#white boy fanfiction

[white-boy-bracket]

Showie woke up on the right side of her bed. This was odd. Why was she-

Something warm.

“Aaah!” She let out a shriek and kicked out desperately, her foot connecting with something- she swung her arm in its general direction-

“FUCK-, Showie, OW.”

Oh. 

Oops.

Heart racing, she quietly scooted off the right side of the bed and slid down into the space between the bed and the wall. 

A pause. Silence, broken only by Xigbar’s groaning. Oops.

Chest heaving, she asked, “A- are you okay?”

"Can't ever get a decent sleep in this place," he muttered. He sat up, a hand covering the steady stream of blood coming from his nose.

Showie peered over the edge of the bed, watching him limp towards the bathroom, blood dotting her marble flooring. She would have to clean th- she would have to get that cleaned. By a. Not by a kin. 

She lowered herself so she was laying on the cool marble floor, the same temperature as her skin. Or the temperature of her skin normally. Now, the left side of her body was warm. :(.

What had happened? Why was- what?

She should be relieved, she supposed. When she’d awoken, she’d thought it was-

She hummed to herself, hitting her forehead with her palms (clink, clink, clink). No. No, she wouldn’t think of that. She didn’t have to think of that. There was no reason to think of that. It was Xigbar, she didn’t need to worry. She was safe. 

She didn’t feel safe. She felt small. Her heart still raced. She was thinking about it. She was thinking about it.

--

Holding a wad of toilet paper up to his nose, Xigbar limped back into the main room just in time to hear Showie (hiding behind the bed) sob.

“... I'm not going to make you talk. Clearly whatever that just was was some kind of response." He paused, as if debating his next words. "... But if you want to talk, I can listen."

He heard a little gasp between sobs. 

Maybe 30 seconds later, he saw Showie peek out from behind the bed. Pale as a ghost. Paler than a ghost. Hair the same color as her skin, the same color as her eyes- huh. 

She said nothing. Just stared at him for a while. Felt reminiscent of when he’d been teleported into this tournament to begin with. 

When she finally did speak, her voice sounded small.

“I thought you were [Name redacted]. I’m sorry. Sorry.”

“[Name Redacted]?”

“M- m- my [relation omitted]. Sorry.”

“Ah. In that case, I think I got off easy with just a bloody nose and a bruise," he quipped. 

She didn’t laugh. He thought she closed her eyes, but it was hard to tell in the dim light. 

“Want me to kill him for you?”

Silence.

“He still alive?”

Silence.

“I. I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe. I’m not sure.” She pressed her face into the bed. The white comforter was the same color as her, Well. Her. Her whole she. Xigbar briefly considered what a nightmare it would be to lose her in a snowstorm. Smack right into her. Get another bloody nose.

“How long ago did you last- Like, when’d you…?”

She pressed her face further into the bed. Her reply came out so muffled he couldn’t hear it. 

“Huh?”

She lifted her head, “I didn’t.”

“What?”

“I ran.”

Silence. 

“Oh. Well.”

Silence. 

“I should.. Sleep somewhere els-”

“No!” Her head jerked up, her eyes wild, “I- I me- I mean-”

He held his hands up in surrender, “Alright.”

“A- alright.”

“Okay.”

“Oka- sorry.”

A bit of blood dripped from the toilet paper onto the floor.

A pause. 

“I’m gonna get new- I’ll be back.”

When he got back, she was sat on the very edge of the bed, blankets pulled around her in a manner that was probably supposed to be like her cloak. Looked a bit silly, though. Xigbar didn’t mention it.

“I was thinking,” She said. 

He waited. 

And waited. 

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking. Um.”

He waited. 

“Yeah?” 

“We. um. We should.”

“Yeah?”

“Check the spike pit.” He got the feeling this was not what she was originally going to say. He didn’t mention it. 

“Check the spike pit?”

“For bodies.”

“They’re in there. I saw them.” And he did. It was a bloody mess. 

“We should check for bodies that shouldn’t be down there.”

A pause. 

“To revive.”

“Oh, right,” He said, “Forgot that was something you did.”

Silence. 

Silence. 

He crossed to the wreckage of the bed the kins had brought in for him and tossed Showie her cloak. She was looking the other way, though, so instead of catching it, it covered her like a cartoon ghost.

--

He looked at the (pink) tablet she’d handed to him as they descended the stairs into the (now spikeless) spike pit. She’d made him open yahoo dot com, like someone who’d learned of the internet five minutes ago. 

“What are you having me look up?”

“Go to tumblr.”

“What? Why?”

“Go to tumblr.”

“Okay, okay.” He went to tumblr.

‘@showierunner’ was logged in. 

“Showierunner?”

“I had that url before I knew you.”

“Okay, doll,” He said, not believing it.

“Hm.”

They reached the bottom of the spike pit. Bodies lay strewn across the floor. 

They approached the body of what probably used to be an old man. A massive hole had been stabbed through the middle of his chest, and he was covered in blood.

Showie knelt down and waved her hand over the body.

Gabriel Agreste. Deceased

The words appeared over the body in pink cursive font.

“Type Gabriel Agreste into the search bar.”

“On tumblr?”

“On tumblr.”

“As a search engine?” Xigbar’s finger hovered over the search bar, “You know there are. Actual search engines?”

“I like to see what people post about them. It gives me more information about what kind of person they are than their wiki pages do.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, typing it in.

“What do you see?” She said, poking at the wound with some kind of stick. He wasn’t sure where she’d gotten it, though.

“Uh, looks like he got second place in a shitty dad tournament,” he said after scrolling past many, many gifsets.

“Hm,” She said, standing up. She nodded to him, and they walked over to the next body.

She knelt beside a body wearing jeans and a button down.

Jon Arbuckle. Deceased.

Before he had the chance to type it in, she was walking over to the next body.

“What, no chance?”

“Garfield annoys me! Too many people per round yell because he’s an orange cat!” She waved her hand in annoyance like she was trying to shoo the idea away.

“Don’t you like Firestar for that same reason?”

“Firestar is different. He remade himself and became a great leader of his clan. I like that.”

The next body. An old man in a fancy, old timey looking suit.

She didn’t even stop. “That’s George Washington,” She explained, “I only put him in this poll to die-”

“Damn, Showie-”

“I’ve taken some interest in Stanley- before yesterday, I mean- and I noticed the two of them- not him and george washington, him and Cesare- they’ve been spending time together.”

“You know the white boys by name?” Why was he looking them up?

“The ones that got past round one,” She said dismissively.

The next body. A blonde teenage boy in a white overshirt and jeans.

Adrien Agreste. Deceased.

“Agreste. Gabriel’s son?”

He typed it in. Gifsets. Art. “What are you looking for? Text posts?”

“Anything with the vibe.”

“How’s this for the vibe?” He showed her a piece of fanart that had the boy blindfolded and crying. 

“Hm.” She took the tablet. Her hands practically glowed in the darkness of the pit (she hadn’t bothered to put on any makeup). She swiped her finger across the screen, then frowned, and tapped a few times. 

She made a noise of disapproval and grabbed Xigbar’s hand? And started using his finger to scroll?

“Showie, what-”

“It doesn’t recognise my finger.” She said by way of explanation.  

“How do you use it normally?” His wrist was twisted in an uncomfortable way.

“Those touchscreen bandaids.”

Huh. okay. 

After a moment she handed the tablet (and his hand) back to him, “We’re reviving this one,” She said, lifting Adrien up and draping him over her shoulder effortlessly. 

She walked right past a few more bodies without stopping. And a cookie? A few bodies and a cookie. 

She paused over one corpse, “Ugh! Paul Matthews. He went against Garfield in the round where you smuggled yourself in. I actually tableflipped that one. Too many people yelling! But here he is! Back because of the food form.” She sounded disgusted. 

Something was off about the body. Xigbar nudged it with his foot, and-

Not a corpse. Paul Matthews jumped and whimpered, then quickly went still again like they somehow hadn’t seen that.

“Oh.” She said, sounding very annoyed. 

Xigbar summoned one of his arrow guns and aimed it-

“Not yet, Xigbar,” She raised a hand.

“You. Paul.”

He played dead.

“How did you survive?”

He played dead. In one hand was clutched a lunchbag. Did he bring a snack to the death match?

She kicked him. This time he stiffened but otherwise didn’t react. 

She was getting frustrated, Xigbar could feel it. She kicked him again. 

“Stop playing dead! I know you’re alive!”

“Hey, fake it ‘til you make it, right?” Xigbar said, waving his arrowgun a bit.

She seemed to consider it. Then she appeared to get an idea. 

“Guess we were wrong, Xigbar!”

“What?”

“He’s dead! Must have been a final firing of the nerves!” She said, clearly acting (poorly) (he got the sense this was on purpose).

“You sure?” He said, playing along.

“Yeah! I’m sure! You know when you catch a fish, and you chop its head off and then cut the entire body into little pieces, but the head keeps moving and the mouth keeps trying to breathe? Sometimes for hours?”

“Sure,” he said. If she said so. 

“Must have just been that. Let’s go ahead and head back to the apartment, and press the button that drops all of the bodies into the incinerator!”

“Incinerator?!” Paul Matthews gasped.

They both turned to look at him.

“Do I kill him?” Xigbar wanted to. He wanted to kill him. Blow off some steam. 

“I almost respect the audacity to lay there and pretend to be dead after squealing like a kitten,” She said.

“Audacity or Idiocy.” 

“Hm. Perhaps the second one.” She walked closer to Matthews, being sure to keep her head low, “What do you think, Paul? Are you stupid or just impertinent?”

He stammered, and Xigbar laughed, “Guess it's the first one.”

“Hush,” Showie said, amused, “Let him speak. And Paul, there is a correct answer.” She leaned down to get a better look at him.

It was then that his hand, which had been creeping into his lunch bag, suddenly jerked upward.

The gun inside the bag fired directly at Showie’s head.

[amymone]

Galatea rolled a ball of clay between her palms, warming it. It felt good in her hands. After a moment she opened her hands like a book, staring at the perfectly round ball of clay inside. She pushed a thumb into the center, leaving a print, then crushed the whole thing in one hand and began to work it again. 

She liked working with clay, she thought. She came from a family of sculptors, after all. And she was the family sculpture. 

The studio was empty, the house quiet. It was eerie, she thought. Normally her daughter could be heard making some kind of chaos- picking a fight with a bird, challenging someone to a footrace, running full speed into walls just because- but her daughter wasn't here anymore. And she wouldn't be here. Not ever again. 

A tear slipped down Galatea's face and off her chin, landing on the pillar of ivory she was sitting on. She wasn't sure why she'd let her go. There wasn't anything wrong with home, but she'd felt some… tug. And an uneasy feeling. And she'd let her go. 

She squeezed the ball of clay and stared at it and it forced its way through the spaces in between her fingers. 

But no matter. It was approaching dinner, and her husband was sure to be hungry.

She went into the kitchen, ladling some soup into a bowl she'd made and walking into his bedroom with it. She didn't want him to need to leave his room, not after what a day it had been. 

She handed him the bowl, smiling. "Here, honey!"

Pygmalion didn't smile back. Her heart sank slightly, she hated it when he was unhappy with her.

He said, "Galatea."

"Honey?"

"Where is [CHILD NAME EXCLUDED]?"

'No. ' said a voice somewhere inside. How odd. 

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Stranger and stranger.

"Galatea. Answer me."

She opened her mouth, ready to respond, but the words caught in her throat. 

' No!'  

Why couldn't she-

"Galatea!"

"I'm trying! " She exclaimed desperately- then stumbled back as the bowl of hot soup was thrown at (and shattered on) her face. The wounds stung with the salt of the broth.

"You killed her!" Pygmalion loomed large over his wife, staring up at him from the ground where she'd fallen.

She tried to protest and found, again, she couldn't . Tears came to her eyes, and she shrunk back, raising a hand to shield herself-

" Get out! " He shouted, and she scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping and falling and she hurried out the door. The sun was setting fast on the horizon, a sight she couldn't stop to marvel at as she fled. Get out , he'd said. Get out.

Galatea got out, disappearing into the treeline.

-

It seemed like hours before she finally made it to the other side of the woods.

In the distance loomed a large and imposing… something . And on the other side, a sort of cabin. Blood running down her face, feet aching, scalp still tender from the scalding liquid, she thought whoever was in the cabin may be able to help.

She trudged through the slightly overgrown field, climbing over a few tree trunks that seemed to have been thrown, leaving deep gouges in the ground. 

She knocked on the door of the cabin, and a sea-green eye appeared in the slot in the door. 

It opened. Oh, he was a son of Lord Poseidon for sure- the dark hair, the green eyes- he even smelled faintly of sea salt. She dipped her head.

"Another one?" came a voice from within the cabin.

"Shit, she's all beat up-"

Galatea felt her cheeks heat up in shame as she was ushered into the cabin. 

"What happened?"

' No!'

"I-" she managed, "I had to run, I was told to get out-"

"It's okay-" said the son of the sea god, "You're safe here. We'll protect you from them."

She nodded, feeling her shoulders relax, " Thank you." It was so good to know that she was safe here. Safe from whoever they were. 

A blonde boy she thought may be a child of Persephone gently pulled a shard of pottery out of her cheek. He laid his hand on her face and glowed- literally glowed . 

Healed. 

" Thank you," She said.

"Don't mention it." Said the blonde boy.

"What's your name?" asked the son of the sea, "If you remember it."

"Galatea. Where- where am I?"

"Galatea." His brow furrowed. "I'm Percy. Welcome to the Cabin."

[greengoblinswifey]

White Boy of the Month- Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

warnings: smut, jealous!reader, unprotected sex, oral(f receiving) creampie, praise kink, established relationship, this monstrosity i conjured up.

author’s note: i’ve only ever written smut for characters and not actors so i feel a bit weird about this, hope you guys like it regardless. ps: this is all just fantasy <3

Nicholas was everywhere these days. TikTok’s new “white boy of the month”, and it seemed like everyone had taken notice. You were lying in bed, scrolling through TikTok, watching yet another edit of him. The one that kept popping up on your feed was to "Shake Dat Ah" by Bossman Dlow, and it had blown up. The video cut perfectly between slow-motion shots of him smiling and laughing, looking so effortlessly handsome with that amazing body. You couldn’t help but watch it on repeat.

You were so engrossed in it that you didn’t notice Nicholas walking into the room until he stood by the bed. Your eyes widened as you quickly tried to scroll away from the TikTok, but it was too late. He caught you.

“You’re watching the edits again, aren’t you?” Nicholas chuckled, his lips curving into that playful smirk you knew too well. “Enjoying them?”

Your face warmed, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “I enjoy having you in front of me way more,” you teased, giving him a wink.

He grinned and joined you on the bed, lying beside you. He nestled his head on your chest, his face resting against your tits as he made himself comfortable. You resumed watching the TikTok, this time paying attention to the comments. As expected, they were filled with thirsty women.

“He’s so hot, I can’t take it!” “Nicholas Chavez is my husband now, no one can tell me otherwise.” “I’m gonna need him to come over here and shake dat ah for me.” “Fuck me daddy.” “I need him so fucking bad.”

You rolled your eyes at the flood of heart-eye emojis and wild comments, but couldn’t help feeling a slight twinge of jealousy. Nicholas, sensing your shift in mood, peeked up at you.

“Jealous?” he asked softly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You hesitated, scrolling through another comment about how someone wanted to marry him and have him deflower them. “Maybe just a little,” you admitted, though you couldn’t help but smile down at him. “It’s not like I can’t see why they’re obsessed.”

He reached up, placing a kiss on your collarbone, his eyes never leaving yours. “They can have the edits, but I’m here with you.”

You exhaled softly, letting go of the jealousy. You knew you had him, right there in your arms, and no TikTok comment could take that away. “I guess I can deal with it,” you teased, your fingers brushing through his hair. “As long as you remember who you really belong to.”

He laughed, his breath warm against your skin. “Always.”

The energy between you and Nicholas shifted in an instant. His playful demeanor was gone, replaced by something far more intense. Without a word, he reached up, pulling your tank top down just enough to free your tits. Your breath hitched as his warm hands cupped them, and you tossed your phone to the side, the TikTok edits now a distant thought, though you’d definitely be watching and gushing later. Your fingers found their way into his hair, gripping softly as he kissed down your body, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

When he reached the waistband of your panties, his lips pressed firmly against your clothed pussy, making you gasp. Without hesitation, he grabbed the fabric and, with a sharp rip, tore them off with his strong, muscular arms. The rawness of the action sent a jolt of arousal through you, and you felt your body respond immediately.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding. Your eyes met his, and he smirked. “No woman in any comment section will ever feel my tongue on them like you do right now.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was on you, ravishing your clit with fierce hunger. His tongue moved in circles, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your core. His finger slid inside you, curling in just the right way, making you whimper. When he added a second finger, your body couldn’t take it anymore. Your back arched off the bed as you came hard, cumming all over his mouth and fingers, your moans filling the room.

Nicholas didn’t stop, his lips and fingers continuing to work you through the orgasm, his eyes locked on your face. “So pretty,” he murmured between licks, “Your pussy looks so pretty. You look so pretty when you cum.”

Your chest heaved as you came down from your high, your mind hazy with pleasure. His words sent another flush of heat through you as he pulled back slightly, his lips glistening. “I’m all yours,” he whispered, his fingers still inside you, moving slowly. “And you’re all mine.”

“I’m yours Nicholas,” you whimpered and he smiled.

He pulled off his boxers, his big, thick cock springing free, standing hard and ready. The tip was a bright, flushed pink, curving just slightly, making your breath hitch in anticipation. He settled between your legs, teasing your clit with the head of his cock, rubbing it slowly, sending shivers through your entire body. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate to feel him inside you.

He positioned himself at your entrance, and slowly, so slowly, began to push in. His cock stretched you inch by inch, your tight pussy gripping him as he filled you. He let out a deep hiss as he sank deeper, his body trembling from the pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice strained with restraint.

You clung to his arms, gasping, “You’re so big,” the words barely a whisper as he continued pushing inside, his thick length stretching you to the limit. When he was fully inside, he paused, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily before he started to move, pounding into you in deep, steady strokes.

“You’re my beautiful girl,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire as he thrusted into you. “And I’m yours. Forever. No one’s ever gonna take me away from you.”

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, your clit rubbing against his hard, muscular body as he drove into you. His pace quickened, and you looked up at him, heart racing at the sight. His disheveled hair fell into his half-lidded, pretty eyes, his lips flushed and parted, groaning your name over and over like a chant, like he was worshiping you.

Your own lips parted in a moan, his name spilling from you like a prayer, like he was your priest, the only one you could ever confess to. The pleasure built inside you with every thrust, his body, his touch, his words claiming you completely. He wasn’t just fucking you, he was worshiping you, and in that moment, you were lost to him, praying with every moan, every cry of his name.

Nicholas could feel how close you were, your breath quickened, your moans growing louder, and your pussy gripped him like a vice. His eyes darkened with desire as he watched the way your body reacted to his every thrust. His cock throbbed inside you, and with a low, husky voice, he rasped, “You’re so beautiful, baby. You’ll look even more beautiful cumming on my cock while I’m fucking you like this.”

His words ignited the fire inside you, pushing you past the brink. With a sharp cry, your orgasm crashed through you, and your body trembled uncontrollably. Your pussy tightened around him, squeezing him as you came hard, your walls pulsating and clenching around his thick cock. He groaned deeply, feeling every spasm as you drenched him, but he didn’t let up. He kept thrusting, his pace relentless, pushing you through the waves of pleasure, letting you ride it out fully.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he growled through clenched teeth, still lost in the tightness of your body. His hands gripped your hips tightly, feeling your warmth and the way your pussy gripped him like you never wanted to let go. He thrusted in harder, determined to give you more, to show you just how much you drove him crazy.

His own release was building fast, but he held back just long enough to murmur against your ear, “It’s my turn now. And you know what I want.”

Without hesitation, you arched your back for him, pressing your ass high in the air, presenting yourself to him as he moved behind you. Nicholas positioned himself between your legs, guiding his cock back inside you with one swift, hard thrust. You moaned at the feeling of being filled up again, his cock stretching you as he pounded into you from behind.

His grip tightened around your waist, and each thrust was more powerful than the last. His hands occasionally left your hips to deliver firm slaps to your ass, the sound of his hands meeting your skin echoing in the room. “God, look at you,” he growled, his voice low and thick with lust. “So fucking sexy. And this ass, so fucking perfect.”

You glanced back at him, your half-lidded eyes catching sight of his toned, muscular body—his abs flexing with every thrust, his biceps bulging as he held you in place. His messy hair framed his chiseled face, and the raw look of pleasure etched into his expression was enough to make you moan his name all over again, lost in the sight of him.

The pleasure built quickly inside you once more, your pussy gripping his cock tighter, squeezing him as another wave of pleasure started to overtake you. Nicholas could feel it too, his cock throbbing inside of you as he growled low in his throat. “I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his voice strained. “I’m close, baby.”

You were desperate, your voice needy as you begged, “Please, Nick, cum inside me. I want it. Fill me up.”

He hesitated, smirking as he slowed his pace for just a moment. “I can’t hear you,” he teased. “You’re gonna have to say that louder, baby.”

Your desperation heightened, and you practically screamed it this time. “Cum inside me, Nick! I need it! Please!”

With a deep, guttural groan, he slammed into you one final time, holding you close as his cock pulsed inside you, releasing thick, hot spurts of cum deep within you. He moaned your name as he came, his hands gripping your hips tightly, pressing you against him as he filled you up. He didn’t pull out right away, instead, he relished the feeling of being inside you, his cock still throbbing, every muscle in his body tense as he savored the moment.

Before you could catch your breath, he swiftly flipped you over, pulling you on top of him. His cock was still buried deep inside your pussy as he shifted the position, thrusting up into you gently now, making sure you squeezed every last drop of his cum out. You whimpered softly, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your pussy gripping him as he guided your hips slowly.

Nicholas gazed up at you, his hands tender now, caressing your waist as he whispered between kisses. “My baby. You’re so fucking beautiful. I love you so much.”

You leaned down to kiss him softly, your heart swelling at his words. “I love you too,” you murmured, your voice tired but full of affection.

Nicholas kissed your forehead and whispered against your skin, “I’m so happy my career’s taking off, and no matter what, you’ll always be by my side, and I’ll take care of you every step of the way. You deserve the world.”

You smiled softly, resting your head on his chest as he moved to get up. “Wait,” you said, stopping him. “Don’t go. I just want to stay like this, with you inside me, and I wanna listen your heartbeat.”

He grinned, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close again. “Okay, baby. Whatever you want.” He kissed the top of your head and settled back, letting you rest against his chest, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear as you both drifted off into a peaceful, satisfied slumber, completely wrapped in each other.

[ervotica]

this smut is all well and good but i fear i want patrick in domestic ways.

him waking you slowly from a nap with a warm palm that slides the length of your neck, a thumb that drags slow lines below your ear. kisses to the corner of your mouth. lazy days where you do nothing but watch movies and fuck each other to sleep - and then fuck each other awake again. him teaching you to play tennis and trying - and failing - to keep that fucking smirk off of his face as you pout and whine and stomp your feet, insistent that you suck. cheering you up with his chin digging into the soft dip of your neck as he mouths at the exposed skin. soft smiles. yelling as you bite his knuckles playfully. relentless teasing. big fights and the tearful reconciliations that follow.

and, yeah, really fucking good sex.

[ghoastixx]

Bringing your slashers/horror characters to Thanksgiving

Includes: Michael Myers (OG), Beetlejuice, Billy Loomis & Stu Macher, J.D., Otis Driftwood, Baby Firefly, Poly Lost Boys, Carrie White

Includes: gn reader, swearing, pet names,

———————————————————————————-

Michael Myers

In reality, this man is not going to your family’s Thanksgiving. He’s not even taking his mask off.

But let’s pretend!!

Let’s say you DID get Michael to take off his mask and venture out of your home for Thanksgiving.

You told your family that he was mute, some understood that better than others.

Grandma? Loves him for some reason.

“Hi baby, is this Michael? Oh hi sweetheart, how are you doing, come let’s get you guys seated.”

She’s so sweet he’s so unused to it other than from you.

He would freak out a lot of people by sitting there and just staring at everyone.

He’s so big and tall compared to everyone, grandpa would ask if he could help him move a dresser or some shit.

“Come on Michael, we’re gonna be late!” You called, waiting patiently by the door.

When you both arrived at your family’s home where Thanksgiving would be hosted this year, Michael was very tense. Very rarely did he ever take his mask off and he hadn’t had a thanksgiving in years. You took his hand and brushed your thumb over your knuckles as you walked inside, taking your shoes off. Your grandma greeted you with a hug and a comfortingly sweet voice.

“Sweetheart! So glad you could make it! Is this Michael? It’s a pleasure to meet you young man,” your grandma said with a smile, touching his hand which made him tense. “Come now, let’s get you guys seated before the food gets cold.”

Mikey was nervous walking through the house, seeing pictures of grandkids and uncles and cousins, seeing everyone seated.

Your grandpa took liking to his muscles,

“Yeah! Looks like you could get the job done, you mind helping me move some boxes in the garage? My back isn’t as nice as it used to be and my kids are pieces of shit.”

“Dad😡”

———————————————————————————

Beetlejuice

Yeah he can pretend to be problematic for thanksgiving.

Would purposely scare the shit out of your cousins.

Your family calls him musty..

Your emo cousin likes him though!!

“Y/N…get him out of here he stinks!” Meanwhile your dead boyfriend is sitting across from your emo cousin who’s lowkey studying him over. He’s just letting them too, he says it reminds them of Lydia.

Your family is boring to him, he’d much rather have thanksgiving at your own house with Lydia and Adam and Barbra.

“Come on babes, this is boring, we’re out of here,” he states as he takes a Turkey leg and promptly leaves the home, hand in yours.

———————————————————————————-

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher

Your parents and family do not approve.

They’re mostly confused as to why you brought two boys with you. They call it slut behavior.

Billy’s family most likely can’t even get through a normal dinner, let alone Thanksgiving, so he was down for coming.

Stu’s family were out of town and he didn’t want to go to some fancy thanksgiving with a lot of people he didn’t know. He’d rather stay in Woodsboro and get drunk for Thanksgiving, but being with his partners worked too.

Your family is way turned off by Billy, they think he’s rude, where as they think Stu is too energetic.

Billy and Stu would find any excuse to dip, letting them have private time, away from everyone.

Stu would make dirty jokes at the table in you and Billy’s ear.

You get a lot of side eyes from everyone..

You knock on the door with both of your boys, only to be greeted by a strange look.

“Y/N, baby, you brought your friends? How..nice..”

When you were all sat down at the table, your aunt started,

“Two boys Y/N? You friends from school?” Your uncle interjected

“I recognize you Loomis. You better not be causing any trouble.” He practically growled. Billy just nodded.

Lots of apologies to your boys after.

“It’s alright baby, it was bound to happen,” Stu said, grabbing a beer from his fridge

“It’s alright puppy, the food was good,”

———————————————————————————-

J.D

Would genuinely probably be the politest to your parents and family,

Got to make a good impression!!

He’d stay close to you the entire time, making sure to show off who he was to you,

God don’t even get him started on his opinion on politics PLEASE..

I feel like he’s the type of guy that your parents would be nice to in person but when he leaves everyone’s like “he’s so weird?😀”

The type of guy to call older relatives ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’

Would hit the deserts HARD

“Sweetie your new boyfriend is very nice,” your grandma hums as you help with the dishes, he sits in the other room, arguing about politics.

“Yeah, he sure is something,”

“I’m very glad you could bring him,”

Your aunt walks in the room, shaking her head, “he’s really weird honey,” you looked at her with a confused facial expression, “I don’t know how to explain it. He’s just.. odd.”

———————————————————————————

Otis Driftwood

You’re eating dinner at his house. Nothing else.

——————————————————————————-

Baby Firefly

Would actually try to go to dinner with you if that’s what you really wanted.

Would probably make an okayish impression on your family,

They think she’s energetic and odd,

She knows…a lot,

I like to think that she does like domestic feelings, so she might actually love to go to your thanksgiving,

You’re holding her hand as you drive back to the firefly home, smiling as your stunning girlfriend rambles next to you.

“It was so fun! Thank you for taking me baby,”

“Of course,” you hun as she continues to speak very highly of the little tradition.

———————————————————————————-

Poly Lost Boys

Your parents are very thrown off when you tell them that Thanksgiving needs to be a little later than 1:00 this year because your boyfriends get off at 5:00.. (when it gets dark)

They are even more thrown off when four bikers walk in with mullets and frills and no manners at all.. well, the quiet one has manners.

David would try and make a good impression while keeping up his ‘I’m the top dog’ behavior.

Dwayne just wants to help out and actually make a good impression.

Marko will spend most of his time with any pets and Paul will follow in foot.

They house down food. It’s sort of embarrassing

Your parents are so thrown off it hurts.

“Sweetie where did you meet them again?” Your mom whispers to you from across the table,

“So, boys, what do you do for work?” Your father questioned, each boy having a way different reaction it looks suspicious.

Your parents just nod and try there best to get through the dinner.

After dinner it gets even worse, they’re all over you, touching and giving little kisses during conversation, right in front of your parents.. god it was going to be a long night.

———————————————————————————

Carrie White

Genuinely would do her best to come to your thanksgiving if her mama let her.

She’d be all dressed up and pretty, silently so excited that she gets to go to someone’s thanksgiving.

She’s so polite and quiet around your family,

If you all say grace, she’s an active part of it.

She’d be so flustered and happy to be there,

She thinks your family is so nice!!

You knock on the door of her house for her to rush down, saying goodbye to her mama. You would say hello to Mrs.White, but very uncomfortably.. you didn’t like Carrie’s Mama.

You smile upon seeing her. She looks so pretty.

“Hey darling, you look great,”

She blushed, looking down a little flustered, “thank you,”

You open the passenger door, letting her get in and closing it for her. She felt so nice, being treated so kindly. She’d remember this day for a while.

Please send me any slasher requests,

(Although I’m more prone to write for Billy & Stu at the moment)

[simsim54]

alex: so hen, why don't you have a boyfriend? henry: my grandmother would kill me henry: henry: what about you? why don't you have a boyfriend? alex: your grandmother would kill you

[savvylittlecoxswain]

Characters Bios for The Boys in the Boat

[raekensluver]

ᴍʏ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ʙᴏʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜ — sᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ

ʀᴀғᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ (ᴅʀᴇᴡ sᴛᴀʀᴋᴇʏ)

[gorefreaklintjrwi]

hey guyssssss

i'm so insane over these 2.........

[shaylogic]

"Oi, don't wait up for me, yeah?" Charles informs Edwin, "I'll be in Crystal's room all night."

"Charles! I'm surprised at you," Edwin exclaims, looking flustered.

"It's not like that, mate--she's been having nightmares about David and I've agreed to keep her company. Said she feels safer with a friend looking after her, y'know?" He shifts from one leg to the other, one hand rubbing his other arm, absent-mindedly. "It's not a big deal, alright? Just didn't want you wondering after me." He shrugs non-chalantly and gives his partner a gentle clap on the shoulder before re-entering Crystal's room.

She's already changed into her sleep clothes and curled up under the covers. Crystal meets Charles' eyes and pats the bed beside her. With a small smile, he approaches and sits on the side of the bed, leaning on one hand and looking down on her.

"Would you like to talk before bed, or should I leave you to it?"

Seeing him only sit on the edge, she takes his hand and guides him to lay down next to her. "C'mere. Just lay with me, okay? If you don't mind. . .?"

His eyebrows raise and a twinkle of excitement crosses his eyes that he fails to suppress.

Crystal rolls her eyes at him and he chuckles. She pulls his arm over her side and holds onto him as best she can, letting out a long sigh. Charles feels a fluttering sensation in his chest, like a memory of a quickening heartbeat.

"Thanks for doing this. I'm sure it'll be less interesting than however you usually spend your nights, and I'm not much company to you when I'm asleep."

He grins, fingers attempting to brush lightly along her back. "I wouldn't say that."

She looks him up and down. "Oh, geez, you're not gonna' like, stare at me all night are you?"

"Well, I don't sleep, but I could try closing my eyes and laying here with you. Seems restful, anyway, doesn't it?" Her brow furrows, and he mirrors her expression, sobering up. "I'm not sure, uh, what your plan was?"

". . .I guess I'm not sure, either. I just didn't want to be alone in this big, empty room tonight."

"You could invite Niko across the hall for a sleepover," he teases, tempting her to explain why she chose him.

She recognizes this immediately and narrows her eyes playfully, pursing her lips, and refusing to take the bait. "You've got a cricket bat handy if any other ghosts or demons decide to pop up overnight. Niko would probably just talk their ear off and try to set them up with each other."

He chuckles. "Tough to argue with that."

. . .

After a while, Crystal's breathing slows, her chest rising and falling in smaller increments. Charles does observe this for a moment, before realizing he's doing exactly what she told him not to do. He shifts so he is staring up at the ceiling.

He can't feel Crystal's breath and warmth beside him. Without looking at her, he could forget she's there. He could just be laying alone in this bed for no reason.

He turns onto his side again, facing her and snuggling as close as he can without phasing into her. He has to focus to keep his form solid enough for her arm to rest on.

He closes his eyes and replicates breathing, concentrating on being present, and trying to remember old sensations. How would this moment feel, if he still had his body?

A cold chill runs down his core and he tries to focus on the memory of body contact sharing warmth.

While Crystal has one of the best nights of sleep she's had in weeks, Charles struggles to remember how it felt to be alive.

[white-boy-bracket]

Showie woke up on the right side of her bed. This was… unusual, but she didn’t feel the panic she had felt the last two times this happened. It was probably because Xigbar seemed to insist on the left side of the bed. The warmth on her side was Xigbar. She took a deep breath and yawned. Her sheets were a different texture than normal. That was odd. But not alarming. 

“[OMITTED LAYER 2]?”

She froze. 

“[OMITTED LAYER 2], I know you’re awake. I saw you yawn.”

She didn’t move. She didn’t even breathe. She stayed still. Like a statue.

Her heart was beating so fast it hurt. Oh gods. 

This was just a dream. She’d had this dream before.  

“I don’t know who gave you that ghastly coat, [OMI-2]-ie, but I got rid of it. A figure like yours shouldn’t be so covered up.”

The coat? Xigbar’s coat? He got rid of it? 

Xigbar’s coat was never in her dreams. 

Oh gods.

Oh gods.

She heard footsteps come from across the room. She couldn’t run.

So she just stayed perfectly still.

Like a statue.

FUCK IT

Showie and her Ex-Husband from @white-boy-bracket are now in the running! Why? Because why the fuck not

also Stanley and The Narrator are back in the running, going against Showie and her Ex!

[white-boy-bracket]

The Showrunner pulled out her hot-pink laptop, placed it on her lap, and lounged back in her loveseat.

Stanley had lost his mouth; as the Showrunner, it was her duty to fix that. She had put off doing it for a bit– Stanley was just Stanley, and she had hoped that the solution might come to fruition on its own– but a full round had progressed, and he was still without a mouth.

That just wouldn’t do.

She searched up ‘Stanley Parable’ in Yahoo, and clicked on the first link.

She skimmed through the advertisement for the game, and saw… no.

No! No, this couldn’t… no.

‘You will make a choice, and you will have your choices taken from you.’

No, no he–

‘You are not here to win. The Stanley Parable is a game that plays you.’

And she saw– oh.

That- that Narrator. She knew he was trouble! And now– now she knows his true nature. How he had made Stanley. How he had played with him. How he had acted affectionate towards him– no, she wouldn’t let this stand. Stanley was– and then, there, it said here that he sometimes destroyed him-

Feeling distress rise in her chest, she typed “https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard” into her search bar and hit ‘enter’. She typed “stanley parable” into the tumblr search bar and saw- well. Art people had drawn, post people made, all very clearly pointing to Stanley being controlled, having no choice- the Narrator- the dictator- controlled every aspect of his life! She saw a post about him turning away someone trying to check in on Stanley- a cage?!

M- maybe she was wrong. She typed “Narrator Parable” into the tumblr search bar, and saw- was… was that art of Stanley killing himself?

She pressed her lips together and scrolled a bit further. She saw someone posting about… the “countdown” ending… they seemed lustful towards the narrator… she clicked on the video they had linked…

He blew him up?!

Oh, no, she was not wrong. This Narrator was just like, just like- 

Her breath came in short gasps, and suddenly the cloak felt too heavy, too hot- she was sweating now, and her makeup would run-

She wasn’t wearing her heels, and her feet clinked across the marble floor as she ran as well as she could into the bathroom. She splashed her face, the cool water calming her, the runoff colored the pale color of the makeup she put all over her skin.

She had to get- she- Stanley was already away from him, but- was that- was that all she could d- ANNABETH. That girl was, what, 17? And she’d-

She felt hot with panic, and quickly grabbed some foundation powder and applied it to her face rather carelessly. 

She ran out of the room, then- stupid, stupid, stupid- ran right back in, tripping over herself and landing with a thunk. 

“Ow, ow, ow,” She whimpered, crawling across the floor to her cloak and pulling it on. She pulled herself to her feet using her chair and then slipped a pair of wedge heels onto her feet- these would help her run more steadily. 

Limping slightly from the fall, she hurried out of her apartment and into the adjacent, heart shaped room where she kept her… terrariums. She rushed over to the ornate, Victorian style dollhouse she’d retrofitted and, hands shaking, makeup dripping, pulled out a key and swung open the front. 

Annabeth looked up at her, clearly startled. She brandished some kind of weapon- The Showrunner wasn’t sure where she’d gotten that, but all the better to defend herself from-

Where was he?

The- the Narrator wasn’t in the- 

She grabbed Annabeth (gently- The Showrunner liked Annabeth) and pulled her away from the dollhouse. The girl was only a little bigger than The Showrunner’s hand. Annabeth’s makeshift dagger clinked harmlessly against her skin.

She searched thoroughly. No. Oh, he was gone alright. 

She walked a few feet over to an unused terrarium- this one like a cabin, with a small grassy area and a sand pit with a tetherball. A safe terrarium. One the Narrator had never been in.

She lifted the glass dome and set Annabeth gently inside, quickly closing it. She latched the bottom up safely. Annabeth would be safe here. No creator-predator would get Annabeth as long as she stayed safely inside of that dome. 

The Showrunner crossed back over to the dollhouse and latched it tight. If the narrator returned, he’d be locked in there alone. 

Now, to find him.

[hypocriticaltypwriter]

𝕷𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝕾𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗, 𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝕳𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕯𝖔𝖓𝖊? 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔 𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝑾𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑨𝑼

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔: 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍 𝑬𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏.

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒂'𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒉... 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔. 𝑷𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒅, 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒔...

𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑺𝑻 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑳𝑰𝑬𝑺!! 𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒐 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒎 𝒑𝒖𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒐𝒖𝒕!

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔: [𝑵𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒕! 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓!]

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅, 𝒈𝒐𝒓𝒆, 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒄 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒇𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒕, 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒚 𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔.

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒘𝒐

“Forgive me.”

He uttered the word with each weak breath that left his lips and into the chill air of the night. He whispered it with every foot forward into the large hole he dug, whenever his grandfathers rusted shovel gathered the moist dirt and damp grass which would be swiftly casted over his shoulder following the rest of the gathering earth.

“Forgive me.”

His sweaty hands gripped firmly onto the wood handle of the shovel, his hold so tight his knuckles grew white as the moon staring that stared down on him, judging him for his actions, weeping stars as if to ask what he has done, what has he done to do this, to violate such a peaceful ground, to step foot into this yard and prey on the vulnerable, who spent their lives fighting, only now to rest?

“Forgive me.”

Michael repeated, his body cold, and yet perspiration seeped from his skin, running down his sharp jaw as he relentlessly worked at digging up the freshly buried grave before him, his arms sore and aching, but he refused to stop, for he knew it was the least he could handle as a punishment for his actions. The end of the shovel halted,  the sound of wood splintering at its jagged edge making his rapid movements stop, pulling it away to see the engraved edges of a coffin creeping through the dirt, the beautifully hand-crafted work now ruined by the edge of his shovel.

He fell to his knees, trembling, splintered hands clawing and digging at the thin layer of soil hiding the elegant casket holding it’s treasure inside. His hands matched his heart and soul, dirty. Filthy. Ridden in waste and muck. Digging into the creases and crevices of his purity like the soil that stains his fingertips and buries beneath his fingernails. His hands wiped away the mud from the engraved cross, stray gems planted into it, the moon striking it at a point they seemed to glow. It felt almost like it was stinging his eyes.

He quickly got to his feet again, looking around him to find a crowbar he had brought alongside his equipment. Grasping it with slippery hands as firm as he could, he readied to stab it into the golden hinges and lock keeping him from getting what he needed inside.

“Forgive me.”

He closed his eyes as he carried his strength into the swing of plunging the crowbar into the side of the casket, the sound of wood cracking and hinges weakening, trying desperately to keep it shut, crying out for him to stop. Michael was a very strong boy, and yet even now he found his strength failing to help him carry out his deeds. He gave a grunt as he ripped it out of it’s first location, carefully gliding its curved edge lover, aiming at another lock, and taking one final, and hopeful swing.

On nights like these, he would’ve requested his younger brother to follow and aid him, like the many other nights of carrying out their monthly duty. But tonight was different, just like the many nights he had told his brother that when he asked to help him. It was different. It was dangerous. They were dangerous.

They were growing restless. Impatient. Impatient for what? Michael did not know. He merely knew that the risks of taking his brother with him anymore was something he couldn’t bear to imagine. So, much like his heart and soul, he was alone tonight.

He pushed and pulled with his might, teeth gritted hard enough his jaw grew tense and formed and ached. The casket broke open, revealing the inside. He’d never grow use to the sickening feeling that pooled in his guts, seeing the peaceful, resting face of a human being, now fallen into eternal slumber.

Her name was Patience Willows. A poor, young creature, who had fallen into illness she fought so hard against, but ultimately failed. She was a sweet girl, with a loving family and good friends, and betrothed to a man who was just as hopeless for her as she was for him. Her fair skin, and pale hair stood out under the moon, her black gowns she was buried in contrasted to how lively she seemed to be, the bouquet of orchids and roses, wilting away in her clasped hands, tangled in the beads of rosaries and the small cross hanging from the end nestled atop her stomach.

Michael’s hands came up to her face. Cold to the touch. Like ice on his flesh her face unmoving like stone, as if sculptors carved her body, and she was merely made of the finest marble. But she was a girl. A human, and innocent young woman, taken too soon. Even graceful in death as she was living.

And he had to take that away from her. He had to take it away from her family.

“Sweet Patience. Sweet, sister Patience.” He spoke as if he’d expect a reply, as if her big dark eyes would open again to the sound of his voice. “Forgive me for what I must now do with your mortal body…” Michael’s voice was barely above a whisper, his trembling hands left her face, one moved beneath her back, and the other the back of her legs, ripping her body away from its casket and into the night air where he stood tall, holding her like a sleeping maiden. Her head fell back, her arm falling from its gently clasped pose, and limped at her side. Her gowns and hair blew in the chill breeze, the sight was almost haunting.

Michael’s heart ached, he could feel it pound in his chest and wished for him to end this. But he couldn’t. There was no other way. He was beginning to grow desperate, finding every fresh body he possibly could, anything that seemed tempting or tantalizing enough to catch their eye and keep their attention long enough before they grew restless again. But he was beginning to grasp the straws the longer time began to go on. This was his last hope to keep his family and the town of Santa Carla safe.

He trudged through the forests of his family grounds, the settled grass and astray rotting logs pushed away from the path he had spend years creating took him deeper and deeper into the woods. The creeping vines and branches tugging and pried at his holy robes, like teasing fingers and wandering hands, the leaves and grass brushing around him sounding like hisses and whispers. The deep thickets pulled and tore at the gentle fabric of Patience gown, her beautiful resting garments now ruined and made imperfect. It only made Michael’s heart hurt further with sympathy.

The longer he walked, the more the space began to clear, the moon now crept through casting shadows across the trees, and the grass began to shorten. Thorned vines caught on his boots, always overgrowing the path he had created. No matter how many times he’d pull them out, it seemed they merely grew back every night.

Roses sprouted around them light weeds, deep blood reds, and the purest white buds all around, replacing the bushes and trees once hiding him from the moon and the stars shameful stare. The thorned vines and roses wrapped around everything like snakes, choking away like and growing over the ancient stone and ruins Michael was walking to. The closer he got, the more dreadful he felt. It was like the place carried the same evil of the ones who resided in it- yet it could have been the most holiest grounds decades ago, and now it was left to time and darkness to swallow it whole.

The ruins of this Chapel were very large, even if it hadn’t seemed that way from the outside or whatever angle you might have stumbled across it with fate in mind. So much so it was almost like once you walked in, you could never find you way out. Michael was walking toward the back of it, the caved in roofs and broken foundation greeting him routinely night after night. His chest heaved with exhaustion, his arms were throbbing, his legs were burning, the body in his arms felt too heavy to keep going, but he continued. The only thing keeping him going was the thought of his family, waiting for him at home. His mother sleeping soundly by now, and his Grandfather, if not doing the same, was awake busying himself with the strange taxidermy residing in their home and even the Church they ran. And Sam, his dearest brother Sam, he only hoped he wasn’t awake, waiting for him, worried about him. He hoped his brother was sleeping well, not wasting good hours on a brother who had trapped him in such a life he was to live now.

“Lord Jesus,” Michael’s voice trembled, taking each step up the ruined, cracked stares, the moon’s hateful light shining down atop the alter like a spotlight, reveled in display. “Son of God… Have mercy on me, a sinner.” He walked with slow, cautious steps, his footwork calculated, like a waltz, his boots echoing through the rubble stone.

“Wash me from my guilt with Your precious blood and cleanse me of my wrongdoings…” Patience heavy body left his arms, setting her atop the alter, his dirtied hands touching her fair face one final time, the cold feeling of her skin one he had felt many times before, and would forever feel as long as he breathed. “Create in me, a clean heart… Oh God,” He stepped away from her, backing away from the alter and down it’s steps, all the way till he couldn’t see her body put out on display under the moonlight, and even then, he couldn’t handle it, his eyes closing and turning his head away from a sight even imagining made him sick. “Forgive me from all my sins and take not Your Holy Spirit from me by Your mercies…”

The air grew cold, and he could feel the wind on the back of his neck. Wind blowing through the cracks of foundation sounded like whispers, he could hear voices in the trees, and laughs ring out in the halls. Shadows dance on the walls, tempting for him to open his eyes, but they remained shut, not daring to open and witness a sight that would claw through his eyes and carve it’s name on his mind to never forget.

“Forgive… And renew a right spirit within me. Amen.”

And just like that, it went silent. Too silent. The wind halted, and the forest and life within paused. The whispers ceased and it felt as if even Michael’s heart came to a stop for just a moment. His eyes fluttered open, slowly turning his head back up to the steps, only taking a few more just to peek up at the alter.

Patience’s body was gone.

Michael let out a breath he forgot he was even holding, a hand coming up to his head, wiping away the thick layer of sweat forming a residue on his forehead, his fingers tangling in his dark curls. His stomach turned, making him swallow thickly and audibly, shallow breathes leaving past his parted lips. It was done. It was over for those few, spare days. Those few spare, haunting days.

And then he heard it. Quiet at first, so much so he could have merely considered it his mind playing a trick on him and went his way, but Michael knew better. And it grew louder. It was laughter.

Not joyous, not happy or a warm laugh, it was cruel. It was mocking, taunting, and it slowly began to grow louder, and voices joined it, resonating along the walls and ringing through the ruins of the Chapel. Cackles and barking laughter that made Michael’s blood run cold as the sound fed through his ears and froze him from the inside. His hand left his side, reflexively coming to the cross that hung around his neck, nestled against his chest right where his heart was. He clutched the powerful silver in his hand, his fingers running slow circles into the vibrant colored stones embedded into it’s surface as if silently praying, but a prayer wasn’t on Michael’s mind the the moment.

The laughter ensued, louder and louder as though circling him, in the sky, beneath the cobblestone floors, behind him right in his ear or standing before him, yet there was no one to be seen- but he knew very well he wasn’t alone. Not here. And as if his thought were read, the laughter quickly began to silence, very, very slowly. Going silent for only a split second with a few chaste whispers exchanged, and the world slowly began to grow alive yet again in the dead of night.

Michael’s hand stayed firmly grasping his crucifix, feeling his fast heartbeat against his fingers as he took only a few more steps up the stares toward the alter, when he saw a body. The very same body that was lying there just minutes before. He just felt his fear rise the longer he stared at Patience body back on the surface where she was once an offering, now turned away.

Her dress ripped up, legs and arms full of cuts and claw marks. Her blouse was ripped open and her peeled away flesh on display. Her ribs cracked open, like it was a cage, revealing her now hollowed chest where a heart would be, now gone from her bosom with only the bloody remnants of her lungs as the crimson liquid wept from her body and down the pure white marble and stone of the alter, staining the steps, and the petals of roses and orchids stuck to her skin where blood had crept into every curve and crevice along her baren flesh creeped out.

A beautiful woman, a sweet creature, who’s looks reflected the beauty and pureness of her soul… Now mangled and violated in a gruesome slaughter, just for Michael’s eyes to see. He all but stumbled toward her, falling to his knees as he threw his arms over her body, his mind riddled with confusion and utter distraught, blue eyes wandering her face and finding himself unable to understand. Why?

The laughter quickly came back, but it wasn’t all around him now. Instead, it echoed from the seemingly large opening into the ground behind the alter, a cave. Going deep, deep, and down, down into darkness, you couldn’t even see your footing as you would descend into its cavern. The laughter, the voices called out to him, calling his name, and mocking him with snickers and cackles.

“I don’t understand…” He spoke genuinely, eyes dancing between Patience and the cavern below. “I don’t understand.” He asked once more, his voice raising. “What do you want from me?” His guilt, his fear, his confusion all of it was fogging his mind, making him frustrated. It made him angry. It made him enraged.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!” He shouted, finding himself unable to handle any more of this cruel madness he was going out through, his voice ringing through the Chapel, echoing back to him and the fluttering sound of bats and disturbed birds followed. The laughter died down as well, but it wasn’t to put his mind at peace. It was to leave him yet again, another night with no answers to his plea.

“I’ve done everything you wanted… I’ve committed atrocities for you. I’ve hurt people, I’ve betrayed my family, my covenants… What more could you want of me?” He cried out, awaiting an answer. And with little hope left, it died out following the silence. He looked to his hands in defeat, now riddled in dirt and innocent blood. “What have I done..”

Silence. Only the quiet comforted him, succumbing him to accepting that he would spend the next month restless, with no answers, with more people getting hurt, with more families coming to his church pleading for prayers and blessings of safety from the beasts of Santa Carla. More missing posters around any wall surface in the town, more questions from his mother. He could barely handle it anymore. How, he was willing to do anything to get this madness to stop.

His heart felt heavy, and as body numb as he got to his feet, wiping the dirt and blood off his Holy robes as best he could, looking toward the disgusting sight of the body splayed out atop the alter, just like the many other past offerings these last few weeks. And like the many weeks before,

He began his walk back home. Dawn approaching, the sun creeping over the view of the boardwalk far, far into the distance...

[insomniasymphony]

My Stories (AO3) -- Overview

Delico's Nursery

A Touch Of Forgiveness: Dali Delico x Gerhard Fra Finished at 1 chapter, 2K words. A little pining from Gerhard's side, unable to understand Dali and his way of dealing with stuff.

The Embrace Of Flames: Dali Delico x Gerhard Fra Finished at 9 chapters, 32K words. A short story about the harsh consequences of drugs on a vampire's body, dotted with love and obsessive behaviour towards one person.

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Hunter x Hunter

Deadly Sins: Various x Reader. Finished at 38 chapters, 61K words. In search for spicey romance and sadness? This one-shot collection may satisfy you.

Same Vibes: Illumi x Killua. Finished at 1 chapter, 11K words. For everyone who enjoyed the smexy taboo stuff between siblings.

Doll: Hisoka x Female Reader. On Hiatus due to editing. A story for girls who enjoy breaking taboos, rules, and bones. A steamy romance with some action and drama to enjoy.

The Ethical Misfit: Original Female Character x Adult Trio. Currently on hiatus because the fandom is a shitshow. A steamy, polyamorous romance, peppered with finding your true self while feeling like trash. Drama included.

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Jujutsu Kaisen

Past Summer Lies: Suguru x Satoru. Finished at 3 chapters, 10K words. A three-shot about the past, about feelings never told, about hurt and no comfort, and about two men who were just boys.

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Kemono Jihen

Foxtrot: Kabane x Kon. Finished at 12 chapters, 16K words. A little something full of fluff, romance, and acceptance.

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One Piece

Golden Velvet: Various x Reader. Finished at 24 chapters, 30K words. A one-shot collection for everyone who wants to drown in some romantic pain.

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Original Works

Noirceur: No Romance. In progress. If you are interested in a story of revenge in a fantasy world, full of death and judgement over a race that could be demons but aren't, come here! It's rated mature for violence.

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Paripi Koumei

A Song of War and Understanding: Eiko x Kongming. Finished at 1 chapter, 3K words. A one-shot of acceptance and soft romantic feelings.

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Pokémon

Whispers: Amethio x Original Female Character. Currently in progress. If you're interested in a big journey full of adventures, mystery, drama, and a slow-building romance in a somewhat darker Pokémon-world, this is your jam.

Perfume: Plumeria x Ilima Finished at 1 chapter, 4K words. A one-shot about a little revenge, leading up to unexpected (at least for Plumeria and Ilima) smut.

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SK8 the Infinity

A Slaves Bell: Langa x Ainosuke. Finished at 70 chapters, 174K words. Be careful, this is a dark fic, full of depression, being abused, used and driven to the end. Romance is one-sided. Langa suffers. A lot.

The Lies He Dreams: Shadow x Flowershop Manager. Finished at 1 chapter, 3K words. A what-if scenario made by Shadow's brain. He isn't happy. But at least he had the chance to be in his dreams.

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Sousou no Frieren

Just A Daydream Away: Frieren x Himmel. Finished at 2 chapters, 4K words. A heart wrenching two-shot about a love that had no chance.

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Tomo-chan is a Girl!

Whelve: Misuzu x Tomo. Finished at 1 chapter, 5K words. A one-sided love thought, created by Misuzu. A one-shot for pain.

[shshshshshowrunner]

It'd been a long fuckin' while since Xigbar had taught someone how to use a keyblade, but… He could still do it. Probably. Hopefully. 

He sat up on the bed and looked at her over his shoulder.

"Hey, you change into something you can move in. I'll meet you in the arena, okay?"

She gave him a sort of look.

"Okay- I could just stand in the hallway, or something- Just want to give you some privacy-" 

She looked away, looking haunted. She didn’t respond, instead grabbing some clothes from her closet and then walking into the bathroom. She shut the door.

Oh, yeah. That was an option, too. 

Xigbar looked at the ground and pulled his hair back. He was starting to get into the habit of leaving it loose half the time (but then again he didn't really have a choice. Hair tie thief girlfriend, 'n all.). He couldn't focus with it down. Not as much as he would like. It was already hard enough to see without having hair falling over his eye every five seconds.

He held out his hand. It took a moment, but… Yeah, he could still summon his old keyblade. The one from before he was given No Name. It was weird he didn't use it much. He did always really like it.

… Huh. Have the teeth always looked this similar to his arrowgun bolts? He knew the thing was always very purple, but… Weird. Maybe it had changed since the last time he used it. Fuck knows he had. Shit, last time he used it… was he even a man yet? It had been so long.

After a moment, the clinking noises in the bathroom paused, then changed to a duller sound. So she had changed shoes. A little while later, the door opened. She was wearing a light pink tank top and gray leggings. Her shoes were a pair he hadn’t seen before- black heels that looked about as practical as her shoes could get. Her hair was mostly tied back and her eyes were purple.

… Do not comment on her being pretty. Don't do it.

"New shoes?"

Finally. He actually managed to not fuck a sentence up.

She looked down at them, twisting her foot around like she didn’t know either. She shrugged, then put her foot back on the ground and looked at him, then at his keyblade.

She froze.

"I, uh-" He quickly dismissed it. Nope. Not fucking around OR finding out right now. "Just making sure I can still summon it."

She stared at the hand he’d been holding it in. “Bring it back.” her voice was flat.

Okay. Terrifying. Great. Not like that was the first thing she’d said all day or anything.

He brought it back. 

She walked over to him and kind of tugged on it. He let her take it.

“I-” She shook her head, looking mystified, “Where did you get this one?”

"'S the one I've always had. The original. Lot more simple than the others had, though- I'll admit that. They had really cool looking ones."

She chuckled slightly, turning it over in her hands and paying particular attention to the handguard.

"What?"

She looked up at him with half a grin. First smile he’d seen all day, too. That had to be a good sign, right?

“I-” She turned her attention back to the keyblade, trying to hold back her amusement. “Do I-” she paused, biting back a smile. She didn’t continue.

"Do you what?" He raised an eyebrow, letting a half grin tug at his lips. "Unfortunately, I'm not exactly a mind reader, doll."

She laughed slightly, “I- I’m not gonna say it. It’s not my business,” she handed it back to him and kind of patted his hand, “Let’s get down to the arena.”

"Okay?" Yeah, that was confusing. But at least she looked like she was in a slightly better mood. He dismissed the keyblade and got up to get the door. She got it for him a while back, might as well return the favor. Maybe make a joke about her saving her strength for training. You know how it is.

She seemed to find the mere idea of him opening a door funny. She covered her mouth with one hand. He got a sense it was the same joke she was holding back about the keyblade.

"Alright- Spill- What's so funny?"

She hesitated slightly, then motioned for him to bring the keyblade back.

Okay. He brought it back again. 

There is one good thing to all this summoning and dismissing- It was getting a lot easier to do so.

She grabbed the hand holding the keyblade and adjusted the way he was holding it so he had to look at it.

“O-okay, so,” She said, holding back laughter, “I- I’m not-” she closed her eyes for a second, “Look at the handguard. yeah?”

"Yeah, it's-" It was the same it always was. Like a weird little inverted U. "What about it?"

“Well,” she said, trying to keep a straight face. She was still holding onto his hand. “I- I’m not saying that the symbol used to represent Janus, but it’s totally the symbol used to represent Janus.”

"This again?" He grinned fully now. "I still don't know what you're talking about, doll."

She rolled her eyes, smiling slightly, “Janus? Roman god of beginnings and endings? Gates and doors? Choices, crossroads, transitions, time. Changes. Dualities and Dichotomies, and what lies outside them?”

"Damn… calling me out for being transgender… and here I thought we were friends." He grinned at her sideways. 

“Ignoring the rest of the items on that list because you’re scared that they apply?” She ran her hand along the rest of the keyblade.

Don't make a sex joke. Do not.

"Nah, I just can't make a joke out of 'em." 

“That’s not what the expression on your face just said.” She tilted her head at him, putting her hands in the pocket of her leggings.

"Ahh- Unrelated. Come on, keyblade's not gonna summon itself. I don't have that one." He gestured with his head to the door.

She furrowed her brow a  little, but stepped aside (and slipped on her cloak) and waited for him to go through first.

Okay, fine. He'll go first. 

"So, what I'm thinking is we're gonna have you try to summon your own first, but if it doesn't work then I'll give you Starlight. What do you think?"

She followed him out the door, “How do you even do that? Is it like learning to move a muscle you’ve never used before?” She stared at her hand, trying to move her left pinkie without also moving the ring finger. “I remember when I first had to learn how to hold my middle finger up on its own. That didn’t used to be a gesture, and when it developed I had to learn it,” She flipped off the ground. Then did the vulcan salute from star trek. “This, too.”

"Sort of. There's a thing called a Bequeathing – basically we both hold the keyblade and I say some shit – then you should be able to feel it, as long as your heart is strong enough. I know yours is; I've felt it. Don't worry." He paused. "After that, it'll come to you eventually."

He saw her go gray under her hood. She was quiet for a few seconds. Then she said, “...Hold the keyblade- the keyblade I haven’t summoned yet, or some other keyblade?”

"Mine. I summon it, we both hold the handle, then I say the shit and we're done. You should be able to summon your own then."

She went grayer, then nodded. “We should go do that.”

"Alright. To the arena, then." He decided not to comment on the blush. It would make things awkward, probably. He offered one hand to her, a silent invitation for teleporting.

Grayer, she accepted it. He warped them into the arena. 

It was pitch black. 

"Shit- Was not expecting it to be this dark in here-"

“Amy will fix that. Give her a few seconds to get to the controls." She was still holding his hand. 

It was nice.

A few seconds later, there was a loud clack as the overhead lights turned on, illuminating the field. Xigbar hissed and covered his eye. He picked the WRONG time to be looking up. Those lights were bright. 

He looked around the arena and smirked.

"This place brings back memories, huh? Seems like only yesterday I was just not fuckin' dyin'." He kept his tone light and jokey. 

When Showie didn’t laugh, he looked over at her. She was staring at the ground. He frowned. "Y'know I'm really okay with all that back then, right? It's funny to me now."

She squeezed his hand slightly, then looked up. She cast a look around the arena, then said, “Who do you think Amy is zoomed in on right now?”

"What do you mean?"

She tilted her head, “You know. She zooms in, sees things from people’s points of view? You know that ask she sent you? About what happened while my back was turned during BFD? She must’ve been zoomed in on me, then, so she couldn’t see what you were doing.”

"So she was like… in your head, or something?"

“Eh.” She looked around, “She’s just watching. It’s not like she was physically there. Some of her recording happens after the fact, too. Pretty sure she can see potential futures, even.” 

"So… She's like some kind of crazy ass mind reader/visionary kind of person?"

“I wouldn’t say crazy. She’s nice.” Showie paused. Waited. Waited. “Huh. Must be zoomed in on you right now. Amy, can you lock the doors for the kins? And close the windows.”

Zoomed in on him, huh? … He wasn't too sure if he liked the sound of that. 

He heard a click as the doors locked and the metal blinds went down, closing the arena off.

“Yeah, see?” She said, “Soon as you heard it. Anyway, not too important.” She waved it off.

"... I think I'm gonna pretend I didn't learn that." Xigbar pressed his lips together for a moment, then shook his head and summoned his keyblade. He spun it around in his hand so it was pointing at the ground, then looked at Showie. "Put your hand over mine."

She hesitated, going a bit gray. Then nodded, and put her hand where he’d indicated.

Xigbar cleared his throat. Hopefully he remembered all the words to this whole spiel. It had been a while.

"In your hand, take this key," he recited, "So long as you have the makings, then through this simple act of taking...its wielder you shall one day be. And you will find me, friend—no ocean will contain you then. No more borders around, or below, or above, so long as you champion the ones you love."

It always felt too formal for his liking.

"Alright… That's it. Can you feel anything? Little stirring in your heart or something?"

She went gray again, nodding. Then nodded again. “Mmhmm. Yeah.”

"Good." He smiled, a genuine smile, not a grin or a smirk or anything. "Alright, go ahead. Try and summon your own."

“H-how?”

"Just hold your hand out and call for it with your heart. If you're ready, it'll respond."

She reluctantly let go of his keyblade and then opened her hand, shaking a little. “W-what if I can’t?”

"It's okay. It'll come to you eventually. We have all the time in the world."

She nodded, shifting the way she was standing slightly. Then she closed her eyes, head tilted down. She took a deep breath, closed her hand, and then opened it again with force.

A few moments passed. 

In a flash of pale pink light, a keyblade appeared in her hand. It was intricate, full of swirls and angles and… spikes? Huh. Interesting. The stem of it was… Was it black with a white stripe or white with a black stripe? No matter. Same shit in different fonts.

The base of it, just before the hand guard, had some kind of hot pink orb. It had two black stripes with white rivets, and a line of black thorns in between them. Dangerous. 

His had a similar kind of orb thing. 

A black border went around the teeth of the keyblade. The teeth themself started out white where they connected to the stem, but quickly faded to the same hot pink as the orb and part of the hand guard. A diamond and pearl keychain dangled from a hoop at the end of the hand guard.

Well. If Xigbar was smiling before, he was absolutely fuckin' BEAMING now. He scooped Showie up, whooping. 

"YOU FUCKIN' DID IT!"

She let out a startled shriek and grabbed onto him, “I did?!”

"Look at your hand!!" He was so goddamn proud. People don't normally get it first try like that.

“No?” She beamed at him, then looked at her hand, at her keyblade- She looked at it for a few seconds, eyes wide. She went gray, but then laughed, “I did it!!” She kicked her feet slightly.

"I am so FUCKING proud of you!! Do you know how rare it is to summon one that fast?"

She smiled, her eyes kind of misty, “I- I- cool!!” She stared at it, “Uh- um- can- does- How do I put it away??”

"Oh- Right- It's basically the same as summoning it, but in reverse. It's like… Telling it to go away."

It vanished in a flash. “Okay!!”

He realized he was still holding her. Oops.

But… she hasn't said anything sooooo… it was probably still fine to keep holding her. 

"I know I've said this before, but- you are so fucking cool."

She smiled, wrapping the arm that used to be holding the keyblade around his shoulder, hugging him and resting her head on his chest in his blind spot.

Holy fucking shit he was so proud. It's been covered, but it bears repeating. He could feel his heart – the physical one – beating out of his chest. In the back of his mind, Xigbar wondered if she could feel it too. "Like… It normally takes at the very least a few hours, but you…" He finally paused long enough to take a breath. "It suits you. Your keyblade, I mean- I mean it's supposed to, but- Yeah. It. Um. It's nice."

He heard her take a shaky breath, and she laughed slightly, “A-are they, like, static, or does your emotional state the first time you summon it, like, affect it? The design?”

"They might change a little over time, but for the most part, they're static. It would only really change much if you changed fundamentally as a person."

She laughed, and he felt her turn her head more into his chest. "Hey," he started, "Summon it again? I wanna show you something."

She hugged him tighter, but did not summon it again.

"Come on, please? It's good."

She let out another little laugh.

"Pleaaaaaaaaaaaase?" If he knew she could see his face, he would've jokingly batted his eyelashes at her all cute. Not that he can really do cute. 

He felt her adjust her arm and (still hugging him) summoned it behind his back. Okay, that was closer.

"Doll, I can't exactly show you something behind my back- It's gotta do with mine, too, if that helps-"

She let out a nervous titter and sort of wriggled out of his arms. She held her keyblade out in front of her, and said in a way he thought was supposed to be joking, “Wish Amy was zoomed in on me right now.” she paused, “You know, like, recorded for posterity.”

"Well… I guess it's more private this way?" He shrugged, then summoned his own keyblade. "Look here." He tapped the orb thing by her hand guard, then the one by his. "We match… Kinda."

She smiled, and he noticed she had a tear going down her cheek, “Yeah, look at that.” her voice was happy, though.

It was still concerning.

"Are you okay? We can go back upstairs if you want."

“Just a little- uh- overwhelmed,” She lied blatantly, “I’m good, though. Happy!” She said, more honestly.

"If you're sure." He grinned and took a few steps back. "Then, if you're ready, we can get to the fun part. Attack me."

“I-” She stared at her keyblade. “I’ll suck at it.”

"That's okay. I just want to gauge your abilities a bit. See where you're at, so I know what to show you."

“I’ll tell you where I’m at,” She said, turning to face him and shrugging off her cloak, kicking it a few feet away, “The only weapon I’ve ever used is a discarded antler, and I was defeated in three seconds. This was, what, 600 years ago?”

"Still." Xigbar cracked his neck. It was a habit he'd picked up a long while ago. It helped him focus on the fight. "A keyblade isn't a normal weapon. It's an extension of your very being. Don't worry about hurting me. I'm doing pure defense here."

She nodded, looking at him. She moved slightly, adjusting her stance. She hesitated, looking like she was psyching herself up. “Y-y-” She looked up at the roof of the arena. Shook her head. Looked back at him, psyching herself up. Lost her nerve again.

"It's okay. You can do this. I'm not going to be attacking back, just blocking."

She nodded, “I- I know. I’m just. Uh. Feeling a bit mythological today I guess.” 

"What do you mean by that?" He tilted his head. 

“You ever hear the story of Pallas Athena? Why she’s called that sometimes?” She was calming down.

"You and I both know I haven't," he replied, a smile quirking the corners of his lips. 

“Well, Athena, a goddess- battle strategy, wisdom. A maiden goddess, like Artemis, only she’ll create kids from her mind sometimes for funsies or something. She sprung out of Zeus’s head fully formed, and Zeus was like, ‘What am I supposed to do with this?’ and sent her to, let’s call it a summer camp. It’s not, but let’s call it that.”

"That's usually what parents do when they don't know what to do with their kids. Mine gave me an eyeball."

She laughed slightly, “Uh- so Athena meets this girl named Pallas. They’re best friends ever in the always. And they’d train and spar together. It was great.”

"Hell yeah. Girl power."

She smiled, “Yeah. It was.” The smile faded, “Until one day, Zeus.” She said like it was a complete sentence.

"Ugh. Zeus."

“Careful with that tone, Bucket Boy,” She said playfully, “He could be paying attention.”

"Pbbt." He stuck out his tongue. "Can't get knocked up if I don't have the bits."

“That’s not the only thing he does. Anyway. One day there’s a festival, and Pallas and Athena, they’re participating in a friendly match. Winner is the first person to disarm the other. At the end they go out for ice cream or whatever. You get it. Now, Athena starts out winning, but they’re closely matched. Then Pallas gets the upper hand. Zeus is in the crowd watching.”

"And let me guess- He doesn't understand the phrase 'stay in your lane'?"

“Yeah, he’s not about to let Athena lose this friendly, low stakes, no consequences fight. He pulls out his shield, Aegis. Pallas is mesmerized. Athena is expecting Pallas to dodge her strike. She doesn’t. Pallas was the better fighter, but because of godly intervention, Athena killed her on accident. She was heartbroken, and she took the name Pallas Athena in her grief.” She looked at the roof of the arena.

"That's fucked up." He pursed his lips. "You know… That kind of thing isn't gonna happen here, right? Keyblades don't kill unless there's intent."

“Oh,” She visibly relaxed, “And that’s true?”

"Yeah. It's connected directly to your heart, so you can't accidentally kill someone like with a normal weapon." He left out the part that instead of death, his heart would just be ripped from his body again. That would make things worse.

She nodded, relaxing. Then, “Sora said Roxas was created when he stabbed himself with a keyblade, though? What would happen? You turn back into a nobody? You’d still hang out with me, right? Until it came back again?”

"Of course I would." What kind of question was that? "I wanted to be around you before it came back, no reason for that to be any different."

She nodded, “Okay. Okay.” She bounced a little, “Okay. Okay!” she was getting ready-

Xigbar closed his eye and took a breath. It's been a while since he took a defensive stance, especially with a keyblade, especially with teaching someone, but… It still came easily enough. Okay. He could do this. He opened his eye.

“Ready?” She asked.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Come at me."

She bounced a few more times, then came forward and swung. It was easy enough to block; didn't even make any sparks. He used the force to launch himself backwards a few feet. 

"Again. The power of your swing comes from your hips, not your arms. It's a twist, not all out hit. In a real fight, you'd end up exhausting yourself a lot faster than you'd do damage."

She smiled at him, then let out a genuine laugh, “Hold on, hold on- Do you want me to put my cloak back on and then go outside where the white boys can see us fight and get confused?”

"Holy shit." He grinned. "That would be so fucking funny. Let's do it."

She cackled, “Okay!” She used her keyblade to pick her cloak. As she put it on, she said, “Let’s yell some shit, too. Wait wait wait-” She laughed, “Let's make a bet. How long before Sora rushes out to help? Five minutes? Two?” 

"With how far the arena is from the cabin, and with how fast that little menace can run… I'd say four minutes, tops." He grinned. "I'm wondering how long it'd take Team Lit to show up. You think they'd try to stop us?"

“Oooooh, Amy gave me the Paul Matthews death file. It’s from his POV, so I don’t know if you heard, but Percy was pissed when he thought Matthews had killed me- he was all like, ‘The Showrunner can be reasoned with! Do you know how much more dangerous this place is with Xigbar in charge? You idiot!’ or whatever. So I’m not sure about Team Lit Proper, but extended? Oh, definitely. Only, I’m sure Percy would be able to recognise it as trained, ‘f he got close enough. This is fun, though, let’s go see who cares if I die!” She giggled and bounced a little.

"Five bucks says Artemis gets invested in it one way or another. Bet this would be interesting for the little guy."

“Ooooh, and there’s Butler out there-” She put her keyblade over her shoulder like he did with his arrowguns- “That would be interesting. Okay, let’s make this dramatic-” She gestured with her keyblade, and shouted, “I trusted you!”

"Wrong choice!" He yelled back. It was hard keeping a straight face, but he was nothing if not an actor. 

“I can see that now!” She shifted her stance, getting ready to attack, “YOU let him into the force field!” She charged forward, her swing adjusted to his instructions. She connected to his keyblade with a clang, and sparks. Much better. He knew she packed a punch, but damn. That left his arms buzzing. 

"Ansem made things interesting!" He pushed her back, before jumping back himself a good few feet. "Not my fault you wouldn't just go down without a fight!"

“Is THAT why you hired Paul Matthews?”

"Matthews was a failure! He didn't deserve to work with me!"

Showie laughed, breaking her stance, “Alright! This is dramatic! We ready to take this outside?”

He grinned. "Hell yeah. This is gonna be absolutely hysterical."

Her eyes widened, and she gasped- “OH. Idea.” She pointed to the ceiling, “You see that? It opens. You could, like, grab me and gravity us out all supervillain, then we could, like, pretend to wham! right into the ground, I can use my powers to make a bunch of dirt fly up so it looks serious-” She looked at him, “Fun?”

"Oh my fucking god." He laughed. "I am so in love with you. Let's do it."

She grinned, “Amy-” before she even finished her sentence, the lights turned off and a massive whirring noise filled the darkened arena. Then a spotlight of sunlight appeared in the middle of the field, and it expanded and expanded as the gap in the ceiling for bigger and bigger.

“Ready, Braig?” She pulled up her hood, and her grin could only be described as wicked. It matched his perfectly; he knew he looked downright feral by now. He laced an arm around her waist (now fully confident he wouldn't get absolutely obliterated by one of her semi truck punches,) and nodded. 

"Ready when you are."

She leaned in and kissed him, then said, “Let’s go.”

SHE FUCKIN DID IT

[ghoastixx]

Slashers x reader

How protective are they?

Warnings: blood, death (obviously), degradation

Slashers included: Michael Myers (not specified), JD, Nancy Downs, Beetlejuice, Otis Driftwood, Baby Firefly, Poly Lost Boys, Carrie

Send Requests!!!!!!!!!!!!

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•Michael Myers

I was asleep. I went to bed alone that night, Michael was off on a hunt. I shot up when I heard my bedroom door slam.

“What the hell are you doing in my house?!”

“You gotta help me! I’m being chased by this fucking psycho in a mask!”

“Psycho in a mask- you mean the shape-? You do realize this is his house, right?”

“What?! You gotta help me! Call the cops or someth-“

Suddenly the door was forced open and there stood Michael, bloody and shaking. He spotted his victim and then spotted me. The only sound in the room was the victim pushing me towards Michael and the sound of his heavy ass breathing.

“Please! Please take them! Not me! I’ll do anything- please-!” Michael grabbed my face with his hand and pushed me aside, most likely leaving a bloody handprint on my face.

“Please-“ THUMP

Michael walked up to me, he grabbed my face, and looked over it.

“Michael-? I’m okay- please get the body out of my room.” He patted my head.

•JD

“Y/N! Your boyfriend’s here!”

“Send him up!” I put my book down and sat on my bed. He came in, closing the door behind him.

“Hey J,”

“Y/n,” he sat on the edge of the bed. “You wanted to talk about something?”

“Kurt’s giving me trouble.” His expression shifted.

“Oh, is he?”

“Yeah- he keeps shoving me in the halls and keeps getting his friends to throw food at me during lunch.”

He smiled a bit and reached out for my hand,

“Don’t worry, he won’t mess with you anymore. Come on, let’s go get something to eat, ya?”

I smiled back, “sure,”

The next day at school, JD seemed a lot happier than normal during lunch.

“What’s got you all happy?”

“You’ll see, babe.”

“Attention!” I turned around to look in the direction of the voice.

“As some of you may know, there was a suicide last night. Our beloved Kurt-“ I turned around to look at JD, who was smiling at me.

“Jason-“

“I told you he wouldn’t bother you.”

“Did you- I didn’t want you to do that,”

“I thought you’d be more excited.”

“Excited that you killed Kurt?!”

“Quiet.” I grabbed my tray and stood up, I threw my stuff away and left the cafeteria. I avoided JD for the rest of the day. I didn’t see him again til that night when he knocked on my window.

“Hey darling,”

“You’re not supposed to be here,”

“I’m just trying to make you happy. I want you to be safe.”

“I know.”

“Then let me in,”

Sigh, “fine.”

•Nancy Downs

I was being bullied by a girl in my science class. She kept laughing at me when I answered questions wrong, and she’d publicly humiliate me and ridicule me in class. Sister never did anything to correct her. Of course, I confided in Nancy as she was practicing a makeup look on me.

“She’s humiliating you?”

“Yeah. Sarah’s boyfriend has even started in on it too.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I see. That sucks, now, hold still.” She finished doing my eyeliner.

I was upset by her not seeming to care about my problem, but passed it off. Nancy was like this.

A few days later, my opinion started to change.

“Y/N, do you want to tell us the answer?” I looked over at Tasha, the girl, and back at Sister,

“..the powerhouse?” Tasha chuckled,

“No.. how about you Tasha?”

“It’s obviously 27-“ I looked at Tasha, as did everyone else in the class.

“27?” Someone laughed,

“I didn’t mean to say that!” Tasha screamed,

“Quiet.” Sister persisted.

I sat confused for the rest of class, until later after swimming when I heard her talking to her friends in the locker room.

“It’s so embarrassing! It’s like, I know what I want to say, but then I say something completely opposite! Like that the sky is red!”

“This isn’t funny Tasha,”

“Yeah, I never knew you were so stupid.”

I sort of had to chuckle to myself, it was pretty funny.

That evening I was invited to hang out with Nancy and her friends.

“Soo, you hear what happened to Tasha?” Rochelle sneered. Bonnie laughed a bit.

“Yeah, it’s like it just magically happened or something” Nancy laughed, causing me to look at her.

“Did you guys do that?”

“You said she was bothering you. Plus, we wanted to see if it would work.”

“At this rate, she’ll be held back when we graduate!”

Nancy smiled at me, I felt a bit guilty but.. it would probably wear off.. right?

•Beetlejuice

-BJ is pretty cut and dry, he’d protect you if you needed it, but he wouldn’t let anything happen to begin with. Silly 🤷

It would probably be someone hitting on you. He’d get all jealous and shit. (If anyone wants a one shot let me know)

•Otis Driftwood

I was in the kitchen when I heard what sounded like a stampede of wild buffalo upstairs. Mama Firefly flew down the stairs, Baby followed closely and ran out the back door. Tiny was no where to be seen. Grandpa stayed upstairs. Mama turned to me,

“Cops are here!”

“Cops?!”

“Yeah cops! I’d assume they’re lookin’ for you!”

“For me?”

“Yeah! You said your family was important, what happens when their kiddo goes missin’?”

“Shit!”

Baby came back, Mama turned to her.

“Baby, take Y/N up to Otis’s room and lock the door behind ‘ya.”

Baby took your hand and bolted upstairs.

“Where’s Otis?”

“Out back, gonna take care of the cops. You stay here.”

She closed the door, I checked the handle. It was locked. I peeked from the window. There was only one cop car. There were two people walking around. I could hear one downstairs flirting with Baby and Mama.

I put my ear to the floor, trying my best to hear.

“We’re out lookin’ for a few people. ——, Britany Carshy, —— Y/N L/N, ——— Candace Dickel—-“

“Well, I’m sorry sir, I haven’t seen any of them. Have we Baby.”

“We don’t get many visitors.. officer.”

I peeked out the window again, I saw the one officer on the ground. Otis looking down at the other. I sat on his bed for a while and eventually heard the officer downstairs scream and fall to the floor. I heard footsteps and the door unlock.

“You in here darlin’?”

“Otis? Is everything okay? Are Mama and Baby okay?”

He stepped into the room.

“Everyone’s okay. Was just a couple of those nosy cops. We took care of ‘em. Are you okay? Did ya’ see anyone get away?”

“No. I’m okay Otis, I heard they were lookin’ for me.”

“Yeah, Mama said they were. We’re gonna keep ya’ close for a while. Alright?”

“Okay Otis.” I went up and hugged him,

“Thank you,”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” I kissed him and squeezed passed him to go check on Mama and Baby.

•Baby Firefly

Baby had lured some new victims into the house. Mama had them stay over for dinner while Otis “fixed their car”

The group had been very judgmental towards Otis and Tiny. The one girl wouldn’t stop flirting with baby, and the one boy seemed to have the hots for Mama.

“So, what’re you kids doin’ the whole way out here?”

The one snotty girl started instantly talking.

“We’re one our way to a wedding and stopped for gas at that Captain Spuaulding guys place. He told us about some creepy ass doctor and Jerry wanted to come check it out.”

“A weddin’? Aren’t those great? We’re waiting for my Baby to marry her significant Y/N.”

“Mama!” Baby laughed playfully, I blushed in response. The snotty girl started to pout.

“Oh.. that’s, uh, unfortunate.”

“What’s unfortunate?” Baby asked,

“Show time!” Grandpa yelled in excitement.

I sat in the audience next to the snotty girl, much to my delight. I watched grandpa do his stand up comedy, greedily anticipating Baby’s performance. When she came out on stage, I was immediately entranced in her and only her. I could feel, although, the girl next to me getting excited too. When Baby started interacting with the audience, the girl got even more excited.

“Why be with a slut like that when you could have me?” Baby stopped performing.

“What?”

“Why be with a slut like that-“

“You better shut the fuck up.”

“Hey- I’m just speaking the truth.”

Baby punched the girl in the eye, she drew back right into the arms of Jerry. Mama came up, I held Baby back.

“You better get out of here.”

“Whatever let’s go.”

The group left.

“Are you okay Baby.”

“Mhm. No one calls you a slut but me!” She grinned.

“This is gonna be fun.” Mama snickered.

•poly Lost Boys

A fight broke out on the board walk and it just so happened to be my fault.

I was walking around, looking for the boys when a surfer came up to me and grabbed my waist.

“Hey baby, where do you think you’re going?”

“Don’t ducking touch me!” I spit as I ripped away from him.

“Hey bitch, no need to get violent!” He shoved me.

“Well then, maybe, don’t touch me!” I shoved back.

He was the one who threw the first punch. As soon as it had started a crowd had formed. Suddenly, I got pulled back.

“Hey- Paul?”

“Are you okay?? That looks pretty bad!” I looked back over. Marko, David, and Dwayne were “taking care” of the guy. No doubt he’d be their meal later.

“Come on, let’s get you something cold for your eye.” Paul dragged me away from the fight and to a stand. He got me a cup of ice.

“Are you okay, doll?” David asked, the boys approaching. Dwayne sat down next to me and took the ice, putting it over my eye.

“I’m fine.”

“What happened?” Marko said, sitting down as well.

“He tried to grab me, so I shoved him.”

“Well, at least it wasn’t over something stupid.”

“Don’t worry, we took care of it.”

• Carrie White

Carrie would be too shy to confront whoever was bothering you straight up, but she would definitely take the time to clean you up if it was a fight, or to make sure that you were okay if you were being bullied.

She’d try to talk with a counselor or someone who’d try and help, she really worries about you. She’d try to talk to her mama, but she probably would tell her not to get involved.

She’d make sure that you knew just how much she loves you

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-Ghoastix

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