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highoctanegem · 2 months ago

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Twisted dreams, tangled truths || Jade & Leila

TIMING: Recent. LOCATION: George's cabin, in the woods. PARTIES: @amonstrousdream & @highoctanegem SUMMARY: Jade catches Leila in a suspicious situation. CONTENT WARNING: None.

One of the benefits of chatting up random strangers was that Jade always learned juicy details about people’s lives. Once they’ve gotten comfortable enough around her, obviously (which usually took about five minutes into the convo). It was how she learned Cindy, who always ordered the same sandwich at Clubweigh, was preggo, or how she learned that the cashier at the grocery store was saving to send his kid to college, or how the guy waiting in line right in front of her at The Creamatorum was going to propose to his partner of two months for her birthday. (Way to potentially ruin an important date, but… she loved love, so she approved).

But like, to make it topical to the situation at hand (and where she was heading with this, give her a second), it was also how she learned about Anne’s grandson (who was like, a grown dude anyway) having really crappy nightmares. Yup. That sure perked Jade up when she first heard it, and obviously she made sure to ask the right questions, and prod just enough to realize this case might be worth looking into. (Kinda like how it had worked with Regan and Metzli a year or so ago).

So she asked, and she listened and she learned and then, ended up offering her services. (As a sleep… doctor). And sweet Anne was super worried about her grandson, so when Jade told her about the help she could provide? She obviously jumped at the opportunity. Just like Jade jumped on the case. If her suspicions were correct she would solve the problem, though. (Sometimes it should be a little concerning how easy it was for people to believe the things she said, but if it worked in her favor it couldn’t be like, a bad thing, right?)

Even if mares were not technically in her wheelhouse, Jade armed herself with the few items she knew would work on a potential threat (the salt, a flashlight, some weapons in case things escalated) and rode on her bike to the small little cottage where the grandson lived. It tracked, who wouldn’t have awful nightmares from living close to the forest?

Anyway.

Thanks to Anne’s spare key (seriously, it really shouldn’t be that easy for her to get anything), she slipped inside the cabin undetected, immersing herself in total darkness. Her flashlight came to the rescue, taped to the nose of her crossbow and guiding her around uncharted territory. Finagling her way to the bedroom was super easy, given how many rooms the little cottage had, but that was when the fun and games came to a stop.

Her skin thrummed before a silhouette came into view, but when it did, Jade wasn’t Jade anymore. She was a Bloodworth, and she had a human to save. She approached with caution, and waited, cause… Van. Van. Her words always played in her head, the way only her siblings’ lessons used to. Annoyingly making her question all she’d known. Just like Metzli’s story. And Emilio’s perspective, and Regan’s skepticism, and… every other person who had latched onto the rug that was her duty and kept trying to pull it from under her feet. She did aim her crossbow, though. Cause she still had both her feet on the rug, and her boots stomped proudly, preventing it from moving further. (Where was she going with this strange analogy? Her boots were…nice? Sturdy? Sure, yup) Anyway, she was not dumb, and the mare seemed to be sharing some kinda moment with her victim. (Who actually, didn’t seem to be too terrorized, but).

Upon closer inspection, things got even dicier.

Leila? “This is so not a good look for you, babe,” she whispered, the dot of light now pointed at her, as the crossbow moved in her direction. She refrained from sounding anything but profesh, on the account of the guy sleeping near them. “I’d stop doing whatever it is that you’re doing to the poor man,” cause the math was seriously mathing. (Pythagoras who?) “Unless… you want a matching bolt scar with your babe?” Honestly? A little romantic. Kinda like the similar stabbing scar she and Regan had on their respective right arms.

—

It wasn’t enough.

The three-word statement was the single thought that Leila returned to every morning, when the dusky hues of sunrise cut through the deep purple cloak of night. It wasn’t enough. It was the first thing that popped into her mind when the first stars came out and the first dreams started flickering into the astral like swirling silver on a dark sea. Nothing that she did seemed to be enough.

It was a terrible spiral to fall into. And yet, the mare had found herself tumbling down the rabbit hole ever since Cass had sent her away at the mouth of the cave. She’d done as the girl had asked, and look how that had ended up! The ember had been snuffed out, never to warm the lives of those who loved her again. She couldn’t keep her little family safe, or ease the pain that they felt from loss or harm at the hands of others. It was why she had turned to the dreamers, the ones whose sleeps were already restless and filled with darkness. She’d found some sense of purpose there- even if it still felt like she hadn’t done enough at the end of the night.

The mission of aid had started with a single dreamer: Finn. She tried to pass his place on a regular basis, just to ensure that the nightmares of his father hadn’t returned to plague him. Slowly, however, the mare had spread her operation to those who suffered from their own mental prisons. She could wake them up if need be, or try to force the tides of their minds in some other direction. Though, it was far easier for Leila to intervene and encourage them to wake than it was to alter the dream itself. To change the dream quickly shifted to feeding on the dream, and that was not the point.

She’d fluttered in on a breeze that made the windowpanes rattle, the whistling air that caught in the cracks sounding like the wail of a spirit. One of her regulars was having the same terror again- Leila didn’t even need to go into the dream to know that George (she had found a note on the nightstand addressed to the young man and had taken to referring to him as such) was dreaming of the same wreck on the same side of the road on the same rainy night again. The mare worried at her lower lip. She still hadn’t found a way to make the nightmares stop. Not completely.

Just as she was about to reach out and place a hand on the dreamer’s shoulder, she heard an all-too-familiar voice hiss through the darkness. A mote of light in a perfect circle had appeared just above her clavicle. Bright red eyes peered through the dark and locked onto the slayer with the crossbow. Jade. Shit. Leila’s hand hovered in midair, frozen in place. George whimpered in his sleep, shifting restlessly as his dream continued. He needed to wake up…

“Jade, I’m not here to hurt him.” The mare’s voice was so quiet that the wind outside nearly swallowed the noise completely. “I was here to help. So please… lower the crossbow…”

There was not supposed to be room for explanations. Nope, correction. There could be a bajillion explanations, that was totally fine and chill, but at the end of the day, Jade was not supposed to hear any of them, let alone be receptive to them. She was supposed to cover her ears and go La la la. Cause explanations meant nothing when people ended up hurt anyway, right? That’s what Van had said. So really, Leila could have her reasons for needing a midnight snack, undead couldn’t help themselves most of the time, the monster within ended up taking the wheel eventually. Jade got that she had reasons. But she couldn’t do anything about it, she couldn’t let it get in the way of what the world needed her to do. Duty was duty. A stake needed to be plunged, a head needed to be removed, yada yada. For the sake of humankind. (Or duty used to be duty) (Now it was more like, a poorly crafted remix that would only see the light of day on Soundcloud)

She waited for Bloodworth’s theme to swell another time, to remind her there was mercy in taking out (in killing) (of course her mind could correct that easily) undead, but the radio seemed to be off. It was just her, and her crossbow aimed at Leila, only the strong whistling of the wind as ambiance. Leila. The same Leila she had met briefly when they teamed up to roast Chuy. Or the same one who’d threatened her on Ariadne’s behalf. And even, the one Regan had unintentionally injured not too long ago. It was a pretty hefty dynamic for two people who only met briefly. It was actually about time their paths crossed on their own, wasn’t it? (Like a long-awaited tv episode).

Going with the script, Leila’s explanation came and Jade heard it, but it rang untrue in her ears. Help how? Like, she was known for jumping the gun from time to time, alright? She knew this about herself (it wasn’t a flaw, it was a character trait). But this? This was a little too suspicious. Anybody would’ve thought the same, right? Like… “You’re by a guy’s bed, a guy who I know for a fact, has been having recurrent nightmares. Do you see where I’m going with this?” She knew taking out (killing) (killing) Leila would only make everything worse. Like, she and Metzli might actually have to showdown for like, the hundredth time, and Regan? This was her friend, for better or for worse and… wasn’t she just getting the hang of friendship again? How could Jade take one of ‘em away? Her heart pounded in her chest, every beat louder as she waited, the way Van had asked of her. (She was good at following her siblings' demands, wasn’t she?) (This was just… a different kind of siblinghood).

She wanted to lower her crossbow, just like Leila pleaded. She wanted her explanation to make sense. The thought alone filled her with shame. (Why. Why was it so hard?). She wasn’t supposed to hear. Her index finger pressed lightly over the trigger, ready to be squeezed if she got over her need to hear. And what a mess it would be, sure. But she was used to mess, she could make another one, as long as she was right. As long as she kept humans safe. “How is any of this helpful, Leila?” The irony was lost on her.

—

If there was a list of people that Leila wished to never run into in that little coastal town, Jade’s name would be scrawled at the top of the list. And that was with only knowing of her on the periphery of her life! It was enough, though. The slayer had nearly killed two of the people she held dearest in the world simply for what they were. It didn’t seem to matter that there was a person at the heart of the creature that was made. The mare was fairly certain the only reason that Metzli and Ariadne were still counted amongst the living was because of some relationship or another that the slayer had with the non-undead in town. She was Regan’s partner, wasn’t she? Perhaps that had something to do with it…

The little green dot seemed to taunt her as Jade spoke. Look how close you are to death! It glinted in the dark, focused on her neck. One good shot, the slash of a knife, and you’ll be nothing but dust and ashes… The space in her chest where her heart should be beating like a jackhammer gave a phantom lurch. Leila knew how incriminating it looked. A mare at bedside, a hand ready to lay on the arm of a dreamer in repose, bright red eyes gleaming like some demon from a horror story. But Jade couldn’t smell the fear. She couldn’t tell that the dream had already soured.

Explain yourself. She felt as if she were on trial- only her judge was also playing the role of jury and executioner. And she, the defendant, was already sat before the chopping block. “I can smell fear,” Leila forced her voice to stay steady, though her eyes remained fixed on the sharp bolt at the end of the crossbow. “I can tell when a dream is already bad- I’m not here to make a nightmare, I’m trying- I’m trying to wake him up…”

It was so strange to note her own fear in the room with that of a dreamers. It didn’t smell like dream fear, it didn’t give the same heady sensation. It tasted bitter. It felt like cold ice water thrown down her back. Disappear, her instincts cried. Hide in the astral! Fly away from here! But Leila had a feeling that the bolt would find its mark in her if she did.

It wasn’t the first time she heard that concept before. From the days Amber (the most patient of her teachers) (er, siblings) sat with her and went over common undead lore, to Wynne claiming Ariadne helped with their nightmares. And mostly recently, Xo and Wyatt mentioning Mateo helped them sleep better. Unlike vampires, mare could have purpose. They could use their cursed unlife for good. (Until of course, the hunger got out of control) (That was always a risk). Jade could… give them that, to some degree. Not happily, mind you, but she’d heard enough evidence to loosen the grip on the notion that every mare fed till they caused death.

But to jump from the theory that was her reluctantly allowing that addendum to exist in her codes to letting Leila just off the hook cause…she claimed she wasn’t doing anything wrong? That was like, a whole different ball game. It didn’t work like that, nothing was ever so simple.

It was always interesting seeing a mare show their fear. Leila didn’t have to look at Jade to sense it. (Not sense it sense it, just… the tension was thick enough to feel it in the air) (Her blade could’ve cut through it, for sure). She’d seen the same emotion in Ariadne, screaming and begging inside the salt circle to be let go, she saw it in Leila now, despite only a flashlight illuminating the faint creases in her skin. She had a good poker face, but Jade was calling her bluff. It was super weird to be the source of said fear. She was scary? Oh, if her siblings could see her now! She’d never hear another little snide comment ever. Was it nice to be feared? Did that mean she was a better slayer than everyone gave her credit for? Was she good, then? (She was, right!?) (Yup) She wanted to be good so desperately.

Would a good slayer give Leila the chance to explain, though? That tiny little detail rattled Jade like someone had dropped a bucket of cold water over her head. “How do I know you’re not the one who’s planting the nightmares in the first place? Why should I believe this isn’t an excuse now that I’ve caught you?” This is what Wynne wanted, right? For her to be judge? To decide on some arbitrary vibe if she believed Leila or not, if she should shoot her crossbow or not? Would Wynne see how flawed that system was now? When it came down to one human to make the choice? When it was her perspective against the other woman’s version and both sound equally plausible? Would Van see that innocent until proven guilty meant nothing when guilty could always be a misunderstanding? When Leila was caught ‘red handed’, but it might not be what it looked like? Was this why Emilio carried so much guilt and anger and… Cause, no matter what everybody told her…Right about now? No choice felt better, no decision made her chest lighter than carrying out her duty would. Had she shot her crossbow and got on with the slaying, none of this would be plaguing her mind.

But she liked choices, didn’t she? Jade made so many of them all the time. Cause she was not a puppet. Or an instrument. (She’d been making choices since…) (Like, she remembered the first time that…) (Or, okay what about when…) This shouldn’t be too hard, right? Making a choice. It shouldn’t be making her belly queasy and her lungs tiny and… cause she knew what making choices meant. (It was also the perfect time to remind herself she needed to breathe). Didn’t she? She’d picked a couch recently! That was a big choice (there we go!). So she could do this. “I’m going to… lower my crossbow. Do not play with me, Leila,” and Jade sincerely hoped that if Leila were to ever believe a word that left her lips, it would be that threat. The nose bowed slightly, just enough that if triggered, it would still hit Leila, just nowhere it could cause serious harm. And… how could she even begin to prove the big ol’ misunderstanding? The only thing Jade could think of was getting his word. “Does he know you already? Will he be weirded out if you wake him up and we’re all here having a slumber party?”

—

The crossbow lowered.

Thank fucking god, the crossbow lowered.

Leila watched the arrow dip ever so slightly towards the ground- no, not the dirt, her leg. After all, in the eyes of a slayer, she was still a great, deadly monster that needed decapitating. The mare forced herself to take a slow, shaky breath in an attempt to collect herself, her own sickly sweet fear a stone in her throat. She couldn’t help but wonder: if Jade did not like the answer that Leila gave, would she raise the bolt back up, aim just above her collar bone and let an arrow loose?

It didn’t matter. Her trial at the hands of judge, jury, and potential executioner was beginning…

“He doesn’t know me in the waking world,” Her confession was not starting out strong. “But he’s seen me in his dreams. I’ve let myself be seen.” It was a correction that might cost her. After all, normal people didn’t seem to know about the supernatural, even in a town utterly filled with them. If a strange woman started popping up in people’s nightmares offering to keep the shadows of people’s minds at bay and then was seen in the real world, it wouldn’t bode well for the supernatural community. Somewhere, in the back of Leila’s mind, she knew this. But it was so, so easy for it to be blotted out by some foolish desire to do good. Make good.

In the bed, George tossed over again. The fear was getting worse, cutting through the air like a knife. It wasn’t likely that Jade would let her slip into the boy’s mind and turn the dream to something that wouldn’t plague him. She sucked a sharp breath in before continuing, trying to ignore the instinct to sink into his dream. “I find dreams that have already gone dark- not all nightmares are caused by Mares, there aren’t enough of us in the world to do that- I turn the dream to something else that isn’t what it started as, I tell them it’s just a dream, and I go. That’s all.”

So, bad news, chat… things weren’t off to a great start. Womp womp. Jade’s eyebrows pinched together when Leila said the man didn’t know her outside the astral world. Like, come on! Give her something. Didn’t everyone want a happy ending to all of this? But Jade was now certain, as in, taking Leila’s words at face value, that if George were to wake up, his most likely reaction would be to freak out about the woman in his nightmares standing by his bed. Nope, that was the stuff of horror movies. “You let him see you…Don’t you guys have rules and stuff about that kinda thing?” She was actually asking in earnest. Like, why was it so important for Leila that he saw her face? Some kinda hero complex? Jade wouldn’t know, she’d never experienced anything like that ever in her life. Her crossbow bobbed, but just cause she adjusted her full weight onto the other leg. “Like, he’s gonna be out buying groceries one day and then poof! The woman from his nightmares is gonna show up in the flesh?” That was a hypothetical scenario, obviously. But if so-called good mares existed, wouldn’t they try to vouch for the secrecy of their species to avoid losing their literal heads? Wouldn’t they try to go about it in a sneaky way? Not… planting giant Billboards of their faces in the middle of a dream, like those annoying YouTube ads.

Jade made no verdict based on that initial statement though, and look at her not jumping the gun! Cause sure, it wasn’t a great start, but they weren’t suddenly 4-0 on the score with a minute to go. (Soccer, that was a soccer reference). Plus, who hadn’t been the victim of a really crappy first impression? (Well, she’d never ever made a bad first impression) (But as it had already been established, she was always the exception to the rule). She was cautiously waiting for Leila to level the field. And wasn’t that what Van wanted? To judge humans and undead on a similar scale? Or well, not a similar, that was a little too far, too season six Jade when the ratings had plummeted and nobody cared anymore, and the characters were playing musical chairs in terms of romance, but at least on a different scale from her current one, which had been deemed tinkered or fixed by several people now.

In bed, George tossed like he also wanted a resolution to all of this. But possibly? His nightmare was getting worse too. And okay, alright. Leila might be a talented mare (she actually didn’t know her credentials) but to keep tormenting the guy and have this very tense convo with Jade? It wasn’t mathing. Which, for once, sounded like a good thing. A sliver of hope in Leila’s case. It was looking a good sixty-nine percent probable that Leila wasn’t the culprit. And Jade sure loved the taste of that sixty-nine. Focus, Leila was speaking, describing her M.O. And… it didn’t sound farfetched either. Or, did it? And, sorry, old habits die hard (which was one of those phrases that would probably have Regan breaking into hives, by the way), but her hunter brain was still buzzing. Still screaming at her to stick to the rulebook. She could almost hear Onyx, verbatim. (But why wasn’t he clearer?) Did it matter what good Leila might have done for George one night, when any slip up, any loss of control could result in his death? And wouldn’t his death be entirely Jade’s fault? Didn’t she have the chance to remove the threat altogether? But instead, she was wasting time yapping.

Her crossbow bobbed again, this time intentionally, questions and doubts spinning around her like the scariest swarm of wasps, sending shockwaves down her spine. Her fingertip caressed the trigger. Was she so easily swayed these days? Did she want to let her brother down? After all he’d done for her? Didn’t she owe him this small thing? To make the world better for humans, just like she promised him they would?

Jade thought of Metzli, of the night she let her blade sink on the ground instead of their chest. She thought of Ariadne, and the way Jade skewed the salt circle to allow the girl to escape the deadly swing of her axe. Back then, Jade had been iron-willed about keeping those instances as exceptions. Never be caught slippin’ again. Those were just oopsies, they couldn’t ruin her entire career. But then Van happened, and Vic happened and… They weren’t just things she let happen by accident. They were not isolated anymore. They were choices. Bad choices (right?). Choices that pushed her further and further away from her true calling. Choices that kept drawing more and more wedges between her and the people who raised her. The only people who wanted her to be good. Wasn’t she a horrible sister if she failed?

But now, standing in front of Leila, crossbow half raised again (but almost as limp as her duty), she had absolutely no clue what the bad choice was supposed to be. She hoped this was proof to the audience at home that she should never, under any circumstances be in charge of the court. But, proof… speaking of proof. She’d seen ‘How to Get Away with Murder’, she like… had some knowledge about it. Sorta. The people were hot, that was her only interest, really. But anyway. Proof. Evidence. She had to ask for it. “Do it,” her gaze darted toward George, who, if the sheen on his skin was any indication, was now sweating this nightmare. “Fix it. Or wake him up, do something.”

—

Well, she wasn’t dead yet. That was a good start, right?

The mare watched the tip of the arrow dip and bob gently in the slayer’s weak grip, as if both hunter and weapon had not yet decided whether or not the kill was a worthy pursuit. It was hard to think, Leila thought, when the threat of a permanent death was on the table.

But it wasn’t so wrong what she was doing, was it? It wasn’t wrong to try to be something better, something different than the state of being prescribed to them. She had seen her little family of othered beings grapple with that sentiment time and again. Monsters were not inherently monstrous. The world - the ‘normal’ world consisting of human and animal and plant and nothing greater than that - had stuck the things they feared, that they convinced themselves should-not-could-not exist, into that other category of Monster. Labeled monster. Assigned monster. No consideration of the soul that the so-called monster possessed. No care if they were once a normal human. Maybe that was the way slayers were taught: to be a Captial M Monster is to be monstrous, therefore should be must be done away with.

Would the arrow hurt? If Jade raised the bolt back up, target aimed at her throat, and loosed an arrow would it hurt very much or would this second life be over? Would the slayer need a knife, or an axe to finish the job? Or would it be fast? Would Leila be there one moment, a person in form, and the next be nothing but shimmering dust left to catch on the breeze? She wasn’t eager to find out, but she wondered if she would either way. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe, if the souls of creatures like her were permitted some rest beyond death, she would see Cass again.

Do it. Fix it.

It felt like a trick. Follow Jade’s orders, help the dreamer, and then get killed as a reward. The fact of the matter was that Leila knew what Jade had almost done too many times to count. What she’d done to Metzli, to Ariadne… She couldn’t trust Jade. But… she couldn’t let George suffer either. Slowly, she let her hand fall on the dreamer’s arm. The dream was already bad- a world of shattered glass, of despair, of flashing lights, of fear. I’m here, she wanted to say. It’s alright, you’ll be alright, I’m here. Little by little, she pulled at the weft of the dream, changing the scene to inky nothing, a blank canvas, hoping the absence could grant a little piece.

___

Jade had no idea what Leila could possibly be overthinking about. Like, come on! She was being given a golden chance to show she could do good! Wouldn’t everybody jump at the opportunity to prove themselves? Wouldn’t everybody itch at the thought of proving how wrong someone was? (Not that… she was ever wrong, obviously. Just… hypothetically). Didn’t Leila wanna show Jade how helpful she claimed to be? Why would she fumble an ideal ‘I told you so’ moment? Why… Oh, okay, alright… Finally, she’d done it. A hand wrapped softly around Geoge’s arm, and then she was off— inside him (mare style). Her body was still by his side, but she wasn’t tuning into Jade’s presence anymore. Which was probably for the best anyway, cause she knew how distracting she was for people usually. That was just the beginning, though. Jade had to make sure Leila came through. The fastest, easiest way to do that was by tracking his heartbeat. So she focused on that, listening to the drumming in his chest, trying super hard not to think about how it might be the last time it ever beat. And how that would totally be her fault.

His rate wasn’t exactly slowing down, and he continued to toss and mumble. Crap. What was taking so long? Jade adjusted the hold on her crossbow, setting the guide on Leila’s neck. Just… just in case. The chances of a plot twist were low but never zero, and she was feeling pretty edged right now. Her own shallow breathing got in the way of checking on George. Her hands were clammy, and the nose of the bow kept dipping, almost like it had gained weight overnight. Almost like it wasn’t just holding the quiver and the bolts anymore. And sure, maybe it wasn’t just the weight of the weapon at fault here. Maybe it was the impotence of her duty weakening her wrist. But no one was around to prove it, so for Jade, this was obviously not on her. It was never on her (cause why would it be, right?).

Forget about all of that, Jade only had eyes and ears for George now. Except… not really. Not even remotely, that was a terrible lie. She’d never been a one-thought-at-a-time type of girly, and it had only gotten worse once everyone started planting doubts in her head. As if she needed more mental tabs open. Jade.exe was super close to freezing, she was positive. She wanted to focus on George, and his safety. She wanted to focus on herself, and her rulebook. She wanted to focus on Leila, and the threat her existence posed to innocent people. Right? Was that not how the script went? (Why couldn’t it be as easy as it used to be?) But for every pained expression that man managed in his slumber, her focus fractured further. The man whimpered in his sleep, and it wasn’t him in her head, it was Regan, or Van or… Wouldn’t Jade want their nightmares soothed too? Wasn’t it a good thing? Wasn’t it merciful too? (Nope, that was a slippery slope). Where was her limit? The line she wouldn’t cross? Would she go as far as asking help from a… from someone who was cursed with unlife? Who could hold someone’s fate at her fingertips? (Huh…) (Why was that… Right, sorry, no time for tangents or hypotheticals).

Slowly, like really slowly (probably two full ‘Run Away with Mes’), he stopped fussing. His body went soft, then his breath evened out. The beat of his heart became gentle thuds, but Jade wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be relieved. There was no phew! exhaled yet. What if something went down inside his head? What if Leila screw up and his heartbeat kept diving. Or worse (?), what if she didn’t screw up and this was always the plan, getting a full course meal and then squaring up to Jade with full HP? Whether she liked it or not, though…Leila had done something. Jade didn’t breathe, didn’t blink for several beats, until George’s face turned peaceful, eyelids twitching a little but very clearly still vibing in the world of the living. Jade, on the other hand, was the opposite. Her shoulders were rock solid, her skin buzzed, the air in the room didn’t reach her lungs anymore, and when it did it felt toxic.

She was wrong.

Pretty wrong, if the slow breath George drew next was any indication. Which was… sorta, kinda weird. Jade was never wrong. (Right?) (Um...right?). Her chest heaved, cause if she was wrong (if Leila was right, more like), then… then. (?) How many times had she been wrong before? How many unlives that could’ve served a purpose beyond violence had she ended? Wrong, she was wrong. And that meant…Nope, she couldn’t be. Cause that would mean her siblings were wrong. Their teachings, their training, their lineage, their legacy, all of it. A sham? It couldn’t be. She could be wrong, sure. Jade had admittedly, flopped once or twice. (Who kept the score anyway?). But… but how could Onyx be wrong about this? When he’d put himself beneath the wellbeing of humankind, when he’d taught Jade to do the same? Where were any of them now, actually? When her conviction hung by a thread? Why wasn’t Ruby by her side, whispering a winning argument about why Leila’s good intentions didn’t matter? Good and bad were different from dangerous, yada, yada. Where were Onyx’s reminders to push through despite her obvious shortcomings? Like, she’d even take Jasper screaming at her to get it together! Why the radio silence? She couldn’t hear any of their echoes, couldn’t pick up their old frequency.

Instead— The dissonance had never rang louder in her ears. Had never been harder to ignore.

Her eyes prickled, and she didn’t think this was allergies. Jade wanted to turn her mind off, change the station, or scream louder, overpower whatever was inside her head. There was no harmony to it, no melody, no texture. Just pure, unbearable clashing. She was wrong. Maybe not so hypothetically, for once. And somehow, her imperfect training, and her poor judgment, and her impulsiveness, and her fierce righteousness didn't feel like super fun character traits anymore. They were lowkey looking like total red flags. Or, okay… beige, maybe? At least. Sal…mon? (The antis were gonna have a field day on Twitter) (And you know what? Maybe they deserved it).

She didn’t recall being so wired the night she let Metzli go. Nope, she’d been angry, mostly. Frustrated over the small dent in her solo career. And then, not a whole lot of thinking went down that evening with Ariadne, either. (Duh). Her brain had taken a full month of vacation, all expenses covered, somewhere that was definitely not Ireland but if you listened closely you might hear a little Celtic tune. Whatever processing she should’ve done went straight to ‘ignore’ and ‘postpone’ until another time. To the voicemail that was her conscience, so to speak. Here though? In George’s suddenly quiet, dark cabin… with no danger in sight except her own crossbow? Jade felt herself reel. Could not escape the weight of months and months (or, on a deeper level, even years and years) of avoidance crushing her chest and lungs like… yup, one of those famous compression machines from TikTok. Of course.

But she had to snap out of it. Get over it. Jade wasn’t normally the type of person who needed to drown in booze to ignore the world (maybe Emilio was onto something though), but boy did she wanna be outside of her body now, or at least numb everything down until the ripples were over. Until she could avoid the incoming crash out. She had to avoid that. That would be so embarrassing for her. Her lungs still felt teeny tiny inside her chest, and the knot in her throat kept blocking the air. She stumbled backward, bumping against the wall of the bedroom. Her crossbow fired to the ground. Shoot. Somehow the action sobered her up. She managed to press the metaphorical snooze button on her mental breakdown for what was probably the last time, and she speedran the rest of her emotions to a point where she could decide how to act. (And hey! At least her siblings could be proud that she learned that one trick).

She couldn’t stay, obviously. No freaking way. She couldn’t wait until Leila left the astral world. She didn’t want to wait, didn’t want to see her face. Didn’t want to acknowledge that she was wrong (or that Leila was right), wanted to acknowledge the fact that she hadn’t carried out her duty again (!) even less. She had to go. Run back to her bike, ride to the Three Daggers and unwind. Maybe she’d find a rugged hunter to snap the sense of duty back into her. And if Leila ended up killing George after all, then... Jade would find out. She’d correct this mistake. Her mistake. Her stupid, foolish choice to go against everything she’d ever known. For what? More math that didn’t math? More horrible jarring dissonance in her head? Who did she think she was, really? To skew from the path laid out for her by better hunters?

Enough with the avalanche of questions. Jade let out a shuddering breath, teeth chattering for some reason, lungs finally full of oxygen, which sorta silenced every lingering thought that could’ve ruined the night even more. George was safe for now, that was (in some convoluted way) a completed task. So she slipped out of the room and into the darkness of the forest, letting Leila comfort him through the night.

—

She waited for it. The needle sharp jab of a dagger to the throat. Leila sat in the dream of a stranger, willing their own demons to die away for a little while, and waited for death at the hands of an impatient (or perhaps entirely too patient) Jade. But it didn’t come. One second, two, five, twenty… time stretched on and on in the dark she had created. In it’s shelter, George’s shallow breathing steadied. The fear that wafted off him like a king’s feast became fainter and fainter.

And still, no pain. And still, no death.

Had she expected it? For death to come? Like a debt collector she had skirted over the centuries and had finally caught up? Because she would not stopped for Death, it had- instead of kindly stopping for her- chased her until it caught her? Yes- the answer that flickered through the mare’s mind came as a surprise. No. She’s grown so used to life, or at least the facade of it. And despite the constant ache of loss, the want to see those who had gone ahead again, she wasn’t ready to leave her family. It wouldn’t have been fair to Metzli, to Ariadne, to those who would have been left behind.

But that was the thing about death: it was never fair for the living. It was the dead that did not have to suffer the loss. She’d avoided it so long, Leila thought, that she’d begun to forget that simple fact.

In the silent dark of George’s new dream, time continued to drag on. She stayed put. The story she told herself was that it was to ensure that the dreamer’s self-concocted nightmare wouldn’t return for that evening. But it was only after the mare left the dream god-knew-how-long later to discover an empty space where Jade once stood, after she had whisked herself away on the dying shadows of night tinged with purple strokes of dusk that she thought maybe… just maybe… she had stayed inside a dream to avoid the possibility of death for just one second more.

#w: twisted dreams tangled truths #w: leila #w #wickedswriting #i almost wrote triste AGAIN this is rias fault #tysm bee 💖

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coolbeanzeaglbones · 4 months ago

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I've been writing a murder mystery fic for Halloween, second chapter Time!!

The next morning, Jimmy was finished charging and he got up and went to do his normal morning stuff.

He wasn't at all surprised to see Ricky at the counter, eating something healthy. The other two were right where he left them, the commander on the couch, one leg dangling off and Eaglebones leaned up against the couch in what had to be the most uncomfortable position ever, “I would try to move him, but I don't want to wake him up.” Ricky said, staring up at Jimmy.

Jimmy gave a reassuring smile, “Don't worry, Ricky, I kinda um, drugged them.” He felt sheepish. He knew that sucked, and Ricky would probably know the severity of the horribleness of the situation because of that.

Ricky finished eating his food and went out, “Bye Jimmy!” He called as he left.

It was now just Jimmy standing there with his sleeping companions. He debated whether he should wake them or not, but then just decided to wake up Crash instead.

To his surprise, Crash was already up and painting a picture, “Oh Jimmy, you guys back!” Crash exclaimed, thoroughly confusing the robot, “We were here the whole night.”

“Then why didn't the other two come to the bunk room?”

Jimmy really liked Crash's innocence. He was just too pure and that's why Jimmy hated the other two working like how they were. Some days, they would just be up all night trying to figure it out until at least one of them conked out, “Well, they just wanted to sleep in the living room I guess.”

Crash took that and went into the living area to make breakfast, “Should we wake them up and ask them if they want breakfast?” Jimmy debated in his head for a second, but that was more than enough time for Crash to cross the room and lightly shake the commander by the shoulder.

The commander jerked awake, looking Crash right in the eye, “We didn't make it to the bunk room last night, didn't we?” He looked down at Bones, “Hey, I'm up, so you have to be up too.” He nudged Eaglebones’ shoulder with his foot.

Eaglebones grabbed the commander's foot, “If you do that to me ever again I will snap your leg.” The commander didn't want to test that. Ever. Because he knew Eaglebones was bat shit crazy enough to do something like that, “On a side note, I may have made a thing.”

“Oh, a thing? Do tell me.”

“Okay, so all of the victims that we think were killed by the killer had the initials L.T.”

Jimmy had only been half listening, as he had been making breakfast, but now he was fully listening.

“Think about it. Lee Tang, Lauren Tauri, Leslie Templar. It has to be connected somehow. Or maybe it's a coincidence.”

“You said the guy was wearing a Purge mask?”

“No, Leslie said that, I'm going on her judgment.”

“Yeah but, she was dead. Gutted in the alleyway. How could she possibly tell you?”

“Ghost.”

Crash was looking between them, horrified at their casual tone as they talked about murder. He had enough and just grabbed them both and squished them in a big bear hug, “You two don't get enough hugs.” He justified.

If looks could kill, Eaglebones would've murdered Crash with a glance, he did not like that one bit. The commander just hugged back. He had to admit, they never did have enough hugs in this place.

The stupid nice moment was broken by Jimmy getting a police alert in his sensor.

Twice in the span of six hours.

XXXXXXXXXXXLINEBREAKXXXXXXXXX

The three bats strolled through the parking lot of the school. It was just across from the elementary school. Just across from the damn elementary school.

Jimmy scanned his Eaglebones real quick, ah, yes, just shy of the fatal dosage of caffeine.

Okay, they were going to have a serious talk about correct caffeine intake. For some reason, the commander never needed coffee. Something to do with his black magic tooth.

The scene when they arrived was pretty bad. They had three specific garbage bags on the ground by the clothing drop box for the used donated clothing.

Jimmy ducked beneath the caution tape and walked over to the police, “Okay, stop calling us.” Is what he wanted to say, but instead, he said, “How long ago?”

“Pretty long, this gets checked once a week, so at the most a week.”

Jimmy nodded and scanned the area. The other two were looking at the box that contained the donations and then the commander looked back at the bags, “These are leaky, and if that was so, there should be a smear on the container thingy, which there isn't, denoting.”

“That the killer put the bags in through the open door that is used to take the donations out.” Eaglebones said.

“Which is why it was at the bottom.” the commander finished.

The cops looked a bit jealous that they were able to determine that, “Calm down there Sherlock and Watson, but how did they get in?”

The commander thought for a second before Eaglebones said, “Could be a person involved with the charity, could be a locksmith, could've picked the lock. There are many possibilities.”

The cops were getting a bit frustrated because they were better detectives.

“Jimmy, do you have a screwdriver?” Jimmy looked up from his conversation with a lieutenant and tossed Eaglebones his hand, “What the fuck?”

“Sorry, there's a screwdriver in there.”

Eaglebones took the lock off, “I will get back to you with this, Jimmy here.” He threw the hand back to Jimmy.

They finished and found out that the victim was a man, “No one's safe. Landon Tate, nineteen year old runaway. I am so glad I don't have to make that call.”

It was then that someone tapped Eaglebones on the shoulder, “Hey can you like break the news to his pa-”

Eaglebones turned on the guy, “Listen man, we're not cops, this is your job, we shouldn't even be doing this.” Jimmy had never seen Eaglebones look so mad. He had this sort of burning rage in his eye that made the commander step back and made it even scarier that he was using a deadly whisper, “We put up with having to do this for the public, but I am not doing that.” The cop cowered and scampered off.

The three Aquabats stood there, Jimmy and the commander staring at Eaglebones, who was still breathing a bit heavily.

They walked back to the battletram in silence. Jimmy thought Eaglebones was going to break. Even the way he was talking sounded like he was about to start crying. He would have to watch out for him.

#the aquabats #the aquabats super show #eaglebones falconhawk #fanfic #jimmy the robot #crash mclarson #aquabats #dark fic #murder mystery #mcbc #ricky fitness

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pleb-the-original · 9 months ago

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Day 3: Construct

(ok so I kinda didn't want to do another a- monster but the entry just intrigued me too much.) Alright welcome to Agrippa duty. How bad did ya fuck up? Don't play coy, you had to fuck something up to end up down here. Ah, there it is. Yeah, I can see why they sent you down here. Anyways, this is your orientation as a new employee working for the care and keeping of the Elders' agrippas. What is an agrippa you may ask? Well, have ya heard of the Liber Primus? Big magic book with a human soul inside? Think of that, but a demon soul instead. Basically a long long time ago back when the humans up in Europe were in castle times, a bunch of priests managed to capture some demons and stuffed them into books. You'd think this would've been an issue, since, ya know. Humans stuffing us into books. But instead of doing something actually helpful with the potential crisis on our hands, the Elders decided they wanted in too. Now soul manipulation back then wasn't as refined as it is today, especially dealing with hellfire remnants. Research hadn't gone too far into figuring out the specifics in using hellfire remnants to form a soulfire with only a few successes such as that cat gal. But the Elders tried anyways. They plucked a handful of flames from a couple fires, placed them between the pages of a book and closed it shut. No I am not joking that is actually how they did it. The worst part was that it worked. I could go on about intention powering magic and the Elders heightened capabilities but who gives a shit about that? Not the Elders after having new toys to play with. They basically used the agrippas like journals, documenting their sacred knowledge inside. Some of them actually did useful things with their agrippas like collecting research notes. But some of the others one just wrote whatever the home was on their mind. Before you ask, the only one that didn't participate was Dantalion. I'm surprised he actually didn't say anything considering everyone was ripping him off. Maybe he knew what was to come. Because yeah, turns out stuffing an entire demon into a confined prison and feeding it untold wisdom does in fact lead to bad things happening. The agrippas got hungrier for knowledge. They soon became feral and started eating anything with information they could find. They even managed to trap normal demons within their pages by shutting them inside. It was mayhem! Once the Elders got their agrippas together, they locked 'em away down in the deepest bowels of Pandemonium so no one ever has to learn about one of the many times they fucked up. Oh yes this isn't the only incident, trust me. Working down here, you get to learn a lot about their dirty laundry. You can't ever let them know of course but trust me, you'll learn a lot. As for what we actually do, we just do rounds to make sure the locks are stable and the books are complacent. If they do get rowdy, you just gotta swing on by a booth to find a book to read to them. I am not kidding. Does this face look like it kids? No? Good. We do get assigned specific agrippas to deal with just in case they get out. And you gotttttttt……Vassago's. Eh, not bad. His gets a little testy sometimes but it ain't too bad. They must've gone easy on you. Yes, this is going easy. Trust me, things could be a lot worse. You could have gotten Andras'. I know right? If you do see any of the guys working with that one, just give them a hug. Or a pat on the back. Or anything really. Just don't make any sudden movements around them. Or the agrippa itself. Actually just stay as far away as possible at all times. You can tell which one it is by the caution tape…and the acid stains…and the paint. But I don't think things'll too bad for you. I mean you're only assigned down here for a couple months. Just make sure when you get outta here not to do anything to make them wanna send you back. I hate it when I get repeats.

#creaturecodex #30 day challenge #writing #creative writing #demon #agrippa #construct #tw swearing

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soulonfirewriter · 2 months ago

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Ghosts of Our Past Pt. 1 - Chapter 4

~~ Chapter 3

We take the bus through the town, getting off at the stop a few blocks down from the house. We’re walking down the sidewalk, and my legs are trembling with anticipation. I try to make conversation, to get my mind off what I’m about to do.

“So, uh… do you usually do this alone? Or do you have some sort of backup? It seems a little dangerous to be doing this sort of stuff on your own.”

Sam hesitates to answer. Then he looks over at me, with almost a sad look in his eyes.

“No, I’m usually not by myself. I have a brother who does this with me. I mean… he used to. We parted ways. It’s just… complicated.”

I feel pangs of sympathy for him. “Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it anymore. Seems like a sore subject. I was just curious.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he assures me. “This is kinda my first hunt… without him. So I guess I’m glad I’m not doing this alone.”

Sam smiles at me, and I return the gesture, feeling much more confident than I did a second ago. I like the feeling that I’m helping him get through this, even by just being here. And I can focus on that instead of how fearful I am of walking through that door.

Soon we’re at the doorstep, and Sam shines his flashlight through the glass pane on the side of the entryway.

702 Forest Hills Drive.

My head is swirling with unidentified emotions. It’s mainly fear… and not just of the ghost. It’s of being back here, again. Where everything was taken from me.

There’s yellow caution tape all over the front of the house, so I show Sam where there’s a door that we can go in from the back porch. He positions himself to kick it open, but before doing so, he turns back to face me.

“Are you ready?” he asks gently.

I give him the go-ahead with a small nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With one swift kick, the door swings open and we’re cautiously entering the silent, dark, abandoned home. Sam takes the lead, and I am gripping the gun he gave me as tightly as ever, being careful of my footsteps in the darkness.

As I scan our surroundings, I realize I know my way around the house like the back of my hand. And everything is the way we left it since it was abandoned for eight years. It’s all so painfully familiar.

I can’t help but take a right down the nearest hallway, headed straight for my old bedroom. Somehow, it all even smells the same. Eight years and two murders hasn’t changed much, apparently.

Now, Sam is following me as I enter my old bedroom. I just stand in the doorway, looking at the empty room. I feel a bit numb, seeing it again like this. There’s a thick layer of dust on all the surfaces, and my twin bed stands cold and unused. But my eye catches on something in the glow from Sam’s flashlight.

A stuffed animal is sitting on my bed. A small, plush puppy.

“I wonder how that got there…” I mutter to myself. Sam looks down at me.

“What?”

“The stuffed animal on my bed. That’s not one of mine, so it’s not like I left it here.”

He furrows his brow. “Are you sure?”

I nod. “Positive.”

He’s clearly making a mental note of this. In his other hand, he’s holding a little device with a gauge and an antenna on it. I find myself smirking at him.

“No way. You have one of those things from Ghostbusters?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “This actually works, okay? It’s an EMF meter. It measures electromagnetic frequencies. But we’ll need to take it to the spot where you saw the ghost for it to read anything. So lead the way.”

I take a deep breath, and finally feel a sense of pressure to see the place where my mom was killed. It feels daunting, and I’m sure Sam reads this on my face, because he reaches out to touch my shoulder comfortingly.

“I’m right here, okay? I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

His words are reassuring, but they only go so far, because he might be able to protect me from danger, but Sam can’t save me from a complete mental breakdown. Only I can save myself from that.

I give him a nod and let him follow me toward the living room. Intellectually, I know my mother’s blood is still stained on the hard wood floor, but actually seeing it…

I freeze up, taking shaky, shallow breaths. Here it is. The place where my world came crumbling down. Where I lost everything. Where I was stripped away from my home and forced into a whole new life, where I’d have to figure everything out on my own.

Because I was alone.

So… so… alone.

I’m sitting hunched over my mother’s lifeless form, looking at her face and not her mangled torso. Because if I don’t look at it, she won’t be bleeding out from her violent stab wounds onto the floor.

The blood won’t be pooling around her torso.

Tears are streaming down my cheeks, and the police are bursting through the door, responding to my 9-1-1 call.

All sounds are muffled. They’re grabbing my arms and dragging me away.

“No, don’t take me! You can’t take me from her! No!” I scream at the top of my lungs, watching my mother lie still as they rip me away.

There’s a dark figure in the corner of the room. I can’t make out much from the short glimpse, in the middle of all the action, but I can see that it’s a teenaged girl, and she’s smirking at me.

Looking right in my eyes, and smirking.

I’m gasping for breath, blinking. I just remembered something that I haven’t thought about in years.

“Well, the EMF is starting to pick up,” Sam comments, completely oblivious to my reaction. I try to snap out of it, to watch him walk around, instead of keeping my eyes on the floor.

“But it’s getting stronger over here,” he announces, making his way over to the dining area, right where the latest crime scene is. There is more caution tape everywhere, and fresher blood on the floor, with all the evidence in the area confiscated or labelled. As Sam gets as close as possible to the area, the EMF reader goes crazy, flashing and humming.

“So… the ghost was there.”

“Right here,” Sam agrees, sighing. I’m eyeing our surroundings warily, looking for a sign of anything suspicious. “But I doubt we’ll get much action tonight. We need… we need to find out what tied the two victims together. There’s got to be something…”

“We’re not gonna see a ghost tonight?” I ask, wringing my trembling hands to try and mask how shaken up I am.

“Not unless one of us is its next victim.”

“Has anyone ever complimented you on your bedside manner?” The words leave my mouth in a quip before I can process them. Sam’s eyes are glued on me, now, brow wrinkled with concern.

“How are you holding up?”

“I…” I struggle to form words for a second. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” says Sam, gently. “I think I’ve seen enough to start putting some pieces together. We gotta get you home. There’s nothing left that can be done tonight.” He’s scanning me carefully, clearly noting my physical reaction to being back in this house.

“But…”

“Come on, you’re as white as a sheet, and you’re shaking. You’re traumatized, Caroline. I should have never brought you here.”

I shake my head emphatically. “I wanted to come. It’s… not on you. I needed to face this.”

“It’s too much, too fast,” Sam argues. “We’re getting you home.”

It’s not like he has to convince me to stay. I feel pretty eager to get out of this house.

~~~

“I remembered something.”

It’s the next morning, and I’m finally feeling ready to talk about the memory that being at the house had triggered last night. I’m pressing my cell phone to my ear, talking to Sam.

“What? Like… something from that night? Something you’ve repressed?”

“Mmhmm. It was another part of that night that I haven’t thought about in… well, a long time. The police were dragging me away… and I saw someone in the corner of the room. Sam, it was a girl. Like, a teenager. And she was smiling at me weirdly. Like… somehow it was about me. All of it. I just know she was looking at me for a reason. Maybe… maybe this is about me. Not my mom.”

“But… how can that be?” Sam asks in disbelief. “I mean, then why wouldn’t she have attacked you last night, if she wants you? The EMF was being picked up, so it’s not like she wasn’t there.”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I obviously don’t have much to go on. Maybe she got scared of you and your little salt gun, or whatever it is.”

I can feel Sam roll his eyes through the phone. “Yeah, well, I’ve clearly got some research to do. It’s helpful to know that you saw a girl. Maybe she has some living relatives we can talk to.”

“That would be helpful,” I reply. “You’re meeting with the family of the victim today, right?”

“Yeah. One o’clock.”

“Great. Send me an address. I’m coming.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best—”

“Oh, come on, Sam,” I protest. “I’m in this, now, whether you like it or not. And I can pretend to be a fed. I can be your intern, or something.”

“FBI agents don’t have interns,” he argues.

“You don’t know that. You’re not even a real fed.”

Sam clears his throat in irritation. “Fine. You can come if you want, but let me do the talking, okay? I’m the one with experience, here.”

“Whatever you say.”

~~~

“Hi, I’m Agent Johnson and this is my… intern.”

“Hey there, I’m Clara,” I say with a polite smile, reaching out to shake the hand of Mrs. Fletcher, the widow of the murder victim.

“Agent Thompson,” Sam corrects me, shooting me a look. “Sorry, she’s still learning.”

“Yeah, it’s actually my first day,” I admit with a sheepish smile. And then I add, in a pointed tone, “I’m going to let Agent Johnson, here, do most of the talking.”

“I just have a few questions for you, about your husband’s murder,” Sam continues, giving a sympathetic look to the woman. She nods, allowing us into her home.

“Of course, come on in. Have a seat.”

Sam and I sit beside each other on her couch, and Mrs. Fletcher takes a cushioned chair across from us, crossing her legs. I’m wearing the nicest outfit I own, the one I wore to my last job interview. Black slacks and a white silk button-up. And I’m hoping it looks normal for me to be next to Sam with his FBI badge and suit and tie.

“So, Mrs. Fletcher… you can start by telling us exactly how you came to know your husband had passed.”

She gives a grim nod. “It was Wednesday night. David didn’t make it back in time for dinner, and I was starting to wonder where he could be. The last I had heard from him was that he had left work early to run some errands. And then after speaking with the boys… there was one last place to check.”

“Which was the house on Forest Hills,” surmises Sam. “It’s a strange place to be found. Any idea why he might have gone there?”

Mrs. Fletcher gives a shrug. “That part is lost on me. We have no connection to that house. Except…”

Sam raises his eyebrows curiously. “Except what?”

“Well… apparently, my boys have gone over there a couple times. You know, just causing trouble. There are rumors about that house, how it’s haunted and everything. I never knew they were going over there, I swear—”

“Wait,” Sam cuts her off. “Your kids broke into the house? Was your husband going there to stop them?”

“No, he couldn’t have been, because the boys were at home when David was there,” she explains. “He never told me anything about it, about how he was going to that house. Maybe he just didn’t want me to worry about the boys.”

“Did your husband have any… enemies?” asks Sam cautiously.

“If you’re asking if there’s a reason David was murdered, or a suspect, there’s nothing I know of,” she tells us. “I’m sorry. My husband was a great man. A good father. That’s why this whole thing is so weird.”

Sam presses his lips together to show he understands, but I can see dejection behind his eyes. Because this means that there’s nothing to go on to solve this case.

“I guess our next move is to talk to your sons,” Sam pipes up after thinking for a moment. “Just to see if they saw anything in the house. Thank you for your time.”

Soon Mrs. Fletcher shuffles out of the room and comes back, ushering in two teenaged boys, explaining that their names are Ashton and Carson. As they enter the room, they look just like normal kids. Normal kids who thought it would be funny to break into an abandoned house because of rumors that it was haunted.

Knowing how personal this is to me, and how reckless it was for these boys, how it might have been what got their father killed… it’s infuriating to me.

“Okay, look,” Sam begins slowly, noting the guilty look on their faces. “No one's in trouble here, okay? We’re just asking what you two know about the house. This isn’t about the trespassing. We just want to know if you saw anything that can help us.”

“It’s… it’s just a spooky old house, man,” one of the boys speaks up. “We didn’t mean for anything to happen. It was just a game. We got together with some friends and dared each other to go in. It was supposed to be funny.”

“Why did your dad go to that house?”

“I don’t know, man, I swear,” the other boy tells Sam. “None of us saw anything.”

But after he says this, the two brothers share a look. I glance over to Sam, who clearly notices this.

“What aren’t you telling us?” Sam asks firmly.

“Our, um… our little brother was there, too. Alexander. He thinks he may have seen something in the house. But no one else saw it. He’s only seven,” the older of the two states.

“He’s had a hard time with the accident,” Mrs. Fletches pipes up from behind her sons. “He barely talks to anyone. I doubt you’ll get much out of him.”

I touch Sam’s arm suddenly. “Let me go try and talk to him.”

“What?”

“It’ll be better if it’s just one of us, and I think it should be me. Most kids have an easier time opening up to women, anyway.”

Sam still seems hesitant, playing it off as if he’s worried about sending an intern for this part, but I know it’s not that. It’s a question of whether he believes I can handle the situation and get the information we need.

“Sam, trust me. I can connect with him. I know I can.” My eyes are steadily locked on his, confident about this.

And he knows I’m right because he finally nods in consent.

“Alright. I trust you.”

I look to Mrs. Fletcher. “Can you show me to Alexander’s room?”

~~ Chapter 5

#writing #sam winchester #sam winchester centric #season 1 sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural fic #original character

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frankmillerturnonyourlocation · 1 year ago

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All the Halloween asks for whomever needs more attention >:))

I was holding onto this for a WHILE thank you for asking!!!!

I was deliberating about who to talk about but I'm thinking a lot about Henry. I'll do Henry <3

now the cool thing about not having seen all of the source material is that I'm pretty sure I'll be Making Some of This Stuff Up. but all of this is made up so it's chill, right?

do you & your f/o decorate your house? if you have an idea of what it looks like, show us!

Okay so the Man Cave has like five of the saddest little decorations hung up like halfway through the month, UNLESS Schwoz is given the go ahead to take over decoration, which Ray would rarely do. But then it looks nice. And they'd like, change the LEDs to be exclusively orange or purple for the month. Charlotte plays like, classic Halloween music over the speakers whenever she gets the chance, like real Spooky Scary Skeletons stuff, the good tunes. Usually when Ray's not home. Junk N Stuff does not get trick or treaters.

At my little apartment, I like string lights, little paper decorations I make myself and tape up, and like, maybe some sweet little vermont country store-type pumpkin or soft fabric witch doll that I saw at an Aldi or something and felt my heart breaking at the idea of not taking it home. This Em would like scented candles, I think, even if they forget to light them at home. Henry has bigger, bolder ideas, a real fake-cobweb-and-caution-tape-type decorator when he's excited about the space and the freedom it stands for. He helps me decorate c:

2. is your f/o from a horror movie/game/series? if not, would you make an AU where they were (like a vampire AU or something similar)?

Henry would make a spectacular vampire thrall. Ray as the vampire, Henry as the human-for-now-question-mark servant running errands and doing his dirty work and getting all tangled up in centuries-old drama with extremely dangerous figures. Servitude, power, loyalty, all of those dynamics. It'd be fun.

3. does your f/o even like halloween, or do they like on of the other holidays?

Yeah, he's down! The vibes are good, and while it's not his favorite holiday, it's way more low-stakes than some of the other holidays. He's a low-effort costume kinda guy and likes the freedom of being able to bounce from a party if he needs to. Like, something like Christmas, that's sooo much prep work and then he's locked into high-importance family traditions for like hours at a time. And he's never not had to worry the entire time about coming up with a lie that will let him leave Christmas morning to go to work. Halloween's easy-peasy. He's good at wearing costumes.

4. what would be your f/o's favorite horror/halloween themed film?

He definitely strikes me as a Jason guy looool. Big, powerful, unstoppable, iconic. Not as agitating as Freddy or Chuckie, just a little bit cooler than Michael (in his opinion. I still haven't seen Halloween, so i can't speak on that :P). But I do think he'd like slashers. I think one of the Friday the 13ths was one of the first horror movies he chose to watch, so he kind of latched onto the franchise young as a badge of honor. There's a million of them. They don't have to be good. He takes Manhattan. Come on.

5. what is your f/o's costume this year? tell us yours too!

Oh my GOD we go as the two newscasters. Everybody in Swellview would recognize it immediately we would have a couple scripts to bounce back and forth to really nail it that would be so fucking funny. I want to write that nowwww

6. do you and your f/o attend any parties/festivals/other events? this can be either for halloween or just for celebrating the fall season!!

ohhh yeah I would absolutely love to... there's so much of that stuff that I haven't gotten to do from an adult's angle. This SI is a little more, ehhh, cultured? experienced? than irl me, but when they've previously gone to events like this, it's been with a purpose, as either an trust-building fake-date with a mark or as an intel-gathering solo outing. Or, sometimes, a solitary, quiet, autonomy-affirming outing. So going to anything with Henry– a pumpkin patch, a haunted house, a cider tasting?– like, just for us, On Purpose, that has the opportunity to be really... weird. And special. Em would go tentatively and awkwardly nuts for that kind of thing. (Henry would think that was awesome.)

7. what's your f/o's favorite candy? are they the type to share or keep it all for themselves?

SKITTLES BOY. SOUR SKITTLES BOY. What else does he like probably something weird like Baby Ruths. Prefers milky ways to snickers but doesn't like three musketeers, somehow. Likes Twix, which is the right opinion, but has an opinion on the sides of it and im like dude stop engaging with the marketing scam. Man I should probably be thinking of this in terms of silly fake Swellview candies but I want to think about real candies. He doesn't actually really like the Lil Hugs juice barrels but covets them anyway. He and Piper would always fight over colors, especially when they went trick-or-treating together. Definitely fruit-flavored over chocolate, so we usually fit together nicely in that regard.

8. if your f/o is from a series that has a special halloween episode, please tell us about it and how your s/i fits into it!

Okay so the show DOES and I've only seen one and a half of them. The season 5 one was funny and ridiculous and gave us a canon idea of what songs Ray thinks are cool. I watched half of the season 1 halloween episode, and I KNOW they did a stranger things parody at some point, but my SI wouldn't be around that early, so that's fine! They would be ALL FUCKING OVER trying to tell Henry a story that would scare him. They'd probably cross some kind of content line and the story they'd tell would be an embellished real story and they'd get a kind of "stop, that's not scary, that's messed up. and very sad." so they'd sit back so the episode could go onto the next skit c:

9. freebie question if you want to say anything else about how you and your beloved spend the season!

...I would really want to help give out candy in his parents' neighborhood. I would very cautiously ask him if we could. Picking the candy, gushing over kids' costumes, just sitting on the porch with him... that would be so, so nice.

#thank you again!!!! happy halloween!!!!!! :D #bubble blowin double babies #ask

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! I was wondering if you could do a platonic Springbonnie x Reader where the reader knew him as Springbonnie when they were a kid and was shocked to encounter him as Springtrap as a grown up when they're working as the security guatd in Fnaf 3. (Your headcanons for the spring boi broke mah heart tho–)

Yes haha those hcs were from long ago and I still 100% agree with them. Also this Springbonnie SFM with Hidden in the Sand by Tally Hall melted my heart so that’s gonna be some loose inspiration here

........

We were playing in the sand And you found a little band

A warm golden light filled the diner, along with the sound of soft music coming from the speakers on either side of the main stage.

Today was a relatively quiet day. No noisy kids running around. Barely any fussy parents. It was surprising for the employees; such a lull during the day was rare.

Fortunately for one of the kids, that gave them the opportunity to visit their favorite bunny without fear of being pushed to the back.

And no, it wasn’t Bonnie. That big hulking purple rabbit was cool but never had the bubbliness nor the charm as the other rabbit did.

"Hey, Springy!"

“Oh hey! My favorite little bunny’s come to visit!” Springbonnie beamed at your greeting as he turned to see you there. He knelt down in front of your small form so his height didn’t look intimidating. His bright green eyes were literally lit up with joy, spotting the Springbonnie plush in your hands.

Those never sold as well as Fredbear’s. And although he didn’t mind it much--since this was Fredbear’s Family Diner and not Springbonnie’s Family Diner--it would be a lie if he didn’t get a tad bit jealous of his bandmate’s fame from time to time.

Setting his banjo down, he opened his arms up to you, and you eagerly stood on the tips of your toes to hug him. His fur was soft and warm, tickling your nose a bit as well. He sighed and kept you secured in his arms.

It was nice to hug a child as himself, and not as someone else wearing him for a costume.

This just felt so much more natural. Not to mention you were respectful and not tugging on his ears or bowtie.

You were his favorite, without a doubt.

You told me you fell in love with it Hadn't gone as I planned

“Do I have to?”

“Yes. You’ll be in suit mode more often this week. Same as Fredbear. Now hold still and don’t make a fuss. Wouldn’t want any accidents, right?”

“..no, boss.”

“Good.” After switching Springbonnie to suit mode, William called the new hire backstage. Today he was going to show them how to operate a springlock suit, in preparation for his youngest son’s upcoming birthday party. He wanted everything to be perfect.

He already assumed they’ve listened to the tapes regarding how much caution was needed to ensure they were safe while wearing the costume.

Since it was their first time wearing one like this, he helped them ease into it. After making sure the head’s springlocks were compressed against the walls, he looked at them, showing the inside. “Not so bad, innit? Perfectly safe. Just don’t sweat too much and those locks won’t pop off.”

“R-Right, I know. I just..” The employee stiffly raised their arms, looking at their hands. “I’ve worn mascot costumes at carnivals and none of them had this crazy stuff-”

“Are you working for their sorry arses or us?”

“Wh..y-you guys, of course!”

“I thought so. You’ll be fine once you get used to it.”

As the backdoors swung shut, you frowned slightly, disappointed at the fact you wouldn’t see Springbonnie as himself for a while. You then heard a sniffle beside you and noticed a boy holding a Fredbear plushie.

“Hi, aren’t you his kid?”

He jumped a bit and looked at you, nodding meekly. You smiled. “I’m kinda jealous. You get to have your birthday party at your dad’s work place. That’s pretty cool.”

But he just shook his head, tears rolling down his cheeks, and you wondered if you said something wrong. Then he flinched and saw someone in Fredbear’s suit approach you two. He hid behind you, sniffling and sobbing quietly.

“Awh is someone scared?” “Fredbear” tried to mimic a deep jolly voice, but it was a really poor attempt.

You nodded and backed away. “We’re just gonna head home.”

“Okay! Buh-bye!”

In haste, you left the diner and walked the boy home. Every kid you stopped to talk to only teased him for his crying and fears of animatronics. But you reassured him they weren’t as bad as they seemed.

Springbonnie, for example, wasn’t scary at all! He was a sweet bunny.

You hoped to spend the day with him, but that didn’t go as planned.

Oh well, you gained another friend in the meantime.

When you had to bid adieu Said you'd never love anew

“Fred..please..wake up..i-it’s alright. Why won’t you say something??”

“Springy?”

“[Y/n]..! Y-You..” Flinching at the sight of you, Springbonnie cowered in the corner of the safe room, away from the limp costume of his friend. He hugged himself, wanting to hide the dried blood on his suit as much as he could.

No one should see him like this. Not after what happened.

First the incident with Fredbear..and then a freak accident with the newly-hired actor. The two of them were deemed unsafe, as either animatronic or a suit, so they were eventually retired and their diner was soon to be shut down. Only Freddy’s band was doing a few shows.

But what was even worse was that Springbonnie’s hands were stained in blood. Seemingly fresh blood that kept returning no matter how many times he was cleaned.

He only remembered William coming back here, using the crank without saying a word to him and then...

He woke up here again. Alone and feeling like he did something terrible, but couldn’t remember what.

“Y-You can’t be back here, little bunny. I'm not safe to be around.”

“I don’t believe that. What happened wasn’t your fault. I’ve just..been wanting to give you this for a while.”

Finally, you presented the drawing you’ve been meaning to show him: just a simple one of you and him smiling. He carefully took it from your hands, staring at it for a few moments before holding it to his chest.

Usually it would make him grin. But..not this time.

“Thank you, but..it doesn’t matter whose fault it was. Their decision was final. Ya won’t be seeing us ever again.” He mumbled, ears dropping as he looked down at his lap. “I wish things didn’t have to end like this..”

“It doesn’t have to be the end.” You reassured him, crouching down. Although Fredbear’s empty eyesockets were a little bit creepy, you ignored them in favor of gazing at the dimming green eyes of the rabbit. “I’ll miss you guys, but..when I’m older I’ll try to fix you two!”

Springbonnie blinked. “Y-You would really do that for us?”

“Yeah! I’ll just study hard and...uh..I’ll figure out the rest. But I wanna fix you up.”

“That..means a lot to me, [y/n]. Thank you so much.” He smiled warmly. “Do good in school and don’t forget about us, okay?”

“I’ll never forget.”

I wondered if I could hold it And fall in love with it too

"C’mon..bloody useless thing! Don’t fail me.”

‘No!! No don’t do this to me again!’

Despite Springbonnie’s AI being acutely aware of the current circumstances, he held no power in suit mode. And he was helpless as William put the costume on, not giving a damn about the risks of rushing into it.

Somehow those kids found him after he destroyed the animatronics, and they were going to haunt him forever unless he did something to make them leave him alone.

They weren’t going to see the terror in his eyes. He’ll be sure they were the ones terrorized instead, reminding them of how he decided their fates. Of how he was the one in charge here.

After stumbling to his feet and taking a few labored breaths, unaware of the slowly unwinding springlocks, William opened his eyes to see the ghosts just..staring at him.

They seemed surprised, huddled together. Not cornering him any further.

He realized his trick had worked.

And he grinned, starting to laugh, before it grew louder and echoed throughout the moldy dark ex-pizzeria. He paid no mind to the water droplets slowly leaking through the ceiling above.

“I can’t believe this! You lot are just as stupid as the day you perished!!”

‘Why are you laughing?! You’re gonna get yourself....!’

But Springbonnie didn’t finish the thought. He knew the surrounding conditions were ripe for another lethal springlock accident.

Yet this time, he didn’t dread that possibility.

Instead he anticipated it.

‘Actually, maybe you do deserve to suffer. That other employee didn’t...it was an accident. But...you...you deserve every bit of pain these springlocks bring!’

If it was fated to happen again, so be it.

No, it won’t hurt him. But it’ll be a slow and agonizing death for his creator--the demon who betrayed his own franchise and the children.

Especially you.

God, he hopes you’re out there somewhere, not among the spirits standing before him. He remembered your promise to come back and repair him, so that he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone ever again.

He’s not sure if you remembered, too.

But wherever you are, he hopes you’ll forgive him for what was about to happen.

'Sorry, little bunny..but there’s no fixing this.’

“Oooo~ Watch out, children! Big bad Springy’s gonna getcha-”

As William wagged his fingers in a taunting manner, the springlocks suddenly shifted back into place, crushing all ten of them at the same time. He gasped, barely having time to react as the rest of the mechanisms became undone, impaling him at every angle.

The eyes popped forward, blinding him completely as he howled out screams of agony, constricted by the metal lodged into his throat.

He collapsed and convulsed violently as blood pooled all around him, traveling to the very feet of the spirits who only watched.

They weren’t happy nor horrified. They didn’t know what to exactly feel. Except the peace of knowing this man wouldn’t be around to hurt anyone else.

As his back slumped against the wall and his twitching continued, they vanished one by one.

Soon his screaming ceased and all was silent.

Springbonnie was alone once more, but this time with his creator as his eternal prisoner.

You told me to buy a pony But all I wanted was you

“We found one. A REAL one!”

Now that this phone dude mentioned something interesting for once, you finally paid attention to him. But much to your disappointment, he abruptly had to end the call before he could elaborate further on his discovery.

As the recording ended, you went back to checking the cameras, wondering if meant you’ll see this “real one” wandering around at all.

So far there was nothing remarkable. Your second night here was relatively boring.

Except..you heard distant footsteps and you looked near the exit, barely able to make out the shadow of a large rabbit. But you weren’t sure if it was just your eyes playing tricks on you.

Sighing, you looked at the maintenance panel to make sure the ventilation was working alright. The guy mentioned how the lack of air flow might make you see crazy things..which didn’t make sense and certainly didn’t seem safe.

You understood the owner’s desire to keep the “immersion” of a haunted pizzeria, but it wasn’t like that place existed in the dark ages. Running a little a/c wouldn’t “ruin the illusion”.

Oh well, money’s money. And this was the only place hiring.

Checking the camera again, you were bewildered to see some kind of fox-like animatronic hanging upside down from the ceiling, its eyes glowing bright white while the rest of its body was shrouded in darkness.

‘Wait..is that-?’

All of the sudden, it vanished and you heard this god awful screeching static noise. Covering your ears, you looked up and saw the fox peek its head up on the opposite side of the window, still playing that sound.

It was like nails on a chalkboard but ten times worse.

You could see it was a greenish black color, looking like a grilled fox.

Then the noise stopped after a few moments and itdisappeared behind the window. You checked all the cameras but didn’t find it again. And the maintenance panel only revealed an audio error message.

“That was Mangle..” You muttered to yourself, rubbing your eyes as you waited for the error to fix itself. “Jeez..maybe he’s right. I’m just seeing things like...huh?”

*knock*

Hearing the gentler sound of knocking, you looked up at the window again and the new visitor surprised you:

A greenish sickly rabbit animatronic, staring at you with pale metallic eyes. They looked faintly green, too.

Haven’t you seen this character before?

You stood up and approached the window to get a closer look at him, wondering if this was just another hallucination. But the rabbit only twitched and tilted his head to the side, proving he could indeed see you.

Upon closer examination, you also noticed the grotesque flesh within his suit. It looked far too realistic to be a prop or costume. With the budget running this place you had doubts.

Suddenly, the animatronic snarled, slamming his fists against the glass. As it made a horrid groaning noise, you thought you saw what looked like a fleshy skull inside his mouth.

In brief panic you stumbled back to your chair and quickly hit the audio lure button, playing laughter through one of the speakers in the furthest room. He closed his mouth and turned his head towards the sound, immediately limping away.

‘Wow..at least I know I won’t be alone.’

Mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm (ooh-ooh-ooh) Mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm (ooh-ooh-ooh)

Another night here.

Another night of those “phantoms” of past animatronics. More were showing up on the cameras, and even right inside your office.

They couldn’t physically harm you, yet they were able to affect your reality by creating errors in the systems. You stopped trying to make sense of things long ago and eventually figured out their routine--ignoring them or changing the cameras seemed to do the trick.

“Phone Dude” didn’t leave you a message tonight. Instead, you were left with old training tapes regarding the springlock suits.

Those certainly sounded familiar.

You kept thinking of that rabbit you saw, wondering if he was the result of the “grotesque maiming” the tapes mentioned.

So when 6 AM arrived, you stayed in your office for a bit longer, fast-forwarding, skipping, and rewinding each tape, listening to them all until-

“Management has been made aware that the Springbonnie animatronic has been noticeably moved, and would like to remind employees that this costume is not safe to wear under any circumstances.”

Then you finally realized who that was.

Not just any Bonnie character but...

“Springbonnie..that was really him-?!”

“L...Little bunny..?”

The raspy voice made you nearly jump out of your skin, and you saw the rabbit leaning into your office. He was breathing slow, each breath sounding painful, but he limped inside and stood there, allowing you to see him in full.

Although any sane person would scream and run at the sight of him, all you could see in that moment was your dear friend. Your favorite animatronic from your childhood.

His zombified appearance and the flesh infused in him didn’t make you adore him any less.

In the end, you still saw that same golden bunny who sang you songs and offered the best hugs.

“Springy, my friend.” You smiled warmly, standing up. “It’s good to see you again. I missed you a lot.”

#clanask #anonymous #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf 4 #fnaf 3 #springbonnie #springtrap #platonic #angst #tw death #tw body horror #songfic

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sweetlilpaulie · 3 years ago

Text

Dead As A Door Nail

Request for John as a detective of a murder mystery. (I decided to make this Maxwell Silver Hammer-esque. Please enjoy this mess of an idea, loll)

John x Reader.

Caution: MURDER ig, Language, kinda graphic description of a dead body,oops. (this is one of those with all of those references, im sorry but not sorry)

Enjoy, my cuties.

¬¬¬

There was nothing (y/n) loved more than a good story.

It happened that today was just one of those days there was a good story to tell.

Joan Anderson was found brutally murdered inside her apartment. There was no weapon to be found, only a bloodstained carpet, and few hairs from what appears to be the killer. They are bringing it in to have the hairs analysed.

She could just see the big bold letters on the front of the papers.

And the money rolling in.

Not that she like murder of course, but a girl had to make a living.

Many people were standing outside Joan’s apartment, looking for the same story to tell to their newspapers, and (y/n) had just managed to squeeze in at the front.

“Joan Anderson had several abrasions on her head, this indicates she was hit with a large object on the head, proving that this was no accident.”

“If it was no accident, then who are the suspects?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

The Chief, went back inside to the chagrin of the journalists and photographers.

Feeling courageous, (y/n) slid past the yellow tape, and opened the door to the apartment.

“M’am you can’t be in there.” a stern voice came from behind her.

She ignored him.

Then, she saw the dead body of a young woman, her eyes wide in what must have been the most horrible memory of her her life, and unfortunately her last. There was blood seeping into the carpet and smeared lightly on her beautiful white dress.

“What’s she doing here?” a voice suddenly appeared, taking her out of her thoughts.

“I told her not to come in.” a burly man with a large moustache scowled.

“I’m sorry m’am but this is not a zoo. Please leave.”

“I thought I could perhaps get a clearer picture of what happened.” She remarked, pulling out a notebook.

“Absolutely not! Please leave now before I get someone to escort you out.” the officer was starting to get impatient.

“It’s alright. Let her write her notes.” came another voice.

The officer turned around in surprise.

So did (y/n).

The man who had spoken was squatting low, scanning the wounds on her head. He had thick rounded glasses which were starting to slide off his nose.

“You can stay as long as you stay out of my way.” he looked at her knowingly.

A giddy excitement filled her.

“Of course.”

There was a slight pause. She clearly wanted to know this man’s name. It was important to know the detective on the case.

“Lennon. John Lennon.” He finally spoke, pulling off a glove and raising a hand to shake.

She scribbled this down.

“And you are...?”

“(y/n) (y/l/n), from the Sun.” she replied.

He nodded knowingly.

“Remember, so long as you stay out of the way.”

Oh yes, this was the kinda of story she needed.

She watched agent Lennon seem to scan the bloodstains, as if deep in thought, making strange gestures, and walking back and forth.

“She wasn’t facing her killer head on, that much is clear.” He seemed to mutter to himself. “And the object seems heavy and flat, perhaps....”

“A hammer maybe?” You knew you shouldn’t be distracting him, but you knew this sort of thing. Lots of books and articles.

He looked at you with an air of surprise.

“Yes, like a hammer.”

“Lennon, I have the file you were asking for.” and officer came holding a folder with papers.

“All the information we have on Joan Anderson.”

He scanned through it.

“Age 25, Caucasian, Parents Pat and David Anderson, No siblings, Studying at the College of Birmingham, blah blah blah....”

He looked up at the officer.

“This is it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He sighed in disappointment.

“Talk to the parents, see if they have any information on people she was close to, boyfriends and the lot.”

The officer nodded.

“Right away.”

Agent Lennon rubbed his tired eyes behind the coke bottle glasses.

“God, I need a drink.” he murmured.

(y/n) felt this was a good place to stop, and come back tomorrow to see if there had been any more information.

Just as she was about to head through the door, she heard someone speak.

“’ey lass!”

She turned around, raising a questioning brow.

“Yes Mr. Lennon?”

“Enough with the formalities.” he snorted “Call me John.”

“Alright then, John.”

“Would you like a drink?”

This surprised you. After all, you’d noticed the gold band on his left hand.

“I’d like to pick your brain.”

“About what?”

“I heard ya. You know this stuff. It’s good to get another perspective, y’know.”

She felt slightly flattered.

“Er...alright.”

He smiled lightly.

“Lemme grab my coat, and I’ll take you.”

¬¬¬

They were sipping some sort of concoction, Brandy Alexander, John called it, and he asked her question after question, making him seem more like the journalist than she was.

“Why’d you get into journalism?”

She shrugged.

“I dunno. Suppose I just like writing things.”

“You’d make a good investigator y’know.”

“I suppose. I am very observant.”

There was a moment of silence in which they both sipped their drinks.

“I really actually wanted to be a novelist.” she finally piped up.

He grinned.

“Really? Why didn't ‘cha do it?”

She looked at the ground sadly, as if lost in a painful memory.

“Never got it published.”

He snorted.

“Ah, fuck ‘em. Self publish, that’s what I’d do.”

She shrugged, lightly. “There’s no point now. Gave up on the idea years ago.”

“That’s a shame. You wouldda been a great author.”

Oh, I don’t know. Maybe. But, I was never given the chance.”

He looked at her with nothing but deep curiosity. Something about this woman fascinated him and he couldn’t help but to keep asking questions.

The way his eyes delved so deep into her soul, she started to feel knots in her stomach.

“Uhm, are you married?” (y/n) finally blurted out. Her cheeks started to burn.

He looked taken aback by the question.

“Er....no. Me wife got hit in a car accident back in 66.”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry I didn’t know.” she was so embarrassed by her mistake, she looked everywhere but his face.

“‘ts alright, ya didn’t know. I wear the ring as a reminder.”

She nodded in understanding.

“Of course.”

There was an awkward silence between them.

John finally cleared his throat.

“Look. I dunno about you, but I’d really like more of your help on this case, you’d be perfect for the job. That way, you’ll have your story, and I can finish this case. Are you in?”

She raised her eyebrows.

“You want me to help?”

He smiled again.

“Yeah, if that’s alright with you of course.”

“Alright? That would absolutely be wonderful!” she cried, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

Realising what she was doing she let go of him quickly after.

“Sorry, I was just so excited.” she flushed.

He chuckled.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind. If you’re ever excited again feel free to kiss me if you like.”

(y/n)’s eyes widened to platters, as he stood up and winked, walking towards the exit.

Turning around, he raised an eyebrow.

“You comin’ or what?”

“Yes.” she barely breathed.

And so she did.

¬¬¬

Hmm, I dunno there might be more to this story? Haven’t decided yet.

Hope you enjoyed it! So sorry it took so long, loll.

Peace and Love always,

Lyddie

#Beatles #the beatles #John Lennon #john lennon x reader #Paul McCartney #George Harrison #Ringo Starr #maxwells sliver hammer #hope you enjoyed this #using all the knowledge from bones i could remember #lol #hope you have a lovely day #peace #love

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ghostie-the-haunted · 3 years ago

Note

Im so sorry this is so late but I hope you enjoy the Christmas Theme! ALSO Merry Christmas Eve Sib!!

It was Christmas Eve! All day the Mega Pizza-Plex held a Holiday type party for all of the kids in town, Pizza, Decorations, Holiday themed shows and other fun festive activities.

The snow began to pile though, it was getting bad so unfortunately the fun had to end early, Each kid got a goodie bag full of merchandise and a gift card as the Pizza-Plex's gifts for everyone.

They thought that everyone had gone home so they closed the place up, all the gaurds went home, there was only a few cleaning bots that ran through the party center and most of the main animatronics have shut down for the night to rest.

That left you, alone and confused. You weren't on the Pizza-Plex radar of kids although you have come many times to watch the performances, you knew the area quite well so in your time of confusion you wondered to the Daycare. that seemed like the safest option for a place to stay the night, especially under these conditions. You had never been there but something about it just felt safe.

Sliding down into a ball pit you moved forward a bright yellow man appeared at the top of the platform above you before jumping in to join you.

It's definitely an animatronic so you entering the ball pit was probably a motion activated response

Trying not to disturb it you moved forward with caution before feeling two hands lift you up under your arms greeting you with a friendly smile. You shrieked quickly out of surprise from being lifted but also because it kinda tickled, his voice was warm, His name was Sundrop, nice.

"Helloo new friend! I didn't mean to scare you! What are you doing up so late are we having a slumber party? Where are all your friends?" He continued to hold you up while taking you out of the ball pit and to the main floor.

After you explained your situation his voice softened "I see, well you've come to the right place, you will be safe here for the night I'll make sure of it!" This brought a smile to your face as you thanked him and apologized for the trouble

"Don't you worry about a thing Sunshine I just have one rule! Keep the lights on" he said the last part with a very serious tone, you listened and nodded.

"Excellent!"

As you looked around you realized that the entire Pizza-Plex had been decorated for this occasion

"You like the decorations! I made some of them myself! Like this snowflake! Do you what to make a snowflake too ghostie!"

You nodded before asking how he knew your name

"You're in our system aren't you? Hmm odd, I've seen you before at some of the shows that's how I know your name!"

I guess that makes sense, you didn't read too much into it, Snowflake time!!

"You want some glitter glue? I have glitter glue!" He showed you all the different colors and things he had in store.

"Amazing work sunshine! This is going right up on the wall! Help me tape it on, this masterpiece must be known to the world!!" He did a little spin and dance before picking you up again to tape it on the wall. Squeaking again at the sudden motion and of course because of your undeniable ticklishness, which did not go unnoticed by Sun, he smiled "You're a Jumpy one aren't ya' sunshine?"

You gave him a face as he let you down giggling, "How about we play a game yeah?! Would you like that?"

Eagerly nodding he smiled even brighter, "Perfect! Let's play hide and seek! You hide I'll seek! The only two rules are no going behind the counter and no leaving the daycare got it?"

You nodded once more before he smiled "Alrighty! Go hide I'll start counting 1,,,,2,,,"

You giggled and ran for the play area, even if he did find you there was no way he could catch you in here!

"98,,,99,,," You had found a cozy spot between two walls of the area that made a triangle

"100!! Ready or not here I come!"

Now he didn’t really count to 100 but who's keeping track! You held your hand over your mouth as you peeked around to see where he was, you saw him, with wiggling fingers he searched for you.

"I wonder where Ghostie went" he said playfully as he searched the Daycare, "Come on out Sunshine, Im gonna getcha'!" He entered the playplace that's when the adrenaline kicked in.

You held back the giggles that bubbled up inside your throat as you quietly made your way out of your hiding spot to try and out smart him

Unfortunately for you, you had tripped and fell down one of the slides, stopping yourself before you could reach the floor, Sundrop had left the play area from the opposite side.

To not make a sound you had stayed hidden in the slide, if you could not see him, he could not see you

"Oh sunshinee~ come out come out wherever you are" his voice sounded closer, alot closer then before but you remained in your spot, there's no way he's gonna find you in here, it's genius.

"Gotcha'!" He swiftly grabbed you from behind placing you down gently on his lap as you tried to get away he pulled you right back

"Ah ah ah, I found you fair and square so do you know what I get as a reward?"

You shook your head no before he wiggled his fingers all over your sides "You're sweet laughter!" He giggled as you giggled smiling to himself "didn't think I noticed when I held you earlier, I know a ticklish one when I see them"

He moved his quick fingers up your ribs and under your arms smiling at his victory,

"Tickletickletickletickle" he teased in your ear while tickling your neck with one hand and sides with the other.

"You have got to be the most ticklish person that has ever entered the Daycare!" He teased as you whined a bit

"Aww what's wrong, too ticklish Ghostie?, Tickle tickle tickleee" he smiled wiggling all ten fingers gently across your stomach.

"Ooo good spot! Very adorable sunshine" The Sun animatronic beamed with joy, as your laughter slowed down so did his tickles

He couldn't help a few pokes or light scribbles every now and again but he was pretty much done, rubbing away the remaining ghost tickles he carried you gently to a sleeping area for the night seeing how tired you were getting and how late it was.

After tucking you in he smiled to himself ruffling your hair gently "sleep well Sunshine and a very Merry Christmas to you"

Sun stayed up after that creating some homemade gifts for you to wake up to the next morning for Christmas.

The Daycare was the right choice afterall :]

Hehe I hope you enjoyed I think this might have been my longest one on our Fluster war/game too I love it! :]

Merry Christmas Eve Sib!!

SIIIIIIIIIB

This is amazing! Merry Christmas Eve to you too!!

If I can I’ll try to write one for you too!

#best sib #gremlin sib!

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wanderingwomanwondering · 2 years ago

Text

601 golf game meta - father-son issues

the golf scene in 601 keeps bugging me bc i can’t quite figure out what it means. but i know it means something bc it was a long scene and felt loaded, right?

i think the first half of the golf scene is about eddie and chris:

son doing something bc his dad loves it - maybe this is about eddie and chris doing things together this season on screen?

dad trying to teach him but the son feeling overwhelmed/annoyed bc the game isn’t his thing - we know chris is growing up. maybe this speaks to chris trying to do what eddie enjoys but wanting to break free?

“swinging in a barrel” - this is a golf putting technique i think but i have no idea how it applies? being constrained maybe?

dad gives the son his lucky ball but it doesn’t help - maybe about chris finding his own way as a person separate from his father? kinda like dad what’s helped eddie may not apply to chris in many cases???

***the lucky ball is marked with two intertwined horseshoes*** i mean yes horseshoes are classic symbols for luck but also the show had lots of references in prev seasons to “getting back on the horse” and going to equine therapy. both those horse related things were super relevant to eddie and to chris. for eddie, both were related to buck being integral to helping chris. first with building the skateboard and later with the value of equine therapy for CP. and we all know when buck helps chris, eddie and chris appreciate it. plus the equine therapy was intertwined with eddie getting back on the horse as a firefighter and with this mental health which moved buddie forward.

while looking for the lost lucky ball the father and son discuss the son’s current husband and his past boyfriend. the search for the lucky ball feels like a transition point from eddie and chris issues to eddie and ramon issues?? both sets of father-son issues have a side of buck ofc bc buck is an integral part of the family now. anyway the dialogue shifts from golf to choice of partner and to choice of golf buddy seem pointed!

so let’s go with it and say the second half of the golf scene is about eddie and ramon: (more below the cut)

I remember in 517 hero complex ramon said he wanted to be there for eddie so i definitely feel like eddie’s dad and maybe mom too are coming back this season. also eddie made that clear and pointed reference to his military days which always calls back to his time in texas with his parents. He even mentioned to albert one time that he joined the military at least in part to get away from his father and find himself.

the potential eddie and ramon relationship beats would fit well with how the second half of the golf call played out. the team thinks the call is a gsw but then find out it’s a wedding ring lodged in the father’s chest. the very ring that was given to the son by the husband that the father doesn’t like as much as the previous bf. the tungsten ring may represent eddie’s relationship with buck saving him from losing a part of himself to his father’s game/expectations. the budding buddie relationship knocking ramon off his feet... “wounding” him for a bit but ramon ultimately not taking it so badly or harping on it for so long that it destroys his relationship with eddie entirely. maybe ramon will mostly accept buck (as the “shotgun” husband) at first but still be attached to shannon for a little while (as the ex-wife and/or imagined symbol of eddie’s non-existent heterosexuality)?

I think it’s fascinating how much this scene leaned into the gsw misunderstanding too. we got buck trying to contain the gsw scene with caution tape which does feel like a callback to the s4 shooting and the role that we all know it played in showing buddie what they mean to one another and how intertwined their lives are and can become.

In terms of golf being the chosen game for the ep, I find that super interesting too! like. before 601, golf was part of 2 key buddie beats - one directly and one indirectly - as far as I can remember. Specifically:

i only remember golf/equipment featuring heavily in an important buddie ep once. and that was the darrell call in 310 christmas spirit where he was sucked into a jet engine. his life was saved by golf clubs. buddie ran point on that rescue. 310 was huge bc it was the first christmas after shannon’s death and so eddie invited buck over to spend the day with chris (as well as hen and denny).

darrell reappeared in 408 breaking point. the show made a point of noting that we met darrell before and buck recognized him.408 was the epic ep where we got buck watching chris while eddie went on his first big date with ana. We also got construction on sunset out of that ep.

now we have 601 let the games begin working to bring the buckley diaz family home. sorting out the eddie-chris and eddie-ramon issues along with way is going to be a part of it and i think buck will be important to what happens in both father-son relationships in eddie’s life.

#eddie diaz #christopher diaz #ramon diaz #buddie #buckley diaz family #911 meta #911 spec #911 6x01 #911 fox

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years ago

Note

Oh gosh, I'm a bit late to this!

~Kitty, She/her, 19, Creepypasta fandom, romantic, first letter

And oh sweet mercies, thank you for doing this!!

~<°>~

Jack,

How have you been? I've missed you like crazy, but you probably knew that, based on receiving this letter. In all honesty, I was hesitate to send one, even asking the question, "Would EJ like receiving letters, or is thst too mushy?" But I sent one anyway, so here! I just threw caution to the wind, I s'pose.

Do you remember when we went star gazing? You never took off your mask, but that's okay. I like how the night ambienxe reflected off it. And you pointed out so many stars, I had to look them up. First there was Orion, and then Sirus the dog star, Capella, and Auriga, Gemini, and the Eskimo Nebula. You sounded so excited, so wonderful, and you looked handsome, laying back to watch the stars.

I miss holding your hand, strangely. I know you said mine were so small, and that you didn't watch to break them accidently. You're very sweet that way, you know that? And I'm a lot tougher than I look, despite the wrist brace. And the ankle brace. And the bad bone days. And, well, uhm, I'm tougher than I look! Shush, I can hear you laughing at that now! I swear! I is big and scary and strong shush!

I would have sent flowers, but most bouquets sellers don't have blue azealas. I'll start growing some in my herb garden once I find the seeds. I hope chocolates are okay though. Especially the fancy Valentines day ones. I have a soft spot for them, and I thought you might too <3

Anyways, I've probably stolen enough of your time today, so I'll wrap this up.

You are so amazing and you stay safe out there. You better. Or I'll try to patch you up myself. And we already know the mess with the medical tape. So stay safe or as safe as you can.

Oh, and if Jeff gives you any trouble, here's some hair removal cream. Instructions right on the bottle. Just in case.

Anywhos, take care! Be safe! I love you!

~Kitty :3

[Disclaimer: Letters To Those You Hold Dear (Valentine's Edition) is a special event I'm holding from February 13th - February 23rd 11:59 PM. Find the guidelines HERE so you can send a letter or two to those you hold dear <3.]

[AN: You're not late at all! I just work,,, slow,,,, and I'm happy to write them for you!!]

Dear Kitty,

Believe it or not, I actually prefer letters to texting. Do you know how many phones I can break in half a year? The number is absurd and I'm tired of getting BEN to actually wipe them clean for me. So, I make Smile ferry letters around for me in the meantime. It's kinda nice, if I'm being honest. But to answer your question, I'm doing just fine. Work has finally lightened up a bit and I feel like I can breathe again.

I had no idea you were actually listening that intently. Usually, when I start rattling off about things I find interesting, people zone out. However, humans have always loved the stars and I am no different. Thank you for the kind words in the meantime - it... It means a lot to me. Everything you've just written. It's sweet and well, it tells me we'll need to go stargazing sometime soon. Whenever that will be.

I'm a pretty big demon, if I'm being honest. But you've always been smaller than everyone else - at least to me. You're something to be treated delicately, soft, and sweetly. I couldn't really imagine it any other way. Love how you can tell the smile on my lips just from reading your words. It's sweet, y'know? You're a little ball of energy sometimes, I'll give you that! And if you were duking it out with me, I'm sure you'd win. I couldn't bring myself to hurt you. You know how male puppies will let their smaller partners win? It's how I feel about you.

You never actually steal any of my time, just my heart. I don't like being seen as soft or even sweet, but I find those walls easy to drop whenever you're around. You mean the world to me, and never would you ever be considered a burden or that you need to wrap things up just because. I will never be too busy for you.

Happy Valentine's to you as well, dearest. It's been an odd few weeks, what with everyone coming and going and needing medical assistance, but it seems they've lightened up for the holiday. I hope I can see you soon, and give you some things in person. But in the meantime, these will have to suffice.

All of my love and adoration,

Jack

[Attached with the letter is a bouquet of cornflowers, forget me nots and prairie violets. They're bound together by a red ribbon that has cheesy little hearts on it.]

#letters to those you hold dear #eyeless jack headcanon #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #creepypasta x reader smut #creepypasta headcanon

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jisungful · 4 years ago

Text

abandoned.

summary :: breaking into an old abandoned elementary school isn’t always the best idea.

pairing :: chenle x gn!reader x jisung (platonic)

genre :: horror/thriller

warnings :: all characters are kind of dumb (first person to die in a horror movie type beat), breaking and entering, implied serial killer!au, murder, blood, descriptions of gore, psychotic actions, character death, all that stuff :D

word count :: 2.4k

a/n :: as I was writing this, I practically scared myself D: also the ending is kinda rushed but oh well

The end of the school year was supposed to be fun, full of surprises, and that one surprise was Chenle clinging onto you like a koala with a tree. Up to this point, you hadn’t thought of how much of an interesting boy he could be--but him giving you physical affection? You could never believe it.

Chenle let go of you before saying, “Come to the library with me and Jisung,” His hair was messy, as well as his uniform shirt. You assumed he just went around hugging other people besides you. He grinned at you, “We’re planning to do something fun as a celebration for the last day of school! Let’s go!” He grabbed your wrist tightly, but not enough to cause circulation loss, at least. You began contemplating whether or not it was a good idea to follow suit of the boy, knowing him. Nonetheless, you were curious.

You both arrived at the library, seeing Jisung already sitting at one of the tables reading a comic. Sitting down in front of the boy, he closed the book once he felt your presences. He greeted with a small smile, you and Chenle doing the same. “Alright listen,” Chenle started, clearing his throat before broadcasting the plan aloud, “We’re going to go to my elementary school—but with a twist.” He grinned before continuing, “It’s been so long since I’ve been there, so it’s abandoned now and I’m pretty sure no one monitors it anymore. Although... it is still intact so we need to break in.”

“Woah, wait, we are not going to break into an elementary school.” you cautioned.

Chenle rolled his eyes and rested his palm on his jawline. “It’s not like it’s haunted or anything. As I said, no one monitors it anymore--you guys just aren’t fun.”

Jisung clasped his hands together before letting out a sigh, “I thought you were joking at first and just wanted to go and play on the playground or something. But seriously?” He shuddered slightly, subconsciously flipping the pages of the comic he was reading earlier. You nodded at him before returning your gaze back on Chenle. All that was written on his face was smugness.

“We have to try it once. Think about it! It’ll be fun, you know? It’s like in movies, we just have to be cautious of our surroundings.” Chenle assured.

You can’t believe you’re doing this. You really can’t. It was 3 fucking am and you decided it was a great idea to go along with Chenle (out of everyone else in the world) and his plan to break into his old elementary school just for fun.

You packed your backpack with a few essential items: a flashlight, a few bottles of water, a baseball bat, and a crowbar. You kept it unzipped at the top so they could all fit, keeping your phone in your spacious hoodie pocket. You put on a mask and a beanie to keep yourself covered in case of security cameras. You put on your backpack, adjusting to the heaviness. If you were being honest, you had this rush of nervousness flowing through your body, the fear of not knowing what will happen to the three of you once you break in and enter the abandoned building. Nonetheless, you head to your front door to walk to Chenle’s house as the three of you decided to go to beforehand. Step by step, your body grew warmer as anxiety rose. It hadn’t hit you that you’d never done this before--you were always the type to stay in and not go out doing reckless activities; but here you are, doing that exact thing.

Immediately as you stepped on Chenle’s rug that was placed in front of the door, it opened, him now in front of you. He moved aside for you to enter the place. “You got everything?” He questioned and you nodded. “Jisung’s not here yet, so I guess we have to just wait.”

You both sat on his leather couch, staring down at the empty mug with thoughts roaming your brain. It wasn’t breaking in that was scaring you--but the thought of getting caught and living with the guilt that you had done something illegal was. Attempting to engage in conversation, you spoke, “How did you even come up with this idea?”

Chenle chuckled lightly, fiddling with the watch on his wrist. “It just came to my head out of nowhere, I guess.”

Hearing the sound of knocking on the door, you stood up abruptly, Chenle following after. You both headed to the front and opened it for Jisung. “You have everything, right? We should go now.” Jisung nodded and let out a breath he was previously unknowingly holding.

You three went inside of Chenle’s car, with Chenle driving and Jisung and you seated at the back. You took off your backpack and placed it on the floor of the car, the weight removed gave you sudden relief on your shoulders. Jisung plugged his phone into the aux cord and played soft, lo-fi music to soothe the nerves that were getting to you unknowingly.

You sighed, laying your head on the headrest of the car seat, looking out the window. It was a rather peaceful night despite what you were going to do in a couple of minutes—stars beginning to deem visible across the vast, dark sky, with only a few cars passing by in which you could count with your fingers. That was when you felt eyes boring into the back of your head, and you turned to see Jisung staring at you. You furrowed your brows and muttered a ‘what’. “I’m nervous, Y/N,” he breathed out, fear clearly laced in his voice.

You bit your lip. “It was Chenle’s idea, we can blame him for all of this.” you joked.

The elementary school definitely does not look as you expected--before coming, you imagined it to be completely abandoned, having growing moss on the walls, windows that were broken or punched, or even having “caution” tape around it. You guess it only happens in movies. But this school looked almost normal, for some reason, with only overgrown trees around it as the leaves fell on it. You let out a soft sigh, relieved that it looks fairly approachable and safe to go into.

“This is crazy, it’s been so long since I’ve been here. Let’s go!” Chenle beamed. You looked at Jisung for a moment, giving him a reassuring smile and a nod before putting on your heavy backpack and exiting the car as he did as well.

The three of you stood outside of the back door of the building, looking around for any suspicious cameras though found none. You pulled your mask up further before checking on Chenle and how he’s putting up with his attempts at opening the door. “I can’t find any key,” he grunted. You offered him the crowbar that was hanging off your backpack, and to your luck, it worked on opening the door. Jisung let out a surprised sound as he stood behind you.

The back door led to the gym in which you stood. It was empty, except for the lone basketball that sat in the middle of the vast room. The lights didn’t work, so you came to the conclusion that it would be best to use your flashlights, instead. You followed Chenle as he was the only person that knew the way around this place. He went toward the door which led to the hallway of the school, which connected to the many classrooms. The atmosphere felt terribly dismal, and it didn’t leave you with a good feeling. You couldn’t help but focus on the smell that hadn’t been freshened up for years.

“This is my 4th-grade classroom,” He slid open the door and across the room were sprawled out desks and chairs--it was like a forest, avoiding all of these objects just to get to the other side was like a journey in itself. In the back of the room were stapled class pictures of old students and teachers on a corkboard. Chenle desperately searched for the photo with him in it, searching across what seemed like around 10+ photographs. “Ah, here’s me!” He said, gesturing for you and Jisung to come to him. He pointed to his 10-year-old self, shining a flashlight on it to show it clearer. “It’s crazy how it’s still here.”

“You were cute,” Jisung commented.

“Are you saying I’m not cute now?” Chenle scoffed jokingly. He removed the photo from the corkboard and shoved it neatly into the small pocket of his backpack, thinking of showing it to his parents later today once he figures out a good enough excuse to where he found it.

You yawn, eyes getting tired minute by minute, second by second as you continue your journey throughout the huge school. You entered room 3B, which seemed like a music room—chairs stacked in 5’s, music sheets laying on the scattered desks, posters of musicians and guitar and piano chords on the walls begging to fall down to the ground as the tape holding it up collects dust. A piano lies near the corner of the room and Chenle sits on the bench that stood in front of it. He plays a mellow tune as you and Jisung look at all of the instruments that were isolated in a metal storage cabinet. You take out a recorder and try to remember the notes of the infamous ‘Hot Cross Buns’—however your memorization skill isn't the best and you end up with random noises. Jisung laughs at your attempt and you laugh back, putting the instrument back to where it was placed. You head towards Chenle, who was heavily concentrated on playing the song that was on the sheet on the music desk. You listen to the pretty sounds until he stops for a moment.

“It sounds beautiful,” you say.

Chenle chuckles before standing up and ruffling his hair, “I know, I’ve been playing practically since birth, you know?”

You both stood there, the moonlight reflecting on your skin through the thin glass. You turn your head, “Where’s Jisung?” You had thought the boy would follow you when you were walking toward Chenle—but he didn’t. There was no third shadow moving alongside yours and the boy beside you; the atmosphere grew cold. You beckoned Chenle to come with you before walking towards the classroom door to once again enter the hallway.

“Jisung! Are you an idiot? Where are you?” Chenle shouted out loud but there was no voice that followed. A curse word was muttered, you begin scrambling out of the music room to find the 5’11 boy that suddenly vanished into thin air. You knew how afraid he was during the car ride here and you never thought you would leave him alone like this. You stuck by Chenle’s side as you searched through most of the classrooms in the building.

No sign.

You were startled as you unlocked the door to the janitor’s closet, shining your flashlight down the stairwell that was somehow built in the tiny room. “Chenle, come here,” you beckoned. He rushed to you quickly; his eyes widened once he saw what was hidden inside the room.

“I’ve never seen this before,” he chuckled, “Maybe Jisung went in here, but for what?” You shrugged at the boy’s assumption, furrowing your brows before stepping in. Jisung was always curious about the world—you might think it’s his first life and he’s fascinated by every small detail that the universe could give him. Though, you would never expect that he would be curious about this particular stairwell.

A horrid smell hit you both once you reached halfway down the staircase. You muttered a curse word, “Fuck. It smells rotten in here,” Chenle agreed, nodding at you. You continued your way down to see Jisung’s body lay flat on the floor like a ragdoll. You took in a sharp breath as you quickened your steps down to see six other bodies lay in front of him. You rapidly shout out the boy’s name as you frantically attempt to shake him awake, wishing in the back of your mind that he hadn’t ended up like the bodies that were obviously sitting beside you.

Jisung groaned, sitting right side up as he held his head. “What happened to you?!” You question, helping him stand up. He looked around the room once more before taking two steps back when he watched the dead bodies lay on the floor.

He shook his head rapidly as his hands held onto your wrist. “I-I just saw that and I don’t know what happened but…” he shut his eyes. “I should’ve stayed with you guys. I’m so so so sorry.” You hear footsteps nearing you, both of your heads turn to the sound.

“Jisung!” You yell out. You froze once you see crimson flow out of his neck. Your eyes follow the holder of the knife’s arm to his face slowly. You stared with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “Chenle, what the fuck are you doing?!” you breathed out.

Chenle tilted his head back with a slight close-lipped smile, enigmatic. Your eyes filled with tears as you watched Jisung’s blood drip, his arms holding onto what he thought was his best friend. “It’s so fun doing this!” he giggled, eyes crinkling through his smile. He pulled out the knife before quickly stabbing it back inside Jisung’s neck. “Is little Jisung whimpering? I’m just playing with you!” His psychotic laughter soon filled your ears and your breath quickened once you watched as Chenle stabbed him in the stomach laying on top of Jisung, a dark red pours onto the floor steadily. You wanted to look away but your body could do nothing but be full of shock.

Chenle’s head jerked toward your direction. You gulped as he stood up to walk toward you with an innocent smile. Once he cornered your back to the wall, he dragged the knife covered in blood along your jawline. You winced as the sharp blade cut through your delicate skin, you clutched onto nothing making your knuckles turn white. “P-please…” you whisper.

His smile dropped once the knife entered the side of your torso. “Now, you two can be with me forever.”

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 4- You Cannot Cage A Wolf

Bucky Barnes x (f)reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: Fuck the police and Ironman for that matter, now how the hell are you and Bucky going to manage getting out of this mess?

Warning: violence no duh, bucky going through it, bit o angst, things getting hectic

Masterlist

To say you were pissed would be the understatement of the century, again, you were locked in a cage of steel and glass. Surrounded by enemies who’d rather see you dead, but maybe you deserved it.

Maybe.

The Romanian combat police had locked you and Bucky into separate concealed glass confinements before loading the two of you into one long metal truck. Purposely facing the tiny prisons face to face with one another so that you would have full access to witnessing the discomfort and irritation on each other’s faces while armed officers sat to either side.

Well you’re not sure if it was exactly intentional, but still, at least you could make sure Bucky was okay and him you.

Your hands and legs are guarded by thick metal as your shoulders and upper arms keep firmly held by a small cage of steel; your body forced to sit for hours on end as the security trucks drive you both all the way to Berlin, Germany. A fucking 18 hour field trip by vehicle, at least you got some pee breaks.

Staring angrily at Bucky’s hand, you wish nothing more then to break out of here and fucking gut the assholes responsible for your unlawful imprisonments, Bucky did absolutely nothing to T’Challa and why the hell would they think you’re involved with his fathers death? It doesn’t make any sense. Not at all.

Why would anyone want the two of you for that matter?

Suddenly the truck jostles and stirs before stopping completely as you start to feel the shift of the vehicle reversing into something, your eyes immediately look up to find Bucky who’s already focused on you. His eyes are sad and full of pain for how they’ve treated you like an animal, caged you like a wild cat, more so then what they’ve done to himself. He never wanted you to deal with any shit like this again, not after the traumatic history Hydra had befallen on you for so many years. You don’t deserve this.

Returning a small smile, you give him a playful wink of reassurance before your glass and metal prison is rolled backwards and away from Bucky. Your fists clench in vexation and enmity for the current shit situation you happen to be sucked into, you feel like a beast at a goddamn freak show. Soon you’re rolled into a yawning chasmal underground parking garage of sorts, as flashing emergency lights from police cruisers blink annoyingly from your left while their riders park.

This must be some government building here in Berlin, you think, eyes wandering around at the secured cavernous glass and metal interior. Sliding clear doors make the entrance way to your far left wall, while further into the spacious room is a large wall of cement, more doors in various areas and a large staircase ascending into a giant balcony onto the next floor up.

Bucky’s cell is placed next to yours by another forklift as he glances at Steve drearily, while you throw nothing but an irritated scowl at the back of Steve just as Sam and T’Challa exit the black security van. Guards dressed in black attire close by. They soon make a swift yet cautious admission over to greet some short salt and peppered haired man in a dull grey suit, a blonde woman also with an equal amount of security by his side. Three armed guards in the back and three behind Steve.

What the hell are these people so afraid of? And why is any of this happening?

You can’t quit tell what’s being said from the concealed limitation of your moveable prison to where these assumingly high end important government officials are placed. It’s incredibly frustrating that you could just about scream, but now where would that get you? Probably smacked by some electrical shocking stick, those bastards, you think bitterly.

Soon the group appears to make some agreement before the shorter grey haired man nods an approval of invitation and with that does Steve, Sam, and T’Challa follow the short man and blonde woman farther away. All you or Bucky are able to witness before the doors to the new hallway you’re currently being pushed into closes, is the group walking for some glass doors that show a long hallway.

Then the giant metal doors slam shut in your face.

——

The forklift holding onto your portable prison cell ascends down the hallway as armed guards keep watch from both sides, walking in step with the pace of the lift as a set of eight in total surround yours and Bucky’s confinements. A minute later they bring your steel box into a windowless cement room, turning you to face the exit, your cells are rolled separately across some caution tape before all comes to a halt. Finally.

Your eyes follow the movements of regular security guards as they take long thick wires from the side of the stone walls, plugging them into your prisons as the lights inside flicker for a brief moment, stabilizing in a second. One guard gives you a wary yet curious glance before snapping his head down when your fearsome glare just about smacks him in the face, quickly after that, everyone leaves before shutting the sliding metal doors that hide you both from the outside world.

Waiting a moment, your eyes dance suspiciously across the room, “Y/N.” Calls Bucky, causing you to snap your attention over to him.

“What?” You mumble somberly, gaze trailing all over his stoically pensive expression, he’s without a doubt not pleased to be here. Though having you next to him makes things more bearable.

“Can you breath alright?” He asks worriedly, due to the thick plastic half face mask that prevents you from properly communicating with anyone, guess the Romanian police didn’t appreciate you calling them bastards. Among other things.

“Yeah.” You mumble out once again before pulling up on the metal clasps to no avail, what is this even made out of, “They got us pretty good, Buck. This might be a bit of a challenge to get out of...”

“You think we’re getting out of these things?”

“Well.......I’m being optimistic....so, uh.....there’s always a chance.”

The smallest of smile reveals itself for a flash of a second as Bucky forgets where you are and just welcomes your never ending humor, “You think they’re watching us?”

“Without a doubt. If I could flip them off I would.” You chuckle as your eyes trail up to the tiny dark sphere in your prison, yeah that’s definitely a camera. “Dickheads.” You mutter to whoever is listening.

“What do you think they’re going to do to us?” Wonders Bucky after a long moment of silence.

Taking a heavy breath you lean your head back, “Oh I don’t know. They’ll probably put me down like an old dog and then you’ll get broken out of jail by the Captain America himself.......you’ll probably be fine.”

Shaking his head, he looks over at your relatively bored face, “What if we’re not.”

Sensing his growing anxiety for your future placement, you turn to face him, “Then I’ll......uh........break us out of here?” You muse with an unsure shrug, well the best you can with the steel hugging your shoulders.

“Not all of us can take multiple bullets and survive.” Deadpans Bucky as you frown, he’s got you there.

“Okay uh.....let me think for a second.......uh, alright I got it..” You chirp enthusiastically before your face falls just as quickly as you let out a defeated, “...fuck never mind I don’t want murder charges.”

Bucky could have laughed, “I think we’d need to be more stealthy, and anyways there’s to many cameras.”

“Yeah.” You mutter dully, “Too many goddamn cameras.”

After about twenty minutes of mindlessly sitting in your cell while Bucky sits equally as bored from his own space a couple feet next to you, a man of relative height and stature walks into the large windowless cement room, a black book shaped travel bag hanging from his shoulder. He smiles in greeting at the two of you, though you can tell behind those glasses of his it’s anything but friendly. It’s strange, the way that his dark eyes reveal no true form of kindness or pleasantries.

Who the hell is this now?

The dark blondes beady umber irises flicker curiously from Bucky to you and back to Bucky again, a sort of childlike wonder flashing through them as he steps closer to the nearby desk.

“Hello, Mr. Barnes.” Nods the man in an almost Sokovian like accent, kinda sounds like you, greeting set on Bucky before he sends you a devious grin, “Miss. Valerious.” He nods, inquisitive eyes studying your stoic face of pure daggers as you breath steadily in your muzzle, “I’ve been sent by the United Nations to evaluate your partner here, so you needn’t worry, your time is not with me. But I ask if you please give me my time with him, that is all.” Assures the strange man as he focuses his attention back on Bucky again; eh, not like you have much of a choice.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Asks the dark eyed man as Bucky simply stares, suspicious and bored out of his mind; you naturally roll your scrutinizing leer as the man seats himself next to a table farther away in front of you two.

Guess he’s not leaving anytime soon.

“You’re first name is James?” Wonders the man though you can tell he already knows the answer; with pursed lips does he shrug innocently, “I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask a few questions. Do you know where you are James?”

Bucky keeps silent, and all you want to do is smack that annoying blondes glasses right off of his face, “I can’t help if you don’t talk to me, James.”

“My name is Bucky.” Begrudgingly mumbles your irritated companion, while your brows set hard in puzzlement for where this conversation is going.

Writing something down in his notes, the man nods, “Tell me something Bucky. You’ve seen a great deal, haven’t you?”

Bucky glares, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You fear that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop.” Mutters the blonde man as you scoff, his dark eyes instantly snap over to you.

“Come over here and I’ll show you something terrifying.” You threaten, though your voice is mumbled and husky through the damn mask covering your mouth from properly speaking. He hands you a fake smile in reply, appearing to enjoy your menacing presage nonetheless.

Dark eyes set back onto Bucky, he hums, “Don’t worry. We only have to talk about one.” You watch in curiosity as he looks down at his touchpad screen, a satisfied little grin appearing onto his thin lips when suddenly the lights go dark, sending the room into pitch blackness.

Though your sight shifts to dull grays and blues to counter this with your enhanced vision. A second later the dim emergency lights glow from up above giving the room a dull blue tint. While a red one blinks off and on repetitively in the shadowed room. The fuck?

“What the hell is this?” Grumbles Bucky as your eyes trail warily and alert over to the man as he draws his chair back to stand, though he remains seated.

“Why don’t we discuss your home? Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no.” Taking a faded red book out of his traveling bag, your eyes squint in suspicion as you notice a large black star printed on the front while he continues, “Your real home.”

oh, fuck

Turning to face Bucky, you’re alarmed to witness as his face appears conflicted and anxious; he’s afraid, soon the man rises to his feet before opening up the book and begins walking towards Bucky’s cell. A smile on his face as he begins speaking in Russian, “Longing.”

“No.” Mutters your lover as he blinks hard before staring hopelessly up at the ceiling.

“Rusted.”

“Stop.” Protests Bucky as he turns to throw you a pleading look, you frown, not sure what’s happening but you know it can’t be good. Hydra never did anything like this to you, no trigger words, just good old childhood manipulation and the occasional beating if you didn’t comply.

“Seventeen.” Speaks the man as Bucky’s face darkens with anger.

“Stop.” He growls furiously as heavy breaths push at his chest with building adrenaline.

“Daybreak.” A frustrated ragged scream emits from Bucky’s lips as his fists clench and muscles tighten, the man smirks as he gets closer to Bucky’s cage.

“Stop it!” You cry desperately while Bucky yells before ripping the metal from his left hand and breaking the metal clasp on his right, an animalistic growl sounding from deep within his throat as panic sets rooted into your stomach, “Fuck off!” You scream frantically, “I’ll gut you like a goddamn fish!”

Giving a pernicious grin, he ignores you, “Furnace.”

You watch in horror as Bucky emits a roaring cry of desperate anger as he begins pounding furiously against the glass. Coming back to your senses you ignore the mess happening next to you as your muscles contract and strain against the tight metal clasps caging your forearms, shoulders, and legs to the chair.

“Nine.”

You listen to more heavy pounding on glass as a hopeless ragged cry of futile rage rips forth from your throat in an anguished attempt at breaking free. Pulling your arms upward, your flesh strains viciously against the tough metal clasps while you struggle to free yourself. A moment later the metal clasps begin to groan and creak as they loosen accordingly, your strength forcing them into compliance.

“Benign.”

A thin sheet of sweat emits from the side of your face while you yell in frustration at the weight of the locks against your wrists, Bucky pounds furiously, soon metal fist starts cracking though thick glass as you finally rip the metal clasps from off of your right arm, “Fuck off!” You roar threateningly, eyes wild and raging like a bursting dragons flame unto a hopeless stick village, the man simply shifts his gaze back down to the book.

“Homecoming.”

He ignores you; heart beating a mile a minute, you unsheathe your right claws only to free your left hand from the abrasive metal lock as he continues to pound his fist against the slowly breaking glass door. Raising your hands to the back of your lower head, you forcefully rip the thick plastic muzzle from off of your face with a distinctive cracking sound emitting from the strong material.

“Nine.” Speaks the dark eyed blonde as he walks in between the two of your cells, appearing unafraid of your threats from earlier even as he witnesses you breaking free from the steel clasps on your legs now.

“Freight car.”

Crash!

Instantly your head snaps up to watch as Bucky’s glass door flies violently across the room and onto the harsh ground below; your breath hitches as all goes silent. The mans back is to you as he calmly walks over to Bucky who’s crouched onto the floor like a predator ready to strike, a second later he slowly rises to his feet. Though all life is gone from his dark pools of inky blue, he’s not your Bucky anymore.

“Soldier?” Whispers the dark eyed man in wonder, confident that his plan has effectively worked, whatever the fuck kind of plan in question.

Eyes wide, you swallow thickly as Bucky stares at the door, face noticeably covered in sweat, his eyes stare forward like a beast waiting to kill. He’s nothing but a vessel for chaotic destruction.

Breathing heavily, Bucky speaks in Russian, “Ready to comply.”

Suddenly the frustration in you boils over into pure animalistic rage for what this fucker has done to him, screaming bitterly, you punch the glass, slicing three thin lines straight through the material. The blonde one gives you a wary glance before addressing the Winter Soldier, “Mission report. December 16, 1991.”

“Bucky, don’t tell him shit!” You cry frantically in Russian, hoping that the Winter Soldier consuming him might hear something familiar in your desperation; whatever this man wants, you know full well what happened that night which means his motives are anything but friendly. If that wasn’t already apparent.

Bucky blinks, eyes shifting to the new ringmaster in control.

It’s no use, he’s not there, it’s what Hydra had made of him and now he must obey; Bucky ignores as you pound and scream for him to stop, to shut the hell up and come back to you but it’s all in vain. He tells the bastard everything in a matter of seconds as your face falls.

Heart pounding with adrenaline, you slash a clean line that rips right through the bolts of the door in wild fury, it sparks against your Adamantuim claws while creaking in protest as you finally kick it open. The huge door clatters and clashes to the ground as you step out of the glass prison and onto the cement flooring of the large windowless room. Red emergency lights flashing behind you as they make your tense form appear as sort of a clawed beast rising from straight out of hell.

The dark eyed man warily turns to you, when a sudden childlike excitement dances across his features as he takes a cautious step back, a small thrilled smirk pulling at his lips. The mans obsidian pools flicker over to Bucky who keeps a steady death stare with the wall ahead, the man nods in approval for his painstaking work before trailing his eyes over to you, “Soldier. Kill the Hellcat.” Smirks the man as your eyes shift reluctantly from himself to Bucky.

oh shit, you think miserably as your heart feels like its just sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Swallowing thickly, tears threaten to spill as your body shakes with racing adrenaline, your breaths noticeably heavier as you willingly begin retracting your claws.

The familiar metal sinks painfully back into your skin as you stare them down distastefully. Frowning deeply, you slowly pull your hands up into fists, readying your stance for the fight that’s inevitably about to come.

Making a sickened face, you swallow nervously as Bucky takes a step forward with eyes set like a wolf to his prey. Reluctantly your feet move an apprehensive step closer, “Fuck.” You mutter under your breath as Bucky makes the first move.

——

God why does your head hurt so damn much? Is the room spinning?

When you come to, the lights are still blinking an obnoxious red as you lay sprawled out across the cement floor, a puddle of blood trailing in a couple of dark-red thin lines from beneath your head to the yellow hazard stickers placed on the ground.

The air smells of blood and sweat as you suck in a deep breath before moving to sit up, at least the headache is gone, your eyes trail warily across the empty room as you touch the back of your head to get an understanding of what the hell happened here.

You can’t remember a thing.

A warm wetness greets your finger tips to no surprise, pulling them away, you study the murky crimson liquid staining your fingertips before your mind heals completely, your brain matter fusing back accordingly. Bits of the missing puzzle pieces soon form a coherent picture as you sit back in shock from the violent happenings that resulted in you bloody on the ground.

The man commanded Bucky to kill you.

The two of you indeed fought, but knowing that if you wanted to win you’d have to kill him yourself; Bucky kept his life as you let the Winter Soldier end yours. After dodging fist after fist thrown at you by Bucky, you finally gave in and let him pin you to the ground before he grabbed your face with his metal hand, smashing your skull against the cement floor in one dangerous deafening blow. Then it was over and...

Where even is he?

Picking yourself up, you quickly wander into the nearest opening only to be greeted by a multitude of unconscious guards, walking further down, you furrow your brows at the heavily dented elevator door where it appears that someone had been forced through. Touching the bent metal you sniff the air, it smells of Bucky and Steve. They couldn’t have been here less then thirty seconds ago.

Shifting to the right, you book it down the hallway to the sounds of strained grunts and fists hitting flesh. Soon you’ve found yourself at the edge of a large excessively windowed room, presumably the food court of sorts in this excessively ginormous place.

In the center is Bucky who’s absolutely beating the shit out of everyone making frugal attempts at stopping him. Your eyes observe Tony who’s positioned a good distance away as he breaths heavily from the floor, eyes wide in shock while he cradles one of his arms. The blonde haired woman from earlier appears in pain as she lays on her back, a broken table underneath her as the Black Widow squeezes Bucky’s neck with her thighs.

Natasha uses her elbows as a battering ram against his skull while he walks with her over to the closest table before slamming her roughly against the metal; he glares fiercely down at the Black Widow before using his titanium fist to choke the life out of her as she struggles against his weight.

Stepping into the huge room, your boots pound against the flooring as you deliver a powerful kick to Bucky’s strong waist, he tumbles across the thin carpeting before jumping to his feet in an instant. Natasha regains her lungs in a choked gasp as you throw a fist at Bucky’s chest, deflecting it, you use this new side lined momentum to duck under his approaching blow as you slide on the flooring, missing a fatal hit to your face by mere inches.

No more face shots please.

He whips around from the near miss, charging you once again; preparing for the worst of the Winter Soldier, your shoulders line up with his approaching body as your eyes calculate his next move. But when he readies his arm to punch, you slide to the side before swiftly twisting your body around to face him once more, all done within less then two seconds.

Watching his head turn left in confusion, you kick his back harshly onto the ground with the power enough to rival that of a lioness before huffing in frustration as he surges to his feet; you immediately halt in your tracks when out of nowhere T’Challa kicks Bucky across the floor. Soon the two men dance like two skilled warriors before Bucky takes the upper hand and whips the prince over the carpeted floor.

Blinking in bewilderment, you watch as he races up the stairs; the Winter Soldier doing his absolute best to get the fuck out of there, knowing he’s outnumbered by two and wary of getting his shit rocked by you again. Though he’s not even fully aware why you’re attacking him since his mind is back at Hydra and last he remembers you where on their side, and presumably bleeding out in another room.

Breathing heavily, you turn to share an awkward moment of uncertain eye contact with the prince of Wakanda before he throws you a half restrained dirty look, sprinting up the stairs after Bucky.

You’re able to take one step before a raspy voice snaps your attention over to a table, it’s Natasha, “Y/N.” She gasps through strained breaths.

Clenching your fists you leave those two to work it out as you swiftly approach the ex-assassin, “What?!” You snap.

Forcing herself into a seated position, she gingerly touches her bruising throat, “Guess you where right.” She chuckles painfully.

“Right about what?” You bark with a frown, eyes flickering over to Bucky and T’Challa as they throw jabs on the stairway landing.

“Last we met. You said I’d be lucky if we never met again. Guess you where right.”

“You’re an ex-assassin how lucky did you really expect to be?” You retort before taking a step for the ascending stairs when a hand takes your wrist.

“You have to stop him.” Urges Natasha, “No one here’s an equal force, you’re the Hellcat Y/N, you have to stop him no matter the cost.”

Throwing her an irritated glare at hearing your Hydra code name yet again, you growl like a wounded beast, “I’m not killing anyone!”

“You might not have a choice.” Challenges the red head with a pleading yet stern display, understanding that Bucky means more to you then just simple companionship.

“There’s always a choice!” You grumble angrily, heart pounding a mile a minute as you huff before turning for the stairs only to meet a disheveled and deeply confused prince, he’s sweating and looks rather conflicted as his dark eyes scan frantically around the room for any sign of Bucky.

Suddenly his eyes land on you, freezing in place, your mind swirls with what to do next; you’re a wanted criminal in plain sight and for some reason this prince wants Bucky and presumably you, dead.

Shifting your panicked gaze over to Nat, you shake your head before turning to T’Challa as you scowl like an angry brute, “If you touch me, I’ll gut you.” And with that heavy threat do you swiftly turn on your heels and race out the closest door and into the nearest hallway. Leaving Natasha and prince T’Challa with their lives.

Now where did Bucky go?

Running past door after door while the emergency lights annoyingly scream their bright red colors in caution of extreme danger, though you and Bucky are technically the “extreme danger”. Soon you take a hard right turn and immediately slam into the firm chest of Steve as he books it down the hallway for some door hanging open at the far end.

Falling into the closest wall, you don’t have time to wait on the pain emitting from your arm as he mutters a quick apology as the six foot two American hauls ass for the exit door. Recovering in no time, you press a bloody handprint against the wall before turning after Steve. Funny, you don’t ever remember cutting yourself on anything. Doesn’t matter.

Bursting open the cracked door, bright blinding rays of sunlight glare annoyingly in your eyes while your pupils adjust to the new terrain, soon your eyes catch the dramatic scene unfolding in front of you farther down on the helicopter landing area.

Perplexed, you stand in astonishment as Bucky attempts to take off in the chopper while Steve fruitfully leaps mid-air before tightly grasping onto the aircraft’s landing skids.

He pulls down hard, face straining in intense efforts to keep Bucky from escaping and heading into God-knows-where. Legs moving quickly, you race up the small flight of stairs leading onto the huge landing pad as Steve struggles fiercely to hold it down.

But before you’re able to aid in putting an end to Bucky’s fruitful efforts, he slams the chopper into the cement; causing you to leap backwards for fear of getting your guts sliced open by the blades. You’re helpless to watch as Steve narrowly misses becoming a decapitated corpse as the blades crash violently against the ground.

Chunks of stone and steel go flying in all directions as you shield your face from the debris. But as the dust settles, you peer from over your forearm to watch as Bucky’s metal arm bursts through the glass only to immediately grasp around Steve’s neck.

“Fuck.” Slips silently from out of your lips as you take a couple cautious steps forward while moving reluctantly towards the shit show; how has the last 20 hours gone so goddamn terribly?

Creeeek. Sounds the destroyed helicopter as it suddenly begins a slow ascend over the platform edge, where a large river awaits with open arms to presumably swallow whole the broken aircraft. Now in a panicked sprint, you race over the rubble as the last of the chopper, Bucky, and Steve are seen before they plummet to the waters below.

“No!” You cry helplessly as you reach the peak of the landing, nothing beneath you except for the broken tail of the chopper and a plethora of air bubbles.

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