#its like someone trapped him in a basement or something

[xxb0ywalk3rxx]

Club for things that pose as dogs and kill people just because they can. I always had this weird crack headcannon where Fetch is literally the only thing that Smile doesn't just look at and say ''Inferior being, I could do better.'' Despite not being a creepypasta, they so close they'd have a youtube channel I think. Way smarter than Jeff that's for sure.

[sourlove]

Could you please do how yandere mha boys would react to pregnant darling pretty pleaseee?

YANDERE MHA REACTING TO PREGNANT READER

ft. Midoriya, Bakugo, Todoroki, Aizawa

TW: OBSESSION. DRUGGING, KINDAPPING, BABY TRAPPING, YANDERE THEMES, DELUSION, FORCED PREGNANCY

Thanks for the ask!

MIDORIYA IZUKU

When Izuku first finds you throwing up, he's beyond ecstatic. Growing up with his mom was great but very lonely. He always wanted a white picket fence kind of family with three kids and a dog. To him, that was a perfect family, and there was nobody better to start that with than you.

After months of trying he was finally successful. Sure, you weren't exactly on board with the whole pregnancy thing and maybe he had to switch out your birth control pills with placebos but he was just doing what was best for the both of you! Why couldn't you see what he was trying do?

What was that? You don't want to keep it? Oh...well, that's just too bad. Izuku would do just about anything to get the family he's always wanted. Even drugging you and chaining you up in his basement. Don't panic, it's okay! It's just temporary. As soon as he changes your mind, Izuku will let you go, okay?

BAKUGO KATSUKI

Katsuki isn't really a family man to be honest, so he doesn't try to intentionally get you pregnant. But he's willing to see the silver lining when you do get pregnant. After all, maybe a baby is just what you needed to stop acting like a fucking brat all the time.

Plus, he likes when you start needing him to do things for you, like giving foot rubs and back massages and making healthy meals for you. But Katsuki's a bit of a sadist and can withhold these things, leaving you to fend for yourself, if you don't behave. You can't leave so there's no other person you can rely on.

Overtime, you start to become more docile, not just for the purpose of getting something. Mostly because, its...nice to have Katsuki dote on you. He can be sweet when he wants to be and you need all the help you can get right now. It doesn't hurt that he's pretty level-headed most of the time and can easily handle your pregnancy hormones flaring up your emotions.

Maybe being trapped in his house wasn't going to be as bad of a situation as you thought.

TODOROKI SHOTO

Shoto is very freaked out. He had a really sad childhood and the worst father so he doesn't even want to put himself in a situation where he ends up just like Enji. If you also don't want the baby, he is so relieved and starts looking into adoptions, etc.

But if you do want the baby, well...this is him...

He's trying his best okay?

Shoto really does try to be supportive because he would do anything for you to be happy. But like...yeah. It's easier before the baby gets there, when it's just you and him. Once the baby comes, good luck getting Shoto to even stay in the same room as them.

AIZAWA SHOTA

Shota isn't too bothered about you getting pregnant. He wasn't a fan of condoms and you didn't use birth control so it was bound to happen sooner or later. He would be a pretty good dad too, albeit a little strict and would help with the kids, unlike someone else *cough Shoto cough*

Shota finds it adorable how you waddle around or cry because your tea is warm instead of hot. He loves when you become more needy and cuddly. Honestly, Shota's just having a good time. Good enough that he wouldn't mind getting you pregnant over and over again.

He never saw himself wanting a family before but seeing you so cute and round, just does things for him and he can't help but want to see you pregnant all the time. Whether you want that or not :)

READ PART 2 HERE

A/N: Please leave a like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed this! I love when you guys leave asks so go ahead and drop one or two if you wish. Sorry if this is short, I'm hungry :)

@justabratsworld @pinkrose1422

[flowwsblog]

You’re so warm—

a/n; I’m new to the community soo please don’t be too harsh on me 😭😭 (But I need the feedback anyways). Also this fic is going to be pretty long for my first, (it being in two parts lol) but enjoy!!

Timothee!Willy wonka x f!Reader

Summary: in which reader has trouble falling asleep and runs into a certain someone. What could happen?

Warnings: pure fluff 😊

You had been working at the ‘laundry covered prison’- as you and noodle had called it- for a couple years now.

You had gotten there same as everyone, looking for a cheepy place to stay in this economy; and failed to read the fine print. So there was obviously something suspicious going on.

Worse led to worse as Mrs. Scrubbit had enslaved you (which is how you saw it) and forced you to do laundry work. Along with all the other fellow workers/people trapped in the dusty basement.

You befriended each one of them as time went by, not having any other choice. But being the second youngest one there; noodle was the first one you immediately grew close too.

And one day while scrubbing some old laundry, you heard a yell. Well everyone did.

Everyone’s attention shot towards the clothing shute, where a lanky, frightened looking young man had been thrown down.

____________

Ever since that day, your life couldn’t have been more interesting. The man, whose name you learned was Willy Wonka, was the most amazing human you had ever met. He was a magician, chocolatier, and humungous dreamer. What better man to sweep you off your feet?

But welcoming a handsome new guest meant bunking with someone else. Mrs. Scrubbit did not want the fuss of fixing up a new bedroom, leading to Mr. Wonka inhabiting your old room.

You loved noodle, she was like a little sister to you, so you did not complain in the slightest to sharing a room with her.

_____________

One night, you couldn’t sleep. You grabbed a thin blanket and wrapped it around your lightly trembling body. You made sure noodle was wrapped sorta-snug in the worn out bed before descending from the room.

Your thin loafers tapped the cold wooden floor lightly, wandering down the hall to the bathroom. As you walked by a certain door, your steps faltered, but soon continuing its journey to the wash room.

You and wonka has become close friends, similar to the friendship of yours and noodles, but being closer age wise made things different. You hadn’t talked to a boy your age since grade school, so having a male presence now made you exceedingly nervous.

Upon becoming comfortable with Willy, his presence had started to take a toll on you. Butterflies erupting when he would get particularly close. Or breath faltering when he would just, be in the room? You were confused. Maybe it was his shiny, chocolate colored curls or his full green eyes that lured you towards him. But whatever it was, you were hooked.

You closed the door and turned on the light, eyes squinting from the brightness; your handing coming up to shield them.

You turned on the sink and splashed water on your face. The water being cold not helping. You just wiped your face and turned off the light; heading out. This trip definitely helped.

As you opened the door you see another door opening. Expecting noodle’s small body to come out and ask why you left. Instead you get a taller, handsomer is that a word, man leaving his room. Rubbing his eyes softly.

You sigh, ‘What great timing!’, You think sarcastically to yourself. You carefully approach him and smile.

“Hi y/n” he hums with a sleepy smile. Which makes your stomach flutter. “What ya’ doin up so late?”

“Oh nothing, I can’t sleep. And you?” You turn to face him, studying his defined cheekbones and messy curls. Beautifully misplaced from sleep.

“Hm, I heard something and thought it was the little orange man coming to steal my chocolate again. But I’m glad it was you.” Your face grew 10 shades of pink at the comment. God, if he knew how he made you feel you would be in such trouble, or worse, jail. You’re glad it was dark or else he would’ve seen your embarrassing reaction. You smiled nonetheless. “Thank you Mr. Wonka”

He smiled at the name, knowing he prefers being called Willy.

“Well I’m gonna get going to my room, it’s cold out here.” You let out a half hearted chuckle and turned to leave, wanting him to stop you so badly. “Good night wil-“

He grabbed your arm gently, as if he was broken from a trance. “Wait y/n.”

You turned your head, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “Yes?”

_______________

a/n; that’s part 1 guys 🙏🏼🙏🏼

I already have an idea in which part 2 will be posted so stay tuned! It’ll be soon :) 👐 thank you for reading!! Don’t forget to leave notes💞

[kirkenovak]

Speaking of Hob accidentally building Dream a temple in the form of New Inn… a temple to someone like Morpheus is a rare thing indeed. Even more rare is the fact that Hob, de facto a high priest, was touched by Dream’s divinity; he sat with him, spoke with him, dined with him… such things do not go unnoticed. There are high priests and there are High Priests and there are the anointed ones and Hob is firmly in the latter category.

Soon, the New Inn starts to attract some odd folk. Of course, it’s London, you gonna get some odd folks here and there, but these people are odd in a very precise and focused way.

The dreams and nightmares that escaped to the waking world to find Dream use the Inn as their meeting place. At first, they watch Hob with hawkish eyes hoping he’ll bring them to Dream but when they figure out he knows less than them they continue to use this pleace as their base of operation. This is the place with the strongest presence of Morpheus, it inspires and guides them (or so they believe)

Dream’s creations, occultists wanting to harness the energy, people strongly attracted to things that are unusual, an odd supernatural being here and there, genuine worshippers of ancient gods… everyone who wants to touch the divine flock to the New Inn.

Some ask Hob for his blessing. He is a bit taken aback but he figures that they are probably harmless or maybe those LARPer guys, maybe even students trying to prank him so he jokingly “blesses them”. One woman kisses his hands and starts crying when he does it.

Hob isn’t surprised anymore when he finds odd items lying about the place. Candles, flowers, books, handwritten poems and prayers. Offerings.

Writers and poets find that they are strongly inspired if they spend enough time in the Inn. There are at least dozen books that have a dedications to The New Inn and it’s owner.

The problem with such a great amount of thaumaturgic energy is that it has to flow somewhere but Dream is trapped and imprisoned, the energy cannot flow to him, so it looks for a conduit, a storage, a battery if you will and it finds it in the form of one Hob Gadling. Hob’s dreams start to become more lucid, he finds his way to the library, the House of Mystery, the shores of creation, eventually, the crumbling throne room itself. Hob’s starts to channel the energy of the dreamers. He understands that he’s not exactly human anymore but he struggles to understand what he is.

In the basement under the Burgess manor, the glass bowl starts to crack. The cracks are microscopic, invisible to a naked eye, but Morpheus can see them, can sense them. The runes that trap him are fading quicker and quicker. Eventually they have to be redone daily. The cracks become larger. Something is happening.

Corinthian senses the changes too. Whatever it is, whoever it is, he cannot allow them to free Dream. Finding the source is easy, he is a nightmare after all, he is naturally attracted to the energy of the dreaming. He finds the The New Inn and he finds Hob Gadling, a creature that used to be human but is now something else indeed. Something that has to be killed before it realises its own power. Corinthian confronts Hob who is surprised to recognise him; they never met yet he knows him but Corinthian is not here to talk, he’s here to kill, and so he strikes a killing blow… except how do you kill an immortal? You don’t. You can’t.

But this strike by a nightmare with a knife made with the sand of creation severs the connection between Hob and the power, and suddenly all this cumulative energy of the worshippers and dreamers is free. And where does it all go? Straight to the place where Morpheus is kept, because no amount of runes and glass can separate all this power from its rightful master.

The circle is broken, the orb shatters, Dream of the Endless is free.

Corinthian tries to escape but Dream disposes of him before he can step a foot outside the inn. The energy from the New Inn allows Dream to summon the Moirai and ask about his tools (justice for Gregory). He finds his sand, his helmet, his ruby.

When he returns to the New Inn Hob is still there, still waiting for his friend.

“You waited for me”

“I did”

They smile at each other. It’s a beginning of a beautiful friendship or perhaps something more? Endless cannot involve themselves with humans but Hob Gadling isn’t human anymore. He’s something else. Something else indeed.

[the-voldsoy]

Parallels/references/a couple theories about TMAGP EP1:

grouped in order of actual theories, vague things i noticed, and even vaguer comments! (using the same terminology as in TMA for ease)

HEAVY Spoilers !!

Stronger:

“Colin, mate, you know you’re never getting out of here” +won't leave until they figure out the errors “Or they finally kill me” → couldn't quit the Archives because they thought they just wanted to understand and know (but later found out they could only get out by dying or blinding)

Lena talks about cake → Mr Spider doesn't like cake + Elias seemed to love the stuff

pub called The Seward -> Peter Lukas vibes?

“There has to be a way to do this online” → haha ! you wish. (AKA supernatural interferes with internet so it cant be dont online)

“There's this box for a "Response 121" on the form.” → MAG121 is the episode Jon is woken from his coma/brought back to life by Oliver Banks

Talk about how there used to be a separate “Response” department → Elias tells Jon its their job to watch, not interfere (iirc)

Old as shit computer → old as shit tape recorders

AKA: the computer seems to be the only thing that can handle the supernatural

“ "Dolls comma watching" or "Dolls comma human skin" “ → violently Stranger and possibly Eye, has me in mind of MAG24 (the one the Calliope is first mentioned in, where the boyfriend is turned into a doll iirc) 

Barely understandable, long as shit file names →barely understandable, long as shit files names by Gertrude 

[in response to where the files go] “some long dead database that no one will ever look at or care about” → the Archives were unmanaged, decrepit and barely used by anyone outside of them

Work during the night - no sun, cut off from outside world → worked in a basement - no sun, cut off from outside world

Martin (and later Jon) taking the statements → did the same in TMA but in reverse (although I’d love to know if there's any reason behind them being called Chester and Norris, besides what's stated?)

Haha Martin and Jon (and Jonah) are now part of the World Wide Web → shit now they're part of the Web (just like with the tape recorders !!)

Someone talks about how they're sorry, they should've listened, couldn't face not hearing him again → martin @ jon and vice versa

Stranger statement with hints of the Dark → first TMA statement was a Stranger in the dark, and it does put me in mind of the Anglerfish tbh

Sorting system for the statements (although there's is a Lot more detailed and v different) → Smirke’s Fourteen

Gwen openly does not like Lena → literally anyone @ Elias

Asked if they were tricked into working here → well, we know the Archives and Elias

“The awful, terrible thing that landed you here?” → most of the Archives (excluding Sasha and maybe Martin) had something that made them Marked, that mostly led to them working there

Someone who's into spelunking listed the Institute as “cleared” → who could that be (if we know them at all)? Buried avatar, i'd guess, but we don't really know any of them

Photos of the Institute don't show up → photos of the supernatural don't work

The Institute was “weird”, made the subject paranoid → lingering Eye

Fire twenty years ago that burned the Institute → Like the fire at Hilltop Road? Or like that time Gertrude tried to burn down the Institute?

Third floor was the most burned → assuming that's the top floor (and correct me if i'm wrong), wasn’t Jonah in (and later killed) on the top floor?

“offices like little cells” → employees were certainly trapped ! also Millbank Prison

Worried non-existent doors were going to slam shut → the Distortion

Weren’t any papers → left behind before the Institute came to this Somewhere Else (assuming it's the same Institute)? (we need an actual name for the original universe and this Somewhere Else)

Suspicious stains on some floors → my darling, that is blood ! or possibly squished worms, or ink. or possibly something Else

“an old wooden thing with a bunch of similar symbols on” → genuinely unsure what this could be

Strange symbols → For all the Fears, or just the Eye, i wonder? I think i remember them saying something about an Eye symbol at this point, but now i can't find where

“you get a job, I get a fresh victim. It’s all in your contract.” → Elias @ his employees

 “To new beginnings, with old friends” → to a new beginning, with our old friends Jon, Martin and Jimmy Magma :)

“You’re not as clever as you think you are. You think you've got us all fooled, that no-one knows you're listening, But I do. I know. I’m going to find you and then…” → hi what did he mean by this

They (jon, martin & jonah) are Watching and Listening and following through technology→ just like Elias (Panopticon vibes tbh) and Sergey Ushanka

Vaguer (idk if theres anyhting here, but wanted to include it anyway):

Alice loves coffee -> Martin loved tea

Meeting in a cemetery → Sasha with Michael pre-prentiss attack, Naomi Herne 

Not wanting to stay at home because it's full of memories → Jon moving with Georgie, Martin moving to the Archives

Gwen Bouchard wants Lena’s job → Bouchard (appeared to) climb the job ladder quicker than he should have

Heh bug list → corruption

 “You don’t seem like the usual hopeless wasters Lena hires” “The awful, terrible thing that landed you here?” → okayy no need to be rude. But anyways the OG Archives crew were actually pretty disconnected from the rest of the world +were barely there by choice?

“freight cars near Brighton” → hey where did Melanie get her first Slaughter mark ?

“it’s not too awkward working with an ex?” → Georgie and Jon?

FR3-d1 -> i feel like there's something there, but i cannot figure it out

Just words that made me irrationally scared:

Stranger(‘s)

Distortion

Opposites:

Starts with a party for someone leaving → couldn't quit the archives

“ …you are perfectly within your rights to resign. No one is forcing you to stay here.”

please put any opinions/additions in the tags !!

[louisetaylor]

TUA SEASON 4 REWRITE

because if you want something done right... *rolls eyes*

In the original single timeline, we got a wonderful season 4 of The Umbrella Academy. I'm here to remind you of your latent memories of the original season 4. Together we can restore it to its former glory. Like a club. We need a name. Call ourselves the Keepers or something similar.

Here's what I know:

Luther is putting work into his (admittedly rundown and condemned) house. It's growing more welcoming with every antique sconce and threadbare thrifted rug. Klaus lives with him, advising him on the finer points of exotic dancing. We see the family visiting. Claire knows where the snacks are. Luther picks up and tosses Lila's kids in the air, trying and failing to learn words in Punjabi. He struggles to move in new furniture, longing for his old strength back, his familiar hairy body.

Viktor owns a bar in Canada. He's proud of it, but despite bantering with the regulars, he isn't close to anyone. He still wants to shout at Reginald (for everything) and at Allison (for everything else). Sometimes the patrons get too loud, and Viktor focuses on the sound of the radio playing in the background, wanting to shout at the loud talkers and knock them off their stools with the sound of his voice. He misses Harlan. He wonders about autism, and why he understood the boy so well.

Diego practices throwing knives in the back yard after the kids have gone to bed. Fed up with being a delivery driver, he briefly considers opening a party planning business, but Lila laughs her head off at the idea, saying he'd explode if she even bought a pinata from the wrong side of town or something. He runs alone at night, slows, stops, bangs his head against a telephone pole in frustration.

Lila spars with Diego in the basement, kendo one night, aikido the next...It vents their anger and relieves their boredom. She has an idea of opening a martial arts studio. When she pins Diego down, they're both visibly into it. She goes away to a book club that might not be a book club, wishing for a bigger world.

The kids aren't just pawns for the plot or for conflict. They're people who ask inconvenient questions. "Where did Mummy learn to fight?" They make up bedtime stories about their parents' pasts. Superhero stories which are eerily close to the truth.

Klaus lives with Luther, sober, germaphobic, plagued by nightmares, afraid of death and love and life because he's seen so very much of all of them. He cooks for Luther, which sometimes turns out well and sometimes not. "Well, it's not the same when you make it without hashish..." When the marigold crashes back into his life, he's angry, and yet he's elated to feel the power back in him, he knows he can't go back to being half dead and unfeeling, he needs to wear something silk and put on some eyeliner and be wild again, as he always really was.

Allison tries out for every commercial in town and spars with her daughter, who's turning out to be a stubborn opposing mirror of her mother. Claire spits uncomfortable truths at her mother like her too-strong influence on others, her lecturing them instead of listening to them, kicking at their weak points. She wonders who she is when she's not acting or rumoring people. Maybe one of these days she'll ask someone for help.

Number Five has been trying to remember his name. He's been working for the CIA because a man's gotta eat, but he clashes with his boss a little too much on account of his smart mouth. He can't help acting like a young man sometimes, because he never really got to be young, feel young, act young. He can't help trying to jump away sometimes. He feels trapped in one place, one time.

Ben just got out of prison. The season starts with him being taken back to Luther's place, being welcomed in by Klaus and offered some cookies that smell suspiciously of weed. He's annoyed by the running laughing visiting kids, but the house reminds him strangely of home. He'll curse Luther out, but Klaus gave him weed cookies, and the kids don't deserve to be scared or upset, do they? He's not a monster, after all.

[suzukiblu]

Another excerpt from the one where Clark panic-adopts his teenage clones (yes, including the supervillain one).

Previously-posted excerpts: one | two

Thirteen is in a cell in the basement, to Match's entire lack of surprise–that's standard procedure, with his class of prisoner. There are no guards on the floor, but Thirteen is currently suspended in an anti-grav field in the center of the room.

No way to use his TTK on anything but himself, then.

That's not as secure a containment procedure as the Agenda thinks it is.

Match should inform them of that. And he will inform them of that.

Eventually.

"Superman," Match says as he inspects the room for a power source or some manner of off switch for the field. Thirteen says nothing, because he's unconscious. Sedated, presumably, which is also standard procedure with his class of prisoner.

That would explain the lack of guards despite Thirteen's recorded tendency to escape, Match supposes. Though there'll be someone watching the cameras either way, of course, so they don't have long before someone shows up.

The reinforced door on the other side of the room tears off its hinges and reveals Superman standing behind it. His eyes are blazingly red. There's crumpled metal twisted up in his hands.

"I found the other experiments," he says.

"Were they viable?" Match asks.

"No," Superman says, very darkly. Match wonders if that means Superman killed them, or if that means they were already dead. It's not really something he's going to think too much about either way.

He has a lot of dead brothers, after all. Some of them he killed himself.

Assuming that he uses Thirteen's definition of what a "brother" is, anyway.

They have a lot of dead brothers from Cadmus, too.

Or at least twelve of them, anyway.

Superman strides forward into the room, staring up at Thirteen's suspended form. Match inspects the power source he's found.

"I think I can disable the anti-grav," he says. "I don't see any traps or failsafes, at least."

"Then disable it," Superman says. He's still just looking at Thirteen.

He's only ever looked at Thirteen.

Match wonders what might've happened if he'd just pretended to be Thirteen after all, and never told Superman anything about this lab. It's a stupid thing to wonder, though.

He already knows Superman doesn't even like Thirteen, whether he looks at him or not. There's no reason he'd like Match any better.

Even if he is a better experiment.

Match disassembles the power source with a quick burst of TTK and the field deactivates. Thirteen falls out of the air. Superman catches him in his arms.

Match wonders why he bothered. It's not like the fall would've injured Thirteen. He's not even conscious enough to have noticed the impact.

"Ngh," Thirteen says, his eyelashes fluttering restlessly.

. . . alright, maybe he would've noticed the impact.

Still, though.

"You're safe, Kon," Superman tells Thirteen quietly. "I've got you."

"Ngh," Thirteen repeats, and then just sinks back into unconsciousness and goes completely limp in Superman's arms. There is no trace of wariness or fear or anything but absolute faith in those words in any part of him.

Match cannot even imagine ever having a similar interaction with another sentient being.

He feels . . . odd, he thinks, hearing Superman say "Kon". He knows it's one of Thirteen's preferred aliases, of course–he's heard the various members of Young Justice all use it more than once, usually by unknowingly calling him by it. It's not a secret or anything.

He's never heard Superman use it before, though.

[jennay]

Misunderstood

Request:

I wanna request rory culkin in lords of chaos being in his record shop and seeing a not so normal customer for such a shop, he sees a pretty girl wearing her pretty mini sundress having her cute makeup and hair done, she looks all dolled-up ykyk. she basically goes there to buy something for her brother but she's so not into it, she so shy and "scared" to go there but she eventually does it and like euro kinda finds it adorable even tho everyone there is teasing her (AH IDK IF THAT MAKES SENSE LMAO, I just need fluff and cuteness and yk maybe a little spicy teasing IDK HEHEHE! hope u have a great day!!!)

Master List

An: I Hope this is what you wanted!

Words: 1700

Warnings: None. Maybe shit talking?

Shivers ran down your spine as you walked down the dark, dirty street. Why your brother thought it was a good idea to send you to this part of town was beyond you. You understood his foot was broken and needed someone to run errands for him, but you didn't belong with the people he associated with. You weren't into death metal, didn't wear all black, and you definitely didn't rage against the machine. You were quite the opposite. You enjoyed your colorful wardrobe and bubbly music and were more of a rule follower. You NEVER got in trouble or put yourself in a bad situation.

You had heard rumors about the record store and its owner. Some said he was a cult leader who performed rituals in the basement. Others said he was a serial killer who lured unsuspecting customers into his trap. Others said he was a vampire who fed on the blood of young girls like you. He wasn't twenty-five, but innocent people's blood kept him youthful.

Of course, you didn't believe those stories, but you still felt uneasy as you approached the store. It looked like a rundown shack, with faded posters and graffiti covering the windows. The neon sign flickered and buzzed, spelling out "Rock 'n' Roll Heaven." You wondered if that was meant to be ironic or ominous.

You pushed open the door and stepped inside. The smell of dust and mold hit you like a wave. You saw rows of shelves filled with records, tapes, and magazines. You also saw posters of rock stars and bands, some of who you recognized and others you didn't. The place was dimly lit by a few lamps and a jukebox that played an old song you couldn't name. Where the hell did you step into?

You walked along the aisles, scanning the labels and covers. You could feel a few different sets of eyes on you, and you tried to keep your head down but glanced up a few times with an awkward smile, hoping they didn't come toward you.

One man stood at the counter pretending to read a magazine, but his eyes would flick to you. He'd nudge his buddy and whisper something you couldn't hear, making you anxious.

"Sweetheart. I think you stepped into the wrong place." One of them says, staring at you. "You need to go to the record store on Broadwater. They have all that bubble gum pop shit you're probably looking for." You notice his piercing blue eyes carving into your soul, and you try to look away, but it's a trance. His long black hair hangs in his face, and deep down inside, you want to remark how he should stop wearing women's clothing and grow up, but the rumor of him eating people comes back to your mind, and you keep your mouth shut.

You find the name of the band your brother had mentioned, and there are several different pieces of vinyl, each from a different year. Why didn't he tell you the name?

"Do you not talk?" Another one calls from the counter.

You look up at him again, blushing, "I do. I'm just looking for something, and I'll be out of here." Your eyes return to the records, and you grab the newest one. Your brother was a collector, and it was more than likely he wanted the more recent item.

You hear his footsteps walking around the counter, and just to your luck, the bigger one is coming toward you. The one who looks like he might attack you.

He walks up to you with a smirk on his face, holding a cigarette in his hand. He blows smoke in your direction, making you cough. He looks at the record you're holding and snorts. "You're kidding me. You're buying this crap?" He grabs the record from your hand and examines it. "This is their latest album. It's garbage. They sold out to the mainstream. They lost their edge. They used to be good back in the day." He points to another record on the shelf. "This is their first album. This is where it all started. This is real music." He hands it to you and takes back the one you had chosen. "Trust me, kid. You'll thank me later." He winks at you and returns to the counter, leaving you speechless and confused.

Kid? You weren't a child.

You cautiously walk to the counter, noticing two of the three men sitting in the corner watching some gory horror movie, and you do your best not to make a face at it.

You try to play it cool like you weren't in your favorite red and white sundress that you'd just bought, you weren't wearing the cutest sandals you'd ever seen, or you didn't get dolled up for the day knowing where you were going.

You tried to ignore the stares and whispers of the other customers, who looked at you like you were an alien. But you knew you couldn't fool anyone.

"You're brave walking in here looking like that. You look like you got lost on your way to the Barbie convention." He sounds playful, but you'd be lying if you said it didn't hurt your feelings.

You bite your lip, wishing he would just tell you how much you owe him, but he seems amused with you and taking his time. He grabs the record with a smirk and taps on the cash register.

He looks at you with a mock surprise and says, "That'll be a hundred bucks, please." He chuckles and adds, "Just kidding. It's only twenty. But I'll take a hundred if you want to tip me for my excellent service." He winks at you and holds his hand, waiting for your payment.

Your eyes deaden at his joke; you don't find him amusing. He hands you the record, still smiling as you walk away from him.

"Hey, I'm gonna take a smoke break." He tells the others and follows behind you. Was he following you?

Part of Euronymous felt guilty for the way he was acting. He didn't want to admit it, but that was his best attempt at flirting, and he failed miserably. "Hey, wait up." He says, catching you before you cross the street.

You stop, looking back for a second before you sigh and drop your shoulders, "Why so you can continue to be an asshole to me?"

He runs his fingers through his hair, holding his cigarette to his lips. "I wasn't. I didn't…Look, I think your style's cool. I, uh, I don't know how to talk to pretty girls." He admits.

Your brows scrunch together with confusion; you aren't sure what his game plan is. "I'm not really into Satanists or cult leaders, so you don't have to waste your time apologizing to me or trying to make me feel better about myself. I think you're tacky, just like your store."

He looks hurt by your words, but he doesn't give up. "Well, I'm neither of those things." He pulls his cigarette from his lips, "This is weird and I know this is weird, because I'm weird, but, let me at least walk you to your car. It's getting late and I'd feel like a shithead if something happened to you."

You hesitate, not sure if you should trust him or not. He doesn't look like a bad guy, just a misunderstood one. But you've heard stories about people like him, who pretend to be friendly and turn out to be monsters. You don't want to be another victim. "I'm walking to my brother's house, and I'd prefer you not to know where I stay." You tell him, but part of you wants to take his offer. It's creepy at night, and you have no way to protect yourself if something was to happen.

He remains quiet, watching you rethink what you just told him. Why did you tell him that? He could easily follow you and find out where you live. You curse yourself for being so stupid. "If I let you walk me home, promise not to stalk me?" You ask him, hoping he's not lying.

His laughter rings in your ears, "I won't stalk you. Between my band and owning the shop, I don't have time to stalk anyone plus, if you want to see me, you know where I work." He playfully winks. "Come on, let's go. I promise I'll behave." He smiles at you with a charming grin that makes your heart flutter. You wonder if he's as bad as you thought or just a lonely soul looking for company. You decide to give, hoping you won't regret it later.

You make small talk, asking him about his band. He tells you that his band is called Mayhem and plays black metal, an extreme and controversial music genre.

"I'm glad you came in today. I know it can be a bit over the top, and I'd be lying if I said we weren't being judgemental dicks." He laughs, his eyes dart to you nervously, waiting for your response, but you continue to watch the sidewalk. "I hope part of you doesn't believe I'm what everyone says."

You tilt your head up, looking at him with curiosity. You wonder why your opinion would matter. "I think you're misunderstood but you kind of like it that way."

He shrugs and takes a drag from his cigarette. "I do enjoy being a rebel and an outcast. I like making people uncomfortable it's entertaining to see how fearful people are." He exhales the smoke and looks at you with a smirk. "But maybe I also like surprising people and showing them that I'm not a monster. Maybe I like being normal and human."

"You know, nice doesn't look bad on you. You should try it more often." You're able to genuinely smile at him this time. "Well," You say, stopping in front of the apartment doors. "This is it." You don't know how to end this interaction. It's not like this was a date or a friendship.

He nods, "Alright, I'll see you around?"

You shrug with a playful smile as you open the door, "Maybe."

He throws his hands in the air as he walks away from you, "I'll take it!" He says, his voice full of excitement. He looks back at you and gives you a thumbs-up, making you laugh, and he disappears into the night, leaving you with a story to amuse your brother with and a memory that might make you return to the 'scariest' record store in town.

[basilpaste]

Hey Basil, I'd love to see an interactiom of cannon Sif (before the time loops) with The Lamb, and just see how things deteriorate between the two

oh gosh i hadnt really thought about how canon sifd react to the saviors. or well i thought about how theyd react to nightmare and singular wish but no one else really.

uuuh. heres a very rough thing.

(You open your eyes and find yourself in a fancy looking cabin. Which is weird because you were at least... pretty sure you were in Dormont a second ago?)

(You must have been, right? You remember Mira nervously welcoming everyone to town. Tomorrow you were going to fight the King and hopefully save the country that she loved so much.)

(Or... did that already happen? Did you forget saving an entire country? You know you're a pretty forgetful person, but you don't think that you're that forgetful.)

(You look around the place. There's not really much here. No people. Are you... alone? You don't see any of your friends and they don't respond when you call out to them.)

(Your dagger is sitting on a table.)

(Except... that's not right. Your dagger is in your pocket. You can feel its weight.)

(Ooookay. Weird.)

(Having nothing else to do, you decide to check out the basement of this strange place. The door to the basement creaks open, revealing a staircase with a really fancy carpet. You slowly creep down the steps, only to hear a voice break the silence.)

The Lamb: Hello? Is someone there?...

(You hear your own voice.)

(Almost your own voice. It sounds like if you were pretending to be fancy. Like a typical damsel in distress)

"What."

(You fly down the rest of the stairs, hand on your dagger. When you reach the bottom of the steps you see... you.)

(But it's not you. It looks like you, but you're you! And his eye is too wide and his cloak is too fluffy and his features are all just a little bit too soft. They look like you but they're not. They're all wrong!!!)

The Lamb: Oh!! You... aren't my dashing knight. Who are you?

("Dashing knight"??? That makes you wrinkle your nose. That isn't something you'd ever call anyone. Which just proves that this person isn't you! They're just a poor imitation of you who doesn't really get what you are at all. You pull out your dagger. It glints in the torch light.)

"Who are you?" (You echo, pointing the blade at the chained stranger.) "What are you?"

(They frown. It looks more like a pout. Cute and sweet and almost childish. Your shoulders tense, grip on your dagger tightening.)

The Lamb: That's an easy question! It's something I've answered before! You can call me 'The Bright One'! Or just 'The Savior' is okay! Whatever works best for you, I don't want to be any trouble.

(This 'Savior' makes you feel... gross. They seem so yielding, like they'd just go with anything anyone told him to do. Are you like that? You don't want to be like that.)

(The Savior folds his hands on his lap, smiling up at you brightly as the chain binding him to the wall rattles.)

(That chain... it's so loose that it'd fall off if they made any attempt to remove it. Have they been trapped down here? Why hasn't he just taken off the shackle if he has?)

(You... don't trust this.)

"Why are you here?"

The Lamb: I dunno! I think my knight does, but he's not here so I can't really say! All I know is that last time, I had to kill him! And then I blinked and I was in chains again. But it's all so different this time...

("Last time?")

(WAIT. Did they just say he had to KILL his knight??? You take a guarded step back, brandishing your blade.)

The Lamb: My head feels so fuzzy... like it's full of cotton.

(Um.)

(The Savior looks up at you, eye pleading. They look so helpless. And so much like a messed up version of you. Is this what you look like to people? Meek and helpless?)

The Lamb: I'm so confused! My dashing knight isn't here to help me anymore. I can't get out of here without him!

(He tilts his head. You grimace.)

The Lamb: Could you help me get out of these chains?

(The worst part is that his sob story almost works on you. For a moment, you genuinely consider letting this weird copy out of their chains! But it must be a trick, right? Because they can escape literally any time! The chain isn't holding them there! They must just want you to get close.)

"No." (You say, suppressing the urge to run away.) "I'm not going to let you out when I don't even know why you're trapped."

(The Savior's eye wells with tears.)

(You hate their face. It makes you feel disgusting knowing that you could look like that. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting.)

(You're scared.)

The Lamb: ... Why not? I just... I just want you to like me! Did I do something wrong? Act the wrong way?

(You don't understand.)

"What?"

The Lamb: Was being myself wrong? I can be someone else! If that'd make you like me!

(Something just... changed. They just changed. He looks even more wrong.)

(You take a step back. Your heel knocks into the base of the stairs.)

"I... I don't like you." (You say, barely above a whisper.) "I don't like you at all."

The Lamb: Let me try something else!!! I just want you to like me!

(No, no, no. He's changing again. You feel sick to your stomach.)

"I'm not going to like you!" (You shout.) "Not ever! You can't make you!"

(The Savior weeps.)

The Lamb: I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I just want you to like me!!!

(you feel a tug on your stomach...

and )

(You dreamed of seeing your face reflected back at you in the mirror.)

[jennyyy007]

PLAYTHING 🗝️ pt. 1

Unboxing

Cw: kidnapping, violence, female whumpee, male whumper

———————————————————————

Click.. click… click…

The sound of footsteps stop. For a moment it’s completely quiet. Mary can’t hear anything besides her own shaky breath, and the wooden box creaking from time to time.

A few seconds later the nerve wrenching silence was interrupted by a loud thud, the girl gets shaken a tiny bit even tho there isn’t much space. Silence again, but only for a moment before the top of the box opens up. The first time Mary has been exposed to light in two days. She struggles with the brightness of it, even tho the surrounding area isn’t bright at all. But after having been stuck in that wooden box for two days straight in complete darkness, it obviously would cause a problem.

“Aren’t.. you something..”

A rather deep voice says. Mary slowly starts to gain back her eyesight before she can see the man standing in front of the box. Tall, dark hair, wearing a black suit. He seems to be in his late 20s. And his face.. a disgusted but still amused expression. Like he was entertained by her situation.

Mary makes a soft groan, unable to speak as she had been completely stripped of any sort of self control. Gagged and tied up like an animal. Her wrists and ankles bound together.

“Let’s get you out of there”

The man says, reaching down to grab the terrified girl. She’s staring up at him before flinching as he picks up her fragile body. Mary whimpers as she’s forced to move her until now trapped body, almost unable to move it from staying in the same position this long. The man holds her in an almost caring way, making her lean against his chest as he has one hand on her back and another gripping her legs, holding her in a princess way. He makes an even more disgusted face as he turns his head away. Mary has been sweating quite a lot, as well as urinated on herself. The ropes on her wrists have cut into her skin, making her bleed which also adds to the horrible smell.

The girl moves to look around the room around her, trying to figure out what’s happening. She quickly realizes that its a cell. Almost looking like one from a medieval prison. Stone walls, the floor dirty and uneven. There’s a few tables with items on them. Around a third of the room is cut off by cell bars, nothing behind them except something that looks like chains hanging from the wall. There’s two chairs standing in the middle of it and the man moves to sit Mary down on one of them. Making her legs dangle down as her wrists are still tied behind her back. Yet he doesn’t tie her to the chair, just leaving her to sit on it with her bare body.

He reaches down as he’s standing in front of her and Mary tilts up her head, whimpering slightly as he reaches forward. Gently moving to take off the gag fixated on her upper neck. Mary makes a soft gag as he pulls out the saliva covered gag before closing her mouth again, not speaking as she’s terrified. The man steps back before sitting down on the chair in front of her.

“What’s your name?”

The man says after a long ten seconds of staring at her, looking her up and down.

Mary swallows, not answering him.

He frowns slightly before making a small sigh.

“You know. I want to have a good first impression of my pets. And you’re not doing a very good job currently sweetheart.”

He says in an almost gentle tone again.

Mary takes a few more seconds before she opens her mouth to talk.

“W-.. what is th.. this?”

The girls voice is a bit raspy. She hasn’t talked in the past few days. Only cried, screamed, begged for someone to let her out of her trap.The man in front of her makes a small smile, looking in her eyes now before he lets out an amused chuckle.

“You’re a dumb one aren’t you? Kidnapped, starved and tied up in a cold dirty basement and the first decision you make is to disobey a simple order.”

He says in a mocking tone.

Mary doesn’t reply, looking at him with a scared look, if she wasn’t so dehydrated, tears would probably spill down her soft rosy cheeks.

“Now.. let’s try this again. Tell me what your name is or you’re gonna wish I never opened that box and let you starve in there.”

She thinks for a bit longer before noticing the impatient look on the mans face.

“M-.. Mary Jane..”

She answers him. Not wanting to risk anything currently. Having no idea what this man’s intentions are. Maybe he’s here to kill her, maybe to keep her, sell her. There’s so many scenarios rushing through her head. What happened. How did this happen..

“Mary Jane.. so elegant, cute.. it’s a beautiful name.. Just doesn’t fit you very well does it?”

He says, laughing slightly as he looks the girl up and down again. Clearly focused on her belly and thighs.

She doesn’t reply, frightened. Why is he saying that?.. Did she do something wrong to be in this situation?…

“So Mary do you have family?”

She looks up in the mans dark eyes before shaking her head slowly. The man frowns a bit.

“You know one thing I hate.. Is when my pets lie to me.. Elizabeth Brown, Patrick brown, maya brown.. those names sound familiar?”

Mary widens her eyes slightly.

“Yeah.. They do. Alright..”

He gets up from his chair before slowly walking towards Mary. The poor girl tries to squirm back slightly but she can’t move very much. He grabs her jaw gently, making her look up at him.

“I want you to know that everyone who knew you thinks you’re dead. You’re trapped here. No one.. is looking for you do you understand that?”

Mary Jane’s expression looks even more terrified. Her lower lip trembling.

“What’s going on-“

A harsh stinging sensation hits her right cheek. He slapped her, her soft cheek turning red. The girl makes a soft whimper while flinching.

And just before she can open her eyes he grabs her jaw again, his grip this time being way harsher.

“No questions remember?”

He says before letting go of her face. Making it tilt down. He steps back before sitting down. Mary makes another soft whine, at the verge of tears as she’s so confused.. so exposed to a man she doesn’t know.

“I suppose having you understand why you’re here will help with your disobedience..”

The man adds, lookin at her body from toes up to her eyes, stopping before he glances in them, not phased by her terrified expression.

“I purchased you. You’re my pet. My plaything. My.. slave. I’m gonna hurt you and you’re going to follow my orders or it’s only going to be so much worse.”

He explains calmly, like the words he’s saying have a way less horrific meaning to them.

Mary keeps staring in his eyes, confused.. scared.. her breath stoping for a second.

“W.. what?..”

The girl doesn’t quite understand. Why would he just want to hurt her. when people get kidnapped they usually get sold back to their parents or just killed.. but why would someone abduct her for the sole purpose of inflicting harm.

The man smiles before he stands up, walking over to a small table in the back of the room. Mary can’t see what he’s doing but a sound of clinking metal can be heard. After a few seconds he walks back, holding a small scalpel between his fingers.

“Why don’t I make you understand hm?”

———————————————————————

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Philza looks better in his usual clothes, Bad thinks, but still terrible. Perched on a lamp between his children's beds, a blanket pulled tight across his shoulders, sleep deprivation in his eyes... Bad is not really surprised he has called someone to speak to, just is confused as to why its him.

Bad has better things to do. Like look for the eggs. And search for the eggs. And interrogate Federation Workers about the eggs.

But then, Philza also has better things to do than just sit there and stare at him.

So Bad stares back.

Eventually, eventually, Philza breaks the stalemate and speaks.

"What do you know of dreams?"

Bad raises an eyebrow at the comment, unsure what that could lead to, and even more confused as to why it was him called here to handle this.

In the end, he settles for the simplest answer. "People have them when they sleep."

Philza hums in return, eyes skittering a little frantically. He adjusts his position to be a little higher, but holds himself lower, peering down, "… you know my wife, yes?"

Now there is a loaded question. Bad tilts his head to one side.

"Kristin."

"Yes," Bad answers, seeing no reason to hide it now. Part-time grim reaper, Goddess of Death... Of course her husband knows something. "I work for her, on occasion."

"And you would kill anyone - myself, yourself - if we were a threat to the eggs?"

"Yes."

"Even Skeppy?"

Bad's nose twitches, warning in his tone. "He's not /here/, Philza."

Philza gives Bad an unimpressed look.

"If he was /somehow/ a threat to Dapper? Yes. Happy?"

Somehow Philza looks like he both tenses and relaxes at that answer. He moves as though to sit on the lamp he is perching on, before realising what he is doing and slipping onto the mossy floor.

"I had a dream while I was asleep," Philza says instead of answering the question. "But, the longer I am awake, the less like a dream it seems."

"Dreams usually work the other way," Bad frowns, checking his evidence in his mind. He does not really know much - Philza was missing for nine days, claims to have been asleep and woke up in his basement, and a potato and a poppy appeared on his person in that time. Bad suspects the Federation has done something to the old crow, probably made him some sort of sleeper agent, but… If Philza is willing to trust him, Bad supposes he can give him the benefit of the doubt and assume any betrayal is unwilling.

"I remember it too well," Philza replies, and Bad frowns some more - it is the opposite reaction most people have to the Federation. "I don't usually remember my dreams, or have them that vivid, or have space so perfect in them. I laughed it off to Tubbo, pretended I usually have dreams like that, but… Even my dreams of my world are not as clear as that."

"And you were left with the potato and the poppy after," Bad keeps his voice level. He tries very hard to keep his voice level as his mind runs away, wondering what is up. "You don't usually wake up in the basement either?"

"I should wake up where I fall asleep," Philza points at the chair. "I sat down, I told myself I wouldn't spend a night anywhere else until the eggs were back. I dreamt. I woke up in the basement."

There's something a bit distant to Philza's voice which Bad does not like, but does not like in the way of children crying in their rooms, or the thought of Baghera alone in the Federation's hands, or the silence which now reigns over his dungeon-home. He does not like it in ways of betrayal and pain and fire, either, but he is old. He knows better how to deal with those.

"… Are you not going to ask me?" Philza asks.

"Do I need to?" Bad asks back.

It must be the correct answer, as Philza gives a laugh.

"In the maybe-dream, I woke up in the chair," Philza says, pointing towards it. "The trapdoor was gone - it might have been when I went to bed, too, but the memory is hazy."

Interesting, Bad would say. He half remembers the trap door being missing on Monday as well, when he went to check on Chayanne and Tallulah's beds, but in not paying attention… It was there by Saturday, so Bad really is not sure either if he made that up.

"I thought I heard a sound in the basement, so I went to look. There was a box with two new pot plants, one on each side. The box was… one of those new ones, like Toby has on his burnt up platform? The dyeable ones - it was Tallulah's purple. Inside were a lot of poppies, and a book."

"A book?"

"Right," Philza frowns as he talks, sinking deeper into the mossy floor. "I don't remember exactly what it said, but it was about an old crow whose children were missing. I thought… I think I thought it was Tallulah sassing me - you know how it is - for not being here when they hurt… At the end was an instruction to travel light, and a set of coordinates."

It sounds like a trap. Bad doesn't say that - he knows Philza must know that, but he also knows that if he saw something written maybe by Dapper… Bad wouldn't hesitate to do what it said. Not a chance, not when his child might need him. So, Bad doesn't say anything, he just nods.

"Do you know my nest?" Philza asks, almost out of the blue.

"Your nest?" Bad blinks, trying to string it together.

Philza is already moving for the nearby warp access. "I'll leave a red sharestone. If you walk to spawn, it'll be ready by the time you get there. You should probably have it, just… bring anyone else. Not even Dapper - the eggs bought Tubbo, but nobody else knows. It's our safe place. But… nowhere's really safe. And I can't always be there to save them."

It's a branch of trust that Bad has been offered, one he isn't sure he deserves but is absolutely not going to turn down. If Philza's children like it then, yes, he needs to know. In case they are ever hurt there, in case one of the children needs their uncle Bad.

He walks the shirt distance to spawn, chewing over so far. It's not hard to work out why Philza is in a spin, but Bad is missing some of the puzzle. He hates having half of an answer more than none at all, but at least he seems to be getting everything about /this/ question the old bird knows.

Sure enough, by the time he has worked out which of the sharestones Philza meant by the red one, there's another option just reading 'bad uppies?'.

It's kinda funny, and funnier still when he takes it and ends up… up. High in the sky, so high he can see the peaks of great pillars of stone, and the top of a fortress-dungeon, but not the floor.

"Take the warpstone," Philza gestures to the centre as he puts the sharestone away. "Just in case."

"Just in case," Bad repeats.

The warpstone is itself called 'uppies', and it is a nest that is not quite a nest. It is suspended in the air, not in a tree, and made of harsh stone not twigs. A few bits of furniture are scattered about, however, and a brightly coloured rug. Signs from the children learning new words, and a lip at the edge to stop anyone tripping to their demise. If Bad's timeline is correct about the word learning task, it must have been the last place Philza took his children before he left for a week - and they vanished.

"The coordinates were near here," Philza says, then pauses. "Not super close, but closer than anything else. About another thousand south, if you have your glider?"

"Not grapples?"

"I remember the exact route I took in the dream, not the numbers," Philza shrugs a little, smiles self-depreciatingly. "Never was any good with numbers or words. If I do it differently, we might not get there." Bad hums, and nods - to know the entire route in a dream? Very strange - and follows as Philza jumps from the southern edge. Follows him to one snowy peak.

"I stopped here to get my stamina back," Philza explains when Bad also lands. "I was in a rush for my eggs, but I know how bad that fall can be."

Bad nods again; they continue.

They land at the edge of some water and a village, then walk the rest of the way in silence. Philza's steps are very certain, too certain to have only walked it once in a dream and a second time guided by one, and Bad checks over his inventory.

Just in case it is a trap. He doesn't think Philza could fake this confusion enough to willingly lead him into a trap, but that only stops it happening if he knows what he's doing.

Philza leads Bad to a patch of hill where the trees are strangely cut. A couple of hummingbirds sit, tame, on the floor.

"There was a giant birdhouse here," Philza says. "It was cute - I remember thinking Chayanne and Tallulah had built it. Should really have noticed the windows were made of reinforced concrete," another, self-hating chuckle. "Inside… so many hummingbirds. And… And Chayanne's floaty, and Tallulah's hat. Next to them was a book. I explored a little, looking to see if the eggs, were there, before going back for it - 'A Cage for a Cage' the book read."

From Philza's flinch that means something - Bad isn't sure what, but he can make a few guesses.

"Then Cucurucho was behind me, laughing. I begged him, threatened him, asked for the eggs. But he just kept laughing as he ran out of the door. Sealed me in with reinforced something or other 'I hope you enjoy the island' my ass."

Philza seethes, and Bad expects him done. He still gives him a moment before asking, "and then you woke up?"

"No," Philza frowns further. "That's the strange part. I cried myself to sleep wrapped around their items. I dreamt… more like I usually dream - of my home, of my hardcore world, small glimpses. /Then/ I woke up. Still in the birdhouse. I knew it had been a long time, then, days at least - I was hungry despite all the golden apples. The hummingbirds were sat on me, but the book and the eggs' things? Gone."

Dreams inside dreams? A continuious narrative broken by another sleep? A walk remembered fully and that maps onto reality one to one? Bad can see why Philza is suspicious.

"The door was different, too, no longer a security door but this cute flower covered thing. When I opened it, it just… lead me out. And there was a path over… this way?" Philza leads Bad along, maybe a minute's walk through the trees at most.

"You remember in the nether there were the half destroyed Federation booths?"

Bad nods; he does.

"There was… kinda like one of those, just here. Two partial walls, a bit of a roof, some floor. A table with two chairs - Cucurucho at one, watching me. I screamed for him to give my eggs back. He gave me a book. It…" Philza takes a deep breath. "It teased me for falling for the trap so easily, then it told me I had to wake up - if I didn't wake up soon, I never would."

Dream fudgery, maybe? Bad already suspects memory alteration, so the Federation implanting dreams, or otherwise messing with them, is not impossible. Or, perhaps, making reality into something dreamlike.

Bad knows Philza was neither in his chair nor in his basement last night, but Philza doesn't seem to.

"I was confused, then I woke up in the basement, right by where the box had been. But no box, all my items from before back… just with the extra poppy and potato in my inventory. And Pierre yelling outside asking if I was okay. Wasn't really time not to be, what with the Duck's messgae starting right after he dragged me down to spawn."

Bad hmms to himself and watches Philza check the floor again, looking for quartz that very definitely isn't there. He is not really sure what the angel wants from him. It certainly doesn't make Bad less suspicious - the Federation could easily have implanted other orders into his dreams, ones Philza won't know about until they are triggered - but maybe that's the point.

"I don't sleep like that, either. Never that long. Too easy for someone to sneak up on you," Philza frowns. "Tubbo suggested the food at the party was drugged, but for all I took I barely ate any. Why wouldn't someone else have passed out too?"

"Tubbo's… interesting," Bad offers, not even sure what he means by that himself.

Philza laughs, and its something a little manic, "I was asleep a week and despite Fit and Pac's best efforts he broke into the Federation twice, found the room the happy pills were forced on people, and got shot. And made enough factories I pass out from the air quality if I walk too fast through his base. Interesting's a word for it, mate."

"The Federation is messing with your brain," Bad says, rather than address the imploding disaster which is Tubbo. "I don't know what exactly, but… while you were asleep, people loosing memories was talk of the island."

"I /know/," Philza snaps. "How do you think I don't know they've done something to me? Who the fudge else would be able to break my reinforced trap door entirely? One way or another that was gone when I woke up that Saturday, and the party was real, and the maze? But it was there when I woke up for Carre. But it was a dream, it was just a dream, but now I have a flower and a potato and that can't have been a dream, but it has to have been. I had dreams inside that dream, Bad! How do I even know this is real? That I'm talking to you now? That I'm not still trapped in that stupid birdhouse? That the island is even real? That any of you are real? That this isn't some… Isn't some fevered dream as I die of some ancient illness I picked up from the sniffers. What if- What is even real, Bad? Is there even a reality? Do our eggs- I don't- I don't know any more."

It's then that Bad thinks that, maybe, he has worked it out - the illusive thing which Philza wants from him. He thinks of how, as soon as he saw him after the eggs went missing, Philza just stepped up and offered him a hug. How, for a moment, the world was real and for a few seconds Bad felt safe and like his skin was his own. Neither of them have any answers, Bad can't even promise this is real in the end.

But he can open up his arms, so he does.

Philza collapses into them, gripping onto his hoodie as he lets out an ear-splitting shriek. Once, twice, and then it calms slightly into choked off sobs and half-chirped phrases both apologising and doubting and Philza cursing himself.

Some birds scatter, others peer down from the nearby, fudged up trees.

"I'm here," is all Bad can offer to the man in his arms. "You didn't do anything wrong," it tastes like a lie and yet Bad can't tell where the mistake was.

"I'm real, and I've got you."

Nearby one of the blue hummingbirds starts flying away. Bad does not trust it; he leans close and whispers, "where's your closest warp to mine? Let's go there where we can sit down."

Philza gives him the name, and Bad encourages him to warp - promises to follow. He watches for Philza's name disappearing and then reappearing on the map.

And then he grins a little sharp, turning his face out into the woods. "I don't appreciate spies."

Something atarts running; Bad lights a match, and starts a forest fire.

Surrounded by flames, he warps after Philza.

He has muffins at home. Muffins will cheer Philza up a bit, yes? They can have muffins, and coffee, and hug on the couch, and work out who they need to kill.

[kukurykunapatyku]

[I.D.: Drawing of Ichiji and Ace from One Piece. Both are inside rectangle frames, Ace in right up corner and Ichiji in left down corner, their boxes intersect in the middle. Ace is seen from behind, waist up, with his head thrown back. There is crown of alternating golden lines and red spheres around his head. He doesn't have a shirt or whitebeard tatoo. In the background there is Vinsmokes' skull. Ichiji is seen from the front, hips up, slightly from above. He holds a heart in his outsretched hand. He has blood on his hands and shirt. He wears grey shirt, black trousers and white cape with red lining. His eyes are visible, he looks focused. Words '"The first"? Weird name to give a son.' and 'Perfect for a sacrifice though.' fill the remaining corners of the drawing. /End I.D.]

Vinsmoke shipping week day 1: First meet / Immortal x mortal

How to get unimaginable power, by Vinsmoke Judge:

capture a fallen star -> try to make a deal with it -> get your favourite son to make a sacrifice in your place -> ??? -> profit

I'm boo boo the fool. I got an idea for au, made illustration first, thought the quote sounded good and filled the empty space. And then I got to writing and realised I have nowhere to put the quote so it would made sense 😗

This was supposed to be one shot for the vinsmoke shipping week but this au grew on me, i might do something with it in the future Not a lot of romance here I'm afraid 👍 maybe next time

🔽Fic under readmore 🔽 Also on Ao3

cw: slight gore, dehumanizing (refering to he/him with it/its)

Heavy basement doors closed with a dull thud behind Ichiji. The fog from his breath danced in the air, looking for any crevice that would let it out of the room.

Deep underground, sealed with runes and cement, only torches illuminating the dark - someone could call the precautions unneeded, but Ichiji knew better. He looked towards their prisoner, trapped on a painted floor.A catch like this was once in a lifetime.

The star didn't show that it noticed him yet. No matter, it wasn't needed for the first part.

Repeating father's instructions, Ichiji took a piece of chalk out of his pocket a got to work. Slender lines began to fill the empty spaces on stone walls and floor; circles, crosses and vines intersecting each other in carefully calculated patterns. The star didn't seem to move, but Ichiji could feel its eyes following him around the room. Good, so it's conscious. Not letting it disrupt him, he came back to the drawings. They needed to be perfect for the barter to work out.

He noticed, Ace thought, peeking from behind his eyelids. Well well, wasn't he an observant bastard. One that knew what he was doing; the symbols, even incomplete, already brimmed with power that made his throat dry and set of ringing in his ears. Ah, so he wantsa deal. A pretty serious one, he added to himself, looking at the size and complexity of the circle. His eyes trailed after the caped man. A few healing sigils, couple time capsules, warding lines - probably a kidney. Ace licked his lips. Maybe an eye or two if he was lucky.

Finally finished, the guy stopped before him.

"I know you are awake," he huffed.

Ace slowly opened his eyes and got better look at the figure before him. Sparse light glistened on red hair and sunglasses, the rest disappearing and reappearing from shadows.

"Why hello there," Ace said with a crooked smile. "What brings you here?"

"The deal."

Ace grimaced. Barely a word. The offering better be worth the drag; at least it'll get him out of this shitty basement.

"Silly me, of course. But, you know, there should be some decorum to this. Usually people start with their name."

Redhead stared down at him. Or at least Ace assumed he did, it was hard to tell with covered eyes. After a few moments of contempt silence the contrarian in him finally won.

"Okay, see, it goes like this:" He pointed at his chest and pronounced with exaggerated care. "My. Name. Ace." He turned the finger on him. "You. Name. What?"

For a second the shape of something like embarrassment appeared on the guy's face before it smoothed over again.

"Vinsmoke Ichiji. The oldest prince of Germa Kingdom, where you currently reside."

Ace widened his eyes. The guy- Ichiji actually responded? That was a new one. He grinned; maybe this won't be a complete waste of time.

"Ichiji... <First>? Weird thing to name a child. Your parents must be something else."

One curly brow went up.

"Is that so, Ace?"

Ace shrugged.

"I said what I said." he looked up. "So, Germa? Can't say I ever heard of it. Eh, it's not like I heard of many human kingdoms."

"You do not find us interesting, I get."

"Oh, the opposite! I find you humans really interesting; it's just your kingdoms that are just so incredible dull. You have a habit of pretending that they matter but truth be told? If you look from the side, they all look exactly the same."

Ichiji tilted his head. "Hm."

"You look less upset than I expected from someone who introduced himself as a prince," Ace inquired.

"Arguing wouldn't do anything, would it? That is not what I'm here to do." He pulled something small from his pocket and knelt next to Ace. "We should proceed."

The clang of iron shackles falling on the floor shot through the room. Ace rubbed his aching wrist.

"Well, it was nice to chat."

But Ichiji wasn't done. With the same key he started scrapping the paint from the stones around Ace. Not enough to free him, but the returning power buzzed under his skin. Ace stared with stunned expression; this deal really was going to be something else.

"Lets begin," Ichiji declared.

The air grew electrified, wind without a source banging between the walls. Ichiji stood up and draw his hands together, quietly chanting the words that made Ace's hair stand up. Ace transfixed on the redhead. His mouth curved into the feral smile, unable to contain excitement singing in his veins at the promised feast.

And then Mr. prince plunged his hand deep into his chest, blood spraying around. Sudden scent hit Ace's nose and he took sharp breath, which just made the aroma travel further his lungs, clouding mind and senses. Ichiji reached towards him with the still-beating muscle in his grip.

Ace seized the heart and bite down, savory juices exploding in his mouth, tender flesh ripping between his teeth. The blood stained his mouth so he tried to lick it off, teared between devouring the treat as fast as possible and not wasting a single drop. He was leaping from joy, fresh meat satiating his ever-present hunger for a moment and filling him with new strength. The flame inside his gut grew with every swallowed morsel; when was the last time he had a treat like this?

Engrossed in the food, Ace for a moment forgot about Ichiji, who dropped on his knees, sunglasses clinking on the floor. The blood on his chest dripped slowly, the sigils doing their job. Breathing heavily, he reached forward and grabbed the closest arm. Ace looked back at him, hastily gulping down last bits of the offering.

"Oh, right, the deal. Sorry about that. But man," He glanced down. "You must be pretty desperate! So, let's hear it."

"Give my father the power to conquer all the Northern Kingdoms."

His face froze. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I- No-"

"The heart is valuable enough, we did the math. You have no reason to refuse."

"Hold on for a moment!" shouted Ace. "That's why you're doing it?"

Ichiji squinted his eyes. "Just do it. That was the deal."

"I don't care what happens to your silly kingdoms, whatever their compass points at, but you did all this-" He gestured at the growing red spot on his shirt. "-because your father asked you to?"

"Of course," Ichiji mouthed. "He is my father."

Ace saw red.

"Ah." The ice crept in his voice. "I see. The answer is no then."

That seemed to get the reaction. Ichiji jerked his head, fingers clawing harder into Ace's bicep. "You can't just refuse, that's not how it works! I gave you an offering-"

"Yeah, so I'm going to grant your wish. If your father wants something from me, he can offer me his own heart, instead of sending you."

"My wish is for you to grant my father's."

"Nope, not doing it."

"You-" The argument was interrupted with a coughing fit, Ichiji's grip losing some of its strength. Ace caught his spasming body before it hit the floor and swore, suddenly much too aware of how quickly his life was draining away. He was going to keel over the second he was out of the protection circle. But they couldn't stay here, someone will come here sooner or later and then...

An idea struck him with a flash.

"Hold on, stay still for a moment..."

Ace doubted Ichiji heard him, still trying to catch his breath, so he shifted him around and put a hand on his chest. He exhaled and let the warmth flow towards the hole; the magic meandered its way between frayed skin and muscle, healing what it could, and what it couldn't...

The beating returned, it's pulse synchronized to Ace's own, too soft to be human. There was no time to celebrate; he focused, pulled on the strings surrounded them both, stretched them and clenched his teeth. He braced for what was to come and let go.

The furry of light and colours surrounded them, the force beating the air out of his lungs, astral wind blowing the hair all over the place.

And the next second, it was over. Ace knelt on the sandy beach, retching. Crap. He leaped to his feet, already turning towards the body.

Ichiji could breathe again. He opened his eyes and stiffened when he realized where he was. Or rather where he wasn't.

"Oh, so it did work!"

"How?" Ichiji growled.

The star grinned.

"Well, it wasn't easy with your heart missing, but I managed to-"

"How did you escape?"

It pursed its lips.

"Of course that's what you're worried about. You're in luck, because those two things are connected." It pointed one finger up. "First! I used some of my flame to keep you alive. I can't give you your heart back, since I already ate it, but you shouldn't die for some more time." It grimaced. "It's not a permanent solution, so you'll need to find something else."

Ichiji made an annoyed face. It put another finger up.

"Second! Because of the seals I couldn't just disappear myself, but I could send you away. And we're connected now, so I can't be too far from you. So when I pushed you out, you pulled me with you, and that's how we're here." It grinned again, arms outstretching to the sides, as if showing him the beach. "As far from that basement as I could put us!

"And third!" Next finger joined the rest. "Your wish."

Ichiji gritted his teeth.

"I already told you what I wish for. You refused. There should be some punishment for that."

"Oh don't worry, there is! But I hadn't broken our deal yet." Star crossed its arms. "I fully intend to grant your wish. But only yours."

"Give my father the power to conquer all the Northern Kingdoms."

The vein appeared on its forehead.

"Wrong answer. Let me get this straight." It leaned over him. "With the power I got from your sacrifice I manged to not only put your death on hold, but also get us both out despite all the obstacles. Do you think I would be able to do that if I was going against your heart? The way I see it, on some level, you wanted to leave. And on some level-" he stumbled. "On some level you didn't want to die. So that's how it's going to go. I'll stick around until you can give me your wish, your true wish. I'll grant it and the deal will be finished. And don't try to put any crap like the kingdom stuff."

Ichiji scowled.

"And if I try to come back and tell father about this you will just-"

"I'll just push us as far away as possible! Good, you're learning."

Ichiji glared at Ace. "It does not sound like I have a choice."

"That's something you're used to, isn't it?"

Ichiji didn't answer.

[hutahuta]

Subtle things he do when he in love with you with pavia?

P.AGE OO.3— 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐔𝐌 & NOBILITY : 交 ✦ ⏱

GN!Reader — // wjajqksjwjs ilysm anon you're such a sweetheart !!! (*´▽`*)ﾉｼ

request more !! they're so fun.

i hope this is okay,, i'm not sure if I did good with this jwkskwkskk

Subtle? Ha. What's subtle about this man? ( *ᴗˬᴗ)⁾

But maybe. — it is possible.

Midnight Intimacy — Hear me out, I don't think Pavia would really sing in front of you. ( Or he might, it depends really. It might be really exaggerated since he does really want to hear your laughs. ) But he definitely hums a quiet melody, maybe even sings the words a little then and there under his thick accent as he holds your tender body close to him, rocking back and forth as if the both of you are sitting on one of those rocking chairs. Familiar songs that were popular dated back to the 1990's.

An era where music hit its prime with vinyl records and static radios with its rocking music blasting away at the seams, what's not to love about such things? I'd imagine it's something he finds quite joyous about life, given the only music he'd ever hear was the taps of water draining on the ground and the mice squeaking in quiet unison with one another. Silence was all he'd ever hear so hearing something so uplifting with words that strung out together so perfectly in mesh with the instrumentals; must've made him feel like music is the reason life has any meaning at all. And he wants to share that with you. Even if it's something so small as singing and dancing in that moment.

Spoiling you. — Wallets and leftover items that he'd pick up from his prey definitely meant that he'd get a chance of spoiling you with jewellery as a advantage to trap your attention. Even if you aren't keen on receiving lavish gifts, it doesn't matter. Because you're definitely given the necklace of a man's wife that he took it upon himself to grace you with. Maybe even a new watch plucked out of someone's wrist, which Pavia's ever so refined fingers had strangled the last, paled words out of his prey's throat before he had stolen the goods inside.

I'd imagine that as much of a passionate man he is, Pavia isn't keen on sharing much of his collections with strangers. But he is quite big on exhibiting his beautiful cabinet if it's with you, full of his draped stolen jewellery that can be given and devoted to you. New rings and chains to adorn your perfect clothes. Bby wants to impress you. Maybe a pair of earrings that would suit you quite nicely. His way of showing his love to you may vary from physical touch or spoiling you with his gifts.

Which does bring another factor into play.

Physical Touch. — Nearby, he may trail a hand down your thigh whenever you two chatter amongst each other. His hands graze your arms softly, trying to pay attention to your words as he can't help but linger his fingertips through your back. His hand stays a little too long on your waist. Eyes dance back and forth from your nose to your hands. Your clothes, your facial expressions and movements.. everything. His eyes may linger on you for longer periods of time,,

Don't take this as 'psychopath' behaviour. He just wants to get a feel of his beloved. What's not to love about you anyways? You're perfect in his eyes. All for him to keep too? Feels like the universe finally rewarded him with something so great in his life after his entire childhood was spent being greased and rotted away in a basement under the neglectful back of his Aunt.

Scent. — I suppose you can somewhat see it, right?

He enjoys the thought you wearing his clothes. His perfumes, his scents, he wants to make it rubbed entirely upon your body. He may get too close, nudging your shoulder with his chest. Maybe leaning into your ear for too long as you can feel his hands gripping and kneading the soft material of your clothing. He undoubtedly has the mindset that having you embroider his aroma may make others think that you are somewhat affiliated with Pavia. In more ways than one.

Historians may tell others that you two were only the bestest of friends.

[kanehara-chillveil]

🎧Kanehara Siblings backstory🦌

TW: Murder, minor description of violence, Stockholm syndrome, death, mention of abuse, hinted assault, I might have missed some things, just beware.

Chill Kill - Adjective, describes something which disturbs a period of relaxation or do-nothingness. Also the name of Riki’s ability

Riki, Kotoko, Asahi and Ruka were born to the famous actress and singer, Hitomi. Their father, Vega Chase, a ghostly presence in their lives, was completely absent. Hitomi, unfortunately after the three siblings were born, made the decision to leave them at an orphanage, hoping they would have a better life without her. Also fearing the consequences the news that she had children might do to her career.

Years passed, and the siblings were adopted by a man whose outward kindness masked a darker intent. Instead of a home filled with love, Riki, Asahi, Ruka and Kotoko found themselves trapped in a basement with horrible things taking place there, their childhood had been stolen away by a cruel captor. They clung to each other, with Kotoko finding solace in the little things—like singing and dancing—to feel free, if only for a moment. Asahi, having been very sick since birth, was unable to do much except watch. And Ruka had taken up doing different art projects with the few things they were allowed to have.

The man who adopted them controlled every aspect of their lives, his presence a constant, suffocating shadow. But their lives took an even darker turn when Riki, driven by a desperate need to protect his siblings, killed the man who had tormented them for years.

The four siblings, shaken but resolute, worked together to hide the body, cleaning up the scene and burying the man under the floorboards. In the meantime, poor Asahi was losing it. After being used to the man and the basement, he had developed Stockholms Syndrome, he helped out too, but the man’s death seemed to have affected him the most since he was also the youngest. After they finished cleaning up, Ruka tried to sneak out and get rid of the murder weapon. But Kotoko caught her and tried to stop her and they fought. Ruka had a stressed breakdown while Kotoko was barely holding it together. Meanwhile, Riki was having a hard time too, he was having troubles dealing with what he’d done. Because though he did do it to help his siblings, he also destroyed the only reality they’re familiar with.

Kotoko, for instance, went back to the basement to watch TV. She was free, she could go (relatively) anywhere, yet she CHOOSE to stay in the basement.

 When Riki brings her dinner, in fact, and switches off the TV in an attempt to make Kotoko come with him, outside of the basement, Kotoko snaps at him.

She seems angry at Riki for forcing her to face the changes brought about by the chill kill, and Riki understands, which is why he hugs Kotoko instead of fighting her. After at least a week of the siblings staying in the house, they collectively decided to try to leave, Riki was the one who usually went out to “get” (steal-) things like food and other stuff, but while he was out, he had met someone named Fuma Kaguya who said that he was the leader of a small organization that would take in Riki and his siblings if they ever needed help. So they decided to take Fuma up on his offer. Unfortunately, both Ruka and Asahi had died beforehand, with Ruka dying from an infection and the sickness claiming Asahi as one of its fatal victims. Later on, Riki and Kotoko found out that Fuma was their stepbrother on their father’s side and that their mother was still alive, Fuma informed Kotoko of the sibling’s existence and she soon came to claim her two surviving children. Whether they’re also members of XY is unclear.

@paintedgrilledcheese

[heliads]

don't ask too many questions - hayconroland

Hayden wants Connor. Connor clearly doesn't want Hayden, but he does want Hayden to stop hanging around Roland. Or maybe he just doesn't want them to be together when he's not there.

masterlist

Hayden Upchurch is seventeen years old and sick of himself when he realizes he’s in love with his best friend. The one who’s dating his other best friend, that is. The one who would never, ever, fall for someone like Hayden. 

He’s had a problem with daydreaming, always has. Feels like the worst part of his heritage– two actor parents, of course he’d come up with a fantasy, everyone around him with a part to play to secure his happy ending. Hayden wants to believe that the world revolves around him and so he does. Even when his parents split. Even when they give him up to be dismembered. Even when he comes in contact with the one boy who finally might put him first, and then doesn’t.

But then again, who hasn’t wanted to be in love with Connor Lassiter? Hayden hasn’t met a single soul in the Graveyard who hasn’t contemplated it at some point. Sure, some make a point of pretending they’d never go there, but they would. They all would. Even Hayden. That’s kind of why this aches so bad. Connor has his pick of anyone in the world, even if he hasn’t put that together yet. He could have anyone, and he doesn’t want Hayden.

The worst part is, Hayden’s pretty sure he could have made it happen were it not for the fact that the good story has already started to play out. Connor chose Risa. Of course he would. It’s a match made in heaven, if there’s any bit of heaven reserved for the bits-and-pieces Unwinds even a mother couldn’t love. Pretty people fall in love with pretty people. Risa’s smart and Connor’s brave. Hayden knew it was over for him the second they showed up together, and with a baby no less. God, it’s like they’re already jumpstarting their iconic unwind celebrity family.

It makes him want to gag, and he probably would, if it weren’t for the fact that he feels more like sobbing instead. Technically, Connor and Risa haven’t announced anything, or done anything for that matter, but they don’t have to. Hayden’s seen enough lovesick glances to know a crush when it’s right in front of his face.

It was one thing when he could hide from the truth of it, tucked away in the darkness of the antique store basement. In the shadows, Hayden could convince himself of anything, even that the Akron Awol might find him hot. And– it’s stupid, right? Hayden knows he’s hot. The PR agent his parents hired for him since the age of five has made sure of that. Yet all it takes is one (honestly, average) teenage outlaw and Hayden’s wondering if his hair has somehow lost its luster or if his eyes are starting to bleach out their blue. Maybe his jokes are falling flat. Maybe he was never funny in the first place. Maybe that’s why Connor wouldn’t look at him unless his feet were on fire or something.

Trapped in the Graveyard, there’s no hiding from the truth. Stuck labeling boxes and unpacking crates, Hayden has the perfect view as Connor and Risa make more excuses to find each other. He’s organizing canned food now, slamming each box down with unnecessary force so he doesn’t punch somebody instead. He has the perfect view through the bars of the storage caddy as Connor benefits from another excuse to visit the medical wing.

Connor has just emerged from the med bay, grinning ear to ear. He shakes his head foolishly as he heads back into the sunlight, as if unable to believe himself. Hayden can’t believe it, either. He certainly can’t believe that he’s still letting himself feel so terrible over the proud smirk on Connor’s face, the pride that certainly means he’s not holding himself back the way Hayden is.

He can’t do this anymore. Slumped against a wall of crates, Hayden’s eye catches a flicker of pink amongst the scores of labels. It’s a heart, part of a logo of some company. Filled with a sudden, irrational burst of anger, he lunges forward and tears the heart away, piece by piece, until blood wells up underneath the edges of his fingertips. He sucks on his index finger to take the sharp prick of pain away, cursing both the can and himself. He could go to medical to get it cleaned up, of course, but then he’d have to see Risa, and that’s out of the question.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

A sudden voice nearly makes Hayden jump out of his skin. He bangs his head against one of the shelves, and straightens up, swearing, to get a good look at whoever’s just surprised him. Oddly enough, it’s Roland. He doesn’t usually bother Hayden, opting instead to save himself the nuisance of Hayden’s endless barbs and digs at his expense, but apparently Hayden’s done something today to warrant the visit. Lovely.

“Jesus,” Hayden mutters under his breath, rubbing the sore spot on his head, “Where’d you come from? Don’t tell me you’ve taken to spawning out of the shadows now.”

Roland just chuckles, face completely deadpan. “I’ll consider it. Why do you look like you just got hit by a bus? I want to know who beat me to it.”

Hayden rolls his eyes. He barely has the strength to deal with his own thoughts. Roland is so far from what Hayden can deal with, it’s not even funny. “Can you just– just fuck off, will you? Go bother one of the little kids and leave me alone.”

He tries to storm off, but there isn’t much room tucked in amongst the crates, so Hayden is only able to stomp a few feet away and stand with his back to Roland, glowering at the jars of green olives in front of him. He can just make out Roland’s reflection behind him in the watery sheen of the glass, the confused furrow of his brow.

“What’s gotten into you?” Roland asks, genuinely curious.

Hayden doesn’t even bother to answer. He reaches out, uselessly straightening the rows of olives in the hopes that Roland will get bored and leave him alone. Strangely enough, Roland doesn’t, and walks closer to Hayden until they’re shoulder to shoulder again.

“Seriously,” Roland says. “I’ve never known anything that could make you shut up. I’m kind of jealous.”

Against his will, Hayden’s gaze betrays him and flits through the gaps in the crates to where Connor still idles near the medical bay. Roland turns his head to follow Hayden’s line of breath and he sucks in a breath as he puts the pieces together far too quickly.

“Oh,” Roland says, voice strangely deep. “Oh, shit.”

Hayden feels as if all the blood in his body has suddenly rushed to his feet. His face must be like bone, stripped of any sign of light. “You shut the fuck up,” he says unsteadily, “You shut the fuck up, I swear to God, I’ll kill you, I swear it. I’ll fucking kill you. I’ll hit you so bad you won’t even walk. Don’t you say a damn thing.”

They both know it’s bullshit, Roland could kick Hayden’s ass in a second. This close, practically breathing down each other’s throats, Hayden can sense all that muscle, vibrating with nerves. Everything in Roland is electric, ready to pounce, but instead, he says raggedly, “I can help with that.”

Hayden blinks in surprise. “You want to help me kill you?”

Roland shakes his head disgustedly. “No, dumbass. I can help you with Connor.”

Hayden just stares. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

Something like a muscle twitch pulls the corner of Roland’s lips up into a half-smirk. “I like getting under his skin. Maybe under his shirt, at least.”

A flash of white-hot courses through Hayden in an instant. He waits for Roland to start laughing, or start swinging, to tell him that he’d been joking, or messing with him, or something, anything, for this situation to make sense. Instead, Roland leans a little closer, expectant, and Hayden realizes that he’s not joking around at all.

“Alright,” Hayden says at last. “What did you have in mind?”

Roland’s teeth bare in a full grin. “I was hoping you’d ask. See, I’ve noticed something about our mutual friend. Connor doesn’t do very well with jealousy.”

Hayden laughs derisively before he can stop himself. “Problem with that one, Roland. Connor isn’t jealous of either of us.”

Roland doesn’t look remotely fazed by this. “Want to bet?”

They both turn as one again to look over at Connor. Stupid, reckless Connor, who’s straightened up to look back at them, who may be seeing two silhouettes behind the storage crates where there should just be one. Connor doesn’t look quite so carefree anymore. In fact, although it may be reaching, Hayden would go so far as to say that he looks quite worried indeed.

Hayden lets out a low whistle. “You actually might be right about that one.”

Roland scoffs. “I’m usually right. You just don’t pay attention.”

Hayden fights the urge to roll his eyes again and only mostly succeeds. “How’d you know?”

Roland initiates an elaborate shrug. “I know what to do when a boy doesn’t give me what I want.”

He’s really close right now, Hayden realizes. He’s not sure when Roland got that close, but Hayden can either stay here or back up, and this closed in surrender doesn’t really seem like an option, so he stays. Roland’s breath is hot on his mouth. They’re still so damn close. This might be what heatstroke feels like. Insanity may set in soon, if it hasn’t already.

“Alright,” Hayden stumbles. “Let’s make him jealous, then.”

Roland’s grin really is sharklike, Hayden decides, but he can’t tell if he’s the prey or Connor. Maybe both. “Great choice.”

Before Hayden can do or say something stupid, Connor appears around the stack of crates, peering at both of them dubiously. “What are you two doing?”

Roland reacts immediately, like he was waiting for it. Probably salivating over their moment of discovery, too, like a dog with the premise of a bone. “Talking, Connor. You’re familiar with it?”

He claps his hand down on Hayden’s shoulder, and Hayden does his best not to startle. He feels like he’s hyper aware of everything going on with his bicep, down to the slightest shuffle of Roland’s fingers against the fabric of Hayden’s shirt, or the heaviness of Roland’s breathing despite doing his best to pretend as if nothing were the matter.

Connor seems to notice it too. His eyes are glued to Roland’s hand on Hayden, and it seems to take him considerable effort to swallow harshly and say, “That true, Hayden?”

Hayden can practically feel Roland’s gaze boring down on him, demanding that he play along. Well, Hayden’s perfectly fine with playing along. It’s supposed to be in his genes, isn’t it? “All good, Connor. Just fucking around on duty. You going to report us to the Admiral?”

He manages to force a chuckle as he says it, and Roland nods along, clearly pleased. Connor swallows again. “Just– get back to work, will you?”

“So bossy, isn’t he?” Roland muses, and it seems like an inside joke between him and Hayden. Hayden laughs because he can, because he should. Connor looks like he’s stopped being able to understand the language they’re speaking.

Roland lets the moment sit a second longer, then tears his hand from Hayden at last and sweeps away, purposely bumping into Connor as he goes. Both Hayden and Connor watch him disappear. Connor turns back to Hayden once Roland is out of view, and says hoarsely, “What was that?”

Hayden can’t answer.

Everything feels different, and does for hours after. Days, even. At meals, Roland appears to drag Hayden away by the arm, and they eat alone together, tucked in a corner of the room where no one else can reach them. They’re always touching, somehow– a shin against a shin, a hand on an arm, fingers grasping the back of Hayden’s neck like the scruff of a dog. He’s going to explode with the force of something great and terrible, but Connor first, because Connor has to see all this happen and not feel it, too, not like Hayden. Hayden gets to feel it all, because Roland asked him, not Connor. It feels fucking fantastic.

It all comes to a head about a week later. Connor’s been strumming with the rage of not being the first choice for several days now. Hayden wants to tell him that he’s being really selfish– how long had Hayden put up with the same thing, anyway, several weeks? Months? Longer than this, at least. Hayden could take it if their situations were reversed. Probably.

Connor’s been trying to talk to Hayden all day, but Hayden keeps dodging him, claiming to be busy or something. At last, when night falls, Connor tracks him down and Hayden runs out of excuses.

“It’s dark,” he tries to claim, Connor’s hand thick and strong on the sleeve of his jacket, “People are trying to sleep, Connor. We can’t disturb them.”

“Fine,” Connor says icily, and all but drags him to one of the grounded planes. 

Roland meets them halfway there. Maybe the scent of Hayden’s fear carries across the whole damn Graveyard. Sure feels that way, at least. He says not a word but walks with them, opens the door of the plane. Locks it behind them.

Then they’re all standing in a rough circle, Connor’s hand still stuck on Hayden’s jacket sleeve. “I want to know what this is about,” he says roughly. “And don’t try to bullshit me. You’re doing something.”

Roland folds his arms across his chest, all casual. “We’re doing something, alright.”

Connor almost growls with irritation. “You’re trying to bother me. I get it, I’ve been snapping at everybody. Fine. It’s dangerous out there, I wanted to keep us safe. Sue me, but talk to me, instead of doing this.”

Roland grins. Sharklike again. Like he doesn’t know how to smile any other way. “What are we doing, Connor? You tell us.”

“Us,” Connor seethes. “There’s never been an us. This is what I’m talking about. You keep playing up this– this thing between the two of you. You’re trying to get to me, I don’t know why, but I’m sick of it. Can’t you be normal for once in your lives?”

Hayden can sense the power thrumming through the room, turning the air thick and hot with imbalance, but for once, it’s not on Connor’s side. It feels good to be the one in charge, he has to say. Hayden doesn’t usually like it, but he does now.

“Why would us talking bother you, Connor?” He says, relaxed as anything. “I don’t see what could possibly be the problem. We’re just talking.”

Connor rounds on him. “You’re not just talking, though. I know you aren’t. Maybe you’re trying to get me out or something. I don’t know what you’re doing.”

Roland stalks closer. “It bothers you, doesn’t it? Not knowing what we’re up to.”

“That’s what I just said,” Connor spits out, but he doesn’t sound as self-righteous as he did before. In fact, his voice wobbles slightly on the last syllable, just like it had when he’d caught them the first time.

“I don’t know why it would bother you,” Hayden says matter-of-factly. “To be honest, if you’ve got anything wrong with it, I think you should prove it. Otherwise, I mean, how would we know what you want?”

It’s a good move, Hayden’s proud of it. Even Roland’s grinning, the two of them in on another joke. Connor chafes against that exclusion like a dog at a bit, foaming at the mouth at the thought of them having anything without him.

“What I want,” Connor says slowly, voice thick with it, “is for you two to stop fucking around like this. Stop looking at me like I’m the odd one out. You two hate each other, anyway.”

Roland stalks closer. The way he’s eying Connor is downright predatory. “I think I’m confused. Do you want us to stop, or do you want to be a part of it?”

“I don’t even know what it is,” Connor tries to say, but his voice drops away into nothingness the closer Roland gets to him. Hayden can understand the feeling. He still feels like the floor of the plane isn’t all too steady anymore.

“I think you do,” Roland says. He looms over them both now, less in stature and more in spirit. The span of him could last forever. Enough for Connor and Hayden to share, and a little left over too.

Hayden’s jacket is on the floor, and he only knows it happens at all because of the quick flash of Connor’s hands ripping it off of him in the corner of Hayden’s vision. Roland doesn’t even react to the motion. He just keeps staring at the two of them, grinning, waiting. Then he moves, is on them in an instant, and there’s nothing any of them could have done after that.

Hayden honestly doesn’t know if Connor was there to stop them or join. In the end, it doesn’t matter. Hayden knows how that would-be intervention ended, and it didn’t really seem like Connor was that keen on any of them stopping, for that matter.

He has no idea what’s going to happen after this. Roland’s plan really only went so far as getting Connor to snap, no continuity for the fallout. For once, though, Hayden doesn’t think he needs a plan for how to act, what to do. Maybe he can just make it up as he goes along. Roland and Connor would be down, and nothing else really matters. Everything is business as usual and he feels good. Really good, actually, and if Hayden’s voice is oddly hoarse the next morning, most people have the good sense not to ask why.

Most people, that is. Risa sidles up to Hayden later that day. He’s pretending to organize some cans of food, although he starts pretending extra hard when he notices the suspicious look on her face. 

“The windows on one of the planes were quite fogged up this morning,” Risa remarks. 

“Planes do that sometimes,” Hayden replies calmly. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Risa casts him a sidelong glance, but when Hayden refuses to extrapolate on that absolute failure of a sentence, she sighs so deeply he’s pretty sure the Admiral could hear it from his office. She looks like she’s going to call him out on this obvious bit of bullshit, but then she spots something across the tarmac and straightens up a little. 

“Never mind,” she says, “I think I’ve answered my own question.”

Risa starts to walk away, then pauses as if she’s just thought of something important and turns back to him. “Don’t do anything stupid, Hayden. Or anything else stupid.”

With those inspiring words of wisdom, Risa heads back the way she’d come. Hayden frowns, confused, then tries to figure out what she’d been looking at to change her mind so quickly. 

It doesn’t take long to figure it out. Shaded by the metal underbelly of one of the Graveyard’s many planes, two figures stand close together, their shoulders brushing as they whisper. Roland and Connor. Two people who supposedly hate each other, who did hate each other or were at least good at pretending until last night. Now, instead of trying to kill each other, they’re muttering back and forth, all the while both eyeing Hayden with identical, bloodthirsty grins. Like they knew exactly what prey they wanted. Like they already knew it was twitching under their claws. 

Oh, Hayden is so fucked. But hasn’t that always been true?

unwind tag list: @reinekes-fox, @sirofreak, @locke-writes

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Changes chapter 19

< Previous chapter

Series Masterlist

It wasn't often that the widow ventured outside of her house, but when she did, it was always raining. It meant fewer people to deal with and more space for her. Just how she liked it.

That day, however, she noticed how one boy - she had seen him before, chaotically 'ruling' the boardwalk - seemed to be in a heated conversation with the comicbookstore owner. The widow frowned, curiosity rippling through her veins. She casted a quick and quiet spell, allowing her to hear exactly what was going on.

"What the hell do I pay you for? You're supposed to find -"

"This is how we find her! I don't know what kind of mess you and your girlfriend got yourselves into, but it is bad."

"Then you really need to hurry up with the good stuff, because if I find her and she's been harmed in anyway-"

"Then it won't be on me. Or you, for that matter."

"Fuck you."

The man sighed, handing Greg a single paper. "This was dropped at my doorstep this morning. I wouldn't call, I think it's a trap or a cruel joke, but if you really want to try, I won't stop you."

Greg didn't say anything as he walked off, looking for a phone box. He found one right across from Max' videostore. He opened the glass door, looked at the paper, and dialled the number. He didn't say anything as he let the phone ring. Once. Twice. Then he heard a click, someone picking it up on the other side.

"If I am speaking to Greg," it was an almost robotic voice that came through, making him blink. Robotic voices were a thing from movies, not reality, right?

"We have Shelly. You can have her back. A trade. Give us the mute girl. You will get Shelly. Two nights. Cemetery lane."

The phone beeped, and the call ended. Greg laid the horn back on its holder, leaning his head on his hands. He could get Shelly back. He could get her back and get rid of that girl that had hurt Shell on the night of her disappearance. Sure, he would have to watch out for the Lost Boys the girl hung out with, but he could deal with that. He grinned, a plan forming in the back of his mind.

He would get Shelly back.

"Hey, Jules." Paul practically jumped on Julie's bed in the cave when he realised she was awake. She rolled her eyes, sighing sleepily as she sat up, stuffed bat in her arms. She looked at him. There was something off about his demeanour. More determined, less carefree.

"Max and the rest of us have been making plans for a while now." He began, realisation dawning on Julie. They were working on a plan to find a low-level employee of COL.

"We found one. Max has kept him in his basement."

Julie nodded. That explained why she had stayed with the boys for the past few days.

"Now, Max doesn't think we should tell you, but I mean - all of this started with you. You deserve to know. I think so anyways."

Paul looked at her, smiling as she nodded.

"See, that's what I tried to tell the others, but they didn't want to listen. Anyways, we're trying to get an answer out of him, to see who the boss is and all that - and I was wondering if you wanted to be there. If not, that's totally fine. We can do something else. But I think you should have that choice."

Julie thought for a moment before giving Paul a tight hug. As much as it scared her to come face to face with he ones who hurt her, she needed to know. She needed to know who changed her, and - she realised this as Paul held her - she needed to know if she could do this. Could she kill her captures?

"Come on, I'll go and tell the boys, you just make sure you're ready to go."

About two hours from Santa Carla laid a weak woman on her bed. The doctors had left, and now it was just her and her father.

"If everything goes as planned, we can let all the other testsubjects go. We will get the match back."

The woman nodded with a sigh. "Stop hurting people for me."

"I can't," the man gave her a smile, "I need to fix you, or the boss will have my head."

"Dad, I don't want to be fixed if this is what it takes."

"No? Are you ready to leave? Ready to leave your daughter and son?"

"Never. But you can't fight everything. This-"

"Your decease is beatable. You can survive this if you let me do my job."

The woman nodded, a sour look on her face. Normally, she'd listened to her father, knowing he did exactly what was right for her or her kids. But now, realising that they had multiple people ready to experiment on? It made her sick.

She wasn't meant to know, she want meant to find out, but she did. Three days ago, she had wandered outside of her room, leaning against the wall to keep herself up. She had come across a glass window looking out on an operation room. There, on the cold metal tables, laid three people. Two girls and a boy. All of them young, no one older than twenty-five. That was the moment she realised how far her father would go to save her. And it made her sick.

"Leave."

Her father nodded, standing up. "Your children want to see you."

"Let them in. I don't want to see you, not until you stop this bullshit."

The man left, closing the door. Three minutes later, a teenage girl and a five year old boy walked in.

"Mom!" The boy jumped on her bed, hugging her tightly. "I missed you so much! Star said that you were to sick to see us..."

"I was," the woman said softly. "But I'm a little bit better now."

She held her boy close, reaching out a hand to her daughter.

"What have the two of you been up to?"

"Star didn't make her homework yesterday!"

"That was because you needed help with yours."

"Yeah, but you got in trouble with miss Greene."

"Miss Greene is a bitc-"

"Star!" The woman couldn't help but laugh. "As much as your teacher might be, don't call her that in front of Laddie."

"She said Bitch yesterday too, mom."

"Why are you trying to get me in trouble?" Star asked, looking at the young boy.

"Because then we get to stay here longer."

The mother of the two sighed, shaking her head. "I know it's been unfair to you two. I wanted to see you more often, every day if I could, but they can't always allow that."

"Is it really that bad, mom?" Star asked, fighting her tears as her mother nodded.

"Laddie, why don't you grab some toys from your room? I need to talk with your sister."

"Is she in trouble?" The boy asked, guilt in his tone.

"No, love. But I need to talk to her, alright?"

The boy nodded, leaving the room with one last kiss from his mom.

"I need you to get yourself and your brother away from this place."

"Mom?"

"It's bad, Star. It is really bad. They-" her mother sighed, wiping away some tears from her eyes, "they hurt people to find a cure. I'm afraid they'll hurt you too, if he becomes to desperate."

"Why does Grandpa do this? Why can't he-?"

"He doesn't want to lose me. And I get it. If it was you or your brother, I needed to heal, I would have gone far as well. But this? It is unethical, and it is getting dangerous. The two of you need to get away from here."

"Mom..."

"Promise me. You know this building like no other, you know how to get out. I want you to leave before they start those experiments on you or your brother."

"They wouldn't..." Star had tears streaming down her face now.

"They would. Star, they would. Please promise me you get out."

"Mom, I don't want to leave you..."

The woman smiled through her tears, pulling her daughter close. "I know, love, I know. But I need to know you are safe. I need to know that if I die, the two of you got out and lived your lives."

"I need you, mom. I don't want to leave, I don't want to-"

"Me neither, Star. If I hadn't been sick, we would have travelled the world, the three of us. We would have seen the pyramids and gone to see the Taj Mahal. We would have gone to visit the seven wonders of the world if we could. But I can't, not anymore, love. I am dying. Your grandfather doesn't want to see it, but it's true."

"Can't Grandpa take care of us?"

"No."

Her mother snapped this, with such disdain towards the man that Star couldn't help but shiver.

"Your grandfather is a bad man. Don't listen to him, and once you get out of here, never try and contact him again. He is a monster."

Star nodded, drying her tears. "When-" she took a breath, "when do we have to leave."

"Tonight."

"Mom.."

"It has to be tonight. The company has a party, and everyone needs to be there. The two of you can get out without being noticed."

Star nodded, thinking it over. "What if we do get noticed?"

"Then you run."

Next chapter >