#so she wouldn’t look like a monster for beating up old people

[bugeyedfreaks]

Till this day I never understand why people hated Very Special Blossom. Its a good insight on who she is and how she’s willing to commit a crime if it’ll get her ahead, even the perfect leader girl can’t resist a temptation, it makes her less bland.

Is that why they hate it? Because she’s supposed to be like the perfect leader or something? That’s so stupid. These are probably the same people who whine and moan about Mary Sues or something, too. Like pick a lane! You either want a perfect character or you want a flawed one! 😩

…now that I think about it, there’s key difference between a character who is a perfectionist and is perfect. Maybe these people don’t get the difference.

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for anon

Request: So I was thinking a scenario with my OC Andros, who is an ancient deer god/being, and a human baker named Lizzie. Roughly for the plot I was thinking that Lizzie runs a bakery in a small town by this dark woods and everyone avoids it because of the monsters that live there. One night she’s working late to finish a big order and Andros is attracted by the smell of cookies and then spicy shenanigans ensue. Does that sound okay?

A/N: Thank you so much for commissioning, means a lot! This was really fun and wholesome, hope you like it :)

Like cookies, like home

Deer god (Andros) x fem!reader (Lizzie) || knotting, oral sex, cum-inflation, very soft

You are in the middle of preparing the next batch of cookies when you hear something falling outside. A big sound that startles you into almost dropping a tray of cookies. Luckily, you save it in the last second.

You know most people wouldn’t go investigate, but you have been preparing cookies for what felt like an eternity and you could use a break. You open the back door and stare at the dark woods, only illuminated by the moon and the light of the kitchen behind you. There’s only shadows and silence outside, and that calms you.

You aren’t scared, but there’s an edge of anticipation filling your gut that you can’t quite place. It’s like something inside of you is urging you to look further, to discover what’s creeping in the shadows. You’ve been playing with the occult for long enough to know to always trust your gut, your intuition telling you more than most of old tales to scare children.

“Who’s there?” Something moves on the periphery of your vision, and your pulse skips a beat. It must be a trick of the light...

You swallow a gasp when the figure appears. You barely see him at first, a big mass of moss behind a couple big trees, but when he stands up, you feel like the world stops for a second. He’s massive, big and magical in a way you can’t explain. He’s like a moss-monster walking on two legs, and has big ass antlers at the top of his head that give him an aura of a forest spirit.

You know you should be scared, but it’s not what you are feeling, not at all.

You can’t hold your tongue before you ask: “Who are you?” He twists his head to the side, almost like a confused puppy would do, and you chuckle, his adorableness dissolving all tension remaining inside of you. You take a step towards him, a hand stretched in the same way you’d do with a scared animal, non threatening, slow. “I’m Lizzie, do you have a name?” You aren’t sure what’s driving you to him, but you just... know.

“Andros,” his voice is so low and guttural that sends shivers down your spine, anticipation returning with force until you are almost panting.

By the time you are in front of him, your heartbeat is going crazy and he’s staring at you in some kind of wonder. He smells the air when you are close enough, like there’s something there. But you can only smell cookies, the sweet smell of cinnamon and ginger lingering around you after so many hours working at your bakery.

“Smell good,” he lets out. You almost giggle at his surprise, a big hand approaching your middle until he’s touching your hip. You are looking up at him, your neck almost hurting because he’s that tall.

“Do you want some cookies? That’s what you are smelling, right?” You ask him, your body tilting to his hand, seeking more of his touch.

“Cookies,” he repeats.

He looks weirdly surprised, like he wasn’t expecting you not to run, and much less to offer him any food. You smile up at him and he tries to replicate, but it looks weird on his face, like a grimace that makes you chuckle.

You take his hand and pull, expecting him to follow as you get back to the bakery. It takes a bit of maneuvering for him to be able to enter the store, his body too big for the door. Luckily, your ceilings are high and he can stand almost completely inside the store, but he chooses to sit on the floor by the door. He’s almost as tall as you in that position, and you can’t avoid checking his body over. You feel a heat blooming inside of you that was never there before. It’s like his mere presence is igniting your insides until you feel breathless with the need to touch him in some way.

You grab a couple of cookies and approach him again, your hand stretched in offering as he smells them before taking them. He’s so careful not to touch you with his claws, retracting them before taking the cookies. He stuffs them in his mouth in one fluid movement, humming in pleasure as he looks at you. For some reason that makes you blush, embarrassment and some emotions you can’t name filling your insides. Your legs turn jelly, and you have to sit down on a stool in front of him.

“Cookies,” he repeats once again, making you laugh.

“You want more?” He nods vehemently and you get more for him.

That means you’d have to work even later, but you don’t care. He looks so happy to be eating the cookies you made that you have no heart to tell him anything.

After a whole batch of cookies he seems satisfied, his big hand on his lean stomach as he grunts happily, a smile-grimace stretching his features until he looks almost comical.

“Why are you here?” You ask after a moment of silence.

“Smelled cookies, now here,” he says, as if talking is a new thing for him, as if he doesn’t really know how language works. But that’s okay, you understand him well enough.

“You came here just for my cookies?” You ask, a big smile stretching your mouth, pleased.

He nods and adds: “Cookies smell good, and you too.”

“Me, too? I smell good, too?” You wonder, amused.

“Yes. Better than cookies.” He’s nodding almost frantically, his antlers moving up and down. “You smell…” He pauses, like the words aren’t coming to him just yet. “You smell good. Like forest. And cookies. Like home.” His last words made you gasp, looking at him intently. You don’t know what it is, but as soon as he says it, you know he’s telling the truth. And weirdly enough… you feel it, too.

You approach him carefully, your hands shaking slightly. “What do you mean I smell like home?”

“Home. Mine. Cookies,” his head is turned to the side, the puppy gesture making you want to scream at him to stop being so adorable.

You stop in front of him and reach up to touch his creepy face. You aren’t sure what you are going to say next, but you surprise both of you when what comes out of your mouth is: “You do, too.” You gasp at the realization that it’s true, he does smell like home. He feels like home. Like he’s supposed to be here, like you are supposed to be with him.

He launches for you before you can blink twice, his big hands coming around your soft middle and pushing you to the floor, his big body covering yours instantly. He starts nuzzling your neck, like your words gave him permission to do so, and he might be right, because instead of protesting, you groan.

His raspy long tongue meets your pulse point and he starts nibbling at your pulse point, making your body melt under his and your pussy gets wetter and wetter. He travels down your body, ripping your clothes with his sharp claws as he does so. You are left naked and needy by the time he reaches the valley between your thighs.

“Andros, please…” You beg, your hips moving involuntarily, your center aching to be touched, licked, filled… He doesn’t need to be asked twice.

His tongue finds your clit instantly. Most men have a hard time discovering it, but your forest monster is there in a second, sucking and touching, rubbing it with the perfect amount of force to drive you close to the edge.

“You taste sweet. Like cookies,” he says as his tongue reaches so deep inside of you, you have to grab onto his antlers to have some kind of control over your body.

He’s touching and licking and sucking… He’s driving you completely mad with pleasure, and you don’t know if you can take it. You don’t know if your body and soul are ready to take all of him, but at that moment you can’t even care about it. You only care about his tongue inside of you, over your clit, and his fingers digging into your full hips and ass, pushing you against his face to get more access if that’s even possible.

He eats you out like a monster, and you enjoy it like a good monsterfucker.

He makes you come twice before you have the focus to drag him up and urge his dick between your legs. You need him, you need him completely. “Can I?” He asks, the tip of his cock against your entrance.

“Please,” you beg him.

He’s so big you are a bit worried he won’t be able to fit, but somehow… He does. He keeps going slow and steady until he’s inside of you completely. Your brain short-circuits at the desperate whines he’s letting out, as if being inside of you is enough to drive him crazy.

You pull your legs up around his middle, urging him deeper, urging him to move. And he complies. He starts a frantic pace that fucks all thoughts off your head. You can’t do anything but take it and scream his name.

“Andros, Andros, Andros…” You call out his name with each thrust, and when you feel something rubbing against your entrance, your brain focuses enough to ask: “What is that?” You choke out.

“My knot,” he grunts, pressing harder until it breaches you, making all the air in your lungs leave as you scream to the ceiling. You feel so full, so very, very full. It’s exhilarating.

He rolls his hips and you grab onto his antlers for dear life, rocking your hips simultaneously, trying to milk the pleasure out of him. He grunts, his dick twitching inside of you as you feel the first shot of his cum inside of you. You throw your head back and call out his name. He answers with a scream of his own, driving you insane with pleasure. One of his hands finds your nipple, pinching and twisting to the point of brain melting pleasure.

You come again. And again. And again.

His knot is pressing on the perfect point for you to get as much pleasure as possible, and he’s taking that to his advantage. Caressing and groping your body until you aren’t nothing but a mess of fluids and pleasure.

And he keeps coming, filling you to the brim, filling you so much you can feel it forming a pool under your body. He fills you so much you can feel it moving inside with each movement of his body over yours, you can see your tummy getting bloated as he fills you. But you don’t care. You are too fucked out to care.

By the time his knot goes down and your breathing comes back to normal, you are tired to the bone. He’s weirdly silent, but his claws are still tracing shapes over your soft tummy.

“Can I get another cookie, Lizzie?” He says after a beat, making you giggle so loud and hard your middle hurts.

“Yes, you big monster, grab a cookie,” you give him permission, still giggling.

[kimmryokoo]

"Why would you love an animal like me?" - logan howlet

author: kim ryoko

masterlist

summary: logan has a nightmare about all the people he has killed in the past and starts to think you deserve to be with someone better than him. luckly, you are there to tell him otherwise.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: feeling of not deserving someone, agnst, comfort, emotional dependence, nightmare/slight insomnia, slightly sub logan

author note: english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes, feel free to correct me. Also, I don't know how to feel about this fic, but I hope you like it. and I'm sorry it's short.

A nightmare… again.

But this time, it was different. I din’t dream about the wars; I had a dream about all the people I’ve killed, and God… there where so many.

Maybe I am a monster. An animal, like everyone calls me.

Well, not everybody. She doesn’t call me that. She’s too kind hearted to think that way about anyone; even me. Most times, think I don’t deserve her. That she deserves someone better than me. But she’s always there to tell me I’m wrong. To tell me that I’m actually a kind person that truly deserves to be loved. I want to believe her. I really do. But my mind is always playing these little fucking tricks on me, showing me the bad person everyone knows I am, and I slowly start to believe it’s true again. Why can’t I just live in peace?

If I lived in peace, she could live in peace too. With me.

But why would an animal live in peace?

I wake up, once again, with my claws out and a layer of sweat covering me. I retract my claws, seat up and look to my side. Shit. How can someone be this pretty even when sleeping? And just like that, all those thoughts come running back to me and I feel my heart clench. I know I’m selfish for not letting her go and have the life she deserves with someone better, but I can’t bring myself to let her go. Even in the days where one of us is out on a mission for just 1 hour, my hearts starts to ache from how much I miss her. I wouldn’t survive a single fucking day without her. I move myself a bit to seat at the edge of the bed with my head low. My heart starts beating fast again and with every second that pasts, I feel my insecurities get bigger and bigger. I know I’m fucked up when all I want right now is for the woman sleeping next to me to wake up and kiss and hug all my problems out of me. How could I ever let her go? The only thing I can do is wait for her to grow tired of me like everyone has done after their own time.

I heard the sheets moving behind me and, a few seconds later, I feel two arms wrapping themselves around me, one around my neck and one around my chest, two legs wrapping around my waist and a head snuggling itself to my neck. I smell her scent, the only one that can make me go fucking feral in less than 1 second, and, at the same time, bring me peace no one has ever been able to before.

“Why are you awake? Did you have another nightmare?” she asked and I couldn’t bring myself to answer her so I just nodded. I could only think about how she deserves someone better than an old, murderous, shitty animal.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry…” she said like it was her fault “Is there anything I can do to help you?” her sweet voice making me melt more with each passing seconds, but also hammering my heart more knowing that the person she ends up with is the luckiest person on earth and I would do anything in my power to be them. To respond to her question I just moved my head again signing a ‘no’.

As if she understood this was worst than normal, she got up and put herself standing between my legs, while cupping my face. Even with me sitting, she wasn’t that much taller than me,which is another thing I find cute i her. One of the thousands. She tilted my head slightly so I was looking at her and I almost forgot everything just by looking at her loved-filled eyes. Almost. She pulled me in for a slow and soft kiss and kissed my forehead as soon as she broke it. She then hugged my head thigh against her chest and I let myself finally enjoy the care she was giving me and relax for a moment.

“Why do you love me?”

“What do you mean, Logan?” she asked genuinely confused as if the question I asked was the stupidest thing on earth.

“Why would you love an animal like me?” I repeated.

“Don’t say stuff like that Logan, you know I don’t like it. And to answer you question, I love you because, either you believe it or not, you are the kindest, most loving person I ever met. You always put everyone else before you, even Scott. Every time you see someone struggling, or sad, you do your very best to help them. Even though you put this ‘tough guy’ look on you face everyday, deep down, you care more about people then you know. I love you, Logan, because you are always ready to give your life in exchange for someone else’s, even a total stranger’s. I don’t care about what you believe or not, or what people tell you or not, but you, James Logan Howlet, The Wolverine or whatever you want to call yourself, you will never be the animal they make you think you are.”

Fuck.

With that I held her tighter and my body started to shake. When she noticed it, she held me even closer than before and started to play with my hair and kissing the top of my head. She relished me from her grip to cup my face again and see the fear and sadness in my eyes as we held eye contact.

“I’m sorry… For burdenin’ you with all my shit problems” I said with a shaky voice.

“Oh, baby… You’re no burden and neither are your problems. I’m here to help you with all your problems the same way you are always there to help me with mine. Nobody’s perfect, but we can be better with the help of each other.”

After a long moment of comfortable silence, I start to feel sleepy in her embrace and murmur a small ‘Thank you’ and she kissed the top of my head again in return. She feels me getting sloppier in her arms and gently helps me to get in bed. She then goes to the other side of the bed and hugs me again, pulling me into her arms, burying her face in my hair and playing with the little ones at the nape of my neck and whispering how much she loved me.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I let myself believe in her and think that an animal like me actually deserves love.

Needless to say I slept like a rock for the rest of the night, finally, nightmare free.

Hope you liked it!

xoxo, kim ryoko

[buckets-and-trees]

"You are nothing but a toy for me to fuck, little lamb. Now open your mouth for me, or I will break your jaw opening it myself."

👀👀👀

Well... as you know, this escalated quickly.

Title: Sacrificial Characters/Pairings: Minotaur!Bucky x Botanist!Female!Reader Word Count: 3.5k Summary: If it seems too good to be true, it always is. Always. Too bad you had to go to the remote jungles of South America to learn that lesson.

Content/Concept Warnings: DARK, lulled into a trap, human sacrifice, dubious consent/fuck or die, public sex/exhibitionism, size kink, monster fucking, face fucking/oral male receiving, vaginal fingering/fisting, breast worship, rough fucking, possessive/pet, praise kink, dirty talk, cum play, marking, cream pie, choking

Additional Notes: Thoty time with @rookthorne... she's only responsible for enabling me when my monster thirst reared its head. Wicked entry for @buckybarnesevents WEEK ONE of Hot Bucky Summer: "What Should I Wear?" and my third square of @buckybarnesbingo K1 "Fuck or Die."

When you told your friends, family, and former colleagues about the research grant and fellowship you had been awarded in the weeks leading up to your departure that it was too perfect, clearly somewhere deep in your bones you had known.

Eighty thousand dollars a year for three years, travel covered, visa approved, fully furnished accommodations provided, and a book deal for the discoveries and research studying flora in a largely undocumented and remote part of the jungle on another continent.

No scientist got a deal like that.

The only downside was the isolation of the location. They had electricity and running water, but you would only be able to go into town for internet every few weeks.

But the part of you that had grown up watching Indiana Jones, Jurassic Park, LOST, and the deep space missions of Star Trek who had far too many plants in your apartment and in your tiny office at the university had beat back that downside. It was only three years, and after living through the strange isolation of the pandemic, you knew you could manage this where you wouldn’t be isolated from people, just for short stints from your old life.

And though you had good pieces and good people in your life, you were desperate to get away from the suffocating societal expectations you felt like you weren’t living up to while so many others around you were – marriage, kids, white picket fences, career accomplishments, tenured professorships, promotions, raises, overnight influencers, travel vloggers.

This was something no one you knew had ever done.

Everyone raved about the adventure ahead of you.

Everyone had been impressed.

You had conquered in the accomplishments department with this for the year, no question. Your older sister with her third child on the way and your younger brother and his Premiere League football contract could wallow in your shadow.

This was a golden opportunity for a research botanist still in the early years of their career.

Kneeling on the ground in the middle of the jungle with your hands folded in your lap, head bowed, surrounded by a village of people who all should have known better than to follow ancient superstitions, with a dozen or more guns trained on you in nothing more than lingerie, you were living a nightmare.

All of it had been a baited trap.

No one would even question you falling off the grid before it was too late, and even if they did, these villagers could say one day you never came back from the jungle.

And it would be true.

One afternoon and evening, a good dinner, a sleep you’d yearned for thinking it was the jet lag, and then you’d awoken screaming as the first strip of wax had been ripped from your skin to discover you were naked with a half dozen people attending to all aspects of your grooming, preparing you to be their human sacrifice for the beast that lived in the jungle.

You were past the crying and pleading.

The no WIFI had been a lie, too.

Everyone in this small village looked and acted like they lived in the present day except for this one thing.

The belief that if they did not provide the beast his human sacrifice that they would not survive his terror.

“Then why don’t you just leave?” you had implored.

“This is our home, our loved ones are here, our ancestors are part of this place, and,” their leader and the head of the research foundation paused – almost faltered before continuing to explain, “the sacrifice of one stranger will guarantee us safety for many, many years.”

Everyone else had been instructed not to speak or listen to you from that point on in the preparations.

Nails trimmed, buffed, shined. Luxurious oil that smelled delicate and heavenly rubbed over every inch of your skin from the neck down. Hair partially braided to stay out of your face with the rest left natural. Color applied to your lips. They didn’t bother with eye makeup. No jewelry.

You had been wrapped up in a linen garment that was not quite a robe but not quite a coat to be transported to the ruins of an old stone dais in the thick of the jungle but deprived of it and then pushed onto the sacrificial area, left only in the sapphire silk of a bra and panties delicately lined with lace.

After hours being poked, prodded, and prepared by strangers in a strange land in a state of dread and disbelief, you thought you were numb.

You had endured too much to think you were hallucinating, but that you now all waited illuminated by literal torches with fire made this seem almost like a season of Survivor gone horribly wrong.

But then you heard the hushed wave of whispers at the rustle and rumble of something approaching through the thick vegetation of the jungle and adrenaline shot through your veins. It didn’t inspire fight or flight. You were frozen, fixated on the beast that would finally appear and seal your fate any moment now.

It made no attempt at arriving quietly, and when it finally appeared, there were collective gasps and cries from the people gathered to watch the sacrifice, though no sound fell from your lips.

The reaction was more than warranted, and a whisper of a thought flashed through your head that you were surprised no one had screamed. Maybe they were too terrified to scream, worried they would draw the beast’s attention. You wanted to scream, but your chest was gripped in fear.

The thick, furry legs of a bull, down to the cloven hooves, and a girthy tail with a tuft of dark hair at the end, swishing slightly as he walked. There was a loincloth tied at his waist that – rather than providing modesty – inspired anyone whose gaze lingered there to imagine the bulge nudging conspicuously beneath. Not that anyone’s gaze would linger there for long, for the rest of him was altogether imposing. Only the tallest of the villagers might hope to measure up to the base of his sternum – the sternum that anchored the torso of a man with shoulders more than twice the width of a human. Skin golden from the sun stretched over muscles that burst and rippled over his chest and shoulders, extending down his arms. You could see a litany of angry scars littered up and down his left arm.

Great bull’s horns rose and curled out of his head, possibly longer than your own arms. He had a mane of long, glossy but mostly unruly brown hair, with a couple of braids, that fell past his shoulders. Though the rest of his physique inspired fear, the true terror was perhaps the face of this man beast – it was terrifyingly handsome. Strong jaw, stubbled beard, a crease between his brows, and piercing blue eyes. His expression was drawn into an ominous grin.

He was in no rush as he walked into the ring of the villagers.

“Weapons down,” he growled.

There was almost no hesitation – their purpose had been to keep you in place anyway. Though the fear in the air was palpable, the tone of it seemed to be turning to some sort of reverent fear now for everyone else.

What inspired this unquestioned obedience from an entire people? People you’d seen with smart phones as abundantly among them as any other place on earth, though you’d been advised to shut yours down and leave it behind since it would be of next to no use to you in the jungle. They were right – but had left out the true reason and made it even more believable for you to seem only cut off to those back home, not lost and gone forever.

His enormous legs took the step easily up onto the dais, and his eyes were now fixed only on you. He stopped at the foot of the altar where you were presented for him.

“Well done,” this was meant for the people and their leader.

Then he reached out and the fingers of his large hands traced the strap over your left shoulder, then along your jaw, tilting your chin to look straight up at him. “And your choice is set?”

“My – my choice?” your voice cracked, but you felt it was a miracle you even found it.

Your confusion must have been evident, as his eyes flashed with anger and her rounded on the man who had facilitated all of this. “You did not tell her anything, did you?”

“I thought it best if –“

“It is not your job to think. The thoughtlessness of your people is why we’re here at all,” he snarled. Then he turned back to you.

“No time for stories now. I’m a minotaur called Bucky; a lost soldier cursed long ago to this state. Suffice it to say II must be satiated or the village will be subjected to bloodshed and desolation in the face of my wrath. They’ve chosen you, but you can choose your fate: fuck or die. I’ll take your throat, or I’ll cut it and drink your blood in front of everyone.”

Your chest heaved in trepidation. “How is that a choice?”

“Is it not clear to you?”

“Have others chosen death?”

He nodded. “Or they refused to choose.”

You opened your mouth then closed it again.

“Do you wish to die?”

You thought your tears were spent, but you could feel them welling in your eyes. “No.”

“Then claim your choice.”

You took a shaky breath.

“Say it!” he barked.

You flinched, but managed to spit out, “Fuck.”

“Perfect. Open up.”

“In front of everyone?” your voice was barely above a whisper.

He nodded. “They will remember and mark this sacrifice. It will be the reason they continue to breathe.”

You spread your knees a part so you were still kneeling and sitting back on your heels but his to take like this.

“That’s nice but not what I meant.” He tugged his loincloth and dropped it to the ground. You whimpered, afraid of the enormous size of his cock and ashamed at the lick of heat that flared in your core at the sight of him. He leaned down closer, put a hand at the back of your neck, and slapped the side of your face with his rigid length. “You are nothing but a toy for me to fuck, little lamb. Now open your mouth for me, or I will break your jaw opening it myself.”

This drew a handful of muted gasps from the onlookers. You saw a spark of something new in his eyes at this reaction.

He was pleased at their reaction.

You dropped your mouth open for him, nervous knowing you could not take all of him, embarrassed to be on such display in front of these strangers, but wanting to please him.

Wait, you thought, wanting to please him?

He shoved his cock into your wet mouth, shoving any other thoughts immediately out.

“Suck.”

You did.

“Just like that,” he said. The hand on your neck moved up to cradle and command the back of your head. He slowly began to fuck your mouth but with only a small motion, encouraging you to continue sucking just that first bit of cock as it was in your mouth. He still was in no rush. It felt like a power play – not wanting to show impatience or lack of restraint in the onset of this sacrificial claiming.

As he continued to speak now, his voice was low, intended for you. “Get ready for more.”

You looked up at him and tried to nod your head ever so slightly. He smirked, then he brought his other hand up under your jaw and to your throat, wanting to feel himself using you. He groaned and briefly closed his eyes. His tip hit the back of your mouth, and you spluttered. He pulled out slightly, giving you half a moment to recover, then forced the point again, holding himself there while you adjusted. He opened his eyes again, locking back onto yours, and a thrill of terror shot through you again. That was only the preliminary.

Now he would truly begin.

That look was all you got. Keeping the one hand at your throat, the provided the anchor to begin truly fucking your throat, not in a rush, but he picked up the pace. You placed your hands on his thighs to steady yourself. Your muscles initially gagged in protest, but he persisted, stroking your throat with his fingers as well, coaxing you to relax. Tears spilled down your cheeks. You concentrated on breathing through your nose and the steady gaze he kept trained on you. Soon you were taking more of him than you thought you could. He quickened his thrusts into your mouth. Your fingers stretched into the fur on his hips, mewling as he continued to use your mouth.

A few short grunts with the last thrusts were the only hint before he came, shooting his hot spend in your mouth with an unrestrained howl that shook the crowd to their core. There was no way for you to swallow everything, but, if anything, seeing his cum spilling down your chin made him grin.

Then he raised his head to address the villagers. “Remember that you gave this human to me. I will do with her as I please, and you will never see her again. Hope that you never see me again in your lifetime,” his voice carried, his power unquestioned in the clearing. “If you are lucky, the children you left home today will not see me in their lifetimes either. All of you go now. What happens next is not for your eyes.”

They followed his instructions without hesitation, all of them eager to be gone from this cursed place and their collective and ignored shame.

They left the torches – no desire for a souvenir.

And now you were alone with him, the light of the flames flickering over every inch of your exposed skin – which was almost all your skin, the lingerie only for show.

With the hand that was still anchored at the back of your head, he roughly angled you up sharply to look directly up at him, and tipping his own head forward he loomed in all his height above you, a truly searing heat in this look. “I meant what I said: you are mine, and I will never allow those vile villagers to see you again. You’re mine to do with as I please.”

He stooped down to claim your mouth in a kiss. His large thumb brushed the remaining spend from your chin and then moved down your throat to brush it over your collar bone, rubbing it in. He pushed his tongue between your lips, and you opened your mouth for him again. His tongue was too big for your mouth, too, but the more he subjected your body to the largeness of his being, the more you seemed to seep into him. He used his tongue to wrap around and tangle with yours, stroking it with his, now and then slipping it further down your throat, teasing, choking, mimicking the actions of his cock not long before.

When you were truly gasping, he chuckled darkly and pulled away, you leaned forward, lips chasing his, and then you shook your head, trying to restore some logic.

Failing.

Bucky easily tore away your bra with his brute strength. “Lay back for me, lamb.”

You shifted, legs aching from resting on them in that kneeling position for far too long. He noted the care you took in moving your limbs and rubbed the muscles up and down a few times. Then he pulled your hips to the end of the alter, flush against his cock, which was already semi-hard again. You hummed as he pushed against your still-clothed core.

His hands moved from your thighs up your sides, stoking the desire surging through your body, moving up your waist, thumbs brushing up against the underswell of your breasts, then flicking over the nipples, bringing them to little peaks before diving down to lave one of them with his tongue and suck, rolling, twisting, and pinching the other with his hand. Then he moved his mouth, and as he latched on to the other nipple, his hands worked the lace and silk panties off your hips and down your legs before tossing them away. He rutted up against you again, slow but persistent pressure against your core again, but now with no barrier he felt your arousal slicking up your entrance. When you began working your hips against him, seeking more friction, fisting your hands into his hair, he moved a hand between your legs, stroking over your labia and pushing one of his fingers right into your cunt, making you keen immediately from the force and fullness.

“Going to ruin you, lamb, but don’t want to hurt you.” He was brutal, but only because he was a monster by nature, not because he was heartless. “Gotta work your tiny pussy open so you can take me like you were meant to.”

As before, he was patient, making up for the impatience mounting inside you as he worked his fingers into you, circling, questing, stretching, twisting. When he pushed three fingers in he could tell it was a lot, but he knew he needed you to easily receive four if he was going to get to fuck you on his cock the way he wanted. All through it, he was relentless in overwhelming you in other ways, continuing to worship your breasts, but also murmuring praises against your skin, and threatening and promising filthy things that you couldn’t even respond to.

When you were thoroughly primed, aching for him, a mess with tears and begging for him, he finally realigned his hips between your legs, forcing your thighs wide to accommodate him. He bumped the head of his cock against your throbbing clit a couple of times, making your whimper repeatedly. You were lost as you lay splayed out above him, eyes tightly shut, hands reaching for him, desperately pleading his name over and over. He bent down to you again, relishing the feel of your breasts brushing against his chest for one more moment before sinking his cock into your cunt with a brutal thrust, pushing clear to the hilt, making you scream. It was wicked, and he knew it, but also knew how much he had worked up your body and your mind, and he was rewarded as you arched beneath him, and wrapped your arms around his neck, adjusted your hips, and then rocked against him, clearly seeking more.

Holding you at the precipice of pleasure for so long meant you crashed into your first orgasm very quickly as he pushed his cock in and out of your, “tight heat, little lamb, taking me so well,” he cooed. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, shuddering as he fucked your through it, groaning at the feel of your walls around him. “No one else will ever have this cunt now,” he vowed. “You’re mine.”

“Mine,” you echoed without thinking, not knowing it was exactly how he wanted his pet to feel about him. He pushed you over the edge into another orgasm and then spilled his hot seed inside you not long after. You were beyond spent, at that point, and less than a minute after he scooped you up, tucking your legs around his waist, you dropped out of consciousness, and went totally limp. He kissed the top of your head, then shifted you to sling you over his shoulder for the trek to his lair – your home. He’d secure you there, then go back to the get the wooden crate of the belongings you had shipped ahead of you and the bag you had traveled with – both were supposed to be deposited and waiting in a cave, the final part of his negotiations for acquiring his new human from that village and their foolish leader. Humans were delicate creatures with peculiar needs, after all, and he was determined to keep you content and fucked out until you were devoted to staying with him until the end of your days.

But the last hour had exceeded even his own expectations. He suspected he wouldn’t have to try very hard to keep his little lamb.

NEXT PART: Do You Remember

"haunting thoughts" on Sacrificial for the Dark Forest Fest

brief insight into what reader's life is like now

physical appearance of Minotaur!Bucky

easy and challenging parts of writing the fic

the writing of the story from concept to completion in one night

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[livingintheupsidedown]

Colourblind

Steve Harrington x Reader.

[1.5k] - You can't decide if you should tell Steve how you feel or not, he makes that decision for you.

Warnings - mentions of trauma, the events of season 4, the beginning of a panic attack.

A/N - the lyrics used are from a song called "colourblind by ed sheeran" it's a beautiful song i highly recommend listening to it. this is also dedicated to my beautiful friend @dukesmebby because i love her <33

Kaleidoscope love

Yeah, that is you and me

Forever changing

We make life interesting.

The gentle swish of the wind from outside your window was all you could hear, the only sound to reach your ears, although it wasn’t the thing keeping you awake. Your clock read 2:18 but your mind wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop playing the events from the nights before. Wouldn’t stop the screams, the cries, the heartache. You had thought you wanted to be alone, but right now you couldn’t think of anything worse. You needed someone to ground you, to remind you it was all over, for now at least. 

You thought of Eddie, an unlikely friend that you’d bonded with quicker than expected. How his body was just left in a dimension no one planned to ever enter again. How if there was a small chance he was alive he would be stuck. How if he was stuck he’d be scared, petrified even, looking for a way home. How he’d be alone, deserted and abandoned by the people he thought were his friends. 

You thought of Max in the hospital, unconscious, broken bones, potentially blind for the rest of her life. How scared she must have been, 14 years old fighting a monster that should only be in fantasy games. How she has her whole life ahead of her and now it’ll be a completely different future than she had planned. How unfair that is for someone so young.

You thought of all the things you should’ve done. You should’ve been there for Eddie, been there for Max. You should’ve got to Vecna sooner so that maybe, just maybe, everyone would still be okay. You should’ve been there for the kids. You should’ve told Steve how you feel. 

You should’ve told him the 3 am drives and late nights meant everything to you, that they were the things that kept you going through the chaos, that he was what you were holding onto. He was the one person who seemed to be the calm when you needed it most, who would lead you to the eye of the storm where it was peaceful even if only for a moment. Steve was your person, you just didn’t know if you were his. 

Some days we're red and some days we both think green

But I like the nights when we leave the canvas free …

You take the dark away and that's no easy feat.

The clock now flashed 3:48 and you’d made your way downstairs. The water bubbled and the toaster hummed as you tried to distract yourself. The gentle noise was welcomed to help slow the thumpthumpthump of your heart, beating far too quickly for the late hour. Your hand hovered over the phone, head fighting with your heart begging the other to surrender. Ultimately, it was your heart that won, your fingers dialled a number known off by heart.

Your hands shook, this is so stupid, you thought. Were you really about to disturb your best friend in the middle of the night because you’re having trouble sleeping? This is ridiculous. This is SO stupid, he doesn’t care, he-

“Hello?” his voice came out as a grumble, clearly awoken from sleep you were unaware he’d only just fallen into. Your breaths quickened, panic now filling your senses, you were such a bad friend why would you wake him up when he was trying to sleep? 

Your name was whispered to you, drawing you back in, “Is that you sweetheart?” a gentle pull back to reality that you ended up clinging to. Even his voice was enough to keep you present. 

“Yeah,” a whisper back, “yeah it’s me, Stevie.”

“Are you okay?”

“I just um, I couldn’t sleep,” a shaky sigh left your lungs, lips dry as you tried to speak again, “My head was- my mind won’t shut off.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“No no I didn’t want to disturb you I just-”

Your name came out firm, enough to silence the start of your rambling. “Do you need me?”

A beat passed, then...

“Please.”

I keep falling deeper in dark blue

Brighter than white

Rainbows exploding,

But I can't see nothing,

Except you and your eyes.

His engine roared against the silence of the night, your tea was long forgotten, and toast turned stale at your lack of touch. You sat on the floor in the main hallway, phone on the wall above you in case it rang. The thought of one of your friends on the other end needing your help sat deep in your stomach, unable to will yourself to ever be too far from a phone. 

The toll of light footsteps greeted your ears, a familiar sound. One others might find ominous, but you welcomed it, you knew his pattern by now and the sound actually brought you comfort, to know he was up and walking, that he was okay. 

You didn’t bother moving when the sound of his keys rattled against the door. Using the spare that you gave him, you all exchanged keys after the past couple of weeks, a “just-in-case” protocol according to Dustin. The door opened, the glow from the porch light flowed in along with his tall frame. His eyes were wide, panicked, searching. When they found you they softened, along with the muscles in his shoulders you noticed. 

“Hey sweetheart, what’re you doing down there?” his voice came out sweet, like honey was dripping from his tongue. 

“I don’t know..hiding?”

“From what?”

You shrugged, you weren’t sure really, it just seemed safer when you could curl in on yourself, hug your knees to your chest and try to shut out the world, although often you were unsuccessful. 

“Let’s go back to bed hm?” he bent down, arm circling your shoulders as he pulled you towards him, “it’s late, let’s try and get some sleep.”

He led you to your bedroom, manoeuvering through your house as if it was his own, and in a weird way, it was. You and Steve spent more time together in the safety of your own home than you spent outside, a familiar environment, a place where you didn’t have to be so alert all the time, where you could loosen up and act like normal people again.

He pulled the covers of your bed back and motioned for you to climb inside as he shed his shirt, muscles flexing and relaxing, almost mesmerizing. You shook your head from your own thoughts and did as you were told, now was not the time to become even more flustered for god’s sake. He crawled in beside you, laying on his back with one arm behind his head as you rested yours upon his chest, arm coming up to trace patterns on his skin.  

Your breaths synced up, a steady rhythm of up and down, grounding you to reality instead of the world inside your head. “Steve?” you whispered to break the silence, “do you ever think you should’ve done more?”

His chest froze in place for a second, his thoughts in tandem with his body, “More how sweetheart?”

“I don’t know just more?” your voice grew heavy, the threat of water starting to spill from your eyes, “like there were things you should’ve done but didn’t and now you’re not sure if it’s too late.”

He sighed, breath fanning over the top of your head, “I mean yeah, they’re definitely things I thought about doing, about saying, that I just never got round to,” his fingers trailed up and down your arm, a comforting touch, “guess I just didn’t want it to seem like it was in the moment you know? That I was saying it because I had to.”

His hand came round your face, fingers resting under your chin as he tilted it towards him. You caught his eyes, pupils blown wide enough that the brown became difficult to see but you would never miss it, his eyes yet another safe space you could allow yourself to fall into. 

“Because I wouldn’t do that,” he closed his eyes for just a moment, a second, enough for him to gain composure again, “I could never-  I would never, say it if I didn’t mean it. I promise you that.”

His eyes locked onto yours, flickering between them both, undecided in which one was more beautiful, only breaking briefly to peer down at your lips, a moment you didn’t miss.

“I promise you okay?” he spoke out into the air between you both, “everything I tell you is true, the moment just has to be right, I have to do it right.” 

A soft smile rose to your lips, his double meaning lighting a fire in your stomach, your breathing pausing as your fought to gain control, “then wait.”

“What?”

“Then wait Steve,” you spoke, “wait for the moment to be right.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, “yeah I will.”

Maybe we'll just paint the night colourblind.

[adashoflavendermelancholy]

Carnival

It was just an island they were going to stop at. Nothing more than that, really. They would pick up supplies and keep going. Roger then saw that there was some kind of festival going on. The local told them about how it was a fun place to go after dressing up.

Buggy and Shanks wanted to see it. They were old enough to see it on their own. Or so they argued. Rayleigh didn’t mind if they went. As long as they were careful. Roger, on the other hand, didn’t like the idea of his babies going without someone keeping an eye out. He was a pirate, after all. Any marine would want to use them as bait. But Rayleigh was on the boy’s side so they went.

A festival didn’t match what the city was doing. There were lights on every house, pumpkins, skeletons, monsters of all kinds. Everyone dressed in more gross and disturbing ways. Fake blood dripping from equally fake wounds. Every house seemed to have a theme. Some cooking up grand feast and treats. Others having music so loud they could hardly hear the surrounding others. Then there were the houses that welcomed people in. Saying they were the scariest place to be. Buggy saw the games that lined the streets with prizes to win. He couldn’t wait to test his luck.

The two wandered through the city. Taking in the sights and sounds. Laughing when the other got scared of something. Shanks pulled Buggy along to try out a few of the sweet treats. While the other wanted to win all the games, he could.

While the two were busy running around, they didn’t spot the grown adults that were never too far. Maybe, too used to them being around, that neither thought it was out of place. If they passed Rayleigh while running to try a new sweet. Or beat the competitor next to them. That so happened to have a striking resemblance to their captain. The boys never noticed.

“SHANKS! HURRY UP!” Buggy yelled, running into a building. This one had people screaming when they went inside. Like the others before, it took the two deep into the house. In a winding path of fake walls and scary decor. But all of it was fake. The cobwebs that clung to the fake walls were too clean and white to be real.

Shanks ran behind him laughing as they ran though another house. The people trying their best to scare them. Try as they might it wasn’t scary. Though Shanks wouldn’t mind laughing at Buggy for jumping. Not that he would jump at a little scream. He totally noticed the guy that walked up next to him.

“You screamed like a baby!” Buggy said, laughing. He clutched his side as Shanks turned bright red.

“Nu-huh!”

“Yeah-huh!” Buggy said. “You also leaped six feet in the air.”

Shanks wouldn’t let that go. He huffed, with his cheeks puffed out, “That was you!”

Buggy stopped laughing. He was a coward, scared of more things that the rest of the crew combined. But he was not the one that jumped. “No, it wasn’t!”

The two began arguing. While getting a few eyes looking at them as they did so. A girl smiled and walked over to them. “Would you like to try again? To prove that you aren’t scared.” The island used to be children arguing about things like this. It came with trying to beat the others in a scaring everyone else.

The two boys looked at her with fire in their eyes. “YES!” They yelled. She laughed, letting them back into the house. Mentioning a quick, “Have fun~” before closing the door.

The two made their way through the maze. Knowing how it was laced out thanks to the first time they ran through it. As they walked, things seemed different now. A new sound echoing through the house. Buggy looked around when something moved. Turning back, Shanks was gone. The path changed.

“BUGGY?” Shanks yelled, sounding worried.

Buggy felt a little worried about all this. He wasn’t supposed to be separated from Shanks. Rayleigh was going to kill them. “Shanks!”

“What happened to the path?”

“How would I know?”

Shanks thought for a moment about this. It wasn’t like they were in danger. The walls were fake. He could slice right through them. “Try to find your way out. I’ll meat you at the end!” He called, turning around.

The two walked through their new maze. Looking around, trying to find the path. Only getting more lost. When things started falling from the sky on little strings, Shanks screamed. Buggy yelled, when a hand he thought was fake moved. Nether were having a good time anymore. But it was too late, they were separated. Until they finally saw the exit. Light at the end of the hall. Running to it the fake walls ended. The two of them running into each other.

“SHANKS!” “BUGGY!” The two yelled, happy to see each other. They made it out of the maze, laughing at the other. Telling them what happened while they were trying to find the exit. Making up stories about how it wasn’t fake spiders on strings but real ones. And an amputated hand moving on its own.

The adults watching them relaxed a little now, seeing their smiling faces. Even if the woman that owned the house looked nice, they wouldn’t risk it. Timing how long it took for the boys to make it through the maze again.

“Let’s win a few games!” Buggy said, dragging Shanks to play. They won a few stuffed monsters that were super soft. Buggy especially like the clown monster that Shanks won. Trying to steal it every chance he got. Not that the other would let him get away with that.

Only later, after leaving the island, did the adults learn they were separated while in the maze. Roger wished he was back in time to have a chat with the owners. But everything was fine now. Both boys smiling and laughing. Even Rayleigh let them off the hook for getting separated.

[ignitefever]

🗲 — beat of the city. (app)

Click. Click. Click.

Her heels tap rhythmically as she walks through cobblestone streets, tram cars grinding along the rails, the roaring engines of passing cars, shopkeepers ringing their bells to attract customers…

It was the heartbeat of the city. A performance all its own.

“ ♪ …Duh-duh-duh, duh-duh… ♪ ”

Serval takes in each sound, each sensation, using the noise of the city and tapping of her heels to form the foundation of a beat. Mechanical Fever had been doing well enough with their shows, but the fans would get tired of the same ol’ eventually, and what rock band would they be if they didn’t flip the script every now and then?

Her walk has become a jaunty little sway as she approaches the door to her shop, humming as she takes out the key and slots it into the door. A lot of places around Belobog had begun to turn to more advanced security systems, but as seen with her taste in ‘prehistoric’ music styles, Serval had an appreciation for the classics.

A slot, twist, and a click, and she’s inside.

She picks up the mail she’d grabbed this morning, left on the counter just before she went out to do errands. Whistling, she flips through envelopes and vehicle catalogues, subscriptions to engineering and fashion magazines, only to stop when she spots a certain name.

Landau.

…Probably from Mom.

She sets the letter down, deciding she didn’t have the energy to think about family right now. Well. Former family, if her dad had anything to say about it. Serval—eldest daughter of the Landaus. Smartest in the Silvermane Guards. A once-in-a-generation genius.

Cast out like yesterday’s trash, by both friend and family. 

As if she hadn’t spent the better part of her life working to please a father with high standards, supporting her best friend as she faced the crushing pressure of becoming Belobog’s guardian, or studying the Stellaron, so that they might understand a piece of the world beyond the endless blizzards and tundras…

That they might learn where the monsters and the Fragmentum came from, or a way to end the Freeze; save Belobog and the whole damned world, even—

"Take responsibility for your choices and the people of Belobog..."

And that’s what she had done, wasn’t it? Ticked off all the boxes. Excelled in her schooling, researched the topics that made her heart sing; working her butt off and piling up accolades and credentials, serving the city and continuing the Landau’s longstanding tradition of dignity and esteem.

Yet it got her nothing but an abrupt discharge from the army, an unrecognizable best friend that wanted nothing to do with her anymore, and a father so ashamed of her he didn’t even want her to claim her own family name.

So! She wouldn’t claim it.

She takes a seat at the front counter. She’d given Molly the day off from the workshop, Lynxy was out on an expedition, and both Pela and Geppie were busy with Silvermane Guard business, which gave her the perfect window to work on a few personal projects.

Like… restoring this old relic of a stopwatch she found.

She sets the machine out on her desk, and before opening it, catches her own reflection on the surface. Huh. She looked pretty good today. Makeup hid the bags under her eyes, though her hair was left a little tousled from the wind gusts outside…

“Agh.” The maid groans, “Lady Serval, your hair is COVERED in soot and snow! Were you playing around outside again? You know how the lord and madam hate it when you muss up your hair…”

Pure locks of gold. Perfect and pristine. A lauded Landau trait… until it wasn’t. Humming, Serval brushes her hair behind her ear and opens the watch to a series of gears. The thing about being ousted from an esteemed family was that you didn’t have to follow little things like tradition anymore. 

Streaks of blue through the gold, brightly dyed tips… she’d always wanted to color her hair, just like the rock n’ rollers of old. Plus, there was a new glowing dip dye she was experimenting with…

Click. Click. Click.

Heels click with strong, purposeful strides. The halls of Qlipoth Fort were always noisy when Serval was around. 

In her school days, it was all the commotion from her band performances with Dunn, and the growing hordes of fans amongst their classmates. Now, it was the respect she amassed as a researcher in the Architects, soldiers and scientists all buzzing about with rumors—a new lead researcher was about to be elected for a big project, and Miss Serval Landau was a shoe-in for the position.

Because of course she was. What Landau wasn’t made for excellence?

Yet Cocolia still shut down her lab, accused her of insanity, and threw her away. For nothing. Their friendship, her achievements. Her dreams, aspirations, her life… and dad? The family elders? Pheeeew, they were having none of that. No disgraces allowed!

And fine, great. Less pressure for her. 

…Except they put it all on poor Geppie instead.

Click. Cli—

“Agh, darn. Looks like this gear’s jammed. Let’s see…”

But she made it through. Landaus were all about resilience and endurance, after all. Stubbornness, too. Even if those first few years after losing her job and leaving the family had been hell. 

The family had taken her money and support, so she clung to what she had: technology. Machines. Her brain. Things malfunctioned and broke everyday, and people needed someone to fix them.

Cocolia had completely trashed her reputation and career prospects, so she channeled her rage the best way she knew how—rock music.

It was how she vented back in the academy, taking out the frustrations of studies and her family with a good, cathartic jam session. 

And even now, her band attracted new and younger fans, lost kids seeking to find an outlet for the awkward and difficult feelings they were growing up with. Drama with love, peers, and family. The growing threat of the Fragmentum, and the bleak future that waited outside of Belobog’s walls.

The music helped them, like it helped her. The machines she tinkered with may not have been new, state-of-the-art technologies, but it felt good to see the smile on someone’s face when their heater got patched up, or the excitement in someone’s eyes when they got a new mod on their car installed.

Sure, she may not have been the Serval Landau. Not the Architect or prodigal daughter. But Serval Landau, the rock musician? The mechanic? She was making a difference, and that was just as good. Better, even.

There was still a place for her in the world. Helping little Bronya, forcing Geppie to chill out, making sure Lynxy and Pela didn’t get into too much trouble. Repairing machines, studying new intergalactic technologies, and coming up with ways to make life easier in both the Overworld and Underworld. 

There was a time when everything felt dark. When she wanted to run from her anger and grief, from a life that felt empty. 

But now, it’s different. Brighter, a little more hopeful. Not so bad.

A little more tinkering, and the gear unjams, Serval hums to herself as it begins to turn again, filling the silence with a steady, rhythmic—

Click. Click. Click.

Hm. She had the time. Maybe she’d read Mom’s letter, after all. Start writing that new song for Mechanical Fever’s next show, too.

[autumnshowell]

6:30 PM

Teeth. Flashing in a dark space, glinting in the absence of light, they drive into the flesh on her neck, on her back. Her wrists. It hurts — God, it hurts. It goes beyond the hurting. Like somebody’s stuck a vacuum into her veins, drawing the essence of her out. It turns her hollow, empty.

Leaves her wanting.

There are eyes, too. Dark, deep little wells in the already dark space. They stare. They bore holes into her. She finds their lingering on her draws what blood is left in her to the apples of her cheeks. She finds herself wondering if they want to see her stripped to nothing, drained to nothing, or if they covet her the way she covets the face they rest in.

Monsters are real, she thinks, they’re real and they’re beautiful and one of them has haunted her thoughts, nigh uninterrupted, for a month now. Monsters are real and they’re beautiful and she’s in l-

“Autumn?”

Salt shaker.

“… Autumn.”

Grab it.

“Autumn!”

“Wh-oh, sorry.” She says, grabbing the little painted pilgrim and sliding it over in front of her mother’s plate. “I… I zoned out.”

“I wasn’t asking for the salt, Autumn, I asked a question.”

“I’m sorry, what was it, I-“

“Jesus, Autumn. I might as well be talking to myself.” “I’m sorry, I just… I’m tired, please, what were you asking?”

“Are you free next weekend? My hair lady, she’s got this son and he’s your age - she says he likes those horror movies like you do.”

“Mom I’m… no. No I’m not - I’m not… really down for that kind of thing. Not right now.’

Oh, God, she thinks to herself.

“Oh, come on - why not? Here, let me show you, he’s very good looking.”

Autumn leans her forehead onto her hand as her mother fumbles for her cell, taking an excruciating amount of time to hunt the photo down and moving to put it in front of Autumn. “I’m sure he’s handsome, mom, I’m just not really-“

“Like a young George Clooney.”

“I… don’t - I don’t think that has the appeal you’re thinking it does,” she protests, finally relenting to give the screen a look to get it out of her face.

“Autumn, just give him a shot - you never know.”

She sighs. “I’m busy next weekend because I already have plans.”

The phone finds its way to the table, mother’s interest piqued. “Who? Somebody you met through this new job?”

“No, I’ve… no I’ve been on …”

“Is that Kevin boy? The one who works at the bowling alley?”

“What, no - and Kevin doesn’t work at the b-“ Autumn feels her stomach drop and roll and knot.

Her mother’s teasing grin almost seems genuine in its giddy happiness. “Well, come on, spill. This is the first I’m hearing of this new boy friend-“

7:00 PM

Her knuckles are white on the wheel, not that she can see them enough to care as the occasional white-orange bands of street-lamps pass over where she’s holding on like she’s about to try to rip the wheel of the car right out of the dash. Her brows are knitted, half fury, half frustration as she speeds down the highway. She wonders, for a moment, what would happen if she just kept going. Got out of Port Leiry. Left everything and everyone in the town behind.

It’s an old fallback fantasy - a catharsis she’s often let herself fall into. Would people miss her? Certainly, at first, they’d lament it, but it wouldn’t matter, not long term. But she finds that it now makes her profoundly sad.

Kevin, Miss Moss. Hell, even A.J. Astor, so new in her life, and so endlessly frustrating. She’d miss it all. Part of her feels betrayed that she let this stupid town lay its roots in her the way it has.

But it’s the thought of Aria Boughton that makes her face go hot and her eyes slick up wet with the idea of loss.

What would it matter, though? Aria is a vampire - an immortal, undying thing, if movies and books stand up to scrutiny - Aria could find her.

Or she could go to Aria, and the two could grow old. She thinks of that Swedish vampire movie. Her morose frown breaks out into a grin at the scandalous imaginings of being a little old lady, taking care of Aria, ever young and beautiful. Grim, yeah, but it beats old and lonely - not quite the moral of the story, but she’s angry and pissed and sad and scared so who cares.

6:35 PM

“What are you telling me?”

The tone in her voice sets Autumn on edge. She feels an energy coiling in her joints.

“I’m telling you that the person I’m seeing, Her name is Aria, and we’ve been kind of dating. For like. Months now.”

Her mother’s face goes on a journey. A long, excruciating one - confusion, and then annoyance, and then a strange, uncomfortable sort of smile, as if waiting for the punchline to a joke.

“Are you telling me you’re… what, a lesbian?”

“N-no… yes. No. Maybe. Probably.”

The expression goes vacant as her mother leans back from the dinner table, as if what’s on her plate has just been revealed to be toxic and poisonous. Autumn feels something swell in the pit of her stomach too, for a different reason.

“Why?”

“What does that mean, why? Because… because I lo-... because like her, mom.”

Her own mind rolodexes through a thousand reasons why. She doesn’t say any of them. Her mother looks like she wants to grab the table knife and stick it in her eye. The silence between them grows and grows and grows. Autumn, for her part, is searching her mother’s face, desperate to find any sign of approval, or even indifference. All she’s finding is the looming specter of the same thing that always lays its foundations there - contempt, disdain - disappointment and a hint of regret.

Her mother, for her part, stares anywhere but at her.

12:58 AM Port Leiry’s actually kind of pretty from up here. She sits on a picnic table, looking down on the city. It’s no New York, no Los Angeles. Hell, it’s not even Seattle. But it’s a pretty, shimmering little thing. She’s never come up here to Overlook Park this late. It’s not even supposed to be open, but nobody’s here to tell her no. Besides, Maybe one of the city’s famous animal attacks will make all of this moot - rip her up. Make her a Port Leiry mystery like Olivier.

She wipes her face on her sleeve - eyes, then nose, and sniffs at the night air, letting out a long, sad exhale.

Usually, when she feels this way. Like she’s disappointed somebody, she bottles it up. Keep it inside. Let it eat away at her. Her knuckles rap on the outside of her thigh with nervous energy. She’s so… so so tired of beating herself up because she can’t read minds, or because her step’s not light enough for all the eggshells she needs to walk on, or that she doesn’t exist right, or any other number of things that settle into her brain and tell her that she’s lesser for.

She wishes, for a split second, that she had half the spine required to explode instead of implode.

She thinks about the animal attacks - knowing what she knows now. What if that was a vampire thing? They have clubs - she learned that in the hardest way possible -  but maybe some of them hunt out at night.

The idea that Olivier might have been shredded by a vampire makes some unhinged part of her break out into a half cry, half laugh - like it would have been something he would have been all in on or something.

But then that little bit of morbid thought rolls over into something else - something she dwells on for a moment. She gets her phone out, starts typing…

1:00 am >> [ hey, do you think you could make me like y]

She stops, stares at the letters. No. This isn’t something she should ask over a fucking text message. It’s night time. Aria’s a vampire. She’ll be awake, surely.

1:01 am >> [ can I come over? ]

She deletes that, too - suddenly worried that Aria will somehow expect the question. Preemptively tell her no. Fuck it. She’ll drive to her apartment.

She slides off the bench - grabbing her keys, and heads back to the empty car lot, full moon making it light enough that she doesn’t even need to use the light on her phone.

6:40 PM

“You’re doing this to punish me, aren’t you?”

Autumn stares, a look on her face that’s as confused as it is hurt. “What?”

“To embarrass me. To throw it in my face and embarrass me. To make a big show of yourself with this. You’ve decided, for whatever reason, that I’m the worst, and you’re doing this to punish me.”

“I’m not… I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re playing around with another woman! That’s not doing nothing!”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You’ve just decided that I’m your enemy, ever since the day your father died you have done everything you can to just throw it in my face that I’m a bad parent. That I’m this ogress. You throw any help I give you back in my face-“

“No I don’t! What do you-“

“And now this - now this… behavior.”

“Mom, I… it’s - I…”

“Just go, Autumn. I can’t do this right now.”

“Mom, why can’t you just once see something I’m doing for myself and be-“

“What, be proud? Of what? My gay daughter, who didn’t finish school, whose professional career involves a Bowling Alley? What, that you’re never going to give me grandchildren? That you’re… whatever this thing is? What, that you’re finally being honest, Autumn, that you’re sticking it to me for letting this happen to you? Congratulations.” She stands up, moves to the counter, pours herself a glass - it’s the first of the evening, so Autumn, face sinking, knows this is all real. “Please - get out, I can’t with you right now.”

1:32 AM

Maybe this is stupid. Maybe she should just go home - get sleep. Rethink things. She can go see Aria tomorrow, or the next day. There’s something that changes in her as she pulls down along the sloping road that leads from the Overlook Park and onto the freeway that leads back.

She looks to the holder where her phone is mounted to her dashboard when she hears her phone chirp. A text message, this late? Her heart jumps, thinking it’s Aria. More likely, it’s A.J., calling in a ride, but as she goes to look at the notification, her expression sours. It’s from her mother. Her face screws up, halfway between fury and unsurprise. Her grip on the wheel loosens, then tightens as she turns around a bank in the road.

“Fuck you.” She murmurs in the dark. “Make up your fucking mind.”

She’s about to leave it alone, but then the creeping desire to bury the hatchet, to be the one who makes nice early, wraps its fingers around her mind and Autumn decides otherwise, reaching over swipe the phone open, but while she’s trying to jab the voice-to-text button, she keeps missing her mark, and so she turns her eyes away for just long enough to find it.

When she turns back, something darts across the road. She doesn’t hit it, but she does swerve, enough to hit the guardrail at just the right angle. The wheels leave the ground. The hood spins down, and she sees the ground through the windshield; first asphalt, then sky, then earth. Autumn feels the lurch, followed by the weightlessness, and a thousand and one thoughts go through her mind in that same split second. Something hits her face, dead center on her nose.

It’s not a steep drop, but it is a long one, and the car hits the ground and all those thoughts go dark.

[smashboxgirl26]

i feel stupid (and contagious)

college student! dabi x fem! bass player! reader summary: “concerts” for random bands at little bars weren’t exactly dabi’s scene — though a cute bassist might make up for it. part of: @deartouya 's love in the everyday collab!! (apologies i know it took soooo long ;-:) contains: drinking (they're old enough!), general kind of fluff with meet cutes!! word count: 4.9k masterlist

“Concerts” for random bands at little bars weren’t exactly Dabi’s scene.

Their music usually sucked, for one, when they decided to play original songs instead of covers, which was often. The price of a simple bottle of beer was higher since the bar would try to take advantage of the influx of people—since college kids (other than himself) thought it was cool and underground to go see some randos they’d never heard of. And the people were assholes, more than usual at the very least, which he decided he could determine as a resident asshole himself. 

So no, Dabi didn’t end up in the crowd of this “concert” on purpose, being forced to rub elbows with a bunch of strangers while trying to take a sip of his beer. He’d been invited there by his friends to his favorite bar for his birthday, and now he was stuck in the crowd without a table since they all texted that they were going to be late.

(“You need more than one person in your party to be seated at a table, sir,” the hostess had said all the while trying to pretend like she wasn’t staring at Dabi’s tattoos and piercings before directing him towards the bar. 

As if he could give a shit about what she thought.)

The couple smushed right next to him looked like they were ready to jump each other’s bones; they’d bumped into his arm at least five times now as they continued making out, and Dabi grimaced as he tried to scooch away from the saliva-monsters with fail since there was no where he could’ve gone.

At that point, he wasn’t even sure why he hadn’t just blown the whole thing off when it’d already been twenty minutes and his friends hadn’t arrived. He’d been fine hanging out by the bar, but he should’ve suspected something was up when there were more people coming in than usual—he’d just chalked it up to it being a busier-than-normal Friday night. 

Stupid.

Honestly, he should’ve just left when he’d gotten the chance but now it was too crowded to try and push his way out and his phone was constantly buzzing with his “friends” telling him they were almost there.

He couldn’t do much but suck it up and deal with it, at that point. Maybe try and hope the stupid band that was playing was relatively good and that they wouldn’t make him want to claw his ears out. And if they sucked, well, he could just try and hope that he could escape before his friends forced him to stay and make his ears bleed.

Suddenly the crowd was cheering, and Dabi strained his eyes over the crowd to catch the band as they made their way onto the makeshift stage at the back of the bar. Even the couple aggressively making out next to him stopped in their shenanigans as the girl screamed at the top of her lungs—just to the sound of microphone feedback when the lead singer tapped on the mic.

Dabi flinched away from them, deciding to push himself forward in the crowd; he didn’t want to be caught in the middle of whatever they decided to do next.

“We’re Blood in the Water!” the guy standing at the front of the stage called out before the bar was drowned in more cheers: apparently these people were quite well known. “Thanks for joining us tonight—we hope you all enjoy!” 

That was all it took for him to nod to the drummer sitting behind him to count off the beat, before they jumped straight into Learn to Fly by the Foo Fighters.

Though Dabi hated to admit it, he found himself nodding along to the song, his foot tapping to the beat as the words came out of his lips in habit. They weren’t shitty and he had to commend them for that, even if he was still pissed at the fact he’d been forced to be there in the first place; and it was easy for him to fall into the music as their set went on.

(You couldn’t blame him for actually enjoying the music they played if they were actually good—better than he’d ever admit if he ever did. Not to mention their song choice was impeccable.)

The energy the band was putting into their performance was addicting, especially with the way the crowd around him was responding: shouting the lyrics out at the top of their lungs and jumping on top of each other at fast–paced songs in their excitement, though he was sure there was also a mosh pit somewhere in the middle. The main singer continued to encourage this behavior as he jumped and danced while singing into his mic, but Dabi’s eyes couldn’t help but slide over to the base player standing towards the side of the stage.

You Shook Me All Night Long had her hopping on the balls of her feet as she sang out the chorus with the rest of the band while Teenagers had her headbanging as hard as she probably could while she took on the solo instead of the guitar. Something about her was alluring, and it only seemed to get better when she jumped into the middle of the mosh pit while still playing along to All the Small Things.

It was only during Come as You Are that Dabi was reminded what’d actually happened and why he was actually there, when a tap on his shoulder had him whirling around to find Himiko beaming at him and waving to join the table. 

(As it turned out, everyone had arrived at the same time. How convenient.)

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself out there,” she gave a sly smile while dragging him towards their table.

“They weren’t shit,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m allowed to enjoy non-horrible music.”

“Yeah, but you seemed to be specifically enjoying Y/N’s presence,” he heard her snicker.

Who is she talking about? Is that the bassist?

“What?”

“Don’t lie,” she smirked as they reached the table. “I saw you staring at her, all wide eyed and smiley.”

“Who’s got Dabi smiley?” Tomura looked up from the Nintendo Switch stuck in his grasp, an eyebrow raising as he scooted across the seat after Toga shooed him over the booth so she could sit next to Jin.

“No one,” Dabi rolled his eyes, ignoring the snickering stare Toga was giving him as he stuck himself in the booth next to Tomura. 

“Dabi’s in looooveee,” Himiko sang, ignoring the death glare Dabi was pointing straight after. 

Sometimes he really did wish looks could kill.

“Love?” Jin turned to him with surprise. “You should’ve told me! I hate love.”

“Shut it,” Dabi sneered. “No one’s in love. I was just listening to the music.”

“I knew you would enjoy them!” Himiko cheered. “Sooo, how did you like my birthday present?”

He should’ve known it was planned.

“It was fine,” he rolled his eyes. “...thank you.”

“I half expected him to be gone by the time we got here,” Tomura mused, taking a sip from his beer bottle. 

“If they played shittily, I would’ve.”

 “Y/N’s super good!” Himiko interrupted. “I wouldn’t have planned this all out if they sucked.”

“...who’s Y/N again?” Tomura looked to her boredly.

“She’s the bassist of course,” she chattered on. “I met her in literature last semester, and she’s super nice. We were partners for this project because we sat near each other and she was really fun! Plus, she’s like, really good at writing so she helped me with my final project and I got an A! Isn’t that so sweet of her? And after that we both–”

“Okay we get it,” he waved her off, his attention turning back to Dabi. “She’s got you smiley?” 

“No,” Dabi scoffed. “She’s just good at bass. I was just admiring her–”

“Liar,” she interrupted once more. “He was staring, like full-on-focused on her. He didn’t even know I was–”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dabi glared at her once more. 

(The whole conversation was getting on his nerves. Why was he getting picked on for admiring her skills? They wouldn’t do the same for Tomura.

It was probably just because it was his birthday. His stupid, fucking birthday that he never even celebrated till now.)

“Don’t be rude to Himi!” Jin slammed down his bottle, a finger accusingly pointed towards Dabi.

Himiko was only laughing at the whole display, cackling as she rocked back and forth —Jin calmed down in an instant, seeing as she wasn’t actually being threatened and Dabi only rolled his eyes. 

“Remind me how I know you people again,” he groaned, trying to get the last sip out of his beer bottle before standing up from the booth. “Fuck I need another beer.”

“Get me one too please,” Himiko smiled before going back to whatever game she was playing with Jin. 

He didn’t have much of a choice, only rolling his eyes as he stumbled back towards the counter through the growing crowd of people.

You were playing Smells Like Teen Spirit, and judging by the energy you and the rest of the band were putting into the performance, it was probably the last song of the set. Basic—but you played well enough that it wasn’t a negative point. 

“Two beers!” Dabi shouted when he got to the bar counter, in hopes that the bartender might be able to hear him through the blasted music and the crowd screaming at the top of their lungs. 

The bartender nodded (though Dabi wasn’t sure if he actually understood what he said) before turning around and busying himself at the back — leaving Dabi to watch the stage as the last few notes rang out, the crowd erupting into cheers as the band thanked everyone for coming to watch. You smiled sweetly at the crowd, waving wildly before you all jumped off the stage to be mobbed by the people who were on the floor. 

“Here!” the bartender shouted over the chatter, pushing the bottles towards Dabi over the wooden counter. 

Dabi was still looking over to where the crowd was gathered at the bottom of the stage, where you and the rest of the band had gotten off.

“She’s hot, isn’t she?” The bartender grabbed Dabi’s attention when he went to grab the bottles.

“Who?” Dabi stared at him.

“The bassist,” he pointed back towards the crowd. “Saw you were staring.”

“Nah,” Dabi waved him off. “Just thought she was a good player.”

The bartender only snorted in response before he was called over to the other side of the bar. Dabi chose to roll his eyes and ignore him instead as he stumbled through the crowd back to the small booth they were sitting in. 

Only, there was someone new at the table.

“Dabi, look who joined us,” Toga smiled as he placed the bottle down on the table for her to take.

Sure enough, you were sitting right beside her—squished into their little booth of ragtags as if you’d been a part of the group the entire time. 

And fuck, you were prettier up close. All glossed lips and doe eyes as you clung to Himiko’s arm. 

Dabi almost forgot that he had to say anything until he caught Tomura giving him his stupid, cracking, dry smirk.

“Nice to meet you,” he nodded as he dipped down to scooch Tomura over in his spot. 

“You’re Dabi, right?” you smiled. 

“Yeah.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

 “You know Y/N,” Himiko looked his way slyly. “It’s Dabi’s birthday today.”

“Oh,” you looked surprised. “Uh, happy birthday.”

“And guess what else Y/N? My birthday present to him was your performance. And Dabi’s like, superrrr picky about what music he likes but he said he really liked your guys’ band—and he especially thinks that you’re super good at bass!”

 Dabi almost spat out the beer he’d just sipped, settling for choking on it instead as he watched Tomura snicker from the side even as he patted his back to help him soothe it down. A glare settled over his features as he stared in Toga’s direction, though she paid no mind as she continued chattering on with you.

“Uh, yeah,” was all Dabi could say, awkwardly, when you turned in his direction to gauge his reaction. “Yeah, you played well.”

“You should give him lessons!” Toga almost shouted, as if the lightbulb in her head had just gone off like it would in some anime.

(He really wanted to strangle her. He really did. Not that Tomura’s silent snickering from the side was making the situation any better. 

Jin, thankfully, was too engrossed in watching the game displayed near the top of the bar.)

“Thank you,” was all you could say, also awkwardly, while chuckling slightly. “And, I mean, I could if you wanted to,” you turned towards him with a small smile. “I actually teach some kids at the rec center.”

Of fucking course you were goddamn Mother Teresa on top of everything. Why should he be surprised?

“Cool,” he tried to sip his beer nonchalantly, though Tomura’s constant eyebrow waggling wasn’t helping. 

“Actually, I have to go to the bathroom,” Toga suddenly announced while pinching Jin’s arm. 

He muttered an ow before he followed her out of the booth (complaining about how he didn’t need to use the bathroom) before Tomura also made the excuse that he needed to grab another beer (even though his bottle was still pretty full) — which left the both of you alone at the booth and Dabi fuming as he sipped his beer quietly. 

Those idiots were about as subtle as screaming cows running across the hillside — what the fuck did they actually expect him to do? Ask you for your number or something? 

The whole situation was hopeless. 

“How’d you guys all meet?” you asked him through a sip of your drink — “You all seem super close.”

“Highschool,” he rolled his eyes. “They haven’t left me alone since.”

You let out a laugh at that, and Dabi almost caught himself smiling at the sound. 

“I’m sure they’re not that bad.”

“Have you met Himiko?” He raised an eyebrow. “Girl’s fucking obsessed with everyone she meets — she just latches on and never lets go.”

“I wouldn't say that’s a bad thing,” you chuckled, letting silence (though was it really silence, if the entire bar was shouting at the top of their lungs?) wash over the table. 

“What made you join a band?” Dabi decided to return a question.

“One of my friends kinda forced me,” you shrugged. “Their bassist quit on them at the last minute for one of their gigs so he emotionally manipulated me into filling in for them. Then they just kinda decided that I was a better fit and I’ve been a part of it ever since.”

“Emotionally manipulated?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, I swear,” you laughed at the suspicious expression he was making. “It was kinda along the lines of ‘It’s only once Y/N you have to do this for us! Remember when I brought you that dress when you spilled coffee on your shirt?’ — and honestly, I enjoy playing with them. It helped me learn that music was my creative outlet.”

“So you don’t study it I’m guessing?”

“No,” you laughed (and god, it was so fucking pretty). “I’m doing law. What about you?”

“Business,” he sighed — though unintentionally — but you caught on quickly as you raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t want to do business?”

Dabi sat alarmed, staring and blinking at you like a deer in headlights.

 How the fuck did you catch on so quickly?

“It’s uh– sorta, yeah,” he forced himself to catch his words quickly. “My dad runs this company that he wants me to eventually take over — even though I’d rather not.”

You must’ve noticed how caught off guard he looked from how apologetically you were staring at him.

What did it mean that he immediately felt bad because you looked upset and it was kind of his fault?

“Sorry,” you avoided eye contact to sip on your beer once more. “I didn’t mean for it to get so heavy. You just — didn’t sound very enthusiastic.”

“No, it’s fine.” He leaned back in the booth. “It was just kinda — unexpected — that you’d pick up on it so quickly.”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but have you ever told your dad that you don’t want to run his business?”

“Yeah,” he sighed as he leaned back, letting one arm drape over the back of the booth — “It doesn’t work like that though.”

Dabi physically couldn’t stop the frown that made its way to his lips after taking a sip of his beer, memories caught behind his lashes as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Sorry,” you uttered under your breath, “It’s your birthday and I’m a stranger who’s forcing you to talk about stuff you don’t need to. I’ll catch you later, I guess.” 

When Dabi opened his eyes once more you were standing up, drink in hand to make your way out of the small corner booth; and he shot up without hesitation.

(Was he really that upset to see you go?)

“It’s not your fault,” he blocked your exit, hands outstretched so you couldn’t pass — though they were quickly retracted and scratching the back of his neck when he realized how threatening that must have been. “I, uh– Birthdays are already kind of a sore spot; I probably wouldn’t have celebrated if it weren’t for the rest of the gang. But, I promise, it’s not your fault for bringing it up.”

“Still,” you were giving him this small, sad smile that made him want to pull his hair out. “You should get to celebrate with your friends. I don’t wanna get in the way of that.”

“You’re not–”

“Y/N! We’re all going to– Oh, am I interrupting something?” 

A tall, familiar looking blonde guy was standing right behind Dabi when he turned around, hands on his hips while sizing Dabi up like he was about to try something with you.

“Keigo–” you were out of the booth before blondie could say anything else, “–this is Dabi; he’s one of Himiko’s friends. Dabi, this is Keigo.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dabi stuck his hand out, watching a tiny breath of air puff out of Keigo’s mouth as he took it begrudgingly. “You’re the lead singer, right?”

“Yeah,” Keigo seemingly stood taller.

“He’s the one who manipulated me into joining Blood in the Water,” you turned to Dabi quickly. 

“Manipulated?” An eyebrow rose on Keigo’s face before turning to Dabi. “Is that what she told you?”

“That’s what you did!”

“No,” he shook his head, laughing. “I just bothered you until you said yes.”

“That’s a form of manipulation,” you rolled your eyes.

“Is it really though?”

“Hey guys!” Another girl popped up — the girl who played the drums. “We’re leaving now, with or without you.”

“You’re free to join us if you like,” Keigo turned to Dabi, seemingly over his suspicion in under a second. “We’re heading to that bar down by the mall, this place is a little crowded now.”

“Nah it’s alright,” Dabi accepted his fate, clenching down on the part of his brain that wanted to ask you for your number so he could at least keep in contact. “My friends are all here — somewhere. I don’t wanna ditch ‘em.”

Your face seemed to drop when he said those words, but you nodded as the girl linked her arms in yours to drag you away. 

“See you around,” you waved before walking away — and Dabi could only repeat your action before you were gone with Keigo by your side, standing and staring from his little spot in the corner for what felt like hours.  

I’m such a fucking idiot. I made her feel bad.

“Dabi! What happened? Where’d Y/N go?” Himiko’s voice pulled him back, and Dabi could only turn and give her a weary look before slumping back into the booth to finish his beer. 

.

.

.

.

.

Dabi didn’t talk to Himiko for two days after that: for her pathetic attempts at match-making, for putting him in that situation in the first place, for leaving him there with you thinking that he could get your number, (for giving him hope that he could get your number,)  for not fact checking because it was clear that Keigo was already into you. 

And he knew it was stupid that he was upset (and a little jealous, frankly) since you’d both just met that day but he couldn’t help it. What was he supposed to do about it at this point though?

(He pacified himself; he could be as salty about it as he wanted since it’d been his birthday, and that had to have some significance.)

Perhaps the only good thing that came out of it was the resurgence of music in his life. 

And no, Himiko did not successfully convince him to go and join your classes filled with little middle schoolers — though, to be honest, he might’ve considered it just to have an excuse to see you (outside of trying to run into you at school).

Instead, he found himself drawn back to playing the guitar like had in high school — something he’d buried desperately after he joined college to avoid looking like those lame-ass, stereotypical “guitar guys”; with all the tattoos and piercings he had, he didn’t need the whole female population swarming after him just because he had the stereotypical “bad boy” phenotype. 

Even though his refound interest was hidden — he did not want Shigaraki to find out and give him shit about it forever — he enjoyed the quiet afternoons spent in the little music shop near the edge of campus: it was always basically empty, the owner was old and chill so he didn’t care that Dabi wandered in all the time just to mess around with his guitars, and there was a small recording studio in the back (which was technically used to give lessons, but it was good just for practicing).

He even made a little routine out of it; he’d spend the morning going out to get breakfast and listening to music to hype himself up before going in and practicing the couple of songs he was working on for the rest of the afternoon.

But the last thing he expected to see when he wandered in one random afternoon, was you.

You were tucked in the back in the recording booth with a flashy bass the old man usually displayed in the front, playing your heart out to a song playing on the headphone situated over your head with your lips quietly mouthing out the words to the song. 

Dammit, Dabi forgot how pretty you were just after a few weeks of not seeing you — even in casual sweats and your hair tied up he still felt his heart start beating faster at just the sight of you. 

What was it about your presence that made him feel so different? For some reason, he didn’t feel as angered or annoyed by his conditions if you were near him.

He couldn’t really help it as he crept further towards the booth, watching from the almost-soundproof glass; he could tell that you were playing Smells Like Teen Spirit again from the riffs you repeated, and also the solo you took — and it made it obvious of how deep your love for music ran. You clearly loved what you did, even if you downplayed it as a hobby for other people. 

You’d finished now, though, and were staring– fuck, you were staring at him through the glass; and you sent him a small smile and a wave.

Dabi kinda wanted to dig a hole in the ground and bury himself in it. 

“Hey,” he tried to wave casually when you walked out to meet him. 

“Hey,” you smiled. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I, uh, started coming here not too long ago…” he shrugged. “—To buy records and stuff.” He quickly added. He wasn’t sure that he could trust you to not tell Himiko about his guitar secret just yet. 

“So you’re not the guy my uncle said started coming in on the afternoons to come practice the guitar?” you planted your hands on your hips. 

Dabi almost sputtered in response. 

Your uncle?

No wonder you were allowed to play the most expensive instrument in that little shop. 

“I… uh…” he couldn’t really find an excuse for his blatant lie, but you interrupted him with a laugh.

“I’m just being annoying. Don’t worry, I’m sure you have your reasons.” you waved him off with a smile, grabbing the bass you were just playing to go hang it back in the front. 

“They’re not real reasons,” he followed you and continued. “I just don’t really want certain people to find out I started playing again — specifically Himiko.”

“Yeah, I could see the consequences of that,” you giggled, putting the bass back in its display before heading over to the small counter where the cash register was.

Dabi didn’t know what else to do but follow. 

“So… this place is your uncle’s?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking back up at him. “I take over sometimes when he has to go help my aunt at the hospital. He was the one who first taught me guitar, actually.”

“Guitar and bass?” Dabi raised an eyebrow challengingly. “Planning to take over the whole music industry, huh?”

“Well, I can try,” you chuckled. “I mean, I’m planning to take over it through law anyways, might as well go through both forms.”

“You’re gonna go into entertainment law?”

“It’s what I’m thinking about,” you hummed. “Probably the easier stuff, like copyright and all that but I think it’d be really interesting.”

“Smart and talented,” Dabi couldn’t stop his mouth from moving. Why was he being so weirdly flirtatious? “What can’t you do?

“My stats homework.”

Dabi’s nose crinkled slightly before looking down on the counter to see that a big textbook that read STATISTICS was in fact, open and on the counter.

How had he not noticed that when he walked in?

Well it made sense, because you were the first and only thing he noticed when he walked in. 

“Do you know how to do any of this shit?” you looked at him wearily. “You’ve probably done stats in Business, right?”

“Here, gimme that,” he maneuvered the text book so that it was facing him before reading out the problem and beginning to explain how you used the z critical value to get the p-value and you had to use both of those to get your conclusion — missing the way you completely disregarded what he said: only watching the curve of his face, the way his mouth moved when he spoke, listening to the highs and lows of his voice as his words flew past your head, watching the piercings on his ears catch the light when he shifted slightly. 

Obviously you found him super attractive — not just his “bad boy” persona (which you couldn’t lie, was super hot— you actually noticed him in the crowd that night) but also who he was as a person. 

However, you still felt bad about asking about his family and home life unprompted. It wasn’t hard to see that there were a lot of bad memories by the way his mood instantly shifted when you’d asked about it that night at the bar; and you’d been beating yourself up about it ever since: trying to stay hidden and avoiding him whenever you spotted him in the distance on campus.

Even now, you could still make out the slightest frown on his lips if you leaned in close enough.

“Does that make sense?” Dabi finished, only looking up to see you quietly staring at him — the smallest distance left between you, like you’d brought your face closer to his just to observe him.

He only swallowed, like there was nothing left that he could possibly say — what could he say anyway? You were so close to his face that he could pick out the hints of other colors in your irises, the outline of your cheekbones, the way your eyelashes curled upward, the small hint of a smile that rested on your lips. 

 You seemed to realize what had happened almost instantly — though it felt like time itself had stopped and you’d both been sitting there staring for hours — and you turned away with a frown tugging over your expression.

“M’sorry,” you muttered, not looking back at him.

“What for?”

You opened your mouth once or twice, as if deciding what to say. “For staring.”

Dabi let out a small snort at that; like he hadn’t been staring at you since he first saw you.

“And..” you continued, taking in a small breath. “For what happened… At the bar — what I said.”

“You don’t need to apologize for asking about my family,” Dabi read your mind; he could see how much it was bothering you just by the small twinge in your eyebrows. “It’s not like I hide my contemptment for them,” he laughed. “I express it pretty openly, actually.”

“But it was your birthday, and I dunno… It was pretty rude of me.”

And something inside Dabi snapped.

Alright dude… Now or never…

“If you’re that worried, why don’t you make it up to me by coming out with me for dinner?”

Your eyes widened for a moment, in surprise, but your expression settled under a couple of seconds — leaving a large, beautiful smile to rest on your lips.

“I’d love that.”

[star-going-supernova]

Tumblr generated prompt number 5 was for a sequel to Plausible Deniability! Yep, I threw the sequel suggestions into the list for this round, and this wasn’t the only one that got chosen, hehe. There’s no real prompt for these, just me continuing a ficlet. Anyway, now y’all get to find out why I decided to make Gregory fifteen! 

This is a long one, at about 1,400 words. I’m not making it an ao3 one-shot, though. Also. I’m not going to lie. Jason Todd influenced how I wrote Gregory in this AU. Sooo… warnings for a teenager casually talking about murder and committing it (offscreen). 

(title’s a play on “Murder, She Wrote”)

Murder, He Chose

Look. There was no beating around the bush. Gregory had killed before. Like, actual real people. It was a conscious decision he made—twice, going on three times now. He’d only been fourteen the first time, when it was kill or be killed in that dead-end alleyway. Kill or be killed or let the lost little six-year-old be killed. Or worse.

It was kinda a no-brainer. 

Even before that, though, Gregory had developed a bit of a reputation. For violence, that is. He’d been on the streets since he was twelve, when he decided nothing could be worse than staying at home. In some ways, he’d been right. 

But the point was that Gregory had a territory, and he had his people, and even though he was a teenager, he protected both. And they trusted him to protect him. His chosen city blocks had the most young runaways and family units. They knew they’d be safe from the real monsters so long as him and his lead pipe were around.

Vanessa and her sneaky generosity were a huge help for the community, so to say he’d been pissed when he got word that two homeless kids had been killed one night? Understatement. And it happened the next two nights, even though his people got the message to stay away for the time being. 

He liked to consider Vanessa a friend, or at least an ally. Knowing she might have turned on them? It hurt. It wouldn’t stop him from stopping her, but he would’ve been sad about it. 

But it wasn’t her. The reports of a strong, energetic bunny-costumed murderer did not match up with the Vanessa he found in her bed, looking like death warmed over. 

Gregory went to the pizzaplex that next night with one goal: stop the killer. And yeah, considering he didn’t really trust the justice system, and especially not when the victims were a bunch of homeless people, that meant a permanent, “taking matters into his own hands” sort of stopping. 

• • •

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Gregory called, dragging his lead pipe along the tiles. “I thought you wanted to play!” 

A STAFF bot swerved toward him, and he gave it a gentle tap to its fragile neck. Okay, less gentle tap, more hitting a home run. 

The commotion drew the attention of the nearest animatronic, Roxy. She prowled into the large hall, expression vacant—the sort of thing you’d expect from a robot, if Gregory hadn’t known better. 

Roxy circled him at a distance. One of her arms had a pretty significant dent in it. Looked like old dogs could learn new tricks. All the bots had been learning things tonight. None of them attacked him mindlessly anymore, not now that they knew better. 

“Think if I hit you hard enough, whatever’s wrong in your head will get shaken loose?” he mused. 

Her head twitched, but she didn’t respond to the taunt. He felt a little bad about the damage he’d caused to the animatronics, since it seemed to him that they were just someone else’s cannon fodder. 

He genuinely hoped they were able to repair Moon. Gregory had been swinging for the heavy-duty ones, not thinking to account for how stick-thin the DAs were. The same hits that only slowed the band down had snapped something in Moon. Something that meant he hadn’t gotten back up.

“Do you and your friends a favor, Roxy,” Gregory said. He kept walking, inexorable in his quest to find the big bad bunny, but that didn’t mean he let the big bad wolf out of sight. He was confident, not stupid. “Tell me where the killer is, and you won’t all be laid up in maintenance for a month.” 

She twitched again, and the glow of her eyes flickered. Roxy stopped skulking around him. Her voice box glitched. 

He was watching an internal battle take place, he realized. She was fighting whatever was making them accomplices to the bunny’s bloody crusade. 

There wasn’t much he could do to help, but he figured a little encouragement never hurt anyone. “C’mon, Roxy, you can do it,” Gregory said. “I know you can win this.” 

Her tail perked up the slightest bit, and it seemed to be the push she needed. “Head on over to the stage, kiddo! The show’s going to start soon!” 

It was similar to Chica’s falsely peppy lines about his parents looking for him, but maybe that scripted stuff was all she was able to slip past her programming. “Message received,” he muttered to himself with a slow grin. He took off in the direction of the enormous atrium. 

Roxy didn’t chase him. 

• • • 

The bunny definitely hadn’t been prepared for one of their victims to fight back. They were on the uppermost mezzanine, fiddling with something in the control booth. They drew a knife as soon as they noticed him, but the costume did nothing to hide the way their hand trembled faintly. 

“We doing this the easy way or the hard way?” Gregory asked, settling into a solid grip on his pipe. 

A hysterical, glitchy giggle burst out of the bunny. “You’re a lively one, yes. You’ll surely feed my master well.” 

They lunged at him before he could even try to find a good response for that. Gregory jabbed forward, forcing them to maintain distance, and then he started swinging wildly, never fully pulling back to wind up. He’d found that this crazy, unpredictable waving of his pipe made for a difficult attack to block or evade. These types of hits didn’t pack a punch the way a good over-the-shoulder swing did, but that didn’t mean they didn’t hurt at all. 

The bunny grunted every time it smacked into them, all the while forcing them back. That knife was looking pretty useless. Gregory snickered to himself. 

Either their impatience or their anger got the better of them because they suddenly tried to shove past his defenses. To their credit, it worked. Less to their credit, they seemed to have forgotten that a pipe was not Gregory’s only defense. 

He skittered backwards at an angle, leaned his weight on his back foot, and sent the outer edge of his other boot straight out into their left kneecap. They stumbled with a shriek, allowing Gregory to readjust his balance and do it again, harder. A sickly snap-crack sent the bunny collapsing. 

And what’d’ya know? Slumping over like that put the bunny’s head right at optimal swinging height. 

• • • 

Officially, the morning crew found clear signs of a break-in and phoned the police, who then found clear signs that someone had been luring homeless folks into the basement to butcher them. They also found the culprit, with a viciously shattered kneecap, bruised ribs, and fractured skull. But it was blood-loss that did them in. Stabbed three times by their own knife; the killer didn’t stand a chance.

Officially, the killer’s last attempted victim, presumably another member of the homeless community, fought back and escaped. There wasn’t enough evidence to find the individual, not with the virus the killer introduced into the pizzaplex, messing with the cameras and animatronics. No one spoke up or came forward; none of the local hospitals or clinics received a patient that night with the speculated injuries of a murder attempt.

Officially, the night guard was quickly declared innocent on account of being off work with the flu. Her apartment building’s security cameras confirmed she hadn’t left on any of the three nights, or at all for that full week. She shrugged over why homeless people might have been in the pizzaplex to begin with, suggesting that they’d realized the night guard wasn’t there and had taken advantage. Good thing she was back on the job.

Unofficially, Gregory didn’t lose any sleep over his actions that night. Vanessa never mentioned his visit to her apartment, and he wasn’t sure if that was because she was holding on to her plausible deniability or because she genuinely didn’t remember it. 

Unofficially, the next time Gregory stopped by the pizzaplex, the animatronics all thanked him, either in words or with food or warm clothes. Even Moon, who hadn’t been damaged beyond repair, thank goodness, and who held no hard feelings. 

Unofficially, Gregory’s kill count was up to three. And he didn’t regret a single one. 

[queeniecook]

May 1846

Mid to late May 1846 – Moonwood Mill

After almost a month of running here and there, not having any idea where she is wondering to – Lily finally feels the need to stop in a small town. She had depended on the kindness of strangers – some were very kind, some where not. She is tired of running. It has not erased the image of her beloved cousins as monsters from her head. Or the thing she saw masquerading as a noblewoman outside the Vatore mansion.

Lily takes in the view of the small town, it’s beautiful. It seems peaceful – so far. She notices there’s a lot of cut lumber, maybe it’s a mill of some sort? She wonders the dirt streets, not sure what she’s looking for.

It’s not long before a man approaches her, slowly and politely. He introduces himself as Kristopher Volkov. Lily introduces herself in return, manners are important to her.

Kristopher had recently inherited his position among his pack from his mother. He misses her dearly but is doing his best to carry on her work with their pack.

“Where am I, Mr. Volkov?” Lily asks softly.

“Moonwood Mill.” He answers. He can tell the poor woman is lost. Normally, his kind aren’t very open to human strangers but he senses something different in Miss Zhu. “It is going to rain soon, would you like a dry place to stay during the rain?” He asks her. He can smell the rain coming as well as feel it in his body. 

Lily pauses, normally a single woman going off with a man and one that she doesn’t know at that, would be extremely inappropriate as well as dangerous but her instincts are telling her that Kristopher can be trusted. She nods her head and softly says “Thank you.”

Once inside, the rain begins to beat down on the Volkov home. Kristopher for his part does his best to make Lily feel welcome, he offers her a cup of warm tea and some biscuits he made that very morning. They chat while the tea kettle warms the water for their drinks.

“What brings you to our humble town?” He asks the young woman before him. She gets a real distant look in her eyes as she stares off into space, as if relieving something. He’s patient. As a werewolf, he knows there’s things in life you don’t wish to speak about.

Lily finally snaps out of her memories. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. There’s time I hardly believe it but then I pinch myself and see it’s true.”

The tea kettle whistles, breaking the thick air that had settled in the kitchen. Kristopher pours them both a cup of tea and they settle in with their biscuits. He decides it’s best to change the subject and instead tells her things about the town, obviously leaving out certain things. He tells her about a local inn ran by a family friend. That she will allow Lily to stay there if she cleans the inn, that’s an arrangement that Mrs. Lunvik has used several times with people passing through. It works out well for the old woman.

A week passes and Lily has actually found herself enjoying her time in the town of Moonwood Mill. She cleans the inn for Mrs. Lunvik and has been spending time with Kristopher. Things were actually seeming normal and peaceful until the night of the full moon. That’s when Lily learns another shocking truth. Not only are their vampires, but there are also werewolves and that Kristopher is one of them. She thinks of running again but something deep down inside her tells her not to. She gingerly brings up what she saw to the werewolf that had helped her when she first showed up in town. He explains the history of werewolves to her and she confesses what happened to her cousins.

After learning that werewolves run Moonwood Mill as a safe haven for werewolves and those like them and are the natural enemies of vampires, Lily surprises herself in asking to becoming a werewolf. Not only does she want to protect others from suffering the same fate as her cousins but seeing Kristopher with his pack gives her the sense that they are family, something she no longer has. She wants that again.

Kristopher grants Lily her request after making sure it’s what she truly wants. The bite and first transformation are painful but being a werewolf helps Lily no longer feel powerless and helpless. She instantly feels a part of something, something she hadn’t even felt while human and surrounded by her family.

Meanwhile…

Though warned by the Count, the Vatore siblings had tracked down their cousin. Not to harm her but in hopes of talking to her. They had tracked her all the way to Moonwood Mill, which Straud had told them they are absolutely not allowed to step foot in. Instead, they hover around the border of the town.

“She is one of them now.” Caleb declares, feeling a pang in his chest he wasn’t quite used to anymore.

Lilth narrows her eyes, wrinkling her nose as the scent of werewolves hits her. She too is sad that her cousin is now a werewolf. “We can no longer reach her.” Until the transformation, they had a chance. Not anymore. It seems the Vatore siblings have truly lost what was left of her family. Their parents think them truly dead after an arranged train accident in Willow Creek by Count Straud himself. He had a buffet of the victims, much to Caleb’s disgust. Even Lilith had a few snacks, she said it was to end their suffering. Caleb simply left, he’s coming realize that he may need to go out on his own. He doesn’t agree with some of Vladislaus Straud’s ways.

“At least she has someone to care for her.” Caleb admits quietly, before speeding off followed closely by his sister.

[nevermore-grimes]

Nevermore-Grimes does Daydreamtober 2024

Original art from Pinterest

Prompts: #12: Monster + #19: Comfort

Para Perspective: Nevermore Grimes

Paracosm: The Ember Blade Chronicles

TEBC Saga: The New-Asgardian Saga

Summary: After quelling Giffany’s newfound hunger, Nevermore wakes up to discuss the nature of her true form with her

Warnings/Tags: Mentions of sex, sexual assault, killing, and death

Word Count: 1,598

I woke up in my own bed, fully clothed again. I guess I technically did only strip in my dream.

I tried to sit up, but moving didn’t come easy for me. Exhaustion and the sensation of a lingering weight on my chest made sure of that. I groaned, debating if I should just go back to sleep, but the noise I made caught the attention of someone I hadn’t realized was sitting at my bedside.

“Nevermore?” Her voice was uncharacteristically soft and uncertain. “Are you awake?”

I looked up at her, blinking the blond blotches in my vision into focus. The horns, wings, and impish tail I remembered from my dream were gone. The woman in front of me was the woman I was used to seeing all this time.

“…Gif?” My voice came out raspy due to my grogginess. “Yeah. Yeah, I am…”

She sadly smiled down at me. “Hi.”

I shot her a weak smile of my own. “Hey.”

A beat of silence hung between us before she grabbed my hand in hers. “How are you feeling?”

“Kinda shitty.” I breathlessly chuckled. “But, I’m alright. Still kicking and stuff.”

“Well, I, um…” Giffany looked down at our hands, rubbing her thumb in circles on the back of mine. “I did kinda eat part of your soul, so, I guess you’re not gonna feel so great after that.”

“Meh. It’s not like I’m usin’ it anyway.” I joked.

She attempted a small chuckle, but the regret in her eyes didn’t so much as flicker. “Well, you kinda need that to live, so I think you are.”

As we talked, I could feel my exhaustion slowly fading, and the conversation became a little easier for me to follow.

“How long have you been able to do this?” I asked.

She softly sighed. “A while. After that… thing that happened to me up in space, and watching you work so hard to defend me, I was… angry… but scared, too. I wanted to punish men like him, but I also didn’t want to be so helpless again. I didn’t want that to happen to me again.”

She sniffled, moving one of her hands from mine to wipe the sudden tears escaping her eyes. My stomach twisted at her mention of what happened to her during the war. I remembered being so consumed by my own righteous anger, that I didn’t really take the time to understand how traumatizing that must’ve been for her.

“So,” She continued. “The next time that I had time off, I went back to Earth and started looking for something I could do. That’s when I found this creepy old witch. She told me she could give me powers to keep myself safe, and then I wouldn’t need you or anyone else to protect me anymore.”

“Stuff like that’s never free.” I ventured.

Giffany made a small nod. “She said all I had to do was trade in a small part of my own soul, but that once I did, I couldn’t undo it. There was this whole ritual with candles and incense, and she started chanting in Latin.” She sniffled, wiping away more tears as they started streaming down her face faster. “It burned. Everything burned. And I tried to scream for her to stop but…” She shook her head, unable to finish that sentence.

Feeling my strength returning, I reached up with my free hand to wipe some of her tears away. “And that ritual made you what you are?”

“Mmhmm.” She leaned into my touch as she continued her story. “I woke up in the middle of the woods. I think the witch left me there. But, I was different. I was hungry. I remember walking back into town, and it was dark, but sometimes I would see someone walking around, and they gave me these weird looks. Some people even ran away screaming from me. Except for one.”

She gently smiled. “He offered to take me home, and he was kinda cute. So, I let him. He took me to my house, and he parked right out front. He was sweet. And we were flirting, and he gave me his number, and…” She sniffled, tears springing to her eyes again. “I don’t know what came over me, but I kissed him. I kissed him, and he kissed me back, and he came onto me, and he started taking off his clothes, but I was still so hungry and… I killed him. I ate his soul and I killed him.”

“I was so scared, Nevermore.” She whimpered in a soft, pained sound. “I hid his car in my garage, and I left his body in there, too. And I saw myself in the mirror, and… I looked like a monster! I- I am a monster!” She shook with soft sobs. “I jump into people’s dreams and I kill them! I feed on souls and sex! I’m a freak! And I almost killed you, too!”

My heart shattered for her, and I finally managed to sit up before pulling her into a hug.

“I’m sorry, Nevermore!” She cried into my shoulder. “I’m so sorry!”

“Hey, Gif, hey…” I gently rubbed her back. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. I mean, I’m fine, right? You didn’t take enough of my soul to kill me, and I popped back up in no time! Elemental resilience applies to our souls, too, I guess. But, that means you can control how much you’re taking, now, right?”

“I- I think.” She hiccuped as her tears began wetting through my shirt. “But, I’m still gonna get hungry again, and… What am I gonna do?”

“We can work something out to keep you fed without you having to worry about anyone else dying.” I reassured her as we slowly pulled apart before cupping her face in my hands and gently swiping the tears from her now blotchy cheeks. “And, I mean, I don’t mind helping you out from time to time. I would’ve appreciated an ask or a heads up before you jumped into my dreams and started fucking me nasty-style, but,” I shrugged, a small smirk twitching at my lip. “I didn’t exactly hate it, so…”

She softly chuckled. “You whore.”

“Guilty as charged~” I moved a strand of her hair from her face. “And you’re not a moster, by the way. You were just dealt a bad hand… That, and you’re too sexy to be a monster.”

“Shut up.” Giffany laughed as she pushed away from me and playfully smacked my shoulder.

“What? It’s true!” I argued as my own laughter bubbled up from inside me.

As our laughter died down, I couldn’t help but bring up another question. “Why me?”

Giffany cocked her head. “Hm?”

“Why’d you choose me?”

“Well, um…” She basfully looked down at her hands. “I was desperate, and I knew you were bi, so…”

“That’s kind of fucked up.” Despite the serious nature of my comment, I found myself fighting through another bout of laughter just to say it.

“I’m sorry…” She seemed to burn with shame.

“That still doesn’t make sense to me, though.” I pressed on. “You were feeding off of what I’m assuming to be straight men before me, right?”

“Yes…” Giffany looked back up at me, confused by the direction I was taking our conversation.

“If you were really that desperate, why’d you risk it with me instead of picking off another guy?”

She let a beat of silence hang between us, avoiding my gaze again before muttering. “I craved you.”

I couldn’t help the smile that my lips curled into as my heart skipped a beat, and I gently coaxed her by the chin to face me. “I dunno if this is your wild succubus magic or what, but I’ve been craving you, too.”

Giffany softly giggled, her cheeks lightly dusting with a faint blush. “Nevermore…”

I didn’t notice when we started leaning closer to each other, but once we were in motion, I wasn’t planning on stopping until we closed the gap between us. My eyes fluttered shut, and my breathing grew heavy as I felt the heat of her breath against my face.

“Absolutely not!” Loki’s sudden appearence in the room made us yelp in surprise as we jumped apart. “Let’s save the lethal kissing for once Nevermore’s fully rested, alright?”

I bursted out laughing while Giffany hid her face in her hands. “Alright, alright.”

“Yeah, alright.” Giffany stood up, her cheeks still glowing red with humiliation. “I- um- …Thank you for saving me, Nevermore.”

I gave her a small wave. “Anytime, Gif.” Then, I leaned forward to harshly whisper. “Literally, call me anytime. I’m down to fuck whenever.”

“Oh my god!” Giffany hid her face in her hands once more as Loki let out an amused chuckle.

Gently resting a hand on her shoulder, he began to lead her out of the room. “I’ll be taking Giffany home. And I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

“But-”

“Get. Some. Rest.” With that, the door slammed definitively behind the two of them, and I giggled like a little schoolgirl as I laid back down.

“Fine~” I murmured to no one in particular before drifting off into my first normal dream in a long time.

[always-music0]

Run Rabbit Run.

Hannah would considers herself the unluckiest girl in the world,having being born into a tangled web of murderers and monsters that live in your closet and under your bed. Until one day an unforeseen issue makes its way into her already fucked life and now if she thought her life sucked it’s about to get a whole lot worse.

Pt.1

A Creepypasta/Twilight crossover 18+

There went many things that made me scared-

— I mean when you grow up with the people I grew up with you get used to the ice cold feeling in your veins when you cut it a little too close to the edge and death himself is only a few inches away waiting to free your soul from this purgatory plane we call earth. But when your friends are friends with the spirit of the dead the sweet relief of becoming stardust fades into the background, and when god turns his back on your soul just because of the people you associate with you kinda don’t even consider heaven an option anymore.

Now you may be asking yourself ‘how in the hell could someone be so unlucky?’ And I should be honest and admit that it’s sorta my fault and I happen to find myself in the wrong place in the wrong time frequently.

Take last week for example jumping from state to state and school to school with the three looneys I call my ‘caretakers’ even though for the most part I take care of them and I just happened to run into a certain organ eating demon on my way home from grocery shopping it took quite a lot of convincing to keep him from taking me with him and making the looneys fucking loose their shit, even though that would be pretty funny for the first ten minutes, but would ultimately get my ass beat but I also had to cough up the fresh liver I had gotten for the dog.

He was not impressed when I came home without a treat for him to sink his teeth in. Anyways my current situation was even worse cause the three fucking losers I lived with didn’t even believe me when I said the school I would be attending for then next ten months was crawling with vampires.

“Look Tim! You have to believe me!” I wined as I followed him outside the dog at me heels.

The house we were living in was pretty secluded besides a few houses a few acres away Tim scoffed and threw his bag into the back of his old ford f-150.

The old thing was partially rusted out and everything had been replaced maybe more that it should have but like Tim it never seemed to die even with the absurd amount of times they both have been thrown off cliffs .

“Listen here, I don’t give a fuck if they were goddamn transformers. We have a fuck ton of work to do around here and not a lot of time to do it. So your gonna take your perky little ass to that school everyday and stay out of our way and stay safe” he snapped

I flinched a little, I could tell he was getting a little annoyed or stressed one of the two

“ ok so you do believe there’s vampires?” I asked and when his eye twitched I smirked

“NO! There’s no creature like the vampires I know around here and if there were the boss would have already let us know!” He yelled walking over to Brian’s 1976 Bronco and thew the back door open. I trotted after him the dog followed me silently

“Well what if they aren’t like the vampires we know?!” I asked and he groaned took a deep breath and pulled out his cigarettes Putting one in his mouth he turned his head towards me.

I immediately fumbled for my lighter almost dropping it twice, if there was one thing Tim and his counter part loved was a well trained bitc- ahem. Lighting his cigarette he inhaled.

“Look” he started blowing out the smoke he just inhaled.

“If there is for some reason vampires at your school they must be harmless otherwise big man wouldn’t have you here” he tilted his head at me as though to say ‘ya even think about that’ I blinked. of course I thought about that, I would have been shipped off to stay with someone else entirely if that were the case.

“Yeah I guess…” I said slowly looking at the dog, his eyes met mine and his tongue rolled out as he started to pant, this Washington mugginess was getting to him.

“Look at me sweetheart.” Tim said and my eyes lifted from the dog to his.

“ we wouldn’t let anyone or anything hurt you, not only is that our job it would kill us if you were hurt by something we didn’t know about” he said stepping towards me and eventually standing right in front of me. I could smell the cologne I had got him for Christmas and the cigarette smoke the reason I got him cologne. I met his eyes and they flashed darker as he switched and I tried not to wince as his hand shot up and griped my chin and squeezed my cheeks not tight enough to be painful but just to keep eye contact.

“Got it princess?” Masky said I nodded the best I could he grinned as Tim took back control patting my cheek

“Good girl” he said and turned back to the bronco reaching for another bag.

“Now be a good little thing and go bother someone else I have to fix the breaks on the ford and I definitely don’t want your annoying ass around when I do it” he commanded and I sighed flipping him off

“Go fuck yourself Tim” and walked away as he laughed at me The dog at me heels.

I suppose it could be worse, I mean the three fucking weirdos did a good job of keeping me safe although I wouldn’t admit that to their faces. What’s the worst that could happen?

A/N: Thanks for reading if you did! I know it’s littered with grammatical errors and run on sentences and it’s definitely not formatting correctly but I think meh who’s gonna see it anyways so why the hell not. But if you do read all of this thank you! Your wonderful and I will continue to post more parts as I write them<3

[ironcladrhett]

(The War Between Brothers)

“And?! We were kids once, little brother. Nobody fuckin’ treated us with kindness, and we’re just fuckin’ humans. Not hurtin’ anyone that wasn’t ready to hurt us first.” He stepped close to Emilio now, getting in his face and jabbing his shoulder roughly with a finger. “You’re askin’ me to leave a monster alone. A beast that’ll only spread its malice out into the world, on unsuspectin’ folk what can’t even defend themselves. I don’t give a flyin’ fuck how old it is, you hear me?” He snarled through gritted teeth.

(Starry-eyed)

“What good will that do ya?” he asked, pacing in the darkness, eyes glinting malevolently with a grin the mare could not see. “Calm down… the lights ain’t gonna kill ya. Probably. Well, that’s what we’re here tah’find out, anyway.” Still he paced, heart beating at an elevated rate, the delight writhing its way up his spine. Nothin’ felt better than watchin’ them fuckers suffer. Nothin’.  “My, ain’t you pretty in the light…” he commented in a voice that sounded both saccharine and venomous at the same time.

(Good Omens)

“It wasn’t fair what he did. But he didn’t give you a choice. He wouldn’t have given you a choice either way, don’t you see that? It was always him or mom.” Ophelia stepped closer again, and Rhett flinched. “He was ruthless. Brutal. He tried to put it away for you, but he couldn’t. And he made you… just like him, didn’t he? When he died, you felt like you had to pick up his mantle?”  “Stop,” Rhett muttered, shifting his weight again and hissing in pain, slumping back against the tree as he’d been when they arrived. Ophelia moved closer, and he remained still.  “No, I won’t stop,” his daughter promised with tears in her eyes, her arm raising as a hand reached for him.  “S-stop, I don’t want—I can’t—” The girl’s hand found his shoulder and he had nowhere to go, helpless against her will as she circled her arms around his torso. He wanted to crawl out of his skin, the insect buzz and scratch of being this close to a fae almost overwhelming him, but there was no escape, so he tried to push it down. Bury it like he’d buried his brother. Bury it like he had the truth of his moralities all this time, overlaid by Desmond’s own. Just as he’d been adopted by that hunter community, so too had he adopted his brother’s code. He loved him fiercely, but Ophelia was right. 

(The Burden)

“Fuck’s sake,” Rhett snarled, shaking his head at the poor bastard of a ranger with fresh holes in his head. He turned on Emilio, jabbing an accusatory finger against his chest. “This is why ya don’t watch ‘em to see if they’re up to no good, little brother. This is why ya don’t spare ‘em. Ya fuckin’ kill ‘em when I god damn tell you to.” With an angry huff, he picked the sword back up and slipped it into its scabbard, then looked at Owen. “Forgive the idjit. He’s been havin’ a morality crisis fer a couple years now.” Maybe this would take care of that, he thought. Rather, he hoped. 

(Do It For Me)

Rhett hated being helped. He hated relying on other people. He was better than that, stronger than that. He was old as hell for a hunter, particularly with one so red a ledger as his own. He was a survivor, and he’d not gotten through it by cowering in fear, by hiding behind others. He hated it, but he was resigned to it for as long as Emilio felt was necessary. And what could he do? Abandon the only family he had left? He needed to, he knew that. He needed to get the fuck away from all of them as soon as possible, to keep his mistakes from bleeding into their lives too. But… he couldn’t. Physically, he couldn’t. He didn’t feel trapped, he was trapped. 

[theselfshippingwitch]

JanAUary - Video Rental Store AU

(Divider by @saradika-graphics)

Ship: Ray x Violet Word count: 1170 Summary: Aspiring horror writer Violet's boring night at her job in the video store gets more lively when an intriguing stranger comes in looking for an obscure tape Rating: General Audiences Notes: For JanAUary run by @bioexorcizm and @eternally-smitten. Thanks for the prompt guys! also both of the movies mentioned in this fic are real look it up

(Banner by @benkeibear)

As far as jobs you take to keep a roof over your head while living in New York City and establishing a writing career go, this one wasn’t so bad. Violet sighed as she sat behind the counter of the video rental store. It was a slow night. Most nights were slow nights. This wasn’t exactly a popular spot, far from a Blockbuster, just a regular mom-and-pop video store, the kind of place you don’t even need a uniform to work at, just a handwritten name tag on your Invisible Man T-shirt you’re wearing with your old jeans and converse sneakers. Violet would fall asleep if she could. She cleaned the shelves and organized and reorganized the tapes. Nothing to do now but wait for customers that weren’t coming.

The door opened beside her. A customer! He smiled as he made eye contact with her. “Hi, there!” He said. It was always awkward when the customer was more sociable than Violet. She still had trouble greeting people as they came in the door. “Hello!” She smiled. He’s cute, she can’t help but notice. Pretty red hair and brown eyes. One of those sweet faces that makes a person look affable right away. Violet watches him as he weaves in and out of the shelves, looking for something and apparently not finding it. He went to the horror section first, she noted. Her favorite. What was he looking for? She thought if she offered her help she could find out. Just as she made up her mind on what to say, he beat her to the punch again.

“Hi again! Do you happen to have a copy of Fiend Without A Face?”

Violet smiled. “Fiend Without A Face?”

“Yeah, it’s this old horror movie from the 50s…” He began to blush and he attempted to explain himself.

“No, I know that movie! It’s one of my favorites!” She couldn’t believe it. He was looking for something so obscure even this tiny little independent video store wouldn’t have it. 

The way he smiled when she said she knew it, the fondness in his eyes, she could have cried. “Really? Mine too! The creature design in that movie is unbelievable!”

“I know! And the stop motion is pretty amazing. It makes me wish the monsters weren’t invisible for most of the movie.”

“Yeah! I’m such a big fan of stop motion, It’s part of the reason why I love these movies from the 50s. Everything is practical, it’s so fascinating to learn how they accomplished everything with not very much. I mean, the stop motion in Fiend is no Ray Harryhausen, but it’s still pretty fantastic!”

“Definitely! I love a good stop motion monster. Most of the other movies from the era just have guys in costume. This movie and The Monster Who Challenged The World are the only two I’ve seen that use stop motion for their monsters.”

“Oh my gosh, The Monster Who Challenged The World! That’s another one of my favorites!”

“Mine too!” 

God, this man was easy to talk to, Violet thought. She couldn’t remember a time she felt so at ease talking to another person, and a stranger, no less. A handsome stranger. A stranger who just got more attractive the more she looked at him.

“So, I take it you don’t have it here?”

“Well, we don’t have it, but I do. I recorded it to VHS when it was playing on TV at 3am once. I keep it in the break room as part of my personal collection for when I can sneak away from the counter.” She leaned in closer, like she was telling a secret someone else besides the only two people in an otherwise empty store could overhear. “Want to see?”

He nodded eagerly. She flipped open the counter for him and he walked behind it. He followed her into the break room, where multiple piles of tapes with handwritten labels were stacked. “These are all yours?” he asked.

“This is the only place where I have time to watch them anymore. When I’m not at this job, I’m writing.” She found the tape she was looking for and popped it in to the player.

“What are you writing?”

“A ghost story.”

“Cool!”

After one or two commercials, the movie began. “Wow, this tape is great!”

"I didn't know how to get the commercials off the tape..." Violet began, apologetically.

"Yeah, but that's alright. It's still really good!"

“Do you wanna borrow it?”

“Really? You would let me do that?”

“Sure!”

“Wow! I promise I’ll bring it right back here. Gee, I wish there was some way I could make it up to you.”

Violet looked at him, still enthralled by the tape, this child-like enthusiasm and energy she just couldn’t get enough of. He was so easy to talk to. She felt like she could say anything. She felt like a different person, someone better than what she normally was. She didn;t have to think ahead, she didn’t have to hesitate. Just say how you feel. “You could invite me to watch it with you.” 

The glowing smile left his face, replaced by an expression of surprise as his face turned red. His eyes met hers, and the smile that came next was different. Shy. Small. “I…O-okay! Yeah, I would like that!” He stuttered as he said it, and for a second Violet panicked, like maybe he felt like she just put him into an awkward situation he couldn’t see a way out of. But then he continued. “But, I was gonna show it to my friends! So, they would be there, too. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Violet said.

“But, maybe you and I could grab dinner sometime! Just us. So we can talk 50s B-movies some more?” He asked, timidly. The switch from such high energy to quiet, unsure shyness was so endearing to Violet, she couldn’t help but feel flattered by his nervousness. 

Now Violet was grinning. ‘Sure!” She realized she had no idea what his name was, and since he wasn’t about to buy anything, she wouldn’t find out through the name on his card. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I should’ve introduced myself earlier. I’m Ray.”

“Ray.” She repeated. “Hang on a second.” She went back to the counter and pulled out some receipt paper from the cash register. She wrote down her name and number. “Give me a call any time you wanna talk horror movies.” She popped the tape out of the player and handed it to him, along with the receipt paper. 

“I will!” He practically stumbled out from behind the counter, not taking his eyes off of her. “I’ll see you soon, Violet!”

“Bye, Ray!” She waved, still blushing as he looked at her through the window as he walked down the sidewalk. “Ray…” she repeated softly to herself in the empty store. It seemed quieter than ever now that he was gone. The thought she had to hold on to, in order to get through her shift, was the last words he said to her. They would see each other again, soon.

[angelofrainfrogs]

Spend the Night: Ch. 23

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: The familiar melody of Grandfather’s Clock chimes through the echoing halls of the Pizzaplex…

Charlie wakes up in her Puppet’s vessel yet again with one goal in mind: to stop William Afton’s reign of terror for good. She enlists the help of Glamrock Freddy, the emphatic leader of the newest iteration of the Fazbear Band. But there seems to be more to this bear than meets the eye—and the same goes for the mysteriously familiar kid the duo find tinkering with animatronics down in Parts & Service.

With some help from friends new and old, Charlie’s journey into the bowels of the Pizzaplex will unravel mysteries none of them ever expected. 

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

I just can't stop running away I don't remember my name, I don't know where to go anymore… It's not my fault but I can't really do much These creepy monsters have me in their clutch

~Astray by Scraton~

“Speaking of bets—wait a second!” Mike exclaimed as everyone moved to the exit. He snatched Gregory under the arms as he ran past, using the momentum to toss the kid in the air and catch him with a laugh. “I promised Gregory he could ride on my shoulders if he beat me at a game—help him get situated, Fredbear?”

Freddy nodded, the grin on his face still prominent as he secured Gregory on Mike’s shoulders. Thankfully the boy didn’t seem to mind being handled so much at the moment—probably because this was a display of his prior victory, if his smug smirk was anything to go by.

“Alright, hold on tight—if you wiggle too much and fall off, that’s on you,” Michael joked. Holding onto Gregory’s legs to keep him steady, he stooped low to follow Charlie out the door, Freddy trailing closely behind.

Gregory barely had to lock his legs, as the robotic brother he always wanted was suited with a gyroscope to maintain balance. His hands gently rested atop Michael’s head, and Gregory made sure to acknowledge Freddy with a brief, “Thanks, Dad!” before they reentered the Pizzaplex and had to act like nothing more than a kid and his favorite robot.

“If you get an extra-large trench coat, do you think we could sneak into a movie?” Charlie asked, making fun of that old trope of two kids sitting on each other’s shoulders to worm their way into places.

“Hmm… you know, we just might be able to,” Mike conceded, glancing upside-down at Gregory for a second, before looking to Freddy with a questioning brow. “Does this place actually have a movie theater?”

“Yes—it is in the Daycare,” Freddy replied, keeping pace as they walked. “It doubles as a stage for live shows as well.”

“Huh… I’m not surprised.” Mike let out a short laugh, shaking his head gently so as not to dislodge Gregory’s hands.

As they walked past day staff, the group was met with even more confused looks than before. This was for two main reasons: as expected, people silently wondered why Freddy was out of his room, though no one was brave enough to question it. Mike reasoned that only Sophie might have the confidence to do that.

The other reason for the stares was because people were shocked to see the Afton heirs looking so happy—Michael’s reputation in particular had traveled fast in a short span of time, and those he came across were surprised to see him without a scowl or toothy smirk, let alone carrying around his cousin on his shoulders. Perhaps he wasn’t as cold as they’d been initially informed.

It both confused and delighted the staff to see the administration in a better mood. As long as Sophie didn’t see the group traveling with Freddy, they’d have a smooth outing with Papa Bear.

Despite the Daycare being a place for babies, Gregory wouldn’t mind falling asleep on those comfy, soft cushions—as long as Moon was locked out of the room forever, of course. It felt nice to be tall for once, too. He now towered over Charlie and by extension, Michael. He could even see over Freddy’s top hat.

All the workers looked at him with what Gregory assumed to be envy. They wished one of their friends was the pretend boss of this place and giving them piggyback rides!

Their happiness only grew upon entering the West Arcade. A hypnotic beat that pumped out of the speakers made Gregory somewhat antsy, so he played with Michael’s hair to cope with the thudding he felt in his chest. Charlie ran ahead to see who this DJ was, only to stop in her tracks as she rounded the corner. The sheer size of this animatronic alone had her frozen in place.

The DJ was awake, happily jamming out in his own world. One of his many arms was pressed against his headphones, while two others adjusted various knobs and dials on the soundboards. In this rare moment of downtime, he was working on some new remixes of popular, kid-appropriate songs that he’d excitedly show off to the next guests so they could dance their hearts out.

“Holy—” Michael cut his words off with a twisted frown, not liking the sight of the humongous, multi-limbed animatronic one bit. His grip on Gregory’s legs clamped down protectively, ready to bolt with the kid on his shoulders if that thing so much as looked at them funny. Freddy, on the other hand, wasn’t phased in the slightest.

“Hello, DJ!” the bear called, waving as he stepped onto the flashing, multi-colored dance floor. A cloud of fog swirled around Freddy’s feet, the smoke pumped into the room from machines set low to the ground to add to the party atmosphere. Upon catching sight of the bright orange bear, Music Man turned down the volume of his tunes and shifted to face him, his grin wide and static.

“Heeeey, Freddy!” The DJ’s voice was booming, acting as bass in its own right. It filled the room, made to be heard over the music at all times. As he spoke, his tone was slow and smooth, elongating certain words in what could best be described in a “chill” drawl. “I haven’t seen you in foreeeeever! Where’ve you been?!”

“I am sorry I have not had the opportunity to visit,” Freddy apologized, partially avoiding the question. He gestured to the trio lingering hesitantly at the edge of the dance floor, as far away from the huge spider-like animatronic as they could be without actually standing in a different room. “But I have some new friends for you to meet!”

Thank goodness he’s friendly, Charlie thought as she let out a long breath. She came closer towards the stage as they spoke, both impressed and horrified someone thought this monster of a robot was a good idea. Charlie felt as though the Music Man series was always so divisive amongst the children. They either loved the guys or hated them outright.

Gregory had gazed on to the DJ that towered before them, and was glad that at least in the morning, he really is a nice guy.

“Hey man, did you know you’re GIGANTIC?” Gregory asked, not in a way that came off as disparaging, but more in surprise. He just couldn’t comprehend how or why they needed a giant arachnid disc jockey. As long as the DJ remained cool, Gregory could be friends with the guy. “That’s rad; you’re like a spider!”

“Thaaaaanks, little man!” the DJ replied, his voice echoing through the room. It was loud, but somehow designed with just the right pitch not to blow out kids' eardrums—they had the music itself to do that.

“This Gregory, Michael, and Charlie,” Freddy informed the huge animatronic, gesturing for the boys to join Charlie and him near the stage. Slowly, Mike inched forward, clearly more nervous about the animatronic than Gregory. Once they reached the comfort of Freddy's side, the bear patted Michael's back reassuringly. “Do not be alarmed—Music Man may be large, but he is harmless!”

“Yeah, I'm not gonna hurt you!” the DJ reassured, though he tilted his head slightly as if in thought. “Althouuuuugh, I can understand people being nervous...” Usually it would be the little kids that looked like they might throw up at the sight of him, but in this case it seemed to be the boy's guardian. Wanting to avoid a biohazard incident on the dance floor, the DJ moved one of his many hands to a soundboard. “I could play you some tunes, if it'd make you feel better. What kinda music are you into? I've got a huuuuuuuge library!”

“OOH! Oh! Play Electric Light Orchestra!” Charlie shouted, feeling a sort of kinship with the DJ having been a very strange looking animatronic for most of her existence. She remembered hearing the song Showdown once at a roller rink, and she’d never been the same afterwards.

Gregory made a face, having never heard of the half-century old band. He’d shout a suggestion afterwards—if he really knew any bands. Unfortunately he hadn’t been given the opportunity to really explore music with his home life. So, instead, Gregory was forced to insist: “No! Play something that isn’t old people music!”

“Hey, that isn't 'old people music!'“ Michael scoffed, offended. His love of rock now winning out over his nerves, he looked up at the huge spider animatronic and requested: “Play some Guns n' Roses! Oh, or Journey, or Queen, or...”

Freddy let out a soft sigh as Mike began rambling off various bands, finding the argument more endearing than anything. Music Man gave a booming laugh, shaking the dance floor with the force of it.

“Tell you what,” the DJ said after a moment. “You're aaaaaall in luck—I can make a custom remix with oldies and newbies. There's a toooons of songs sampling 80s music these days, so I can find lots of things that gel perfectly!”

“...I suppose that'd be a good compromise; what do you think?” Michael questioned, glancing upside-down at Gregory, who in turn patted his fluffy mop of hair.

“Do the remix!” Gregory agreed, much to Charlie’s intrigue. Anything involving music she knew would probably be fine with her. She came to stand by him and Michael, holding her arms out.

“You wanna come down and dance, Gregory?” she asked, and though the boy readily accepted her offer to help him down, he made a face.

“Uh, I don’t dance.” Or rather, he didn’t know how to.

“Me neither,” Michael added quickly, cheekbones flushing as he shot Charlie a look that told her to keep quiet. Many a time had she caught him rocking out in his room to various metal bands, playing air guitar with a broom and pretending he was the rockstar he always dreamed of. But to the outside world he was too cool to dance, and this mindset still carried over after all this time. Besides, he hadn't tried such a thing in decades, so even if he did want to show off some moves he'd surely be rusty. In an effort to divert attention, Michael turned to the animatronic bear and asked: “Are you programmed to dance, Freddy?”

Charlie looked at Michael, surprised he'd even say that to her. She could recall several instances where she found him head banging, thrashing and pretending he was a rockstar. Those were funny memories, and she’d keep them to herself for now as she bit back a smile.

“To an extent, yes,” Freddy replied, realizing that Mike and Charlie hadn't actually seen one of the Fazbear Band performances yet. He wasn't sure if Gregory witnessed one before either. Hopefully, someday when things were put back to the way they should be, Freddy could see his family in the crowd. “I only have a set amount of moves, however, and they correspond to various songs I perform. I am not quite equipped to dance as you would in this sort of 'freeform' environment.”

“He's tried before, though!” Music Man piped up, still tuned into their conversation despite controlling three of his hands to get this remix programmed as soon as possible. The DJ let out another laugh as Freddy's eyes widened in what could only be likened to embarrassment. “It's sooooo funny watching Freddy try and bust a move! Oh, and put him and Monty together? Now that's hilaaaaarious!”

Charlie never danced very well at all. When she was a Puppet, Charlie was on a set of strings to make her dance. Even that was more like wiggling than anything remotely coordinated. But she shrugged anyway, setting Gregory down and nearly losing him in the fog immediately. Gosh, he was too short to go to a rave.

As Music Man mentioned Monty, Gregory looked somewhat nervous. He didn't think it was anyone's goal to let their new acquaintance get upset with the current MIA status of his friend.

“Oh, I bet!” Gregory lied, easily. “I can't wait to see that when the place opens up again...”

“We will be sure to visit,” Freddy said, making a promise to everyone here. This horrible situation couldn’t last forever.

No—Freddy wouldn’t let it.

Before long William would be defeated, his friends would be back in commission, and Michael, Charlie, and Gregory could finally have a normal day in the Pizzaplex, experiencing everything as it was meant to be.

While Freddy tracked Gregory through the misty dance floor, Mike couldn’t help his attention being pulled to the other side of the arcade where he’d spotted some games upon their arrival. A bright grin lit up his face as the first notes of Another One Bites the Dust blasted through the speakers. He could already tell this mashup was going to be a good one.

“Oh my god…” Charlie nearly swooned, she’d missed listening to Queen so much. The new tempo and beat made it fresh and exciting. “I want to go to a Queen concert…”

Gregory passed, kicking up the heavy fog in his path as he glanced up questioningly. “Huh? Isn’t the front man dead?”

“You mean Freddie Mercury? No, he’s probably just really old,” Charlie mused. “Really, really old.”

Gregory could see the hope leeching from her eyes with each passing second, and after a moment of consideration, told her: “Uh, yeah! Probably…”

Michael patted Gregory’s head in silent gratitude as he passed by, not wanting to upset Charlie either with the unfortunate news.

“Come on,” he offered, gesturing for the group to follow him. “Let’s check out some games—we’re still on a mission for tickets, aren’t we?”

“Let me know if you eeeeever want me to change it up!” the DJ said, pressing his headphones again as he bounced in time with the beat.

“We will; thank you, DJ!” Freddy replied, offering a wave which the huge animatronic returned. As he began following the trio he recalled a comment from earlier and paused, tapping Gregory’s shoulder to stall him as well. “Oh! Superstar, did you say you were looking for a specific game? If so, Music Man might be able to point you to its location.”

“Oh! Good idea, Freddy—” Gregory skidded to a stop, turning around and waving to the huge bot. “Excuse me? Mr. DJ Music Man? Could you help us find Princess Quest II?”

Maybe if he was extra nice to the DJ, the potential murder machine wouldn’t try and grind him to a fine powder tonight. He hoped. Though Sun was just as nice, yet Moon came after them as if the group stole all his glitter glue…

The music kept playing as the towering animatronic looked down at the tiny human. His back hands worked seamlessly to move the song into some current Top 50s Hit chart-topper that Michael and Charlie didn’t recognize.

“Princess Quest II? Hmm…” Music Man used a front hand to scratch his chin as he ran through the catalogue of arcade games in his attraction. After a moment, he shook his head. “Sorry, little man, I don’t think we have any game like that…”

“Maybe try just Princess Quest?” Michael offered, looking up at the DJ as well. “We found the first one in the East Arcade, so there have to be more.”

“Nope; there’s nothing with that title at all.” Music Man did his best attempt to shrug. “Although, there’s a huuuuge storage room with old and broken consoles up on the top level—maybe it’s in there? The area’s only accessible to staff, though… Not even Freddy’s supposed to go back there.”

“Guess we’ll just find something else to play,” Gregory replied, elbowing his siblings in their legs to get them moving. “Let’s go, guys—thanks DJ!”

The heel of his sneakers squeaked with his sharp turn, which turned into a casual walking towards the spiral staircase.

“We’re definitely finding this game,” Gregory murmured, chasing his hypothesis. “I don’t know about you guys, but don’t you think it’s pretty weird no one knows about a series that just explodes winning tickets?”

Even for all its flaws, 1,000 tickets per beaten game is unheard of for a monolithic company arcade.

“It’s definitely weird,” Michael confirmed, frowning slightly. “Especially the fact that they left the first one out when it’s clearly infected by all those glitches—”

Michael cut himself off with a start, frown deepening as his computer-chip brain worked overtime to piece together a theory. Hesitantly, he posed: “You don’t… think it has anything to do with him, does it?”

There wasn’t much to go on that supported this proclamation, though the weird glitching rabbits were pretty suspicious—not to mention that no one knew about this game, as Gregory pointed out.

“Why would he have anything to do with an arcade console?” Freddy questioned in a soft voice, not discounting the theory but clearly pointing out it was flawed like the game itself. Michael shook his head.

“I don’t know… I mean, Cassidy said he’d essentially been trapped in a fake one until he moved his consciousness into a new body without Charlie’s Gift, so I’m sure there’s things he can do that we don’t know—Ah, we… didn’t tell you guys that, did we?”

Gregory and Freddy were staring at Michael with alarmed confusion. With a grimace, Mike realized he hadn’t explicitly told them his father hadn’t always been in such a nice, upgraded Bonnie suit, but rotting away for decades in an original model. By the look on Freddy’s face, Michael wondered if Charlie ever got a chance to inform Freddy of the unfortunate fate of the Glamrock rabbit's suit—Freddy was the only one yet to actually see William, after all.

Michael heaved a sigh. “Okay, let’s just find that storage area—we can talk more where hopefully there aren’t staff around.”

“I'd bet my high score on Faz-Fighters your weirdo dad is behind this weird game,” Gregory replied. Only time could tell if his hunch was correct, and he slowly explained to the ursine robot at his side. “The working theory, Freddy, is that Mike's dad is traveling like a virus. Or—was. He, uh... Sort of took your friend and is using his body.”

Charlie could see how upset this was making Freddy, so she touched a hand into his. Since the bear grown more aware and expressive, she could see as clear as rain whenever he got upset.

“We're going to get him back. Remember?” Charlie always spoke confidently about these things. None of them actually knew for sure if they would come out on top. Not definitely... Though if it made her friends feel good enough to carry on, then of course she'd say it.

“He took... Bonnie?” Freddy clarified, his voice soft and tinged with hurt.

It wasn't hard for him to put the pieces together, as much as he didn't want to admit it. He might not fully understand why Bonnie was chosen yet, but it would explain the former bassist's sudden, random disappearance—and subsequent cover-up and quick replacement. The fact that William had somehow become a computer virus should've been harder to accept, but based on everything supernatural he'd seen over the past few days, Freddy came to believe this quite easily. His eyes widened as he processed his train of thought aloud.

“Oh my goodness... Vanessa has access to the Pizzaplex's computer systems, as well as working knowledge of the animatronics' programming. If Vanny is following William's commands, I bet she was behind the entire thing. She must have—”

He trailed off, clenching his fists by his sides. This revelation about Bonnie shocked Freddy to his core. He couldn't believe that his old friend had been decommissioned so unceremoniously for his body to be used as a host to one of the most evil souls in the world. It made him think back to the rumors of what happened to the rabbit, and that the only concrete bit of information Freddy had to work with was that Bonnie was last seen at the Golf Course. Based on how the others were acting at night, it wasn't a big leap for Freddy to assume the rumors about a certain gator taking Bonnie out held more truth than he'd wanted to believe.

“They made Monty decommission him...,” Freddy said slowly, his feet still moving heavily despite his mind drifting somewhere else. His hands clenched tighter, blue nails digging into the metal of his palms. “And Monty truly didn't remember, that's why he denied it, but... it was all just part of their scheme. They've been working on this for months, using my friends without any of us realizing...”

This plan was a long time coming. It explained why William hadn't given up so easily. He’d been lurking within the code since the inception of this very Pizzaplex. Gregory figured the group really hadn't had a chance to catch up on what happened exactly. He didn't even talk too much on what William almost did to him. Freddy didn't need to be burdened with that just now. He'd let the guy be angry at the fact his decommissioned best friend was being misused and mistreated while the soul of a digital serial killer puppeteered his corpse.

The room was far too dark to see. Gregory pulled his Faz-light from his shorts and illuminated their path. To their surprise, there were several 'play-tester' games lining the dingy office space.

“He's harvesting people. Kids specifically... I don't know why. It has something to do with that... That purple stuff...,” Gregory explained, his voice weening off as he thought about the needle that’d almost pierced his throat.

That fucking needle. Every time he shut his eyes, he could see it. The lights gleaming off the glass, it's medically sharp point staring threateningly back at him. Waiting to stab him and make Gregory apart of William's army of the undead.

“Remnant,” Michael clarified, placing a comforting hand on Gregory's back as the boy slowly moved his flashlight across the room. There were dozens of game consoles, most dark and empty, though a few flashed with dull ambience. They still had yet to find their prize, though. Michael shot Charlie a glance over his shoulder to see her still trying to comfort Freddy by sticking close to his side.

“I'm... not entirely sure of all the details, nor do I want to go into them right now, frankly,” Michael continued, wincing slightly as he thought of everything he knew and all the information he was not about to subject Gregory and Freddy to. “The only thing we need to keep in mind is that it seems to make people immortal. At least, I think that's the idea. So as far as Gregory—” Michael's hand moved to the boy's hair, running gentle fingers through the haphazard locks to preemptively soothe. “—or Evan, in this case, my father wants to prevent another 'family tragedy' using the Remnant.”

“What?!” Freddy practically hissed, his tone suddenly sharp with worry. His eyes frantically scanned the room, as if William was about to pop out of one of those strange holes in the walls. When his gaze fell upon Gregory with Mike's protective hand on his head, the bear relaxed slightly.

“We're not going to let that happen; don't worry,” Michael reassured quickly, feeling bad at making Freddy even more upset. Still... he felt the fatherly bear deserved to know why his son was so sought after by this crazed soul.

“I'll be just fine,” Gregory told himself. There was always a chance that they could fail. But he tried to think like his new big sister. He had to be positive. There were so many people around to protect him, and so many less robots apt to kill him went the sun went down thanks to their efforts.

Gregory slowed to a stop in the hall, waiting for Freddy to come closer to offer the bear his hand. “Promise. He's not going to get me.”

Charlie gave Gregory a lopsided smile. He was so good at being brave when he needed to be. Yet it made Charlie sad that he had to be like this so young. The maturity was far greater than most children his age had to act. And the saddest thought of all was how it reminded Charlie of herself not five years older than him... She was going to give some words of comfort, but Gregory shined his light ahead, pointing towards the back corner.

“Hey—let's check this one out. The one by the cutout,” he said, prompting the group to move closer.

Freddy's tension instantly released as Gregory offered a hand. The bear grasped it within his own—goodness, his little palm was so small in comparison—squeezing tightly and appreciating the warmth. It let Freddy know that his son was alive and well, and as long as those facts were still true they could get through anything.

“That's definitely it—good eye, kid!” Michael praised, mouth flipping into a grin as he walked up to the dusty console. It was situated against the back wall next to a cutout of what looked to be Bonnie in some pirate get-up. Michael noted with a mild shock that the game was lit up and ready for someone to play, despite it not actually being plugged in. He had a feeling that if they went and checked Princess Quest I, it would be the same situation.

“Oh, this is not right at all,” Freddy murmured, echoing Michael's sentiment. Seeing the console only confirmed that he had no idea where this game came from. Nothing about it was familiar, and the lack of actual power keeping it going was certainly odd, to say the least. The whole thing just gave off a bad vibe that even the animatronic bear could sense.

Gregory approached the gaming system, coin ready in hand. Charlie took the flashlight and held it for them to see more easily in the dark. As Gregory went to trick the game's coin slot, he realized with a queasy twist to his stomach that a credit was already loaded on the screen.

“Okaaaay...,” Gregory said out loud, wary but pressing start regardless. “I mean... Who knows—playing these might give us some clues on what to do next.”

The visuals were slightly more enhanced in this iteration. The Princess was still stuck inside the castle, overrun with black and purple goop with the shadowy bunnies on her trail. While she could fend them off after retrieving a short sword, it was still somewhat hard to maneuver around them on this isometric map.

And the glitches! Gregory tried to exploit them. But it was like the game didn't want to be beaten. He was lucky to finish this particular game with one of his lives left... It seemed like the more heart containers he collected, the stronger the enemies got. Even the Princess’s remark echoed a ghost of the same sentiment in the small dialogue box at the bottom of the screen.

“Everything about this game creeps me out,” Charlie put bluntly. Be it ambiance or design, she found a knot twisting in her robotic guts as she watched it. Charlie scooted closer to Mike, bumping him for comfort.

Michael slid an arm around Charlie's shoulders, the gesture completely instinctual as his gaze was fixed to the tiny screen. His mind was racing, trying to figure out what the hell this game was about. William was tied to it, that much was clear—now that they'd made the connection, there was no doubt in his mind as to what those glitching purple rabbits represented. But if they were meant to be William, then who was the Princess?

Suddenly, Michael let out a gasp, turning to the bear hovering by Gregory's side.

“Hey, Freddy—you said Vanessa wasn't always a security guard, right? Remind me what her old job used to be?”

“My employee records indicate that she was a beta tester for a Virtual Reality game Fazbear Entertainment tried to venture into through a partner company,” Freddy replied, blinking rapidly as he accessed the employee database. His gaze shifted to meet Michael's, head cocked slightly as he tried to figure out the man's train of thought.

“Do you know why she transferred?”

“No, although nearly everyone from that division was fired when the project was cut. The company went bankrupt, and the game never fully launched because of all the... glitches.” Freddy trailed off, his eyes widening. “Oh. You do not think...?”

“I do.” Michael nodded, glancing down at Charlie who he still held onto. “I don't know how exactly, but... what if that's how Vanessa was infected? And somehow... this Princess Quest series is tied to her, too?”

Charlie's face twisted into that of anger. The rage and despair she felt for Vanessa read so clearly on her face, and as Michael spoke to her attention snapped from the game to him in an instant.

“He thinks he's so clever,” Charlie snipped, agreeing subtly. “Hiding behind these dumb metaphors. William made a story, just like Cassidy… And hid Vanessa—the real Vanessa—in a video game.”

It was almost like William was taunting Cassidy in a way. Charlie could almost hear that twisted voice chortling, “Look what I can do! Not so special now, are we, Cassidy?” in that petulant and boasting demeanor he got when he was winning. He didn't care how many lives he ruined, or in what way.

Gregory had long-ceased speaking, more focused on the immersive colors as he slashed away at the ghost bunnies.

“It was so obvious. She's in the game.” Charlie shook her head, clicking her tongue in disgust. “For William to come out, he had to switch them. First he got in Vanessa’s head, and when he was ready for the new body, he just—left the missing half of her mind in the digital castle. Probably as some stupid failsafe; I don't know how, but... It makes as much sense as everything else in our lives. Michael—”

She garnered the attention of her pale-faced friend with a jostle of his arm. “—remember those robots in the basement around the table? The one meant to be your dad was dressed like a magician...”

The implication, clear as day now, was that he and his 'assistant' switched places. As if human consciousness was as simple as a parlor trick. William had been leaving clues about his own little crime right under their noses.

Charlie was shaking with barely contained rage now. She tucked in closer to Michael to distract from the poisonous emotion, burying her face in his shoulder so Gregory and Freddy wouldn’t have to see such an ugly thing.

“Fucking asshole,” Michael snarled. It was easy to feed off of Charlie's anger when it came towards his father. It took a moment of deep breathing to reign in his emotions enough not to march straight back into the Fazerblast hideout, and, if William wasn't there, turn the entire Pizzaplex upside down just to punch him in that stupid, smug rabbit face.

Although, now wasn't the time for that. He could get his revenge tonight as planned, but for now it was Mike's job to solve this mystery and comfort his friends in the process. He held Charlie close against his side, rubbing her arm to ground her in the present. He knew how easy it was for both of them to get consumed in memories and rage, and he couldn't afford to let that happen in a rare moment of respite from being actively hunted.

To Freddy's credit, he didn't bother chiding Michael for his rather intense curse. As crazy as his and Charlie's explanation sounded on the surface, it actually made a lot of sense in the context of the weekend. Hesitantly, trying to find anything positive he could, Freddy ventured: “So then... it stands to reason that if Vanessa's consciousness is trapped, perhaps there is a way to get her out?”

Not only did he hate the thought of the poor woman forced to do William's bidding, but Freddy worried what might happen to her after he was defeated since she was so consumed by his spirit. Would her old consciousness return, or would her mind simply... break?

Gregory had been listening vaguely, mind detached in a way as he focused more on the game. Still, he gathered enough to be able to answer as he neared the last level.

“If I had to guess—beating the game might do something. Uh... If that doesn't work…” Gregory paused, focusing a moment to get past a group of enemies he didn't think it would've been wise to fight. “We can always smash these crap-ass games.”

“Gregory—language.”

This time Freddy's anti-swearing protocol did kick in, for hearing such a thing in a child's voice was vastly different than a grown man's. It also meant that Freddy wasn't so distracted anymore, which Michael was glad for. He didn't want the bear to start having an existential crisis on them here and now.

Though when Michael's gaze was pulled down by movement as Charlie shifted a piece of long hair out of her face, he realized there was something they had yet to tell Freddy and Gregory that might prompt such a crisis... but for an ultimately positive reason.

“Right, we'll keep an eye out for anymore consoles,” Michael confirmed, speaking a bit quickly. He grinned, the idea of potentially cheering the fatherly bear and his little brother up in one go making him tap Charlie's arm excitedly. “But let's not dwell on the depressing things—not while there's still daylight out.” His smile widened even more when Charlie and Freddy looked at him questioningly. “Once Gregory's done with the game, Charlie and I have something to tell you that I think will make you both very happy.”

“Woah, a surprise?!” Gregory blinked, looking over his shoulder at Michael for a split second before his attention was pried away and back to the game. There was a short gasp, and Charlie looked back up to Mike as well.

“I forgot about that! Yeah,” she said, glancing now to Freddy with a smile. “You guys are going to love what we found in the basement.”

Charlie watched as Gregory passed the old king on the screen, only to walk into—

A security office.

“...I really hate that we were right about this,” Gregory muttered, regret in his voice as the game turned off, then loaded back to the main screen. There was no longer an option to put a coin in the machine; the whole image glitched out and it was impossible to select anything else.

“Really? A security office? For fu—reak's sake...,” Michael groaned, eyes cast high to the ceiling as he managed to divert the cuss in time. He didn't think he could avoid Freddy's wrath now that he'd pulled the bear's attention to him.

“We can only hope this will help Vanessa in the long run,” Freddy said placatingly, pulling Gregory over once the boy dislodged himself from the console. To everyone's relief, there was finally a smile on the bear's face again as he looked between Mike and Charlie expectantly. “I am very eager to learn what you found—please share!”

Charlie squeezed Michael in her side hug, reminding him not to curse so much in front of Gregory. The kid was beginning to pick up his sailor mouth. She brightened further as she glanced to Freddy and Gregory once more, both who looked fairly excited to hear the news.

“Get this—” Charlie said with a toothy smile, “—we figured out a solution for Freddy's power issue. My dad made another android; a spare that even he wasn’t sure what to do with.”

Charlie looked up to the bear, offering the human disguise. It was quite a staggering proposition, she knew. “Michael and I thought that maybe you'd want it, Freddy—so you can leave the Pizzaplex with Gregory!”

Freddy simply stared at her for a few seconds, jaw open slightly in an expression of pure bewilderment. In a soft voice, he questioned: “An android... for me?”

“If you want it, it's yours,” Michael confirmed, his own grin just as bright as Charlie's.

“Not that I do not appreciate the gesture, but... I am not like you.” Freddy gave a slight shake of his head. “I do not have a human soul, I mean—I cannot possess things as you can, so...” He moved his arm vaguely, as it seemed for once in his existence he was struggling to explain his thoughts.

“That won't be a problem,” Michael reassured. It figured the animatronic would immediately move to the logistics of the whole concept. He let out a small chuckle, shoving his hands in his pockets. “The body isn't meant to be for a human soul, unlike all the others Henry made. I mean, I'm sure one could always inhabit by force, but in a weird, cosmic way... we kind of think it really is for you, Freddy.”

His eyes softened, thinking back to their short but poignant conversation with his uncle. “Henry said that if we ever made it to this point, he'd want someone to watch after us and made an android that could do just that. Thing is, he’s yet to make an AI capable enough to be uploaded to it... But I think we can all agree that you definitely fit that bill.”

Gregory had been squeezing Freddy's leg in a near-crushing grip. The more Mike and Charlie revealed, the higher his hopes grew. Looking up to Freddy wide-eyed and dimple-smiled, Gregory felt the need to remind the animatronic of his technological prowess. “I could totally transfer your data into the new robot!”

Gregory didn't really care exactly what his dad looked like; he'd love the guy no matter what. In fact, he was certain he'd gain more friends if people knew his dad was Freddy Fazbear. It was all a matter of that damn battery issue the company installed. He wondered if they planned it like that in case someone wanted to steal one of the animatronics, or even on the off-chance the robots went rogue and tried to run. They were working with some pretty sentient coding, after all.

“You can come and go whenever you want,” Charlie added, happy to give Freddy the gift Henry so graciously bestowed over them.

“…If you don't want to leave, I understand,” Gregory muttered after a moment of silence, trying to play off the potential rejection as if it wouldn't hurt him to the very core. It was Freddy's choice after all. Yet Gregory would probably cry if the robot he called Dad turned out to want to stay with his old life instead of leave with him.

Freddy looked from Michael to Charlie, then finally down to the boy clinging to his side like the bear was his lifeline. In a way, Freddy supposed he was. Letting out a soft chuckle, he bent to scoop Gregory into his arms. “Now, how could I ever say 'no' to a face like that?” 

“Yessss!” Michael cheered softly, pumping a fist at his side. “Like Charlie said—it's not like you have to leave and never come back. In fact, it'll be easier to visit since we won't be stopped every time we come and go by staff asking why we're taking their star out for a vacation.”

Freddy laughed at this, more heartily than before. “You make a convincing argument, Michael. I will gladly accept.”

Gregory let out a thrilled shriek, throwing his arms around his father's neck and hugging him tightly at the news. Charlie was clearly keeping in some contained excitement in the way she bit back a wide grin at Freddy's acceptance of their gift.

“Oh, man!” Gregory said with glee. “I wonder what your people-sona's gonna look like.”

Charlie chortled a little, telling the kid: “I don't think we should spoil it! He just looks like a dad; that's all you need to know!”

She would let Gregory decide what that meant. But Henry did seem to design a man with an immediately trustworthy face. Then again, Charlie's father was always very talented when it came to character designs—she supposed it wouldn’t be hard to translate that to real faces, too.

Upon their celebration, the sound of a door swinging into the wall ruined Gregory's mood. Startled, the kid jumped in Freddy's grasp and his mind raced at who might be coming into the vast room.

And who should it be but Vanessa, the source of their recent discussion. She didn't notice the group at first, pausing as the door shut behind her to lean against it with a heavy sigh, rubbing her temple with her good hand. Her arm still hurt like shit, but at least the constant migraines had miraculously started to clear. They weren't gone, not by a long shot, but they seemed less pinpointed and stabby and more of just a dull ache.

“Oh shit!” she exclaimed, jumping when she finally noticed the group of four staring at her intently, Freddy's bright eyes glowing eerily in the dimly lit room. She quickly stood up straight, clearing her throat and attempting to brush some unseen dirt off her shirt. “Um, I-I apologize, Mr. Afton; Ms. Emily, I... didn't realize you were in here.” Her eyes narrowed, the unspoken question of why they were in this random storage room of old arcade machines hanging in the air.

“That's alright,” Michael said. He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he turned Vanessa's silent inquiry back on her. “Isn't it early afternoon? What are you still doing here?”

“I left my things in this office last night,” Vanessa explained, pointing to a locked room off to the side that was more of a standard security office with monitors and electrical equipment. There was a jacket and bag resting on one of the chairs, and Ness pulled a key out of her pocket and unlocked the door as if to prove she was telling the truth. “I was just coming to grab them on my way out.”

“And your arm? The doctor said it was alright for you to work tonight?” Charlie asked. She’d already tried to subtly convince Vanessa that coming in was a bad idea. Unfortunately, the woman didn’t take her hint before and Charlie doubted she’d take it now. Still, they could only hope Vanessa would just stay home and give them less of a chance to hurt the poor brainwashed woman further.

Charlie couldn’t tell if Gregory was pretending to be stressed so the fact Freddy was coddling him looked natural, as the bear would try his best to console any upset child. Or perhaps he was genuinely upset with seeing Vanessa.

Truthfully, Gregory was secretly praying it would never come down to her life over their own survival. William had already split her mind up and shoved it into a video game; he’d certainly use her to obtain what he really wanted. If that meant getting her killed just to trap them, Gregory was distressed at the thought…

To their benefit, even though Vanessa worked the night shift and didn't get to see the daily interactions between kids and the animatronics, she at least knew that some of them just had a weird bond. As long as their guardians were okay with kids being picked up by giant robots, then who was she to say otherwise? Gregory clearly liked Freddy enough to cling to him in a death grip, and Ness certainly wasn't going to comment on the situation with his de-facto guardian in the room.

“I'll be fine,” she replied to Charlie, avoiding answering her question directly. The doctor actually told her to stay home for a few days and get some rest, but Vanessa couldn't leave the Pizzaplex right now with everything going on—she had to get to the bottom of this virus. Her job was on the line, after all.

Quickly slipping the duffel bag strap over her shoulder and gathering the jacket in her arms, Vanessa rushed by the group again with an attempt at a smile that turned out as an apologetic grimace. “I'm sorry I can't stay and talk—I really need to get some rest before my next shift. Please find Sophie if you need anything, alright?”

Before anyone could respond, the night guard slipped out of the storage area and slammed the door behind her.

***

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