#tru blood imagines | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ckret2 · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 20 of Human Bill is the Mystery Shack's (secret) prisoner (title tbd), featuring: at last, Wendy discovering the "house guest." And Stan discovering Wendy discovered the house guest. And Bill and Stan having the funniest argument imaginable.

Also featuring: Ford letting Fiddleford in on the secret and asking for his help getting rid of Bill for good.

####

"Hey dudes," Soos said, leaning into the living room. Bill and Mabel looked up from Mabel's phone. "Me and Melody and Ford are heading out for anime night. If you've got an emergency, call me; and if you don't have an emergency, uh... don't. Cuz we're gonna be anime-ing hard."

"Anime night?" Bill repeated. "Why's Stanford going to anime night?"

Soos blinked. "Is... that a trick question?" he asked. "Hey—aren't you not allowed to use phones?"

"He's not using it," Mabel said. "I'm using it. He's just watching a video over my shoulder. I've got him secured for our safety!" Bill demonstratively held up his bloody sock-wrapped hands.

"Oh. Smart thinking," Soos said. He nodded and left.

Bill looked back at the phone, left eye shut and right eye squinted, then pointed at the screen and murmured, "Oh, there—037, 037 is a big winner." Mabel nodded and wrote down "Beach 037" on a piece of paper where she'd been listing scratch card serial numbers.

Soos came back. "Hey," he said, "Bill. Why are your hands bloody."

"Because my eye's bleeding." As he said so, a bright red drop of blood rolled out of his right eye like a tear. He wiped it off his cheek with one hand, adding another stain to the sock.

"Oh. Okay," Soos said. "Why's your eye bleeding."

Mabel helpfully answered, "Because it's hard for him to see into a higher dimension from here."

"Hey." Bill nudged her with an elbow. "That was for your ears. But yes, if you have to know. Human eyeballs are—limited. It causes some some light cranial hemorrhaging." He squinted at the video again. Another bloody tear rolled down his cheek.

Soos stood uncomfortably in the doorway. "Looks... kinda painful."

"Excruciatingly," Bill said casually. Mabel mouthed he's fine at Soos.

Soos said, "Do you... want a headache pill? Or an eyepatch or something?"

"Oh." Bill looked up at Soos in surprise. "Is that an option?"

Soos shrugged. "Yeah?"

"Huh." Bill was momentarily silent, processing this revelation about the medical care options he was permitted. Finally, he said, "No to the pill—I think I'm getting a migraine aura, and I don't want to stop the little white spots before they develop into full hallucinations! I'd hate to miss that light show, you know?"

Soos nodded, as though he did know. He did not, in fact, know.

"But I could use an eyepatch," Bill said.

"You got it. Be right back."

Soos retrieved an unopened costume eyepatch from the spares for his Mr. Mystery outfit, brought it downstairs, and handed it over to Bill's socked hand. "Do you uh—need help getting that on?"

"I'll do it when we're done with the phone," Bill said, and returned to watching the video.

Mabel poked his side. "What do we say?"

"Thanks," Bill said without looking up, followed by, "062." Mabel dutifully copied the number down.

Soos headed out to his pickup, where Melody and Ford were waiting. "Sorry for the delay, guys," he said, sliding into the driver's seat. "Bill's eyeball is bleeding from trying to look at a higher dimension, so I had to get him an eyepatch."

In the back seat, Ford frowned and pulled his journal from inside his coat and flipped open to the most recent page. "Which eye?"

"Uh..." Soos held up a hand and turned it as he mentally rotated Bill to figure out which side his bloody eye would be on if it were on Soos's body. "Right. His right."

"Did he happen to mention which dimension he was trying to see?"

"Nuh-uh. He probably won't say either, he was kinda annoyed Mabel told me that much."

Mabel might know, then. Ford could ask her. Probably tomorrow—late tomorrow, after the party.

Melody asked, "He's not gonna need a doctor, is he?"

Soos started the truck. "He seemed really casual about the whole thing, so, I don't think so?"

"That's a relief," Ford muttered.

They started the drive to the former Northwest Manor.

####

When Fiddleford answered the front door and saw Ford, he smiled so wide it made Ford smile too. "Stanford! It's been a month of Sundays since I saw you last!"

"Fiddleford." Ford reached out to take Fiddleford's hand—and got tugged into a one-armed hug. He recovered from his surprise enough to return it. "It's good to see you. You're looking well." Which was to say: still looking aged before his time and running around barefoot and shirtless in his overalls; but a little less sunburned, a little more bathed, and merely "scrawny" rather than "emaciated." Ford figured if the man wanted to run around shirtless in his own lavish 150-year-old mansion, that was his own business.

"Just like we promised," Melody said, "one Ford dragged to your doorstep."

"Yes!" Soos pumped a fist in the air. "Operation Ford-Ford Reunion: completed! We uh—we didn't actually drag him, though. He was excited to come."

"He oughta be," Fiddleford said. "This'll be just like old times! Back in college, this man showed me all sortsa Japanese movies about big monsters and robots clobberin' each other. It was my first taste of international cinema!" He scratched his beard. "I wonder if that had any kinda impact on me?"

Melody and Soos looked at Ford with new respect. Soos said, "I didn't realize you were such a man of culture."

"All right, enough jibber-jabberin' on my porch!" Fiddleford waved Soos and Melody in. "You youngins go on ahead. Us old timers have to catch up. Tate's in the kitchen rustlin' up some vittles."

"Sweet, movie snacks," Soos said. He turned to Melody. "Wanna take the hidden service tunnel the Northwests used to hide the less pretty servants?"

"Pffft! Is that even a question?"

Soos tapped a foot twice on a square of Venetian parquet flooring just left of the door. A section of floor beneath them dropped down to form a slide, and Soos and Melody plummeted into the dark, squealing and laughing. The floor swung back up.

Fiddleford said, "I sure hope I fixed that tunnel to go to the pantry 'stead of the secret dungeon. Anywho!" He ambled his bow-legged way into the manor, gesturing for Ford to follow him. "We'll take the scenic route."

Ford looked around as he followed Fiddleford. He'd never been allowed in the front way before—the last time he'd visited the Northwest Manor back in the eighties, he'd been told to come in through a side door. It had been a very long walk. The front door opened directly into a great hall large enough to serve as a ballroom, with a staircase at the far end that led up to a fireplace and then forked left and right. A whale statue hung from the ceiling and still seemed dwarfed by the vast room. Ford had taken classes in lecture halls smaller than this. "I'm surprised you're still answering your own door. With all you made selling your inventions, I'd have expected you to hire a butler by now."

"I built me one a few months back," Fiddleford said, "but it kept trying to murder the feller what brings my mail. So I locked it in the coat room until I can figure out what went wrong."

There was a violent thud and scraping against a door near the entrance.

"Don't worry about that. It's reinforced," Fiddleford said. "Now, how long have you been back in town—a couple weeks?"

"Nearly." Had it really been less than two weeks? Somehow that felt both too long and too short. He'd accomplished so little with two weeks at his disposal. "I'm sorry it's taken me so long to come by. I wanted to as soon as I was back in town. You must think me a terrible friend—"

"Nonsense," Fiddleford said firmly. "I knew you'd come when you could—and here you are, ain'tcha? I reckoned you must've been busy with something."

"Yes," Ford agreed, with a bitter laugh. "More busy than you can imagine."

"Well, there you go! Nothin' to beat yourself up over."

Ford slowed, dropping a few steps behind Fiddleford, feet heavy, feeling like a physical pressure was keeping him from walking forward; and then he stopped. "I'm sorry to say, but that's part of the reason I'm here." He stared at the gap between his boots and Fiddleford's feet, the beautiful hardwood floor and the thin layer of dirt that had settled on it. "Of course, I wanted to visit you too, but... I need your help, Fiddleford."

He'd meant to wait until after the show to bring this up, let Fiddleford enjoy his evening without anxiety—hadn't he learned with Mabel not to try to mix business and socialization?—but now that Ford was here, the bad news threatened to bubble out of him with every breath. He wouldn't be able to enjoy his evening with his dread of the coming conversation weighing down on him. (What right did he have to enjoy the evening, when he knew he was once again about to make his mistakes Fiddleford's problem?)

But, Ford hadn't had the self-control to keep it to himself for just another few hours—he must have been too tired—excuses, excuses—and now Fiddleford was giving him that look he got when he was fully focused on a conversation, eyes wide and surprised-looking, as if opening them further would let him absorb more of the information he was receiving. "Of course, Stanford. What sort of help?"

Of course, he said. Of course, like Ford didn't have a history of asking for help that ruined people's lives. Either Fiddleford was charitable enough to assume Ford wouldn't inflict the kind of monstrous horrors on him he had thirty years ago, or selfless enough to offer anyway.

Ford swallowed hard. "It's heavy," he warned. "I don't want to ruin the show. Would you rather wait until afterward to discuss it...?" Although Ford doubted Fiddleford would stand for that.

Sure enough, Fiddleford waved off the idea with his bandaged arm. "Don't be silly. Now that you've brought it up, it's gonna give me the heebity-jeebies until I know what's wrong! Anyway, how heavy could it be?" He laughed wryly. "Can't possibly be as bad as that triangle feller, can it?"

Ford didn't know what expression had appeared on his face, but the effect on Fiddleford was instantaneous. His smile vanished; his lined face went as white as his beard. "Is it as bad?"

Ford winced. "Let me explain—"

"It's him." Fiddleford didn't phrase it as a question. "No. It can't— You're lyin'! You're lyin'!" He backed away from Ford as if he was the threat, tripped and tumbled to the floor, and scampered backward on his hands and feet.

And here was the screaming. Age had not dulled Fiddleford's hair-trigger panic response. Ford had hoped to explain it to him gently, ease him into the bad news before revealing who it was, but if all he could do now was damage control... Ford knelt down like he was trying to coax over a frightened cat. "Fiddleford, please—"

One of Fiddleford's legs spasmed, bouncing like a rabbit thumping its foot in warning of predators. "Not him! The beast— The beast with just one—"

"Two eyes," Ford corrected.

And the unexpectedness of the correction momentarily cut straight through Fiddleford's panic. His wild eyes focused on Ford in bafflement. "Say wha?"

"He has two eyes now," Ford said. "And he's powerless and imprisoned. He survived—but he's not a threat." It was a slight exaggeration, but Ford's first priority was calming Fiddleford down. He could introduce nuance once Fiddleford wasn't panicking.

"He's—He's not a—He's—"

"Deep breath," Ford said.

Fiddleford sucked in a deep breath, held it just long enough that Ford was starting to worry, and let it out in a long, deep gush. "Whoo!" He smacked his head with his palm, and then another couple times for good measure. "Sorry 'bout that. Just—got a little excited. Let me catch my..." He took another couple of deep breaths.

Ford waited patiently. "You're better at dealing with alarming news than you used to be." Maybe that wasn't the best praise, considering that Ford had usually been the one delivering the alarming news.

"I'm not sure I am. I think I just get it all out of my system faster." Fiddleford took one last deep breath, and said, "All right. Explain this to me."

Ford gave Fiddleford the rundown on the last two weeks—Bill's arrival, his capture, the stalemate as they realized that neither side could risk Bill's death without knowing what would happen. He explained everything they knew or suspected about Bill's current powers or lack thereof, and how they were containing and neutralizing him further.

He even pulled out his current journal to show Fiddleford Bill's appearance: a few days ago, Ford had gotten a drawing of Bill in the living room watching TV, huddled up against the armrest of the sofa as if he wanted to stay as close to the doorway as possible, one eye squeezed shut, the other glazed with disinterest, the corners of his mouth curled down despondently. Ford had done the quick rough sketch while watching Bill from the kitchen, then retreated to his room to flesh out the details. There was no way Ford was neglecting to properly document the unwelcome phenomenon occurring in his house, but there was doubly no way Ford was giving Bill's ego the pleasure of knowing he was drawing him again.

Fiddleford cocked a brow. "Bill's a woman?"

"I'm not sure whatever force humanized him was too picky about the sex," Ford said. "For that matter, I'm not sure he's picky about his sex. It's never come up." What kind of genders did Bill's species have? Did they have genders? Ford should ask. (Ford should not ask. He took that idea, stuffed it in a bag, and threw it in a lake.)

"Huh." Fiddleford gave Ford a skeptical look. "Y'all're letting him watch TV?"

"He's threatened to kill himself if he gets too bored," Ford said tiredly. "He knows if we were to completely lock him up, he'd be as good as dead, since we could just keep him there until we find a guaranteed way to kill him. He says he'd sooner die by his own hand in that circumstance, and he's mad enough I think he'd make good on it. So, to maintain the current stalemate, we've agreed on some... limited privileges."

"Including television."

"Honestly? Moving the TV out of the living room just so he couldn't watch it didn't seem worth the trouble. We use that TV too."

Fiddleford grunted; but he offered the journal back to Ford. He offered it held open, and his gaze didn't break from Bill's face until Ford shut it and put it back into his jacket pocket. "So," Fiddleford said. "You said you need help?"

"Yes. At the moment, we're safe from Bill. All we have to do is find a way to destroy both his body and whatever's inside it, whether it's a human soul or an energy being—and use it before he learns we have it and does something drastic."

Fiddleford pressed his lips together, so thin they disappeared behind his whiskers. "Stanford, I want to help any way I can, but none of my killer robots or deadly lasermajigs are designed for incineratin' space demons. I don't rightly know if I can help."

"But you've already helped. You—" Ford hesitated. "You might want to brace yourself for another shock."

Fiddleford wrapped his arms around his chest and laced his hands together behind his back. "Ready!"

"While I was exploring other dimensions, I found a parallel Earth where you—where we..." Ford swallowed his guilt. "Where... things turned out better. Your parallel self helped me perfect my weapon to destroy Bill."

"A parallel..." Fiddleford's gaze briefly went wall-eyed as he processed the implications of the second life-altering revelation of the hour; but he quickly shook himself out of it. "Well, shucks, then this oughta be easy as pie! If I can do it, then so can I! So tell me about this weapon."

Soos appeared at the top of one of the stairs at the end of the great hall. "Hey, dudes! What's the hold up? We're ready to roll!"

"We'll be right there," Ford called, then turned back to Fiddleford. "Perhaps I should show you the blueprints after the show."

They headed for the stairs. Fiddleford gave Ford a cheeky grin. "Stanford Pines, shilly-shallying around watching cartoons when there's work to be done? Now, my memory ain't what it used to be, but that don't sound like the Stanford I recall."

"I've learned the hard way that a strict diet, exercise regimen, and regular meditation alone can't save a human from burning himself out." The image of Bill's eye and Cheshire Cat smile peering out from beneath a dark towel flashed through Ford's mind. He pushed the memory aside. "Now more than ever, I need to make time for a little play." Goodness knows he hadn't made any time in the last couple of weeks, unless that emotionally fraught trip to Portland counted. "Besides, I—don't want to ruin your evening with my problem."

Fiddleford reached up to put a hand on Ford's shoulder. "That sonova cosine ain't your problem; he's ours. All of ours."

"Thank you, Fiddleford." It was exactly what he needed to hear.

At the top of the stairs, Fiddleford hopped in the air, kicked his heels together, and shouted, "Now let's go watch some giant robots commit atrocities against God! YEEHAW!" He tore off down a corridor with Ford chasing close behind.

####

Stan had given Wendy a copy of the Mystery Shack's keys a year ago, back when the only secrets in the shack had been hidden beneath the vending machine. She still had them, and she could still let herself in at any time; she'd just needed an excuse to minimize how much trouble she'd get in if she was caught.

"Sorry, I forgot my ice cream was here and I just came to pick it up" was a much lower offense than "I was sneaking in specifically to find out the thing you were trying to keep me from finding out."

Staking out the shack from the woods was boring work—she would've liked to bring a friend along, but then she really couldn't use the "I was just swinging by to grab my food" excuse—but she could pass the time whittling until she lost light, and after that she had like a billion scary story podcasts to go through.

Friday night was anime night. Around seven, Soos's truck pulled out, with Melody and Ford on board. That was right—she'd seen Ford talking to Soos about joining in on anime night. One less person she had to look out for. Half past ten, the last light in the shack turned out.

Wendy went in.

She automatically avoided the creakiest floor boards as she let herself in the front door, and then crept into the kitchen. She closed her eyes as she groped around in the freezer for the sorbet she'd left behind so that the light couldn't disrupt her night vision. There. Excuse retrieved. If anyone caught her now, she could wave her dessert in their face and pull the dumb teen routine.

Now what?

All she knew about the shack's latest secret was that it had ripped up Soos's coat, it might be psychic, and it was possibly locked up and shouting mad about it. That didn't give her a lot to go on. The kitchen didn't look much different. Less clutter out on the counters and shelves than usual, but that wasn't evidence of paranormal activity. Maybe Abuelita had gone on a cleaning spree.

She'd start with safer locations and move out from there. If she was caught, where would she get in the least trouble for snooping?

Sorry guys, I just came by to get my sorbet; and then I really needed to use the bathroom, so I thought it wouldn't be a big deal if...

She crept out of the kitchen.

Wendy wasn't risking waking anyone by turning on lights; but by the glow of her phone's screen and the living room fish tank, she could see that Abuelita's sofa was missing its cushions. No signs of anything else weird though. She crept down the dark hall, phone pressed to her chest to hide the glow until she'd passed the guest room and Abuelita's room.

Her heart leaped into her throat when she tried to grasp the downstairs toilet's doorknob, but only brushed fabric instead. She held up her phone. They'd replaced the door with a curtain? That was weird, but...

She pulled the curtain aside.

Something sat cross-legged on the closed toilet. One blood-dripping yellow eye stared up at Wendy.

Wendy screamed.

"Hello to you too," the thing said. "Come in?"

Wendy punched it in the eye and bolted.

She heard it stumble-thud out of the bathroom, call, "Wait, wait—Wendy!" and then laugh, and then mutter, "ow, ow, ow."

Wendy slowed halfway to the exit as what she'd just seen fully registered. That was a human person. Whom she'd socked in the face.

Wendy about-faced. "Oh, man, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" She came back and flipped on the bathroom light to check for damage.

The stranger was a heavyset brown-skinned woman with a mass of loose golden curls hanging to her shoulder blades, wearing a baggy yellow hoodie and knee-length skirt—and something about her was familiar, but Wendy couldn't put her finger on what. The stranger shrugged, grinning, and said, "It's not the worst thing to happen to that eyeball today!" She moved an eyepatch over from her left eye to cover the bloody eye Wendy had socked—and that was why Wendy had only seen the one eye in the dark. The eyepatch.

Wow, smooth move, Wendy, punching somebody for having a painful-looking eye condition. She winced. "Sorry. Do you... wanna ice that?" She awkwardly held out her sorbet.

The stranger looked at the pint thoughtfully. "Can I eat it instead?"

"Um. No?" Wendy pulled it back. "Hey—did you call me Wendy? How'd you know my name?"

The stranger shrugged. "What, you work here, don't you? I see you all the time."

So they had met before? Wendy studied the stranger's face, trying to remember where—and then her eyes widened. "Wait—hold on, Toga Lady? No way!"

"Wh—yeah, that's me!" She laughed. "I can't get over how many people recognize me because of that."

"Yeah, everyone in town knows you." She flipped open her phone to show Toga Lady a meme Tambry sent a couple days ago: the picture Wendy had taken of her in the gift shop that spread all over town, currently captioned, "When you're meeting Plato but still wanna look kawaii."

Toga Lady cracked up. "Hey, I love that! Send that to Sh—Mabel, I wanna save that."

"Sure." Did Toga Lady not have a phone? Or maybe just didn't want to hand her number out to a stranger who punched her in the dark. "So... what are you doing here? Are you visiting the Pines?" Wendy vaguely remembered Toga Lady asking about the Pines a few months ago. "Who are you?"

"The name's Goldie," the stranger said. "And I'm... just staying here for a bit. As a house guest." (And, Bill realized, if Wendy asked him any more than that, he was in trouble. He and the Pines had very briefly arranged his cover story: if and when somebody noticed him, he was Goldie Locke and he was staying as a guest. But why was he staying as a guest, where had he come from, how long would he be here... they'd never gotten that far. He'd better think up some boring cover story the Pines wouldn't object to—maybe claim to be one of Abuelita's distant relatives, staying with family between jobs...)

Wendy said, "So, hold on. Are you the big mysterious supernatural phenomenon the Pines have been trying not to talk about?"

Goldie blinked. And then a brilliant, gleeful smile stretched across her face. "Wow, you're a smart one! How did you guess?"

####

To Fiddleford's evident despair, Soos had made good on his threat to put a moratorium on mecha anime. Instead, he played a few episodes of a period drama about a former samurai, desperate to retire from the sword, who kept running into civilians with inconvenient problems that could only be solved with a two-foot steel blade.

In the 1920s, the Northwests had added a private movie palace to their manor so they wouldn't have to watch picture shows with the common folks; and it hadn't take Soos much work to rig up a new projector to play from his laptop. The Northwests had outfitted the theater with armchairs, loveseats, and coffee tables, which had conveyed with the manor. Once the show was over and the snacks were cleared aside, one of the coffee tables made a perfect space for Ford to spread out his blueprints and research notes. While Soos, Melody, and Tate discussed the likelihood that unemployed samurai really used their swords to rescue stuck cats by chopping down tree branches, Ford explained the quantum destabilizer to Fiddleford.

It was a death ray designed to obliterate whatever it hit—whether matter, energy, both, neither, or other. If it hit a human, they'd be crushed into nothing. If it hit something as powerful as Bill, he'd be fatally collapsed into a miniature black hole, taking anything under his influence with him, and then he'd disappear. Not even ashes would be left behind. No matter what Bill was now, this could kill him.

The problem was the fuel, which Ford had obtained from another Fiddleford, who in turn had obtained it in a paradox dimension: an element that was inert when observed and highly radioactive when concealed. Parallel Fiddleford had named it NowUSeeitNowUDontium. But Ford had used up the last of his fuel on a wild shot during Weirdmageddon. And—short of rebuilding that accursed portal and venturing back out into the multiverse—Ford didn't know how to get more.

"Your parallel self helped me make all the modifications to my destabilizer to let it run on Dontium," Ford said. "You know your own mind better than anyone else. Perhaps if you see your parallel self's design modifications, you might be able to deduce the necessary properties of the substance used to fuel it, and we could... find a way to synthesize an artificial substitute, maybe?"

Fiddleford frowned worriedly at the blueprints. "Frankly, I don't know that I do know my own mind," he said. "But... I'll take a look-see at this, see what I can make of it."

"That's all I ask. Thank you, Fiddleford."

"What'll we do if I can't work it out, though?"

He'd already wondered that himself. Making an element was harder than finding one. There was a reason the gold miners outlasted the alchemists. "We'll find another way. Maybe adapt the destabilizer to another fuel source. I initially designed it for portability in anticipation of a fight with a highly mobile, flying opponent. Now that it'll be used for the execution of a captive, portability is less important. Perhaps it could be modified to plug into an external fuel source?"

"It'd have to be ginormous," Fiddleford said dubiously. "What about that infernal-lookin' summoning circle you had us try? Is that still an option?"

"I've considered it, but... there are four members of the zodiac who still don't know Bill's alive—and they're all children. I never learned exactly what the zodiac does, much less whether it would have any effect on Bill as a human, so I don't want to get them involved just to discover that solution doesn't work. The destabilizer will work."

"If'n we can fuel it."

Ford sighed. "We'll call the zodiac 'plan B.'"

####

On the way out, Ford stopped in the door and said, "Oh, Fiddleford—I nearly forgot." He took out a folded paper he'd stowed in his journal's cover and handed it to Fiddleford, grinning.

It was a hand-made card, with a cover that featured a cake and puffy stickers that read, "PARTY!" Inside was a crayon drawing of Stan and Ford holding hands and smiling next to the words, "Come to our 62nd birthday party!!! Saturday, June 15, 1:00 PM, at the Mystery Shack!!! DON'T BE LATE!!!!!"

Wryly, Fiddleford asked, "Did you make this yourself?"

"Mabel helped," Ford admitted. "I almost forgot our birthday entirely until she brought it up this morning."

"Did you? Now I don't feel so bad that I'd plumb forgot myself. Tomorrow—whoo-ee." A hint of anxiety entered his eyes. "Will the party attendees be including...?"

"We're having our party outside. Our 'houseguest' 'Goldie' is not allowed outside."

Fiddleford immediately relaxed. "Then I'll be there, don't you worry! With gifts, too!"

"Then we'll see you tomorrow." As Ford followed Soos down the long driveway toward his truck, he mused to himself that he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a birthday party. He didn't think he'd ever invited somebody outside his family to a birthday party and thought they would actually come. Felt good.

Ford was halfway to the truck when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Tate. Had they ever spoken one-on-one before? "Tate? What can I do—"

Tate took a step too close, and Ford's back immediately went stiff. "Don't think I didn't see those blueprints you were showing my Dad," Tate said. "Now, you listen here, Dr. Pines." He said "doctor" like it was an insult. "Thirty years ago I lost my father thanks to you and your stupid science project, and I just got him back. I ain't keen on losing him again. Is that clear?"

Oh. "I—yes. Perfectly clear. I don't want any trouble. I'm asking for his help to prevent trouble, actually."

Tate drawled, "Oh, yeah? That so? You usually need futuristic laser bazookas to prevent trouble?"

How good a look had Tate gotten at the blueprints? He'd been on the other side of the room. "Tate... listen." Ford took a deep breath. "You've got every reason to distrust me. Thirty years ago, I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I turned my back on your father when he needed help the most—and you, your mother, and he all suffered greatly for it. But whatever happens, I won't turn my back on him again. I promise."

Tate considered that in sullen silence. "Fine," he said. "See you don't. But I've got my eye on you."

He turned back toward the manor, paused, and faced Ford again. "When I came to Gravity Falls, the first place I went was the last address Dad wrote from. The man who answered the door said he never knew no McGucket and he'd never stayed there. I called him a dirty liar, and he chased me off his property with a hammer." He pointed at Ford. "You... You were gone by then, weren'tcha? That was your brother."

Ford's stomach dropped. "That's right. That... Stanley didn't know anything. We were estranged the whole time I knew your father. I didn't even call Fiddleford by name in my journals."

"All these years he told me he never knew my father, I thought he was just too big a coward to own up to what he'd done. When all along I was resentin' an innocent man, while you were..." He trailed off; then set his jaw firmly, squared his shoulders, and said, "Welp. You take responsibility like a man. I hope you act like one, too."

Ford shrugged helplessly. "I've been trying to."

Tate nodded once. "Good to finally meet the real you, Dr. Pines," he said coolly. Then he turned back toward the manor and walked away.

####

Stan was sure he'd heard a scream.

He stared at the ceiling. It was too late for people to be screaming. He didn't wanna get up. He couldn't hear anything now; but then, his hearing aids were out. Which meant the scream must have been really loud.

Grumbling, he sat up, put in his hearing aids, put in his teeth, put on his glasses, put on his slippers, dragged himself upright, and shuffled to the door.

The moment he stepped out, he could hear Bill's voice, chattering from some dark corner of the shack: "I was actually one of Stanford's research assistants! Haha! Yeah, during the earliest portal tests, I got sucked into the psychic plane between reality and dreams—ever heard of the 'mindscape'?—and everyone assumed it killed me! I've actually been haunting the shack like a ghost for the last three decades! It sure is great to be alive again!"

Stan's first thought, still half asleep, was, I don't remember Ford telling me about that part. And his second thought was, Wait. Who's Bill talking to?

Then he heard Wendy's laugh and his blood ran cold. "Aw man, that's insane! What'd you eat? Is there food in the mindscape?"

"I didn't need to eat, sleep, or age! Convenient, huh? Now I look thirty years too young!"

"How'd you keep from getting crazy bored without anyone to talk to?"

"I watched TV over Stanley's shoulder and eavesdropped on tourists' marital problems! I saw you all summer—"

Stan followed their voices to the living room and fumbled on the light switch. Wendy started and cringed back into the armchair she'd claimed, squinting in the bright light. Bill, who'd been standing in the dark like a creep, didn't flinch—but he slowly stood a little straighter.

"What the heck's going on in here?" Stan snapped.

"Hey, Mr. Pines," Wendy said weakly. "Sorry—I forgot my ice cream when I left," she held up a pint, "so I came back for it and... um..."

"I spooked her in the dark and she socked me!" Bill laughed.

Stan moved between Wendy and Bill. "She's got the right idea." As Stan moved further into the room, Bill circled him to get closer to the doorway.

"But—I mean, is Goldie all you were keeping secret?" Wendy asked. "I worked here all last summer. I know what this place is like! You know I can handle learning that some woman's been stuck in a parallel plane—right?"

Before Stan had a chance to say anything, Bill piped up again: "They're all just worried about the thirty-year-old missing person case they could have helped solve! But hey, I don't mind. I'm sure the only reason they didn't try to find me was because Ford thought I was dead and Stan didn't know about me." Bill looked straight in Stan's eyes. "Isn't that right?"

Oh, Bill had them all over a barrel now.

A good two-man con was a lot like good improv theater, in that neither actor could contradict the other one's story; once one of them introduced a detail, the other one had to agree "yes, and—" and roll with it. No matter how stupid or insane your partner's contribution, if you start arguing about your story in front of your mark, they'll know you're lying—and there goes your mark.

Stan knew that. Bill knew Stan knew that.

And Bill had gotten to Wendy first. Now, unless Stan wanted to completely spill the triangular beans to Wendy, he had no choice but to play along and "yes, and" Bill's stupid story about being Ford's assistant.

Fine. But no way was Stan playing along on Bill's terms.

Stan scoffed loudly. "Or maybe the reason my brother didn't try to find you is because you're a no-good lying creep who"—(what do nerds hate each other for?)—"tried to steal his research!"

From the corner of his eye, Stan could see Wendy's eyebrows shoot up and her mouth open slightly. Yeah, good. Yes-and that, Cipher.

Stan expected anger. There wasn't anger. The ghost of a smile flickered across Bill's face before he got his expression under control. There was a spark of light in his eye, like something sleeping in him had activated.

In the split second between Bill's lips parting and the first syllable emerging, Stan realized—a moment too late—that he'd made a terrible mistake. Bill wasn't just a con artist. He was one of those guys. The guys who got into crime because they couldn't get into theater. The divas. The attention hogs. The guys who enjoyed lying for the thrill of it.

And Stan had just given him an opportunity for drama.

"Steal it?" Bill snapped. "Steal it?" He raised a hand and pointed a thumb at himself, elbow jutted out to the side, chest puffed up, making himself bigger. "I am his research! Over half the stuff he put in his journals comes from material I dug up for him! By his third journal, he was practically my ghostwriter! But do you think I was gonna get a co-author credit?"

"Oh, that's a load of bull—slander," Stan snapped. "I am not letting you talk about my brother like that! He did all the hard work while you, what—" what fit the story they were inventing, "—picked up books for him at the library like a good little undergrad—?"

"Hey!" Bill turned sideways to jab a finger at Stan, like a fencer making his profile narrower before driving his sabre home. "Post grad! I was working on my dissertation! And I didn't just 'pick them up'; I found the books he needed, usually because I'd already read them and he hadn't!"

"Oh, you read a few books! Oooh, I'm so impressed! But you're not the one who wrote about them, sister!"

"HA! The hundreds of pages of notes I gave him say otherwise! So what if I wanted to publish first while he was hoarding the fruits of my labor in his basement, it was my right—!"

Stan bellowed, "That kind of talk is why you got dismissed from your dissertation program for plagiarism!"

All righteous indignation, Bill raised his voice to match, "The plagiarism charges were unproven! I dropped out on my own terms!"

"Oh SUUURE, because you wanted to see the WOOORLD! And how much of the world did you see hiding in a podunk logging town doing my brother's primary research for him, huh?!"

"HA!" Voice nearly a shriek, finger raised to the heavens in triumph, Bill crowed, "SO YOU ADMIT I DID ALL THE PRIMARY RESEARCH—!"

Ford said, "What the devil is going on here?"

Stan and Bill fell silent. Ford stood in the entryway, looking one part irate and two parts bewildered. The front door was still open, Soos and Melody peering around Ford.

Ford could doom them. Stan knew how to improv like a con artist, Bill knew how to improv like a con artist, but did Ford? Ever since they'd been kids, he'd always been just a little slower with a lie. If Stan had a chance to ease him into the backstory they'd concocted without requiring him to improvise himself—hey, we were just explaining to Wendy how 'Goldie' used to be your research assistant until 'she' got eaten by a portal test—

"STANFORD," Bill snapped. Stan almost jumped out of his skin. Oh no. Bill glared at Ford, pointed at Stan, and said, "Tell Stanley the plagiarism charges were unfounded, I was unfairly accused!"

Stan held his breath.

Ford stared at Bill, and then stared at Stan—Stan could almost see the gears turning in his head—and then stared at Wendy, and then stared at Bill again. And then he snarled, "After you tried to beat me to publication, you two-faced liar?"

"HA!" Stan pointed at Bill's face, laughing too hard to speak. "HAAA!" He pounded on the TV, half hysterical with mirth, and had to lean on it as he wheezed for breath. Ford—what a dark horse, Stan could kiss his cheek—Ford was maintaining the most stoic poker face Stan had ever seen.

Bill was violently biting his lip, red in the face, brows drawn tight together, trembling all over. It took Stan a moment to realize Bill wasn't angry. He was battling hard to look furious—playing the part of the loser of the argument—when the creep was actually fighting not to laugh.

Bill made eye contact with Stan, very nearly lost it, and turned his back toward Wendy so she couldn't see his face. He gestured vaguely toward Stan and Ford and croaked, "You see what I have to put up with?"

"I dunno, man." Grinning, Wendy said, "Not to make light of the whole 'stuck haunting the shack for thirty years' thing, but it kiiinda sounds like you had it coming."

Mission accomplished. And let that teach Bill a lesson about trying to out-lie Stan Pines.

Soos waved a hand. "Hey, uh, what's going on—?"

Now that was a disaster waiting to happen. "I'll catch you up." Stan zoomed around Ford, scooped his arms around Soos's and Melody's shoulders, and hustled them out of the room.

####

"You're sure you want to bike home alone this late?" Ford was walking Wendy back to where she said she'd left her bike, just outside the clearing the Mystery Shack made in the forest. "I could give you a ride."

"Thanks, Mr. Pines, but I'm fine. This whole part of the forest is basically my backyard."

"If you insist." He supposed the Corduroy cabin wasn't that far off—the local kids probably ventured further on a regular basis. They just didn't usually drop by the Mystery Shack at this hour. "What were you doing visiting the shack, anyway?"

"I came back to get my ice cream," Wendy said, holding up her sorbet pint demonstratively. "Which... is probably completely melted by now." She shrugged, popped off the lid and drank it.

She came by this late for ice cream? Ford had his doubts. But then, if he'd been a sixteen-year-old with a summer job in a house keeping a supernatural secret, would he have done any differently? (He was just glad she hadn't worked out who their "guest" really was. He'd have to thank Stan later for his quick thinking with a cover story.)

Wendy picked up her bike and hit her helmet against a tree to dislodge any bugs that might have crawled in. "Hey, uh—please don't tell my dad I was over here, okay? I kinda didn't mention that I was going out."

Wendy was Boyish Dan's kid, wasn't she? How different they were. The Dan that Ford knew hadn't been much older than Wendy, but he'd regarded these woods with a respect that bordered on fear. He'd never be wandering around this late at night. "I can't imagine why I'd need to bring it up." Ford had snuck out for dumber reasons as a kid.

"Thanks, Mr. Pines." She put on her helmet and got on her bike. "I'll see you in the morning!"

"The morning? The party isn't until one, is it?"

"Yeah, but I'm running an errand with Mabel." Wendy waved as she left. In the dark, her arm blended in with the trees.

Ford hadn't heard Mabel mention any errands. What was she doing that she needed Wendy's help for?

Ford waited until he couldn't hear Wendy's bike anymore; and then headed back into the shack.

####

(Y'all have no idea how long I've been waiting to post that argument. If you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know what you thought! I need comments to survive. Like tinkerbell. Thanks!!)

#wendy corduroy #grunkle stan #(for the art)#bill cipher #human bill cipher #(for the overall fic)#gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(with thanks to astro-b-o-y-d for the headcanon that McGucket hosts anime nights)

414 notes · View notes

paradlselost · 6 months ago

Note

i am so glad im finding another person who writes for far cry :)) if possible, can we see a jacob seed x gn!deputy who replaces pratt as his prisoner? it ends with jacob being their one and only, (even if its dubcon)

WIND — UP TOY

jacob seed x gn!deputy

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ ty for being my first submission ! jacob and his region lowkey scare the shit out of me lmao 🙏 kinda a little fucked up but I mean it’s jacob seed . also sorry this took so long ); smut below the cut

no use of y/n , reader is referred to as ‘ deputy ’ . gender specific nicknames are replaced by ‘ pup ’ . not beta - read

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ blasphemy , deputy is treated like a dog , implied forced cannibalism , implied death of a minor character , brainwashing , jacobs his own warning isn’t he ? smut : dub - con , degrading , oral ( m receiving ) , soft - ish sex , penetration , dacryphillia , one - sided orgasm .

It always crept up on him when he least expected it; when things began to have a sense of normalcy. His days a haze and his nights clouded with gunfire and explosions, dreams marred with blood and the guts of former comrades and men who died far too young. For what?

What is the American dream when the world is going to end anyways? What are the soldiers overseas fighting for when the rivers will soon flow with blood and the ground tarred with ash?

His hand runs over his face; rubbing tired eyes. Demons of his past prey on him while he sleeps, turning him weak. Two to three hours is good enough for him, leaves him rested enough for his eyes to focus on the maps in front of him.

Being the leader of the army of Eden’s Gate wasn’t an easy job, though he held it with pride - a cardinal sin - but Joseph would forgive him as long as the prophecies his little brother had bouncing around his head came true. Jacob didn’t know if he believed in anything, really, it was hard to imagine God was with the soldiers that clutched cross pendants behind HESCO barriers.

But where he might’ve drifted from the true meaning of the cause further and further, where he might’ve argued the existence of a higher power with Joseph; one thing grounded him to his purpose and place in the cult. The Deputy.

Joseph’s ramblings were insane to the layman and gospel to the believer - but it seemed right now they were damn prophetic. Everything he said the Deputy would do; they did, and left bodies in their wake. Sometimes, he would watch whatever the cameras picked up of them on his screens, how they traversed the Whitetails with an almost practiced knowledge.

Sometimes, he felt like the eighteen year old new enlistee again when he watched them. The blood, the gunfire. Jacob Seed was a tough man, righteous and brave, but he would look down at them in their cage and feel the fire on his skin from the ranch he burned all those years ago.

He hated the feeling, wanting to drive his pocket knife into his chest and carve out every semblance of memory he had. But then his music box would rewind, and he would hear the sweet sound of the Platters crooning through the wood and metal and maybe, just maybe, things would be okay for him.

So he watched the way the Deputy writhe behind those thick steel bars against the cold soil, not afforded the luxuries even the most depraved prisoners received. Weak and idiotic for attempting to save their friend; but a mind that could be molded with the right tune.

Staci Pratt was a good pet; Pavlovian in nature and willing to do anything for the oldest Seed brother, so maybe that’s why Jacob began to grow bored of the man. Maybe that’s why he entertained the cracks beginning to show in the conditioning, how Pratt’s eyes softened at the sight of their co-worker being taunted by the Herald and yet knowing there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

An escape plan, of course he knew about it, he had eyes and ears everywhere and could always tell when one of his dogs stepped out of line. A perfectly timed truck, the siren going off to alert that a prisoner had escaped, catching Pratt as he allowed the Deputy to leave without him. It was almost sweet, but moreover vomit-inducing, like a lamb.

Sheep are creatures controlled by their own nature, that’s why dogs have to herd them back into formation - like a general in charge of new recruits. Intolerables are discharged, lambs are taken to the slaughterhouse. Nature, the circle of life, the bad meat is thrown out for the poor and needy to pick through.

“Eat. You wouldn’t want to fall sick, would you?”

A tin was placed in front of the Deputy, they had been through this before. Starved for however many days Jacob deemed necessary - usually ten - before they are given nothing but raw meat to eat. Never did they think they would yearn for the peanuts and beer served at the Spread Eagle, but there was no position to argue about what they were being given here.

Some fell over the side as greedy hands shoveled clump after clump into their mouth, covering it in a pitiful yet successful attempt to keep it down. Never did they ask what kind of meat it was, choosing to instead assume it was from one of the many cow farms in the valley.

“You’re hungry, aren’t ya, pup? You’re lucky, that’s a nice cut of meat.” A grin played on his face as he leaned against the metal bars, fingers grazing over his music box. There wouldn’t be any culling today, no, he had a much better idea in mind.

“Where’s Pratt?”

“Not even a thank you for my generosity, aren’t you fierce?”

“Where is he?”

“Peaches’s little act of rebellion earned him a punishment, I mean; that’s only fair. In a war like this you can’t go sympathizing with the devil, no matter how well you knew them before.”

It’s not an answer, but there’s an unspoken understanding that that is the closest thing the Deputy will get to knowing. A huff falling from their lips, ever the ungrateful dog; but their bowl is licked clean and what more can Jacob ask for?

A soft tsk fell from his lips, cold and condescending because how could he be anything but? Did the thing below him deserve care and kindness? Maybe at some point when they were strong, when their mind was still their own, but now they were nothing but a lamb being fattened for the slaughter.

His fingers grasped their chin, forcing eye contact and no doubt leaving marks that would form bruises. How much had they been through? Chest slashed with the markings from Jacobs little brother and mind already foggy from the bliss that grew in the Henbane; but there was a certain pride he took in being the one to break them.

How much time had passed? Had anyone come looking for them? Jacob had often taunted them, used the fact that they were immobile against the conditioning he had given them to contact anyone. The rebellion would fall without their snake, maybe it already had, how would the Deputy know?

It wasn’t their place to think anymore, to simply let the oldest Herald put a leash around their neck and sit beside like a good dog. Their mind wasn’t their own, now it belonged to him and they had no room to complain.

“Look at’chu, open your mouth.” But he didn’t wait for them to comply, instead he bullied his fingers against their tongue, exploring over their gums and teeth. They could bite him, certainly, but they didn’t - wouldn’t.

Who was Jacob Seed but their owner? He had saved them from themselves, from the blood and the gore and the fire that threatened to burn the world to nothing but ashes. Joseph had greeted them in their new form, John had shown up to pout, but their eyes only ever stayed on the eldest.

“Such a good pup, ‘ did a wonderful job training you, huh?” He asked as if they could answer, as if they weren’t preoccupied by the fingers that traced their mouth like he was mapping them out.

A hum passed from his lips as he removed his fingers, instead moving to undo the buckle on his belt. Even in this state, the Deputy wasn’t stupid and could very clearly tell what was coming next. So, to hopefully avoid any wrath from him, moved to help undo his pants.

Leaning back in his chair and observing as they removed his pants, fingers trailing over the growing bulge in his boxers. Jacob was a stoic man, never did the Deputy know if they were really doing good, but he didn’t scold them so there was no stopping.

Hands smoothed out the black fabric a bit nervously, playing with the hem for a moment before a soft grunt from the Herald alerted them. Knowingly, their fingers hooked underneath the waistband and pulled it away from his freckled skin, letting it pool at his ankles along with his pants.

Wrapping around the base of his still hardening cock, their eyes fluttered up to meet his gray ones. A silent beg, a plea that they were doing alright and there would be no punishment later. All they got in return was a small nod; though there was no love or care behind it. More like a drill sergeant instructing a particularly moldable soldier.

Gentle, unsure licks placed against his tip, hand working against the base; fingers brushing against veins that worked overtime to pump blood to his dick. Jacob Seed was not one for taking his sweet time, his fingers tangled in their hair as he pushed their head down on his aching cock.

A soft gag fell from their lips, hands moving from him to settle on his toned thighs. A heavy breath leaving their nose as they tried their hardest to relax, nuzzling against his untamed ginger hair. He relished in the warmth of their throat, the tightness eliciting a groan as he pushed his hips up.

Their gagging was the sweetest sound he had ever heard, the soft whimpers and tears that emitted from the Deputy as they tried their hardest to just breathe through their nose. He loved the power he held over them, how those pretty tears fell for him.

“Cmon pup, look up at me.”

Fighting between lifting their head to meet his gaze and keeping their mouth wrapped around his cock, the Deputy managed to tilt their head up enough to see him. His smirk widened, cock throbbing against their throat as he watched the tears continue to fall from them.

Another few thrusts to the back of their throat before he groaned, pulling their head off his dick with a small ‘pop’. A trail of saliva still connected their lips, pre-cum mixed in with it. He couldn’t help the laugh that emitted from him at the sight of their swollen lips and heavy breathing.

“Poor thing. Don’t cry, I take care of you, don’t I?”

The Deputy couldn’t do anything but nod, and maybe it was a bit true. Jacob did care for them in his own sick and twisted way. In the back of their mind they wondered if this was how he treated Pratt behind close doors; more like a prized trophy than a lover.

His hands grabbed at their hips, pulling them onto his lap. The small barrier of whatever clothes they had been wearing on their lower half before was quickly removed, giving him access to everything he wanted.

Burying their face into the crook of his neck and wrapping arms around the back of him, the Herald lifted their hips once more to guide himself inside their needy hole before pushing them down onto him. Stretching, pain emanating from the sudden intrusion, he could feel the tears that fell from them and landed against his skin.

He cooed, a grin still wide on his face. His hands still settled on their hips, guiding them up and down on his cock. Gentle movements at first that quickly devolved to an almost feral extent. His pre-cum marred the inside of their hole, creating wet and sticky sounds everytime he fucked in and out of them.

It felt like a dam was about to break by the time Jacob decided he was finished. Loud sobs wracked their body as they cuddled closer to him, so close yet so far. His hips continued to move for a moment; stuttering and shifting a bit before he released inside of them, filling them with his cum.

The Deputy finally leaned back after a moment, tears still flowing from their now red eyes, sniffling - but they still attempted to move their hips over him. To get any kind of release as the Herald caught his breath. Needily grinding against his lap, hands clutching his shirt in a pitiful attempt that only made him laugh more.

“Oh, look at’chu. Pup needs to get off too, huh? Don’t worry, I told you I’ll take care of you.”

#far cry 5 #jacob seed #jacob seed x deputy #smut #gn reader #jacob seed x reader

84 notes · View notes

queenofallimagines · 1 year ago

Note

oh good gods pls your luciferian hcs made me YELL they’re so good lmao i was side eyeing my altar and space for lucifer the WHOLE TIME

do you think you could do a part two? and if possible, nsfw? if not thats more than okay!! thank you and i hope you’re doing so good!!!

🕷️anon

Absolutely 🕷anon! AND LMAO YEAH I COULD FEEL HIM SIDE EYEING ME ACROSS THE ROOM AS I WROTE THESESGSHSJS asking the old man “why are you like this” whenever lucifer in game does something corny😭 ik he’s sick of me

Lucifer:

- Okay so since part 1 was when you arrived this will be more about day to day life in the next term

- Right off the bat I’m imagining minor petty spats that the other brothers are like…. Wtf is going on here

- Like y’all have been glaring across the table at one another for 30 mins and haven’t spoken a word

- WAY more picky w offerings lmao

- Is literally going to be super extra about it for no reason other than to bother you

- For example! When you give an offering to oshun( African orisha they’re like the HR in the heaven department just above the angel hierarchy) you have to eat a little first bc she was poisoned once so it’s like to show you’re in good faith

- Lucifer will ask you to do that w food you don’t like

- “Eat some”

- “I got this for you-“

- “And I want you to taste some😌”

- “….. do I really I have to???”

- “Are you telling me what to do w MY offering🤨”

- MAKE FUN OF HIM PLEASE ITS SO FUNNY!!

- A lot of people ( white peoples I fear😔) be talking about he only accepts blood offerings and you have to sell your soul or whatever and stuff but literally this man will be giddy over a red candle w gold glitter

- Write all your assignments in sparky pen so when he looks at them he can’t hold back a smile

- As a joke you leave crystals associated with him in his coat pockets but he will never take them out

- Congratulations you played ya self

- You doing the stuff you do for him out of habit will fluster him if you say it

- “Why are you waking up so early to get ready?”

- “Hm? For Lucifer”

- “No im not gunna drink this tea it’s an offering🙄”

- Please don’t tell his brothers he will lock himself in his office💀

- Whenever you google “what can I do for Lucifer” 9/10 the first thing will be taking care of yourself

- So when your self caring w asmo and you go “oh I do this bc Lucifer likes it”

- The house will expose in chaos

- Mammon demanding you tell him your card numbers “for him” LMAO

- They’re all super jealous

- Gotta tell em its nothing personal he’s just always been there for you

- Whew if he reached out to YOU?

- The silence in the house REAL LOUD😭

- Belphegor waking up and going “ik you fucking lying!!!”

- You’re all confused like???

- “…..you said Lucifer… reached out to YOU?”

- “??????yeah????”

- “As in… he ASKED you to work with him?”

- “Yeah, I couldn’t stop thinking about his name and he showed up on my door one day”

- Lmao belphie and mammon are the LOUDEST FR

- “YOU CHOSE A HUMAN?? MR I HATE HUMANS BECAUSE THEYRE WEAK??📸”

- OH SO THERES MORE THAN ONE FAKE BITCH IN THIS HOUSE HUH?”

- lmao he’s sitting there red faced clenching his fist like

- “Listen I can explain”

- He cannot explain😭

- Can’t even say he did it on a whim

- “He really picked me up like a wet cat lmao”

- “Mc I am literally begging you to shut the FUCK up”

- Oh maaaaan diavolo will get a Kick out of this!!

- Solomon is very salty

- “But I can’t get a pact😒😒”

- He’s literally going to double down and bother him more

- “Lucifer you never told me you were taking on disciples🥺”

- “I didn’t think it was that important lord diavolo simply to pass the time”

- Simeon is laughing but internally having the feels bc he’s like 🥹 “even after all this time you still choose to be a guardian angel”

- Will tell you embarrassing stories about him he is now super close to you

- “Lucifer being the lords favorite was also the best one at singing👀 he loved music”

- That’s tru btw lmao Lucifer was like one of the angels who liked singing the most thats what makes humans and angels so alike- love for music and dancing-

- Call him your morning star and he MELTS

- Back to why were really here😌

- Call him that during sex or when you first wake up and he’s on cloud nine

- FUCK HIM DURING GOLDEN HOUR🗣🗣

- He’s literally he rises in the morning for a reason!!

- He will deadass purpose bc imagine riding him as the sun stars peaking over the horizon

- He’s under you moaning looking up at you w the most glazed over love struck eyes

- The sun filtering through the window and hitting him juuuuuuuust right

- That it looks like he has a halo again

- Breathlessly calling your name as you grind down on him

- He barely manages to get out that he’s close before you caress some of his hair out of his face

- “Cum for me then my Morningstar”

- Time freezes for like 16 seconds and his eyes are getting teary

- He hugs you close as he starts rutting his hips into you harder

- Will cum and keep going until he’s about to pass out

- Holding you like a lifeline

- When you can finally breathe and think straight he pulls you in for a kiss

- Literally stealing your breath away

- Will say I love you in the most honest voice ever while smiling at you with teary eyes

- probably won’t stop touching you all day might as well just spend it in bed

-is embarrassed by body worship calling it now

- be HE can do that but if YOU sink to your knees behind his desk and hold eye contact he’s getting nervous

-“just showing my devout gratitude💕”

- embarrassed how fast he finishes

- if you keep doing to overstimulate him he’s putty in your hands

- this man is very soft he will crack at the slightest sign of domestic romance

- bring him coffee when he wakes up?

- he’s already selected a wedding venue

- I always thought it would be cute if he gave you his ring

- HILARIOUS IF HE DOSENT TELL YOU LMAO

- You swing by the celestial realm and it’s crickets and you’re like ??? Fuck is y’all starring at??🤨

- Simeon hums and says that nobody expected lucifer to get married much less to a human. How he was never one to put anything above his responsibilities

- Excuse me?

- “You’re wearing the right of light,yes? He doesn’t just give that to anyone dear. You two are bonded for life now🥰”

- “HELLO????”

172 notes · View notes

fatuismooches · 1 year ago

Note

can you tell i have a lot of thoughts running tru my mind every second, you prob can by the amount of ask i've sent the last hour, huh.

anyway... wearing dottore's (the ones that are not as blood-stained) clothes would be both comfy and warm, so you sometimes sneak into his very blank bedroom and take a shirt or two. and since you are currently in Sneznaya (or however its spelled) warm clothes is necessary, both inside and outside, so you just wear his clothes if you miss him or need to feel extra warm. you also cuddle up to some of the segments for warmth, but they dont exactly produce warmth so they are more like your pillow and mattress (unless its zandy, then teddybear).

if any of the agents call out you being in his clothes, goodbye poor thing, see you in the lab. [they have a new rule to the handbook now, and a friend more lost] (if krupp did that, yeah... i dont think i even want to write abt that)

-luv ya

In the beginning, Dottore could not understand why you felt the need to steal his clothes. For one, your closet had much more variety than his, and you could easily make yourself feel warmer with that if you needed it... but yet another day passes when he realizes one of his (plentiful) blue shirts is missing... and he lets out a sigh at your shenanigans. Eventually, when he tries to take his shirts back by force, you have to blurt out how much you like his clothes because they remind you of him when he's not around. Only then will he look at you for a good few seconds and begrudgingly allow you to hoard his shirts. (And well, he won't lie, seeing you wear nothing but his long shirt that drapes over your figure, makes his possessiveness ten times harder. He needs to study why exactly he feels that way when you wear his clothes.)

Me personally, I like to hc that the clones can actually warm their bodies up!! I wrote about it like, a really long time ago in one of my older fics. (Somehow, Dottore had implemented a feature into his clones to heat up and become warm, so when you’d cling to them, you wouldn’t be cold anymore. You enjoyed it thoroughly because the reactions of the clones were cute.) Idk I know it seems unlikely BUT JUST THINK ABOUT THE FLUFF. 😭 I imagine they're naturally cold most of the time because well, they are artificial after all but, you giving them pleading eyes and slipping your cold hands under their shirts, begging for some warmth... 🥺 they give in, your cold hands don't really bother them either since they're used to it!! Such lovely bfs!! ❤️

The agents know better than to question why you have his shirt on despite already wearing your regular clothes... the fan club though, they definitely added this moment to their book, they're your number one fans fr!

#smooches talks #luv ya anon #dottore love notes <3 #sobs... i dont think ive ever loved a character more than dottore #LUV U TOO ANON!

71 notes · View notes

vvitchchild · 1 year ago

Text

After All That I Can Do For Them Is Done (Astarion/Tav)

"Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back..."

Astarion's story hit me directly in the grey-ace feelings and so I created this, an examination of Astarion's feelings regarding sex, specifically sex with his favourite travelling companion, mostly because I wanted to see it. After all, sex must be a complicated thing after 200 years.

I melded two scenes for the ending and made the hug longer, because god knows that man deserves more of a hug than the game gave him.

Also on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49515361

--------------------------------------------------------------

Intimacy was a strange creature to Astarion.

Not an unknown one, by any stretch of the imagination, but a complex one to be sure.

That which most viewed as the pinnacle of physical intimacy, the act of sex, was ironically an old bedfellow now. 200 years he had spent at its side, seducing, bedding, enticing, and all in the service of his master. Cazador. He was the anglerfish and Astarion the light that served as a pretty lure, leading unsuspecting prey towards the teeth. And when Cazador tired of new blood, then Astarion the lure became Astarion the plaything instead, for his master to toy with as he saw fit. How Astarion felt about his role or what was being done to him never much mattered and thus the concept of sex, and by extension intimacy, were thoroughly tarnished. To the vampire spawn, they were one and the same. Intimacy was nothing but a tool, a weapon in his arsenal and it was hardly his fault they all fell for it. He was good at what he did, even as he hated himself for it.

Look, see how Astarion works, how easily they fall for him, how expertly he manipulates them. He is one of my finest creations, don’t you think?

The blasted tadpole should have offered new opportunities. He was away from Cazador, out in the sunlight, the closest thing to freedom he had tasted in over two centuries of pure shit. In spite of this, however, he would still need to rest, and, more importantly, would need help removing the damn parasite in his skull. He needed a companion. After years as Cazador’s pet he knew only one way to keep another close and, well, instincts were hard to break, particularly when they had been beaten into him so very thoroughly.

The one he chose should have been easy prey. Found among the wreckage of the Nautiloid, they seemed at first to be as lost as him, carrying the same parasite in their skull. However they quickly proved themself indispensable, particularly in a fight, and determined to a fault. It would be prudent then for him to get on their good side, the side that would see him protected from his enemies, that would see him freed of the tadpole, the side that meant they would want to keep him around. So he began his plan. A simple seduction should have done it, a bait and snare, if you will, but one where he played both parts. He would now be the light and the teeth, and they the innocent, beautiful prey caught in his trap.

And by the gods, were they beautiful.

He began with some casual flirtations, an innuendo laced comment here, a pointedly lingering look there. His seeds found fertile ground and began to take root, even though his diet of whatever animals he could get his hands on was putting him at less than his best. It was this very fact that proved just how successful he had been.

They had caught him over them one night, fangs bared, all pretensions of civility momentarily forgotten as he prepared to feed out of sheer desperation. There was initial fear of course, they weren’t completely stupid, but then they just…trusted him? They lay back, baring their neck to him, allowing him to take his first taste of a thinking creatures’ blood, to drink deeply from them and only pushing him away when they absolutely needed to. Did they know what a gift they had given? While part of him was repulsed by their blind trust of something like him, another, louder part marvelled. How well his plan must have been working for them to react that way already.

This is what I made you for, my pet, and how well you have worked, how many pretty creatures you have brought me.

After that night, he intensified his efforts, now sure of his approach. He could see the effect he was having in the way their eyes always seemed to land on him, how their smile curled crooked on bitten lips whenever they talked together. Most importantly though, he could hear it in how their heartbeat sped up each time he was near, leaving them practically glowing. It didn’t take long before he was finally taking them to bed and beneath his lips and tongue and fingers, they bloomed. Praise fell easily from their kiss bruised mouth, of how good he was for them, of how perfect he felt. Hands petted his hair, caressed his face, dug nails into his back as he moved through the motions of a well practised dance. The gentleness with which they touched him, handled him, should have unnerved him. But he was drunk on his plan having worked so well. This was what he had wanted, what he had worked for, coming to fruition and it was beautiful.

They were beautiful.

And if he found himself wanting to linger, wanting to make sure no harm came to them as it had to his previous conquests, that was neither here nor there. The irony of something like him wanting to protect them from harm was not lost on him. Besides the tadpole and the Illithids that had put it there, was he not the creature doing the most damage to them? Biting them, taking their blood, manipulating them? And yet they still carefully asked about the scars on his back, the poem carved into his flesh by his master, the story bringing out a rage in him that he quickly swallowed, coating it in distanced charm so he could hurry them away.

Stay still, Astarion, or do you want me to begin again? Poetry takes artistry and artistry takes time. You want to be good for me, don’t you? Then stay still.

They sought him out again after that, seeming eager for more of what he could give them, and it was so very easy to follow instinctual, learnt behaviour. Sex was what he was good at, after all, what he was good for. Besides, it was far from a hardship to take them to bed, to press inside them and watch as they took their pleasure from him before he followed them over the edge. He couldn’t exactly complain. Though, if he was honest with himself, his favourite part of the whole affair wasn’t the sex itself but the closeness, the warmth of their skin on his own, their fingers interlocked like an anchor, their scent lingering on his clothes. And as time went on, that became what he looked forward to. The chance to be close to someone who seemingly wanted nothing in return. They gave so freely of themselves, of their body, their blood, their time, their trust. Objectively, it was a stupid thing for them to do and by all accounts it should have disgusted him. Instead it sat warm in his chest, feeling for all the world like Karlach’s infernal engine. Sometimes he feared the glow might show through his skin and make the way he felt obvious to any who might look.

Gods below, that concept terrified him. Developing feelings had never been part of his plan because it had never happened before. Was it simply that his conquests were never his long enough for that, always whisked away by Cazador before he could get attached? Or was it that this one was different, that they treated him with a kindness that felt so undeserved, that they had said they would protect him and had gone on to prove it? Sometimes they came to him in the evening to simply sit with him and talk, leaning against his side and lightly tracing their fingertips over the veins on his hand. At a loss of what they wanted from him, he would slide a finger under their chin, pressing lingering kisses to their lips, their jaw, their neck, pull them closer, slide a hand up their thigh. Anything to try and get them to stick to the script, to let him take them to bed, and while sometimes it worked, often they would gently but firmly remove his hands or his lips from wherever they had found themselves and tell him they just wanted to spend time with him. Like that was a normal thing and he should know what to do with that.

What was he supposed to do when they didn’t want sex?

Who was he supposed to be?

Of course he had his sparkling wit, that was a given, but the idea of someone wanting him just for his company, no sex involved, seemed so very foreign as to be impossible. Had they not seen the truth of him? Were they purposefully ignoring it for the sake of familiarity? People like him, creatures like him, did not get kindness and certainly not for free. It made him wonder what it could have been like, what they could have been had he remained just an elf in Baldur’s Gate. A person, not a monster, no greater crimes to his name than taking a few bribes, no literal blood on his hands, no parasites in their skulls. But much like his face, it was something now far beyond his grasp. Another thing stolen from him by Cazador he supposed. Gods, for all his talk of freedom, had anything truly changed? Was he not still doing what he had been made for, what he had done so many times before? Putting on a performance of intimacy that was nothing more than a means to an end.

Oh how precious! He actually believes you care. You’ve truly excelled yourself, pet. Now away, they are not for you. Besides, there are more for you to bring to me.

It came to a head as the party made their way into the Underdark. He was already on edge as the sky disappeared and they began the journey down. It was too reminiscent of the catacombs of Cazador’s castle, the cool, damp darkness felt so oppressive as to almost physically choke him and weigh him down. It had made him irritable, his temper short, but he had done his best to keep it under control round his…companion? Lover? He no longer knew how to refer to them, but he knew exploding in anger would certainly ruin things between them, surely then they would see the mistake they had made in trusting him. They would find information here, he just needed to get through this and it would be okay. He would be okay.

And then they’d found the alchemist. Araj Oblodra. A drow whose blood was so corrupted he could smell it before they were even near her. She had asked him to bite her, he had rather firmly turned her down, and then she had turned to his companion, talking about him as though he were their property, begging them to force him. And they had backed him, reaffirming the ‘no’ he had given her in the first place, being so nice that it set his pointed teeth on edge. The moment they were away from the alchemist, he snapped at them, growling like some infernal beast that he didn’t need their pity nor their help, that he was a perfectly capable vampire spawn, thank you very much. His tone was harsh, his words bitten out, far too much anger laced into them. The moment his companion’s face crumpled, though he could tell they tried to hide it, self-loathing bloomed, spreading like a blood stain and leaving him cold as all the rage he had felt earlier was directed at its true target. Himself.

They barely spoke for the rest of the day, leaving him realising just how much he longed for the sound of their voice, how it was like music to his ears that easily kept away his darker thoughts. Without it, they all but consumed him, leaving him adrift.

Now now, pet, don’t scowl, you’re ruining a perfectly beautiful thing. And you want to be my beautiful thing, don’t you? No? Then I will have to change your mind, won’t I?

He needed to fix this, immediately. Get them back into bed, so he could show them how indispensable he was, how good he could be if only they would keep him around. He couldn’t risk losing them, not now. The thought alone made his dead heart ache in his chest, the idea of being without them truly and utterly agonising. No one had ever cared for him the way they did, spared a kind word for him before them. They saw him as a person, an individual with his own thoughts and wants, not a mindless tool to be used for their own ends, not the awful monster he so often felt he was. He wanted so desperately to cling to them with both hands, not wanting to imagine them leaving him behind, finding comfort in the embrace of one of the others.

Perhaps if they knew the truth? They had been understanding thus far had they not? If he could just explain, prostrate himself before them that they might forgive him, that they might understand. He owed them the truth, after all they had done for him. He only prayed to any deity that might finally look favourably on him that they would not cast him out.

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.”

They’d made camp that evening, or what he could only assume was evening, and he’d made his way over to them once the others were occupied with their own business. The last he needed was an audience for what could easily be his undoing. His words came out carefully, tone jovial enough to not warrant suspicion. Clearly his performance skills were beginning to flag as they immediately asked if he was alright. Of course they did, so concerned with his well-being when he could see the bruises that blossomed under their skin, the dark circles around their eyes. How selfish could he possibly be?

“Oh yes, I’m fine. I just…feel awful…” He took a moment in an attempt to steady himself, like a deep breath before a dive, and then it all came out like vomit. How he had used his body for two hundred years, what he had been for Cazador, how he could have just relied on old habits and bitten that vile drow woman,the truth of his plan regarding his seduction of them so they would stay with him, and then how that had rather spectacularly fallen apart when he realised he had developed feelings for them. All the while, they stood there, silent as they listened, letting him get everything out like the damned saint they were.

“You’re-… you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

There it was. Out in the open for them to take or leave. He felt positively flayed before them, his vulnerability fully exposed. What an utter fool he was. He could feel himself bracing for punishment, for the razor sharp lick of a whip, the deep carving ache of a blade.

“So the nights we spent together didn’t mean anything?”

Their words were worse than any of Cazador’s harsh weapons, spoken cautiously so their voice didn’t waver but he didn’t need the tadpole to feel the hurt coming from them in waves. Gods, he had done that to them.

“Of course they did!” He needed to reassure them, fix what he had done, anything to get that glassy look from their eyes. He would have dropped to his knees right there in camp if they’d asked. “That’s the problem or, at least, part of it.” Taking a slow breath, he took a step closer to them. They deserved an explanation, he needed them to understand that his problems, his shortcomings, were not their doing. “Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back for him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to.”

Please, he silently begged them, please don’t turn me away. You’ve made my dead heart beat in ways I didn’t think it could anymore. I need you to tell me I am worthy of care even if I never want to be intimate with you again, that I’m not simply a body to be used, a means to an end. Please.

“I care about you.” They met his gaze, something seemingly renewed in them as they spoke. “Very deeply.”

“Really?” He couldn’t help but steel himself for the other boot, the one that would see him punished, cast aside. After all he had told them, they couldn’t still-

They were holding him, their body so very warm against his own, their arms wrapped around his waist but not tightly enough to feel constricting. Their wonderful, familiar scent filled his senses, their musk, the smoke of the fire, the lingering earthy scent from the moss they’d fallen into earlier, and underneath all the rich smell of their blood. The first olive branch they had offered him. All instincts he knew told him to slide a hand into their hair, guide their mouth to his own, press his body close against theirs, slide a hand between their legs. But no, they were his teacher now and so he followed their lead, wrapping his arms carefully around them, wary of any battle injuries that Shadowheart had not yet seen to. Nuzzling his nose into the crook of their neck, he breathed deep, resisting the urge to kiss and bite.

He could be better, he would be better.

“Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing,” he murmured, his words meant only for the two of them, “or what comes next. But I know that this?” He gave their waist a light squeeze for emphasis, “this is nice.”

Truth be told, he was terrified. This was so far from anything he knew and it left him feeling as though he were in freefall. Cazador had created him to be used. Consumed. And for all those long, terrible years he’d been unable to see himself as anything but what he’d been made for.

Yet here they were, their warm hand in his, seeing him with no judgement, offering him a different path, one where he could be more, where he could be better than what his master had intended. A person who could be loved, cherished, whose life was their own to do with as he wished. And didn’t he deserve that? Didn’t he deserve to be free?

There was still much work to be done, binds to break, mindflayer tadpoles to remove, vampiric masters to horribly murder, but it all felt just that bit more possible with their hand holding his.

Intimacy was a strange creature to Astarion.

Not an unknown one, to be clear, but one that he was only just beginning to learn the full extent of. One that encompassed far more than he could have ever imagined, that had previously been shrouded and held far beyond his reach.

But now? Now he had the chance to be known.

To love.

To be loved.

All of it without the expectation of sex, and what a strange feeling that was. It would take time to adjust, to be sure, two hundred years of instinct was not something one simply shook off over night. But through them he was able to see that he was worth the effort it would take, worth the time.

He had served Cazador for two wretched centuries with his blood and body and mind, his own fight deserved nothing less than the same.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fic #astarion x tav

146 notes · View notes

torturedcoveydepartment · 10 months ago

Note

I’ve noticed you’re a fan of both Taylor Swift and tbosas, so what songs do you think radiate Lucy Gray Baird vibes?

IS THIS REALLY THE REPUTATION I HAVE ON HERE? LOVE IT. I have a burning passion for both of these!! This will by all means become a fangirling moment of mine, but that’s the thrill ain’t it? No but really. Here’s my list of songs that could have been written by Ms Lucy Gray Baird, originally from the musical genius and cat lady Taylor Alison Swift <3

Should’ve said no is definitely a song that she would’ve written as discovering that Billy Taupe went behind her back, messed up badly and became a total asshole.

“It’s strange to think the songs we used to sing. The smiles, the flowers. Everything gone // You shouldn’t be begging for forgiveness at my feet. You should’ve said no, baby and you might still have me”

Mean walks the same path. I’d like to imagine her singing it wherever she went after Coriolanus went crazy, whether that’s up north or in the afterlife. Also something after Billy Taupe’s fuckery.

“I bet you got pushed around, somebody made you cold. But the cycle ends right now cause you can’t lead me down that road and you don’t know what you don’t know // Some day I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean”

Never grow up fits as something the covey would cook together about Maude Ivory and Clerk Carmine. Potentially also about Lucy Gray. Though I feel like she could have written it about her younger cousins - especially after the games, wishing they’ll never have to go through the capitol’s sick entertainment game.

“Your little eyelids flutter cause you’re dreaming. So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite nightlight. To you everything is funny, you have nothing to regret // Don’t you ever grow up, it could stay this simple”

Haunted feels like a Lucy Gray written song right after witnessing Coriolanus shooting Mayfair. Especially something she came up with after he lied to her about “his old self”. We know the covey claims Lucy Gray to be the poet in their family, so she could easily have came up with it even in the moments of doubt and fear.

“You and I walk a fragile line, I have known it all this time, but I never thought I’d live to see it break. It’s getting dark and it’s all so quiet and I can’t trust anything now. And it’s coming over you like it’s all a big mistake // Something made your eyes go cold”

Sad beautiful tragic makes me think of Lucy Gray right before the games as she gets to the point where maybe? just maybe she’s falling for Coriolanus.

“I meet you in warm conversations. We both wake in lonely beds. In different cities and time. Is taking its sweet time erasing you, and you’ve got your demons and darlin’ they all look like me. Cause we had, a beautiful magic love there. What a sad, beautiful tragic love affair”

Before the reaping a part of her still missed Billy, so Better man could possibly fit into those mixed feelings of disappointment, longing, grief and aggression.

“Sometimes in the middle of the night I can feel you again. And I just miss you and I just wish you were a better man”

I bet you think about me as she watched Coriolanus continuing torturing and kill children because of a relationship that ended on bad feet.

“I bet you think about me, in your organic shoes and your million dollar couch. I bet you think about me when they say oh my god she’s insane, she wrote a song about me”

Bad blood. Utter disappointment and anger. When Coriolanus “chased” her down the woods.

“Cause baby now we got bad blood. You know it used to be mad love. So take a look what you’ve done. Cause baby now we got bad blood. Did you have to do this? I was thinking that you could be trusted”

Look what you made me do gives me vague vibes of hate towards Coral and her pack. Trying to poison them (succeeding with one of em!! Too bad Dill died)

“I don’t like your little games. Don’t like your tilted stage // I’ve got a list of names and yours is in red underlined // I don’t trust nobody and nobody trust me. I’ll be the actress staring in your bad dreams”

MY TEARS RICOCHET. UGH MY ALL TIME FAV SONG. ISNT IT OBVIOUS? The bridge is SO Coriolanus and Lucy Gray coded after they fell apart. Lullabies stolen by death.

“And I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want just not home. And you can aim for my heart, go for blood. But you would still miss me in your bones. And I still talk to you, when I’m screaming at the sky. And when you can’t sleep at night - you hear my stolen lullabies”

Mad woman. No one really accepted her for who she was. Not district 12. Definitely not the capitol. In the book the hanging tree got banned to perform due to its real upbringing on unfair and cruel practices.

“No one likes a mad woman, you made her like that // I’m taking my time, taking my time cause you took everything from me. Watching you climb, watching you climb over people like me”

The lakes. OBVIOUS. AGAIN. Song she wrote during their visit at the lake, her, Coriolanus and the others of the covey. Planning on running away with him to live in the wilderness, catching their own food and never looking back.

“What should be over burrowed under my skin, in heartstopping ways of hurt. I’ve come to far to watch some namedropping sleaze tell me what are my words worth. Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die - I don’t belong, and my beloved neither do you”

There is something about Cowboy like me that gives off Lucy Gray energy, especially right before the games. Her job is practically putting on a charm and performing (not to mention she’s REAL GOOD at it. Accustomed to tricking others by feigning love, probably like coryo and her as they tried to gain affection out of one other.

“I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve, takes on to know one // You’re a cowboy like me, perched in the dark, telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear // Now you hang from my lips like the garden of babylon. With your boots beneath my bed, forever is the sweetest con”

Anti-hero, SHE’S DEFINITELY NOT ONE. But when first speaking to Coriolanus again she claims herself to be a murderer when in reality, she’s just a girl with willingness to survive. Lucy Gray is a confident and determined girl, but there’s a not a doubt her mind is playing tricks on her from time to time - especially after the games.

“It’s me. Hi! I’m the problem it’s me. At tea time everybody agrees. I stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror. It must be exhausting always rooting for the antihero. // Did you hear my covert narcissism. I disguise as altruism? Like I’m some kind of congressman. Tale as old as time”

Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve. None of her past lovers have stayed true, besides her life never treated her fairly either. Coriolanus and the capitol really did steal her childhood, even if it was hers first.

“And now that I’ve grown, I’m scared of ghosts. Memories feel like weapons // God rest my soul. I miss who I used to be, the tomb won’t close // Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts. Give me back my girlhood it was mine first”

Carolina from where the crawdads sings is such a covey tale song!!

Safe & Sound is pretty self explanatory, ain’t it?

#the hunger games #tbosas #hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #hunger games #taylor swift #rachel zegler #where the crawdads sing #taylor’s version #swifties #swiftie #the eras tour

17 notes · View notes

randomnameless · 1 year ago

Note

The whole 'nabatean's blood is green in dragon form' is very silly and I generally ignore it but it's very cool to imagine someone cornering a injury, bleeding nabatean and the last thing they see is their victim's blood turning green before they're crushed to death by a giant lizard.

"What's that green goo?"

I supposed it could be explained in a roundabout way like the color being altered because hocus-pocus-magic stuff, like in their bestial form Nabateans channel/summon more magic so their blood change color...

But I guess it was to keep the game with a rather low PG and still be able to get a Supreme Ending in Tru Piss, because if Rhea bled "red blood" hugging each other on her corps might have looked, uh, not very "uwu tier" :

Fun fact I just noticed, the closes up on Rhea's white eye here, just at it closes up Billy's black pupils -

I'm sure there's some symbolism here, with Billy "waking up" without his enlightened status, having dropped the SoC and without his crest stone - and Rhea's graphic death, but who knows?

it means billy is finally a human thanks to the evil lizard lady's death ! yay! It's just a coincidence the game ends on a shot that is most likely reserved for people who realise what the fuck they've done!

#anon #replies #nabatean goo will never be explained #so either we all hc it has something to do with magic and like magic changes the color of their blood in their dragon form to adapt to #the body who changed #or we adopt the doylist answer that this death would have been too graphic for a teenager game #on top of souring people on future cups of Hresvelg Grey #and i think some devoted people called that ending dignified for the lizard lady #lol #I guess some people like hard boiled eggs too #FE16

18 notes · View notes

mossyivy · 8 months ago

Note

Idk if you’ve watched or read twilight before, but if you did, can I request a Twilight vampire au Leon? If not then that’s totally fine, I just had to blurt my idea out somewhere🙈

I like Twilight but the thought of Leon being Edward Cullen makes me want to rip my own teeth out. But A VAMPIRE IN THE TWILIGHT UNIVERSE IS PERFECTLY FINE!

I'd imagine Leon probably got turned in 98 from an incident of him going to his new job as a cop in Raccoon City and he ends up in some horrible car accident and is the only survivor but he's like on the brink of death and the doctor who's taking care of him sees a kid barely starting his life and trying to make a difference in the world. So he turns him.

Takes him in and teaches him everything about being a vampire, ends up wandering off on his own into the world. He travels a lot. Like A LOT. He's immortal, something has to keep him entertained.

But on his travels he finds you working as a waitress at some crappy bar somewhere down south (Tru Blood moment) and he's en interesting man. You want to get to know him. But he doesn't usually stick around the same places too long.

You though, you seem fun enough to stick around for.

(I'm sorry this was so shitty and short I just had very little inspiration 😭)

2 notes · View notes

ash-and-books · 1 year ago

Text

Rating: 3.5/5

Book Blurb: The New York Times bestselling author of Dark & Shallow Lies delivers another chilling supernatural thriller filled with murder, romance, and a decades long mystery that haunts a small Florida town. The perfect blend of Natasha Preston, Krystal Sutherland, and Delia Owens, with a paranormal twist.

Mount Orange, Florida, is famous for two things: Cerulean freshwater springs, ideal for free divers who aren't afraid of lurking gators. And the gruesome cold case murder of best friends, Bailey and Celeste, twenty years ago.

Bailey and Celeste's murders cast a permanent darkness over sunny Mount Orange. Tru has always lived in that shadow. Now she's supposed to head to FSU in the fall with her boyfriend, but those unsolved murders -- and the death of her own sister -- invade her every thought. It’s only in the shadowy deep of Hidden Glen Springs that she can breathe.

When a strange girl named Rio rolls into town, hell-bent on figuring out who killed Bailey and Celeste, Tru can't resist entangling herself in the thrill of solving the decades old mystery any more than she can resist her familiar, aching attraction to Rio.

As the summer heat ignites, so does the spark between Tru and Rio...along with their other-worldy connection to Bailey and Celeste. But when someone begins stalking them, the girls become convinced the killer is back in town. And if they keep digging into the past, Tru and Rio know this time, it could be their blood that makes the springs run red.

Review:

A unsolved murder of two girls years ago is reopened when one girl who is obsessed with the case begins seeing the ghost of one of the dead girls... and the new girl in town just happens to catch her attention as well as she might be the person to help her solve the case... that is, if the killer doesn't kill them. In Mount Orange, Florida, they are famous for two things: the beautiful freshwater springs perfect for free divers and the gruesome cold case murder of two best friends, Bailey and Celeste that occurred twenty years ago. The case was never solved and now twenty years after the murder Trulee "True" is obsessed with the murders. Tru wants to solve it, she feels connected to the case, and when a strange new girl named Rio comes into town also hellbent on solving the case, the two realize they have a connection that might be deeper than they could ever imagine. Rio is not only the perfect person to help her solve the case, there also happens to be the fact that Tru might also be falling for her. Yet the more they dig into the case the more the girls are realizing that the killer might be someone from town, someone who knows they are looking and will kill them if they get too close. This one was an odd one, it mixes mystery with a dash of sapphic romance and supernatural elements. It's definitely an interesting mystery read but the overall conclusion is what threw me off a bit. I was really intrigued by the mystery and the book starts really interesting. It's the ending that just kind of throws you off a bit. I would definitely recommend this for anyone looking for a unique sapphic murder mystery read!

*Thanks Netgalley and PENGUIN GROUP Penguin Young Readers Group, G.P. Putnam's Sons Books for Young Readers for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

#book review #bookish #one last breath

4 notes · View notes

numetaljackdog · 2 years ago

Text

what i'm listening to 6/8/2023 (song notes under cut)

spot. link//yt link

Laura Les - Haunted: haunted. by laura les.

Death Grips - Hacker: nothing super unique to say about it other than that it's genuinely just one of the best songs. like probably ever. we know this

Limp Bizkit - Clunk: smiles. it's me. clunk is nowhere near my favorite song on three dollar bill y'all but it's like. the best of the bad songs. it never could have been a single bc it doesn't have the strength and the hook is wimpy as fuck but i have fun with it :) i like the part where fred says clunk a bunch of times and i like the breakdown :) come closer i am normal about this album

Ada Rook - TRU U (Live at ELECTROPUNKz 2023): ah, rook's performance at electropunkz. another thing that i am normal about. i believe i've professed my love for the album this song is from before, so i'll save that ramble, but i had a lot of fun with the live ep here. and tru u is such a fucking banger i love every second of it, from the silly anime sample at the beginning to the little pause in the last chorus where the word "death" intrudes. i've said before: ada rook makes the music that i wish i made. this remains true

Danny Burstein & Jessica Hecht - Do You Love Me?: i've had Theatre on the Brain for the past week or so, which led me to listen to the soundtrack to a show that my high school did (although i didn't work on that show myself, i knew people who did). fiddler on the roof is a good show imo, and while i don't really feel qualified to talk about some of the more complex subject matter of a lot of the play, this song is relatively accessible and also drives me a little crazy. i just can't get over the careful, straight-faced profession of love between two characters who never considered before that their marriage might be anything more than a practical and social necessity. it's a tribute to the fact that sometimes love is unglamorous, sometimes it's really as bland as spending all your time with someone just because they're there and while that might not be the fairy tale we all like to imagine, it doesn't make the love worthless. tevye and golde SAY that it doesn't change a thing, but i don't think we're meant to believe them. it doesn't change their often grim material lives and daily realities, true, but i like to think that knowing there's love between them will make the rest of their days just that tiny bit sweeter. i'm so normal about this

Nirvana - Pennyroyal Tea (Live on MTV Unplugged): links to this post. it's just so crazy to me. we had five or so years of kurt cobain screeching the most agonized poetry the music industry has ever seen, cutting through the bullshit of shiny happy pop music and voicing the blood and death and sickness of an entire generation, and now they're just remembered as that one old band who did the song you hear people playing at guitar center. i command of you. actually really listen to this band, take the time to go through some deep cuts, listen to the weird little eps and bonus tracks and shit. there's so much to uncover. this song came on shuffle at one point and i just was floored by it all once again, so it's here as representative of the sentiment

Cab Calloway - St. James' Infirmary: i've been obsessed with an old betty boop cartoon that features this song, which i put in the youtube playlist. you might have seen a clip from it making some rounds on tumblr, but the full thing is worth a watch. cab calloway was known for his flamboyant performances, but all that energy takes on kind of a dark, unsettling tone when placed in the context of the moderately-fucked-up cartoon. good stuff

Billy Joel - Movin' Out (Anthony's Song): i've never been much of a billy joel fan but i've felt the need to explore more of his stuff after getting into this one. it came on the radio in the car and i was on an easygoing road so i got the chance to really LISTEN to it, y'know. like i've probably heard it in passing a million times, and my dad and i would always make fun of the "heart atTACK ACK ACK ACK ACK" part, but when i really listened to it... it's a damn good song! got that earnest, heart-aching singer-songwriter realness. who knew!

Skee-Lo - I Wish: TWO new todd videos since the last WILT, so you know that shit is making an appearance. i genuinely really love this song, i think it's so fun and creative with an *amazing* sample, i kinda wish skee-lo had gotten a little better than he did. you should follow my nu metal tournament blog, because i'm gonna put a bunch of other non-nu metal polls up when the bracket's done, and skee-lo is gonna make an appearance. i need more skee-lo warriors, basically. that rabbit in a hat thing is bullshit though

Caravan - The Dog, The Dog, He's At It Again: this is a find from charlotte charlottan's "Intro to Prog" playlist that i immediately fell in love with. it's so floaty and lovely, while managing to both gesture towards a wide variety of themes AND be catchy as all hell. it's good song, basically. i know nothing about caravan so that's basically it, but it's even got dog in the title :V

Parkway Drive - Boneyards (Live): it doesn't technically count as a repeat bc this is the live version!!!! i just love this shit so much. relistening to horizons after having not heard it for so long was such a breath of fresh air (this was like 3 months ago and i'm still talking about it lmao). i love the big stupid breakdown so much, boneyards has nearly permanently entered my rotation of songs to imagine myself performing. i also just love to imagine like. picture going to some punk or metal festival around the time horizons came out, and parkway is there, and your buddy is like yooo come on we GOTTA see these guys they fuckin kill live. and you're maybe not really familiar with them but you figure it's worth checking out. and they play this song and you're like damn yeah this is pretty good. and then the fucking breakdown happens!!!!!! i feel like you'd just be standing there and realize wow. i'm going to die in this pit. and that's really the feeling i'm pining for

Scatman John - Scatman's World: now some of you in the crowd may be familiar with our friend the scatman.... i've personally had my eyes opened to a whole slew of scatman hits that i never even knew about thanks to the enthusiasm of local scatman expert violet gec (hi violet!!!!!) and although this particular track is one i already knew of, i expect a lot of you might not know it. go ahead and take a step into scatman's world, baby! it's a beautiful place! and also the song will get stuck in your head despite your inability to mimic the sounds he makes!

underscores - Count of three (You can eat $#@!): i'm a pretty casual underscores fan, i just know songs here and there, but i do really like what i hear. count of three is SUCH an earworm, and i love a good "fuck you" song when it's done correctly. i also just appreciate the quality of the censoring job in the title. it's not perfect but there's effort... a lot of people just pick four random characters but here, $ obviously looks like S, # is similar to H, and so on. these are the kinds of things i think about

Bring Me The Horizon - AmEN!: continuing to ask the question of "what the hell are these guys doing ever and why does it sound good." first of all, we have to address the lil uzi feature. that makes... two? i think it's just two fuckin international pop stars that bmth have collaborated with. i mean, i know uzi is a rapper but considering rap's dominance in the pop sphere and their sheer popularity, i think i'm justified in calling a pop rapper a pop star. it's been said to death, but it's just crazy that these guys have become one of the biggest rock acts around considering where they started. as for the song itself, it's not like... my favorite? but it's cool, it's catchy. i don't find their lyrics nearly as impactful now as i did when 1. i was younger and 2. they wrote about suicide and nihilism and shit all the time. i guess the themes are still dark but it all just kinda washes over me now. i'm just here for the heavy heavy and the big chorus, and that's what i got. so i'm happy :)

Everclear - I Will Buy You A New LIfe: as you may have seen, i had a big sappy emotional moment for a few days at the end of last month, and that had me returning to my roots. post-grunge. a genre with no shortage of lame pop rock relationship tunes, including this one. i even made a playlist of sappy songs, of which this was one. i just like the idea of pledging all these expensive things to someone you love, but doing it as kind of a joke. like the sentiment is real, but you both know that's never gonna happen, because all you really have to offer is yourself. and hopefully that's enough. it's like if two princes by the spin doctors was less fun. i fuck with it mildly

Third Eye Blind - Jumper: that's right folks. not one, but TWO mellow and corny 90s rock tunes. i have nothing to say about this song other than that it's pretty good and, more importantly, you should watch the most recent trainwreckords video (told you we'd get both todd videos in here). i've even conveniently included that very video in the youtube playlist :) DO IT

Kesha - Eat The Acid: i listened to and enjoyed the new kesha album, but this single was definitely the song that stuck in my mind above all the others. it just made such an impression. even in her current era, i don't think i or anyone else expecting... this. it's very psychedelic, and while it doesn't completely deviate from pop by any means, i think it's a pretty bold step for her and i hope it pays dividends. i would be 100% down for more strange experimental kesha, i wanna see where this goes

Tina Turner - What's Love Got to Do with It: tina turner is featured on two WILTS in a row... if only the circumstances weren't so unfortunate. as i'm sure i said last time, she was a fantastic vocalist, and her biggest hit here gave her the space to really holler. i thought it was fitting as well to put this song right next to eat the acid, as both are the returning singles of women finally casting themselves free (or at least attempting to) of the figures that tied them down and abused them in the music industry. What's Love might reek of the 80s, but it's the good 80s. and for the record, i went back and listened to the full album and found a lot to like about it. RIP to a legend, for real

Roxy Radclyffe - YOU'RE GOING TO LOVE ME: another song whose presence is moreso indicative of a broader listening trend. i've been really interested in this artist's work recently, although i haven't had the opportunity to really dive headfirst in yet. i discovered her through a rym/bandcamp rabbit hole and was fascinated by the quanitity of projects she has running. i would recommend checking out her neocities and poking around, i've found some interesting stuff so far. definitely the kind of thing i think my crowd of oddballs on tumblr dot com could enjoy

#damn this one's long #*char noises*#talking pop

6 notes · View notes

tricornonthecob · 1 year ago

Text

Titled Untitle

LK 106: You Miss 100 Percent Of The Shots That Don't Fire Around The World

(pt1)(pt2)(pt3)(pt4)

I have a headcanon he nearly gets shot and it sets off a panic attack, because all approximately 37 of us in this fandom have agreed that James is a PTSD Anxiety Child and I love that for us.

Like could you imagine if these lines were delivered as he was having a moment.

Blaming it on your men? tsk. Typical.

Colonel Smith coming in here with Tru Fax.

Girl just woke up from her panic attack at the first sign her family's in trouble. I love it.

oh my god she ships it, too

oh man he's gonna lose that leg.

Cousin. Tom. Is. A True. Leader. Of Men.

You dummy. She's a Phillips and therefore a True Leader Of Men, too, its in y'alls blood.

Okay but you know she's an adrenaline junkie, right? Like y'all seem close, you probably grew up together, you know this about her.

You can't talk a Phillips out of Ride or Die.

She really does have that True Leader Of Men impulse. Did she get it from just her father or from both her parents? Oh man my brain is coming up with so much filler backstory. Phillips Family my beloved.

...I'm not twelve years old I'm not twelve years old I'm not twelve years old...

...oh man, and now there's sarah/james angst bubbling up! God I forgot how much character development is in this episode.

Well its not like they have lot of strength to conceal.

Cousin Phillips didn't take alot of arm twisting to accept Sarah Phillips not only coming along, but being a journalist.

I wonder if he's always known she'd end up doing something like it and was always supportive of her living a life against the grain, perhaps because he's gay and understands what its like to be different from what proper society expects from you. Maybe they both can relate to each other chafing under society's restraint, and also both relate to the freedom and self-discovery they are experiencing in this new world (Tom finding his calling as an officer and finding his love, Sarah finding her calling as a journalist and finding her love,) though they went different paths to find that freedom. Maybe that's one of the features of the Phillips family - her dad seems to have run away to the new world for freedom, too, although in my head he handles it poorly.

Anyway back to the PBS Kids' show.

Back her up hell yeah, True Leader Of Men!

Cousin Tom: "Wait that worked?"

#liberty's kids #sarah phillips #Cousin Tom #Tricorn on the cob watches LK and makes inane commentary #Tricorn on the cob watches LK and gets feelings about the Phillips Family #Phillips Family #james hiller #Lexington and concord #18th century #amrev #tricorn watches

6 notes · View notes

cocajimmycola · 2 years ago

Note

Huhuff the devious one is rather curious about pronouns / names inspired by Shadow shadow by Azari , Brittle bones Nicky by Rare american , Muzzle by destroy boys &&. Sharks by Imagine Dragons ? / NF

Feel free to drop any of them if it's too much or you don't feel like it !! :³

Names

Secret, Locket, Cage, Devil, Null, Smoke, Ego, Shadow, Ghost, Ash, Asher, Spirit, Spiral, Twist, Twister, Nail, Bolt

Rize, Britt, Bone, Nick, Nicholas, Gold, Golden, Cross, Crozz, Hope, Bless, Mary, Shy, Shifty, Target, King, Beer, Bull, Drove, Rove, Rave, Rock, Rope, Punk, Coffee, Grave

Wallow, Echo, Warble, Screen, Tricks, Trix, Pin, Penny, Blade, Rudy, Rio, Muzz

Blood, Level, Butter, Fiend, Lyght, Shark, Swing, Swoop, Bubble, Crisis, Slice, Pump, Tooth, Bite, Chomp, Bleed, Hart, Beat, Entropy

Pronouns

Se/Cret/Secretself, Lock/Locks/Lockself, Sha/Shad/Shadowself, Gho/Ghos/Ghostself, Whi/White/Whiteself, Bla/Blanch/Blancheself, Scare/Scares/Scareself, Pain/Pains/Painself, Lone/Lones/Loneself

Cri/Crim/Crimeself, Sha/Shan/Shankself, Gold/Golds/Goldself, Bell/Bells/Bellself, Tru/Trus/Trustself, Kill/Kills/Killself, Save/Saves/Saveself, Blo/Bloo/Bloodself, Drug/Drugs/Drugself, Push/Pushes/Pushself

Scre/Screen/Screenself, Tra/Trash/Trashelf, Trick/Tricks/Trickself, Pin/Pins/Pinself, Mea/Mean/Meanself, Wee/Week/Weekendself, See/Sees/Seeself, Kno/Knos/Knowself

Too/Tooth/Toothself, Bite/Bites/Biteself, Swim/Swims/Swimself, Sli/Slic/Sliceself, Blo/Bloo/Bloodself, Fie/Fien/Fiendself, Shar/Sharks/Sharkself, Fin/Fins/Finself, Ent/Entro/Entropyself, Cri/Cris/Crisiself

#drug ment #‹ 📻 › .. Your Host ;; Moody #‹ 🎧 › .. Now Playing ;; Songs to Neos #‹ 📞 › .. Caller ;; Anon #names #pronouns #neopronouns #nounself pronouns

3 notes · View notes

slxtarchive · 8 months ago

Note

Bro hear me out .... Sam and Colby as ghostface but they are killing y/n and her friend group , she's the last one but they don't kill her . They just torture her and scare her because they are obsessed but cannot admit it 🔥🔥🔥 can you add non con if possible ? If not then that's fine either

I hope this didn't make you uncomfortable, if i crossed the line I'd like to apologise, hope you have a good day 😇

𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐞 ✦ 𝐬𝐚𝐦 & 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐛𝐲

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. as you and your friend group were having a game night, you got a very interesting visit.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. GORE ! blood, killing, implied sexual interaction (i don’t write non-con but i wrote enough for your interpretation and imagination)

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. hi! this was very short but i wanted to write an ending that had you imagining what would come next! i didn’t want to write anything that would make someone uncomfortable so the ending is up for interpretation of what you’re comfortable with! hope you enjoyed and don’t apologize for anything! this is a judge free zone 💝

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 1200+

“okay so tell me again, why the fuck can anyone stand matt donovan?” your friend myra asked.

“um, no one can.” you laughed while putting away the cards to cards against humanity. it was game night for you and your friends plus the guy you’ve been talking to. your friends each brought their own little plus one to the game night this time making things more interesting.

“that's true!” your friend athena agreed. “okay are we gonna start truth or dare?”

you nodded and clapped excitedly. “yes yes! okay let’s start everyone get in a circle.” you said pulling the hand of rafael, your talking stage’s, hand.

“okay who wants to go first?” zoey asked sitting close to her friend nick.

“ill do the honors.” you spoke. “hmm, ryan truth or dare?” you asked. ryan is myra’s little hookup.

“uhh…ill do truth.” ryan said.

“hmm okay, what's your favorite thing about myra?” you ask eyeing myra mouthing a ‘you’re welcome’

“probably how she’s always in a good mood and she looks for the best in people,” he answers.

“awww ryyyy.” myra squeals giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“awww grosss but so cute.” zoey compliments. “okay i have one, y/n truth or dare?" she asks you.

"hmm, ill pick tru-" your answer gets interrupted by the ring of your house phone.

you go toward the phone picking it up slowly.

“hi! this is y/n speaking.” letting them know who picked up.

“i know who you are. y/n.” a weird voice spoke through the speaker. the voice sending chills down your spine.

“uh…okay…what did you need?” you questioned suspecting something was up immediately.

“what do i need hm?” the voice asked. “need you to open your front door.”

“is this some kind of prank call or joke? yeah well fuck off it’s not funny.” you immediately hung up. “fucking losers. prank callers.”

you rolled your eyes.

“they even used a voice changer how patheti-” the ring sounded again.

you were frustrated the phone calls were interrupting your game night so you picked up quickly so you could end it quickly.

“hello?!” you asked a little more aggressively.

“that was quite rude.” the same voice said.

“listen, you’re not funny. you’re actually very fucking annoying and ruining our night so go find someone else to fuck with.”

“aw baby it’s funnier with you.” they laughed. “hey y/n.” the way they said your name had you shivering.

“what the fuck do you want.” you asked.

“truth or dare.” they spoke.

you froze. how did they…

you immediately hung up.

your heart was pounding. that had to have been a coincidence right? there wasn’t any way they could’ve been on the line during that…or worse.

watching you?

knock knock

your head whipped toward the door.

“what the fuck?” you whispered to yourself.

“i got it.” ryan stood up walking toward the front door.

he disappeared in the hall and you heard the door open.

silence.

no voices, no chatter, laughter. nothing.

“r-ryan? who is it?” your voice choked. there was a pit in your stomach.

you heard the door slam closed causing you and the others to jump.

nothing for a few seconds before ryan fell.

a knife in his chest.

your eyes widened in fear. you were frozen unable to comprehend what you were looking at.

at first, you thought it had been a joke but the closer you got the more the smile you had on wiped from your face.

“o-oh my fucking god!” zoey screamed. “what the fuck what the fuck!”

“holy shit.” nick chokes fear seen on his face.

“no no no ryan!” myra screams in agony. “call 911 call 911!” she cries.

you quickly nodded turning back to the phone you had just walked away from but bumped into someone.

you stumbled back before making eye contact with a person with a ghost face-looking mask.

no words came from their mouth.

this time you didn’t freeze. all you did was run.

“run run run! come on!” you shouted causing the rest of the group to scatter and try to escape.

myra was still on the ground crying to ryan who had been gone for a while now.

you stopped, trying to pull myra with you. “myra come on please!” you cried.

she shook her head. “no i can’t leave him here!” she sobbed.

“myra! myra! come on we got-” before you could finish your sentence myra got grabbed by her hair and slammed so hard to the wall that when she fell down she was already gone. her head bleeding onto the hardwood floor.

“n-no!” you screamed in fear. you looked around to see if anyone else was around but all you were faced with were dead bodies. the rest of the group lying on the floor.

you then saw not one but two of the figures of what you saw earlier.

you were on the ground but tried to stand up. your legs so shaky all you could really do was scoot backward until you were met with the doorframe to the hall.

you shook your head pleading for them to spare you. “please please please don’t. don’t kill me, please. what do you want i’ll give you anything.”

you curled up, knees to your chest hiding afraid of what they would do to you.

silence on their end.

you didn’t want to look up afraid that would be the last thing you’d do.

“you’ll give us anything?” a deep voice said.

you lifted your head and made eye contact with a brunette with piercing blue eyes.

you were stunned not only because he was attractive but you’d think whatever did this wasn’t human.

“how much money i’ll…i’ll find a way. please just don’t kill me.” you cried.

the other took his mask off as well revealing blonde hair with the same piercing blue eyes.

“oh baby, we won’t kill you.” he stepped forward offering his hand.

the last thing you’d do was grab the hands of a killer.

“take my hand.” he said.

you shook your head starting to cry even more.

“i wasn't asking. wanna live or do you wanna die?” he demanded.

your lips were quivering as tears rushed down your cheeks.

reluctantly, you took his hand. he helped you up and led you to the couch to sit down.

“what’s your name pretty girl?” the brunette asked.

this was cruel. this was sick. they were asking you questions about yourself while your friends were lying around the room dead.

“what the fuck do you want from me?!” you screamed in their face.

the brunette was quick to grab you by your neck. “watch your tone, baby.”

you froze in fear silently gasping for air. not because he was choking you. no…he wasn’t even applying pressure it was because you were choking on your own sobs.

“what we want is to show you how sorry we are for killing your little friend group.” the blonde said placing his hand on your thigh. when you look down you notice splattered and dried blood on it.

“you’re fucking crazy. you’re crazy.” you repeated. “you need help.”

“then can you help us?” the brunette smiled. he treaded his knife down your other thigh.

you shook your head shutting your eyes quietly trying to control your cries.

“come on if you’re a good girl i promise we’ll make it worthwhile.” he winked kneeling down and nudging your right leg causing it to open up with the knife we was holding.

your heart raced faster and faster thinking about what he could mean by that.

#𖦹°‧★ 𝑺𝑳𝑿𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑽𝑬 #𝑺𝑨𝑴 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑩𝒀 ᝰ.ᐟ #sam and colby #sam and colby imagine #sam and colby smut #colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock smut #colby x reader #colby brock x reader #sam golbach #sam x reader #sam golbach x reader #sam #sam golbach smut #sam golbach imagine

188 notes · View notes