#tw: death from car wreck

[thegravetaker]

Gone was the debris And like nothing had happened, Those two souls moved on. 

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Hi, I have a request. I was hoping if you can do a one-shot or short story of Alastor x reader with telekinetic powers that's similar to Carrie White? It can be romantic or platonic, which ever fits better is up to you.

It can go something like this; the reader fell into hell because they did something really bad with their newborn powers, and it was during extermination day. When the exorcist angels were going to kill the reader, they use their TK powers to defend themselves against the angels and manage to kill one before getting away from them. This was caught on news and immediately caught the attention of all the sinners in hell to see the reader has telekinetic powers and manages to fight off the angels. This even caught the attention of all the overlords, including the three Vee's, the Hazbin Hotel crew and Alastor.

That was honestly all I got 😅, I'm sorry if it sounds confusing, but I was hoping you can do something like that, if that's OK with you, because your work is very amazing to read.

Welcome to Hell! - Alastor x reader

Helloo!! I’ve decided to keep this as a one-shot for now since I want to focus on finishing my ongoing stories. However, if inspiration strikes, I might dive deeper into this idea in the future! In the meantime, it was a wonderful request, and I hope you enjoy it! ❤️ A/N: I was supposed to post this tomorrow but I accidentaly clicked post instead of schedule so... here you have it. Warning: Not proofread!

Words: ~2300 TW: none.

Your hands were shaking.

What had you done?

Your heart was racing, your breathing erratic.

You’ve killed someone again.

You only wanted to protect yourself… you always had!

You're a monster.

The golden blood splattered all over you, all over the ground, awakening memories. It happened so fast, so quickly that you still believed it was all a dream. They attacked you, didn't they? It wasn't your fault. You just wanted to survive. Doesn't everyone?

What was this place? Why is everyone so panicked? Why are these beings attacking you?

The sound of a bell rang across the strange city you woke up in, the weird beings flying in the sky. The streets echoed in screams and cries, grunts of pain and suffering sending shivers down your spine.

Once the panic subsided, creatures surrounded you, whispering and watching with wide eyes.

"You... You killed an exorcist?" one of them asked.

"What?" you couldn't understand. What was happening? Was this a joke?

"We're gonna die!" another screamed.

"What? No, I-" You tried to protect yourself, but fear overwhelmed you. You noticed them approaching you, your eyes falling on a nearby wrecked car.

A loud noise echoed as the car blasted through the crowd, giving you a chance to escape. Corpses of these things surrounded you, and blood splattered all over the streets. What was this place? What happened here?

You felt threatened, like prey running from unknown hunters in unfamiliar territory. What was happening? Were you dreaming?

Am I dead?

"Welcome back to 666 News, the premiere station for all things Hell! I'm Katie Killjoy with today's top stories!" Katie's voice echoed through the TV in the hotel's lobby, mere moments after Extermination Day was over.

"Extermination day has just ended, and as usual, demon parts and blood litter the streets of Hell, as clean-up crews get to work."

Charlie watched the news, Vaggie's hand slowly caressing her shoulder. "You want me to change it?" she asked her.

"No... I need to know the damage..." Charlie said, sighing, clearly distressed about her people getting killed once again. Vaggie hugged her tightly, knowing how painful it must be. She'd erase that smile on Katie's face if she could - always so happy to announce the death of other Sinners every year.

"But the news doesn't end there! As it turns out, a newcomer has been reported for recently killing an Angel - using telekinesis, no less!"

They both watched with wide eyes, as Husker joined, his curiosity getting the best of him too. The images of you blasting a car through the car appeared on the screen, screams of people echoing through it.

"Holy shit!" Vaggie said, not quite believing what she was seeing. "They must be confused."

"And what a hell of a start..." Husker said, not phased by the events.

The doors of the hotel burst open, Angel frantically looked around as he tried to catch his breath. "We... We need- Oh, shit..." he tried to say, but running as fast as he could all the way there surely took a toll on him.

"Angel, what happened?" Charlie asked.

He took a deep breath, trying to let the words come out. "We need to take that sinner... I've heard Vox and Valentino talk... They want them!"

"No! If The Vees have them, especially with that power..." Charlie said, worry on her face. It would've been a catastrophe. Having someone like you, powerful and confused controlled by The Vees... It couldn't happen.

A laugh echoed in the room, as everyone's attention shifted. Alastor appeared in the room, shadows emerging everywhere, the smirk on his face wider than usual. He clearly heard what happened, lurking in silence for the perfect time to make his presence known.

"My, my... What an interesting little situation we've managed to find ourselves in! It seems our new arrival has made quite the impression." he said, excitement filling his tone.

"Alastor, you need to help us-" Charlie pleaded, only to be cut off by Vaggie.

"Hold on, Charlie... I don't think Alastor is the best to handle this situation."

"Let me disagree, my dear!" Alastor intervened quickly, stepping closer to them. "I think my skills in... persuasion must be of good help, don't you agree?"

"Manipulation, you mean," Vaggie said harshly, making his eye twitch a bit.

"Ah, that's such a negative word, my dear... I think my term is a little bit more friendly, hmm?" He pushed her aside, wrapping his arm around Charlie's shoulder. "Now my dearest Charlie, let's think about this for a moment, shall we?"

"Charlie, no!"

Charlie fiddled for a moment, thinking about it, but as much as she hated to disagree with Vaggie, Alastor was right... He always managed to convince people to do different things, and right now, having the newcomer come to the hotel was all that mattered. She sighed, turning to face Vaggie. "I think we should let Alastor try..."

A small chuckle escaped Alastor's lips, his smile growing even wider as he heard Charlie's words. "Excellent choice, my dear Charlie! I promise not to disappoint you!" He clasped his hands together, his eyes sparkling happily as he was clearly enjoying this.

"Ugh, fine..." Vaggie groaned. "But if you fuck up"

"No need for threats, my dear! I assure you there's no need for you to worry!" his eyes turned to Angel, a glim of mischief into them. "Now, where do I find this little dearie of ours?"

You walked the halls of the huge building that the demon took you, still shivering from the... unconventional way you were brought there.

"Ah, I truly apologize for my assistant's... way of bringing you here." The TV demon, who presented himself as Vox, said, resting his arm on the small of your back as he guided you from one corridor to another. "I specifically told them that shoving people in that... black van is surely not the best idea." he laughed a bit nervously.

Your heart was beating so fast, a knot in your stomach as you didn't know what to expect. You took a moment to gather your thoughts, confusion still washing over you.

"Am I in Hell?" you asked, things starting to make sense.

"Yes, you're unfortunately in Hell darlin'," he answered, his voice smooth and almost melodic. You weren't surprised to be here, not after what you've done. Not after how many people you've hurt. "But don't worry, you're safe here with me." He chuckled a bit, his clawed hand brushing slightly on your back. "Now, I don't want to pressure you into anything, but I do look forward to finding out more about you. I think we could really help each other."

"I guess..." you said, realising it was better than roaming around this strange city without knowing anything.

Your eyes fell on your reflection whenever you would pass the big windows. You didn't look much different from your human self, but you seemed to resemble a rabbit, rather than anything else. A reminder that you'll always be what you've been your whole life - a prey, something meant to run and hide, in order to survive.

Vox eyed you closely, humming to himself as a smirk slowly formed on his screen. "Looks like you've figured out what you are," he said, his arm still resting on your back. "A rabbit, huh? Cute."

You blushed at his words, trying to hide your face. You felt so cornered right now, so vulnerable to him, not knowing if he was really going to protect you or give you a much worse fate.

"No need to be so shy, doll," he teased lightly, his arm gently tightening his grip around you. "I promise you're safe here. You're under my protection now, after all."

You watched as he unlocked a door, keeping it open for you. You swirled inside, taking in the huge apartment, looking rather luxurious. Vox followed you, shutting the door behind him. The apartment was lavish and spacious, with large windows at the end of the room, and the city lights glowing underneath it.

"Welcome to your new home," he said, his voice slightly echoing through the empty space. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Is this all mine?" you asked, still not believing.

"Yes, darlin', everything in this apartment is yours," he answered, watching as you looked around in wonder. "Consider yourself lucky. Not everyone in Hell gets to have a place like this." He stepped a bit closer, pride lingering inside of him as he watched your reaction. "Velvette will take care of your attire while you're here, so really no need to worry about anything."

You turned to face him, a bit puzzled by this entire situation. "Why are you helping me?"

Vox’s smile widened as he leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. "I'm a businessman, sweetheart," he said, his tone almost playful. "And I always have an eye out for potential investments. As for you..."

He walked toward you, striding over to you. He slowly trailed a finger along your chin, making you look up at him. "You're something... special. I couldn't let such a precious little thing get lost in this shithole of a city."

Your cheeks burned. You weren't used to being treated with such kindness, a warm feeling settling in your soul. He looked at the watch on his wrist, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. "Ugh, have a meeting to attend to," he explained, moving away from you. "Settle in and think about my offer!"

"What about Valentino?" you asked, recalling the man you’d encountered upon your arrival, unbeknownst to Vox.

"What about Valentino?" He repeated, chuckling nervously.

"He said he has an offer for me too..."

You watched him sigh, his screen glitching slightly. "Just... don't. Ok?" You nodded, not sure if you should ask more questions or just keep quiet. Vox left, leaving you alone in your thoughts, a lingering sensation of loneliness filling your soul once again.

You walked around a bit, looking at how neat and beautiful everything seemed. You didn't expect to be like this and you surely didn't expect to be met with kindness, not here at least. With small steps, you took in the sight of the city. Was this how you were going to spend eternity? Was this all real?

"Impressive." a voice echoed behind you, making you jump. Your heartbeat quickened as you watched a demon that resembled a deer stand in front of you, his eyes fixed on your figure. "I have to admit, Vox really outdone himself with this one."

"Who are you?" you asked, your voice coming out more weak than you expected. Your ears flattened against your head, as you tried to distance yourself from the stranger, only to be met with the cold glass.

"Quite the frightened little bunny, aren't you?" he teased, a low chuckle echoing in your ears as static accompanied his voice. "My name is Alastor, it's a pleasure to meet you."

You just stood there frightened. In a moment, you made a lamp fly towards him, a frail attempt to protect yourself without making a big mess again. But just mere moments before hitting him, the lamp disappeared into a portal, nowhere to be seen anymore.

He chuckled, taking another step closer, almost towering over you. Alastor watched you from head to toe, clearly evaluating the situation and you. "Very interesting."

"I... Are you Vox's assistant?" you asked, feeling cornered by the deer demon.

He raised an eyebrow at your question, letting out a huff. "Well, of course not, my dear. I am actually here to make an offer." he crouched down to your level, his smile sending shivers down your spine. "You made quite a show for your first day... Those powers of yours..." he seemed almost lost in his thoughts, the possibilities you might offer pleasing him, but first, he had to make you leave Vox. "I know a place where you'll be safe, my dear. And perhaps..." he paused a bit, your ears perking up a bit in curiosity. "... perhaps even leave this place forever..."

Your face lit up for a moment. "Leave... Could I leave Hell?"

"Well, of course!" he said, getting up, his tone cheerful once again. "Is that something that you'd want?" You thought for a moment - you didn't think it was fair for you to end up in Hell... all you did was protect yourself, but... having the chance to go to Heaven? He smiled at your hesitation. "I take that you'd be interested, hmm?" he offered you his hand, helping you get back up.

"But... What about Vox?"

"Oh, don't worry about him. He just wants to use you to his advantage, dear. I can actually help you!" The static in his voice grew slightly when he spoke.

"How can I trust you?" you asked, making him sigh at the question, clearly frustrated by your questions.

"How about a deal, my dear, hm?"

"A deal?"

"Well, yes. I always respect my deals! You come with me and I guarantee you that one day, you will go to Heaven." he raised his hand, green flames engulfing it as you looked at it. "What would it be?"

"The fuck you mean she left?!" Vox asked, slamming the door to the apartment open.

"I told you, Vox! I came in, and she was gone!" Velvette protested. "I told you we can't trust the bitch!"

Vox walked around the apartment, his screen glitching from time to time. He was so angry, it felt like he was about to crash. "Ok, ok.... We can find her..." he tried to calm himself down, but his eyes fell on a little piece of paper on the counter. He quickly grabbed it and as soon as he read it, his screen almost overheated and froze.

"Maybe you should try harder than that, old pal."

"Um... Vox?" Velvette asked, a bit afraid he might have a short circuit again.

"I'm... gonna... kill... that fucker..."

Tags: @ratsematary @littlebluefishtail @xghostnuggsx @vxllys

@ustulia @n0tmentallystable @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog

@alastorthirsty @l3rittany @catticora

[compact-turtle]

yandere bounty hunter x gn!reader headcannons...

Concept: Yandere Bounty hunter x Reader 

Tw: Kidnapping, Obsessive, Possessive, delusional yandere, Yandere Behavior, stalking, brief mentions of SA (not by the yandere), harassment, brief mention of death, 

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who spends his days doing assignments. He’s one of the best at his company and in the country. He comes across a case that offers big bucks. Enough that allows him to retire early and live lavishly for the rest of his life. 

-He reads over the case details. Interestingly, it’s just some rich kid who ran away from their parents. He was expecting some master criminal mind who had over thirty federal charges. 

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who takes a few days to find you. Not like it’s that difficult. You were messy and left clues everywhere you went. 

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who spends a few weeks in the city watching your every move. He studies your routines, habits and everything in between. He convinces himself that he’s just doing his part of the job. 

-Eventually, he creates an encounter between you two. He introduces himself as someone new to the city. He’s looking for some friends to show him around. You jump at the opportunity to be his friend. 

-For the next few weeks, you both spend a considerable amount of time with each other. Whether it was going to the movies, eating at restaurants or doing shopping trips. You were so sweet and naive offering to pay for everything since “that’s what friends do.”

-He finds it endearing watching you stumble over the simplest things. How you seem so lost in the world without him to guide you. 

-One night, you call him in hysterics. You tell him about your landlord who’s been harassing you. He’s called you vulgar things, threatened to force himself upon you, and a multitude of other horrendous acts. Your landlord has even issued to kick you out if you don’t comply with his demands. 

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who knows you aren’t used to this due to your sheltered lifestyle. You’ve never had to worry about the horrible people out there. He decides to call in a favor from an ex-bounty that owes him. 

-Within a few days, the landlord issues are taken care of.

-You invite him into your apartment to celebrate the wonderful news. It’s small and cozy. The walls are a creamy white with a wooden floor to match. A strong smell of you lingers everywhere. 

-You cook him dinner and for a moment, he imagines life together. You’d be his darling little spouse who waits for him at home. He’d be a charming husband who provided for you two. Life would be amazing. 

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who confesses his feelings for you right then and there. You’re taken back but the thought doesn’t disgust you. In fact, you’ve been feeling some type of endearment for him as well. 

-You both decide to make it official and become a couple. That night, you both fall asleep in your bed after spending time with each other. 

-The next few months go by perfectly. He’s moved into your apartment and spends every day attached to you. You’re so gentle and he enjoys indulging in your hobbies with you. His favorite thing is when you kiss him before bed time. 

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who wakes up to the sound of something in the apartment. He goes to investigate and finds another bounty hunter. He quickly takes out the other hunter but comes to a realization. 

-it’s not safe here anymore. 

-You wake up finding him standing over another body. You begin to freak out asking for answers. 

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who comes clean about everything. His job, your parents, and the money involved. His heart breaks as you burst into tears. You yell at him through sobs accusing him of never loving you. 

“Don’t ever say that, sweetheart.”

-Eventually, he knocks you out and ties you up. He puts you in the back of his car as he drives to your parents’ home. For the next few days, his mind is a wreck. You refuse to talk to him. You won’t kiss him or even look at him. He knows it’s from the shock but it’s driving him mad. 

-However, he keeps his eyes on the prize. 

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who delivers you to your parents in one piece. They’re overjoyed to have you back. They pay him more than the original price tag. He takes the money and leaves. 

-For the next few months, things began to fall back in place for you. You were hurt and afraid after what occurred. However, you were healing after being placed in therapy. Your parents even with you and sorted out family issues that caused you to run away. 

-You think about the bounty hunter, every now and then. You miss him and hate him all at the same time. Yet, you were starting to let go. It was better to forget that time with him. 

-Until…

-Yandere Bounty Hunter who returns to your life. He’s set up a perfect little villa in the countryside where nobody can locate you. He kidnaps you in your sleep and whisks you away. 

-You wake up in a panic afterwards. Yandere Bounty Hunter who attempts to calm you down. He explains about how he waited before the dust settled to pick you up. He chose somewhere secluded where you can raise a family together. If you don’t want children, then he’ll settle for raising some pets with you.

-It’ll be perfect just like how the two of you discussed back in the apartments. 

-Don't worry, he's retired from his job. He knows how much you hated it.

-He kisses you and hugs you in his arms. It’s been so long since he’s done this. He’s missed every inch of your body since you left him. 

-It’ll be ok though. He understands that you need time to adjust to your new home. It also doesn’t matter if you decide to run away later. After all, he’ll still find you no matter where you go. 

-Hopefully, your parents hire another bounty hunter to find you soon. 

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Saved And Fucked By The Moth Man.

Pairing: Mothman x F. Reader (Cryptozoology).

Word Count: 3.6k.

TW: Death/Gore, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Inhuman Anatomy, Generalized Monster-Fucking, Car Crashes, Reader's Pretty Questionable In This One, and Blood.

Based On The Results of This Poll.

You thought it could’ve been a bird, at first.

A raven, or a crow – you weren’t entirely sure. Something big and black that flew so quickly, you hadn’t been able to make out anything more specific than a dark blur and the vague impression of feathers before it was gone, vanishing into the shadows of the forest before you could realize that you'd reflexively swerved to avoid it, before you could do anything to stop yourself from crashing into the base of an oak so tall and so opposing, it wouldn’t so much as shake under the force of the collision. By the time you stumbled out of your wrecked car, the windshield shattered and the engine utterly decimated, whatever threw you off-course had been gone, and you’d been left alone on a country backroad in the middle of nowhere - bruised, sore, and miles away from the nearest city. Really, the only way your night could get worse was if—

Thunder cracked somewhere in the distance, quaking through the otherwise silent forest. You glanced up, searching for the sky through the dense canopy of overlapping branches and finding it overcast. It’d rain, pretty soon, and you’d be left lost, injured, and drenched.

Well, at least now, it really couldn’t get any worse.

You fished your phone out of your pocket and pressed your back against the most in-tact side of your car, checking if you had reception for the millionth time. Of course, you didn’t, and of course, your battery was in the single digits – too low to justify using your flashlight and risking leaving yourself alone in the dark with a dead phone and no way to call for help if you did, somehow, manage to make it to the border of civilization.

You considered crawling into what was left of the backseat of your car, turning off your phone, and hoping someone else drove down this godforsaken road in the morning, but before you could let exhaustion dampen your better judgement, you heard something in the woods rustle, the sounds of displaced leaves and cracking twigs standing out against the stillness of the woods. Somewhat hesitantly, you turned towards the disturbance, half-expecting to see wolves or coyote or, as unlikely as it was, the same over-sized bird that’d gotten you into this, but instead, much to your relief, you found a group of three men – hunters, judging by the riffles slung over their backs, the dirt caked into their shoes. None of them were wearing visibility gear, and you couldn't say it seemed like a great idea to go skulking through the forest in the middle of the night, but you were already out of your comfort zone. You couldn’t be sure what people walking around in the woods at night were supposed to look like, and at that point, you didn’t really care.

You grinned, moving to call out to them, but the oldest of the group was already addressing you, already stepping out of the forest and onto the road. “What do you think you’re doing out here, darlin’?”

Your expression faltered, but you kept your spirits up. It was fine. This was fine. You could deal with a little backwoods chauvinism until you got to a mechanic. “Got into an accident,” you said, nodding towards where your car where it bent around the oak’s trunk. “No service, either. I guess I wouldn’t be able to bother one of you kind people to call a tow truck, would I?”

There was a long, silent pause. The two younger men exchanged a glance. Again, the oldest spoke to you. “This is private property, y’know. Not a lot of folks come through this patch of woods.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know. I… I’m just in town for the convention.” One of the younger men slid his rifle off of his shoulder, taking it in both hands. The other followed in-suit. “It’s a beautiful area. If I had to get stranded, I’m glad it was here.”

“So, no relatives nearby? Nobody who’d notice if you didn’t get home in the mornin’?”

You pressed yourself against the dented metal, your smile now strained. “You know what?” You asked, forcing out an airy chuckle. “I think I’ll just walk for it. How far could the next town be, right?”

He held up a hand, signaling to the rest of his group. You heard something click, caught boots scraping against rough pavement, and watched a broad grin form across the older man’s features. “Looks like there’s gonna be a hunt tonight after all, boys.”

Your first reflex was, somewhat counterintuitively, to laugh. The sound was jarring, too loud and too stilted, cutting your lips and catching in your throat like pieces of broken glass.

Your second, triggered when one of the younger men moved to step toward you, was to run for your life.

Without thought, without hesitation, you broke into a dead-sprint. There was a holler behind you, a round of hollow clicks and earth-shaking thuds, and then, they were chasing you.

You couldn’t be sure how far you made it. It felt like you ran for seconds, or days, or years. It felt like you traveled miles, or feet, or just a few steps. Everything looked like the same repetitive blur of trees taller than your eyes could follow and roots that jutted from the earth like pikes. Their footsteps remained constant, never growing closer or farther away, always lingering somewhere just behind you, always just barely breathing down your neck. Fuck this. Fuck your car. Fuck this entire goddamn town and their stupid convention. If you made it out of this alive, you’d spend the rest of your life as far from this state as you could get. Coming here had been a stupid idea to begin with, a spontaneous trip planned at the last minute and based on a half-baked desire to see something that probably didn’t even exist. You just thought you might’ve been able to see—

Your foot caught on a half-buried stone, and you were sent crashing into the earth, your shoulder taking the brunt of the fall. You were left on the ground, cursing under your breath and holding your aching arm as you scrambled to get back on your feet, to keep moving before your would-be murderers caught up with you. You weren’t fast enough, though – you couldn’t be, not when they’d always been on your heels, not when you’d already given them an opportunity to put their quarry out of its misery. You’d barely started to push yourself up when they emerged from the tangle of trees, guns cocked and hunting knives drawn. You shrunk into yourself, threw your arms over your face in a last-ditch effort to protect yourself, despite knowing that a bullet would tear through your skin like paper, despite being able to picture your body lying lifeless on the forest floor, bleeding out in the dirt like a wild animal. The last thing you saw was the oldest man, raising his riffle and aiming towards your chest before you shut your eyes.

You heard a shot, sudden and deafening, but the impact never came.

You felt something whip past you. There was a scream, wordless and torn and cut short with a ragged screech and a wet, visceral sound – like flesh being carved open, like teeth tearing into raw meat. It was all you could do to curl into yourself, sinking into your self-made shelter as the forest descended into the sounds of carnage, only falling silent when there was nothing left to cut down. Even then, it took you long, agonizing seconds to open your eyes, to take in the gore splattered across the grass and dirt, the guns that’d been bent and twisted into shapes they weren’t meant to hold. A disembodied leg laid to your side, the torso it’d been ripped from impaled on a branch nearly twenty feet off of the ground. Clumps of torn muscle and split entrails shined reddish-silver in the limited moonlight, but you could only focus on the gore for so long.

Only a few yards away, a man stood in front of you. Only, it wasn’t a man, not really, not when you looked beyond its – his? hers? theirs? – vaguely humanoid form. Its long legs and lanky arms were coated in a thin layer of grey, shaggy fur that grew shorter and finer over its defined chest. You could make out curved talons extending from its massive hands, a pair of ringed antennae curled back along its scalp, a pair of tattered wings folded against its back. Its head might’ve been the strangest part of its anatomy; low and stooped, too round to resemble anything human and too featureless inspire anything but an uncanny sense that you weren’t supposed to be here. From a distance, the only thing you could really make out was its eyes. They were gigantic, nearly spherical – orbs of pure crimson that seemed to glow in the dim light.

Before you could stop yourself, your attention drifted downward, to the space between its legs. It took you an embarrassingly long moment to recognize what you were looking at – the shaft absent of all veins or definition beyond a perfect spiral ridge that coiled from the base to the flushed, lilac-shaded head. The tip was tapered, ending in a sharp slant and budding with something white and thick. The entire thing looked almost painfully erect, inflating it to a size that, even when compared to the rest of its massive body, sparked a raw, preservationist kind of terror inside of you. Fear took root in the pit of your stomach, sprouting up and into the hollow of your chest, making it difficult to breathe, to resist the urge to curl back into yourself and never come out.

Second to only your fear, just as pervasive and twice as instinctual, was your arousal.

It would’ve been impossible to read its nonexistent expression, but as it shifted its weight, turning to face you, you could’ve sworn the creature was looking at you with as much interest as you held for it. Its scarlet eyes were wide and unfaltering, its gaze only growing more intense as it took a step in your direction, then another, approaching you in slow, tense increments. Despite its stiffness, it didn’t seem awkward or nervous, let alone afraid of you. If anything, it seemed like it was trying not to scare you, even if you couldn’t say there was much weight behind the gesture when you were sitting among the viscera of its last three victims. Still, you held your ground, not daring to so much as blink until it was standing in front of you.

From a distance, it’d been inhumanly tall. Now that it was close enough to touch, it seemed downright monstrous.

With jerky, unpracticed movements, it reached down, towards you. You waited for a beat, then another, and when it failed to pull away or bury its talons in your chest, you hesitantly placed your hand in its palm, a knot forming in the back of your throat as its claws folded and everything up to your wrist was completely encompassed. With a sharp tug, it pulled you to your feet and held steady you when your legs, still shaking, proved too weak to hold your weight. You let out a fleeting, nervous laugh, and in response, it chittered – the sound high-pitched and tittering. It was cute, in the way seeing a lion play with a ball of yarn would’ve been cute. You were still eminently aware that the creature in front of you could end your life, but still.

“Hey,” you managed, eventually, unable to think of anything else to say. You didn’t even know if it could understand you, but you weren’t sure what else to do. “Did you… did you save me?”

Another round of chittering, a slight glimmer in its otherwise blank stare. You smiled. “Thank you, I— I’m not from around here, and I didn’t know I’d have to look out for people like that.” You bowed your head, attempting to let your eyes fall to the ground, but rather, your eyes found its cock again, pressed against its abdomen and leaking. The adrenaline that’d coursed through your veins a few minutes ago was already starting to fade, making room for something else, something closer to an anxious sort of zeal. Something that made you want to do something less than advisable.

Slowly, doing what little you could to stop your hands from shaking, you reached out, your fingertips barely brushing against its soft cheek. It nuzzled into your touch, earning a small smile, a trickle of a laugh. “Poor thing,” you mumbled, almost comforted by the fact that it couldn’t respond, couldn’t mock your poor-excuse for a seductively saccharine tone. “Do you need help with that?”

You saw its talon’s twitch, its wings flutter almost imperceptibly against its back. You weren’t aware that you were moving, not until your back was pressed against the rough bark of the nearest oak, until you felt the clawed hand that it’d wrapped around your waist drop to your hip, then your thigh. The tips of its curved talons scraped against your skin as it ran its claws from your waist to your knee, cutting through the delicate fabric of your shorts and panties and discarding the material without a second thought. The open air was cold against your exposed skin, but something quickly replaced it – a gentle, oppressive warmth that seemed to sap the chill from your skin. Your legs were thrown over its shoulders, held in place by its massive hands as it buried its face between your thighs. You barely had time to straighten your back, to brace yourself before—

Oh.

Oh.

It was more tongue-like than you’d expected.

Not to say that it was a tongue – you weren’t really sure what you should call it. Long, split at the tip, just rough enough to earn a breathy gasp, a new wave of heat rushing from your core to your head, obscuring your few remaining rational thoughts with a shimmering haze. Its tongue (tendril? proboscis?) ran over the length of your exposed slit, leaving a trail of thick, viscous saliva dripping down the inside of your thighs before jerking its head upward and finding your clit, the tip of its tongue circling the sensitive bundle of nerves as soon as it recognized the airy sounds now falling steadily from your lips for the unabashed moans they were. It was almost experimental, the way it bent and curled its tongue, clearly working towards a quickly approaching goal but constantly looking for a way to get there that much faster, to make your legs twitch that much harder, to force the coil writhing violently in the pit of your stomach wind up that much tighter.

It was all you could do to arch your back against the oak’s trunk and clench your eyes shut, your hands falling to the softened ridge between its curved antennae. Only half-consciously, your attention dominated by the feeling of its coarse tongue swirling over your clit, you raked your fingers through its cropped fur, doing what you could to show the creature your appreciation, your gratitude. You tried to be gentle, but the curling tips of its tongue slipped into your tight entrance and the world burnt white, your body jerking forward and your nails biting into its scalp. There was a deep, guttural sound from somewhere deep in its chest, and its hands rose to your hips, claws scrapping lightly against your skin as its tongue fucked into you. It was thin, but long and so flexible – twisting and coiling against the sensitive walls of your cunt, never repeating the same blissful pattern of thrusts and thrashes more than once. You found yourself grinding into its mouth, seeking out whatever friction you could with the clumsy movements of your hips. The pressure, the weight, the sensation – it was more than you could handle. You could already feel it, a certain tightness in your chest, a tension in your core that—

Without warning, without satisfaction, it pulled away from you, leaving you empty and quickly coming down from a high that you never quite reached. You let out a long whine, more desperate than disappointed, and as if to apologize, the creature nuzzled against the inside of your thigh, chirping softly. Thankfully, your reprieve was a short one. With its hands still on your hips, your body still held aloft by its inhuman strength, you were dragged away from the oak and into its chest as it stood to its full height. Your chest was slotted against the creature’s, the pointed head of its cock pressed flush to your dripping cunt. Its wings fanned out, its hips rolling against yours, and a sharp, aching moan was drawn from your lips as it thrust into you, finally filling you to the brim.

For a long moment, it was all you could do to bury your face in its chest and try to put together a coherent thought. Only half of its length was inside of you, and yet, you could practically feel it pressing into your core, rubbing against the walls of your cunt, the cork-screw ridge that ran from the tip to the base threatening to split you open. It didn’t, though, and even if it had, you couldn’t be sure you would’ve cared. Before the creature could even begin to move, to fuck into you from below, you were grinding against it, mindlessly and desperately trying to chase that fullness, that peak. It didn’t take long for the creature to answer your fervor. There was a raised notch just above the base of its cock, a notch that caught on your clit as it beat into you with heavy, rough strokes. A talon was dragged down the back of your top, tearing the fabric away and allowing its tongue to lave over your chest. All of its gentleness, all of its restraint was thrown aside as its claws dug into your hips, cutting through skin and tinting your pleasure with an intensity that wouldn’t have been possible without a drop of pain.

A scream, wild and euphoric, was torn from your throat, and you wrapped your legs around its waist, dragging your own nails over its back as you fought to keep some part of yourself grounded. Even that was an effort made in vain. You heard its wings shift, felt the air rush against your skin, and suddenly, you were breaking through the canopy – speared on the creature’s cock mid-air, being fucked against the backdrop of the dark, velveteen sky.  The shock, the adrenaline, the thrill was enough to leave you clenching around the creature’s cock, your vision burning white as you came undone. You might’ve been able to come down, to melt back into its thrusts and its affection, if something hadn’t clicked in its chest, if its wings hadn’t started to move a little faster, if something hadn’t happened and the creature hadn’t started to emit a sort of reverberating droll – the sort throbbing vibration that only seemed to make the friction against your clit, the feeling of it stretching you open more perfect. You couldn’t be sure how long you stayed in that hazy, half-conscious state – limp and moaning in the arms of a monster, always either spilling over your high or riding out the aftershocks. It only came to a climax – a real climax – when the creature stiffened against you, its cock twitching violently inside of your cunt. It pulled you as close as it possibly could and, with one last wave of pulsing reverberation, released something thick inside of you – viscous and warm and translucent. Like sap. Like nectar.

Light-headed and blissed-out, you buried your face in its chest as it began to descend, the sound of your giddy laughter muffled by its fur. This time, when it pulled away from you with an apologetic chirp, you didn’t complain, only pressing one more lingering kiss into the curve of its shoulder and letting it draw back. Your legs were too weak to hold your weight, so you braced yourself against the nearest oak as the creature disappeared into the dark of the forest, returning a few moments later with a bundle of bloody fabric in its arms. A shirt – a little torn but mostly in one piece, taken from one of the hunters’ corpses, clearly meant to replace your own ruined clothes. You smiled as you slipped it over your head. It was a size too big, and it was sure to raise a few questions, but it would do until you could find help. Whatever ‘help’ meant, at that point.

When you were finished, the creature took you up again; wrapping an arm around your waist and catching you under your knees, pulling you against its broad chest. This time, as it soared over the forest, you were able to admire view, the star-lit sky and sprawling woodland before it landed where the forest had started to thin and give way to the outskirts of a small town. Slowly, carefully, it lowered you to the ground, keeping you upright when your unsteady balance wavered. You laughed and, for longer than a moment, you held its unblinking gaze, Eventually, your hands fell into its claws, your smile turning bitter-sweet and sentimental. “Will I ever see you again?”

There was a slight chittering, a gentle squeeze to your hand. You felt its tongue against your cheek and let your eyes fall shut. By the time you could bring yourself to open them again, Mothman – because it was Mothman, you could only deny it for so long – was gone, barely a silhouette in the distance. You heard the crack of thunder, and watched it fly away as the sky broke open and rain spilled out.

The next day, you would learn that a bridge about twenty miles outside of the city the creature left you in had collapsed the night before, killing hundreds.

[small-sinclair]

Roadside Angel

Lester x y/n

Tw: reader survives a car wreck, watched someone die, glass, injured reader, blood, character deaths, being referred as property for a moment

Part two | Part 3

When you woke up this morning, you didnlt think you would be in a car wreck on the country road in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. Jace's car flipped three times, and you heard Britney's neck snap, killing her in seconds. You remembered holding on to your seat belt so hard until the car stopped, and your friend's glazed eyes met yours. Jace was going nearly 100 down the road even though you told him to slow down, but he had to impress his now dead girlfriend. You were just along for the trip to the lake, and he graced you with the permission to have you come along. He was going to ask her to marry him, but you guess that love dies within a snap... ha, terrible joke, y/n.

When you came back, your brother and William, who was in the backseat, dragged you out of the car. Black smoke raised above the car as the fire in the front of the car was sandwiched between a pine tree and a large rock. Your brother's face had small glass peeking out of the skin, and William's face was pale from shock and panic. You looked back at the car, seeing Brittney's eyes in the flames, and you saw Martin's head smashed and broken in the backseat. You forgot he was there because he was sleeping. Going out in your sleep was a good gift; that's what your grandfather told you two days before he died in his sleep. Irony is like a skillet cooking an eggs.

"You okay, y/n?" Your brother asked, looked at you up and down. "Oh, shit. You're bleeding!"

"Jace, I see a car!"

"Flag them down, Will!" Your brother took off his green flannel and held in over your arm, careful not to touch the big chunk of glass sticking out of shoulder and upper arm. "You're going to be okay, y/n."

"Jace, what about you?" You asked in a whisper. You didn't realize that you were shaking, your eyes dead and numb. Every time you blink, all you see is Britney's eyes. "You good?"

"Forget me, okay?" He asked as the truck came into view, slowing down. "Keep pressure on your arm. I'll talk to the driver."

You knew you were in shock, that's why you weren't screaming in pain yet, but you knew that it'll come soon. You knew that once it hits you, you won't stop screaming and crying. You remembered that the closest hospital was 30 miles from here, and that's not enough time for you. On the other hand, you were just happy your brother lived. If anything, you were nervous how William was feeling about it all along with how he was going to pin this on you.

The driver got out of his truck in a hurry when he saw you sitting in the grass with blood running down your arm. He was short and looked like he needed two sandwiches. His face was covered in grim and dirt, and he still had the morning's shadow on his cheeks and chin. His faded red work shirt was unbutton and tucked in his pants to show his dirtied and torn white shirt. Around his neck, you thought he was wearing dog tags, but they were small bones once he got closer. His bright brown hair was greasy and curled up to the southern heat under his green hat. He looked worried as he stopped in front of your brother, but you couldn't hear a thing. Your ears started ringing as your eyes clouded and laced over the evening sky. This was the most prettiest sunset you've seen in a long time.

Soon, the stranger was in front of you, snapping his fingers to wake you from your fog. His voice was muffled as your body swayed side to side slightly. You could feel the earth lift up then back down like a roller coaster you once rode at the State Fair when you were a kid.

"...can ya 'ere me?" His voice was so sweet in your ears once you felt yourself grounded again. "Sweetpea? Hey," he snaps his fingers again, "com' back t' me. Don't go too far, 'kay? Com' back." Once he felt your eyes on him, he gave you a smile as sweet as honey, showing his rotten and blacken teeth. His lips were cracked and showed a healing cut. " 'At's it. Good. Hey there, beautiful," he cooed, his eyes looked over your upper body to make sure you weren't bleeding anywhere else. "C'n ya tell me yer name, sugar?"

"You have pretty eyes," you answered instead. His brown eyes were so soft and gentle. He shot you a confused looked, his cheeks a soft pink. "Real pretty eyes."

"Darlin'," he whispered as he looked at your arm. "I need ya to tel'me yer name."

"Y/n," you answered, your head getting dizzy again.

"It's real good t'meetcha," he said with a grin, worried pressed over his eyes. "C'n ya stan', sugar?"

You winced when you shrugged. "Catch... me?"

You felt the weight of the world crushing on you as you leaned to the side, closing your eyes. You expected your head to hit the dirt, but he caught you. His hands were rough but gentle to the touch. The smell of death came from his body, but you cared less. His hands were strong and warm as he lifted you up, cradling you. For someone so small looking, he was strong. When your eyes parted, you were being placed in the truck with your brother's help. William was getting into the back of the truck once the door slammed.

"C'n get ya to Ambrose in ten," the driver promised as he slammed his door. "It'll be bumpy, so hang on t'em." Then his eyes fell on you. He looked so scared as he started the truck and gunned it down the road. "Keep yer eyes open, y/n, yeah?" He asked, turning on a dirt road sharply. "Tel'me yer favorite color. Flower. Anythin'."

Your eyes looked up at your brother, seeing a stream of tears falling down fast. You looked up at the ceiling, seeing different antlers hanging. You wanted to touch one, hold it close, and ask its spirit for its name. Imagine asking that? You are really losing it, aren't you?

"F/c," you answered, your hands now tracing the gator skin on the radio. "It matches my eyes."

"Ya know? 'i a good color," the driver agreed, driving over the dirt road and river rocks. Luckily, it hasn't rained in a couple of days, so the road wasn't washed out. "I lik' green an' yeller."

The way he talked made you giggle. The sunset poked through his hair and trees, making the shadows cast over him, giving him a pair of angel wings. He was your roadside angel at this point. "Bet it looks good... good on you?" You found it harder to stay awake. The pain started kicking in. "What's your name?"

He looked at you then back at your brother. Guess you didn't hear him the first time, huh, y/n? "Lester," he answered. "Lester Sinclair."

"Pretty name," you breathed. The pain in your shoulder finally got to you, but you didn't have the strength to scream or cry. You didn't feel like doing anything besides sleeping. "I'm tired, Jace."

"Stay awake," your brother ordered. "See? We're here!" The truck stopped as soon as he said it. "Stay awake, y/n."

The car door opened on your brother's side as Lester hopped out of the seat, sliding over the hood of the car. William's hand slipped under you roughly, and his hand squeezed hard enough to leave a bruise. Soon, you felt yourself being lifted up in Lester's arms and hurried steps towards a house on a hill.

You heard the house door open as a taller man in a blue worker's jumper stepped out. "The hell's this, Les?" The older man barked. "What the fuck--?"

"They're hurt," Lester said, going up two steps. "Really hurt, Bo!"

"Like I care--"

"You betta care," Lester snapped. He never gets angry with his brothers, but seeing you like this was enough to make his chest ache. What were you doing to him, y/n? What is this? "Y/n needs help." He was careful with your hurt shoulder and arm as he held you closer. "Please, Bo? Get Vincent for help?"

Bo hates it when Lester flashes his puppy eyes. How could he say "no" to that look? Bo looked past Lester towards Jace and William before sighing in defeat. "Fine," he stepped aside. "Pa's office. I'll get Vinny."

Are all southern men this hot? They weren't kidding when they say men grew in southern soil.

Everything was a blur from there.

You were placed on a cold and hard bed? Table? What the hell is this? But you were there as Lester left the room to come back with a big bowl and a first-aid. you felt yourself weave in and out as his voice became muffled again...

When your eyes opened, you were met by a lifeless and blank face looking down at you, raven hair tucked behind his ear, and hands working over your shoulder. You felt numb on your left side. He noticed you were a wake, but he didn't say anything or gave you the motion that he wanted to talk to you. You didn't feel pain as you drifted back to sleep, hearing your brother screaming your name before his dying screamed left. Oddly, you felt safe here...

************

"Don't kill 'em," Lester begged on his knees in front of Bo and Vincent. "Please, don't kill 'em."

In the kitchen, the twins sit in their chairs as they looked down at their brother, scared and shaking. Bo's boots were covered in y/n's brother's blood while Vincent's waxed face was covered in small spatters of William's. Their blue eyes looked at each other then down at Lester.

Bo shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Ya know t'rules."

Lester shook his head huriedly. "But they lived fer a reason!"

"Yeah," Bo nodded towards Vincent, "so he could dump them in wax." He almost laughed but... "It's sad how they gotta go."

"Then why didn't ya use t'whole thin' on 'em, Vince?" He looked up at his brother. "Why not t'whole numbin' thin'?"

Truth to be told, he didn't know why. Maybe it's because he heard you whispering a "thank you" to him after he was done working on you? Was it your sleepy grin?

"Can't keep 'em--"

"But ya keep pretty girls all th' time!" Lester argued back at Bo. "Bet if ya had yer hands on 'em, ya would lock 'em up down stairs!"

Bo's eye twitched. "Watch it."

"Am I wrong?" Lester asked, standing up, opening his arms. "When ya find someone, ya keep 'em and expect us t'be okay wit' it! But when I find someone, it's wrong?"

"Lester, I said..." Bo stopped himself and sighed. His little brother does have a fair point. "Damnit."

"An' ya promised I could hav' th' next one!" Lester added, his voice cracking. "Ya goin' back on it?"

Bo bit his lower lip, settling down his anger. The last thing he wants is that little thing in Pa's office to wake up to this. But why was he worried about that, too? Why was he worried that y/n would wake to this? Was he afrid of killing them? No, Bo Sinclair never gets scared! But... They looked so tired when Lester brought them in. He almost felt sorry for you... almost.

Giving in, Bo rubbed his face. "Fine," he breathed out. "But ya hav' two months wit'em 'fore I kil' 'em."

Vincent cut off Bo, signing, 'Unless you can get them to say 'I love you'.'

Bo shot a look at Vincent and was about to protest, but he looked back at his brother. Big Mistake. His brother's bright brown eyes were filled with hope and happiness. Who was he to kill his brother's joy? It's not fair, he knows this, but Bo didn't want his brothers to get too attached to y/n. If Lester can't get them to love them, then Bo will kill them.

That's a fair trade.

Bo stood up and held up two fingers when he said, "Two months. If y/n doesn't say they love ya," he picked up the hunting knife. "I'll kil' em with 'is, an' ya hav'ta watch." He lifted a brow. "Deal?"

Something inside Lester exploded with happiness and joy. "Deal."

And what a deal it was.

[bottlecap-joe-spooky]

How bad is the extent of Miles Edgeworth's mental state in rise from the ashes?

Tw: suicide, implied self harm

Obviously he ends up essentially leaving a suicide note of "prosecutor edgeworth chooses death", but that could be symbolic. He HAD already quit his job (one of the only things that had held his life together possibly since his father died) so him as Prosecutor edgeworth had essentially "died".

There's also the ambiguous definition of "dying" in the note. Did he mean it as in he would not be coming back (from death or to prosecution or to japanifornia or whatever) or as he would never come back as the same person (the "demon" prosecutor) or just to fake his own death for a little moral/mental break or whatever (everyone's allowed a little gay panic break every once in a while).

Who knows, and I genuinely love the ambiguity the game leaves.

Obviously, phoenix takes it as a serious suicide note, and is obviously absolutely wrecked by it for the next year. This is a topic often touched upon in fanfiction, though not in the game quite as much. Obviously it is hard to talk about mental health issues in a lawyer game, and they do it really well for a game not technically focused on it and from the early 2000s. Specifically for Maya and Edgeworth I think, as they both have loads of trauma that they deal with in fully different ways. Miles is more worrying though, as most of his coping skills are absolutely horrible, he has very little emotional support, and he's been pretty messed up in the head.

I honestly wonder a lot which people and relationships are meant to mirror the main characters, like phoenix saying shit like "that's so romantic- he saved you- I guess I'd fall in love too-" for the Delite's love story or edgeworth saying Adrian andrews codependent situation is very similar to how Franziska operates with her father or definitely Lana and ema reminding Phoenix of Mia and Maya or him literally telling Adrian andrews to kill herself in court. Specifically that last one. He specifically phrases it as "if you're going to say you would 'choose death', that is of no concern to me."

There is some especially worrying evidence in rise from the ashes, when he was at the most mentally unstable he's ever been. The only time that would compare was when his dad died when he was 8, but even then he had a new foster family to rely on (more or less). He's at his very worse, because, after 15 or so years, all of his past has just been dredged up and solved (by "that man" no less. Also, side note, does he only start saying Phoenix "saved him" after he came back from the dead?)

I really don't like any implications of why edgeworth would have traces of blood on the ground, especially at this point in his life.

So the options here are 1) it's someone else's blood, and maybe he fucking slapped someone so hard they bled or 2) it's his blood on his office floor for whatever reason. Neither imply anything remotely good for his mental state.

At this point it really could just be coincidence and ema is right or whatever. It's an easily missed peice, completely unrelated to the case and just an interesting tidbit for lore maybe. But sadly I found more evidence to support that that is not indeed the case.

I can't remember what the plot point for edgeworth's knife besides the fact that he had it in the car for Lana to find.

Mmm yeah ema. What is that little fruit doing with a knife? Very low chance that gay man knows self defense tbh.

Ema goes on to suggest he spends weekends "roughing it in the wild" and Phoenix basically laughs in her face (does this girl not understand what a homosexual man he is) as Edgeworth has probably never been in "the wild" a day in his life.

This doesn't feel like a coincidence anymore. There is cleaned up blood on his floor, enough for a nosebleed, and there is a knife in his car. One which he would probably never actually use on another person. This and then added to the fact that he had just quit his job and "died" shortly after. it's pretty obvious he is doing worse than even what he says, as he actually is kind of open about how he is doing throughout the games. Obviously he's always trying to hide his feelings (which Phoenix always sees right through), but during the case he does mostly explain to them exactly what is happening. Not that they do or even can help.

His entire career was based around punishing himself for something he didn't actually do. There is no way he isn't harbouring a lot of self loathing, and it's hinted at throughout the games (again, hard to touch on in a lawyer game). This game is so hard to tell what the writers originally meant, both beacause of it being looked at through translations and it being written in the 2000s (like how fruity they 'accidentally' made them in the first game lol) so that's not an angle I can look at this from.

So, to recap, he

had all his past dredged up, obviously very painful

he is open about talking about it, but doesn't show the true extent of how it effects him

has a knife in his car that no one has any real theories on why he has it (and the blood)

There is traces of blood on his office floor

he has spent his entire life punishing himself, and then can't forgive himself for it

he then chooses death

when he comes back, he repeatedly projects onto Adrian Andrews

No wonder he's always saying Phoenix "saved him" he sure needed a bit of saving.

This poor, poor man. His story arc is so beautiful to me.

[terramous]

i wasn't tagged by anyone but i live to be annoying and this is the first wednesday in over a year that i've been working on a tarlos fic tw: minor character death

The next time TK needed surgery, he was fifteen and Owen’s team had been called to the scene of a car accident. 

A green toyota, under the light of stars it seemed to glimmer almost like a beacon as Owen and his team pulled up. Boots on the ground, with the rolling smoke from under the hood of the car and the dust in the air–a telltale sign of deployed airbags–the colour of the car in front of him mimicked that of his son’s eyes. 

It wouldn’t be the last time he saw that hue tonight.

"Cap, I need you to come talk to him,” Saeko Furukawa–the paramedic captain–said, beckoning him over.

Owen's heart was in his throat as he walked up to the car. He'd seen a million car wrecks, but this was the first one that had featured his only son as a passenger. 

The passenger side door was pretty much concave and there was no way they'd be able to get it open without pulling the car apart. That wasn't Owen's concern at the moment, that was a car that someone else's parents had paid for and he was sure they'd be fine as long as their kid was okay.

"Hey, TK, how are you doing?"

TK's head was resting heavily against the back of the seat as he looked up at his dad with half-lidded eyes, a slow smile stretching across his face. "Hey, Dad.

"You hear that, Casey? I told you everything was going to be okay, the firefighters are gonna save us."

Owen looked up to meet eyes with the firefighter standing at the opposite door. She just shook her head, her lips pressed into a tight line. If he studied her expression for long enough, he could see the way the tears on her cheeks glittered in the glow of the flickering streetlight looming over their heads.

[s4mudra]

𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨  …  𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑭𝑭𝑨𝑵  𝑲𝑰𝑰𝒁𝑨.

salt  water  holds  secrets  that  can  heal  the  likes  of  you  and  me.

daniel  kaluuya,  thirty  six,  he/they     ⟡     —     is  that  STEFFAN  KIIZA  i  just  saw  walking  around  kilmer’s  cove?  i  heard  they’re  a  RESIDENT  who’s  been  here  for  MOST  OF  HIS  CHILDHOOD  &  MORE  RECENTLY,  A  YEAR.  it  slipped  my  mind,  since  they  just  tend  to  hang  out  at  THE  CLIFFS.  at  face  value,  they’re  said  to  be  GRACIOUS  and  SHREWD,  but  i  don’t  know…  some  people  have  said  they  can  be  quite  OBSESSIVE  and  AMBIGUOUS.  just  don’t  get  on  their  bad  side,  i  guess!  don’t  tell  them  i  told  you  this,  but  i’ve  heard  they  DO  believe  in  all  the  ghost  stories  around  town.  who  knows  what  the  future  holds  for  them!

foreword.

mini  playlist.  used  to  be  ,  arrows  to  athens  /  never  love  an  anchor  ,  the  crane  wives  /  kisah  cintaku  ,  peterpan  /  snow  globe  ,  wang  ziyi.

aesthetics.  the  antlers  of  a  great  deer  peering  from  between  the  trees  /  skin  brushing  against  water  where  the  sea  meets  the  sand  on  a  cold  winter  morning  /  a  drying  deep-red  wax  seal  over  an  ivory  piece  of  paper  /  a  watch  set  atop  a  thick  closed  tome  /  a  melody  playing  in  the  memory  of  a  powerful  love.

pinterest.

chapter  i. if  your  muse  recently  moved  kilmer,  or  is  just  visiting,  what  attracted  them  to  go  here  in  the  first  place  ?

death  tw,  car  crash  tw.

tl;dr:  to  quote  sora  from  kingdom  hearts,  kilmer’s  cove  is,  “a  scattered  dream  that's  like  a  far-off  memory...  a  far-off  memory  that's  like  a  scattered  dream...  i  want  to  line  the  pieces  up...  yours  and  mine.”

isn’t  it  funny?  the  sea  never  stopped  calling,  but  your  return  to  kilmer’s  cove  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  pause.  rewind.  set  the  scene;  two  and  a  half  years  ago,  you  stepped  into  an  empty  apartment  dressed  in  all  black.  the  world  caved  in.  you  buried  your  wife  six  feet  under  and  there  were  no  ghosts  left  behind.  all  you  had  to  haunt  you  was  the  photo  on  your  desk.

it  was  like  holding  your  head  underwater,  or  like  holding  onto  a  piece  of  driftwood  and  barely  staying  afloat.  you  marked  papers  into  the  late  hours  of  the  night  and  you  heard  no  voice  calling  you  to  bed.  you  cleaned  your  apartment  like  a  person  possessed  and  you  hoped  to  find  her  in  its  darkest  corners  and�� you  came  up  with  nothing  at  all.  fast  forward.  a  year  ago  saw  you  driving  alone  past  the  welcome  to  kilmer’s  cove  sign  with  a  trunk  full  of  your  things—the  old  empty  apartment  in  the  city  traded  in  for  a  new  one  in  your  childhood  haunt.  the  photos  of  the  wrecked  car  that  still  plagued  your  nightmares  felt  like  a  lifetime  ago.  you  signed  your  new  teaching  contract  and  nodded  at  the  words,  “you  start  next  monday.”  life  moved  on.

rewind.  rewind.  rewind.  you  were  eighteen  once  and  the  drive  your  dad  offered  out  of  kilmer’s  cove  was  a  one-way  ticket.  you  had  it  all  planned  in  your  head.  get  a  degree.  get  a  job.  get  another  degree.  your  mind  was  a  weapon  and  a  black  hole  and  you  intended  to  make  a  life  out  of  it.  fast  forward.  is  this  how  it  feels  like  to  have  everything?  you  once  asked,  lips  curving  into  a  smile  as  a  kiss  pressed  into  the  corner  of  your  lips.  this  was  it,  you  thought,  the  culmination  of  all  your  hard  work.  you  married  the  love  of  your  life  and  landed  an  assistant  lecturer  role  and  philadelphia  began  to  feel  like  home. 

but  life  is  a  fragile  thing.  you  knew  this,  once.  rewind.  it  was  your  first  funeral  and  your  hands  shook  and  despite  it  all,  sixteen  was  still  too  young  to  look  at  a  coffin  and  know  what—who—should  have  been  inside.  things  like  that  haunt  you  forever.  fast  forward.  there  were  never  any  other  until  the  day  you  had  to  stand  on  the  podium  and  give  a  eulogy  and  say  the  words,  “beloved  daughter,  sister,  friend,  and  wife.  rest  in  peace.” 

funny,  then,  of  all  the  ghosts  that  could  haunt  kilmer’s  cove,  you  never  saw  her  face  again.

chapter  ii. does  your  muse  have  a  job  in  kilmer’s  cove ?

frankly,  teaching  in  a  high  school  was  never  really  part  of  steffan’s  plans.  with  a  master  of  science  in  biology  and  on  track  to  become  a  full-time  lecturer  at  one  of  the  many  prestigious  pennsylvania  universities,  the  goal  had  always  been  to  get  promoted  from  being  assistant  lecturer. 

but  the  career  pivot  seemed  right  to  complete  their  move  back  to  kilmer’s  cove.  being  a  high  school  biology  teacher  wasn’t  so  far  off  from  the  goal.  it  was  not  so  much  reinventing  themselves  as  it  was  putting  some  distance  between  the  life  before  the  welcome  to  kilmer’s  cove  sign  and  the  life  after  he  settled  his  bags  in  the  empty  one  bedroom  apartment. 

loathe  as  they  are  to  admit  it,  the  rambunctious  high  school  students  that  were  more  often  than  not  the  cause  of  their  splitting  headaches  do  provide  a  much-needed  distraction  from  the  feeling  of  holding  their  head  underwater.  and  if  he’s  even  more  loathe  to  admit  how  fond  he  is  of  them  sometimes…  that’s  his  secret  to  keep!

chapter  iii. quick  facts.

death  tw,  car  crash  tw.

they  taught  in  university  of  pennsylvania  as  an  assistant  lecturer  and  hoped  for  a  promotion  in  upenn  before  Everything  happened.

it  was  alluded  above,  but  steffan  lost  their  wife  in  a  car  accident  that  he  was  not  present  in.  the  whys  and  hows  of  it  all  still  haunt  them  to  this  day.

it’s  not  as  if  he’s  been  with  more  than  a  handful  of  people,  but  the  two  most  impactful  romantic  relationships  in  steffan’s  life  are  his  marriage  to  his  wife  and  a  college  situationship  from  farther  Before.

they  have  two  younger  siblings,  the  youngest  being  eight  years  younger  than  them.

steffan  is  bisexual. 

the  funeral  that  he  witnessed  when  he  was  sixteen  was  felix  witmore’s,  freyja  witmore’s  younger  brother  who  he  used  to  tutor.

he  thinks  that  in  another  world  where  he  isn’t  making  a  living  out  of  supervising  frog  dissection  and  posing  plastic  skeletons,  he  would  be  a  philosophy  major  and  a  writer.

makes  sense,  considering  that  he  reads  a  lot.  he  has  quite  the  collection  of  both  fiction  and  non-fiction  books,  though  his  favourite  fiction  genre  is  mystery.

steffan  takes  his  coffee  almost  black,  with  just  a  splash  of  milk  and  no  sugar. 

their  vision  is  not  20/20,  though  steffan  wears  their  contacts  almost  as  frequently  as  they  do  their  glasses—a  habit  that  they  carried  over  from  their  college  days.

they  have  a  painting  of  a  deer  in  the  woods  that  now  hangs  above  their  living  room  couch.  it  was  one  of  the  first  art  pieces  they  bought  after  moving  into  the  home  they  shared  with  their  wife.

[maeleelee]

Vampires

Backstories might be a little dark and rough. Be careful. Read at own risk.

⚠️tw: vampires, so death and blood, killings.⚠️

Masterlist

Seonghwa: he was driving to meet his best friend at the coffee shop they always go to together. It was a normal routine at this point. They went every Tuesday. He was driving down the road when a car came flying up, hitting him head on. The driver was drunk, upset about his wife. Seonghwa was stabbed through the chest with a piece of the other car. He knew he probably wouldn’t make it. Texting his friend, with the little bit of adrenaline he had left in him, ‘I love you Jasper. Thank you for being the best friend I could ask for.’ Jasper read the text and ran out the shop, looking for the wreck and eyes going wide as he watched them take Seonghwa into the ambulance. He let Carlisle know and headed to the hospital, where Carlisle ended up changing him.

Hongjoong: he was a big drug dealer back in his teens. However, the older he got, the dangerous he became in a way. Soon he was working with the mafia, and they needed intel. They went to him and he nodded, saying he’d get it for them. However, it wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be. It was almost impossible. When they found out he couldn’t get it, they came for him. He was on the run but one day, they found him killing him before they left. Or so they thought. Seonghwa found the boy, gun shots all over the place. Picking him up and taking him to the Carlisle, who turned him.

Mingi: he had been in a gang when he was a teen. Growing up and fighting, getting into trouble was his thing, until one day, one of the enemies from a rival gang found him. He was pushed out the window of a ten story building. They were hoping to make it look like an accident. Carlisle was the doctor who helped him and when he realized the boy was not gonna make it, he turned him, knowing he had a different life ahead for him.

Jongho: Emmett found Jongho at a young age. Jongho was the same as Emmett. A crazy teen who just wanted to explore and adventure all the time. Emmett took him under his wing and began helping him find himself. One night they went camping. Emmett had walked out to get firewood and Jongho happened to have a bear walk in the campsite. It attacked Jongho. When Emmett got back, the flashback of the bear attacking him fueled him to kill the bear. He saw Jongho fading and ran to him. He begged the boy to let him turn him and when Jongho agreed, Emmett did just that, carrying back home to Carlisle.

Carlisle: the father of the vampires, a doctor. His backstory: His father was an Anglican pastor who led a group that sought out and killed people they thought were witches, werewolves, and vampires to root out "evil" in their community. When his father was too old to continue these raids, Carlisle took over — though he never much agreed with them. Carlisle discovered a group of real vampires living in the sewers of London and led an attack against them, but he was bitten and left for dead. As a vampire, he resolved to only drink animal blood from the very start and traveled the world, spending some time with the Volturi in Italy, before settling in the United States and becoming a doctor

Esme: the mom of the group. Backstory: Carlisle recognized her as the girl he had met years before and decided to save her life by turning her into a vampire.

Emmett: He was a rambunctious teen who loved adventure and hunting. In 1935, he was in the mountains and ended up attacked by a black bear. Rosalie found him and carried him over a hundred miles back to Carlisle to save his life. She wanted to save him because she thought he looked innocent, young, and beautiful but didn't trust herself to change him without killing him. Became a vampire and is basically Carlisle son.

Rosalie: Carlisle found Rosalie nearly dead and carried her away, where he turned her into a vampire and welcomed her into their family. According to Rosalie's backstory, the first thing she did was murder all her abusers, including her ex-fiancée, before settling down to become one of the Cullens. Rosalie, however, exercised remarkable self-control as a new vampire, refusing to drink the blood of any of the men who assaulted her, killing them outright.

Jasper: He was turned into a vampire by Maria, another vampire, who wanted him to lead an army of young vampires she was creating to fight in the Southern Vampire Wars. was already an empath before becoming a vampire, and Maria used his abilities to influence the feelings of others to control her newborn vampire army. Jasper worked with her until 1938, when he ran away to the North with another vampire friend of his named Peter.

Alice: From an early age, she had premonitions that led many in town to believe she was a witch. After her mother was murdered and her father remarried, Alice escaped to a nearby town, having a vision that her father was the one responsible. There, her father had her committed to an asylum where she befriended an unnamed vampire doctor. Later, she had a vision that a tracker named James (the same one who later tried to kill Bella in Twilight) was looking for her, so Alice's vampire friend turned her into a vampire to protect her and then sacrificed himself to James to give her time to escape.

Edward: All three of the Masens caught the Spanish Influenza in the pandemic of 1918, the father dying first. On her deathbed, Elizabeth begged Carlisle Cullen, who was the doctor treating them, to do everything he could to save her beloved son. As Edward himself was dying, Carlisle snuck him out of the hospital and back to his home, where he turned Edward into a vampire and became a father figure to him.

[arealphrooblem]

synopsis: protagonist makes a deal with their villainous cousin for control of the family fortune after the death of their parents.

tw: brief mention of car accident, parental death, marriage between cousins

The antagonist drags his gaze slowly up from his desk to their face. His eyes look like chips of ice, cold with fury. It makes their heart fly up in her throat.

“How did you get out,” he asks slowly. “Again?”

The protagonist doesn't answer – he will know soon enough when he sends his security detail to tear the place apart.

“Does it matter?” they ask instead. “The guards, locking me away, taking my phone. You’re acting like a villain in a fairy tale and it's unnecessary.”

“Is it?” He leans back in his chair, his full attention settling on them like a heavy cloak. “You’ve made three escape attempts – four if you’re counting this conversation right now. I can’t very well marry you if you’ve disappeared and I am not going another day without what your family owes me. So what other options am I left with?”

“You could have just asked me.”

They can tell from the tilt of his head, the rise of his eyebrows, that they caught him off guard. It gives them a small bit of satisfaction, a boost to their courage.

“Asked you?” he repeats flatly. “You really expect me to believe that you would have said yes?”

His eyes flit over their face, disassembling them. The protagonist had swallowed their father’s beliefs that the whole of that side of the family were nothing but thugs and criminals, people who committed violent atrocities for petty reasons because they were too stupid for other solutions. But faced with him, the sharpness of his gaze, the brutal efficiency of his actions, disproves everything her father had said.

They have no hope to trick or beguile him. Not that they, in their sheltered glory, would even know how. Their father brought her up to be the perfect rich, submissive trophy spouse for whichever family would benefit him most.

“You would have been the first person in my family to ask me anything.”

No, the only thing they have is the bare truth. And that seems to throw him off more than anything else. Something flickers in his eyes before he deftly covers it up.

The protagonist dares to step a little closer to his desk, until they stand in between the two chairs seated in front.

“What is it that you want?” they ask softly. “My money, my father’s businesses? My house? You can have it. I don’t want it and I’m not going to fight you for it.”

His gaze turns shrewd. He’s been watching them this whole time with a placid, inscrutable expression, finger resting against his lips. The only hint that he might listen to them is the sudden sharpness in his eyes.

“What is it that you want?” he asks instead.

A breath rattles out from their lungs, one they didn’t realize they were holding. “My whole life my parents treated me like a doll, like a pet. I had no control over the way I dressed, the friends I had, the hobbies I cultivated, the school I attended, the classes I took. I don’t care what you do with my inheritance, with the family fortune, with my father’s affairs. I just want to be free.”

His head tilts ever so slightly to the side. “You weren’t crying in that hospital bed from grief – you were crying in relief. And guilt, no doubt.”

They swallow and look away. The fact that Protagonist survived the wreck that killed their family was seen as a curse. But they saw it as a miracle.  There’s no use in denying it, but neither can they bring themselves to confirm it.

“Very well,” he says, tone turning brisk. “I know the beginnings of a deal when I hear one. I’m guessing in exchange for your freedom you will marry me willingly and without fuss and hand over your rights to your inheritance to me. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” they say, trying to keep their voice even.

This is their last hurrah. They have nothing else left except perhaps to jump from the top story window. They’d rather not join the family so soon.

He hides everything so well – not unlike the protagonist. They have both been taught to seal everything behind a wall of some sorts. Theirs of placid obedience and easy smiles and he – a glacier. But as far as they can tell he seems to take the proposal seriously.

“And what does freedom look like to you?”

It’s a dream they’ve cultivated for many many years. One they thought they could touch when recovering after the crash, until he showed up in their hospital room with lawyers and threats.

“A small cabin in the Alps. A monthly stipend for books and paint. To be left in peace and no one to look for me.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. That’s it.”

They do not need expensive clothes or a hundred rooms or servants or private jets. They just need to be able to wake up every morning and choose something for themselves.

“You’re a terrible negotiator,” he says.

They could never hope to outmatch him. They only have the truth.

“There is nothing else I want.”

Another long look between them. They're not sure what he’s looking for – duplicity, perhaps. Guile. To him it must sound too good to be true.

Then he stands up, his long legs unfolding, and walks around the desk to tower over them. One long fingered hand sticks out. 

“We have a deal, cousin.”

They shake his hand. He does not squeeze it with the show of strength their father’s friends would do or hold it like glass the way their mother’s friends had done. He gives them the firm handshake of an equal.

And then he pulls them close, sending them stumbling, his firm grip the only thing keeping their balance.

“If you run off again, I will find you,” he murmurs, his eyes pinning them like a moth to a mounting board. “And after I drag a justice of the peace to marry us, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

They swallow, throat dry, heart racing.

“You have my word that I won’t leave if I have your word that I’ll be free after,” They whisper.

He releases them and steps away, back to the safety of his desk. “We will have your things moved back to your room this afternoon.”

[next-autopsy]

A/N: Well, hi there! I hope you’re enjoying this story as much as I am! This chapter is semi Francesca focused, hope y’all like her! Quite a bit of backstory in this one, we uncover a family mystery and I’m so sorry for it.

Lmk what you think x

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: Smoking, swearing, general awkwardness, mentions of death/loss,

Tags: @malarkgirlypop , @panzershrike-pretz (let me know if you want to be added!)

Made of Glass

Chapter thirteen: Baby Birdie

Smoking had always been something Francesca took solace in, the earthy smell reminded her of the men in her family. Her father had smoked since before she was born, she always pictured him with a thin cylinder of fine tobacco in his hand. 

When her two older brothers had hit their early teens, they both took up the habit. At first, they had hidden it from the paternal figure but quickly came to realise he didn't care so they stopped sneaking out to puff cigarettes in the dark alleys of their neighbourhood. 

Francesca often thought of her brothers and how they were fairing. Both had enlisted in the US marine corps the second Europe had declared war within itself in 1939. Her oldest brother, Giovanni, was 23 and the younger, Niccolo, was 22, that was nearly three years ago, and she hadn't seen them since. She would receive one, maybe two letters from each of them yearly and that's how she knew they were both still alive. 

She turned her thoughts else where, inhaling and exhaling gray clouds. Rossi was perched on the steps of the barracks she lived in, enjoying the quiet dark. 

To her dismay, the quiet dark was disturbed by the rhythmic thump of Army issued boots and the dirt path that lead in her direction. 

Francesca saw the shadowy outline of two figures, two figures that were yet to notice her. 

As they came closer, she recognised Birdie but not the man she was with. The pair seemed uncomfortable, the girl fidgeted with her hands and the guy was looking every which way except towards the woman. 

Francesca cringed for them. Their weird energy reached out and touched her and she wanted to run off or hide her face in her hands. 

She didn’t. She sat and watched. 

It was like witnessing a car wreck, Rossi could not pull her attention away, morbidly curious to see what happens next. 

Nobody said anything, no words exchanged but the couple had stopped walking and both looked like they wanted to hang themselves. 

Rossi kept silent, hoping if she said nothing they wouldn't notice her and she could ignore this moment of her life. 

“Uh...” And, “Well...” Were spoken at the same time by each of the on edge….friends? Were they friends? Francesca couldn't tell. 

“Thanks... for ya know....” It was Birdie who bucked up and broke the bizarre tension that had formed in the strained hush between them. 

“Yeah...” The man turned to walk away, figuring he could leave the strange encounter and act like this interaction did not occur. 

“Liebgott?” The southern woman called out to him, pausing his steps, he looked over his shoulder at her. 

“Yeah?” There was a beat of nothing. Birdie fidgeted once again. To Francesca it looked like she was about to tell him something important, begin a speech or break some bad news to the poor fellow attempting to run away. But Birdie didn’t, she only uttered one word and it sounded forced. 

“Night.” It's not what she wanted to say but in all honesty she didn't know what she wanted to say. It was like she spoke his name but didn't remember why. 

“Night, Coldwell.” Then he was gone, Birdie couldn't help but feel something. Disappointment? Unfulfillment? She was conflicted and she didn't really know why. 

“That was weird.” 

“Jesus Christ!” Bernadette's hand flew to her chest and she whipped her head around faster than the speed of light. Though she calmed when she noticed Francesca sitting in the dark, huffing on the tail end of a cigarette. 

“Frankie! Announce yourself dammit! You scared me half to death....” Birdie let out a sigh, “How long have you been there?” 

“Long enough.” She answered, “Wanna smoke?” 

“God yes.” The younger girl accepted her offer and sat down next to her roommate, taking the tobacco stick between her fingers. Francesca took out a second one and placed it between her lips, then lit both. 

They sat side by side, huffing and puffing until there was nothing left to consume. 

“Frankie, huh? I earned myself a Birdie nickname.” The Italian woman commented lightheartedly. 

“Sure did.” A smile grew on her face, the nickname had slipped out accidentally but she was glad for it. This moment felt like a good one, one she'd look back on as the beginning of their blossoming friendship. 

“At least it's not a disease.” She had a smirk on her lips, word of Birdie’s STD riddled friend had gotten around.

“Was that… a joke? Did you just make a joke, Frankie?” A giggle escaped her lips. 

“Yeah, cherish it. I won't be making another.” The black haired woman spoke in a stoic tone but a smile crept onto her face and she bumped shoulders with Birdie, who laughed at the action. Francesca felt herself smiling wider at Birdies enjoyment, the noise was filled with a musical merriment and it was contagious. 

The women sat outside on the wooden steps and shared another cigarette, they passed this one between them. Bernadette began telling Frankie the childhood story of how she acquired her nickname: Birdie. As a toddler learning to speak, the full ‘Bernadette’ was a incoherent babble so one of her older sisters had shortened it for her to Bernie. But of course the two year old's pronunciation was still being perfected and it changed to Birdie and stuck. 

The image of a baby Bernadette, wobbling around on uncertain feet calling herself Birdie sparked a chuckle from the Italian girl. It prompted her to share her own tale from her youth and the two went back and forth, while one puffed on the smoke the other would share a memory. 

This is how Bernadette learnt of Frankie’s family. Her father worked as a mechanic as did she and her two older brothers before they all enlisted. She was surprised to hear they were both currently deployed in the Pacific theatre of war. 

Birdie shared the information of her own brother, the eldest: Victor, affectionately called Junior as Victor was also their fathers name. He signed up for the US Navy in 1939 and after training was stationed in Hawaii. He was aboard the SS Arizona when it was targeted by the Japanese. He died on December 7th, 1941 in Pearl Harbour. 

He was the reason Birdie and James had signed up. Originally, the southerner was going to put her name down as a nurse but she’d heard of the special program for women and how it would send her to the front lines and she was in, no questions. 

Francesca sympathised, she too had lost a family member. The New York Italian informed her new friend of her seldom talked about parent. Her mother had an incurable sickness and passed away when Frankie was young. Young enough that she barely remembered the woman, she could vaguely picture a face, a warm smile, an encompassing hug, a gentle voice or sweet smell but not much else. 

Most of what she knew of her mother was learnt from pictures or stories her brothers told her. She had asked her father about the woman once and he did not react well. He yelled and hissed at her and stomped off to his room to drink away the memories of his late wife. Frankie never asked him about her mother again.

Bernadette had hugged her after hearing the tragedy. She was incredibly close with her family, especially her mother and couldn’t imagine not having her in her life. Francesca didn’t mind much, she didn’t know anything different, but she accepted the hug anyway, Birdie was warm and the comfort she provided, was needed.

The pack of smokes had emptied over the course of time the two spent bonding, which was their signal to head inside and sleep. 

Which is exactly what they did, sharing a look from across the room as a silent ‘goodnight’. 

—————————— 

As the weeks phased into months Toccoa began to feel more like home. Bernadette had found her footing and slipped into a schedule she looked forward to. Lectures were a welcome break from vigorous PT and the friends she had made were becoming closer and closer everyday. 

Liebgott had gone back to dropping bad natured comments aimed at her the morning after whatever that night was. Although his tone had changed and his words seemed more like attempted jokes. She noticed his lips curling ever so slightly at the edges when he muttered the banter and his genuine distain for her felt fake and put on as if he wanted everyone (including himself) to believe he didn’t like her. She replied with her typical witty comebacks but hers too felt forced like a show for anyone listening. The shift unsettled her to her core but she didn’t really know why, she should be happy Liebgott was finally coming round and didn’t wish her dead… so why wasn’t she? 

On the third day after the entire Harriet debacle, all four men were apprehended. 

Nixon had told Birdie that someone outside of the attackers had confirmed the initial confession, which gave them absolute proof. The three men were dishonourably discharged and sent home in disgrace, while the fourth man was transferred out of the 506 and left Camp Toccoa effective immediately. 

Birdie was pleased to hear the news but couldn’t for the life of her figure out who had told Sink, maybe the men had blabbed to their friends and one of them felt bad? Who knows, it was anyone's guess. 

Birdie didn’t dwell on it too much, instead she had wrote to Harriet and explained the whole story. The ex-How company woman was still recovering weeks later with a broken pelvis and stitches in the back of her head but she had been allowed to move to her home state. She thanked Birdie for her part in finding and punishing her violators and had truly meant it, learning of the men being held accountable had eased her mind. It eased Bernadette’s guilt some but she figured the feeling she couldn’t get rid of would stay with her for the rest of her life, always wondering what might have been.

The two promised to keep in contact and Harriet even invited Birdie to come visit her in San Diego once the war was over. Of course, Bernadette had accepted and found herself picturing California, it became her fantasy, one she would carry with her throughout the years ahead of her. 

The entire regiment was being moved to Fort Benning, marching 137 miles to break some record the Japanese troops held. It took three and a bit days of marching plus a train ride but they reached their destination. 

Fort Benning was set up similarly to Camp Toccoa yet they were so different, it gave Birdie an eerie feeling of familiarity. 

A/N: That was a tad depressing, sorry folks! But Birdie and Frankie bonded over dead loved ones so yay!

Also, finally they’re in Fort Benning, goodbye Toccoa!

~ next-autopsy ~

Chapter fourteen

[whumpsmith-participates]

Medwhump May 2024

Day 15 - Warmed blankets / Internal injuries

Continuation of Day 14 - Seizures / Vehicle accident

TW: minor whumpee (17), blood, vomiting, character death (implied)

@medwhumpmay

So to recap, Fetch crashed his van through no fault of his own. Which wasn't too much of a disaster, accidents can happen after all, though it would've been a little bit easier to deal with if they hadn't crashed in the middle of nowhere. Even when neither of them are too severely injured, it's a long trek to the nearest gas station, but they decided to make the hike anyway, as each step would bring them closer to salvation and it would be a better bet than to stay by the wreck and pray that someone would drive by eventually and also stop to help them.

Erick was usually pretty good with the heat, he'd grown up in Arizona after all, but even he reached his limit sometimes. He'd already been toeing the line while they were still driving, but now that they were walking next to the hot asphalt in direct sunlight with an extra piece of cloth tied around his neck to support his arm he was positively miserable.

He didn't complain about it though. Fetch was in a bad enough mood as it was, and his fuse was shorter than usual. He was probably in pain and uncomfortable too, and Erick just knew he would lash out if he started whining about how much the situation sucked.

For that same reason, he also stayed quiet when he started feeling nauseous. It was proably the heat and lack of hydration, the exhaustion from walking for hours without rest... Thankfully Fetch called for a break then, and the nausea subsided when Erick was allowed to sit down.

"How you doing?" Fetch asked, lighting a cigarette for himself.

"I'm fine, kinda," Erick said, after flopping down in the sand, "all things considered."

"When we get back to civilisation I'll get you some after-sun, you're looking a lil red," Fetch said.

"Like you're one to talk, you're covered in blood," Erick pointed out.

"It's bleeding through the gauze, isn't it?" Fetch said, wiping some blood from the side of his face, "it's fine. Nothing that can't be fixed as soon as we're out of this fucking sandbox."

"I hope someone passes us soon," Erick said.

"I hope they also stop and pull over," Fetch said, "we'll continue when I finish this cigarette, okay?"

"But you smoke so fast," Erick groaned slightly.

Fetch responded by kicking some sand at him. Erick coughed and sputtered as some got into his mouth, while Fetch continued to smoke unbothered.

"I already said, if we keep moving there's a good chance we'll regain a signal and be able to call for help," he said, "so we'll continue as soon as I finish this cigarette."

"Y-yes, sir...sorry," Erick said.

He spat out some more sand, before reluctantly getting back to his feet so he was ready to go as soon as Fetch buried his cigarette butt in the sand to extinguish it.

They didn't get very far or Erick's feet were already dragging again. Fetch didn't seem to notice, though, or he didn't care, as he simply walked ahead. He wanted to focus on just getting to their destination, and he just didn't have the energy to coddle the teen right now.

"Sir?"

"Unless you tell me you see a car coming I don't wanna hear it," Fetch said.

Erick stayed quiet after that, so it couldn't have been that important after all. Fetch proceeded to ignore him, not even realising the distance between them was beginning to grow, until he suddenly heard the distinctive sound of someone retching.

Fetch stopped walking and turned back, finding Erick several paces behind him, leaning on his knee with his good arm and dry-heaving. Fetch rolled his eyes and walked back.

"You need another break already?" he asked.

Erick slowly looked up, looking a lot paler than he did half an hour ago. He didn't get a chance to reply, retching again and coughing up a handful of blood. Fetch could only watch as the teen sank to his knees, clutching his stomach as he vomited up more blood, before collapsing onto his side, gasping for air.

"Hey, stop that!" Fetch said.

He knew it didn't make sense to say, but even he could let go of rationality if he was shocked enough. He knelt down next to the teen, trying to get him to sit back up. Erick was shaking, deteriorating fast.

"No, no, no, not like this,"he said while cradling the teen, "why the hell didn't you say anything?!"

"Y-you said... cough!"

"And since when do you listen to me?" Fetch said, "just hold on, I got you."

He pulled the boy closer, trying to ignore his pained whining and ragged breathing as he pulled out his phone to check if they had a signal yet.

Zilch.

"W-what's happening?"

Erick's voice sounded so weak. Fetch checked him over, having to pry his arms away to palpate properly. He didn't like what he found, but there was literally nothing he could do.

"You're bleeding internally," Fetch said, letting the teen get comfortable...or as comfortable as was possible in his state.

"You probably ruptured something in the crash," he continued, "you're bleeding into your abdominal cavity...the low blood pressure can't get enough oxygen to your brain, you'll pass out soon and then it won't hurt anymore."

"A-and then?"

Fetch couldn't answer.

"Don't worry," he said, shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around the boy, "don't worry about that now, kid. I got you..."

Erick settled down a bit, probably on the brink of passing out. Fetch tried to wipe the blood off of his face a bit. That was roughly all he could do, other than stay with him and wait for the inevitable...

WOW That took long. Sorry for the wait, things just. kept. coming up. RIP Erick, you'll be good as new in the next one uwu.

Masterlist Main account

Taglist for the dynamic duo: @lavndvrr

[missr3n3]

Augusnippets Day 6

car accident/plane crash/ship wreck

fandom: cabin tales TW: near-death experience, drowning, stranded at sea, lady whump word count: 215 @augusnippets

Sophie woke with a gasp. For a second, she feared the turbulent sea still surrounded her, feared sucking down burning, salty waves instead of air. To her relief, the wetness she felt was merely droplets across her face, while her back rested on dry land.

The relief was short-lived.

She rolled onto her side with a rasping gasp, only to be silenced by what – rather, who – laid beside her. Memories rushed to the surface as her eyes scanned over the unconscious, older, tanned man on the ground. Ben. The man who fought to keep her from drowning as she chased a phantasm cloaked in past regrets. The man who used the last of his strength to grab onto the side of the cruise ship passing them by – a last-ditch effort to avoid succumbing to the tides or the hull.

Wait, the cruise-!

Sophie's gaze drifted from Ben's unconscious (but thankfully, breathing) form, and towards the shoreline lapping at her toes.  Towards the massive hull jutting from choppy, vast waves like a mountain over a distant horizon.

Oh God. If the ship…

Swallowing down nerves and bitingly saline air, Sophie turned around, uncertain of what to expect.

Her heart skipped a beat at the vibrant, yet alien foliage surrounding her and her rescuer.

[gluechugger]

REDDEADHEAD AU RUNNING MASTERPOST

I can’t stop thinking about my deadhead au and I have so much to say about it that I can’t even put it in a post like I have a running list of character deaths and songs and things I want to draw and band t shirt virtue signaling and anyway here’s some ideas

Updated last: 9/11 8:00pm

tw for character death,drug use

Feel free to like this post! I would love any kind of feedback even if this is mostly here for me to reference!! Maybe don’t reblog since it’ll be updated often.

Drawing ideas;

Strauss in a Rammstein shirt.

Mary Beth printing her zine at the Fed Ex print shop.

Tilly and Grimshaw listening to The Slits together

Arthur watching cartoons with Jack

Im going to make a post with bands the gang listen to individually. Ie: Arthur likes Pixies, Dinosaur Jr. John likes Korn, Deftones, and various other numetal.

An mtv playlist that embodies the gang

Blurbs:

The house is a character in itself because most of the events of the games take place there or in town. I imagine it’s somewhere in backwoods Kentucky/southern Indiana ? That’s probably where Dutch’s artsy parents settled down and bought the house which he inherits. Dutch’s dad dies in Viet Nam, his mother passes later in the early 80’s. The house is probably close to Bloomington/IU where his parents went to school. The residents of the house in the winter of 1998 would be Arthur, Dutch, John, Jack, Abigail, Louise, and Hosea would be living in the carriage house.

Sadie, Charles, Uncle, Grimshaw, Lenny & Sean(roommates) have places in town and visit often during the winter.

The house has 3 cats and one dog, kind of a fucked up looking pitty mix. His head is a little smushed and he’s not very smart but he keeps Arthur company. Most of the time the dog will go on the road with them, but Arthur rides back home with him for company. When they adopted the dog, Dutch wouldn’t shut up about how “ugly and stupid” the creature was and named it “George Dubbya” most of the gang call him Dubbya apart from Arthur who just calls him George.

All character ages coincide with 100 years before. Arthur born in 1963 and so on. Louise is one year older than John, born in 1972. Heres a very helpful timeline!

Jobs for the gang in the off season/when they’re home:

Most of them sell weed and psychedelics for Dutch but Arthur is the main breadwinner during the off season. He’s built a decent reputation in town and a lot of folks depend on him to deliver their drugs safely. Arthur also works for a frozen grocery delivery business(like the swans trucks) and brings home any thing that falls off the truck, keeping the house fed in the winter.

Dutch does not have a “real” job but makes enough to pay property taxes and utilities thru his illegal side hustles, mostly executed by those in the house.

Hosea is retired 🙌

Louise gets a serving job once she’s living in the house with everyone. She works at the Red Lobster in town or something like that.

Still considering John’s job, he might work for a construction company later in life but I’m considering giving him something like an airport security job in the winter.

Lenny manages a pizza joint where Sean is a pizza delivery boy. Instead of dying both of them leave for school but Lenny is older than Sean and leaves a year before him. Sean doesn’t know what to do without his roommate around and drives the gang crazy.

Charles lives in town and doesn’t tour with the gang. He’s married and lives in a trailer with his wife. Arthur sells to them and they get close during the summer of ‘98. Charles is a paramedic and is the first responder to Hosea’s car wreck. He gets the drugs out of the car before the cops show up god bless him.

(This is some wooey wooey esoteric shit so if you’re not into that please feel free to ignore this nonsense about the haunted house character) The house is absolutely haunted but after staying there most of his life, Arthur has kind of come to terms with it and is the best as far as dealing with the strange happenings. The way each resident reacts to the house is very specific and draws from their relation to the house. The house pushes people together and apart thru its seasons. It affects Louise in an attempt to drive her into Arthur’s arms. It gives Jack nightmares. John is not receptive to it. It keeps Arthur safe when he’s alone. It drives Dutch even further into himself.

Running timeline-ish:

(I will edit this after I post it shhhh I’m really just jotting things down 😭 I love writing shitheads and sometimes it’s hard to give them the respect and gravitas they deserve or don’t, especially when I’m just trying to work out logistics.)

Arthur has a public freak out in the early spring of 1998 when the gang heads out on the road and Dutch decides it’s not safe to keep him on the road while they’re actively engaged in illegal activities. Arthur agrees to some degree and heads home for the season. This feeling of uselessness plagues him for the rest of his life. He doesn’t return to the scene.

Louise has been kind of on the run since she escaped the troubled teen industry about 10 years back in 1988. She’s been sleeping on couches, stripping, hiding out in the party scene around LA but never secured a place to stay and has completely cut off her parents.

Dutch meets Louise in summer 1998 and they immediately hit it off and start going out. It doesn’t last long and by the beginning of fall 1998 Dutch is already thinking of a way to get rid of her. In mid October, Dutch swings back by the house to enact step one of his new plan to cut off two limbs in one strike. With very little patience or compassion for Arthur’s mental state, he knows spending the winter locked up with a basket case isn’t in his best interest. If he can get Louise to cheat on him with Arthur, he’ll have an excuse to kick them both out of the house. Dutch explains the situation to to Louise, telling her she has to pay $150 monthly for rent, chores she must maintain, and so on and so forth if she expects to have a place to stay for the winter. Arthur is not clued in on these plans, nor does he know that Louise had dated Dutch until she has the chance to explain it to him. Arthur’s only contact to the gang til they return for the winter is periodic calls from John or Charles who actually take the time to check on him. They’re pretty clueless on the Louise situation.

When Arthur hears the bus pull up to the house, he runs out side thinking he might get to see young Jack or maybe even Hosea, but the only person who steps out is Louise and the bus drives off. He doesn’t know the truth about what’s going on until he asks John for clarification over the phone but he can’t say much. Louise is free with the information she gives Arthur and Arthur is quick to understand Dutch’s intentions. He does his best to stay away from Louise for the rest of the fall, but it’s a fruitless effort and they end up sleeping together.

(Timeskip, will fill in later)

the following is moreso what happens within the red dead redemption 1 and 2 timeline.

Arthur OD’d in 2002 after acid broke his mind and he went on to harder drugs to deal w the mental pain. Like to think he and Louise managed to get an apartment together but Arthur missed his family too much to deal with it. Louise(ESPECIALLY, possibly trying to pass blame off because she feels responsible herself? Is she? Up to intetpertation), John and almost everyone else kind of blame Dutch for Arthur’s death(makes sense) and the gang dissolves. Dutch breaks when Hosea dies in a car crash, heading home for the season in fall of 1999.

Since John moved out, Dutch has been harassing John with CPS calls and other various insane threats. John shows up back at Dutch’s house in winter 2008 back where it all started to end this whole mess, shotgun in his hands, snow falling, crunching under his feet as he approaches the house. The recession has really taken a toll on the Marston household, cps calls are getting harder to deal with. Bill is inside helping Dutch defend his house and threatens John’s life. John didn’t come here with the intention to hurt anyone, but bill fires a shot in his direction and it comes far too close for John. In self defense, John takes Bill out with the shotgun. The whole thing culminates in Dutch climbing up on the roof in some wild display of ownership over his space and he looses his footing, falling to his death.

We fade to black and then a news broadcast comes on screen and displays the events of the murders: man shot trying to defend friend’s home, owner shoved off roof. No evidence pointing to killer. We pan out to see John, Abigail, Uncle, Charles, Sadie and 13 year old Jack watching the news broadcast.

[ur-boyfiend]

Lifetime

based on this post by @snug-gyu

-> angst , hurt / comfort -> cw / tw ; implied death , mentioned death , major character deaths , mentions of su-c-dal ideation , mentions of s/h , implied su-c-de attempt(s) -> prolly (definitely) gonna wreck myself writing this tbh

please don't read if you think this may trigger you, your health is more important than any story.

it's raining.

minho smiles sadly. he hated thunderstorms... he'd always come over if there was rain in the forecast. turning back to his notebook, he continues working on the journal entry he'd been in the middle of.

it was his therapist's idea, so that he could go back later and see how much progress he'd made. it'd been six months, but he felt like he was only getting worse.

he tries desperately to think of something new to write, but for the past six months he's just been going through the motions. going to work, to class, to see his friends. the few memories he has from the last six months are all in black and white.

his therapist says it's how his brain is protecting him. minho doesn't like it, because it makes the colors from before all the brighter.

he'd written a note more times than he could count, eventually the words of it became meaningless. the only thing in the note that i still care about is his name.

he doesn't realize he's crying until tears start dripping onto the paper, diluting the ink.

he blinks a few times, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. he turns away from the paper, pulling his knees up to his chest and watching the rain and the blurred headlights of cars driving by.

there's a familiar tug in his chest, and he sighs. he said he wouldn't leave me, i can't blame him, it wasn't his fault, but it still hurts. i miss him.

he thinks about all the notes he's written, the ones blurred with tears, the ones stained with blood, the ones crumpled up, the ones ripped apart, the ones thrown away. he knows he still has the first, he made sure of that. he also has the last letter that'd been given to him, and the letter he'd written back, but never got to give to him.

he rips out a page of his notebook and starts another note, he's not sure if it'll be the last, but he writes as if it is. there's no relief in writing them otherwise.

he addresses the note to the same person he always does, the person he writes his journal entries to, the only person he'd ever been comfortable enough with to show weakness around.

setting down his pen, he reads the note, then re-reads it, then re-reads it again. he folds it up and puts it in his jeans pocket, glancing out the window one more time before putting on a hoodie and stepping out into the rain.

he's not entirely sure what he's doing or why he's doing it, he just starts walking, letting the universe send him to wherever.

there are people hurrying past him down the sidewalk, some with umbrellas, some with windbreakers or hoodies, some holding the front of their coats closed against the battering of wind and rain, all trying to get someplace warm and dry.

minho thinks he sees him in the crowd at least four times.

looking up, he wonders how long he's been walking for. he doesn't have his phone, and he hadn't checked the time before he left.

he doesn't realize he's stopped walking until there's a light in the corner of his eye, getting brighter, and the sound of breaks squealing, and then everything is white hot pain, and then everything is over.

it's warm. where am i?

minho tries to open his eyes, but at first he can't. when he's finally able to, he's met with a pale blue light. realizing he's lying down, he carefully sits up, trying to figure out what's going on.

all he can see is the same pale blue he saw when he first opened his eyes. he pauses, trying to remember what happened.

oh. the car. am i dead?

looking down at himself, he doesn't see any injuries, his clothes aren't ripped or wet or dirty, he's not cold or wet anymore, and the bandages that had been covering his arms are gone.

but the biggest difference is that he feels lighter. the weight that had been pressing down on him for months is gone, and even if he doesn't feel happy, he doesn't feel shattered either.

his train of thought is broken when he hears footsteps. when he looks up, he's met with a familiar pair of eyes, a reminder of the only place he's only felt safe.

blinking a few times, he feels his chest ache. it's only been six months, but it feels like years.

when he's finally able to speak again all he can say is, "jisung?"

the person in front of him seems almost as surprised as he is, only able to breathe out "minho?"

they're both frozen for a second, before jisung throws himself at minho just as minho was about to drag him into a hug. neither one says anything, the only sounds are their sobs and ragged breathing.

neither is sure how long they spend like that, but jisung is the first to stand, pulling minho to his feet.

"c'mon," his eyes are red and there are tears drying on his cheeks, but minho can still see the joy on his face, "let's go."

minho follows jisung who still has a firm grip on his hand, the only thing he's sure of right now is that he'd follow this boy to the ends of the earth.

"go where?"

jisung nods to a door that's appeared in the space, which looks suspiciously similar to the doors they had in their apartment building.

"home."

[lincolnreid]

CHARACTER INTRO:

NAME: Lincoln Richard Reid

AGE: 36

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Male. He/Him

SEXUALITY/STATUS: Heterosexual | Taken.

OCCUPATION: Software Engineer. CEO of Wright Inc.

BIRTHDAY: August 3rd, 1988

HOMETOWN: Wilmington, North Carolina

NEIGHBORHOOD: Masonboro

FACECLAIM: Casey Deidrick

PINTEREST | BIOGRAPHY

BACKGROUND:

TW: SUBSTANCE ABUSE, DEATH MENTION, MISCARRIAGE, CAR ACCIDENT.

Born to young parents who didn't want to grow up at first. So was raised by his grandmother for the first two years of his life.

His father would get his shit together, and take over caring for Lincoln.

At 9, Lincoln's father would marry a woman by the name of Joelle, and along with her came her daughter, Peyton.

For the first time, he had what he could consider a full family.

The marriage between his dad and step mom would get rocky, but fully explode after the lost of their unborn child. They'd divorce after 7 years.

His dad was pretty bitter about this divorce, while Joelle wanted to make sure that Lincoln knew she would always be there for him. This didn't sit well with his dad, as he was his son, and they didn't need her.

Despite this Joelle would continue to be in Lincoln's life, which the boy appreciated greatly.

Very well liked kid throughout school.

He'd go to college for technology as Joelle was a software engineer herself, and had a successful company to her name. Lincoln wanted to do that too.

This pissed his dad off, but there wasn't much he could do. After her graduated, he would go on to work along side Joelle at her company. Putting an even bigger wedge between father and son.

His dad would get hurt on the job, and get addicted to pain pills. Which sent him down a dark whole. He'd would accidentally kill someone in a car wreck, which placed him in prison for manslaughter. Lincoln still visit his dad.

Joelle would decide to hand her company over to Lincoln at 33. She wanted to lay back a little, and she trusted him with the place. So, he's CEO of the company. And he's damn good at it.

SOME HEADCANONS:

People would look at him, and assume he's a player. But he's actually very much a relationship kind of guy.

Can cook, loves to cook.

Has a dog named Mungo, that is his child. Don't disrespect Mungo.

Has a handful of tattoos.

Loves the outdoors, and being on open land.

Is loaded, but wouldn't be able to tell by looking at him. He lives rather modest, and likes it that way.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

FRIENDS: He's a chill dude, would have plenty of these.

ENEMIES/I DON’T REALLY LIKE YOU: Not everyone likes everyone.

COWORKERS: Anyone who'd work for him at his company

CLIENTS: Someone who needed computer help?

DOG PARENTS: Yes, I'm serious.

HALF SIBLING: This would need plotted out, but this would be from his mom's side.

STEP SISTER: His dad married her mom, they were brother and sister for almost a decade, their parents divorced. We can discuss how the dynamic is now.

TRULY ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING, FOR REAL. I JUST WANNA LOVE ON Y’ALL AND BE LOVED. OK THANK YOU