#someone to open the door. point us in the right direction. tear down the walls we’ve built out of our own misplaced fear.

[badolmen]

He knew he was going to die.

It was something you only understood if you had died before. He had - briefly, long ago, revived by a beloved friend and his magic. The revival he didn’t remember as clearly as death. The growing dimness of the world, the warm ache of organs slowly failing. The way he felt now was familiar, and he took comfort in that.

His beloved couldn’t bring him back this time. For all their magic they couldn’t bring themself back. That’s why he started this damn quest - to find someone who could.

That’s why he was dying, alone in a cold dungeon; tricked by the castle’s lord who promised aid only to proffer treachery instead.

His breathing was growing shallow, wounds deep and hands numb with cold. Soon. Very soon he might see his beloved’s face again. How disappointed he would be with him. But he would be forgiven, he knew he would be.

He hoped he would be.

The skittering sound in the shadows could have been rats, waiting for the mangled man to be more palatable with decay. But it was something else - a small lockbox, hardly the size of his hand, squirming on uneven legs to sit in the open.

He would have laughed if he could draw a breath deep enough to do so. What a weak mimic. Nothing like the cruel and powerful warlock that had brought him so close to death and left him to rot in this dungeon. It skittered closer, lid slightly ajar - just enough for him to see it’s pinprick teeth.

“Hungry?” He voice was raspy, the stony walls echoing it back to him. The mimic froze, lid screwing shut as it teetered on unsteady, half formed imitation legs. “Here, I’m not gonna use these anyway.”

The rations from his bag were meager but pristine - he rarely had a need to rely on stale bread and hard cheese when taverns and game offered far tastier choices. His shaking hands tossed the ration bag toward the mimic, the creature squelching as it scrambled back to the shadows as though it excepted a blow.

Slowly, painfully slowly it crept back to the center of the room. Flickering torch light illuminated its drool slicked teeth as it snatched the bread and ran off, disappearing into the recesses of the dark, damp dungeon.

One last kind act. He could rest easy with that.

—

He didn’t expect to wake up. Not considering the state he was in when he had dozed off - bloodied and bruised and feeling the cold, steady hand of death squeeze his heart.

“What?” He croaked, voice too loud in the silent dungeon. There was an empty glass vial beside him - shattered, remnants of the red liquid that it once held staining his hand. And beside it, a lockbox with a cluster of yellow eyes, watching him carefully. “Where did you get - wait!”

The mimic startled when he raised his hand, scampering to the opposite edge of the room and watching. He leaned forward to follow it, and found not all of his injuries were magically healed. With a grunt he managed to crawl toward the creature a few paces before stopping to catch his breath.

The healing potion residue on his hands was sticky, and smelled as sweet as melons.

The mimic across the room made a sound - a throaty gurgle that, if he thought too hard about, sounded curious. He breathed a humorless laugh, pressing his face to the cool stone as he fought back a sob.

He was done. He wanted to be done. Why couldn’t it just be over?

“Sorry, little buddy - I, I don’t have anymore food. You should go, go off and try somewhere else.” There weren’t any other people in the dungeon besides him. He knew that. And the only person who might check on his would-be corpse was a warlock more powerful than any magic user he had met.

The mimic cooed, a warbling noise as it’s body shifted. It’s shape changed, smaller and thinner. A key. He lifted his eyes to the iron gate of his cell.

If the warlock found him trying to escape, that would be the end of him. He could finally be at peace.

“Okay, fine - fine! We’re leaving. Happy now?” The mimic trilled happily as he picked up the key shaped creature, reaching through the bars to undo the lock.

The mimic was warm in his hand, a gentle pulse of life in its perfect imitation of a key. It was nice, against the chill of the dungeon. He started walking, a vague memory of the direction the warlock had dragged him.

The mimic hissed, pseudopods waving wildly as he took a left instead of a right.

“What? You know a better way out?” The mimic hummed at his question, body contorting into something sleek and metal. A compass, though the arrow clearly pointed away from the passage the warlock had used.

If this was a trap to feed him to larger mimics, he welcomed the possibility of a swift death.

“Whatever you say little buddy.” He just wanted to see his beloved’s face again.

The pair walked in darkness, no torches beyond the main cells. He held the mimic close to his face to read the needle, the creatures pinprick glowing eyes lining the brass case of the compass. It hummed to him - not quite a tune, but certainly some patter of clicks and trills not meant to communicate anything specific.

It somehow managed to bring a smile to his face, the warm, gently illuminated compass in his hands the closest he had felt to happiness in a very long time.

It was a dead end. His shoulders fell, the ache of still healing wounds aggravated by the long trek in the cold and damp. The mimic jumped from his hand - or fell, given how his fingers fell limp at the sight of the boulders and cobbles piled high.

It whistled, pseudopods flailing as it crammed itself in a crack between the rocks.

“No.” Frustration was welling in his blood. He just wanted to do one last good deed. He didn’t want his wounds to heal. He didn’t want to escape. He didn’t want to live without his love. “No - I can’t fit; dammit what was I thinking! Gods you don’t even understand me.”

He held his face in his hands, hot tears welling in his eyes as his breathing grew uneven and hitched. He didn’t know the way back - he didn’t know how to get the warlock’s attention. He was going to starve to death in the dark because he followed a half-witted, strange little mimic.

He dropped to his knees before the pile of rubble and sobbed openly, a gentle draft of cool air on his face.

A draft of air that smelled fresh and clean and so, so close.

The mimic was standing in front of him, shape changed once again to a shining pick axe. It trilled softly; golden, pupil-less eyes beckoning. A gaze between disappointment and hope. The same gaze he imagined his lover watching him with if he was here with him now.

“Please,” It seemed to say, “Get up.”

He rose to his feet, the wooden handle of the mimic smooth in his hand. He struck the stones, cobbles shattering under the force of the blow.

He didn’t want to always be hurting. Another blow, the air on the other side flowing steadier. He didn’t want to stay here, alone in the dark. Another blow, thin threads of golden sunlight shimmering in the dust. He didn’t want to live without his love, but he would want him to. Finally, a gap large enough for him to squeeze through was opened.

He scrambled over the stones, escaping into the sunlight. The grass beneath him was green and vibrant, the air sweet and clean. The mimic in the grass beside him chirped as sweetly as any song bird.

“Thank you.” His tears were different, streaming down a face that wore a wide and earnest smile. “Thank you so much.” The mimic curled on his chest, warm and alive and purring softly.

He knew he was going to live.

Edit: Donate to Palestinians in Gaza

Why did you give the last of your food to that poorly disguised mimic? You were finally at peace with letting go, but now this odd thing won’t leave you alone and is even turning itself into various items in an attempt to aid you.

[skulla-rxcks]

Fuck or die

Paring: idol!Chan x fan!afab reader

Rating: explicit

Genre: smut

Warnings: smut, forced to fuck (not by chan or reader), could be dddne, shock content with one thing.

Ktober 5

Being trapped with someone you idolise and getting forced to fuck isn’t something you’d expect from waking up one morning. Partly inspired by the hentai/visual novel euphoria.

Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl @mal-lunar-28 @bangchans-gf5 @fun-fanfics @iwannabangchan @linosluver

Please dm me or use my inbox if you’d like to be added to the taglist ^^

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

I wake up in a white room, my head and ears ringing. I don’t know where I am nor how I got here. I look around and take in what’s around me, nothing. Absolutely nothing. Well accept one thing there’s a man lying in the corner he looks strangely familiar to me. I walk closer to him and see who he is; Chan, Bang Chan, an idol from one of the groups I love. I almost freak out in happiness but I need to keep my cool. I should wake him up then maybe we can figure out together what’s going in, it’s weird that it’s us and not some other duo. He doesn’t even know who I am.

I decide to tap him on the shoulder. “Chan..? Wake up, please.” I whisper, he lets out a sleepy groan in response and opens his eyes slowly, rubbing them to make him more awake. “Hmm,..? Who are you and where are we?” He asks me, clearly confused about the situation.

“I’m.. y/n, if you’re wondering how I know your name I’m a stay..and for where we are I have no idea. I woke up here too.. like a few minutes ago.” I sigh and explain about myself and what I know so far.

“Right, we may have gotten kidnapped by someone which explains this room. There doesn’t seem to be any windows or doors only cameras..” Chan says while looking around.

Suddenly we hear the sound of a microphone being turned on, and a voice starts talking to us. “I see you both have woken up now. Welcome! I’ve set up a few games for you guys! Do as I say, or you die.” As the voice says ‘die’ guns come out from little compartments in the wall and point at us before going back into the wall. “What do you want us to do?” Chan says, putting his arm around me protectively even though I’m a stranger.

“Fuck or die. It’s simple.”

“I guess we could do that i.. I’m okay with that..” i mumble looking at him, he gives me a sigh and a nod with a concerned expression on his face.

The voice continues on “but there’s a catch. Each challenge gets harder and breaks your comfort zones. I’ve been studying both of you through cameras in your apartments.” It says.

“What are the challenges? Tell us. Now.” Chan demands, holding me close, acting as a protective shield.

“Well they’re simple really. I’ll drop a note down from the ceiling”. The ceiling opens up slightly, dropping a piece of paper before closing again. I pick up the note and hold it so it’s in both of our views

‘Challenge 1: cumming inside, hole: pussy

Challenge 2: pissing inside, hole(s): mouth and pussy

Challenge 3: taking advantage of her while she’s sleeping’

“the fuck is this? Is this some kind of sick joke?!” Chan yells, looking in the direction of the camera. “No way in hell I’m pissing in and raping a fucking stranger!” His grip on me gets tighter, his brows furrowed as he yells at the strange voice. “Then die-“

“Okay okay we’ll do it just please, don’t hurt us!” I start tearing up, knowing that if we don’t do this we’ll get killed.

“Are you sure?” Chan asks me, I nod. “Then it’s agreed! Start the challenges and remember I’m always watching. Bye bye now!” The voice says his final sentence before turning off its microphone. Leaving us alone in the white room with cameras pointed at us, they’re too high up to reach even if we tried to turn them off. “I’m ready.. let’s just get this over with.” I sob, stripping down until I’m fully nude before helping him out of his clothes.

“Lay down and open your legs..I’ll help stretch you out with my fingers otherwise it’s gonna hurt.” Chan says. I open my legs for him, he gently puts two fingers inside of me, using them to scissor me open. I bite my lip and try to hold in my moans. After a few minutes he pulls them out and positions himself at my entrance. “Deep breaths, y/n. Deep breaths.” He groans as he pushes himself inside of me. He’s surprisingly big it hurts. “It’s okay..it’s okay. You’re doing great. Keep breathing.” He encourages as he thrusts into me faster. He’s grunting as he thrusts into me deeper than ever. It feels good, but I know it won’t last long, he’s going to have to cum inside me. there’s a high chance I’ll get pregnant from it but anything to not die, especially in a place where no one would find our bodies. He cums inside of me and collapses next to me as we rest, panting heavily. He looks like he’s about to pass out.

I put my arms around him, holding him closely for support. “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” He whispers, nuzzling my neck and holding me tight. “let’s do the next one in the morning I can’t take this anymore.” I start crying, horrified for the 2 challenges we have left. “Yea..yeah I agree. Let’s do what we can.” He whispers as he holds my body against his. We lay there, hugging each other in the dark, neither one speaking. I feel safe here, in his arms. it’s comforting and reminds me that at least we have each other right now; even if we’re complete strangers.

the next day, we wake up, we fell asleep on the ground last night, still fully naked since theres nothing else in this room that we could sleep on. “are you ready for the next challenge or do you need some time?” he asks me, stroking my hair.

“let’s just do it.” I pick up the note and read the next challenge. ‘pissing in mouth and pussy’ I gag a little, grossed out by the idea of being pissed in the two of my most important holes. I hand the note to Chan and he reads it as well, cringing at every word he reads. “okay.” he sighs. “mouth first or..” “mouth.” I say, I feel my face heat up. I get down on my knees, mentally preparing myself for what’s about to happen. He gently thrusts his dick into my mouth and begins uritating. I whince as I force myself to swallow every drop. He grabs my head with his hands so he wouldn't spill it everywhere. Once he’s finished, he pulls his cock out of my mouth and stands up, grabbing my hand.

“I’m sorry y/n.. god I feel awful after doing that.” He says as he rubs my hand. “it’s fine.” I say stubbornly. “you still have to do it to the other end of me anyways.” I give him a weak smile, sitting down with my legs open. “you’re probably gonna have to get tested for so many things once we get out of here. I’ll take you and pay though.” Chan growls, pushing himself inside my vagina once again. This is the worst feeling I have ever felt, he was pushing all the way in so hard it was almost painful. I start shaking. I don’t think I can handle this. not long after he releases his bladder and balls inside of me, emptying them both.

He stops once he’s done, pulling out of my body quickly.

“ew..” I tear up as I think about what the voice just made us do. My eyes start hurting because of how hard I'm crying.. “don’t cry, baby. I didn’t like it either. I never thought I’d be forced to.. relieve myself inside of a person, especially a stranger.” he hugs me, I blush at the sudden contact and as he calls me ‘baby’. He doesn’t know it means a lot to me, but he does. I hug him tightly, wanting to keep him close. “i think I.. I think I love you.” he says, pulling away from the hug and placing his head against mine. “me too.” I reply bringing him back into my arms.

After that he sits down with me and lets me sit comfortably in between his legs, wrapping his arm around me while he pets my hair, trying to calm me down. I sniffle and look at him, he smiles softly as I stare at him. “What happens when the challenges end?” I ask him quietly. “we get out.” he says as he holds me close, kissing my head. “We stay together until then. and maybe after if you’d like.” He says smiling at me. i fall asleep in his arms.

while I’m asleep. Chan takes this time to do the final challenge, raping me in my sleep. he doesn’t want to do this, but he has to, to get both of us out alive. He slowly pulls down my panties and shoves himself inside of me, tears streaming down his face as commits the assault on me.

“fuck.. fuck this situation, fuck whoever made me do these stupid challenges.” He gasps as he goes deeper inside me, his tears dripping onto my body. “Channie.., please stop..I don’t like this,..I.. I want you to stop.” I whisper in my sleep, trying to push away the fear.

“Fuck, y/n...please.. I’m sorry, I really am... I wish you were awake so I could make it easier on you, but I can’t.. this was the final challenge. just shut up and take it.” he cusses, kissing me deeply to shut me up and to stop me from screaming. I whimper and shake my head no, I hate this, I don’t want to take it.. he keeps shoving himself inside of me. “stop fighting me..” he mumbles, moving his hips faster to cause more pain for me. I finally snap awake, tears pouring down my cheeks as I try to pull myself out of his grip but I can’t, he’s fully pinning me down as he rapes me. “this is the last challenge y/n, just fucking take it so we don’t die.” I stop complaining, knowing there’s no way out of this. I fall asleep being tired from my attempts to stop him, I just let him do it, soon enough we will be out of here.

I wake up to feel Chan’s warmth lying beside me. I snuggle closer towards him, wrapping my arms around his torso and resting my head on his chest. “Good Morning…” he whispers, running his fingers through my hair. “morning..” I reply as I snuggle even closer. “I’m so sorry about last night. I had to, to keep us alive.” he kisses my forehead. “it’s fine.” I sigh, “let’s just get out of here, a door appeared so let’s just go through that.” we get dressed and walk up to the door, hand in hand we push open the door, met with the smell of fresh air. “we should probably get you a pregnancy test from the amount of times I came inside of you.” he chuckles, leading me into town. “food after?” I ask. “food after” Chan smiles

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 19

part 1, prev part

Dustin’s crying when Wayne walks into the room. Rushing to wipe away the tears when he realizes Wayne’s presence. His hand gripped in Eddie’s while he sleeps. Wayne almost feels like he’s intruding.

“I can go if you need a minute,” he says. Halfway stepping out the door.

Dustin shakes his head, hand releasing Eddie’s to wipe away the rest of the tears. “No, it’s fine.”

Wayne hesitates before sitting down. Debating whether or not the kid is lying for his benefit. But it’s better to let the kid decide for himself than Wayne to decide for him. So he sits in the same chair he always does. Waiting for Dustin to ready himself.

“He was a wake a few minutes ago, you missed it.”

“I’m sorry if he said anything,” Wayne says on instinct. Ready to apologize for the things that Eddie can’t control. “He’s so confused right now that he can’t tell here nor there. Don’t take anything too personally-.”

“He remembered me,” Dustin interrupts. Awe vibrating through his voice.

Wayne’s brain recalibrates. “What?”

Dustin turns toward Wayne. A hope that Wayne has never seen from him gracing his face. “My name. He said my name. He remembered me.”

A smile so unfamiliar at this point cracks on Wayne’s face. The muscles in his face having to remember how to form it. “He did?”

“Yeah.” Dustin smiles. A real bright smile that could light an entire room. “I was reading to him and finished the book. He opened his eyes and was listening, like he has been. And then he started talking, apologized for yesterday, and I think for what happened before. Then he said my name.”

“That’s,” Wayne’s struggling to find words. Anything to express what he’s feeling. “That’s really good, kid.”

There’s that bubbling sort of hope starting up again in Wayne’s chest. The feeling like there’s a chance his boy will wake up again and actually remember him. Say something other than cheap swears meant to hurt and nothing else. Finally, be able to heal. Maybe in a place outside of the blank hospital walls. In a place that feels like home.

If Wayne can find a place by then.

It’s not without a lack of trying, it’s with a lack of funds. His paychecks being tugged in different directions. Most of it going into savings to pay for what is about to be an astronomically high medical bill, the rest going to the money pit of his motel room. Leaving Wayne to use pennies to take care of himself.

Wayne doesn’t know how he’s going to pull himself out of this debt. Having a feeling that it’s going to haunt him for a long time. Hoping that it’s going to be a burden that only he has to have. Not one that he will have to pass down to the person he’s doing all of this for.

“You said you finished the book,” Wayne starts conversation. A dual effort to cheer the kid up and get himself out of this thought train. “You got me all invested and couldn’t even wait for me to finish it. Best you can do is tell me how it ends.”

There’s a certain light that brights people’s eyes when talking about the things they love. Makes the people that notice a bit happier when it does. Knowing that there’s something someone loves so much that it makes time a little brighter for a while. Instead of the suffocating darkness that it can be.

It’s the same light that clicks on when Dustin starts to relay the last few chapters of the book. Talking like someone who’s read it a million times, wanting to interject with their own thoughts of the events. Intertwining information learned in later books and materials when they aren’t necessary for the summary. Often pausing and going back on his words after getting ahead of himself.

Wayne sees so much of Eddie in this kid. It’s insane how two people couldn’t be more related when sharing no blood at all. How mannerisms imprint from simply spending time with each other. And how sharing the same interests can form a bond so special that he hopes it never breaks.

What he said to Steve was true, it was no problem looking out for this kid. It was no problem at all. Mainly because helping this kid was helping a part of him too.

It reminded him that there was at least one person out there that cared for Eddie enough to come and sit by him when Wayne couldn’t. That someone else believed in Eddie’s innocence from the beginning and took the time to try and help him. And, while he wouldn’t wish it on anyone, someone that shares his pain.

Dustin was one of the reasons that Wayne remains as hopeful as he is. It’s harder to lose hope completely when that means breaking it for someone else. Easier for it to remain when there’s a person smiling at every step forward, instead of getting weighed down by the steps back.

And somewhere along the small conversations to try and get their minds off the subject at hand, Wayne started getting invested. Started paying more attention to how Dustin’s doing in school, at home. Checking in a making sure he was taking care of himself, and not stretching himself too thin.

It was easy to start caring about him.

“Oh shit, I almost forgot.” Dustin pulls a take out container out of his lunchbox and hands it to Wayne. “It’s from my mom, she wanted to give it to you. Please don’t refuse it, she gives out food to literally everyone.”

Wayne takes the container, seeing some sort of pasta dish under the clear lid. “Tell her I said thank you.”

Dustin zips up his bag and stands, saying goodbye to Wayne before leaving. Just him and Eddie left in the room.

Despite what people may think about Eddie, about his friends, they’re good kids. All of them. They were some of the kindest people Wayne’s ever met.

next part

tag list, let me know if you want to be added or removed: @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Ready Or Not, Here I Come

Pairing: TFP Knockout x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains mentions of soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 2875

Summary: Being kidnapped by a giant alien robot who also happens to be one of the most narcissistic assholes on this side of the galaxy wasn't something you planned for today. Unfortunately, things happen, and now you must hide and escape from a mech who certainly doesn't want to let you go.

Knockout fic time ya'll eat up. This is actually my first time writing for him and I did A LOT of research on his mannerisms and personality to make sure I got him right. I also really wanted to play into the fearplay factor and show how terrifying it would be for one of us humans to be hunted by what is essentially an apex predator that has its notoriety spread to numerous planets who have interacted with Cybertronians, especially Decepticons. Feedback and comments are much appreciated! Enjoy trying to escape from this handsome idiot :)

You are screwed.

Like, absolutely, positively screwed.

You huddle in the corner of the empty boxcar, your entire body shivering from cold and fear. The evening is dark, with no light except from the moon to illuminate the deserted trainyard around you. Your breath is labored and quick, coming out in puffs of dragon’s smoke while you tremble and hug yourself tighter, sinking into the little warmth your winter coat provides.

  You feel a vibration pulse beneath you.

  All of your senses are on overdrive. You go still while you strain your ears for the slightest sound of movement, holding your breath and pressing your hands into your forearms.

  Silence.

  There’s only the roar of your own heart.

  Maybe it was from a car, you think to yourself. Or a truck. There’s a road not far from here. It had to be that.

  Convincing yourself you are safe is not working.

  Your body still shakes, and your instincts know, they can sense that you aren’t out of the woods yet. The thing that took you is still out there.

  You want to mutually sob and laugh from the utter disbelief of it. Monsters are real. And you are being hunted by one.

  “Boom.”

  The boxcar trembles.

  Your heart stops and you feel the chilling sensation of numbness prickle over your skin.

  The night is silent.

  “Boom.”

  Footsteps echo in the distance.

  They aren’t human. They’re too heavy, too loud.

  He knows where you are. He’s coming for you.

  Panic sets in. Scrambling to your feet, you leave your little corner and poke your head out of the boxcar’s open door. Fog has set in and turned the trainyard into an eerie maze with paths draped in mist. Your sense of direction is thrown off by the hazy images of the other boxcars all around you. Everything looks exactly the same. This place is huge; how are you supposed to find your way out of it? You can’t even recall the way you took to get to this point!

  “Boom.”

  He’s getting closer.

  “Shitshitshit.” You turn in a circle and pull at your hair while your chest constricts and you feel a familiar tugging from behind your eyes that means oncoming tears. You don’t know what to do. What can you do? How are you supposed to get out of this? You're running out of time!

  Don’t panic. That’s rule number one. Panicking will only make you an easier target. You force your arms to drop. Inhaling deep through your nose and letting it out of your mouth, you close your eyes and urge yourself to relax.

  You will find a way out of here. When the creature brought you here, you saw a gas station about a mile away down the main road that borders the trainyard. If you can make it there, someone will have to help you. You just have to remain unseen until then.

  “BOOM.”

  The boxcar shakes. You wobble a little, and your hope drops.

  “Helloooo!” A prim male voice announces itself. “Little human! I know you're here!”

  You duck out of view and press yourself against the boxcar’s wall. Footsteps echo with the smooth whirrr of mechanical joints moving a massive robotic body through the alleyways of train cars.

  You don’t understand why he’s doing this. You were minding your own business, going about your life like any regular person does, when all of a sudden this…car zoomed straight for you and flashed you with a blinding blue light. Everything had gone black then, and when you woke up, you were trapped in a vehicle with no driver. A vehicle that was talking. Thank god it was still a vehicle with a steering wheel and brakes, because you managed to get into the front seat and crash it into a ditch. That’s how you ended up here. You were running and hiding from a car-turned-giant robot who’s probably pissed you scuffed up his paint job.

  You hear a growl that sends shivers down your spine.

  Okay. He’s definitely pissed.

  “Oh, I know you fleshies love your little games,” the robot lilts, “but I’m not particularly in the mood to play one. So, either you come out now, or I will have to force you out of hiding. Trust me human, you really don’t want to know what I’m like when I get serious.”

  You have to get out of here. If you don’t run now, he’s going to find you, and you’ll never have another chance to escape again. Gathering up what little courage you have, you once again peek outside.

  A pair of massive red eyes stare right back at you.

  A scream is ripped from your lungs. You fall flat on your ass, pushing yourself away from the giant robot looking in. The mech cackles. “Oh, that was priceless! You fleshies are so easy to startle!”

  “F-Fuck off!” you yell hoarsely at him. “Get the fuck away from me!”

  He laughs again and reaches a clawed hand into the boxcar. You shriek and fumble to avoid the oncoming digits. The corner once again becomes your safe haven when you curl up into it, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

  The robot smirks. “All bark and no bite, hmm? I was expecting that. All of you fleshbags are the same. You think you're so tough, until something bigger comes along to snap at you.”

  You give him the most withering glare you can muster, but you guess it doesn’t exactly do the job, since he only chuckles. “If you weren’t such a revolting mass of organic waste, I would actually find you rather cute, you know. Ah, shame. And here I was thinking about being rather gentle with you.”

  “W-What do you want with me?!” You stand up on shaky legs that nearly give out beneath you. “Why did you kidnap me? What did I do?”

  “You really want to know the truth?” he asks.

  “Yes, obviously!”

  He shrugs. “Alright. I was bored. I saw you and decided, hey, why not have a little bit of fun before I go? Is that a satisfactory answer for you, human?”

  You blink dumbfoundedly. “So you…you kidnapped me and drove me out into the middle of bumblefuck nowhere because you were bored?!”

  “Well, I hardly think being bored is a simple reason,” he replies matter-of-factly. “Boredom can be quite the bane to one’s existence. It can lead to all sorts of medical complications. Depression, stress, irritable tank syndrome-”

  “Cut the crap!” You interrupt him with a gnash of your teeth. “This isn’t funny! Take me back to where you picked me up, right now!”

  “It’s quite funny to me.” The mech drums his claws idly against the boxcar’s floor. “You know what else is funny? The fact that you actually think you're in control of this situation. Tell me, what if I were to say no?”

  You open your mouth to retort, but find no sound comes out. The mech raises an eyebrow. His shit-eating grin widens. “What, got nothing to say? That’s fine, I really didn’t expect you to have an answer. Here’s the thing: You're not going anywhere right now. So, kick back, relax. Maybe if you're a good little meatbag, I’ll consider letting you go.”

  “I’m not a meatbag!” You're really starting to hate this guy. “I’m a person! A human being!”

  “Human, meatbag, it’s all the same.” He waves a hand dismissively. “Now, are you going to make this easy for yourself? Or are we going to keep up this argument that is not only petty, but also rather meaningless?”

  You slump back down and draw your knees close to your chest, lowering your head a little and wishing you weren’t shaking with fear. The mech takes great delight in this. He inhales deeply and sighs, shuddering ecstatically. “Ah, there it is again. That wonderful scent of terror. It’s absolutely tantalizing.”

  Your head shoots up. “Wait. What?”

  “You heard me. I didn’t take you just because I was bored, you know. I was also on the lookout for a snack.”

  “You…eat humans?” You gape at him, horrified.

  “Not typically. But ever since my home planet decided to, well, blow up ages ago, my kind have had to resort to some…secondary methods in order to survive.”

  “So, you’re-you’re an alien?”

  “No. I’m just a normal Aston Martin.” He oozes narcissism while he runs a hand expressingly down his shoulder armor. “Notice the expensive color? The gold rims? I’m a real work of art, you know. You should appreciate me more.”

  You feel like you are ready to explode. “Be serious! What are you?”

   He rolls his eyes. “Hmph. No sense of humor. Typical humans. Fine, since you want to be such a downer about everything, I’ll tell you. I’m a Cybertronian, fleshbag. My name is Knockout.” He tapped his chest like you were a child he was teaching basic English to. “And you are?”

  You grumble, reluctant to give up your identity, but feeling obligated to since he just revealed his. “It’s…Y/N.”

  “Hm. Y/N. Pretty name.” He smiles. “So, Y/N. Ready to come out of there and face the music?”

  You shake your head fervently. “N-No way!”

  His eyes glint with sinister mischief. “What if we were to play a little game?”

  “I’m not interested in playing any game with you.”

  “Come on. It’s not like you have anything better to do. Just hear me out. I’ll give you twenty Earth minutes to find your way out of here. If you do, I won’t follow you, and I’ll let you go. But if I do find you…” He slowly gouges his claws against the boxcar’s floor. The wood splits and shatters, leaving behind deep, messy wounds. An impending sense of doom fills you.

  “If I do find you, you're mine,” he says. “And you will accept that with no opposition.”

  You stand up in protest. “That's a terrible game!”

  He shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s perfectly reasonable. I’m giving you a chance to prove you aren’t as pathetic as you make yourself look. Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

  “The worst that could happen would be me being eaten by a giant fucking alien robot!”

  “You won’t die.” His voice grows uncharacteristically soft. For a moment, you actually think you see a hint of genuineness in his eyes. “I can promise you that. I don’t digest organics. It’s not good for my systems.”

  You scoff. “Yeah, right. As if I’d believe you.”

  “I can prove I’ll be fair with this.” He rises and takes a few steps back. “I’ll stay right here and even give you a head start! How thoughtful of me. I don’t display generosity like this very often, so my advice would be to take advantage of it.”

  You hesitate and consider your odds. If you remain in here, not only are you essentially trapped, but the mech can also easily shake you out. But if you take up his offer…you might actually have a chance to escape.

  The mech taps his foot impatiently. “I don’t have all night, Y/N. Come out, or I’ll drag you out.”

  Slowly, you inch out of the boxcar. He towers over you, a massive red giant who, now that you fully perceive him, looks more and more alien by the second. Cherry red and silver with accents of yellow peeking out between joints that come together to create something that should not be possible. He’s bulky, yet slim at the same time, with spiky points neatly jutting up from his knees and shoulders. The finials on his head give him a sharp, shark-like look. There’s an equal mixture of danger and beauty surrounding him, and it makes you even more uncomfortable with him being around you. You full heartedly believe he could snap you up in one bite if he wishes.

  He tilts his head with an air of curiosity and offers you a charming smile.  “There you are,” he coos. “Look at you. I knew you could do it. Good little human. You like what you see?”

  You have to look away so he won’t see the way your cheeks flush red. “No, I don’t,” you shakily retort. “Don’t patronize me.”

  “Aww, you're flustered. Don’t be embarrassed. There’s no shame in admitting you're attracted to me. I’m a real knockout when it comes to looks.”

  “Oh my god.” You slap a hand over your face. “Oh my god. You are horrible.”

  Knockout throws his head back and laughs. “Get used to it, fleshy. Your feelings will grow for me sooner or later. Now, go on, scurry along now. Remember, five minutes and I’m coming for you.”

  You can’t believe you’ve agreed to this. You don’t want to believe this is happening. A giant alien robot from outer space wants to hunt you down and take you away from your life. How the hell could your day have gone so wrong?

  You find yourself running. You’ve agreed to this game. Now you have to go through with it. You don’t want to know what will happen if you don’t.

  Your feet clumsily hit the ground and create loud, uneven steps. Too loud. Too obvious. How long has it been? A minute? Or thirty seconds? Nervous sweat beads your brow. Hiding within another boxcar would be too easy. You must use this maze to your advantage. There is no elaborate plan of deception rising up within your mind. When you spontaneously decide to shimmy your way beneath a boxcar, only one thing is certain: you just need to hide.

  The tracks are cold and uncomfortable to lay over. You squirm and hiss through your teeth when the metal presses up against your stomach and legs, but you bear with it and remain in place. There is no sound. Just your breath. Just your heart.

  “Boom. Boom. Boom.”

  Mighty steps shake the ground forcefully. A twin pair of mechanical red-and-silver feet stomp past you, a methodical movement thundering down the line of cars as that of an animal pacing back and forth with hungry impatience, watching first one boxcar and then another, alert for movement inside. There is laughter beyond your cover, mocking you.

  The thunder fades to simple vibrations. You must move. You roll out and stand, going in the opposite direction as Knockout. Steady footsteps. You must remain calm. But your breathing is still uneven and your heart still fights within your chest like a caged bird. You are afraid. So, so afraid.

  “Scccccccrrraaape.”

  Metal screeches. You can hear him dragging his claws across a boxcar’s top.

  “I can smell you, you know,” he gloats sardonically. Hair prickles up the back of your neck. “Do you know what you smell like?” he continues. “Do you want to know?”

  “Boom. Boom. Boom.”

  “The purest energon from the richest of mines. So delicious, so tasty. Oh, I cannot wait to get my jaws around you, little human.”

  You aimlessly turn a corner and see a hulking vermillion frame right in front of you.

  You just…freeze. Like a deer caught in the headlights, you can do nothing but stare at the gigantic robot. He’s crouched on one knee, peering into a boxcar with his back turned to you. You make the terrible mistake of releasing a soft gasp. It’s no louder than the faintest of whispers, but he hears. Of course he hears.

  The robot’s head snaps towards you. Unblinking crimson eyes search for you in the dark, pupils expanding and contracting repeatedly. You remain still. The tension in your muscles burns, yet you refuse to take your eyes off of him.

  He is a piece of tech beyond your understanding. But even robotics can have trouble seeing through fog.

  The mech inhales deeply through his mouth. His pupils become so large they nearly swallow up the red of his eyes. A wide, toothy grin spreads across his face.

  “Hm. Using the fog to your advantage. Clever little one. You're making this much more fun.” He stands. “Unfortunately for you, this liquid vapor does not hide everything.”

  You are whipcord tight, standing there with your feet nailed to the ground. There is a disconnection between your brain and your limbs. The mech has you under a spell, crafting your fear into a paralyzing weapon. You are too terrified to even utter a sound.

  He approaches you, slowly. You have to crane your neck to meet his gaze when he stands directly over you. “My, my,” he croons. “Such a fragile, delicate little thing. You make this too easy for me. Oh yeah, I’m definitely keeping you.”

  Your voice cracks a little. “I thought I was just a revolting mass of organic waste?”

  “You are. But, I’m willing to change my mind. After all, you’ve made this such an entertaining night for me. I’ve come to realize that…I need to see your fear again. This can’t be a one-time thing. It makes me far too…hungry.”

  Your hands shake when you raise them pleadingly. “H-How hungry?”

  He smiles wickedly, tongue running over his teeth. “Starved.”

  You don’t have time to even think about screaming before he lunges, claws caging you in and mouth descending for you, ready to swallow you whole.

[merthosus]

Loved both parts of Meeting Again 💕 You write so beautifully! I saw you wanted more Diego requests, and I was thinking — a Jealous!Diego 🙈 You can pick any scenario or if you want to do a version where reader is the one who has met a connection while they’re apart in Season 2. Up to you! But just thought would be very fun and interesting to see your take on him being jealous. I appreciate you! There’s not enough Diego content out there — you’re single-handedly feeding us all!

Jealousy destroys

Summary: After being split from your family for almost 2 Years, you found someone, he was now a big part of your life. You knew, deep down in your heart, you were imagining someone different in him, but you pushed it away.

Thanks for you request love!! I am a Diego Girly myself so writing for him is making me very happy :) (Btw this picture I can't-)

“Only I get to call you that...but only when we’re alone”

“NO LISTEN TO ME!”, you say in a squeaky high voice. You point your finger at the tube TV in front of you. Although you liked the OLED TV with integrated LED, which projected the displayed color of the movie onto the wall, you adapted. No more flat-screen TVs, no more cell phones and no more ceramic hobs. It had been a big change to travel back to a time when industrialization was still in its infancy.

But Pietro helped you to find your way again, to forget. He was tall, very tall, every girl who looked at him threatened to faint. You met him in a disco. After a little number in the disco toilet, you were hooked. His smell, his eyes and his wonderfully soft hair made you kneel on the floor like a nun. But you still knew that he could never replace Diego. Every night before you fell asleep, you saw him in front of you, following your every thought like a ghost.

2 years were much, but not enough to forget him. "Babe, I need it, please", you beg him. You knew that the puppy eyes always worked at him. He glares at you, trying nit to fall for the little trick you were doing. He was aware of the little manipulation, but as soon as he saw your big eyes he couldn't stop imagining how your eyes would tear of happiness, as soon as he would yes. Apart from that he also couldn't get the picture out his head of those beautiful eyes filled with tears when his cock will enter your mouth after he plugged the new tv in.

"Alrighht", he says, watching your expression change. "I will buy it", he smiles I your direction. You stumble forward and climb onto his big torso. "I love you so much", you say as you hug him as tight as you could. Pietro’s deep chuckle rumbles in his chest as you cling to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. You can feel the warmth of his body through his shirt, the steady beat of his heart against your own. His large hands settle on your waist, holding you securely as you press your cheek against his broad shoulder.

“I know you do,” he murmurs, his voice filled with affection. He leans down slightly, his lips brushing the top of your head. “But you know this is just an excuse to get what you want, right?”. You pull back just enough to look up at him, your big eyes still wide with excitement and maybe a hint of mischief. “Of course it is,” you admit with a grin. Pietro held the door open for you, like the gentleman he was. The bell on the door rang, as you both entered. "Closed", a few voices from the railing above screamed down on you.

You were steadfast, very steadfast, nothing could possibly dissuade you from buying this tv. As you went up the stairs, you excused your rude behavior. "... so please let me buy the...", your voice stopped working, the same as your legs were, as you saw your whole family standing before you. The same as your eyes were wide open, theirs was too. "I said we are closed...", said the one unknowingly man beside Diego. As he tried stepping forward, Diegos arm stopped him. "Y/n?", Diego asks bewildered, he stepped forward himself but as soon as Pietro's big shadow appeared behind me he stopped.

Pietro puts his arm around your shoulders. "Listen man, she wants that tv, so she gets that tv", he arguments with him. Diego tilts his head as he saw him touching you. "Who are you?", he asks. The tension in the room grew thick, almost palpable, as Diego’s sharp gaze focused on Pietro. You could feel Pietro’s grip on your shoulder tighten, his protective instinct kicking in. He wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, especially not when it involved you.

“I’m Pietro,” he replied, his voice calm but firm, meeting Diego’s glare with one of his own. “And I’m her boyfriend. We’re just here to buy a TV, so if you could back off, that would be great.” Diego’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. “Boyfriend?” The word seemed to hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. He took a step closer, his posture tense, as if he was ready to confront Pietro right then and there. “You’ve been gone for two years, Y/N, and now you show up with this parasite?” His tone was laced with disbelief and something that almost sounded like hurt.

"Watch your words, amigo", Pietro says. "I...I", you stumbled over your words. Diego's eyes burned with intensity as he glared at Pietro, the jealousy and anger swirling in his chest almost too much to contain. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, knuckles turning white, as he took another step forward, closing the distance between them. “Watch my words?” Diego repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, especially not when it comes to her.” He pointed at you, his gaze flicking to yours briefly before returning to Pietro with renewed fury.

Pietro’s grip on your shoulder tightened, and you could feel the tension radiating from him, his muscles coiled and ready for a fight. But despite the growing hostility between the two men, you knew you had to intervene before things got out of hand. The air between the three of you was thick with tension, so much so that it felt like you could slice through it with a knife. Diego's dark eyes bore into Pietro, who stood his ground with a calm but defiant expression. You could feel Pietro’s protectiveness radiating off him, his grip on your shoulder firm as if silently promising he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

But you knew Diego well enough to see the storm brewing beneath his tough exterior. His chest rose and fell with deep, controlled breaths, a clear sign that he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. Pietro, who had been silent, finally spoke up, his tone cool and collected. “She’s moved on, man. You need to respect that. She’s with me now.”

Diego’s eyes narrowed at Pietro’s words, his jaw clenching so hard you were sure he’d break a tooth. “Respect? You’re talking to me about respect?” He let out a bitter laugh, one devoid of any real amusement. “I don’t think you understand, amigo. Respect is earned, and you haven’t earned a damn thing.” Pietro smirked, clearly unfazed by Diego’s hostility. “I think you’re just mad because you couldn’t give her what she needed. She needed someone strong enough to help her move on, and that wasn’t you”, you could hear out his words, that he assumed that he was your ex.

Diego’s face contorted with rage at Pietro’s words, and before you could even react, he lunged forward, fist flying towards Pietro. The sound of the punch landing echoed through the room, and you gasped as Pietro stumbled back, his hand immediately going to his jaw. “Diego, stop!” you cried out, stepping between the two men before the situation could escalate further. Your hands pressed against Diego’s chest, trying to create some distance between him and Pietro. Diego’s eyes, dark with anger, met yours, and you could see the conflict warring within him wanting to hurt the man who had taken his place, but not wanting to hurt you.

Pietro straightened up, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he looked at Diego with a mix of pity and disdain. “See, this is why she left. You’re too wrapped up in your own anger to see what she really needs.” “Pietro, don’t,” you warned, your voice firm. The last thing you wanted was for him to provoke Diego further.

But Pietro wasn’t backing down. “She needs someone who can be there for her, not someone who’s stuck in the past.” Diego’s fists clenched again, and you could feel the tension radiating off him like a live wire. “You don’t know a damn thing about what she needs,” he spat, his voice laced with venom. “Stop it, both of you!” you shouted, your voice cracking under the strain of the situation. “This isn’t helping anyone!”, you said angrily. Diego looks down on you, your hands still lingering in his chest. "I missed you so fucking much", he whispers as he lays one hand on your cheek.

"I thought I would never see you again", he mumbles as he looked you deep into your eyes. The intensity in Diego's voice caught you off guard, making your breath hitch in your throat. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as his thumb brushed lightly across your cheek. You could see the raw emotion in his eyes, a mixture of longing, pain, and something deeper that you couldn't quite name. It was as if the two years of distance and silence had all melted away in this moment, leaving only the unspoken feelings between you.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back, your voice trembling. The truth was, despite everything, you had missed him more than you wanted to admit. No matter how much you tried to move on, there was always a part of you that longed for the connection you once shared. "Bitch", you heard Pietro mumble almost silent behind you. But you heard it, meaning Diego did too. His loving expression faded and his head swung up in his direction again.

With a light twist in his shoulder, you heard a knife fly in Pietro's direction. You didn't needed to turn around to register what just happened. Seeing Five groan with annoyance behind Diegos shoulder, Allison slapping her hand on her forehead and Luther looking shocked, you knew exactly what he did.

“You know,” Diego said softly, his voice low and rough with emotion, “only I get to call you that.” A small, almost teasing smile tugged at his lips as he added, “But only when we’re alone.” Before you could respond, Diego’s lips met yours in a kiss that was fierce and possessive, yet filled with a deep, undeniable affection. It was a kiss that spoke of everything you both had been through, the years of longing, the pain of separation, and the fire that still burned between you.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. Diego’s dark eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of love and determination. “No one disrespects you. Ever,” he murmured, his voice firm. “Not while I’m around.”

Hope you liked the little story :)

[vioartemis]

I’ll die with you (part 3)

(Tara Carpenter x fem! reader)

Summary: Your rest was short, another attack soon occurs, deadlier than the first one. Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 Warnings: blood, death of character, angst (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

“I swear I’m gonna need to bleach my eyes” you heard Sam say when you went downstairs with Tara, half an hour later

“Come on, we were fully clothed, you didn’t see anything” Tara rolled her eyes and sit at the table

“That’s not the point! Since when are you even doing that? You’re too young to-”

"I mean they're adults so..." Gale started

"Would you mind stop talking about our sex life?" you groaned, cheeks still red

"What do you want us to talk about?"

"I don't know, the weather, whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza..."

"Well that's an easy question" Sam declared, taking a slice of pizza and giving one to everyone

"I suppose we all agree they don't" you girlfriend said

"We do, indeed" Gale confirmed while you nodded

"Uh, no we don't"

A debate started, Sam against the three of you. It almost looked like a normal family dinner, a normal night. You nearly forgot you were the next target of a psycho killer. Until you all jumped when your phone rang.

Probably: Damian Walker.

You never realized you never gave him your phone number. Mindy or Chad probably did.

"It's okay, it's Damian"

"Y/n-" Tara tried to interrupt

But you already took your phone and walked away from the table, picking up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, how are you feeling tonight?"

"Tired and embarrassed, but other than that, pretty good"

"What...?"

"It's a long story" you sighed "Why do you call?"

"Oh, I wanted to know if you were having fun..." the slight sound of an electronic device could be heard "while I was gutting your friends like fishes."

All color vanished from your face.

"W-what...?"

Tara stood up hearing your shaking voice, worried. Whoever called you, they hang up without answering.

"Hello?! Please don't hurt them!" you cried

"Baby wha-"

"He's gonna kill Mindy and Chad we have to go!"

“No no no. We go, you stay here”

“And get attacked again? No thank you” you protested, dialing 911

When you arrived at Mindy and Chad’s not even five minutes later, the door was slightly opened. You could hear fight noises coming from inside. There was still a chance to save them.

You opened the door and rushed inside, baseball bat in hand. The first thing you saw was Ghostface, standing over the twins.

He slowly turned his head to look at you and did his signature blade-cleaning, before running away.

You were tempted to chase after him, but your friends mattered more. When you came closer to them, your heart dropped. There was blood everywhere.

Chad’s shirt was torn apart due to multiple stab. Mindy had her back against a wall, blood coming from her stomach.

Your own wounds burned at the sight, tears coming to your eyes. You couldn’t move, paralyzed.

“Shit…” you heard Sam say next to Chad

You had no idea how much time passed, but at one point Mindy coughed, causing your head to jolt in her direction. She was regaining consciousness!

Be fire you could realize it you were kneeling next to her, applying pressure on her wound.

“You’re gonna be okay, we called an ambulance, they should-”

Suddenly Damian brushed into the room.

“Oh my god-”

“Where the fuck were you?”

“I- I went to the bathroom a-and someone knocked me out… I- I just woke up”

You looked him up and down. Blood was running down his face from his forehead. But he could have done it himself.

“Stay the fuck back” Mindy said when he tried to come closer

"N-no I- I'm not... It's not me I swear... Y/n y-you believe me right...?"

You really wanted to. But last time he didn't have an alibi, and now...

"I'm sorry..."

You could see how broken he was hearing your words. Maybe he wasn't the killer after all. Or he was a good actor, which wasn't to exclude.

You were waiting in the waiting room, Tara sitting on your lap and caressing your hair gently in an attempt to reassure you. You were starting to believe her when the doctors came.

You all got up immediately, heart beating faster than ever.

"Mrs Meeks should be okay, but she needs rest"

"And Chad?" Sam asked

"I'm... sorry. We did our best but... we couldn't save him..."

You had to sit back down, in shock. You never thought that would happen again. You thought losing friends was over. You should've known it would end up this way, with Ghostface's return.

Maybe you were just in denial. Believing if you convinced yourself it wouldn't happen everything would be fine. But nothing was fine.

The 2022 massacre left a indelible mark on you. The current events only reopened the scar you thought had healed.

Maybe if you had stick all together he would still be alive. If you had been all together Ghostface wouldn't have tried anything. If you had left this stupid town when you could...

Maybe it was all your fault after all.

You were the first target, but you survived. No first targets survived before Tara. And you weren't even sure they wanted her dead at that moment.

Maybe the killer wanted to make you suffer before killing you. Maybe it was all part of their plan to let you live. Maybe they were about to destroy everything you had. Maybe-

You felt hands on your face and looked down to see Tara, concern written on her face. She brushed your cheeks with her thumbs softly. It was only then that you realized that you were crying.

That was the moment Lexi chose to arrive, breathing heavily and sweating. She must have run here.

"I- I'm sorry I had piano lesson- I just- I just saw your texts-" she took a deep breath "Mindy- is she going to be okay? And- and Chad?"

You didn't have the strength to tell her. Not now, it was still to fresh. Instead you broke down in your girlfriend's arms. You could swear she was crying too.

A loud noise made you tilt your head up. Lexi had pinned Damian to the wall, gripping him by the collar of his shirt.

"What did you do to them? You were here to why didn't you help?"

"I- I got knocked out...! I already told them...!" he made a circle toward you with his arm "L- Lexi I swear I didn't- I can't breath can you-"

"I don't fucking believe you. That's easy pretending you passed out."

Her grip only grew tighter. Damian's face started to become red. He was struggling against the blonde.

Sam had to force them appart, holding a furious Lexi away from the poor boy trying to catch his breath.

After everyone had calmed down, the police arrived and questioned the group. They didn't seem to believe Damian's alibi either.

"Maybe we should take him into custody for a little while? Just to make sure he's not, you know, the killer?" a deputy asked the sheriff

"We can't do that without evidences, that would be abusing of our power as representants of the law-"

"Do it" all head turned to the boy "T- take me into custody, you'll see it's not me. If it's the only way I can prove my innocence... I'll do it"

"You sure about that son?"

"Y-yeah"

"Okay then... come with me" the deputy said after the sheriff nodded

"The hospital is secure, we have police officers at each floor, you should be safe here. Don't go out, don't stay alone until morning. Understood?"

You weren't totally sure you could believe him. You remembered well how it ended last time. Ghostface always managed to pass past the security, why would that change now?

When the police left, you were allowed to see Mindy. She was devastated. Fortunately, her girlfriend was here for her.

Yours was holding your hand tight, fingers intertwined with yours. She knew it could've been you as much as you knew it could've been her. At the moment, you were so glad she was safe.

But it was just temporary. It always was.

Ghostface knew when to hit you. Not too soon after the previous attack, not too long after. Just as you started to think it would get better -or at least not worse. Just when hope started coming back.

The moment it hurt the most.

"Can you guys stay here for the rest of the night...?"

"Of course, we're not leaving you alone after that..."

Everyone started to move things around to get confortable for the night. You and Tara sat on the floor, on a blanket, in a corner.

You could hear soft snores, your little group falling asleep one after another. You didn't know how they could sleep in that situation. You couldn't.

Every time you closed your eyes, Ghostface appeared before you, ready to kill all your friends one by one.

You watched as Tara was sleeping on your shoulder. She seemed peaceful. You played with her hair, trying you imagine you were in your room, and it was a normal night.

you didn't realize she was awake, caught into your daydream, until she spoke.

"Are you okay...?" she whispered

You jumped a little.

"I... don't know... you?"

"Same... I just- I just hoped it wouldn't happen again... It's stupid but- I thought it would be different..."

"It's not stupid... I would rather say unrealistic... but- that's horrible but... I'm glad it wasn't you... I don't know what I would do if- if you-"

The words got stuck in your throat, tears blurring your vision again. The simple thought of losing her was unbearable.

"Hey..." she whipped your tears off of your face gently "It's not going to happen okay? I'm not dying, not now. I swear"

She kissed you tenderly, trying to whip your worries away, hand still holding yours. You kissed her back, like it was the last time.

Because it might be. We never know.

"Try to rest a little okay...?"

You nodded, resting your head on hers once she got back in her previous position against you.

You tried not to think about what just happened, or how it could get worse. You tried to empty your mind, only leaving one thought there: Tara.

But it was always when you thought the situation wouldn't get worse that it does.

You should have known the worst was yet to come.

And it would come fast.

[Previous part] || [Next part]

[meet-the-net]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐦.

A continuation of this drawing in 6153 Words. Hope you enjoy :)

“Howdy… I reckon you’re the owner of this place?” the hard-hatted man asks. Anxious about having to give an in-depth description of his person, Ned puts his arms behind his back and counts the ridges of his sleeve with his fingertips. As he’s about to open his mouth, however, the stranger continues; “You wouldn’t mind pointing us in the direction of the barracks? We seem to have misplaced our map of the grounds.” he mentions through his teeth and throws a quick glance back at a person, concealed completely by gloves and a gas mask, who simply waves. Cocking his head to the side indicates to the stranger well enough that Ned has no clue what a barrack is, so his response is a chuckle and a “Y’know? The rooms we oughta reside in?”. For the previous few days and nights, Ned had been disturbed by the sounds of construction, surrounding him from all sides, keeping him awake throughout the twilight, and on edge through the light of day. When he’d found they – and who else would ‘they’ be but the workers for Team Fortress Industries – had been tearing down walls and emptying the rooms of his parents’ home, in order to expand and refurnish it, he’d felt like crying. Instead, he’d gone down to the beach and stood in the freezing saltwater for a few hours, until a single, croaky scream escaped him. When he had returned to the place where he learned to walk, its wooden front door was ripped out, a gaping hole in its stead. Cold men in grey uniforms, upon inquiry in form of ‘What the hell are you doing?’, informed him that it would become a ‘…respawn room. Ya see that door in the back? Yeah, we’re puttin’ up housing for the blue team or whatever.’ ‘Huh, look at that ­– they freakin’ spelled it wrong!‘.

Without uttering a word, Ned points up the freshly installed stairs of his shop to the small ledge before two garage doors that would lead to the barracks. Those doors, along with the entire second floor, had also been added in the renovations, but they didn’t hurt half as bad as the gutting of his parents’ home. “Thank ya kindly. C'mon, boys, quit foolin' around now.“ he directs towards the team. One of them, a lanky one, drops the fish that he’d been unsuccessfully trying to hit a silent man wearing a combat helmet with, right where he stands and, pushing past his teammates, races upstairs with a resounding “Last one there is a smelly sardine!”. Everyone follows at their own pace, but when the last one, a spectacled man in a long white coat, his nose buried in a clipboard, puts a foot on the first step, he halts and looks up. “Vait. Are you…? Zhat can’t be right, you cannot *possibly* be zhe guy.” he utters, now turned towards Ned, then flips through a few pages and looks back at the disgruntled looking fisherman. “Hoo! But you are! Hey, Dell!” he shouts, and the man who asked for directions replies with a simple “What?!”. “You better come take a look at zhis!”. Unhurried footsteps make their way back down the stairs, where the other was holding up his clipboard for Dell to see. He reads a passage, snaps his goggles onto his forehead and re-reads it, squinting. “That guy?” he whispers, giving Ned a short, sidelong glance. “Ja.” “You sure?” “Ja!” “Figured he was just a shop-keeper.”. “Oho, zhat is vhere you’re wrong, mein friend.” the man with the cross decal on his shoulder responds, unable to keep up the low volume. In an exaggerated gesture, he points at Ned with an open hand, palm facing the ceiling. “ZHAT is ZHE Net.” he exclaims, the undertone of it sounding mocking, not genuinely impressed by the infirm, insecure looking man. One who had to look around, unsure if they were actually talking about someone else, before silently waving at them, no less. “Shoot, and we just ran right past ya! You coulda spoke up, y’know?” Dell says, wearing a warm smile to the surprise of Ned, who plasters on a veneer of reciprocating friendliness. The man readjusts his goggles to sit over his eyes again and approaches with an outstretched hand, which Ned agrees to shake with his own clammy, ice-cold hand. The slight twitch of the corner of Dells mouth is the only reaction he gives, involuntarily. “My name’s Dell, and that fella over yonder is Lorenz. You must be, uh, Ned, right Doc?” he asks the man clutching his clipboard and wearing an extremely strained smile. “Richtig!” Lorenz calls, followed by a sotto voce chuckle. “I’ll be damned. Ned the Net. Whoever came up with your classification oughta be tossed out on their ear!" the Texan states and laughs for a bit, but gradually stops as Ned simply stares. Although he could’ve told Dell he didn’t understand what being ‘tossed out on one’s ear’ means, he keeps it to himself, embarrassed enough that none of his team members even knew of him. Dell clears his throat, nervously readjusts his construction helmet, and, persistently smiling, offers “Well, I’ll give ya a minute to catch your breath after us barging in like that. You’re welcome to join us in the common room anytime­. Provided they actually built one this time.” and heads upstairs with Lorenz, who had been and is continuously staring at Ned with a sly grin.

Ned sighs relieved he’d been given time to adjust, and tucks a stray strand of hair beneath his mariners cap. Wet, dead and missing some scales after having been mishandled like that, the fish oozes some of its slime between the cracks of the wooden planks that make up the floor. Ned picks it up and disposes of it inside his kitchen. Housewarming gifts had always been prepared by his parents and always consisted of freshly baked pastries, small jars of various spices and, once he’d opened his shop, samples of Neds dried fish snacks. Sitting on his stool, his leg bouncing nervously, he ponders what components he has at home, but as he realizes he has none, he lays his head in his hands in a self-soothing effort. Not having enough time to dry any fish, he concludes the next best thing should do, especially since he figures their journey must’ve been long; food, specifically undried fish, more specifically fish sandwiches. Raw cod in a nice cream-mayonnaise sauce on home-made, thawed and oven-toasted white bread and a few slices of pickles and egg. A delicacy in Selbyen, which he’s certain can be appreciated by the foreigners as well, as the tourists that used to visit Selbyen always went ham for it.

Wrapped in little brown paper bags, each tied with a piece of natural fiber cord, the sandwiches lay on his kitchen counter, ready for delivery. After a short pep talk into his bathroom mirror, Ned loads them into a hand-woven basket and heads upstairs. The automatic garage doors recognize his shape and clear the way for entrance. Before him stands his old family home, a shell of its former self, hollowed out by hollow people, cold looking in the dusk. With a huff through his nose, trying to maintain a friendly façade, he enters the remodeled, doorless building and knocks on the far back door that didn’t exist a week ago. Nervously he waits, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and tracing his fingers along the twisted osiers that make up the baskets handle, a material soft enough to dig a fingernail into it and leave an indent, which he does. When the door opens into a softly lit hallway, the silhouette of a team member cutting through it, Ned rips his gaze from off the ground. A smile spreads across his face, almost automatically, but out of obligation instead of volition. He squints to see who’s letting him inside, and becomes a bit confused about a helmet gleaming back at him from a further height than he remembered Dell to be. The figure fully turns their back on him, torso stiff as a board, and yells back into the room “ATTEEEENTION. NEW BLOOD HAS ARRIVED. LOOK ALIVE.”, to which someone inside yells back “SHUT IT, AH’LL LOOK AS DEAD AS AH DAMN WELL PLEASE!", slurring their words a bit. Both start laughing loudly, raspy and wheezing before the man turns back to Ned. A heavy hand comes down hard on his shoulder and pulls him inside. “Move it, maggot. It’s freezing out there.”. The unexpected force makes Ned stumble a bit and he clutches his basket, keeping it upright to prevent the contents from spilling, but keeps a stiff smile. “Who are you, little red riding hood?” the man inquires with a smirk, his hand on his back pushing Ned further along the scarcely illuminated hallway. When the overhead lights highlight the shapes of the darkened outline, Ned notices that the man’s combat helmet is pulled down far enough to cover his eyes, and for a moment he wonders how he could see where he’s going. The moment doesn’t last long, though, as they enter a large room at the very end of the hallway, and he ponders about how a room this big and leveled could’ve been built on the sandy slope that used to make up their backyard. Inches behind him, the man visually impaired by his own headgear announces, “He brought a basket! And a load of useless brown boxes!”, then leans uncomfortably close and mutters “When you’re done throwing the boxes away, can I have the basket?”. With his shoulders pulled up to his ears, Ned stiffly shakes his head ‘no’ at giving up the precious family heirloom crafted by a late relative to the very loud madman. “FINE!” he shouts, throwing his hands up in dramatic defeat. Resembling a toddler having a meltdown, he stomps off, arms crossed before his chest, muttering “I didn’t want the stupid basket anyway. I hope you fall down the stairs, and the basket does not break your fall.”. The man plops down into a chair beside someone wearing an eyepatch, someone who immediately starts patting his back. “There there, Jude. Ye’ll be alright, laddie.” he utters in a soothing voice. Jude’s intense frown softens, his shoulders drop, and he mutters “Thanks, buddy.”. Contrary to his expectation, the one-eyed man doesn’t give Ned the stink eye to defend Jude, who appears to be his friend. Instead, he shrugs and throws Ned a glance that seems to express something like ‘Be patient with him.’. Ned reciprocates the glance with a compassionate smile at the pair, safe in the knowledge that they find solace in each other – that the word ‘team’ doesn’t merely translate to ‘colleagues’.

Someone else from that corner of the room, whom he recognizes as Dell by his voice, comments “You made it.”, followed by a chuckle. As a few other people surround him, Ned feels his hands clasping the handle of the basket tighter, white-knuckled, his relaxed expression hardening, his grin forced once more. He simply gives Dell a nod and examines the onlookers, remaining uncomfortably silent. Beside him, the one who had abused his wares before, speaks up "Yeah, ‘bout freakin time! We been waitin’ all evening for ya to get here. Y'know, I can't plan a strategic attack on the RED scum without ya, being da new member of the team and all'at. I-“. Interrupting him, a large hand pushes him aside by the head, a large hand belonging to a proportionally large man. Dulled, the slim one’s voice sounds out through the fingers, “Hey! What da hell?”, before a dark voice cuts him off. “Scout. Shut up.” the big one speaks, accent thick in every syllable. “You do not plan dis anyway. Medic and Engineer do.” he continues, which makes a high-pitched laugh ring out from the corner of the room, where people sat and drank – must be the aforementioned Medic. Mentally, Ned takes note of the class names, supposing that Lorenz fits the description of a field medic and Dell looks like a craftsman. However, he can only assume by Lorenz’ cross decal, having never seen a healer safe for the village doctor. Furthermore, he notes that they are the ones organizing the team and would be the ones he would have to admit his fighting inexperience to.

“You did not seriously bring that STENCH into zis base, did you?” he’s asked, the voice seemingly coming from inches behind him. Ned flinches, letting his strained face muscles let go of the feigned smile. He had perceived approaching footsteps during the altercation between ‘Scout’ and the wide one – only a vigilant fisherman is a good one – but when he turns his head to look, there’s only space and the door he entered through. With the basket’s handle tucked into the crook of his arm he spins around, raising the other hand enough that it could shield his face in case the situation should call for it. He mouths the words ‘Hva i helvete?’ (which roughly translate to ‘What the hell?’) as his suspicions are confirmed that the voice came out of nowhere. Without another sound to warn him, the voice, now right next to his other ear, exclaims a flat “Booh.”.

A flinch ripples through Ned’s body, jerking his raised hand slightly backward. It strikes something invisible, producing a sharp, reverberating smack, followed by a soft, equally flat, “Ow.”. To Ned’s amazement, momentarily overshadowed by his annoyance, a shape appears. Blue and translucent, solely a silhouette, then traces of a human body, akin to a ghost materializing. A man in a balaclava, lowering his hand from his cheekbone and placing it behind his straight back, stands before him.

“Skittish, are we? Not a great look for a hired gun.” he remarks, roguish and smileless. Ned perceives the mumbling that ensues, along with his cheeks warming up, outwardly signifying his embarrassment about being outed as a rookie. In an attempt to shut him up, trump his fear of uselessness and highlight his other capabilities for the team, he makes the strategic decision to finally break his silence. If he changes the subject now, people might be distracted enough to ignore how right the masked man was.

“I brought food.” Ned’s tone is flat, his sentence short enough to hide the shakiness in his tone, brought on by the warm clump in his throat – aggravation and upset from being put on the spot like this. To top it all off – since the eyes in the room simply observe him quietly, impressed but speechless – he digs in his pocket and pulls out the small metal box of breath mints that contains his cigarettes, throws it into the basket and declares “…and cigarettes.” Several people hum approvingly, those who hadn’t been encircling him until now stand up from their seats and approach. With a groan, the French interrogator steps back, correctly anticipating that his teammates would push him aside to get to the gift basket.

Silently, he observes how the large, bald man reaches inside, retrieves three wrapped sandwiches, and wanders off to Lorenz and Dell. First to receive one is the Medic, personally, while the other sandwich is set on the table for Dell to take himself, from which Ned gathers an understanding of the dynamic between the three. “Zhank you, Mirek.~” Lorenz utters in a sing-song matter, to which Dell, probably feeling inclined, grumbles “Yeah. Thanks, Miroslav.”.  

As the person in the gas mask – Ned remembers they were the one who lost, or perhaps destroyed the teams map of Selbyen – grabs a sandwich, Jude reaches over their shoulder to retrieve the silver box, which they watch intently. As Jude retrieves two cigarettes and passes one back to his friend, the unknown person visibly lights up and they turn back to Ned with an outstretched thumb. Instead of it being a gesture of approval, which Ned initially smiles at, they bend and stretch their thumb repeatedly in a motion all too familiar to him. From his pocket, he produces a metallic lighter with a fish emblem and places it into their open palms. “Mmphph.” they respond, incoherent from behind their headgear, but seemingly appreciative, and start toying with the lighter, flicking on the flame and placing a finger on the burning wick to extinguish, over and over. Jude’s jaw falls open and he grabs the fire fanatic by the gloved wrist, yelling “WHO IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT'S HOLY LET THAT MANIAC HAVE A LIGHTER?!" at his comrades. His friend puts a hand on his shoulder and softly comments “Come on, now. Pyro was havin’ such a blast! They haven’t started a fire in months! Not off the battlefield, at least.” “No, Hamish! We’ve been over this. We can’t trust this foul creature.” Jude insists, extending his neck to observe Pyro – as far as the helmet over his eyes allows, at least. Then, despite Hamish’s protest, he snatches the lighter from their hand and pockets it, to which they utter a disappointed “Mhhmm.” and go off to sit on the floor in front of Lorenz’, Dell’s and Miroslav’s table. Ned silently mouths each newly learned name, his eyes flicking from person to person as he repeats them in his mind.

Over the chewing sounds and soft exchanges throughout the room, a voice cuts through that Ned doesn’t recognize yet. A man in yellow shades, sandwich already half unwrapped in hand, mutters “Much appreciated, mate.” before returning to the water dispenser in the corner of the room from whence he came. The Scout prances after him and carelessly takes a seat on the close by pool table, knocking around some of the scattered pool balls. “Awh, mate.” the other sighs, “Open your eyes, Jonathan. Spy an’ I were in the middle of a bloody game.”. he continues, disappointed. Just as Ned expected, the Scout, now also known as Jonathan, starts defending himself, “C’mon, Nick -…” dramatically gesturing with hands and feet, remaining seated on the table. Ned huffs through his nostrils in a silent chuckle and tunes out of the conversation, as he considers their bickering none of his business.

From the corner of his eyes, Ned notices something peculiar that takes him a bit to contextualize; out of the little box that Jude had so graciously tossed back into the basket, floats a single cigarette through the air, until it gradually disappears in a corner. Ned smirks, content about having provided something for truly everyone (even if they would never admit it) despite barely receiving any thanks for the gesture. Two cigarettes in their metallic container and three untouched brown paper food bags remain, one of which he takes out while striding as confidently as possible to the table at which Jude and Hamish are seated. From under the table, a little stool is pushed out with a creaking sound, perfectly timed so that Ned can stop it with his foot and take a seat in one fell swoop. Although it looks like a regular blinking motion at first, Ned recognizes that Hamish sends a wink his way and his delighted smile increases as he winks back.

Jude, however, tenses up and stops eating once Ned places the basket on the table, observing it intently. With a sliding motion across the table, Ned tugs it closer to himself before he jerks up from being suddenly spoken to. “So, what made ye sign up for this bloody awful job, eh?" Hamish inquires, knocking the beer bottle he had picked to wash down the bread, against the table to accentuate his words. The three people from the table on Ned’s right chuckle, all in different pitches and intensities, with Lorenz’ being the highest and Miroslav’s the lowest, almost harmonizing with each other. From beneath the table and chuckling, the Pyro jumps up, then props up their head on their hands and mutters something unintelligible that sounds vaguely like a question. “Oh. Uh, sorry?”  Ned asks, to which Dell grins so wide, his cheeks push up his goggles very slightly. “They’re askin’ what on God’s green earth you’re doin’ here. And don’t you worry none ‘bout not understandin’ that lil’ bugger — it took me four years to decipher ‘em. Well worth it though, ain’t it, pardner?” he checks while he gives their masked head a friendly pat, and they reply with an approving “Mhmm!” as they kick their legs in the air, seeing as they’re half-laid atop the table on their stomach. “So?” Dell beckons.

After taking a bite, Ned re-wraps his sandwich, aware that discussing sensitive topics makes him fidget with his surroundings – and he’d rather not scatter crumbs from a picked-apart sandwich all over the table. He swallows, looking around at his interested colleagues, then clears his throat. “Well, uh.” he starts, trying hard to mask the shakiness of his voice, unsuccessfully. “I did not really go through an official application process, as I think you people might have. It just kind of… happened, after an act of, how do you say, defense?”. “Defiance.” Lorenz interjects, pushing up his spectacles. Ned nods, “Yes, that. Thank you. The lady in purple and her men had cleared everyone out of their homes after the industry bought our land, and when I did not leave… I, uh, threatened her to undo everything… with a harpoon… and then she gave me the contract.” he looks down, remorseful of his outburst, until Hamish chimes in. “What ‘n introduction, laddie! Fought yer way into the job, eh? That sure showed her! Good on ya! Now ye just have tae deal with never gettin’ out again – alive, anyway!”, he finishes with a loud laugh, which Jude and Lorenz join in. After processing what Ned had explained, Dell slams his palms on the table and stands, expression grim, silencing the others who look at him with intrigue. “Let me get this straight, you’re tellin’ us they didn’t even build this village? Just bought it up and ran everyone else off? Now that just ain’t right!” he expresses, crossing his arms as he settles back into his seat. After another grumble, his bitter expression softens as he gestures to a lightly smiling Ned whose surprised gaze raises to meet his – or rather his blurry reflection in Dells goggles. “But you? Standin’ up for your people like that? For your family? That’s real honorable of ya. We need more kindhearted, good men on this team.” he mentions while looking around for someone he can’t find, therefore readjusting his sight onto Ned. This makes the humble fisherman straighten up, beaming within from being called honorable, perhaps even brave, but holding back on showing it outwardly, as he’s unable to gauge how much of a compliment it was, comparatively. A miffed looking Jonathan approaches, hands in fists and some of the sandwich condiment in the corner of his mouth. Firmly standing between the two tables Ned and Dell respectively sit at, he puts both hands to his hips and begins in a squeaky, clearly hurt voice “Yeah, yeah. Brave my ASS. You threatened Miss P.? A defenseless lady? And with a freakin’ HARPOON, at that?” “Only threatened her with words! The harpoon never touched her, I promise.” Ned nervously clarifies, arms flailing in front of him, palms open and facing outward, as if to ward off the accusation. “She never even seemed bothered, if I think about it.” he adds, pensively. “Maybe she was scared to death, huh? Ever think’a that? Wouldn’t you be, too, if some maniac came at ya swingin’ their stupid fishin’ stick?!” “I did not even-“ Ned insists, furrowing his brow about Jonathan painting him to be more violent than he was even capable of, before both of them were interrupted by the peacemaker, the teams shepherd.

“Johnny boy, don’t be ridiculous. Miss Pauling’s been through way worse than some mildly threatenin’ fisherman. She wouldn’t be intimidated in the slightest – no offense, Ned. Take a breather, cowboy. Grab a seat, grab a cold one, and settle down for a second. We know how attached you are to her, but this ain’t no reason to start spinnin' stories 'bout the new guy." Dell admonishes. Jonathan simply puffs up his cheeks, mutters “Fine…” and takes a seat next to Miroslav, who silently retrieves a bottle of beer from the small fridge behind them and hands it to the younger man.

With a wooshing noise, the blue silhouette manifests into the mysterious masked man once more, this time standing behind Dell, who tenses up at the sound. As he takes form, so does the smoke of his lit cigarette, making Ned wonder about how advanced technology actually was outside of his village, what he’d missed, but hiding his awe well. “Your kind ‘eart and ‘onor means nothing when you're caught in ze storm of bullets that war unleashes. Do you even know which end of ze gun to point at zee enemy?” he inquires, his chest subtly rising and falling with quiet laughter, only one corner of his mouth raising into a small smirk. Ned ceases the opportunity to boast, his head raised, his smile proud. “I will have you know that I hit two of the bottle targets, when our Courier taught me to shoot those little guns the other day!” “Out of ‘ow many?” the man demonstratively asks, earning him a back-handed smack in the chest by Dell, who sternly whispers “Spy.”, as if to tell him not to embarrass Ned like that. The fisher’s proud grin begins to crumble as he tucks his head between his shoulders, breaks the confident eye contact and stares at the table while he mumbles “Ten.”.

Spy begins howling, snorting in-between laughs as he holds his stomach and takes his leave through a door in the back of the room next to Nick, who patiently awaited his pool partner, but must watch leave instead. Spy’s ceaseless laughter is heard for a while behind the seemingly paper-thin walls, even as the sound of a shutting door is heard, as he presumably enters his personal room.

People whose gaze had followed him turn their head back to Ned, expecting defense, but that many eyes on him only increase his embarrassment and his pale skin breaks out in pinkish blotches of shame once more. Head in an ice cold, sweaty palm, he tries not only reducing the blood circulation in his face, but also to play it off like he didn’t care as much as he did. “Yes. But a fifth is still better than none, right?” he tries confirming not only to himself, but to a team that partially depends on him now, as he looks over to Dell for one last dose of support, eyebrows furrowed desperately. With a nod, and a warm “You’ll get there, pal.” he responds, prompting various others to break their silence and send not quite convinced encouragement Ned’s way in form of “Yeah…” and “Sure!”. Ned decides to take what he gets and responds with a joking little bow, as if he’d achieved something worth bowing for. When the silence only threatens to return, Hamish cuts in. “Look, we all started somewhere. I wasn’t born blowin’ me enemies to smithereens! Don’t ye worry, lad. You’ll find a way to make yourself useful on the battlefield. Yer the Net, right? We use you to fall back on, and you use us to make yer trapping tactics lethal. It’s a bloody partnership, mate. You set 'em up, we knock 'em down!”. His wide smile causes Ned to match the expression and perk up, “Yes! I will try the best I can. If it is not too much trouble, maybe one of you experienced people-“, he looks around as he continues, making sure each one feels addressed, “-can teach me to shoot even more than two target bottles? Since you have been shooting so many things already, and all I have shot is fish in the water?”

Retrieving his hands from near the basket he was sneakily trying to snatch, attentive all of a sudden, Jude flashes an open-mouthed grin before he asks “You caught those fish by SHOOTING THEM?! NOW THAT’S THE MOST AMERICAN THING I’VE EVER HEARD! Say, soldier, how many bullets does it take to turn a fish into a victim?!”. As a result, Ned gives a warm chuckle, “No, no bullets. With the harpoon gun. You know, the-“ “The one you stabbed Miss Pauling with?!” “The one I did *not* stab Miss Pauling with.” he corrects Jude with a raised finger, “The one I threatened her with.” “This recounting keeps becoming less and less American! I AM SEVERELY BORED.” Jude exclaims, then cups a hand next to his mouth and shouts “BUSHMAN. PREPARE TO HAVE YOUR ASS KICKED. I WILL DEPOSIT THOSE POOL BALLS INTO THE HOLES SO GLORIOUSLY, YOU WON’T EVEN SEE WHAT HIT YA’!” and strides over to the pool table and an exasperated Nick. “He lives in a bush? Like a little tree? Poor guy.” Ned sympathizes to Hamish’s amusement who briefly explains “Nah, just Australia. Which ain’t much more than a bunch o' wee trees, really.”, his chuckle is met by Nick’s quiet side glance, before he’s distracted by Jude pushing the white pool ball into his hands.

Meanwhile, Ned had finished pondering and lowers his hand from his chin, straightening his slouching posture, “Australia, huh? That is an awful bit away. I, uh, have noticed you all seem to be from different places of the world.”. A wry chuckle escapes him as he confirms to himself that “I have never even left this village. Ever. You must have a lot of stories to tell.”. A few people exchange pitiful, almost concerned glances before their gazes fall back on Ned. Jonathan, who had been busy thumb wrestling with the Pyro until now, never stopped listening and mentions “Yeah, a LOTTA stories. Actually, way too many stories. 'Cause things just don’t stop happening, ever.”. He wins the tiny wrestling match and raises his head with a chuckle, “Hey, yeah, remember that time we tried teleportin’ back to base, but those RED bastards moved the tele and we went plummetin’ down that cliff? Lucky we were in respawn range, or we'd all be done for.”

Worried expression, intrigued mind, Ned leans forward and inquires “Respawn range? The men that built, well, rebuilt everything, said something of a ‘respawn room’. Do those things have a connection? The range and the room? How does that work? Would you not have died when you fell down the cliff?”.

Loudly, Lorenz’ sharp laugh rings through the room, bemused by the silly question. “Of course ve died! Miserably so!”, he begins, other teammates murmuring in agreement, “But ve each have zhis fabulous little device implanted zhat gazhers our molecular structure, and, upon death, recombines it inside the room. It’s a really neat machine, zhe Engineer and I toiled on it for an eternity! Speaking of zhe respawn chip, you’re not equipped wizh one yet, richtig?”. Ned had leaned back during the doctor’s monologue, holding onto the table since there was no backrest to relax into, shaken by the information that death wouldn’t end the war. Though relieved that he wouldn’t be giving his life to provide for his family, he still could only respond with a quiet shake of the head, mouth slightly agape and frowning. “Perfekt! Would you like to schedule an appointment wizh dear old me? Zhen I shall use zhe opportunity of your open chest cavity to install your new heart for zhe Übercharge too, all in one fell swoop! It'll only hurt a mediocre lot, not an awful lot.” Lorenz jokes with dark, malicious glee, accompanied by an equally grim, low chuckle.

Feeling his palms begin to sweat once more, Ned’s spinning thoughts fall onto the new term. “The Über-huh?” is met with enthusiasm from Lorenz, who almost interrupts him, “Invulnerability. Vhat a deal, ja? Zhe whole package! No death, no harm. At least vhen my Medi-gun is pointed at you. Bevor you ask, zhat is my trusty co-“ his gaze briefly twitches to Miroslav, “-my other trusty companion on zhe battlefield. HOOHOO! Nozhing beats zhis-“ his gloved hand lands harshly on the huge man’s back, “heap of Muskel, of course. But zhe Medi-gun blasts pure rays of concentrated regenerative particles onto my subjects, somezhing Mirek is incapable of. As of yet...”. The crazed practitioner utters the same low humming cackle as before, sounding truly terrifying. “In layman’s terms, zhe gun un-breaks your bones, extinguishes you from zhe battlefields inferno, and stuffs zhe blood back into your body. Sooo? Vhat do ve zhink?” he follows up. Ned ponders for a bit, heart pounding and head spinning a bit, but decides to settle on the decision that having one surgery to cover for his apparent invulnerability and immortality would be agreeable, though he was still skeptical of how well it would work. “Gud hjelpe meg*. O-okay. Sure. Yes. If it guarantees my safety. If YOU guarantee my safety.” Ned sets as his condition, dimming Lorenz’ cheery expression as he replies “I guarantee nozhing. Zhe machines could fail at any time and ve could all perish at any moment, but I can try to keep you bunch of idi-… i… incredibly… nice beings alive for as long as possible.” he concludes with an obviously forced grin. The fisherman shudders, subtly as to not reveal his multiple degrees of fear for this man, for one because he seems to be using his colleagues as guineapigs for his experimental medical and technical procedures, either uncaring or accepting that each second on the battlefield might be their last. Another reason, despite Ned desperately trying to suppress his fear of others, is Lorenz’ heritage, recognized through his accent alone. He concluded that the Medic must be old enough to have been alive during the world war, and fears he might’ve be part of the horrors on humanity those people inflicted. On the other hand, the man seems to be tolerant of the use of neutral personal pronouns, such as those for the unidentified Pyro, as well as Ned’s own gender identity, which to his dismay remains evident through his feminine talking voice. Undecided on Lorenz’ stance, he can’t help but remain wary in his presence, keep his eyes out for any slip-ups, any other ethical wrong-doings except for the obviously empirical nature of his surgeries.

For a moment, Ned wonders if he should be as wary of the other collaborator of the respawn machine, Dell, but his train of thought is derailed when a blue glove shoves a piece of paper under his nose from behind him. “I’ve decided a time for your appointment for zhe-“ he chuckles, uncomfortably close behind Ned, “-procedure.”. In a mocking tone, he continues “Is zhis time agreeable for you, Herr Ned? HAH! Get it, because zhis job is his whole life now? I don’t even need to ask! Of course it is agreeable! He haz nozhing else to do! Haha! I vill see you tomorrow, little fishie!~” he continues, his voice quieting down as he retreats through the same door the Spy did, hands behind his back and chuckling ominously.

Reading the pale blue business card reveals to Ned, that he’d be on the slab the next day at 7AM, sharp, that he shouldn’t eat nor drink immediately before and that he should preemptively write a will, just in case. A glance at the common room’s clock reveals that 11PM is fast approaching, and Ned perks up. “Oh, herregud, it is that late already? Boy, oh boy. I would really, honestly love to chat with you people some more. But I am worried that if I do not sleep now, I will be unwell after tomorrows… slaughter, let us say.” he jokes to ease himself of the nervousness, and, along with some of his colleagues, chuckles nervously at his dry humor. His laugh ceases into a more relieved smile, happy that his misery provided *someone* with a bit of joy, and he wishes them a “Good night. And, uh, I feel like I should mention; do not be surprised by the weird screaming at night, those are just the seals.”, before grabbing his sandwich, his basket – Jude can be heard protesting, and Nick reassuring him that there’s plenty of baskets in the world – and taking hasty steps back through the hallway, the old, dead home, the garage doors and into his own four walls. The brown paper of the sandwich he devoured on his way lands in his trash can, he quickly gets ready for bed, multitasking his bathroom routine, stripping into his fish boxers and hopping into his blanketed haven. Though sleep comes late and little, his heart pounding, his eyelids wide apart, thoughts spiraling throughout the night. Tomorrow will be very interesting.

[cherrythepuppet]

corpse puppet [Part 10]

well darn only 5 chapters left...@sketchquill LETS GO NOw

(Y/n)'s smiled faded after a minute thought "l think l should prepare Mother and Father for the big news" they said and wally nodded "l'll go ahead and you wait here" (Y/n) told him before they walked away Wally sat on a rock and waited for when (Y/n) would come back

As (Y/n) was walking into town they sighed while looking back into the direction of the forest where wally was waiting then headed to the pillers house

"lf ever l see that (L/n) kid l'll strangle them with my bare hands!" Mr piller yelled "Your hands are too fat, and their neck is too thin! You'll have to use a rope" Mrs piller said

(Y/n) covered their mouth and shook their head then climbed onto the brick walls to get to the balcony

~

"This is the voice of your conscience! Listen to what I say. I have a bad feeling about that kid You know their is no-" Hom was cut off by wally throwing him onto the snow

"Go chew someone else's ear for a while! (Y/n) has gone to see their parents just like they said" Wally said "lf l hadn't just been sitting in it, l would say that you had lost your mind!" Home yelled

"l'm sure they has a perfectly good reason for taking so long" Wally mumbled

"l am sure they do! Why don't you go ask them?" Home asked and wally sighed "All right, l will" He said "After all, they couldn't get far with those cold feet" Home told him as he looked towards (Y/n)'s footsteps in the snow

~

(Y/n) climbed onto the balcony and knocked on the see through doors "Howdy!" They exclaimed to get his attention "(Y/n)?" Howdy asked as he opened the doors

"(Y/n)? l'm so happy to see you! Come by the fire. Where have you been? Are you all right?" Howdy asked as he grabbed (Y/n)'s hand and lead them to the couch"l- l-..." (Y/n) mumbled "Oh, dear...You're as cold as death What's happened to you?" Howdy asked

"Howdy, l confess...This morning l was terrified of marriage But then, on meeting you, l felt...As if I truly like did like you and I wanted to get to know you more" (Y/n) told him "(Y/n) i feel the same-" "But theres one...complication" "What?" Howdy asked

"i...I seem l seem to find myself married And you should know it's unexpected! But he's very sweet and caring and he reminds me of someone i care deeply about-" (Y/n) froze as suddenly the doors opened and Wally was in the doorframe

"My darling, l just wanted to meet-" Wally paused as he saw (Y/n) and Howdy so close to each other "Darling? Who's this?" Wally asked as he grabbed (Y/n)'s arm yanking them away from Howdy

"Who is he?" Howdy asked "l'm their Husband" Wally told him as he held his hand out showing the wedding ring "(Y/n)?" Howdy asked quietly as he stared at them with a Look of betrayal and worry

"Howdy wait! You don't understand! he's dead! Look!" (Y/n) told him as they grabbed wally's hand and waved it showing it was a skeleton hand

Wally yanked his hand away and grabbed onto (Y/n)'s arm"Hopscotch" he said "No! No! Howdy!" (Y/n) yelled as they and wally were engulfed in a black smoke They both appeared back in the tower

"You lied to me! Just to get back to that other puppet!" Wally yelled as small tears formed in the corners of his eyes "Don't you understand? You're the other puppet" (Y/n) mumbled 

"No! You're married to me he's the other puppet!" Wally yelled "He has a point" Frank mumbled as cherry had came back earlier and watched the whole thing go down, she grabbed a book from the shelf and threw it at (Y/n) 

"Ow! What was that for?!" (Y/n) asked "For making him cry!" Cherry yelled "No cherry it's fine" Wally muttered "Wally! It is not fine-" "I said it's fine!..." Wally yelled as he began to leave the tower

(Y/n) chased after him "Wally please just let me explain!" They said "And l thought.... l thought this was all going so well" Wally mumbled as he wiped his tear "Look, l'm sorry, but this just can't work" (Y/n) told him "Why not?" He asked

"Listen, under different circumstances, well, who knows? But we're just too different l mean, you're dead" (Y/n) said "Well You should've thought about that before you aksed me to marry you!" Wally yelled "Why can't you understand?! lt was a mistake! l would never marry you!" (Y/n) yelled then they realized what they said and covered her mouth

"Wally...I-I didn't mean that" (Y/n) said as they put their hand on his shoulder but he smacked it away and walked off

To both of them this situation was very familiar yet once again they brushed it off Suddenly another book hit (Y/n) in the back of the head "CHERRY!" (Y/n) and frank  yelled

"Alright go to your room!" Frank said "But-" "NOW!" They two argued as cherry groaned and once again disappeared "She's 5'3 how does she throw it so aggressively?" (Y/n) mumbled quietly.....

[thatone-brightstar]

Heyyyy, been loving your stuff recently! After binging season 2 of ‘the bear’ I’ve noticed I absolutely NEED some platonic fluff with the Reader/OC(fox) and Richie where they just comfort him and tell him he’s worth being alive and he amounts to something because episode one was absolutely heartbreaking😭 and I need something to make me feel better for him, especially after all his great character development this seasonnn!!

Hi! I'm glad you like it!

I also only watched ep1 especially to write this because you are so right- not even five minutes in and they had me in tears with the analogy.

So here you go, for you, for me and anyone else that wanted to hug sad Richie through the screen.

PS. I haven't finished S2 yet so don't fret if it's a bit inaccurate.

**********

Purpose (Richie Jerimovich X Platonic Fem!Reader)

Words: 1.4k

(Part of -but not exclusive to- TB&TF universe)

‘Richie emergency. Need help’

Carmy’s text was pretty ambiguous yet sort of straight forward nonetheless. You expected a second one with a bit more context, but you knew with the whole renovation conundrum it was a miracle he even had the head to write the simple sentences in the first place. Plus, knowing the two for almost close to a year didn’t grant you any solace, because a Richie emergency could be either something small like a disagreement or more serious like having to bail someone out of jail. 

The memory doesn’t settle too well in your stomach and your strides grow quicker over the snow covered gravel that invades the space beside the restaurant.

The warmth engulfs you fully once you cross the back, scarf and beanie now unnecessary in the comfortable building. As you make your way to the office, you greet Manny and Angel with a soft pat on the back- so as to not distract them from their tasks- and unwrap the wool fabric from your neck, dropping it over the small bench by the lockers on your way in.

You can hear a soft conversation emanating from the small room, voices matching those of Carmy and Natalie once you’re close enough to the entrance to see them, and they you.

“Hey-” You greet with short breath, stepping into the room and planting a quick kiss on your boyfriend’s cheek, then leaning down to hug Natalie, who’s sitting on the squeaky old chair that just doesn’t seem to break yet. “I brought my mom’s first aid, what’s the emergency?”

“Why?” Carmy asks, confused.

“Well, you just said ‘emergency’ and I thought someone got stabbed again.” You respond confidently, raising the plastic case into view and shaking it lightly.

Carmy huffs out a small laugh while Nat’s expression is one of concern, mumbling a confused ‘again?’ under her breath.

“What? No- everyone’s limbs are good- I think-” He takes the kit from your hands and places it on the desk behind him. “Listen- Richie’s kinda not his usual self right now.”

“And that’s… bad.” You squint your eyes and tilt your head as you try to process his line of thought.

“I’m still debating it-” Nat kicks his foot softly at his answer, shooting him a look that you’d very much use with your younger brother too. “Okay- no but kinda. D’you think you can, like talk to him, maybe-please?”

A heavy sigh escapes as you cross your arms and lean back against the door frame, eyes flicking between the Berzattos. “What d’you even want me to say to him, it's Richie- he’s not the most open book here…”

“No, but you are pretty convincing-” Nat adds. “Something about the face…”

You scoff and shake your head.

“C’mon, babe please? He likes you… and you’re better at this sort of thing than us.”

You bite the inside of your lip in scrutiny for a few seconds, then uncross your arms and push yourself off. “Where is he?” In sync, their arms raise with a pointed finger in direction to the front of house and the slight smile playing over Nat’s face has you rolling your eyes. “There’s a hole on your wall- by the way.” You tell them, pointing loosely to your left, before disappearing again down the corridor.

Richie’s exactly where they said, behind the now empty counter, with small pieces of tape hanging from the tips of his fingers and eyes deeply concentrated on something on the bar. He looks up for a second when your shadow obscures his view and gives you a single nod. You place your forearms over the slightly dusty counter and rest your chin above your hands, trying to be as quiet as possible while he struggles to tape down the hole in the center of an old poster.

“It’s easier if you tape it from the back-” 

“I know how to fix a fuckin’ poster, alright?”

“-Okay” You say defensively.

“I know how to do things- I’m not some fuckin’ useless moron…” He says under his breath and the wounded expression that slips from the veil furrows your brows.

“No one said you were, Rich.”

“Good, cause I’m not.” His eyes flicker up again, expecting a taunting look on your face that didn’t correlate to your words, but found nothing more than your undivided attention. “What’re you doing here anyway? Kindergarten let you out early?” 

You’re shoulders shake with a short laugh and a thin smile pulls at his lip at your reaction.

“Just wanted to say hi, see how everyone’s doing…” You shrug, looking around the half packed room and to the newspaper covered windows that give the place a somber feel. “The place looks shitty...er.”

“Yeah- but your boyfriend’s got it all under control-” His tone is slightly irritated as he angrily pulls at the tape that’s beginning to stick to his skin. “Syd and Nat got it all under control- I don’t even know why I’m still here.”

“Cause we all need you here.” Richie’s eyes turn to you with a sheer hope that he tries to hide with a humorless scoff.

“For what? To be the butt of the joke?” He clears his throat and shakes his head, looking back down and picking mindlessly at the tape. “Nah, they don’t need me here. This is Carmy’s thing- like painting’s yours and all the gay- sorry, fruity- desserts are Marcus’ thing… I ain’t got a thing.” 

“Course you do.” You answer like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You know more about this place than any of us- Carmy included. Plus, who else is gonna keep him in check when he goes off on a tangent?”

“You.” He shrugs.

“But I’m not always gonna be here-”

“You’re breakin’ up again?”

“What? No-” You sigh and reach a hand to your hair, before remembering all the dust over your palm and putting it back down instead. “I meant… that these guys need someone to look out for them. Yeah, this-” You move your hand around the space. “is Carmy’s and Syd’s and Nat’s thing but, it’s also yours too.”

He keeps his gaze focused on his hands, but you can slightly see the tint starting to cover the edge of his baggy eyes. He’s quiet for a while, soaking up your words and letting them settle in his head beside the dark thoughts that you know a bit too well.

“Then what? What're they gonna do with me when they don’t need me anymore?” He speaks again with a hoarse voice, harshly sniffing back and raising his head to the ceiling. “They're the only family I got. Mickey’s gone- you took Carmy.” He points loosely to you and an amused blow leaves your nose. “This place… shithole n’ all, it’s all I got. And now it’s gonna be gone too. Where am I gonna fit in the new place?”

“It’s not gonna be gone if… you keep the memory with you.” You smile warmly up at the man and slowly reach out to press the tiny pieces of sticky plastic already popping off the poster. “And the guys are gonna be the talent, but the new place is still gonna need a soul.”

Richie nods slowly, brows creased as if not fully convinced. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out, doubting whether to ask.

“...I’m the soul, right?”

“You’re the soul.” You respond between laughs, with a shake of your head and Richie joins in timidly.

Your brows rise as your eyes land on the messy scribbling over an empty pizza box discarded beside you. You pull it closer in hopes that the writing will make more sense, but all you can make out is a few words and sums that are definitely not being added correctly.

“30k plus 50k equals 70k…who made these?” You ask Richie.

He leans down, eyes squinted and trying to read through. “I think those are Carmy’s chicken scratchings…”

You copy his stance and squint your own eyes in hopes to make out the words, then bite your lip to stop the small giggle when you read through the operations. Two or three sums are crossed out with another sitting beside it, underlined twice to confirm that it’s the correct one, though it’s just as wrong as the other two.

“Oh, my poor man…” You sigh in amusement and turn to his cousin. “See? Tangent.”

**********

[adrift-in-thyme]

Prompt idea:

The Chain goes to visit Wild and Flora in Hateno for the 1st time post-totk. They land near lookout landing. Let's say Purah instructs one of the guards there to give them a map and directions to Hateno and to knock on the door of Wild and Flora's house.

When they open the door, they see Wild and Flora wearing mismatched outfits of heroes and princesses past. They open the door and see Wild and Flora wearing:

1. Wild is wearing Sky's Trousers, Wind's Tunic, and Legend's Head. He has a fusion of the Biggoron Sword and the Sword of Seven Sages, and a fusion of the White Sword and the Classic Sword that are both near the wall and can be seen from the door.

2. Flora is wearing Sheik's Leggings, Tetra's shirt, Dot's Feather Headdress, Dusk's Crown, Sun's Braids, and Fable's Bracelets. She has the Dusk bow nearby the desk

The chain loses their minds.

What a fun prompt! Thanks for submitting it! <33

Fic beneath the cut

Warning: contains spoilers for Tears of the Kingdom

“What in Ordona’s name am I looking at right now?”

Twilight stands in his doorway, hands on his hips, exasperation in his eyes. He had thought he was well accustomed to his cub’s chaotic nature by now. Apparently, not. Because either he needs glasses or he’s staring at Legend’s face right now.

Behind him, the other heroes lean forward, eager to see what the fuss is about. They had arrived in Wild’s Hyrule earlier that morning and set out for Hateno as soon as Purah had kindly provided them with a map. And while Twilight knows many of their group were excited to face the challenges Wild’s Hyrule always provides, he can’t help thinking this isn’t what they were looking for.

He’s proven right when Legend lets out an indignant squawk. 

“Champion, why on earth are you wearing my face?”

“And wearing my pants,” Sky puts in. 

“And…hey! Where’d you get my tunic from?” Wind asks. He pushes forward to take the hem into his hands. “Wow, it even feels like mine!”

“I don’t know what the problem is,” Wild-with-Legend’s-face says, innocently. Beside him Flora nods, looking the very picture of innocence. Evidently, years of royal duties have made her well accustomed to schooling her features. 

“The problem,” Time pipes up, his voice dangerously calm, “is that my sword is on your back. And it seems someone glued it to the tip of the Sword of Six Sages.”

Twilight’s eyes widen. He had seen the Sword of Six Sages, but had Wild really…?

Yes, he realizes after a closer look, yes apparently he had. 

He runs a hand over his face with a sigh.

“Cub…”

“Where’d you even get all of this stuff?” Wind interrupts. He and Hyrule have somehow slipped into the house now and are taking in the various weapons and clothing items strewn about. “I mean, Rulie says these are his swords.”

Hyrule nods. “They are. That’s the White Sword” – he points to a near crystalline weapon – “and the one stuck to it is the first sword I ever wielded.”

He picks them up, turning them over in his hands. “I can’t believe they lasted this long.”

Wild shrugs. A grin tugs at his lips now, unable to be held back any longer. “I don’t know either, honestly. But if you all want to come in, you can look at them.”

Slowly, the heroes file past him, some admiring the items and others giving Wild the side-eye. He keeps a smile on his face the entire time, seemingly unbothered. Twilight doesn’t miss, however, how he tenses when Time walks by. 

Flora, for her part, has dropped the facade completely. She eagerly ushers them in, already beginning to answer questions and offer explanations.

“These items are hidden throughout Hyrule,” she says, as Twilight drops down into one of the kitchen chairs. “According to legend, someone who called himself Misko the Bandit hoarded them. Before he died he concealed them along with clues to help adventurers find them.

“This for instance” – she picks up a familiar bow that lies on the table. It’s the bow Zelda used, Twilight realizes with a start – “we found it while rummaging about the castle. And the leggings I wear were hidden deep within the Depths.”

Wild slips into a seat beside Twilight as she continues. Leaning over conspiratorially, he whispers, “Wanna know who I think Misko is?”

Twilight lifts an eyebrow and Wild grins, knowing he has him interested.

“Legend.”

The rancher glances over to where the hero in question stands. He reclines against the fireplace, eyeing the objects Flora is showing them with a hungry sort of interest. 

“Cub, for all we know the vet isn’t even from your timeline.”

“Nothing’s confirmed yet. And besides, all signs point to him being the bandit.” Wild holds up a hand, ticking off each reason on his fingers. “He’s a hoarder, he loves riddles, and he’s met us all. Who else would have access to this kind of stuff?”

Twilight shakes his head. An exasperated smile tugs at his lips.

“I don’t know. But Champion, I think figuring out Misko the Bandit’s identity is the least of your worries right now.”

Wild glances up at the other heroes. His eyes widen when he catches sight of Time. The expression on the older hero’s face could likely slaughter an army. He gulps.

“Hey, Twi, how do you feel about changing seats?”

Twilight chuckles. “Sorry, cub, but you brought this one on yourself.”

[thevegandarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Part Twenty-Seven

Masterlist

AO3 link

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)

Please please please proceed with caution for this one & read the TWs for this chapter below. This is your warning. Take care of yourself first 🖤

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death, PTSD

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, discussion of the following topics: past rape (no details of the act are discussed or mentioned or than “waking up in the middle of it.” Discussion primarily includes what happened before and after), being tied up, being held at gunpoint, drugging, non-con medical procedure, amputation, victim blaming, attempted suicide, memory loss around a traumatic event, queasiness/nausea/vomiting, and nightmares.

Word count: 2.9k

After a very, very long time, I lifted my head from my knees. My face was stiff from being coated in dried tears, and my eyes burned. They had to be bloodshot, I was sure of it. My face felt puffy, and my hair was as disheveled as could be. I looked up at the tiny window of the infirmary. The sun had just started setting, and it was beginning to get dark now. Given that it’d been the middle of the afternoon when I locked myself in, I’d been in there for hours.

Not once had someone come knocking on the door, calling out to me asking to be let in so they could ask if I was ok. I figured either Carol or Daryl, likely Carol, was telling people to leave me alone & give me space for a while. Part of me was grateful for that, as I wanted to be left alone. But another part of me, a much smaller one, was screaming for someone to show up. Screaming for someone to come make sure I was alright & hadn’t done anything I would regret. Fuck, I begged, let someone just come check on me, please.

I didn’t believe in a god, but something answered my prayers.

I dropped my head back to my knees when I heard someone fiddling with the doorknob. Upon realizing it was locked, I expected to hear a voice call out to me, or to hear footsteps walking away, but I heard neither. Instead, I heard more fiddling with the doorknob, but this time, it sounded like someone was trying to pick the lock. And I knew only one person here who would do that.

The ‘click’ of the door unlocking echoed through the silent room. The door swung open slowly, the creaking of its hinges louder and more prolonged than normal. Daryl’s familiar, heavy footsteps made their way into the room, and I heard him close the door behind him. He stepped over slowly, careful to not approach me too quickly. He slid down the wall next to me, leaving a little space between us. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes. We sat there in silence, the only sound being an occasional hitched sob from me.

“’m real sorry, Vec,” Daryl sighed, the hurt still lingering in his voice, “for what Jake said…for what happened to ya…for not trying harder to help more.”

“Nothing you could’ve done. You didn’t know. You did the right thing though, not asking too many questions,” I assured, “I should’ve known it would come out at some point or another.”

Yes, if Daryl and I’s relationship continued in the direction it seemed to be, it eventually would’ve had to come to light. I had just hoped that day was farther off in the future than right now.

"I knew that traveling alone as a woman meant I would always have a target on my back. I just thought I'd be able to fight my way out of any situation I got into,” I explained. I pulled my head up from my knees and leaned back against the wall, and I immediately felt Daryl’s eyes on me. The tears were still flowing consistently enough that I couldn’t see anything, which I was grateful for. That meant I couldn’t see whatever facial expression Daryl was giving me. Meant that I couldn’t see him looking at me.

“I’m sorry for blowing up at you like that,” I apologized, “I just…I felt like I was going to explode. No sleep, Jake’s comments, bottling everything…I was bound to pop off eventually. But you didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of it.”

“Apology accepted, of course. No hard feelin’s. It’s understandable,” he reassured. I tilted my head back and leaned it against the wall, staring up at the cement ceiling.

“It was probably around a year ago,” I began before Daryl cut me off.

“Vec, you don’t gotta talk ‘bout it if ya don’t wanna.”

“And if I do?” I snapped.

I didn’t move from looking straight up, but I could hear him shifting around. He propped his legs up, resting his arms on his knees. “Then I’m all ears.”

“I was out on the road, just like I was any other day. I was walking by these really dense woods, and this guy comes sprinting out, screaming for help. He told me his friend was injured, got bit real bad, and needed help. Like I always did in these situations, I told him I was a doctor and offered my help. The whole time he’s talking to me, though, I have this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach that’s telling me to run as fast as I can in the opposite direction. I try everything I can to shake it, but it doesn’t go away. Anyway, he takes off back into the woods, way ahead of me. I try to keep up, but I eventually lose him. I never find him or his supposed friend. And then everything goes dark…”

I chewed at the inside of my bottom lip, not stopping even when I began to taste blood. “I, umm…I woke up in the middle of it. I’d been heavily drugged. I don’t know how long I was out for, or how long it’d been happening. I had my hands tied above my head.” I held my hands out and flipped them around, highlighting my scars. “That’s what these are from. They’re rope burns.”

My tears were starting to flow into my ears from having my head tilted back, but I didn’t care. Anything to drown out my thoughts, even salty water in my ears, was welcomed.

“It took a minute for me to fully come to, and when I realized what was happening, that’s when he shoved a pistol in my mouth. Told me he’d kill me if I screamed. I almost wish he’d just pulled the trigger.”

Now that I’d acknowledged what happened, that meant it was real. I couldn’t run from it anymore. It felt like it was written all over my skin, and now everywhere I went, people would know. Everyone would know. Humiliated was the only word that summed up how I was feeling, but that didn’t even feel like it did it justice.

“He kept calling me ‘doll.’ Like I was just some thing.” I heaved when I said ‘doll.’ Even the thought of the word made me queasy. “I don’t remember how I got out. All I remember is my wrists were bloody from all the writhing against the rope, and at some point, he ended up unconscious on the floor. I don’t think his friend existed. It was just a ploy to lure me somewhere alone where he could knock me out. I don’t know if he’d been following me, or if I was just the first person he’d come across, wrong-place-wrong-time kinda thing. I guess it doesn’t matter how he picked me. All that matters is that it happened.”

“Ya said there were things I didn’t know ‘bout ya that might change my view of ya,” Daryl recollected, “ya really think somethin’ like that would change how I see ya?” I shrugged my shoulders in response. “Ya wanna know what I see? I see someone real good who had somethin' real terrible happen to 'er. Somethin’ that never should’ve happened. She’s still my favorite person though.” That pulled a little smile from me. An almost unnoticeable one, but a smile nonetheless.

“I haven’t even told you what I did to him afterward,” I said, “that’s what I’m more concerned about changing your perspective.”

“Ya said ya didn’t kill him.”

“I didn’t. Well, not right away.” I took a few deep, shaky breaths. “After he was unconscious and I’d found my clothes, I found his set up. He’d been camped out there for a long time. He’d gathered medical supplies, food, clothes, the works. And that’s when I came up with an idea to exact my revenge. After I disinfected and bandaged my wrists, I drugged him up, prepped him for surgery, and I…I cut his arms off at the elbows…and reattached them on opposite sides. Then I did the same with his legs…cut ‘em off at the knees and reattached them backward. I don’t think his limbs would fully reattach like that, it shouldn’t be possible. He eventually would’ve died, whether that be from being found by walkers, dehydration, starvation, or infection. So yeah, I guess I did kill him.”

The silence that followed was brief but deafening, and I thought I would suffocate on it.

“Can I ask why ya didn’t kill ‘em right away?” Daryl inquired.

“Killing him felt too easy. It felt like he was getting away with it. I wanted him to feel even a fraction of the fear that I did.” The rest of my words came out in broken sobs. “I wanted him to feel the fear of waking up and realizing he had been violated. I wanted him to feel alien in his own body. Like I did. Like I still do.”

I curled back up into a tiny ball and continued crying. I was a little impressed that the tears just kept coming. I thought I would’ve run out at that point. I heard Daryl scoot a little closer until we were right up next to each other. He placed a hand on my back, rubbing gently up and down and drawing circles with his fingers. He probably didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t blame him.

I kept my face buried in my knees as I continued my story. “I’ve spent the last year wanting to crawl out of my own skin and light myself on fire. I tried drinking gasoline once, but the smell was so putrid that I just immediately threw it back up. I thought about putting a bullet in my head, throwing myself into a hoard of walkers, trying to find some random group to rob and hope they’d just kill me in the process. I even thought about going back and begging him to kill me. The only thing that kept me going was the possibility of seeing Jay and my dad again."

My body felt limp. I don’t know how I was able to keep myself sitting up. My head was pounding, and I was starting to feel lightheaded. “I feel so fucking stupid. I had that awful feeling in my gut telling me to run, and I ignored it, and look what happened. I’m such an idiot. I don’t know how I could’ve been so stupid.”

“Don’t say that,” he insisted, “it wasn’t your fault.”

Those four sweet little words. That’s all it took to send me careening into a fit of heaving sobs. Four little words that I’d been dying to hear from anyone else. Because I certainly didn’t believe it.

“Hey, you’re ok,” Daryl reassured, “just breathe. You’re ok.”

I was shaking with every inhale and exhale. I felt pathetic, humiliated, embarrassed, and even those words didn’t feel like they scratched the surface. I wanted to shrink down so small that I disappeared. I wanted to melt into a puddle and evaporate into thin air. To vaporize before his very eyes. For the ground to open underneath me and swallow me whole. Anything that would’ve kept me from having to sit in these feelings.

“God, this is so fucking humiliating,” I whispered as I tangled my hands in my hair.

“Nothin’ ya gotta be embarrassed about. Not in front of me,” Daryl replied.

“This is why I can’t sleep,” I heaved, “I relive the same snippet from that day every single night, over and over and over again. It starts off fuzzy, like when I was waking up from being drugged, then it all comes into focus. I can see the bright lights, the wooden walls. I taste the gunpowder from the pistol. I feel his weight on top of me, the cold floor underneath me, the rope around my wrists…everything. When I realize what’s happening, the gun gets shoved in my mouth, and I scream. And that’s when I wake up. I can’t even shower without having a panic attack just from having to look at myself. And I have to look at these fucking scars every time I do anything with my hands. I can’t avoid it, can’t hide from them. I have to stare at them every single day.” The last three words came out as a scream.

The pain in my chest is what I imagined a heart attack felt like. My eyes burned so bad, I couldn’t keep them open. My tears were flowing into my mouth, mixing with the blood from biting at my lip and creating an awful salty-penny taste. I wiped my nose on my sleeve and rolled them up.

“So how do you see me now?” I asked. My throat was scratchy from all the sobbing. “Disgusting? Psychotic? Gross? Crazy? Say whatever you want. Just rip the band-aid off, make it quick.”

There was silence for what felt like an eternity. He eventually stopped rubbing my back and pushed on it lightly, signaling for me to scoot forward. I uncurled from my little ball just enough to move myself away from the wall. He maneuvered in behind me, leaning back against the wall and resting his legs on either side of me. He took my hair in a ponytail and laid it over my shoulder. He continued rubbing my back up and down, this time with both hands, as I stayed curled up in a ball.

“I see…a girl with a lotta love in her heart. She’s kind, understandin’, loyal to the people she cares about. She seems to think I’m pretty great. Maybe that makes her a lil’ crazy.” Daryl leaned forward, his chest flesh against my back, and planted a kiss on the back of my head, continuing to rub my back as he talked. “I see an incredible woman who’s been to hell & back and is still stronger than most guys I know. I see someone I care a lot about in a lot of pain. And I wish I could make it go away.”

Once again, for a man who claims to not be good with words, he sure was good with them when he wanted to be.

“You don’t think I’m insane for what I did to him? Disgusting for what happened?”

“Hell nah,” Daryl comforted, “what he did to ya wasn’t your fault. And what ya did to him…bastard had it comin’. Messed with a surgeon and got to deal with the consequences.”

The relief that flooded my system nearly gave me whiplash. Did I actually believe that Daryl finding out about my past would make him see me differently? I don’t know. But it was a concern nonetheless, and I’d never been more thankful to be wrong.

“Can I ask another question?” Daryl checked, and I nodded, “that why ya go by Vector?”

I hesitated at first, debating on how many of the details I wanted to share. But we’d come this far. Might as well go all the way, right?

“Yeah. Yeah, it is. I, uh, started going by Vector after everything happened. Thought that might help me put it all behind me. I could move on, pretend like it never happened. Vector could go on like normal because it didn’t happen to Vector, it happened to…” My tongue tingled. My voice dropped to a near whisper, like I was afraid everyone outside would be able to hear me if I was too loud, “…to Lydia.”

I almost winced at the sound of it. I hadn’t said my own name in so long that it sounded foreign to me. It tasted awful. It tasted like poison, shame, regret, guilt, pain. And death. Because it was. Lydia had to die for Vector to survive.

“There you go,” I said, letting out a shaky and exasperated sigh, “my name is Lydia.”

“If it’s any comfort, it’s pretty,” he said in response.

“Thanks.” Regardless of what my name was, I was sure he would’ve said the same thing, just because it was mine. I tilted my head and peered out the tiny window on the far wall. “Guess that's why I like daisies and sunrises,” I chuckled softly, “they both represent fresh starts. Vector gave me a fresh start. Allowed me to survive, to make it here…to meet you.”

Daryl snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me snug against his body, giving me a tight but tender hug. “Glad ya made it here.” Being encased in his warmth, in such comfort and adoration and safety, sent me into another fit of sobs.

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed under my breath.

“Whadaya apologizin’ to me for?” he asked.

“You’ve just been sitting here, listening to me cry, scream, heave like I’m gonna throw up…” I buried my face in my hands.

“Ain’t nothin’ ya gotta be sorry for,” he assured.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna be able to sleep again, Daryl. I see his face every time I close my eyes. Every single night, it’s like I’m right back in that barn,” I cried into my hands. The aching that radiated from my chest had only gotten worse with each heaving sob. I was sure my ribs would start cracking.

"You're not there. You're here. You're safe. In Alexandria. With me." His voice was both gravel and silk, tickling my ear as he rested his head on my shoulder. “You’re ok, sunshine. I got ya.”

Taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley

[didasgomas]

Go too far and you'll get a scar

Day 16 of @augusnippets

Prompts: Humiliation/Dehumanisation/Conditioning

Trigger Warning: Defamation, bullying

Part of "In Mortality", an au of Cut Down The Altar (creator will be in the tags)

March 19th, 2001

Geraldine Pasque had always been one of the more popular and respected students all throughout middle school for her beauty and intelligence, but she let the fame get to her head one Friday.

The Bilcanna twins, both named Jack, were her targets. The friends of the one nicknamed "Eden" were planning on a night out, and he had offered to cover half of the whole bill, and that had been when Gera made her attack. She made a rude joke, loud enough for everyone in the hallway to hear, about his family's businesses and that surely they were borrowing or even stealing all the money they possessed, finishing off with a very mean remark about his mother's pastry shop and an accusation about what really went inside the food.

What she hadn't realized was that she had messed with an apex predator, one who understood their ecosystem's hierarchy and food chain to their core and knew how to use them for his own gain.

She had ruined his fun, so now he would ruin her life.

His group of friends had other friends who knew the entire school. One hundred, two hundred, three hundred was just about the right amount of credit most needed to agree to something so large, and "Eden" and his brother "Lantern" came from two very successful and close-knit families, so asking for extra pocket money for this 'operation' hadn't taken too much talking.

They just needed to pay the right amount of people, and then let the natural course of nature play out.

Accusations, false proof, overnight partnerships for the sake of overnight pamphlets, harsh criticisms or scared tears over phone calls, silence pacts and an agreement of secrecy to never even mention who it was that started everything, that later didn't even need to be put in place, for the others would simply mention who they had heard what from.

By Monday, on the 19th, the twins claimed a sudden double case of influenza, and Geraldine returned to school mostly normal, merely confused as to why her friends had ignored her phone calls the day before.

Everyone paused what they were doing to stare at her, some with hatred, some with disgust, some started mockingly laughing, most started whispering to each other, even to people they weren't familiar with.

"She mocks other people for their money, as if her family isn't in debt" "I think I heard from someone that her brother was in jail twice" "No, that was her dad. That's why she can't even cook, and now she goes around complaining about others' cooking. What a snob!" "I bet she doesn't even know how to turn on anything around the kitchen" "She once expelled a girl from her friend group because of the guy she was dating. I think she's just a jealous brat" "Read one of the pamphlets. If it really were the nerds who made them, then they must be true, they never do things without reason."

She didn't even want to look, much less read the pieces of paper all plastered across the walls.

Trying to reach her locker without having to make eye contact with anyone, at some point she spotted one of her friends walking the opposite direction.

"Heather, we need to talk-"

She was slapped across the face with a harshness that was untypical of her oldest friend.

"Yeah, we need to talk that we're no longer friends, you piece of garbage."

"What did I do?!"

"Don't act all dumb with me! I almost begged you to not tell anyone about my mother's condition, and now I found out you told everyone right the day after! How could you?!"

It was a question that Gera didn't even get to answer, as Heather simply walked away, probably off to find her boyfriend.

Trying to ignore everyone else's gaze, she continued her way to her locker.

Only to find from a distance that it had been busted open, the door almost crushed beyond repair on the floor. She needed to check, even if deep down she knew there was something awful waiting.

There was. All the decorations she had spent so much time collecting were either broken or overhauled by paint and pencil marks. A photo was glued at the center, one of her and her three best friends still in 6th grade, on top of a hill covered in flowers and drinking strawberry juice.

The only one of her friends who had physical photos from that time was Florence, her first ever friend. Gera's face had been scratched up with marker, and the word "Liar" was written above her head.

She couldn't fully remember what had happened next, but she was now in one of the bathroom stalls, trying to keep her crying as low as possible. Could she continue in this school anymore? Could she continue school at all anymore? Would those two continue chasing her? Would she need to drop everything for her own safety?

She had bitten off more than she could chew, and now the entire rest of the meal had been taken from the table.

[quaddmgd]

So I managed to finish that little fic I've been talking about. It's not much, but hey, it's my first since 5 years!

As always, Elegy belongs to @oranzuwu! Thank you for helping me get her dialogue right and proofreading this multiple times for me! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU

This fic is a continuation to a post Halcyon made, so make sure to read it first! There's an entire synopsis there!

I might drop it on AO3 when I set it up eventually.

Fic under the cut!

MERCURY

As the door opened, I saw Elegy sitting on the bed, our new bed, possibly for a few days, leaning against the wall. Usually she greets me with a warm smile, but this time I could only see concern. "How are you feeling?" she asked, slightly leaning in my direction. "Better now, thanks. Doc is a cool guy." I responded with a smile, adding "Thank you, for being there for me. I would end up in a hole if it wasn't for you." As she glanced at me, her pretty black eyes filled with care. "What are you talking about? I'd never leave you there." she assured me, as if she knew exactly what's on my mind. It made sense; apart from Misty, she's the only person that fully knows why I parted ways with my family. "Doc left you some clothes and booze, behind you, on the chair. I could fix us some drinks, if you’d like. I know I would." I smiled briefly and broke our eye contact. 

"Sure, but first, I could really use a shower." I moaned in sudden pain while trying to hand-comb my hair with the injured arm. Judging by the change in her raccoon eyes, she took notice, but tried to continue: "Well, help yourself, if you're brave enough. Greasy as fuck, looks like someone flatlined there." She made me chuckle. "I'm sure I've seen worse when I was on the road." After taking the clothes from the chair, I turned towards the bathroom. The automatic door was there, but it was visibly broken. I couldn't move it in either direction. Seeing only half of her face from where I was standing now, I noticed the break in the eye contact. Visibly embarrassed, she looked away, muttering under her breath: "Oh yeah, the door's kinda not working." "Great..." I sighed.

"Shout if you need help with anything."

She had no way of knowing, but she made me smile, even though I'd never let her help me in this state. That being said, I'd love to have her there, at this moment.

The shower allowed me to rethink what happened that night. Blood from the gunshot wound on my arm, flowing with water beneath my feet, made me realize that I was lucky... and that something might've happened to Elegy. Feeling light-headed, I leaned against a cold shower wall and began sliding along. On the ground, I hugged my legs, feeling the warmth of tears building up in my eyes. I knew that thinking about it wouldn't change a thing, but here I was. What mattered was that we were both safe, mostly unharmed, and no one knew where we were. "The moment we leave this shithole, it's a soft reboot." I kept repeating to myself, preparing to get up and finish washing; and so I did, after a minute or two, somehow.

"If you need any help with the bandage, let me know!" her lively voice from behind the wall greeted me, after I left the shower, still trying to fend off the idea of calling her here to see what happens. "Don't worry, I'm good at this myself." I replied. She sounded much less tense than before. I could imagine she wanted us to just relax and keep our minds off what happened.

It was so hot today that I decided to dry up in nothing but underwear. Going back to Elegy, I met with her fond smile, covered by a slightly wiped purple lipstick. I returned it, wondering if she really eyed me up and down right now. "There's a drink with a name of a really brave girl on it." she remarked, pointing at a nightstand, beside which I was supposed to sleep tonight. "Thanks, I need it." I sat on the bed, beside her, and leaned on the same wall.

The raccoon looked me in the eyes and took a deep breath. "I'll keep in touch with guys in the city, we'll know when it's safe to come back. Try to not worry, ok?" "So we're really stuck here for now?" I asked hopelessly, not happy to sleep in a muggy, rundown motel room, filled with a metallic smell of an unknown source. "Mhm." she smiled nervously, looking down on her legs before gazing into my eyes and smiling, as if she just came up with an idea that would drastically improve our look on this situation; "But look, on the other side, we're outta the city, just the way you like. I'll take care of you and make sure you recover asap. Until then, we can sleep all day and order pizza!" I shaked my head, unable to help but smile a bit. I felt the need to snuggle up to her, but I couldn't bring myself to just openly hug her. The anxiety won again. Enjoying my glass of whiskey with coke, I leaned on her, placing my head on her shoulder. It was all I could do, but it was enough.

I was very grateful, not only for what she did today, but for being an awesome person all around. The thought of meeting someone so friendly and trustworthy in this god-forsaken city never would've crossed my mind, yet here we were. The inseparable duo, ever since she found me in the Afterlife, and convinced me that we need each other in order to complete our tasks. But I always struggled with showing emotions, especially since it's not like we know each other for that long.

I eventually let out "Thank you, for everything." to which she took a sip from her glass and smiled. "Don't mention it, C, really. Like I said-" As something on my stomach got her attention, her smile suddenly disappeared. "Something wrong?" I asked, checking myself for any wounds. It was weird. I knew I wasn't shot anywhere else, but what I mistook as shock at the time, made me doubt myself. She started moving her index finger across the scar on my stomach; "You weren't joking... that it's not your first time." I didn't know if I should tell her to stop. It felt weird, tingly, but her gestures were full of care... concern. I didn't understand what was going on. "Uhh... Yeah, I've... been shot before." were the only words I managed to gawk out.

“And you’ve been worse.” As she was busy examining my scars, moving on to the one above my bust, I locked my eyes on her beautiful face. I was scared of screwing up our friendship, but I couldn't resist touching her. I delicately stroked her cheek. That's when she looked me in the eyes for about three seconds, pulled me by my shoulders, and suddenly kissed me. The warmth of her lips intoxicated me. She stopped to say, her voice quiet and tender: "Please take care of yourself, I can't afford to lose you." after which I returned the kiss, feeling both happiness and fear that I'll do something wrong and lose her.

[incendio22]

FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL

Chapter 28: Winless Fight

Ominis has left the Hospital Wing, but for obvious reasons he is not going to any classes or taking the final exams. Despite Imelda's efforts to restore his memory, he didn't see how anything made sense. Or why Imelda was the person trying to help him. At this point I'm desperate for a friend, so I decide to talk to him. Maybe he can give me some of his wisdom words.

He's in the common room and I walk up to him. Next to him is a cup of tea.

''Hi Ominis,'' I say to make him aware of my presence.

''Oh, hi Y/n,'' he says with a slight smile. ''How are you?''

We haven't exchanged more than two sentences and he already made me feel at ease.

''Well. I've had better days,'' I tell him. ''But the most important thing is, how are you?''

''I'm glad you ask,'' he says in a kind voice. ''Of course, I'm confused. But I also have this feeling in my body, telling me that this has been a weird year. So I'm a little relieved I've forgotten all of it.''

''Do you remember anything at all?'' I ask him curiously.

''To be honest, the last thing I remember is actually talking to you about Sebastian,'' he says and looks confused. ''I'm not sure if you remember, but I told you to stay away from him. That you were gonna get hurt.''

I nod, not that he can see it. I struggle to find words for it. This is harder than I expected.

''I don't know what happened to me,'' Ominis says in a low voice. ''But can you please tell me if Sebastian had anything to do with it?''

I'm not sure what to tell him. Of course Sebastian was aware, but he had nothing to do with Ominis' memory being erased. If anyone is responsible for that, it's me. For dragging him into the prophecy.

''He didn't,'' I lie.

Ominis looks as if he's thinking really hard.

''What happened between you two, by the way?'' he asks in a low voice. ''I know you liked him.''

''We're together now,'' I tell him in a soft voice. ''And you were okay with it.''

''Did someone use a confusion potion on me?'' he asks and chuckles.

''He's barely spoken to me since this happened to you,'' I tell him, hoping for some wise words. ''We spent the entire year chasing each other, but now he just seems off.''

Ominis sits quietly.

''I know you like him. But if I'm being completely honest with you,'' he starts and gives me a sympathetic smile. ''You knew what you got yourself into. I warned you. If you love him, then I understand why you would try to fix this. But for me, after what he did last year, I wouldn't let myself waste too many tears on someone like him.''

''Ominis,'' I say. ''We both forgave him for that. It took time, but we did. Now he's just broken that he lost his best friend. Twice.''

''I'm heading off.'' Ominis says in a slightly upset tone before he walks away and leaves me alone.

I spend the day on my own. I study alone, I eat dinner alone, I walk the castle grounds alone. Never in my life have I felt so lonely. Not even quidditch practice brings me the joy it normally does. Naturally it takes my mind away from everything, but I don't leave the pitch feeling as light as I normally do. Afterwards I head straight to the Undercroft. It's empty.

I lean against the wall and burst into tears. I can't help myself, they simply start rolling down my cheeks uncontrollably. I sit down and pull my knees to my face, burying it. The door opens and I see Sebastian in the doorway.

''What's this?'' he asks and walks over to me.

He sits down and puts his arm around me.

''Talk to me,'' he says without any feelings in his voice, but rather as if he's obligated to ask.

I want to talk, but no words seem to come out of my mouth and he simply accepts it.

''Anne reached out,'' Sebastian breaks the silence. ''She's coming to Feldcroft this summer.''

I force a smile.

''I'm so glad to hear that,'' I tell him as I force my voice to sound happy.

''As am I,'' he says in a soft voice. ''Of course, it doesn't mean that she's forgiven me. But it's a step in the right direction.''

I'm glad for his sake. I know how much Anne means to him and how much it would mean for him to have her in his life. But I can't help feeling a bit terrified. If he has Anne, will he need me? I push the thought away.

''I have barely seen you last week,'' he says in a low voice.

''You haven't been around,'' I say quickly in a harsh voice.

''I've been struggling. You know that,'' his voice is getting harsh as well.

''I am very well aware of that,'' I raise my voice slightly. ''But you're not the only one who's been having a hard time.''

He gives me a frustrated look.

''Why are you acting crazy?'' he asks in a lower voice, which makes me feel dumb.

''Are you for real?'' I ask in a calm voice while raising my eyebrows and shaking my head. ''You can't be.''

''You are, though,'' he says. ''Why can't you see how bad the last weeks have been for me?''

Is he delusional? I need to hold back so I don't say the mean things that I'm thinking, because he must be out of this world if he doesn't realize that I have been there for him and he hasn't been there for me.

''You haven't asked me once how I've been,'' I say in a disappointed voice. ''Not once.''

''Well,'' he seems to think about what he's going to say next. ''You're right. I haven't. I thought you could handle yourself. You're not a child.''

This man is getting on my last nerve. He's obviously trying to hurt me and he is doing it successfully. I never expected to hear these things from him and I'm wondering what has gotten into him.

''I have been here for you,'' I almost snarl the words out of my mouth. ''I have held you, I have checked up on you and I have listened. Not because you asked me to, but because I love you and I want to be with you. For better or worse.''

He gives me a surprised look.

''Oh, and this is the price I pay for that?'' he asks, stretching his arms out in frustration.

I stand up and can't even look at him. Why is he acting like this? My mind quickly reminds me of his tendency to self sabotage when things are too good.

''Please, Sebastian,'' my voice lowers as I try to calm myself down. ''You're trying to push me away. Please, don't.''

''No,'' he argues. ''You're the one who pushed me away.''

I don't know what to say to him. Despite me being disappointed in him, I want us to fix things. To be there for each other.

''Darling,'' the word slips out of my mouth before I finished processing it. ''Please.''

He moves further away from me.

''No,'' he says promptly. ''I can't do this right now, Y/n. I'm really sorry.''

''No,'' I argue back. ''You need to get yourself together. This isn't you. Please, Sebastian, please be reasonable with me.''

''This really isn't about you, I promise,'' he says in a soft voice. ''I have so many things I need to figure out and I don't want to hurt you in the process.''

''You're not doing this,'' I say as I shrug my head. ''Don't you see that you're hurting me right now?!''

''Please, it will only get worse if you stick around,'' his eyes are pleading. ''Please, Y/n. You deserve someone better than me.''

I stare into his eyes, but he's avoiding eye contact.

''You don't get to decide what I deserve and don't,'' I say firmly. ''I do that. And you're the one that I want.''

''I'm gonna leave now,'' Sebastian says and stands up.

''No,'' I argue. ''I'm leaving. And when you've got your stuff figured out and feel ready for something serious, you can send me an owl.''

I walk out of the Undercroft, leaving him alone. I have no words for how sad and disappointed I am. Why is he pushing me away like this? Why is he actively trying to hurt me with his words? The sadness quickly turns into anger. If he doesn't want me around, I won't chase him. If he can't be emotionally mature, I am not responsible to fix him. That's on him. Eventually, someday, he'll be able to see that I gave it my all. And maybe he'll understand why I left.

[mfmilligan]

In the Midst #4

     I decided to explore the Familiar Schools today. School #1 was the only one I’d had prior experience with, since it was one of the first places I partially searched when I arrived. I’d been running myself ragged calling out for anyone and banging on doors. It was when I stepped into the hall lined with empty, pastel orange lockers that I realized this world was truly abandoned. Perhaps that’s why my heart beat a little faster going in there. For the hundredth time, I’m glad I have music to make this all easier.

     I didn’t find anything useful in that space. There weren’t any textbooks or supplementary materials. Just chalk and chalkboards. I contemplated leaving a message, but…who is here to read it? So I just drew a smiley face and a frowney face and moved on.

     School #1 must have been a high school because School #2 was a little smaller and more colorful. Although the colors were weird there. The walls were painted yellow, pink, lime green, and purple at alternating points. Squares of all different colors were painted haphazardly on the floors. And instead of the walls running straight up and down, they curved. I don’t know whether the curves made corners more or less creepy. Regardless, the whole place looked and felt off in a forced-cheery way. Did middle schoolers enjoy coming here? I wondered. Were they creeped out by this place? Or have I just become so afraid of empty spaces that this school is creepy to me? Maybe I’ve gotten old enough that color and whimsy have lost their charm. Not that I’m that old, but…

     Finding nothing useful, I left another doodle on the chalkboards before moving on to the third and final school. This last one was definitely a preschool. And what makes it weird is it looks almost exactly like where I went to kindergarten in the late 90s. The white and sickly green floors, the long hallways, the classrooms full of finger paints, crafts, toys, and other stuff. Even the tank in the corner where my school kept a turtle (although there’s nothing in this one).

     It’s so alike that it scares me.

     In that place, I could clearly remember what memories I made at that time. I was in for only two days, but it felt more like two weeks. Probably because I didn’t like it. Why would I? I was alone, I didn’t know anyone, and unlike at the playground everything was controlled. I wanted to make friends, but the need to obey the teacher got in the way of that. Or maybe I just let it get in the way. At recess, I’d grow shy and just read books in the classroom. Worst of all was when I had to find the restrooms. The halls were big and every room around me looked alike. I must have gone in a circle three times before some bewildered teacher found me on the brink of tears and pointed me in the right direction.

     Interestingly, this preschool is the only place in this world so far that has books. Kneeling down at the cubby where picture books were kept, I hoped I’d find anything legible to read. But no…when I opened one of them up, the words were blurred, as if someone had cried too much on the pages. And they were far too jumbled to understand. Though it wasn’t just the words that were strange. The illustrations were plain weird. Eyes, toadstool mushrooms, rainbows, and sparkles were everywhere. People had TVs and teapots (among other things) for heads. It wasn’t just one book either. I flipped through everything there was and they were all like that.

     What kind of world is this where you can’t read anything and people don’t look like people?

     Although…god, I didn’t want to talk about this, because again I have no idea if what I saw was real or not. But seeing all the eyes in the illustrations made me think of the shadow that grew in White Collar Avenue.

     It, too, was full of eyes.

     Seeing similar things in a kid’s book isn’t proof of anything. At least, I won’t see it as proof until I witness something in a more conscious, trustworthy state.

     Anyway – I should get food and find somewhere to sleep. Maybe tomorrow…I definitely won’t go inside. But it might be good to check up on the Pink Mall. See if the flooding got worse or eventually stopped.

     Decided to make things easy for myself tonight and stay at the Sweet Tomato. It might not be cozy, but it’s the only place I kinda trust.

     Also feeling a bit melancholy. As strange as this world is, there’s too much that’s familiar in all the wrong ways. Wrong because everything familiar is like times, places, people, or things that I’ve left behind. Or things that have left me behind or changed beyond recognition (in the real world, I mean). Things I was mourning before I came here.

     Perhaps it’s best to stop remembering. I mean, it’s bad enough that this world has me scared and unsure. Why give it more power by letting these things get to me?

     I’ll hang onto the music because I need it to stay sane. But anything else that reminds of the past, I won’t think about it. I won’t write about it. From now on, I treat everything like it’s new. No sentimentality, no nostalgia, no memories, nothing.

     This is the present, not the past.

     This is the present, not the past.

     This is the present, not the past.

     I don’t know what to do.

     A few minutes ago, I woke up because instead of music, there was static playing through the Walkman’s earphone – probably because I knocked it over in my sleep. I was about to switch stations when I heard something in the static.

     Clicks. Short ones and long ones. Morse code.

     I can’t believe I’m saying this – but there must be someone else in this world. If every form of communication here is muddled beyond recognition, why would there be Morse code? Why would something dare to make sense now?

     There are just two problems. I don’t remember Morse code. The last time I knew it well was when I was eleven. And around 3:30 AM, the clicking stopped, so even if I could decode anything, I can’t access the message. I’m going to keep tuning in just in case it comes back.

     There’s also one other major problem. It’s almost 9 AM…and the sun hasn’t come up. Yeah – I can’t explain it, I can’t do anything about it, and I don’t like it one bit.

     Should I stay put? Go outside and keep exploring? I don’t have a flashlight, but the streetlamps are on. So are all the lights in the stores. I mean, as long as I don’t go toward Daisy Hill or out where the Gas Station is, I should be fine, right?

     All I can think about right now is the eye-filled shadow on White Collar Avenue. Every time I look out into the expansive darkness, I keep wondering if those eyes are out there, searching for me. I keep hoping what I saw wasn’t real.

     I need to explore…but I promised myself I wouldn’t make anymore dumb decisions. Think I’ll just stick it out here until the sun comes up. Or until I’m too sick of wondering what could be happening outside. If anything’s happening outside.

[enivousflaws]

The Ruins PT.2  TW: blood and gore

Armed with their makeshift weapons, they decided to face the man outside.

Astrid cried out as the machete connected with her face, sending blood trickling down her cheek, while the life drained from her eyes,

The girls screamed and ran for their lives, but the man was too fast. He caught up to Amber and raised his machete to strike.

Kara saw from the corner of her eye and acted quickly. She grabbed a nearby tree branch and struck the man in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground.

Astrid and Amber were able to escape, and they ran as fast as they could back to the cabin,

Amber: Oh my gosh, Kara, did you see that?!

Kara : Yes, I saw it. We have to get out of here!

Amber: But what about astrid?

Kara: We can't do anything for her now. We have to go before whoever killed her comes back.

Amber: I'm so scared. What if they come after us?

Kara: We have to stay calm and just try to figure out how to find the others.

(Amber sliding down the wall crying)

Kara: amber are you okay?

amber: I-I think so (with tears in her eyes) b-but Astrid OMG kara astrid sh-shes dead

Kara: (tears slowly falling down her face) I know, I know

Meanwhile, Tianna and Sasha Suddenly, stumbled upon an old ranger station. In the station, they desperately searched for a way to get help. They looked for a working phone or radio, but there was nothing.

Just then, they heard a noise outside. It sounded like someone was coming.

The girls had no choice but to stay and hide. They ducked behind an old dusty desk, hoping that whoever had come wouldn’t find them.

The door creaked open and Tianna and Sasha could hear footsteps on the floor. They huddled closer together and held their breath. The man stepped inside and surveyed the room, Astrid blood still clanged to the machete. He looked around for a moment but then left without noticing the two terrified girls behind the desk.

Once the coast was clear, the girls ran out of the ranger station and back into the woods. They were relieved to be safe, but they still had no idea how to get back to the cabin.

Sasha: 'Where are we, Tianna? I'm so lost!'

Tianna: 'I don't know. We need to find that cabin somehow. I don't think I have ever been this scared before.'

Sasha: 'Me neither. How can we find it though? What if it's too dark to see anything?'

Tianna: 'We should try to find a landmark or something that could point us in the right direction. Maybe a river or a mountain?'

Sasha: 'Yeah, that's a good idea. Let's see if we can find anything that can help us out.'

Tianna: 'Okay, let's start looking. We should try to stay together so that we don't get lost again.'

Sasha: 'Alright, let's go.'

Tianna and Sasha were lost and scared, but they were determined to make it back. They decided to take the long way around, hoping to find their way back through the woods. The two girls held hands as they trudged through the forest.

As Siena was running through the woods, tired and scared, she saw a man ahead of her, staring at her. She tried to run but felt a sharp strike to her back. She felt a machete and tried to pull it out, but the man was gone. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked around, trying to find the man who had attacked her. Fear flooded her senses as she kept running, not knowing what was going to happen to her. She was in unfamiliar territory and she had no idea where to go. Just when she thought she saw a way out, the man ran in front of her, blocking her escape. Before she could register what was happening, he raised an axe above his head and in one swift motion, brought it down on her skull. She never even had a chance to scream. Her exitance had been ended in an instant. The man stood there, unmoving, the axe still dripping with her blood, the only sound was the faint rustling of the trees in the wind.

The man stood there, unmoving, the axe still dripping with her blood. He had taken her life in a single swift motion, his face contorted in a strange mix of bitterness and sadness. He had been driven to do so by a relentless force in his mind, a force that had been slowly growing in intensity until it had reached its peak. The only sound that could be heard was the faint rustling of the trees in the wind, a reminder of the life that had been taken from him. He took one last look at her lifeless body, before turning away, his face expressionless and cold.