#QueenEve Writes

[queenevaine]

A Jake/Quentin request!

Quentin was well accustomed to a constant sense of exhaustion.  He took any moment to rest he could, staying wary of falling asleep and finding himself in another nightmare of Freddy’s creation.  While he hadn’t dealt with any nightmares at the campfire for countless trials, he wasn’t going to take any risks.  Not when the others needed him to be focused and prepared for every test of life and death.  The aches of being hooked and sacrificed was starting to become just as normal for him as insomnia was.  He sat against one of the logs by the fire, staring mindlessly into it as he dozed off.  

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he startled himself awake.  Did I fall asleep?  For how long?  He knew the others wouldn’t want to disturb him much at all if he ever fell asleep, trying to let him get as much rest as he could.  He moved to get up, feeling something incredibly fuzzy around him.  

Jake’s jacket was not something he expected to find draped on his shoulders.  Jake himself wasn’t too far away, and Quentin quickly noticed the way he cradled his arm.  He gently shook the survivalist, making sure not to accidentally hurt him more.  

“Hey, Jake, wake up.  Are you hurt badly?”

Jake blinked his eyes open, shifting to sit up.  

“No, it’s nothing bad.  It’ll heal by itself.”  

Quentin rubbed his eyes, looking around at the near empty campfire.   

“How long was I sleeping?”  

Jake shrugged.  

“Don’t know.  I got back and you were sleeping soundly.  Thought I’d just take a nap, too.”  

“And the jacket?”  

“Thought you’d need it more than me.”  

Quentin shook his head, taking the jacket off and handing it back to Jake.  Jake pushed it back to Quentin.  

“I don’t need it.  Keep it.”  

Quentin sighed, knowing this wasn’t a battle he was going to win.  

“At least let me patch you up, then.”  

Jake handed a medkit over to Quentin, turning to show the deep gash on his arm.  Quentin blinked at the wound, looking up to Jake.  

“This isn’t bad?”

“For me, no.”  

Another sigh, this time one in genuine annoyance came out of Quentin’s mouth.  

“I shouldn’t be surprised, should I?”  

“Nope.”  

Quentin took a deep breath, bandaging the gash after cleaning it up.  When he finished up, Jake simply rolled his shoulder.  

“Thanks.”  

“Yeah, no problem.  And, thanks for letting me keep the jacket.”  

Jake stood, patting Quentin’s shoulder.  

“It suits you.”  

Quentin blinked in surprise.  What is that supposed to mean?  He hid himself in the jacket in order to hide the redness of his cheeks.  

“Still, thanks.”  

Jake laughed quietly, ruffling Quentin’s hair and walking off into the woods.  Quentin settled back against the log, zipping the jacket up and letting himself doze off again in it’s warmth.  

[queenevaine]

A request for Jake/Dwight, I hope it’s sad enough for you anon!  

Dwight had to adjust his vision to the darkness around him.  Trials always tended to be the same, but lately they were.. Different.  The areas became more and more simple, differences fading with each trial.  The survivors were surviving more and more, the more unwilling Killers simply letting them go, and more determined Killers finding their abilities weakening.  Dwight still feared failing, especially with how easy it was getting to survive.  He noticed his injuries staying consistently longer, his ability to simply sense the other survivors failing, and knew that the Entity’s ability to maintain it’s weird realm was failing.  

They were so close to escape, yet the pressure seemed to mount higher and higher.  This trial seemed to be near pitch black, with no moon in the sky or stars to guide their way.  Dwight had to keep himself from yelping when he bumped into someone else, praying it was a friendlier Killer like The Wraith.  

“Dwight, you okay?”

Jake’s voice made Dwight sigh in relief.  

“Yeah, I’m okay.  I just... can’t see.”

“Neither can I.  Stick close to me.”  

Dwight nodded once, staying close by to Jake as the survivalist took careful, premeditated steps in the darkness.  Something feels wrong.  

“MOVE!”  

Dwight was suddenly pushed forward, nearly falling to the ground.  He turned around with a jolt when he heard Jake cry in pain, only barely seeing the off-white of an expressionless mask.  He scrambled to action, running as far as he could.  Stupid!  He’s going to get himself killed for good!  

Dwight couldn’t see any of the telltale signs of any generators, and the walls seemed to… move?  He looked over his shoulder, seeing nothing close to him.  Michael was probably chasing after Jake, then.  Dwight took the opportunity to investigate the familiar brick wall, jumping backwards when it moved under his touch.  He quickly started to move bricks away, part of the wall collapsing away to reveal misty forests beyond.  

Generators weren’t needed to escape!  Dwight just had to find Jake, and they could make it.  They were so close!  

Jake bit down hard on the scarf, keeping himself quiet.  He didn’t need any further prompting to know that the Entity was failing, and the gash on his shoulder was very real and very painful.  If he was caught now, he was as good as dead.  As the Entity’s power slipped, it became harder and harder to actually tell where the Killer was, but Jake was far too skilled at keeping himself from being wiped from existence in any normal setting, human killer or not, to be found so easily.  The crows that rested near him didn’t have the faint, glowing red eyes he was used to seeing.  Didn’t he recognize some of these crows?  

The sound of footsteps interrupted him.  Stay still, don’t move.  Don’t let him find you and erase you.  Jake stayed still and quiet, even as blood poured down his coat.  This time, he knew, he could actually stifle the flow enough to not bleed in a crimson trail, all too easy to follow.  He didn’t need to see the tall figure at all to know when Michael walked away from him, not wasting any time in trying to find a target that would take far too long to find.  

He needed to find Dwight.  He hoped the leader was alright and staying hidden from Michael.  Jake was accustomed to surviving on his own, years of practice at his side.  As skilled as they all had become in the trials, Dwight was not as naturally silent as Jake was.  Jake moved to the wall for support, nearly falling when it didn’t support his weight at all.  

He could easily move the wall aside and head into the fog if he wanted.  Does Dwight know, too?  As much as his shoulder hurt, he wasn’t going to leave just yet.  The crows still seemed unafraid, and a sudden idea hit him.  

“Hey.  Go find Dwight.  My height, blood covered shirt, tie, glasses.”  

The bird seemed to tilt its head as it listened, before squawking and flying off.  It stayed clear in his sight, before circling overhead something in the distance.  Good bird.  He quietly walked towards it.  He froze when he saw overalls again, just barely in the darkness.  He better not have found Dwight.  

His heart leapt to his throat when he heard Dwight’s  cry of pain.  He wasted no time in running towards it, desperate to escape together.  Jake clearly spotted the multicolored tie, eyes quickly adjusted to night.  He grabbed Dwight’s hand and ran, dragging the other along towards the wall.  He had to ignore the heart wrenching whine, in favor of running further away from the Killer.  He ran through the wall itself, bricks clearly disappearing from sight.  He didn't dare look back, it would waste time running.  

In the thick fog of the forest, Jake allowed himself to slow down.  Dwight struggled to catch his breath, leaning against a tree.  

“Are you hurt?”  

“I-”

Snap!

The sudden snap of a tree branch interrupted them, making them listen closely to the footsteps approaching.  Dwight knew they were too heavy to be any survivor.  

“Jake!”  

Jake didn't need any more hints than the soft whine, grabbing Dwight’s hand again and leading him through the maze of trees.  Whether it was Michael or a different killer didn't matter.  When Dwight started to lag behind, Jake made sure to keep Dwight in front of him.  It was impossible to clearly tell, but Jake was sure he saw fresh blood on Dwight’s shirt.  No time to worry now, unless we both want to die.

The fog clearing was the only indication that they were still moving.  He wasn't sure if there were still footsteps behind him, but Jake didn't take chances like that.  

Suddenly, the treeline broke from it's monotony and the sun harshly shined down on them.  Jake stopped now to catch his breath, looking back to the forest and seeing a familiar, homely forest he knew he could navigate.  Where did all of the fog go?  He turned and took several steps forward, in pure disbelief.  He couldn't help the growing grin.  

“We actually escaped.  Dwight, we-”

THUD.

Jake turned around in an instant, joy being overridden by fear when he saw Dwight limp on the ground.  

“Dwight!?”

Dwight was struggling to breathe, pale from what Jake could only assume was blood loss.  Crimson pooled underneath them, pouring from his shoulder.  Jake tore the shirt away, wincing at the deep cut dangerously close to his neck.  How much blood has he lost so far?  I don't have time.  He took his scarf off quickly, holding Dwight in his arms as he pressed the fabric to the gash.  He hated the way Dwight winced and weakly cried out in pain.  

“Just hold on, we're going to be fine.”  

Dwight’s eyes fluttered, trying desperately to stay open.  

“J-Jake, I'm…  sorry...”

No!  Not here, not when they were so close!  

“Save your strength, Dwight.”  

Jake had to stay composed, or at least seem that way, for both of them.  If he panicked now, it would only make Dwight worse.  

“J-Jake, p-please..  I-I’m sorry… I let you down..”

“Dwight, stop talking.  You’ll be fine, we’ll get help.”  

He pressed his hand harder against the wound, feeling Dwight shudder.  

“Just hold on, Dwight.  Please.”  

Dwight’s head lolled back, strength quickly fading.  This can’t be happening now! 

“Dwight, listen to me.  Just focus on me and my voice.”  

The sudden pang of fear shot through his core when Dwight’s eyes closed and he fell limp.  

“Dwight!  Come on, just hold on a little longer!  DWIGHT!”  

He couldn’t hold back tears any longer as he slipped a glove off and held his other hand in front of Dwight’s mouth, feeling nothing at all.  Guilt, anger, and sadness crashed down on him.  I shouldn’t have left him alone!  This is my fault.  No, it’s his fault.  But Dwight’s still gone, for good.  

He couldn’t bear to look up to the warmth of the sun, instead holding Dwight’s body close as tears openly fell down his face.  They had gotten so close, and it still fell apart.  

[queenevaine]

A request of Nea showing her soft side!

Nea didn’t usually lay back and relax after strenuous series of trials.  She found more than enough comfort being a pain in the ass to the Entity, marking every tree she could find and hunting down the Killer’s homes just to create trouble.  It was always her way of showing the Entity she wouldn’t stop rebelling against its rules, doing what she wanted instead of what it wanted.  

This time, however, she felt completely exhausted.  She wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep, but at the same time she knew it would lead to more of the Entity’s creations, as sleeping more often than not made her encounter the bloodweb.  She didn’t want to deal with anything of the Entity’s if she could help it, not right now.  

She idled her time in a corner of the woods, secluded enough from the campfire to enjoy her own peace and quiet.  The other survivors were just so loud sometimes, and she needed to keep her distance before she went insane.  If the circumstances were different, Nea knew she’d be able to find herself enjoying the solace.  

A gentle chirp interrupted her, and she looked up to find one of Jake’s crows staring down at her, not one of the Entity’s spies.  She couldn’t help but shake her head with an amused grin.  

“Get outta here, bird.”  

The bird squawked at her, flying down to land in front of her.  

“Go, shoo!  I know you can understand me.”  

Despite her waving at it to tell it to leave, the crow instead hopped closer, almost curious.  She took a deep breath, leaning her head back against the tree.  

“Alright, fine, you can stay.  Just don’t bite me, okay?”  

The bird squawked again, wandering closely beside her as she settled back in to relaxing.  She jumped when she felt the bird’s feet on her leg, attention focusing on it as it settled in to lay down on her upper leg.  

“Hey, I didn’t agree to this.”  

Despite her protest, the bird didn’t seem keen on moving.  Nea could only sigh, then shrugged slightly.  Oh, what the hell.  She picked the crow up and gently cradled it in one arm, gently petting it’s head with her other hand.  It was quickly lulled to sleep, comfortable in Nea’s grip.  A small smile grew on her face at seeing the animal so content.  No wonder Jake spends so much time with these things.  

She leaned back further against the tree to let the bird rest on her chest to not drop it ungraciously as she dozed off, still aware of her surroundings, but far too relaxed to want to go anywhere anytime soon.  

[queenevaine]

This request is a tiny bit out of order, but the idea was too good to pass up!  This takes place right after the Dwight/Myers piece.   

Play dead.  

Jake had to muffle himself from screaming in sheer agony as Michael’s knife drove further into his chest, quickly being yanked out and then feeling himself thrown to the ground like an unwanted doll.  He lay still, listening to Michael’s footsteps and the heart still pounding in his chest.  He forced himself to crawl when Michael was far enough away, not caring where he crawled to so long as it was away from where he had been thrown aside.  

Jake winced at Laurie’s scream.  This trial was going awfully, and Jake’s main concern was surviving.  He pressed his hand against his chest, trying not to scream in pain as he bled over the asphalt road underneath him.  He wouldn't give up so easily, crawling forward despite the agonizing pain.  He didn't hear Dwight’s scream, but his attention was drawn to the hatch that opened up not far from him.  

He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't do anything about it now.  Michael would simply come back and kill him when he realized that Jake wasn't dead.  Jake dragged himself to the hatch, falling in just as Michael walked out of the house.  

He felt himself fall through air for a few moments before hitting solid ground.  He struggled to his feet, shaky and uncertain of his balance.  Getting back to the campfire was his main priority now.  He pushed himself through the pain, seeing the familiar light not too far from him.  Before breaking out of the treeline, he turned to head to Claudette’s corner of the woods.  Even if she's not there, she's got a lot of supplies I can use.  

Jake didn't know if it was better for her to be absent, part of him didn't want her to see him so injured, but there was hardly anyone more qualified to treat injuries.  Claudette sat in the hammock organizing a medkit together when she looked up and saw Jake collapse to a knee, her expression turning to one of horror.  

“Oh my God!  Jake, what happened?  Sit down, I'll grab my best supplies.”  

She jumped out of the hammock and frantically gathering her things while Jake shifted to sit against the nearest tree.  His head leaned back against the bark while he took deep breaths.  Claudette sat next to him, noticing how bloody his hands and chest were.  

“I'm going to take your jacket and shirt off, okay?”

Jake nodded, pushing himself off the tree to let Claudette easily take his shirt off.  He leaned against the tree again as everything around him started spinning.  

“Okay, I’m going to lay you down, alright?”

He dumbly nodded, feeling Claudette gently move him to lay on the ground.  She pressed her hands against his chest, biting her lip when he flinched and cried softly in pain.  

“I know it hurts, I’m sorry.”

Jake grit his teeth together, digging his nails into the dirt underneath him in an attempt to keep himself from moving too much.  Claudette took a small bottle out of the medkit, uncorking it and scooping the green paste inside onto her finger.  

“This will sting at first, I’m so sorry.”  

Jake tensed when he felt the cool paste and the sudden stinging from the wound on his chest, before it quickly went numb.  He relaxed and took deep, exhausted breaths.  Claudette wrapped bandages around his chest, gently lifting him to wrap it around his back and entirely around his torso.  He was lightheaded from the sheer amount of blood loss, staying limp and trying to rest.  

He felt Claudette shift closer, her hand gently brushing hair out of his face along his forehead.  

“I’m okay, ‘Dette.”  

Jake hated how tired he sounded, wanting to reassure Claudette that he was fine.  He felt her shift again and lay next to him, her head resting on his upper arm.  

“I just worry about you.”  

She wrapped her other arm around his stomach.  Jake let out a relieved sigh, closing his eyes and relaxing with Claudette next to him.  He didn’t need to say anything else as they both drifted to sleep.  

[queenevaine]

Chapter 9: Bits and Pieces

I wanna say too with the upcoming release of a new character, they will be the last survivor added into this story.  The other ones will be coming out too late for me to really want to keep fitting them in.  

Dwight took a deep breath, laying on the hospital bed.  It didn’t take the staff long to get him a gown he could wear while they cleaned up his normal clothes.  He had plenty of time to think about what he was going to do next.  The police officer that had stopped by assured him he wouldn’t have to worry about the legal consequences his job was going to face, and that he would be compensated sufficiently.  That eased the worry of money when everything was sorted out, but there was still time between then and now that Dwight had to worry about.  

He knew he couldn’t stay at the hospital longer than he needed, and he was fine enough to leave.  Maybe not mentally, but would anyone be after the Entity’s realm?  When a nurse walked in with his clothes folded in a neat pile, he nodded to her in thanks.  She didn’t stay a moment longer, more than likely to allow him to change in private.  It felt good to be in clothes that were actually clean, not caked in dirt and blood.  He sat on the bed again, trying to think about where he could go.  

The slip of paper Jack handed to him was on the bedside table.  I could always call him, right?  No, I can’t just impose like that.  I hardly know him.  He was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of the door opening.  

“Mr. Fairfield, how are you feeling?”  

The doctor’s voice was gentle, obviously not trying to startle him.  Dwight simply shrugged.  

“I’m alright.  Just a lot to work out.  Am I.. clear to go?”  

The doctor nodded after a moment of hesitation.  

“Yes, you’re perfectly healthy physically.  If you feel ill at any point that isn’t your normal cold or flu, see us immediately.”  

Dwight nodded, trying to give as reassuring of a smile as he could.  

“I will.  Thank you.”  

The doctor turned to walk out, leaving Dwight to leave whenever he was ready.  He stared at the now closed door, taking a deep breath and getting up to head out.  He knew he’d have to go at some point, but he still had no idea where he’d even go.  How much has even changed in two years?  He figured he’d have to do some exploring, and that was at least something he could spend a lot of time on.  

It felt strange to wander around what Dwight always knew as home.  Most of the buildings were the same ones, but others were vastly different.  This was going to be an experience.  

The receptionist idled her time, checking over appointments and making sure that each was scheduled and properly notified when the phone rang.  She looked at the area code, blinking at the number.  Where even is that from?  She picked up the phone and barely even opened her mouth when the voice shouted from the other end.  

“I don’t need any appointment, ‘M askin’ if a ‘Dwight Fairfield’ is there.”  

She blinked in surprise, tilting her head.  

“And who am I speaking to?”  

“A friend of ‘is.  He there or not?”  

“Sir, I can’t-”  

“Fuckin’ christ, I just need to know if he’s there, and I know you can tell me that kinda shit.”  

The receptionist sighed quietly.  

“Give me a moment to check, please.”  

“I got all day.”  

Pretentious asshole.  She held the phone between her head and shoulder, typing in the name to sift through the records of patients.  

“...No, we don’t anymore, he-”  

“Anymore?”  

Be patient, don’t get irritated.  

“That’s correct.  He was released earlier today.”  

“Where the hell did he go?”  

“Sir, I don’t know that information.  You’d have to talk to him.”  

“God fucking-, fine, thanks anyway.”  

Click.  

David groaned, rubbing his face with his hands.  The hotel room he was staying in was comfortable enough, but he would definitely rather be heading out to find Dwight.  He really had no idea where to go, and even then only had a vague idea of the area where Dwight lived.  He never really got specifics, but the news thankfully had given enough details for him to find out.  

Where would Dwight even go?  The question tugged at his mind constantly.  David knew he was lucky enough to always have a consistent place to stay; considering how wealthy his family was already.  That, and the money he had earned himself was more than substantial.  He couldn’t stand being idle in the hotel room anymore, instead deciding to head out and just see what he could find.  

The town was small, at least compared to where he grew up.  The buildings were nowhere near as clustered together, and he could very easily walk without having to shoulder his way past anybody.  Nice little place.  He kept his hands in his pockets, aimlessly wandering around the town’s streets.  He knew he could easily walk around the entirety of the town’s main street and never get tired.  Surely someone would know of him, at least?  

Never hurt to check.  

Dwight was exhausted.  He thankfully still had some money on him, but nowhere near enough to last him long if he wasn’t careful.  The sun was setting now, and Dwight knew better than to stay out past a certain time.  His hometown wasn’t particularly dangerous, but he’d rather not take any chances he didn’t have to.  He tracked down the nearest phone he could use, glad that the town hadn’t gotten rid of the age old payphones yet.  Some things never change.  

He pulled out the scrap of paper, putting quarters into the phone and dialing the number.  Please pick up.  

“Hello?”  

Thank god.  

“Hi, uh, is this a bad time?”  

“Dwight?  No, it’s not, how are you holding up?”  

“I-I’m doing well.  Uhm…”  

Damn it, not now!  

“I was hoping, if it’s alright of course, if…  you knew of a place I could stay for the night?  I don’t really have that set up yet.”  

Fear quickly surged, this was stupid, I shouldn’t have asked, I should’ve just stayed in the hospital-

“Sure!  Where are you?  I’ll come pick you up as soon as I can.  I do live a bit out of town, so it’ll take me a bit.”  

“Uh, corner of Main and 3rd.  The payphone outside of the hardware store.”  

“Is that- wait, I know where you are.  Sit tight, alright?”  

“Yeah, and thanks.”  

“No problem at all!  I’m not the kinda guy to leave someone hanging like this.  Should take me about twenty minutes.  See ya then.”

The phone clicked, and Dwight put it back and headed outside of the box.  Now it was just a matter of waiting.  That won’t be so bad.  Just twenty more minutes.  Even still, the encroaching fog made him feel the familiar senses of fear and panic.  Everything’s fine, it’s just chilly tonight.  The fog doesn’t mean anything anymore.  

Despite that, he was incredibly anxious.  It was all too familiar, to feel the cold, eerie chill before being sent to a game of death by cruel meathook, or rarely by the hands of the Killer themselves.  The silence was so eerie, but he preferred it over the sounds he typically heard of the Entity.  He didn’t know how much time had passed by now; his watch was horribly off.  His heart started to race in his chest as more time passed, and he swore he had the unmistakable feeling of someone watching him.  Michael?  

He darted his attention around, suddenly paranoid that he was actively being stalked by the masked Killer.  He wouldn’t be able to clearly tell in the fog, especially with it being so dark.  He pressed his back against the phone box, at least alleviating one direction he had to be wary about.  He was still concerned about the other surroundings, heart leaping to his throat when he saw a silhouette in the fog.  

He immediately moved to another side of the phone box, hiding behind it.  No, no no no, it can’t be him, right?  He had no idea what he was going to do.  I could actually die!  Fear seized him again, eyes widened in panic.  

The honk of a car made him scream.  When the window of the driver’s side rolled down, he was relieved to see Jack with Coach in the bed of the pickup truck.  

“Hey, sorry for taking a while.  You okay?”  

Dwight nodded.  

“Yeah!  Yeah, I’m okay.  Just, thought I saw someone in the fog.”  

Jack looked into the fog, then back to Dwight.  

“I’m not sure if I see anybody.  It might be a trick of the fog, like when you feel something crawling on your arm and there’s nothing actually there.”  

He shrugged, then gestured to the passenger door.  

“You can hop in shotgun, or in the back with Coach, if you want.”  

Dwight nodded, quickly jogging around the truck to get in the passenger seat.  

“Thanks again, really.  I should’ve sorted out a place to stay earlier, but…  I didn’t really think about it.”  

Didn’t have the courage to face the issue, I mean.  He sighed in relief at the warmth of the car.  

“Hey man, it’s no problem, really.  Like I said, I’m not gonna leave someone hanging.  I did get to reading the news, too.  Apparently, you’re a big deal around here now.”  

Oh no.  

“R-Really?  Why me?”  

Jack looked over with a raised eyebrow, driving the route he knew almost by heart.  

“You went missing for two years, and then show up again covered in blood.  I’ve seen reporters all over town trying to figure out what they can about what happened.”  

“It’s nothing, really.  I just…  got lost.  Really lost.  It’s, hard to explain.”

Dwight shifted awkwardly in the seat.  Jack reached over to pat Dwight’s shoulder.  

“It’ll turn out fine, I think.  I’m pretty sure the excitement will die down after a few weeks.”  

A few weeks too long.  He nodded, leaning back in the seat.  

“I’m not exactly a guy that wants to be in the spotlight of anything.  I just…  wanna get back to my life.”  

“Can’t blame ya.  I’m not a flashy guy either, I just like doing what I do without too much problem.  Puts me at ease to work with the animals I raise.  Not sure if I ever mentioned it, but I work on my sister’s ranch.  She started getting more and more work, and I said I’d help her out wherever I can.  It’s nice and quiet most of the time.”  

Dwight couldn’t help a small smile.  

“Yeah, sounds nice.”   

They fell into silence as the road veered off into a dirt road.  The ranch was bigger than Dwight expected, and much more quiet.  

“Alright, here we are.”  

He quickly parked the truck and got out, Coach obediently hopping out and following close at Jack’s heels.  Dwight followed behind them, still anxious about the fog.  Reminds me of Coldwind.  

The door to the house swung open, and Dwight was instantly met with a chorus of barking dogs.  

“Down, boys!”  

A young woman, Jack’s sister, walked in from the kitchen in pajamas.  

“Come on, you mutts.  Bed time.”  

She paid little attention to Dwight, instead dragging several of the dogs away by their collars.  Jack turned to grin at Dwight.  

“She’s a little blunt, but nice.  I promise.  Come on, lemme show you a spare room you can use.”  

Dwight silently followed Jack, looking around at all the details of the house.  It was a nice place, but was definitely far too large for just two people.  

“There we go.  Bathroom is at the end of the hall.”  

Dwight turned his attention back to Jack when the door opened, noting how simple the room was.  Guess a spare room isn’t gonna be decorated too much.  He walked in and started undoing the tie he still had on, nodding to Jack.  

“Thanks, honestly.  I know I keep saying it, but, I really appreciate it.”  

“Not a problem, Dwight.  Lemme know if you need anything, my room’s the first door on the left there.”  

He pointed at the door that had countless scratches at the bottom.  

“Coach gets real antsy to get in my room sometimes, especially when he was a puppy.  Pretty easy to tell which room is mine because of it.”  

Dwight nodded, his question pre-emptively answered.  Jack turned to head to his room, Coach sitting beside it as if on cue.  He suddenly stopped as Dwight turned to put the tie on the nearest nightstand.  

“I just realized, you don’t have any spare clothes, do you?”  

Dwight blinked, shaking his head.   

“No, actually.  I’m… not sure what happened to most of my stuff.”  

“Here, let me get you some pajamas to wear.  That should be more comfortable than that stuff you’re wearing now.”  

“It’s okay, really!  I-I don’t wanna impose more than I am.”  

“Don’t worry about it!  I think they’ll fit you fine.”  

Before Dwight could say anything more, Jack was gone and getting spare clothes from his room.  Dwight sat on the bed and waited patiently, taking the time to reset his watch to the correct time.  It was already 11:45, and he knew he’d have an interesting day ahead of him tomorrow.  Jack came back quickly with oversized, flannel pajamas.  

“Here’s an old set I don’t wear anymore.  It’s a little big, but it should still fit.”  

Dwight nodded, carefully taking the pajamas.  

“Thanks again.”  

Jack nodded, closing the door and leaving Dwight to his privacy.  It’s better than a formal shirt and stiff pants.  He quickly changed and got into the bed, putting his glasses on the nightstand and leaving his clothes in a pile beside it.  Wait, that’d be rude, wouldn’t it?  He quickly got up to fold his shirt and pants, then place them neatly on top of the nightstand.  

He took a deep breath, covering his eyes with his arm as he lay on his back.  I have no idea what I’m even doing.  I’ll just, worry about it tomorrow.  He closed his eyes, trying to settle to sleep.  

David swore as he got back to his hotel room.  How the fuck does no one know where this guy is?  He nearly threw himself onto his bed, irritated at jet lag messing up his entire sleep schedule.  Instead of sleeping, he sat against the pillows scouring through anything he could find on his phone.  Nothing was particularly helpful,  and that only served to irritate him more.  He groaned loudly in annoyance, looking over to the clock.  Only 4:30, really?  He sighed, getting up and heading to the bathroom.  Might as well take a shower.  

When he got out, it was just barely 5 am.  He groaned again, rubbing his eyes and grabbing a towel to dry off his hair.  He wasn’t even quite sure what he was going to do, but anything was better than staying in the hotel room.  He quickly got dressed and headed out, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.  The streets were entirely empty, only a few signs of life from places that were open all hours of a day.  

He was quickly starting to get used to the town, easily finding his way around.  There wasn’t much that was particularly interesting, but he never failed to find something to do, even if it was something mundane.  There’s gotta be at least something, it’s all over the news, isn’t it?  He sighed as he wandered into the nearest store, mindlessly looking around to distract himself.  

At 6, David opted to head back to the hotel and get something to eat.  It was better than wandering around with absolutely nothing to do.  What even did Dwight do around here for fun?  He shook his head, taking his time eating breakfast.  He wasn't surprised that hardly anyone else was awake in the lobby, and those that were might as well have still been asleep.  

He headed to the fitness center to kill time and burn some stress.  The hotel was surprisingly nice for a place so small.  He couldn't help the small pit of worry in his stomach.  What if this is the wrong place?  Or if he's already long gone?  But where would he go?  

He groaned, wiping off sweat with the nearest towel.  He headed back to his room to clean himself up, reading the time on the clock.  Only 7:15, but at least it’s more reasonable to be out.  He put on a change of clothes, heading out again.  There were far more people out now, David noticed, including a multitude of vans that very nearly sped over him.

“Oi, watch where yer fuckin’ drivin’!”  

The side of the van stuck out to him, being the branding of one of the local news channels he idly scrolled through on TV.  Now where are they going?  He turned to follow the road the vans had driven down, cursing to himself as the van turned a corner too fast for him to keep track of it.  He ran a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration.  His attention suddenly darted when he heard a yelp that was all too familiar.  

Dwight!?  He quickly sprinted in the direction of the yelp, now positive that he was hearing Dwight when he yelled again.  

“Hey, stop!”  

Dwight sounded genuinely distressed, and every instinct of panic screamed at him to run and find him.  He ran through the densely packed crowd of people he ran into, pushing people aside to get to the center.  When he finally broke through the crowd, he saw Dwight being roughly pulled by another man.  Panic quickly settled into rage.  

“Oi, back th’fuck off!”  

“D-David?”  

Dwight stared in disbelief.  David was here?  I’m not hallucinating, am I?  The protective grip David held his arm in told him otherwise.  He had expected people to be curious, but he hadn’t expected to be swarmed by news reporters.  

“You deaf or what?  Fuckin’ move it!”  

David’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.  He felt like he was in a daze as the crowd parted and David very quickly guided him out.  They didn’t stop until they were a fair distance away, and when Dwight’s mind finally caught  up to process everything.  

“David, how are you here?”  

David turned around to face Dwight.  

“Took a plane.  You think I wouldn’t try to find you and the others when I realized we weren’t in hell anymore?”  

Dwight held his arms.  

“I… didn’t really think about it.”  

The gentle touch on his shoulder made him look up.  

“Come on, Dwight.  I don’t leave people behind, you know that.  Where the hell did ya go overnight?  I tried finding you yesterday.”  

“Really?”  

Was he who I saw in the fog last night?  No, he would’ve said something long before.  ...Right?  

“I-I stayed with someone I met.”

He quickly noticed the sharp inhale from David, as well as the way his muscles tensed.  Figures that he’d be uneasy by that.  I don’t really know Jack well.  

“I’ve got a hotel room that’s got plenty o’space.  You can stay there with me, if ya want.  Besides, you can help me find th’others, too.”  

Dwight blinked in surprise.  

“You’re searching for everyone else?”  

“‘Course I am!  You lot mean more t’me than any fucker back home.  ‘M not gonna let any fuckers harass you, either.  Come on, lemme show you where it is.”  

Dwight nodded, following beside Dwight as David walked back to the hotel.  He walked almost in a surreal daze, as if what was happening was a dream.  Yet, he knew it wasn’t any dream or hallucination, no tricks or deceptions from eldritch beings.  This was real, and Dwight couldn’t be happier.  

[queenevaine]

A request where Tapp is mean to Dwight and David doesn’t like that at all.  

I ended up writing this a bit different, because I can’t imagine Tapp being genuinely mean to Dwight.  Enjoy!

Even though he had failed to bring in Jigsaw for good, and had lost his job as an officer of the law, Detective Tapp still took his job as a police officer seriously.  His goal was to protect the innocent, no matter what, and there would be nothing that would stop him from trying to achieve that goal.  Even in the Entity’s realm, he made sure to keep an eye on the Killer, and help locate objectives and whatever might belong to the Killer to destroy them.  

He never failed to get annoyed when any of the other survivors insisted on being a distraction.  It was the last thing he wanted to accept, that any of the survivors he found himself stuck here with would be hurt or worse.  He refused to accept it, and would do anything he could to make sure he didn’t have to accept it.  

This trial wasn’t going as well as Tapp would have hoped.  One person already down, and the remaining three were on their last hook.  It was him, Dwight, and David, and the scrapper had walked off to try and track down the Killer.  Tapp and Dwight worked silently on the last generator they needed, trying to finish it before the Killer showed their face again.  

The faint heartbeat made Tapp look up.  The Killer wasn’t close yet, but it wouldn’t take long for that to change.  He looked over to Dwight, who was already moving towards it.  Tapp made sure to grab Dwight’s arm, not going to let him walk into danger.  

“Dwight, the hell are you doing?”

“I’ll keep him busy, you can finish the generator and get David out.”

“Not a fucking chance, Dwight.”

“Tapp, I know what I’m doing.”

“And I know it’s still my job to keep people safe.”

Dwight shook his head, taking his arm from Tapp.  

“It can’t always work that way.  Trust me, Tapp.  It’ll work out fine.”

Tapp grabbed Dwight’s arm again, this time tighter as Dwight let out a quiet yelp in surprise at the firm grip.  

“Tapp-”

“Dwight, let me handle the bastard.”

The heartbeat was racing faster as David sprinted from between the trees, forcing himself between Dwight and Tapp.  His ire turned on Tapp.

“The fuck’s your problem, mate?  We don’t have time to be going at each other, and you sure as hell don’t have any fuckin’ right to force Dwight around.”  

Tapp’s gaze focused on David.  

“I’m trying to stay away from suicide missions.  I’m not gonna just let that fucker easily get someone else.”  

It was Dwight’s turn now to intervene, making space between the two.  

“Okay, we don’t need to fight.”

The fast pace of the heartbeat made them duck for nearest cover, Tapp keeping a keen eye on where the Trapper walked.  He kicked the generator and looked around trees and rocks, and Tapp knew that he would soon find where David was trying to hide.  He got up and ran from the generator, whistling to get the Trapper’s attention.  

Dwight and David watched Tapp run off with the Trapper after him, the latter groaning as he moved to help on the generator.  

“I’m still gonna kick his fuckin’ arse at the campfire.”

[queenevaine]

Chapter 8: Misfits

Detective Tapp knew he was one of the more recent survivors to have joined the growing group, but was one of the veterans of dealing with a lunatic killer.  He quickly grew close to Quentin and Laurie, at least being able to somewhat understand them.  He still wanted to bring a crazed follower of Jigsaw to justice, but he would never do so if that meant leaving others to their death.  He was a detective, and an officer of the law, sworn to protecting innocents, and he would do just that.  

When he woke up in a strange forest, without any sign of the campfire, he immediately looked around for the others.  He spotted Quentin first, laying on his side and covered in blood.  They were used to being coated in blood, both of their own and each others, but he still was deeply concerned as he knelt beside Quentin and shook him gently.  

“Hey, Quentin, wake up.”  

Quentin slowly opened his eyes, before quickly sitting upright when he realized he had been sleeping.  

“What’s going on?”  

The forest wasn’t like what they had grown used to, and the absence of the fire made them concerned.  Laurie and Bill weren’t far, both asleep comfortably.  Quentin ran over to Laurie and Tapp over to Bill, shaking them awake.  Laurie looked around in confusion, Bill jolting upright and getting to his feet.  

“Where the fuckin’ hell are we?”  

Bill somehow still had his cigarette in his mouth, looking around the forest.  Laurie was helped to her feet by Quentin, looking around herself.  

“A new kind of trial, maybe?”  

“We should stick together then.  We don’t know what we’re up against yet.”  

Quentin looked to the others, still clearly exhausted from habitual insomnia to avoid the realm of the demon he wanted to kill.  Tapp nodded, starting to walk in a direction.  Bill, Quentin, and Laurie followed behind him, making sure to be spread out enough to not get caught in the same effect like the Doctor’s, but close enough to be able to help each other.  

When the treeline broke away into a clearing, the sight caught them off-guard.  A sunrise over a city, overlooked by the cliff they found themselves on.  They stood in shock, Bill being the first one to speak.  

“What kinda horseshit is this?”

Laurie looked over to the others, then to the forest.  

“Are we.. free?”  

Quentin stared quietly as Tapp slowly started to nod.  

“We have to be.  But, I don’t recognize this city at all.”  

Laurie noticed when Bill silently turned to walk back into the woods.  

“Bill?  Where are you going?”

She reached to grab his arm, which he abruptly pulled away.  

“Keep yer hands off me.”

“Bill, what-”

Tapp turned to walk closer to Bill, stopping when Bill turned an acidic glare to him.  

“None of you should be near me.”  

“What are you-”

“Don’t you fuckin’ get it?  I’m from a place where the world’s gone to shit and everyone’s fightin’ for their lives against zombies.  I’m immune because I carry the damn virus, and I don’t see anything gone to shit here.  Wherever we are, it ain’t home, and I’m not gonna put you three at risk of turning into one of the undead fucks.”  

Tapp crossed his arms, standing between Bill and the other two behind him.  

“We have no clue if that’ll happen.  It didn’t back in the Entity’s realm, not even slightly.”

“You wanna take that god damn chance?!  You wanna go mind our own business and end up having to shoot one of them in the head?!  Or makin’ one of them do it to you?!  I’m not gonna take that god damn chance with any of you!”  

The following silence hung heavy in the air, no one daring to speak just yet.  Bill turned again to walk away, and this time Quentin spoke up.  

“We can’t just split up now.  We have no idea what we’re going to do.”

Bill paused, turning to look towards Quentin.  

“I already know what I’m going to do, and that’s making sure none of you die because of me.”  

“‘We’ includes you, Bill!  Isn’t there some way we can test to see if you still have it?”

“Without one of you turning into a zombie?  No, and I’m not walkin’ into a full city and mass-spreading it to find out with a blood test.”

“Is there any way to prevent spreading it?  Like, avoiding contact with other people.”

Bill crossed his arms.  

“It changes too damn much to know.”

Quentin turned to Tapp.

“We can get a face mask, right?  Then we can just be careful going into town.”  

“We are all still kinda covered in blood.”  

Laurie interjected, watching as Quentin stared absently in the distance as he thought on a plan.  He suddenly jolted his head around to the town.  

“We could make our way to the hospital and then grab some facemasks there, get a spare set of clothes and come back here.  Tapp and I could go, and then you guys can stay here and keep an eye out.”  

Laurie glanced over to Bill, then back to Quentin.  

“That works for me.  How long do you think it’ll take?”  

Quentin simply shrugged.  

“I have no idea, just that it’ll be as fast as possible.”  

Bill groaned, shaking his head and turning to sit against a tree.  

“Fine, but none of you should be anywhere near me, got it?”  

There was a collection of quick nods, then Quentin turned to head to the city with Tapp close behind when they were out of earshot.  

“So, how exactly do you plan on getting facemasks and spare clothes?  I don't think I've had my wallet on me for awhile now.”

Quentin looked over his shoulder to Tapp.  

“I haven't either.”  

“So how-”

Tapp stopped at the realization of Quentin’s plan.  

“We are not stealing from a hospital!”

“I know how to do it, it'll be fine!”

“It’s still illegal, Quentin!”  

“What else can we do?  Besides, it’s not like we’re stealing everything we can find!  Just the things we need.”  

Tapp groaned.  

“Then we find another way to get it, like asking?”  

“We don’t have time to ask nicely, Tapp!  I don’t know what Bill’s dealing with, but if I can help, I’m going to do what I can!”  

Tapp let out a deep breath.  

“Alright, fine.  But I’m not covering for you if you get caught.”  

“Funny you should mention that-”

“I’M NOT PRETENDING TO ARREST YOU TO COVER YOU, QUENTIN.”  

“I don’t want that to happen, but it’s an option, okay?!”  

Tapp groaned again.  Why did I have to go with Quentin?  

“It’s not that bad, Tapp.  Like I said, I’ve done this before.  We can go in, make up something, get fresh clothes, and then come back to Laurie and Bill.”  

“Let’s also make sure to not get arrested or anything, the less time we waste the better.  We’ve already established this isn’t Bill’s home, and I have a feeling we won’t recognize things, either.”   

Quentin nodded, taking lead again and walking to the bright street lights of the city’s roads.  They kept to the sidewalk, walking as fast as they could without seeming like they had just murdered someone.  The beacon of the hospital was one Quentin quickly picked up on, avoiding as many people as they could as they walked in the front doors.  

It was hard now to avoid the concerned gazes of everyone inside.  All at once, they were surrounded by nurses and staff urging them to sit down, take it easy, don’t push yourself.  Quentin quickly glanced over to Tapp, a plan forming in his head.  

“I-I’m okay, but my… friend here isn’t.  He needs help, badly!”  

I’m starting to regret my decision a lot more now.  He still played along, forcing himself into a coughing fit.  One of the nurse’s got closer, inspecting Tapp carefully.  When she looked over to Quentin, he spoke up without hesitation.  

“We were… out camping, and ran into some really aggressive wild animals.”

Good one.  

The nurses were quick to action, guiding Tapp to his feet and out of the main room.  A single nurse helped Quentin to a small room to check him out.  

“I’m okay, really.  Besides the uh, blood all over me.”  

“Your name?”  

“Quentin Smith.”  

She nodded, typing information into the computer that sat on the desk in the room.  She seemed confused as she looked at the screen.  

“You… have no medical records at all?”

“They’re uh… with an obscure hospital.  Small town, sorta thing, in Springwood.  Ohio.  I take an ADD medication, if that helps.  I think it was always called Zoneral.”  

“Springwood?  There’s no town by that name in Ohio.”  

Now it was Quentin’s turn to be confused, shaking his head.  

“That doesn’t make any sense.  I’ve lived my whole life near there.”  

“I’m telling you, there’s no town, big or small, by that name in Ohio.  Did you hit your head in the woods?”  

Any suspicions now were well confirmed, this place, no matter how much it seemed like home, was not home.  He shrugged.  

“I don’t think so?”

Roll with it, Quentin.  Don’t seem like a crazy person just yet.  The nurse took to examining him for any signs of a concussion or blunt force trauma, humming when she found none.  

“Alright, I’m going to grab a gown you can put on while we clean your clothes up, okay?”  

Quentin just nodded, watching her leave.  He shot up when he suddenly thought of something.  When the nurse came back, he took the gown from her and took a deep breath.  Think of something to say!

“Two of our friends are still out in the woods.  One of them… thinks he might’ve been bitten by something, and he doesn’t wanna spread it if it’s contagious.  He won’t go anywhere unless he knows he doesn’t have it.  I know where they are, but they won’t come near the city.”  

The nurse blinked, looking around the small room.  

“All I can do is inform the paramedics.  Where are they exactly?”  

“Just on the outskirts of the woods.  I told them we were going to come back, but, I think it’s better if they come here.”  

There, better plan.  All Tapp and Quentin had to do was wait.  

Laurie sat in near silence at the edge of the woods, waiting for Quentin and Tapp to come back.  Bill made sure to keep sufficient distance between them, just in case.  It was predominantly silence, both consumed by their thoughts, until they heard sirens.  

Bill was to his feet first, standing up to see the ambulance driving towards them.  

“The fuck are they doing?!”

Laurie walked over to see the advancing ambulance, glancing over to Bill.

“Do you think Quentin and Tapp called them to us?”  

“That wasn’t part of the goddamn plan!”  

It didn’t take much longer for the sirens to become nearly deafeningly loud, the clamour of movement just barely audible over it.  Bill turned to leave, pulling his arm away when Laurie reached for him.  

“Bill-”

“We’ve been over this, Laurie!  I’m not gonna be the reason you get hurt.”  

The paramedics ran up to the clearing, heading to Bill first.  

“Keep your goddamn hands away from me!”  

“Sir-”

“What did I just say?!”  

Bill kept himself at a distance from the paramedics, who kept their faces covered with medical masks.  

“Sir, we’re just going to perform a blood test first.”  

At least he thought everything out, first.  Bill groaned.  

“Fine, goddamn it.”  

Laurie was checked on by the other paramedic, carefully inspected for injuries.  The other paramedic walked out of the ambulance with a needle to draw blood.  Bill didn't need to be told to expose his arm, watching the process carefully.   

“Don't let that touch anything else, you hear me?”  

“I promise you, sir, I am very precise and careful at my job.”  

Bill huffed, watching the paramedic head back into the ambulance.  It was several minutes of awkward silence before he stepped back out again.  

“No rabies or any other bloodborne disease is in your system.  Your friend said you were bitten by something?”

Bill shook his head.  

“That's horseshit.  I'm a carrier for a goddamn epidemic!”  

“Sir, there's… nothing abnormal in your bloodstream.”  

Laurie looked over to Bill with a knowing look. Bill groaned again.

“Just give me a goddamn mask and I'll get in the goddamn ambulance.”  

Laurie gave him a small smile, hopping into the back with Bill after he put the fresh mask on.  Neither of them had any idea what to do next, but they'd worry about that after some rest.  

[queenevaine]

A request for Killer!Dwight, a continuation of the early fics I did with Killer!Dwight and Killer!David.

Dwight wasn’t quite sure what to do next.  He never quite thought about the reality of becoming a Killer, of finally snapping and giving up.  He expected it to be a lot more painful, and for him to feel so much more desolate than he did now.  He was sure he had David to thank for that mercy, yet there was still the inescapable feeling of this being his permanent fate; there was no chance of leaving, and that he should try to enjoy what he could.  

There was, too, the deep-seated conflict he felt about the remaining survivors.  Some of them, he still liked, but others were ones he despised with a passion.  He was surprised by the sudden tug, whispers around him urging him onwards.  Was this what being summoned to a trial felt like?  He got up and obeyed, following where the whispering commanded him to go.  

The fog closed in close, more welcoming than foreboding.  It was no longer something he feared, or even had to.  It was something that would never hurt him anymore.  Nothing would.  In an instant, he found himself in Shelter Woods, trees looming high above him.  He slowly looked around, surprised to see the world in a different way.  Yet, the storm of emotions seemed to only worsen, and he couldn’t help the tears falling down his face.  He wasn’t sad, why was he crying?  

He pushed himself to moving, knowing the rules of trials well.  He knew that failure to do what he was expected would result in punishment, and after David had risked himself to keep Dwight safe from the Entity’s cruel grip?  Dwight could not disappoint.  But he still couldn’t understand why he was crying so much.  

He heard the survivor before he saw them.  When has my hearing been so sensitive?  He felt an instant desire to shed blood, to sink claws into their back.  Whoever they were didn’t matter, not as much as hurting them.  He felt like there was a terrible weight on his shoulders, but was being reassured that he could relieve it, if he did as he was told.  

Dwight obeyed, chasing down the source of the noise.  He couldn’t even tell who it was, but it didn’t matter.  Claws raked through flesh easily, and Dwight paused to stare at the blood on his hand.  Why didn’t it help?  Why did he feel so terrible still?  

‘Again!  Again!’  

The voice was clearer now, but still in a whisper.  He chased after them, not willing to let them escape and allow the threatening pressure to close in on him.  The urgency made more tears stream down his face.  He couldn’t fail now, he couldn’t.  He quickly gained on the survivor, watching them run towards a window.  

‘Now!  Now!’

In a brief, instinctive motion, Dwight clenched his left hand, watching as the spikes materialized before him in the window and impaling themselves into the survivor.  They fell from the window when the spikes disappeared, crying in pain not so differently from how he once did.  He almost felt sorry for the survivor, wanting to feel sympathy for their pain.  Yet, he knew that he had been left to cry and scream for help, only for nothing to come.  Newfound rage filled him, and he walked around the window to grab the downed survivor.  He still remembered the rules well, looking for the nearest hook.  

‘Prove yourself to me, and I will grant you what you desire.’

He tilted his head slightly.  What does that mean?  He stared down at the survivor’s shaking form, clearly afraid as he simply stared.  He didn’t realize when he started growling, being reminded too much of himself, when he had done the same and prayed for help, only to be abandoned, again, and again, and again.  

He picked the survivor up in a tight hug, praying now for the chance to get his revenge, to make them suffer.  Let me do this by my own hand.  

‘You have my blessing.’  

He felt the survivor’s sudden gasp as spikes burst from him into them, withdrawing when he let go.  They writhed on the grassy floor, each moment they weakened was more of the weight taken off of his shoulders.  His eyes never left their form as they eventually stopped, and the whispering in his ears sounded proud.  

‘Well done.  You have passed my test, and for that, I reward you.’  

The fog closed in around Dwight, and when it cleared he found himself back at the home he knew to be David’s.  It felt.. Warm, and inviting, as if this was the place he was only meant to return to.  He walked in the door and saw David lounging on the couch, grinning widely when the other saw Dwight.  

“Lookit ya!  Had your first test, huh?  And ya passed with flyin’ colors, got blood all over ya.”

David sounded so overjoyed, it was hard for Dwight not to smile, or to hug David tightly when the scrapper walked close.  

“Come on, we’ve earned some time to ourselves, yeah?”

Dwight nodded, following beside David.  It felt satisfying to deal well-deserved punishment onto the survivors, to take his revenge on the people who dared to turn their back on him.  

Things were good.  

[queenevaine]

A request for @kektusfruit, of Jake/Huntress!  (I got really excited about this one, so I really hope you enjoy it!)

Jake was tired of finding his stashes of things raided.  He had no solid idea who it was, although he tended to suspect Nea.  She was resourceful with what little supplies they had, but it still gave her no right to take what didn't belong to her.  He waited until she had come back from a trial, sporting a very good flashlight that Jake knew he recognized from the three scratches on it's handle, marking it with the letter J.  

“Nea.”  

Nea calmly looked towards Jake, crossing her arms.  The flashlight was turned in her hands, and Jake saw the deep gashes in the handle.  

“You and me need to talk.  Privately.”  

Nea rolled her eyes, following Jake into the woods beyond the campfire.  They walked far enough to see the fire, but too far to be heard by the others there.  

“What’s your deal?”  

“You taking my shit without asking.”  

Nea groaned, rolling her head in an exaggerated motion.  

“Really, you’re bitching about that?”  

This was going to be a long conversation, and Jake could already tell.  

“Yea, especially when you take my stuff without asking me and end up getting it damaged to hell and back.”  

He gestured to the flashlight in her hands, which she groaned in response.  

“We all know I’m far more resourceful with these things than anyone else.  You don't even bring anything in, so what's the point of having all this stuff?  It's going to waste and I can use it to keep everyone alive.”  

Jake took a step closer, glaring down at her.

“If you asked, I wouldn't have a problem.  It's finding out that half my stuff is gone because you keep taking it “

“You wouldn't mind if Claudette took some of your medkits, would you?”

“No, because she would fucking ask, first.”  

Jake's voice grew quiet as he tried to keep himself from yelling, but the anger was clear.  Nea narrowed her eyes.

“Fine, you worry about your stuff more than the others?!  Take your damn flashlight back!”

She threw the flashlight to him, turning to head back to the campfire.  

“I didn't-”

Jake was cut off as the flashlight spun in the air, one of the gashes in it’s handle having cut to the batteries.  The throw caused acid to spray from it, landing across his face and in his eyes.  He screamed in pain, doubling over and pressing his hands to his eyes.  Nea turned around, suddenly shocked.  

“Jake?  Shit, I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean to!”  

He pushed her away when she got close, stumbling to the nearest tree to lean against it.  He still cried in pain, trying to manage to get his eyes open to blink rapidly.  The humming of a lullaby sent a chill up his spine.  

He heard Nea curse under her breath, but didn’t stay to hear more of her speaking.  He turned to run away from the humming, the last thing he needed now was to get caught by a Killer when he was so vulnerable.  He was sure the song was getting louder, and he knew he couldn’t outrun the singer.  He felt around for the nearest bush, crawling under the leaves and branches and bit into the scarf around his neck and stayed as still as he could.  

Anna heard the scream of the survivalist, and immediately knew he was injured badly.  She respected his ability to survive and traverse the woods with a skill that only came with living alone.  She came to the clearing with a beat-up flashlight resting just at the edges of the undergrowth.  She knelt down to turn it over, spotting the slashes in the batteries and the leaking of a clear liquid.  A quick touch burned, but just as quickly it stopped.  She stood up and followed the trait of disturbed plant life, knowing well that his ally had ran in a different direction at the sound of her humming.  

She knew that the clear liquid coming from the flashlight was something dangerous; it wouldn’t be kept contained or burned if it wasn’t.  The Entity granted her a great resistance to pain, but the survivors were not granted the same mercy.  The survivalist was clearly severely hurt by this liquid, and Anna found herself concerned.  There was no blood trails to follow, only footsteps and the shift of plants around her.  

She knelt down when the trail stopped suddenly.  Tracks never simply disappeared so suddenly, and Anna intently looked at the nearest places to hide.  Climbing a tree would’ve taken too much time, and she undoubtedly would have heard, but she still checked the upper branches.  She heard an extremely soft shift, the sound of branches and leaves moving.  She could have missed it easily, but she was too well-trained in picking up the smallest of details, even as she hummed the comforting song.  

She only stopped her humming when she saw him cowering in the bushes, muscles tensed and his eyes shut.  He was most definitely scared and in pain, and she was sure that he had gotten the burning liquid in his eyes.  She noticed the beginnings of burns across his face, confirming her suspicions.  His ally must have thrown it at him, had she been unaware?  She shook her head, there was no way the survivors would so legitimately turn on each other.  She quietly knelt beside the bush and stopped humming, thinking of how she could ease him to trusting her.  The last thing she wanted was for him to hurt himself in a panic, as she knew injured and scared animals to do when they were cornered.  She tilted her head, putting her axe aside.  

Jake tensed when the humming stopped, not needing to see to know she had found him.  He didn’t want to admit he was terrified; there was nowhere he could go without being seen and far too easy for her to grab.  But why isn’t she now?  He heard her say something he couldn’t understand, the language being her native one.  Is she taunting me?  

“Poor little Raven..”  

He scooted further away, knowing that she was talking to him.  He was sure that she was going to terrorize him before killing him.  Does dying outside of a trial mean dying permanently?  His face and eyes still burned from the acid.  He heard her shift, then move closer.  

“Stay away from me.”  

Any sternness in his voice was diminished by the shakiness.  He didn’t hear her move more, instead hearing her deep, accented voice.  

“Will help you.  You are hurt.”  

He tensed again, trying to reach for the nearest sharp object he could find.  He didn’t trust her in the slightest; she spent trial after trial singing as she killed them.  He shook his head, the burning pain of the acid starting to worsen.  

“Will not hurt you, promise.”  

His breaths were shaky, and he let his head hang as he thought about his options.  The Entity surely wouldn’t let him die outright, but would it let him go blind?  He heard her move again, making him recoil.  He heard her move the bushes aside, grabbing a small branch from the bush and held it defensively.  

“Don’t touch me!”  

He heard her move again away, but he tightened his grip on the branch, just in case.  

“Eyes are hurt.  Will help you, little Raven.”  

Jake fought to keep himself from whining, biting into the scarf.  He slowly dragged himself out from the bushes, blindly reaching for where the Huntress was.  He gasped when he was picked up gently, cradled against her chest.  She started humming again, Jake could feel the rumbling of her vocal chords and hear the deep, soothing song.  Why was it soothing now?  Her footsteps sounded more solid as she stepped on the wooden floor.  

He was set down gently on a soft blanket, listening to her footsteps as she moved around.  He stiffened when she came back, stifling the whine as she delicately lifted his head.  He felt a cool, wet fabric wipe at his eyes and face.  He tried opening his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear them out.  

He saw now that she had taken her mask off, being extremely gentle in her handling of the rag.  There was no doubt he was still afraid that she would change her mind, and that he would meet the end of an axe blade.  His vision was still blurry, but he could make out rough shapes.  Her hand delicately brushed along his cheek.

“Better?”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding.  He swore he saw her smile, before she reached up to pet his hair.  

“Good.  Should rest now.”  

She gestured to the neat pile of blankets, allowing him to take as many as he wanted.  He slowly got up and walked over to the pile, still blinking his eyes rapidly.  He wasn't sure why she wasn't killing him, but he wasn't going to forsake her kindness.  He grabbed several soft blankets and curled them around himself, finding a solitary corner to lay against.  He felt better with his back to the walls, safer in the knowledge that nothing could sneak up behind him. He closed his eyes again and let himself doze off, while Anna kept a watchful eye over him.  

[queenevaine]

A request for anon, where Bill hides his injuries because of the Green Flu.  

Bill took the safety of the other survivors very seriously.  Hell itself would sooner freeze over than for anyone to watch the soldier leave someone behind.  He was fine being left behind himself, if it meant his team was safe.  There was no changing him, and he figured there was no getting rid of The Green Flu, even if it didn’t affect him, he had no idea if it would affect the others.  They did not come from a ruined world like he did, where zombies roamed in overwhelming numbers, and he could accidentally get others ill by simply being near them.  

With his old group, he never had to worry about losing them because of his own doing.  But with the survivors he grew close to here, the thought was always on his mind, especially when his arm bled and coated his jacket with blood.  He was careful in hiding it until he could patch himself up, to avoid any possible chance of causing the permanent death of any of the others.  

He figured he was doing well enough until Claudette emerged from bushes, and he knew he couldn’t hide his injury from her.  

“Bill, let me help you.”  

“I’ll be fine, kid.  Get generators done.”  

Claudette stood with the medkit in her hands, refusing to move.  

“Bill, don’t be like David and refuse to let me heal you.  You’re going to be hooked sooner rather than later if you do that.”

“Claudette, I’m not gonna tell ya again, go do a goddamn generator.”

“I’m not moving, Bill.”  

She reached for his arm, and Bill quickly took a step back away from her and held his arm close to himself defensively.  

“Go do a damn generator, Claudette!  I’m not gonna let you get sick and die trying to help me!”  

Claudette narrowed her eyes, thoroughly confused.  

“What are you talking about?”

“Where I’m from, I’m a carrier for a deadly flu.  Kills people and turns them into goddamn zombies.  I’m not letting that happen to anyone here, so don’t touch my goddamn arm.”

Claudette sighed, taking out protective gloves from the medkit and putting them on.  

“I know what I’m doing, Bill.  I can help you and not get myself sick at all, if we even can.”

Bill groaned, outstretching his arm to let her see it.  

“Don’t you fuckin’ get any of my goddamn blood on you, you understand?”  

“Bill, I went to school for this, I won’t.”

He hated the faintest idea of putting her at risk, but he knew better than to argue with Claudette when she had her mind made up.  He vowed to himself to find out if he still had the Green Flu, without putting the others at risk.  He had to know.  

[queenevaine]

A Dwake/ParkField story after an actual game I had as good ol’ Billy.  I dubbed them The Flashlight Fuck Squad and they fucking loved it, so I had to write about it.  

Dwight hated the trials where not everyone made it into the actual trial to begin with.  Sometimes the others were lost in the fog and the trial started with less than four people. Jake and Claudette weren’t far from him in the Wrecker’s Yard, but their fourth was nowhere to be seen.  Both Dwight and Jake had brought well-equipped flashlights, ready to blind whoever the Killer was.  Claudette was working on a generator in the distance, but still close enough for Dwight to see her.  

The good news about being down one person is that they only needed four generators instead of five.  The bad news, however, was that it was one less person to help if someone had to be saved.  He and Jake worked in a familiar silence on a generator, only shifting his focus when it was finished and he heard Claudette’s scream.  

He immediately started heading towards it, stopping when he felt Jake’s hand on his arm.  He nodded his head over to the generator Claudette had been working on.  He jogged over to it to start working quickly, keeping his attention between the generator and where Claudette ran.  When the generator lit up, Dwight immediately ran over to where he saw Claudette’s aura.

She screamed as she hit the ground, and Dwight neared when the Hillbilly picked her up.  Even with the Hillbilly’s natural resistance to the light, Dwight’s flashlight shined bright in his eyes and made him drop her.  The Hillbilly groaned as Claudette took off running, Jake running up to Dwight’s side and pushing him towards Claudette.

Dwight didn’t need to be told twice to understand what he meant.  He ran over to help Claudette, looking over his shoulder as he left Jake to handle the Killer.  Claudette nodded in thanks, Dwight looking over again as Jake took a hit from the hammer.  The Hillbilly then turned his attention over to him and Claudette.  

“Go, we’ll take care of it!”  

Claudette ran off to work on a generator, leaving Dwight to take the hit from the hammer.  He shouted in pain, running to the nearest pallet nestled between wrecked cars and debris.  He slammed the pallet down just as the Hillbilly backed away from it, just enough to avoid being hit by it.  The chainsaw tore through the wood, and Dwight ran around the crates and metal.  

The chainsaw narrowly missed Dwight, but the short sprint left the Hillbilly too close for comfort.  The hammer connected with his back, making him cry in pain as he stumbled forward and fell to the ground.  Jake sprinted out of the bushes just as Dwight was getting picked up, satisfied with the growl as the flashlight shined brightly in the Killer’s eyes.  

Dwight stumbled as he was dropped, running off again as the Hillbilly’s focus changed back to Jake.  He was grateful that Claudette had taught him how to patch himself up without needing any medkit or help from someone else.  He had to get back to Jake and help him.  

When he finished treating himself, he ran back over to the Hillbilly, where Jake had been hit.  Claudette dutifully worked on generators, getting another one up by the time Jake fell to the ground.  He shined the light in the Hillbilly’s eyes again, Jake managing to free himself from the tight grip.

The hammer connected with Dwight’s shoulder, hurting like hell, but it was well worth it if it meant Jake wouldn’t feel the pain of a hook through his chest.  The Hillbilly growled as his vision returned, turning to chase after Dwight.  He ran around the Killer shack, making sure to keep the pallet there standing as long as possible.  

He leaped out of the window and stayed close to the wall, pressing himself against it to avoid being seen.  Jake had more than enough time to patch himself up.  The Hillbilly came after him again, but quickly shifted his attention back to Jake when the saboteur came close and made himself obvious.  

The last generator was powered as Jake was hit by a chainsaw in the back.  He cried in pain, this time Dwight was too far to help him off the Hillbilly’s shoulder.  The hook was near the gate, and Dwight had to hope the Hillbilly moved far enough to let him use the trick Bill taught him.  

The Hillbilly looked around after hooking Jake, undoubtedly aware that Dwight was somewhere nearby.  The Hillbilly moved just a bit too far, turning around just as Dwight got Jake off the hook.  

“Come on, let’s go!”  

The gate was already opened by Claudette, who ran out as Jake was hit and sprinted towards the gate.  The gap between the bricks was narrow enough for Dwight to block the Hillbilly.  

“You’re not chasing him!”  

The Hillbilly tried to move around Dwight, settling for a smack across his face when he couldn’t.  Dwight took off running towards the gate, his cheek bruised and bloody.  Dwight was the last one out of the trial, running until he made it to the campfire.  

“Dwight.  What was that?”  

Jake stood with his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed at Dwight.  

“What?  I was protecting you!”

Jake sighed, looking away.  

“I would’ve been fine.  Are you okay?”

Dwight rubbed his cheek, nodding once.  

“Yeah, I’m okay.  Not the worst thing ever.  We make a pretty good team, you know.”  

Jake smiled, waving Dwight over to the campfire.  

“Yeah, yeah we do.”  

[queenevaine]

A request for Michael/Quentin interactions!

Also, I apologize for the huge delay, I’ve been very involved with both my DbD RP blogs and writing for them, and I may post those stories in the drabbles too.  I’m not too sure yet, I don’t want to clutter it up with my OCs rather than canon characters.  But we’ll see!  

Myers found Quentin Smith interesting.  The young man who at first seemed like an easy target was surprisingly resourceful and determined, quickly becoming one of the more troublesome survivors.  He found himself starting to be obsessed with him as he was with Laurie; always conflicted between wishing to be close and wanting to see their blood painting the walls and ground.

He sought the dreamwalker out both in and out of trials as he did with Laurie, one driven by bloodlust and the other driven by the wish to be as close to family as he could.  Quentin, however, never softened to him the way Laurie did.  

In trials, Quentin was a young man to be respected, always finding something to stab into Michael’s neck and making him let go.  He helped the others escape every trial without faltering, even if it meant he was the only sacrifice.  Michael noticed how hard Quentin tried every trial to keep everyone alive.  

Outside of trials, Quentin stayed predominantly near the fire.  Michael only caught him straying a few times, somehow always aware when he came near.  He was far too observant of danger at the slightest twitch for someone his age.  Michael’s only option to try and talk to Quentin was in a trial.

Quentin was not going to cooperate, Michael noticed.  Every time he came near the insomniac, he ran instantly, ducking out of sight.  Yet, Michael knew that Quentin was always close enough, in case someone else got caught by him.  He didn’t want to kill Quentin just yet, without establishing that he could be friendlier than expected.  

It was when he had been blinded for the third time by Quentin that he was quickly filled with rage and bloodlust.  He turned to pursue and quickly caught up, grabbing the back of Quentin’s coat and yanking him backwards.  Quentin yelped, trying to free himself from the iron grasp.  

Michael turned Quentin around to face him, holding onto his throat.  He tilted his head slightly, almost surprised by the sheer hatred in the other’s eyes.  He brought his face close enough to allow his eyes to be seen underneath the mask, trying to convey some sympathy before he plunged the knife into Quentin’s chest.  

Quentin cried out in pain, falling limp when Michael let go of his grip and held his knife at his side.  The other three had gotten out, he knew, but Michael had other plans now.  It was clear to him that there would never be any sort of calm for Quentin until his main adversary was dealt with; the Nightmare that prided himself on wit and being unkillable.  

Michael would change that, and in time, build a tentative closeness with the his new obsession.

[queenevaine]

A request for Kingfield where Dwight suffered from Hanahaki Disease.  Gladiolus flowers are the flowers Dwight keeps coughing up.  Gladiolus flowers represent remembrance. It also expresses infatuation, telling the receiver that he or she pierces the heart. It also stands for strength of character, faithfulness and honor.

Hanahaki Disease was something Dwight had only ever read about in school, a condition that he was sure didn't really apply to him.  He had spent his high school years avoiding people rather than seeking them out.  He watched several other classmates get the disease, and how the petals littered the halls at the start of a new school year.  He saw them less and less as he grew and graduated from high school.  He never learned much about it; a brief knowledge of the obvious symptoms and cause.  It was enough to get by, and that was all really Dwight cared about.  

That is, until he noticed himself coughing more and more.  Do people get sick in the Entity’s realm?  It started subtle at first, an irritated throat and coughing.  Even after dying in a trial, it just wouldn't go away.  When he saw the first blood covered petal, his heart sunk.  

He was in love with David King, the selfless scrapper who put himself in harm's way for all the others.  How could he not be?  David was so much of what Dwight wished he was, and even with the abrasive personality he had, David was still someone Dwight looked up to, admired, and truly loved.  And it hurt knowing it wasn't returned.  

Dwight felt like his heart had been crushed into a fine powder, and every trial with him made the feeling worse.  Not to mention the time he needed to take to stop coughing up flowers and blood was getting longer and longer. It was only a matter of time before Claudette caught him at the outskirts.  

“Dwight?  Are you okay?”  

He tried to compose himself, nodding.  

“Yeah, I'm okay, just-”  

He was interrupted by another coughing fit, seeing the flower bud fall to the ground.  Claudette was at his side in an instant.  

“You definitely are not okay.  How long has this been going on?”  

Dwight shook his head.  That's a good question.  When had he fallen in love with David?  Claudette’s attention turned to the flower, picking it up delicately.

“It's still getting worse, too?”  

He nodded, taking deep breaths.  She inspected the flower bud intently, then looked to Dwight.  

“You're in love with David?”  

Dwight looked up to her, stunned and nervous.  How did she know?  Almost on cue, she gave a reassuring smile.  

“I'm not going to tell him, don't worry.  Flowers have plenty of meanings, and Hanahaki disease flowers usually are ones that represent the person you're in love with.”

He let out a sigh.  It was hard to hide from Claudette when something was wrong; she tended to just know.  

“There’s just no way, y’know?  Why would he like a guy like me?  I’m pretty sure he’s not even interested in guys that way.”  

Dwight started biting his nails.  Claudette grabbed his wrist to lower his arm, letting out a quiet sigh.  

“You'll never know unless you try.  And it doesn't end well having the flowers removed.  The Entity might do it at some point, and soon if it's getting worse so quickly.”

He was really wishing he had paid more attention to that part of health class now.  

“Hanahaki Disease can be cured one of two ways.  Either, the person you love returns your feelings, or the flowers are forcibly removed.  You won't die, but you won't be able to feel love ever again.”  

Dwight looked away from the serious gaze of Claudette.  What even was the point of love in a place like this?  Again, as if aware of Dwight’s internal monologue, she crossed her arms.

“I'm not going to cut them out, nor do I want you to let the Entity do it.  It's going to be painful.  Just tell him how you feel, please.  I don’t want to see you being hurt by this any longer.”  

Dwight hated the sincere, concerned look Claudette had mastered.  He looked to the flower bud, now carelessly strewn aside, and sighed.  

“Alright, I’ll tell him.  Just..  if it doesn’t work out..”

“We’ll worry about that when we get there.  I think it’ll go better than you think.”  

She gave a small smile, then turned to head back to the campfire.  Dwight took another deep breath, following shortly after.  There were a multitude of ways this could backfire; Dwight knew he wasn’t a very good speaker.  Regardless, he couldn’t worry about it right now.  The draw of a trial was pulling him to the fog.  

The Meat Plant was an unsettling place; Tapp had told them about the kind of things that had happened there.  The traces were still littered around, old decayed bodies still with the marks of how they were tortured and killed.  He took a deep breath, the fog rolling over the ground like lazy clouds.  No one was near him, but that was almost a blessing as he stifled his coughing.  Not now!  

He didn’t hear anything concerning yet, and started to work on a generator next to one of the many closed metal doors throughout the lower level of the plant.  It was more of a maze than an actual factory of any kind, and the various dead-ends made him nervous.  

He heard the growl first, then the sound of a woman roaring as she charged with the hidden blade.  He took off running from the generator, crying in pain as the blade connected with his back.  He ran around the corner of the nearest wall, making a dash for the freezer.  He knew she was crouching again, the action taking away the only indication he had besides keeping his eyes on her.  

Dwight hid around the corner of the wall, hoping to at least be able to keep her busy for a little longer.  That was his goal, until he felt the need to cough again.  He held his hand to his mouth, trying to stifle back the urge, but the uneven breathing was all Amanda needed to find him.  She turned the corner in a sprint, the small blade slamming into Dwight’s stomach.  He fell backwards, clutching his stomach in pain.  

Amanda watched quietly as Dwight turned his head and coughed up the flower buds, a grin slowly growing under her mask.  She was too familiar with it for the longest time, until she had been chosen to undergo her baptism.  She had devoted plenty of time to fully understanding the disease, and how to utilize it to her benefit in the tests she made, and what flowers symbolized what.  The grin grew wider and wider as she took tough rope from her pockets, tying his legs together.  

Dwight was hung upside down from the small meathooks in the freezer, alongside the mutilated bodies of pigs.  He saw her walk away, leaving him in the cold.  He tried to lift himself and untie the rope, but the freezing air seeped into his body and made it hard to even try to undo the impossibly complicated knot.  He could nearly touch the ground, hanging just an inch above it.  He blinked several times, trying to keep himself calm as blood rushed to his head, hoping someone would find him.  

David hated this place.  There were too many turns and fucked up traps for David’s liking.  He didn’t fear them, but he hated the thought of them being used again.  That, and the place was too much of a maze; and he counted way too many hooks too close to each other to feel entirely confident protecting the others.  They were too many ways for the Killer to take someone out without him being able to stop it all.  

He heard Dwight’s cry of pain while working on a generator on the ground level of the factory, working on a generator in one of the many rooms.  He immediately got up to try and find the stairs down, or any place he could get to the lower floor.  He heard the heartbeat indicating the Killer’s presence, which he knew was the one who had come along with this hellhole.  

He couldn’t get caught now; he knew Feng would focus on generators, and it just wasn’t in his nature to let Dwight be hurt without doing something to help.  David stayed at the edges of the terror radius, finding himself heading closer to the main room where this Killer had designed most of her machinations.  He jumped up the steps to the room with the monitors, crouching just below the windows.  The static on the screens caught his attention as it shifted, the sight on the screens making his blood boil.  

Every single screen had the same view; the camera in the freezer showing Dwight hanging upside down.  David could barely see the foggy breaths, and.. Were those flowers?  He turned his attention to the rest of the room, moving to find the hole in the floor that lead to the bathroom.  It was always in the same place, he learned, and he knew it was a fast way to get down to the freezer.  

When he landed in the bathroom, he immediately bolted to find the freezer.  Things shifted around all the time, but one constant was the bathroom was never too far from the freezer.  The paint on the wall was enough indication he was at the right place as he sprinted past the concrete walls.  

Dwight’s gaze barely focused in the midst of the cold.  He was losing feeling in his arms and legs, blinking rapidly when he heard heavy footsteps.  He could always recognize David, the man was hard to miss.  He was somewhat glad now his face was already red; feeling David’s arms around his waist to lift him off the hook made him blush furiously.  His head spun as he was set down, David helping him free of the rope.  

“Come on, we’re gettin’ the fuck outta here.”  

Dwight dumbly nodded, following close behind David.  They only had two generators left, and this was one of the rare moments David was glad that Feng was in this trial with them.  He wanted to get out of this as soon as possible and address the fact that Dwight was sick.  Not many took David as someone who had an extensive education, but part of him liked it that way.  It wasn’t all that relevant to him in most cases, anyway.  

David kept his arm wrapped around Dwight, both to keep him steady and stifle as much of the bleeding as he could.  He simply nodded to Feng as she walked past to head to the generator in the bathroom.  David lead Dwight upstairs, pausing when Dwight grabbed onto the concrete half-wall at the top of the stairs to cough up blood and petals.  Now’s really not the time for this, come on…  

Dwight winced, shaking his head.  

“I’m okay, let’s keep going.”  

David hated having to wait.  It was painfully clear Dwight needed help, but now just wasn’t the time to address it.  Another generator powered on, but something told David they had to move.  

“Move it, go!”  

On cue, Amanda was roaring behind them.  David pushed Dwight ahead of himself, focused now on keeping the Leader safe.  The heartbeat pounded in his chest, but David’s determination kept him going.  Just one more generator and they’d be able to escape.  Work faster, Feng!  He dashed forward just before the blade swung, the blade harmlessly swinging through the air.  

He breathed quiet relief when the generators were all powered and done.  He saved a key in his pocket to go ahead and try to use, and he was glad he did.  He’d worry about the others later.  He turned around a corner to get her to swing the blade into the concrete.  He was extremely grateful to see the familiar metal trapdoor, jamming the key into the lock and shoving Dwight into it first.  He hissed as the blade connected with his back, but willed himself to stay standing long enough to jump in.  

He staggered back to the campfire, rolling his shoulders.  Not gonna kill me just yet.  He turned his attention to Dwight, who was sitting beside the campfire with his arms wrapped around his stomach.  

“Oi, she getcha bad?”  

Dwight jumped, shaking his head.  

“No no, I’m fine!”

David sat next to him, arms crossed.  

“We both know that’s a fuckin’ lie.  Who’s it for?”

“Wh-what?”

“I know what Hanahaki Disease is, Dwight.  I’ve gotten one of the best educations you can get back home.”  

“Oh!  Oh, right.  Well..”

Dwight went to bite his nails, David’s hand reaching over to stop him.  

“Just spill it, Dwight.  I’m not gonna give ya shit for it.”

Deep breaths, Dwight.  

“..It’s you.”

The silence that followed was terrible, and Dwight wanted nothing more than to sink into his shirt.  He was sure he fucked up now, based on the lack of any response from David.  

“..You serious?”

Dwight just nodded, bracing himself to be mocked.  He blinked at the sudden hug.  

“Christ, Dwight, I ‘ad no fuckin’ clue.  I thought it was obvious ‘ow I felt.”   

“Wait, you..?”  

“You think I’d get the shit beat outta me if I didn’t?”

Dwight couldn’t help laughing.  He felt so ridiculous.  Tears filled his eyes.  

“Oi, hey, what’s the matter?”

“No, no, I’m just.. Really glad.  I thought.. I thought someone like you would never be remotely interested in even talking to a guy like me.”  

David turned to face Dwight, expression more serious.  

“Quit sellin’ yourself short like that.  You aren’t as fuckin’ worthless as you think you are.”  

Without giving Dwight time to respond, David pulled him into a hug.  

“Enough of that shit, Dwight.  I love ya to bits, and I don’t wanna see ya do that to yourself.”  

Dwight sat in shock for a few moments, then buried his face in David’s shirt.  Being so close was reassuring and comforting, and Dwight didn’t wanna move just yet.  He took a deep breath, noticing how clear his chest felt now and how wonderful it felt.  

[queenevaine]

A Dwight/Myers request!  (I combined this one and the other one I had gotten, my apologies if you wanted something else other anon!)

Trials were always subjected to the same random rules as most things were.  Different people in the trials against different killers in different areas.  Generally, it stayed consistently at four survivors against one killer, but every now and then it wasn’t the case.  Dwight still had yet to figure out why it was sometimes three, two, or even one person against a murderous lunatic, but he hated it when he wandered into the woods for a trial to find himself back at the campfire.  

Dwight couldn’t help but sigh when he felt distinctly alone this trial; none of the others had shown up with him.  That meant less objectives to do, but he only had one chance.  If he got caught and couldn’t lose the Killer, he was as good as dead.  It was far too likely that if he did get caught, he wouldn’t be able to hide again.  

With a quick, quiet breath, Dwight found the nearest generator and stayed hidden nearby.  He didn’t quite know who the Killer was yet, and he didn’t want to start working until they had already checked the area.  He kept himself still as a statue, not sure of how much time had passed when he heard the breathing.  

The man in the blue jumpsuit walked right past him.  Dwight didn’t dare move; the last thing he needed was the serial killer to spot him.  Myers didn’t turn around, and Dwight quietly moved to the opposite wall in case the Killer came back around.  He listened carefully for the sound of the other man’s breathing, hearing it on the other side of the wall.  What is he waiting for?  

Dwight couldn’t stop himself from yelping when Myers had turned the corner and stared right at him, the Killer’s free hand immediately grabbing Dwight by his throat.  Dwight was held against the wall, struggling to try and get himself free.  He had to try, as futile as it was.  He watched Michael’s head tilt to the side, his other hand staying at his side.  What is he waiting for?!  

Dwight heard the sound of something falling to the ground, then his left arm was held against the wall in Michael’s right hand.  The bloody knife was resting in the grass, Dwight being careful not to kick it.  He feared whatever might happen next; who knows what the Entity allowed when there was only one survivor in a trial.  When Michael’s hand dug into his throat, he couldn’t help the strangled whimper as he tried to free himself.  

Michael simply stared at the Leader.  There was something almost adorable about how he squirmed desperately, futilely in an attempt to escape.  There were no other survivors; and it was all too easy to find the lone survivor with the power of the dainty, scratched mirror.  Regardless of how this ended, he knew the Entity wanted it done quickly.  A full trial for a single survivor was a waste.  

Yet part of him didn’t want this to be over so quickly.  Michael wanted to enjoy this moment, knowing full well it might not happen again anytime soon with the Leader.  Toying with lone, fearful survivors was similar to playing with his rabbit, but also an entirely different experience altogether.  

His grip on Dwight’s neck and arm were released, instead he opted to hold his jaw still.  Dwight’s hands were gripping Michael’s arm, trying desperately to loosen the grip.  Dwight stood still as Michael’s other hand brushed gently along his cheek.  So small and fragile.  Michael stayed characteristically silent, making tension fall between them like the fog around them.  He barely heard the voice of the other.  

“What do you want with me?”  

Michael didn’t blame the other for being terrified.  It was a rare occurrence for this to happen; more often than not the Entity didn’t even bother, both survivors and Killer would find themselves in the fog again.  Part of his intrigue was due to that same fear, but he couldn’t quite answer the question presented to him.  It was a mix of wanting to let him go, and to watch the life bleed from him.  

“Just.. kill me already!  Stop torturing me..”  

He appreciated the attempts of defiance.  It was much more interesting when a survivor refused to shut down in fear.  He ran his fingers through Dwight’s hair, uncaring of the blood staining his fingertips.  He felt Dwight tense, but the thought was quickly pushed away at the marvel of how soft his hair was.  He only had to reach out to find the handle of his knife; a perk of being in the Entity’s realm was that he could have his favored weapon when he needed.  

Dwight closed his eyes when he saw the knife again, certain now that he was going to be impaled by the kitchen knife.  Instead, Michael’s hand around his jaw moved to grab a handful of hair, and Dwight felt the knife cleanly cut some of it off.  He cautiously opened his eyes, staring quietly as Michael held the tuft of his hair in his hands.  

Without another word, Michael turned to walk away into the fog that now closed in around them.  Dwight let out a breath of relief at having survived, for some reason, but the thought of the Killer known for being absolutely obsessed with survivors taking a tuft of his hair terrified him.  He walked back to the campfire, trying to ease himself and stop himself from running his own hand through his now uneven hair.  

[queenevaine]

I am on a writing roll today!  Another story under the cut.

Because I am easily inspired by awesome headcanons and art, this time I wanted to tag @dwightfairfields for the inspiration material.  David is the best big brother around.  Hope you all enjoy!

It was any sort of understatement to say Quentin was always exhausted.  He was used to staying awake for days, getting an hour or two of sleep and doing the same thing again, just to avoid the looming threat of a certain Dream Demon.  His face-off against Freddy resulted in him being here, in this never-ending chase from a variety of murderers.  And there were others here, other survivors that he couldn’t leave behind.  Especially when he went into trials with Freddy as the killer; he knew the Dream Demon better than anyone else.  

The trial this time was in the Preschool he knew too well, and he hoped it wouldn’t mean a return of the demon.  He took a quiet breath, walking up to a generator to begin repairing it and escape this trial.  He didn’t yet know his teammates for the trial, he hadn’t seen anyone or felt his heart pound.  He heard the lights turn on in the distance, one generator done.  He was almost done with this one, and that would mean good progress on getting out.  

He heard the faint singing of high pitched voices just as the generator lit up and turned on.  He was in a bad spot to be near the demon.  He stayed near bushes and corners, walking as fast as he could without giving away his position.  He felt himself start to fall asleep, and heard the deep, foreboding laughter somewhere behind him.  He broke out into a run, trying to delay falling asleep as long as he could.  He closed his eyes for a second too long, and the world around him became brighter and distorted.  

The pounding heartbeat was loud in his head, and he knew he just had to run until he either lost Freddy, or chasing him would mean easy generators for the others.  He headed to the worn down school building, there were plenty of windows and pallets there he could use.  The place still made him uneasy, even being in the Entity’s realm.  The school building was the safest place to go with a killer behind you, with all it’s hallways and hazards, and Quentin greatly wished that wasn’t the case.  Eventually, every killer caught up, as their lust for bloodshed urged them forward, faster.  

The sting of knives slicing through his back made him cry out in pain.  He had to keep running, even if just to give the others time.  Another generator turning lights on made it worthwhile. That was three down, and it hadn’t even been that long.  A look over his shoulder showed Freddy behind him, intently staring at his target.  The hallway in front of him had a gap in the floor, and falling through would land him in the boiler room.  He ran at it and leapt over to the other side, just barely grabbing at the sides.  He heard laughing behind him, and then footsteps going around.  

Quentin let go, stumbling as he landed in the boiler room.  He slowed himself to a walk, staying near the walls.  He would have to find someone soon, so they could wake him up from this nightmare.  But, his first priority was making Freddy lose his trail.  He assumed Freddy was above him, heartbeat sill racing.  He leaned against a wall for a few moments, hoping the sounds of pipes masked his panting.  He turned around the wall, meeting a sickening grin.  Sharp knives slashed across his face, and he fell backwards onto the ground with a cry.  

“No more running away.”  

Blood covered Quentin’s face, and he could barely see the demon walking towards him, relishing every second.  He scrambled to his feet, falling again as the knives slashed down his face rather than across.  He fell again, bleeding profusely as footsteps came closer.  

“Enough interferences.  I’ll make sure you suffer for getting in my way.”  

He had to get away, someway, somehow.  This time, Freddy was so much more determined than their first face-off, and he was so much stronger.  Probably the Entity’s doing, and it didn’t help he stayed awake for much longer this time.  He was careless, and paying for it.  Quentin groaned as he was lifted off the ground and held against the wall, blades digging into the skin on his neck.  The pressure was lifted as Freddy reached back with his right hand, but the strike never came.  Lighter footsteps came rushing down the stairs, moving Quentin out of the way.  

“Fuck off, mangled freak!”

Was that David?  Quentin couldn’t see, and his head pounded.  He heard Freddy groan, and suddenly he was over someone’s shoulders.  He couldn’t be on Freddy’s shoulders, the height wasn’t right.  Or was it?  He had to wiggle free, at least then he could run.  

“Oi, cut it out.  It’s me, and I’m tryin’ to help!”

That was definitely David.  He stopped wiggling, letting himself be limp.  It was no lie he was in pain, and it was a comfort to be carried.  His heartbeat had calmed down, and he was set on the ground.  

“Now that we’ve lost that freakshow, time t’wake up, kid.”  

The loud clap woke him up, blood still covering his face.  He felt rough hands wipe some away, enough so that he could see.  Somewhat, at least.  

“You alright, kid?”

The change in David’s voice surprised him.  Shouting at Killers and usually other survivors, it was rough and scratchy.  He enjoyed a good fight, and he never minced words.  Speaking to Quentin, his voice was softer, and reassuring.  Quentin nodded.  

“Yeah, thanks to you.”  

David grinned, lifting Quentin to his feet.  

“Let’s get going then, can’t be arsed to stay in this hellhole longer than we have to.  Laurie ‘n Dwight got the door open.”

With David’s help, Quentin broke into a sprint for the door.  The faint singing resumed, somewhere to their right.  Freddy was going to cut them off at the door.  

“David-” Quentin was cut off by David’s hand clapping over his mouth.  

“I got this, ‘ead for the door.”  David didn’t allow for any response as he ran towards the singing, shouting at the top of his lungs.  Quentin kept running for the door, if only to get his wounds treated and go back to help.  Dwight and Laurie spoke in hushed voices, suddenly pausing as they spotted him.  

“Shit!  Quentin, are you okay?”  Dwight rushed over, a mix of fear and concern on his face.  He was naturally nervous, Quentin found, but that never stopped him from being an unspoken leader.  Laurie jogged over, immediately starting on bandaging up wounds.  Quentin turned his attention back to the preschool.  

“David has him distracted.  We have to go back!”  

Laurie finished up bandaging, then nodded.  “I’ll go get him.  He’ll be okay.”  She rushed back into the walls of the preschool’s grounds, Quentin standing to go and follow.  Dwight grabbed his arm.  

“Hold on, she’s got it.  We can’t all go rushing at him.  We’d all be asleep and stuck there.”  

Quentin hated the truth of it.  If they were all asleep, they’d all be stuck in a nightmare with no one to get them out.  He sighed , attention turning to the door.  If Laurie and David didn’t come back soon, he was going to go himself.  He had to, after David risked everything to save him.  He heard David shout in pain, then break through the hedges towards the gate.  Laurie was next to him, both asleep.  Freddy had to be behind them, Laurie pushing David forward.  

“Go, move it!”  

She shouted, crying out as her arm gained a new gash.  They ran to the exit gate, David turning around to give Freddy a shout.  

“Not this time, fuckface!”  

The group ran out of the exit, fog thickening as they left the preschool behind.  They ran forward, trees closing in as the fog started to dissipate, leading to the campfire.  With a sigh of relief, they sat around the fire against the logs.  David moved to sit next to Quentin, opening a medkit and taking out a clean cloth and some antiseptic.  

“Sorry about getting to you late, kid.  School’s a fuckin’ maze.”  

David started cleaning the blood off Quentin’s face, making sure to clean the scratches so they wouldn’t get infected.  Quentin couldn’t help but wince.  It stung, but nowhere near as bad as the actual injury.  

“Sorry, can’t do much about it hurting.”  

Quentin sat as still as he could, letting David work.  

“It’s fine, really.  Thanks for saving me back there.”  

David laughed, and it was easy to forget he was injured too.  The man never seemed bothered much, never bled much back at the campfire.  He should be tending to his own injuries, too, but there was clearly no convincing David to stop tending to Quentin.  

“Don’t have to thank me.  Just glad you’re alright.”  

They both knew the cuts on Quentin’s face and neck would scar.  There was no way around that.  It did clean up well, Quentin’s vision no longer muddled by it.  David’s hand moved to clean the injury on his neck, until Quentin stopped him.  

“I can take care of myself.”  

David drew his hand back, handing the rag to Quentin.  

“Sure, sorry Quentin.  Wasn’t thinkin’ much.”  

He took bandages out of the kit and started wrapping his own injuries.  

“You remind me of my lil brother, is all.”  

Quentin blinked in surprise, putting the cloth down.  “You have a little brother?”  

David shrugged, putting the rest of the bandages away.  “Had.  Started gettin’ into a lot more fights after he was gone.  Couldn’t be mithered with it all.”  

Quentin frowned.  “Sorry, I had no idea.”

David just shook his head.  “Didn’t know, no point gettin’ upset over something like that.  Besides, we’re all ‘ere now.”  

Quentin dumbly nodded.  He was exhausted, and it was catching up to him.  The look didn’t escape David.  

“Get some sleep, kid.  If that fuck shows, I’ll lamp him with this fuckin’ log if I have to.”  

The threat brought a smile to Quentin’s face.  He curled up and lay on his side, closing his eyes.  A weight rested on him, and he realized it was David’s jacket on top of him.  With a couple of light, reassuring pats from David, Quentin settled off to sleep.  

[queenevaine]

A story for @xmafiacatx, as my part of a trade!  Evan teaches Philip a bit of a lesson.

Evan knew he had a bad temper.  He typically kept himself controlled, fulfilling the duties that the Boss needed him to do.  But even still, the survivors tended to make him so angry, he couldn’t wait to see them sacrificed.  The bloodlust for it made him move faster, and it was a well-regarded skill he possessed.  It was rare for him to lose his temper with other Killers; he didn’t dare do anything to disturb or disrupt the way that the Boss worked.  

Yet, he couldn’t help himself.  He wondered why someone so soft like Philip would be a Killer.  He did the bare minimum, always making others pick up the slack.  And even worse, he would take pity on the survivors, and sometimes let them escape or otherwise help them whenever he could.  It was a waste of time, and not part of their job.  They were Killers, and the sloppy work ethic from Philip never failed to get on his nerves.  

The whispering of the Entity was present in his ear, a certain indication that the Boss needed him for something.  Evan valued his own diligence, and took pride in any task he was given.  He might not like it, but this was how his life was, and he’d be damned if he slacked in anything.  

The Boss told him what he had to do.  Straighten Philip out.  Those words were all that needed to be said for him to gain a grin as wide as the mask he wore.  The specifics of such an order didn’t need to be told to him.  Anything was viable, so long as it achieved its goal.  Evan Macmillan did not tolerate failure.  

He was guided by the constant whispers of the Entity, telling him where he needed to go.  He almost missed the shimmer that told him Philip was cloaked in front of him.  

“Philip.”  

He watched the shimmer turn, and heard the distinct ringing bell as he uncloaked.  The way that Philip stood and stared at him told him that there was going to be a conflict.  Philip’s voice was more of a whisper, one that emanated whenever he silently signed with his hands.  

“No.  I’m not going to listen.”  

The determination he saw in Philip was impressive, but Evan was not a man who backed down so easily.  His grip around his blade tightened.  

“You don’t get a choice.”  

The threat didn’t need to be uttered.  Both were keenly aware that if the orders of the Boss weren’t followed, there would be punishment.  Evan stepped closer, almost proud of the refusal on Philip’s part to move.  

“I’m making my own.”  

The words echoed around him like a breeze blowing past.  The much louder, strangely clear whispers from the Entity echoed like thunder.  

“Make him obey.”  

With a wide grin, Evan stepped forward.  He watched as the skull and spine was raised towards him, then was gone in the next instant.  The jagged cleaver came down on Philip’s arm, sinking deep into the distorted, bark-like flesh.  The message was clear to Philip; either obey, or be punished.  

Even still, Philip refused to give in.  Or couldn’t, but Evan didn’t care for the specifics.  Philip’s flailing made discolored, shimmering blood spray everywhere.  The cleaver came down again and again and again, each time Evan marvelled at the injuries he was causing.  The blade tore apart Philip’s arms, chest, face, neck, and wherever was most convenient to slam the blade into.  

He took a small step back as Philip curled into a ball on the ground, trying to shield himself from further blows.  It was incredibly unbecoming of a Killer to be brought so low.  Yet, it was also incredibly satisfying.  He saw the motions of Philip signing, but the whisper from it was absent.  The Boss didn’t want any mercy, and the notion made Evan grin wider.  

It felt wonderful to take out his aggressions out.  Philip would get over the pain of this punishment, there was nothing personal about this.  Boss’ orders were Boss’ orders, after all.  The urge rose in him, knowing full well that the Entity was pushing him to continue.  He landed blow after blow on Philip’s back and side, watching golden blood pool underneath him.  

The garbled noises coming from Philip were the only indication that he was in whining in pain.  The Entity’s whispers grew more frantic and feverish, pushing him onward to swing again and again.  His blade was entirely coated in gold by the time the manic voice faded from his hearing.  

He took deep breaths, staring down at Philip’s motionless form.  Evan wiped his blade off on his arm, turning to walk away.  His part of the job was done; it was up to Philip now to learn.  

Philip had no idea how long he stayed curled up in pain, bleeding from so many cuts he couldn’t keep count.  He had begged for mercy, for Evan to stop, but the signing fell on deaf ears.  He wasn’t allowed to fight back, to be given any mercy, and felt the sharp, intense pain from every strike.  He stayed curled in a ball, fearing that any movement would elicit another strike.  

Hours had passed by the time Philip painfully moved, struggling to his feet.  He didn’t need to hear the Entity’s whispering to know what it would say to him.  To obey, to kill, and to sacrifice were expectations for every Killer, but that would never mean he would want to.  He was glad to have his bell back, to allow him to hide in the shadows.  Even sitting still, his blood shimmered brightly in the flickering lights around him.  

The skull’s blade was dulled, useless for anything but as a blunt weapon.  He knew he would be left to think about his choices in this realm, and how truly powerless he was.  He crawled to the nearest tree to help him stand, stumbling into the woods to hide as best as he could from Killers and Survivors alike.  When the time came to be called into a trial, he would have to obey.