vaguely in response before standing up and brush his hands over his pants to remove some of the dirt that stuck to the worn denim. Squinting through the setting sunlight, the archer took a few steps back and examined the peaches that hung from the branches. Since the peaches hung a few feet too high for Daryl to reach, he knew he'd have to poke the branch until the stem of the fruit broke free from the branch.

“I’d watch your head if I were you.” Daryl warned while raising his crossbow and nudging the branch. 

Placing both arms over your head, you subconsciously winced as you anticipated the feeling of raining fruit falling on you at any moment. The last thing you needed was a head injury on top of your mild heat stroke. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” You expressed endearingly as a weak smile uplifted the corners of your mouth. The archer just shrugged indifferently.

“Ya gotta eat somethin’... these things got lots of vitamins and minerals or whatever and that’ll help ya feel better.” Daryl explained while gesturing to the few peaches that were now cradled in his arms. 

As Daryl kneeled down beside you again and offered you the ripest peach in the bunch, he felt his heart skip a beat when his gaze caught your genuine smile. After making sure to thank the archer once again, you quickly brushed your fingers against the peach to remove any lingering dirt and bit into the sweet and juicy fruit. A comfortable silence fell over you and Daryl as you both enjoyed the delectable snack.

Daryl wasn’t the type of person who normally pried into other people’s business. His rule of thumb was that if something wanted to be said or talked about, it would be eventually at the person's own discretion. This time, however, your health was more important than his comfortability and he was curious as to why you didn’t want to be checked on and cared for with medicine. 

“Is there uh—a reason why ya don wanna see Hershel? He could help ya feel better faster.” Daryl threw the near bare peach pit a few feet in front of him, and watched the pit become hidden within the overgrown foliage of the farmland. 

“Oh…I just don’t want to be more of a burden, you know?”

You too had finished your peach, and threw the pit in the same direction Daryl had. Your’s didn’t land as far as Daryl’s did, and you were going to blame your dehydrated body for your lack of strength instead of your lack of muscles. Wiping your hands of the sticky peach juice on your jeans, you brought the canteen to your lips and drank the remaining liquid. Although your eyes remained on the field in front of you, you could see Daryl’s attention turn to you from the corner of your eye, and feel his curious gaze flit over the side of your face. 

“Should take the medical care while we still got it.” Daryl reasserted while resting his arm on top of his bent knee. 

“I want us all to stay here longer…and if asking for help diminishes that chance, then I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

Daryl couldn’t help but admire your selflessness. He wasn���t sure how many other people in the broken group of survivors would also make that kind of stance. To visually show that he was done pushing his own concern onto you, the archer raised his hands in faux surrender. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the small glimpse of charisma from the usually guarded man. 

After a few beats of silence had passed, you found yourself chuckling quietly again and rubbing a distressed hand over your face. “Maybe eating those peaches without asking already ruined our chance.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” Daryl compromised with a suggestively raised eyebrow. You couldn’t help but belly laugh with as much strength you could muster while lightly nudging the archer’s arm with your elbow. Daryl couldn’t help but find your laugh contagious and quietly chuckle along.

“Can I get ya some more water?” Daryl asked once the laughter had settled between you two. With his hand, he motioned towards the empty canteen sitting in between your legs. 

“That would be great, actually. Thanks.” 

“Might be more comfortable restin’ in your tent, too.” Daryl suggested lightly as he stood up from the ground. In an attempt to seem less pestering, he shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

“Probably…but I think if I even try to stand up right now, I’d go cross eyed and pass out again.” Despite how serious you were, there was a teasing lilt in your voice to delude the concern. 

Your lightheartedness didn’t seem to have any affect on Daryl, as he stared down at you with a wary look in his eyes. “Right…” Daryl’s drawl was heavy when he spoke, and he shifted uneasily on his feet as those panic-induced alarms began to go off again. 

“I’m fine, seriously. I just need to drink a shit ton of water...and maybe eat another peach” You reassured him encouragingly while handing the canteen to Daryl. The archer just hummed, unconvinced, and snatched the container from you. 

“Don’t pass out while I’m gone…I’ll be pissed if ya do.” Daryl warned while pointing an accusing finger at you. 

“Aren’t you always?” One of your eyebrows rose in speculation as a sly smile formed on your lips. 

Daryl scoffed and took a few steps away from you. He could feel heat begin to flush the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he blurted out his rather flirtatious thoughts without thinking. 

“Nah—not around you…you’re just different I guess.”

Instead of the blaring sun and borderline heatstroke heating up your face, it was Daryl’s alluring comment. All you could do was shake your head dismissively and try (but fail miserably) to conceal the flustered smile that contorted the shape of your lips. A lopsided smile formed on Daryl’s lips as he slowly retreated from you; all the while rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. 

As you watched Daryl jog across the field to the nearest watering well, a wave of invigorating energy coursed through you. You thought only shade and replenishing water could cure your drained and dehydrated body, but it turns out a rugged archer whose strong facade was slowly crumbling to reveal the man he truly was, was just as healing.

-

-

A/N: I just started my twd rewatch, and just had to write something with early season Daryl! Also, I’m so sorry this is out a little later than anticipated! Thank you to the anon who requested this, and I hope you all enjoyed reading! <3

[ghostlyaerobics1984]

Several times You Were Suspected, and the One Time You Weren’t. (SCREAM VI SPOILERS)

Summary: Reader is a newbie in the core-four friend group and according to the rules, they are a suspect. Reader keeps conveniently showing up at the murder scenes, and a seed of doubt becomes implanted in the others’ minds leaving them to believe Reader is Ghostface. Reader is innocent, but they don’t know that.

Word Count: 8,511

Pairings: Gn!Reader x Tara, Male!Reader x Tara

Author’s note: The reader is male since there is a SIGNIFICANT lack of male reader fanfics, but could be read as gender neutral if you try hard enough. Slight proofread because I got lazy.

You rushed over to Sam’s apartment as soon as you could. Slamming the SUV door shut, you jogged over to the ambulance where you were met with the distressed faces of Chad, Mindy, Tara, and Sam.

“What the fuck?” You shoot a glance at Ethan, catching the end of his excuse for an alibi. He appeared to be flustered.

“I saw it on the news.” There was genuine concern in your voice. “I can’t believe this happened.” Your eyes began to water because you had been close with Quinn and it hurt knowing she was gone. Forever.

You didn’t miss the way the four survivors from Woodsboro exchanged skeptical looks with each other and refused to initiate a conversation with you.

You were taken aback. Their suspicion was fair, but it hurt to be looked at that way. Like you were capable of killing them in cold blood. “Y-You don’t think I did this?”

In an attempt to clear your name, you said, “I loved Quinn. She was my best friend. Why the fuck would I kill her? Or kill Anika?”

You stopped yourself, at the risk of sounding hysterical.

“Doesn’t matter if you were best friends.” Mindy replied, very clearly glaring at you. “That still gives you motive. Maybe you were spurred on by jealousy.”

You scoffed and silently pleaded for the others to back you up. No one did. 

Ethan shuffled awkwardly. Chad and Tara refused to meet your gaze, and Sam was staring at you in a way you’d never seen before.

“Speaking of motive, where were you last night?” Mindy asked with narrowed eyes.

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes were on you.

You stuttered nervously. “I was in the dorm. You know, where I’m living.” 

The last part came out meaner than you initially intended.

“Hmm,” Mindy shook her head, pressing her lips together. Her eyes scanned around the ambulance from where she sat, then they were on you again. “How convenient, y/n. That you were at the college dorm when none of us were there to corroborate your alibi. You just moved at the top of my suspect list.”

You wanted to be angry, but you found yourself understanding why they were reacting this way.

Least you could do was divert some of the attention away from you. “Fair enough, but I don’t think you should rule out Ethan, either.”

Ethan faced you sharply, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Why would you say that?!”

“I mean, a school excuse? Really? It’s almost the same as mine.” You retorted, resisting the urge to snicker at his slowly reddening face.

“I was taking the—!”

“We’re not ruling anyone out.” Sam interjected, her voice determined. “Y/n’s right, I don’t think it’s smart to point the finger at one person. Even if they are highly suspicious.” 

You chose to ignore her patronizing tone. “Yeah, I’ll take that.”

“Just stay the fuck away from us.” Chad held his hand up as if signaling for a stop. Then he added, “Both of you.”

“Wait,” You said desperately, taking a small step forward. “Is there a way I can prove myself? Please. I mean, haven’t you been wrong about your theories, Mindy?”

Everyone went silent. 

That couldn’t be a good indication for you. You held your breath, expecting to hear a pin drop.

“Yeah.” Mindy whispered under her breath quietly. You almost missed it, too.

“Yes, as in, I can prove myself?” You pressed on, hopeful.

“No.” Your heart sank. “Yes, as in, I was wrong at pointing out the killer before.”

“Well, at least y/n is wanting to clear their name.” Tara finally spoke after letting her friends do the talking without her. “Same can’t be said for the other present suspect.” A jab at Ethan.

Ethan struggled to argue his case, which you couldn’t help but smile at. Maybe you would be able to gain your friends’ trust back after all.

“I think we should give him a chance.” You caught Tara gazing at you. A slight smile teased her lips.

Was she on your side? Or not? You weren’t sure.

Chad gave her a questioning look. They stared at each other for so long, you began to wonder if something was going on between them.

“Alright, fine.” Chad relented. He threw his head back dramatically and sighed.

After witnessing Tara punch the famous, annoying reporter Gale Weathers, you were all led to a creepy area she had found through “Investigative journalism”.

And by all, was you, Ethan, Quinn’s cop dad, Sam, Tara, Kirby, and Gale.

“Jesus.” You managed to speak past your shock while traipsing and observing the displays that contained collectives from every ghostface killing.

Tara was walking ahead of you at a slow pace. She was assigned to watch you, and Chad was in charge of Ethan. So you weren’t allowed to stray away from her or the group. 

Fine by you, because you weren’t the killer, or one of the killers. You learned from Mindy that there could be multiple. 

You noticed Tara staring at a particular display. Her fingers traced the glass carefully. 

You could tell from the way her fingers traced the display for too long that seeing all of this was causing her emotional distress.

You noticed a picture of a girl. Amber, you think. Tara must have suffered through so much because of her.

“Hey…” You said softly, bumping your shoulder against hers in a lighthearted manner and catching her attention.

“So, you and Chad?” You leaned on the display, your stomach pressed against the glass. “Are you guys a thing or…” 

You trailed off, hoping she would fill in the blanks for you.

“We aren’t.” She answered a little too fast, but didn’t give anything more than that.

You let out a puff of air, feeling disappointed. You wished her response was convincing enough.

It was obvious that you were bummed and she regarded you with amusement. “Why do you care?”

“Because I like you.” The confession spilled easily from your mouth. “No bullshit. I really like you, Tara.”

You were scared to see her expression because you knew that it could end in rejection. Especially a beautiful girl like Tara, she probably had lots of men and women that were lined up to date her.

You were attracted to her attitude and her pretend carefree behavior, which she used as a coping mechanism due to traumatic events.

The dangers from her past and what was happening in the present didn’t deter you. You wanted her in spite of the fact that she was a victim of murderous attacks.

She deserved to be loved and treated respectfully.

But since you were currently the most suspected out of the group… you didn’t stand a chance.

“For the record,” Tara started off; You prepared for your feelings to be crushed. “I believe you.” 

That got you turning your head to face her. Tara wasn’t pitying you, or angry. Her reaction wasn’t at all like you had expected. She was being calm.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You do?” 

“About you being in love, not the serial killer part.” She had a halfhearted grin on her face. 

Tara was teasing you. Well, you were 90% sure she wasn’t serious about the murderer accusation.

You decided to play along.

You leaned in closer to her, dropping your voice to a low whisper as you spoke in her ear. “Doesn’t that excite you? A potential psychotic killer only having the hots for you?”

You trailed your fingers up her arm for effect. You didn’t miss the shift in her eyes. 

How they became half-lidded and how they definitely weren’t directed at your eyes anymore, but at your lips.

The energy surrounding the two of you seemed to change also. It became static and… very warm.

Your cheeks were starting to feel hot. 

Tara shuffled closer to you, and you followed. The both of you waited on the other to make a move.

You swallowed nervously; Tara let her eyes fall to watch your throat bob. 

When she didn’t change her mind or make the choice to walk away, you swiftly closed the gap and connected your lips with hers.

You anticipated that Tara would eventually push away from you and laugh because this interaction between the two of you was an elaborate prank all along.

She didn’t. You weren’t being duped.

Tara Carpenter was kissing you and her lips were so, so soft.

You had absentmindedly placed your hands on her hips and pressed her front against yours, while simultaneously slipping your tongue in her mouth.

You heard Tara try to stifle her gasp, and fail at doing so. 

You had to stop yourself from smiling into the kiss because you didn’t want the moment to end too soon.

You were warm and tingly all over; your heartbeat thrummed against your chest. You were getting wrapped up in the excitement of the moment.

Just as you dreaded, it was cut short. You were startled by a strong arm gripping your shoulder.

Tara looked up, in a daze, when you were suddenly jerked away from her. She wore a confused expression on her face.

“Keep your dirty hands off her, Ghostface.” Chad jabbed a threatening finger in your chest.

He got into your face, and it was very jarring. You were genuinely scared for your well-being, and your life-long streak of no broken bones.

Like a hungry snake preying on an unsuspecting mouse, his hands latched onto your throat. The force of his grip had you raised a few inches from the ground. “What are you planning?”

“Chad, stop.” Tara protested, annoyed.

“Put y/n down.” Mindy groaned. “Seriously, this is not the time for your alpha complex.”

He wasn’t squeezing tight enough to strangle you, but it was still uncomfortable to breathe. 

Your eyes were wide in fear. Chad didn’t let you go. 

You weren’t earning any sympathy points from him, especially since you most likely took the woman he’s had eyes for.

“Okay, put them down right now. Or I shoot.” Kirby deadpanned. “I’m not kidding.”

This is it. You were going to die at the hands of a condescending jock. Not the ending you thought would ever happen, but what could you do?

You drew in a shallow breath and let your eyes flutter close. Something felt heavy in your pocket. Without alarming Chad, you sneaked your hand inside to figure out what the object was.

Your fingers grazed the hilt of a knife, your chest tightening when you realized what it was. You needed to keep your breathing under control, even while Chad had his hands around your throat, or you would give your predicament away and be in tremendous trouble with the group.

You didn't have a knife on you before you entered the abandoned shrine building, so who pinned it on you? And without anyone catching them?

The longer you stressed about the knife and the longer Chad was proving to be a hostile threat, the more you considered stabbing him.

You gaped in horror as the thought crossed your mind. You were just stressed out, that's all. Not a reason to impulsively lash out.

But he was threatening your life...

You were sure Chad's pissed-off face would be forever implanted in your memory when Kirby called out, "Alright, I'm counting to three!"

Chad dropped you before she could reach number three. You thankfully hit the floor on both feet, but being the asshole, Chad shoved you with brute force and knocked you off balance.

You were sent tumbling backward over a display, letting out a yelp as your head slammed against a wall.

"Oh my fucking god." That was either Mindy or Sam.

You couldn't tell black from blue; Your head swam and you were pretty sure you weren't imagining the warm liquid trickling down the back of your neck.

A dark shadow rose above you. You craned your neck up to see everyone in the group staring down at you with worry. Minus Chad because he obviously wasn't sorry.

"Shit." Tara crouched down in front of you. "Come on. I'll help you walk out of here." She extended her hand.

You blinked blearily and grabbed her hand. You fought back a wave of nausea as you were pulled up to your feet. Tara intertwined her fingers with yours, which put a smile on your face.

The two of you started to walk in sync.

Someone slung an arm around your shoulder. Mindy.

"To show you my condolences for the actions of my idiot brother," Mindy declared aloud so everyone could hear. "You have officially been moved down my suspect list."

"I appreciate it." You offered a weak grin, and she returned it.

"What do we do next?" Tara asked after approaching Kirby with you in tow.

Kirby's eyes seemed to glint with mischievous intent. "I have something in mind."

You needed to get rid of that knife as soon as possible.

"Distracting the killer on a phone call while tracing him from a van?" Mindy sighed in disbelief. "In a public space with a crowd of people?"

No one dared to interrupt her rambling; Kirby was working on a computer, Ethan worked on a bag of chips, and Chad was laying back.

"This is exactly how our uncle Randy died in the sequel!"

"Just relax." Kirby tried to assuage her. "I know what I'm doing."

"The killer is going to conveniently hang up right before you can trace his location," Mindy smirked, dissing Kirby's police skills.

"I can complete a trace in 15 seconds," Kirby replied with as much sass.

Mindy's face turned serious. "Oh, carry on."

Tara and Sam were being used as bait to keep the killer occupied on the phone call.

"Trying to lure me to a public area with a bunch of cops watching?" Ghostface laughed eerily while Sam listened on the other end. Tara stuck by her side. "I've seen this before and I'm one step ahead of you."

"Wait, where is that pinging?" Mindy asked, leaning over Kirby's shoulder to observe the map on the screen. There was a pulsing dot pinpointing Ghostface's current location.

"That's..." She recoiled.

"Gale!"

You took a taxi from the hospital to Gale Weather's apartment. One quick google search, and it was easy to find out where she lived.

Your injury had been stitched up; a white gauge was wrapped around your head. You weren't technically dismissed from the hospital, but you had a terrible feeling in your gut that Gale was in danger.

You assumed everyone else remained in a group since you last saw them, but you didn't know if anyone was looking out for Gale.

You rushed your ass into the elevator of her building and jabbed your thumb into the button to go to the top floor. "Come on, come on."

The elevator seemed to move at an infuriatingly slow pace, which didn't help your nerves. You paced around as the elevator kept rising. "What if I'm too late?" You mumbled to yourself.

You didn't have time to dwell on your anxiety because the elevator doors were opening, and you darted the hell out of there.

"Gale!" You screamed at the top of your lungs while running through the hall. You caught a glimpse of open doors and sounds of struggle followed from inside.

Heart beating heavily in your chest, you turned into the room without slowing down. You soon stopped when you took in the sight of the destroyed room, and the masked figure barreling your way.

A shrill shriek escaped from your lips as you tried to dodge. Ghostface's knife slashed your cheek as you did so. You fell on your side, groaning.

The masked killer fled into the hallway and disappeared; you weren't being targeted. Yet.

You sat up once you heard soft groans that didn't belong to you. Your eyes searched the room frantically until you spotted the person you came to save.

Gale was lying on the floor; blood was slowly seeping from under her body.

"Oh fuck." You crawled to her. Gale's choked gasps were audible now that you were near her.

You observed her stab wounds with watery eyes. "Gale... I'm so sorry.”

It seemed like she was trying to smile, as if she was at peace with dying, and you were worried that she was straining herself.

"You're going to be okay-" You reached to put pressure on a gushing shoulder wound, but someone yelling out Gale's name made you pull back.

Oh no.

You swallowed thickly and stood up just as Sam and Tara ran into the room.

They were shocked to see you. It didn't take long for Sam to grow angry with you. "You stay the fuck away from her."

It was only then that you realized your clothes became stained with Gale's blood. "I didn't do this! I collided with the killer when I ran in to save her."

"How did you know where she lived?" Great, now Tara was suspecting you were the killer. She was purposefully keeping her distance.

"I was in the hospital room when I missed a call from Gale's number. It was weird. Gale Weathers would never call someone like me. I had a feeling something was wrong and looked up her address on google."

Tara gave you a once over. You could see her face relax.

She still trusted you.

Sam was the opposite. “I don’t believe you. Don’t even think about coming near my fucking sister either.”

With that being said, her attention shifted to the woman dying on the floor. Or as Mindy would put it, the “Legacy character.”

“Oh my god, Gale.” Sam knelt down next to her body, on the verge of crying. Tara lingered behind her.

“I called the cops when I got here.” You said, hoping to dig yourself out of the hole you found yourself in.

“If you’re trying to make yourself seem innocent, it’s not working.” Sam replied coldly.

Well, damn.

Tara turned her head to give you a sorrowful glance, mouthing a silent apology.

You gave her a curt nod. The fact that Tara believed you was all the reassurance you needed. “You know what, I’m fucking tired of taking the blame for this fucked up shit.”

You were careful to not say anything that would incriminate you by accident. You were storming out before you could hear Sam’s reply.

There was no point in holding your tongue because you found yourself in the hot seat at the police station anyway.

“Why don’t you give me a rundown of your story again?” Detective Bailey looked tired. “Maybe you missed important details.”

You scoffed; your arms were crossed, and you leaned back in a chair. “You’re hoping that I’ll trip up and change my story.”

He clenched his jaw, held eye contact with you, then sighed in defeat. “You happened to arrive at Gale Weathers’s apartment moments after she was stabbed… I think it’s fair for me to be skeptical about coincidences.”

“I told you already. I missed a call from Gale’s number when I was getting stitches on my head at the hospital.” You pulled out your phone, tapped on it, then showed the screen to him.

In the notifications bar of your phone, there was a missed call alert from a number you didn’t have saved. Under the number was a smaller text that read, “Maybe: Gale Weathers”

Detective Bailey skimmed through the notification multiple times, but it wasn’t photoshopped. You were telling the truth.

“Alright.” He motioned for you to put the phone away, and you did.

You thought the interrogation was going to be over soon, but then Detective Bailey reached around and pulled out an object concealed in a plastic bag.

He dropped it on the table. You saw what it was at first glance and immediately felt like you had seen a ghost.

“Want to explain what you were doing with this weapon?” He was smug now.

You thought you got rid of that knife.

“An eyewitness saw someone, fitting your description, discarding this knife in the hospital trash.”

When you remained silent, he leaned forward and continued to interrogate you, “Who are you working with?”

You shook your head, not removing your gaze from the knife. “Test the blood.”

Detective Bailey seemed taken aback. “What?”

You made eye contact with him. Your face was deadpan. “I never used that knife. The blood is from old victims of past Ghostface killings. I’m telling you, detective, someone is trying to frame me.”

He set his jaw, and you could sense the gears in his brain turning as he mulled over your suggestion.

Without a word, he stood up, snatched the evidence with a force that made you flinch, and left the room.

Just as you said, the blood on that knife didn’t belong to Quinn or Anika.

“What do you mean you’re letting y/n go?”

You could hear Sam and Detective Bailey conversing from the other side of the door.

“I ran the knife through blood testing and there was no match to any of the current victims.” Bailey explained. “He’s clean.”

The door opened. You were able to see that Sam looked grim, and Detective Bailey was disappointed.

He beckoned for you to come out, and you did without hesitation, snubbing Sam on your way out.

“Meeting at the hospital. In lobby.” You reread the text message from Tara as you walked into the hospital building.

You spotted the group in a corner. You braced yourself and strutted over to them.

Their heads snapped up upon your arrival. As expected, you were greeted with a chorus of complaints.

“Why are you here?” Chad took on an intimidating stance, possibly to scare you.

”I invited him.” Tara admitted. Some of their scrutiny was then focused on her.

“Tara—“ Sam scolded.

“What?” Tara cut her off, tone becoming defensive. “Your hot neighbor and Ethan are allowed to hear the discussion, but y/n gets the cold shoulder? How is that fair?”

They didn’t argue with her any further.

You gauged everyone’s grim expressions. “What’s going on?”

“We’re gonna trap Ghostface.” It was Tara who answered you. She had her phone out. “Then kill him.”

You and Tara had to use the bathroom.

But not really.

Needless to say, she was happy you were proven innocent.

Your hands gripped her hips tight enough to leave bruises as she was pushed up the wall.

You feverishly kissed the span of her neck and positioned your knee between her legs to keep her upright.

Tara had her arms wrapped around your neck; her nails leaving scratches. Breathless moans slipped out of her mouth.

“Fuck.” You whispered in the crook of her neck, your arousal growing.

You sensually grinded your front against hers, using the friction to relieve some of the pressure in your pants.

Tara laughed softly. She trailed her hands to your shoulders and lightly pushed back from you so that she could see your face. “Slow your roll, babe. We’ll both be alive to have sex later.”

”You don’t know that.” You whined, going back to kiss at her neck.

“I’m serious, y/n. I don’t want our first time to be in a hospital closet. I don’t care if death is looming over us.” You stopped grinding and looked up to see a frown on her face.

“No, you’re right.” You slumped against her, sighing heavily. “I am afraid. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to be this close to you again.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “I keep telling my stalker sister to let me go. I can fucking handle myself.”

“She cares about you.” You mumbled into her shoulder. “Plus, telling someone to let you go while we’re in a real life scary movie is kind of ominous.”

Your tone was lighthearted, but you meant what you said. You couldn’t help feeling worried about Tara‘s choice of words.

If the time came to it where her sister or you were in danger, would she put herself at risk of being murdered instead of saving herself?

You would rather that not happen.

Sensing your discomfort, Tara’s smile faded as quickly as it came. “You’re coming with us, okay? We won’t be separated.”

The sick feeling in your stomach wasn’t going away, but you relaxed anyway. You wanted to be at the final showdown in case the plan went wrong.

Tara raised a brow, holding back a laugh. “Can you let me go? Sam is probably losing her shit right now.”

“Oh, fuck. Yes, I’m sorry.” You had forgotten why you were here in the first place. You let her down with caution.

Tara poked fun at your freaked out expression while you tried to erase any sign of sexual tension on you.

The two of you hurriedly moved out of the enclosed space as best you could without creating suspicion.

“There’s only one way in through these doors. When we trap him in here,” Kirby shook the gates forming a box in front of the creepy shrine entrance, which required a key card to be unlocked. “Bastard has nowhere to go.”

This place gave you the chills. You couldn’t believe you voluntarily agreed to come back. It was asking to be murdered.

Mindy was too late for the final showdown. She had to take a separate train with Ethan, and Sam hadn’t heard back from them since.

It showed on Sam’s face that she was as skeptical as you about the solidity of the plan, but it wasn’t your trauma that was displayed all over the theatre.

Her fear was more justified.

”Don’t worry, it’s safe here.” Kirby tried to soothe everyone’s anxiety.

But all of you listened to Mindy’s lectures about horror rules enough times to know that the place definitely wasn’t safe if someone had to vouch for it.

”Come on, let’s go.” Tara tugged on your arm, leading you the back room of the theater.

You tore your attention away from the Ghostface mannequins and followed her.

“I’m coming with.” Chad walked behind you to make damn sure you weren’t going to hurt Tara.

You and Tara were conversing by a table set up with cups and old, soft drinks that were left behind long ago.

Chad was leaning on the wall with his arms crossed, supervising both of you.

“So…” Tara smiled, her eyes downcast as she fiddled with a cup.

She was being shy.

Your arm rested on the table and you leaned forward in interest, a sly smile on your face.

“I was thinking when we—”

The way she fluttered her eyelashes at you, and smiled so big that her dimples showed, had you thinking about how breathtaking she was.

And how lucky you were to have her attention like this.

You acted impulsively and dived in for a kiss, cutting off whatever she was going to say next.

You could feel her smiling, her lips melded perfectly with yours. You heard Chad yell, “Watch out!”

Just when you thought things were going smoothly, you were startled by Ghostface appearing behind Tara with a knife raised.

You were stuck in slow motion, watching in abject terror as Ghostface stabbed Tara in the back.

Tara nearly keeled over. “Fuck!”

“Guys, go now!” You shoved Tara towards Chad and delivered a punch to the masked killer’s face.

“You‘re getting what’s coming to you, you fucker!”

The murderer stumbled backwards momentarily, but then they stopped and tilted their head in a silent challenge.

Your blood ran cold. You knew what horror scene reenactment was coming up next.

You took off at the same time Ghostface lunged at you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You had never been so fucking scared for your life until now. When a murderer skilled in stealth and agility was chasing after you.

You ran in the direction you hoped Tara and Chad took. But maybe it would’ve been wise to lead the killer away from them.

You weren’t brave enough to do that alone.

The killer’s running footsteps completely deceased when you turned a corner into another room where you were met with the scared faces of Tara and Chad.

“Y/n!” Tara went to hug you, but Chad held her back.

“Wait. How do we know they aren’t one of the killers?”

“Are you fucking kidding me!” You threw your hands up in disbelief and clenched your jaw. “I would never agree to hurting, or remotely stabbing any of you!”

Tears were building up in your eyes and Tara observed you with the same glossy look.

“Alright, say I believe you—”

Chad was speaking, but something moving behind him caught your attention.

You didn’t waste any time to warn him, screaming at the top of your lungs. “Chad!”

Tara spun around and upon seeing Ghostface, she made the smart decision to walk backward towards you.

Then, the worst thing imaginable happened. A second Ghostface approached him.

Tara began to cry, panic rose in her voice as she bumped into you. “No, not Chad. No, please.”

You saw someone rush in out of your peripheral vision and jumped apprehensively.

It was Sam. Thank god.

Despite your disagreements, you were glad she was okay.

However, your relief was short lived. You witnessed the two Ghostfaces rip into Chad’s flesh with their knives. They kept gutting him, over and over.

Your mouth dropped at how brutal they were going at him. You could never imagine stabbing your worst enemy like that; it was fucking evil.

Tara was full on sobbing now, and you had to hold her back from doing something reckless.

Chad gurgled on his blood. “Run. Leave me and run.”

You winced at the squelching noise that emitted every time he was stabbed.

“We gotta go.” Sam said sternly.

She grabbed Tara’s hand, who hadn’t stopped begging for them to stop killing Chad, and dragged her the hell out of there. You were right on their tail.

The three of you ended up back in the main room with the creepy shrines.

“Uh, why is it just the three of us?” You surveyed the room nervously. “Where’s Kirby?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I got a phone call from Bailey. Apparently she’s not mentally stable and she’s not officially FBI, either.” Sam answered. She kept a protective arm around her sister.

“What? That’s bullshit.” You exclaimed while frowning. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Yeah.” Tara’s voice was weak. “It doesn’t.”

You stared at Tara empathetically. “You guys are the core four,” You quoted Chad’s name for the OG Woodsboro group. “You’ll survive.”

Tara turned her head to look your way. Softly adding, “You’ll survive too.”

You weren’t too sure about that.

All of you were caught off guard by a loud clanging sound. You turned around to see Detective Bailey making his entrance into the theater with his gun lowered.

“Everyone alright?” The old man asked. “Where’s Kirby?”

“I-I don’t know.” Sam stammered.

“They knocked me out!” You whirled around in surprise as Kirby stumbled into the room.

Judging by the glaring bruise and laceration on her head, she was telling the truth.

But detective Bailey didn’t share the same sentiment. He was alarmed by her presence and raised his gun. “Stand down, Kirby!”

“What? I’m not the killer!” She shouted.

You really felt bad for Kirby; You knew what it has been like to be falsely accused.

You didn’t want to interrupt, lest you get caught up in the middle of a screaming match between two cops.

You witnessed her eyes gradually widen in fear, and she pointed frantically. “Behind you!”

Shots were fired and they hit Kirby. The wrong person. You were frozen to the spot as she dropped to the floor, your body trembled in fear.

You slowly faced Detective Bailey. Betrayal was written all over his smug face. The beaten up Ghostface mask stood next to him.

“No effing way.” You voiced aloud.

You heard boots clicking against tile and immediately tensed at the sight of the other Ghostface flanking the three of you from the side.

And they stopped right in front of you.

“Shit.” You whimpered. Your palms were becoming cold and clammy from nerves.

The killer shifted their feet and retreated away from you, standing menacingly next to old man Bailey.

“Sam Carpenter. I’ve been waiting for this.”

You didn’t know who this Detective was anymore. You were mad at yourself for not considering him as a suspect, but you’ve been too busy fighting to clear your name.

“You’re family.” Sam stated it as a fact.

You became more confused.

“You killed my son.” The detective’s eyes flared with rage. “I brought the family together to make you pay.”

The Ghostface on the right took off their mask to reveal…

Ethan. Of course, it was fucking Ethan.

You snorted. “I fucking called it. Your pathetic virgin act wasn’t fooling me.”

Except you didn’t predict they were all related to Sam’s ex-boyfriend, who was a vicious psychopath.

He glared at you with murderous intent that basically meant your fate was sealed. “It wasn’t an act.”

You pissed him off.

Good.

Anything to stop them from lashing out on Tara and her sister.

“Aw, really?” You pretended to pity him, sarcasm dripped from your tone. “I wonder why no one will fuck you.”

“You couldn’t handle me, asshole.” He pointed his knife at you. A sardonic laugh escaped from his mouth, “I actually wanted to fillet you. Not Chad.”

That made you shut up.

“But fuck, it felt good to kill him!” He confessed gleefully.

“I hate you.” Tara ground out.

You gripped her shoulder in a sense of protection and comfort.

“So, Mindy?” Sam fixed her eyes on the Ghostface that still had their mask on.

This particular reveal had your blood boiling.

It was none other than the Detective’s daughter, Quinn Bailey.

“I took the blame for your murder and you weren’t even fucking dead?”

You couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out.

Quinn pouted mockingly. “I’m sorry. It was just so easy to pin it on you and we didn’t even have to orchestrate it. Crazy how anyone can’t be alone by themselves anymore without raising red flags.”

“I am so gonna fuck you up!” You threatened.

She gave you a condescending smile. “For an expendable character… you sure are brave.”

“Y/n is our scapegoat.” Her father was starting his monologue. “We needed someone to pin the killings on and what’s more perfect than my daughter’s best friend, who doesn’t even have the full trust of their own friends?”

“A little fake blood goes a long way.” Quinn said.

“All I had to do was be the first on the scene to swap out the body. Lay down a few prosthetics.”

You connected the dots. The air was suckered out of you as you fully realized the extent of their betrayal. “You’re the one who pinned the knife on me.”

There was no warmth in Detective Bailey’s smile. “It was actually Ethan’s idea.”

Ethan mirrored his father’s smile. “Everyone was extra suspicious of you, and neglected to keep an eye on me. It was surprisingly easy to go undetected.”

“I was the one who called you from Gale’s phone.” Quinn confessed. She wasn’t apologetic in the slightest.

“It would’ve worked, too.” Old man Bailey sneered. “We just didn’t account for the younger Carpenter sister having feelings for you.”

Ethan and Quinn began to go separate ways toward the three of you.

Tara was shaking. You squeezed her shoulder tight.

“Lucky me, huh?” You said dryly to the corrupt detective. “I’m capable of love. Which is more than what could be said for you sorry fucks.”

Quinn lurked right of Sam, behind the displays. Ethan stopped behind you.

You could feel the tip of a knife pressing into your back.

You weren’t sure who was shaking more at this point, you or Tara.

Something began to play on the screen behind you. You heard a man’s voice.

“Maybe I overindulged Richie’s love for these movies, but it was how we bonded.” Detective Bailey got a faraway look in his eyes.

“Gore and horror…” He shook his head. “Not my thing.”

“You hide it pretty well.” You pointed out like a smart ass.

You didn’t feel sympathetic for him at all; You only grew more angry. What kind of father discredits the victims of his son’s psychopathic behavior?

And Bailey blaming the Carpenter sisters for killing Richie in self defense because he was going to murder them for a stupid movie, that was twisted.

Dumb motives must run in the family.

You didn’t realize you said that out loud.

Detective Bailey turned his attention from Sam and onto you.

You were fucked. You knew that, but you didn’t see it coming this fast.

Detective Bailey raised his gun and didn’t hesitate to fire off a bullet into your shoulder.

You jerked at the force of the gunshot striking your body and stumbled backward, right where they wanted you.

Ethan’s knife entered into your flesh faster than you could scream.

Tara’s voice rung out, “Y/n!”

But she couldn’t move to reach you. Sam was protecting her and Quinn was in close proximity, taunting them with her knife.

Ethan slung an arm around your chest and pulled you closer to him. The knife wedged itself deeper in your back, and you cried.

“I got you and Chad.” He spoke into your ear as you gasped helplessly. “I win!”

Tara was crying with you. Her mascara running down her face.

There wasn’t much you could do to console her.

You were a wreck. Your face was perspiring and glistening with tears, and you were bleeding out.

You didn’t catch the rest of Bailey’s monologue because you kept zoning out, only hearing bits and pieces. “Until he was killed by you and your bitch of a sister!”

“Fuck you!” Sam yelled at Detective Bailey, and Quinn slashed her on the upper arm.

“Shut up, bitch!”

“Your son was a pencil dick who let his girlfriend do all the work.” Sam spat.

They weren’t listening to her. Detective Bailey glorified his son too much to believe the truth Sam was spewing.

“Tara, you ready?” Sam was now facing you. She must’ve been turned around when you weren’t paying attention.

Her eyes revealed that she had a plan up her sleeve. She was hiding something behind her back.

Tara whined in fear; she didn’t answer.

“I need you to be ready.” Sam emphasized calmly.

A beat of silence, then Tara’s voice came back firm. “I’m ready.”

“Y/n?” Sam was asking you the same question.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, so you just nodded.

Sam yelled out and hurled an object at Quinn. That was a signal.

You seized the opportunity to elbow Ethan in the ribs with all the strength you still had left, then you reared your head back. A loud cracking sound, and Ethan loosened his grip on you. You had shattered his nose.

With great regret, you reached behind you and pulled the knife out of your back. A pained groan slipped past your lips as you did so.

You just broke his nose and that bastard dared to smile at you.

You raised the knife over your head and charged at him while screaming.

All of the sudden, Quinn jumped out from nowhere and threw herself on you, efficiently throwing you off balance.

Both of you went tumbling into a display; the broken glass rained all around you.

"Fuck." You seethed, standing upright from where you had fallen. Your head was throbbing.

You were definitely bleeding through your bandage.

Quinn recovered as quickly as you did; She was standing across from you with her hair in a tangled mess and knife at her side.

"You were my best friend!" You hollered, gripping your knife tightly.

"Oh, get over it already!" She shouted back, then she rushed at you.

You crouched right when she reached you, grabbed her legs, and lifted her over your shoulder.

She thrashed around like a rabid animal, her feet kicking at nothing.

But the victory wasn't all yours.

Quinn managed to stab your shoulder blade before you body-slammed her onto the floor.

Her cries of agony were music to your ears.

You stood over her, breathing heavily. You contemplated how to make your revenge taste sweeter.

"Come on, Tara!"

Your attention was diverted to the Carpenter sisters trying to climb their way up a ladder.

Your worse nightmare was turning into reality.

You watched in paralyzing fear as the ladder gave out, and Tara didn't fall only because Sam caught her by the hand.

Your girlfriend dangled helplessly from the rafters, and a murderer was circling at her feet like a shark. Ethan was counting on her to fall so he could end her life.

No way in hell you were going to stand and let that happen.

"I'll be able to finally stick something in you, Tara!" Ethan called out.

You thought he was a depraved freak, but that was a creepy ass comment, even for him.

You took off running. All while keeping an eye on Tara and making sure you weren’t going to be too late to save her.

You dove and tackled Ethan away from Tara, moments before she could land in harm's way of his sharp blade.

"She's my girlfriend, asshole!" You delivered a punch to his face.

And man, it did feel good.

This part didn't.

A sick squelching sound came from your body as Ethan stabbed you in the stomach.

Twice.

Three times.

A fourth time.

And again. Over and over.

You stared into Ethan's soulless eyes, your mouth agape.

Blood was building up from your throat and into your mouth. Warmth was slowly abandoning your body, and you were frozen, wondering when it would stop. If he was going to stop.

His maniacal laughter echoed in your ears.

Now you realized exactly how Chad had felt.

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the fate of death to finally strike you. This is it. This was the end of the line for you.

At least Tara was safe. That's all you wanted.

But she would be losing you.

"Tara..." You gasped.

Ethan sharply twisted the knife in your stomach when you mentioned her name. You winced, letting out one last mournful cry.

You grasped at his arm, but the blood loss made you exponentially weak and incapable of causing significant damage to your assailant.

Your eyes flew open at the tearing of flesh, and you half expected to see your intestines on the floor.

Instead, Ethan was choking on a knife. Literally. He was stabbed through the roof of his mouth.

You lifted your head to see who saved you. Tara loomed over Ethan, with blood splatters all over her face, looking rightfully pissed off.

And hot.

Your eyes widened in awe at the beautiful woman before you. Something churned in your gut, and it wasn't because of your stab wounds.

You pushed your carnal fascination aside to analyze later. If you survived, that is.

Ethan gurgled, and your attention left Tara for a second so you could relish in his pained expression. It was his turn to plead like a little bitch.

You heard laughter, and it wasn't coming from Ethan. Tara's grin was indecipherable as she chuckled lowly and sheathed the knife further into his jaw.

A tiny voice of concern was in the back of your mind. Maybe, just maybe, she was enjoying this too much.

But you couldn't lie. It affected you: her heavy-lidded eyes, the snarl on her lips, and how she chose the most violent approach to save you.

There was a certain aura of possessiveness masquerading as rage behind her actions.

She let Ethan suffer for a little longer before ripping the knife out of his mouth.

Some of his blood landed on your face, and finally, he crumpled weakly to the floor. Somehow, you kept yourself from falling with him, but he had let go of the knife in your stomach shortly after he was stabbed by Tara.

You let your eyes trail up Tara's body until you reached her face, and your eyes met.

You swallowed nervously.

She gazed at you intensely with a dark look; The knife glistened with blood as it was raised.

Was there something about her past that you didn't know? Something that could snap and make her capable of killing you?

You didn't like having these thoughts about her. This was the girl you loved. And she was a victim, not the mastermind.

However, if her trauma went untreated...

Exhaling, Tara tossed the knife aside, and it clattered on the floor. She outstretched her hand, the softness you recognized returning to her eyes as she regarded you with concern. "Can you stand?"

You pressed your hand tenderly against your stomach to calm the bleeding from your wounds while avoiding the knife Ethan left in you. One slight movement had numerous shocks of pain shooting up your spine.

Biting your lip, your eyes filled with tears as you stared up at her and shook your head.

Realization crossed her features, her expression growing pitiful.

A gunshot ran out from the rafters. Sam's voice was barely audible. Since you didn't have a confrontation with Detective Bailey, you assumed he was the last one standing and that Sam was the one confronting him.

"Come on."

Before you could protest, Tara stepped around Ethan's body, slung your arm over her shoulder, and wrapped her arm around your waist.

"Wait-" You drew in a sharp breath as you were forced upright; your wounds were stretched, making them ache and burn. "Shit."

Tara grunted. She tried her best to carry you while you were propped up against her, but she was having trouble walking.

"You're limping." You stated. You felt guilty for weighing her down like this. "Tara..."

"Don't." She snapped; her breathing was shortened. "If you think I'm dropping you. Think again because I'm not."

You opened your mouth to argue, but Sam screaming made both of you look up.

Your eyes widened in horror at Sam's falling body. She wasn't the only one thrown over the rafters; Detective Bailey was too.

You and Tara flinched as Sam and the detective landed in a memorial of the Ghostface killings and destroyed it.

Glass spilled out onto the floor.

You looked over at Tara. She was flabbergasted and open-mouthed, staring at her sister's unconscious body resting on broken shards of glass and other materials.

She didn't move, but you knew she needed to check on her sister. In the end, the only family they had was each other.

Tara might've had a friend group and you, but Sam didn't let anyone in because of her fucked up father's history and her psycho ex-boyfriend. That's why she was so protective of her younger sister.

Tara was all she had.

It took some time, but after Tara had convinced you that it would be easier for her to help Sam after she knew you were safe, she carried you into one of the backrooms.

Not the room where Chad... neither of you could stomach that.

She helped maneuver you into a sitting position on the floor. You sighed in relief when your back rested on a wall.

She placed her hand on the wall and crouched to your eye level. "I'm going to see if Sam is okay. It shouldn't take long, alright? I've called an ambulance, so they should get here soon. You're going to be fine."

You smiled weakly. She was being sweet and more careful than usual because you were bleeding out and dying, but regardless, she made you forget how much pain you were in.

She gave you a small smile in return and turned to leave.

You reached out and grasped her arm before she could go.

She stopped, looking at you curiously.

"I..." You could barely complete your sentence. "Love you."

She smiled wide this time, and her tired eyes seemed to shine from happiness. "Tell me later."

Then, Tara briskly walked out to save her sister. You were left alone, wondering if she would return to you safely.

“Y/n!”

The paramedics wheeled you on a stretcher out of the creepy Ghostface memorial slash abandoned theatre. It was now a huge murder scene.

You had an oxygen mask over your nose and mouth that helped you breathe.

You were so high on morphine and painkillers, and it was fucking great because you deserved that euphoric feeling after the events you just went through.

Tara jogged up to the stretcher. The paramedics stopped so she could chat with you.

“Hey.” You said tiredly, unable to change your facial expression because you were doped up. It felt awkward to smile.

But you were extremely happy to be alive with Tara.

“Hey stranger,” She was in a good enough mood for jokes, doing the smile that revealed her dimples. “Remember, when you told me you loved me?”

“Hmm?” You answered noncommittally.

“I knew it. You are so high.” Tara laughed.

She understood because she had been through Ghostface attacks before.

And she survived again.

This time, she had you.

“I am so high.” You agreed, smiling slightly behind the oxygen mask.

Tara tentatively lifted the mask off, and you look over at her, puzzled.

You were surprised when she tugged you in for a kiss. It was slow and tender with the perfect amount of desperation.

“We got another one here!”

You broke apart from the kiss at the same time Tara did. Both of you turned your heads and saw Chad being wheeled out the same way you were.

You were matching with him. He looked in pretty bad shape, the same as you.

He was parked beside you, and Tara immediately addressed the elephant in the room, ”How are you alive??”

You had the same reaction.

”Core four!” Chad’s yell was muffled. He pumped his fist in the air like an idiot.

Tara glanced at you with a mischievous look in her eyes. “Core five! For y/n.”

“That doesn’t rhyme, though.” Chad complained halfheartedly.

Sam walked up to the three of you with a smile.

She placed her hands on Tara’s shoulders and spoke directly to you. “Thank you for taking care of my sister and fighting alongside us. It was very brave.”

“Apology accepted for accusing me.” You smiled to show that you were joking.

“If we’re accepting apologies…” Your attention was focused on Mindy shyly walking towards you as if you were going to hurl something at her.

“After being stabbed 10 times, I’m over that. Trust me.” You said truthfully, then added in a more lighthearted tone, “But you’re forgiven.”

Mindy was visibly relieved, then she immediately changed topics. “I can’t believe I missed the monologue again!”

You nodded in agreement.

You would’ve loved to see Detective Bailey quivering in fear as he had his ass handed to him, but you knew Tara would tell you all the details later.

Poor Mindy, though. She missed the entire final act.

The oxygen mask was placed back on your face with care. Tara turned back to look at Sam. “Can we ride with y/n to the hospital?”

She was asking for permission.

Sam was caught off guard and torn between Tara’s hopeful tone. She thought about it for a moment, and conceded.

“If they’ll let us.” She said with a smile.

[presbierue]

Sometimes I wish Star Wars had gone in a more cultish direction with the First Order because I think having a friendship (an unhealthy, dysfunctional and toxic one) between the First Order triumvirate would have been kinda cute in an off putting way but also a good source of angst and I love angst. Like, cults prey upon those who lack connection and are looking for a sense of purpose, and I think that would have played into the big connection themes in Star Wars.

Like, little Ben Solo looking for belonging, feeling lost and like he cannot possibly measure up to his family legacies and he meets two young people equally driven to live up to Imperial Legacies. Phasma is a common First Order child soldier who fascinated by Boba Fett who did whatever it took to win. She wants to be the best fighter, to be noticed and seen by others, and will do anything for it. She is already well on her way at a young age. Little Armitage Hux has a mild god complex, believing (knowing) that he could make an unbeatable Death Star, that he can fix the weaknesses of his family legacy (less of an unwanted child in this version, more of a single survivor of his bloodline deal) and restore his family name to greatness. He misses his family dearly and resents the hell out of the New Republic quietly though (would probably prefer his actual family back than greatness but lacks EQ to realize this).

Snoke offers Ben everything he wants: like minded peers and a chance to be as great as his family. That would be hard for a teen to turn down, especially as Snoke would be hiddibg the fine print of this deal.

Hux, Phasma and Ben would likely exist for long periods of time with minimal conflict between them as they aren’t direct competitors. Hux does a lot of the planning and scheming, Phasma runs the pragmatic and social game, and Kylo leads the spiritual and visionary role of the group. Yeah they probably quibble over what they specifically want and need for their own power and plans, but it would probably be low grade jabs that teens usually trade in. More “your stormtroopers are well trained in treason” than force choking and blaster fire. Cooperation would be the best way to increase their power and influence.

I feel like having both the good and bad guys have the whole “power of friendship” on their side would have been an interesting dynamic when contrasting them. Rey and Hux both want their families back but can’t have it so they cling to their friends, Finn and Phasma are ultimately just trying to survive in abysmal conditions (one goes high visibility violent to deter others from attacking her where Finn goes avoidant, only fighting long enough to flee), and Kylo and Poe are trying to reconcile their family legacies with their own personalities and abilities. The difference is that the First Order triumvirate is a much older and well defined connection that is adjusting to new changes and pressures; Hux won by the start of TFA he built an even better Death Star (I think having it blow up in the First movie was ultimately the wrong move it would have been more threatening if it hung in for all three movies to emphasize that the First Order isn’t messing around) and that puts pressure on Phasma and Kylo, who are still not at Legendary Boba Fett/Vader levels. Like, your friend rising to the top of the heap before 40 when you’re still trying to reach previous levels would sting. On the other hand, Hux might genuinely resent Kylo for killing Han, because Hux feels his victory is empty without his parents and siblings around to see it. Phasma and Kylo are probably too self conscious and jealous after Starkiller success to actually acknowledge that Hux did the thing until like movie 3 when there might be some emotional resolution for that group, so Hux is probably just sitting with a hollow victory all movie 2 and is now just fully depressed as the one thing he thought would make him happy didn’t. This could be resolved by end of movie 3 or blow up in their faces when their relationship can’t hack the pressures anymore.

Flip that to the tensions you could do with Rey, Finn and Poe. Poe feels like his mother and other rebellion sacrifices were for nothing since the First Order took over in like a week, so he feels like a failure which results in him taking bigger and bigger risks, threatening his own life. This freaks out Rey who is PETRIFIED of losing the people she cares about again, and Finn goes to an avoidant attachment style where he starts trying to not care about either of them and does a Han Solo Hoth exit (he comes back again quickly but it freaks Rey out even more so she’s not ending the middle movie in a good place). I think the end moral ends up being something like “Avoiding one kind of pain leads to another, be open about what you’re going through so people can help because you’re never completely alone” kinda thing. Maybe you can’t be the perfect Jedi who avoids fear entirely, but fear is a gift that tells you what you care about and you can work with that. The First Order Triumvirates cardinal sin is that they’re pursing outdated markers of success and security that they think will protect them and the people they care about, but it worsens their relationships and self worth instead.

IDK man this feels like an AU that I could develop into a full rework of the sequels but it is half baked at best. I just think it would be fun to Rey and Finn screeching at Luke to give them combat training while the whole time Luke is just bouncing Grogu and other Jedi younglings around and asking them “So do you feel like you can really trust each other, or do you trust that the other is useful in filling a gap in your own life?”. Just relationship counselling the shit out of everyone. Like, recontextualize the whole “can you control the darkness in yourself” Yoda question as “can you build a support network strong enough to support you and your loved ones when you feel the darkness”. Because while Leia, Han and Luke all tried that, they built networks that only worked for them, not the people they loved, which resulted in isolation and deterioration of their relationships over time (Leia rebuilt Alderaan, Han built a semi legal shipping company and Luke built his Jedi school, but none of those things had room for the people they loved).

Edit: also, it adds a degree of Kylo having to think it through at the end where he either has to actively destroy Phasma and Hux, the people he is closest to or back down. He has to actively do all the things that made Vader as miserable as he was (lose a parent, kill the one he loves most, betray his mentor/father figure) to HIMSELF. And that’s an interesting question: is this character actually resilient enough to go through what Vader did? Can you do it completely alone, with the knowledge that no one else could do this to you but you? When does self hatred become that destructive?

[hoardlikegoldenirises]

more self-indulgence!!

one part headcanons one part this is just how they are in my AU probably—uh... watching a parade? idk actually. i just. drew them.

because... i felt like it.... there are still missing characters because spider-man has five million supporting characters which is truly both a blessing and a curse (also like, i didn't include any foes or villains lmao but rest assured at least two of peter's rogues are queer...)

i decided this is like 2019 or something for?? no real reason other than i guess a lot of the adults finally being out or whatever... idk... that would make peter and his friends around 30-32 on average (well no felicia would be like 34) so still youngish but also definitely Adults™...

the kids are meant to be late teens early 20s but drawing that very specific age group is like, way difficult... also all the youths are short compared to peter's friend group of exclusively 5'9" to 6' people XD (well gwen and harry are shorter so i guess it's fine XD)

some of these are more firm than others. like. should randy be straight? i dunno. is aunt may straight or are all the alive parkers bisexual lmao? idk. what about literally all of the teenagers except andi? i have no clue and a lot of the stuff with them is waaaay later and I am not anywhere close to, so i just put them all in rainbows cause why not! but i do think janine is a token heterosexual in this instance lmao—see, not ALL of my AU versions of characters are queer, just most of them

also i'm going to put a few close-ups/crops below the cut just because it's hard to see them in the lineup without zooming in or w/e

obviously felicia and peter are bisexual and flash is... probably also bi? but i'm really still not sure... but she is trans :) and they're probably poly together but even after writing man-spider i'm genuinely... not actually sure if felicia is peter and flash's girlfriend or not 😂 they've got SOMETHING going on with the three of them but what it is, idk... i think peter is definitely polyamorous regardless, it's just a question of whether their relationship is or not.

red and blue hearts on peter's cheek technically poly but double as spider-man LMAO—plus earplugs cause pride is loud…

obviously felicia's also into leather and bdsm and stuff (and so is peter...) so i included some little hints of that... but didn't bother including any of the kink flags cause there's only so much i can fit tbh a collar works well enough.

i made his tie teal satin because of the teal ribbon for sexual assault awareness. but just a hint, cause i don't think he would be comfortable being public about that. he's out and proud as a bi jewish dude with a trans wife but he's really not out about being a survivor to anyone except a few very close and trusted friends/family. similar for kaine. so a teal necktie is just something for him. he's been through a lot in his life but he's happy 🙂

anyway i think i made flash's hair shorter than it's supposed to be here but it's fine, maybe she got a trim or something

supportive aunts!! i already established like 3 years ago or something in some offhand line that MJ's aunt is an Eccentric Lesbian (huh wonder where she got that from—) so i'm sticking with the lesbian spinster aunt there. I don't know about Aunt May though. I always kind of waffled there on whether she's like straight, or bi... cause I like the thought of old ladies in love. I think maybe they have some kind of queerplatonic thing going on or something... either way she is proud of her boy :>

MJ I never know so I just go with the umbrella—she's Queer. What kind? Gender? Sexuality? Yes, (relatable)

What matters is that she is always Glamorous.

i don't have any deep reason for making Glory bi, i just thought it would be fun, and also cause I like Glory/MJ... they are so fun... they compliment each other so much... I know that can be a just straight gal pals thing but listen, i like it

Gwen is the lesbian who's a teeny tiny bit bisexual but mostly into women. Also: not dead. lmao.

Harry is 100% gay (and divorced) but I still don't know when/if he ever comes out. Liz will def be out as a lesbian by the late 20-teens though cause I think she starts exploring her sexuality w/in 3-4 years after she and harry get divorced... also cause i thought it would be funny if liz and lily (who i did not draw) hooked up LOL

i didn't draw the babies because i ran out of steam for that but they would be... what... i think normie might actually be in like 5th grade or something at this point now that i think about it... stanley would be like... 5 though

Hobie is bisexual almost entirely because when I read the newspaper strip and the prowler showed up, he and Peter were giving me Flirtation Vibes so he is bi, and also punk because I enjoy the aesthetic Spider-Punk has going on, so even though that's not going to be a thing in this universe, I still like to make some little nods to it. also it just feels like a fun combo. he's a kind of alt guy, he's not very straight, he's not very normal, he's had issues in his life trying to figure out who he wants to be... it feels like it just fits well... i like it

he gets MORE punk AFTER college and shaves half his head etc. (instead of having his twist-out), which is funny to me but you know, it takes time to figure shit out sometimes... i didn't draw his girlfriend Mindy (wife? idk if/when they get married in this AU...) cause like i said, omg, so many people to draw... also idk if she's like, straight or what. probably? there's gotta be SOME straight people XD how does she feel about hobie's fro-hawk...? hmm

ah, cain and abel ben (and janine)

Ben is bisexual... like Peter. They both prefer women to some extent, but they have slightly different tastes (...well maybe not SO different) and Ben is more uh, subby? LOL—at least with Janine. Switchy. Unlike Peter, Ben has/had? a crush on Robbie LMAO but that's more of a like, mentor/mentee admiration kind of thing... not like a "i wanna make out with you" situation. Robbie is far too old for him. and also happily married.

In my notes I have that Ben was ofc also abused by Warren but a lot of his was medical and psychological (some physical as well), but... i would think there is an undercurrent of medical sexual abuse there nonetheless esp as much of this w/ warren hinges on sexual power dynamics and control, but i won't get into that here as it's partly still being developed and I don't want to get TOO heavy on this post lol

Kaine is, like I mentioned, a little complex and i'm not 100% sure about (also aracely painted his nails) I think that he's ~bi/pan in general? but maybe not? could be only into men? or not into anyone at all. but the thing about Kaine in this universe is that he's got a difficult relationship with sex and sexuality because of what he was put through by Warren, so while I don't necessarily think he's asexual I do think in this universe he's a little bit sex-averse or sex-repulsed and has a difficult time dealing with that stuff. He also just really desperately wants to be loved and he doesn't care who as long as it's someone, which is toxic in a lot of ways i think... being around Aracely would imo help him a lot in coming to terms with having like, normal, platonic, non-sexual, non-romantic, healthy (or at least healthier) interpersonal relationships, and understanding things like that... idk where he's at by 2019 though, mental health-wise... but yeah i wasn't really sure what colors or patterns to put on his clothes so i went with the dark purple and gray tones since they are the kind of common recurring colors on a lot of ace-spec flags including repulsion and related stuff.

as a sidenote as someone who has a kind of aro and ??? relationship w/ my own bisexuality etc. (idk if i consider myself ace necessarily but it's not totally irrelevant) i also don't want to like, Just Make Him Ace because trauma (but obv betty is aro at least) cause it's not that simple etc etc etc but also there absolutely are people who consider themselves asexual from trauma or for whom it's informed by trauma (though trauma would inform any aspect of interpersonal relationships, of course, and for kaine it does)... idk idk kaine is always like, much to think about for me. He's def not like... "normal" in the eyes of cishet patriarchal culturally christian society. I mean he's disabled for one thing,

ofc peter has many similar traumas esp after meeting kaine and HE'S def not asexual (though peter is also disabled)

idk idk i am always thinking about it and never quite sure. kaine has a very complex and largely negative relationship with his body.

i was also considering genetic mosaicism (46,XY/47,XXY) but i did not include any intersex colors etc. because a lot of this wasn't fully hammered out yet when i drew this. I think Kaine is probably intersex though. It's not necessarily obvious to anyone who looks at him, but it's also not something that comes as a huge surprise to him.

obvs the tiny hint of a teal ribbon is the same as for Peter, sexual assault/abuse awareness, and it's small and easily hidden. probably was given to him by someone trying to be supportive (ben and janine maybe? idk)—i mean ALL of it is from other people really. the sticker on the noise cancelling headphones? def from Aracely or someone else. his presence in the first place? dragged out of the house by a 19 year old girl. he didn't even have time to do his hair and he would rather be drinking coffee in a dark room alone :/

Anyway, Janine. Less complicated.

I decided at some point Janine is straight (but not narrow, as they say) so she gets an ally shirt lol. Like Peter and Kaine, I put her in some teal including a little ribbon bow on some satin ballet flats—obviously her history as a sexual abuse survivor etc. is very, very public in contrast to peter and kaine (and arguably ben, though i don't think he necessarily conceptualizes his abuse by warren in the same way, in part because it was very medicalized) but... it's not like she would want to draw a lot of attention to that. but i also do just like teal so i think it looks nice.

like those are just genuinely cute shoes 😂 but also it's to tie it all together.

the kids, the teens, the youths,

i really don't... feel like i know enough about them to figure out sexualities or if any genders are involved, and I'm a million years away from including them in any fics so a lot of that stuff simply has not been built out right now cause finer details aren't relevant to me yet (like. i'm in 2007 rn? miles is like... 8. lmao), so I just put them in some fun rainbow-y stuff. teens like going to pride and wearing rainbows right??? i mean i did.

i'm SURE miles and ganke have got something going on i just don't know What Exactly. nerdy friends...? nerdy boyfriends?? something else??? miles is wearing a tracksuit to hide his spider-man costume lol.

aracely is an enigma, i don't think anyone knows what's going on with her tbh. she is there to have candy thrown at her. she seems to like boys at least a little though.

i actually do know what's up with Andi cause she's actually supposed to first appear in 200...8? when she's like. 10. she is trans, and she is also why Flash was able to accept herself more and also why Flash transitioned. Flash wanted to be a good role model to help Andi feel good about herself and to not make her feel like there was something wrong with her, and then later re: transitioning, Flash saw how happy Andi was and wanted to also... be happy like that even though she was scared. and Andi herself really was (will be, idk i never know what tense to use for this stuff) helped a lot by Flash trying to self-improve, by having a supportive babysitter, and a dad who loves her, and so on and so forth... makes a big difference!

Andi and Flash are kind of intentional contrasts here in that, where Flash took until her late 20s to really fully be able to accept herself, Andi is the kid who goes on puberty blockers in high school and knew right away she wasn't what everyone said she was. (Flash had like, hints of that, but really didn't even realize until around ~19 years old and wasn't able to act on it for like... 9 years whereas Andi just really got motoring lol)

also Andi is a lesbian 💖

As far as Betty! I wasn't sure about her at first but I was chatting with Kita and I was like, thinking about her relationships and stuff and thinking, you know, she seems kinda aro... and then i was like... I can just do that. If I want. So I did. so now Betty is aromantic (at least, in my little alternate universe) and ALSO bisexual 😂 Peter's social circle is just a bunch of quirky bisexuals. bi4bi4bi

also dolled the fuck up. Betty said "overdressed? i don't know her. a pearl necklace goes with everything." (...😜)

I also am not sure about Randy (he also just has not come up yet i guess...) but I was thinking, you know, IDK, maybe he's straight as well. two whole straight people. i know he's dated a couple of girls in 616 (...i mean... so have most of the male characters lol) including like, Norah... but I'm not 100% sure what I would do there. I did end up making him a little bit of a hipster 😂 he's probably like... heteroflexible or smth... 🤔

Maybe Randy is ALSO bisexual??? or queer of some flavor.............. at least seems to KNOW about community stuff

idek what the hell is going on with these four but Robbie and JJJ sure do run a bisexual-ass newspaper (...well now that i think about it peter doesn't technically work for them anymore by 2019 but i'm sure he drops the occasional photo) (still a lot of bisexuals)

jk jk there are plenty of other employees of presumably various sexualities including straight ones AND gay ones (probably?) but like, betty, glory, ben and peter are all bi here which struck me as amusing. Two 60-something year old men supportive by way of having a bunch of homos working at their newspaper. Also because it's funny to me to have Jameson be actually very chill about The Queers. something something "you don't tell me what to do in my private life, and i don't tell you what to do in yours!"

anyway that's it. have a gay day 🌈

[canadianno]

Whats Lamberts past? Where are they from? I think I remember seeing a post from you about the Lambs being from Concolor. Can you tell me more about their upbringing and culture?

(Yapping below cut)

Lamberts past is SO important to my au. I think that backstories are! Fun! And silly! And the lamb needs more backstory representation!

Lambert was born in the mountains of Concolor, the realm of death. They were born into a world that was already trying to get rid of them, and because of it there's alot of things they genuinely haven't done. Lambert has never been to school, for example.

Their mother was named Ewein (you-in) and their father was named Ramsey. They were born with a fraternal twin, as most if not all sheep are, who was named Woolf (wolf)

They didn't actually learn too much of their culture from their parents- their father insisted apon some, such as learning to spin yarn, learning of the stories, worshipping their missing god- but their mother discouraged as much as she could.

Lambert escaped home at 8 or 9 years old, gunshot to the back of the arm, alone, and followed their mother's instruction to flee for the gate of Concolor. Lambert had never before even left the property, but learned fast, and learned well. Lambert was a natural born survivor, and, well, they must have been pretty good at it.

Lambert learned most of their people's culture from groups they traveled with- Sheep are social animals, and it's rare to find one traveling alone. They fled in packs of 4-10, despite the fact it made the targets on their backs larger. Lambert made many friends along the way, through the years. And- as you can probably guess, was the only sheep to make it through the gateway of Concolor, into the commonlands.

The gateway was closed by all 4 bishops soon after, locked away, hidden.

The sheep people of Concolor were extremely adapted to their environment, and due to their secluded homelands, not much of their culture was passed onto races around them.

They were big on music and dance. Storytelling was done through song, hooves on stone were used as drums, mountain ranges and sheer cliffs amplified their voices. The sheep were also healers and wisemen, known historically to make the best of doctors and the common of librarians. The sheep people have a natural knack for memory, and thus- they didn't tend to write things down.

Most of what they did write down was burned regardless- but some old rumors circulate- that possibly, in the lost library of Silk Cradle, lies a collection of copies, copies of the original books that were lost to the fires of Concolor.

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

The Betrayer | Chapter Ten: The Swing of Things

You fucked up. Badly.

Pairing: Albert Wesker/F!Reader, Chris Redfield/F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Violence, Injury, Death Mention

Notes: Woof. It has been over a year since I last updated this fic, and I am SO sorry. In that time, a lot has happened in my life, including graduating from college with a bachelor's degree and a slew of health (both mental and physical) issues that are still ongoing. I can't promise that my updating will be consistent or quick in any capacity, but I hope this quells you guys' fears that I have "given up" on this fic lol. My sincere hope is that I will someday finish it, even if it takes many many years. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this addition! I suppose you can consider it somewhat of a "filler" chapter, but I genuinely believe even the more fun chapters still have a degree of important plot (even if it doesn't appear that way at first, as I love adding "blink and you miss it" moments that are either call backs, foreshadowing, or easter eggs lol). Please let me know what you think and if you have any theories! I love reading those! Have a good one, y'all!

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Day 33; Haddonfield

You leaned against the shed wall as you desperately tried to regain your breath, heart beating wildly in your chest.

You were in the middle of a trial in Haddonfield with Laurie, Mikaela, and Jeff, three out of the five generators needed to power the exit gates finished, when a looming figure had appeared behind you as your group scoured for the next one.

He would have gotten you too, if Laurie hadn’t turned just in time to see him lunging for you, his kitchen knife barely missing your shoulder as she pointed behind you and screamed, making you duck.

The four of you scattered after that, losing each other as the Entity’s chosen killer for the evening seemed to pop in and out of existence due to his silent steps, the moonlight and the glow from the completed gens making his deathly pale mask somehow more haunting. It was eerie that someone so large could sneak up on you like that.

You were reminded of what your father once warned you about mountain lions:

“You won’t know they’re hunting you until they're ready to pounce.”

The thought made you shiver.

The other survivors called him “The Shape”. A name so… vague… shouldn’t have instilled so much terror in you. And yet. 

But Laurie told you his real name just a couple weeks prior as the two of you were hanging your laundry to dry. 

You had been chatting idly about your pasts, and you had foolishly asked her if there was a killer in the realm that was brought with her.

“Yes,” she replied quietly. You waited for her to continue, but it was silent for several moments. You looked over at her after clipping your bed sheets to the clothesline and could see her staring at the ground, brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me,” you assured her. 

She jumped when you gently placed your hand on her shoulder and she finally turned to you. “Michael. Michael Myers.”

You looked at her questioningly, not recalling that name being mentioned before. 

She continued, “He’s the one they call ‘The Shape’. He…” There was another pause as she swallowed, hard. “He killed my friends and very nearly killed me. Ruined my life in a single night, can you believe that? Halloween, of all days. I’ll never be able to enjoy that holiday again without looking over my shoulder. If I ever get back home to experience it, that is.”

All of the killers in the realm gave you a chill when you were told about them, but something about this silent stalker scared you more than most. More than Wesker. Hell, even more than Ghost Face. 

You had been fortunate in the month since first arriving in the realm that you hadn’t faced the Shape. You supposed luck always runs out eventually. Ironic, considering your nickname.

Though facing off against any killer could hardly be counted as fortune. In the five trials you had endured since your very first, you had only survived two. And barely, at that.

You couldn’t stop yourself from recalling those nights, the memories of your deaths in particular causing bile to rise up in your throat.

The Hillbilly and his chainsaw ripped you clean in half.

The Pig’s contraption locked onto your head had split your skull apart.

The Doctor and his electric baton shocked you until you bit off your own tongue and choked on it.

But you had still survived twice. You had to remind yourself of that.

You had been beaten and hooked by the Wraith, the agony of the strange weapon (made of human bones, it seemed, though it was hard to tell in the dark) being whipped across your face and the way the hook tore through the meat of your shoulder made you feel an ache just at the thought, but you had gotten out alive.

Your run-in with the Nurse had been much more successful. She still got a hit in on you, but you managed to get out of that trial with just a nasty gash across your chest. It very nearly got infected when you returned to camp, but Rebecca’s careful hand (and Chris’s watchful gaze) dealt with that promptly.

You were getting better with every trial, and that gave you hope.

You had always been a quick study, after all. 

You took a deep, calming breath and slid your spine across the chipping paint of the shed, peeking your head around to see if the coast was clear. You weren’t sure where everyone else went, but considering no screams had been heard echoing across the large (yet still somehow claustrophobic) “arena”, you took that as a good sign.

There was no indication of the massive killer, so you made your way slowly and quietly to the street, praying desperately that he wouldn’t find you again. 

You skimmed your vision over the area as you ducked behind the car in front of you, the flashing lights of the police cruiser nearby hurting your eyes.

It was strange, you felt, how this seemingly normal looking neighborhood could turn into such a breeding ground for terror. It was almost nostalgic how typically suburban it appeared, and that only made it worse.

You grew up in a place just like it, after all.  

There’s one, you thought to yourself as you spotted a generator nestled beside a roadblock at the end of the street. It was out in the open, but it would be easier to spot the killer with one of the exit gates at your back. He’d be less likely to creep up behind you, at least.

You made a beeline for it, surveying your surroundings to avoid being caught unawares, before skidding to a halt beside it. 

You nearly leapt out of your skin when Jeff popped his head up from the other end, probably checking to make sure you weren’t the killer coming to collect.

“Hey,” came his whispered greeting as you knelt beside him, his large hands carefully but expertly going through the motions of repair. 

“Hey there,” you replied breathlessly. You offered him a smile, but the expression was tight. You got straight to work.

“Have you seen the others?” he questioned after a few moments. 

You shook your head. “Not since we got separated.”

He let out a quiet exhale of barely concealed distress but remained quiet as the gen got closer and closer to completion. 

You liked Jeff. He was a gentle giant, and a reserved one at that. You were first acquainted when the two of you were partnered in the chore rotation, boiling the water brought in from a group of other survivors and lugging it to the barn for the very long-winded filtration process.

He had seemed like a tough guy between his large stature and full beard, but once you started chatting, he was quick to open up about his love of rock music and artistic abilities. You bonded almost immediately over Iron Maiden and Metallica and jokingly asked him to “paint me like one of your French girls”, cackling at the blush that bloomed in his cheeks.

He had shown you his sketchbook shortly after, and you were in awe of his talent, never having been much of an artist yourself. You thought of Kitty and how you and your family used to say she would grow up to be the next Da Vinci with all of her little doodles scattered around the house. You supposed now you’d never know. It made your heart ache.

The gen came to life under your touch, the noise of it fully starting up jarring you from your thoughts.

Jeff motioned for you to follow him, the two of you expeditious in leaving the area to avoid being discovered by the Shape.

You made your way down the street, opting to slink behind the row of houses instead of remaining out in the open. 

You came across Mikaela bent over what the others called a totem; a horrific mix of sticks, twine, and human skulls. A rumble echoed across the trial grounds as your surroundings lit up a soft blue.

So there was magic in the Entity’s realm.

You had laughed out loud when Mikaela had first explained it to you, thinking it was some kind of prank. The severe look she gave you made your eyes widen in shock. You shouldn’t have been surprised, considering everything else you had learned of this place, but the concept of magic seemed almost silly.

But then your fourth trial was with the young redhead, and you would have bled out if she had not utilized one of her “boons”, which miraculously helped to close the wound left by the hook. Not so silly anymore.

You had asked her after that particular event why she didn’t use her supernatural abilities to heal injuries in the camp, and she explained she couldn’t access her powers outside of trials despite all her efforts.

“Right, of course,” you had replied, bitterness seeping from your tone. “Typical Entity bullshit.” 

“Laurie’s inside that house working on a gen,” the self-proclaimed witch informed you, pointing at the building in question as she stood up. You noticed the cut across her arm then, watching as the skin stitched itself back together within moments.

“I’ll go help her,” you said, pulling your attention from the mind-bending sight. “Why don’t you two find another one to work on in the meantime, in case he catches us before we finish.”

They nodded at your words and crept off to do just that, leaving you alone once more. 

You made your way quietly into the house and up the stairs, finding Laurie with a wrench in her hands, hard at work. She turned to you and smiled tersely in greeting as you dropped into position beside her.

There wasn’t much left to do before the machine would be repaired, and you were confident it could be finished in no time. 

Oh, how wrong you were.

Before you knew what was happening, a large hand grabbed you by the neck, the scream brewing in your throat wilting as you were yanked off the generator and thrown into the wall behind it.

The wind was knocked out of you and you were dazed by your skull thudding against the wood paneling of the room. You heard yelling—probably Laurie—as that same hand came back around your throat and lifted you off the ground.

You dangled helplessly, unable to breathe, and you were suddenly reminded of Wesker’s tendrils from weeks prior. 

A surge of panic flooded through you as you stared at the white mask, the flickering light of the unfinished gen glinting off his knife. 

You grabbed desperately at his wrist, knowing the Shape’s strength was far too great to loosen his grip, even with your jagged nails ripping into his skin. 

He brandished the knife, the blade directed right at your midsection, and you braced for the sharp pain of it slicing through your flesh.

To your shock—and relief—the killer had released his hold on you and you slid to the ground, desperately trying to suck air into your lungs.

You were able to focus just enough to see Laurie hanging from his back, trying to strangle him with her arms wound tightly around his neck. Unfortunately, he grabbed her by the hair, ripping her off of him and throwing her onto the floor.

Looking for any way to fight off the killer before he could murder Laurie, you found a screwdriver on the ground, tossed out of her toolbox when it was kicked over in the tussle. You lunged for it, gripping it tightly and ramming with your full weight into the Shape’s form. He was built like a brick wall, but you managed to stab the screwdriver into the junction between his shoulder and neck, quickly yanking it out to watch him rear back, deep voice groaning in pain as a fountain of blood squirted from the wound.

A sick sort of satisfaction rushed through you to see him suffer, even a little bit. You didn’t like that you felt that way, but you brushed it off. He had done much, much worse. It was deserved. 

You had just enough time to grab Laurie’s hand and pull her to her feet before he was after you, running out of the front door and into the street to get away from the psychopath hot on your heels.

“This way!” Laurie told you, pointing at the house straight ahead. “We can split up when we get there and vault the windows on either side!”

You nodded, releasing her hand as you dashed into the living room of the aforementioned building. She rushed to the back, leaping over the window to the right, and you immediately went through the left.

Fortunately for Laurie but unfortunately for you, Michael was laser-focused on reaching you first, probably to make you pay for your little stunt. 

He was uncomfortably close as you continued to sprint away from him, desperate to lose him as you weaved in and out of buildings, diving over ledges and flinging pallets to slow him down.

It only seemed to make him angrier.

To your relief, you heard the telltale alarm of the exit gates being powered up, hoping that you and your teammates could manage to escape. You made the mistake of glancing back, the massive man’s knife poised to strike the moment he could get near enough.

You stumbled, your fear locking up your legs for only a moment, but it was enough of a delay for him to reach you.

A fence was right in front of you, and you knew you only had a second to act as his knife soared through the air, aimed right at your spine. You dove to the side of the fence, his blade embedding into the rotting wood, and you scrambled up and away as he used his brute strength to rip it right out.

It didn’t grant you much distance, but it was enough.

You barrelled back onto the street just in time to see the exit gate opening, and you made a break for it, the other three survivors spotting you and desperately motioning for you to join them.

As you neared, however, you saw the horror bloom on their faces, their eyes trained on what was behind you.

You knew exactly what that meant.

“GO!” you screamed, and they heeded your words, spinning and sprinting out of the gate and into the empty field beyond it. 

I’m so close, you thought. Come on! COME ON!

Your legs burned and your lungs felt like they were full of fire, unable to get enough air to properly breathe, but you knew you couldn’t stop now.

You could feel him behind you—hear the grunt that slipped from under his mask as he made to grab you, his large fingers brushing against the back of your shirt.

And then, as his dirty, blunt nails dug into the fabric…

You burst out of the gate and into freedom.

You heard the roar of pure rage and looked behind you, the Shape pressing his hand to an invisible wall that kept him from pursuing you further, his knuckles going white as he gripped his knife with inhuman strength.

You didn’t stop running.

You ran until you reached the edge of the field, engulfed in a thick black fog.

You ran until you felt like your lungs would finally burst.

You ran until a soft light pierced through the cold, wet darkness surrounding you. 

And only when the mist faded, giving way to the safety of the camp, did you finally stop.

You collapsed to the ground in front of the fire, gasping for air through crazed, triumphant laughs that you couldn’t prevent escaping your mouth.

“Lucky!” Chris shouted as he made it to your side, dropping next to you and grabbing your face to look you in the eyes.

He said nothing, but you knew what he was thinking.

“I survived,” you managed to get out through heaves and giggles. “I survived the fucking Shape.”

You heard a collection of cheers from all around you, Chris grinning as several survivors approached—including your teammates—and clapped you on the back or ruffled your hair.

When you finally caught your breath, Chris helped you to your feet.

You smiled as you faced the others.

“Hell yeah!” Carlos whooped. “Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about!”

“Good job,” Leon congratulated.

“Yeah, girl, like holy shit!” Claire exclaimed from beside him.

Whether from the praise or the adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you felt a dizzying sort of joy.

You really made it out alive. And this time, with only a handful of bruises to show for it.

“Come on, Lucky, sit down for a while. Get some rest,” Chris told you, urging you over to a nearby log.

There was a buzz in the camp, everyone excitedly chatting about the rare full-party survival of your group. It reminded you of your days in S.T.A.R.S., how you and your team would celebrate another mission well done.

You could almost see Joseph in the way Carlos ribbed Steve. Richard in the way Leon rubbed the back of his neck as he talked with Ada. Edward in Felix checking on Mikaela.

It made you feel both warm and melancholic.

Chris grounded you, as he always did, by wrapping his muscular arm around you, pulling you into him. He kissed your temple, speaking lowly so that only you could hear him, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

You felt a blush spread over your cheeks, glad your recent exercise already colored your face, whispering almost shyly in return, “Thank you.”

You sat together for a while after that, the survivors settling down. Yoichi and Haddie left to start dinner and Chris only got up when they had finished, telling you to stay where you sat so he could get you your food.

You used to argue when he did this, feeling embarrassed by the special treatment. He told you early on that he wanted you to feel special because, to him, you were. The notion was sweet and no one else seemed to really care, so you agreed to let him. He had done it every day now, unless he was the one serving the meals.

How very typical of him, always putting you first.

You watched him get into the line, smiling softly at your doting… whatever he was to you.

The two of you hadn’t put a name to it yet. You weren’t opposed to calling him your “boyfriend”, but it felt ridiculous with how little it conveyed just what he meant to you.

Besides, what you had was still fairly new and despite being physically intimate, you wanted to take this slow. You had all the time in the world, after all.

You could almost laugh thinking about the morning after the two of you first slept together. It started out nice and romantic waking up next to him, his strong arms holding you close as he kissed you slowly. But you had asked to keep your little tryst to yourselves for a while—to feel out what it was you had—and he agreed.

However, that was near instantly trampled the moment you left your room, Carlos clapping Chris on the back, Jill and Rebecca sharing knowing looks, Ada complaining to you about the noise, and Claire clocking the bruise on your neck as a hickey when she saw it. 

Chris was sheepish and you were embarrassed, but he had thrown an arm around you, telling you that you might as well own it.

It was strange to have something like this out in the open after years of keeping your relationships under wraps. 

You and Kevin thought it better to hide what you had for the sake of the job, only letting loose in front of friends and family. The man had never been the most outwardly affectionate anyway, preferring to show you his love behind closed doors. 

And you and Wesker? Well, that was a whole other can of worms.

It was nice to be shown affection so blatantly in front of other people and that Chris didn’t care if they saw him kissing or holding you. 

You were stiff at first, unused to it, but the ease with which he touched you and pulled you close eventually had you melting.

Of course, the more intimate moments were hidden from view, usually in your bedroom or his, though the occasional tug inside a closet or bathroom wasn’t uncommon. 

Frankly, you were both insatiable, unable to keep your hands off of each other when you weren’t burdened by chores and the daily trials.

You two were happy—as much as you could be in this place—and you wanted to keep it that way.

Your thoughts were scattered when Laurie appeared before you, gently tapping your shoulder to gain your attention.

“Hey,” you greeted jovially.

“Hey,” she replied, voice sweet, “I just wanted to say thank you for saving me in the trial. I thought for sure I was done for. I’m sorry he went after you when we split up.”

“Don’t sweat it. You saved me first anyway, remember? I think we can call us even. Besides, it’s not your fault he picked me to terrorize.”

She smiled at you. “Still, I’m glad you were there and that you got out safe. You must be our lucky charm or something.” 

You laughed. “I don’t know about that, but I’ll take a win when I see one.”

Chris returned, holding out a plate to you, and Laurie simply squeezed your shoulder fondly before wandering to the back of the line. You saw Steve sidle up next to her, trying to look cool as he chatted her up.

You rolled your eyes before turning your attention to the man beside you, taking the meal with gratitude and a brief kiss on the lips. You wondered if you’d ever get used to that.

“What was that about?” he asked conversationally, digging a fork into his food.

“Oh, just talking about the trial. I saved her from the killer after she saved me.”

“How so?”

You explained to him what occurred, reminded of the way Michael’s blood spewed out of him like a fountain—the way you felt a sadistic glee that it was you that spilled it.

You kept that bit to yourself, but Chris saw the way your brows furrowed, because of course he did. He was a lot more observant now than he once was, especially concerning you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

You took a breath in, unsure of how to answer, when Ace called out to the group, unknowingly rescuing you from a talk you weren’t ready to have. You both turned to face him, his arms full of various bottles of alcoholic drinks. 

“Who wants to party?!”

Many survivors excitedly cheered in response, gathering around the table Ace placed the bottles and a stack of cups upon. 

Carlos and Jill came up beside you, the former looking down between you and Chris. “How about it, you guys want a drink?”

You stood up, holding your empty plate in your hands as you replied, “You’re joking, right? After the trial I just had, I need one.”

Your small group chuckled, Chris standing as well and taking your used dish. “Pour me something, Lucky. I’ll go put these away.” 

He leaned in and kissed your cheek before walking off, and you caught the way Jill’s eyes shined and Carlos smirked at the action. 

“What?” you asked, narrowing your gaze.

“Oh, nothing at all,” Jill replied, smiling wide.

“Just that you two are so darn cute,” Carlos added, pinching your cheek and cooing. “Young love, am I right?”

You smacked his hand away. “Whoa there, no one said anything about love.”

Carlos clicked his tongue, pulling away his hand as the three of you made it over to the table to fix your drinks. “Denial is a river in Egypt, you know.”

You scoffed at the stupid jest. “And you’re too young to be making dad jokes.”

“Hey, I might not be a dad,” he started before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “but the ladies still call me Papi. Isn’t that right, Jill?” 

She elbowed him hard in the side, making him yip in response. “I think you should shut your mouth now.”

You laughed as he grumbled, taking two glasses and filling one with whiskey—as Chris would prefer—and the other with rum, which was more up your alley.

Chris returned and you handed him his drink with a smile, turning around just in time to see Claire reach for an empty cup. The man glared at his sister, voice stern as he said, “Absolutely not.”

“Seriously?” she questioned with a huff. “You know I drank in college, right?”

You could see Chris bristle at that. You knew Claire being flippant about her education was something of a sore spot for him.

Their parents died when he was fourteen—not much older than you had been when you lost your mother—and the two of them were forced to live with their uncle whom neither of them liked very much and was rarely around to take care of them.

Chris had to grow up quick, and he did everything in his power to give Claire a good life, even at the expense of his own. Nearly every penny he earned from the moment he started working went towards her; new clothes before every semester, birthday and Christmas gifts, school supplies—everything she needed, plenty of things she wanted.

But he had always been lax with her, nearly to the point of spoiling her rotten. This change in demeanor was strange to you and you wondered where it stemmed from.  

“Well, you should have been focusing on your studies, not partying,” he admonished. 

Claire wasn’t having it, clearly fed up with her older brother’s behavior. “I can do both.” 

“C’mon, Chris,” you coaxed. “She’s a grown-up now and it’s not like there’s a legal drinking age in this place. What’re you gonna do? Call the cops? Arrest her yourself?”

He rolled his eyes, but you could sense him relaxing as the logic of your words dawned on him. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. But don’t be stupid about it.”

With an appreciative smile towards you, she grabbed her cup. “We’ve got a lot in common, big bro, but not that.”

He scoffed in offense, turning to you as his sister trotted off with her spoils. “You hear that? Teenagers.”

You chuckled, raising your glass to him. “Can’t live with 'em.”

He grinned, clinking his cup to yours. “Amen to that.”

Rebecca sidled up to you, her own drink in hand. “I like to think I’m not that bad,” she teased.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a nerd and like, ridiculously responsible for your age,” you told her light-heartedly, bumping her shoulder with yours.

She gave you a faux pout before breaking into laughter, bumping you back. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t call me a nerd.”

Not everyone decided to join in on the alcohol consumption, but the survivors separated as usual, chatting amongst themselves. The teens hung out around the campfire, goofing off, and Ace even started a poker game that a few of the others joined in on.

Carlos, witnessing that, turned to your group of older adults from your world, which had settled down at a table near the medical facility. “How ‘bout we play a drinking game?”

“What, like beer pong?” Leon asked dubiously.

“Maybe Truth or Dare,” Ada teased with a smirk, making a blush rise to the young man’s face.

“No and no, though I like where your head’s at,” Carlos said. “I was thinking more along the lines of Never Have I Ever.”

“And how does one play this game?” Sheva asked with an amused chuckle.

“Someone says something they’ve never done, and everyone who’s done that thing has to take a swig. If no one has done it, the person who said it takes a drink instead,” Carlos explained. “So, who’s interested?”

“I’m down,” you offered, placing your elbows on the table in front of you. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Carlos glanced around at the others expectantly and they all agreed, some more hesitant than others.

The game started innocently enough, the whole group—except for Leon, it would seem—getting tipsy quickly. 

Then, as it always did, it took a more raunchy turn.

“Never have I ever…” Sheva started, considering her next statement, “had sex in public.”

You and Chris shared a secretive look and you both bit back laughter as you took a hefty sip from your cups. Ada and Carlos did, too, which didn’t surprise you, but everyone was shocked when Jill raised her glass to her lips.

“What?” she asked defensively. “The military was a weird time for me.”

Ada leaned forward because it was her turn, thinking of her own line as the group finished reeling from Jill’s admittance. “I’ll do you one better, Sheva. Never have I ever hooked up with someone on the job. And no, Leon, a kiss doesn’t count.”

You raised your brows as Leon opened and closed his mouth immediately, looking like an embarrassed fish. You were vaguely aware they had some kind of history together, but it apparently went deeper than you initially thought. You felt your heart ache for Claire, seeing why Chris was so concerned about her feelings for Leon.

Yikes on a bike. 

Without thinking, you tossed back your cup in response to Ada, the only person in the group to do so.

When you looked around with a drunken smile on your face, the expression dropped like your stomach as you realized your mistake.

It was clear that Carlos, Ada, and Leon assumed it was Chris you were referring to, and if Sheva knew otherwise, she clearly didn’t understand the problem with your revelation.

Jill, however, stared at you with furrowed brows, and you could see her trying to piece together who it might be.

You gulped as you glanced at Chris beside you, who had tensed up, his features that were previously open and relaxed turning stony as he met your gaze.

That sobered you immediately. 

You fucked up. Badly. 

Neither of them knew of your relationship with Kevin in the past, feeling it was unnecessary and a threat to your job security if you admitted you had a long-term relationship with your former partner.

However, it wasn’t Kevin that you had sex with at work, and you were almost tempted to lie and say it was.

Because you definitely couldn’t tell them it was Wesker.

“Well, that was fun,” you claimed as you stood, hoping you could get away from this situation before it blew up in your face. “But I think it’s time I head to bed.”

“Yeah, me too. Don’t want a hangover,” Chris said, voice gruff. 

You swallowed thickly as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but it probably wasn’t good. You weren’t ready for this conversation. However, he clearly was.

Tersely, you said goodnight to the group, their expressions perplexed by the awkward tension that now fell over you. Chris gave them a noncommittal wave, following after you as you trudged into the medical facility and into your room, anxiety swelling inside of you with every step.

Once inside, Chris closed the door, not facing you when he asked lowly, “Are you going to tell me who it was?”

You took in a sharp breath, already picking at your cuticles as you replied, “It doesn’t matter. That was a long time ago.”

Not exactly a lie. It had been nearly a year since you and Wesker had done something as risky as hook up in his office. It was the first and only time, as he made very clear.

Usually, it was in the safety of hotel rooms.

Chris turned abruptly, expression appalled. “You’re serious?”

“You sound like Claire earlier,” you said, trying to alleviate the tension.

“No, don’t do that,” he warned. “Don’t try to play this off.” He stepped forward and you eyed him warily. “I thought we were closer than this. I thought you could trust me.”

“Of course I trust you!” you exclaimed.

“Then why hide something like that from me? Worried I’d judge you?” His jaw was tight and you wanted nothing more than to hold his face in your hands, to go back to before you decided to play that stupid game.

You could at least admit to being with Kevin, lie and say it was him you had sex with on the job, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Chris, I don’t want to tell you because it didn’t mean anything. It’s something I wish I could forget. Can you please let this go?” you were in near tears as you tried to explain yourself, not willing to relent and give him the information he was looking for.

This was still far too raw, and you had been more than happy to pretend your previous relationships were nonexistent while exploring this new one with the man standing in front of you, fists clenched at his sides.

He looked at you for a long moment, taking in your pleading expression and the way you tore the skin off your fingers in distress, and finally backed down. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me anything. I just… I want you to be honest with me.”

“And I am,” you assured him, closing the distance between you. “That part of my life? It’s not important anymore. In fact, I wish it never happened in the first place. It was stupid. I was stupid.”

He sighed, features softening as he allowed you to pull him into an embrace, his large hands sweeping across your face. “Alright, then. I’ll let it go.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, nuzzling into one of his palms. “And I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You’re lucky I can’t stay mad at you for very long,” he teased in a hushed voice, leaning down to press a kiss against your temple.

“You nicknamed me well,” you replied, grinning up at him as he pulled back.

He rolled his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from tugging you into his arms.

“C’mere,” he said, lips meeting your own fervently.

As you returned the kiss, the back of your knees hitting the bed while he led you further into the room, you knew your night wasn’t over yet.

***

September 14th, 1996; Raccoon City

“‘Bout time you showed up,” your brother admonished with a goofy grin, opening the front door of your family’s home to let you inside.

“Good to see you too, Tic,” you replied sardonically, ruffling his hair the moment you stepped over the threshold. “How’s school? You keeping out of trouble?”

He pushed your hand away, fixing the strands you had pulled out of shape before answering with a playfully annoyed tone, “It’s only been like two weeks, Sis. How much can change?”

You chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”

Although you got along with both of your siblings—even with the large gaps in age—your personalities were as different as they could be. Tic, despite his sense of humor, was far more studious and careful than you ever were, taking his grades seriously. He was a popular kid too, becoming the rising star of Raccoon City High’s junior varsity soccer team. You often worried about his ability to juggle it all, but he hadn’t burned out yet.    

Tic rolled his eyes good-naturedly at your response before changing the subject, “Anyway, I heard we’re expecting company tonight?” 

“Sure are. My friend from work, Chris, and his sister, Claire.” 

“No Kevin then?” Tic already knew the answer, and you could hear the disappointment in his voice. Although you and Kevin still talked occasionally, he hadn’t visited your family in weeks, and you knew they missed his near-constant presence almost as much as you did.

“No, he was busy this weekend,” you said, unsure if it was even a lie. “But hey, Claire’s only a couple years older than you. You two might get along.” 

Your brother’s demeanor shifted, a mischievous smile forming. “Is she hot?”

You scoffed, gently smacking his shoulder. “She’s in college, dude. Don’t even think about it. At least until you’re eighteen.” 

He fake pouted, rubbing his arm as if you’d maimed him. “Geez, fine. No need to bust my balls over it.”

Before you could comment on his crass reply, a blur of pink tulle came flying toward you at warp speed, the tiny body of your baby sister being launched into your arms.

“SISSY!” she bellowed as you gave her a big hug. “I thought you were never coming home!”

You laughed at such a ridiculous notion. “Now why would you think that, Kitty?”

“‘Cos it’s been forever since last time,” she half-whined, as typically theatrical as any seven year old girl, you imagined.

“It’s only been two weeks.”

“You’d be surprised how much can change,” Tic interjected sarcastically.

“Oh, you’re about to get the worst noogie of your life,” you threatened, setting Kitty back onto the floor before making a grab for the collar of your brother’s shirt. 

“It’s not my fault you're getting too old to remember what you said five seconds ago,” he replied as he deftly dodged your outstretched hand.

“You’re only making it worse for yourself,” you warned, Kitty giggling as you chased Tic down the hall. Man, that kid was fast. It was unfair he was already taller than you at fifteen. 

You were about to catch up when an evidently displeased voice called your name from the kitchen entryway, “Now that you’ve finally arrived, can you help me finish the dinner I’m making for your guests?”

Ah, your infinitely uptight stepmother was here to break up the fun, as usual. Though you couldn’t fault her this particular time. The Redfield siblings were indeed your responsibility tonight.

Your relationship with your stepmother was a… complex one, to say the least. She came at a time that was far too soon after your mother’s death, and it always felt as though she was trying desperately to replace her. 

You wanted to hate her when you were younger—make her out to be some villain in your hero’s journey—because it was easier than blaming your father for moving on so quickly and becoming even more of a hardass than he already was. But now as an adult, you understood the truth.

She was simply a young woman who didn’t know how to handle a grieving child.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, quick to meet her in the kitchen and wash your hands, getting ready for whatever prep work she would throw your way.

She hummed in acknowledgement, sending your siblings off to the backyard and out of her hair before the two of you quietly made dinner.

You eyed her warily as she stood over the stovetop, the chicken breasts sizzling in the pan as she flipped them with a spatula. You continued your task of mashing the already boiled potatoes, thoughts drifting to the years of fights you had with your stepmother, and the resentment that you’d slowly been trying to chip away at now that you were an adult.

She was the secretary at your father’s job when they first met, hired about a year into your mother’s cancer diagnosis. It was only six months after your mother’s passing when your father introduced you, telling you—in no uncertain terms—that this stranger was to be your new maternal figure.

You always wondered if they just married quick so your father could push the responsibility of caring for you onto someone else or if he had moved on before your mother was even dead. After years of speculation and knowing that if you asked, you wouldn’t get an honest answer out of either of them, you still couldn’t decide what scenario felt worse.

Your disdain for the woman was not helped by the fact she was neurotic, and it always felt like she saw you as some charity case that needed “fixing”. She couldn’t stand that you were a tomboy, always forcing you into frilly pastel dresses when all you wanted to wear was your favorite jeans and your mother’s old band shirts.

You remembered when she threw them out to force your hand when you were about thirteen, and you cried so hard you puked. It was the only time your father ever intervened with her schemes and made her dig the shirts out of the garbage. You wanted to believe it was because he didn’t want the last remnants of his late wife to be taken away—as he got rid of pretty much everything that belonged to her when your stepmother first moved in—but you knew it was probably because your tantrum grated on his nerves.

You were about to toss in the butter to the mashed potatoes when the woman in question stopped you. “Only one stick of butter. You of all people should be more mindful of your health.”

You struggled not to roll your eyes, returning the second stick to the fridge, mentally grumbling about how you always used two and that you knew it tasted better that way. Instead of arguing like your younger self would have, you simply returned to the task at hand, stirring the quickly melting butter into the fluffy mixture.

No, you no longer hated her. Even with her nagging and patronizing remarks, she did mean well. The two of you just never clicked, and at the end of the day that was all there was to it. Besides, she was a wonderful and doting mother to your siblings, which was the most you could hope for.

“So,” she began, startling you from your reverie, “what is this Chris boy like?”

You considered it as you sprinkled some salt and pepper into your bowl. “He’s a good guy. Funny, friendly, and he can be pretty charming, I guess.”

She raised a brow at that, a knowing smirk gracing her perfectly painted lips. “Will he be coming to dinner more often, then?”

“I mean, probably,” you replied. “He’s become a really good friend, after all.”

“Just a friend, huh?” she teased, and although her insinuation made you scoff, you couldn’t help but appreciate the rare moment of camaraderie between you.

“Yes, just a friend.”

“A shame,” she tutted. “I was so disappointed when Kevin stopped coming around, and I hoped maybe you’d move on. I always thought you’d marry that boy, you know. How is he these days?”

Your face fell at her words, and you covered it by looking back down at your bowl of food, mixing it far more than necessary just to keep yourself preoccupied.

Marriage. It had once seemed so inevitable before it fell apart.

You sighed as you replied, “He’s doing well. He has a new work partner now that I’m in S.T.A.R.S.”

“Well, you tell him he’s always welcome here.”

You nodded sullenly. “Will do.”

The rest of the dinner preparations went by in silence, which you were grateful for.

A while later, you had just finished setting the table when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” you called to your family members scattered across the house, jogging to the front entrance to greet your friend and his beloved sister.

Your mood shifted instantly as Chris’s large form stood before you, a grin gracing both of your lips at the same time.

“I was wondering when you’d turn up,” you said to him, leaning against the door frame. “Now where’s this sister I’ve heard so much about?”

He laughed as he greeted you in turn, stepping slightly to the side to reveal a gorgeous young woman with reddish brown hair and bright blue eyes.

“Hi! I’m Claire. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, giving you a firm handshake, the strength of her grip surprising you. Her smile was warm and cheerful, so much like her brother’s it was almost uncanny. “You’re even prettier than Chris described!”

You quirked a brow at that, your eyes meeting your friend’s, who simply rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. You replied, “Thank you! I’d say the same, but I’ve seen your picture.”

It was her turn to look confused. “You have?”

“Yeah, Chris keeps a photo of you two on his desk at work. Hard to miss it.”

She laughed, gently punching her brother’s arm. “Aw, you big softy.”

He rolled his eyes but chuckled along, and it suddenly felt like you’ve known the two of them your whole life.

After chatting idly in the doorway, you finally led them inside, the duo peering at the family photos that decorated the walls. Their attention was moved when your stepmother gracefully appeared, manicured hands already perfectly clean despite cooking with them only moments prior. 

She greeted them with a wide grin, gingerly shaking their hands and corralling your group into the living room.

“Make yourself at home, you two!” she chirped before turning to you. “Now come help me finish dinner, honey.”

You begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to leave your company by themselves but knowing they’d be just fine for a few minutes, following your stepmother back into the kitchen. 

As the two of you finished up the meal, emptying food from their pots and pans into her nice serving dishes, she leaned over to you with a twinkle in her eye. “That boy sure is handsome. You better nab him before someone else does.” 

You pulled a face at that. “As I said, just friends.”

She tsked in response before sweeping out of the room, clearly unsatisfied by your reply, and you trailed behind her. You knew she just hoped you’d “settle down”—probably because she wanted grandkids sooner than your siblings could give them to her—but it wasn’t as if you could tell her your only interest was in your boss.

Though, it wasn’t her approval you worried about.

Despite your father’s general apathy towards your existence, you knew he would be very against such a scandalous relationship. Not just due to the fact Wesker was your superior, but because of the age gap between you. 

Hypocritical, you thought.

It was about the same as the one between himself and the woman walking ahead of you.

You put on a smile as you reentered the living room after placing the food on the dining table, leaving your stepmother to arrange it as she liked. You were surprised to see your father already there, shaking Chris’s hand and giving him a look that you knew well. He was sizing him up.

“Well, dinner is about ready,” you announced, trying to prevent what was sure to be an awkward situation.

Chris looked over at you and smiled, your father’s gaze narrowing. He said nothing as the group followed you into the dining room, your younger siblings already in their seats as your mother completed her artistic array of dishes and cutlery.

Seeing you enter, she wiped her still-clean hands on her apron, introducing your siblings to your companions. Your brother’s eyes widened when he met the gaze of Claire’s and was quick to avert them, the girl not seeming to notice as Kitty launched into asking her a million questions. You managed to stifle your chuckle at the sight before your stepmother caught your attention. 

“Would you be a dear and get us some drinks from the garage?” she requested sweetly. 

You nodded, about to do as you were asked when your father placed a hand on your shoulder. “No need, me and Chase here have it covered.”

You froze, knowing he was probably going to interrogate him ruthlessly, as he had done to Kevin years prior. You schooled your expression. “It’s Chris, dad. And shouldn’t our guest be allowed to sit at the table?”

“It’s no worry,” Chris said, clearly ignorant to the warning expression you gave him. You sighed as your father turned and left, Chris winking at you as he passed you by.

Welp, guess he’s on his own now.

You sat down at the table at your usual spot across from your brother, a chair left between you and Claire, meant for Chris.

Despite your concern for your father’s antics, you were quickly pulled into a conversation with your friend’s sister, an amiable girl through and through. Your worries were forgotten as she spoke, telling a joke that made you chuckle. Even her sense of humor felt familiar to you, so reflective of her older brother.

Your stepmother then asked her about her studies, and after she described her college experience so far, she explained that she was on the girl’s soccer team, something she enjoyed. 

“Well ain’t that something,” you marveled, “Tic also loves soccer.”

When he didn’t reply, you kicked him gently under the table, giving him a look that said, ‘Now’s your chance to make a friend’. He sputtered out an agreement, the conversation falling silent as he couldn’t seem to offer anything else. Well that was new. He’d never been so awkward or quiet in his life.

Before you could change the subject, your father and Chris finally came back into the room, a bottle of cold soda and a couple of already opened beers in tow. Your group took turns pouring some for yourselves, and once Chris settled into his seat, you looked over at him.

Catching his eye, he offered a small smile, but there was a furrow to his brows you only ever saw on particularly hard missions at work. Your expression was questioning, worried your father had really said something off-color, but he seemed quick to shed whatever concern he had, joining the conversation and making a quip at his sister’s expense.

You yourself eventually relaxed, the evening going quite well despite the few hiccups.

After nearly an hour, your stepmother asked you to clear the table, and Chris immediately jumped up to help despite both of your protests. He wouldn’t relinquish the stack of plates in his hand, however, so you beckoned him to follow you into the kitchen as your sister excitedly ran to a nearby cabinet to pull out her favorite board game, easily roping Claire into playing it.

You and Chris remained in companionable silence for a few moments as the two of you began putting away any leftovers and getting to work on doing the dishes in the sink.

“Thanks for helping out. You know you didn’t have to, right?” you said as you lightly ribbed him with your elbow.

“It’s the least I could do after feeding me so well,” he replied with a shrug.

You smiled, looking down at your handiwork as things fell quiet once more.

After a few more beats, you asked quietly, “My dad didn’t give you too hard of a time, did he?”

“Not at all,” he answered, to your surprise, before continuing sardonically, “He only threatened to kill me if I ever hurt you. Nothing too crazy.”

You laughed at his sarcastic remark. “You got off easy, then.”

He pulled a face before chuckling. “I’d hate to see what him going hard on me looks like.”

“Aw, you’ve got nothing to worry about if you behave. If you don’t, though? Well, they’ll never find your body.” You said that last part deadpan, and Chris flicked soapy water in your direction.

“Well, you better get used to the idea of me haunting your ass then.”

You pretended to shiver in fear. “Only my ass?”

His responding laugh was loud, and you worried your grin would be etched into your face if you couldn’t stop it from forming.

The two of you finished up quickly, drying your hands before joining in on the game in the nearby room. Your sister was having the time of her life and your brother finally started to act more like himself as the evening continued, the two families before you meshing better than you could have imagined.

Caught up in your reverie, you didn’t realize it was your turn to roll the dice, Chris bumping his shoulder into yours, placing the two cubes of plastic on the table in front of you. “You can stall all you want, but I’m still gonna win.”

You rolled your eyes as you began your play, the group laughing at his remark. The dice clattered across the table, and you bit your lip as you all stared at the result.

“Oooh, snake eyes. Unfortunate,” Tic stated before snatching them from the table. “Better luck next time, Sis.”

You huffed in faux displeasure, and the game went on.

One hour turned into two turned into three, and no one seemed to notice or care, you least of all. This was the most fun you think you’ve had in months.

You smiled warmly at the people around you, the two halves of your life fitting together like puzzle pieces, all prior concerns forgotten. 

Right at that moment, sitting in your family’s dining room next to one of your closest friends, you knew one thing to be true.

This is home.

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

Masterlist | Previous | Next

[mjoffic]

last minute shopping - eddie munson holiday blurb

I work retail and this popped in my head while refolding a graphic tee table and it's truly just a bunch of fluf and eddie being a cute boi

~ enjoy and happy holidays ~

word count: 1.2k

The holidays. A time focused around family, the reason for the season, cozy sweaters and hot cocoa. Twinkling lights couldn't be missed for miles as every house had some sort of big bulk convenience store decoration. No need for 'frosted windows in a can', oh no, Hawkins was seeing a very white Christmas with snow fall never ending and the chill of the wind cutting through every jacket and parka leaving no survivors behind. The joy was like an electric buzz in the air, only one thing could diminish the feeling.

The Starcourt Mall.

Eddie wasn't the best planner, never had been. Despite this year trying his best to be on top of the holidays he still had yet to get something for Uncle Wayne. With Christmas Day only two days away, it was a scramble for the perfect gift and it was absolute hell trying to get anywhere in the mall.

He could try The Gap? Nah, too pricey.

Maybe a gift certificate to Scoops Ahoy? But when would Wayne ever find the time to use it? He's always working.

Eddie sighed in frustration, running a hand through his mop of curls. He took a moment to look around the area, peeking over the heads of bustling mothers herding their kids to meet Santa, dads sitting on benches with shopping bags galore, teenagers running around the food court with their Orange Julius's sloshing all over the place. This was a nightmare. Slim pickings. Would Wayne be upset over a hand drawn card?

He was near giving up when he spotted Macy's on the far end. It was a department store, and while it seemed busy, it wasn't as congested as the inner workings of the mall. He squeezed his way through and slid through a sliver of space in between two groups of families; one included a mother scolding her husband for losing their credit card, the other group had a child crying over not getting the remote control car on the front table. Eddie pursed his lips, so glad he wasn't in that stage of life just yet.

There seemed to be never ending options for Eddie to look through, he wondered why he hadn't stopped in in the first place. It also made this decision much more difficult. He knew that he would definitely be walking out with something, no doubt, but genuinely the starting point slowly began to stump him and he felt his once eager energy depleting. A three pack of ties? When did Wayne dress up? A mug? Sure, lets add to the hundreds of them adorning the trailer wall. Maybe a fancy glass set? Even if the glasses were on sale, it was definitely out of Eddie's comfort range of spending.

"Well the sign says fifty percent off!"

A screech from an older woman pulled Eddie out of his daze and his attention turned to the scene on his right.

"Ma'am, I understand your frustration, however the sign details specifically to the gift sets. This sweater is on the table, but is signed for thirty percent off."

Eddie shifted his gaze from the woman, red in the face, almost matching her Christmas red sweater, to you. You stood behind a counter, not currently in use to ring up customers, but he noticed a stack of scarves next to you. He assumed you'd been cleaning up. You wore emerald green, very festive, and an elf hat to match. Despite your professional aura, the bell on the end of hat could almost send him into a fit of giggles every time your head even moved an inch.

"I'd be more than happy to show you-" you started, before being interrupted.

"You can show me to your manager! This is false advertising!" the women shouted, drawing a few more eyes into encounter.

"Ma'am, I'll have to ask you to keep from yelling in the store," you responded, face void of emotion. "If you would let me-"

"I'll yell if I want to! This is a free country!"

Eddie watched you take a deep breath, before picking a landline off the counter. You typed quietly while the woman continued her banter. You faked a smile to her before speaking again. "Hi, hey Ron, it's Y/n! Yeah, yeah, doing good, hey listen, would you mind sending security down to gifts? I have a disgruntled customer who refuses to listen. Awesome, thanks so much!"

The womens jaw dropped as you placed the phone back to the receiver, Eddie snickering quietly at this interaction.

"Who do you think you are!" the woman shouted, feigning a hand to her chest dramatically. "Do you know who I am?"

You smiled and shook your head, folding your hands on the counter. "No, ma'am, I don't! However I am the manager of this department and am asking you to remove yourself before security gets here."

The woman stared dumbfounded, slowly backing up from your bubble. Eddie stared in wonder at the interaction, and if he was honestly, completed turned on by your dominance.

"Merry Christmas!" you smiled, waving as the woman moved away from the scene.

Eddie noticed security at the end of the walkway and he shook his head, laughing slightly. Finding the nerve to walk up to you, he leaned softly against the counter and looked to the way in which the Grinch had left. "I think that was better than any of those movies playing in the theater right now."

You looked to him when he had approached, and smirked a bit at his words. "I try. Gotta keep some sort of sanity in this place."

"I get it, it's a madhouse in here," Eddie nodded, giving his best smile before extending his hand. "Eddie."

Your smirk simmered into a smile and you shook his hand back, nodding. "Y/n."

"Well, Y/n, I'm wondering if you might be of some use to me," he said, straightening back up.

"Oh?" you questioned, crossing your arms.

"Yeah, I mean, you are the manager of this department," Eddie said. "I'm in the works for the perfect gift."

"Ah," you nodded, stepping out from around the counter and glancing around your section. "Mom? Sibling? Girlfriend?"

Eddie stifled a laugh and he slowly followed beside you. "Uh, no mom. No siblings. And no girlfriend."

Your face erupted in pink and you stumbled over your words. "Oh, um, I'm sorry, I just assumed-"

"Hey, hey," Eddie grinned. "All good here. I'm shopping for my uncle, wanna try to find him something nice. Not much of a budget but I figured I'd find something on sale."

You felt your panic subside and sat a cool hand against your cheek, the heat subsiding. "Well, I'm sure we can find something perfect for him! Maybe something for you? Doesn't hurt to treat yourself sometimes."

Eddie pursed his lips a little bit and dug his hands in his pockets, following slightly behind you. He watched the way the bell of your hat jingled with every step you took. You arms slightly swayed when you walked, and you barely made a sound when taking a step. He began to notice the little things, and started to quietly thank the stars he'd came into the mall after all.

"I think I already have."

[velvetvexations]

It seems appealing, but until I was gifted a Steamdeck recently I couldn't play it and it's still quite expensive. Generally though I do prefer FPSs.

lmao right

1) A few people get called out for genuinely, undeniably heinous behavior, with receipts showing exactly what they're purported to show, loud and clear. Maybe they molested kids, maybe they started a cult, maybe it turned out that all their social justice talk was a smokescreen for hate recruiting, maybe they'd been catfishing for clout and profit, maybe they'd been trawling the site the callout is on for people to scam and abuse, maybe it's even more than one of the above. Whatever it is, it's unequivocally bad and SOMETHING has to be done and the systems at hand have sweet fuckall TO do about it, so a warning to the community it is! 1.5) People are primed to believe, when they see a callout post, that yes, what this person did was AWFUL. 2) People seeing that this works - and often genuinely but incorrectly believing that they have another equally bad case on their hands - start posting callouts about shit like friend drama (that wasn't a fight, it was ABUSE) or media taste (I heard he watched Dragon Maid, PEDO ALERT!!!) or consensual kinks (can you BELIEVE she misgendered another girl who asked her to??? Disgusting!). Most but not all of these target marginalized people, because of course it's easier to make a mountain of a molehill when people have a preexisting bias to believe it's a mountain (though contrary to popular current belief, it's usually not one specific group in particular). 3) People start fighting over the utility of callouts - some people believe these bits of nonevidence are TOTALLY proof of wrongdoing, others start to get alarm fatigued because surprise surprise, it's WAY harder to find people who are actually stealing and selling human bones, or lying about being HIV+ sex trafficking survivors for discourse cred, or starting entire cult houses, than it is to find...people who aren't perfect friends 100% of the time, or who like media that squicks you out; a few people still manage to fall somewhere in between. 4) Callouts fall off in frequency until someone does something SO heinous as to return us to step 1. I feel like we're kinda between steps 3 and 4 here, as a site at large - which, ironically, makes me all that much more suspicious when someone highlights a specific group as being the ONLY one targeted and harmed by fake callouts.

Eyyup.

Also, even callout posts that have legitimate grievances tend to do the Wendigoon thing where it's frontloaded with ridiculous bullshit before it gets to "also, this person murdered twelve women from 1999 to 2004." Like, why did I hear about how Vivziepop using voodoo aesthetic risked her staff being haunted to death by spirits before I heard she thinks non-binary people are faking being trans for attention?

I went into a restaurant to order some takeout while Original Mall Anon waited in the car, and when I went to get our sodas, there were these three preppy girls just...congregating there, taking up the space long after they'd finished getting their own, blocking anyone else from getting their drinks without asking them to move and, I shit you not, talking about buying shit from Hollister. Half of me, in the present, was like "okay. They're younger than me. I shouldn't be MEAN. This is a minor rudeness, I don't need to make a whole Thing of it." Half of me was violently removed from my body and de-aged to 15 because what the fuck, I was standing there, dark clothes, dyed hair, Hot Topic bag in hand, being treated like an annoying nonentity by a bunch of preppy girls who were acting like they fuckin owned the place, that was something I thought wasn't supposed to HAPPEN outside of high school and yet here I was, uh, catching up on missed experiences to a level I REALLY didn't expect to happen at a Wingstop.

God how I want some Wingstop. I love every part of this, anon. Perhaps your mall is truly unteathered from time and space.

It's completely mindless harassment without any real point and if they show up on one of your posts you should report them.

Hell yes.

Well, that's fucking stupid.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: DECEMBER 2023

what's up gamers!!!! 2023 is over, and before I can make a post reflecting on every book I read I need to talk specifically about what I was reading in December. I was lucky enough to end the year coming out of a pretty dire depressive fug, and I celebrated by going buckwild reading as much as possible and placing so many holds at the local library that I will, probably, come to regret any day now. such is the price of being in love with life again, I guess!

let's talk about it!!!

what I read:

Buffalo is the New Buffalo (Chelsea Vowel, 2022) - a collection of Métis speculative fiction short stories. Vowel's stories didn't always quite land for me, feeling as if they would benefit from another round or two of revisions and a bit of elaboration, but even when they fell a little flat the concepts were promising. I especially adored the story "Michif Man," in which a mid-twentieth century Métis man is gored by a radioactive buffalo and develops strange powers that he uses to defend his community, told through the fascinating framing device of a 21st century scholar's speech making a case for Michif Man's existence. I also really liked the closing story, "Unsettled," which felt like really cool old school sci-fi: five clashing characters alone burdened with the responsibility of tending to the rest of humanity frozen in stasis, with each character serving as a mouthpiece for a vastly different perspective and set of values about their Indigenous identity. hit or miss collection for me, but the hits hit much harder than the misses missed.

The Bandit Queens (Parini Schroff, 2023) - this book was genuinely so so hard to put down!!! the story follows a group of women in a small Indian village as they decide to start solving problems by murdering their husbands, turning to Geeta - whose widely believed to have killed her own husband years ago - for advice. the only problem is that Geeta didn't kill him, he just walked out on her. and now she's caught in a RAPIDLY tangling web of murder, blackmail, and hidden motives among women she's never let herself get close to. it's a dark comedy, to be sure, but also surprisingly heartfelt, exploring the countless factors - gender, class, caste, religion, motherhood, beauty - that keep Geeta and the other women apart as well as the forces powerful enough to pull them together. it's a book about the power of friendship and also the power of going ape shit.

Small Game (Blair Braverman, 2022) - a VERY different book from Bandit Queens on every level, but equally hard to put down! Braverman is something of a professional wilderness survivor, and decided to write a story about a similarly experienced young woman, Mara, signing up for a survival-themed reality show where everything goes wrong. one day the camera crew simply fails to show up, and everything shifts when the contestants are forced to shift from surviving for show to actually fighting for their lives. a book that's gross and tender in equal amounts; Braverman is a very good storyteller and I'm strongly looking forward to anything else she puts out.

Are You My Mother? (Alison Bechdel, 2012) - a gorgeously drawn and terrifyingly vulnerable graphic memoir. a spectacularly brave endeavor; while I would never discount the tremendous artistry of Bechdel's more well-known Fun Home, I cannot imagine the terror of writing something like this about my mother when she's still alive to read it. absolutely ruinous if you yourself have any remotely complicated feelings about your mother, I will tell you that much!!!!

The Heart Principle (Helen Hoang, 2021) - Helen Hoang is so good that I didn't even count this as my romance novel of the month; this was just a book that I sincerely wanted to read. apparently quite a few reviewers on goodreads whined about how this shouldn't qualify as a romance novel because it's too sad, to which I say those people are fucking wieners. Heart Principle gets heavy, sure, with protagonist Anna navigating the sudden illness and death of her elderly father, but at the same time she's finding happiness and new ways to be herself and having the best sex of her life with resident hottie Quan, who's been a gem of a supporting character in this series since Kiss Quotient. it gets sad as hell, for sure, but it's also a mature, touching, and sexy story of two people developing a bond that encourages them both to embrace life and grow together. also, hi, Anna finding out she's autistic is SUCH a source of joy and eventual self confidence for her and it's SO nice to read.

Out There Screaming: An Anthology of New Black Horror (ed. Jordan Peele, 2023) - listen. it's a very good short story collection, filled to the bursting with some of the best writers in the game. there are very few stinkers in the bunch, which is really impressive for a collection with so many stories. but. it very seldom felt properly... scary? spooky, creepy, mysterious, supernatural, sure. but I want to be scared!!!! fuck me up!!! Us got under my skin and scared me in a way that I still think about years later, and I was expecting something similar from an anthology edited by Jordan Peele. so on that note I would actually really strongly recommend this is you like being a little spooked but not terrified!

Kiss Her Once for Me (Alison Cochrun, 2022) - this one was the romance novel of the month, voted on by my patrons, and incidentally my patrons should go to prison. listen. this book sucks shit. god, this protagonist sucks. I know the point of this kind of story is for characters to start in a place where they're flawed and you want to see them improve as people, but Ellie is just so endlessly whiny that I don't want to see her improve, I want her to shut the fuck up and stop using her anxiety as an excuse to be wildly unpleasant to everyone else. the chemistry between the main characters was what I call the "because I said so" variety, by which I mean there was no chemistry despite the narrative insisting repeatedly that there definitely was. (incidentally, Ellie had way better chemistry with the man she was fake engaged to, meaning I was actually really rooting for the hetero option for once.) also Cochrun is apparently a huge swiftie and referenced Taylor Swift a truly unwell amount of times in this book. dismal all around.

Mammoths at the Gates (Nghi Vo, 2023) - Nghi Vo can do absolutely no wrong and is one of the authors whose new releases I will ALWAYS be showing up for. Mammoths at the Gates is the latest in the Singing Hills Cycle of novellas, and sees the cleric Chih leaving their quest for stories in order to return home to Singing Hills Abbey after years on the road. they're excited to be home, but nothing is as peaceful as they'd have hoped: an old friend has been promoted, straining their relationship, and a beloved mentor has died, creating a complication when their family come to lay claim to the body. it's a book about death in the best way, by which I mean it's very much a book about life, and I read it all in one delightful morning racing to the gentle shock of the ending.

what am I reading now?

God: A Biography (Jack Miles, 1995) - this is a book rec I scooped from Oh No Ross and Carrie and it is. such a weird reading experience, but I'm enjoying it! this God dude is nuts!

Masters of Death (Olivie Blake, 2018) - I'm not very far into this book yet, and I can't decide if the prose is fun or annoying. maybe both!

what's next: a list of books I have on hold

Patternmaster (Octavia Butler)

Laziness Does Not Exist (Devon Price)

Piñata (Leopoldo Gout)

[thecoolerliauditore]

lrb insane post incoming.

Alot of the "jimmy is genuinely incompetent and the taking away of his agency is necessary to keep him safe" reminds me of the discussion surrounding this obscure-ish character from the second season of the telltale walking dead games. This is Sarah. Say hi Sarah.

Sarah is a 15 year old girl with a very protective father. She acts as a direct point of comparison for the main character Clementine in the season -- them both being young girls in the apocalypse, but where Clem has been taught how to survive, Sarah is left helpless due to her father's insistence any exposure to the horrors of the apocalypse would leave Sara "unable to function".

It becomes clear throughout your interactions with Sarah that she too is frustrated with her lack of survival skills, and at one point asks Clem to teach her how to shoot a gun (something her father forbade her from). She's naive, but intelligent enough to know that the other survivors see her as a liability, and wants to pull her weight, but she's never given the chance to prove her own worth because the other survivors have already decided for her that she's incapable.

A lot of players, including myself, became incredibly endeared to Sarah. I personally really wanted to build her and Clem's friendship, especially since a lot of the other characters that season consisted of grown ass adults who, in my eyes, put a ridiculous amount of responsibility on the 12 year old. The multiple opportunities throughout the season to encourage Sarah's independence fed this desire very well.

Another character, Jane, gets introduced mid-season who absolutely Hates Sarah and continuously instructs Clem to give up on trying to keep Sarah alive. It's revealed later that Clem and Sarah's dynamic reminded Jane of herself and her dead sister's. Jane, who is hyper-competent, tells Clem she loved her sister dearly and misses her but her sister wasn't cut out for the apocalypse and she eventually left her to die, unable to bear the burden of taking care of her anymore.

At the time, this revelation of Jane's backstory only cemented to me that everyone was wrong about Sarah and their mindset towards survival as a whole. Jane is traumatized, clearly deeply affected by her sister's death and is now projecting those feelings on to a fucking 12 year old kid and her slightly older friend. That and the actual circumstances of Jane's sister's death being left unclear (FYI I'm not a "Jane killed her sister" believer but I do think it's interesting she frames the story as if her sister's death was her direct responsibility) made me want to see Sarah succeed all the more. To prove Jane wrong, to prove her father wrong, to prove all the other survivors wrong.

But this is TT Walking Dead so Sarah dies regardless of your actions. One death gives you the opportunity to leave her behind like Jane urged you to or slap her to motivate her, which I actually really love. The other, unavoidable death has Sarah just straight up fall into a horde of zombies and die and there's nothing you can do about it. Fuck all that character development and time you spent on her, she's gone.

And this is more of a symptom of TT Walking Dead's bad writing as a whole especially in season 2 and not necessarily unique to Sarah -- but what is unique to Sarah is the amount of people who took her inevitable death as proving Jane and her father Right.

Which is ridiculous to me -- half the cast of season 2 dies without fanfare. Luke, who serves as one of the leaders of the group, can die via just falling into a lake. Sarah's father dies Before she does regardless of your choices.

It's a great example of confirmation bias. A literal rooftop collapsing and sending Sarah falling into a horde of zombies is seen as a consequence of her lack of ability, but when the "competent" survivors die off it's because the apocalypse is "like that" and deaths are "random".

By now this would seem like fandom being fandom especially when due to the genre so many in the audience subscribe to that doomsday prepper, might is right, hyper-competent mindset. (<-- I have more thoughts regarding this and how this also impacts a lot of people's views on Jane, especially when it comes to applauding her for wanting Sarah to die but admonishing her for her "stupidity" when she gets pregnant. But misogyny is another discussion entirely)

But then, in an interview, it's revealed that this was very much how Sarah was Supposed to be taken.

^ full interview here.

Note that the yellow text is the guy from IGN, but I find these lines specifically very telling and the fact that the devs don't challenge these statements even more so.

By now I think I've made a lot of you forget this post started as being about Jimmy Solidarity, so I'll take this opportunity to point out what might be obvious -- the parallels in attitudes here, not only from a fandom perspective but also from a character (and creator!) perspective. Both examples even have people often using the setting as an excuse for Sarah and Jimmy's treatment, stating that there is no patience to be had for them in an apocalypse in Sarah's case or a death game in Jimmy's case.

You could make the argument here about age being a factor but to that I'd like to point out Sarah's comparison to Clem is often used against her -- Clem is 12, younger than Sarah and more competent. Why can't she be more like Clem? Directly using age to shame Sarah, Despite her being only 15. Using Jimmy's age instead would simply be moving the scale, the mindset of "you are older, you should know better" stays the same.

I will also use this as an opportunity to point out another thing that is probably already in the back of your minds -- Sarah being neurodivergent.

Many people -- and I'm talking regular everyday people, not people who usually dabble in autism headcanons -- read Sarah's character as being autistic or otherwise neurodivergent (the other popular ones I've seen are PTSD and extreme anxiety). Here's a reddit thread from five years ago as an example (note how OP and everyone else speaks: "I don't want to offend anyone, but...", these are not people who are typically actively looking for these themes, which I think speaks to how blatant it is)

Disregarding the discourse over whether Sarah acts as Good representation (<-- I don't think she does but I also don't think anything in season 2 is very good at all), her exhibiting traits that the general public widely view as akin to being neurodivergent and those words spoken by the IGN interviewer about her not being "normal" and sentiments like his paints a very grim picture of where people's dislike of Sarah and justifying of her treatment actually originates from.

And I just think it's. Interesting in a fandom as autistic as it is how many times I've seen people echo that sentiment. Note that I don't think Jimmy is autistic-coded the way Sarah is but I do think, for reasons I have previously pointed out, that they are comparable. Of course Scott had to keep Jimmy on a leash, he would've gotten himself killed otherwise or "ceased to function", as Sarah's father puts it.

And while I do think it is true enough to say that neither Sarah or Jimmy were truly given a chance to prove themselves, their incompetency being seen as a personal failing is also something I urge people to question more. Incompetency and being a liability to your peers is in no way a Good thing, I want to clarify, but neither Jimmy or Sarah wanted to be someone else's responsibility in the first place.

A slight aside to the main point of this, but I do must also mention: please check if you're drinking the doomsday prepper, power fantasy kool aid. Many of you have a very propaganda-y view of survival.

I'm not autistic as far as any medical certificates are concerned, however I do write very long essays on Minecraft Youtubers so I feel okay enough saying I probably have a little bit of neurodivergence in me. I have, for my entire life, been confused about the "hesitant to shoot a loved one turned zombie" trope because I think I just lack that specific brand of empathy. It's a zombie dude idgaf if it looks like my mum I'm shooting?? Can we do a show of hands on whether this non-neurotypical trait is Good or Bad in the context of a zombie apocalypse. The footnote is, regardless, "it is not a strength or weakness because zombies aren't real,".

Anyway yeah I don't like Telltale Walking Dead Season 2

[theposhperyton]

if you have the time could you tell me literally everything you know about isfd?

I found your blog through the one piece posts and now need to learn anything I can about this obscure fandom

An ISFD ask from someone who isn't already lost in the sauce? (<-Self call-out) O glorious day!

Gosh, there's so much, I don't really know where to start. I've been following this micro-fandom for YEARS now, and it's one of those things that just keeps on giving. The amount of lost/missing content and the frickin nuked forum (I'm a survivor, baebee!!) really does sometimes make it feel like the universe is trying to wipe us out, but hey. ISFD fans are basically cockroaches. Killable in theory, but surprisingly hearty in an actual life or death of a fandom scenario.

As for the actual content of ISFD that I engage in, I'm a rare(?) case where I kinda dabble in everything. I can confidently say I'm a member of the ** original ** gen of fans, so I've been around for the noteable eras, and have obsessed over every major character group at one time or another, as well as some niche characters (Cyan and his 2 other fans, rise up 🔥🔥)

I gotta say though, I am currently obsessed with the mafia portion of the universe (and, tbh, by extension, the Marama family. They are to me what the Kardashians are to some)

In particular, Phillip Varic has been my consistent blorbo since last September. It is not an exaggeration to say I've averaged about 40 drawings of him a month since then (my friends and I have counted. I should be on my strange addiction at this point, tbh. Or seeking other professional insight)

Here's some of the doodles in question! I am not terribly good at finishing art of him, I just sketch him loosely and rotate him rapidly in my head

I just think he's so neat. And I think his stupid, codependant, and mildly dysfunctional mafia found-family are so neat. And I think his husband (seraphine) and wife (abram) are so neat. And all his kids, both the legal kids and the ones whom he mostly just pays college tuition for, they're neat to. And the echos of Magnolia throughout his life and the larger narrative, even decades later. That's also very neat (my heart doesn't hurt at all!)

I realize I kinda derailed from answering your original ask because the mafia brainrot is debilitating and chronic, but I'm not entirely sure how I'd go about answering it anyway because there is just. So, so much world and lore to glean from ISFD, and none of it in any easy or direct way. Honestly though? The mafia might not be a bad place to start? If you want, I can tell you as much as I know about the cast and dynamics of the mafia, because I feel like a lot of the mafia character's lore and backgrounds act as a good segway to other noteable aspects of the larger ISFD narratives and the in-world political climate as a whole (Especially Mask and Howard. Not to single those poor souls out, but genuinely. How are they both gonna be so afflicted by the narrative like that)

If you're still interested after I practically talked your ear off, I could totally make a larger post about the whole mafia :3 They're my special blorbos ❤️ I would not feel safe around them IRL, but trapped within the confines of fiction, they're all free for me to babygirlify with almost no consequences