#i know it could be just that sam survived somehow or a different sam

[knownoshamc]

first of all, fuck marius, can we bring him back only to burn him. SECONDLY... sam? like the vampire sam? the one that was keeping Armand in that baby jail? is he alive?

If Sam actually is more powerful than Armand, we will all be so so embarrassed.

[nexusnyx]

keep close | part II

joel miller x f!reader [5.2k] summary: It's the oldest case of blinded by love ever seen. All of the doubts and pining must have entertained the gods all this time. That's the explanation you settle for when you discover that just like you, Joel has been suffering in silence. Wanting. Craving you. 📝 This is the continuation of part 1 but it can be read as a stand-alone. If you enjoy it, reblogs and comments make all the difference. 🏷️ Pining, idiots to lovers, sexual tension, smut build-up.

masterlist | part one ←

Everything was so fucking green. You hated it.

"Why d'you hate it?" Joel asked.

Unlike you, his recovery advanced fast. Bruises and cuts had the 'fading to yellow' tonalities, and he was now hunting deer and other animals with Ellie so you three did more than just survive winter. "'Cause I never see it." It's so beautiful out there. "Ever stopped to think about how the world looks healthier and prettier than it has in thousands of years, and we're all stuck inside walls?"

Joel usually takes a moment or two to reply, but when those moments stretch on, you look up from the floor to where he's sitting on the couch and—oh.

He's doing it again. Looking. Staring at you as if he's thinking a hundred things. You freeze under his gaze again, waiting for it, begging in your mind that he'll do it...

His hand reaches out in direction of your face, and everything inside you lights up.

He touches your hair.

Ever since that incident where you two were sleeping together a little closer than ever before, Joel's taken a liking to your hair.

Usually, the idea of anyone touching you, let alone your hair, is enough to make you break out in hives.

With him, you lean against the touch.

The hand on the side of your head starts doing sweet, caring movements, and you force yourself to open your eyes.

Joel breaks you out of your thoughts by wondering, "What would you do if you were outside?"

That takes your memory back. You close your eyes, getting lost in his touch for a moment. "Probably... play something."

"Play what?"

Ignoring how his voice surrounds you when your vision is gone is difficult. "Anything that requires a ball." You somehow manage it. "My brothers and I—" their mention chokes you. Grips you by the throat.

As always, Joel waits.

"My brothers and I loved playing... anything," you chuckled. "It's the only time I wasn't bored."

"What did you enjoy the most?"

"Uh. Probably volley? I liked keeping the ball up high." You open your eyes then, missing the sight of his. Joel's watching his own hand in your hair and, in exchange, you get to watch his face. Before he can dive more into your past for his own distraction, you nudge his hand with your head. "I'm proud of you."

Joel knows exactly why, and still, "Why?"

You roll your eyes. "For making El believe in Santa Claus."

It happens again—Joel smiles. One week's passed since the incident and you're still mesmerized every time. "I don't think she'd believe him for too long."

"Joel."

He laughs through his nose, then places his gaze on your eyes. "I don't know why you'd be proud of me for that. It's stupid."

"Letting her go hunt on her own is stupid?"

"Sure is." He had a damn point, and you hated the world for it. "We both know how it could go."

"We do. And still, you allowed her to feel like a person who has some control over her life and who's capable of using her own hands to live." As someone who waited years for that same opportunity, you knew what it meant. "You don't know what this means to her, but I do."

Joel lived a life before chaos was the new natural order. He takes a second, his hand pausing its ministrations before he nods and continues his petting. "I believe you."

That means the world to me. "Thanks."

This time, Joel doesn't answer.

His hand keeps doing the thing it's grown fond of, and you keep pretending your body is not growing dependent on it like plants need air, water, and the Sun.

You think his hands and eyes on you might be your Sun.

You wish you could do the same for him.

The idea of rejection is what holds you back from so much.

Before last week, before he did this for the first time, the physical distance kept between you both was your seal of confirmation that Joel knew about your feelings. That he knew how much you burned for him, for a touch of his.

Now, you aren't so sure.

Then, you cried. Months ago, before this last ordeal of fuckery made your little triad retreat to a cold cabin in the mountains, you cried over the mere thought that Joel saw you as he did Ellie.

Like a daughter.

It plagued you until it showed up in your dreams and made you weep because of it.

All your life you waited for the moment when the desire for someone became real. When wanting and feeling a connection became as tangible as the tension that cloaked the quarantined city every day.

When it came, it was him.

Joel breaks you out of your thoughts with a chuckle, "You remind me of a cat."

You were leaning against his touch again. This time, you keep your eyes closed. "Feels nice." More than nice. "So nice."

He laughs again. "I can see that."

That pulls your eyes to open. Joel's face is fixed on you. His right hand is hidden by his shirt, tucked on top of the cloth soaked with medicinal paste. It's why he took the touch after a lot of arguments, minutes before Ellie left for the hunt. "You're a cat, too," you argue.

Joel raises one eyebrow at that. "How?"

"Skittish."

"I'm skittish?" the smile is making its way back to his lips.

You nod. "I'd pet you too if I didn't think you'd hiss and run for the hills."

Fuck. Barely are the words out of your mouth before you feel the heat creeping up your neck to cover your face. Out here, there are lamps with candles.

Joel sees you with clarity.

A deer caught under the spotlights. Not a cat, then.

It's his smile, opening slowly but surely, that makes the tension leave your shoulders. "Ellie says I can be a grouchy hedgehog with anger issues. One that stinks. And you... wanna pet my hair?"

Ellie's a child, Joel. I want you. "El is a sharp-tongued kid who loves making you frown." It's also the truth. "And yes. I do," in a much lower voice, you finish with, "it looks soft."

Joel shakes his head, his smile widening. "Unbelievable."

"What?"

"My dirty hair. It looks soft," he repeats, fixing you under his gaze.

You look away. "Nevermind," you mumble.

Joel should remain still on that couch, but he moves. Laughing, his hand goes back to what it did before, and pulls you closer as his upper body leans forward. He sort of—nuzzles. It's not a kiss—Joel just touches his nose to your hair, and you feel his laughing coming out through his nose.

When he stops laughing, he leans back down on the couch.

His tender touch on your hair continues.

"You're so..." he trails off, and you wished you were still looking at him. "I wouldn't run," he adds.

That gets your attention. Your eyes find his, and your heart seems to grow two sizes with the way it beats. "No?"

"No."

Immediately, your eyes fall to the couch he's lying on—you hate it. It's small. Old. With no room for another person there. "I'll show later that it's nice," you settle for.

Even if the couch could fit a whole family of three, you know that you'd remain where you are.

"Later?"

"Yeah. No space for me up there."

"Oh." Joel sits up in a single motion, causing you to sit up straight. Your cheek was resting on the small part of the couch his body wasn't, but now, you watch as he lifts up his shirt to inspect his bruised side.

The second you see skin, usually, you avert your gaze. This time, you inspect the colors and healing with him. It looks... ok. Still painful, just as your own body is, but no shooting pain with every move you make.

Joel places the rag on the couch without care and nods. "C'mon. We were up all night re-making the supplies, and El's only gonna be back in a couple of hours. We should rest."

Following Joel is the norm by now. Wordless, you walk behind him in direction of the room.

The mattresses are still pushed together.

There are three backpacks with several items placed in front of them on the other side of the room, a handful of handles spread around the corners, and on top of that old brown blanket, Ellie's drawing book.

"She was here again," you tell him.

Joel's kneeling in front of his backpack with the cassette player in hand. "I don't know why. Her room's the only one with an actual bed."

"She's restless," you say as you move her notebook to the floor, "and ever since you taught her how to scout perimeters, she uses that opportunity to find 'cool shit' around places."

Joel hums in reply, and then you hear a click.

In a very low volume—low enough that only these walls must be capturing sound, his tape Saxophone Colossus fills the air with a gorgeous sound.

He makes his way to the bed and lies right next to with you a grunt.

Your bodies' sides are touching. He places his left forearm under his head, using it as a pillow, and then turns his head to the side where your waiting eyes are already observing him.

"She found the water heater," Joel agrees.

His voice is always lower here. Either that or you're in closer chambers and always use that as an excuse to drown in it. "She did."

"Can you turn it on to heat up some water when she comes back?"

You nod, smiling at him. This part is so good. "'course," you want to scoot closer, but—always but. "I'd rather prepare three baths measuring the water with a coffee cup rather than skin animals alive."

Joel's side smile returns. He stares for a moment, and says, "I don't know how you learned it that well. You hate doing it."

"I learned it 'cause I had to." For her. For Ellie, it goes unsaid. "Doesn't mean I'll ever want to ever again."

"Thank gods they didn't butcher my arm, then."

You close your eyes, whining a little. "No. Please—don't even joke about it."

Joel laughs. "I'll make sure to keep my arm. For both of your sakes."

"Thank you," you open your eyes again.

"No problem," his grin is kind of intoxicating. From this up close, watching Joel smile does to you the same that a full glass of bourbon does. "C'mere," he tilts his chin down at the same time as he stretches his arm to your head, "there's space now."

It hits you what Joel's doing. Inviting you in.

Call it instinct. When you raise your upper body just enough for his arm not to linger awkwardly in the air, you're still registering what is going on, and then—

his chest.

Joel guides your head there, and as it's custom, you follow.

It lands you where you dreamt of being for months now.

His body adjusts underneath you, getting comfortable.

You're so lost in the feeling of his heat that you miss the beat. When you feel his breathing becoming even and his hand moving in your hair, you notice how comfortable you are.

How perfect it feels.

Joel pets your hair for a little while before you manage to find yourself again.

A song must pass and in it, your mind lives through the most blissful few moments of peace and quiet it's ever had.

Nothing happens. No thoughts, no doubts, just this.

When you come back to what is reality, no matter how dream-painted it looks, Joel's heart sings under your ears.

You can hear it beating.

Then, you remember why you're here now. "Can I do it?" you ask.

Your body remembers it can move and does something else it's been dreaming of for a while. It cuddles. It adjusts itself in order to be comfortably aligned with his, and your chin tilts upwards to get a look at his face.

From this angle, all your see is beard until he looks down. "Do what?" The question is betrayed by the hint of a smile on him. It might be a product of your own rapid heartbeat, but Joel seems to gain a little bit of color. "Pet my 'soft' hair?"

"I can hear the air quotes and I don't appreciate them."

You love to make him laugh. This time, you get to feel it. Even if it all goes down someday, at least you'll always have this memory. "You can," he replies once he's done laughing.

Breathe in, you decide this position is just fine, and move your right hand up until it finds his hair. Breathe out.

The angle is uncomfortable—not the best, nor the worst, but it does its job.

It feels greasy when your hands run through them, but not dirty. It is as soft as you imagined it.

It takes him some time too — one song and a half — before Joel's body is fully relaxed. His heartbeat takes the longest.

You feel the times when he lifts his left arm to check the clock to see if Ellie is still in her two-hours time.

None of you sleep, but that doesn't matter.

Rest nowadays goes beyond hours shutting down the brain. Laying there with Joel is the most you feel truly rested, even if the circumstances are these.

Whatever leads to you in his arms, you'll take it.

It's worth the wait. Makes you feel alive.

Ellie eats like a starved animal, every time.

"Slow down, kid, jesus fuck," you tell her, without fail, every single time.

By now, she does slow. It's like she needs a reminder—there is food, and we'll find you more if you need it.

Once, Joel wondered what the fuck did they feed her in that military school. You're unsure if you want to know.

"Did you two rest?" she asks with her mouth full.

"Really?" he gives her the look of 'gross, El', but she only rolls her eyes at him. "And yeah, we did."

"I already warmed up the water for showers." The wood bath structure was perfect for a shower, and heating up all of the baths inside that room already made the temperature rise a little. "You can go first."

"Telling me I stink?" she asks you.

You grin. "Always do, bug." Little bug. That's who she was to you—a nature's wonder. "Not enough showers in the world to change that."

"We should be honest with her," Ellie turns to Joel, and you think oh here it comes. "She can't smell herself."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Joel replies in faux seriousness. "I'm certain all three of us smell like fields of flowers. The one that's most us, y'know? Like me, for example, I'm clearly a blue orchid."

It's been like that since those guys jump you three. Whatever lock kept Joel doing his best to push you two out, was just gone.

He presses his makeshift plate closer to lean in your direction and say, "Do I smell like orchids? Is it amazing? Any hints of some type of wood underneath?"

Joel's silly.

It's not something either one of you expected but welcomed with open arms.

He'll say the stupidest things to make Ellie laugh. He acts, and then winks in your direction to say 'gotcha'.

Ellie leaves for her shower, and leaves you two alone.

The air's back to what it was before she arrived.

It's always been different without her around, but now it's this. Joel finishes his meat and cleans the tip of his fingers with his lips. You try to look away. You fail.

He pulls you back. "Can I ask you something?"

You're almost done with your meal, but now that he's talking and his whole focus is back on you, the hunger left. Switched. "Always."

"Do you feel... lonely?"

What a stupid, and painfully sharp question. "No." I'm scared to ask the same. "Of course I don't," you say. "There's you. El. I'm... well-accompanied."

Whatever he was looking for, the answer must deliver. "Okay." He looks in the direction of the bathroom —Ellie— and then back at you. This time, he scoots closer to you and fits himself to fit in your side.

You open up to him, happy to create more space.

You'd wrap yourself around his whole body if you could. Make a home somewhere between his arms and his thighs. His smile always in line of sight.

With arms wide open, Joel pulls his chair, screeching the floor until he's content with the proximity. His head lays on top of your chest, and your hands immediately go to his hair.

There's no music to measure time, but you've grown fond of the 'peace and quiet' he always went on about.

Eventually, he speaks. "We can't fall asleep here."

You laugh against his hair. "It hasn't been even five minutes. You know she's mixing cold and 'hot scalding water' until the temperature's just perfect like she's a mad scientist until now. We have at least twenty minutes."

"Hmmm." He nuzzles his head, and you pray your hummingbird of a heart won't disturb him.

Joel asked you about what you thought of his plans for once you two were healed. That's what you both discussed with Ellie as you ate.

The conversation changes two or three times before he lands on it.

"Well—after all of it. Tommy, or Fireflies—what do you want?"

You're still lost in the last topic, and the feeling of his hair running like silk through your fingers. "Do we even know if we trust them?"

"Trust who?"

"The Fireflies, obviously."

"Ah. Hm. I suppose we don't," on your arms, Joel nudges you with his body. "Forget 'em for a sec."

You open your eyes and his head is lying so nicely on your shoulder. He locks eyes with you, and asks. "What do you want after that?"

Like that. As if it's simple. "Are you asking if I want ice cream or move to the Arctic?" What an absurd. "I don't fuckin' know. I hope I'm alive. In one piece. And so are you two. The end."

"You don't want anythin'?"

It's infuriating. He is right there, looking up at you with those stupid gorgeous brown eyes and, "It's not that simple," comes out before something else does.

Not enough of an answer, apparently. Joel shakes his head. "'s just a scenario. A 'what if' for the future, since we can't do them about the past. Indulge me."

"So, like, a hypothetical world where you, and El, and I, we're all good. And we... found Tommy. Or maybe the Fireflies."

"Yeah."

"And they've given us a little more than just 'she's the cure' to work with... And we can—I don't know, sit back and watch some scientists do science? That's the scenario?"

"You're paitin' it much better than me," he smiles. "Go on."

You roll your eyes. "In that scenario—I want ice cream."

Joel groans. "Oh, c'mon." He sighs, and whispers your name under his breath. He leans close enough for his hair to tickle your cheeks. "Tell me. Somethin' you always wanted growing up, I don't know."

"It's a difficult question!" you defend yourself, smiling despite being cornered by his new musings.

"It is. And you can think on it, if you want," Joel nuzzles his head to comfort once again on your shoulder, then closes his eyes. "I'm just curious about the stuff you wanted to do before someone threw a mission on your lap, that's all."

"Okay. I'm thinkin'."

"I can hear the engines turning," he whispers. You poke the side of his body, because you know now that you can, and then—, "I already know you're gonna ask me the same so I'll start thinkin' about my own answer to. And don't bullshit me—if you tell me you'd rather have an x-burger instead of ice cream I'll poke a finger in one of your bruises."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me," he laughs.

"I'd kill for an x-burger, now that you mentioned," your voice lowers to a whisper too.

"Same. Now shhh and think. I'm sure you've had aspirations beyond babysitting the unique child and teaming up with my ugly mug."

That's what stops you. Ugly mug.

Your eyes open, and the intensity in them must pierce through his darkness, because Joel feels the eyes on him and looks straight at you. "What?" he looks confused.

Your first mental lap is to be angry—

how can he not see it? it's right in front of him—but then.

Insecurities.

The ones you have and cloud your thoughts with every rising Sun—of course Joel had them, too. He was older, this world was far from kind, and—

He gets up, looking every bit as lost in thoughts as you are, and starts gathering the things from around the fire.

You took too long to answer, and his nervousness always shows up in one of two ways: sleep, or organizing.

"You genuinely think that?" you ask after a second.

Joel gathers the plates in his hand and uses the snow water to rinse them. "Which part? That I think you deserve more or that my mug is ugly? 'Cause yes to both."

"That's—wow." Your laughter is dry, something very unusual.

It makes him look at you. "Wow what, woman?"

He only calls you that when he's getting impatient. "That's crazy to me."

"What is? I never asked you either one of these questions 'cause the first one could be misread—I don't want you thinkin' I'm tryna get rid of you—"

"Thank god."

"—and the second one." He sighs, and puts the plates together. Everything that's not being used always goes back to the backpacks in cases of emergency. Joel looms there over the sink with them in hand, and you wait. "I'd say something stupid like 'does that kind of thing ever matter anymore' but the truth is, I can't see a scenario that it doesn't, and I'd rather live without your honest opinion about this."

"I am always honest in my opinions," you agree.

"Exactly. That's why I never asked you what you thought of my face—I can sleep without that one," he concludes.

"You were right, too. Saying 'does beauty matter anymore' would be stupid 'cause we always looked and always will look for things that we think are pleasing to the eye. It's human nature, don't you think?"

He nods, and then moves to where the backpacks are to put away the cans and plates. "It is."

"I think a lot of things are beautiful. Mostly it's nature, though. And woman. D'you think I'm weird for that?"

Joel looks over his shoulders and the answer is written all over his face.

You shrug your shoulders. "I know some people who definitely would."

"I know some people who have fungi tentacles exiting their mouths. We've learned these past few years that our species isn't the smartest."

"Touché," you laugh. "I do think you're handsome, though."

It freezes the air as if someone opened a door and let the cold air inside.

"Not that you asked—but," you look away from his frame, losing the confidence to look at him as you go on, "you're... beautiful." Most men would hate that adjective. You know that because you heard it from your brothers—only women are 'beautiful'. "I know men don't like that word used to describe them, but—"

"What men?"

"I don't know," you shrug again, wanting to have a shell to retrieve out of nowhere. "Most men? It's what my brothers told me."

"Well—they don't speak for me, then."

It's the feeling of his eyes on you that makes you gaze in his direction. "I like the white hairs, too," for some reason, your voice dropped to a whisper, "and your beard. It's even. Frames your face well."

Joel looked frozen under a spell.

He stared at you with intent and focus you'd never seen before.

Since you started, you might as well finish. "The crinkles by your eyes are smile-made. I like that."

It works—it brings them out. Joel starts smiling, even if his eyes look a little lost. "Smile-made?" he echos.

"Yeah. They're there 'cause of your smile. Some people have lines 'cause they frown a lot, or grimace, or are always judging. I don't like those lines."

"I have worry lines."

"We all have worry lines, Jo. It's the end of the world."

He laughs. "Touché."

"That's my favorite part, though." He stops laughing at those words, and you miss it instantly. "Your smile."

His gaze softens. "You like my smile?"

"You almost never smile," you say, hating that sad truth, "and it's a beautiful smile," you think if anything else comes out, it might be too much. Too close to the truth, so, "in conclusion: handsome. So—I do think you're a little crazy. It might not be often, but we still see mirrors every now and then."

His silence as an answer made the jittery nerves climb up your legs, soothing like an ointment every bruise it found in its way.

Joel staring at you was the reason why you lacked sleep, sometimes.

Too many thoughts about what he was thinking. Too many scenarios about what it would be like to have the courage to make the first move.

It's he who does it.

When it comes, you're too lost in a trance to properly register his steps coming back to you.

He sits on the chair next to you again. Grabs your chair with one hand, and pulls it close to his until they're touching.

He's so close you could count the gray hairs you like so much on his beard.

When he leans in closer, you're breathing his air, and it makes goosebumps rise all over your skin. On your arms, your neck, your back.

Joel moves one hand to your neck at the same pace one moves when hunting wild animals.

As if every movement could result in being seen, and the prey running away.

When he's only a couple of inches away from your face, you feel the heat of his palm spread across your neck; his thumb caressing your cheek. He asks, "Talk to me. Is this—Am I reading it wrong?"

If you have a voice, it's gone. You shake your head and do the only thing you needed all this long—you lean, too.

Sometimes, things are so important that every second of it counts.

Joel's lips on yours are one of those things.

You're shaking, at first.

Although inexperience is part of the reason why you're so terrified of doing something, this part you know.

It's the only one you have confidence in, so you let all the worries on your shoulders go, and you kiss him back.

Joel wants you to.

The notion that he might've been as lost in his head as you were in yours makes you want to cry. You whimper against his mouth instead, pressing so much harder when the reality of what is happening catches up to you.

Joel pulls back for just a second, "It's okay, I got you," he seals the words by pressing his lips on yours again.

All of your reservations fly out of the window with those last three words.

You throw your arms around his neck, almost throwing yourself too in the process. Joel laughs right there, with his lips still on yours, and catches your weight.

With your fingers threaded through his hair and holding on for dear life, you let him do it—let him guide you.

Kissing Joel makes your head drown in every other moment you two shared and you could feel your heart beating in your throat.

He takes it slow with you, despite feeling the shivers all over your body.

Joel nips on your bottom lip until you open up for him.

He kisses by sucking, then pecking your lips, and when he finally pushes his tongue in your mouth, you forget where you two are for a moment.

The moan is involuntary, and even with eyes closed you feel them rolling to the back of your head.

Joel's hand on your nape starts massaging your neck and he says, "Shhh, gorgeous, 's okay," he licks into your mouth again.

Rewiring your brain is so easy for him. Gorgeous.

Just like when you two discovered that touching one another was an option a week ago, learning that this is on the table is almost comical. You feel like a starved person being delivered a feast, and stopping is far from an option.

When you pull back for air because there's none left in your body, the string of saliva connecting your mouth to Joel's makes you tremble again.

He needs to know. Tell him. If he knows he's the only man — or person — who's ever awakened desire in you, maybe he'll understand why you're like a leaf in his hands.

Joel's hand comes up to your cheek. It's huge, covering almost half of your face, and when he whispers, "Open your eyes," you realize that you'd closed them again.

His eyes are the warmest part of him. "Hi," you mumble. "Please tell me you'll do this again."

Joel smiles. "If you wait a few more hours, El will be asleep," he swallows visibly and you think what on Earth could he be nervous to, "I can help you... cleaning your wounds. You could help me."

Right. Bathing together, even if 'bathing' is a strong word for it.

Inexperienced. No knowledge whatsoever other than books you read in the abandoned library. What will you do with him? What will—

"We don't have to, obviously," he interrupts your thoughts. "And yeah. I wanna do this more. Of course I do," Joel kisses you again, and you hold his head in place for a few more moments, stealing more kisses to numb your mind. "God, I wanted this since I met you."

"Joel."

"It's true."

"I'm happy to know we're both idiots," and even happier that was behind. "And—I mean. A helping hand is always good... right?"

The look he gives you does it again—a shiver, and it's not from the cold.

The mere idea of his hands on you is enough to make you sweat.

Maybe that's the perfect timing and opportunity to lay it on him that he's signing up for something he might not want.

"You want my help?" he asks. He nuzzles his face on yours, rubbing his beard on your cheek, down to your neck.

You bite your lip to stifle a moan. "Yeah."

"I'll do my best."

It'll be more than enough. That is—if you can survive the next few hours. If his kisses alone are enough to almost bring you to a fever again, his hands might kill you.

You would die happy.

PART THREE →

🏷️ @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @bistarlight

[evilminji]

Okay, But, >.> Listen...

So MAYBE, just MAYBE, I am an incureable RoFan Isekai nerd. Shut up about it, maybe. What're you a cop? Mind your business. BUT! And hear me out...

W...What would actually? HAPPEN if Danny went into a Visual Novel? Some Otome game? You know, aside from being vague flustered by and then DEEPLY ALARMED by these walking Red Flag Fruitloops that girls are supposed to find "dreamy" or something?

Like we know how MMOs work for him. And probably OTHER open world games? But a visual novel? Would it be like the Christmas Episode? Would he hear narration? Be stuck in static "scenes"? Or would it be like a cut together "only the interesting parts" movie that he's somehow IN?

Like?? At SOME point his curiosity is gonna get the best of him. He's gonna want to know what different video games are LIKE on the inside? What's Pong like? Tetris? Mario? One of those Mama's cooking games? Etc etc.

He probably hits up a game sale. Buys a box or two. Figures he can always resell um or just give them away for free. Might even use them for parts. Who knows. And?

It's kinda cool!

It's even SCIENCE! See? Tucker's in charge of notes. Sam's in charge of hilarious commentary and pizza. Jazz is keeping them from drinking and doing ghost shit (terrible combination, we never speak of What Happened(tm) again). And the Dr's. Fenton got distracted by making fudge and debating what games should be counted towards which categories.

They've made an afternoon of it.

And NOW? They've reached the bottom of box one. It was "Survive The Villainess! My Rose for You!" Or... judging by Sam's climbing eyebrows and growing scowl? A DEEPLY unpleasant porn game about school girls.

You could not PAY him enough.

Yeah, he DOES realistically kinda want to know what happens.. if.. like? You know... sexy games... like would he? Or does he just WATCH or...? *awkward cough* But! That's NOT for Family Science Night! And DEFINITELY not THAT game, THANKS.

He'll find himself an ETHICALLY SOURCED smutty game full of consensual boning. For PRIVATE TIME. Those test results are gonna show up like MAGIC and we WILL NOT be talking about them! Got it? Good.

Now what the fuck is he look at here?

Jazz is surprisingly knowledgeable. They are not allowed to ask. They respect it. The main character "wakes up" inside the body of a "villainess" and must survive. Turn her terrible reputation around. Avoid "death flags". Preferably romance one of the hot guys?

Uuuuuuuh... you realize Danny's in a committed relationship, right?

Sam and Turker allow it. But they reserve the right to blast his taste in Fantasy Guy's. Chose carefully, for their roasting shall be BRUTAL. Luuuuuv yoooou~♡

He wants a divorce. They're not even MARRIED and he wants a divorce. You see how they mock him, Jazz? The cruelty he suffers? He's taking the Blobs and moving to Frightknight's. They always warned him about you living folks and your fast ways, but he didn't listen! *continued dramatics* *is smacked with a pillow*

But actually going IN? The weirdly, vaguely European over the top EVERYTHING? Giant jewels and ridiculous, fancy dresses? The walking red flag Romantic Archtype Leads? He wants to PUNCH half these guys! This is ABUSE! Are people OKAY!?

Like? I feel like he'd stay way, WAY longer then he needed too? Just out of morbid curiosity? W-where is this plot GOING? It's so dramatic. Why is my dress MORE dramatic now? Why is everything so... Sparkly.

It would be? AMAZING and baffling and I would pay real money to hear their live commentary. "Why not simply judo flip the crown prince off the balcony, then take over the country, sweetie?" "Solid plan, honey! He deserves it!" Beautiful. Flawless. Sage advice really. Too bad Danny can barely walk in his five million bows dress.

It's the BEST Au and I might be a genius. Or deeply sleep deprived. Meh. We'll 50/50 it, six of one, half a dozen of another.

@hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[cobaltperun]

Lost (16) - Night of the Hunter

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 5.5k

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Whatever you do, don't be afraid of the dark-

You lost count of how many times you looked at your phone in the last couple of hours, so you basically lost all the patience you had. You leaned on the kitchen counter and waited. "Come on, it's not that hard to pick up," you muttered as you tapped the fingers of your free hand on the kitchen counter, but much like the other two times you called earlier, Susan didn't answer her phone. "Hey, please call me when you see this, I'm getting worried. Ghostface is back, and I don't think you're in danger, but I'd feel better if you spent a few days at a neighbor's house or something," you decided to leave a message this time. "Be safe, love you, bye," you had no idea why you said those words, you never said them to Susan before, but somehow you just had the need to say them.

You should have said those words sooner, you loved Susan like a mother, hell she was the one and only person in the world you could consider your parent. You never said those words because you struggled to say them to anyone other than Tara. Years of only having a deep, emotional bond with Tara made it difficult to express yourself to anyone else, though you cared for a lot of people now. Well, a lot compared to before. You loved Susan, and Sam, and Chad and Mindy, and even though you didn’t know her for long, you loved Anika as well. But saying it, even casually, felt almost impossible. Yet now it just slipped out.

Susan was going to get shocked when she hears that. She knew you loved her, even without you telling her, but you knew she’d be happy to hear it.

"Susan still isn't answering her phone?" Tara approached you and you just nodded as she took your hand. If you weren't worried, you'd think the situation was funny, since the roles reversed as the day went on. When Susan first failed to answer her phone, you brushed it off as a hectic day at work and Tara was the one who got worried right away.

Then, when Susan didn't answer her phone the second time you found yourself assuring Tara she was okay, even if you were getting worried yourself. And now Tara was the one comforting you. "She's on the other side of the country, I doubt Ghostface would travel all the way to Sacramento," you said, but you could see the look in Tara's eyes. She saw right through you, sure, you wanted to reassure Tara as well, but those words, they were meant more for you. And you were still a hundred percent certain no one figured out she had anything to do with you.

"I'm sure she'll call you soon," Tara placed her hand on your left forearm, gently tracing random patterns across your skin. You relaxed significantly, choosing to remain in here and now with Tara instead of in different what-ifs your mind was making up. Tara wasn't the only one who found comfort and safety in your touches, you craved it just as much, relied on it just as much, so you placed your right hand on her waist and tugged her body closer to you. You just weren’t as obvious as she was, or well, at least it took some time for your friends to figure out it wasn’t just Tara that was touchy with you, so you guessed you weren’t as obvious.

Tara smiled softly as she let you pull her in. Her left hand caressed your cheek, and it was so minute you doubted anyone but you or Sam could notice it, but there was the slightest tremor in her touch. It was getting a bit cold. You raised the hand that was previously resting on Tara's waist and placed it over her left hand to warm it up. “I’d be lost without you,” you whispered, kissing her palm as she smiled, she didn’t need to say anything, her eyes told you all you needed to know, her eyes told you the feeling was mutual.

The sound of gagging made both of you roll your eyes, though you didn’t separate from one another. "This is why I couldn't take living with you. It's either drama or sickly sweet with you and I could somewhat handle the drama," Mindy was being Mindy, teasing and complaining even if you and Tara knew she was, deep down, happy for you two.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, go cuddle with Anika," you smirked at Tara's words. Granted, Mindy and Anika weren't as touchy as you and Tara, but they were fairly sweet as well.

“Ha! Don’t even try to pull that one, T, Anika sitting on my lap, or me sitting on her lap is as rare as you not sitting on Y/N’s lap,” Mindy fired back, luckily Tara was getting fairly immune to Mindy’s teasing.

‘There’s not much point in denying it,’ she told you one time when you got worried Mindy’s teasing went too far. Tara just made sure you understood that she didn’t care about the teasing as much as she used to. She was touchy, and clingy, and she couldn’t and wouldn’t even try to deny it. “I’m clingy and I’m proud, besides, who wouldn’t be in my position!” Tara declared boldly, and took a step back to gesture toward you with her hands.

You went to pour yourself a glass of water. “Maybe you should try snuggling with Anika more often, it’s relaxing to snuggle with someone you love,” you smirked before drinking a few sips of the water.

"Sure, I was going to do that, but you two missed my monologue, again," Mindy said, and you nodded a few times, silently accepting that this was happening. "Also, you were spared from Ethan's weird overshare that he's a virgin, and if we have to know so do you two," at that you had to groan.

"Not our business, Mindy," come on, you did not need to know that. You absolutely did not care one bit about how experienced anyone was. You wouldn’t have even cared about Tara’s experience if she herself didn’t tell you about it, mostly because she needed to get it off her chest.

"It wasn't our business either," she just deadpanned, as if that was actually a good excuse to go and share Ethan’s private information, that you didn’t even ask for.

"So!" she ushered you and Tara to the table and from the corner of your eye you saw Chad giving you a thumbs up with an encouraging look on his face.

"Someone save us!" you whisper-shouted, mostly looking at Sam for help.

Tara chuckled and lightly elbowed your side. "Behave, it might be fun," she sat on your lap instead of the chair Mindy pulled out for her.

"Oh, come on, for once sit somewhere else!" Mindy huffed with her hands on her hips.

Tara just grinned and leaned back against you. "I'm doing you a favor, you know Y/N might escape if I don't do this."

You wrapped an arm around Tara's waist and leaned your head back, feeling just a tad bit annoyed. "Gee, sorry for not wanting to live by movie logic," a good movie to watch as a way to have fun? Sure, any time, especially with Tara. This was just going too far for your taste.

"Too bad, Y/N, this is your life now!" Mindy walked over to you and poked the side of your head. "The sooner you accept that, the better."

"Never!" you gave a defiant, and maybe a bit childish, refusal.

"You can't fight this, miss MMA! Besides, we are in a franchise, and characters aren't safe anymore, so you better listen, especially Sam and Tara," any fun you might have been having with this conversation was gone in an instant.

"No one is killing Tara or Sam," you felt Tara twitch slightly on your lap, you figured it was due to the tone of your voice, lower than usual and promising pain to whoever tried to hurt either of the two sisters. "No one is killing any of you, not you, not Chad, and not Anika, not while I'm breathing."

Mindy looked away from you, touched, but not really believing your words. "You can't promise that, Y/N, but thanks anyway."

Your eyes met hers, you understood, while you would do everything in you power and protect Tara you couldn’t be everywhere at once, you couldn’t claim no one would get killed as long as you were breathing, not after Wes and Liv being killed last year. You would still do your very best to keep them all safe.

"Okay, I'm sensing tension here, let's just relax and have a fun slumber party as the Core Five," Chad and Sam came into the kitchen while Anika stayed back in the living room watching news.

"Core what now?" you couldn't help but ask.

"Core Five?" Sam asked at basically the same time.

"Did you just give us a nickname?" Tara asked in utter disbelief.

"I sure did! I mean, we've been through a lot together and it's a pretty cool nickname," Chad explained and you honestly could go along with that logic.

"That's debatable," Sam wasn't quite on board yet.

"It's extremely debatable," Tara definitely wasn't in favor of it.

"You can't just give yourself a nickname, dingus," Mindy was probably just messing with Chad.

"Of course I can, dingus, because I just did," Chad raised his palm for a high five. "Core Five up top!" he exclaimed.

"No." Mindy immediately rejected him.

"Down low!" he tried with Tara.

"Get that away from me," Tara laughed.

"Please, for the love of God, Sam!" he might have been getting a bit desperate.

"Don't do it!" Mindy, perhaps seeing that Sam might actually do it, quickly interfered.

"Y/N!" he tried one last time.

"You know what, I feel sorry, here's to your Core Five staying alive five," you high-fived Chad, ignoring the incredulous look on Tara's face.

"Thank you!" and Chad looked happy, so win-win.

"I can't believe you," Tara shook her head.

"What? It's kinda cool," you shrugged, but before an argument could be made for or against the nickname your phone rang. Tara nearly jumped off your lap, but you kept a firm hold on her. "Yes?" you picked up without even looking at the caller ID. Maybe you should change that habit…

"Y/N L/N?" that didn't sound like the way a Ghostface would start the conversation.

"That's me," you replied, keeping caution at bay.

"We received a report of alarms going off at the gym you work at. Thomas Laurent called us and said he was out of state and that you'd come to handle the situation. We just need you to come by and make sure everything is still here," the woman spoke over the phone, and you nodded, making up your mind in a second.

"Not the best moment, but sure, I'll be there as soon as I can," you hung up and realized Tara wasn't budging. "Love, I know it's not ideal, but I'd like to keep my job," you pressed soft kisses to the back of her neck. "I promise I'll be careful."

"I'm going with you," Tara decided still not moving from your lap.

"Tara, no you're not," Sam didn't waste a moment, she just outright put her foot down.

"Listen to Sam, please, you'll be safer here," you pleaded for Tara to just listen to you this once. Ater all, if this was the trap you were guessing it was, this was your best bet. There were two options, either Ghostface was waiting for you at the gym, or he was trying to separate you from the group and attack them.

"You're not going anywhere either, Y/N," and it looked like both sisters were about to give you trouble.

"Sam," you tried to argue, a plan already forming in your head, and you didn’t feel like letting this opportunity get away.

"Thank you!" Tara looked so happy Sam was on her side in this. She then turned to you. "You're either not going, or I'm going with you, the same way we agreed on me going to parties."

You and Sam both groaned at that, Tara really shouldn’t have mentioned that agreement when she broke it twice.

"You were beaten! You're not going alone!" Tara argued, before either of you could respond to her previous argument.

"T, if this Ghostface that attacked you really is stronger than Y/N, and she really has to go, then she'll be safer on her own, or, if someone has to go with her, it should be Chad," no one quite liked the idea of you going anywhere, and you were sure Mindy didn't exactly like the idea of Chad leaving either, even if she did suggest it.

"I'm definitely going with you. We'll beat this chucklefuck up together," Chad seemed confident, and the way Sam was nodding at that had Tara reluctantly getting up.

You got up and grabbed your car keys and wallet. "No one is going with me. I'll be in and out," you sighed when Tara wrapped her arms around your waist. "Tara, Love," as gently as you could you got her to let go of you. As hard as she tried there was pretty much nothing Tara could do to you unless you let her, and you sometimes wondered if she got so used to you giving in to her wishes and demands that she forgot that fact. "Please, don't make this harder than it should be," you understood, you really did, but the sooner you left the better.

Tara looked you in the eyes. "Please, don't leave," it nearly made you change your mind.

"Trust me, I'm not about to walk into a trap," you assured her, you reached up and touched her cheek. "We need to be rational about this," even if it did hurt to leave Tara like this you turned to Sam. "I know this isn't the smartest option, but I made up my mind."

You didn't exactly leave a lot of space for arguing and by now they all knew how stubborn you were. And so, you left the group, taking your spare keys with you.

~X~

You left the apartment. You actually left Tara and she… she was frightened, not for herself, the apartment was fairly safe as far as she was concerned. She was there, Sam was there, Chad, Mindy and Anika were there, with five on one even the Ghostface that fought against you would have troubles. So, no, she wasn’t afraid for her life, she was afraid for you, you reckless, asshole. You left when Tara all but begged you not to, you were knowingly putting your life in danger when you knew one moment of carelessness could mean death. And you just wanted Tara to accept it and wait helplessly for you to come back home.

And it made Tara angry. It was a similar feeling to the one she’d get when she had mood swings back in Woodsboro, only even stronger this time, and her emotions were out of control. She needed you here, both to feel safe and to complain to you about your behavior.

"Hey, she'll be fine," surprisingly, the one who reassured Tara was Anika.

Tara looked to the side. "How can you be so sure?" a part of her wanted to say something along the lines of 'easy for you to say', but she knew better. Maybe it was because you and Anika didn't have siblings in the friend group, or maybe it was because Anika was the one who helped four months ago when Tara first disappeared, but somehow the two of you bonded a bit more than Tara expected. You definitely bonded more with Anika than with Ethan. Granted, that was true for the entire group, not just you. Except maybe Chad since Ethan was his roommate.

"Come on, T, she's strong and smart, she's either sure she can handle whatever trap someone could be setting up for her, or she has a plan of her own," and if you had a plan you weren't about to say it.

Perhaps you just didn't trust Anika enough to openly say what you were going to do.

It didn't stop Tara from worrying about you, but she couldn't do anything but believe in you. So, she felt better. You'd come back to her. You always did. "Thanks, Anika," she smiled, and then they heard the news that Sam was the suspect.

~X~

You needed to be quick about this. Luckily, there was a gas station near your apartment, so you approached the first younger driver you saw. "Hey, would you like to earn three hundred bucks, with absolutely no effort?" the moment those words left your mouth you wondered if your morals completely abandoned you.

"Huh?" the kid you approached probably wasn't even out of high school.

"Look," you showed him a police tracker. "You drive away with this in your car, in the opposite direction of your home. Then, a couple of miles away from here just chuck this somewhere. No matter what, don't keep it," as long as he kept driving and went far enough you genuinely hoped nothing bad would happen, but you needed to get rid of the bloody tracker.

You should probably thank Sidney for making you paranoid about trackers on your car.

"Uh, sure," quick and easy money, coupled with the kid being young and likely naive did the job.

"Thanks," you said and handed the tracker and the money over to him. "Throw it away, and don't stop, just throw it, you hear me," you really hoped you wouldn't see the kid got stabbed in the news tomorrow morning. "Don't ever do this again though, you never know who you're dealing with!" you hollered as you ran back to your car.

You were suspicious the moment that call came, guessing Ghostface would be trying to separate you from the group. Either to jump you or attack the others, you weren't sure. But you weren't about to take the bait. You drove like a maniac, parking the car in the back alley less than a minute from the building you lived in. Even less if you ran. And then you hid in the shadows, watching the entrance, thankful you chose to wear a black hoodie today.

Your phone rang and you picked up, once again without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello, Y/N," oh, you recognized that voice. "What are you doing so far from your workplace?"

"Ruining your plans," you were relieved the kid listened to you.

"Hardly. I got you exactly where I want you. Away from home," that would have been chilling to hear if you weren't looking at the entrance and noticing the figure approaching.

"If you even try to touch them," you warned, stepping away from the shadows, and as silently as you could you went after the Ghostface.

"What are you going to do about it?" you didn't respond, seeing as you were already about a dozen feet behind the killer. "Silent, huh? Will you be that silent when I carve up your little whore," you grabbed Ghostface from behind and slammed him into the ground.

"Sorry, whore really doesn't fit any of my loved ones," you picked up the knife he dropped and quickly stabbed him several times, but just as you were about to slit his throat you heard tires screeching, horns blaring, and looked up to see a car heading right toward you and the Ghostface.

You jumped up to your feet and headed for the stairs, you got inside just as another Ghostface emerged from the car and went to his fallen accomplice in crime.

You felt your blood run cold when you took a good look at the two. They weren't nearly as big as the one you fought at the bodega.

No.

Fuck!

Would this one run after you or get the other one out of the way? You didn't know. It didn't matter.

~X~

Tara couldn't remember the last time fifteen minutes made her go through such a rollercoaster of emotions. First, she was worried about you, then reassured, then she had to completely shift focus on comforting Sam, and then, finally, she even allowed herself to be excited and happy for Sam because she was sleeping with Danny, or Cute Boy, as Tara dubbed him, mostly to see if you'd get jealous. You didn't even react, but the nickname kinda stuck around.

And then they all heard Anika scream.

Tara jumped to her feet and ran into the living room to see Ghostface standing over Anika with a knife in her stomach.

"Anika!" Mindy cried out as Tara, before anyone could grab her lunged at Ghostface and tried to push him off Anika.

He wouldn't budge, Tara was trying with everything she had, pushing the forearm, but nothing worked.

"Feisty," Ghostface chuckled, entirely unbothered by her efforts.

Tara suddenly remembered all those times she watched you fight, pulled her fist back, and with all her weight put behind the punch she hit him right where his liver was.

He flinched, probably more surprised than anything, and pushed Anika aside. Before Tara could react, he grabbed her left forearm and pulled her closer. "You should have left the fighting to your girlfriend," he taunted and raised his knife. And she screamed, for a moment feeling like she was back in Woodsboro, with Amber, in her robes above her on the night she was attacked for the first time.

Everything turned hectic from that moment. Sam grabbed the arm holding the knife and pushed, desperately trying to keep the knife from reaching Tara as Chad jumped in and punched Ghostface in the face. Tara did her best to push as well and they managed to topple him over.

"Help Anika!" Chad got on top of him, hitting him with all he had several times and for a moment Tara thought they would be safe. She thought Chad's hits were enough to defeat the man, because while he wasn’t as skilled as you were, Chad wasn’t weak by any means.

"Chad get back!" Sam, however, saw something else and went to pull Chad back. Only then did Tara see the man had his forearms raised and was blocking each and every hit Chad made. And it looked a lot like how you would fight in the cage. There was no doubt in Tara’s mind now, this man was an MMA fighter and she felt her blood run cold, because she knew exactly how dangerous that made him.

There was no mistaking it. This was the Ghostface that attacked the three of you at the bodega. Sam wasn't strong or fast enough to pull Chad away in time and Ghostface stabbed Chad right below his chest.

He violently yanked the knife out, making the wound even worse as blood splattered on the floor and Chad cried out as he and Sam fell back. Tara watched in horror as Sam managed to get back on her feet only to just barely avoid the knife.

"Run!" Sam yelled and Tara went to help Anika to her feet. There was no way they could reach the front doors, but maybe they could lock the bedroom doors and call for help from there. Mindy, trusting Tara to handle helping Anika went to get Chad, only to get sliced across her left biceps.

Sam grabbed a lamp and threw it at Ghostface, slowing him down just enough for all five of them to flee into the guest bedroom.

They had no idea what to do now, though. They didn't bring their phones. They barely managed to block both of the doors and Ghostface kept trying to break through.

"Sam!" they heard Danny yelling from his apartment and Sam went to the window.

"Shit," she cursed, and Tara realized they really had no way out. Ghostface would break in sooner rather than later.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Tara looked at Sam, not knowing what was happening, all she was focusing on was trying to slow down Anika's bleeding. "Fuck, I don't," Sam grabbed onto something and Tara realized it was a ladder.

"Tara! Tara, go!" Sam ushered her to the ladder.

"Sam! Wait!" Tara tried to argue, but Sam just grabbed her shoulders and made her look into her sister's eyes.

"Listen to me, we'll send Anika next, but I need you to get out of here," the frantic, frightened look in Sam's eyes made Tara give up on fighting.

Tara pulled Sam into a hug. "Please don't die," she begged and, not having any more time to waste, went to the ladder. She looked Danny in the eyes and swallowed down her fear. The last thing anyone needed right now was for her asthma to kick in. Slow, deep breaths. She thought about you, about how you'd be encouraging her right now, but she was moving too slowly. The lack of strength in her left hand made her uncertain.

"Come on, Tara, I got you, Sam will be right behind you, you can do it," Danny encouraged her, reaching out for her to grab onto his hands. And she did, she grabbed on and with his help made her way to the safety of his apartment.

"Sam!" she immediately cried out, now feeling even more anxious since she had no idea what was happening in the apartment. She could still hear Ghostface trying to break into the apartment, she flinched when she heard wood cracking but managed to keep her breathing under control when she saw Sam climb onto the ladder.

Sam began making her way over, but the ladder shook slightly. "It won't hold me," Sam spoke what Tara feared the most at the moment.

"It ain't going anywhere, it's gonna hold you, I promise," Danny kept a firm hold on the ladder and Sam nodded slightly.

"Eyes on me, Sam, come on, I got you," just like he did with Tara he reached out for Sam and pulled her inside.

Sam immediately hugged Tara, trembling slightly, and then looking at Danny. "Thank you," she whispered. "Okay, she turned back toward their apartment. "Come on!" she yelled for the others to get across.

"Mindy! Chad! Anika!" Tara yelled, hoping any of them would just get to the ladder and get out of there before it was too late. She saw Mindy and Anika getting close to the window. Her heart shattered when she saw Anika and Mindy kissing, possibly for the last time, and Mindy climbing on the ladder.

"Anika and Chad are coming right behind you! They're right behind you!" Sam kept yelling, keeping Mindy from panicking. She made it to the other side of the ladder much faster than either Tara or Sam. It wasn't fast enough though.

Just as Anika climbed onto the ladder they heard the doors slamming open.

"Chad!" Mindy screamed. They didn't see it, but they heard a loud thud and what sounded like a body dropping.

And then Ghostface was at the window, stabbing the knife next to the ladder.

"What?" Anika asked, afraid and in pain and there was nothing they could do to help.

"Anika you have to move now!" Mindy cried out as the man slowly, as if taunting them reached down for the ladder.

"No!" Tara cried out, and then she felt like her heart stopped beating for a moment when she saw a fist colliding with the side of Ghostface's head.

You came back.

~X~

You could hear the screams as you were running down the hall toward the doors. You could see blood from the moment you burst into the apartment. You saw red when you realized Chad was struggling to get up and Ghostface was reaching down for the ladder.

Why was there a ladder? You had no idea. It didn't matter. You rushed into the guest bedroom crashing your fist against the side of his head and for good measure slamming your entire body into Ghostface.

Both of you dropped to the floor and you placed him in a hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and right arm as you pressed his left forearm down with your knee.

"Y/N," Chad stumbled to his feet and you could see how unsteady he was.

"Get out of here! Get across the ladder!" you yelled, still not sure what that other Ghostface was going to do. "I've got him, just go!" you could feel Ghostface trying to get on his knees, but you kicked his leg and added pressure to the forearm at the same time.

You could hear Chad climbing onto the ladder as you tried to choke Ghostface. Even with as much strength as you were putting behind your hold, he managed to grab your forearm and pull just enough to prevent you from choking him.

You were stuck in a different dilemma though. Should you fight him right now? Just try to end the biggest threat? You were vaguely aware of the knife next to the ladder, you could reach it before Ghostface, but you weren't sure you could be quick enough to end it all before he got back to his feet.

"Y/N!" hearing Tara crying out for you made you consider just running away. Just getting across the ladder as quickly as you can instead of fighting. Leaving the fight for another day and just hoping you’d get a better chance to finish him off.

Hearing footsteps closing in made the decision for you and you jumped to your feet and went for the window just as the other Ghostface came in, knife twirling between his fingers.

You didn't have time to do it carefully. "Out of the way!" you yelled and jumped out of the window, just barely keeping your balance as you lunged forward and tumbled into Danny's apartment. The ladder fell as you stumbled into someone and tripped over your own feet.

You knew who you stumbled into before you even opened your eyes. You felt her trembling arms clinging to the back of your hoodie. When you opened your eyes you saw Tara beneath you, tears falling from her eyes as she pulled you down to kiss you.

"Are you okay?" you asked, looking her over when she allowed you to pull away.

Tara nodded frantically. "I am, I'm okay, Y/N," she whispered, and you relaxed just for a moment before looking around you. You weren't too late, everyone was still alive. Everyone but Tara and Sam were injured, but they were all alive and you hugged Tara tightly, kissing the side of her head and muttering a soft thank you into her ear.

~X~

You were all, aside from Anika, more or less, fine. Chad had a concussion and a deep stab wound, but he could still move around and Mindy's cut, while painful, wasn't deep enough to cause permanent damage. Tara, Sam and you were, for the most part, just a bit shaken.

Anika was the one you were all the most worried about. Her wound was serious, and while she survived, and the surgery went well none of you knew when she would wake up or if there would be any lasting issues caused by what she went through.

You folded your arms and squeezed at your biceps, barely keeping yourself from biting your lip. You thought you could outsmart the killers and it nearly cost Anika, and everyone else, their lives.

You stepped back and leaned your back against the wall. Events of last year came to mind as you watched Mindy watching over Anika while Tara was comforting her to the best of her abilities. You guessed you had a similar expression back when you were waiting for Tara to wake up.

Chad walked over to you, leaned against the wall, and placed a hand on your shoulder. "What now?" he asked.

"You stay here, protect Mindy and Anika, and leave the rest to us," in any other circumstances you were sure he would argue. That he would demand to be there for Tara, Sam, and you, so he could help you fight. But this was his sister and not only was she injured she wouldn't leave her girlfriend here.

"Y/N is right, Chad, you're needed here," Sam understood. Everyone understood what the only option was for Chad.

So, he nodded. "You better come back. We are Core Five," you could see in his eyes that he felt bad about his choice, but this was one of those situations, where you just had to choose the one most important to you. The pair of siblings would choose one another, no matter who was on the other side, and no matter how much it would hurt them if they had to choose.

"Yeah, you might want to change the nickname, use six instead of five," you said, firmly believing that Anika would make it out of this completely fine.

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[rosemarydisaster]

Magnus Protocol ARG

Im not sure if someone else has already done this (most likely) but I've been re-readin the magnus institute excell with all the kids names. Since the tests where psychological in nature I thought maybe I could figure out if the "Connor" Dyer profile worked for Alice. But I think I've found out something about Sam. This might be the most tin foil hat theory I've had in a while but it makes sense! I've connected the dots!!!!!

There's a couple of things I need to stablish first:

The names seem to be ranked from lowest to highest score on the empathy test.

Sam scored the highest, Gerry the second highest (Dyer is closer to the middle of the list).

The tests seem to relate to cognitive development, especially related to morality and empathy.

The Asch test measures your "conformity" aka, how susceptible you are to peer pressure. Basically, they ask you a question, everyone before you gives the wrong answer, and the test is whether you would give the correct answer or go with what the others said.

The Milgram test measures your obedience when in conflict with your morality. The (very) abridged version is: they tell you tu punish someone by shocking them with increasing voltages and if you refuse they ask you to continue. The experiment goes on until reaching 450 volts or if the participant completely refuses even when ordered to continue.

We know the Institute was trying to find Subjects, Agents and Catalysts (there's an amazing post about this from @alice-apparently )

Okay so I made a little excell with the relevant info:

Both Gerry and Dyer show low conformity and obedience levels. Which, knowing Gerry (and maybe Alice??) makes complete sense. We can assume that they both chose to give the correct answer even if everyone else answered differently, and they also refused to administer the punishment even when directly ordered.

Sam on the other hand, mr "would rather die than complain about being forcefed cake" did in fact go with what most people said instead of the correct answer. He also finished the Milgram experiment, going against his moral compass to obey the instructions.

I think they were trying to find viable subjects to groom into avatars for the eye. Hear me out. The kids with the lowest empathy score show high scores in the Milgram test (makes sense, they don't care as much about hurting people) but from 80% empathy forward no one scores high. No one except Sam, the one with the highest empathy score.

Why not just pick the one's with the least empathy? the least empathetic kids were also the youngest and the ones with lowest cognitive developement (I do not go in deph about the other test but you can see the scores for yourself here). This kids aren't useful yet, because maybe they'll become more empathetic (And as such, more resistent to the Milgram test) as they grow up/develop.

Not Sam. He has perfect scores in every single development test, he has the highest empathy and yet he's the most likely to be influenced to harm other people.

In episode 10 Sam confirms his obsession with finding out why they didn't chose him despite having the highest scores. Gerry was the second highest and he didn't get picked either. My theory is that Sam was indeed chosen, and the fact that he shows no survival instincts when it comes to figuring this mystery out is prove.

His test results show someone whiling to file useless papeworks with extremely personal information because "well, you're supposed to even if no one reads it". Also Teddy leaving for a job that somehow didn't actually exist smells like somebody trying to free a spot in the very Eye-coded OIAR. A spot that Sam is more than happy to accept.

I don't know if this is an incredibly long con to condition Sam into the perfect vessel for the eye or if the Magnus Institute had to change plans after burning down. If it's the latter I can see them being very happy when their specialest little boy signed up for the OIAR and fell right into their laps again. Either way, Sam's fucked.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

somewhere in the haze got a sense ive been betrayed

pairing: ethan landry x reader

WC: 1.3K

warnings: blood mentions, stabbing, this is a scream fic its a little violent and graphic. SPOILERS LIKE ACTUAL CHARACTER SPOILERS DONT READ UNTIL YOUVE SEEN THE MOVIE

summary: people aren’t who they always say

A/N: i freaking loved scream6!!!!! literally wrote this the day after i watched the movie. gonna try and pop out a mix of angst and fluff for ethan cause i love my nerdy boyfriend. lowercase on purpose, sorry if that bothers you. if the chase scene sucks... mind your business, just skim the words.

masterlist

“hello?”

“hello… y/n. i’ve missed the sound of your voice.”

it was like you heard the stereotypical horror movie music play in your mind. your blood went cold and your body seized up from the bucket of ice water that just splashed over your whole body at the voice of the horrific ghost face. the way he spoke your name made you feel even sicker.

“what is it now? gonna sweet talk me for a second before you start saying vile words and then pop out from a corner ready to stab me?” you took slow steps through the living room, trying to scope out where the killer could be lurking.

he just laughed, “well you do know how this works. after all, you already went through round one in woodsboro, somehow surviving multiple stab wounds to your stomach. impressive.”

the deep drawl of his voice only caused nausea to roll over you in waves. with quiet steps as you listened to the narcissist as they just talked and talked, you hurried to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife from the wooded block.

“honestly why don’t we just do this dance, huh? i was in the middle of a very good book and i would like to get to the part where the love interest resolved their differences and had hot sex. plus i’ve done this before and i’ve been working out.” you just started to blurt things out, your anxiety kicking into high gear.

ghost face didn’t say anything back and it only caused your fear to grow. so you just hung up and speed-dialed sam knowing she always answers her calls.

“come on, sam. please please plea-“

“y/n? what’s-“

“he’s in the apartment. please get here fast… i love you guys.” you hung up placing your phone in your back pocket. you hoped to make it alive again, but as mindy said, you're all expendable in sequels.

the noise of something crashing to the ground made you flinch high in the air, a small gasp slipping from your lips. the grip on the knife readjusted to get a firmer hold as you peeked around a corner, seeing nothing suspicious. so you started to make your way towards the front door, hoping you could escape the killer before he gets you.

as just as you passed quinn’s room you stepped on a creaky spot. you froze for a second before running to the door, fumbling with the five locks. and just as you were on the last two, sweat causing the metal to be slippery, your roommate's door burst open and ghost face, dressed in his black cloak and the dirty mask came dashing at you with the classic knife held high.

you screamed and ducked away needing to circle back to the door. you were able to get a quick swipe to their bicep before running to sam’s room and closing the door closed. you took a breath until loud banging slammed against the wooden frame, almost bending the door in half from its weight.

with ghost face distracted on the door, you ran through the shared bathroom, shutting and locking each door as you entered quinn’s room. you pushed her dresser against the bathroom for extra hold. when it was in place you ran, knife still in hand, and went back to get the last locks on the door free and ready for your escape.

just as you pulled the door open, ready to dash down the steps, you were pulled back with arms around your waist and pulled into a solid chest. you screamed and kicked, the knife falling to the floor. ghost face threw you to the ground, back hitting the living room chairs. you turned to your stomach to try and go for a push-up into a run, hands tight on your ankles pulled you back. your hands scrambled for purchase on something solid.

then suddenly the most blinding white hot pain shot through your right thigh pulling a high-strung scream from your vocals. then he gave the knife a twist making the pain shoot to your spine, you felt frozen. he pulled the dripping knife out and his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you further down before flipping you over and straddling your waist making you immobile.

you tried to push his arms away, but his strength was must higher than yours as he plunged the knife into your stomach then pulled out then back in. in and out, in and out. multiple more times that you knew you wouldn’t survive this one.

you tried using your last bit of strength to push his looming face away. with a solid hold, you ripped the stupid mask off the killer's face and the sight before you taking the last bit of air from your lungs.

“e-ethan?” you rasped out, blood dripping from your mouth.

your loving, sweet, handsome boyfriend of five months now stared down at you with a sickening twisted grin on his lips, teeth poking out like fangs. his thick head of luscious curls that you would run your fingers through when making out or just laying with each other were matted down with sweat, and the urge to touch them came back on instinct.

limply you lifted your left arm from the floor and cupped his cheek, you saw the look in his hungry eyes switch for a second before snapping back into place. “e-ethan… wh-why? i- i thought you lo-loved me.” with a gentle swipe of your thumb over his skin, his eyes involuntarily slipped closed at the comforting gesture.

“i do love you, sweetheart. but i have to do this.” a gloved hand held the one on his face, you were scared and confused by everything.

“i- i don’t-“ “i need to complete my brother's movie.”

you decided if you could keep ethan talking maybe the others will show up soon and save you, “br- brother? you- you said you were an- an only child.”

“sorry sweetheart, but i lied. had to get close to you and your friends somehow, and having a fake identity helps.” he whispered, “landry isn’t even my real last name.”

your anger was spilling over the brim. ethan used you to get closer to your friends, you were just a pawn in this stupid fantasy of his. and it hurt because you thought he was the one, the goodness that you needed in your life.

with both hands you held his cheeks then slid them slowly up into his sweaty curls, nails dragging over his scalp pulling a groan from his throat and usually, you loved the noise but now all you saw was red. so with a good fist full, you pulled his hair hard and then slammed your head together.

it caused ethan to fall back, dropping his knife. with the last of your strength, you tried to slide away from him, tried to grab your phone and call sam or chad, anyone at this point. but your luck had run out and ethan gained back his upper hand.

he grabbed a chunk of your hair, head pulled back with your eyes pointed at the ceiling. ethan leaned over your left shoulder and whispered in your ear, “i did love you. but family is family, gotta stick by them. so, any last words, y/n?”

with tears streaming down your face, and blood closing off your throat, you sniffle out your last words, “i loved you too,” you said with every bit of honesty, “but you're gonna get killed like the pussy you truly are.” you seethed with a blinding anger.

and the last thing you heard was the roar of ethan’s cry as you felt the cold metal slice your throat open and your head slumping hard on the wood flooring. you died at the hands of the first boy you truly loved in this twisted world.

love does kill you in the end.

...

[rainybyday]

Danny being able to follow the descendants of Jazz or Sam/Tucker is a common idea, but I’ll do you a new one

He follows all the descendants of every Amity Park, but with a bit of twist

With a mix of Danny being an Immortal au along with everyone being contaminated by ectoplasm au here is my thoughts

Danny is going to look after everyone in Amity and their descendants and bring them all personally to the afterlife comfortably (since it seems that anyone contaminated with ectoplasm would go to the ghost zone (my idea my rules)). He would spend years upon years watching and guarding them, however, there is a slightly variable he didn’t think about until he saw Tucker’s children. 

Because ectoplasm is like a radiation of sorts, it gets genetically mutated and encoded into their very dna. If someone, let's say Jazz, was to have a child then that genetic mutation will also be passed down to her children and their children and everyone down her line will have this mutation as well. 

So that means that everyone in Amity Park will have a mutation that would let them be Limitals in different degrees. The stronger bloodlines would be people like Jazz, Sam, and Tucker but others, like Wes and Valerie would also have strong ectoplasm lines as well with how closely they gotten near ghost and contaminated areas. 

Depending how contaminated the original carrier of the mutation was, the mutation can either grow stronger or weaker or do nothing at all as it gets passed down. Most people with small mutations of ectoplasm have slightly better senses or a change of their physical strength, such as being slightly faster or slightly stronger, which can be played off as being either born talented or genetics. 

It was those that came from direct stronger mutations that are hard to cover at times. Their changes are very visible. Sure, theirs the small stuff like enchanted senses and maybe green eye colors being a common trait but there's also big changes. Some have high IQ’s that get written down as geniuses, some have naturally strong bodies that could win Olympic gold, and some even have natural ghost vision and become psychopomps! 

So you see, while Danny is watching over the mass majority of the growing Limital population he has to deal with the, er, the troublesome line of descendants that decided to screw with Danny by being gifted these gifts.

Those years of making sure no nosy reporter or government official coming to harm them for the umpteenth time is driving Danny crazy. Thier many great grandparents always find it funny and slightly amusing to see Danny getting overwork by their many great grandchildren and it's driving him up the wall. 

Now you are probably asking “how is this a dc x dp idea?”

well, my good friend looks no further

Because this is where Danny will probably get bald from stress. 

Hypothetically if I were to say, oh I don’t know, if Barry Allen was a descendant of Wes, then let's say that the lighting that struck him was supposed to kill him. 

It was because of the mutation that Barry was able to survive, but at the same time, the electricity from the lighting was also able to reactivate the mutation in Barry’s genes which gave him his unnatural speed. 

But because Berry is Wes’s descendants and being one of the stronger bloodline carriers Danny was also able to feel Barry’s heart being structed and left to see what happen to him. Which now turns out to be a mistake because now he has to look out for a superhero of all things!

Now, you are probably wondering if it stops there. 

No, no it didn’t. 

Turns out Bruce Wayne is part of Sam’s bloodline with Dinah Lance being a part of Jazz’s bloodline, and Cyborgs being a part of Tucker’s bloodline!

And somehow, SOMEHOW, Valerie’s great grandson was adopted by Sam’s descendant! 

And then the normally very quiet and very small, mutated bloodlines came in and ruined him ever further.  

Don’t get him started with Dash’s descendant - John Constatine. 

Why, just why.

But at least it’s better than Paulina’s descendants. Who looks at a homeless child and said that they can inherited the powers of gods and magic and ghost them like that! God damn Wizard! Why did you do that to Billy!!! 

(Danny’s screams of frustrations could be heard for miles.)

+Danny can feel even the smallest of ectoplasm so that was why he was able to find every descendant and so forth. 

+Being a descendant doesn’t mean you will look or act exactly like their great grandparents, so Danny likes to complain at times to the great grandparents because they weren’t like their grandchildren or how their grandchildren aren’t like them. 

+Some bloodlines did get mix during those years, such as Jazz’s and Valerie’s bloodlines and Dash’s and Tucker’s so their mutation will grow stronger if connected to a stronger bloodline. Sometimes those bloodlines also split so could be three main families for some people, like Wes’s descendants.

more at this link

[shiny-jr]

Have you ever thought of the imposter au with the staff of raven College? I could just imagine Crewel being the reason the reader is summoned to twst while not fulling knowing it (Probably coming in at the end to safe then after realize shits going down). That and maybe Crowley and Vargas going full mad dog and just chasing the reader like crazy. Maybe Trein tripping over his cat while chasing and reader/imposter feeling bad about it. Along with Sam using shadow creature to track the imposter down. Just a fun ideas I've been having, feel free to ignore.

I have thought about it before. I believe I even once mentioned that I would make a separate post for it eventually. Recently been thinking about platonic yan staff, so like fatherly type stuff for those of you with daddy issues.

Platonic yan Crowley! Wants to be your father figure so bad. Why won't you let him take you under his wing? You'd be his little fledgling! Ah, he must do his best to protect you! He is the headmaster of a prestigious school with unfortunately many arrogant troublesome students. Often he'll dramatically lament, inquiring why you don't wish to spend time with your dear old father? When you reply with a deadpan, "You're not my dad, Crowley." He'll break out into a melodramatic wail, oh woe is him that his own child does not wish to partake in any activities with him! Ah–– a way home, you ask? Well, during one of his many hours long searches in the library to find you a way home, something he adamantly assures you he's been doing, he had the most profound idea which he shall so graciously share with you! Why not stay in Twisted Wonderland and allow him to formally adopt you? Then you shall be his child and he will be sure to provide you with all the love and care you need! Isn't he a genius with such boundless benevolence?

Platonic yan Divus! Probably believes the whole world is out to get you. You poor little thing, far from home, lost and afraid, with no where else to go. Eventually he'll begin to doubt that Crowley is taking proper care of you, and deem his efforts as inadequate. Look at this wretched place, an old dorm filled with cobwebs and ghosts is supposed to be your home? An old oversized uniform and a handful of cheap worn clothes from the shop are all you have to wear? And your classmates, his own students, oh he knows what they're like. A bunch of ruthless mischief making pups! This is unacceptable! Divus will spoil you like his own. He has a soft spot for you, so when he's improving your conditions and getting rid of the old dirtied items, you hold up that feral monster cat and go, "Can I at least keep Grim? Please?" Ah, the puppy eyes. How could he say no to you? But that cat is getting a bath first. Oh, and he's incredibly wary of all the students. In his eyes, none of them are good enough to be your friends, and he's beginning to suspect all of them of trying to take advantage of you. Listen here, darling, you are not to trust any other men besides himself, are we clear?

Platonic yan Vargas! Oh god, not another one. Somehow, he's worse than the other two dads you've acquired. Especially because he thinks your escape attempts are some sort of crazy athletic training regimen. He's come to think of your monthly escape attempts as survival training, so not only is he enjoying himself but he's more than capable of keeping up and capturing you. Then dragging you back to NRC with a proud grin, boasting about how you got so much further than last time! "Let me go! Let go of me!" That's the spirit, he cheers. Seems like you're raring to train again, but now's the time regain your energy for next month! Eagerly tells you stories about his youth, how he was the strongest and most popular! He really wants you to look up to him, and he likes to think he's your favorite dad. Especially when it comes to Crewel, let's say they have differing opinions on how to properly care for you. While his counterpart prefers to pamper you, Vargas believes you need more activity and excitement in your life! Wouldn't you agree with him? Come on, give him a smile now!

Platonic yan Trein! The only real dad on the list. He has two sons that are already full adults now, and he believes you'd get along wonderfully with them. You would be their new younger sibling. "That's kinda... dumb. I'm not their sibling though." You comment, as he responds, it is not foolish to want all three of his children to get along. It's a bit annoying that you can never really get on his nerves, despite him being notoriously strict and a little intimidating with his stoic look. But like most of the dads on this list, he too has a weak spot for you. He still expects you to be a well-behaved though. No matter what you're like, he can handle it. After all, he's been a professor at NRC for so long, that he's seen and taken care of countless students. If you're looking for quiet time, he's probably the best to be with by far. He'll let his feline familiar Lucius sit on your lap as he serves you a platter of cookies with a hot beverage. When you do try to get on his nerves for whatever reason, it never works, so you end up plopping down beside him on the couch in defeat, angrily opening a magazine as he calmly continues to read a book. Now that the opportunity has present itself, he'd like to have a word with you. You should know that you are his pride and joy. That being said, should any of his students be pestering you, inform him immediately and he'll handle it promptly.

Platonic yan Sam! Most likely the best one to be with. It doesn't even feel like he's trying to be your dad, he's more like a cool but still concerning weird uncle. But if you had to classify him as a dad, he'd be the chill one. Although it is scary that he seems to know way more about you than you ever told him about. You suspect it has something to do with his friends on the other side. Whenever you're not with him, you have spied an oddly moving shadow or two... But the upside about that is, he always seems to know what you want. If it's small, he'll offer it for free. If it's a bigger item, he'll let you have it if you work the shop with him for a few hours. What's say you, huh? Sound like a deal? He'll entertain you a trick or two while you're here! Sam likes to call you his little good luck charm, because you tend to bring in more customers and just put him in a good mood. He choses to trust you, more than the other dads, probably because he knows you can't escape because he's always watching you somehow. You go on ahead, just be back by dark, you hear? He wouldn't want to send his friends to force you back home if you stay out late, m'kay?

[petrichor-idyllic]

Hii Petri, I want to request for headcanons please, it's maze runner boys x fem!reader and she was one of the first to go up in the box, she's been in the glade for enough time to pass for the transition of 'cute little girl who's happend to be there with a lot of boys' to 'really hot girl in the middle of tons os guys', and I want to see the moment that clicked for each one of them that "oh, she's a girl". I think it would be fun cause they're a bunch of virgin dudes stuck in a place with only one girl that they know since "forever" and then suddenly she's not that little kid anymore and it clicks that they'd could be the one to date her.

I am completely doing my requests out of order, but I really like this idea and headcanons are so much easier lol.

Also no Newt here, the boy likes men.

DEVELOPMENT

MASTERLIST | MULTI-CHARACTER MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Movie based fic.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, awkward teenage boys, you're the boss, everyone is useless, mild suggestive themes, the Thomas one is really bad 'cause I had no way of actually writing that based on this prompt.

You were the first person in the Glade, a young girl with no memories or idea what you were doing. Yet, somehow, you managed to survive for a whole month on your own. Then, one after another, the boys started joining you. And you went from soft girl to a leader they could rely on - though, it takes them a bit to notice this.

THOMAS

Being one of the later arrivals to the Glade, Thomas doesn't have the same reaction the others do.

You're just a badass from day one to him.

He thinks you're cool and calculated and you seem to know what you're doing.

He respects you from day one.

He doesn't get to have the whole realising you're cool moment that everyone else does.

He just thinks you're sick.

And he's like, stressed as shit, so he doesn't really have the time to think otherwise.

MINHO

Now, this is where it gets interesting.

Minho was one of the first boys to follow you into the Maze, just after Alby and Newt.

So he's witnessed your whole transformation.

From the early days of exploring the Maze together, to you making him Keeper, to the drunken nights where he'd had a rough day and you had to drag him to bed.

You've been together through thick and thin.

And some of Minho's confidence has definitely rubbed off on you.

The moment where Minho realised you were in face a girl, and not the one he first met was actually quite simple.

You'd had a long night, and with one of your Runners out of commission, you realised you hadn't told Minho to cover another route that day as you'd made arrangements for a new Runner to do a more simpler route- which meant switching up everyone's routines.

Fresh out of bed, wearing a sports bra and baggy trousers that hung off your hips, you went to the Map Room.

It wasn't uncommon for you to dress like this. The Glade is warm, and you basically mothered all these boys.

You whistled as you entered, gaining their attention.

"Oi, boys, listen up - I'm switching routes around today. With Sam off on sick and Darren being new, he's taking the easiest route. Minho, I need you to deal with covering the outer sections more. And Ben I need you to stick to your path for a change instead of going awol - your maps make no sense."

"Aw, what? But that's boring."

"I ain't shuckin' askin', Ben - do as you're told."

Oh.

Oh God.

Minho doesn't know why this is what made it click.

His eyes fell on your body, your words becoming static as he drunk in your figure.

Had you always been this attractive?

Had you always been this assertive?

Was Minho into dominant women?

Should he be concerned?

After this point onwards, Minho started looking at you differently.

In fact, you became the only thing he couldn't take his eyes off.

Minho would go from your confident and reliant friend to slightly awkward, but also occasionally flirty.

Like he can't actually decide what to do with you now.

It'd take a while, but after some near death experiences, he'd become more outwardly flirtatious.

Though, he still wouldn't be able to get over the admiration and awe for you.

GALLY

Gally would be your number one problem child in the Glade.

He always has been.

But, you normally left Alby or Newt to deal with him.

Especially at the start since he's a big dude with a big temper.

Gally always saw you unfit as a leader.

Too timid, quiet, anxious.

You name it, he thought it.

That was until the day him and Minho got in a particularly nasty fight.

You don't know why or what it was, but Gally had gone for the Runner. Alby was busy sorting out the Maps, and in light of Newt's recent injury - it was left up to you.

Jeff came running into your hut, panicking about the fight, leading you to running out after him.

"That's enough!"

You grabbed the boys, yanking Gally away by his collar.

"The shuck do you slintheads think you're doing?"

"He started it!"

"I did not!"

You'd had a hard day.

You didn't need this.

"I don't give two klunks who started it! We ain't got much choice to act like adults 'round here - and you two are actin' like diaper-klunkin' sissy babies! Get a shuckin' grip! I expect better."

Minho apologised quickly.

Gally did not.

"What? Why should I apologise when this shank can't shut his mouth?"

Well, you weren't having that.

"Because I shucking told you to. You're under my care and my order- what I say goes. You may be a Keeper, but that's up to me. Suck it up and do as you're told."

"...sorry.

"Better. Get back to work."

The way that Gally watched you walk away made it obvious to everyone who witnessed the scene that something had changed.

He'd always seen you as weak and a pointless leader, but now?

You'd put him in his place.

Initially, he was embarrassed.

But then he started seeing everything around the Glade, the power you actually held.

He also started to notice how attractive you actually had become.

Safe to say, he started to feel things after you basically called him a bitch.

He'd start showing you more respect after that.

Maybe a bit more than respect.

FRYPAN

Frypan has always liked you.

He's always respected you and been a good friend.

And he used to make sure that you were okay when things got too much.

But as you got older and more confident, you started to not need that comfort as much.

Unlike the others, there wouldn't be a specific moment where he realised.

He'd just be proud as he watched you grow as a person.

And you'd take charge.

It'd be a slow burn of feelings from friendship to genuinely having a crush on you.

You'd make sure his kitchen is always stocked and the Track-hoes do their job and the vegetables are up to scratch.

Though, his feelings came more with the physical transformation side of things.

You hit puberty, and went from being awkward to confident along with it.

Now, Frypan is probably one of the more respectful guys around.

But he can't help but stare when you bend over, or stretch or even just look at him with a smirk.

He's a teenage boy and you're the only girl around.

He's trying his best.

Though he did go from:

"Hey, everything okay? You look stressed."

To:

"H-hey uh, you uh, you need help, or...?"

Man's is down bad.

ALBY

Alby would probably be the person you're closest to.

He's the mouth and the power to your brain

You basically work side by side.

But, he'd always see you as someone he needed to look after and protect.

Then, as you grew up, came into yourself, that would change.

Especially when you started actually being in charge.

For the most part, he really doesn't care.

He noticed the others starting to act differently, but he didn't change much.

Apart from that one time you'd just come out of the shower.

And he just couldn't take his eyes off you.

And he kinda realised you're a woman.

But apart from that.

He's just... there.

Helping you lead.

Sorry for disappearing, this is not my best work but I am currently in full corpse mode.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed :))

[stuckyfingers]

I'm just thinking about autistic Steve...

(I'm not as well educated about autism as I'd like to be so do correct me if I'm wrong)

Like, he's always been 'weird' even apart from his physical disabilities. He's felt a kind of self hatred over how sensitive he is to little things that are wrong but he can't explain why.

He hated talking but also loved talking about one specific thing that noone had any idea why he liked. (If someone can headcanon his hyperfixation, that'd be great). Either way, it didn't make him very popular among his peers. As a child he'd get bullied for just about anything because of how many faux pas-es he made.

He'd try to get home as soon as possible from school and shut himself into his plywood cabin of a room and cry. Bucky theorized that he was a vampire because of how much he liked fabric lined dark places.

He never guessed it wasn't normal to hate wearing clothes, so he continued living in constant discomfort and caution. Sarah had caught on to the specificities of how he needed his food and tried her best to get his safe foods on the table despite being poor. (Yes, she even called it that.)

Did I mention he also starts crying when he can't predict his day. And when things get more and more uncertain with the Depression swinging in, he gets so stressed that his heart problems worsen.

But having Bucky as a friend helps them both survive the times. Bucky was the only person who seemed unconcerned and unjudgmental about Steve's 'moodiness' and 'fidgeting'. He tried to understand when Steve described sensory overloads to him, and though he couldn't relate he accommodated Steve as much as he could.

Steve was frighteningly smart and picked up on every social cue he found, organizing them into a mental flowchart, assuming that this was what everyone did. But for most of his childhood he saw himself as less smart because Bucky seemed to be able to tell him things that he somehow still missed.

"Well how the fuck am I supposed to know that if they don't give any indication of being sarcastic?"

"Because it's not sarcasm, Steve... It's just- talking shop. A fake nice word, just because."

"How am I supposed to tell the difference?"

"Well, you just do. I don't know how you could... consciously do it."

By the miracle of God (and Bucky) he pushes through Eugenics era until 1943.

The Serum brings color to his eyes and more sound to his bad ear.

And he hates it.

But what's new is how much more physical energy he has to mask it.

It feels comparatively better to be able to mask without getting exhausted so fast, so he assumes his 'weirdness' has been cured and goes to war. In his line of work, however, he never gets a day's rest for his brain that craved routine, and because of how he's now able to push the feeling deep down and cover it up, Bucky can hardly recognize him.

And when he's out of the ice, his brain is turned to mush at having to learn new cues along with being autistic but anyone in that situation would have found it as difficult, so he passes it off.

One day he sees one of the people at Sam's VA talked about how their autism shaped their experience of PTSD differently, and Steve did the customary google search to learn more about it.

It said 'can't make eye contact'. But he knew the correct ratio of eye contact / looking away and what part of the eye he could look at so that it wouldn't drive him mad.

It said 'sensory issues' and he felt bad for those who actually had it because that must be horrible.

'Black and White thinking' okay but that doesn't mean- but see, he did know that illegal things weren't necessarily bad, right? He was ready to accept the criminality of something if it was a means to a moral end. And maybe there were some things that he could not see any nuance in but there were so many things he could. He couldn't have believed in Bucky if his thinking was Black and White right?

'Lack of empathy' No. Steve didn't understand people's feelings immediately, but he always logically guessed when they needed help. He kept note of the things that people found comforting so that he could be of comfort when they were down. He was empathetic, right?

He knew he wasn't autistic. (spoiler alert, he's just reading the symptoms from an outside perspective)

It's when he starts following more and more autistic creators that he felt less wrong for those weird things he did as a kid. He chuckles nervously scrolling through the tiktoks like "Ha ha why are ya'll so relatable"

He's not immune to the stigma but comes to terms with it. It feels a lot like how he came to terms with being queer. He's even surprised when he realizes that he was also wrongly assuming that it was gone because of the serum when it just became more manageable (for others) when he did.

Bucky listens like he always did when Steve explains things to him. And after a long while of living his truth with Bucky, Steve gets more comfortable describing himself as autistic to other people as well.

He starts experimenting with stimming, which already feels MILES better than forcing himself into a 'calm' and steady Captain's body language. Once he retires after Endgame, he surrounds himself with comfort and accommodations in his apartment and builds a routine he can finally be at peace with.

[artyandink]

we could be more | dean winchester | 12

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

PLAYTHINGS

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : DOLLS - BELLA POARCH

“That amulet protected the wearer from possession.” Dad repeated. “It was blessed, and I gave it to your mother until Ellen got it. Giving that up put you in danger. You wouldn’t even be able to know how long you have left.” 

“So you failed to mention in your little note to Ellen that the necklace was the ONLY thing protecting me from being possessed by a PSYCHO who’s been after my BLOOD for EIGHT YEARS?!” I burst out, karate chopping my palm. “Yeah, cause that’s not important.” 

“I wanted to tell you.” 

“No, you didn’t. Not until I went and faced Gordon Walker and suddenly I’m in immense danger. Two weeks, Dad. Two. Plenty of time for you to warn me.” 

“I wanted to, Ivonne.” He pleaded. “More than anything, but I didn’t know how you’d react-“

“Better than this! I’m now a walking death timer! I could even stick a knife in anyone and I wouldn’t even know it and I’d be blaming myself for this. When I should really be blaming you.” 

“I was dead for eight years!” 

“Yeah, dead for eight years while I had to pick up the pieces. The yellow-eyed demon chose Carter for his sick plan, but Carter’s dead, so I became the next contender. Because I was the last one standing. I lived with the guilt of Mom’s death, Lily’s, Carter’s, my baby brother’s and yours. Because you sent me that tape, told me not to look for you and I listened, stayed at home when I could’ve been the difference between whether you survived or not. A week after that tape, you’re dead and I knew that I could’ve done something but I decided to follow your orders like a good little soldier. Nothing in that tape explaining what I might be facing. Nothing preparing me for what’d happen a few months later.” 

“Ivonne-“ 

“THAT THING SLAUGHTERED MY FAMILY!” I yelled, completely losing it. 

“Our… family.” 

“You don’t get to call it ��our family’ anymore.” I fumed.

”Oh, she went there.” I heard Sam whisper. 

“You weren’t there for the last few years before you died. You missed my graduation. My first prom. Hell, you even missed my eighteenth birthday in the name of killing the supernatural! I looked up to you more than anything, Dad, but our family was falling apart. I looked to you for help and you weren’t there. I look at our video tapes and I remember what we were like when I was growing up, but somehow I only remember the good parts. That’s cause I’m trying to find every excuse I can find to paint you as an amazing father  and somehow live up to the name of the great Mick Rainer, hunter extraordinaire.” 

Dad crumbled, starting forward. “Jellybean-“ 

I held out a hand to stop him. “Don’t ‘jellybean’ me. Just don’t. I’m done with you, Dad. I-I wasn’t even thinking when I made that deal and essentially traded my life for yours. I’m not your puppet. I’m…” I turned to see Dean and Sam at the foot of the stairs, watching everything with a bewildered expression. I grabbed my leather jacket, wearing it and grabbing my safe house keys and my satchel. I stormed out of the door, and I heard jogging behind me. 

“Beanie!” Dean called. I continued walking, not wanting to hear consolations or a ‘calm down’. “Hey, BEANIE!” 

“WHAT?” I yelled back, stopping and turning around.

“Where’re you going? It’s 8:00 in the evening.” 

“My other safe house here. It has more beer.” I replied, then started walking off. 

“Beer? Count me in!”

After locking the door, I went to the fridge and my cabinets, pulling out a casket of beer and a couple bottles of whiskey. “I’m gonna change, just make yourself at home.” I went into a bedroom, pulling my long pyjama shirt on and taking my bottoms off. I ran my fingers through my hair, then dumped my clothes on the bed in that room before coming back out. Dean gave me a once over, then passed me a bottle of beer. 

“I’ve been waiting for when you get here.” He cracked open his bottle and I did mine, both of us clinking them. “Cheers.”

”Cheers.” I took a large sip out of my beer, rubbing my forehead. 

“How much of a heavyweight are you?” 

“I’m not that heavy.” I chuckled. “I just want to get drunk so I can forget about this for the time being.” 

“I feel you.” He raised his bottle. “To forgetting about our problems.” 

“Touché.” I did the same, drinking. 

“What would you do if you weren’t a hunter?” 

“Complete my college course, make a name for myself, then find a guy, get married.” I shrugged. “But if I think about it, I wouldn’t have met you and Sam if I hadn’t become a hunter. If Carter’s abilities hadn’t been transferred to me, or if I’d gone dark side and done the yellow eyes man’s bidding. Now I can’t imagine life without you two bozos.” 

“Words hurt, but I get your point.” He got up, already swaying because he’d finished his first bottle. “I’m gonna head to the restroom.” 

“First door in the hallway opposite.” He nodded and then left, and Carl sprang up from my bag, writing on a sheet of paper. 

You like him. 

“No.” I refused. “I just can’t. Dean’s got too much going on and so do I, plus, I’ve learnt that short-distance relationships end up with me shooting them. Besides, there’s James.” 

No, there’s Dean. 

“Why are you so set on Dean? You talked to me about this last week!” 

You two are really protective of each other. 

“Yeah, and so are you and your precious refills. Doesn’t mean you’re dating.” Dean walked, or, more accurately, stumbled, back in, flopping down on the sofa. 

“Wanna crack open the whiskey?” He rumbled, and I grinned, taking out two glasses and filling them each up with whiskey, passing one to him. I sipped mine, my mind growing more cloudy than I’d intended it to. “Oh, yeah, that’s the good stuff.” 

Both Dean and I were laughing our heads off, collapsed against the sofa. 

“No way! That happened in T-Tampa?” I giggled, sipping my fifth glass of whiskey. “You’re mad.” 

“The waitress was h-hot!” 

“S-She turned out to be a witch… Dean.” 

“You’re a witch, but I don’t complain.” He smirked. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “Am I a burden, Winchester?” 

He glanced at me with a look that I couldn’t really explain. His green eyes had a dark quality to them, his voice getting rougher by the minute. “Nah, you’re not. You’ve- you’ve been great.” 

“T-Tell me m-more.” 

“Well, y-you’re the b-best lady hunter I know. Probably gonna top most o’ the d-dudes I know. You always get S-Sammy and I o-outta fixes, I owe you for that. When y-you handle a gun… there’s this f-face that you make. You’ve got this… this… look in your eyes.” 

“That looks stupid, right?” I giggled airily, sipping some whiskey. 

“No, it’s… it’s goddamn sexy, that’s what it is. You’re goddamn sexy.” He downed the rest of his whiskey, him staring into my eyes with his pupils blown wide. My gaze flickered down to his lips, then I drank the rest of mine. “Beanie, I-“ 

“God damn it, Dean…” I whispered, grabbing his collar and pulling him in for a kiss. He pulled away, his hands cupping my cheeks. He took a breath, giving me the fifth once-over of the evening before something snapped inside him, and he hooked his hand under my knee, pulling me to straddle him before kissing me again.

His hands were like they were everywhere but at one place at the same time, one arm looped around my waist while the other held my thigh, occasionally squeezing as if to remind himself where he was. His lips were so soft and he tasted like whiskey, mint and something indescribable that was just very… Dean, while the scent of his cologne, something along the lines of gunpowder, cinnamon and leather made me feel dizzy in his arms. I didn’t really care, cause damn, it was intoxicating. He pulled back, eyes closed for a moment and out of breath as he leaned his forehead on mine. 

“Are you sure?” He asked softly, holding me in a way which told me that he wanted this too. 

“Dean, who kissed who first?” I smirked, my hands resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. I could see all his scars, faint scratches on his skin but they looked like they told a damn good story.

“You did.” 

“Are we gonna remember this after being black out drunk?”

“No.” 

“Then let’s make it count.” I grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, lifting it off his head in one smooth motion. He did the same to me, running his hand from my face, down to my arm, then my waist, hips, and ending on my leg. His eyes drank up whatever he could, his fingers lingering

“Damn.” He hesitated for a moment, the cogs visibly whirring in his head as his chest heaved. Then he let out an almost needy moan, lips kissing down my neck like I was his lifeline, propping himself up on one knee to switch positions and lay me down on the sofa, and I put my hand in his hair, thanking the whiskey cause boy this man knows what he’s doing. I gave him access to my neck, my lips parted as I gasped for breath, struggling to keep in my sharp moans. “This… this is just for tonight, right?” 

“Yeah.”

I woke up the next morning at 5am, rubbing my forehead and trying to ignore the hangover. I had my shirt on, but my hair was disheveled. Dean was asleep on the other sofa, a small smirk on his face as he slept with one arm under his head. I stood up, but I almost collapsed due to a feeling in my legs like they’d cramped badly throughout the night, making me grab onto the sofa for support. I shook my head, collecting the bottles and disposing the empty ones, pulling my workout clothes out of my satchel and quickly changing. I tied up my hair, glancing momentarily at Dean asleep on the sofa before going into my home gym and getting straight to doing pull ups on my bar. I got a call, so I dropped down, picked it up and held the phone to my ear, panting. “You’ve reached Ivonne Rainer’s cell.” 

‘I was half expecting you to decline the call.’ I heard James on the other end. 

“James!” I grinned, wiping the sweat off my forehead with a towel. “How’ve you been?” 

‘Good, yeah. I’m not interrupting something important, am I? You sound… uh… out of breath.’ 

I got what he was insinuating, panic striking through me. “Oh, no, no, no, I’m not getting laid. I was just doing pull ups in my gym.” 

‘Your house doesn’t have a gym. Are you on a hunt?’ 

“No, just recovering from an argument with my dad.” I sighed. “I decided to have an early morning since I got wasted last night. Hell of a hangover, though, so I’m working it off.” 

‘That’s good, and bad, cause I found something.’ He paused. ‘Two freak accidents at a hotel. One woman drowns in her bathtub, then soon after a man seemingly falls and his head makes a one-eighty. Isn’t normal, so I called you to see whether you’d check it out since I was swamped with work.’ 

“Can you email me images of the accidents, or is that out of your jurisdiction, police boy?” 

‘I can make a few calls. By the way, dinner was great.’ 

“It was. Love you, bye.” I cut the call, looking up to see Dean at the door, still shirtless and looking impressed. He was leaning against the doorframe, running his hand through his hair while his shirt was hanging from his other hand. This kind of felt like a cliché bad boy sitch.

“What happened last night?” He asked, walking in and whistling when he saw the plates on my bench. 

“We got wasted.” I shrugged. “At least, that’s what I remember.” 

“I did have really bad breath this morning.” He stared at a stack of gold medals in a box and a set of pointe shoes beside it. “Gymnastics gold medals? And… ballet shoes?” 

“I used to be a ballet dancer and gymnast.” I explained. 

“And you chose hunting? Bold.” 

“Bold was my only option, Dean.” I chuckled, then loosened my hair. “Anyway, James called. He said there’s an inn with two extremely unlikely freak accidents. Woman drowns in a bathtub, and a man seemingly falls and his head’s been snapped the full 180.” 

“Let’s go get Sammy.”

“Dude, this is sweet. I never get to work jobs like this.” Dean grinned as we got out of the car. 

“Like what?” Sam chuckled, glancing between Dean and I.

“Old school haunted houses, you know? Fog, and secret passageways, sissy British accents. Might even run into Fred and Daphne while we're inside.” He chuckled. “Daphne. Love her.” 

“Of course you do.” I laughed, then spotted something, kneeling down. “I'm not so sure haunted's the problem.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“That’s a quincunx.” I tapped the symbol. “Typically used for hoodoo spellwork. If you fill it with bloodweed, you have a five-star way of warding off enemies.” 

“Yeah, except I don't see any bloodweed. Don't you think this place is a little too, uh, whitemeat for hoodoo?” 

“Maybe.” I stood up. “Alright, you two go in first and book a room, and I’ll go after.” 

“Why?” 

“Cause I want my own room. And I don’t want to owe you money.” 

Sam shook his head, laughing. “Fair enough.” They went in, and I walked in afterwards, looking around.

“Hey, Carl?” I whispered. “Notice anything?” Carl wiggled in my pocket, tapping out ‘no’ in Morse. “Ok, but keep lookin’.” 

“May I help you?” The lady at the front desk asked, looking at Sam and Dean amiably. 

“Hi, yeah, I'd like a room for a couple of nights.” Dean smiled. Then a kid ran past him, bumping into Sam with a giggle and running off.

“Hey!” The lady snapped, then sighed, as if she was tired. “Sorry about that.”

”No problem.” Sam grinned. 

“Well, um, congratulations, you could be some of our final guests.” 

“Sounds vaguely ominous.” Dean chuckled. 

“No, I'm sorry, I mean we're closing at the end of the month.” She took a look between them. “Well, let me guess. You guys are here antiquing?” 

“How’d you know?” 

“You just look the type.” I raised an eyebrow, smirking. The type? “So, uh, king-sized bed?” 

Sam blinked, realising what she was saying. I bit my lip to hold in my laughter, but a quiet giggle did manage to escape me. “What? No, uh, no, we're, we're… two singles. We're just brothers.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” 

“What do you mean, ‘we look the type’?” Dean asked curiously. The lady struggled to form an answer, so Sam jumped in. 

“You know, speaking of antiques, you have a really, really interesting urn on the front porch.” He stammered, fiddling with his hands. “Where did you get that?” 

“Oh, I have no idea, it's been there forever.” She handed Dean a key, dinging a bell. “Here you go, Mr Mahagov. You'll be staying in room 237. Sherwin, could you show these gentlemen to their rooms?“ An old man with thinning grey hair and dressed in a black blazer showed up, taking Dean’s duffel bag and starting to limp up the stairs. I went to the desk, handing the lady, whose badge read Susan, my fake card under the name Lily Carter. 

“A room for one, please.” I smiled, and she gasped upon reading the name. 

“You don’t need to pay.” She informed. “A gentleman by the name of Fred Jones came and said that a lady by the name Lily Carter would be showing up soon. He also said to give you this.” She pulled out a gardenia and a rhododendron, giving it to me along with the key. I grinned goofily, biting my lip again. A rhododendron. I knew exactly who this was. “He really loves you. I gave you the best suite, by the way.” 

“I’m sure he does, and thank you.” I chuckled, taking the key from her and going upstairs. I unlocked the door, finding an all-too-familiar man lying on the bed. He smirked at me, holding an orange gladiolus in his hand, green eyes glinting mischievously and his expression highlighting the intense shadow on his cheek. “And here I thought you were swamped with work, Fred Jones.” 

“Come on, I don’t wanna pass up the chance to see you in a haunted inn.” James stood up, handing the gladiolus to me. “Milady.” 

“Did you have to do the theatrics?” I sighed. “First a Scooby Doo reference, then giving me a rhododendron, couldn’t be more obvious as to what that meant, a gardenia, meaning joy and sweetness, and finally a gladiolus. An orange one.” 

“Meaning that you’re strong and capable.” He winked. “I studied up on my botany.” 

“So, how’s your… police work… going?” I picked up the files with the crime scene photos from his bedside table, flicking through them. 

“I’m off-duty, obviously. But I’ve been a bit distracted. Got this mystery girl on my mind.” James gave me a once over, biting his lip for a split second. 

“Oh, really?” I fake-gasped, raising an eyebrow. 

“Mhmm. Diana knows who she is, but everyone else wants to know who’s gotten my attention.” He continued. “Naturally, I can’t tell them she’s a girl running around with a felon wanted by the Feds.” 

“Naturally.” I smiled, putting down the case files and the flowers in a vase. “I’m glad you’re here, James. Really.” 

“Good, cause I was wondering whether you’d pull a gun on me for stalking you.” 

“More so pull that tie off.” I teased, pointing at the tie he was wearing with his suit. “That Trinity is killing me.” 

“I knew I should’ve done a half-Windsor.” He pouted like a little baby, undoing his tie, then folded his arms. “So, uh, I got you the case files, I learnt that Susan has a little girl called Tyler, and I got you here. Albeit with Sam and Dean.” 

“Thank you for that. I owe you one.” 

“Yeah, and I’m gonna have to cash that in. Do you have any spare men’s clothes? Cause, i, um, didn’t exactly think the whole romantic gesture thing through and didn’t pack anything. And I really don’t wanna sleep in a suit.” I buried my hand into my satchel, pulling out some spare clothes for him to wear, shoving them into his hands. “Thanks, beautiful.” 

“You’re welcome, handsome.” I winked. He hesitated for a moment, then threw the clothes down and put his hands on the small of my back, kissing me while my hand instinctively cupped the nape of his neck. After a few seconds, I pulled back, grinning. “Bold move, Serge.” 

“I learnt from the best.” He pulled the rubberband from my plait and took my beanie off my head, letting my hair fall loose. He then picked me up, laying me down on the bed before climbing on top of me, taking off his suit jacket before he claimed my lips again.

I was sitting in James’ lap, studying the case, when someone knocked on the door. “Beanie?” It was Dean, and when I opened the door, his eyes immediately landed on James. “Oh, hey, Serge.” 

“Dean.” James nodded. 

“Hey, James.” Sam popped his head around the door. “How’re you doing?” 

“I’m good, you?” 

“As well as I can.” 

“Alright, get in here, then.” I beckoned them inside. Once they were in, I closed the door and locked it. “What’ve you guys got?” 

“We figured that someone might be using hoodoo to fight off people who want to sell the home. Y’know, cause that quincunx wards away enemies.” 

“But that doesn’t make sense, exactly.” I frowned. “Quincunxes would prevent the enemy from entering entirely, let alone kill them if they got too close.” 

“So then what’s the plan?” 

“I’ll lay it on Susan.” I said matter-of-factly. “It’s gonna be harder for two men to do it than it would be for one woman. Besides, she seemed to take a liking to me. She thought you two were gay.” 

“That’s settled, then.” James got up. “I’ll go over the cases a few more times, see if I can find anything interesting.” 

“Thanks.” I picked my room key up, going over to the door. “Behave, while you’re at it.” As soon as I stepped out of the room, however, I saw Dad standing there, looking apologetic. “Geez, who brought the buzzkill?” 

He sighed, reaching out. “Jellybean-“ 

“I made it very clear yesterday that I don’t want anything to do with you.” I retorted. “And here you go, tracking me.” 

“How else am I going to help my only daughter?” He pleaded. “I can’t leave you out there, alone, with the chance that someone could take over your brain while you’re sleeping.” 

“I have three very strong men to restrain me if things go wrong, Dad.” I frowned. 

“I trained you to be stronger-“ 

“You trained me to be you.” I sneered. “All people say of me is that I’m Mick Rainer’s girl. That’s my identity, because you raised me in your image. And I realised that eight years too late.” I knocked on Susan’s door, and she opened it, smiling when she saw me. 

“Miss Carter!” Susan grinned. “How can I help you? Is your room alright?” 

“I just came to thank you for the surprise.” I grinned, slipping on a fake ring I kept in my pocket in case of emergencies. “My fiancé and I recently got engaged, so I think he just wanted to surprise me.” 

“Well, you’re such a lucky person.” She appraised. “Well, I was, I was just in the middle of packing.” 

“Are those antique dolls?” I gasped, spotting one. “My grandma used to own some.” 

“Really? Come in!” She let me in, and I looked at the dollhouse. 

“Is that-“ 

“A replica of the hotel? You guessed right.” I bent down, picking up a doll. 

“This one’s broken.” 

“That’d be Tyler.” 

“Mommy!” Tyler ran in, stroppy. “Maggie’s being mean!” 

“Tyler, tell her I said to be nice, okay?” Susan lectured, and I knelt to Tyler’s height. 

“Hey, Tyler.” I smiled. “I’m Lily, and I see you broke your doll. Want me to fix it?” 

“I didn’t break it.” She grumbled. “I found it like that.” 

“Maybe Maggie did it.” 

“No, neither of us did it. Grandma would get mad if we broke 'em.” 

“Tyler, Grandma wouldn’t get mad.” Susan sighed. 

“Grandma?” I asked politely.

”Grandma Rose. These were all her toys.” 

“And where’s she now?” 

“Up in her room.” Tyler smiled. 

“How is she? Doing well?” 

“She…” Susan paused, “she barely comes out anymore. Never takes visitors.” The way she said it made me intrigued. And suspicious.”

“That’s sad to hear. Give her my well wishes.” I clicked my tongue, then stood up. “Anyway, I better get going. My fiancé’s probably waiting up for me. It was great meeting you again, Susan.” 

“You too, Lily.” I hugged her, and she patted my shoulder. “Call if you need anything.” 

“I’ll make sure of it. Bye, Tyler.” I waved, then left the room and ignored Dad, going into mine and meeting the boys. “I got the info I needed, and look what the cat dragged in.” Dad entered behind me, and Dean and Sam instantly stood up, the air becoming tense. 

“Mr Rainer.” Dean nodded coldly. 

“Sir.” Sam gulped. 

“Boys.” Dad coughed.

”Ok, so there’s a Grandma Rose here.” I flicked through my hoodoo book. “Lives in practical solitary, doesn’t take visitors. I think we found our hoodoo and voodoo lady.” 

“All right, I'll see what I can go dig up on boomin' Granny.” Dean agreed. “Sam, James, you go get online, check old obits, freak accidents, that sort of thing, see if she's whacked anybody before.” 

“And me?” Dad asked. 

“You sit there and do nothing.” I snapped. 

“There's been another one. Some guy just hung himself in his room.” I sighed, walking back in with Dean. James and Dad were in the other room.

“We saw the guy being carted off.” Sam grimaced. “Bad business.” 

“We've gotta figure this out, and fast.” Dean frowned. “What'd you find out about Granny?” 

“You’re the boss.” 

Dean stopped. “What?”

”You're bossy. And short.” Sam giggled. I raised an eyebrow, walking over to Sam and lifting up his face so he could face me. 

“Are you drunk?” I scrutinised, checking his eyes for his focus. Then I saw the empty bottles of beer.

“Yeah.” He snorted. “So?” 

“We’re on a case, Sam.” 

“That guy who hung himself. I couldn't save him.” 

“You couldn’t have done anything, Sam.” Dean frowned. 

“That's an excuse, Dean. I should have found a way to save him. I should have saved Ava too.” 

“You can’t save everyone, Sammy.” I hugged him, smoothing his hair down. 

“No, you don't understand, all right? The more people I save, the more I can change!” 

“Change what?” Dean groaned. 

“My destiny!” Wow, that’s dramatic. Or not so much, but I stand my ground.

“O-kay, Sasquatch, time for bed.” I laughed, hauling Sam up and putting his arm around my shoulder, limping with him to his bed. I threw him down, pulling the blanket over him. 

“I need you to watch out for me.” Sam whispered. 

“We’re doing that, Sammy.” 

“No, I mean, watch out for me.” He groaned. “If I go the wrong way, Dean, I need you to… to kill me.” 

“Sam, no.” Dean refused. “I’m not doing that.” 

“You have to.” 

“No-“ 

“Dean!” Sam grabbed Dean’s collar. “You’re the only one who can do it. Please.” 

“Sammy, I-“ 

“Do it.” 

Dean conceded, nodding. “Ok. I’ll-I’ll do it.” 

“Thank you.” Then Sam fell asleep. Dean rubbed his face, gritting his teeth. 

“I can’t kill him.” He muttered, voice breaking. “Why’s he asking me to do it?” 

I frowned. “Because you’re his brother.” 

“Dad asked me to do it, but I just can’t-“ 

“I’ll do it, then.” I ran a hand through my hair, biting my lip. 

“What?” 

“I’ll do it.” I

“But… but why?” 

“You’ve got enough of a guilty conscience, Dean.” I crossed my arms. “Sometimes it seems like I don’t have enough of one.” 

“I can’t let you do this.” 

“It’s going to be a hell of a burden to carry!” I snapped. “You’re already half-killing yourself for John’s death. If Sam dies by your hand, I don’t know how much longer you could take that kind of thing.” 

“What about Carter? Lily? Your mom? Xavier?” He frowned. “You carry the guilt of their deaths too, right?”

“Every damn day.” I nodded. “But you deserve to live a happier life than I do.” 

“You don’t have to live that life! Beanie, you deserve much more than I do-” 

“Dean!” I cried out, silencing him. “Why do you think so low of yourself? You are the bravest person I’ve ever met. You don’t hesitate to save the people you love. No matter how many times I yell at you, you always rush to my side when I’m hurt and don’t leave until you know I’m ok. You may be tough, but you’re also sweet and caring and charming. The one thing wrong about you is that you don’t know your own self-worth. But, somehow, I do.” 

“Beanie-“ 

“I’ll do it. I’ll pull the trigger, Dean, and if the same happens to me, I’ll pull it on myself.” 

“Iv-“ 

“That’s final.” He stayed silent, so I calmed down. “I’ll watch over Sam. You go milk more information outta this place. Maybe try Sherwin.” 

“Ok.” He went to the door, but then stopped and turned around. “For what it’s worth, Beanie, I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

Dean and Sam came back to my room, looking guilty, and I groaned. “You didn’t just go talk to Gramma Rose, did you?” 

“We did.” Sam sighed. “And now we’re kicked out.” 

“Well done.” I stood up, flicking through files. “Whatever I’m thinking, is that Rose is somewhat connected. I also know that the next closest person associated with selling the inn is Susan. So I’d wager she’s next.“ 

“Now what?” Dean asked. 

“I’ll keep as close of an eye on her as well. But… uh… Maggie seems a bit off to me. Haven’t seen her, but I think she’s Tyler’s sister.” 

“You do that.” He held up his hand. “Beer me.” I chucked him a beer, then looked out of the blinds. Susan was lugging boxes into a red car, but then I heard the EMF scanner whir, and I knew something was up. 

“It’s happening. Go, go!” We ran out of the door, and we sprinted across the field to get to Susan just as the car started on its own. I managed to get there first just as the car almost rammed into Susan, taking her out of the way just in time. “Are you ok?” 

“I think so.” She gulped. 

“C’mon, let’s get her inside and fast.” Dean ordered. “Let’s go!” We walked Susan into the inn, where James was waiting for us. 

“Whisky.” 

“Sure.” Sam nodded, passing her a glass of whisky. “I know the feeling.” 

“What the hell happened out there?” 

“You want the truth?” Dean asked. 

“Of course.” 

“First we thought it was a hoodoo curse, now we’re sure it’s a spirit.” I explained. 

“You’re insane.” She scoffed. 

“Yeah, we get that often.” I laughed. “Also, Fred here isn’t my fiancé.” 

“What?” 

“Look, I'm sorry, Susan. We don't exactly have time to ease you into this, but we need to know when your mother had the stroke.” 

“What does that have to do with any—” 

“Just answer the question.” Sam persisted. 

“About a month ago.” 

“When the killings started happening.” Sam deduced. 

“See?” I stared pointedly at Dean. “So what if Rose was working hoodoo, but not to hurt anyone. To protect them.” 

“She was using the five spots to ward off the spirit.” Dean agreed.

“And then the stroke, so now she can’t.” Sam nodded. 

“I don't believe this.” Susan whispered. 

“Listen, sister, that car didn't try to run you down by itself, okay?” Dean stated. “I mean, I guess it did, technically, but, but the spirit can- forget it.” 

“Look, believe what you want.” James spoke up. “But the fact is you and your family are in danger, all right? So you need to clear everybody out of here: your employees, your mother, your daughters, everyone.” 

“I only have one daughter.” Susan frowned. 

“I thought Maggie was Tyler’s sister.” 

“Maggie’s imaginary.” 

My blood ran cold, sharing a look with the boys. “Susan, where’s Tyler?” 

“TYLER!” Susan screamed, and we ran up to the playroom, which was empty and littered with broken dolls. “Oh my god. Tyler.” She ran out of the room for a moment. “Tyler!” She came back. “She's not here!” 

“Susan. Tell us what you know about Maggie.” 

“I don’t know. Tyler’s been talking about her ever since Mom got sick.” 

“Okay, did you ever know anyone by that name?” Sam asked. 

“No…” 

“Think, think, I mean, somebody that could have lived here.” Dean urged. 

“Someone that might have passed away?” James added. 

“Mom had a sister named Margaret.” Susan gasped. “But she barely talked about her. She died when they were kids.” 

“How did she die?” 

“She drowned in the pool.” I instantly started running to the pool, my head pounding as I made my way to the pool, the boys not far behind. There were three doors to the pool, and Susan and Dean took one, James and Sam another while I took the last. I picked up a garden chair, slamming it against the glass. Just then, Tyler screamed, falling into the pool. I slammed harder, while Dean, James and Sam tried their hardest to break the other doors. I could see Tyler’s attempts to fight become weaker, and then they stilled completely. 

“Damn it!” I growled, then pulled out my gun and shot the door twice, cracking it. I busted it open with one ram of my shoulder, taking my jacket off and throwing my gun down as I ran to the pool and dived in, grabbing Tyler and pulling her to the surface, holding on tight as I swam to the edge, laying her down on the tiles. Dean, James, Sam and Susan ran in through the door I’d busted, while I turned Tyler to the side, waiting for a moment. Then Tyler coughed, spitting water out and making Susan cry out in relief. 

“Thank god! Thank god, thank god.” She sobbed, running her fingers through Tyler’s hair. 

“Mommy!” Tyler cried. 

“I’m here, baby.” 

“Tyler, do you see Maggie anywhere?” I asked. 

“No, she’s gone.” Tyler answered. 

“Let’s get you guys back to the inn.” Before we all stood up, however, Tyler hugged me tightly. I returned the hug, patting her on the back. “Hey, it’s ok.”

”You saved my daughter, Lily.” Susan said. “Saying ‘it’s ok’ is an understatement.” 

“We should probably get away from the pool.” James chuckled. 

“Don't worry, honey, we're leaving in two minutes, we've just got to get Grandma.” Susan soothed, and her and Tyler left to get Rose. 

“I don't get it, did Maggie just stop?” I frowned. 

“Seems like it.” Sam shrugged. 

“Well,” Dean bristled, “where the hell did she go, then?” Just then, we heard Susan scream. We sprinted upstairs to find Grandma Rose dead, motionless with no mark on her body. I dialled an ambulance, while James brought Tyler and Susan away from the scene in time for the paramedics to arrive. When they did, Susan came back to us with the report. 

“Paramedics say another stroke.” She whispered. “Do you think ... Margaret could have had something to do with it?” 

“I don’t know.” Dean shrugged. 

“We can’t be sure.” I sighed, “But it’s possible. I’m sorry, Susan.” 

“You have nothing to apologise for. You've given me everything.” She smiled. Tyler came out, and she took her daughter’s hand. “Ready to go, kiddo?” 

“Yeah.” Tyler nodded. 

I knelt to Tyler’s height, tilting my head with a smile. “Now, Tyler, are you sure that Maggie’s gone?” 

“I’m sure. I’d see her.” 

“Alright.” She hugged me again, and when I stood up, Susan hugged me too. 

“Any other thing I should know about you?” She asked.

“My name isn’t Lily Carter.” 

“Then?” 

“Ivonne Rainer.” 

“Then your name,” She turned to James, “isn’t Fred, right?” 

“Nope.” James grinned, running a hand through his hair. “Detective Sergeant James Rhodes at your service.” 

“For what it’s worth, you two still make a cute couple.” She got into her taxi, driving off. Dad showed up, and the three boys slipped away. I turned to Dad, frowning. 

“What do you want?” I grimaced. 

“My daughter back.” He begged.

“That ship sunk a while ago.”  

“You meant the world to me-“

”I know. But I was also your soldier, even more so when I grew up.”

”You were my daughter first.” 

“You first taught me how to shoot when I was six.” I gritted my teeth. “Made my first explosive at eight. Killed my first spirit at nine. All while listening to your stories. You put me into martial arts so I could be more capable at hunting. Mom was a hunter, but at least she didn’t force me into it. She didn’t make me read the monster encyclopaedia and memorise every detail I could. She actually made me feel like I was a girl. You made me feel like a soldier. And you made Carter feel like he would never live up to my standard, which chipped at him every day.” 

“Jellybean-“ 

“I’m not ungrateful for the preparation you gave me, but I’m not grateful for what came out of it.” I walked away, joining the boys in the car. 

Sam joined Dean in the kitchen back at the safe house, where Dean was just staring at a bottle of beer with a weird expression. “What’re you doing?” Sam blinked, sitting down. 

“Thinking.” Dean replied, looking up. 

“Thinking about what?” 

“It’s not important.” 

“Humour me.” Sam persisted, and his brother conceded.

“When you were asleep cause you were wasted,” Dean gulped, “Beanie and I had an argument. She told me that I don’t know my own self worth.” 

“Well, you don’t. What else did she say?”

”That I was the bravest person she knew.” He continued with a small smile. “That I’m tough, yeah, but I’m also sweet and caring. I’m not sweet… am I?” 

“Oh. My. God.” Sam laughed, shaking his head. “You like her. You like Ivy.” 

“Beanie?” Dean scoffed. “Pfft, no.” 

“Yeah. You’re making practical heart eyes right now. In fact, you make them every time she opens her mouth.” 

“No.” 

“Dean, you’ve literally done it together.” 

Dean blinked, confused. “No, we haven’t. Seems like you’re hopped up on somethin’.” 

“Don’t tell me you don’t know.” 

“Know what?” 

“The night you both got wasted. In her safe house. Together. When you came back with the case, Ivy was somehow wearing your cologne. You know, the one Dad got you for your birthday?” 

The realisation struck Dean, and his eyes widened. “Damn.” 

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[astercontrol]

so I was brainstorming what sorts of creativeness I could try for next year's Mission Day, if I wanted to try and help reclaim that for the fans

which is me being SUPER overzealous, because I only just found out about the existence of Mission Day yesterday

lol who am I to even get involved in this

(BUT who am I to do anything... and yet I still do.)

... For those who are just a few days more behind-the-times than me:

apparently, back in 2016, there was a line in a TRON game which said that May 14 was "Mission Day." Some fans got excited that maybe something cool was gonna happen that day

akin to the Flynn Lives ARG starting in 2009 where fans were led on a whole fun adventure, following clues through a network of webpages (seriously, if you don't know about THAT, take a look)

but no, this time it turned out nothing happened, and people were disappointed.

and when I heard about that, my own rebellious side went:

Who wants to do this with me?? Like a fanzine but more... interactive, multimedia

Maybe it'll take a year, or more, but, like... what if some May 14 you start seeing fanfics posted on AO3 with mysterious clues in them, leading to a webring of Neocities sites all mysteriously connected in their own cryptic ways

Fanlore, fan-made stories, drawings, maybe even animations and games. Fan OCs getting their own place in all of it

Not beholden to whatever f'd up version of the Hays Code the mouse is currently following. So there'll be all sorts of LGBT stuff, all colors of the rainbow and all colors of circuits....

aaaand THEN

then my brainstorms got tornado-strength and I came back to reality some unknown time later with a mess of crazy plans just for the STORIES that could start this scavenger hunt

(the websites are breeding their own plotbunnies and I will face that later)

(I am still not even slightly convinced that I will have the time or energy for ANY of this)

BUT... there is a whole year til next May 14

so....

just a whole disorganized pile of ideas, starting here

Multiverse

Hypothesis: the spiritual energy that makes programs alive is something that functions on many planes of existence, and can connect different realities.

Someone finds out a way to tap into this with the laser technology, enabling travel between different Tron worlds and different alternate timelines.

(Maybe the "miracle" of ISO DNA somehow ends up being relevant to this? Alan quoted Flynn saying this was supposed to revolutionize everything; he even mentioned quantum teleportation? seems like a powerful mcguffin that never got used, might as well use it)

Some Tron AUs that may connect here:

Post-MCP scenario where the originals of the programs that were copied for the Legacy Grid go on living happily in the ENCOM system (my main headcanon that I write in)

Other scenarios where the programs brought to the Grid were eliminated from the ENCOM system and there's no original left behind

Variations on 82, Legacy and Uprising:

Different interpretations of how digitization works, how consciousness forms within the system, etc.

Post-Legacy extrapolations of Tron's future on Flynn's Grid

Tronzler restored by Alan and Sam;

Tronzler regenerated as an ISO by the Sea of Simulation;

Tronzler regenerated into an eldritch horror by the Sea of Simulation;

Tronzler dead;

Tronzler emerging from the sea still broken and half-rectified

etc

Other post-Legacy possibilities

Clu survived in some form after the reintegration;

Flynn survived in some form after the reintegration;

Clu and Flynn both survived in some form after the reintegration;

Clu and Flynn are one merged entity after the reintegration;

Clu and Flynn are dead;

Sam comes back again;

Sam comes back and brings Alan and Lora and Roy;

Sam never comes back and someone else has to try and make things work;

Yori and Ram are still there;

Yori and Ram are not there because they were never brought;

Yori and Ram are not there because they were killed;

Yori and Ram are still there but different because they were rectified;

Zuse survived;

Zuse survived and he turns out to be an amalgamation of an interpreter program hacked and taken over by Ram and he has an epic bitch session with Tronzler about their various struggles, betrayals, split personalities and changes of identity

ETC.

Various post-Uprising and pre-Legacy possibilities:

Beck and Paige eventually join forces and/or fall in love;

Beck and Paige eventually kill each other;

Mara and Zed find out who the Renegade is;

Mara and Zed die or get rectified before they can ever find out who the Renegade is;

Tron becomes Rinzler because he is later caught and rectified while Beck is forced to watch;

Tron becomes Rinzler because the rectification process in the last episode managed to infect him before he was saved and he ends up suddenly turning bad at the worst possible time for Beck;

Beck becomes Rinzler instead of Tron;

Dyson somehow comes back;

the Uprising team meets Zuse,

etc

Various non-canon-compliant AUs in all these settings

Ram didn't die in 82;

Ram did die and so did Flynn and then Tron defeated the MCP on his own;

Tron tried to defeat the MCP on his own but failed and MCP was never beaten;

MCP was beaten but Flynn died in there and died in real life;

Flynn survived and got out and tried to build the Grid but Alan and Lora managed to stop him from ruining his life by trying to do that alone;

Alan went into the Grid in Legacy instead of Sam;

Tron never becomes Rinzler;

Flynn or Ram becomes Rinzler instead of Tron;

someone else becomes the tyrant instead of Clu;

Able didn't die

etc, etc.

....anyway

imagining a scenario where various versions of characters from all these timelines connect via the Laser (Head)Cannon

(terrible working name, but it amuses my terrible sense of humor, so there)

....gonna re-read Ram: Expanded by kesomon because there's a fic in there (Interlude- Reprieve) about a similar connected multiverse

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25366543

there are many stories one could tell within this.

But I think I want to tell one with the theme of rebellion, throwing off oppression, expressing freedom and autonomy

...

example for one storyline within it:

the "In Ram Jurisdiction" plotbunny

After Ram is recovered and comes back to life in the Encom system, his original insurance company calls for his destruction.

they have their own backup and don't need the Encom copy returned, they just demand that Encom delete theirs.

because he was stolen from them by MCP

even though Roy wrote him at Encom, they bought exclusive rights to his code so they own him.

Ram and Roy and their friends launch a legal battle.

maybe upgrading Ram in the process so he can be considered a protected derivative work under Fair Use

...

also could take some inspiration from the brilliant fanfic "Anthem," a reprise of the story of TRON 1982 for the world of DRM and musical copyright

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28223541

…because

...this theme of seeking freedom comes up in every iteration of Tron

and the feeling behind this whole over-ambitious idea here… is a celebration of the vast diversity of fan-created content

an overarching theme of wanting to claim this world for the fans-- a theme of the copyright-holding corporation as Oppressor

Fan Mission Day Fission Day

(day of splitting, separation, becoming independent)

TRONdependence Day

[angelicalchaoticabyss]

oh empire god of mankind abyss/mike/sam/sammy/angel/ire May I ask you to make a longan dragon x reader please

Longan Dragon Cookie x Reader.

An Exception.

The grand dragon remained at the top of the world, the strongest of their kind and could strike caution in even the ancient Millennial tree. Any who met their glare was turned to stone, any who were weak were unfit to live. They’ve killed many of their own kind who tried to rival them in the days of old, the golden days, where dragons roamed the land on mass. All dragons feared them, and they feared no one. Aside from their siblings all were below them, none could match them.

Every Cookie that infected this world was worthless, pathetic, weak, they killed off the remainders of their kind. Even young dragonlings…eggs, they deserve no mercy from them. Every single one must be destroyed, for the sake of the remaining dragons.

But then…they came to a slight roadblock in that notion, and that was the weak one resting on their lap this very moment. Here you sit upon them…a cookie.

Honestly despite what their stoic features may say, internally they were a mess of emotions they refused to show. When your village was attacked you still fought back despite how little you could do. It was amusing in a sense, seeing your futile attempts to protect the rest of your sorry species in that festering nest. But you still tried, even when limbs were turned to stone you still tried. It intrigued the lord enough to have your statue form retrieved and turned back to normal under their supervision.

“Just what makes you so special weak one?” They questioned.

“I don’t know…” You replied, you were…angry…scared…but some semblance of gratefulness you were turned to normal.

You didn’t know, and for the first time they didn’t know either. They felt…angry at themselves, now they’re the ones betraying their own kind by sparing you? But at the same time, you felt different to them…you felt pure compared to the rest of your kind. To them being a dragon would suit you much better than a little cookie. However…you were quite adorable the way you are now, small compared to them as they held you close.

They knew you didn’t love them; they knew you didn’t hold these same feelings that were currently tearing their mind and rationality asunder.

But that alone made them determined to get your opinion of them changed, they wanted YOU as their mate. They had to do this carefully as it’ll only drive you away further if it’s not perfect. What could they gift you? They have plenty of treasures and wonders to spare, cookies can even become amazed at the simple sight of an overly beautiful flower. They could give you many things within the palace, have you served hand and foot with a comfortable life. Keep you away from the chaos they’re trying to correct.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked.

“Hm? What do you mean weak one?” Their tone held no aggression.

“Why are you trying to destroy all of my kind? What did we ever do to you?” You finished.

“Simple, your kind is weak and don’t deserve to survive in a world made for dragons.”

Your eyes sparked with an odd emotion “If that’s the only reason…why am I still alive? If we’re all weak then why not kill me too?”

“…” They were silent.

“Give me the full reason, more than ‘we’re all weak’. If I’m somehow so special to you then you can at least give me the courtesy of the full truth.” The stood your ground on this.

Longan eyed you, that was very bold of you to speak to them like that. You completely lost any fear you had for that moment, but they could feel it start to grow back the longer they stared at you. The Dragon Lord weighed the options in their head before a sigh escaped their lips.

“Very well, I’ll shall inform you of your kinds actions but I shall start with a question. Why do you think there are so little of my kind left?”

You opened your mouth before closing it as you didn’t have an answer. Longan waited a few seconds before continuing.

“It’s because Cookies systematically wiped out my kind one by one.” They said darkly.

“What?! No! We’d never-!” They cut you off.

“But your kind did, and it didn’t matter what kind of dragon it was we were all destroyed. Even dragonlings and the unhatched, recently a cookie went through the last remained hatchery and destroyed every egg they came across on their way through. I foresaw this fate, that the giant wings would fall to ground, but I had to plan, I went dormant and couldn’t awaken until just a little while ago.”

You were silent with horror; you couldn’t believe it! It can’t be true! But their face, their expression had changed. There was an even deeper seriousness, their mouth was semi twitchy in a snarled grimace…and a great sadness lied deep in their eyes.

“I…well…dragon lord-“

“Longan. Use my name.”

“Well, Longan, you have to believe not every cookie is like that. I’m sure there’d be plenty who’d want to help your species upon hearing the plight.” You said, but in way you felt like you could barely convince yourself of that notion.

“And I counter with the simple fact that after your kind showed no mercy towards mine, why should I do the same?” They actually questioned.

Then it hit you.

“Well…you’re showing mercy right now. I’m a cookie and you spared my life. If we deserved absolutely no mercy then you wouldn’t have turned me back. You wouldn’t be caring for me right now.” You pointed out.

Longan went silent again, that mental battle returned. The grand dragon was firm to believe their stance and stick to it, yet your mere existence and words pointed a very hypocritical hole in that. What made YOU the one exception to their hatred? Why did you avoid being a target on their path of revenge? What made you feel pure and worthy to them? Why is this happening to them? These swells and swirls of emotions were something they’ve never truly experienced and it was driving them mad. They were shaking and growling at themselves, almost in a thought trance before being pulled back into reality by you.

“Deep down, even a tiny bit, a part of you must hope that things can be fixed the peaceful way. That we can coexist and share the world. Please, I want to help but I can only do that if you let me.”

For that moment, you had let your negative emotions towards them fade away. After hearing the reason for all this…you honestly can’t say you’d fair any better in their place. You reached and held their head to keep Longan’s gaze met with yours. They looked so tired…

Slowly, the dragon lord leaned into your touch.

“Very well then…”

[man-moth-hook-hand]

Welcome to my Nightmare Ch. 4

They really chose to court (Y/N) Edward Cullen style. You're not making the best choices, bestie.

PS: Sorry for the long wait! I haven't felt really motivated, but I thought it would be better to wait and give quality over just putting it out to just get closer to finishing it.

Masterlist

Chapter Four: Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me

A sound woke me up. A shrill, terrified, sound, like prey being devoured by a predator. It’s chasing me, isn’t it? Is it me? I’m in my bed, aren’t I, or at least, I’m supposed to be.

My body shuddered to life as I rose from my bed, which felt like an open coffin, a coffin of my own personal hell. The shrill, which I came to understand was the sound of a horse crying out in fear, lead me to the window. The curtains taunted me. They flapped in the wind like bird wings, tattered and filled with holes by moths. I had almost touched the ledge; a thought crossed my mind. Was the window open when I went to bed? No. It couldn’t be, it wasn’t open before I left, unless Lucy opened it to let in some fresh air. Yes, I remember now. She told me it gets stuffy up here, how silly of me. How paranoid of me. No one would have any reason to frighten me, right?

My fingers made contact with the wooded sill; I noticed something peculiar. A man. Holy shit it’s Michael Myers. No! No. No, no, I was being silly. I laughed to myself in the dark. Of course! It’s just a tree. Of course it was, right? Damn I must be really tired.

I continued to stare into the darkness outside my bedroom window. When I first got here, found the night to be comforting; however, after a couple incidents with those men, I felt like prey. I made me feel weak, it showed me my mortality. There’s a belief that humans are the ultimate apex predator, but that’s just wrong. We’re just like every other animal, surviving another day, waiting for our demise.

It moved.

I was caught in a trance; I couldn’t look away or move, I felt like I was being hypnotized. I continued to stare at what I thought was a man, it was a man after all, right? Not some horrible demon waiting for me to look away. I was afraid to look away, what if he was gone? Somehow that was more terrifying than something being there to begin with. He just stared at me, not moving. I looked around to see what had happened to the horses I heard earlier. They must have run off to a different part of the pasture.

I looked back at the man. I noted the reflection in his eyes. That would mean it’s at least a human, but I thought only animals that were nocturnal had those. Perhaps I was wrong. I looked out into the distance once more, another pair of reflective eyes. and another, and another.

I slammed my window shut, closed the curtains, and ran into the small bathroom connected to my bedroom. No windows thankfully. My breathing was getting heavier, I felt claustrophobic, heavy, frightened. I felt like a wild animal, like prey. I began to feel the tears and snot run from my orifices. I wiped myself off feeling disgust. Feeling the coolness of the floor, I made my way to the toilet and desperately hugged it as if it were going to comfort me. The bile rose from the depths of my stomach, the acid burning my throat, and eventually made its way past my teeth into the toilet where it belonged. I hated puking.

After expelling what little food I had left, I began to feel a little better. The tears continued to fall, but at least they fell silently. I reached for the toilet paper and began to wipe away the snot that had built in a short amount of time. I wiped my tears, praying I didn’t wake up with puffy eyes. I don’t know if I could handle it if Jennifer asked about what had happened to make me cry that hard.

The light of the moon illuminated the bathroom showing me the toilet, otherwise there would’ve been a horrible explanation for Lucy for the vomit on the floor. That woman didn’t need to worry so much. Sam had told me about how she was worried about him being left alone, especially since Michael had apparently gone off with some girl the first night when we came here, and every other night after that.

I stood up and shuffled myself to the sink. I turned on the faucet and let the cool water pool in my hand. I brought the water up to my mouth and rinsed out the nasty taste. I glanced at the toilet once more. A window that I didn’t notice was there before greeted me. It was dark when I came in.

I worked up the courage to open the door. Nothing. I wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. The window was closed, the curtains pulled, my bed ruined from me leaving it so quickly. It waited for me to come back. Come back into the safety of covering myself like when a child fears the dark.

/|\^._.^/|\

Morning came with a loud knock. “(Y/N). (Y/N)? Are you awake? don’t you have work this morning?” Lucy’s voice rang from the other side of the wooden door.

I proceeded to put on a plain shirt and jeans with a pair of tennis shoes. I put my hair back plainly with no makeup or jewelry. Today was not the day to look nice, just average. Especially since I had a shitty night’s sleep. plus, I didn’t want that guy recognizing me, or whoever else was stalking me.

Just then a thought, or perhaps a person, crossed my mind. Paul. Paul was around the white-haired guy. Panic started to rise in me. For the first time I felt true fear. Paul was the insider. He was the one who was helping them stalk me. Paul saw me with my friends, I had told him a little bit about myself, Paul knew where I worked, he knew Lucy. I was just a game. He must have also been the cause for the dark-haired guy on the beach, they must have followed me to Adam’s house, then home. Paul is helping them. They’re going to kill me.  

I thought perhaps I should call out from work, but I was afraid of sounding crazy. The sleep deprivation over the last couple of days wasn’t helping. Perhaps I wasn’t in the right state of mind to make serious decisions. I decided to go to work and think it over there.

Jennifer commented on how I looked that morning. I told her my worries, what happened in the field last night, and how maybe I should have just called in sick. I told her I needed the money and that it wasn’t a good look for a new employee to call in sick after only working for a couple of days.

“I think Michael would be willing to bring me back home before nightfall.” I explained to her.

“Who’s Michael?” She asked.

“Michael is one of the people I’m living with, He’s Lucy’s son. Lucy would be more than willing, but I’m not sure how late she works, and I most certainly don’t want to worry her. Plus, I don’t want to bother Adam since he’s also noticed some weird stuff going on.”

“What things?” She asked. I told her about the man at the beach, and later that night after watching a movie.

“I just don’t know what to do.” I said defeated. Work sadly didn’t end early for me, in fact we had to stay late because Brenda was running a little behind. It was night, I needed to find Michael. Sam said he had been going to the boardwalk every night and coming home late. God, I hoped today wasn’t the day he decided to stay home.

I searched through the screams of people to find him. What was once intoxication was now a death trap, it felt like instead of joy, they were screaming for their life. Why did everyone have to look the same? Why couldn’t I find Michael! In my daze, I accidentally bumped into someone. I began to apologize when I noticed who it was. The white hair and trench coat made me want to vomit.

“It’s alright,” the man said, “You need a ride home?” he asked.

How would he know? “No thank you, I’m alright.” I almost ran to find Michael at this point, maybe I should’ve just asked Adam, but who knows if he was already at home by now, I bother to memorize his number either.

I spotted my savior. “Michael,” I grabbed his shoulder, “Please take me home.” I begged.

“What?” He was confused at my request.

“Michael please, I really need to get home.” Tears began to form, I was truly scared for what was going to happen to me.

“Uh,” he looked back at a girl akwardly, “Well. . . “

“Michael please! Someone is stalking me, I don’t want to die.” A tear fell and the girl refused to look at me.

“Ya know, maybe you’re just tired. Sam said you were out pretty late last night- “

“Are you fucking kidding me? I have a genuine fear and you’re just leaving me here.?” I shouted. A few people began to stare. He just looked at her. Oh my god, he wanted to ditch me for some other chick.

“Hey Mikey!” A familiar voice that I recognized to belong to Paul, broke me out of my daze. “Hey (Y/N)! What’s up!”

I quickly wiped my snot and tears. If they found out I knew, maybe I wouldn’t have a chance to escape. “Nothing, this is Michael.”

“Yeah, we know Michael, we’ve been hanging since he got here. I didn’t know you two knew each other though.” he laughed.

“Yeah, small world.” I joked. He sensed the fear in my voice

“Oober small, man.” Something was off in Paul’s voice. “Well, you wanna come with us?”

“Oh, uh, maybe some other time I really got to get going. I think my ride is about to leave soon.” I hoped Lucy was still at the video store.

“Mom isn’t working tonight, didn’t she tell you?” Michael asked.

“What?” I panicked, I didn’t recall her saying anything but, maybe I was tired from this morning. “No, I don’t.”

“Well, I’ll take you home after I catch up with them. Is that ok?” He asked.

“Sure.” Maybe this was the end. Maybe I never had a chance to escape after all.

[acourtofquestions]

Okay, Rowan deserves a pro post now (because evolution & character growth / backstory explanation PLOT TWIST is a fav of mine in SJM writing) & I genuinely almost hated him for a minute & now I think I LOVE him — SO Heir of Fire Part 1 (continuing the start of Part 2… like right now after I post this & organize my brain😂🙃)

Rowan IS the other side of the coin aka Celaena/Aelin

She even says so herself: “The past few weeks had been like gazing at a reflection. No wonder she’d hated him.” (Side note: hated is past tense). — It is the very reason they hate each other to begin with, they hate each other because they hate themselves. Rowan could not give her hope because Rowan did not have hope to give, he had no hope; other than perhaps her; perhaps watching it die slowly within her gave it back to him because he realized he didn’t want to lose it.

Because Rowan realizes he WAS wrong he stops calling her princess and girl because he realizes she has lived and loved and lost and died inside with it. just. like. him. She understands, perhaps even more (though it’s never a comparison).

And the most striking difference within them (this is not a comparison) however I feel it important:

1. Now yes this is a classic enemies to lovers, however most Celaena relationships lack the enemy portion, Chaol and Dorian trust her an ODD amount from the beginning which speaks to her character & was healing in a way however I’m not fully sure Aelin ever trusted it (you know how scared I am of elevators never trust it if it rises fast it can’t last).

And the main point: 2. they see each other and themselves as broken without a promise of “becoming whole” and take it honestly anyway.

Sam & Celaena survived on a dream, a hope, a knowledge that they had to get away or they would die & in the end it is their end (not karma, but Arobynn) catches up & they cannot outrun it.

Dorian and Celaena always had this BIG difference; knowing that Dorian was born to be King of Adarlan (& he HAS to be, because the world desperately needs him) and Celaena does NOT want to be Queen; even Aelin never wanted to be Queen… they would never be happy in it… someone would end up resentful. — Almost as if they may have really loved each other, but they never really knew each other.

Chaol & Celaena existed from beginning to end in the knowledge of “we would never be a normal boy and a normal girl” however that is what they want; they “play house” like somehow they can get away with this… but in the end reality always catches up. And they cannot be “a normal boy and normal girl”.

Rowan is the first person to truly understand the depth of her darkness and “how far she can go”, he knows where she is & what she wants. He does not exist to cancel it out (perhaps balance at times) but never to be anything other than what they are. They both understand and are not expecting it or the other to change (even though they are trying to grow) they exist in either way & any reality of it. It is accepted. Seen. And still chosen. She may have been loved, but she has never been so seen & so wanted & understood at once. … In a way at times, it feels dangerous; two of them! But in a way, it’s only that which could pull the other from the edge. They have opposites & balance; twin souls. Two sides, same coin.

At times (as shown in Pt. 1) it is sometimes unhealthy. They can bring out the worst in the other; Celaena HAS to have someone, he wants no one. They hit each other where it hurts, they do not pull punches; but they can take it. They can handle the others worst. At times there worst needs it like when they are self sacrificial (as they can be) and need someone to call them out before they end up dead from it.

It’s not that “all is forgiven” or even “okay” but all is understood and accepted.

It’s why she fights for him to want her, because if not him then who? And also why she’s terrified of him choosing her… because he’s REALLY choosing her then. But as someone who’s spent a lifetime hiding herself (even from herself) she needs honesty. And as someone who’s spent centuries frozen, burnt out, empty; he needs her, an utterly overwhelming demanding to burn endless blaze.

So essentially I really loved that final chapter and am now counting pages till they finally realize & say all of this lol😂 CAUSE UM… SHE JUST GAVE HIM A TATTOO… and that chin grab with the “not friends”… cause it’s more ;-) unspoken line needs to be honest, for Wyrd’s sake🤣 … so I guess there the first accurate version of the “love & hate are close emotions” meme quote😂

[catastrophe-cole]

Ello mate! Was wondering if i could request a Docm77 x reader who came from the dsmp and was very close to Ranboo. They left the dsmp after Ranboos death and found hermitcraft. Doc tries to befriend them but he reminds them of Sam and theyre very hesitant, until they start getting along. Reader falls for him and tries avoiding him, but Doc knows better and tries to talk to them. U can make up what u want to happen in the end, but i was hoping for an angst/comfort fic

Healed Wound

Word count: 4633 words

Summary: Leaving the Dream SMP behind to pursue a normal life in Hermitcraft was the main intention of your escape from the living hell that you had lived through then. You thought you can move on, but it seems like wound doesn't heal that easily even by time. Though it seems like certain creeper hybrid, Docm, seems to be willing to help you recover.

Genre: Romantic // Angst with comfort //

TW: Blood mention, wound caused by burn, portrayal of panic attack. (It's kinda dark but with comfort)

Author's Note: We don't talk about the word count so please just enjoy this. I honestly love writing about Dream SMP X Hermitcraft stuff. Both SMP have a totally different vibe from each other and it's always interesting to see interactions between hermits and a Dream SMP member.

A permanent scar on someone's body usually is enough to tell you the kind of person they are in a survival world.

Hardcore players who only live on the edge have scars plastered all over their body from their lack of respawn. Battling against fate every night, they view scars as a trophy for surviving death.

And in some worlds where respawn is possible, scars usually stay when the incident that caused it traumatizes the victim enough that it's physically difficult for them to forget.

And you, as one of the former members and also fighter of the now forgotten Dream SMP and a new Hermit, harbour many scars on your body. Both in your memories and your body.

You had left the SMP just a few weeks after helping the Blood God break Dream, Ranboo (and somehow Connor), out of prison.

You couldn't quite bother with Dream as your main objective was to rescue Ranboo and find out why he was kept there in the first place. You were a figure he often looked up to as you were the first person to help him adjust to the server many many moons ago. You had let him do his own thing after taking him in once again during the final battle of L'manberg.

Honestly you didn't hear much of him after he moved to Snowchester. Which is why there's just too many questions lingering around your head as you wait for Techno to come back out of the Pandora's Box with the Enderman hybrid.

The plan was already carefully crafted, you and Philza waiting for them right by the flank of Pandora's Box while Niki distracted everyone else with a wither on the other side. It was supposed to be easy; Dream is absolutely on board with the plan and following each and every order you gave him down to the T. But with Ranboo, something seems off.

You had held Sam at gunpoint with your crossbow as you screamed at Ranboo to immediately take one of the horses and run away as fast as possible. You had hoped to hear the horse galloping away and were prepared to fight Sam with whatever necessary to let him escape; but neither of those scenarios ever happened.

Pulling your gaze away from Sam for a split second to check on Ranboo, you saw him take off his netherite armour that Techno had given him prior. Throwing the metal gear on the ground, while clutching on a piece of paper in his hand.

You were about to ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing, but Sam had acted faster and taken advantage of your confusion to snatch your crossbow off of your hand, and immediately fired the charged rocket right back to you.

The rest from that point was blurry. You had taken direct impact from a highly explosive rocket shot that even a netherite chestplate couldn't fully protect you from. You were awake, but barely.

Techno took over your place as you coughed on the ground, blood seeping from between the crack made on your chest plate as your skin burns underneath. Looking up through blurry eyes, the last thing you saw was Ranboo's guilty look, a silent plea of apology right to you, before Sam had taken his last life right in front of you and the Blood God.

The next thing you know as you're awoken with bandages all over your left shoulder is Phil and Niki, telling you that Ranboo had died that day with his last life to Sam, and Techno had went on a quest to avenge him with Tubbo while you were unconscious.

A few days after that you had gone through stages of grief. Losing Ranboo right in front of your eyes felt like the biggest failure you could've gotten. He was just a kid- He had been through so much, and his life was taken from him right under your nose.

Sam had done it. The name and the feature of the creeper hybrid as he stabs through Ranboo's chest have been recorded clearly in your mind. As much as you want to catch up to Techno and avenge him, you don't think your mind or body can handle it.

The shot of that one single firework burns underneath your skin. It doesn't necessarily cause you severe pain, but every now and then it spikes up and there are nights where you're forced awake because of the burn it left on you.

Phil was the first to suggest that you leave the SMP. He believes that whatever revenge and punishment you want to befall the creeper hybrid would definitely be fulfilled by Techno and his unstoppable bloodlust. Though as much as the idea feels nice to execute, you're not sure where you would go from the server hub once you left the Dream SMP. You've been there for a long time; you don't really have anywhere else to go.

That is, until an invitation came to you from a hermit outside of the SMP. An invitation to join the Hermitcraft server as they're going to start their ninth season. You were surprised by this sudden coincidence. The hermits are well known across the hall of the server hub, so you're quite surprised to get an invitation, knowing well that you don't really have that high of an achievement in building nor redstone to be able to gain their attention.

Before you can ask any questions or be hesitant about yourself, Philza had shut those thoughts away and encouraged you to join the SMP. He convinced you that even though it sounds a little suspicious, he knows that the hermits are good people, having known some of them prior.

You, just wanting to take a break and leave the Dream SMP behind, put a lot of trust in Phil's words and set off to the Hermitcraft server. Hoping to find a community with less war, less fighting, and perhaps finally living a normal, peaceful life and move on from this mess.

Finally entering the server, you were greeted by the sight of a larger group of people talking to each other excitedly, perhaps, about their plan for the season ahead. None of them seems to have noticed your appearance yet, as they seem to be still happily chatting with each other.

The anxiousness of feeling absolutely left out from the group gets to you. All you do as you wait for perhaps an announcement of some sort to happen, is to clutch on the clothing of the left side of your chest, feeling the everlasting burn somewhat comfort you in this awkward situation.

That was all you do until a voice with a thick accent and gruff tone calls out to you from behind with a simple, "Are you alright, friend?"

You flinched, only gripping your shirt tighter before sharply turning back to face the source, with a nervous smile, you took a sharp breath, "Oh! Uh, right. Yeah, I'm alright, uhm. Sir—"

But through your stammering, your eyes widened as you watched the taller figure who looked before you. The first thing you noticed from him was his green complexity, one which reminds you of a creeper- which, makes it clear that this man (?) Is a creeper hybrid.

Another, creeper hybrid.

Images of Sam flash for a split second then. You were reminded by the Warden's golden armour, gas mask, and his empty raven coloured gaze.

It took you a while, seconds felt like eternity as you snapped yourself back to reality, noticing the obvious differences that the man before you possessed from the Warden.

Instead of gold, he was dressed in white lab coat. The left side of his face seems to be mechanical alongside the right side of his body. And weirdly enough, while you're convinced that he's a creeper hybrid based on his height and skin colour, the goat horn that is growing on his head makes you doubt your guesses slightly.

He seems patient to your response, or rather, lack of, as he watches you try to take all of his appearance in. He knows his size and looks can be a bit overwhelming for a lot of people; but seeing that you haven't run nor scream seems to be a good sign to him to wait for you to process things.

You, on the other hand, were almost ready to pull your crossbow that you currently haven't obtained yet to put yourself on defense. But with enough time and enough self control, you finally brought yourself back to reality and managed to convince yourself that this man is not Sam. And that he won't hurt you the way Sam did Ranboo.

At least, that's what you want to hope for.

So you took a deep breath, clenched your first, before offering the hybrid the best, most polite smile you can mutter.

"I'm alright. I'm uh, just a little nervous. Thank you for the worry. Mister..?"

"Doc. Just Doc is fine." He seems relaxed, and somehow, contended that you've managed to calm yourself to reply to him even though it takes some time.

"I uh, is there anything I can help you with, Doc?" You nervously ask, the hand that was clutching on your shirt now rests firmly on your hip as you hold the ghost of your sword, your instinct never weakened.

"No, not really. But I feel like I should be the one asking you that," he hummed, his eyes seemed to soften slightly with worry, "You seemed to be slightly in pain earlier, clutching on your chest. Do you perhaps have any trouble breathing? Any.. Chronic illness?"

You squinted at his words, feeling slightly offended by the question. Sure you're grateful that he feels concern for you, and perhaps the thoughts that he'd like to help by asking whether you're sick is actually a good thing, you just.. Feel like that's a little bit quick.

He seems to notice your judgemental state before putting his hands up in defense and shaking his head, "Ah- Forgive me. I apologize.. Didn't realize how rude the question must be. I'm just.. Slightly worried about you and was just wondering if there's anything I can do to help."

Help. Right.

"It's.. It's quite alright. Thank you for the concern but I was just panicking a little, you know?" You let out a nervous laugh, shrugging.

Doc is quite an observant individual. He knows you're somewhat still skittish of him and are keeping up guards by the way your hand seemingly always on alert, ready to pull a weapon that you don't own yet. But he's also aware of your backstory and where you're from, so he's willing to be as patient as he can be with you, seeing how even being there seems difficult enough for you.

"I see, well that happens to the best of us. I know it can be a little scary coming to a new place with a bunch of new people you're not familiar with yet," and he smiled. Surprisingly enough, his smile looked really sincere, as opposed to his scary appearance. You suppose that is the first step to trust.

"Actually, if you're not sure on how to start, I can help you set up your base?" He offered, to which, you hesitantly raised an eyebrow. "I mean you don't have to, of course, absolutely no pressure. It's just that if you need any help, I'm willing to lend a hand whenever you need one."

He doesn't seem.. Like he has any further, hidden intention in his words. It feels like genuine honesty in wanting to help you. Something that you haven't seen in many people in your previous server.

So you just thanked him for his offer, saying that should you ever really need any help, he'll probably be the first person you'll come to. Probably. Planning for a far ahead future was not your specialty. Honestly you just want to start off somewhere with a good distance away from everyone and live normally out there.

He nodded. Your acceptance seems good enough. He's not sure whether you'll actually come to him or not; but it seems like at the very least, he's got his intention over to you.

And with that both of you parted ways rather slightly awkwardly after the annual meeting had ended. Everyone began to explore in pairs and groups to gather resources as the first night approached. You, on the other hand, opted to go off to look for stuff on your own, just like how you always do.

You venture up to the North side of the world. Exploring just far enough to not collide bases with anyone who's about to build their giant starter house, you settle in a random tundra biome, finding a slight nostalgic peace from the cold environment.

Weeks pass, and you've managed to build yourself a small cabin with a chimney that regularly breathes out smoke to a far distance. Greenhouse was made, the armory was filled with weaponry, and you're all settled for yet another peaceful, lonely life in the cold tundra.

That is, until someone finds your cabin and are standing right in front of your doorstep as you exit the greenhouse.

It's him, Doc. He seems to be fully geared up already with diamond armour and an elytra. He stood there by your doorstep, seemingly unaware of your approach from the greenhouse as you watch him lightly rubbing his arm.

Creeper can get cold?

"What're you doing here?" After putting down the basket of potatoes to the side and resting your hand at the hilt of your axe, Doc flinched at the surprise before turning to face you with wide eyes.

"Oh my God— you- you scared me a little there," he nervously chuckled, shoulder relaxing as he watched you keeping your distance, waiting for his answer.

"Oh! Right, I'm actually here to uh, check up on you. Xisuma told me that you haven't left your starter base yet and uh, yeah. I'm mostly here to check up on how you're doing."

"That's all?"

"Yes..?"

The two of you spent a good minute looking at each other. You in slight disbelief and him, slightly shivering due to being rather underdressed for the environment.

You were about to tell him that you're doing well, and that you don't quite need any help, but seeing him just.. Standing there in the cold with his armour on doesn't really seem comfortable. You know cold armour can be awful to put on. And considering the distance he might've gone through to get here- You assumed he's been suffering, shivering for a long time.

"Get inside, the fireplace is always lit." You pulled your hand away from the hilt of your axe, an action that he noticed, as you turned you back away from him to pick up the basket of potatoes.

He seems quite.. Surprised, by your invitation. He had expected you to brush him off with formality, but it seems like the sight of a giant creeper hybrid shivering in the cold, tundra biome makes you take slight pity on him.

But he's not complaining! Watching you approaching the door, he instinctively opened the door for you and moved to the side to let you and the basket of potato in, only to follow suit right after you had descended into the kitchen inside the cabin.

"Take off your armour and hang it by the door, don't get snow in my house." You gave him direction as you placed the basket of potatoes onto the small table in your kitchen.

"Oh- Right, thank you." He seems to be still slightly nervous. Is he crossing the line by being in here? You did invite him in, so it should be fine, right? But what if your invitation was out of politeness and he's actually bothering you with your schedule? Doc has never been so parasocial before this, as he just stood there by the doorstep, awkwardly now with his armour off.

"Well, it's a nice place you've got here," he took a deep breath, deciding to break the ice and lead the conversation, since you seem quite focused on cleaning the vegetables you had just picked. "I saw your greenhouse outside, it looks quite lovely with the blue glass. Is it automated?"

"No. I.. Like processing my vegetables by hand," you replied to him while focusing on cleaning the dirt off of a carrot. Hearing his footsteps, you suppose he's just currently walking around your cabin, checking things that are worth seeing. "Besides I don't really know how to build an automated farm. I'm not really.. An expert at redstone. And honestly I doubt I will be in the near future."

From that comment, Doc laughed. Surprisingly a hearty laugh that comes in contrast to his currently freezing body.

"Automated vegetable farms aren't that difficult to create. But I suppose I understand what you mean by it," he looked at the fireplace and the couch near it, turning to look at you for permission, in which you only nod your head at before he let himself sink into the soft surface with a sigh. "I've actually haven't experienced this in a long while."

"Hm?" His last sentence caught you off guard as he seems to have lowered his voice by a note. Looking back to the creeper hybrid who had made himself comfortable at your house, you only watch the fire reflection crackle in his eyes. "What do you mean by 'this'?"

"This, I mean just.. Living, I suppose." He shrugged, leaning back on the couch, "I've spent years in this server, building and creating things never seen before."

"Hunting.. Farming by hand, all of those have become quite a bothersome errand when all you want to do is just.. Break that limit and create something new." He clenched his fist, and opened it, looking down at it with looks that are difficult to decipher from your view. "That's why automatic farms were built. To be rid of those repetitive tasks. Towers that reach heaven to milk whatever the universe gave us and use it to its fullest potential."

He seems to be deep in thought. Has your greenhouse made that much impact on his view in life to the point that he seems to be having a minor midlife crisis?

"Are you calling my farm inefficient and boring?" You laughed lightly, turning your attention back to the vegetables at hand. "I'm no hermit like any of you are, so I suppose it's hard to share views. I quite enjoy the normalcy."

This time, Doc looks at you. Slightly baffled by your sudden chattiness and laughter. It was small; but you laugh. An honest one, it seems.

"I didn't get much of.. Well, this, before. Buildings often come and go in one night. Instead of progressing ahead we were forced to look at the present and always be aware of tomorrow, it's.." you shut your eyes, placing the clean vegetables down as you took a deep breath. ".. Quite tiring."

Silence but the sound of crackling fire sets between the two of you. This was one of the first times you've recalled the old SMP after so long. You're reminded by the constant explosion, the constant fire, and moving from one base to another, it was always filled with running away. Always.

Slowly opening your eyes with a deep exhale, you see that Doc has stood up from where he was seated as he slowly walked over to where you are. Standing right across from you, he offered you that smile again, as he picked up one of the clean carrots.

"Well, cooking all of this by yourself sure is tiring too, won't it?" You exhaled another breath you didn't think was holding, "Do you mind if I lend a hand on this one?"

That was the small start of your, well, friendship, with the creeper hybrid.

Ever since then Doc visited every week or so, coming with small gifts he found or have farmed in his collection of massive automated farms. Everytime you kindly rejected his offer because you don't think you can repay him, he only asked for you to let him help around your greenhouse, by not making it autonomous, but just farming it alongside you, and perhaps stay over for a warm meal served in your cabin that are peacefully hidden away in the tundra.

You don't mind, actually. The pair of helping hands he's given is sure to be welcomed by you. He's been working in your greenhouse for so long he remembered where things are and memorised the whole layout. Not only that, you found yourself growing more vegetables by his constant visit, seemingly wanting to have enough for him to eat when he arrives since you feel like your small portion would never actually fill a man as big as him.

With the overwhelming amount of building blocks you've received, you have plans on perhaps finally building your base. And since you don't feel like asking Doc for more than what he already gave, you find yourself turning to other hermits for help such as Scar, Pearl, and others for building tips. Even to the point that they'd come to visit your cabin and help you first hand.

After weeks of having Doc coming over to your cabin, you've decided that it's about time for you to visit his base instead and perhaps, look around the server some more and check the now existing shopping district.

It became a routine of some kind. One week it would be you visiting him with your very own hand picked vegetables, the next would be him visiting you with some building materials or other items he thinks may be of use to you.

That night was one where you had visited him.

A storm had befall the area in which Doc is working his new project. And you, not being that much of an expert in using an elytra yet after so long not using it, doesn't want to risk flying through the storm and ended up staying by his small camp that he had set up in a small cave near his project.

You thought you'd stay awake through the storm. After all, it's not like you'd let yourself fall asleep somewhere that isn't home. It's unsafe, dangerous, and you'll be exposed and vulnerable.

You're not sure what came over you, but amidst your attempt at staying up, it seems like you had slipped and passed out with your head leaning on your arms by one of the desks at Doc's camp. A view that Doc didn't quite expect to come back to when he finished with his project for the day.

He had never seen you so peaceful before. Asleep, calm, and are away from the world even for a couple minutes or hours.

He would let you be and give you the rest that you're very much deserved (mostly he doesn't want to scare you by waking you up), but looking at how uncomfortable your position looks, he can't seem to find another reason to not take your to a proper bed.

He was about to wake you up, but he noticed the weird, breathing pattern that you're having at times during your slumber.

Your breath seems to have grown heavy and shallow, he can see beads of sweat rolling on your skin as you still seemingly stay unconscious.

Turning your head to the side, he placed the back of his organic hand to your forehead, only to find your cheek flustered red and your temperature slightly burning up.

You were dreaming- or rather, remembering that scene yet again by some bad omen. The fireworks that had blasted your chest burns your shirt right onto your skin, the look that Ranboo had given you that day, the way Sam doesn't seem unbothered by his own actions, it all came back in a flood.

What snapped you awake was the tense feeling of a pair of hands gripping onto your shoulder, shaking you awake, and Doc calling out to your name.

You didn't even realize you were crying until you felt the warm tear sliding down your cheek. You didn't respond to his questions for a few seconds, your hand instinctively crawled up to your chest, right where the firework was exploded, as you clenched your shirt.

Doc called out to you again. This time, you finally look up to him, his words finally registering in your mind as you look at his worried expression,

"Where does it hurt, schatz?" His voice falls a few octaves, you noticed, yet it felt raspier as if he had cried himself. "Please, tell me."

"He shot me here," you finally whispered out. Hand clutching tighter as your knuckles turned white, "It hurts, Doc. It burns every time I remember that place. It burned like a memory every time. But I lived through it, I survived and kept my life despite it. But he didn't."

"He didn't live.. Because I took that hit, he didn't— I should've—"

And he took you in.

Doc was big enough to engulf almost all of you within his arms. Part of him may be metallic, but the humming of the redstone fluid that runs his prosthetic is always warm. Always.

And that warmth melted your heart, and flood came through.

You clutched the back of his coat as you finally let everything out. Through your sobbing you let him know about all the regrets kept inside of your heart. The burning sensation you felt every night on your chest from the wound you received that night. How you often tell yourself that you deserve it because of what happened. That you think you deserve this punishment.

And he listened to it. He holds you firm enough to let you know he'll be there and that he's listening and nothing escapes him. Your secret was heard and your pain was shared. He felt it, as one of his hands carefully rubbed your shoulder where the edge of the burn lay, giving it humming comfort.

"Schatz, listen to me. Please, look at me," he softly called to you. Pulling you away from his chest to cradle your face in his hands as he wiped the tears off of your reddening face. He held you there, pressing your forehead against each other as he helped you breathe by making you match his pattern.

"It was not your fault." He held you, "It never was. Never will be. Fate can often be cruel but you have been through each second of pain it has given you and now you are here."

"You are here, with me. And I will be here with you through it." You cling onto his coat, "I won't let anything harm you and I promise you that. Not even time in the past can do you any harm. I will be here, and I will protect you."

"I love you."

At his confessions, you can only let more tears roll down your cheek as you let him hold you. Perhaps you do deserve to be here. Perhaps you do deserve to live- After all that you have been through. After all the death you had seen. Maybe you do deserve to be here, with him.

And every moon that passes after that night, with him by your side, holding you, loving you and reminding you about how much you deserve to be in the present, you can feel the burn on your shoulder lightened everyday, as the red patch of skin slowly turned light, and the wound have grown into a scar made by the past, healed.