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ashwhowrites · 2 years

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Eddie's girl

Plot- the party agreed on 1 thing only, do not let the new girl meet Eddie Munson (fluff)

Master-list

Steve and Robin were talking at the counter about his latest date. Well, Steve was, and Robin was mocking him.

“I'm telling you, she was insane. She poured half the container of salt on her noodles. Who goes to an Indian restaurant and gets buttered noodles? " Steve complained.

Robin rolled her eyes and said, "Jeez, Dingus, you have such real problems in the world." As she checked in, all the tapes were returned.

The pair's eyes rose when a shadow casted over the countertop. There stood the most gorgeous girl they had ever seen. She had her hair styled nicely, a smokey eye look, eyeliner sharp as a knife, and cherry red lips. Her arms were warmed by a leather jacket; a band tee lay underneath, and they guessed jeans would be covering her legs if they could see. Maybe a pair of sneakers to go with the look. She had her fingers decorated with chunky rings and black nails.

Steve felt drool hit the bottom of his chin. This girl looked like someone who knew how to ruin your life, and he wasn't mad about it.

Robin felt a blush creep on her cheeks. This girl looked like she'd ruined Robin's innocence with one touch, and she wasn't mad about it.

Then she spoke, and it sounded like heaven on earth. "Can you tell me where I can find the horror section?" Her voice was soft, in contrast to how she looked. She stood tall and confident.

The pair of them rushed to go around the counter. Robin stomped on Steve's toe to get ahead. She smiled proudly as Steve clenched his foot with a gasp.

"Follow me," Robin stated as she led the gorgeous girl to the section where horror movies were placed.

As Steve was checking her out, well, the movie as well. He spoke up, "So what's your name?" Robin leaned in close to hear the answer.

"Oh, it's Y/N." She answered with a smile. She could sense the pair were in awe of her, so she threw a wink on the way out the door.

"She so wants me." Steve melted into the floor.

"Please, the wink was for me," Robin scoffed.

Steve rolled his eyes, "geez Robin I must have missed the part when she said she was a lesbian. " Robin punched his arm and went on with their work day. Both are thinking about her.

~~~

Dustin was biking to the grocery store to pick up food for the cat. His mom was in some mood about being scared to leave the house, so a trip after school was on his radar.

Eddie offered to take him, but he felt like it would be an inconvenience to make him drive him to the store and then back to the school to get his bike, but he appreciated his offer.

Dustin was walking down aisle 3 when he collided with a body that was coming around the corner. The person dropped everything in their hands.

"I'm so sorry," he quickly apologized as he picked up the bags of popcorn and candy off the floor. He went to give him to the person when he looked up and saw the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, including his ex-girlfriend Suzie.

With a sweet smile, she answered, "No worries, cutie." Dustin smiled, braced teeth and all. He could feel his cheeks turning red and butterflies in his stomach. She looked older and more mature, and he loved it.

He didn't realize he'd been staring until she waved her manicured hand in his face. He snapped out of it. "Oh yeah, sorry again. I'm Dustin. Are you new around here? " He asked. It's a small town, and he felt like he'd seen everyone.

That damn smile came across her face again. With a smirk, she held out her hand, "The name is Y/N and I'm in town for my spring break. I used to live here but moved for college. " He was in awe of how her voice comforted him like a hug. He could smell her sweet perfume as he shook her hand. It was soft and the cold metal of her rings made him shiver. He's a freshman and she's in college. It'd definitely never happen, but you can't blame a guy for having a crush.

~~~~

Lucas was practicing his shooting at the park when he saw a girl walking a dog. He was dribbling the ball with Jason when he caught her eyes. The ball was stolen by Jason, as he was distracted.

"Lucas bro, I stole that way too easily. You got to pay attention. " His words went on deaf ears. Jason looked at him, puzzled, and followed his gaze. And he understood now.

A girl wearing a small tank top, her belly button pierced. Tattoos covered her arms and bracelets lingered on her wrists. She was gorgeous. She was walking closer to them as her dog quickly moved ahead of her.

She got close enough that the pair could see she was generally beautiful. No makeup covered her skin. She was naturally breathtaking. Jason quickly threw the ball near her feet. He pretended it rolled there on its own. He jogged up with an apologetic expression, "Sorry, lost sight of the ball."

The girl looked up at me with a smile and said, "Oh, it's all good. Are you boys on a team or something?" She pointed to their basketball shirts with the team logo on them. Lucas ran over to join the conversation. "Yes, we are. Practicing for the championship game."

Jason quickly grabbed the ball and introduced himself, as well as Lucas. They both learned the girl's name was Y/N and she used to attend their high school when she lived here. Jason technically wasn't single anymore and Lucas had a complicated thing going on with Max, but you couldn't blame a guy for staring.

~~~

It's been two days since everyone was smitten by the girl in their heads. The group was meeting at the video store to wait for Steve and Robin to finish their shift before they headed to Steve's house for movie night.

When Dustin arrived, Robin and Steve seemed to be arguing.

" Steve I'm telling you, she's not interested in you. She was looking at me. " Robin huffed, to which Steve answered with an eye roll.

"Once again, Robin, nothing about her screamed lesbian."

"People don't always look like lesbians, you dingus."

Dustin cut in—"what are you two fighting about today?" He asked as he placed his hat on the counter.

Steve stood tall, "Well, this hot babe was totally checking me out and Robin had the nerve to think she was checking her out. Which she so was not. "

Dustin's eyes lit up as he remembered the beautiful stranger he ran into. “Speaking of hot babes, I ran into this gorgeous girl at the grocery store. She smelled like a flower. " He gushed.

Steve cringed, "Dude, that's weird." Dustin rolled his eyes and huffed.

"What's weird?" Lucas asked as he walked up.

"Dustin, smelling cute girls at the grocery store." Robin answered as she flipped through a magazine .

Lucas laughed and agreed. " I saw this hot chick covered in tattoos walking her dog the other day."

Robin began to wonder how randomly everyone was smitten by a girl. "Wait, all of us met a mysterious girl at the same time?" She asked out loud.

Everyone seemed confused about what she was asking. She rolled her eyes. "Guys, was her name Y/N?" To which everyone answered "yes" at once.

They all looked at one another.” Oh come on. Do you all like her? " Steve pouted.

"Like you had a chance, dude. I hear she's in college, too smart for you, " Dustin teased," to which Steve answered, "and too old for you." Dustin pouted at the truth in it. Lucas laughed, but it was cut off when Robin cut in,

"And you have a girlfriend, so no for you. Which leaves me left”. Lucas rolled his eyes.

All the guys said at the same time, "She's not a lesbian!" Robin held her arms up in surrender. " We don't know for sure." She tried to explain.

Then it all clicked in Steve's head. "Shit." He cussed. The group looked at him confused.

" She can't meet Eddie." He added to their confused stares. Dustin frowned, "Eddie's not a bad guy. Get over it."

Steve shook his head. " That's not what I meant. She is totally his type. The confidence, the tattoos, rings, leather jackets, and band tees. He'd go after her in a second. And with his looks, good hair, and dumb band, he'd so win. " Steve pouted harder as he crossed his arms.

" Agreed. Let's plan to keep her away from Eddie Munson. "

Speak of the devil, and he will appear."Keep who away from me?" He asked as he walked up to the group.

The group went dead silent. Eddie started to get confused as everyone refused to make eye contact with him. He almost felt like he hadn't said anything out loud when Steve spoke up. "Dustin's mom. She'd freak if she met you and wouldn't let you hang with Dustin anymore."

The group quickly agreed with nodding heads. Eddie frowned, "Why, what's wrong with me?" Well, that backfired. Now Steve felt like an ass and Dustin quickly tried to save him.

"Nothing at all. She's a very old-fashioned woman who thinks guys with long hair are no good. " Eddie nodded along, eyes questioning the group silently. He didn't believe a word that was said, but Lucas quickly turned the topic to basketball. And the weird interaction was not brought up again.

Until the same thing happened that night as the group watched their movies. When Eddie excused himself to go to the bathroom, the group was talking in quiet whispers. Laughing, giggling, and slight arguing. He couldn't make out a word they were saying, and by the time he was close enough, they all went silent. He watched them closely. Everyone was pretending not to notice his stare and acting like the movie was the most entertaining thing they'd seen. " What's going on?" Again, silence. "Guys, seriously?" No one spoke up. Eddie was starting to feel very unwelcome in a group he thought were his friends. He was quiet the rest of the night, just as they all had been.

The next day wasn't any better. Eddie was returning a horror film and was hoping to talk to Steve or Robin about what was going on. He spotted Robin, and she smiled at his entrance. He smiled back and handed over the movie .

Robin's smile was slapped off her face when she saw the title. It was the same exact movie Y/N rented a few days ago. She rolled her eyes. Another thing they'd have in common to talk about/

Eddie's big brown eyes didn't miss the smile vanish and eye roll. He felt his heart sting a bit in his chest. What has he done wrong? "Did I do something?" He quickly asked. Robin's head shot up with a quick smile. "Oh no nothing. I just hate this movie." and typed in the return. Her eyes were confused to see that it came up under Y/N's name. She eyed Eddie but kept quiet. The computer must have been glitching. She has not, nor has anyone seen them together. There's no way he'd met her and already had a date.

Eddie didn't quite believe Robin at all, but he let it go. As he headed to the shelves for a new film, he spotted Steve. "Hey Munson, how have you been?" Steve waved with a big smile.

Eddie eyed him suspiciously and said, " I'm fine. But what's up with you? And everyone else? You are all being weird with me."

Steve shot the idea down and said he was just imagining things. But Eddie knew for a fact he didn't imagine Steve looking over Eddie's shoulder, a big grin lighting up his face, then back to Eddie with fear. Eddie went to question him again when Steve grabbed Eddie's hand and dragged him to another aisle.

Steve couldn't let Y/N see he was talking with Eddie. She'd come over to say hi and fall in love with the curly head next to him. So he dragged him into another aisle. "I think these movies are a better fit." He wished he had looked at the aisle first, because they were smack in the middle of the little girls' section. The racks are filled with pink princesses and unicorns. Eddie coughed awkwardly.

"Yeah, little girl movies aren't quite my thing, Harrington." Steve laughed along, a blush on his cheeks. "You're right. Sorry about that. I thought you'd want to try something new. " And once he saw Y/N walk out the door, Steve quickly left the aisle without saying anything. Eddie felt his shoulders slump. There it was again. Leaving him in the dust without saying why.

~~~

Eddie went to the one person who he knew couldn't lie to him, Dustin. He cornered him in the hallway, by his locker. "Alright Dustin, tell me what's up with everyone before I shove your hat up your ass." He threatened

Dustin knew it was an empty threat, but he still shook in fear. A loud fake laugh left his throat, "Eddie, nothing is going on. You're just being silly. " Dustin was sweating underneath his hat. His palms were wet and his heart raced with anxiety. He wasn't good at lying to Eddie. It was like Eddie had these eyes that could see right through you. With another look, Dustin cracked.

“Okay, there's a new girl and she's totally hot. And everyone has a crush on her, and none of us can go after her, except Steve, which sucks. But we didn't want to tell you because you'd so be her type and we didn't want you to start dating her. Because then I'd have this crush on your girlfriend and later it would be weird when you got married and had ki-" Eddie cut off the kids' rambling with a hand to his mouth.

"Slow down. I have no idea who you are talking about, so I definitely won't be getting married next week. and seriously? You guys were so afraid of competition that you all iced me out. That's so stupid. "

Dustin nodded, "It does sound stupid when you say it out loud." Eddie let out a laugh. “I'm sorry. And I know they are too. "

Eddie winked at the apology and said, "I'm so going to use this against Harrington."

~~~

As Steve walked into work the next day, he was racked with anxiety. Robin could sense her friend was under great stress as he paced and stared down the door.

"What's wrong with you now?" She asked as she picked at her nails.

"I'm going to ask her out." Her head snapped up at that. She had a huge disagreement on her tongue when Y/N walked up. A huge smile was sent to the both of them.

Before she could say anything, Steve blurted out, "Would you go on a date with me?"

All three of them went silent. Y/N was caught off guard by the sudden question. Robin was shocked Steve got the words out, and Steve was amazed that it came out in a real sentence.

Before Y/N could speak up, a teasing voice came from behind her. laced with humor and mockery.

"Harrington, what are you doing asking out my girlfriend?" Eddie wrapped his arm around her shoulder with a smirk.

Robin and Steve's jaw dropped. Their heads were filled with questions. Before they could ask, Dustin was running in, "Steve I'm sorry I spilled. I couldn't hold it an-Eddie? Y/N? " He looked at them puzzled, then his eyes grew large as he saw them cuddled close.

"EDDIE ? Y/N? " He screamed. Eddie covered his ears and Y/N laughed. She was very confused about what was going on.

"Um, what's going on?" She spoke up, from underneath her boyfriend's arm.

"Steve was asking you out on a date, honey, and you didn't answer him yet." Eddie knew he sounded like an ass, but this was just too good. Everyone was smitten with his girlfriend, and he didn't blame them. He was hooked on her the second he met her in high school.

"I think we've got the answer, Eddie," Steve said, blushing. He spoke with a sharp tone.

"Wait, so you two are together? Since when? How do you know each other? " Robin asked, she thought Y/N was decently new to town.

"Oh Eddie, we go way back. We met in Hellfire during our sophomore year. We were best friends, then started dating in our junior year. We've been together since. " She smiled at the group. She loved talking about Eddie; it was one of her favorite things to do.

"You made a good impression, babe. You have gotten all my friends to crush on you within seconds of meeting you. " Edie smirked proudly. He finally had something in his life that everyone admired. And he was going to soak it all in.

Y/N blushed. She knew she was a pretty face, but she had no idea that everyone was so infatuated with her. "Wait baby, are these the friends that were making you upset?" She asked as she looked up into his eyes. She noticed his cheeks turning red. She embarrassed him. "Shit, sorry." She mumbled something into his neck as she shoved herself into his chest.

He cuddled her closer, "It's fine and yes, they are. They probably didn't want us to meet because you'd fall for my good looks and guitar skills. And Stevie here didn't want the competition. " Eddie smirked towards Steve, who sent a death glare to Dustin in return.

Y/N giggled at the explanation, "Well, for starters, Steve, you are a very handsome guy." Eddie cut her off with a pout, "Excuse me." She put her finger to his lips in return.

“And I am flattered, but Eddie is it for me and that won't change. And for the rest of you, Eddie adores you, and I wish you hadn't singled him out because of me. I was always scared of leaving him in this town because the people are shitty. But when he'd call me and talk about his favorite kid, Dustin, some chick named Buckley, and his new hellfire boys, I was so happy he had people to take care of him. So please continue to take care of him when I'm gone. "

The group felt even worse for leaving Eddie in the dark. Now knowing how much they meant to him, they all quickly apologized.

"Baby, that is even more embarrassing. We are leaving. " Eddie pouted as he grabbed her arm and led her to the door. She rolled her eyes and pecked his lips, which had turned into a frown. Feeling her lipstick mark on his lips caused him to smile. Eddie was never one for a quick kiss; he dove his tongue straight into her mouth without missing a beat. He heard gags from around him as he dove his hand into the back pocket of her tight jeans.

He pulled away and placed her ahead with his hand on her back as he was going to open the door. The door opened before them, and there stood Billy Hargrove. He checked Y/N up and down, and a smirk landed on his face.

Before he could even get a word out, the group and Eddie, all together, yelled "NO."

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fluff x reader

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rotten7rat · 4 months

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Jason Todd Playlist Analysis

PART 14

Kiss With a Fist by Florence and The Machine

Not the nicest song regarding Jason’s relationship with Bruce and the rest of the family, but very often canon. Kind of an any attention is good attention vibe. Doesn’t necessarily have to be about physical violence, can refer to verbal disputes also. It’s not terribly complex, so this will be pretty short.

You hit me once, I hit you back

You gave a kick, I gave a slap

You smashed a plate over my head

Then I set fire to our bed

They both give as good as they get. The bed refers to their home and time shared together in Jason’s childhood and time as Robin. Jason is dismissive and scathing toward the time, wanting any good memories between them destroyed while they are arguing.

Oh-oh-woah, my black eye casts no shadow

Your red eye sees no blame

Your slaps don't stick, your kicks don't hit

So we remain the same

Despite how unhealthy their relationship is, the arguing and fighting seem to have no long term effects as they still see each other as father and son and cannot bear to part ways.

Break the lock if it don't fit

A kick in the teeth is good for some

A kiss with a fist is better than none

Any relationship they have now has to be forced, but Jason would prefer this to not having Bruce at all, and Bruce feels the same.

#jason todd #red hood #batfamily #dc comics #dc universe #jason todd playlist #Spotify

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wouldntyou-liketoknow · 3 months

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There Are Some Cons to Being an Archeologist. . .

(Disclaimer: two of the characters in this story belong to me. You can find more information about Penn and LeviathanPat here. Illinois belongs to the Markiplier Cinematic Universe.)

The amazing artist @insane4fandoms has drawn my fanegos multiple times now. I wrote this to show my gratitude. (GO FOLLOW THEM AND REBLOG THEIR STUFF OR ELSE YOU FORFEIT YOUR KNEECAPS.)

(Trigger Warnings: descriptions of dark and slightly claustrophobic areas, descriptions of being chased/pursued/stalked, blood, panic/fear, body horror, teeth, eyes, strong language, eating/drinking. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

(If you’d like to use distorted fonts like the one you’ll be seeing in this story, then I recommend going here).

Tap-tap-tap

The sun was still sinking, still casting beautiful streaks of pink, purple, and orange across the clouds, but it wouldn’t be long.

The rock spire’s shadow grew wider and longer with each passing minute.

Outside, the entrance to the cavern yawned open just ten or so feet away.

Penn couldn’t believe he’d thought it was dark earlier.

The shade further inside was bright compared to the monster.

The monster almost didn’t even briefly blend in with that darkness as he paced by the cave’s mouth for the hundredth time now.

Whatever excuse the monster had for skin wasn’t just pitch-black. Oh sure, it glistened like tar one second, then sprouted veins that throbbed like a diseased organ would against blood-clots the next, and then appeared raw like leathery scales or a rough carapace the next, and, and, and. . .

But that was just it.

The grotesque way it kept shifting and stretching—the constant changes were only ripples against the pitch blackness it was made of.

It wasn’t like mere shadows or clouds of smoke or puddles of ink.

The monster was a moving, breathing, sentient void.

He was nothing.

He was a nothing that was somehow bigger than anything because it kept all sorts of horrible things trapped inside it.

Tap-tap-tap

Throughout his career, Pennsylvania James had come across several opportunities to invoke a phrase that managed to be so simple and so acidic at the same time: “I told you so.”

To his credit, he’d only taken said opportunities once or twice. Most of them had come up via honest mistakes not worth starting a fight over.

In this scenario, however, that infamous quip would absolutely be justified.

The red jeep he was currently sitting in belonged to none other than Illinois Jenkins. It’d also belonged to several other parties before aforementioned treasure-hunter had purchased it.

In a way, that kind of made sense. If you made your living looking for relics, then why not drive something that could probably classify as a relic itself?

Penn understood that the market for cars was a complete and total trash-fire, as well as how the concept of sentimental value worked in mysterious ways. Really, he did!

But no amount of understanding would make this thing work when he and Illinois really needed it to work.

Tap-tap-tap

Like a few minutes ago, for instance, when the engine had only offered a weird sputtering noise after Illinois had twisted his key around in the ignition a few dozen times in the span of half a microsecond.

. . .At least, the more logical parts of Penn’s brain were sure that only a few minutes had passed. The less logical parts insisted that it’d been a good couple hours since he and Illinois had bolted out of the cave’s entrance and into the jeep for shelter.

Oh, yes. There was no way in neither heaven nor hell that Penn could be blamed for telling Illinois that he’d told him so about this damn jeep.

But he couldn’t do that right now.

Tap-tap-tap

Right now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak again for the next day or two.

Right now, the only sounds in the air were heavy, raspy panting courtesy of himself and his friend.

He felt his heart bashing against his sternum over and over and over; each beat was legitimately painful. His pulse thundered in his ears as the blood rushed throughout his head. Though, if he listened closely enough, he was sure he could hear Illinois’ own heart on the brink of explosion in his chest.

Tap-tap-tap

. . .As well as that godforesaken tapping.

The sound was so light, so quick, so obviously produced by the jeep’s windows.

And yet Penn’s instincts swore up and down that his skull was being struck for that little rhythm.

It seemed Illinois was under the same illusion, if the way he ground his jaw was anything to go by.

The monster sidled up to the jeep again, placing one hand (or paw, or clutch of talons, or tentacle, or what-the-hell-ever) on the hood while another appendage stretched to rest somewhere on the roof.

More arms spilled out from his heaving sides, being planted against the ground as he steadied himself and leaned forward, craning his neck toward the windshield.

His eyes. . .God, somehow they were the very worst part of him. They glowed with a sickly light; not at all like the sun or the moon or even the stars. No, they looked like someone had taken a flickering ember from the bottom of a firepit, and then wrapped strips of pale, decaying flesh around it.

Penn tried to lean even further back against the leather seat. His spine could feel the monster’s malevolent gaze, and it wanted to crawl out of his skin and find a better hiding place. But it couldn’t, due to both Penn’s attempts to keep it where it belonged as well as the fact that no living thing could ever hide from those eyes no matter what it did.

Penn watched as a dark, slick, shaking claw reached around the side of the windshield, being pushed toward the passenger window.

Tap-tap-tap

___

Nomad’s Nook.

That was what the glowing, candy-red sign on this building’s roof spelled out to greet passersby. It sort of made the hotel a centerpiece, as this town was made specifically for drifters and the like, full of tidy little convenience stores and gas stations.

Desert areas had their charms, but they hardly ever felt like the right place to make a home. Unless, of course, you were a fennec fox, or a gila monster, or a rattlesnake. But even then, you could only survive in an environment like this if you had a shady place to rest.

Such as a tunnel boring through the base of one of those towering rock spires that had formed an odd million years ago.

A tunnel that just might lead to an underground cave. . .or maybe two. . .or three. . .

Then again, places like that could also be on your radar if you just so happened to be named after one of the fifty States.

“So, care to wager?”

“Hmm?” Penn raised an eyebrow, still working on a bite of the takeout ravioli his companion had slaved over a hot cellphone for. By the time they’d parked the jeep outside and trudged into the lobby downstairs, it’d been about two hours since sunset; any meal was long overdue. “On what?”

Illinois, who sat on another bed across the room from the one Penn had claimed, looked up from his own supper (grilled chicken margherita) with a smug grin, dark brown eyes glinting under the rim of his Akubra hat.

“Chuck’s Hole,” he clarified. “Up until now, we’ve only been guesstimating. We still can’t be sure just how far its depths really go. It could have all kinds of things in store for us. . .”

Penn doubled over as the need to take a deep breath collided with the mouthful of food he’d just barely swallowed.

“Thanks—a lot,” he hacked, trying to give Illinois a death-glare. Due to the giggles that leaked out, though, this effort wasn’t very successful.

Illinois tried to shrug it off, all cool and casual, only to wrench his eyes shut as he too fell victim to a violent bout of snickers.

This wasn’t the cavern’s official title. . .not yet, at least, but it had a good chance of sticking. A title like that was too stupid and too funny to forget any time soon.

The idea stemmed from another one of Penn and Illinois’ projects. The former had discovered a documentary relating to the very specimens he’d been after, and the latter had agreed to watch it with him.

Well, at some point, the narrator (who absolutely deserved a raise, what with the intensity and drama of his voice) had been describing the body structure of some carnivorous theropod. Particularly its skull and jaws.

The instant subtitles, in their notorious janky nature, had interpreted the quote, “—designed for ripping its prey apart and swallowing chunks whole—” as “—designed for ripping its pray a part and swallowing Chuck’s hole.”

Chuck’s hole.

Chuck’s.

Hole.

. . .Damn.

It was a wonder Penn hadn’t caved in the spacebar on his laptop’s keyboard when he’d paused the video, rendering those words temporarily frozen in brackets at the bottom-left corner of the screen. His free hand had curled into a fist, which he repeatedly slammed against the desk like it owed him money, cackling like a deranged gremlin all the while.

Illinois had slumped in his chair, raising his hands to knead at his forehead, becoming so wracked with belly-laughs that he ended up choking on a combination of air and his own spit. And after the two of them had calmed down enough to speak coherently again, he’d vowed to one day name a new subterranean area he found in honor of this beautiful moment of idiocy.

Despite how he insisted on “working best alone,” it wasn’t uncommon for Illinois to call up Penn and invite him to join the odd adventure. Likewise, though he was typically a bit more hesitant, it wasn’t uncommon for Penn to take those invitations. (The team he usually worked with needed breaks, after all.)

This current project was more of a coincidence. No-one had explored it yet, and rumors about it had reached both of them around the same time.

Penn leaned back against the too-firm pillows, subconsciously catching his fair skin, chocolate-colored hair and matching eyes in the blank screen of the television at the front of the room. “There were only so many burrowing dinosaurs back then. And caves usually only have trace fossils in their walls, but that depends on the environment. In a place like this. . .”

He paused, drumming his fingers on the thin blanket whose corners had been tucked under the mattress tighter than a pageant star’s girdle. “. . .There’s a good chance of finding nocturnal remains. Y’know, bats and the like.”

“Sure, but that can’t just be it,” Illinois replied. “C’mon, think a little bigger!”

Penn tilted his head to the side, reaching over to pluck his deep red neckerchief from the nightstand. He began weaving it about his fingers as he thought. “I guess I can’t rule out the possibility of hyenas, wolves, or bears. Maybe even the odd hominin or two, but I’d have to be really lucky for that.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got me,” Illinois declared, smirking as he took off his hat to smooth back the raven hair that almost tickled his shoulders.

Penn rolled his eyes, half fond and half exasperated. “Right, right. The guy who gets chased by boulders every time he steps outside is just the pinnacle of luck.”

Illinois scoffed. “Oh, please. The boulders are small potatoes compared to animal-rooted curses. Have you ever seen a beaver with green smoke pouring out of its eyes? Awful stuff, man. Awful. Stuff.”

The adventurer paused, shuddering as a distant, unreadable look manifested in his eyes. “Last time I bumped into one, I spent a week with the feeling of splinters all over my tongue. Don’t even get me started on how orange my teeth turned!”

“. . .I’m not sure why you’d put orange teeth in a worse spot on the tier list than invisible splinters in your mouth,” Penn deadpanned.

“You weren’t there to see it! My dentist wouldn’t stop trying to convince me that I’d either been eating Play Doh or doing all sorts of drugs!” Illinois argued, shaking his head, eyebrows arched so severely they could’ve left dents in the ceiling. “And that was just what I got from a scratch. The stupid overgrown-water-hamster hadn’t even bitten me.”

With all the trivia he gathered on instinct, Penn knew that somewhere out in the world, there existed an obituary that could easily be summarized as Death By Beaver. And, assuming the guilty rodent in question was a normal, non-cursed one, an event like that being reality was already weird enough.

“It could’ve been worse,” Penn mused. “Imagine getting attacked by a cursed koala. If that’s not a bad omen from the universe, then I don’t know what is.”

Illinois grimaced, no doubt recalling the time he’d unwillingly learned that koalas A. could somehow throw temper-tantrums that rivaled those of crocodiles, and B. carried strands of chlamydia around like those stupid designer purses. “Fair point, though I doubt any curse would give a koala more braincells to work with.”

Penn snorted. “Exactly.”

On one hand, Penn could be a bit of a skeptic. Not always, since you couldn’t put strange, vast skeletons together without being imaginative. But as a young boy, he’d lost count of all the times he’d been laughed at for collecting rocks simply because they were shinier or more colorful than average.

On the other hand, one of his and Illinois’ earlier co-op trips had seen them stopping by a Walmart for supplies and then getting chased out ten minutes later by a rogue boulder that had apparently manifested somewhere in the candy aisle because why the hell not?

Certain parts of his mind hadn’t known peace since then, but other parts were now more open than they were before. So, Penn supposed that could count as a balance.

Illinois paused, eyes to widening and twinkling. “Oh! And speaking of omens, hang on a second—”

He placed his to-go box to the side before reaching over to the bedpost. There hung a satchel, the same one he claimed to have inherited from his mother and always took on his escapades. He rummaged through it, eliciting a chorus of sounds that suggested it was packed with many, many more things than it should’ve been capable of holding.

After an awkwardly long moment, the silence was broken by a short cry of victory. Illinois got to his feet, crossing the room and extending his arm to show off the package that was now taking up space in one hand. “I got something for you. Fresh from the other side of the world.”

Penn felt his lips quirk as he carefully took said package. It was a bundle of brown paper, complete with a long string of twine that had been tied into a bow at the top. Whatever was inside could only be about as long as his hand, but it had a definite heft to it.

Penn placed it on his lap as he fished through his pockets, bringing out a small folding knife to cut the cords. The paper yielded quite easily, shuffling and crackling and spreading like the petals of a dried-out flower as he unfolded it.

There, in the middle of those layers, sat the gift.

It was cold against his palms. It felt a little rough too, despite the paint (which was the grayish-purplish color of a bruise) that covered it. Hardened clay, Penn guessed.

It resembled an animalistic head, though Penn wasn’t sure what animal the artist had taken inspiration from. An oblong shape like the snout of a dog, or maybe a lizard; if he was honest, it seemed like someone had tried to sculpt a velociraptor’s skull strictly from memory. Whatever the case, its snout split open into a leering maw full of sharp, crooked teeth. And just above those teeth. . .eyes.

Eight eyes, to be specific, organized in a line of four on either side of the face. They’d each been painted an unpleasant shade of yellow, each adorned by a wide, black pupil. Penn squinted, realizing that those pupils were holes. Just hollow pits boring further inside the head.

There were two more holes in the bottom half, right under the thing’s lower jaw. A small spire jutted out from the base, adorned by a tiny rectangular chasm. Like the mouthpiece you could expect to find on any wind-instrument.

“. . .An ocarina?” Penn finally asked, glancing back at Illinois.

Illinois tutted, shaking his head. "Penn, buddy, c'mon. After all the crazy shit you've seen me handle, you really think I'd give you just any old ocarina?"

“I mean, that's sort of what this looks like. Big emphasis on the ‘sort of,’ though, I'll give you that," Penn quipped, a hesitant laugh following his words. It felt like the thing’s eyes were watching him. They couldn’t be, though. They were hollow, they were made of clay. This thing was not alive.

Penn didn’t like how he had to remind himself of that.

“It’s a Chimera Pipe,” Illinois continued with a ghostly edge to his voice. “Whenever you play it, the music is supposed to ward off evil spirits. What do you think?”

“Interesting. Pretty damn interesting.” Despite the cold, clammy feeling creeping around his stomach, Penn couldn’t help but smile. “Y’know, I was gonna say I’ve never seen anything like this, but it reminds of that little doll you got a few years ago.”

“‘Little doll,’” Illinois echoed, incredulous. “I think you mean my Warden.”

“Right, sorry.” Penn raised a teasing eyebrow in return, then glanced back down at the Chimera Pipe. “Really, though, doesn’t this thing give off the same vibe as that?”

“It’d better give off the same vibe; it was made by the same person.” Illinois reached into one of his breast pockets to produce the object in question. “I honestly can’t believe I managed to bump into them again. I mean, of course they’d recognize me, of all people—”

Illinois’ shoulders popped up in a cocky little shrug as his free hand hovered over his heart. Penn clicked his tongue at that.

As Illinois held the Warden up, allowing it to catch the light, a lump manifested in Penn’s throat. His companion had a point: doll wasn’t the most accurate term for it. It had been carved from wood, yes, but that was where the similarities ended.

Small, oily black feathers and strands of hair (actual human hair, mind you) had been wrapped around its torso in a tight bundle. Six jagged, spidery twig-arms jutted out from said bundle, bent in ways that suggested the totem was both trying to free itself and claw at anything that got near it.

Its head almost resembled the skull of a tiny monkey. . .almost. About ten eyes had been painted all over it. Or, Penn assumed eyes had been painted there. It was hard to tell, what with the plethora of steel nails that had been driven into it from every which way. A decent chunk had been carved from it, leaving the entire lower half to serve as a gaping, disfigured mouth filled with needle-teeth.

Thick strings had been twisted around its torso, coming to a knot around its neck, which in turn spilled out into a wide loop. Apparently the maker had explained that its protective powers would be most efficient when it was worn as a necklace, but it would still work nicely when hung from a bedpost, or a rack on the wall. . .or a doorknob.

(Illinois went for the last option, since he couldn’t resist using that to make jokes about not needing to put a tie or sock on the knob anymore.)

Penn rested his fingertips over the pipe's eye-holes and his thumbs over the jaw-holes. He pushed the mouthpiece toward his face, only to flich back, wrinkling his nose. “Oh—oh, geez.”

“What the matter?” Illinois asked, tilting his head and taking a few steps closer.

“Nothing, it just. . .smells funny. Strong,” Penn answered. He’d already expected a distinct, earthy scent from the clay. And while it was there, it was overpowered by something else. Something that had a bite to it, like vinegar or cigarettes.

Illinois scratched at the hair growing along his jaw. “That must be the paint. I was told all sorts of spices and herbs had to be mixed into it for it to work. Kind of like the stuff people use to cure animal hides, y’know?”

Penn hummed, offering a shrug. He could see the logic of that.

Illinois then gestured to the pipe, silently prompting him to resume.

Penn nodded, raising the pipe back up until the mouthpiece was less than an inch from his lips. Then, he took a deep breath, held it in his chest for a second, and blew it out.

The ensuing noise was. . .unique.

It was a mixture of guttural and keening, shifting through a good few notes as Penn tapped his fingers against the eye-holes, trying to find a rhythm. It certainly didn’t sound like any music he’d heard before, but it wasn’t a person’s voice or an animal’s cry. So, music was the only thing it could really be called.

After a moment, he decided to stop playing and pulled the pipe away from his face. Illinois gave a brief, soft applause.

“I can’t see any evil spirits in here. Can you?” Illinois asked, making a show of glancing around the hotel room.

Penn shook his head, turning the pipe over in his hands. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Great! It must be working, then. . .well, unless the Warden is just doing all the heavy-lifting.” Illinois grinned, spinning the creepy little doll-thing between his fingers.

“WOW.” Penn raised an eyebrow, grinning right back as he placed a hand on his hip. “Are you putting my playing skills to shame?”

Illinois squinted and pursed his lips, holding one hand flat in the air and turning it to and fro in that classic Maybe-Kinda-Sorta gesture.

Penn scoffed as he set the Chimera Pipe on the nightstand next to his own hat (another, older gift from Illinois), still tracing its eye-holes with his fingers. “. . .Thanks for thinking of me, Illi. This’ll really stand out in my collection.”

Illinois nodded as he strode back to his own bed and flopped onto the mattress. “No problem, Penn.”

___

Spelunking definitely wasn’t a hobby for everyone.

There was a reason storytellers often used “Rocks fall, everyone dies” as a catchall conclusion in a pinch. Even in the safer scenarios, caves were still cold, dark, enclosed.

When stalagmites and stalactites alike (try saying that five times fast) protruded from the floors and ceilings, it wouldn’t take a paranoid imagination to see how those things resembled rows of irregular, snarling fangs.

That, in turn, led to the cave looking like the maw of a beast, which would obviously make the tunnels comparable to said beast’s throat. All in all, the correlation between caverns and monsters wasn’t that much of a joke.

But archeology buffs weren’t everyone.

Penn and Illinois trekked side-by-side, led only by the glow of flashlights, their footsteps reverberating as they descended further and further into the behemoth’s belly. The sunlight trickling in through the craggy entrance of Chuck’s Hole had faded away with the distance.

Most cave systems consisted of one long, uneven tunnel that simply wound deeper and deeper into the earth until inevitably hitting a dead end. (A literal and figurative rock bottom, if you would.) Sometimes there could be thinner passages as well, branching off the main one and offering a much shorter path to a much smaller chamber.

It reminded Penn of the ant farm he’d cared for back when his undertakings had been limited to the neighborhood playground.

Chuck’s Hole was no different.

Penn paused, lowering his flashlight as he leaned against the wall.

A hollow phantom pain crawled up and down his left leg. As though the ache was leaking through the huge, jagged bitemark that marred the skin of his thigh. It’d healed and scarred over quite a while ago—and the limp Penn now walked with wasn’t too noticeable—but that didn’t stop it from stinging like hell at times.

It took a few seconds before Illinois glanced over his shoulder and stopped as well. He opened his mouth, only to immediately shut it with a little snap. He chewed his lip, making a clear effort to not stare at Penn’s leg as though he could see the scar through his pants. The guilt that trickled into his dark eyes, however, he hadn’t moved fast enough to hide.

Penn shook his head and rolled his shoulders. “I’m fine, I’m fine. We can keep going.” He took a bottle from one of the compartments in his canvas rucksack, lifting it up and taking a few gulps. The icy water felt good. “You said you had a feeling there’d be more for us to see, right?”

Illinois nodded, smiling once more. “Right.”

With that, the duo continued on, soon discovering a fork in the main tunnel just a few feet ahead. That was where Illinois suddenly halted yet again, leaning around the curve of the craggy wall to peek at the secondary pathway. He let out a low whistle, then disappeared around the corner.

The hidden scar burned as Penn quickened his pace, but that was easily pushed aside once he entered this new chamber.

“Say ‘Cheese!’” Illinois called before a bright flash illuminated everything within five feet of him. Penn flinched, squawking as one hand flew up just a millisecond too late to shield his face.

Illinois guffawed. “Ah, that’ll be a good one for the corkboards!”

After a second or two of scrubbing at his eyes, Penn shook his head and sighed, offering a disappointed glare that could make dads all over the world green with envy. “I should’ve known you were gonna pull something like that.”

“Yes, you should’ve,” Illinois agreed, smirking as he turned away to take some more pictures, this time of the things they were actually down here to study.

Though he tried hard not to, Penn ended up snickering to himself. “Did you at least get my good side?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Illinois answered with a shrug as he slipped his camera back into his satchel.

The lower-half of the chamber could be compared to an ammonite shell: it twisted in on itself and offered three ledges, each one trailing off into the next and going slightly deeper.

As Penn approached his companion, he noticed how the sides of each ledge were different from the main tunnel. They resembled the work of a tattoo artist who was, to the great misfortune of his paying canvas, whacked out on three different cocktails that had been served with more than just salt on the rims of the glasses.

At first his heart jumped, assuming he and Illinois had stumbled upon a few dozen crinoids. That spark died a quick death as he looked closer, though his interest was still piqued. Every inch of the rock in here was scored, covered in twisting lines and shapes that couldn’t be naturally-formed layers or cracks. They’d been carved with crude instruments, and quite hastily at that.

“What do you make of these?” Penn asked, squinting and having to keep turning his head. All of the carvings seemed to work together to create a larger picture, but it was so hard to fit them all in his eyes at once.

Illinois pursed his lips, a mixture of curiosity and adrenaline flickering on his face. “They’re not like a lot of the hieroglyphics I’ve seen. I think can make out a few similarities, but not enough to actually translate anything. I’ll have to check my journals for a comparison later.”

He’d already strolled to the third ledge, which trailed off around a pit in the bottom. “I was just about to ask if you had any ideas about this.”

As Penn followed and looked down, he felt his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

It looked like a circle had been hollowed out of the rock, about as wide as both his and Illinois’ wingspans lined up together, and then filled with. . .something.

Whatever it was, it must have been viscous before it was left to harden God-knows-how-many-years-ago. A few hundred filaments and frozen bubbles gleamed from under the surface against the bright artificial glow of his flashlight.

There was no way to truly tell, but the hole must have been pretty damn deep, as the substance was flat as a window.

Illinois knelt down and reached over to carefully tap at the edge of the petrified mass, eliciting a dull tik-tik. He then dragged his nail across it, tilting his head as he saw how no scratch mark was left behind. “Amber, maybe?”

Penn shook his head. “I think agate would be a closer option. Like sardonyx or Mexican Fire.” He paced around the pit, keeping his torch’s beam trained on it. “I’ve seen plenty of amber samples come in different colors, but none of them had any patterns like this.”

Sure enough, an assortment of long, winding shapes could be seen further within the substance. They were a dark shade of gray, reminding Penn of tree branches, or roots. . .or veins.

Except they were all bent and contorted, tangling rather than smoothly flowing together. As though the bottom of the pit had been some kind of burial mound, and a bunch of pale, malnourished limbs with WAY too many joints for comfort had been writhing through the soil just as this stuff was poured in.

Illinois hummed as he stood back up and wandered closer, now following Penn’s gaze. “Sort of reminds me of horn coral. Y’know, like charlevoix?”

Penn offered a shrug. “I guess so. Or something along the lines of opalized septarian? I mean, that’s the closest thing I can think of in terms of the pattern, but the colors seem completely off.”

It never failed to fascinate him just how pretty rocks could be, depending on how and where they formed.

The mass in the pit was not an example. Not by a long-shot.

As he kept examining, Penn saw shades of white and red and orangish-brown. While he’d seen those types of colors mix very well together in other things, the mixture here just looked. . .wrong.

In fact, the longer he stared at it, the more its colors appeared almost fleshy.

And, following that comparison, the gray of those vein-like bands were like fungal threads growing on a carcass.

Penn grimaced at the thought. He then slid his rucksack down one arm and onto the craggy floor. He got to his knees and fished around inside it, now holding his flashlight between his teeth as he produced a hammer and chisel. They shone in the dim light, having been cleaned and sharpened for what was probably the thousandth time not too long ago.

He leaned over the petrified mass, pressing the chisel’s flat edge flush against it and lining up the hammer’s face.

He started with a few cautious taps. The substance didn’t feel like concrete, of course, but it still seemed just as firm.

Penn tightened his grip, then wound back and gave a much stronger strike. The chisel’s blade dug in a couple inches deeper.

Penn kept at it, readjusting his tools every few seconds as he carved a piece, feeling an odd type of comfort as the percussion reverberated through the bones of his fingers and wrists.

A smile flickered on his face as a palm-fitting chunk finally broke off from the rest of the mass. As he laid his instruments off to the side and took aforementioned chunk into his hands, however, that smile died a slow death.

The substance was dry. You could tell just by looking that it was very, very dry.

True, the inside of this cavern was much cooler than the outside, but it was still smack-dab in the middle of a desert. True, Penn and Illinois were underground right now, but they still had yet to find any water deposits in here.

And yet it. . .it felt moist and sticky against his skin.

It slipped out of Penn’s grasp, giving a very anticlimactic thunk as it fell to the ground. There was no residue, no filmy strings, no evidence of any sort of liquid on his fingers.

Confused, Penn reached down and picked it back up. That same, sickly-wet feeling came with it, once again not leaving a single hint that the sample was anything other than dry as a bone.

Although, if he really thought about it, that term only applied to old bones.

A freshly-removed bone, on the other hand, would be quite slick with blood. . .

As he side-eyed the rest of the mass, a sharp, ugly sensation manifested inside him. Like he’d swallowed a spool of jagged, oily wire that was now unraveling in his stomach. He felt his free hand curl into a fist at his side. He didn’t want to look at the mass anymore, but he just couldn’t seem to turn his head away.

The colors. . .those awful, fleshy-looking colors. . .were they vibrating?

No.

No, no, nononono, they couldn’t be.

They couldn’t be, and they weren’t.

Penn made sure of that via grinding his jaw and blinking furiously.

H i t i t a g a i n , whispered something he couldn’t hear.

It almost felt like one of his thoughts. But it wasn't. Whatever it was, it had NEVER been in his head before and therefore had no right to be in there now.

That sensation was now in his skull, fluttering along his temples like the beginning flares of a migraine. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Goosebumps sprouted along his arms. Something in his brain screamed at him to hold his breath, and he listened to it without even thinking.

Still looking at the mass, still clutching the sample he’d taken. . .still feeling what his instincts now recognized as the impatient stare of an apex predator.

From out of nowhere, weight came down on his shoulder. At the same time, his hat was titled upward to make way for something rough and uneven that was suddenly being pressed against his forehead.

Penn startled, a small scream tearing its way up his throat only to die halfway through his mouth as Illinois appeared before him.

“Whoa, hey! Take it easy!” Illinois almost recoiled in turn, but held steady.

“What are you doing?!” Penn squawked, trying to edge away.

“I’m trying to help you!” Illinois barked. One hand remained on Penn’s shoulder while the other refused to leave any room for Jesus between Penn’s brow and a small, blurry object.

In a flash, Penn was back on his feet, reeling away until his shoulder collided with one of the walls. Illinois approached, hovering before his companion, holding the Warden in empty air.

The two of them engaged in a very uncomfortable staring contest for about ten seconds. Even with all its little nail-stab-wound-eyes, the Warden was really the only winner.

“You’re not okay,” Illinois announced. His eyes made it clear that he knew it would’ve been pointless to ask otherwise. “You felt strange while taking that sample, didn’t you? Your head was hurting, right?”

Penn offered a shaky nod before trying to ask, “How did—why were you—?”

Illinois let out a deep breath, nodding back. “This thing was made to be a guard dog. But that doesn’t mean it can’t help with the more, ah, internalized bad juju.” He raised the Warden for emphasis. “I kinda felt it, too. Sudden pain isn’t too uncommon in shrines like this.”

“Yeah, well, your experiences aren’t universal,” Penn snarked, cringing at how dry his mouth suddenly felt. The naturally-formed tombs of ancient animals were one thing, but actual shrines were another.

Illinois glanced down, fidgeting with the Warden’s cord before lifting it over his hat, letting it drape along his neck, the creepy totem now resting over his heart.

As Penn watched, he felt himself reach into one of the lower pockets of his hiking vest. His fingers brushed against dry paint, feeling the Chimera Pipe's clay teeth and hollow eye-holes. He’d been worried about the possibility of it getting stolen while he and Illinois were away from the hotel room.

That was the main reason he’d brought it along.

Had anything else compelled him to. . ?

Illinois rolled his shoulders, briskly shaking his head. “Alright, c’mon. We need to steer clear of this particular chamber. For a little while, at least.” He turned and started walking back up the ledges, beckoning for Penn to follow.

Though Penn didn’t reply, he was quick to gather up his things, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder and marching along. He didn't dare look back at the sample he'd just carved, very pointedly leaving it behind.

Pieces of that oily feeling were still in his head, much more muffled than before. That wasn’t much of an improvement, since they also felt angrier, more desperate than before. Penn shivered badly, his eyes watering without warning, which led to him tripping over his own feet.

Illinois caught him before he could taste the craggy floor. The adventurer’s features contorted with worry as he helped the paleontologist regain his balance. Penn guessed that his eyes were significantly more bloodshot than they had been a few minutes ago, judging by how Illinois sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as he peered at them.

“. . .Or maybe should we just head to the jeep,” Illinois coughed, keeping a hand on the small of Penn’s back as the two of them drew closer to the chamber’s entrance. “Get some sunshine, take a longer break, weigh our options before we come baaAAAAAAUUUGH!”

How had neither of them noticed the ground beginning to tremble?

Penn barely had time to register the scream before Illinois barreled to the side, half-shoving-half-dragging him along. He let out a shocked shriek of his own, which wasted no time bouncing off the chamber walls as the duo landed in a heap in the corner of the first ledge.

What felt like a Category 4 earthquake rammed into the chamber’s opening, accentuated by a thunderous cacophony of grinding gravel. The stone walls shook, causing centuries-old dust to rain from the ceiling.

Both Penn and Illinois cried out again, ducking and covering, grabbing onto one another for dear life.

For a brief, horrible moment, the world was nothing but noise.

Nothing but BOOMING and CRASHING. . .

Until the very last second, when the unmistakable chorus of splintering, then cracking, and then full-on shattering drowned out anything else. It almost sounded like glass, but it just didn’t quite make the mark. Whatever was breaking was obviously much thicker than glass, much more ancient than glass. . .

Penn knew what that was. He knew without having to see, without even having to know.

And then. . .well, it would be wrong to say that a heavy silence settled over everything. The sound of hitching, ragged gasps for air almost seemed deafening.

“. . .I-is anything broken? Or bleeding?” Penn finally blurted, opening one eye a few seconds before the other. His companion looked like he’d been involved in either a classic baking fiasco or a freak accident in a cocaine lab. Even with a significant lack of mirrors down here, Penn could tell he was in the same boat. “There’s only a few scrapes on my arms.”

Illinois opened his mouth to reply, only to launch himself into a coughing fit as the tiny particles were sucked in. He shook his head and offered a thumbs-up. “Same here.”

His nerves were obviously still on fire, but the day he wasn’t a do-er was the the day he wasn’t Illinois. He gritted his teeth, brushing the dust off his face before craning his neck to survey whatever the hell had just happened.

The answer was. . .interesting, as an odd mix of triumph and aggravation swept over the adventurer’s features. He was back on his feet in a flash, readjusting his hat as he rushed away from the impromptu fallout shelter. “YyyyyyOU SON OF A BITCH! I THOUGHT WE’D SETTLED THIS THE LAST TIME!”

Give him his due, Illinois seemed to sense the way Penn winced, as he paused his tirade to glance over his shoulder and wave a hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not talking about you.”

That statement seemed to kickstart something, as Penn was suddenly up and following on shakey legs before he even felt himself moving. “What is it?! What is it?!”

Illinois scoffed, pointing an accusatory finger at the bottom of the chamber, at the petrified mass. . .or, what was left of it.

At least a couple hundred shards had been broken off and sent flying onto the higher ledges, courtesy of a large boulder that had crashed into the pit. Despite not struggling the way an animal would, it was clearly stuck, lodged in halfway.

Penn heaved a long-suffering sigh. He wasn’t sure if this topped the Walmart Disaster or not; even if the boulder really did have a mind of its own, at least it was in a place it actually had a modicum of business being in right now.

“How many times do I have tO TEACH YOU THIS LESSON?” Illinois demanded, stooping down to snatch up a much smaller, more primitive cousin to his adversary and hurl it. The rock hit the boulder with a loud plunk before tumbling back down to the ground.

“Knock it off, Illi,” Penn started, giving his friend a dig in the arm. “I’d say yelling won’t do anything, but in your case, yelling is only gonna make it mad.”

“Oh, please. Like it isn’t already mad!” Illinois contended. He kept his eyes glued to his craggy nemesis. “It’s because you didn’t catch me all those years ago, isn’t it? That’s your own damn fault! Losing a race to something eight times smaller and a few hundred weightclassses lighter says more about YOU than it does about your target!”

Penn narrowed his eyes, weighing the pros and cons that would come with reaching over to knock Illinois’ hat off. He’d just barely raised a hand when his gaze wandered back over to the boulder. . .to the cracks it’d left in the petrified mass. . .and he found himself frozen once more.

“Illinois, wait—” he whispered. He started shivering, and not just from the cold lumps materializing in his throat.

The explorer in question interrupted. “I wasn’t even taking that one idol; I was literally just trying to put it back! What the hell would a boulder want with an idol anyway?!”

“Illinois, stop, listen—!” Penn tried again, shaking his companion’s shoulder.

Illinois cut him off yet again. “Why don’t you just sprout legs already, huh?! I’ve met rhinos who had better aim than you! And at least rhinos have bad eyesight as an excuse! You don’t even HAVE eyes, and yet you STILL try to single me out every damn year!”

“ILLINOIS!” Penn snapped, his voice shooting through several octaves as he grabbed the other man by the arm and forced him to take a few steps back.

The monologue came to an abrupt halt. Illinois swiveled his head to meet Penn’s eyes.

“What?” He asked with just a hint of attitude, looking perfectly casual for someone who had just been shouting obscenities at a boulder.

Penn gritted his teeth, his frustration giving way to fear as he frantically motioned toward the boulder. Or, to be more precise, what was happening underneath the boulder. What was happening to the remains of the mass in the pit. . .

Illinois looked back, squinting, incredulousness wafting off him in waves for about three seconds. By the fourth second, all the color drained right out of his face.

There was something on the other side of the mass. Something that was now pooling up through the new cracks with a chorus of soft, sickening sighs.

Penn remembered watching videos of octopi using their boneless nature to their advantage, squeezing through the thinnest, tiniest, most unbelievable spaces to escape their enclosures. As stomach-churning as it’d been to watch, it’d managed to also be just as funny and fascinating.

There was only one way to see what was happening right now as funny or fascinating, and that was to simply not be human. Actually, scratch that, it involved not being anything that could be found among the natural order, or among sane, innocent minds.

A large clot of dark, viscous tendrils clung to the boulder, slithering along to the top of it, visibly straining as more and more and more came oozing out. What was left of the petrified mass creaked and groaned and splintered, now swelling like either an egg on the brink of hatching or a pimple on the brink of popping. The pieces that hadn’t flown off were now being pushed up by the rising horror.

It almost seemed to move like a liquid; this wasn’t tar, oil, or even the unimpressive sludge you could find anywhere just by digging deep enough to reach the moist, cold, protected bowels of soil. Magma mixed with gallons of blood was the closest guess, but that still wound up being wrong.

This was flesh.

Blistering, boiling, contorting flesh like some awful hybrid of spider and slug that seemed to take any and all light and swallow it up.

A type of flesh that wasn’t supposed to exist.

In under a minute, enough of it had oozed out to create a mound that nearly touched the chamber’s ceiling. It kept writhing in place, but with purpose now. At least six coiling limbs sprouted from its sides, the ends of each splitting into a clutch of dripping claws.

“. . .¥ê§. . .”

The voice was like a swarm of cicadas, shifting through several pitches at once. A masculine edge seemed present somewhere within it—hell, there even seemed to be a hint of Midwestern accent, for some ungodly reason.

Holes of various shapes and sizes tore themselves open everywhere, screaming and soon gnashing as sets of shark-like teeth came blooming around them. Just as many, if not even more, eyes followed suite, bubbling through the skin, each blinking erratically and shifting through all sorts of colors.

“¥ê§, ¥ê§, ¥È§!” The abhorrent voice continued. “Ì†'§ håþþêñêÐ! Ì'm ðµ†! Ì'm £ïñåll¥, £ÌñÄLL¥ ÖÚ†!”

The empty space at the top of the mound shuddered, forcing some of the material around the middle to surge upward, molding itself together to shape first a neck. . .and then a head.

A pair of sockets drained themselves out in the front, promptly being filled by two more eyes, larger and wider and more focused than all the others.

A maw split open beneath them, revealing rows of teeth sharp enough to make even the most intimidating swords of yore look like Swiss Army toys.

“£RÈÈÐÖM!” The newly-formed monster cried, his laughter rippling through the air the same way lightning would streak through clouds and rain.

All at once, the oily feeling was back, now focused on Penn’s chest rather than his head. It seemed to literally wash over him; the haze made him feel soaked, made his clothes feel like they were clinging to his skin.

And unlike a few minutes ago, it wasn’t just squirming somewhere inside his flesh.

No, this time, only half of it was doing that.

The other half was outside of him, as obvious-yet-invisible as the air itself.

And it.

Was.

PULLING.

Like he was a cadaver on an examining table, like the mortician had sliced a long line from his throat to his navel, like the two freshly-seperated halves of skin on his torso were being tugged apart, like his intestines were being dragged out hand-over-fist.

None of it felt like normal pain, like real pain.

It felt the same way a long, fat worm looked when its glistening, slimy skin was covered in fine soil.

It felt the same way sulfur smelled as it rose up from a geyser in clouds of heavy, near-palpable fog.

It felt the same way a infant sounded as it screamed while its umbilical cord was being cut.

Penn knew he wasn’t bleeding, knew nothing was actually pouring out of him.

That didn’t make things any better.

His mind was bleeding. Ulcers were growing on his thoughts.

He couldn’t know what the oily feeling was so ruthlessly taking from him, but he knew without knowing that it was something important. Something that he could survive without. . .but that kind of absence would make survival pointless.

Pointless. . .pointless, pointless, pointless, pointless, pointless, pointless, pointless, Penn’s mind chanted as the monster’s multitude of eyes all stopped moving in their sockets, pupils dilating one after the other.

All staring at him and Illinois.

The monster stiffened, a surprised, excited gasp rushing into the air.

“Wêll, wêll, wêll!” With a chorus of awful pops and cracks, the monster turned his neck to gaze down, down, down, his primary eyes shining with the same predatory slyness of a snake that had just cornered a mouse. . .or two.

“ÄñÐ hêrê Ì †hðµgh† §ðmê†hïñg wå§ ð££!”

“Oh, something’s extremely off right now,” Illinois replied. It would’ve been a totally badass gesture on his part. . .except for the fact that his typically deep, rich, velvetine voice had tapered down into a shivering squeak.

“ñðw, Ððñ'† gê† mê wrðñg, †hï§ ï§ †hê ßê§† †hïñg †ð håþþêñ †ð mê ïñ ÄGÈ§. ßµ† £ðr å mïñµ†ê, ï† jµ§† rêåll¥ £êl† lïkê §ðmê†hïñg wå§ mï§§ïñg, ¥'kñðw?” The monster explained thoughtfully, seeming much more amused than unfazed. “Äñ êvêñ† lïkê †hï§ jµ§† ï§ñ'† ¢ðmþlê†ê. . .”

He dipped his head, lowering himself to the ground, limbs tensing and back arching. Just like a cat getting ready to pounce.

“. . .wï†hðµ† å ñï¢ê lï††lê rï†µål §å¢rï£ï¢ê!”

The monster’s mouth gaped open, the abyssal skin around his jaws shuddering as he cackled. Three long, sinuous tendrils stretched out between its fangs. One of them was a blur as it cracked like a whip, seemingly of its own accord, sending droplets of ichor to splatter against the walls and floor and immediately sizzle through stone.

Penn didn’t know how—or even why—he managed to move. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the abomination, couldn’t think through the haze of dread and terror. He was beyond steadying himself, but he still moved.

Paint-coated clay greeted his palm like a friend he’d known even longer than Illinois.

In one swift, fluid, subconscious movement, he raised the Chimera Pipe to his face.

The strange, warbling, howling music poured into the air.

As it did, as Penn put more force behind his breath, the monster froze.

The monster’s skin stopped writhing. Those three tongues reeled back into his mouth, vanishing within the rows upon rows upon rows of teeth.

As Penn stared, still playing, still expecting to die. . .somehow, he caught a glimpse of a shape in the monster’s form. Smack-dab in the spot where his neck met his chest. That shape trembled in a very unpleasant way, just like those full-body-twitches people got while they slept.

And then the monster started SCREAMING.

It was a hideous concoction of shock and pain and fury. Like nothing Penn had ever heard before and desperately hoped to never hear again.

Yet, by some miracle, it didn’t drown out the music.

Penn’s lungs felt like they were on fire. His teeth were vibrating. Tears cascaded out of his eyes, streaming down his face, a lucky few managing to slide onto the Chimera Pipe.

But he kept playing it.

Even as his vision blurred, even as he felt Illinois grab him by the shoulders and start dragging him away, he kept playing it.

All the while, the monster kept shrieking as the music drilled into whatever awful mess his ears were.

Penn just kept on playing. . .until. . .until. . .UNTIL. . .

___

“Ì'll å§k ågåïñ: hðw êxå¢†l¥,” the monster seethed, “ÐïÐ ¥ðµ gê† ¥ðµr grïm¥ lï††lê håñÐ§ ðñ †hê§ê. . .†hïñg§?” He jabbed an accusatory talon first in the Chimera Pipe’s direction, then pivoted it toward the Warden, spitting out the last word like it was a rotten oyster.

He’d gone back and forth between leering at the trapped archeology buffs and snarling at the Chimera Pipe multiple times now. Because it seemed that one of the very few things he couldn’t do was get too close to it, let alone try to touch it. He’d already hovered one of his hand-like appendages over it, only to snatch it away and hiss a few seconds later, as though the clay instrument had an invisible cloud of poison around it.

“And I’ll tell you as many times as I have to: it’s none of your fucking business!” Illinois retorted. “Besides, you’re one to talk. Our hands aren’t grimy, and they’re not little, either.”

In spite of his horror, Penn couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in Illinois’ direction. The monster’s palms seemed to be as wide as the jeep’s tires (for now, at least).

A strange growl rose from the monster’s throat, sort of like a honey badger that just pulled what was left of its tail out of a malfunctioning garbage disposal. It signaled the very odd way of how the creature’s anger issues combined with the fact that hell would have to freeze over before said creature even thought about giving a damn.

The growl transitioned into an equally grating chuckle as the monster lightly shook his head. “¥ðµr §þê¢ïê§ ðñl¥ hå§ å £êw †hïñg§ gðïñg £ðr ï†. ÄñÐ Ì gµê§§ mðxïê ï§ ðñê ð£ †hêm.”

The monster obviously couldn’t relate to humans (or anything that had been born on Earth, for that matter). There was no doubt that he saw things differently, considering how his too-many eyes rolled and shook and popped and melted and dilated and constricted and. . .

Therefore, Penn had no idea how the monster saw things like moxie.

Moxie felt more distant than the setting sun, than the slowly-dying light that was clawing against the ground.

As much of an adrenaline junkie as Illinois was, as stubborn as he was to sass a warping mound of flesh made of nightmares, it was easy to tell that he was terrified. Anyone with a single, solitary iota of sanity would be terrified.

Penn couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so helpless. As he stared through the windshield, the monster had most of his attention, of course. . .but the Chimera Pipe was quite a strong contender, what with how it was now lying on the ground just a few feet away from the jeep.

How had he possibly dropped it?

It shouldn’t have mattered how fast he and Illinois had been running, how violently he’d been shaking. He should’ve had the death-grip to end all goddamn death-grips on that thing.

If he hadn’t dropped it, then he could’ve kept on playing it.

If he could keep on playing it, then maybe that would’ve forced the monster to leave him and Illinois alone. Penn was sure that the monster would keep coming back to prowl around them, taunting or threatening or making sarcastic attempts at cajoling, but at least the pipe’s music would’ve forced him to keep just a little more distance than this.

But that wasn’t going to happen, because he’d dropped it like only a disposable movie character could. Now, staying in this car, watching the monster’s body spasm and twist, listening to his vile smalltalk was the only option he and Illinois had.

Oh sure, Illinois had taken the Warden’s string from around his neck, opting instead to tie it to the rearview mirror and let the totem slowly spin to and fro.

While Penn now understood how the creepy little thing truly did have some protective mojo to it, whatever supernatural vibes that wafted off of it only kept the monster from pressing his horrific face right up against the windows.

Because life could just never be bothered to be that easy or fair.

“What the hell are you?” Penn finally blurted. “What was that stuff in the chamber? How long were you down there?”

One of the monster’s primary eyes slid around on his face and drilled into Penn’s brown, watery orbs. He was unable to look away as that eye twitched—no, squirmed in its socket. Little lumps appeared under the sclera, bulging and stretching until a bunch of spindly shapes burst through.

. . .Arms. Nine tiny arms that thrashed the air as the monster’s quivering pinprick pupil spun in the center of them. Not just clawing aimlessly; they were trying to reach for Penn, every single one of them.

Penn clasped a hand over his mouth to keep something much more solid than his ragged breath from spilling through his lips.

The monster chuckled again. “Wêll, †hå† lå§† qµê§†ïðñ ï§ †hê êå§ïê§†: †ÖÖ ÐÄMñ LÖñG. §ïñ¢ê ßê£ðrê ¥ðµr åñ¢ê§†ðr§ wêrê êvêñ rð¢kïñg ïñ †hêïr ¢råÐlê§.” The monster then cupped his chin with one of his many maladjusted hands, casually drumming another set of crooked digits on the jeep’s hood. “ÄñÐ Ì'm håþþ¥ †ð åñ§wêr †hê ð†hêr§. . .ï£ ¥ðµ ¢ðmê ðµ† hêrê.”

The nausea was stubborn, but Penn still managed to furrow his brow and roll his eyes. “Right, right. Why wouldn’t we have a meet n’ greet with the same thing that just tried to kill us?”

“ßê¢åµ§ê ¥ðµ ÖWÈ mê!” The monster snapped, a metallic screech mixing into his tone as he dragged his claws along.

Illinois blinked incredulously. “How do you figure that?”

The monster resumed pacing around the jeep—well, slithering was probably a better term, since he didn’t seem to move any muscles or make any sort of effort. And yet he moved with fluid, frightening speed.

“¥ðµ †wð £rêêÐ mê. WÌ†HÖÚ† £ïñÐïñg å wå¥ †ð ¢ðññê¢† ¥ðµr§êlvê§ †ð mê, Ì mïgh† åÐÐ.”

The jeep as a whole suddenly dipped, leaving Penn to presume that the monster was now leaning on the top. He thanked his lucky stars that the sunroof’s fabric panel was closed against the glass.

“. . .Technically, that damn boulder freed you,” Illinois argued.

“¥êåh, wêll, ¥ðµ ßrðµgh† †hê ßðµlÐêr hêrê ïñ †hê £ïr§† þlå¢ê!” The monster sputtered. “Ì£ ¥ðµ †hïñk ¥ðµ ¢åñ jµ§† wålk åwå¥ £rðm whå† håþþêñêÐ êårlïêr, †hêñ Ì'vê gð† §ðmê ñï¢ê ßêå¢h-§ïÐê þrðþêr†¥ ïñ †hê †hðµ§åñÐ-È¥êÐ †ï¢k Qµêêñ'§ þð¢kê† Ðïmêñ§ïðñ †ð §êll ¥ðµ.”

“Ha! Four-and-a-half vengeance curses have been put on my head, and I managed to get through all of them!” Illinois craned his neck to aim a smug smirk at the monster. “If dodging consequences was a sport, I’d be in the Hall of Fame.”

The monster groaned, a huge forked tongue flicking in and out of his maw like a party favor. He began to mutter under his breath in a very much non-English language, closing each and every one of his eyes for almost a full minute. The way they all eventually snapped open again would’ve given anyone with trypophobia a stroke.

“†hå†'§ whå† ¥ðµ †hïñk rïgh† ñðw. Ì'vê ålrêåÐ¥ gð††êñ å gððÐ rêåÐ ðñ ¥ðµr §ðµl, åñÐ… å¢†µåll¥, ñêvêr mïñÐ. Ì wðµlÐñ'† wåñ† †ð §þðïl åñ¥†hïñg.” The monster hummed with malicious delight. He then sighed, drumming whip-thin tendrils against the back window. “Lððk, ï§ ï† †hê §þïÐêr'§ £åµl† whêñ å ßµñ¢h ð£ £lïê§ gê† §†µ¢k ïñ ï†§ wêß? ñð. Må¥ßê †hê £lïê§ wï§h ï† wå§, ßµ† Ðêêþ Ððwñ †hê¥ kñðw †hå† †hê¥ gð† †hêm§êlvê§ †råþþêÐ.”

“Wow. It’s almost like the spider spun that web in the first place,” Penn muttered.

“Èxå¢†l¥! ßê¢åµ§ê †hå†'§ †hê §þïÐêr'§ rïgh†. †hå†'§ jµ§† hðw §þïÐêr§ lïvê.” The monster peeked over that spot where the roof met the top of the windshield. “§ð, hðw ï§ ï† åñ¥ Ðï££êrêñ† ï£ Ì †åkê ¥ðµ?”

“If we had any way of actually knowing that you were somewhere in Chuck’s Hole, then we never would’ve gone poking around in it!” Illinois contended, raising his arms in a frustrated lame gesture.

And now it was the monster’s turn to blink. It took much longer than it probably should have “. . .Ì'm jµ§† gðññå ïgñðrê †hê £å¢† †hå† å hµmåñ ï§ ¢ållïñg m¥ þrï§ðñ ‘Çhµ¢k’§ Hðlê.’”

Penn froze again for three, maybe five seconds, before doing something he hadn’t thought was possible right now: he sputtered a laugh. It was a very small and very short-lived laugh, yes, but it still seemed to echo through the jeep’s interior.

A name like Chuck’s Hole just had some weird magic to it.

It was funny even when spoken by a gruesome Stephen-King-wet-dream-come-to-life whose voice sounded like broken glass that just so happened to be dripping with blood.

Illinois swallowed a lump in his throat, glancing at Penn and offering a tiny, grateful smile.

Hell, even the monster seemed to be biting back a grin at such a title; or, the extra mouth that had just opened up somewhere on his stomach-region was doing that, at least. The monster’s primary mouth continued to snarl, his front row of teeth actively lengthening and curving upward like tusks.

His weight disappeared from the jeep’s roof. Subsequent thumps and slight bounces were elicited from the undercarriage as he crawled beneath it, making Penn think of a shark lurking just below a fishing boat.

“Öh ¢’mðñ, Ìllïñðï§. §ðmêðñê wï†h ¥ðµr ïñ§†ïñ¢†§, ¥ðµr êxþêrïêñ¢ê, ñð† ålrêåÐ¥ kñðwïñg †hå† §ðmê†hïñg lïkê mê wå§ wåï†ïñg £ðr ¥ðµ Ððwñ †hêrê?” The monster surged back up and stood right next to the driver-side door. He shrunk to the size of a normal man, but his eyes and mouth were still far too large as he peered at Illinois through the window.

He nodded toward the mouth of the cavern and giggled, a chittering noise similar to an engine that was melting from the inside out. “¥ðµ ¢åñ'† §êrïðµ§l¥ êxþê¢† µ§ †ð ßêlïêvê †hå†.”

Rotating his head at a 270 degree angle, the monster leaned closer, just enough so that the discolored steam of his breath fogged up the glass. The horribly strange sweetness that could only ever waft off of rotting flesh seeped into the car.

“ñð, ¥ðµ håÐ å £êêlïñg åßðµ† mê. †hå†'§ wh¥ ¥ðµ wåñ†êÐ ¥ðµr £rïêñÐ hêrê †ð ¢ðmê ålðñg, ï§ñ'† ï†? †ð gïvê hïm å §†ðr¥ †hå† wðµlÐ å¢†µåll¥ ßê ïmþrê§§ïvê †ð †êll? †ð §hðw hïm å rêål ¢hållêñgê? †ð †ê§† hïm åñÐ þrðvê †hå† hê §†ïll ¢åñ'† håñÐlê å§ mµ¢h å§ ¥ðµ ¢åñ?”

For the very first time all day, the energy drained from Illinois’ features.

His mouth dropped, opening and closing with no words coming out. His eyes bulged from their sockets, contorted by his brow as a dark, slick, awful form of guilt welled inside them.

He forcefully bowed his head, now trying to keep his focus on the steering wheel and only the steering wheel.

He’d shown fear before, but this was different.

This was despair.

“NO!”

The monster’s head snapped up, now gazing through the jeep, past Illinois, who didn’t dare budge an inch.

Penn dug his nails into the armrest, feeling beads of sweat materialize on his forehead. He’d surprised himself before, but never quite like this.

“ÐïÐ Ì hêår ¥ðµ rïgh†?” Some of the monster’s eyes narrowed in time with how his smile sharpened. “ÇðµlÐ ¥ðµ rêþêå† †hå† £ðr mê?”

“I said NO!” Penn echoed, his heart beating with the speed of a phantom hummingbird. “Illinois didn’t drag me into anything! We made the mutual decision to come here!”

Penn’s throat was raw from all the acidic bile he’d been keeping down, his jaw ached as though he’d just sprinted in a marathon.

“He doesn’t think any less of me just because my work is different from his! He’s never tried to test me before, and that’s not what he was doing today! He’s one of my best friends! We work on projects like this because we respect each other! You’re wrong!”

In his peripheral vision, he watched as Illinois kept his head down, quiet as a statue. Aside from the way his hands trembled, it truly seemed like he would never move again.

“. . .Mê? Wrðñg?” Amusement crept into the monster’s rolling eyes. He seemed to tsk-tsk at Penn’s statement, unwinding the sound into a mess of clicks and hisses. “ ñ È V È R . ”

Penn blinked, and the monster was suddenly looming right outside the passenger door. Now staring at him through the quickly-fogging glass.

It was all Penn could do to not shrink back as the monster bared his teeth. “Wh¥ §hðµlÐ ¥ðµ þµ† ðñ åïr§, ¢ðñ§ïÐêrïñg whå† ¥ðµr ¢ðµ§ïñ§ årê Ððïñg?”

Penn's shoulders slumped out of raw, blind confusion. “. . .W-wha—?”

The monster smirked like the leader of a high school gossip-mill. “Öñê ð£ ¥ðµr ¢ðµ§ïñ§ WÌ§HÈ§ hê håÐ †êê†h lïkê mïñê. Hê jµ§† LÖVÈ§ ßï†ïñg ïñ†ð †hê þïñk §†rê†¢h ð£ £lê§h! Hê måkê§ hï§ lïvïñg §lïÐïñg kñïvê§ ålðñg §kïñ åñÐ §¢råþïñg †hêm ågåïñ§† ßðñê§. Wå†¢hïñg lï£ê Ðråïñ ðµ† ð£ ê¥ê§ åñÐ †hrðå†§ åñÐ £êêlïñg ï† rµ§h ðvêr hï§ håñÐ§, åll wårm åñÐ rêÐ.”

As the monster spoke, the grin on his face kept growing. . .and growing. . .and growing. His lips just didn’t stop peeling back, didn’t stop stretching. A grotesque amount of new teeth had to materialize to fill his expression.

In less than a minute, the monster’s entire face was a maw, his eyes having been overtaken by the layers upon layers of enamel and sinew.

“. . .Öh, ÐïÐñ'† ¥ðµ kñðw †hå†, þêññ? ÐïÐñ'† ¥ðµ kñðw †hå† ðñê ð£ ¥ðµr ¢ðµ§ïñ§ ï§ å ßµ†¢hêr? ÐÌÐñ'† ¥ÖÚ?!” The monster then threw his head back and laughed, revealing multiple sets of malformed jaws nestled inside his hellish smile.

The oily haze tugged at Penn’s guts yet again. It hurt in the same, surreal way as before. . .but not quite as much. This time, while he was definitely losing something he still couldn’t identify, it came out in more of an unsteady trickle than a firm, ruthless pace.

It was similar to a nightmare. It almost felt real, but it just couldn’t fully exist. Not while there was a physical shield between prey and predator.

Sooner or later, the monster’s laughing fit died down to mere giggles. That wasn’t much of an improvement, since the giggles in question felt like drops of boiling water to the ears, but at least it wasn’t as loud.

“Jµ§† §ðmê†hïñg †ð ¢hêw ðñ,” the monster mentioned. “Må¥ßê µ§ê lïñê§ lïkê †hå† ï£ ¥ðµ §êê hïm; Ì †hïñk hê'Ð åþþrê¢ïå†ê ï†.”

Penn knew he should’ve passed out by now. He should’ve crumpled onto the glove compartment and accidentally set off the airbags (thankfully, Illinois wasn’t in the proper headspace to get angry at something like that) and stayed that way until he was forcefully woken up at a hospital.

But he was still awake, so his subconscious decided that he might as well keep on surprising himself.

“Sure,” he replied, voice hollow and quiet. “I’ll take advice from something that can’t even break a single damn window.”

Those layers of teeth pulled away from the monster’s face, letting his eyes reappear just in time to give Penn a vicious, appraising look that reached into him and made his pancreas break into a cold sweat.

The monster clicked one of his tongues again. “Mðxïê.”

Then, with a terrible cr-i-i-i-ck, the monster’s head turned away, taking his focus off of Penn and directing toward the space behind the jeep. A shudder ran through his contorting body; his eyes all widened as he rolled his shoulders.

Heart in his throat, Penn’s eyes ventured to the rearview mirror. The reflection was still and silent; nothing but rocky sand that made up the ground, complimented by the dry shrubs and cacti growning here and there. More rock spires stood patiently, looking like simple smudges in the air due to the distance, just barely visible in the moonlight.

Penn felt his stomach drop for what had to be the sixty-ninth time today.

THE MOONLIGHT. . .

The sun had set. Everything was dark now.

“Äh, †hå†'§ mµ¢h ßê††êr. ßrïgh†ñê§§ åñÐ hêå† måkê§ mê ï†¢h,” the monster announced, his twisted voice forcibly snagging Penn’s focus and shoving it in the right direction.

The monster slid back from the jeep, still in full-view of its occupants from the windshield. He remained the size of a human, with a shape that was almost convincing.

Almost was the key word here, since most humans didn’t tend to have an assortment of eye-and-mouth-covered tentacles where a pair of legs should’ve been.

“Gµê§§ ï†'§ ¥ðµr lµ¢k¥ Ðå¥, ßð¥§!” The monster chirped, sarcasm mixed with a fair bit of unholy venom dripping from his maw. “Ì mïgh† †ê¢hñï¢åll¥ håvê åll †hê †ïmê ïñ †hê wðrlÐ, ßµ† Ì'vê ålrêåÐ¥ wå§†êÐ êñðµgh ð£ ï† hêrê.”

He swayed from side-to-side like a flower caught in a gentle breeze. A third eye opened up in the center of his forehead, pitch-black with a shaking, shining white pupil. It squinted at Penn in a mocking-yet-thoughtful way.

A distinct pinching sensation bloomed under the skin of Penn’s face, followed by a faint dripping noise in the back of his head.

The monster snickered as the third eye sunk back into whatever special kind of hell was lurking inside him. “§ðmê §å¥ ¥ðµ'rê ñêvêr ålðñê ïñ †hê Ðårk. ÄñÐ å§ †rµê å§ †hå† ï§. . .†hê Ðårk ï§ñ'† whå† ¥ðµ ñêêÐ †ð wðrr¥ åßðµ†. ¥ðµ kñðw wh¥?”

Grotesque stretching noises ripped through the quiet as his skin split on several different areas of his body, like seams bursting on a raggedy doll.

“ßê¢åµ§ê †hê êxå¢† §åmê †hïñg gðê§ £ðr ¥ÖÚR MÌñÐ.”

Without warning, the monster’s form began to unravel.

His writhing, warping flesh almost seemed paper-thin. Strips of it tore themselves away in various sizes, first lapping at the air around him, and then curling through it.

“ñð må††êr whêrê ¥ðµ gð, whå† ¥ðµ §êê ðr Ðð, hðw ¥ðµ †hïñk åñÐ Ðrêåm åñÐ lïvê. . .”

They all formed a shadowy a halo around him, moved with the same impossible sychronized grace as a school of fish. The process was a blur, moving too quickly and too slowly.

“†hêrê'll ålwå¥§ ßê ð†hêr †hïñg§ wåï†ïñg £ðr ¥ðµ ïñ †hêrê. ÄLWÄ¥§.”

The strips of skin began to dissolve into nothingness, the same way wisps of steam would vanish as soon as they climbed high enough. All at once, the only seemingly solid parts left were the monster’s primary eyes, as well as his jagged, glinting teeth. Those features hung in the air, glowing and staring and grinning like some psychotic bastardization of the Cheshire Cat.

“Wêll, †hå†'§ åßðµ† ï† £ðr ñðw. Ì'll £ïñÐ ¥ðµ ågåïñ §ðmêÐå¥!”

The eyes flickered, melting in place. The teeth gnashed, abandoning their structured rows in favor of gliding around in a tight, sharp circle.

“ Ì ' l l £ ï ñ Ð ¥ ð µ å g å å å å å ï ï ï ñ ! ”

And then. . .they were gone.

Just like that.

As if nothing had even been there in the first place.

Penn stared at the empty space for what felt like an hour. Then a strong, salty, metallic taste dribbled into his mouth and broke the spell. The organic stench clung to the back of his throat, feeling dry and moist at the same time. He shook his head in revulsion.

Thanks to the lack of light, his reflection in the car window was just an inch away from not being visible at all. The amount of blood seeping from his nose changed that rather quickly. His hands moved in a mechanical manner, fishing napkins and tissues from the glovebox to wad up and press against his face.

Illinois was still holding his head low, shivering, knuckles white around the steering wheel.

Not-so-distant memories of the chamber came flooding in, and before Penn knew it, his free hand was wrapping around the Warden, tugging it away from the rearview mirror and pushing it up to Illinois’ temple.

A shudder ran through the adventurer’s shoulders before they visibly loosened up. His grip slackened. But his jaw was still clenched, and his eyes were still glued to his lap.

So, Penn did the next best thing: he gripped the ends of the Warden’s string and rotated his fist, making the totem spin in a circle. A breathy whistle began to cut through the silence.

Once the creepy little doll was a blur, Penn grabbed Illinois’ hat and flung it to the backseat. He then flicked his wrist, causing it to crash against the top of Illinois’ head.

The ensuing thunk! was promptly drowned out as Illinois all but trebucheted himself against the window. “—aaaAAAUUGH GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!”

“Hey! Heyheyhey! Illinois! Illinois, calm down!” Penn cried, grabbing his companion’s arm.

Illinois’ movements slowed, and eventually stopped, though his chest heaved in and out with unnecessary force. He gazed at Penn with wide, bloodshot eyes.

Penn quietly reached under his seat and produced one of many spare water bottles. The plastic was sweaty, the ice inside having melted long ago, but still cold to the touch. He offered it to Illinois, who shakily took it and started chugging.

“Not too fast, you’ll make yourself sick,” Penn half-heartedly coached as he shoved the tissues into a trash bag by his shoes. His nose should’ve taken longer to stop bleeding.

Illinois’ voice was a sopping-wet wheeze as he finally put the bottle down, having emptied half of its contents. “. . .Feel like that’s the least of our worries.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Penn set the Warden down on the dashboard, sliding it across to its owner.

Illinois didn’t hesitate to grab it and hold it close to his chest like a little boy who’d just found a beloved stuffed animal he’d lost a couple weeks ago. He closed his eyes, gently tapping his fingers against the doll’s head in a quick, specific rhythm. This carried on for a moment, and some of the tension drained away from his features. His breathing slowed into a little sigh.

His eyes snapped back open and automatically began squinting at Penn.

The paleontologist raised his hands in a confused, defensive gesture.

“Where’s the pipe?” Illinois murmured.

Penn pursed his lips as he nodded at the windshield. The Chimera Pipe was, indeed, still out there, laying on the ground in a way that made it seem to be staring at the sky.

Illinois nodded, clicking his tongue. “Go get it.”

Penn flinched, eyes darting over to the mouth of the cave. To the palpable-looking darkness that waited further inside. . .

“He’s gone, Penn,” Illinois reassured, though his face twisted at such a gruesomely obvious mention. “If he was still here, we’d both feel it. Trust me.”

It took another awkward minute for Penn to reach over and grab the door’s handle. He sucked in a deep breath through his teeth and sprinted out, nearly tripping into a slide on the dusty gravel.

Then the car door was slamming shut and he was back in his seat, this time with the beastly ocarina resting on his lap. It grinned up at him, its bruise-colored paint shining in the dim light.

Penn was so caught up in staring at its little eye-holes that he didn’t hear the jingle of keys or the engine finally starting to rumble. (He barely even noticed the string of profanities on Illinois’ part.)

For the next five minutes or so, the only thing to register was the rumbling of tires beneath his feet.

Finally, Penn forced himself to break the silence. “. . .So, we’re going back to the hotel?”

Illinois nodded, not taking his eyes off of the road. “And once we get there, we’re packing up and heading home.”

Under normal circumstances, that type of last-minute nonsense would’ve left Penn all sorts of aggravated. But these circumstances were nowhere near normal. Even with how late it was, how Penn was feeling a type of fatigue that should only come after you had all but a pint of blood sucked out by a swarm of mosquitos, Penn knew he wouldn’t be able to get any sleep tonight. Not for the next couple nights, really.

“We’ll have to call a company before we leave, though,” Illinois sighed. “To get Chuck’s Hole sealed off, I mean. No-one else can go down there. It might have other. . .things waiting.”

A small, vague hum was the only response Penn could come up with. That was what confirmed how the rest of the night wasn’t exactly going to be pleasant; the title wasn’t even enough to make him or his friend laugh like before.

Illinois seemed to glance at him, to catch the state of his features, to maybe even read his mind for a second or two. “Things’ll turn up, Penn. I can guess how you’re feeling right now, but that’s just because it’s your first time dealing with something like this. We’ll both bounce back, I swear.”

Penn turned the Chimera Pipe in his hands, drumming his fingers on its clay teeth. “Be honest: does the whole ‘happens to the best of us’ schtick really apply right now?”

“Yeah, it does,” Illinois said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’ve had worse experiences.”

Penn rolled his eyes, bracing his elbow near the window to rest his cheek against his palm. “Oh, let me guess: sometime before you even met me, you wound up accidentally releasing a surreal-horror-manifest just like the one who was looking at us like someone wheeled out a birthday cake?”

Illinois’ face went blank for several seconds, making a clear effort to stay focused on driving rather than stare at his companion with unfathomable dark eyes.

Fortunately for him, Penn took on staring for the both of them, now worried. “Illinois?”

Illinois sighed again, lightly shaking his head. “. . .I wouldn’t say that guy was exactly like the one we just saw. For one thing, he was on the other side of a door at the end of a hall—”

“You’re kidding.”

Illinois didn’t answer.

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Penn repeated, voice completely and utterly deadpan. “Please. You have so much to live for.”

“You’re right, I do.” Illinois snorted, seemingly in spite of himself. “That’s why I take the Warden with me everywhere. That’s why I string it up on the door before I go to bed. So I don’t have to hear any knocking or demands or bribes or. . .” He trailed off, hands slowly but surely starting to shake on the steering wheel again.

One of Penn's sore eyes twitched. He didn’t want to close them; closing them would only conjure images of writhing flesh, of too many eyes where there shouldn’t be eyes, of too many teeth where there shouldn’t be teeth.

Still, he had to. He had to close them and knead at him forehead in a strange effort to keep his braincells intact. “. . .Oh my God, Illi. . .”

The jeep shuddered as Illinois drove, the sandy road a bit loose under its tires.

The blurry figures of cacti stood almost at attention as the duo passed them by; a tiny owl poked its head out of a hole in the base of one, its huge, curious eyes shining in the dark. If you concentrated, you could just make out the howls of coyotes somewhere off in the distance.

Illinois spoke up again, a hefty dose of hesitation having been injected into his voice. “What did he mean about your cousins?”

A spark of cold energy rattled through Penn’s ribs and plummeted into his stomach. “I didn’t think you actually heard that.”

“Well, I did. What did he mean when he said. . .those things?” Illinois coughed.

“I. . .” Penn stayed quiet for a moment before sighing again, this time with an air that was more anxious than tired. “I have absolutely no idea. I haven’t seen or heard from either of them since we were kids.”

Illinois considered this. The thoughtfulness in his eyes wasn’t a hopeful type. “You really don’t know?”

Penn shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

Illinois cringed, carefully sending a concerned look his companion’s way. “If that’s the case, then you need to find out sometime.”

Penn didn’t know how to reply to that.

So, he settled on gazing at the sky through the window, nervously taking in the moon’s silvery glow, trying to ignore what felt like sharp teeth wrapped around his lungs.

@sammys-magical-au @insane4fandoms @im-a-weird0 @b-is-in-the-closet

#my writing #my stories #matpat #egopats #my fanegos #fanmade egos #penn/pennsylvania james #leviathanpat #ahwm illinois #markiplier #tw dark and slightly claustrophobic areas #tw descriptions of being chased/pursued #tw blood #tw body horror #tw teeth #tw eyes

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sweetdreamscity · 6 months

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my black eye casts no shadow; your red eye sees no blame

#lolaa.art #freezerburn #mk kano #mk frost #mortal kombat #pov you are erron trying to collect your paycheck but your stupid boss is fighting with his bitch of a girlfriend again #i love drawing these two . they hate eachother so much that they're in love and vice versa #uhh caption is ref to kiss with a fist by florence and the machine. btw.

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bytedykes · 2 months

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🎧

My black eye casts no shadow Your red eye sees no blame Your slaps don't stick, your kicks don't hit So we remain the same Blood sticks, sweat drips Break the lock if it don't fit A kick in the teeth is good for some A kiss with a fist is better than none

definitely my favorite verse + chorus 💕 i love u kwaf !!!

#music #hii eclipse <3 #ask game

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heartofglass-mindofstone · 3 months

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You hit me once, I hit you back. You gave a kick, I gave a slap. You smashed a plate over my head, then I set fire to our bed. My black eye casts no shadow, your red eye sees no blame. Your slaps don't stick, your kicks don't hit, so we remain the same. Love sticks, sweat drips. Break the lock if it don't fit. A kick to the teeth is good for some - a kiss with a fist is better than none.

Jacket stolen by @vergeltvng

#anastasia - resurrection has a pretty face #watch out; salt looks like sugar. - playlist #my presence holds power - aesthetics

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julystruck · 11 months

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My black eye casts no shadow, your red eye sees no blame

#spilled ink #evil lovecore #bronze #static #toxic yaoi or whatever #I reallllly hate this art ugh #smt about the colors and the expressions and the way I drew them #ugh. posting this soley for kep #the colors are OFF and it BOTHERS ME

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sm-writes-chaos · 1 year

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Yes I wanna hear about your OC's.

I want the whole infodump.

Oh boy where to start???

my oc's my oc's my lovely oc's! I will gladly lay it on you!

I really really really wanna talk about TWUECUD so I am going to do that because I don't know how this information is gonna get out otherwise. these character may never have a home outside my notebook so you may as well know their story!

First up first up I must rant about the actual story itself. know how it came to be? Just try to guess I bet ya can't

I had an appointment at the hair salon (my first!) and I was priming myself to hear some juicy gossip (just like the movies!) And lo and behold I was rewarded my two girls who I think were dating were gossiping about their friends! They were talking about a Gage and Nicole and that's how those two characters came to be. The way those girls were talking about Nicole I gathered that they didn't like her so I made her the sort of villain. And they called Gage 'Hubby material' so I made him a sweetheart. After the appointment I quickly made a note of everything I'd heard and soon a teen parody show was forming in my head. I soon came up with the rest of the cast.

ummmmm this is gonna be so long I apologize feel free to not read any of it I wouldn't blame you

Anyways lets begin... with Nicole! (I swear this is just a slice of life about silly college students I swear its not this depressing, but gotta add trauma am I right?)

Nicole was a sheltered child, and the only thing she really knew was a sitcom about college life. She wanted her life to be as cool and perfect as the characters in the show were so as soon as she went to college she was determined to have her life be just like her favorite show. Tylee looked like the villain in her show and she wanted to be a Hollywood actress just like Nicole, so she dubbed Tylee her rival. Nicole get's caught up in childish things because of her sheltered childhood, like pretending to be a spy. She got teased and bullied a lot because of that at her last college, and Nicole's short temper caused her to get into fights until she was expelled.

Tylee may be the bubbliest happiest person you'll ever meet, but shes got demons that she doesn't want to believe exist. Her excitable nature causes a lot of people to be turned off from her. Tylee tries to be friendly but she doesn't understand why everyone ignores her, why they groan when she comes running, or why they never smile when shes around. She would probably start trying to hold herself back if not for having patient friends like Alison and Gage.

Speaking of Alison..she has a curse. It's more of a family trait so she doesn't see it as a curse, but it definitely is. A dark shadow that covers her black eyes. Her family is not big on smiling and plants around her house always wither. She comes from a wealthy family and legends say that the curse comes from a sacrifice an ancestor made long ago to become that wealthy... I just made that up right now I don't actually know where it comes from I haven't expanded on it much.

Mikal..Mikal Mikal Mikal...where do I even start with him. Hes an inventor, hes a prankster, hes the mom friend no matter how much he tries to deny it. Growing up his father was obsessed with training him to be a proper man. He'd always comment on his long hair, his baggy clothes, and how he didn't have a girlfriend yet. But Mikal didn't want a girlfriend. One day he met this girl who he instantly became great friends with. A while later at a party they nearly kissed, believing it was the next step because that's what their parents always told them. They had a truce and maybe even pretended to fake date to make their parents happy. One day she had to move far away though, so before she left she gave Mikal her red hair tie, and hes kept it close ever since. Now stemming from his disgust at dating women and being intimate with anyone, hes become obsessed with never having children. He sees them as something inevitable that everyone has to deal with, when in reality poor Mikal is just asexual.

Vishal Vishal I love Vishal. Hes a little sweetheart (alongside Gage) hes a little blorbo hes just a little guy aw hes so- I'm gonna stop there. He had a very sheltered childhood (I like to do that don't I?). His father had a company that wasn't very successful until when he was in middle school his fathers business was suddenly booming! He was plucked right out of the middle of class and set up with private tutors. He lived a very extravagant life from then on because his parents assumed that's what rich people do. Hardly knowing anything about the real world he wanted to go to a real college instead of having tutors anymore. Hes just a little innocent guy. Hes studying to start a business of his own and only wears suits, but he really just loves to draw and create art!

I have to go to bed now so I'll cap it at that but if you ever wanna hear more go right ahead I love to talk! theres still so many to talk about (gage,jee, people not in twuecud like norah alphair and rufus)

thank you so so much for the ask it's much appreciated!

lemmie know if you want me to continue tommorow!

#ask #twuecud #writeblr #infodump

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realperson022 · 2 years

Text

I know somewhere @/viacursecasting tagged me when she referenced this song for what we like to call a kpop-sonadow analysis :) but I’m bringing it back to go over it with little drabbles of sorts to go along with the lyrics that speak to me the greatest.

youtube

Definitely recommend to give the song a listen in general!

Drabbles under the cut:

In this world of zero I know you're my one and only In this endless darkness like Oh my god, so holy

Drabble #1:

There was always this unspoken understanding of what Sonic was for Shadow.

Full of surprises and overly enthusiastic for races, the hero was a worthy match for the Ultimate Lifeform, meeting the striped hedgehog’s strength, speed, and agility in equal countermoves.

His cockiness and confidence came hand-in-hand to the GUN agent’s displeasure, but those qualities brought forth an even playing field with the enemy. Sonic’s nonstop talking was a great distraction, especially for a wildly tyrannical man that could compete with the blue hedgehog for who loved hearing themselves talk the most. But such annoyance was an overlooked source of entertainment for many of Sonic’s friends at this point, not for Shadow, though.

Almost counterintuitively, the hero withheld aspects regarding patience and empathy when needed in times of hardships and darkness. For that, Shadow always offered his silent gratitude toward his rival on his teammates’ behalf. And when the fight was long won with every ounce of determination and effort, Sonic was running off to another adventure, and only then did Shadow give his own quiet thank you to his counterpart who was long gone.

Down to its bare meaning, Sonic was something for Shadow, but it was in moments where the fights became wars that everything was crystal clear for the hybrid.

If the world needed a hero, it was Sonic that came running to protect it.

If the world didn’t need a hero but someone to blame, it was still Sonic that came running to protect the planet despite the world being against him.

But it would never be the entire planet against one hedgehog.

It was always Sonic and his friends, and if god forbid it, his friends gave up on the blue hedgehog, too...then, Sonic still would not remain alone.

Because down to the last defense, to the last hope, Shadow would stand by Sonic and fight against any evil thrown their way.

The two of them versus the end of the world because Shadow always knew from the very first moment that he was meant to be Sonic’s one and only even when everyone stood against them.

It would always be Sonic and Shadow till the end.

From this bottomless pit You're the only (one) shining gold Now I can't stop thinking 'bout you When I'm sinking alone Angel who one day appeared to me Take me away to your hometown

Drabble #2:

“Shadow.”

The black hedgehog awoke with a silent gasp, standing up and immediately knowing he was nowhere familiar. His surroundings were practically...nothing; just endless black in every direction. Even the ground under his feet looked nonexistent as he glanced down.

“Shadow.”

And yet somehow, there was a light that penetrated all the darkness around Shadow, casting a glow over the alarmed hybrid.

Scarlet rubies looked up at the source of light, widening at seeing a familiar face.

“Sonic...?”

The usually blue fur was bathed in a blinding gold shine, and what Shadow remembered as emerald eyes were now a mix of reds that reminded him of cherries, burning fires, and blood.

“Shadow,” the striped hedgehog’s rival called out to him again, descending onto the invisible surface the hybrid stood over. It was when the gilded hedgehog now was in front of him that Shadow finally put the pieces together, taking note of the upturn quills and thrumming chaos energy now sensed in the air.

Super Sonic.

“How are you feeling?”

Blinking away his shock, Shadow cleared his throat. “I’m fine, but where am I?” The striped hedgehog took another view of his surroundings, finding nothing in the distance regardless of his sharp eyesight. “Where are we?”

The hybrid returned his attention to the other hedgehog, wary by Super Sonic’s conflicted gaze.

“You don’t remember?”

Shadow frowned, “Remember what?”

The ethereal-looking hedgehog sighed, seeming to run through his next thoughts on how to approach this; after a minute, Super Sonic extended a hand to Shadow, gloved palm facing up. “May I?”

Regardless of this being his rival, Shadow gave the outstretched hand a cautious glance, extending his own out when he didn’t sense any grave danger. Upon contact, the infinite environment around the two hedgehogs morphed into something else, something visible.

When the lines and shades of blue and green below became clear, Shadow instantly recognized where they were now, his eyes looking up to see blinking stars and a pale round moon staring back at him.

“The Space Colony,” he whispered, whipping his head around to see where the station was. To his relief, the colony was still in its orbit, no alluding signs of it possibly crashing into the planet below anytime soon. “Why are we in space?”

Super Sonic met Shadow’s gaze, striking red meeting its match in the other hedgehog’s eyes. “I’m not, Shadow...you are.”

Confusion kept washing over the striped hedgehog, trying to decipher his rival’s words. “What do you mean I...” Shadow gazed down to see where his hand was still in Super Sonic’s own. Then, another - the last - piece of the puzzle came into the hybrid’s grasp.

His inhibitor rings were missing.

“This is after the chaos control,” Shadow realized, looking up to the other hedgehog to see if he was correct.

Super Sonic nodded, brows furrowed. “Yes.”

“Hm.” Shadow hummed, averting his eyes from the unbelievably shining hedgehog to look over at the planet he came from. “If I’m still in space, are you referring to me simply floating around here?”

Super Sonic’s hold on Shadow’s hand tightened; the striped hedgehog didn’t need to hear the hero’s words to know what the gesture already gave away.

“I’m sorry, Shadow.”

At this, the hybrid glanced at Super Sonic over his shoulder, huffing with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t apologize. These are consequences of my actions, not yours.”

“You don’t understand,” Super Sonic argued, meeting Shadow’s gaze with all the guilt the black hedgehog had never seen come from the hero before. “I was supposed to hold on to you.”

“You are,” Shadow motioned with a vague swing of their conjoined hands. “So, don’t begin to blame yourself for something you don’t need to.”

“But I let you go...I let you fall, Shadow.”

The heartfelt words echoed around Shadow as their surroundings morphed again into a new scene - the one Super Sonic was mentioning. In a painful silence, Shadow watched as Super Sonic and Super Shadow saved the world again before him, the figures in the distance resembling the outline of ghosts. And as if to remind him of what was currently happening, Shadow watched as all the energy in his doppelganger seeped out of him and fought to hold onto the other Super Sonic, who with sheer determination in his eyes attempted to save the slipping hedgehog with his hand.

When the scene finished, Shadow took a moment to collect his thoughts and turned to the Super Sonic holding onto his hand in the present.

“You think I’m falling to my death...”

One nod later and Shadow was snickering to the super transformed hedgehog’s surprise.

“Please, Sonic...the last thing I need is for your ego to grow any bigger.”

“What are you on about? I’m being serious here! You’re dying, Shadow!” Super Sonic growled, tugging at the hybrid’s hand to bring him closer face-to-face. “You’re dying.”

Crimson eyes looked into two brilliant red and remorseful eyes, thousands of words exchanged in just one long stare. And if Shadow had the time, he would stay here and explain them to Sonic...if this really were his last moment with the hero.

But it was not - Shadow knew deep down.

“I’m not dying, Sonic,” Shadow let go of his rival’s hand and cradled Super Sonic’s face, gently and reverently because this was the closest Shadow had been to a god. One that he believed in forever from now on.

“And I’m not falling...” Shadow assured his rival. “You’re returning me to my rightful home.”

“I am?” Super Sonic whispered, the touch of Shadow’s hands on his face emitting more warmth than the excessive chaos energy swirling in his body.

“Earth is my home, the home of Maria...you’re letting me say goodbye to her one last time, Sonic.”

Swallowing the despair lodged in his throat, Super Sonic let out a trembling sigh, placing his hands over Shadow’s cheeks, the two hedgehogs mirroring each other.

“You’re not dying,” the hero accepted this, pressing his forehead to Shadow’s and smiling. “I’m saving you.”

“And for that, I thank you, Sonic,” Shadow’s breath fanned over Super Sonic’s muzzle, their words kissing between the distance of their lips.

“I’ll see you, again, Shadow.”

The Ultimate Lifeform smiled at hearing the steadiness in Sonic’s voice, giving one last nudge to the hero’s forehead.

“Sooner than you think, hedgehog,” and finally, Shadow let go of Super Sonic, losing consciousness once again.

#sonadow #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #omg this was really fun to do after such a tiring day :)#this song is my fuel to write angsty/silly sonadow drabbles for my own entertainment #my writing

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prompts-woooo · 9 months

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Lyric Prompts 2

Chosen by if they make me think of characters VERY brainrottily

“Told me to take you but the price of love would seal my doom”

“Same old ways, modern day (Delilah)”

“You lived your glory in a liars haze you called the truth”

“The same old story of a social plan from wasted youth”

“You thought that you could bring me to my knees”

“But who’s the one crying ‘baby please’?”

“Just like a trigger on a loaded gun, you were the reason for the damage done”

“Queen to slave, love’s decayed”

“I’m not a hero, I’m not a saviour, forget what you know”

“I’m just a (man) whose circumstances went beyond (his) control”

“If you were a (king), you’d set me free”

“I’d be too dumb to ever leave”

“I give it, I take it, I come back for more”

“Nothing I do ever good (enough)”

“I can’t help but repeat myself”

“I know it’s not your fault”

“I believe fantasies can come true”

“Please don’t make this go away”

“But I will help you swim”

“It’s no big surprise you turned out this way”

“Make sure you kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the face”

“I want to contribute to the chaos, I don’t want to watch and then complain”

“I’m addicted to you and your evil ways”

“And if I kiss you in the garden in the moonlight, will you pardon me?”

“My black eye casts no shadow, your red eye sees no blame”

“A kiss with a fist is better than none”

“Break the lock if it don’t fit”

“I’ll bite you in the head, ‘til you’re dead”

“I wish you were dead babe”

“The beating of your heart is making me bleed from within”

“Oh no, not a chance in hell”

“Yeah, I’ve heard you sing and it ain’t too well”

“Your song’s no good ‘round here”

“Like a Cheshire Cat I think that you are just a grin”

“You could kill me, and you should”

“I got no shame, got no pride (only skeletons to hide)”

Songs used listed in order under cut

1-8 Modern Day Delilah - Kiss

9-10 Mr. Robots - Styx

11-13 Kiss on the Mouth - Our Lady Peace

14-16 I Can’t Handle Change - Roar

17-18 Daydream / Wetdream / nightmare - Saint Motel

19-22 Twin Size Mattress - The Front Bottoms

23 19 days - Our Lady Peace

24 - Tip Toe Thru’ the Tulips with Me - TIny Tim

25-27 Kiss with a fist - Florence + The Machine

28 Cat Vs. Dog (English version) - Kero Kero Bonito

29-34 Under My Skin - Jukebox The Ghost

35-36 This is Love - Air Traffic Control

#lyric prompts #drawing prompts #writing prompts

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lv3buzzz · 3 months

Note

Day 2 of sending you subliminals to get you you into florence and the machine

( Its a band with Florence Welch as the lead singer )

Listen to the cd🔪( which album)

My black eye casts no shadow

Your red eye sees no blame

Your slaps don't stick

Your kicks don't hit

So we remain the same

Blool sticks

Sweat drips

Break the lock if it don't fit

A kick in the teeth is good for some

A KISS WITH A FIST IS BETTER THAN NONE

WHOA OH

A KISS

WITH A FIST

IS BETTER THAN NONE

~🪶

RAHHHHHHHHH

^ME /pos

I SHOULD START LISTENING TO THEM ILL LOOK FOR THE CD WHEN I GET HOME TEEHEE

#teehee #RAHHH #🪶 anon

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paradoxkinspace · 1 year

Note

hello can i get a just general sufflemancy for jade harley ty :)

yeah 'non, i gotcha :o)

we got "Oh No!" by MARINA and "Kiss With A Fist" by Florence + The Machine on the frequency for ya

under readmore for the unpacking spiel deal

💫

I know exactly what I want and who I want to be / I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine / I'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy

[...]

One track mind, one track heart / If I fail, I'll fall apart / Maybe it is all a test / 'Cause I feel like I'm the worst / So I always act like I'm the best / If you are not very careful / Your possessions will possess you / TV taught me how to feel / Now real life has no appeal

* * *

My black eye casts no shadow / Your red eye sees no blame / Your slaps don't stick / Your kicks don't hit / So we remain the same / Blood sticks, sweat drips / Break the lock if it don't fit / A kick in the teeth is good for some / A kiss with a fist is better than none

well jade, it looks to me like you had a rather rude awakening over the course of your timeline.

initially, things began as easy, it was just second nature to go through the usual motions and you tried to continue that routine even through the game. unfortunately, the reality of the game brought with in a lot of uncomfortable and painful realizations about yourself and others, even the nature of the universe itself.

from what i can tell this lead into something of a spiral for you; you may have lashed out or cut others off in some attempt to regain control and achieve the fantasy you'd pictured back before the game began and everything got so messy.

it doesn't seem you stayed in that tailspin though, not to say it didn't leave a big impact. you may have become a bit hardened, less naive, but no less optimistic. the harshness of reality doesn't have to harsh your vibe and you know how to roll with the punches. if you ask me, looks like you even threw a couple of your own and got a good handle on your happy ending, even if you got a couple scars along the way

#mod clowncar #shufflemancy #kin shufflemancy #kin readings #jade harley #jade kin #jade harley kin

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Mark of the Beast

Please be kind. I haven’t written werewolves before and this is an unedited drabble I did to distract myself. Hope you enjoy werewolf!Thor and needless to say it’s dark.

Reblog and comment if you like, please and thank you.

Warnings: noncon and rape, exophilia, blood, biting.

You sat along the edge of the yard, just at one of those picnic tables set with chips, salsa, and other finger foods; most of it crumbs and smears as the night wore on. The fire licked up into the sky as the strangers chatter drunkenly, laugh loudly, and sing and dance wildly to the music floating from the bassy bluetooth speaker.

Parties were never your scene and you don’t know why you agreed to come. You didn’t even know why you were asked. You never were the fun friend, hell you were often the forgotten one. The one who found out they weren’t invited or when you were privileged enough to be asked along, it was because someone else fell through.

Well you couldn’t take another night in your boxy apartment, sitting there alone as you watched the same shows over and over again. Restless as nothing ever seemed to change and yet time continued to pass you by.

You noticed how as the sky darkened, the guests began to couple up and trickle away from the flames of the tiki torches and the empty keg. You thought this kind of thing was better left to college kids.

The early summer night was cool and dull blue as clouds streaked the sky. You hadn’t seen the sun directly since noon and it cast an odd haze over the party. Even so, there had been much screaming and shrieking on the oversized slip and slide. Again, these people, you included, were too old to be throwing their drunken bodies around.

Valerie giggled as she hung off the slender man with the black hair. He wore a green button up and black jeans. His clothes were pressed and pristine. He looked out of place amid the group. He looked like you felt.

She grabbed his collar and led him away from the few stragglers still grinding around to the retro tones of TLC. You stood as she headed for the trees. She was your ride and you didn’t feel like staying all night so she could get laid by some stranger. You didn’t even know how she got invited to this.

The sky shifted and dimmed a little more. You collided with a large body as you made to catch up with Valerie. You recognized the blonde man. He’d been lurking throughout the night, socializing over the top of red plastic cup, at one point chatting with the black-haired man Valerie was flirting with and helping tap the keg when it was overturned in some dumb stunt.

“Oh, excuse me,” you said as his large hand settled on your arm, “um, I’m just…”

“You don’t like the party?” he asked in his booming voice.

“What? No, I--”

“You’ve been hiding over here all night,” he said, “and you haven’t looked very happy about it.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” you countered.

“Well, this is my party,” he said lightly, “Thor.”

He removed his hand from your arm and offered it to you. You looked at it reluctantly then glanced around him.

“I’m here with my friend. We should probably go--”

“The one who just disappeared with my brother?” he chuckled, “I don’t think you want to walk in on that.”

“Then maybe I’ll just call a cab,” you shrugged, “but I should get--”

“Why did you come? To glower in the corner and feel sorry for yourself?”

“No, I… you don’t know me.”

“No, I do not but that is not my doing. You sit here and isolate yourself to the point that anyone who approaches you, cannot break that barrier you’ve put up. The one you blame on those around you but you’re the only one enforcing it,” his blue eyes were pale, almost silver as the clouds darkened, and you realised in that moment how big he was.

“I didn’t ask for your--”

“You wouldn’t know what to ask for if you found the nerve,” he gave a crooked smile, “you don’t know what you want, what you need.”

He leaned in as his voice turned to a growl, something animalistic as he leaned in and his shadow shut out the sky.

“I know I want to leave,” you said as you stepped back, only to hit the low bench behind you.

“Did you not notice?” he asked.

“Notice what?” you sidled along the wood and he stopped you, this time his fingers gripped your arm tightly.

“That everyone else is gone. They’ve found their mate…” he lowered his voice to a gristle, “the moon is close and they must consummate their pairing.”

“What are you--” you gasped as you saw the way his canines pointed dangerously and grazed along his lip.

“All in my pack made their claim,” he whispered as he leaned in and the silver moon flickered behind the wisping clouds, “I’m making mine.”

“Get off--”

Suddenly you were spun around and flung so you landed in the grass, your knees and the heels of your hands scraping against the twigs and pebbles. Before you could try to stand or turn, he was behind you. His large hands braced your throat and he pulled you onto your knees so that your back was to his torso as he lowered himself behind you.

His nose tickled your ear as he inhaled your scent and a growl crackled in his throat. His fingers tightened and you felt sharp claws prodding at your flesh. His breath picked up as you felt his body tremble. The clouds parted at last and the full moon painted the grass silver.

“You have no purpose, I see it,” his voice grinded roughly, “you are lost but I have found you…”

“Let me--” you rasped and wheezed as he choked you harder.

“You don’t know. How can you realise that I have chosen you for a greater need?” he slid one hand to the back of your neck and pushed you down sharply so that you were face down in the grass, “I can smell it on you… ripe for a pup.”

He flipped your over harshly and his hand pressed to your jaw as he squeezed it painfully. You grasped his wrist in terror as the moon limned the fine fur that had risen across his skin, his long blonde hair blending into his thick main as his eyes glowed eerily.

“I… I...what are you?”

“What are you?” he repeated back, “can you tell me that?”

“Please, don’t--”

“You’re mine,” he snarled as he dragged a long nail over your shirt and sliced through the fabric easily, his other hand still framed your jaw, “if you survive, you will carry my pup, if you don’t… an honourable death.”

You slapped at his hand as his fingers hooked in the front of your jeans and he janked them down in a single motion. Your panties caught in the denim as he brought his foot up to push them down to your ankles. He pushed his knee between your thighs and dug a nail into your hip. Hot blood rose around his claw.

“I can smell it all. The loneliness, the desperation, the fear… it’s delicious.”

His claw flicked over your clit lightly as he pushed your folds apart. He played with you as you squirmed helplessly and gripped his arm, one hand on his wrist and the other on his bicep.

“No, no--” you murmured as your body went into shock, the pleasure of his teasing like a muffled shout in your core.

When his hand moved from your cunt, you felt its absence more intensely. He brought his other knee between your legs and pushed them further apart until your jeans slipped from one ankle. He lifted your left leg and hooked his arm under it and leaned on you as he lined himself up.

You pushed on his chest as the moonlight limned his silhouette above you and clenched as he prodded against your entrance. He cradled your face and dropped his head down beside yours as he pinned you under his weight, your leg bent uncomfortably as your other splayed against his hip.

He poked at your resistance and when he finally pushed through, you cried out into the night. He was thick, so thick, and when you thought you could handle no more, he pushed further in. You strained around his cock as he snapped his hips up and when he filled you entirely, you whimpered as you felt him in your stomach.

You tangled your fingers in his hair as his hot breath tickled along the crook of your neck. He pulled back and you let go of the breath in your chest only to suck it back in as he thrust sharply. You whined as he jolted your entire body and sank his teeth into your flesh. The shock of pain mingled in your core and filled your veins with an irresistible heat. He removed his fangs from you and dragged his bloodied lips down your neck.

“If you fight it, you will suffer,” he purred, “give in… you feel it, don’t you?”

He rutted faster as his breath kept time with his hips. Your body was alight against the cool grass as your eyes rolled back. Your moans added to your horror as they rose without thought, roused by the friction of his pelvis against yours and the slapping of flesh on flesh.

He fucked you faster and harder with each tilt and held your head between two hands as he looked down at you. His thumbs rubbed your cheekbones as he kissed you hungrily and the taste of your own blood stained your lips.

You felt hollow and light. The weight of him faded and you were on high and your lashes fluttered as the silver nights and his dark shadowed coloured your vision. You curled your fingers over your chest as you came and arched beneath him like a wild animal. The orgasm sent heat through you from head to toe and you whined and whimpered desperately.

Thor hammered into you even harder and his growls filled your head. He snaked his arm under you and slammed his hips down so viciously that every bone in your body ached.

“Oh, little one,” he snarled, “you take me so well…” his thumb brushed over the bite on your neck, “you wear my mark like a true bitch.”

He buried himself completely and panted rampantly as he spasmed. His cum flooded you and seeped and squelched around him as he gave a final thrust. He held himself as deep as he could and nuzzled your cheek as the smell of his sweat filled your lungs.

“Mine,” his teeth brushed against you and you shivered as a sudden fatigue weighted your eyelids, “that’s it…” his voice grew further and further away, “let it take you, little one.”

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #werewolf thor #werewolf!thor #werewolf #werewolf au #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #mcu #marvel #exophilia

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dameronology · 4 years

Text

never doubt me {cassian andor}

summary: after falling into the hands of the empire, a situation of life and death forces you and cassian to finally talk about your feelings {for @megmeg-chan and i am sO sorry it’s taken me so long to do this}

summary: language, mentions of injury, talks ab death/loss in a canon kinda way

enjoy!! i haven’t written for cassian in so long and i forgot how much i loved him, so expect more of him in the future😌

- jazz

Cassian Andor was a filthy liar.

No, deep breath. He wasn't that bad.

The situation was just really fucking irritating and, in all likelihood, making your anger towards him a little more irrational. It wasn't really even his fault either. He'd told you incessantly that the mission was going to go well, and that you both going to be fine. Like, totally fiiiine, and that you would both get into the base without trouble and reunite in the middle, near the Imperial comms system. It was just that neither of you had planned for or expected stormtroopers to be present -- he'd gotten away in one piece, but you hadn't been so lucky.

That brings us to now: a cell, with two stormtroopers parked outside and quite literally no sign of Cassian anywhere. You knew he'd be looking for you; in fact, you didn't doubt it once. There was a sort of unspoken pact between you that you would always rescue one another; always have each other's backs and never leave the other behind. It was born from the fact that friendships were hard to forge in your line of work, and what you and Cassian had was rare. Not even just in the Rebellion, but rather life in general. On the surface, you teased and ripped into one another to no end. The chemistry was almost suffocating for the people around you, because they could never get a word in edge ways. Then, if you dug a little deeper, there was something more. Something sweeter, something more supportive. You knew him better than he knew himself and in return, he could read you like his favourite novel (though, admittedly, it did sometimes feel like you were missing a few pages. Human complexity and all that).

‘Do you feel like speaking now?’ The modulated voice of one of the stormtroopers came from the other side of your cell door.

‘I’ll die before telling you jackshit.’ You muttered. Hopefully that was more of a statement and less of a prophecy.

The trooper snorted. ‘Okay, sweetheart-’

‘- call me that again and I will shove that blaster sideways up your ass.’ You spat.

‘The only thing you’re doing is rotting here.’

With that, he turned his back to you again.

You slumped further down the wall, ignoring the feeling of the cold concrete etching through the thin fabric of your shirt. It was cold in here. Really, really fucking cold, and Cassian had said you wouldn’t need a jacket. Then again, he’d said a lot of things. And again, none of it was his fault, but you cursed yourself for so blindly listening to him. It was nice that you took everything the other said as gospel, even if it came back to bite you in the ass every so often.

‘A word of advice-’

‘- I don’t want any advice.’ You turned away from the trooper, pulling you knees to your chest.

‘The sooner you talk, the less painful it’ll be.’ He ignored your refusal.

You didn’t need to ask what he meant by it. You’d been part of the Rebellion long enough to have heard stories -- stories of torture, stories of war and the the kind of horrors that people often took to the grave. You had a fair few of your own, and so did Cassian. That was probably why he’d become so important to you. He was one of the only people in the galaxy who truly understood the downfalls of being a Rebel spy. Your cause was more important to you than anything (well, almost anything) and you wouldn’t have changed it for the world, but there were times like this where you wondered if it was all worth it. Would there ever come a day where the Empire truly fell, once and for all? And would you even be around to see it? Would Cassian?

Speaking of the devil, where the fuck was he? He never usually took this long. A few hours at most, but you’d long surpassed that. You could only very barely see the sky through the tiny window, but the sky had faded from powder blue to a dark navy, signalling it had been well over half a day. That was bad for multiple reasons -- the first being that the longer you were here, the more likely Cassian was to assume the worst and stop searching. Secondly, and perhaps most hauntingly, was that each passing second brought you closer to the Imps dragging you out the cell and taking you for questioning. And questioning, in their books, didn’t involve much talking. Go figure.

The injuries you sustained in your capture were bad enough; a bust lip, bruised eye and twisted ankle never made for much comfort. Even less so when you couldn’t get medical attention. The fact you knew it would be the least of your problems in a few hours made it all that much worst.

You’d never doubted Cassian Andor before. Not once. Couldn’t even fathom it, truth be told. He always came through for you; always saved your ass, whether it be from yourself or from Imps. He was your person. That’s the only way you could have put it.

But, above all, he was a human being. Not a super hero, or a miracle worker. He could only do so much and you knew he would. He would follow every lead and every clue to try and get to you, but that’s all he could do. If he couldn’t find you, that wasn’t him on him. You doubted that he would think the same, and when you heard the lock to your cell open, you could only hope and pray that he knew that. That you weren’t going to blame him for what was about to happen, or hold it against him.

‘It’s time.’ The stormtrooper announced. ‘Hope you can handle a bit of pain.’

You took a deep breath. ‘I can handle anything.’

‘I wouldn’t count on it.’ He guffawed. ‘Hands out.’

‘C’mon, man.’ You murmured. ‘My legs gone, my lips bust and my head feels someone’s dropped an iron anvil on it. You don’t need to cuff - ouch!’

You let out a squeak as he grabbed your wrists, tugging them forward and shoving a pair of metal cuffs on them. Was this really it? The end? Was your name gonna be the next one on the list of people lost in the Rebellion? That was if anybody even noticed.

Cassian would. Of course, Cassian would. It hurt your heart to think that you wouldn’t see him again, or get to say a proper goodbye. The last time you’d seen him, you’d been dragged away from him kicking and screaming. He’d been so close, and if he’d been just a little nearer when they’d got you, he might have been able to save you, to stop you from falling into the hands of the Empire. You always figured that if you were gonna die in the field, he’d be by your side. The dumbassery you so often found yourselves in usually happened together.

The walls of the Imperial base were dark - as if you’d expected anything else. It was hardly like the place was going to look like a bright, airy Ikea showroom. The only light came from the thousands of tiny red and blue buttons flickering on the wall, illuminating the hallways in what would have been a pretty glow if the circumstances weren’t so fucking miserable. Talk about a high way to hell.

You took another left, the trooper’s grip on you tightening as you neared some double towards the end. Yep, here it was. This is where you met your maker. And from what you’d heard, the six-foot-something guy in a black mask did not take prisoners. Not that he was the one you were thinking of. No, that was Cassian. Completely and entirely Cassian; just his face and his presence and his everything at the back of your mind, the last thing you could think of before you were about to die for your cause-

-you let out an oof! as the stormtrooper suddenly pulled you to the ground, practically using you as a human shield against the blaster fire and smoke grenade that had just come from behind you. You tried to use your elbows to push him off, but with the cuffs and your already existing injuries, he easily overpowered you. Also, you were too busy coughing from the smoke to even think about making a getaway.

Tumbling forward, you fell onto your hands and knees. The trooper’s gun clattered to the ground, and you used your good leg to kick it further out the way, eyes not moving from the cloud of smoke that come out of the grenade. The red and blue lights were beating down on it, casting a purple glow over the shadow of whoever had thrown it, acting as a guide as they finally emerged. With a blaster in one hand and the other curled into a fist, your best friend had never quite looked so handsome, especially under the violet illuminations.

‘Cassian!’ Despite everything, you couldn’t help but grin.

‘Duck.’ He demanded.

You did as he said, flopping back to the floor. Squeezing your eyes shut and covering your head, you stayed there for a moment. There was another blast, and then the trooper’s body fell beside yours with a dull thud!

Then, in what must have been two of most contrasting feelings ever, a warm pair of hands found yours. Cassian’s, undoubtedly. You would have known them anywhere. He pulled you up from the cold ground, warm palms finding your face as they ghosted over your cheeks.

‘It’s okay.’ His voice was soft. ‘You can open your eyes.’

You took a deep breath. ‘I know. Thank you.’

‘How badly are you hurt?’ He asked. ‘Because we need to move fast.’

‘My foot’s pretty wrangled.’ You said.

Without another word, Cassian threw an arm over your shoulders, tucking it under your arms to support you.

‘Lean against me.’ He instructed. ‘The exit isn’t too far-’

‘- what about the other troopers?’ You asked.

‘I dealt with them on my way in.’

And dealt with them, he certainly had. The men were practically laying in unconscious piles (he only ever intended to maim, but never kill), working as some kind of fucked up map out of a twisted and horrible maze. The pain in your leg only grew worst as you moved, your good leg beginning to ache from carrying all the weight. With all your attention focused ahead of you for potential enemies, you didn’t even notice how close you were to stumbling over -- not until you fell back onto the cold lino floors.

‘Hey.’ Cassian dropped beside you. ‘Look at me, okay, just...look at me.’

You glanced up, tired eyes meeting his warm, brown ones. ‘It really hurts, Cass.’

‘We’re really close now.’ He said. ‘Two more minutes. Can you do that? For me?’

‘Yeah.’ You took a deep breath and nodded. ‘I can.’

(Because really, for him, you’d do anything.)

Cassian helped you back up, pressing one of his blasters into your hand. His arm returned to hold you by the waist, gripping you a little tighter this time. Your leg was practically screaming in pain, a dull ache shooting from your ankle up to your knee. You had to remind yourself that in a few minutes, it would all be over - and not in the way you thought it was going to be over an hour ago. Over, as in this whole ordeal would simply be something to report back to your bosses at base, and not your final moments. The fact you ever let yourself accept that fate and think that Cassian wouldn’t come for you was something else entirely in itself.

You almost cried with relief when you saw his battered old ship docked outside the base. You normally cried for other reasons when you saw it - usually ones to do with the rusty old engines and creaking sound it insisted on making whenever it flew - but right then, you had never been happier to see it. Even if the insides smelt weirdly of petrol and oil, and the seats in the cockpit were made of uncomfortable cracked leather, you practically threw yourself on board.

Neither you nor Cassian said anything for a while. His attention was completely on getting away from the base and avoiding TIE fighters - something he did without ever moving his hand from your thigh - and yours was on steadying your breathing and heartbeat. It had been a rough twelve hours to say the least.

Once the ship had lurched into hyperspace, he turned in his chair to face you. He held your gaze for a moment, before opening his arms out and letting you flop from your own seat and into his chest. They tightly wrapped around you, one hand softly your head to his body and the other gently rubbing up and down your back. You had to squeeze your eyes shut to stop your tears from spilling.

‘I’m sorry.’ He murmured.

‘For what?’ You peered up at him with a frown.

‘Not finding you sooner.’ He replied. ‘Or for even letting you get caught in the first place-’

‘- Cassian, stop.’ You pulled back and tangled his hands in yours. ‘Once I get some bactaspray, I’ll be totally fine.’

‘But you almost weren’t.’ He shot back. ‘If I was just a few minutes later and you could have been a thousand times worst, or even...gone completely.’

‘That’s beside the point.’ You softly sighed. ‘It’s doesn’t matter would have beens or could have beens. I am here and I will be okay.’

‘You’re right.’ He nodded. ‘I’m sorry. I just...I want to protect you, you know? And I failed.’

‘You don’t need to protect me, Cass.’ You shook your head with a soft smile. ‘Actually, no, today I did but you pulled through.’

‘I don’t need to, but I want to.’ Cassian murmured.

He’d done a pretty good job at sitting on his feelings for the last few years. Pushed them down when he felt the urge to tell you, and ignored them entirely when they got really intense. But that had been when the threat of completely losing you was just that: a threat. A distant possibility, and one that you were both too busy living your lives to fully consider. Now, however, you’d come close. Too close. Cassian had come face-to-face with a reality where you were gone, and one where he’d never actually told you how he felt.

‘You know I love you, right?’ He quietly said.

‘Yeah, I know.’ You nodded.

‘No, I mean I love you.’

You peered up at him, realising what he was getting at. You did know. In fact, it had very much been an unspoken thing between you for a very, very long time. It was really just a matter of saying it - but that was always the hardest part, right?

‘I know.’ You repeated. ‘I love you too.’

‘You do?’

You softly laughed. ‘Of course I do.’

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple and pulled you back against his chest, chin resting atop your ahead. ‘Good.’

You stayed like that for a few minutes; it was undoubtedly a deeper conversation you were going to have later on, but it felt good to have it out in the open. So good, in fact, that it momentarily made you forget the last day entirely. Instead of pondering on it, you let yourself get lost entirely in Cassian’s presence, and the feeling of his body against yours and and his arms holding you. If you could have it your way, you would have stayed like this forever. The rest of the galaxy could wait.

‘I’m sorry if you thought I was going to make in time.’ He said quietly.

‘I didn’t.’ Your voice was slightly muffled by his chest. ‘Not once.’

‘I love you.’ Cassian said it more firmly this time. It still completely felt weird to say, and even more so to see you smile and say it back.

‘I love you too.’

He dipped his head down, capturing your mouth in a soft kiss. The feeling of your lips against his was familiar and foreign all at once; it was something he’d gone over in his head a thousand times, but it was nothing like either of you had imagined. It was better. Sweeter, in the kind of way that gave you butterflies in your tummy and made you feel giddy. It was worlds away from the usual dread and bloodshed that came with being in the Rebellion.

But that was quintessentially Cassian. He was everything that the war wasn’t: sweet and constant and warm. Somebody as beautiful and as caring as him both did and didn’t belong in the Rebellion. Did, because he was a good man who wanted to fight for the right thing. Didn’t, because he constantly risked his life for the greater good and you couldn’t quite stomach that idea.

‘I’ll always come back for you.’ He lightly brushed his hand against your cheek. ‘Never doubt me.’

‘I won’t.’ You promised. ‘Not ever.’

tags: @megmeg-chan @karasong @bb8sworld @marvelinsanity @poestardust @etherealsanakin @bo-kryze @punkbach @phoenixhalliwell

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor imagine #cassian x reader #cassian imagine #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor fanfic #star wars x reader #star wars imagines #star wars fluff #cassian andor fluff #rogue one imagines #star wars angst

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