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rainrot4me · 1 year ago

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I dunno if u do requests however ID FUCKING EAT UP A TOBY SMUT SO MUCH OMG I DONT HAVE ANY CONTEXT OR WHAT I WANT I JUST WOULD 104% SWALLOW DOWN A SMUT FOR TOBY ‼️‼️ anyway as yk i love ur works and ily and idk you but anyway have a nice day/night :3 <3 AND TY!!!!😈

carley ily this is for you 🫶

Refuge For Two

Summary: You decide to spend the weekend at your family’s cabin during a snowstorm after a particularly stressful week. When you find an injured Toby, your need to care for him turns into his need for you.

Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Injury, blood, wounds, fingering, thigh fucking, tics, inexperience, kinda first time, vaginal, desperation, cumming on thighs, slight restraint, biting, virgin

Words: 5.7k

As the tires of your Jeep skidded down the gravel path that winded to the cabin, relief finally settled.

Winter was always a rough time for you. As if seasonal depression wasn’t kicking your ass, your job definitely was. Working at a hospital had always kept you on your toes, but with the snow and ice set in, more and more accidents piled up in every room. It was nothing short of exhausting.

So when you eventually had enough and called your parents asking to borrow the family lodge for a little rest and relaxation, you could’ve cried when they dropped off the keys to you the next morning. The cabin wasn’t far from your own home. You lived in a small town nestled off the side of the highway and the cabin was just up the mountains about an hour away. It was a perfect distance from your tiring job and busy life, giving you the time you needed for the weekend. And the drive wasn’t terrible. Dark clouds had settled in the sky, rolling over and swirling at the peak of the heavily wooded mountain. It made you all giddy to think of how comfortable it would be nestled up by the fire while snow coated the ground. Yeah, you needed this.

Pulling the Jeep under the carport adjacent to the large cabin, you shut it off and hopped out. The cold wind whipped at your face making your hair fling wildly. You hugged yourself, teeth chattering as you flipped the hatch open, threw your duffle bag over your shoulder, and hurried to the front door.

The sun sat just above the mountain range, casting a blue haze over the dense forest through the thick cloud cover. To you, it was beautiful. The calm before the snowstorm that was soon to set in. You unlocked the door, hurrying inside and tossing your stuff on the kitchen island. The inside of the cabin was nearly just as cold as the outside, offering you little relief from the wind. Hurrying over to the living room, you gripped the few logs nestled by the fireplace and tossed them in along with a a couple of matches you found on the mantle. Warmth engulfed you immediately, the fire casting a comforting glow to the rest of the room. A couch and a loveseat sat close to the fireplace, a large rug bringing the room together nicely.

Shuffling your shoes off, you kicked them by the door and rustled through the contents of your bag. Random warm clothes, a book you intended on reading, some junk food, and your phone. As you flipped the screen on, you noticed the no service notice in the upper corner before flipping the screen back off and setting your phone down. Whether it be from the high altitude or the dense forest surrounding you, your phone was no use this weekend. Somehow that made you happy, knowing you wouldn't have to worry about getting called in suddenly.

You flicked on the small light above the stove and flicked the gas eye on, blue flames erupting from under the metal bars. You filled the kettle resting on the counter with water, placing it on the eye and grabbing a mug with a bag of tea. You quickly brought your bag to the small bedroom down the hall, changing into some comfier clothes before heading back to the kitchen at the sound of the kettle whistling. Pouring the piping water into the mug and letting the tea bag rest, you cupped the mug in your hand and turned to the living room.

Through the pulled curtains, you could see the sun was setting low behind the dense trees, a dark pink tint painting the sky through the thick cloud cover. Snow had begun to fall, little flakes of white decorating the trees and ground. The sound of the fire crackling just pulled it all together, driving you to nestle into the corner of the couch with a blanket and sip your warm tea. This was the perfect retreat from your busy life. Nothing but the sounds of nature and fire to keep you company, an amazing contrast to the beeping of monitors and yelling of patients. This was the solitude you craved.

When finally the sun slipped under the ridge and the sky became completely dark, you flipped open your book and clicked on the lamp on the coffee table next to you. The snow had piled up a couple of inches now, the wind whipping outside the cabin and creating a low whistle all around you. It was slightly unnerving, but in the security of your warm cabin, you didn’t mind it all that much. You became lost in the pages of your book, your tea and the fire creating an atmosphere where your brain slowly crept away. So when you heard a loud thunk outside, you had to close your book and lean forward, unsure if your brain was playing tricks on you. But when you heard another loud thunk just outside the cabin walls, you jumped out of your seat and tugged the curtain back, peering into the dark storm. It took you a minute to adjust your eyes, but when you saw the figure of someone curled up near a large tree, panic coursed through you. You had to double-take just to make sure you were seeing things correctly. What the hell was someone doing this far up the mountain??

You wanted to shut the curtains and hide under a blanket, more scared than anything. But being a nurse, your caring instincts took over and you slid on your boots and jacket, quickly hauling open the cabin door. The wind blinded you briefly, the heavy snow whipping against your face and chilling you to the bone. But as you rounded the cabin and trudged through the thick snow, you came up on the figure, realizing it was a boy, curled in on himself and shaking violently. Sliding your hands under his shoulders, you hauled his arm over your neck and hoisted him up. He rested his body weight against you, dragging his feet as he let you pull him to the cabin door. Hauling him inside, you slammed the door shut and brought him to the couch, laying him down quickly.

His body still shook violently, the warmth of the fire fighting hard to warm his body. His blue lips chattered, the patches on his face dark and stuck against his skin. Under the light, you could now see the large tear in the arm of his heavy jacket, dark blood soaking through. He wore heavy boots and dark jeans, his curly brown hair stuck to his forehead as he panted for air. But what caught your attention was the hatchet strapped to his belt. Alarming. You quickly realized he was just a boy barely scraping his twenties, he was taller than you, but lanky and not much larger than you. He reminded you of your patients, feeble and sickly.

Snapping back, you quickly slid his arms out of his jacket, his long-sleeved shirt underneath torn to shreds at the arm as you finally caught the wound: three large gash marks cut into his arms, tearing the flesh and bleeding quickly. You panicked at the sight, wondering what on earth could have caused that. You didn’t know of any mountain lions in the area, but even then the claw marks were too big for them. There was little time to think as you sprinted into your bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit stuffed inside the medicine cabinet. Pulling it open, you groaned at the lack of sewing needles or sterilizing spray, just some alcohol wipes and rolled elastic bandages. It would have to do. You wet a wash cloth and brought the rest of the supplies back to the couch, where the boy was beginning to stir.

He tried to sit up, but your comforting hand pressed his chest back down against the couch. He was freezing and still shaking wildly, but at least his lips were returning to a somewhat normal color. “It’s okay. Lay down, I’m here to help.” You cooed to him, rolling his sleeve up to his shoulder and examining the scratches closer. They weren’t as deep as they seemed, but the blood was spilling quickly. If you didn’t hurry, he could likely pass out. You pressed the wet washcloth to the wound, the boy stirring immediately. He was mumbling something you couldn’t understand, his hand wrapping tightly around your wrist in an attempt to pull yours away, but you resisted. You pressed a hand on his cheek, reassuring him softly as you cleaned at the wound, the blood slowly clotting under the warm rag.

He was still mumbling, whispers of no and please falling from his lips, but he had quit tugging at your wrist. His eyes were still shut, pupils moving quickly underneath in a silent panic. When the wound was clean to your liking, you tossed the rag and tore open an alcohol wipe, bracing your arm against his chest. “This is going to hurt…” You warned, angling his arm and pressing the wipe against the wound and braced for the panic that you were sure would come. But when he barely flinched, his mumbles unwavering, you raised your eyebrows in alarm. It was odd, but you ultimately chalked it up to his body still being numb from the cold, his pain receptors not fully awake yet. Once the wound was sterile, you wrapped the flesh-colored bandages around his arm tightly, encasing the wound and hopefully stopping the bleeding. You secured them in place before looking at the boy’s face, slightly jostled when you caught him staring at you through hooded eyes.

You rolled his sleeve back down, sitting up and off of his chest and giving him a good once over, satisfied you couldn’t see any more injuries. “That should keep it clean.” He glanced between you and his arm, rising himself up slowly to lean his head against the armrest of the couch. When he did, his neck twitched violently, eyes squinting shut. It caught you off guard, but he seemed to ignore it as soon as it happened. He smiled at you lazily, reaching his arm to brush the hair from his forehead. “T- Thank you.” He said hoarsely, voice still raw from breathing in the cold outside. Stutters. Tics. So all the twitching his body was doing wasn’t just from the cold. You recognized the movements, seeing them in other patients. Who was this kid?

You sat across from him on the couch, catching your breath. “What the hell are you doing out here?” You questioned, eyes flicking between his sickly face and the hatchet strapped at his hip. He took notice of this, sitting up further onto his elbows. “Uhh… Hun- Hunting. For bobcats.” He smiled quietly, unsure of his own answer. You wanted to question further, wanted to press as to why he chose the night a snowstorm was coming through to go hunting. But you didn’t. You just watched the fire crackle. “What’s y- your name?” He caught your attention again as he fully sat up, sliding his legs off the couch and landing his feet on the floor. He was recovering fast, the warmth entering his face again, his strength rebuilding strangely quickly. “[Y/N].”

“Thank you, [Y/N]. I’m T- Toby.” His shoulder twitched at your name, his eyes trailing to the fire as well. The situation grew tense quickly, your mutual silence growing too loud. “I’m a nurse. Couldn’t just let you die out there.” You smiled at him, standing and shuffling to the kitchen where you repoured your cup of steaming hot water, this time grabbing another cup. You placed a tea bag into each, cupping them in your hands and bringing one to Toby. He took it reluctantly, staring into the liquid and swirling it around before taking a sip. He sunk into the couch as the warmth pressed his mouth, the taste comforting him. He drank the rest in two big gulps, setting the mug down before popping up.

“Well, b- better get goi- going.” He laughed awkwardly, springing around as if he wasn’t just on the brink of hypothermia. You sat up quickly, swallowing the rest of the tea in your mouth. “What?! You were nearly frozen to death. Absolutely not.” You bit harshly, blocking his way to the door as he scooped up his jacket. Toby looked at you curiously, unsure why you were giving him the decency like it wasn’t common courtesy. “The storm won’t stop till morning. Till then, there’s no way you're going back out there.” You huffed, sitting him back down on the couch.

You didn’t trust him. The hatchet at his side and the uncertainty of his story made you very suspicious. But he was just a boy, definitely not much older than you. You couldn’t send him back out there on a good conscience. Although his constant ticcing and jerking were catching you off guard, the genuine concern for him overrode any fears you could have. After fighting with yourself, you made up your mind. He wasn’t anything to fear.

“So, Toby. Are you from around here?” You mused, sipping down the rest of your mug before grabbing him and bringing them to the sink. Sliding off your boots and jacket, you tossed them near the door, scooping up Toby’s and neatly folding them on the loveseat across from you. He smiled. “Yeah. Got so- some, uhm, family who live near h- here.” He stared out the window as he spoke, fingers fidgeting with each other as he watched the snow whip through the air. You deduced that he wasn’t a very good liar. But whatever, you didn’t know him and he didn’t know you.

As the storm outside thickened, a shared silence hung over the two of you. Around an hour had passed since you brought him inside, but little had been discussed between you. Toby stared out the window, looking for something you didn’t know. He had kicked off his boots and sat them aside, laying into the couch comfortably. His hatchet perched on the coffee table beside him. You kept to your book, occasionally glancing up to study him. It was odd, even though he had warmed up, his skin was still a sickly pale color, and the only sign of life was the dark red tint over his cheeks and ears. The bandages still clung tightly to his cheeks, a large one on his left covering a rather large wound from what you could tell. Peeking through the shreds in his sleeve, you could see the bandages on his arm were stained dark with blood. Closing your book, you reached for the first aid kit, stirring Toby to look at you. “Need to change your bandages,” You sighed, unwrapping the roll of cloth. “What got you anyways?” He flinched, rubbing his hands together. He was way too nervous for such a simple question. “Bobcat.” Another lie. If he wasn’t going to tell you the truth, there was no reason for you to push further. You slid closer to him, rolling his sleeve up again but the shreds of cloth kept sliding down. “H- Here.” Toby leaned back, hooking his hands under his shirt pulling it over his head, and tossing it to the floor.

What you were met with took you back with shock. This guy was decently ripped. Toby was thinner, but his abs and chest muscles complimented him perfectly. His shoulder and arms were thicker too, veins stretching down his arms and muscles pulsing under his weight. Clusters of freckles ran over his skin, hiding the deep blush he sported. The clothes he wore hid his figure nicely, who would’ve guessed he was secretly ripped? The twitch of his neck brought your attention back to his arm. You could see the small smirk on his lips as you blushed, embarrassment creeping over you as you unclipped his soiled bandages. The wound was a lighter color now, the dark bruising around the wound healing nicely but the puffiness of infection still remained. “You’ll probably need stitches. But it’s looking better.” You grinned, tearing open another alcohol wipe and sliding it over the damaged skin. When he didn’t flinch or hiss, your confusion only grew. Maybe he had a good pain tolerance. Or maybe the cut had severed a nerve. Either way, he was going to need to have this looked at professionally.

“It’s o- okay. My fam- family has a doctor.” He answered, lifting his toned arm up to let you slide the bandage under and wrap it tightly around once clean. You snugged the bandage on, leaning back to make sure everything was in place before packing the kit up and sliding it back onto the coffee table. “I don’t have any painkillers. Hopefully, the pain isn’t too bad.” You leaned back into the couch, straining yourself not to glance down at his chest again. He smiled, running his hand through his curled hair. “I’ll be al- alright.” He leaned back as well, angling his body to face you as you curled your legs closer to yourself. There was that awkward silence again. The tension between you two was thick, your eyes refusing to look at him for fear of embarrassing yourself again. Toby, however, kept his eyes all over you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him studying every inch of you. It made you blush. “How c- can I thank you?” He questioned, running his hand over his bandaged arm, admiring the neatness of it. You glanced at him, eyes flicking down to his stomach for a split second, but it was already too late. You caught the happy trail running up from under his belt line, his v-line angling lewdly against his pale skin. You blushed hard, eyes flicking up quickly, but by Toby’s expression, you knew you were caught.

He sat back smugly, pressing his back into the couch and spreading his legs just a little too far. The face you made was embarrassing. Your eyes wide, cheeks dark, and lips parted ever so slightly. Toby knew what he was doing. But he just started into your eyes, freckled cheeks rounded from his cheeky smile. “I think I- I know…” He cooed, pressing a hand flat on the cushion only inches from your knee. You shrunk into yourself, his soft words making you all kinds of squeamish. This was bad. You were young, sure. Your job was always your main focus, so you never really had time for relationships with someone, your experience only went as far as you did in high school with little hookups or sly touches. You were inexperienced, so to speak. You couldn’t embarrass yourself further by revealing how little game you got. You weren’t a virgin, but you definitely weren’t confident in yourself. And you definitely did not intend on getting laid this weekend.

“Uhm… I’m not- not really…” You lost your words when his fingers brushed your knee, the cold digits sending chills through you. Toby sat up, looking nowhere but into your eyes, gauging every reaction as his hand slid over your knee and slowly up your leg. You placed your hands over him, stopping his trail mid-thigh. “Listen, you don’t, uh, have to…” His fingers gripped your thigh tightly, rubbing his thumb across the goosebumps on your skin. You glanced at his face, the deep blush on his cheeks heavy under the warm light. “I’ll st- stop if you say so, but I j- just want to thank y- you,” He mumbled quietly, eye flicking nervously between your face and the rest of your body. “Besides. It’s ju- just us out here.”

You were insanely nervous, thoughts running a mile a minute as you contemplated your options. But when his fingers squeezed your thigh again, it made it harder to think. Your eyes flicked between his hand and that pretty face, his nervous smile making you flustered under his cold touch. Before you could stop yourself, you were nodding, slipping your bottom between your lips, and chewing nervously. Toby smiled, his bright eyes laying all over you. You slid your hands off him, gripping the couch underneath you as he slid both of his hands up your thighs, fingers brushing under the bottom of your shorts. He towered over you know, his tall figure encapsulating your easily as he ran his hands up your sides. You were a blushing mess, face burning when he brought his lips dangerously close to your skin. “Relax…” He cooed, arm jerking slightly before he slid his cold hand under the hem of your sweatshirt. He was met with goosebumps rising on your stomach, they trailed his fingers as he explored but his eyes were locked on yours.

He brought his face down to press soft kisses against your cheeks. He perched on his knees, both hands now wandering over your body and reaching to unclasp your bra. You raised your back to help him, squirming when Toby dipped his head lower to kiss your neck. He slid your bra off, tossing it to the ground before he quickly palmed your tits, massaging the mounds under his cold hands. You gasped under the cold touch, nipples perking to attention in his hands as he sucked on your neck. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, his tongue slid up your neck to your jaw, raising his head up to meet your eyes. He flicked at your nipples, squeezing the nubs under his fingers and smiling at your squirming. “So c- cute.”

You were burning up, a dampness already showing on your panties from the excitement. You could barely contain yourself when he sat back against the couch, pulling you onto his lap with your back pressed against his bare chest. He slid his arms around you, the tight muscles tensing and releasing as he slid his left hand under your sweater and quickly grabbed your tit, massaging lazily. His lips met your neck again, sucking on the warm skin as he slid his right hand down the waistband of your shorts, messing with the elastic. You whined under his touch, feet perched on either side of his thighs as he slid his hand to your panties and pressed further still. When his fingers slid against your folds, you finally gasped, reaching a hand back to grip his hair as he continued to abuse your neck with kisses. “S- So wet already…” He groaned, biting softly on your shoulder. He pressed his fingers further, his digits sliding through the slick between your legs and spreading your lips further. He hummed against you, fingers finally landing on your clit and making you flinch. When he circled the nub, it was sloppy and rough, making you whine. The stimulation was a lot, making your knees close together tightly around his hand. When he refused to let up, you hissed your sensitivity.

“Toby-” You whined, sliding your hand down his arm and under your shorts, gripping his hand to stop his movements against your sensitive clit. “Slow… please…” You hissed, pressing your fingers on top of his and rubbing slowly, beckoning him to follow your rhythm. When he repeated your movements, you gasped loudly, laying your head back on his shoulder. “Sorry…” He mumbled against your shoulder, peppering little kisses across the skin. He continued to slowly massage your clit, his cold fingers a wonderful sensation against your burning core. It didn’t take long until he got the rhythm, pinching your nipple and rubbing your clit deeply, enough to make you buck up into his hand. You slid your hand into his curly hair, moaning loudly when he slid his fingers deeper to press against your entrance. When his fingers slid inside, you gripped his hair tightly, your moans reverberating off the walls. His fingers stretched you nicely, the slow pump of his wrist making your mouth hang open. It was pure bliss. His fingers curled against your walls as he pressed his palm against your clit, rubbing quickly. “Toby… Oh my… oh my God…” You moaned, grinding your hips in time with his fingers curling into you. He was kissing behind your ear, nibbling on your earlobe as he hummed. His pace only grew, fingers curling deeper as you felt your core knotting up wonderfully. His palm nudged against your clit harder, tugging the nub as his fingers pressed deeper against your walls. You felt the wave of ecstasy wash over you as you came on his fingers, walls gripping the digits tightly as he rubbed your clit through your orgasm. You were panting, leaning back against him as he slid his fingers out of your soaked cunt.

Toby was smiling against your shoulder as he pulled his hand out of your shorts, admiring the way they glistened with your arousal. That’s when you felt it, his cock twitching under your back, trapped inside his jeans. You breathed deeply, pressing off of him and standing up. He whined for a moment, reaching for you until you began to slide down your shorts, then your panties. Toby sat back against the couch, blushing hard as your plump ass stood in front of him. It just made his cock twitch harder in his jeans, begging to be let out. Your sweater was next, pulled over your head, and tossed to the ground. It was all Toby could do not to just cum right there. Your body was so stunning, every curve and divot of your skin making him harder.

Before you could turn around, he pulled you back against him, setting you in his lap. He was quick to unzip his jeans, tugging his boxers down just enough to let his cock spring free and nudge against your back. You blushed hard, pulling your legs back to straddle his thighs, your bare ass pressed firmly against his twitching cock. You stabilized your hands on his knees, leaning forward lewdly as your arched your back. You glanced back, cunt pulsing with excitement as Toby spit into his hand and began to lazily pump his cock, eyes never leaving your ass. You pressed back against him, eyes pleading when he finally glanced up at you. “Toby…” You whined, grinding your ass down against his cock when he slid his hands to grip your hips.

“Shit… Y- You’re so, so hot. Gunna fuc- fuck you soo good.” He mumbled, neck twitching with excitement. He gripped your hips tight, tugging them up so he could nudge his cock under you, pressing the head snugly against your entrance. You stared back at him, stomach fluttering at the desperate faces he was making. When he positioned himself, he gripped your hips again, pressing down slowly. The stretch was glorious, your pinched moans ringing as he pressed you down further and further on his cock. When he finally bottomed out, your warm walls pulsed tightly around him, adjusting to his thick length. He was groaning, fingernails digging into your hips as he pressed you to move, tugging you forward and back on his cock. You were a moaning mess, cunt throbbing around him as he ground your hips down on him. You gripped his knees tightly, grinding back against the length inside you as he pressed against your walls. It was heavenly.

This is exactly what you need. All of your stress of the week prior melted away as Toby tugged your hips up, sliding you up his length before pressing you back down. He kneaded your hips and ass, his cold hands massaging all of your sore spots and melting you into him. You were losing yourself on his cock as he thrusts up into you, your hips bouncing down to meet him. He was groaning, pressing his back against the couch so he could get a better angle to thrust up into you, his lips hanging open. His cock nudged deep inside of you, every thrust pressing against your walls and making you gasp. “You’re so- so pretty [Y/N]. Riding me so g- good.” He whined, gripping your hips tighter and jerking you on his cock. You could only brace yourself on his knees as he fucked you on his length, controlling your pace with his tight grip.

“F- Faster, Toby… ahh-” You groaned, glancing back at him as your mouth hung open. He was focused on your ass, concentrating deeply to make sure he fucked you the best he could. Truth was, Toby was just as inexperienced as you. But he was bound and determined to treat you the best he could because, God, were you treating him good. He glanced up at your pleading face, hips stuttering as his arms twitched around you, pulling you flush against his chest. You laid your head back against his shoulder again, perching your feet into the couch and opening your knees wider. At this angle, Toby could thrust up into you better, nudging his cock deeper inside and sending you hollering. His cock stretched you wider, his thrusts pressing firmly against your g-spot with every move on his hips. You tried to arch, but Toby’s hand gripped you tightly around the waist, holding you still so he could piston up into you quickly.

‘Oh my- oh my God!” You hissed, tangling your hands in his curly hair and tugging sharply. He moaned loudly into your shoulder, retaking his place of biting into your skin, but this time he didn’t hold back. His teeth pressed firmly against the muscle in your shoulder, making you roll your eyes. He slid his right hand down your waist, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit and circling deeply. That’s what sent you over. You squealed, mouth hanging open as you stuttered up into his fingers, chasing your orgasm. Toby noticed this, holding you tighter and thrusting as deep as he could, relishing in the way your walls began to clamp down against him. “Co- Come on,” He groaned, sucking on the bite mark he planted on your skin. “Come f- for me…” His fingers slid on your clit, pushing you over the edge.

When you felt that familiar wave crash over you, Toby was quick to press deep inside of you and hold himself there, letting your walls constrict around him as you cried out. The tightness made him wince, using all of his willpower not to spill inside of you, groaning when you clenched down again. Your clit throbbed as Toby slowly rubbed you through your orgasm, his still-cold hands wrapping you tightly against him. Before you could catch your breath, Toby was pulling out of you and quickly pushing your legs together. He slid his cock in between the gap in your thighs, holding your legs still as he quickly stuttered his hips up, rubbing his length between your sensitive folds. You hissed, the quick pace making you squirm as he fucked your thighs, your ecstasy slick on his length.

Before you knew it, he was spilling on top of your thighs, moaning desperately into your ear as he held your waist tightly. There was… a lot. Several stripes of cum coated your legs as his thrusts slowed down to a dull grind, riding his orgasm out. “Oh my- y fuck…” He groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. As you both caught your breath, he slowly sat you off of him, grabbing his torn shirt off the ground and wiping your legs clean. He was twitching all over, pleasure still riding through him as his tics became sporadic, almost intense. He grabbed a blanket and you grabbed him, your bodies laying snugged against each other as Toby threw the blanket over the both of you, surrounding you with warmth. He reached up, flicking off the lamp on the coffee table and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you tightly against his body.

“T- Thank you,” Toby mumbled, tucking your head under his chin as he breathed deeply. His twitching had calmed, only the slow stutter of his voice left. In the soft glow of the fireplace, you nuzzled into his chest, breathing his scent in deeply. The storm still raged outside, the wind whipping against the house and howling lowly. You could feel yourself drifting as Toby’s fingers drifted along your spine, little goosebumps rising in their wake. For the first time in a long time, you were relaxed and calm. The stress of work and life had left you as you just lay in Toby’s arms, swallowed by his scent.

When you stirred awake from the sunlight shining through the windows, you immediately noticed the emptiness beside you. You sat up, the blanket sliding off your bare chest and sending cold chills across your skin. You pulled the blanket around you, shuffling to the window and peeking out. The snow was beginning to melt, the sunlight reflecting brightly off of what was left from the night before. As you turned back to the living room, there was no sign of Toby. No boots or shirts were scattered on the ground. No hatchet on the coffee table. But what you did see, was his hoodie still neatly folded on the loveseat across from you. You smiled to yourself, picking the clothing up and examining it. It was rather large, swallowing you whole as you slid it over your head. But it smelled like him.

When the weekend was up and you packed your Jeep full, you sighed, craving desperately to stay and abandon work. You glanced into the thick forest, longing for some sign of Toby, but knowing you wouldn’t get one. Groaning, you slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, the warm air relieving you from the cold outside.

As you drove back down the mountain, you couldn’t help but stare into your rearview mirror at the early morning fog lying low amongst the trees. Maybe it was a trick of the light, or your desperation making you see things. But as you glanced back one more time, you could’ve sworn you saw a curly-haired boy amongst the trees.

But when you looked back again, there was nothing there. Nothing but miles and miles of forest.

Even still, you smiled.

This was a request for @carmoronic!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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prettypinkporkchop · 9 months ago

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Can I request one where the reader overhears her boyfriend Paul calling the reader clingy so she went from being by his side to always having plans barley seeing him and he finally gets her and she just breaks down saying she didn’t wanna be clingy anymore

You smile to yourself as you walk around Billy Black's house toward the back, where you know Paul is.

"Yes! Same, dude! Is y/n the sam way as Nessie?" You hear Jacob ask. "She's just clingy!" You can hear Paul say. Your heart jumps and then falls onto the ground, shattering. You feel sick to your stomach. You don't even want to hear the rest. You turn your feet and walk right back to your car. You start the engine and go.

On the drive back home, you're crying. But, things are going to change if you want to keep Paul.

You stop at a gas station and pull out your phone. You call your coworker who you get along with.

"Hey Angela." You say. "Hey! What's up? Oh, if it's to cover for your shift Thursday, I would, but I can't. Ask for any other day, though!" She pipes up. "No, no. I was actually wondering if you wanted to hang out." You say. She pauses but then starts talking again, "Yes! When? Where?" She giggles. "Are you busy now?" You smile. "Nope."

You drive to Angela's house. You know where she lives, considering you've had to scoop her up for work a couple of times. Her car hates to start on freezing mornings. You walk up the steps and knock on her door. Eric opens it. Typical Eric, in his nice suit from work. "Hello?" He asks. "Hey! I'm Angela's coworker, y/n. I'm just coming to hang out." You say. "Oh!" He smiles and then points at you, "Yeah, yeah! She just mentioned that! Come in." He lets you inside.

You get home, and you go to bed. Your phone starts ringing. You pick it up. "Y/n, where have you been?" He asks kind of angrily. "I've been with Angela." You reply. "Your coworker?" He asks. "Yes." You say dryly. "Oh.. uh, you didn't tell me?" He said. "Sorry, babe." You sigh. "You're acting off." He said. You had to think quickly. "I just forgot to tell you. I'm sorry, babes. Needed some girl time." You giggle. "Oh, I see. Well, tomorrow I'm not doing anything at all! My day off of being a wolf." He laughs. Your heart is pounding. Oh god, do you want to be next to him. "Want to come over?" He asks. "Uh, no, I have plans." You say. You put him on speaker phone and go through your contacts. "With who?" He asks, surprised. You see the texts between you and Leah. She asked you a couple of days ago to decorate her house since you're good at that. "Leah wants me to decorate her house." You text her saying you'll be there tomorrow. "How about after?" He asks. "I'll visit for a little bit." You sigh.

-------- 2 weeks later -----

You wake up to pounding on your door. You jump up out of bed and open the door. There stands a disheveled, hurt, and angry Paul. "Paul?" You ask. He pushes past you and walks inside, going straight to your room. You follow him, and he bear hugs you. Squeezing you and sighing of relief. "Jesus christ. You know it hurts to stay away from you. Why the fuck have you been avoiding me?" He pulls away and looks at you. Seeing him in this state and completely missing him just brings tears to your eyes. You can't hold it anymore. You sit on your bed and start sobbing. "What is going on, baby?" He leans down and holds your face, looking into your red eyes. He wipes your tears away, and you blink a few times. "Paul, I heard what you said to Jacob at Billy's house." You said. He raises an eyebrow. "I'm too clingy." You said dryly. "If that's what I am to you and you're unhappy, you should've just told me. I'm scared to lose you." You cry. "Babygirl." He pulls you into him. "No, I didn't mean it like that at all. I love that you're clingy. It's my favorite thing ever." He cooes. You shake your head and try to push him off. "No. You meant it bad, I could tell." You sniffle. He holds tighter, so you can't get out of his grip. "We were talking about you and Renesmee. We were saying things that we like that most guys hate. Babygirl, we are soulmates. Nobody understands what it's like to truly love someone." He strokes your hair. You look up at him, and now you feel stupid. "I promise you. I can't lie to you, you know that. And look at me!" He chuckles. "I actually feel like death.'' He says. "I'm so sorry." You sigh and wrap your arms around his neck. He kisses you deeply, it feel like the first time kissing him. It feels like it's been forever. He pulls away from your lips very slowly. "I'm staying the night." He says, demanding. You laugh and nod your head.

#twilight #embry call #jacob black #jared cameron #paul lahote #sam uley #seth clearwater #twilight wolfpack #leah clearwater #quil ateara #paul lahote x reader

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phattiepheeder · 7 months ago

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To have an overpacked cauldron of a belly that is completely controlled by your feeder.

Master hasn’t allowed for an emptying In 3 days but has still fed his prized hog to the brim. Rancid constipated farts are a small relief when your bowels are stretched to the max to compensate. He uses your cunt, needing to push a bit harder than usual to get in, feeling how everything clogging your pipes has piled into and swollen your rectum.

He finishes inside you and then goes to get your next meal. He proceeds to stuff you with a mountain of food until you can no longer breath.

He presses your fat bloated gut and you groan in discomfort, your hole inadvertently puckering.

“No, no,” he says. “No shitting yet. Just gas.”

“But if I try to fart again, it’ll be impossible to hold the rest in. “

“That’s your fault for being such a greedy piggy. Your stomach is this way because of YOUR gluttony. And You have another day to go piggy.”

The next day comes and your guts are done processing the food. Your feeder instructs you that it’s emptying day. He instructs you to take a stance on all fours , and goes to feel how hard and bloated your abdomen is.

“Ah, looks like you’ve done a great job of getting filled and having your bowels stretched to capacity,” he says grabbing a box and what looks like tin foil. He puts on a rubber glove.

“Alright you know the drill. Face down and spread em,” he instructs. You follow his instructions and place your head on the floor, ass still up and use both hands behind you to spread your deep cheeks. You sigh , knowing that finally you’ll get some relief from the unbearably fullness in your guts.

Suddenly, you feel a cold glycerine suppository press against your hole. It’s forced in along with the finger behind it. He retracts his finger to have it covered In your chocolate. He repeats this with three more slippery inserts.

“Now you have to hold it until the glycerine melts. I’m doing you a favour so your hole doesn’t rip this time. Let me know when you’re busting to empty and I’ll bring the bucket”

Last time the constipated plug of shit practically tore your ass in two while being birthed.

You hold it, clenching against everything In your body telling you to push. You’re still on your hands and knees half an hour later as you feel the pressure behind your hole is mountain and you feel the weight of days worth of sweet creamy shit pressing against your hole. Despite your best efforts, a fart sputters out along with a bit of shit and melted glycerine.

“I’m ready to empty,” you groan loudly in defeat. Your feeder walks in on a pathetic scene. Fat pig on their hands and knees, swollen gut gurgling and hanging on the floor, drenched in sweat, hole quivering with the anticipation of finally getting some reprieve. He lays an industrial bucket behind your cellulite-ridden ass.

“All right pig, let’s see the aftermath of that gluttony,” the words are barely out his mouth before the gates part and shit starts pummelling onto the bottom of the bucket. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, as log after log of constipated shit leaves its incubator. Rumbling farts and stomach gurgles are all that can be heard as the shit gets sloppier and bursts out of your poor tender hole. You moan half in pain half in pleasure.

Your feeder smirks, knowing you’ll be laying cable trying to empty all that waste for at least the next couple of hours.

#constipated #slob

#bubble guts #feedee piggy #diarrhea #stuffing aftermath #constipated #feedee diet #bathroom denial #fat belly #slob kink

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yanderelionwrites · 8 months ago

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Look at Me Like I’m the Only Star in the Sky - Yandere!Leona x Reader

Content Warning: (soft) yandere, implied kidnapping/captivity

Word Count: 722

A/N: First twst writing on this blog! This man has me by the throat 😩 Enjoy!

You had never seen so many at once before.

Each twinkling ball of light decorating the night sky had you staring up at them in awe. Seeing the stars and moon shining so brightly captivated you; the tranquility in the air bringing a type of peace you haven’t felt in a while. You would never get such a nice view of the stars back home, only able to count on your hands how many you could see. But here…there had to be at least a million of them. A million stars that are foreign to you. No familiar constellation that you could point out.

It was times like these that remind you how far away you truly are from your own world. Your home.

A home that you will never return to.

A home that’s been ripped away from you, and replaced with a suffocating palace.

The Afterglow Savanna stretches far and wide before you, the sun having set long ago. The country really is a gorgeous place, but you know you won’t ever get to explore it. You’re not allowed to leave the palace and you’re not allowed to leave him.

At least you’re allowed out on the balcony. You’ve contemplated climbing down to make an escape, but the risk of being caught by the guards was too high. They’ve been told to keep a close eye on you, and you did not want to scuffle with those intimidating beastwomen guards.

You sigh at the cluster of stars up above. They twinkle back. You vaguely remember Leona mentioning how it was believed the stars were the dead kings from the past. They’d watch over the royal family and guide them whenever they lost their way.

…The one watching Leona must have gotten lazy.

“There you are.”

A voice you once loathed to hear, but now have grown to somewhat tolerate, pipes up behind you. A few steps and he’s leaning against the balcony a comfortable distance away from you.

Great.

The once peaceful air has turned tense now, and you don’t bother to greet or even acknowledge that he is there. The two of you stand in painful silence, waiting for the other to speak.

“Ya look like you’ve never seen a night sky before,” Leona says, his eyes still glued to the stars.

You’re quiet for a moment, debating whether you actually want to indulge him in conversation this time. You take so long thinking about it, Leona huffs and turns to leave.

“…It’s rare for me to see it like this. Only a couple stars are ever visible where I’m from.” Your voice stops him in his tracks, and he returns to his place against the balcony. He hums in acknowledgment, but stays quiet after that.

Leona has always been interested in hearing about your home, but knows better than to ask. Any talk about your world would only put you in a bad mood. You already hate him; no need to keep reminding you why. It was best to just pretend you weren’t from an entirely different universe at all. Maybe with enough time you’ll forget about your world and consider Twisted Wonderland as your forever home.

Instead, he opts for stealing glances at you while your gaze is turned away from him. You look so soft in the moonlight, no one would have guessed you had been spewing insult after insult at him this morning. Proclaiming how much you hate him.

But Leona loves you. So he’ll let you get away with saying just about anything to him. All that matters is that you’re here with him.

You’re completely enamored by the stars. Are they really that amazing to you? They’re just big balls of flaming gas billions of kilometers away. Nothin’ special.

…Would you ever look at him that way?

Like he was the most important thing you could ever lay your eyes on. Like he was the shining light of your life.

…No, of course not. Why would you? He’s the selfish, second born prince, and he doesn’t deserve that same look of admiration from you.

Leona can’t pretend and he can’t keep hoping anymore. He’s ruined his chances, and now you hate him more than anything.

But at least you’re by his side. You can’t leave him behind.

He’ll settle for that.

For now.

~~~

I like mean yan Leona as much as the next gal, but soft yan Leona?? Where he's desperate for his Darling's love but still patiently waits for them to come around?? That's the good shit 👌

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!! Hope you liked this little drabble!

#yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere leona kingscholar #yandere leona kingscholar x reader #soft yandere #yandere twisted wonderland x reader

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megumiluvv · 10 months ago

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Choso’s not the biggest fan of driving. He barely passed the test to get his license, why would he do something he’s not confident in? But Yuji begged him to drive to some museum, so Choso asked if you’d tag along. Luckily for him, you offered to drive.

He’s sitting in the passenger seat, manning the aux for music for the road trip, and Yuji is sat in the back eating goldfish and pointing things out.

“I spy with my little eye somethingggg… pink!” The boy says for the fifth time in thirty minutes. Choso groans but you chime in, still cheery and entertaining Yuji.

He doesn’t know how you can so effortlessly pretend to think, a cute little grin quirking into your soft-looking lips, a small hum leaving your throat, eyes focused on the road but squinting enough to show your joy, you’re just so perfect.

“Hmmm, is itttt… your hair?”

The boy giggles. “Yup!! Your turn!”

“Hmm, I spy with my little eye…”

You look around for something easy but still a little difficult for the boy. You look at Choso, eyes tracing his piercings, his always-tired eyes, his hair; all with the occasional glances at the road to make sure you’re not speeding or going off-road. Your eyes eventually settle onto his purple shirt.

“Somethinggg… purple.”

“Ummm…” Yuji looks around to outside of the car. “I don’t see any purple… oh wait! That car!”

“Nope, not the car.”

“Ummmm… my shoelaces!”

“Nope.” You giggle. Choso finally piped up.

“My shirt?”

“Yes!” You smile. “Your turn, Choso.”

You’ve been in the car for a couple hours and he’s wondering if the gps knows where it’s going, until he finally sees the museum.

“I spy something tall.”

“You’re supposed to say ‘with my little eye’ Choso!” Yuji pouts.

“Mkay, but I still see something tall.” You smile at the slight sass Choso gives the little boy.

Yuji looks out the window and gasps excitedly. “The museum!!”

“Good find, Choso. Thought I’d run outta gas…” You mutter the last part to yourself as you park and help Yuji out of the car.

“I’m gonna see a real dinosaur fossil!”

“I bet. Here, hold hands.” You hold your hand out to the pink-haired boy and he happily holds your pinky and ring finger, doing the same to Choso on his other side.

The three of you walk into the museum, ready to follow Yuji as he explores.

Taglist (ask to join anytime): @samaraxmorgan @cherriee-ee @auor4 @chaotic-ish @meowsannie

Masterlist

#short because I didn’t have much motivation sorry!!#part two planned dw #brothers babysitter au #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #choso #choso kamo #choso fluff #choso kamo fluff #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #jjk choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen choso kamo #kamo choso

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trudemaethien · 8 months ago

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Kyrimorut

I’ve just done another reread/skim of the repcomm books for details of Kyrimorut for @ossidae-passeridae, who encouraged me to do a write up for reference. Some of these facts are explicitly stated, scattered throughout the series, and some are my own surmises. (My main conclusion is that KT considered architecture just about as carefully as the TCW creators did the GAR ranking system. lolsob)

So. In this essay I will

Kyrimorut, Kal Skirata’s refuge for his clone sons, was called a bastion, and frequently described in siege terms. It was also referred to as a homestead and a farmhouse.

“It was yaim—part barracks, part hotel, part married quarters, part farmhouse, the archetypal Mandalorian clan home.”

This stronghold was located in the heavily forested northern hemisphere of the planet Mandalore, a few hours flight north of Keldabe City, within 100 kilometers of a small town called Enceri, and just south of a lake. It boasted a main house and numerous outbuildings, including at least one medical laboratory, animal pens, and a hangar large enough for multiple craft.

Rav Bralor, another of the Cuy’val Dar, rebuilt it at Kal’s request during the war, and it was finished enough by a year in, to house some members of their group temporarily, but was still undergoing renovations up to the last moment before they moved in. She used droids to aid in the construction. The building was composed of brick, wood, stone, and rammed earth, and the (probably local, veshok) planks were joined with interlocking joints. The interior walls were plastered and painted, likely with naturally derived mineral paints; one room was mentioned to be “honey-colored.” The windows were narrow, described as arrow-slits, and the doors were unpowered hinged wooden slabs. The whole thing was large, and the rooms were characterized as airy and roomy at various points.

The layout seems to have been vaguely circular, or a circle of chained hubs, with a central karyai. The lobby was another hub, and there were both surface and underground passages connecting the hubs, radiating out like “the spokes of an eccentric wheel.” For this reason I think there were two floors in the main house with one above, the other underground. There was also a sheltered circular atrium off the main hub, with a roof that slid back, where they roasted meat.

The house had gutters and down-pipes to deal with snowmelt and rain, and given the nearby lake, they would have to have a good vapor barrier for the underground portion. Since the place was rural rather than urban, it was largely quiet, and the homestead's acoustics were such that sound carried well. This indicates to me that likely only the exterior walls were fortified of heavy stone and rammed earth; interior walls were more likely built of wood and plaster and easier to modify if they had some need. Power was unreliable in such a remote setting, so they used wood fires for heating and cooking; everything smelled of wood-smoke. The entire structure was designed to be unnoticeable from the air, and the clearing was not visible until the last moment upon aerial approach.

The karyai was the main living room. In one scene, Kad played on the floor with toy animals (nerf, bantha, shatual, nuna, jackrab, vhe’viin) Atin had carved from veshok wood, Wade Tay’haai played a purple-painted bes’bev (sharp flute), and Rav Bralor brought throat-searing tihaar for everyone. She lived on her own clan’s farm a few kilometers away, and had brought Yayax squad, who mostly stayed there, to visit Kyrimorut. They were learning carpentry from manuals, as one does.

People had their own rooms for sleeping, with couples sharing, along the corridors. Arla and Uthan’s rooms both had exterior windows. Quarters were pleasant, plain but comfortable, with generous mattresses on the beds and a table for personal use.

Then there was a room Etain thought of as the interrogation room, so that’s uhhh lovely.

It’s unclear whether the large table where they gathered for communal meals was in the karyai, the kitchen (which was separated from other areas by a door), or some other room. Wherever it was located, it was possible for someone seated at the table to lean back without getting up and fetch a bottle of tihaar from where it was stored. The table was made of a single large slab of veshok wood, and was big and sturdy enough to use for surgical operation, dismantling engines, or seating a whole clan of armored Mandalorians. They sat in chairs around this table, and Kad sat in a highchair. They used porceplast plates, and mugs for ne’tra gal, a sweet black beer. The head of the household summoned everyone to the table for meals.

The kitchen contained a fireplace and hearth, a chair (where Kal slept), ovens and stovetops, a conservator, enough workspace for at least four people at once, and an adjoining storage area. The kitchen could be a busy, noisy, bustling place, but it was separate from other living areas; people sometimes went there to avoid others.

The 20-30 occupants ate constantly and prodigiously, and never seemed to be lacking. The food was described as filling but not elegant, and was heavy on the protein. They consumed a lot of game; Lord Mirdalan the strill was an animal native to Mandalore and a hunter. Roast shatual, nerf, and roba were mentioned, and they would leave a joint of meat on the table to be eaten all day down to the bone (I shuddered in food hygiene). Fish from the lake were fried in a pan, and they made broth from gihaal, dried smoked fish with a pungent aroma stored in metal containers, one of the staples of Mandalorian ration packs because it kept for years without refrigeration. Also what Kal called Kaminoans, but that’s another story!

We were worried they only ate meat for a while until we came across some vegetables. Kad had pureed kaneta at one point, and for breakfast boiled grain porridge and shirred eggs were on offer. Jilka diced amber root for some dish. Mealbread rolls were also plentiful, and there was a vat of stew at one point. Listed imports via Ny Vollen included flour, grassgrain, pickles, powdered milk, sacks of denta beans, soap, dried fruit, and a bantha bone which was hard to get on Mandalore. The roba they raised themselves.

The roba pen had multiple animals witht at least one boar and one sow with a litter, and despite having veshok posts and walls, the gate was left open. I’m extrapolating that these animals were semi-domesticated and allowed to forage for food but came home to their pen for safety at night. There were rail fences, crop fields, and plans for raising nerf on the property as well. Outbuildings were mentioned frequently, but this was one of the few actually described.

Notable native species mentioned were the large, ancient veshok trees, which were evergreen, hardwood, and straight enough that the table slab was cut out of one large piece. They were ice-glazed and dripping in the spring thaw, so presumably had some defenses against freezing and exploding, or breaking under the weight of the ice, and they populated all the way up to the the polar cap. There was underbrush and bushes, and groundthorn weed, which was very stubborn and difficult to remove entirely. The roba would have helped with uprooting this as they foraged. Vhe’viine were small rodents with white winter coats that lived in burrows in the fields.

The medical laboratory behind the main house (it was necessary to walk around the bastion after exiting to approach it) was a mobile genetics lab/agricultural trailer of the sort usually used for breeding livestock and at racetracks. It was occupied first by Ko Sai and later by Ovolot Qail Uthan. Mereel acquired it, and Mij Gilamar stocked it with stolen/black market medical equipment. When Uthan took over, they built her more lab space. There were rural veterinarians in the community as well; Etain mentioned getting a cryocontainer for a sample from a neighboring farm.

The hangar was situated in a shallow slope to the north of the main house, half-buried in the soil and disguised with netting. It was large enough to house several craft at a time, including Ny Vollen’s ship, Mereel’s speeder, and the Aay’han, among others. Swabbing down the compartments of the Aay’han, replenishing stores, and prepping the ship for the next flight managed to occupy most of an afternoon for four men.

The lake was also to the north, and I believe it was a very large lake, functioning as a heat-sink. It had not fully frozen despite the bitter winter, described as minus eight and thirty degrees colder than tropical (although the temperature scale is not mentioned, it’s likely celsius because of the author’s background). There was ice extending from the shore like a pier, but also mist rising above it in the early morning and frost on the shore, even though layers of snow deep enough for feet to crunch through the surface were mentioned elsewhere at various times. This led my friend to speculate that there could be geothermal activity in/under that lake. Kal and Walon Vau were planning to build a memorial on the near lake shore featuring the armor tallies of fallen clone soldiers.

There was granite in the area, which also gave support to the concept of historical volcanic activity. Their yard sported four chunks, each large enough for at least two people to climb up and perch upon, which had erupted from the surface long ago and been worn down to a weathered polish. Winds came in off a nearby plain. A clear (muddy) area large enough to play mesh’geroya was also near the house.

Enceri had at least one cantina, there was a landmark grain silo at the edge of town, and it was big enough to host a bustling market square, despite being described as more of a trading post than a town. There they could buy, among other things, preserved vegetables, engine parts, and local triple-distilled tihaar, which could double as degreaser for said engine parts.

If they needed more than Enceri had to offer, they could go south to Keldabe. Landmarks of note there included the River Kelita and the Oyu’baat tavern. The Imperial garrison was located near Keldabe.

“But then Mandalore itself was one big contradiction, with heavy industry and shipbuilding sitting cheek-by-jowl with farms that hadn't changed in centuries, sophisticated electronics and ancient metalworking skills side-by-side in the same suit of armor.”

Established clan homes seem to be the usual way of things despite Mandalorians supposedly being nomadic. Their “temporary” structures being wattle and daub also indicates the nomad thing to be a bit of a fallacy. Even so, they had planned a possible relocation for Kyrimorut in the worst case, a bolt-hole on Cheravh. Jaing had taken to calling it offsite hot standby.

So that’s Kyrimorut, which means Final Haven, where Kal Skirata and his chosen family hunkered down in the aftermath of Order 66. My friend says it’s basically Aberdeen, down to the detail of players getting plastered mid footie limmie game. I gathered these details from four books (Hard Contact does not mention Kyrimorut) and compiled them for anyone who’d like to make use of the rundown. Oya!

#kyrimorut #repcomm #reference #kal skirata #worldbuilding #in this essay i will

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creepyclothdoll · 5 months ago

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We don’t take kindly to outsiders

around here, pardner,” said the grizzled and sunburnt face.

“... Darryl Choi?” I said. But it couldn’t be.

“Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” the man tipped that face up at me and I saw his familiar dark eyes clearly under his dusty cowboy hat.

“You’re dead,” I blurted. The cowboy stood and drained his sarsaparilla.

“This outsider botherin’ ya, Smokes?” the bartender said, polishing a glass behind the gas station counter, which had been apparently repurposed as a saloon bar. There were still vape cartridges and 5-hour-energy drinks on the shelf behind him, gathering dust next to bottles of unlabeled brown liquor and oil lamps.

“I’m not an outsider,” I argued. “This is my hometown. I took your niece London to prom, Mr. Jarocki.” The bartender narrowed his eyes at me.

“Name’s Ben Wiley Sr to you,” he said, frowning under his huge white handlebar mustache. “Now, your money’s as good as anyone else’s, kid, but after you quench yer thirst, you better take that steel horse you rode in on and ride along yonder, if you know what’s good for yeh.”

“Yonder?!” I said. “What the hell is going on? This is Massachusetts. Is this a bit?”

The five other cowboys in the gas station, who were all sitting around makeshift tables that had been hammered together from pieces of the Holiday station shelving, stopped their card game and glared at me. One of them reached for his sidearm.

Darryl clapped his hand around my shoulder.

“Settle down, boys,” he said. “This here fella’s kin, he just don’t know it yet. Sit down, pardner, and I’ll tell my tale.”

“I just came in to pay for gas. The thingy wasn’t working outside,” I said. “I’m actually late to my mom’s memorial service right now.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, son.”

“It’s my mom’s–”

“Sit down.”

I sat down. The plastic chair squeaked. Mr Jarocki brought me a stein of sasparilla.

“Folks ‘round here, y’see… we ain’t afraid o’ death no more,” Darryl said. He lit his pipe. Red embers lit his dark eyes. “I met death. He’s a ten-cent man.” Darryl stared through the Holiday station windows past the gas pump and toward the horizon of Peabridge, Massachusetts.

In 2016, Darryl Choi had been crushed to death by a semi on his way home from UMass Amherst. He was the first friend I ever lost. His death had hit me hard. We weren’t as close as I was with some of my other friends, but we’d cut class a couple of times to vape by the creek and trade Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I didn’t think he could grow facial hair, but he had a lot of it now.

“Y’ever heard of Pet Semetary?” Darryl asked.

“Yeah, I saw the movie,” I said. “And the remake.”

“Well, turns out, we got one of those.”

I stared incredulously. If I hadn’t been at Darryl Choi’s funeral, I wouldn’t have believed him.

“Okay,” I said.

“Basically, it works just like in ol’ Steve King’s account. You die, they put you in there, you come back wrong. First time they tried it with a person, it was Christina Elspeth, the old schoolmarm.”

“Oh no, Mrs Elspeth died?”

“It don’t matter now,” Darryl grunted. “Listen. They put the schoolmarm in the cemetery and the next day she was crawling back all fulla murderous rage n’ such, same as the dogs n’ cats n’ fish, but worse. Spoutin’ all kinds of vileness. So her husband shot her in the head.”

“Mr Elspeth?!?”

“Not before she cut him real good across the belly, though. The ol’ fella bled out right quick in his flower garden. So they buried both of ‘em in the Semetary-whatsit again, on account of the headstone already bein’ paid for.”

Mr Elspeth was my youth pastor. He always snuck us leftover communion bread and we’d eat it with marshmallow fluff. I didn’t even know he had a gun.

“So another day passed, and, well, the two of ‘em sprung back outta that dirt mound. Mr Elspeth had come back ‘wrong,’ just like his missus before him– all evil and such. But Mrs Elspeth came back even wronger. Turns out, there’s a step down below ‘evil.’ I’m talkin’ downright… well, sorta like those red fellers we used to play at killin’ as youngsters in that movin’ picture game.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Darryl,” I said. “Can you drop the cowboy accent?”

Darryl glared at me.

“Folks call me Smokes these days,” he said. “Smokes Barlow. Wilbur Lee Barlow if you’re a lawman.”

“I’m not gonna call you Wilbur Lee Barlow,” I said.

“Naw, you’ll call me Smokes, like everyone else,” he replied smoothly.

“Resident Evil?” I said.

“... Huh?”

“The red zombies from Resident Evil, is that what you were talking about earlier?”

Smokes shrugged.

“Anyhow, the two of ‘em went on a killin’ spree round here. And I guess word got out about the cursed boneyard– everyone and their mother, I mean the ones who survived, hoped maybe their kin would be the exception to the rule. So more n’ more bodies went in the mound, and each of ‘em came out as evil as the last. ‘Cept for Mrs Elspeth, who came back worse for wear.”

“They put her back? Again?”

“Well, see, the headstone had been paid for. So Mrs Elspeth comes back and she’s still spittin’ hell’s worst curses and hankerin’ for a stabbin’, but now she’s also sort of a mad scientist sort. So she breaks into the hospital n’ starts grafting people’s limbs together–”

“Hang on. What the hell do you mean she’s a mad scientist sort?” I said. “She was a music teacher?”

“Well, see, that’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you. She’s running around, hair all crazy, in a stolen lab coat, rantin’ and ravin’ about man playing god and splicing DNA and such, creating humanity’s next evolution and such. So eventually the hospital staff knock her out and toss her back in the hole. Next time she came back, she was a 19th century venture capitalist named Montgomery Prescott III who aimed to turn Peabridge into a factory town.”

“Sorry, when did this all happen?”

“‘Course, by this time, her husband was on his third resurrection too, so Prescott was a force to be reckoned with with the power of science behind him. The two of ‘em did a bang-up job whippin’ this place into shape, corralling all the zombies n’ throwing em in the hole, y’know, for science, and to see if they could monetize it. Prescott Mining & Scientific Enterprise un-buried all the dead from the regular ol’ graveyard and tossed ‘em in the hole, myself included. Then, when they came back, they put all those evil folks to work in the mines, or in the lab.”

“Now those mines were dangerous, of course, with all the coal dust and gas leaks… Prescott didn’t give a damn about safety. Lotta folks died. But they’d just bring ‘em back. A couple weeks in, though, and there were about twenty Montgomery Prescott III’s and about a hundred mad scientists running around, and it turns out, Monty Prescott works for no man. Each of ‘em enlisted a squad of mad scientists and started their own enterprise. Wasn’t too long before they started assassinating the competition. At this point, we’d all just gotten used to throwin’ people in the hole.

“Turns out, after Prescott, you come back as kind of a Dracula. Now I won’t go into all that business– you know ‘Salem’s Lot?”

“No? Is that a gang?”

“What about that there Catholic picture show up there on the Netflix, the one on the island, put together by that Irish feller? Michael somethin. O’Flanagan.”

“Mike Flanagan? Midnight Mass?”

Smokes smiled.

“There ya go. It was all pretty much like that.”

I looked around at the gas station. Other than the restructuring that had transformed it from a regular Holiday gas station into a cowboy saloon, it looked like this place had been through waves of disasters. There were bullet holes all over the ceiling, a massive rusty brown stain that someone had tried to scrub out with lye on the linoleum, burn marks on the walls with strange curling imprints of what looked like vines and needles…

“I’m guessing that ‘everyone is vampires’ didn’t last long,” I said.

“It just ain’t sustainable,” Smokes shook his head. “Vampires always think it’s a smart idea to make everyone vampires, but, see, it just don’t work out. What do they eat? Turns out, they don’t. They starve. Then it’s back in the hole.” “So things carried on like that for awhile. At a certain point, we were just chuckin’ people in there to see if there was an end point, y’know, how far this thing goes. Turns out, it goes Evil, Mindless Zombie, Mad Scientist, Montgomery Prescott III, Master Vampire, Ghoul, Skeleton Warrior, Skeleton Jazz Musician, Man-eating Plant, Plant-eating Man– or a Vegan, I guess you’d call him, and a real sonofabitch– Haunted Ventriloquist, Haunted Dummy, Haunted Mummy, Christian Family Vlogger, ‘Edna,’ Evil Cowboy, Zombie Cowboy, Plant Cowboy, ‘Edna’ again, then just regular ol’ pure Cowboy.”

“What comes after Cowboy?” I asked.

Smokes shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said. “It’s just Cowboy all the way down after that.”

The cowboys playing poker glanced up at me through clouds of tobacco smoke. I recognized some of these people from around town. Or, rather, I recognized who they used to be.

“So… my mom’s memorial… she’s not really dead, is she?” I said, a wave of hope and relief overwhelming me. “I thought I’d have to say goodbye to her today. But she’ll be back, won’t she?”

Smokes only smiled sadly.

“You won’t find fuel for your steel carriage, pardner,” said Smokes. “I’ll give you a ride to the cemetary.”

I followed Smokes out to the parking lot, where several horses were hitched.

“Where did you guys get all these horses?” I asked.

“Oh, where there’s cowpokes, there’s horses,” he replied. “That’s a rule of nature.” Smokes fed the horse an apple and stroked her mane before bidding me to climb on behind him. I held onto his waist, which was pretty weird for me because we were never close like that, and we galloped off up the highway toward the middle of town.

We passed the elementary school, which had been covered in radiation warning signs and barbed wire. Then we passed the old Coney Island restaurant, which had been converted to a one-room schoolhouse. Main Street’s restaurants, law firms, and tattoo parlor had been replaced by a Dry Goods store, an ox stable, a wagoner, an apothecary– the barber was the same, but it looked like he also pulled teeth now.

The park that I played in as a kid had been bulldozed to hell, and in its place was a brown dirt yard with scattered mounds and holes all clustered near the center. A new sign hung over the entrance on a wooden board: Lazarus Mound Cemetary.

“I guess we coulda been more creative,” Smokes said. “But it’s too late for couldas, I reckon.”

A group of cowboys, clad in black, stood over a dirt pile. They held their hats to their chest as the eulogy was read. Smokes followed me to my mother’s fresh grave. I dropped my bouquet of flowers on top of it.

“Family only,” said one of the cowboys, glaring at me.

“Uncle Matt, it’s me,” I said. He twirled his goatee and grimaced, revealing a new gold tooth.

“It’s Billy ‘Cobra’ Nash these days,” he said. “Didn’t recognize ya, son. I s’pose you want to say a few words,” he gestured to the mound.

“Well, I would,” I said, “But I’m pretty sure she’ll pop out halfway through.”

“That’s no way to talk about your poor dead mother,” said Great-Grandma Tess, who I hadn’t seen since 2004, when she died from stroke. Except she wasn’t Great-Grandma Tess. She was a short old man with a long rabbity mustache and two guns on either side.

“Let the kid grieve, Slim,” said Cobra.

The sun set on us. The resurrected cowboy versions of my family members became hungry and bored, and set up a small campfire where they heated up coffee and beans, and spun some yarns. I asked questions about the cowboy economy and how it could sustain itself in this Massachusetts town that didn’t have that many cows, and they responded by cussing me out and telling me to get lost, city boy. I said I couldn’t be a city boy because I was from here, and they took away my beans.

Finally, after about an hour, there was rustling from the mound.

“Here she comes,” said Cobra.

The dirt shuffled and ran down the side of the mound, a miniature landslide. Finally, a gloved hand emerged. Then an arm. A dirty, dusty head, crowned in a cowboy hat, burst from the pile, coughing.

“Well, butter my biscuits, if it ain’t The Cheat, just in time for dinner,” said Slim, hands on his hips.

My mom, who was now a dirt-covered cowboy named The Cheat, clicked his boots together to dislodge some stones from his spurs.

“Howdy. Miss me, fellas?” The Cheat rasped, spitting pebbles into the fire.

“Mom?” I said. The Cheat looked me over.

“They call me Vernon ‘The Cheat’ Maddox now,” my mom said.

“Why Maddox?” I asked. “Mom, what was wrong with Nguyen?”

“Ain’t a cowboy name,” said Mom.

“A cowboy can’t be Vietnamese?”

“Listen, kid,” said The Cheat, clapping me on the arm. “I’ve had a long day, and to be frank, I can’t abide a city slicker like you before I get my brew. Gotta fill up on beans n’ coffee or I’ll be skinner than a jazz skeleton in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

I watched my mom walk away toward the fire, greeting the other cowboys like old friends.

“It’s like she didn’t even recognize me,” I said, broken.

Smokes patted me on the shoulder.

“That ain’t your mother no more, pardner,” he said. “Same as I ain’t Darryl Choi.” “What’s the point of raising people from the dead if they’re not themselves?” I said.

“I reckon you’ve missed the essential theme of the Pet Semetary premise,” Smokes said. “The point is, it’s a curse, not a blessing. To the living, at least. Mister Stephen King said sometimes dead is better. And here in Peabridge, we reckon he was right.”

I heard a metal click. I turned around to see Smokes’ shotgun pointed square at my forehead.

“Whoa,” I said. The cowboys at the fire turned to watch with dim interest, including my own mother. “Darryl, hey, put that away.”

“Dead is better. But you know what’s best? Cowboy,” he said. “Cowboy is the best there is.”

“Best there is,” said the cowpokes around the fire in eerie unison.

“Wait, wait, wait–” there was a bang. My vision filled with red, and then there was nothing. I saw and felt and heard nothing as Smokes watched my limp body fall backwards into the hole. He kicked dirt over me casually. He holstered his weapon. He sat down around the fire, next to the others.

“How many bullets ya got, Smokes?” asked The Cheat through a mouthful of beans.

“Not enough to get him all the way through,” Smokes replied, lighting his pipe. “But enough to get him past Dracula, for sure.”

“That’s the one you gotta watch out for,” The Cheat said. “I’ll stand vigil with ya, pardner.”

“You go home, Maddox, wash that dust off, tend to your herd. Be on the lookout for Edna– word is she’s still at large in places,” Smokes said.

“She’ll come around,” said Slim. “They always do.”

The campfire’s embers rose up to the cloudy, dark sky. Smokes leaned back and tipped his hat low over his eyes.

“This town’s got room for plenty more cowboys,” he said. Around the fire, a dozen pairs of black, gleaming eyes turned toward the Lazarus Mound, waiting.

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promitto-amor · 2 years ago

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Should Something Happen

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x You

Summary: While working as Jigsaw Apprentices, Amanda spoils some quality bonding time between yourself and Hoffman.

Warnings: Cursing!

Might this actually be a little bit of fluff? I wanted to do something involving the main Jigsaw crew and a protective Hoffman. 👀

Perhaps the only aspect of being an apprentice Mark enjoyed was the opportunity to work alongside you. Every trap crafted, every game played and every eventual death led Mark one step closer to his freedom. A life no longer in servitude for an impulsive act of vengeance. Mark had always struggled to quell his impulsiveness. It made him good in the field, Mark had earned a fair share of promotions for his quick actions, but his greatest mistake had cost him almost a year of servitude to Jigsaw himself. Until his sentence was up, until mark could be certain both John Kramer and his helper monkey were dead, he would carry out his part in the games with minimal complaint. In the meantime, he could find a steady contentment in watching the slackened, dream-like expression on your face as you fiddled with some shards of broken glass.

“Careful,” Mark finds himself saying, “It’s not intended to spill your blood.”

You drop the shards back into the glass coffin and wander back to the workbench you’ve commandeered as a desk, “There’s so many traps,” You whine and if it were anyone else Mark would be grinding his teeth together. You flip your notebook onto a fresh page, “Who is this one for again?”

“I try not to make a habit of remembering names.” Mark answers, “Once you name something you get attached.”

You nod, “You’re right.” You pick up your pencil and hover it over the page. “Sadly I don’t have that luxury.” Mark keeps one eye on you as he cleans up his workbench, placing a set of screwdriver heads back in their assigned places. You think for a couple more minutes, your expression growing more pained till you drop the pencil again. “How can I write the tape for someone I know barely anything about?”

“Don’t ask me,” Mark says. “I’ve never been one for words.”

You give him a shrewd look, as if confirming his words. “You have special uses.” You say, jumping off your stool and heading over to a stack of boxes, freshly delivered.

“Oh yeah, like what?”

You send him a small smile, “Brawn, muscle, inside info…”

“Is that all I am?” Mark can’t help the flicker of irritation he feels, “A meathead?”

“No,” You return to him, catching on you may have offended him. “You…” A couple teeth sink into your lip, “You’re the only one whose behaving.”

Mark glances towards the open door, connecting the room to the rest of the Nerve Gas House, “Go on.”

You turn cagey, “Ever since Mexico…”

“Ah,” Mark nods, “Say no more.”

“I don’t like what I’ve been hearing.” You admit, “The aim of all this was never revenge.”

“Was it not?” Mark enjoys how your head lifts up to meet his gaze, “Was that not why you got mixed up in all this?”

You fix him with eyes of steel, “Maybe…” You admit, “But not anymore. Seems we’re cut from the same cloth, Detective.”

Mark likes how you say his title, pronouncing every syllable distinctly, “You don’t know me. Not really.”

“Maybe we should work on that?”

Something gives a leap inside Mark. Before he can answer you’re back at the delivery boxes and Amanda is thudding through the door. Her steel toe capped boots echo on the wood, little patches of dust springing up where she steps. She pauses on catching Mark stood in the centre of the room, “Admiring my work?” She asks, tilting her head.

“I thought John made this one?” You pipe up, before Mark can.

“He did.” Mark confirms, “That’s why this one has some refinement.”

“But it was my idea to add the…” Amanda’s points to the walls and then places her hands a couple inches apart. She presses them together slowly, applying pressure. The visual is enough for Mark to look away.

You busy yourself with the boxes again, “There’s nothing but syringes.” You take out one to show the two apprentices.

Mark tosses you a pair of gloves, “Put them on, they probably aren’t clean.”

You make a face and drop the syringe you’re holding, “Great. I’m going to need a check-up after this.”

“Be thankful you’re not the poor bastard diving in there.” Amanda smirks, heading over to inspect the coffin trap. “Is this one done yet?”

“Just needs a couple tests,” Mark says. “Any volunteers?”

“You first.” Amanda holds her arms up as if she’s a presenter, “Get in there, Detective.”

“What about you, babe?” Amanda slinks over to you and throws an arm around your shoulders, “The glass isn’t in yet, it’ll be like taking a good nap.”

“Stop trying to scare her.” Mark’s voice comes out with more bite than he expected.

Amanda’s eyes flash, “Why you protective all of a sudden, Hoffman?”

Mark would never confess to the bitch before him, but he’s made a mistake and Amanda knows it. “We’re not testing anything without John here.”

Amanda makes a noncommittal noise.

“If John approves it, I’ll test it.” You offer, “I trust him.” Amanda jumps back into performance mode, “Aren’t they precious?”

“If you put this on.” You gingerly remove from another box a very familiar contraption and hold it out for Amanda to see. Mark grins behind Amanda’s back. He can just picture the colour draining from her face. Amanda doesn’t move as you walk past her with the Reverse Bear Trap in hand, “Very funny.” She calls, trying to reclaim some of her bravado.

“I thought so.” You counter, placing the device on the workbench.

Amanda’s scowl only becomes more prominent the longer she stares at her old trap, “Why is that here?” “Inventory.” You supply, “Or so I’m guessing.”

“Something old can always be re-used.” John wheels himself into the room. Wheelchair bound, he surveys the glass coffin standing pride of place in the middle of the room. “Is Laura’s test finished?”

“Almost,” Mark busies himself with checking over the gears situated behind the coffin.

“Laura,” You repeat, scribbling something on your pad. “I couldn’t for the life of me remember.”

John appears amused at your choice of words, “Writer’s block?” You look up as John wheels himself over to you. The Reverse Bear Trap is sat just a few feet away, Mark doesn’t like how close you are to something so barbaric. With you showing John your tape speeches and Mark still preoccupied with the gears, Amanda sulks in the middle. She makes her way over to Mark’s toolbox and grabs a wrench, right in John’s line of sight. Mark thinks it’s pathetic behaviour, how co-dependent she’s become since Mexico. He can see that your worries were justified. She makes her way over to the trap, but Mark has left her with nothing to do.

“There’s one glaring issue I see with this entire game,” You say in a low voice. You glance over to Amanda, “Won’t they all get suspicious if every one of them has a trap but her?”

“What did you say?”

“Amanda,” John cautions as his apprentice as she wheels round on the spot.

“I just worry that something will happen.” You say, closing your notebook and leaning against the workbench. “Are you really betting on all them failing and Daniel just being the last one left alive?”

“He doesn’t have a trap either.” Amanda points out, “I’m not the only one.”

“He isn’t being tested.” John states simply, “That is why you are there, Amanda. To protect him.” He turns back to you, “Nor is Amanda being tested.”

‘I still think we should put something in there.” You hold up your hands, “I think it’s foolish to leave it to chance.”

“Not if you can predict the outcome.”

Mark has heard it all before from John Kramer. He knows your attempts are futile, so he finishes up his work on the coffin and with nothing else to do, makes his way to the door. “I’m done for the night.”

“Thank you, Mark.” John says, “The game begins tomorrow. I presume you’ll be in position?”

“On the monitors.” He nods.

He’s been excused. Mark should go home and rest up for a long day ahead tomorrow. But he can’t quite bring himself to leave. John has resumed helping you with writing out the tape for the trap, but Mark doesn’t like how Amanda won’t leave the two of you alone. Her new behaviour has made him protective. Mark would have liked you to finish up at the same time as him. Perhaps he could offer to drop you home and they could work on getting to know each other.

“You want to put me in that.”

You, John and Mark all turn to Amanda, “What?” You ask.

Amanda nods, “That.” She points to the Reverse Bear Trap, “You want that to be my test. You want me to do it again?”

John glances imperceptibly to Mark. He swallows, so John shares their concern about his favourite apprentice. “Do you know how stupid you sound?” Mark cuts in, taking up what he hopes is a casual position beside you. “Everyone knows you already escaped it. 24/7 news coverage.” You’re still leaning against the workbench as Amanda walks around it, her eyes fixed on you as if you were prey.

“It’s not a bad idea,” You taunt, “Some poetic justice”, but Amanda doesn’t find it clever.

She shoves the Reverse Bear Trap toward you, “You don’t deserve to be here.” She hisses. Mark swears he can hear a ticking sound as you brace your arms on the table, “Of all the people to win, it had to be you didn’t it?” “Fair and square.” You return and Mark finds himself wondering for the umpteenth time just what your own game was. Before Amanda, before Mark himself joined Jigsaw, you were tested and won. His eyes fall on the scar on your neck, all that remains of your own brush with death.

“Use your brain,” You counter and your face is far too close to the trap as you glare back at Amanda Young. “You’d have to wake up in it, or someone would have to put you in it. I don’t think either of those are going to work in this game.”

“How about you wake up in it, you bitch?”

Mark’s hands snake around your middle and yank you back just as the trap rips open with a loud bang. The ferocity makes both you and Amanda jump. You would have fallen off your stool if not for Mark’s chest breaking your fall. He can feel the sharp breaths you take as the Reverse Bear Trap cools down and lies dormant once more.

“Amanda, take the trap and put it in my office.” John says. His apprentice turns wide, teary eyes on him, but John’s face is expressionless. “Now.”

She obeys instantly, taking the trap and striding out of the room.

Mark slides you back onto your stool, “Thank you.” You murmur, hand jumping instinctively to your neck.

“Are you alright?” John asks and you nod. Mark can see right through you, he could feel the tremors of your body against his. That was a close call.

“She’s out of line, John.” Mark says, “I don’t know what the fuck happened over there, but it’s messed with her.”

“Amanda will be fine.” John insists, “She will play her part, so long as she isn’t provoked.” You nod, understanding your own fault but Mark refuses to admit to his own. “Now Detective, I believe we’re finished here. I will see you both tomorrow for the final preparations.”

Mark watches John wheel himself out. The moment he’s gone you rest your forearms on the workbench and place your head on them. You let out a deep sigh. Mark’s never been good at consoling anyone. It’s just not what he does. Not since Angelina…

He spots your fallen notebook and places it beside you, “Need a ride home?” “I don’t think I want to go home.” You say, your voice weak.

“You don’t want to stay here.” Mark says, “You can’t anyway. They all…arrive tomorrow.”

“How can you do that?” You lift up your head, “How can you willingly put people in here knowing they will probably die?” Mark meets your eyes, “I convince myself they deserve to suffer.”

“You don’t lie awake thinking about it?”

“No,” He’s being honest. “I think it’s one less shitty person out there.”

“Then you must think that about me.” You push some hair out of your eyes and wrap your arms around yourself. “I’m not…you know what I did-“

“And you know what I did.” Mark takes you by your forearms, “Do you think I’m a monster?”

Your eyes dart around the room and then land on the glass coffin, “Sometimes.” Mark allows himself time to digest that, it isn’t what he wanted to hear. But your hands come to rest on his own forearms and then you’re pressing your forehead into his chest, “But you make me feel safe. You help me.”

He didn’t expect to earn such close proximity again, this time deliberately. Mark pulls you closer, your hands slide up to rest on his chest and Mark curses his choice to remain in a jacket. Your warmth is tantalising as it seeps into him. Mark tucks you into his large frame and winds his arms back around you.

It feels good to be wanted.

With your face smushed into him, Mark rests his head atop yours. He doesn’t know what else he can do, so he lets his eyes close. “We can look out for each other.” He proposes, “Should something happen.”

“I’d like that.”

#mark hoffman #Mark Hoffman saw #Mark Hoffman x you #Mark Hoffman x reader #amanda young #john kramer #reverse bear trap #protective!hoffman #saw franchise

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nonbinary-bosmer · 3 months ago

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The person who owned this appartment before me was a landlord so when they did renovations, they did the most half assed job imaginable. We've already dealt with the gas boiler that was an electrocution/explosion risk, now its's the shitty bathroom renovations that's causing me grief.

The tiling around the bathroom fixtures and piping has incredibly large gaps. These gaps are now letting rats into the apartment. I've done my best to try filling the gaps with expanding foam but now when I'm using the toilet at night, I can hear them scratching at the foam. Couple that with a door that won't close due to moisture expansion and I'm now super paranoid about pests. I don't want to kill them but they're also got me utterly on edge.

I've emailed the management agency for help but they said it'll take time to get someone out. I fucking hate this apartment so fucking much. Need to figure out a better living situation and probably selling this pit

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handeaux · 1 month ago

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Two Cincinnati Orphans Bonded As Hoboes, But Chose Very Different Paths

Around 1890, a couple of boys ended up at the St. Joseph Orphan Asylum in Cumminsville. One was Jim Tully and the other Gabriel Sullivan. They soon became inseparable and everybody knew them as Tully and Sully.

Sully was born in New Orleans in 1885. His father died when the boy was barely one year old and his mother died five years later. Sully and two siblings were shipped off to Cincinnati under the care of an aunt, who abandoned them to the streets when she did not receive the pension she expected for her services. Sully was barefoot, selling newspapers in the snow, when a tender-hearted woman investigated his circumstances and managed to enroll him and his siblings at the orphanage.

Tully was born in St. Mary’s, Ohio, in 1886. His family were considered to be “shanty Irish.” Jim’s mother died when he was just six years old and his father, an alcoholic ditch digger, surrendered Jim to the orphan asylum.

The pair were leased out by the orphanage to a farmer, who treated them like slaves and so they ran away. Sully was about 14, Tully 13 or so. They lived the hobo life, riding the rails from one end of the country to the other. They slept where they could find a comfortable spot and they ate what they could get by begging, odd jobs and larceny.

(Today, we tend to use hobo, tramp and bum as synonyms, but in the late 1800s and early 1900s, each term had a distinct connotation. A hobo traveled around and was willing to work. A tramp traveled but avoided work. A bum neither traveled nor worked.)

Sully was known for his hot temper and occasionally had to fight his way out of situations that his smart mouth got him into. Tully was more analytical and realized he could make a quick $5 or $10 by taking his fights off the streets and into the boxing ring. Paul Bauer, who co-authored a 2011 biography of Tully, observed:

“He was an untrained boxer, to be sure, but he was fearless. He was willing to take punches, to take punishment, all to get inside and score hits. Despite having some success, he had seen men die in the ring. He had seen 'em blinded in the ring. And I think he realized that this was not a career he was going to carry into middle age.”

Tully was known as a “library bum,” the sort of hobo who knew every library in every little burg and hung out there when he wasn’t chasing a freight train out of town. The idea grew on him that maybe someday he could become a writer. Tully decided to leave the road behind and to give his literary endeavors some attention. He returned to Ohio and settled in Kent, landing a job at a chain factory. At 23, he married 18-year-old Florence May Bushnell, daughter of a house painter. He began writing for the local papers, first occasional poetry, eventually freelance articles. His byline graced the Kent Tribune and the Akron Beacon-Journal.

Sully, too, grew weary of the hobo life. He found his way back to Cincinnati, got work as a painter and boarded with a widow named Anna Hand [no relation to your columnist]. In 1912, he married Anna’s adopted daughter Nellie, who worked in a cotton factory. Sully was 27, Nellie 22.

Sully was a union painter at a time when there were few protections for organized labor and his temper got him into some scrapes. He was arrested in 1914 on charges brought by advertising magnate Philip Morton, who claimed that Sully and an accomplice assaulted him because he hired non-union sign painters. The charges were eventually dropped, but Sully’s reputation as a union enforcer was secured.

A year later, Sully’s temper took him one step over the line. He was part of a gang that attacked non-union painters working on a new building at Christ Hospital. While most of the gang carried blackjacks, Sully brought a pistol. The Enquirer [10 December 1915] reported:

“Revolver, knife, blackjack and gas pipe were used by a gang of five unidentified men yesterday afternoon when they attacked nonunion painters at the new $300,000 annex to Christ Hospital, Mt. Auburn. The police say strike trouble caused the assault. One man was shot and died half an hour later. Two others sustained multiple bruises and cuts about the head.”

The dead man was James Shall, 26. His killer was Gabriel Sullivan. Sully made a full confession with no attempt to blame anyone else.

“I saw Shall on a step ladder. When he saw me with a gun he jumped down and attempted to pick something off the floor. I grabbed his wrists and in the tussle I fired twice. It was my own gun. I didn’t mean to shoot Shall, but was told that the men carried guns in the building.”

Sully confessed without benefit of counsel. He pleaded guilty to a charge of second-degree murder on the advice of a Cincinnati police officer. Judge William A. Geoghegan sentenced Sully to life in prison. For the next ten years, a number of people expressed sympathy for Sully and worked to get him pardoned.

Among his supporters was Tully, who by then had taken his writing career to the West Coast, where he built a reputation as a hard-hitting Hollywood reporter and the author of some best-selling novels based on his vagabond years with Sully. Sully told the Cincinnati Post [26 January 1925]:

“Jim wrote to me all the time when he found out where I was. The fellows in the State House used to save magazines for me when they had stories by Jim in them. He sent me his two books, too.”

In prison, the hot-headed Sully gained a reputation as a model prisoner. Those “fellows in the State House” were the aides and secretaries in the offices of the Governor and Secretary of State. As a prison trusty, Sully was assigned to duties in the State House. With personal access to Governor Alvin Victor "Honest Vic" Donahey and celebrity endorsements from Tully and his Hollywood pals, Sully was pardoned after just nine years in the Ohio penitentiary.

Tully went on to write nine novels, three volumes of autobiography, a travelogue, two plays and hundreds of articles, mostly unvarnished profiles of movie stars. Early in his career, he was Charlie Chaplin’s personal secretary. Among his friends were W. C. Fields, Jack Dempsey, Damon Runyon, Lon Chaney, Frank Capra, and Erich von Stroheim. So thoroughly had he immersed himself in Hollywood culture that, when he died, aged 61, all the newspaper obituaries claimed he was just 56 years old.

Sully went on to live a very long life, dying at the age of 90 in Cincinnati. He returned to his former career as a painter, retiring after many years as a member of the facilities crew at Dunham Hospital.

As shoeless orphans, as shiftless vagabonds, who could have predicted the divergent paths Tully’s and Sully’s lives would take?

#jim tully #gabriel Sullivan #tully & sully #cincinnati orphanages

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cowbot-lumberjane · 6 months ago

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Hey fellow fat people that use office chairs:

If the air piston in your chair has given out or has a bad seal, don't throw the chair away! You're a heavy person who needs their chair to be raised up however much, that's okay! I bought my chair because it said it could hold up to 1000lbs was lied to! Go figure! Let's fix it together:

This video goes over how to use a length of pipe as a spacer to stop the chair from sinking as air leaves the piston when you sit on it:

youtube

The guy in the video uses a length of pipe that he cuts himself, but says that using something called a "pipe nipple" (lol I know) works just fine. I did that with my chair! It works great!

this is what a pipe nipple looks like, and they come in all sorts of lengths. Most chairs will have almost a 3inch gap EXACTLY between the base of the piston cylinder and the base of the chair. So if you need the full length, get a 3 inch pipe nipple and slid it overtop the cylinder like the guy in the video does with the length of pipe he cut.

For me though, I'm pretty tall (6'2) and only needed my chair to be raised about 2 inches or so, so I went with a shorter pipe. Standard lengths for pipe nipples tend to start around 1/2 inches and go up from there within the 1/2 inch. So if you need something specific like a 2 and 1/2 inch one, they should have it at your local hardware store in the plumbing section! Pipe nipples and most other plumbing pipes are made of steel! This means they're very strong, so they should be able to support your weight no problem. If you're worried about the open ends of the pipe, I would recommend getting some wide flat washers that would fit around the gas piston extension pole but be wider than the pipe you use.

Its an easy fix! And the pipes only cost a couple dollars! I got the length I'm using for 2$ american and my chair is as good as new! Happy sitting!

#repair #household #household items #fat positive #Youtube

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howlingday · 11 months ago

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The Bad End Delusion

Opzin walked at a quick pace into the hospital.

Ozpin: Excuse me Ma'am. I am the Headmaster of Beacon Ozpin and I would like to check in on two my students here. A Jaune Arc and Nora Valkyrie.

Nurse: That way and look for room 320.

Ozpin quickly moved that way as he heard the nurse mutter those poor kids. As he found the room he knocked on the door then slowly opened it.

Ozpin: Hello? Mr.Arc, Ms.Valkyrie it's Ozpin do you mind if I come in and talk?

Nora: .....................

Jaune: ...You can come in.

As he enters the room he sees a heavily bandaged Jaune and Nora in the bright white hospital room. He's smells the dry blood and cleaners in the air.

Nora is just staring at the wall. What he can see of her face it seems she being crying for a long time and simply had no more tears. Curled up in a ball with her knees to her face.

Jaune's expression is one of anger, grief, and hopelessness. He is sitting up looking Ozpin in the eyes.

Jaune: Hello sir. I'm sure you have questions.

Ozpin: I do but those can wait for a bett-

Jaune: No. You need to know.

Ozpin: Alright tell me how a mission to check up on an old factory building in Vale went so wrong.

Jaune: Their was a Grimm like I never seen. One nome of us had ever even heard of. Even Weiss... Weiss. *deep breathe sounding like he's holding back a sob* Sorry.

Ozpin: Take your time Mr.Arc

Jaune: So we enter the building with me and Ruby deciding it be better with we stuck together. As we walked into the first couple rooms everything was fine but as we entered the factory line their was a mist. A red mist. That damn red mist. It was light at first and we didn't even notice at first. Everyone was getting kinda of droopy. We all thought it was because it was a long day.

Jaune: Then I heard something that sounded like my nephew crying. I looked around and as soon as I was about to ask the others if they could hear ot the lights went out.

Jaune: We all circled together to not let anything attack us. But it was dark and the mist made it hard to hear and think right.

Jaune: The monster quickly attacked knocking most of our weapons away while scattering our group. I think only Pyrrha and Yang still had theirs.

Jaune: I managed to hold on to Nora's hand to stick together. The mist just thickened and we tried to cover our mouths when we heard Ren scream in pain. We rushed in his direction but..

Jaune:...

Ozpin: Mr.Arc we can do this another time.

Jaune: .... He had no head and his legs had been torn off. We could have only been a few minutes away. How did it kill him so fast. He was one of the best fighter I ever knew.

Ozpin: ...

Jaune: We found are friends one by one by following their screams and angry shouts. Weiss was impaled in the chest by Pyrrha's spear. Yang arms were missing and with all the blood around her clearly bled out. Blake had a giant hold in her chest liek she was punched with imhuman force. Pyrrha... all we saw was her upper torso, head, and an arm.

Jaune: As we tried to process suddenly the gas was so thick it was hard to breathe then I saw all the bodies standing near us screaming if I was a real hero I should have done something with the voices of my family insulting me playing over.

Jaune: I couldn't tell what was real anymore. Then suddenly it attacked restlessly. Clawing,swinging, amd throwing us around like dolls. It seemed to change size constantly to avoid are hits. Nora's Aura broke first and I managed to hit it with a broken pipe before being throw into a wall.

Jaune: Last thong I remember was it's slow walk towards me spitting out gas while everyone expect Nora watched and laughed. They laughed and laughed and laughed until it felt like they were yelling in my head. Before it could finish me the wall exploded with team Cfvy quickly attacking amd driving ot away while they seemed to be wearing gas mask.

Jaune: I never saw Ruby.

Nora: I heard it say "With this Gemstone may Salem forgive me" while carrying Ruby away. She was still breathing as it ran.

Nora:.... Are they gone? Really gone?

Ozpin did not answer leaving Nora and Jaune to start crying again.

Jaune: I don't think I'm able to be a huntsman anymore.

Ozpin: I will call your family and let you rest for now.

Ozpin closing the door still hearing their cries.

(OK so that was a lot and I'm probably misspelling a lot of stuff but yeah. Their is more of this story but I can't write because it's just not where my skills lay. If you want to help that be cool but I'm not gonna bug you about it. So in this after Jaune and Nora heal they leave beacon and move out to live with Jaune's family one day getting married and having kids of their own one day.)

So thoughts? Criticism? Ideas? Want to hear it all? Want to know what happens next? Tell everything you thought of and how you would improve the Au idea.

First of all, great work! Really loved what you've put out there and I'd love to see more of this! Though that's gonna be hard since RWBY and JNPR are now dead, either literally or figuratively.

Second, I'm curious where, if anywhere this story goes. To be honest, it kinda feels like those Warhammer RWBY posts I made a while back, specifically the one where JNPR were killed by a Lichtor. I don't think you can really go further with so many characters dead like this, but hey, I've seen more impossible scenarios get resolved.

Last, the way I would improve this AU idea would be to give a follow-up to after this. I mean, sure, Team RWBY is dead with their leader abducted and Team JNPR have been broken beyond repair. I would follow this scenario up with Ruby being taken back to Salem (either she dies, gets corrupted, or escapes) and show us the interaction between Delusion and Salem. Either that or have Beacon respond to this attack by sending the best huntsmen and huntresses out to rescue Ruby, hopefully before it's too late. Third option is showing the impact all these deaths had on people throughout Remnant; parents and friends all reacting to the news that RWBY and JNPR are dead.

Until then...

KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK!

#rwby #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #ozpin #delusion #poppy's playtime #catnap #my thoughts #my answers #my answer

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fragmentdecosmos · 1 year ago

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Hi!! Do you have any fav Jason Todd- centric fic recs?? I like your taste in Jason's hc and takes hehe

Needles or Pines by Lanternwisp.

Sometimes Little Reds walk the path of needles, forbidden forests are urban jungles, the Woodsmen don't make it in time and disobedient children get eaten by wolves. It's when the story doesn't have the decency to end there that things get complicated.

No One's Son by Lanternwisp.

When it's revealed to Gotham's underworld that Red Hood is the second Robin and without the Bat Clan's protection, it's not long before every gang, cartel and rogue he's pissed off has him in their crosshairs. It's almost as bad as the "family"'s determination to find him first.

"Maybe Mike had been right after all - Jason is a Gotham kid. A real one, assembled and built with dirt and blood and dark alleyways, and he can't be washed clean of what's him."

Ugly Organs by One_Step_Closer_To_Death.

Jason Todd’s love is a wretched and terrible thing to be on the receiving end of. His grief, on the other hand, is incapacitating.

"How do you say – I think when you held me last, your rib fused with mine, and my marrow now creates your blood, my heart beats in tandem with yours – bones of my bones and flesh of my flesh, brother."

Things That Make it Warm by One_Step_Closer_To_Death.

“I’m not ordering Hawaiian,” Jason says immediately as he pulls up the menu for the local pizza place. [...] “Not even if I say please?” “Fuck that.” Jason says, and orders Hawaiian anyway.

All Roofs of Uncertainty by Kieron_ODuibhir.

For all the blood on his hands, Red Hood was never just a villain. And Nightwing never gives up on family, not for good.

Reclaiming Innocence by MurtaghMorzanson.

Jason Todd was kidnapped at nine-years-old and given two options. Work for his keep, or be forced to to work for his keep.

When Everything's made to be Broken by WorkingChemestry.

Nobody knows Jason Todd, not really, but there are a few who know these three facts: Jason Todd is a comet—frozen, poisonous, gas and fragmented rock that burns and evaporates as it passes closer to the sun. Jason Todd is a dancer—spinning spinning spinning on shattered bones and slipping on the blood that soaks through his slippers. Jason Todd is laughter—red streaked giggles ringing like tinnitus in a roaring crescendo that drowns out even his own heartbeat.

And since I know you are into SamBucky (stalker-ish of me to be aware of, I know) here's my top 5;

Not the End but The Start Of All Things by Notcaycepollard.

They keep driving, for lack of anything better to do. A mission, Sam had said, and maybe that's true; maybe wherever they're headed is the way out, the way up.

Guard The Angel by Silentnun.

"但警惕心还是有的，他尝试性掀起一边眼皮，然后发现整个眼球都肿胀得厉害，太阳穴底下像藏了个不正常的兔子中士，一跃一跃，不得安息。"

A Couple Rebel Top Gun Pilots by Notcaycepollard.

That seems to be the thing that breaks the ice between them; Bucky's never really hung out with Sam before, past being jammed into a too-small car for six hours and then two uncomfortable months in a safehouse trying not to get on each other’s last nerve. [...] He doesn’t notice, is the thing; doesn’t notice how ever since Sam's slept on his couch that night, he’s been letting Bucky closer bit by bit. That, as Bucky’s been wondering about the boundaries and structures of friendship, Sam’s been drawing in.

"There are weeks where he and Sam don't talk, where Bucky realizes they've gone days and days without seeing each other, and it always makes him think of the interiority of Sam's life. All the people he must know who Bucky's never met, the friends he has that are just names in his mouth.

It leaves this strange ache in his chest.[...]And he remembers what it was like to pour himself into somebody, the boundaries of their life and his blurring until it’s difficult to find the edges."

Diving Blind by Yukla.

Sam's about to exit out of the page and nag at Sarah for becoming a gossip-rag-follower when a voice starts piping out of his phone’s speaker. “Breaking news on our favorite superhero couple,” says the host of the show, bright and plasticky under the studio lights. “That’s right, folks! We’ve got solid evidence that the Cap and Winter Soldier romance is real—” Sam’s finger slams down on the pause button. What, he thinks, the hell.

I want to Feel Your Hearlines by Notcaycepollard.

The first time he watches Sam fall asleep, they’re in the stupid tiny car on the autobahn. Bucky stares at the back of Sam’s head, ignores how cramped his legs are. Watches Sam’s head slowly sink back and sideways until it’s slumped into the gap between the seat and the window. If he triangulates between the wing and rear-view mirrors, Bucky can see Sam’s face, slack with sleep, mouth soft. He wants to look and he doesn’t. He doesn’t know Sam Wilson at all, knows only that he doesn’t trust Bucky - an accurate assessment of Bucky’s threat level, Bucky thinks - and that he does trust Steve (also accurate, although probably stupid). Sam looks vulnerable, like this.

“It's fine,” Bucky says again, and means, you're warm, and means, you make me want to be gentle, and means, touch me again like I'm a person. Like you can take comfort from me."

"They sleep, and they sleep, fitting together in every bed for months, breath mingling and heartbeats blurring together until Bucky thinks Sam must carry both their hearts in his own chest."

#batman comics #batfam #batman #jason todd #tfatws #sambucky #bucky barnes #sam wilson #bruce wayne

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imtrashraccoon · 1 year ago

Text

Here it is...the climax! I think this chapter is actually the longest one so far as well. Got a few bonus chapters left that I'm really looking forward to writing though.

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Nightmare - Shield

Word Count: 2,964

It happened suddenly as these things do.

One moment, you were in the middle of making lunch and the next, the lights flickered before going out entirely. You stopped what you were doing and checked a few other light switches just to come to the conclusion that the power was out. Fine, you could handle this.

It was weird that it had happened so suddenly though. The weather was supposed to be perfect today, so maybe it was a freak accident? You guessed someone could've knocked over a hydro pole or a transformer could've blown up.

Then you became aware of the building shaking. You actually lost your balance and several dishes you had left on the table fell, shattering on the floor. Not wanting to have a wall collapse or have glass explode in your face, you crawled into the hallway and huddled against the archway. That was what you were supposed to do in the event of an earthquake, right? Or was it to get in the bathtub with something sturdy on top of you?

The tremors seemed to stop after a couple of minutes and your building seemed to be in one piece, but now there was another problem. You could hear sirens and what sounded like a security alarm going off. There was another sound though, one that filled you with an overwhelming feeling of terror.

A distant but steady roar.

You staggered to your feet and practically yanked your front door off its hinges, desperately hoping you were wrong.

The world outside was nothing like what it should've been. Many hydro poles were down, leaving the power lines dangling dangerously near the ground and you could see large plumes of smoke rising into the air from surrounding neighborhoods.

A couple of your neighbors apparently had the same idea as you and had congregated on the outside walkway as they tried to figure out what was wrong. You could hear murmurings of the phone lines being out, someone's pipes apparently bursting from the initial quakes, and even rumours of a gas leak.

The sky had been torn in twain, like someone had ripped a piece of paper in half. The wind was whipping your hair around and you could see many small objects being sucked up into the black void that was now the atmosphere.

Nothing came back.

You'd been through this before.

Last time you'd tried to flee the city or at least get somewhere safe. With how poorly that had gone, you weren't about to repeat the scenario and die for real this time.

What could you do when the world was coming to an end?

Nothing.

There was literally nothing you could do.

Emergency services were likely swamped as they undoubtedly tried to deal with this disaster. If the phone lines were truly down, you couldn't call anyone to find out if they were okay or if they needed help, not that you had anyone to call anyways save for people that generally disliked you. Since the outside was so dangerous, you basically had no choice but to shelter in place.

So that is what you did. Call it giving up if you wanted, but you weren't about to spend your last living moments running for your life, only to die horribly. If you were going to die, you were going to be as comfortable as was feasibly possible.

You started for your bedroom but hesitated to actually enter. Changing trajectory, you retrieved your favorite romance novel from where you'd previously left it in the living room. It was too dark and you were too frazzled to even think about reading right now, but there was another reason.

In the middle of its pages, you'd been pressing a few of the daisies, forget-me-nots, and yellow tulips Axe had brought you for your birthday months ago. You hadn't seen him for over a week and while you missed him terribly, this was the only thing you had to remind yourself of the good times you'd spent together.

You also pulled your chess set from the game cupboard. While it wasn't something Dust had given you, the fun you'd had playing with him had been enough to give the game a new sort of sentimentality. You frankly missed his random night visits and snarky sense of humor as it wasn't a void either of the others really filled.

With your valuables in hand, you finally returned to your bedroom and closed the door behind yourself to hopefully mitigate the sounds of chaos outside. Although it didn't help much and the roaring of the Void had only seemed to have grown louder.

Depositing the book and game on your bed, you pulled out your favorite pair of leggings, the very ones Killer had somehow gotten mended for you, from their place in the drawer. You slipped them on and your fingers lightly brushed over the knees and the embroidered vines with red hearts. While he had been a metaphorical thorn in your side, you had to admit that it had been fun getting to know him.

You wrapped yourself up in your blankets and clutched the book with the flowers and the chess set to your chest. You'd been trying your best to remain calm but now you could feel tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, threatening to breach the dam and pour down your cheeks. Your breath was coming in ragged gasps and you could feel your body trembling.

You didn't want to die.

You'd learned so many new things and discovered a side to yourself that you'd never dreamed possible. A bolder, more confident side that wouldn't let people walk all over you anymore. Well, you might still have to work on that, but you'd been getting better!

You had met a band of misfits, and while they'd definitely be the type of people your parents wouldn't approve of, they had quickly become close friends. You didn't have to ask, nor did you want to, but you knew in your soul that all of them would do anything to keep you safe, even kill without question. You weren't entirely sure about Nightmare yet but you knew that he wouldn't sit by if you were in danger.

So where was he now?

You'd promised to consider his deal but you'd never been able to give him your answer. Not for a lack of trying mind you but it wasn't something you could take lightly.

What he offered, was for you to drop everything and everyone you had ever known to go with him, to a completely new environment that was unlike anything you'd experienced before. You didn't know much about the multiverse or world codes, but you were vaguely familiar with the multiverse theory.

The main issue you had with his deal was that you didn't know what would happen to you if you accepted it. The multiverse was apparently massive and home to countless people, some of which could actually hop between worlds like Nightmare and his boys. It was boggling to think about but seemed completely normal to them. A boring person like you had no place in a world like that.

You couldn't help but sob as the apartment complex trembled from another series of tremors. You were so scared. You didn't want to die!

In your despair, you let out an anguished scream for the one person who could possibly come find you. "Nightmare!"

But nobody ca-

The room temperature seemed to grow chilly and the shadows swirled before coalescing into the familiar shape of the god of negativity himself. His cyan eyelight seemed to be burning brighter than you'd ever seen it and his tentacles practically writhed with pent up adrenaline. He only needed to glance at your trembling form to understand what was going on and he rapidly moved to the edge of your bed.

"Are you hurt?" he asked in a low voice.

"No," you croaked, "I'm just so glad to see you..."

He exhaled slowly through his teeth and seemed to focus on a specific spot on the ceiling. "You've probably already figured it out, but your world is in the middle of collapsing. I estimate you maybe have a few minutes before everything disappears and is reclaimed by the Void."

His gaze snapped to your own and seemed to pierce into your very soul before he spoke again. "Will you accept the deal and come with me?"

You opened your mouth to respond when a rumbling crash cut you off. In a fraction of a second, several things happened. Nightmare's tentacles snatched you up. You were coated in fine layer of drywall dust. Nightmare used his tentacles to shield you from the roof caving in.

The dust caused you to cough violently when you accidentally breathed it in and when you managed to recover, you found yourself clinging to his body. He was clutching you against his ribcage and continuing to shield you with both himself and his tentacles.

The roof was gone and the sky was now completely black. The sheer force of the wind threatened to blow you away and you could barely hear yourself think above the roaring of the black.

Nightmare's gaze flicked to the darkness above and then back to you. He appeared completely unharmed and only slightly dusty from the rubble, but the ooze that covered his body seemed to be rapidly absorbing it.

"Yes! I accept! Nightmare, please...take me away from here..." you shouted above the clamor of destruction.

He didn't even hesitate.

His tendrils wrapped around your body, basically binding you against him. You just managed to close your eyes before the roar of the Void was replaced with dead silence. The wind had completely ceased blowing too and a numb feeling began to spread over your body.

The numbness persisted for far longer than any teleport had before and yet you didn't notice. In fact, the only thing you could feel besides Nightmare's hold on your body, was the way the box for your chess set and the edges of your book was cutting into your arms.

You felt his hold loosen and the temperature equalize out into a more comfortable one. You could hear laughter from somewhere nearby and the crackling of a fireplace.

"hey, the boss is back!" Killer's unmistakable tenor voice rang out. "what happened for you to leave so suddenly...?"

You quietly glanced over in the direction of his voice. In one of the few times you'd ever seen him speechless, Killer had an odd look on his skull as he seemed to take in your distraught appearance.

Moments later though, he tilted his skull and flashed his trademark smirk at you. "hey angel~ long time no see..." he purred.

Nightmare made a tisk sound and leveled him with a stern frown. "She's slipping into shock. Tell the others she'll be staying and to get things ready." His tone of voice took on a much more commanding tone that you'd never heard before as he spoke.

It was quite effective though or at least you thought it was. Killer's permanent grin widened slightly and he gave a curt nod.

"sure thing." Before turning away, he winked at you in a mildly suggestive way, but knowing him, he was only half serious about it. This guy could barely take things seriously even in a situation as dire as this one it seemed.

Nightmare began carrying off into another part of the...castle? Everything seemed to be made of gray stone and the ceilings were vaulted, but you couldn't be sure. It would certainly suit someone as regal and dramatic as him though.

He'd mentioned you were going into shock. Was that what you were feeling? Sure, your heart was still beating like crazy and your breathing seemed to be shallow, but you didn't think you were actually in danger. You did feel kinda cold, but in a numb sort of way, and maybe you were a bit lightheaded? It was too complicated to think about. You just wanted to go to sleep and wake up to discover that this had all been another bad dream...

You briefly heard Killer relay the news to the others but he didn't get to finish his sentence before they apparently decided to see for themselves.

Nightmare stopped walking and half turned to look behind him. You could feel his grip tighten around your body in an almost possessive way. "No, you'll only overwhelm her," he nearly growled.

You could see Axe and Dust standing barely six feet away, having likely teleported as soon as they found out you were here.

Axe's deep red eyelight had shrunk down significantly to the size of a dime and other than his stiff posture, he was giving off serious kicked puppy vibes. He went to take a step forward, only for Dust to catch his arm and stop him. Although you knew if Axe was truly motivated to get to you, Dust wouldn't have been able to hold him back like that.

The giant of a skeleton clenched his fists and made a quiet sound of frustration. "you'll take good care of her, right?" he asked Nightmare in a low tone that not so subtly sounded like a threat.

"Of course, you can spend time with her all you want once she's calmed down."

Axe let out a heavy sigh and nodded. Turning his attention to you, his gaze softened significantly although his smile was rather tight. "i'll make ya somethin' nice if ya feel like eatin' later, lil' chip," he murmured.

Dust had been silent throughout the whole interaction, although he was practically searing a hole through your head with how intensely he was staring at you. He hadn't even broken eye contact to stop Axe from upsetting Nightmare. You couldn't read what he was thinking at all which was pretty concerning.

He remained in place, just staring at you, as Axe turned to leave. Nightmare let out a low warning growl which seemed to get his attention at least.

Dust tugged his hood tighter over his skull and turned to leave, although not without making a comment of his own. "...you'll be okay, bean." He disappeared immediately afterwards to who knows where.

Nightmare sighed and continued onto his original goal. He ended up bringing you into a frankly extravagant bedroom and only then did he let go of you. He set you on the bed, wrapped you in one of the softest blankets you'd ever felt, and even propped you up with pillows until you were comfortable. At some point, he set the things you'd managed to bring with you on the bedside table.

"This will be your room," he finally said. "You may decorate it as you see fit but do let me know if you need anything."

You weakly nodded.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and took one of your hands in his own, running his thumb along your knuckles. "There is one more thing I need to do, my dear."

He paused for a moment to let his words register. "You are still considered an incode and technically bound to your old world. For your safety, I need to sever the connection between your soul and the old code, which will classify you as an outcode. I would explain more, but I suspect you're not exactly in much of a state to process all of it."

When you frowned, he lightly stroked your cheek with his knuckles in an attempt to reassure you. "It's okay, I'll be as gentle as I can," he said softly. "Just relax and trust me."

Well, now you were certainly feeling the confusion that apparently came with shock, so it was a good thing he wasn't about to info dump on you. It didn't help with making you feel any less anxious though, as you had no idea what severing the connection meant or entailed.

"Okay... I trust you."

Nightmare nodded and moved his hand from your cheek to your chest while keeping hold of your hand with his other. He focused for a moment and you started to feel that familiar pressure before your soul floated from your chest.

It was still so beautiful.

"This might hurt a little," he hummed.

Before you even had the chance to protest, he grasped your soul, causing you to gasp at the suddenness. His cyan eyelight burned brighter for a second and he abruptly yanked your soul slightly away from you.

It hurt more than a little but even spraining your ankle hurt more than severing this had. While you could feel the stinging of tears that threatened to fall, you managed to blink them away.

Nightmare gently guided your soul back into your chest and smiled at you. "There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he murmured in that velvety tone you'd come to love.

He moved a few strands of hair behind your ear, his claws affectionately brushing against your skin as he did so. He briefly glanced towards the closed bedroom door before looking back at you.

"I think I'm going to keep you to myself for a bit, my dear. Just until I know you'll be okay after all that excitement." As he spoke, he laid down next to you and wrapped you up in his tendrils, pulling you against his ribcage.

You couldn't have protested even if you wanted to. It was probably a good thing he wasn't about to leave you alone as he seemed to have the power to completely calm you down whenever you were upset. You were going to sleep for a while though.

Maybe things would be better when you woke up.

#badsansuary #raccoons drabbles #undertale #dreamtale #nightmare sans #nightmare #nightmare x reader #reader #female reader #have some empathy dear #oneshot

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