#nf edit

[youdontloveme-yet]

NF - Hope

+ song references

[dailynathanfillions]

[gemharvest]

And goodness, you're bleeding, what a wonderful feeling You're down, and you're pleading, my head is just reeling

Goretober 2024, Day 2: Sharp Objects

[unknownarmageddon]

Christ Alive

a kross oneshot. in which they go to a party cackles

based on the song skeletone by bones uk rental suits au belongs to me and @psycho-chair

The parking lot was mostly empty, save for two, maybe three, cars. It was dark, the only thing visible in the black murk past the washed out lights of the gas station’s overhang was the passing specks of car headlights. 

    Cross leaned on the elbow he held propped on the counter, tried to tune out the mediocre mainstream music playing distantly over the store’s speakers, and watched the only customer inside idle about the shelves. 

The lights buzzed. two of the fridges against the back wall flickered every so often.

      The door chimed as it was opened, and another stranger entered. They wanted 50 dollars’ worth on pump three. And a pack of cigarettes. The door chimed again, then they were gone. 

The lights buzzed. The fridges flickered. Everything was delved in a cool colored haze. 

     The last remaining person in the store bought two drinks. With the dinging of the door as they left, a father and two kids entered. They piled their spoils, a mound of snacks, onto the counter.

      There were several minutes of vacancy. Nobody in the store but him. It felt like an eternity, always did. Cross fiddled with the shelves behind him to waste time. 

Buzzing lights. Uneven churring from the slushy machine in the back. 

        The door chimed. Footsteps, sneakers scuffing on tile. 

Cross turned, and could practically feel the grin boring into him.

Him again. 

    He was leaning forward over the counter with his arms crossed in front of him. His jacket had obtained a few new stains, both red and black. The faint, electric sound of music played from the chunky maroon headphones around his neck. 

Cross felt himself grin for a moment. He couldn’t help it.

“Hey pretty boy.” He looked at Cross with deep dark sockets. 

“Killer.” 

“Fancy seeing you here.” Killer quipped. 

    He pulled himself up to sit on the back edge of the counter, still facing Cross. Cross furrowed his brows. 

“I told you to stop sitting on the counter.”

Killer hardly considered moving. His soul hummed like even it was laughing. “You’re gonna have to make me, sweetheart.” 

Cross knew that wouldn’t have worked. And he didn’t really care, not enough to force him. 

“You miss me?” Killer quipped.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Cross replied. 

Killer laughed. “I’m wounded.” 

     Cross turned back to the shelf, and Killer slid off the counter to stand next to him. 

    “Ya got any plans tonight? Other than the blast you’re clearly havin’ already.” Killer murmured, hands shoved the pockets of his jacket. The fabric of he and Cross’s clothes brushed as they just almost touched, they were that close.

When did Cross ever have plans? He shook his head. 

Killer’s grin got wider. Cross narrowed his eyes at him. What was he planning.

     Killer hopped back over the counter and headed for one of the fridges in the back. Cross leaned over the counter on his elbows to watch him. 

“Y’know, there’s gonna be a party tonight. At ten.” Killer jerked open the door and crouched, now partially obscured by the shelf behind him. His voice came to Cross echoed by the distance.

“Where?”

“Some guy’s place in town, I dunno, all I’ve got is the address. He was really talkin’ a big talk, I wanna see if he’s full of shit or not.” Cross could tell he was grinning. He had that kinda voice. 

“And you want me to go with you.” Cross responded after a pause. 

From the fridge Killer retrieved two energy drinks. He stood and the door was closed with a shove from his foot. 

“Exactly.” 

He hesitated, apparently for dramatic effect knowing him, and waited for an answer.

“…I’m not going.” 

“C’monnn, you gotta get outta this boring ass gas station sometime. Have an actual good time.” Killer pressed.  

“I don’t do parties.”

“How bad could it possibly be?” 

“I doubt I would miss out on much.” Cross responded.

“You’d never know. Unless you go.” Killer persisted.

       Cross didn’t respond after that. He stared at the tile in front of Killer’s feet, turning the notion over in his mind. He knew damn well that if Killer wanted something he’d find a way to get it, so he doubted how much good resisting would do. 

      Killer weaved through the aisles to the middle of the store, then went for the far back. He cracked one of the energy drinks. 

“When are you gonna start paying for those?” Cross called to him. 

“You think about that party, ‘kay, pretty boy? Think about it.” Killer called back instead and pulled the headphones on. He vanished among the shelves. Cross saw the top of the storage room door as it opened, then closed.

      Cross was left alone in the store again. The trickle of costumers came and went, and he worked on autopilot. His mind was occupied by the party and the loiterer in the storage room.

     His first reaction was to not go. And he trusted that reaction. All he knew about it was that it would be loud and crammed with people he likely didn’t want to be around. And that he wouldn’t know anyone but Killer. He didn’t think— no he knew it wouldn’t be worth it. 

     But who knew how well Killer would take that news. And he kind of had a point about getting out of the gas station. 

      Cross worked for three more hours. Occasionally he would watch Killer slink from the back to steal another energy drink or two, or a bag of chips. Cross pretended not to notice. Every time Killer passed the counter he would toss a smug grin at Cross. Meant only for Cross. The kind that loosely hid all the kinds of things he would say out loud if they were alone. Cross pretended not to notice those, too. 

        He would’ve stopped him, confronted him again for never paying for what he took. But Cross didn’t exactly want to be on the receiving end of that knife he flashed the night they met. And when Killer was around he had company, and the extra shitty customers never came back. It was a fair trade. So what if a few cans went missing here and there. 

        When Cross’s shift came to an end he left the counter in favor of the storage room. The smell of smoke flooded his nose the minute he pushed open the door. It wasn’t invasive, but it was noticeable enough whenever you walked in. It’d always smelled like smoke in here, after Killer showed up.

           The culprit sat on the floor in the corner beside the door. He had fully tucked himself into that corner, in the gap between boxes and freezers that lined a few of the walls. He had one leg propped on the other, and the magazine he held obscured his face. Cross could still hear Killer’s music blasting through his headphones even from where he stood. 

“My shift’s over. You gotta leave.” Cross greeted him.

Killer pulled the headphones down and looked up over the edge of the magazine. He hadn’t heard him.

“Shift’s over.” Cross repeated. 

The music cut off; the magazine was shoved under a shelf. “You got it, boss.”

He pulled himself to his feet and left his corner to push past Cross, who tailed him in return. 

     The gas station’s front door chimed for the last time as they exited out onto the pavement in front of it. It was cold, Cross zipped up his jacket. His breath clouded in front of him as he watched insects buzz around the precious glow of the station’s lights. 

     After a moment of standing he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around at the vacant parking lot, awkwardly awaiting for whatever Killer was going to do. He didn’t trust him enough to leave first. 

His eyes landed on him. 

“What time’s it?” Killer asked.

Cross checked his phone. “Nine forty.” 

      Killer hopped off the slight incline of the pavement and moved through the darkness. To Cross he became a raccoon you’d see outside your garage. So blanketed in darkness it doesn’t look much like anything at all. Except, his soul provided a red halo around his silhouette. 

“You comin’?” Killer called over his shoulder and stopped. It was more of a request than a question. 

Hesitation. Cross glanced to his left, then back at Killer. “No?”

“You scared, sweetheart?” Killer replied. He could barely see him, but again Cross could tell he was grinning.

“No.” 

“C’mon, just this once. It’s just a party. One time’s not gonna hurt anything.” He said. More firmly, sharply. 

Killer gestured with his head, nodding, beckoning Cross to come with him.

“You always say that.”

“Am I wrong? Let’s live a little. Nothin’s gonna happen.” He spread out his arms, turning on his heel to look back at Cross. 

Cross scowled doubtfully. He’s known Killer for long enough to at least know going anywhere with him didn’t have any guarantees of anything. 

    Killer slunk back toward Cross and grabbed him firmly by the zipper of his jacket, pulling him down so their faces were level. His face was warmed by Killer’s breath. Killer looked him over, then dead on. 

Killer huffed a laugh. “You’re scared.”

     Cross paused for a long time. A car alarm started from somewhere distant in the dark. Then it was quiet again. 

“We’ll take the truck.” He decided eventually, flatly.

      Killer’s eyes widened. He released Cross and ran for said truck, which was parked back in front of the gas station. It was small, old, and white; one of those trucks that didn’t have back seats, and the front was one long singular bench with seatbelts that just went across the lap. 

      Killer was grinning, exclaiming to himself, in his triumph. He had gotten Cross to cave, and they were taking the truck. 

      Killer rapped on the truck’s side with his palm as he stepped along it toward the door. He tried the door prematurely, eagerly. It was still locked. Then there was a click as Cross pressed a button on the interior of the driver side door and the rest of the doors unlocked. Killer jerked his open to slide into the passenger side; Cross got in after him, with less enthusiasm. 

The key met ignition and the vehicle grumbled to life like an aged animal. 

     Its beige leather seats were long worn, its paint was chipped in spots, it was overdo for a wash, and its windows were dusty and still functioned on a crank, but it served its purpose. 

     They left the parking lot. Cross heard Killer fighting with the window beside him, but he eventually got it open. Cold air streamed into the cab. Killer leaned against the door with his shoulder out the window. His feet were kicked up onto the dash. 

    In front of the windshield, dangling from the rear view mirror, hung a silver pendant on a chain and a long-expired air freshener. 

With each imperfection in the pavement they hit the cab bumped. 

“What’s the address?” Cross asked.

     A slip of paper was dug out of Killer’s pocket and examined. He put his legs down. 

“Left, up here.” He pointed, the turn signal clicked in time.

“Go for a bit,” He said now. “Here,” 

“Right, past here and down that road,”

     They drove for a while, mostly in silence save for Killer’s directions and occasional quips or broken humming.   Sometimes the headlights of a passing car or a lone streetlight would illuminate the cab; otherwise it was dark. 

Killer pointed at the windshield again. 

They were here. 

      What Cross saw was the front of an apartment building, one a few notches nicer than his own. That building immediately set the tone for the whole party in stone in Cross’s mind. It was fucking intimidating. He shouldn’t be here. 

   He glanced over at Killer, who was already slipping out of the truck. Cross inhaled and followed. 

———

       Upbeat music he’s heard everywhere a million times blasted through the apartment. Talking, laughing, shouting, all joined it. Lights everywhere, sounds everywhere. So many people were crammed in this single space.

     Cross was made hyper-aware of the presence of the other guests. The way they were dressed, the way they held themselves. They belonged here, he didn’t.

      He became Killer’s shadow. He kept his arms tight to his side, his eyes trained on his feet and Killer’s stride. He followed directly behind him as his companion sauntered through the apartment.

       They collected a few stares. What a sight they must be, two stupid boys wading through somewhere they shouldn’t be, one with stains on his clothes and one in a plain black jacket he’s had since high school. One with oil flowing from his eye sockets, one with an old rusted pickup. 

          Cross liked to imagine the things they whispered to themselves as the skeletons passed. Exclamations of surprise, of judgement. Eyes glued. 

     But, in reality, no one said anything. No one heckled them. He even doubted that many people were paying attention to them. Even still he was all too aware. 

      Finally, he and Killer breached the thick of the waves. Killer was saying something to another guest as he handed Cross a plastic cup of red liquid, which he accepted without much thought. 

“Whad’ya think?” Killer asked Cross and leaned against the table. He gestured with his free hand at everything around them like he was showing it all off. He held his own beverage in the other hand, Cross clutched his with both. 

    Cross didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to think. It was loud. There were way too many people. He’d decide eventually, he thought. 

     Killer lifted his cup to his mouth, then paused and lowered it. He deadpanned at it. 

“This tastes like shit.” 

Cross half-laughed, Killer grinned. 

      They stayed at that table for the duration of three, maybe four, songs. Killer did most of the talking. Cross only listened, offering the occasional hum in agreement or comment. Killer would point out people in the crowd he found notable for whatever reason to him. Made jokes, teased, rambled about menial things. He complained about the music, but he still tapped his finger against his cup in time. 

       Cross kept searching Killer, trying to figure him out. He wondered if he noticed how out of place they were. Or if he cared. But then he thought about it more, and he doubted he did.

     The song changed; Cross didn’t recognize this one. It was slower, but not melancholy. Carried by a steady rhythm and smooth electric guitar. Like the pounding of rain on concrete at night. 

Killer glanced up. “Fuckin’ finally, something good.”

     He set his cup down and pulled away from the table. “Alright I’m tired of standin’.” 

He stood with his back turned a moment, surveying the crowd, thumbs jammed in his shorts pockets, before he swiveled to offer his hand to Cross. “C’mon, you gonna do me the honor?” 

    Cross retracted, set his cup down and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket like he was hiding them. 

“I don’t dance.”

Maybe he would, in any other circumstance. When there weren’t so many people.

“Fuck babe, what do you do?” Killer replied. The corner of his mouth ticked up. 

    He pulled back toward Cross to nudge him with his elbow like he was trying to push him forward. 

“Dude,” Cross laughed. 

“We’re at a party, you gotta dance at least once.” He argued. “It’ll just be me, don’t worry about them.”

Cross conceded. “Just for this song, alright?”

    Cross quickly learned that Killer didn’t know how to dance either. They devolved into a mess of movements, a tangle of limbs. Killer held a hand to Cross’s hip, Cross held one to Killer’s shoulder. Occasionally their hands would intertwine. 

      They exchanged steps off-rhythm. Killer was quick, Cross took strides to catch him. 

      Cross continued to be aware of the other dancers, even here. He couldn’t shake them from his mind. He wasn’t nearly as coordinated, and he had a habit of staying too stiff and rigid. But Killer had enough confidence for both of them.

       All Cross saw was the carpet, his eyes glued to their feet. Making his best effort not to trip. Or get stepped on. He risked a glance up at Killer’s face. He was grinning with the most actual enthusiasm Cross had seen from him tonight, and it became infectious. 

“You keepin’ up, pretty boy?” Killer asked, catching Cross and keeping him from looking back down. 

“You’re horrible at this.” Cross replied.

“And you dance like you’ve taken ballet since kindergarten.” Killer scowled, but his eyes were still grinning. 

     In the last remaining minute of the song they slowed, swayed, leaning into each other. They let the wave of other dancers surge around them. Killer hooked an arm around Cross’s neck, Cross laid his over his shoulders. Cross watched him, awaiting his next move silently. 

Killer took Cross’s left hand and pressed a slow kiss to his knuckles.

Cross decided this party wasn’t that bad, at least.

          Killer’s song ended. They untangled. Cross followed Killer as he slunk over to the apartment’s kitchen, where refreshments were strewn over the counters. The nearby balcony’s door was propped open, and Cross lingered there in the opening. Cool outside air hit his back. 

       Now Killer was chatting up another guy at the table. Like he always did when they went out anywhere. As if out of habit. Cross disregarded them; all he heard was Killer say “is that a challenge?”.  He would’ve dwelled on it more, been more bothered, but he put his attention on everyone else. He scanned the crowd like he expected to be jumped. 

   Beside him, Killer returned. He felt him press up against him. He knew he was grinning. His hand wandered Cross’s arm, then his back. He smelled like smoke. What was he after. 

Cross’s face grew warm. His shoulders tensed. But he averted his eyes, kept his focus on the crowd. 

     His gaze landed on one woman in particular, not far from the table. She was surrounded by her own group of people, but for some reason she was staring directly at him, both of them. With this look in her eye.

      Her lips, which were covered in a red smothering of lipstick, ticked down in a grimace. 

What a sight they must be. 

      A wildfire of anger burst up through Cross. His bones grew hot, like he was being burned by it. She made him so fucking mad. He couldn’t process why.

      She hadn’t even said anything. Not yet. But he knew she would. It was a matter of time, with the way she was  looking at them. 

     Cross searched her, trying to gauge her. He knew these kinds of people all too well. 

   He returned her look in a blank stare. In it, he silently poured out every bit of desire he had to wipe that look off on the wall behind her. He doubted he’d actually do something, though. It wasn’t worth whatever hell would come of it. 

Still, it leaked into his voice.

“Someone’s staring.” He said, quietly, and Killer retracted slightly.

      He followed Cross’s gaze. His grin fell. The soul in front of his chest flickered, becoming an unstable ever-shifting shape far from a circle. To Cross it resembled a star nearing on a supernova. 

      He wasn’t being nearly as discrete as Cross; he glared back at her with just as much anger. If not more. Like a dog with teeth bared. 

 His voice dripped venom. “I’ll deal with ‘er.”

     Cross’s companion pulled away from the table and over to the woman. Each step carried a buried intention, buried fury, with it.

Cross felt like someone’s gonna die. 

     Cross blinked and Killer was already in front of her. She said something to him, and he heard Killer shout back at her. He blinked again and Killer’s fist was flying. The woman’s head skewed to the side unnaturally, awkwardly. Then she fell to a heap on the carpet; A painted lady sprawled across the floor like a body bag. 

       She struggled to her elbows, coughed blood onto the carpet. The tease of a grimace became a full-fledged snarl. Her pretty prim lipstick was smeared. 

Cross didn’t hear anything. Hardly even saw anything but Killer and the woman. Only the pounding of blood in his ears and flashing lights in the corner of his vision. 

A needle of sudden anxiety, anticipation, stabbed Cross. Nothing good was gonna come from this.

If they hadn’t been before, everyone was certainly staring now. 

     The few nearest were on Killer like a pack of wolves to a carcass.

Someone was gonna die. 

       The surge consumed Killer. Shouting roared over the music. Cross barely saw him as he clawed, fought, screamed. Grinned. The suddenness of it all startled Cross out of his anger. 

     Two attackers were thrown back, blood streaming from their noses. Two more took their place. 

       At some point Killer’s jacket slipped,  leaving shoulders exposed. And one of his sleeves was torn now. Bits of bleach-white bone were visible like Cross was peaking through a break in the blinds. 

         For a moment, he just stood and watched. Watched Killer fight like an animal. Admired the fluidity of his movements. Stared into the flames. 

God,

He couldn’t help it. 

Maybe this is what he came to this dumb party for. 

       Killer got tackled by two guys much larger than him and Cross, simultaneously, was thrown into the mess by someone behind him he didn’t see. It was like he was in a hornet’s nest. It was confusing, loud, violent. He didn’t know what to do, how to do it.

        Somehow, he gathered himself and he and Killer managed to push back the swarm. Everything broke like oil and water, if only for a moment. 

        Killer now stood on Cross’s right, clutching his wrist tight in his hand. On the other, his left, was a smear of red lipstick. He held it curled in a fist. 

Cross’s magic pounded in his ears.

    There was a single heartbeat of still, then they were on them again, just as quick. They tore at them, stampeded over them. Except now Cross was in the middle of it. And at that moment he wanted to be anywhere else. But he didn’t really, either. This was where Killer was. 

It became war.

     Like with dancing, Cross wasn’t as confident a fighter as Killer. And he doubted his skills. But he wasn’t harmless, he hoped. 

      He tried to stay close to Killer, to not lose him to it all. That became his only goal. To not lose Killer, and to survive. 

      Cross grabbed another guy by the shirt and pulled him off of Killer, then had to spin to push someone different back with a strike from the elbow. It was overwhelming, smothering. Everyone on every side at all times. 

        Occasionally he got glances of Killer as he would stumble backward, only to run back in, laughing. He never stayed in range of who he fought, always jumping in and back out. Circling, a wolf nipping at the ankles of an elk. But he hit hard, knew what he was doing. 

          Warm blood ran into Cross’s eye, obscuring his vision. He must’ve busted an eyebrow. 

         Even before that, his vision became blurred. All he saw were movements. He focused everything on not drowning. Where was Killer? He had lost sight of him at some point. But the thought was ripped from his mind as he sustained a kick to the back and staggered. He gritted his teeth and returned the hit, pushed someone he didn’t see long enough to identify away. He rammed someone else with his shoulder. 

      Then he took another, harder, blow. This time to the side of the head. He felt like his whole skull was jarred and he staggered again, almost falling this time. 

Someone grabbed his wrist. 

It was Killer.

     He ripped Cross from it all, fingers dug into his arm. Then they were running. He knew they were being followed. Killer shouted something. At some point they were in a stairwell, descending. Pounding in his skull was all he heard. 

Suddenly, cold night air.

They were outside. There was Cross’s truck.

       They ran to it and pulled the door’s open so hard he was surprised they weren’t thrown off their hinges. They were slammed closed just as hard.

       Cross stuck the keys in the ignition and turned as fast as he could manage. 

       Six remaining pursuers flooded from the apartment. They tried to follow, yelled curses and profanities. 

“Go, go, go!” Killer shouted.

“I’m trying!”

     They pulled out and ended back on the road. 

      Finally, things started to slow back down. But Cross still felt like he wasn’t there. He felt like he was still at that party, busting his knuckles on strangers out for his blood. He didn’t even feel relief yet, that they were in the safety of Cross’s truck now. He didn’t feel much of anything.

    The first thing Cross fully registered was Killer slamming his arm on the side of the door four times. “Holy shit!” 

He put his hand to his head. “Holy shit.” 

    He was making an expression Cross couldn’t read, or place. Was it excitement? Surprise? Detest? Fear? Maybe just adrenaline. He was grinning. But he always was. His eyes were wide. Like he had just gotten off a rollercoaster. 

Cross glanced at him again after checking the road. “You’re bleeding.”

He was, from the nose. 

“So’re you.” 

     Cross put a finger to his eyebrow and felt warm liquid. The wound stung, he just now noticed. He wouldn’t notice the rest of his pain until much later, when the adrenaline was out of his system. 

“Dude that was fucking insane.” Killer breathed. He almost laughed as he said it. 

“It was worth it, though.” He added. “God, getting to wipe that look off her face,” 

“Mm,” Cross hummed absently. Was it worth it? Part of him agreed silently. 

“Showed her. Fucking showed her.” Killer continued, mostly to himself.

      “You’re alright?” Cross asked, eyes pinned to the road. He still felt jittery. He hated having to sit here this long. 

“Oh, what, me? Yeah I’m fine, I’m fine. Nothin’ I can’t handle.” Killer replied. He wiped at his nose, then cleaned the remaining lipstick from his hand on his jacket. 

He was so… unaffected. Like this was an everyday occurrence for him. Maybe it was. 

      Cross rubbed the blood from his brow again. It hadn’t stopped bleeding yet. He wondered how bad it was. But he didn’t check the rearview mirror for his reflection. 

He felt Killer’s eyes on him.

“It’s a look, y’know.” Killer quipped. 

Cross laughed quietly. “What, having dried blood on my face?”

      They drove in silence for a while. Cross’s soul was still pounding. At some point he collected himself enough to remember to put on his seatbelt. He listened to the occasional clicking of the turn signal and Killer’s mindless tapping. It grounded him, pulled him away from the party. 

“I didn’t know you could fight like that.” Killer said eventually. “Didn’t think you had it in ya.” 

“I was just trying not to get killed.” Cross responded dryly, like it was a fact. He hadn’t thought it was that impressive. 

Killer laughed. Even though it was the truth.

“Wasn’t too bad, either. I could teach ya a thing or two, though. If you wanted.” 

Killer offered with a grin.

Cross considered it just for a moment. “I think I’m fine.”

“Your loss. You think about it, ‘kay?” Killer replied. “I’d love t’see what you could do if you knew what you were doin’” 

Cross just hoped he wouldn’t find himself in a situation where he needed to know what he was doing.

      Killer leaned forward to start messing with the truck’s radio. He flicked through stations and static. 

“I didn’t expect that many people to come after us.” Cross said. 

“Yeah, god, it was like everyone at that party was pissed.”

“What’d she say? I saw her say something to you.” Cross asked.

“What d’you think? Some stupid shit about us. I dunno, I don’t remember.” Killer said, scowling at the radio. Cross knew he remembered, but he didn’t press. 

Killer eventually found a station he was satisfied with and leaned back. Now a loud, quick, shouty rock song Cross hadn’t heard quietly filled the background of the cab. 

Killer stretched out his arms. “Well, I’d consider tonight a success.” 

Cross stared at him.

Killer laughed. “Eyes on the road, sweetheart,”

———

        After what felt like an eternity they ended up at Cross’s apartment. Cross fumbled with keys to unlock the door and they stumbled inside. Everything was dark, lit only by the lights of the street and a standing lamp near the door Cross bothered to flick on as they entered. 

        The first thing Cross did was go for the fridge in the conjoined kitchen. It was mostly empty, but he found a cold canned drink and tossed it to Killer. He pressed it to limbs, to his face, soothing the bruises he had acquired. 

         He had a faint, dark ring around one of his eye sockets in the start of a black eye. Cross took his wrist and slowly, firmly, guided his hand to the socket. 

“You caused a lot of trouble.” Cross murmured, sighing, as he held his hand there. 

“You saw the way she was looking at us.” Killer replied sharply.

Cross retracted his hand, stood there to look at him. “Still,” 

“She was basically just askin’ for it, anyway. No one else was gonna do it.” Killer argued.

“I think I’m gonna have a headache for a week. Thanks to you.” Cross said, though he was just barely smiling.

“You’re welcome.” Killer grinned.

“Mm.”

          After, the can was handed back to Cross. It was just barely warmer, just barely flecked with blood. He pressed it to his own bruises, and to his eyebrow. The start of a headache stabbed at him. 

            Cross watched Killer as he fixed his jacket from where it had fallen off his shoulders. Just as closely as when he had watched him fight.

He felt both of them linger there, unsure. Awkward. Mutually asking “what now?”

“Well, it’s been a hell of a night, but I better be gettin’ outta here. I’m a busy man, y’know.” Killer said finally, flicking up his hood over his head. 

“Already?” Cross asked. 

Of course.

“Don’t worry, you’re not gettin’ rid of me that easy. I’ll be back.” Killer said, brushed up against Cross as he headed for the door, grinning up at him. He caught Cross’s hand and held it in his for just a moment. 

      ‘I’ll be back’ could’ve meant a myriad of things. Cross could see him tomorrow. Maybe in a few hours, even. Or he could see him next in however many days.

      Cross’s mouth teased a smile and he shook his head. He followed him to the doorway, where Killer lingered, holding the door open with one hand. 

It sounded like it was raining outside. 

     For some reason, in that moment Cross remembered what Killer had said at the gas station, before they left. 

His eyes widened, then narrowed at him. “You’re such a liar. You said nothing would happen.” 

“Your favorite liar.” Killer grinned.

    He leaned farther through the doorway toward him and pressed a kiss to Cross’s teeth, as if it was some kind of weird apology. It tasted like smoke. And blood. Cross let it happen, didn’t want it to end as quick as it did. 

“We should do this again sometime.” 

Then it was over, Killer was gone, and all Cross saw was the door as it clicked closed.

[moththejeebweezer]

stuff said in the osc texas meetup

(i wasnt there, just watching the stream btw)

iii 17 releases december 2 (NOT DEC 1 ! SORRY :’3)

twow is coming back as ewow (eleven words of wisdom)

there’s a new merch drop with a hoodie saying “object shows rock”— its a collab between AE and JnJ, I think? Creatorink is making it

new bfdi game called bfdi: branches, its demo releases in december

tpot 9 will reveal where the eliminated contestants are

iii OST will be on music platforms at some point

there WILL be more vocal songs in ii2, when it continues

watch the stream here!

edit: here’s the iii 17 trailer !

[miorrtae]

NEWS FLASH ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི TAEYEON SMAU

NF 02

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taaglist + @gtfoiydlyj @sewiouslyz @xen248 @mineige @yjiminswallet @saysirhc @pandafuriosa60 @yeri-luvr

[cassandraxemery]

A few hours before Act 2, I hold out hope for Cait's redemption.

[clarkpercy]

Today it's Stan Marsh's birthday october 19th

for @rhyliethecaterfly @megamanzero5098 @sweetnekoheart

[chevvy-yates]

[NC_RES]-31102049-EUR-GER scharfenberg_g_portraits_042_2_CC_DT.file ///core:_ryder_von_scharfenberg.file\\\

—

⚠️ READ: Please do not repost/reupload any of my art here or to any other platform, or I will be forced to do anything to get it annihilated.

—

I've mentioned many times that I wasn't satisfied with the ingame rain during photomode session as the raindrops entirely vanished as soon as I used my usual lens blur (can't stand having no blur, neither a focus on something in a picture).

I've tried adding rain already in another set last year via photoshop but even this one didn't satisfy me in the end.

Inspired by the great @dreamskug, I browsed a lot the past few weeks, or is it already months? – Dunno anymore – and found some brushes and texures, tried out this and that, did trial and error and eventually added a more realisitc rain feel and light effect to my vp how I imagine my pics with Ryder to be when it rains.

It was way too much time I've spent on one picture alone (the rest is a more copy paste but placed differently including changing layer masks or redo the brushes anew) but it's the only way to get it to look like actuall falling rain. So yeah I guess I'll have to sit down and take a bit longer for certain vp stuff in the future bc Ryder's world has mostly rainy days.

next approach: actually make him stand in the rain, as I drove to a place where there was a roof above him so neither him nor the car is wet. I've noticed in the rain only Ry's arms are going to get that wet layer tho but not his chest and I think also not his head. I have to look into that as well when I find time.

[legstheoctomobster]

Regressor!Johnny Stimboard

Art is by @sillystringpony and this is all inspired by his art & simpsons au lol!

[sleep-deprived-mf]

Bro in da backrooms 💀🙏

[miorrtae]

NF 13

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I barely had time to close the door behind me before I heard Jisun’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Where the hell were you?”

Jisun was standing in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, her expression unusually sharp. The calm, patient demeanor I was used to seeing from her was nowhere in sight.

I froze, my hand still resting on the door handle. “I—uh—I was out. Why?”

“Why?” Jisun’s voice rose slightly, a mixture of anger and disbelief. “Because we’ve been looking for you for hours! You didn’t answer your phone, didn’t tell anyone where you were—you just disappeared without a word!”

I sighed, stepping further into the room. “I needed some air. I wasn’t trying to make it a big deal.”

“Well, congratulations, because it turned into one,” Jisun snapped. She took a step closer, her voice trembling slightly, as if her frustration was barely contained. “Do you even know how worried we were? We thought something happened to you!”

“I didn’t mean to worry anyone,” I muttered, guilt creeping in as I avoided Jisun’s piercing gaze.

Jisun threw her hands in the air. “That’s not the point! You don’t just leave like that. You’re part of this group, and we rely on each other. And on top of that, I had something important to tell you!”

I blinked, my brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

“Did you even know we had a concert coming up?” Jisun’s voice cracked slightly, but it was sharp, cutting through the silence. “You’re the leader. How do you not know this stuff?”

“Do you even understand how huge this is for us? For all of us? And instead of celebrating together, you were off doing… whatever it is you’ve been doing with Taeyeon.”

I stopped, my heart sinking at Jisun’s words. I could feel the weight of my title, but it was hard to juggle everything. Being the oldest wasn’t easy, but being the leader? That was a whole different kind of pressure.

“Jisun, I understand why you’re mad,” I started, my voice calm but firm. “But I’m the leader, yeah, and I know I should have known about the concert. But that doesn’t mean I’m always on top of everything. We all make mistakes. And right now, I’m doing my best to make sure this doesn’t fall apart.”

Jisun’s eyes softened for a moment, but the anger was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. “You’re the leader. You’re supposed to keep us in line, to make sure things don’t slip through the cracks.”

I exhaled sharply. “I know. I’m not perfect. But I need you to trust me, Jisun. I’m doing my best, and I’ll fix this. I promise.”

There was a long silence as Jisun considered my words, the tension in the room palpable.

Finally, Jisun let out a frustrated sigh and uncrossed her arms. “I just want to make sure we’re all on the same page. We’ve got a lot riding on this concert. I just don’t want to fail.”

“We won’t,” I said, stepping closer to Jisun. “We won’t fail. We’ve got each other. And I’ve got this. But I need you with me, Jisun.”

Jisun didn’t answer immediately, but she gave a small nod, still not fully convinced, but willing to give me the chance to fix it.

“Good,” Jisun said, turning to leave but pausing in the doorway. “Because we’ve got a lot to plan, and this concert isn’t going to prepare itself. Be ready in the morning. We’re going to have a full meeting about it, and you’d better be there on time.”

I nodded silently, watching as Jisun walked away. Once the room was empty, I let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the evening pressing down on me. A concert was a huge deal—something we had all been working toward for so long. And yet, I had almost missed the moment completely because I couldn’t handle my own thoughts.

I sat on the couch, my head tilted back as I stared at the ceiling. The room was quiet, but my mind wasn’t. Jisun’s words echoed in my head, and every time I thought about how I’d left without telling anyone, the guilt crept up all over again. I rubbed my temples, trying to push it all aside, but it lingered like a shadow.

My phone buzzed on the couch cushion next to me. I ignored it at first, assuming it was one of the group members still upset with me. But when it buzzed again, curiosity got the better of me. I picked it up, and Taeyeon’s name flashed across the screen.

I hesitated for a moment, debating whether to answer. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to Taeyeon—it was the opposite. Maybe it was because she felt like an escape, and right now, I wasn’t sure if I deserved that.

Still, I swiped to answer. “Hello?”

“Hey.” Taeyeon’s voice was calm, steady, and instantly soothing. “Did you make it back okay?”

“Yeah,” I replied, leaning back into the couch. “I’m home.”

“Good,” Taeyeon said, her voice softening slightly. “I figured you’d be back by now. I just wanted to check in. You sounded a little off earlier.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s been a night.”

“Jisun?” Taeyeon guessed immediately, a knowing edge to her voice.

“Yep,” I confirmed, exhaling heavily. “She was mad. And honestly, I don’t blame her. I just got up and left without saying anything. Apparently, everyone was looking for me.”

“Sounds like they care about you,” Taeyeon pointed out, her tone gentle but firm.

I grimaced, the guilt flaring up again. “Yeah. Jisun said the same thing. And the worst part is I missed something huge because of it.”

“What happened?” Taeyeon asked, her curiosity piqued.

“We’re booked for a concert,” I said quietly. “Our first big one as a group. They wanted to celebrate, and instead of being there for it, I was out watching the sunset.”

“With me,” Taeyeon added, her voice soft but pointed.

“Yeah,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “With you.”

The silence on the line stretched out for a moment, heavy but not uncomfortable. It felt like Taeyeon was giving me space to process, but it only made the tension in my chest grow.

“I’m sorry,” Taeyeon said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

I frowned. “For what?”

“For being part of the reason you weren’t there,” Taeyeon explained. “I should’ve asked if your group knew where you were. I didn’t mean to pull you away from something that important.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said quickly, my voice firm. “I made the choice to leave. I just… I don’t know. I needed to get away for a while. I didn’t think it would turn into such a big deal.”

“It’s a big deal because they care about you,” Taeyeon said gently. “But I get it. Sometimes you need space. It’s hard, balancing everything—your career, the pressure, the expectations. I’ve been there.”

I closed my eyes, letting her words sink in. “It’s just… a lot sometimes. You know? And tonight, being out there with you, it felt like I could breathe for the first time in weeks.”

Taeyeon was quiet for a moment, then said, “I’m glad I could give you that. But you’ve got to find a way to take care of yourself without shutting people out. It’s not easy, but it’s important.”

“I know,” I said softly. “I told Jisun I’d do better. I just hope she believes me.”

“She will,” Taeyeon reassured. “She’s upset now, but that’s because she cares. Give her time, and show her you mean it. Actions speak louder than words, right?”

I nodded, even though Taeyeon couldn’t see it. “Yeah. You’re right.”

The line went quiet again, but this time, it felt less heavy.

“For what it’s worth,” Taeyeon said after a moment, “I think you’re doing fine. You’re figuring it out as you go, just like the rest of us.”

“Thanks, Tae,” I said, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“Anytime.” Taeyeon’s voice softened again, almost like a whisper. “And for the record, I had a good time tonight. Even if it got you into trouble.”

I chuckled softly. “Me too. It was worth it.”

Taeyeon laughed lightly. “Well, next time, let’s not make it so dramatic, huh? I don’t think my heart can handle being the reason your member wants to strangle someone.”

“Deal,” I said, my smile widening.

“Alright, get some rest,” Taeyeon said, her tone shifting back to something more practical. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow. Concert prep. You’re gonna be fine. I know you will.”

“Thanks, Tae,” I said one last time before hanging up.

I sat there for a moment, staring at the screen, the weight of everything still lingering in the air. But for the first time tonight, I didn’t feel quite as overwhelmed. Maybe things were starting to make sense again.

__________________________

The tension from the evening still lingered in my chest as I climbed into bed, but the conversation with Taeyeon had eased the weight just enough. I stared at the ceiling, replaying everything in my head—Jisun’s anger, the concert news, the guilt that burned every time I thought about how my group had been looking for me.

But Taeyeon’s voice stuck out the most. The way she calmly told me we were figuring it out like everyone else made the storm in my mind quiet down, if only for a little while.

I sighed, rolling onto my side. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had let my group down at a critical moment. This was supposed to be our shared dream, the thing we’d all worked for tirelessly. And yet, when the big announcement came, I was somewhere else entirely—wrapped up in my own emotions, seeking solace with someone who wasn’t even part of the team.

Still, Jisun’s words were clear.

The morning sunlight spilled into my room, pulling me out of a restless sleep. For a moment, I stayed in bed, letting the warmth of the light soothe my nerves. Today marked the start of something big. I couldn’t afford to mess it up.

By the time I made it to the kitchen, the apartment was alive with movement. Jisun was already at the table, a tablet in hand and a coffee mug close by. The rest of the group moved around her, the energy buzzing with excitement and purpose. The air felt different—charged, like we all knew the stakes and were ready to rise to the occasion.

“Morning,” I said tentatively, grabbing a seat across from Jisun.

Jisun glanced up, her expression guarded but not cold. “Morning. You’re on time. That’s a start.”

I bit back a sigh of relief. It wasn’t exactly forgiveness, but it wasn’t outright hostility either. “Yeah. I’m ready to dive in.”

Jisun’s sharp eyes studied me for a moment before she nodded. “Good. Because we’ve got a lot to cover.”

As the meeting began, I forced myself to focus. Details about setlists, choreography, and stage setups came at us in rapid-fire succession. It was overwhelming, but I didn’t dare let my mind wander. This was my shot to prove I was all in, that last night was a fluke and not a sign of things to come.

By the time the meeting wrapped up, my head was spinning. But the determination in the room was contagious, and I couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement despite the lingering guilt.

After a long and grueling day of practice, I was finally able to escape the studio. My muscles were sore, and my mind felt like it was on overload with all the preparations for the upcoming concert. As I made my way back to my room, I tossed my things aside and flopped onto the bed, grabbing my phone instinctively. It was the first moment I had to breathe, and I found myself wanting to hear Taeyeon’s voice again.

I quickly dialed her number, anxiously waiting as it rang. A few moments later, her familiar voice answered.

“Hey, you sound tired,” Taeyeon said softly, her voice carrying a calm warmth.

“I am,” I replied, letting out a long exhale. “Practice was intense. But I’m glad it’s over. How about you? What’s going on?”

“Same here,” Taeyeon answered. “It’s been a busy day, and I’ve got more stuff to handle. But, you know, it’s all part of the job.”

I could hear the weariness in her voice too, but it still wasn’t the reason I was calling. There was something else lingering in my chest.

“Hey, um,” I started, hesitating just a little. “Are you gonna be able to come to the concert? I mean, I don’t know if you’ve got stuff going on… I just thought it’d be nice if you were there, y’know?”

There was a long pause on the other end, just enough to make my stomach twist with uncertainty. Finally, Taeyeon spoke, and the words felt like they cut through the air a little heavier than I expected.

“I… I’m not sure yet,” Taeyeon said, her voice quiet. “I’ve got a lot of things on my plate right now, and with the schedule, it’s tough to make any promises.”

I felt a little pang in my chest, the slight disappointment creeping up before I could push it away. I tried to mask it with a nonchalant tone, but it was hard to hide.

“Oh,” I said softly, trying to sound casual but failing. “I get it. You’ve got a lot going on.”

Taeyeon must’ve picked up on the shift in my tone, because her voice softened immediately. “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said gently. “I really want to come, but I just can’t say for sure right now. There’s a lot happening, you know?”

I paused, biting my lip as I processed what she said. “I know. I just… I really wanted you to be there. It feels like you’ve been a part of all this, and it’d mean a lot.”

There was a silence for a few moments, and I could almost hear Taeyeon thinking. When she spoke again, her voice was full of sincerity.

“I know it’s important to you, Y/N,” she said softly. “I really wish I could give you a definite answer right now, but things are a bit up in the air. But if I can make it, I will. I promise.”

I let out a breath, trying to shake the feeling of disappointment that lingered. “Yeah. It’s fine. I understand.”

Taeyeon didn’t let it go so easily, though. “No, it’s not fine. I know it matters to you, and I’ll do my best. I want to be there for you. For all of it.”

My heart did a small flip at her words, and I couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. “Thanks, Tae. That… that means a lot.”

“I’m glad,” Taeyeon said. “And hey, I’m really proud of you, okay? For everything. You’re doing great.”

I smiled at the warmth in her voice. “Thanks. That helps more than you know.”

“Anytime,” Taeyeon replied. “Now, get some rest. I know you’re tired. Big day tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah,” I said with a yawn. “I’ll try. You too. Take care of yourself, alright?”

“You too, Y/N. I’ll talk to you soon.”

As the call ended, I lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. There was still that lingering feeling of uncertainty in my chest, but hearing Taeyeon’s voice, hearing her care, made the weight a little easier to carry. I closed my eyes, hoping the concert would be the success we all dreamed of—and that Taeyeon might be there after all.

taglist + @gtfoiydlyj @sewiouslyz @xen248 @mineige @yjiminswallet @saysirhc @pandafuriosa60 @yeri-luvr

[krislgfox]

Continuing the Sprunki Magma, but today it's a ship/fankids edition!

Here u can draw ur fw ships: rarepairs or not! Or even share/draw ur own fankid of any ship u like!

No pro ships tho! Not everyone feels comfortable towards it! :[

Link:

Edit: oc x canon ships is also allowed btw! :D

[akibarayuri]

ZELDAAAAAAOORAAWAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH

[jesushub]

NF — 10 Feet Down

[chevvy-yates]

[NC_RES]-31102049-EUR-GER scharfenberg_g_portraits_042_1_CC_DT.file ///core:_ryder_von_scharfenberg.file\\\

—

⚠️ READ: Please do not repost/reupload any of my art here or to any other platform, or I will be forced to do anything to get it annihilated.

—

Ry got a new car.

I always visioned a jetblack 1980s Lamborghini Countach for him ever since I've created him.

What can I say? One day a Countach mod appeared of a NFS Urban K.S. Edition kit version of the 1974 Countach that looks even more fitting into Cyberpunk so I took this one and it's now Ry's car.

I'm having another set in the making – not finished yet but wanted to post the more casual set already.

If someone thinks why Ryder as an ex-Corpo, now streetkid, drives such a high priced car only Corpos would do: Ryder was born a royal corpo, he lived a luxury life since he was a smol boi but never was the teen that says dad I want xy and dad gives you xy either. Yet he came a lot into contact with expensive things in his past and it's not easy for him to give up some of those materialistic things of this life. E.g. Ryder would never live in a megabuilding. He had to live for a while in a trailer park but as soon as he had enough money he bought himself a good looking apartment that goes into corpo style.

He enjoys clean quality design over low quality and this counts for cars as well. All his money he gained through his hard work in guarding shipments and later merc work were saved so he could buy this car for himself a bunch of years later.

So, Ry is not the kind of dude who goes into the shop and threws money at the seller. He worked his ass off for it first so he can have what he wants.