#hell bottle up all his feelings and then one day hell either die or start crying and it looks like he aint allowed to die!

[minarcana]

[alornights]

Bro I am obsessed with your bimbo!Reader it was so good and it honestly reminded me about the song bimbo doll by Tula Tsoil AND PLS THE THINGS I WILL DO FOR A KYLE ONE 🙏🏾🙏🏾

⟢ smarties

➜ in which ! kyle tries to resist the pretty bimbo girl.

🌷 ﹫kyle broflovski.

✩ 🦩 warnings﹗suggestive.

🍧 ⟡ notes — BIMBOS BIMBOS I LOVE BIMBOS LORD

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"I don't know..." The girl beside Kyle whined as he finally looked up from his page having spaced out.

Mr. Garrison sighed, "How the hell do you forget your backpack."

"I was in a rush." You murmured with a pout crossing your arms.

Kyle tilted his head somewhat amused by what was going on, usually, it was Cartman or Clyde making a fuss so this was new.

The girl turned to Kyle batting her long lashes with a smile, "Hey you, help me out?"

"Huh?"

You giggled pushing your desk to be next to him before leaning into him, "You'll help me out with this stuff, right?"

"Huh."

the only reason you guys even started talking was because you were failing half your classes and you begged kyle to tutor and how could he resist with the way you were staring at him.

even though he's mentally scared due to cartman from continuing relationships he just cant help himself.

trust, he tried desperately not to fall into the rabbit hole everyone else at school was going down with you.

but the way you just seemed to be a little more happier around him made his heart beat and he gave up.

yet he can't help but smile knowing cartman can't nor won't be able to get in the way of you two like he has with kyle's past relationships.

you're too dumb to notice, or you just don't fucking care.

maybe he likes you because your so naive in a way.

either way his head spins and his heart begins to explode with every passing day, his desire to be around you intensifying.

"Who would've thought that you of all people would be interested, let alone falling for Y/N of all people." Stan teased with a chuckle gulping down his soda.

Kyle rolled his eyes taking a sip of his own drink, "Me neither."

"Probably because you're too up your ass." Kenny joked with a grin throwing his bottle at Kyle's head.

everything you did was intoxicating to him, he couldn't breath.

the way you would plop yourself up on his desk your chest a little too close to his face, the urge to just plant his hands on your waist becoming all the prominent in his mind.

the way you'd link your arms with his as you walked through the halls, not paying anyone but him attention.

the way you'd just grab his hands without any notice and start playing with them sent shivers of delight down his body.

he lowkey feels like he's on drugs.

and when you start getting along with his brother? its over, he officially fallen head over heels for you.

and once again i give you a romance trope. bimbo pretty girl with the nerdy hot boy. MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN PEOPLE-

and when you started full on flirting with him he thought he'd die.

"You're so handsome Ky..." You murmur with a smile placing your hands on his shoulders, rubbing them slightly.

"You're making me go crazy." He groaned into your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you closer.

You giggled wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer, "Am I now?"

he's so interested in the gossip, like actually.

at first, he was iffy when you started telling people's drama but after a while, he was fully invested in these fucking plot lines.

somehow managing to get him to skip class, lord knows how.

oh he turns into such a "rebel" at times with you, maybe even lets you make out with him in the most obvious but not places.

bro starts getting real bold really fast though, calls you angel, precious, darling and all these other things.

confidently just starts bragging to all his friends about having you wrapped around his finger (even tho its also the other way around)

makes a living off of tutoring and dedicates half of it to you.

his dad is also somewhat rich, the guys a lawyer, he probably makes bank and gives allowances to his kids.

"What do you think?" You questioned walking out of the changing room, doing a little twirl before looking at yourself in the mirror to see if you were liking the look.

"Divine." Was all he could say giving you a thumbs up, looking anywhere but your face, watching as your dress began to hike up to your ass due to how tight it was.

"Really?" You questioned happily turning back to him.

He smiled with a laugh. "Really, you look beautiful angel."

you so totally got him into haircare and skin care.

you thought kyle was good looking before? he's looking like an angel sent from heaven a few weeks after consistent care.

you also some how manage to get him to drive you anywhere you wanted for lunch, of course, to study.

loves loves loves getting you to play basketball with him.

lord have mercy on him when you start running. the man is gone.

he'll help show you how to shoot a shot coming up behind you letting his arms go all over you with a smirk.

and god knows what happens when you full on just start making actual moves, actual meaning risky moves.

"Mmmm, Kyle can we go home." You whined, tugging him away from his friends. "Please? 'M so bored watching this."

Kyle sighed kissing your lips lightly, "Soon precious. We're almost done with the match."

You pouted letting your hands go under his shirt to draw circles on his stomach. "Please Ky?"

Kyle paused sucking in a breath taking a look at the other guys who to engrossed in playing basketball before looking at you. "Angel."

"Let's go..." You demanded with an innocent smile, letting your hands fall lower and lower.

Kyle groaned, "The things you do to me, let's go."

[nervousgardenerkid]

Hey, I love your writing 🫶

Please can you write an Eddie angst pleaseeeee.

The idea is that reader has been in love with Eddie for years and when he dies they’re distraught. The gang helps them through all the stages of mourning. Months later they wake up feeling really good so they go to one of the gangs house where they all will be hanging out. They all are acting really off and try to make them leave and then Eddie walks. Reader thinks they’re hallucinating until Eddie starts talking to one the kids and then it dawns on them that their best friends and the person they love have been lying all this time knowing the suffering they’ve endured. An argument and a confession follows, where they try to explain they did It to protect them but reader isn’t having any of it. All they want to do is hug Eddie but they can’t even look at him. They leave on bad terms with everyone. I can’t think of an ending heheh :))

I’m so sorry that request is so long. Thank you so much hope you have a lush day :))

In the back of my mind, you died

a/n: ANON I LOOOOOVEEEEEE THIS IDEA SO MUCH!!! YOUR BRAIN IS SO SMART FOR THIS!!!! i'm sorry it took so long my life has been hectic rn😭i'm not sure if i'll be writing a part two to this?? the ending might be fixed/changed cause idk how i feel about it,,anyways i hope you enjoy it and credit to the gif owner! <3

read part two here!

Denial. That's all you've been doing is denying. Eddie didn't die, no. He's just decided to lay low until this whole "earthquake" shit and him being a murderer dies down. That's all he's doing you think to yourself, but that doesn't stop the nightmares of him dying in your arms. Every time you close your eyes you see the exact moment where the life leaves his eyes. You can't escape the horrible memory no matter what you do, you don't want to consider therapy cause how are you supposed to say that the love of your life died in the claws of bats from another dimension? Exactly, you can't.

You appreciate your friends, you do. You love them so much but you wish that they can leave you alone.

“I’m not broken, you know that right?”

Steve looks up from the magazine he's reading on your bed and smiles.

“I know that.”

“So why are you guys on babysitting duty with me?”

He sighs.

“Y/n, we're just worried. You've been ignoring the fact that Eddie-”

“Don't.” you cut him off.

“He's gone y/n. We're not rushing you to let him go, take all the time you need.” he stands up from his spot on the bed and crouches down to be eye level with you.

“But you're going to have to accept it sooner or later, and when you do we promise to all be here for you.”

Tears start to form and you throw your arms around him finally letting go of all the bottled-up emotions you have.

Anger. Pure anger is running through your veins when you see students gathered in front of Eddie's locker. Some are writing mean things, others are leaving sincere notes either way it pisses you off. Nobody in this school liked Eddie! It was always just you and hellfire who stuck up for him, so why the hell is everyone acting as if they care?!

“This is bullshit,” Gareth mumbles next to you.

You scoff. “Tell me about it. He's gone and suddenly the whole town loves him?”

“Like they weren't accusing him of murder weeks ago.”

If there was anyone you knew who was taking his death as hard as you, it was Gareth. Gareth knew Eddie his whole life, Eddie was practically his brother, and the fact that he doesn't even know what happened to him kills you.

“I fucking hate this town.” You whispered while shaking your head when the cheer team leaves a teddy bear in front of his locker.

Gareth chuckles, you take it as a sign of agreement.

“If I could I burn it to the fucking ground.”

You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are red and you're not sure if it's cause he's been crying, or because maybe rick gave him the hookup but you give him a soft smile. You've talked to Gareth before, and you consider him a friend. You glance down at the watch resting on your wrist and look back at Gareth.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

“Hell yeah, let's go.”

You Gareth quickly exit the school and you both try to ignore the heartbreak you feel when you think of how happy Eddie would be knowing his best friends have someone to watch each other's backs.

Bargaining is something you find yourself frequently doing. You toss and turn through the night and look at your alarm clock. The bright red 1:00 taunting you. You let out a quiet tsk and decide enough is enough, quietly searching through your dresser you pick out the first pair of pants and grab the first shirt you see. You open your window making sure to leave it a crack open for you for whenever you sneak back in. You're not sure where you're going yet, your brain is not up to full speed with your body but soon you start recognizing that you're going to Eddie's trailer. Before you know it you're a good distance away from it but you stop in your tracks. Your heart is pounding and it's the first time you ask yourself what exactly are you doing here? We're planning on going to the upside down to find Eddie? Were you even looking for Eddie? Your thoughts are cut short when you see a familiar set of curls hidden under a hat exit the trailer quietly.

“Dustin?”

His body tenses and he turns around slowly to face you. He smiles at you nervously and waves as you take steps to get closer. You weren't supposed to be here, he hasn't even spoken a word to you and the guilt is already starting to eat him alive.

“Y/n! What are you uh, doing here?”

You cross your arms.

“I should ask you the same thing.”

Dustin stood frozen on the porch speechless, his eyes scanning your body trying to find any kind of clue as to why you're here. He wants to come clean and say it but he made a promise, and he was way too scared to break it. He narrows his eyes at you and something in his clicks when he sees the determined look on your face.

“Were you going back?”

“I-i think so? I don't know.”

Dustin mumbles out a Jesus Christ and stumbles over to you, dragging you away from the trailer.

“Are you insane?! What exactly were you gonna do?”

You stop walking, causing Dustin to look at you. His heart sinks when he sees tears falling down your cheeks as you stumble over your words.

“I just want him back Dustin.” you cry out.

Dustin wraps his arms around you and holds you as you cry, his brain is screaming for him to tell you. To just end all the pain you've been feeling but he made a promise. They all did.

He pulls away from you and gives you a sad smile.

“I miss him too, but y/n, you can't risk your life going back in there for something that's not even there.”

“We just left him there Dustin. His uncle never even got to see him.”

The both of you are crying now.

“And that's killing me, but there's nothing we can do.”

You look Dustin in the eyes and you have a strange feeling in your gut that he's hiding something but you're too exhausted to question him. You nod your head, wiping away the tears that fell down your face, and take a deep breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, you're right.”

“C'mon, let's go home. You can ride my bike, my leg is killing me.”

You hum knowing his leg is a bit more sensitive since the incident and agree to take him home.

“I'll walk home after I drop you off.”

“My mom thinks I'm at Lucas’.”

Silence is shared between the two of you as you slowly turn to look at Dustin.

“You mean the Lucas who's practically living at the hospital reading to Max?”

Dustin kicked a rock and mumbled out how it sounded better in his head. You shake your head and chuckle, throwing your leg around his bike and waiting till you felt his hands resting on your shoulders. While Dustin was getting on the bike you took a glance at the trailer that sat behind you two and you could be sworn you saw a figure that you knew all too well.

“You ready?” Dustin asked you. You looked at him then back at the trailer only to be met with nothing. You cleared your throat and nodded your head.

“Yeah, let's go.”

Everyone was worried about you the second Eddie was gone, but to their surprise, you were still up and moving. What they should have been worried about was the third month of his death. Depression hit you like a semi and you couldn't get out of bed to save your life. Everyone would stop by to drop off some food and water only to throw it out the next day when they saw it was untouched. They tried everything to get you out of bed but were unsuccessful every time.

It was midnight now, Nancy was sleeping on the couch in the living room as you rotted away in bed. They usually didn't spend the night but you haven't eaten in five days, to say your friends were worried about you was an understatement. You stared at the picture of you and Eddie laughing that rested on your nightstand when the familiar feeling of needing to use the restroom came back. For the first time in days, you slowly took the blanket off of you and began to sit up in bed. The room spun a little bit but now you were sitting up and looking at your bedroom door.

Go. You thought to yourself. Just go pee and then you can get back into bed. The thought of standing alone was enough to exhaust you, let alone use the restroom. You know you should get up, your bladder was starting to hurt from how long you haven't used the restroom but you couldn't move. You look down at your feet and see one of Eddie's shirts on the floor, it was his favorite, and now it's dirty. It's dirty, it's on the floor, and it was nearly forgotten about until now. The pain in your bladder was getting stronger but you didn't move, you stayed sat in bed looking at the shirt with tears streaming down your face.

Your thoughts are cut short when you feel a sudden pang of pain in your lower abdomen. You let out a gasp and quickly put pressure on it but it only makes things worse. I need to pee. Was the only thing running through your mind. You start to stand up but let out a small cry from how much it hurts.

“Y/n?” You heard Nancy call. You stayed quiet trying to steady your breathing. You take small steps toward your bedroom door, counting down how many you have left to go to the restroom when you fall to the ground. You hear Nancy start to run to you as you cry and clutch your side tightly.

“Jesus Christ, what happened?!” Nancy asks as she rushes over to you. You push her away determined to get yourself to the restroom. You know what she's thinking. You know she probably thinks you're insane at the fact that you could get a kidney infection trying to get to the restroom by yourself cause you're thinking the exact same thing. You curl into a fetal position on the floor, your breathing rapid as the pain gets worse with each passing minute. Nancy decides enough is enough and helps you up while whispering how you'll be okay. She helps you stand up and gently shushes you when you let out a whimper.

“It's okay, you're gonna be okay,” she whispers. She takes you toward the restroom and turns on the bath for you. She makes sure the water is warm before she looks at you, you have your shirt pulled over your legs as you sit on the toilet finally giving your bladder some ease.

“I uh, I'm running you a bath,” she says gently. “If you need help with anything, call me, okay?”

You nod your head and watch as she leaves the bathroom and closes the door, leaving it a little open.

You sigh and slowly get off the toilet, holding onto the wall for support as you flush it. You step into the bathtub with your shirt still on and sit in the warm water. Nancy knocks on the door and peeks her head in to check on you. You both make eye contact and you clear your throat.

“C-can you wash my hair?”

Nancy nods her head and rolls the sleeves of her pajama shirt up. She sits on the edge of the tub and gently strokes your hair as you rest your cheek on your knees.

“There's a cup in the cabinet. Eddie would bring the dog that lived next door and we’d give her a bath.

Nancy makes her way to the cabinet and grabs the small cup, filling it with water and counting down before she gently pours it onto your head. Comfortable silence is shared between you two before she drains the water and grabs a towel. She helps you stand, squeezing out as much water as she could from your shirt before you grab onto her hand.

“Thank you. F-for helping me.”

She gives you a sad smile and wraps the towel around your shoulders.

“I changed your sheets, and there are some clothes laid out for you.”

You hold onto her hand as she helps you out of the slippery tub and onto the cold tile floor. She leads you to her room, closing the door all the way so that you can change out of your wet clothes. You place the towel on the floor and toss the shirt on top of it knowing you'll take it out soon. You slip into the comfortable clothes and sit on the edge of your bed, your hands rubbing over the clean material of the new sheets Nancy changed for you.

Your eyes drift back to the picture that's on your nightstand and you swear that you can hear Eddie's voice in your head telling you to eat something. You hear three knocks on your bedroom door and you're guessing you told Nancy to come in cause now she's leaning up against your door and smiling at you.

“I know it's nearly one in the morning but are you hungry?”

You wanted to say no, you're too tired to eat anything and you just want to lay in bed and sleep until you feel better, but you don't. Instead, you slowly nod your head.

“I think there's still some pizza in the fridge from when Steve and Robin came over.”

Nancy gave you a genuine smile, happy that you finally decided to eat some food. She started to leave your room to reheat the pizza when she heard you call out for her.

“Thank you. Seriously, this whole…healing process hasn't been easy for me.” You clear your throat and send her a small smile. “So thank you, really. You've all helped me so much, I don't know what I would do without you guys."

Something in Nancy shifted, you could tell from the way her shoulders dropped and the small smile she gave you.

“Y/n?”

She wants to say it. She's seen you suffer enough and it's killing her not to tell you everything she knows. It's on the tip of her tongue, she's so close to saying it. You look at her with raised eyebrows.

“You never have to thank us. What are friends for?”

A few more months pass and little by little you start to feel okay, normal even. Is currently Friday, which is movie day at Steve's. It started as a way to get you out of the house but it's blossomed into something more now, you park the car in front of Steve's house and grab the snacks that are in the passenger seat of your car. You hum out a tune and gently kick at the door with your foot. Robin opens the door laughing but quickly stops when she sees it's you.

“Y/n! What are you doing here?”

“Haha, very funny.” you teased. “It’s movie day! Here grab the snacks so I can come in,” you say while dumping some snacks into her arms. She stumbles over words and her feet as you make your way into the house, you throw a hey to everyone and place the snacks onto Steve's counter.

“Geez, why is everyone quiet? Did you guys start the movie without me?” you chuckle out. You turn toward your friends who are sitting on the couch staring at you with wide eyes.

“Jesus, are you guys okay? It's like you've all seen a ghost or something.”

“Thanks for giving me my vest back Steve, I've been dying to see her again.”

Your body stiffens and your blood runs cold when you hear a voice that you've missed for far too long. Your eyes lock with Dustin and suddenly everything clicks. The night you found Dustin at Eddie’s trailer, the way everyone looked at you with guilty eyes, how everyone seemed like they were walking on eggshells when they were around you. They knew. They all knew.

“It's no problem man, I washed like three times- oh shit.”

This had to be a trick. You must've not been over his death yet and now your brain is making you hallucinate him. You slowly turn around to face him and tears instantly form in your eyes. Eddie feels himself freeze under your gaze, feeling like a criminal that's been caught. You shake your head and walk up to him, you raise your hand as if you're going to rest it on his shoulder but you freeze.

“You're not real.” You whisper while shaking your head. You let out a laugh like it's some kind of sick joke and turn toward your friends.

“Please tell me he's not real.”

The lack of answers confirmed it for you. You then turned toward Eddie with tears streaming down your face, but there was fire behind your eyes.

“How long have you been here?”

“Y/n, hear me out-”

“How long?!”

Eddie stays quiet and decides his shoes are much more interesting cause he can't bring his eyes to meet yours. You let out a scoff and look at your friends.

“Okay, since the fucking ghost doesn't want to talk I'll ask you guys. How long has he been back?”

“Ever since you caught me at his trailer,” Dustin spoke up.

You sniffled and nodded your head.

“So did you all know?”

Everyone on the couch nodded their head and Steve mumbled a quiet yeah.

“Was anyone going to tell me?”

“We wanted to,” Mike began.

“That's not what I asked. I asked if you were ever going to tell me.”

Everyone was silent once again and to be honest, you were getting fed up with it.

“you know what?” you chuckled out. “I think I'm done.”

“Done?” Nancy asked.

You grabbed your keys and started to walk toward the door.

“Yeah. With you guys.”

Everyone started to talk over each other and Eddie rushed to stand in front of the door, blocking you from leaving.

“Hey hot shot, just hear them out. Hear us out.” He begged.

For the first time in months, you look Eddie in the eyes, and it feels like you're back at the very beginning.

“Get out of my way Eddie, or else you'll wish you were dead.”

Defeated, he steps out of the way but chases you outside. The sun was no longer in the sky and the dam finally broke. Tears were streaming down your face and you felt arms wrap around you. You try your best to push him away but he's not letting you go.

“Get off of me!” you cry out.

“Sweetheart, please.”

“No! Do you know how fucking miserable I was Eddie?! Did you know that I considered going back to that hell hole to get you?!” you're pushing him now and you catch a glance of your former friends watching you from the window.

Eddie grabs your hands trying to stop you but you twist out of his grasp.

“For months people you love have suffered Eddie! This isn't even about me anymore! Does your uncle know you're back?! What about Gareth and the rest of the party?!”

Eddie shakes his head and tears are forming in his eyes.

“Really?! You're crying, Eddie?!”

“You weren't supposed to find out this way.”

“Then how? How the fuck was I supposed to find out Eddie? Were you going to come to my house with a bouquet of flowers? Were you gonna wait until I tried to go back to the upside-down again?”

Eddie stayed silent. He never really thought about how he was going to tell you, or how you would react. He knew that the more time dragged on the more difficult it would be, but he still had hope.

You saw a tear fall down Eddie's cheek and it took everything in you to not wipe it away. You've dreamt of this moment, you've even prayed for it but this isn't how it was supposed to happen. You were supposed to be happy he was alive, jump into his arms and finally kiss him as you've always wanted to do.

“You know,” you started as you walked to the driver's side of the car. “You may not be dead anymore Eddie,”

You start the car. “But you're dead to me.” you nod your head at everyone gathered by the window.

“They are too. I don't want to see any of you ever again.”

You drove off after that, you weren't sure where you were going, considering all your friends lied to you about something that big. Part of you wants to rationalize what they've done, and you can kinda understand why they did it but you would've never done that to them.

Your heart is pounding out of your chest as you walk up to the front door of the last person you should be seeing. You knock three times and wipe away the tears that are streaming down your face, you look like a mess right now you're sure of it but you don't care.

“Y/n?” Gareth asks with concern. “What's going on, why are you crying?”

“Eddie isn't dead.”

Gareth wants to laugh, but he can't. He won't. The way you look right now, the shakiness in your voice. He wants to think you're joking but what kind of sick person would make a joke about this? He steps to the side and opens the door wide for you, silently asking you to come in. You step inside his home and stuff your hands into your pockets, not bothering to wipe away your tears anymore.

“You've got a lot of explaining to do.”

You let out a humorless chuckle. “How much time do you have?”

Gareth let's out a sigh and hugs you, his hand rubbing your back gently as you cry into his shoulder.

"I've got all the time in the world right now."

[girls-alias]

Loss - Dean Winchester

Title: Loss - Dean Winchester Words: 869 Relations: Dean Winchester X reader. TW:

Prompt:

Dean being depressed and drinking a lot ever since you died.

DEAN'S POV:

Alcohol helped. The taste was soon like water and slipped down my throat easily. It hurt less when I was too drunk to think. 

I ignored Sam's disapproving looks every day but they all seemed to fade into one. The longest day of my life. I lived with pain but this was death. I felt as though death had a hold of my insides and was pulling important organs out of my mouth. The alcohol numbs the pain. That's all I need. 

I don't need someone to be sympathetic, I don't even need to kill monsters. I have to kill my thoughts, every second I don't have a drink in my hand I think of her. Sam was shouting at something recently. Said it had been 6 months but just yesterday I was holding her. Just yesterday I was kissing her, laughing with her. I had her. 

I know alcohol wears off but so does pain. If I numb it for long enough I won't have to feel it, not now, not ever. 

I saw my whiskey bottle coming to an end and stumbled towards the kitchen, I had no idea the time of day or even the season. I fought to keep my eyes open as I stammered around. More drink is all I need! I finally made it to the kitchen. No beer, no whiskey, nothing. Either I had drank it all or Sam is hiding it. I groaned and threw my now empty bottle across the room. I have to have more, I can't feel this pain, I can't. 

I continued to stammer around until Sam blocked the door with his body, looking at me disapprovingly and sympathetically. How does anyone like him, I have no idea? 

"Move," I said plainly already trying to pass him. He thought for a second before moving aside yet following me. I grabbed the keys from the table, hoping he hadn't noticed. 

"You can't go out driving in this state," He demanded only making me scoff. I was surprised when he ripped the keys from my grasp. Alcohol was slowing my reflex speeds.

"Give them back!" I shouted but he didn't take my slurred words seriously. 

"You'll die if you drive," He commented and I felt myself sobering up from the rage coursing through my blood. He thinks I'm afraid of death. He thinks I haven't been begging for someone to come and kill me. Hell, I've called demons plenty of times giving them the full opportunity to kill me. I have handed them guns, knives, even chainsaws and no one will kill me.

"Give me the keys, dumbass," I demanded but Sam was childlike and threw them down the hallway. I groaned and started making my way towards them. He followed me closely rambling my ear. I ignored every word until he said it. "Don't you dare say her name!" I screamed now facing him, my hands clenched into fists. He looked horrified but softened his face as he sighed. 

"She wouldn't want you to do this," He said softly as if I was about to attack. If he keeps talking I will. I will do everything I have begged others to do for me.

"How would you know what she wants?! When did you stay up with her all night when she was in pain? When did you think she was the one for you? When did you think your luck had finally changed?" I paused as the anger took over. "Where were you when she had cramps and needed a hand to hold? Where were you when she promised she'd always love me? Where were you when she was bleeding out and needed you?" I screamed out not caring for his puppy eyes. "Where were you, Sam? I had to hold her, I had to watch her die in my arms because you weren't there. Where were you?" I screamed, my throat instantly sore. He looked startled by my words. I blamed Sam to some extent but I knew it was my fault. It was my fault I loved her, I should have known I would have gotten her killed. I scoffed. "You wouldn't know what she'd want if she was still here telling you, you didn't know her and you never will. She was the love of my life and now what kind of life do I have? It's cold and pointless. The alcohol numbs the pain but what do you know of real pain? You've forgotten Jess, I will never forget my true Y/N. You can either stand beside me or get out of my fucking way!" I gasped slightly realising that after all this time I had finally said her name. My eyes instantly burned as tears collected in them. 

I sobbed, falling to the floor. I gripped at my jumped begging it would swallow me. Sam hurried to me, hugging me tightly as I cried. My breath caught in my throat. I screamed letting out the sobs that collected in my chest. Sam jumped but held on a little tighter. After a while, he stopped jumping when I screamed. He held me, he never let go. 

I need my baby but she's gone. 

[12pt-times-new-roman]

c3e81

As a reminder, because I sort of missed it in my last post: Fearne absorbing and re-activating the shard also awakened Ashton's shard, and they were both transformed.

"What if every so often an ancient stone titan surfaces on Ashton's face and he goes, 'oh, the ancient times!'" boy that is RICH coming from Laudna--

On the bright side, now that the shard has been absorbed, Delilah's want for it has subsided.

Chetney talks about his family. He doesn't blame them for leaving, not at all — they were fleeing a red dragon — but he's considering making a deal with Nana Morri for his youth.

Outside, Ashton and Fearne are figuring out their new powers. While in their transformed state, Ashton can glide through unworked/loose earth or stone freely, and it sounds like their speed is increased. They can use this to run up sheer cliff-faces, and by submerging themself only halfway in the stone they can carry people up with them like an elevator. Their pain is gone in this state, and when it returns, it feels welcome.

For Fearne, while in her transformed state she's immune to fire damage, a creature that hits her takes 1d8 fire damage, and her fire spells are more powerful now. She also floats about a foot off the ground, so her movement ignores difficult terrain, and when she touches the ground she leaves little black scorch marks. Even in her un-transformed state, she has a slight smoke drifting from her hair, and a little flame in her pupils.

Both Ashton and Fearne have abilities that they can unleash that will exhaust them significantly. It's unclear how long their transformed states last for and how many times they can use them per day.

Meanwhile, Chetney goes to Nana Morri to ask about a "wish."

Monsters, frost worms, opening bottles, wind, fire — whatever. I will always be impressed by the quality and variety of Matt's hinge creak sound effects.

Morri reveals that she doesn't grant wishes, she makes deals — there has to be collateral, and if people don't hold up their end of the deal, they become like the topiaries in the garden.

Chetney very, very carefully proposes a deal: he gets imbued with some of Morri's power, in exchange for the ability for her to exert more of her power over the mortal realm. (Chetney's shadow touched feat suddenly makes a lot of sense — a suspicious amount of sense, actually.) Morri changes the scenery to a dark, empty space with a single table.

"What is it that you want specifically? Tell me your dreams." "Well, I would love to never die, but that seems a little much. So — I was wondering... do people ask to return to their youth?" Both are things she's granted before, but she cuts to the root: Chetney came in here with a singular desire, greater than either of those requests. "I want to be the most famous toymaker the world has ever known." "Now that just requires a little bend of fate, doesn't it?" Morri pulls a golden thread from Chetney's chest, it stretches from dark to dark, and as she pulls on it a cold sensation courses through Chetney. "And what will you give me?" "What would you want?" "Bring me a piece of what you hunt. Bring me a piece of the God-Eater." "Let me do some simple arithmetic here — it's a deal." As it is stricken, she runs her hand over the lantern, alights her palm with white fire and clasps Chetney's hand with it — the cold touches his palm and that golden thread seems to twist and tangle a bit, then she withdraws. "Very well. Make me proud, and you'll be notorious."

(god this is going to backfire so badly — like, if Predathos is anything like the Lovecraftian horrors it's very clearly modeled after, a piece is all it needs. am I the only one thinking of a color out of space here?)

They start their long rest and have the campaign's first heroes' feast! FCG feeds the Bells Hells plus Allura, Pate, and Mister. Their HP max goes up by 13, they are immune to being poisoned and frightened, and they make all wisdom saves with advantage for the next 24 hours.

For the first time in many, many days, they set up their dream ritual. FCG brings everyone except Chetney and Fearne into Imogen's dream.

Imogen's intent with this dream is to enter the beam and travel to Ruidus, to see what happens when she does. She glides past clouds beneath the starry sky and eventually finds herself in a corkscrew, drifting — all five of them are already gliding along the Bloody Bridge, hurtling upward toward the Moon of Ill Omen. Sparks pulse through it and almost catches them up in it — they're shunted, dragged through, like a rollercoaster. Before long, they untether from the beam and start free-falling toward the dusty surface of Ruidus. There are mountain ranges, chasms, and slivers of silver carving through the landscape — before they arrive at the core of the Ruidian storms. In this lost space, there is no sense of up or down, just the storm, the wind — they're lost.

Imogen opens her mind, and for a brief moment she feels like she's tapping into a greater consciousness, minds like background radiation that flicker beyond reach; the storm clears like she's in the eye and she sees Exandria above. The ground itself is vibrating like there's a stampede, it's warm, the stones seem to shift. And she lets go.

The only thing that's kept her dangling above an abyss, Imogen allows it to snap. She tumbles into the ground and the black warmth envelops you; to the rest of them, the dark is rough, jagged, scary. They see and feel nothing except for dread, and an alien presence that washes over and through them — but Imogen feels comfort, sensations of running into Liliana's arms, Laudna's arms, memories of hugging her horses, a sense of belonging. They pass through rock, flashes of color — cavern networks that snake like a labyrinth beneath the crust of the moon. Glimpses of teal crystal and subterranean rivers, water, oceans — alien, red life that swim through it whose green eyes track them. But darkness, still. A distant voice calls — "wait, Imogen, no—" and it's gone.

Their descent stops. The rest of them drift into suffocating darkness, Imogen is gone — the shared dream spell ends.

Imogen senses a presence unlike anything she's ever experienced. It's so immense that her entire being vibrates with power, she worries as it suffuses her that she might be pulled apart — that white flash she saw, these moments where the world rent itself around her, that power pulls to rend her but she belongs here. She is home. This is the womb, and she wishes nothing more than to return to this place with her entire core — but she wakes, then. Moments later.

This is an excellent setup for this, especially because it's giving Laudna and Imogen conflicting information and motives. Laudna, FCG, Orym, and Ashton all know that this darkness is rough and lifeless and it will shred them, suffocate them — but Imogen is being supernaturally coerced into selfishness. This feels like a big red flashing sign that says "some powers are not worth embracing, sometimes giving in to power will change you irreparably and you will not like what you see in the mirror anymore" and yet they're still pushing her to embrace it against her better judgment.

I am once again begging someone to acknowledge that FCG does not, in fact, need to sleep and can keep constant watch with no detriment to themself

Their long rest passes without issue, but in the middle of the night, when he's sure no-one is watching, Orym knocks on Nana Morri's door.

"The way I understand it, from what Fearne tells me, you can help people. You make deals. Well, um... my friends are all pretty amazing, the things they can do, I can't even fit it all in my head, and I'm really good with a sword but I'm a little nervous I'm not ready for what we're about to do tomorrow. [None of you are ready.] The point is, I feel the least ready in our group, and I wanna see this through, I wanna get it done, and I wanna get them back. I wanna get Fearne back, and all of them. So... if you can somehow make me better at protecting them, or stronger, more capable at what I do, I might agree to a lot."

Morri's eyes look past Orym, beyond, and when Orym looks back he's in the same dark space, with the same white lantern on the same table. "Your passion is to protect your friends, yes?" "My friends, your granddaughter — I don't know if there's a friends and family discount, but...?" "And what do you have to offer, little Ashari?" "Well, if I see them all through and we get it done, I'll serve you." "You smell of the touch of divinity. That makes you enticing. Well, now that Fearne's all grown up and might be finding her own way, it does get a bit lonely here in the manor. Maybe it'd be nice to have a caretaker." "These have to be worded just right, Imogen said — that's if we see it through. Every one of Bells Hells makes it back and we see it through. That's an easy trade. Back alive, happy, safe, and healthy." "Well, you have to leave happy to return happy, and health is in varying states at least. Return at least as you are." "Return alive." "Very well."

Morri grants Orym the ability to call upon her when he's in need (and probably some other abilities, too) in exchange for his service to her, provided that every one of the Bells Hells returns from Ruidus alive.

They get a long rest, but Imogen falls asleep missing that sensation she experienced at the core of the moon.

I have 3 primary thoughts about Orym's deal. First is that there is a Laudna-sized hole in Orym's insistence that everyone returns alive — in fact, he specifies that against Morri's stipulation of "returns as they are," so it sounds like Orym was working in a loophole. Second, this has the potential to be a big act 3 setup centering around breaking or finding a loophole int hat deal. And third, FEY PALADIN ORYM !!!! (he doesn't have the stats to multiclass into warlock but ancients or devotion paladin?? yeah.)

In the morning, they have a meal, then head back to Exandria. It's hardly been an hour since they left. They arrive in the familiar Hellcatch Valley, where there is a strong reddish hue to the entirety of the landscape. Ruidus hangs above them, larger than they've ever seen, silent and consuming the air above them. They're miles away from the Tishtan excavation site, and as they walk towards the west encampment (where Allura's allies are), then can see numerous legions, signs of battle, skyship wreckage — there has been warfare here, skirmishes, sides testing boundaries but nothing all-in. There's an air of held breath.

As they enter, Allura is met by three authority figures: Myth-Taker Qi Mandozi, an older orcish man, of Ashanedoor; Guardian Tofur Bratoris, a silver Dragonborn woman in full plate armor, wearing the symbol of the Council of Tal'dorei; and Dawnmarshal Earthbreaker Groon, the most muscular grandpa they've ever seen, leader of Kord's temple in Vasselheim.

All of them carry a presence, but Groon has a force that carries a massive weight; he is an individual who walks with the strength of the gods. "Underestimation is a powerful thing."

Into the war-tent!

Ohohoho, Earthbreaker Groon has some kind of Ruidus-born radar — Fearne catches him staring at her and Imogen like a parent looks at a child who's done something wrong.

Also inside the war-tent are Percy and Keyleth! They explain that the reason the Bells Hells are so important in this endeavor is because they are not being watched, they are not being paid attention to — "because so few, for now, know of you."

The Ruby Vanguard is trying to divide the world. Doomsday cults are rising in response to recent events, and the Vanguard is taking advantage of them to raise support for their cause; in doing so, they are waging ideological war on the home-front in addition to waging a militaristic war around the Malleus Key.

Percy unveils one of their distraction attempts: "butcher wagons," cloaked with illusions to look like a massive assault but instead stocked with buckets of blood; the Vanguard's forces will be drawn away and the wagons will be detonated, creating the illusion of an actual battle to keep them occupied for up to 30 minutes. That's how long the Bells Hells will have to get to the key. Luckily for them, the Vanguard's most intelligent members are already on the moon.

The Bells Hells will enter from the opposite side and slip in unnoticed during the battle. Because of their sabotage of the key earlier, the dispelling field is not present, but there are a significant number of Reilorans on the ground who can sense their minds — the scrolls will help with that.

"If you are discovered, ensure there are no witnesses. Whatever that means to you — whether silencing them or taking them with you — this is war. This is about all of us. All of us." Groon speaks with the voice of Kord on that last line.

Allura advocates for redemption and rehabilitation of the members of the Vanguard, if possible, when Laudna questions what the threshold is. But again — this is war. Keyleth, without eye contact, pipes in. "Save who you can, but do what is right."

Their mission while on Ruidus is to learn what they can. Who the Reilora are and what they want, whether they have a leader who can be parlayed with, what Ludinus' intentions are and how long he needs to achieve them — anything they can get, until they feel it is too dangerous to continue.

Fearne approaches Groon and asks about the look he gave them. "These eyes do not look anywhere; I sensed you. You are Ruidus-born, both of you." The entire tent knows, now. Keyleth advocates for them in good faith, not knowing what Imogen just did the night before.

They had tried to work with Ruidus-born before, and at a certain point, they just forgot what they were doing and joined their new friends. "Well, that's not gonna happen with us." FCG, you fucking wish, buddy—

Allura advocates for them too, and Groon looks back at them. "I trust they are capable, for they know that if they turn, the storm will find them. But you are of the storm, are you not?" "I am the storm, baby." "It seems your friends have more faith in you than you have in yourself. Be prepared to rely on them, when the time comes."

"You are the tip of the spear, and we are everything to follow. We just need you to guide us." Keyleth turns to Percy. "Why does it always take a bunch of assholes to get anything done?" (Ashton, reading Percy like a book: "He likes us!")

And here we go with Laudna enabling Imogen in literally anything even when it means giving up everything. "What if it is your calling? I don't want to stand between you and what you really want—" I am going to s c r e a m

But Laudna goes and asks Keyleth about what was distracting her before: it's Vax, trapped in that orb. "We need to set him free." She also confirms that the bridge is the only connection Exandria has to Ruidus; the moon is completely shielded against divination, teleportation, and everything else. The bridge needs to stay, Vax needs to keep screaming, until their business is done.

Before they leave, FCG casts telepathic bond — y'know, that one spell that allowed the Ring of Brass to hear each others' last thoughts as the ground came up to meet them and that eventually enabled the escape of a flighted scion who carried their memories into the after-times?

Earthbreaker Groon puts a hand on Imogen's shoulder, and she sees a flash of Kord in a roiling storm, and she hears his voice, growling. "You have my eye. There is greatness in you. Do not let us down." "I won't."

something something about how Ruidus being tethered to Exandria may have opened it up to the influence of Exandria's pantheon and the one who would have the greatest influence over the surface and of Imogen's dreams would, of course, be the Storm Lord

But as the preparations end, the two fronts roll out.

Allura, Qi, and Percy accompany the wagons, while Keyleth brings the Bells Hells in close. She casts gaseous form on them all, and they begin their trek toward the Malleus Key.

From above, they can see the illusions overtake the butcher wagons: a charging wave of gargantuan armored beasts, thirty feet high and four arms each, like massive gorillas; rhinos, armored; an entire frontal assault, flanked by massive elementals with flaming rock-wings, the married imaginations of two high arcanists working in tandem.

Their bodies reform at the edge of the crater and Keyleth turns to them. "You have a few minutes to gather your thoughts; then, be on your way." The clouds above her grow thick and dark, flashes of lightning break, and the entire vicinity is as if a thunderous hurricane has touched down in the center of Marquet. Lightning strikes clear a path for them as they don Ruby Vanguard robes, but they can already see the entire perimeter guard doubling as the attention is drawn to the surface, then to the wagons.

Gaseous form lasts for 8 hours, so it could be of use to them down the road — not just now, though, because of how long it takes to transform into and out of the form.

They begin to approach, and horns sound from inside the site — the first group stealth roll of the encounter rounds to about 28-30, so I think they're in the clear for now as dozens of crawlers and Reiloran warriors collide with the illusion. Spells are being flung from inside the illusion, Percy's contraptions fire cannons and explode payloads, the illusion shapes and reacts — it's a magnificent display of arcane prowess as they crest the edge of the Tishtan site.

[jshookthighs]

It looks like we Corey thirsty people are all begging for asks so let me throw the first stone - into your inbox 😅

I'm going feral over those tiny details they put into the movie that just elevated Corey's cute face and demeanor to prime thirst material. Did they plan this meticulously to swoon the audience? Spontaneous genius on set? Who knows. What I mean are especially him sniffing Allison (Allyson?) after storming into her house. And the way she touched his lips/teeth on the motorcycle?? The choccy mily bottle he crashes in his hand, the blood and chocolate mixed together? genius genius I die help 🥴🥴🥴 Can you think of more little things he might do that pepper the lusty and murderous, the feral and unhinged into his shy boy aura? The moment he seems weirdly dangerous all of a sudden - but not to you, never to you, he is both your lap and attack dog. I just crave cuteness blended with murder I guess sob sigh

I’m sorry but they had to know what they were doing putting those scenes in, I really think they all sat around the director’s table and were like “Ok, how do we get people to want to jump this man’s bones? Push the girl against the wall? Yes. Make him get on his knees and grin at her during the dance scene? These people are gonna drool.” - And they were correct, I am now too feral over this man. He is babygirl but also a murderous little bastard. He just makes it look good and I support him <3

As for those little moments where that sweet dorky personality slips into that darker, more primal embodiment - you are correct, he would never hurt you. He loves you, and he wants to protect you. To harm you would be like the ultimate sin. That doesn’t mean he won’t become completely unhinged and needy for every little part of you and your body. When he gets like this he’s twitchy, bouncing all over the place, and practically whining from how hard he tries to control himself because he wants to be a good boy. Your good boy. And good boys wait for permission. Well, sometimes that is.

Kinda NSFW 🔞 so be warned***

You can feel him sinking deeper into that dangerous state of mind when his fingers start tapping on your shoulder/waist/thigh like he’s playing away at a piano - like touching you makes the most exquisite symphony. The anxious bounce of his leg time perfectly with the movement of his fingers. When the melody swells to its peak, he can’t handle it any longer and his hand begins to dance up and around whatever space is available until it starts pushing its way into your clothes. You’re so soft and you feel so warm and now he’s panting while shoving his head into the space where your neck and shoulder meet. Warm puffs of air hit you in rhythmic beats until you feel it: the wet, warm feeling of his tongue poking out to just taste you. He just needs a little taste, honey. All the while his hands a now grabbing and pulling on you till you’re both flush together. Look out babe, he’s in hunt mode now and you’re in one hell of a ride

While he tries to come home to you clean and tidy, sometimes he has a bad day. Unfulfilling night, the victim fought back, some jerks messed with him - either way, he comes home wound up, muscles tight and jaw aching from how hard he’s clenching his teeth together. Blood cakes him head to toe, leaving a drip trail behind him. Footsteps echo through your hallway as he stalks closer to the one thing that can satiate that burning need inside him, begging to come out to play. Seeing the blood on him always makes you jump. Of course you’re worried, you’re always worried about him (with what he does and all). When you see those storms of eyes, black as the night, you know there’s no chance for you. He’s looking at you like prey - a little rabbit under the gaze of the big bad wolf. Your back collides with the wall behind you as shaking hands reach up to cup your face. Warm liquid smears where his fingers dance on your cheeks. He always finds some way to mark you. And you look so pretty in red he can’t help but glide his digit over the full expanse of your bottom lip, like your own personal brand of lipstick. He can’t help but lean down for a taste, and God do you taste good

**Also wanna add that if you cut yourself on accident when chopping veggies or if you get a papercut, Corey will hold your injured hand so gently, cooing about how you’re hurt and how he’ll fix it. But you look so cute and sweet in these moments that sometimes he can’t help but lick the blood off your finger and will even suck it into his mouth, groaning from the flavor. Will then kiss the tip of your finger to “make it feel better” meanwhile you’re trying not to cream your pants lol

On nights like these, where the air is cool and crisp with the smell of autumn on its winds, Corey likes to take you out on evening rides on his motorbike. Driving down the winding backroads on Haddonfield, getting lost on the road with you is like his own form of meditation. When riding with you he makes sure to go a bit slower than the speed limit and pays extra attention to any debris on the road. While he wants you both to have fun, his top priority is keeping you safe. But sometimes he can feel it - that little twitch, that moment where he slips and his mind says “Faster! Go faster!”. A sinister grin pulls at the corners of his lips and he checks one more time that he’s in the clear before cranking the throttle,. The front wheel is forced from off the ground and you both ricochet forward like a snapped rubber band. You can’t help but yelp at the force and wrap your arms as tightly as you can around the man in front of you, holding onto dear life. As the wind whips by your face, tussling your hair all around, you swear you can hear Corey’s laugh over the roar of the engine.

When you do convince Corey to go out to the bars with you, you usually have a great time. That doesn’t mean it’s always a fun and dandy time. You had put on your favorite outfit, the one you knew would make the blush creep up your honey’s neck and over his pretty face when he saw you. In turn, he wore the long sleeve shirt you loved to see him in, which hugged his biceps and highlighted the broad expanse of his back when he moved. drooling over here excuse me  After a drink or two and a good round of dancing, you challenged him to a pool game. Of course, he would never deny you a challenge and took you up on it. You were having fun - talking and laughing amongst yourselves, just enjoying being in each other presence. About halfway through the game, Corey called time out to go to the bathroom. While waiting for his return, a rough-looking man no younger than 40 sauntered up asking if he could play you next. His teeth gleamed yellow and he flashed you a smirk and his hair looked like he had washed it with olive oil. Even worse, he smelled like a gas station and bathroom cologne, the smell burned your nose as he tried to lean in closer. You decline politely saying that you were just playing with your partner. Clearly too drunk and horny to care, the man tries to chat you up. While looking around to try and find Corey in the crowd, you feel a slimy hand wrap around your waist and slide down to the swell of your ass. Just as you turn to slap the bastard, you feel the hand being ripped from you. Everything is moving so fast that the only thing you recognize is the wet *crack* of the creep’s face smashing into the pool table, his nose most definitely breaking on the impact, and a heaving Corey with the look of murder in those black holes of eyes. After lifting the man up and tossing his body to the floor, he’s grabbing your hand and yanking you out of the bar. “Corey, I’m sorry, I told him to leave me alon-” You can’t finish that sentence before he’s twisting around, gripping your neck, and bruising your lips is a violent kiss. “I know sweetheart, but he touched what is mine, so when we get home, I’m gonna erase his existence from your body and make sure everyone knows you belong to me.”

Thank you so much for the ask, I am so grateful. I wish I could’ve made it longer for you but unfortunately, I have to go to class soo. I’m also just so happy that people enjoy my writing. I wish I was more confident in what I put out because I really do love sharing this love of characters with people. Like I feel like ya’ll get me and I do love this community! <3 I love ya’ll!!!

[munsonsamoureuse]

the good die young, but heros never die?

Eddie Munson x Female Reader 

Word Count: 1187

POV: You’re at home when Eddie brings home a friend. 

Clad only in some shorts and your boyfriend's hellfire club tee shirt, you sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea waiting for said lover-boy to return home. 

Eddie Munson was the love of your life, you two had dated since middle school and stayed together even as he got held back one or twice, and you wouldn't change him for the world.

The rattling of the door alerted you to your boyfriend's arrival.

“Honey I'm Homeeeee!” Eddie's voice carried through the door as it swung open. 

“and I brought a VERY special guest!” He sang as he let Chrissy Cunningham in the door before running over to kiss you on the cheek. 

“Chrissy! How have you been, baby!!” Your eyes light up as you hug the petite girl, still clad in her cheer uniform as always. You doted on her a bit as Eddie ran off to dig up the goods for Chrissy. 

“I’ve been better, Eddie said you’d be here though and I wanted to get something from him so I couldn't say no to coming over.” She shyly replied while looking around the room. 

Chrissy Cunningham was the last person you'd expect to be buying from Eddie, love him to death, but you were in no place to judge, we all have our vices and Chrissy was a sweetheart nonetheless. Chrissy was only two or three years younger than you but you had known her almost her whole life. 

Your families had been neighbors growing up and had attended some of school together for almost your whole life. You had spent plenty of time together outside of school as well even though you both came from  different ‘cliques’ as your moms were good friends. Shopping and getting your nails done together, hell she had even helped you pick out your senior prom dress.

“Well babe if you ever need someone to talk to I’m almost always here, maybe we could go get our nails done or something?” You smiled as she nodded enthusiastically, already saying how she wanted to get her nails done red because of something her boyfriend said last time. 

Chrissy had always had problems at home and to you her mother did always seem like the overbearing type anyway. Chrissy had confided in you a few times over your friendship, though the girl bottled up her feelings too much for your liking, so you tried to always play older sister for her as much as you could. With college you had been away from home too much or trying to spend as much time with Eddie the last few years so you hopped maybe with some girl time she'd open back up again. 

“Alright, let me go check where Eddie boys at with the good, god knows whats taking him so long.” You smiled as the girl nodded and walked back to Eddie’s room to check on him. 

You saw Eddie pull a baggie of white pills out from God knows where honestly and frowned a bit. 

“Ed” you whispered “Did she ask for these? Are you sure you should be giving Chrissy anything more than the weed, I mean it's Chrissy baby.” you say folding your arms over your chest as you stare at the bag in his hands. A joint or two sometimes was one thing but this seemed out of charter.  

“I mean she seems to be going through it babe and she asked me for something a little stronger.” Eddie replied. “These are light in comparison to anything else I could get her and I have them on hand, they will just help her relax. Maybe we can talk to her and see what's up. She was saying some crazy fucking shit in the woods today babe.” Eddie said and he pulled you into a short lived hug. 

“You two spending some time together might be a good thing too, you need some girl time from hanging out with me at the boys all fucking day. Plus I know how much you've missed her since  you started college.” You laughed as Eddie led you back out to the living room again. 

“Here we are- Chrissy?” Both of your hearts dropped at the sight before you. Running over Chrissy you grabbed either side of her face and examined her. 

Chrissy’s eyes were rolled back in her head as she stood frozen, almost as if she was possessed. Your heart beat sped up as you shook the girls shoulders, trying you best not to panic. 

“Chrissy!! Chrissy Wake Up!!!” Eddie yelled as he snapped his fingers in front of her face. 

“Chrissy baby, are you okay, can you say anything?” your frantic voice cracked as you tried to get the girl's attention. You felt like you could puke right then and there. 

“Chrissy I don't LIKE THIS!! Chrissy Wake UPP.” Eddie’s voice stressed further as you both tried to wake the girl when suddenly her entire body levitated off the ground and hit the trailer ceiling. 

Both you and Eddie hit the ground screaming. Eddie grabbed your body and dragged you backwards trying to shield you from whatever was doing this to Chrissy. 

Both you and Eddie screamed as every bone in Chrissy’s body snapped, her fingers curling in on themselves and her jaw snapping. You were definitely gonna puke now, you could feel your body jump with every snap of the poor girl's body. 

Eddie dragged you towards the door as Chrissy’s lifeless body hit the floor with a heart dropping thud, both of you still absolutely terrified by the sight in front of you. 

Eddie swept you up, still screaming, and practically threw you in the passenger side of his van while tears streamed down your face. You were extremely nauseous at this point. You felt like the whole world was spinning as you tried to process what just happened while Eddie hopped in the driver seat and started the van. 

“Chri- Chrissy. Chrissy.” Your voice shuddered as your body trembled.”She. She just, she just fucking. Oh my god.” You couldn't even think of words to describe what just happened to your childhood friend.  

“What the Fuck. What the Fuck was that. What the fuck just happend.” Eddie’s voice shook as he tore out of the trailer park, driving god knows where. 

You sat shell shocked as the sight replayed in your head over and over again. Memories of Chrissy and you growing up together flashed through your mind. All the times you've hung out with her or seen her around school. She was dead. Not only dead but god. 

“We're going to Rick’s. I can’t go home. God what if they think we had something to do with that. Babe this is fucked.” Eddie’s voice shook. The car fell into silence.  Chrissy’s lifeless body flashed before his eyes. 

As you both sat reliving the traumatic events that just happened Eddie reached over and took your hand. You leaned into his shoulder as you silently cried over the loss of your dear friend. 

Both your worlds had been turned upside down.

AUTHORS NOTE:

Just a little Eddie Fic I thought of the other day. Hope you guys enjoy.

[cyborg-franky]

Wassup Franky! Hru doing? Can i have Zoro or Law for prompts 4 or 9 of the summer prompts please? Have a very sweet day that you get cavities at the end of it!🍭🍬 Lol I didn't want it to sound like I hate you😭😭

I am gooood thank you and hope you are well too <3 and ah aaah thanks, I try. Its to balance out all the angst I write.

Zoro x GN Reader SFW Prompt: Sunburn Word Count: 537

“You forgot to put on sun cream, didn't you?” You say with a sigh, hands on your hips as you stare down at the swordsman.

“No?” he shrugged his bare shoulders, red and angry from lack of care, being out in the sun all day.

“Then what's this?” you push your finger to his skin and see him wince, trying to hide it as the red skin went lighter under your touch.

“Also, this.” 

You moved his arms out the way, skin color contrasting with the painful red skin. He simply shrugged again and itched his cheek, still not ready to come clean that he had forgotten. He was going to die on that hill apparently.

Rolling your eyes you leave your sunburnt boyfriend, he could hear the sound of something being dragged across the deck, the annoying irritating scratching and scuffing sound of a picnic table being hauled over to his side. The large brightly colored parasol eclipsed the bright sun and Zoro looked up at you, seeing the exasperation on your face before you left his side once more.

A bottle of water in one hand and after sun in the other you knelt down, thrusting the water into his hand and commanding him to drink it, he wrinkled his nose and uncapped it, annoyed it wasn’t beer but he understood the need to hydrate at least, guzzling it down as you opened the after sun, pouring it on your hands.

He wasn't ready for the feeling of your hands over his body, he yelped and almost dropped the bottle. Sure he could withstand great amounts of pain and be able to fight to the death but he sure as hell could be a massive baby when it came to other things.

You fixed him a look as your hands glided across his chest, how his one good eye was narrowed at you, scowl on his face as he carried on drinking the water until it was gone.

“Give me that look all you want, you're the idiot for sitting out like this,” you added with another sigh, rubbing down his arms now.

A grunt was his reply as you rubbed his shoulders, up his neck, and gently rubbed the lotion onto his cheeks, feeling the heat that radiated from the swordsman's skin. Once done you leaned in and kissed his lips.

“There you go, my big baby, alllll done,” you said and he grumbled at your comment.

“Thanks,” Zoro said, not making eye contact as he sat there sulking.

You were about to say something else when he grabbed you, pulling you against him, arms around your waist as you sat in his lap, his legs on either side of you. He leaned back and made you rest against his chest, The breeze felt nice now, in the shade of the parole.

“Nap with me?” he asked through his mumbled tone didn’t give that impression. 

You simply nodded and let yourself smile, enjoying his arms around you, enjoying the salty sea breeze on your face. You could hear his breathing even out, slow, as soft snores field the air. You closed your eyes and started to fall into a comfortable slumber with your boyfriend.

[inkwell-intermission]

Dunno if you're still in school, I just woke up and saw the choose violence post and hell YEAH I'm interested. 1, 8, 22

8: common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

Honestly, its obviously subjective, but there are small things? I think people are wrong when they make Droog Russian. I don't know. I think it's just tired. bonus points if they characterize him as like, Russian and a sociopath or whatever. It's just boring. I also don't like when Sleuth is blond. Bottle blond sure, but do you think that man puts enough effort into his appearance to BOTHER? He barely showers every other day let alone gets metrosexual with it. If a version of Sleuth was going to be a bottle blond you KNOW it would be Scofflaw, Sleuth absolutely does not serve daily hygiene in the way some people draw him 😭

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

This is a hard one because there's so little intermission to begin with, and not that much problem sleuth. I really enjoy the dipshit fop versions of the sleuth team and i never see anything about them i guess? I want to see more of the gentlemen, I should draw some stuff for them at some point. I'm going to put most of 1 under a cut because I'm gonna get into it.

the character everyone gets wrong

Where to start, I've got thoughts on a bunch of characterizations I think are just wrong, but the top four are Pickle Inspector, Die, Clubs Deuce and Droog.

TO START: PICKLE INSPECTOR

Whenever I see PI characterized as a tea drinker I think its very funny but also incorrect. I am fairly certain we never see PI drink tea, outside of possibly some provided by Death. When left to his own devices PI brews his own moonshine and gets absolutely plastered locked in his own office. He keeps his own waste in a glass vase in his office! I don't believe he has long hair as a person either, because he would NOT take care of it. He showers less frequently than Ace or Sleuth. I think if he had long hair that would get so tangled and he would be so stressed and fried about detangling it would never happen and he'd have to cut it all off. I think he cleans up his act a little when Broad comes into his life because he doesn't want to scare her off by being such a disaster, but he's low functioning, very neurotic, and constantly dissociating. Even if he's smart and detail-oriented, I don't believe he channels that into cleaning his own space, maintaining his personal hygiene, or literally just going grocery shopping. He isn't fussy and neat and a tea drinker, he's fussy and snippy and a bit peevish, he's sometimes delusional and dissociative and sitting in his own sweat for days. He needs to be hosed down like a dog at the groomers!!! DIE

This man is also not long haired because he is disgusting and i cannot imagine him taking care of it. he's similar to PI but doesn't dissociate in the same way and expresses his anxieties a lot more externally. I personally headcanon him as having trichotillomania and having very thin hair and eyebrows, and stubby if any eyelashes. He's not in an environment conducive to like. Reducing anxiety. So it's not getting better really. He wears gloves to make it more difficult to pull out individual hairs. If he's a leprechaun with no hair, he probably picks at his skin, and I headcanon leprechauns as having something akin to vellus hairs all over their body giving them a very soft feeling skin, and he would also tear those out. I think he's marginally more fixated on contamination anxiety than PI is, but overall he doesn't have the motivation to take care of himself! He lives a very stressful existence and is like the most frightened and aggressive donskoy cat you've ever seen. I do want to also note that I think him just being a wimp is wrong, i think he is a wimp but responds to threats not by cowering exclusively, but also by brandishing a gun and getting very agitated and i think he bites. TLDR he is not a cute schmoopy to me he is a possum who needs to get its shots (not for rabies. tetanus and the like)

CLUBS DEUCE

I don't have exactly as much to say on deuce that i didn't cover in another post i made about him, but it seems like he gets infantilized a lot sometimes. He's a grown ass adult man, he's just full of whimsy and love and enjoys being alive and setting fires and building things. He's not a toddlerrrrr. I'm not saying everyone treats him like one but he's got like. a full inner life. He's just has some of the best mental health in midnight city

DIAMONDS DROOG

I can go into his character in detail another time, but I'll say a little about how i think he's fanonized so deeply. He is not cool. He just looks cool. He's not verbose, he cultivates a very particular look and sticks to it, but that's not because he's some kind of casanova, or suave. His flat affect is unintentional. His unflappable reputation is nonexistent- he is incredibly violent and prone to temper flare-ups, the only difference is how much he screams or swears compared to Slick, he's almost as violent as him, just not as off-the-handle. He's very specific and detail oriented, but is also INCREDIBLY boring! Not in a bad way, he's just. Normal. I think he has absolutely no imagination skills. his imagination stat is like a paradox. He simply doesn't imagine anything new! When the Draconian Dignitary puts the ring on in Homestuck that one time, and he doesn't get a whole big transformation? HE COULDN'T IMAGINE HIMSELF AS ANYTHING COOLER! And, i also think he's autistic (like me), and that ties into how i think he's so uncomfortable with change or going outside of his specific ass comfort zone. He's not cool, or even sexy, its all a facade. He calls the number on clothes catalogues to interrogate underpaid employees about the kinds of seams on their trousers and the fabric treatments they use on their products for hours. He eats one of three things when he goes out if he goes out at all. He has a hundred opinions on alcohol and cigars and he doesn't even like smoking cigars firsthand because the flavors too strong. He lives a highly internal life. If he wore a collarless overshirt he would die. He wouldn't even wear a funny tie of his own volition! He's kind of a killjoy dipshit! AND I LIKE HIM FOR IT! Thank you for listening to my thoughts.

[froggyworlds]

@shmorp-mcdurgen

you wear guilt… like shackles on your feet (like a halo in reverse)

I can feel… the discomfort in your seat (but in your head it’s worse)

/lyr

trigger warnings for MAJOR SUICIDE MENTION. IM NOT KIDDING., body horror, and uhh… I think that’s it actually

Mark irls and fictives pls stay safe

There were, of course, a million ways Mark could kill himself.

Now that he wasn’t made of forever-regenerating porcelain, it wouldn’t be hard. The window was right there, accompanied by the memory of shattering glass and the snapping of a neck. So was his revolver, to finish the job it had started so long ago. Not to mention about a thousand other solutions to the problem labeled, in big red letters, “THE LIFE OF MARK HEATHCLIFF.” There were knives in the kitchen downstairs. A bottle filled with pain medicine in the bathroom. He could even just sit here until he starved.

Currently, the last one seemed like the most likely option for him.

He’d lost count of how long, exactly, he’d been sitting on the side of his bed, picking absentmindedly at his fingernails, staring at the bloodstained carpet still littered with bullet shells he’d never had the strength to clean up. For… at least a day (Probably more. Time was a blur.), he’d listened to nothing but his heart beating. It took him a while to convince himself it was real.

It was a welcome sound, honestly. He hadn’t felt his own heartbeat for… Nevermind, not even going to try to think about that right now. Having his own body heat was nice, too. Being human again, for all the pain it brought, was far more favorable compared to the other option.

Mark had no idea how bad he looked at the moment- yes, he felt like shit, but his appearance was either a hell of a lot worse or a hell of a lot better than he thought it was. He hadn’t dared look in a mirror yet, or even move from this spot since… whatever had happened. He still wasn’t sure exactly why he was human again, but at least all of his face was intact.

He was also thankful there wasn’t a chorus of voices coming from the side of his head every time he thought about something too hard. The memory of the CRACK of concrete against skull sang through his mind, and for once it didn’t repeat at him out loud. There were no voices he could actually hear muttering about broken friendships when he remembered the twisted satisfaction of finally, finally getting the chance to punish Cesar for leaving him to die.

Even without the voices, he could still remember in awful clarity the first time he’d gotten so furious… the sickening snap of bone and muscle rearranging, the tangy smell of blood and wail of screams piercing the chilly night air-

Mark felt like he was going to throw up.

Thatcher probably feels like that, too.

The boy pulled his knees into his chest, the movement taking considerably more effort than what one would think was required. …That wasn’t a great sign.

Good.

He deserved to die alone here. That’s what he was supposed to do in the first place, anyways.

It was strange, having to walk places instead of hover above the ground. He didn’t know when he forced himself out of the fetal position, when he decided that starving to death and drowning in guilt wasn’t what he wanted, but the next thing Mark knew he was standing on wobbly legs and leaning against his bed, head swimming with vertigo.

He deserved the discomfort, he knew, but that didn’t make it feel any better.

Where had all of that anger went? It was so much easier to hate everyone. It was exhausting, and it hurt, but it was better than this. Now all he wanted to do was scream and sob and feel something other than the invisible shackles dragging him down by his ankles.

Like a halo in reverse, some almost-forgotten song lyric offered, though Mark didn’t remember anything else about where or when he’d heard it from.

He managed to find his way to the door of his room, turning the knob with a pang of finality. He didn’t want to come back here after he left. He wanted to go and bury himself in a ditch somewhere and never speak to anyone ever again. It’s what Mark deserved.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, fighting back the sudden wave of tears trying to escape his eyeballs. Maybe this was a bad idea, trying to get up and do something; he was already feeling overwhelmed. Starvation was a pitiful way to go, but Mark Heathcliff was a pitiful boy.

Somehow, he managed to make his way to the bottom of the stairs. He’d finally realized that all sight in his right eye was gone- no depth perception, and a weird tingly feeling around that side of his face to match. He did his best to ignore it, but part of him just wanted to claw his entire face off.

Mark doubted there was anything edible in the fridge downstairs. His whole house had been collecting dust for years, and it wasn’t like he’d gone grocery shopping or even had the need to eat since-

A choked sob escaped his throat, and Mark only partially consciously tapped out a string of curses in Morse code against the wall he was leaning on.

The boy’s mind once again circled back around to the knives laying around in the kitchen, but the couch was closer, and he hesitated only a moment before remembering that he wasn’t made out of porcelain anymore and he wouldn’t shatter on impact.

He let out an “oomph” and just layed there for a while, trying to work up the strength to get into a sitting position. Eventually he did, which was surprising.

Now came the hard part.

A shaky hand reached for the phone nearby, and Mark managed to half-blindly stab in the phone number he was looking to call.

It rang. Then rang again. Mark internally counted off until the receiver picked up, and a voice - one he recognized all too well - answered.

“…Hello?”

Mark opened his mouth, then shut it, unable to form a coherent line of dialogue or even a single word.

He could practically sense Jonah Marshall’s quiet confusion from the other end. After a few beats of silence, the other man said,

“If this is a prank call… haha, very funny.”

Mark heard another voice in the background, one that sent his nerves firing, and inhaled sharply. He couldn’t make out what Cesar said, but he was there, and he apparently had a mouth again.

That was a good sign. Cesar didn’t deserve an existence of agony at Mark’s hands. If only Mark could’ve gone back in time and told his past self that before all of this happened in the first place.

He heard something about “hanging up” from Cesar and panicked. If there was ever a bad time not to be able to speak, it was now.

Finally he wrestled a sound of his throat:

“Wait-”

Any movement on the other side of the call immediately ceased.

Jonah’s voice was suddenly much smaller than before, a slight tremor of fear in his voice that simultaneously made Mark feel oddly powerful and tremendously guilty.

“…what?”

Mark panicked for a moment, because now he had Jonah’s attention, but he still couldn’t- and then he mentally slapped himself. Duh.

He quickly tapped out a pattern in Morse code: Is Cesar there.

He knew he was, but, y’know, common courtesy; also his brain felt like overseasomed scrambled eggs at the moment.

Some shuffling noises, and after a moment he heard something of a whimper from the other end, clearly belonging to Cesar.

Nerves spiking, Mark took another deep breath and started tapping again. He had to make this apology count. If nothing else, he had to at least try to make amends with the one man who might forgive him, even if he didn’t deserve it.

Maybe Mark didn’t deserve anything. But he was allowed to be a selfish bastard and apologize anyways, right?

[totally-not-deacon]

Wow, I actually finished a full-ass chapter, and a LONG one too!! I dunno the last time I did that, cause damn was that writer's block took ages to get over. Still gotta do some touch-ups, but either way - yay!

Hell, I'll gift y'all with an excerpt, cause poor Lucien needs some pity lmao

“So, what do you think?” Lucien held his arms out, showing off the simple set of leather armor he’d picked up. They’d met him outside the smithy, bags packed and ready to move just as the sun began peeking over the treeline. “Gonna end up with your head bashed in without a helmet.” Nebarra grumbled, definitely nursing quite the hangover, leaving him even more ill-tempered than usual. Lucien paled. Marasa was feeling a bit kinder that morning, though her own stomach was rolling from the night before. “He’s not wrong, but you can pick one up in Helgen, I guess. Just hang back, let us take the lead for now.” It was good advice. They’d hardly made it a mile before running into a small group of bandits attempting to operate a trap across the road. It seemed none of knew how to actually operate the trap, though, as try as they might none of them could could get the mechanism to release the pile of large rocks over their heads. Marasa kept her shield high against the onslaught of arrows they resorted to, darting down the center of the road and drawing their attention, giving Nebarra the opportunity to hit them hard and unhindered from the side. She took shelter behind a small ledge, drawing her own bow. Her first shot just missed but the second struck true, striking one of the bandits in the back, causing him to topple from the top of their rope bridge and land in a crumpled heap. Another took an arrow to the thigh, hobbling him until Nebarra cut him down without mercy, tossing the corpse down with the others. All in all, it was over in just a few moments. Once the dust settled, Lucien emerged wide-eyed from behind the large tree they’d left him at. “Of course they’re all broke as shit. Can’t even do banditry right.” Marasa huffed, crouched over and rooting through their pockets and packs for anything worthwhile. Just junk and a few skooma bottles she refused to touch. She looked up at Lucien’s approach. “Oh good, you didn’t die.” “Nothing like a little massacre to start the day off right.” Nebarra came marching over, mood having improved significantly after getting his blade well-bloodied. He noticed Lucien gawking at the red splattered across his armor, looking green in the face. It was obvious he was beginning to have doubts about this arrangement already. Nebarra jeered, “What, first time?” “You can’t feel sorry for these sad sacks. They’d cut you down in a second given half a chance.” She had to admit, comfort wasn’t her strong suit, but hopefully she could at least keep the man from fainting out of shock. Lugging his limp body around wasn’t in the plan. She gave up searching for valuables, groaning when her knees cracked as she stood. “Little more than animals, really.” “That was all… very intense.” He mumbled, still spooked. “I guess I didn’t realize just how violent Skyrim could be.” “That? Ohoho, that was nothing.” Nebarra sounded downright giddy now. “I should tell you of the time I gutted no less than a dozen legionaries back to back after we caught them off guard in a camp just outside Taneth. A few even tried to fight back! Now that was a good time!” Oh yeah, Lucien definitely was regretting this.

[hexagonalhavoc]

Sick Days

Kidd Shrewd (human swk) x Reader 

[Author’s Note: This can be seen as either romantic or platonic. Enjoy!]

     “What the hell are mint tissues?” Kidd utters to himself as he holds a box of tissues, lightly tossing it in the air before catching it. His talking did not go unnoticed as a few people within the drugstore give the man a questioning glance. 

He had gotten used to the stares a long time ago as he always preferred to dress more flashy rather than casual. The bright orange mullet probably didn’t help either. 

For so long Kidd has been on his own so he’s not used to taking care of a sick person but he cares for you enough to get you what you might need to aid your sickness. He won’t lie though it’s very overwhelming. Why is there so many different types of cold medicines!? How is he supposed to know which one to choose!?

The plastic shopping basket in his arms are filled to the brim with random things he thinks you would like. He even gets you seven different flavors of cough drops because he doesn’t know which flavor you’d prefer but he doesn’t want to bother you by texting you. 

He knows how much you hate being sick, you get restless and feel guilty that you can’t do anything. He has to constantly remind you that it’s okay to need rest. You don’t seem to understand that you don’t always have to be okay. So he’s going to take this rare opportunity to make sure that you’re giving yourself a break. 

The worker at the cashier shot him a glare as they saw all the menial items they’d have to scan. 

“Sir do you really need this much ginger ale?” 

“It’s an emergency, you wouldn’t understand.” Getting bothered by the slow pace of the cashier he grabs the scanner from their hand and starts doing it himself. The cashier looks like they want to smack him for getting in their space. 

———— 

The front door opens and you peek from your spot on the couch to see your roommate walking in with a great amount of shopping bags. 

“What took you so long?” You ask as you sit up on the couch, even the simple action causes your head to throb. You weren’t asking from a place of impatience you just didn’t think it would take him 45 minutes to get you a few items. It turns he got you a lot more than just a few. 

“I wanted to make sure you got everything you needed.” Kidd sits on the floor in front of the couch as he takes various items out of the bag. 

A lot of the stuff is unnecessary but you’re flattered that he was going out of his way to get you everything he thought you may need. Your eyes brighten at all the snacks and drinks he got you. 

“You really didn’t have to do this.” You say as you pick a snack from the bag. 

“I wanted to.” He smiles, placing a new bottle of water by your side. It’s not a lie as there’s very few things he wouldn’t do for you. You’re like his ride or die so of course he’s going to have your back. 

[darklydeliciousdesires]

From Blood, Love and Courage - Chapter Twelve.

So, the update is a day early as I don’t know when I’ll have chance tomorrow. Thank you everyone for your feeback on the last, it wasn’t an easy thing to write, and I can imagine not for you guys to read, either, so I’m truly appreciative. We’re back on the unlock feature now as well, 25 notes on this will unlock next Tuesday’s update.

Previous chapters - One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven

Words - 4,798

Tag list - In the comments, please message to be added/removed

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

They sat in silence for a long time, silence save her frightened wails, Angel rocking her in his arms until she began to settle, his brow furrowed, Lily curled right into him like a little wounded bird seeking refuge in the embrace of a bigger, more formidable protector, Angel's jaw set tightly as the same thought washed through his mind like a ceaseless wave. ‘They’re dead. Whoever did this to my baby, they’re dead.’  

“Bish, can you call Maggie?”  

He nodded, getting up and heading outside to contact his wife, Taza remaining behind the bar, pounding back bourbon as he finally let himself deal with pretty much the same thing Angel had in mind. Murder. Whoever had done this to his sweet Lilypad would die for it, but he knew he wouldn’t be the man to hand it to him. It wasn’t his job.  

“Lily, I need to get you to Maggie, alright? You need help, she needs to check you over,” he spoke softly, stroking her back. She nodded, gulping.  

“Okay.” She didn’t even sound like her, and it broke him even more.  

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to ask this, but can you tell me what happened? Did you get a look at the guy who did this to you?” Immediately, she tensed all over, burrowing back against his neck, hugging the blanket around herself more, hiding her face within it. “Okay, sweet pea. You don’t have to say a word if you don’t wanna talk. Just know I’m here when you want to. I love you.”

Her trembles began again, Angel stroking her, kissing her hair, rocking her gently just as Bishop came back in. “She’s on her way, she’ll take you both over to the clinic.” It was fortunate that Maggie was the primary MD at the medical clinic she worked at, meaning she could see Lily off the books, the unspoken notion that of course, this would be handled by the MC and not the police. Whoever had done this to Lily had an unmarked grave in their future, not a jail cell for some pitifully unjust sentence they’d likely receive. Bishop then made a motion towards the bar, raising his eyebrows. 

“Patron. Big fucking measure.” An understandable request from Angel, he thought. Hell, if it was him in his place, he’d be gulping it back right from the bottle. He nodded, gesturing at Lily. Angel asked her if she wanted anything, but she shook her head, Bishop heading for the bar, Taza already having the requested big measure poured. He took it back, Angel sinking it in two gulps, not feeling much better for it. He wagered he’d likely need to finish the entire bottle to sedate the kind of rage and heartbreak he had swirling around within him.

Maggie arrived just under a half hour later, Angel thanking both Bishop and Taza, the former telling him he’d explain everything to EZ when he arrived back, Angel feeling bad that in his haste to return to Lily’s side, he’d completely forgotten to alert his brother to the fact she’d turned up. Opening the back door of the Chrysler Voyager, he gently placed her down, Lily clutching onto him and making a frightened squeak of reluctance, Angel quick to reassure her. “It’s okay, I’m not leaving you. It’s alright.”

She shuffled over, lying down on the back seat, Angel fastening a belt around her middle after he got in, Maggie turning to them, her eyes glassy as she looked at Lily.

“Hi, baby. I’m going to try and make this a little better for you, at least for your comfort. Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry this happened.” She sniffed, drying her eyes, reaching to squeeze Angel’s thigh before turning back and starting the engine. Maggie had thought the first time she’d have Lily enter her clinic would be for when she was due to have her contraceptive implant changed that coming October, not for something like this, for the horrific event of being checked over after being raped. She’d had experience in it before, and it was heartbreaking, to see the physical damage inflicted upon a woman in the wake of such.  

They remained silent throughout the journey, Lily hugging Angel’s thigh as he stroked her hair, holding one of her hands. If only he’d hit the road sooner, he might have seen it, seen her being dragged off somewhere, been able to put a bullet through the man who had taken her before he ever had chance to violate her. Why didn’t he leave sooner? What part of his stupid brain couldn’t work out that if she was late, it didn’t matter how much of a badass she was, if she wasn’t answering her phone, then it spelled out that she was likely in trouble?  

Before he could beat himself mentally any further, they arrived at the clinic, Angel carrying her from the car, still swathed in the blanket, Maggie going ahead to open up and turn off the alarm. Her office was down at the end of the hall, the cleanly scented environment pleasant, Lily looking up at a picture on the wall and thinking how odd it was, that she even registered it to be a nice print, wondering how her brain could even make room for that observance when everything else within her mind was utter chaos.  

“Do you want us to give you a minute, while you change into this?” Maggie asked, pulling a fresh gown from its packet after they’d entered. Lily immediately burrowing herself against Angel again. Her heart went out to her, the thought of him being even out of touching distance to her much too frightening to bear. Maggie got it; Angel was safety to her. He was where nothing and no one could hurt her again. “I’ll wait outside, give you some privacy.”  

Lily nodded, waiting for the door to close, not moving immediately, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat comforting to her, eventually peeling herself away from his chest. She pulled off her t shirt, wincing slightly, Angel seeing all the bruises, cuts and welts all over her, that feeling of being pierced by something hitting him again as his eyes toured her injuries, helping her into the purple gown, fastening the back while she pushed her shorts down her legs.  

Wincing, she gasped in pain when attempting to bend and pick them up tore a razors edge of pain through her, Angel reaching to grab them instead. When he noticed the amount of blood straining at the crotch, a feeling of pure horror flooded him, closing his eyes. “Jesus Christ.” he stammered quietly, folding them, placing them on the side with her t-shirt. He could have burst into tears for her right then, holding the lump in his throat firmly. It wasn’t his time to be upset. He couldn’t fall apart, not now.

She slipped her feet from her vans before carefully shuffling onto the examination bed, taking a breath as Maggie called if she was ready from outside. “Yeah.” she called weakly.  

“Do you want me to stay?” Angel asked, Lily reaching for his hand immediately. He stood back as much as she’d let him, Maggie pulling on a pair of surgical gloves, beginning to check her over, beginning with her face.  

“Okay, I’m thinking this is likely fractured from the swelling,” she began, gently touching her cheek. “Some trauma to your eyeball, the white is bloodshot. I’m just going to shine a light in your eye, is that okay?” she nodded, Maggie watching her pupil react as it should have. “Is your vision normal?”  

“Blurry at times. I think I have a concussion. I’ve had two before.” Maggie nodded, making Lily follow her finger. Her eyes didn’t react to the movement as they should have, confirming her suspicion. It didn’t surprise her, feeling through her hair and checking her scalp for any trauma wounds, finding a few bumps, but no broken skin. She checked inside her mouth, finding a few cuts from likely being punched, the soft tissues hitting her teeth, one of which was a little loose. “Leave it alone and it’ll reset itself in the gum. You might find that the nerves have died, but your dentist will be able to deter that with ultrasonic pulses.” She then checked the cuts upon her neck, noting she’d need stitches in a few places, the blade looking to have at least been sharp. Knife cuts from a blunt blade were far worse.  

“Can you wiggle all of your fingers?” Lily demonstrated that she could, Maggie checking her range of motion in her arms.  

“I think my ribs are broken, on my right side.”  

Maggie nodded. “May I lift your gown to look?” Lily okayed that, Maggie gently checking, the bruising very angry already. Yes, definitely broken. She checked her abdomen as well, noticing scuffs and bruises there too. “Muscular damage in your abdomen, severe bruising.” she noted, gently pressing, Lily hissing in pain, gripping Angel’s hand. She then checked her legs, noting her ankle was swollen but not broken, asking her to wiggle her toes, Lily not able to move particularly well on her lower half, namely because of the pain radiating from between her legs. That was the part Maggie wasn’t relishing in having to inspect.  

“Okay, I’m going to have to examine you internally now, which will require that I clamp you open, like when you have a cervical screening. I’ll numb the area first, though. Are you okay for me to do that?” Lily blinked tears down her face, but nodded, lying back, her nails digging into the flesh of Angel’s hand as her chest began to rise and fall with nerves, Maggie popping her feet up in place before turning on the overhead light, taking what she needed to begin numbing her up.  

“Try to relax, deep breaths.” Angel took a seat on a small stool he pulled out behind the counter, pressing his cheek to hers and stroking the other side of her face, soothing her when she began to whimper out of panic. As soon as she felt the clamp press, she screamed, shutting her legs immediately, gripping onto him. His heart broke for her all over again. Her scared wailing filled the room, Maggie remaining in retreat, stroking her shin lovingly, Angel holding her tight, looking up at Maggie and shaking his head.  

“I have to,” she lamented, gesturing. “This amount of blood, she likely has serious internal tears that need to be treated. Lily, honey, if you say it’s okay, I’m going to give you a mild sedative, so you won’t feel anything. You’ll be all dreamy, you won’t be scared, and I can patch you up and have you all done by the time you come round again. Can I do that for you? You’ve been so, so brave, but I think you might need some help now, something to help you relax. I don’t want you to go through anything else painful or traumatic tonight if I can help make that better for you.”  

She composed herself, her breathing shaky, wracked by sobs, nodding eventually. Maggie got up, removing her gloves before heading out, needing to visit the supply room to locate the sedative she intended to use. Coming back in, she also sorted what she needed to stitch and dress her neck wounds, locating a syringe and pulling back the small amount required, wiping her inner arm with an alcohol swab before injecting her. She waited, the shot taking about a minute to kick in, Lily’s eyes fluttering shut as her body relaxed, Angel still holding her hand and stroking her hair, letting out a long sigh.  

He let her work, looking down at Lily’s face, glad she had a little relief from it all, if only for a short time. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, the one that hadn’t been fractured, kissing her forehead lovingly. All he wanted was to get her home and hold her. No. All he wanted was for this not to have happened to his precious sweet pea. Once Maggie was done, she went to the cupboard and pulled out a pair of scrub pants from a packet, slipping them on before arranging Lily’s legs comfortably once more, pulling the gown back down and removing her gloves as she stood.  

“Honestly, how bad?” Angel asked, with obvious trepidation.

She took a breath, her eyes full of sadness. “Honestly?” He nodded. “I’ve treated rape victims in the past. Lily is one of the worst I’ve seen.” He put his head down on the bed next to her, muttering something, his hands tightening their grasp on hers. When he emerged, his eyes were glassy, Maggie continuing her explanation softly.  

“She has tears and bruising, of which should heal within four to six weeks. She has dissolvable stitches, so there’ll be no need to have them removed. It’ll likely burn when she tries to take a pee, though, so numbing cream should help with that. She won’t be able to be submerged in water for about a fortnight, but after that an Epsom salts bath can be helpful for healing. Until then, just showers only. I would say obviously no use of tampons either, but I know from her implant that she doesn’t get periods, so that’s moot. I’m going to stitch her neck while she’s still out, if you could just move over a scooch.”  

He did, pulling his phone out, seeing he had a message from his brother, asking how they both were. ‘Bad. I’ll call you in the morning’ was his quick reply. By the time her wounds were cleaned and stitched, Maggie cleaning down all her scrapes as well, Lily was beginning to come round, looking down to see herself more covered thanks to the pair of scrub pants she’d had put on her, Maggie asking what she wanted to do with her clothes.  

“I don’t want them. Hold on.” she reached beneath the gown, removing her strapless bra and handing that over, too, not wanting to take a single piece of clothing away with her that she’d been wearing when it happened. Maggie said she’d incinerate them, picking up two bottles of pills and pack of dressings.  

“Painkillers, and sleeping tablets, just in case you have issues falling asleep. You’ll likely want to take a shower once you arrive home, so pop the dressings on once you’re done. Obviously, just use warm water between your legs and some unscented soap. Actually, I have some of that here.” she rifled through her cupboard, finding a bottle of mild liquid soap and putting it into her bag for her, Lily placing in the other items she held. “I explained to Angel that you needed some internal stitches as well as external, but they’re all dissolvable. You should be healed within six weeks, no taking baths for two. After that, Epsom salts baths will help ease any lasting soreness. Now, where am I taking you home to, your place or Angel’s?”

“Angel’s. It’s closer. I’ll text Johan, he has my spare key, ask him to go down and feed Charlie.” she spoke, firstly to Maggie, and then to her boyfriend. Thank god she had an abundance of her stuff at his, meaning she wouldn’t have to mess around going to collect things that she needed from her place first. All she wanted as to shower and get in bed. She was exhausted, in pain, and more mentally muddled than she’d ever felt before in her entire life. Nothing felt right. The only thing settling to her frayed, traumatised state was the strong presence of Angel, carrying her back out to the car, Lily sitting next to him, her head against his chest in his arms, staring blankly as they were transported back to his.  

She felt like she was on autopilot, not really herself at the helm, still a little woozy from the sedative, but still, beyond that, like she wasn’t really there. It kept hitting her in waves, what had happened, her mind not truly able to process it, yet at the same time, it was all she could think. ‘I was raped. I’m a rape victim. And they’re still out there.’ That was another reason she wanted to be at Angel’s place, just in case they knew where she lived. She knew it was unreasonable, that they likely didn’t, and wouldn’t be able to get near her wherever she was with the threat of the man who would shoot them in the head without hesitation by her side, but still. It was her reasoning, and no one would question it for a second.  

She was vaguely aware of Maggie saying something sweet to her, telling her she was only at the end of phone if she needed her before Angel lifted her from the car, carrying her to the house. “What can I do?” he asked, as soon as they were inside, locking and bolting the door behind them. She seemed to relax a little at that.  

“I need to take a shower, but I... I don’t want to be alone.” He could understand that. He knew she likely wouldn’t let him leave her side in the hours that would follow this, nor would he want to. Whatever she needed, he would fulfil. She limped through the house with him to the bathroom, Angel turning the shower on and undressing, Lily removing the gown and scrub pants, sighing as she looked down at herself, taking the soap from her bag and a fresh wash cloth from the linen shelf before walking in, the warm water hitting her, making her feel refreshed immediately, carefully washing herself down.  

The water turned pink from the tinges of dried blood she sloughed from her skin, yet even when she was clean all over, purified, she still felt dirty, sullied by it, by them. A broken little sob exited her mouth as she turned, resting her cheek to Angel’s thick chest, his arms wrapping around her as she began to cry, everything within her shattered to pieces, lost in the storm of what they’d put her through as the water rained down on them.  

It was a vast, black void within her, a place where empty winds scraped like blades over weakened flesh, a place where no sunshine dared to brighten the desolateness, a landscape dark and baren, devoid of anything joyful. And it was inside of her, growing, feeding off her misery, her shame, her sadness.  

She couldn’t even imagine how she’d feel, going through this without him, her beloved Angel. He leaned back against the tiles, stroking her, kissing her head, wishing with every fibre within him that he could take it all away for her, like glass from a wound, pick it out and throw it away, stitch her wounds and kiss them better.  

He couldn’t. And it killed him.  

“I love you so much.” Taking her face in his hands, he pressed his forehead to hers, kissing her softly, his lips finding each tear as they fell thereafter, resting his chin atop her head when she leaned against him once more. He had no idea how long they stayed there for, washing her hair for her, quickly rinsing his as well before they got out, Angel wrapping her up in all the soft towels she’d brought and he’d complained about being too fluffy, quickly drying off and pulling on a pair of clean boxers once back in the bedroom, Lily hunting out some of her comfortable, soft cotton undies and pulling them on carefully with his help before sliding beneath the bed covers, curling up against him.

She winced, trying to get comfortable, pulling out a pillow from beneath her head and placing it between her thighs. “It hurts to lie with my legs shut.” Continuing to shuffle, she still couldn’t find comfort, muttering that it wasn’t the right height, stuffing the pillow back atop the other. She was just about to turn onto her back when Angel gently grasped beneath her knee, draping her leg across his hips.  

“That better?”

It was. It didn’t put pressure on her stitches. Internal fucking stitches. She’d expected to perhaps first experience those after giving birth, not because three men took it upon themselves to brutalise her. “Yes, that’s way better.”

“Is there anything you want, or need for me to be doing that I’m not?” His consideration of her made what was truly intolerable pain, both mentally and physically, more manageable. She shuddered to think how she’d feel if there was no Angel by her side. Just him being there and asking what he could do was a support she was thankful for.

She shook her head, curling against him further, breathing in the scent of his soap fresh skin. She knew that eventually, she had to detail to him what had happened to her, so he could go about putting those grievous wrongs right. She knew this wouldn’t be a matter for the police; if an outlaw’s girlfriend was raped, the perpetrators ceased to exist. She knew Angel was that kind of man, and she wasn’t about to stop him from being that man either.  

After the terror they’d put her through, she was fine with the idea of all three of them eventually ceasing to breathe at his hands. If they were dead, they could never do it to another woman.

The thought of actually verbalising it all, though, even to him? It frightened her, made her heart race, because she knew detailing in explanation would make what had happened to her even more real. For that moment, she needed to build a wall between it, to just find a little stillness, to bask in the affection and safe embrace of a man who wasn’t ever going to hurt her like that, of her man, who loved her.  

“Do I still have any of those no sugar lemonade cans in the fridge?” she asked a while later. “And do you have weed? I could do with mental cloudiness. Being sedated earlier was nice.”

He kissed her head, gently shifting from beneath her, Lily carefully rolling onto her back. “I’ll be right back.” She shuffled around, wincing, trying to think back to any MMA related injuries that had hurt as much. Of course, there hadn’t been any. This was completely standalone.

Pushing up, she leaned back against the pillows, taking the very large lit blunt Angel handed to her, the soda can too before he climbed back into bed. She took a couple of her painkillers, leaving the bottles on the nightstand, abstaining from the sleeping pills. If she could sleep under the sedation of weed, she’d prefer that.

She sipped at her soda, passing the blunt back and forth with him, feeling a little more settled. Everything was still hell within, but it had been somewhat smoothed. When her painkillers kicked in, as well as the realisation that they were of the very strong variety, she finally felt her eyelids grow heavy. It was what she needed, to just not be awake, Angel stubbing out the half smoked blunt and pulling her close again so she could rest comfortably after turning off the light.  

Sadly, it was only two hours before nightmares over her ordeal forced her waking with a scream, thrashing around out of terror.

“Baby, it’s alright, you’re alright, shhhh,” he comforted her with, turning the bedside lamp back on, her screams ceasing, breathing ragged as she allowed him to pull her against his chest, gripping one of his arms, crying hard.  

“I hate this, I hate it! I... I was so scared, Angel! I couldn’t protect myself, it just... and... I...” she gasped, taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself.  

“I know, fuck, baby. I can’t even imagine how frightened you were, but you’re safe now. No one is gonna get a chance to do this to you again, I swear it. When I find him, he’s gone. Painfully, too. Dude’s gonna get torn to shreds for what he did to you.” The rage, oh god, the rage that pulsed through every fibre of his being towards whoever it was whom had done this to her. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before.  

Lily turned to him, stroking his face, seeing the pain and anger in his eyes. It’d be so much worse, when he knew what had happened, but she knew she had to tell him. Reaching behind him, she picked up the ashtray, taking the blunt and lighting it, needing to feel calmed again. She was silent, contemplating it all as she smoked, curling her legs up to her chest despite the pain, reaching for his hand. “It wasn’t one,” she sobbed, sniffing. “It was three.”  

He felt like he had a jagged boulder tumbling through his insides, hearing her correction. “Three?” he exclaimed in whisper, his grip on her hand tightening. No wonder she was in such bad shape internally. Three of them? He could barely comprehend it.

She nodded, finger combing her damp hair. “They must’ve been tailing behind me for a while, way back down the street so I wouldn’t notice the car. I think it was dark red, or purple. Might have been a Chevrolet of some type. Anyway, they got out, took my phone and dragged me into an alleyway, I think by the side of the food warehouse. They gagged me, beat me, and then each took their turn. The first one, I thought I recognised his voice, but I’m not sure. They all wore balaclavas, but I could tell that two were white and one was black, and he had the gold things on his top teeth, the...” she began, gesturing to her own mouth.  

“Grills,” Angel filled in for her.  

“Yeah, and it had something engraved on them, but I can’t remember what. He told me that I was really enjoying it, though, called me a slut, called me dirty. Him and the first guy, they were into it, but the third, not so much. He pulled the gag out of my mouth when it began to choke me, said I’d die if he didn’t. When it was him, you know... he didn’t seem like he wanted to. He never hit me either, just held me down. Then, after it was over, they beat me some more and left me there.

“I’ve never been so fucking frightened. I begged them to stop, but I just got punched some more, told to shut up. I wanted to die, it hurt so much, it was... it was so horrible. I can’t even begin to process it; I don’t know how to. I don’t know how to carry on. I don’t feel like me any longer.”  

She began gasping again, crying hard as he held her. He had no idea what to say in the wake of that, but he had to try to tell her something, stroking her hair lovingly, closing his eyes for a few moments as he swallowed back the lump in his throat after hearing it, the harrowing account of what had befallen his beloved. “You’re probably not gonna feel like you for a while, but you will, when some time has passed. Just take it one day at a time, and know I’m always, always gonna be right here for you. I don’t know how I can make it better, but I want to try where I can, listening when you need to talk, doing whatever you need me to as well.”  

She turned to him, stroking his face. “Thank you. You’ve taken such good care of me, and I love you for it. I couldn’t get through this if I was alone.”  

He learned close to her, kissing her shoulder. “You’ll never be alone in this, I’m here. I love you so much.” After finishing the joint, she settled down again, Angel hoping that when she eventually fell asleep, it would be dreamless, that she could rest. While she lay there sleeping, he went to the bathroom, pulling the lid down on the toilet and sitting there, finally allowing the tears he’d fought against to fall, crying for her, for everything she’d gone through, beyond heartbroken. Why her? Why his baby? Just what the fuck possessed not one, but three men to do that to her?  

He covered his face with his hands as it washed over him in waves, the pain of seeing her so broken, the rage of what had happened, and the resolve of his pledge in light of it all.  

When he found them, they would not breathe.  

They would die in agony for what they had done to her.  

[reaperkiller]

hiii ok 1.8k words babes! the long awaited jason/eric reunion. but not awaited at all actually. and also it’s jason before he is. jason™. tee hee

brief mention of alcohol and a lot of mentions of blood, injury etc.

Well. Shit.

This was supposed to be a weeked like any other - getting blackout drunk, remembering absolutely none of it, and then waking up on Monday morning wondering why anyone would ever do that to themself. And then do it all over again.

It was the only way Eric could make it through the week. The hours between sleep and work were lonely enough, but two whole days to himself? Torture, basically. He hadn’t been able to remember a single weekend for close to seven years now.

But this one? This one was different.

When he woke up, he didn’t think he’d be ending the day on his knees, knife in hand, covered in blood, staring down at a dead body on the living room floor. He didn’t think it would’ve been his son’s body, either. But it was. Did he kill his son? Yes. Of course. He didn’t, but he did. It had to be done. There was no other choice.

There was another choice. There’s always another choice, but in this case, there may as well have been no other option at all. Die by your own hand, or spend the rest of eternity and forever in an endless cycle of dying, dying, dying. No one’s ever chosen that option, though, so whether or not it’s real… No one wants to find out. And there was no way in hell Eric was going to let his son be the first.

The waking nightmare started early into the night, around 9pm, when Eric was about to start downing his eighth beer of the night. He cracked it open, put the bottle to his lips, and then the front door swung open with so much force that, for a brief moment, he thought there was a hurricane that he somehow missed. Either that, or a particularly strong and mischievous cat. While one would have been far more ideal than the other, the reality of the situation was much worse, much harder to stomach.

Alex. In the doorway, beaten, bruised, bloody, clutching onto his stomach in a very weak attempt to stop the bleeding. Clearly, that hadn’t worked. He was covered, and it was starting to pool on the floor. He was gripping onto the wooden frame for dear life, barely able to stand, legs threatening to give way. How he even managed to walk to the door, let alone open it with that much force, was a mystery for the ages. But, those are questions for another day.

At that moment, Eric could only think of two things: What the hell happened to you, and why are you here?

Clearly, those two questions would have to be saved for a later date - asking a dying man why he’s dying isn’t very good etiquette. Eric had already died once, he knew the rules. He saw the look on Alex’s face, the pain, the confusion, feelings that were all too familiar to the both of them. 

He’d died once before, too. Only a year ago now. But it was much… Faster the first time, nicer. He slipped away peacefully, and a sense of calm washed over him in his final moments. While waking up face-down in a shallow grave in the middle of the desert is far less ideal than waking up outside your childhood home, everything else about this second run of death was much, much worse. Everything was amplified. The agony, the dizziness, the blood. How does one person have so much blood? How is he still standing? It felt like it was being dragged out, far beyond what it should have, like it was some cruel joke, being played for laughs. 

His thoughts were clouded by pain, but somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew who was doing this to him. That deranged motherfucker.

And now she’s, what, putting him through the ringer again because she got bored? Wanted to put on a fun show? Or was she really just that mad to find out that he hadn’t died, that she had to put him through the whole ordeal again, make him earn his place in this world? And, because that somehow wasn’t enough already, Eric was roped into it too - a weekend to remember, a new emotional scar.

To die, to become what they are, is to become a walking death sentence to everyone around them. No matter how faintly acquainted you are with them, you’re going to die, sooner or later. Not from any mysterious circumstances, a sudden illness, no. You’re going to die violently and painfully, all so they can continue to live, even if for just a few months more. Just to avoid what comes after, when they run out of time.

They can’t run out of time. The ring on their finger is like a clock, a reminder that time is coming after them. It’s a symbol, to show to the world that they are one of the unluckiest people alive.

To die is to be free. To die again is to be cursed.

The ring. Alex had one, at some point. He woke up one day wearing it, and that was that. He got out of it lightly - he got help. No one gets that luxury. No one ever gets that luxury. Sure, he got lucky for a year, but now it’s run out, he has to face the real test.

Find the ring. And remove it. But the only way to do that - is to die. A small death, fairly insignificant. It’s beyond painful, beyond terrifying, but it only lasts for a brief moment. 

In this case, though, there’s an exception. Eric has to remove it - for her sick pleasure. The words “your gift” are carved lightly into Alex’s neck, in all-too-familiar handwriting. And just underneath, the faint outline of the ring, just under his skin, pressing against his windpipe, making him struggle for air. Not only does he have the reopened bullet wound in his stomach to contend with, but the ridiculous amount of effort it takes to breathe, too.

THUD.

He falls to the ground, an exhausted mess, a pathetic excuse of a man. It all happens so fast, Eric can’t run to catch him in time. He just stands there, looking down at the body in front of him. Still breathing, if only barely.

He has to do it. He has to.

A deep inhale. 

With great hesitation, he walks into the kitchen, and grabs the sharpest knife out of the drawer - he’s full of adrenaline and running on autopilot at this point. If he were even slightly more grounded, and significantly less drunk, he’d be a little more stressed about the situation.

Back to standing over the body again, knife in hand. He kneels down in the pool of blood, and gently cups Alex’s face. And that’s when the reality of the situation hits him. His son, his son, on the floor. In their house, after seven years. Seven fucking years. And he’s dying. His eyes are red from crying, skin different shades of blue and purple, cheeks hollow. Still the same old freckles, the same deep brown eyes, the same scar on his nose. It’s still him. After all these years, it’s still him. But it’s not him. It can’t be. This isn’t how I want to remember him. This is not my son.

Alex reaches out, using the last ounce of his energy to grab Eric’s hand, both of them trembling. His fingers are cold, in stark contrast to the warm blood covering his palm. They look each other in the eye, if only barely - Alex’s eyes are barely open, the light is too bright, everything’s too blurry, just trying to keep them open even slightly consumes too much energy.

This is my son. This is my son. I have to help him. I can’t see him like this. I have to. I have to. I have to. I have to. I h-.

No thought. No hesitation. It’s as if he’s lost all control over his body, as he brings the knife to Alex’s neck and slashes it open with ease. Blood immediately begins to pour from the fresh wound, flooding into his mouth - all he can do is gasp for air, sputtering and gargling, choking on his own blood, grip on Eric’s hand tightening for a brief second. And then he lets go, hand dropping to the ground with a solid thud. 

Silence.

And there Eric was. Covered in blood, knife in hand, looking down at his son’s lifeless body. It takes a few seconds for the realisation, the weight of it all, to kick in. And when it does, he cries, louder than he’s ever cried before, screaming his lungs out as he collapses on top of the body, throwing the knife across the room. He’s beyond distraught, he’s in shock. Neither of them had even said a word. It hadn’t even been five minutes. And now he’s dead.

Did it work…? Did it work? Please tell me it worked.

He can barely hold onto the ring, almost dropping it multiple times before finally sliding it onto Alex’s finger, back where it belonged.

Please tell me it fucking worked.

Nothing happens. No movement. No sound. No shallow breaths.

Don’t tell me I killed him for nothing. Don’t tell me I just did that for no goddamn reason. I’m not a killer. I’m not a killer. How the hell do I explain this? I’m not a killer-. I didn’t kill him. I didn’t. I didn’t. You’re not dead. You’re not dead. Just do something. Please. You can’t be dead. You CAN’T be dead.

And there it was - a breath, faint as it was, it happened. And then, a deep inhale as Alex bolts upright, coughing and sputtering as the last of the blood comes out of his mouth. He gasps for breath, but it starts to even out, slowly but surely. His hands immediately go to his neck, inspecting the laceration, fingers lightly tracing the words oh so gracefully carved into him. His eyes finally land on Eric, taking him in - still the same hair, the same wrinkles, the same beard. A little more grey, maybe, but it’s still him. Still the father figure he abandoned all those years ago.

His lip starts to tremble as tears fill his eyes again. He opens his mouth to speak, but is stopped by Eric wrapping his arms around him, so, so tightly. Full of love, full of warmth. 

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay.” He whispers, voice shaky and uneven. The words feel wrong coming out of his mouth, heavy - it takes effort to push them out of his throat. They’d been stuck in there for so long, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to say them aloud. 

There they both were, crying into each other’s arms. Dead and alive at the same time. A fate Eric never wanted for him - he couldn’t protect him from it, he just let his child leave. He could have tried harder. He could have done more. He could have been a good parent.

But what parent would ever kill their own child?

[gomeejul]

Die For You A 3K word Commission Genre: Angst Trigger warnings: internalized homophobia, transphobia, rejection, death Summary: Jeremiah has to listen to Felicity complain about her crush on their childhood friend Daniel while secretly harboring feelings for her. One day, he comes across a shocking reveal that just might permanently disintegrate their friendship... Or worse. 

Chapter Three

“She wants to act like a man, then let her fend for herself like one.” Jeremiah glares daggers into the side of his stepfather’s head, not quickly enough to turn away before it’s noticed. “You got something to say?”

Jeremiah shakes his head and hurriedly grabs his water bottle from the fridge, eager to make an instant retreat to his bedroom. He wishes he’d been able to move away from this bullshit, but it was too expensive. Living at home was the cheapest option for a jobless, 22-year-old. It’s not like he isn’t capable of getting a job, either. His mother and stepfather were both very persistent about wanting him to graduate college before working, so he could jump straight into a marketing career.

Much like when he was younger, Jeremiah hates home. He’s hated home ever since his mother moved that other man in. Macy– no, Mason, was always vocal when disagreeing with their stepfather. You’d hear things like “you’re not my father” or more often, “I’ll start calling you pops the day Hell freezes over”. Mason and their stepfather got into fights like that more times than Jeremiah could count, but nothing ever quite hit the ceiling the way it had the previous evening. 

Mason had shown signs while growing up that he was different. Jeremiah hadn’t minded it much, believing at the time that his little brother was just going through a tomboy phase. It didn’t bother Jeremiah much when the younger boy started dressing in clothes similar to him or doing his hair in a way that wasn’t very feminine. In a conversation the two siblings had a few weeks prior – Macy (at the time) – admitted to Jeremiah that she believed she may be trans. Due to his upbringing, Jeremiah never learned much other than what gay or straight was. Gender expression certainly wasn’t anything he was taught, either. Francesco – their stepfather – always spoke lowly of gays and men who show femininity. Given Jeremiah’s experience of being bullied in middle school due to assumptions made by him wearing a pony backpack for several weeks, his first reaction was to be angry with Mason. However, Jeremiah lived all of Mason’s childhood loving and being protective of him. As confusing as it was, Jeremiah researched the subject to better educate himself. 

At the end of the day, Mason is no longer Jeremiah’s little sister but is now his brother. As easy as it was for Jeremiah to move past the two recent changes in Mason’s life, they agreed to keep it a secret from Francesco. Remembering his violent reactions to even hearing the word ‘homo’, angering Francesco was not a risk worth taking. As much as they wished their mother would have a backbone and at least hush his unnecessary rages, she never did. Francesco got away with a lot he said, and all the w he treated Jeremiah and Mason. Their mother – Taylor –  never did much other than sigh and leave the room. On rare occasions, she would challenge Francesco and then run away from the situation entirely. Every time her excuse was "he’s just old school".

One would think -- under any circumstance -- that a mother would intervene when seeing them thrown against the wall and having their face screamed at. Instead, Taylor only excuses herself from the room with tears in her eyes. Jeremiah grew only half a spine at that moment, assuming his mother's position in defense of his new little brother. He stood tall, chest puffed out as if it made him look any braver. Surprisingly, raising your voice to a man in the middle of a violent tirade stomping around the house is not as effective as Jeremiah hoped. 

Jeremiah sits on the edge of his bed and frowns, looking over at the other side of the bed where Mason would sit beside him during their parents' arguments. Jeremiah should have stood his ground. He should have fought harder for Mason's place in their home. But sadly, Jeremiah was a coward. As soon as Francesco threatened to kick him out and withdraw Jeremiah from his institute, he backed down. Jeremiah put too much hard-working effort into his studies. He couldn't let Francesco's pettiness take all of that away from him. That wasn't fair to him. 

It wasn't fair to anyone. 

Despite being the younger sibling, Mason always looked after Jeremiah. He always argued with Francesco about unfair treatment and went off on their mother for doing absolutely nothing about it. Mason's not like Jeremiah. Mason is brave. That's why it's so disappointing that Jeremiah couldn't pay him back even just once by holding his ground. He could have done much more to fight for his little brother, even if it meant dragging his Bachelor's Degree down with him. 

Jeremiah knows he made a mistake. Daniel had protected him since the very beginning of their friendship from the dangers of aggressive bullies who targeted him for an identity they'd imposed. Daniel never cared that Jeremiah showed up to school with a colorful pony backpack. He never hated him for the weird and obscure facts Jeremiah would blurt out unprompted. Daniel never second-guessed his decision to make friends with him, and never validated any cause for Jeremiah to think of himself as a freak. How could he recover from this? How could he apologize after turning against one of the three people closest to his heart? It still feels weird to know Daniel has feelings for him. Regardless, Jeremiah's display in the cafeteria earlier was no way to respond to such a revelation. 

He takes a deep breath before pulling out his phone, staring long and hard at the screen. Felicity hasn't called him all evening. She'd usually have called him around 7 PM, but it was already 10:30 PM and he hasn't so much as even received a text from her. Jeremiah hesitates a while before calling her number, muscles growing tense when the phone begins ringing.

[emo-floof-child-writes]

Day 010: Dream.

Featuring Max Mayfield and kind of(?) Billy Hargrove.

820 words, and this based off what Max said in ep 9. Screw Billy btw, all my homes hate Billy.

“You killed me, Max. After I sacrificed myself to save the world! You're a horrible person. You wanted this. You wanted me dead. You never stopped to think about what I felt or how I suffered, you were selfish. You are a MONSTER!” The voice of Billy echoes through her head, making her shoot up in bed. She swallows. “One single act of compassion does not undo a lifetime of evil deeds.” That is what she has been telling herself since the Mind Flayer killed him. Whether it was to help her cope, or if it was true, she wasn't sure. But it was coming up on eight months since he died, and she still wasn't sure if her inaction on that fateful fourth of July was from fear or from the wish for him to die. She looks at her clock, and groans. Another sleepless night. She slips out of the covers, and leaves the room.

She rubs her eyes as she walks into the bathroom. She winces as the light switches on with a flicker. “Such a sh!thole.” She mumbles, opening the medicine cabinet to get some Tylenol for the headache she can already feel forming. She looks in the mirror, and grumbles at the sight of her eyes, all glazed over with dark rings around them. She pops the lid off the bottle and dumps two tablets into her hand. She turns on the sink, and using her hand as a water delivery device, shoves the pills and the water down her throat. She swallows them with no difficulty. Back when the nightmares started, she was the furthest from being good at swallowing pills. She has always had a terrible gag reflex and her tongue would always hurl any object it thought was foreign out like a bullet from a gun.

But out of necessity, she’d learned how to combat it by focusing on everything but the little plastic like tube in her mouth. And soon, after a few failed attempts, she managed to swallow them without any problems. She looks at her bed head, sleep deprived and haggard form in the mirror again, grabbing the sides of the sink to steady herself. The dreams were a constant at this point. Max has caught herself wondering if this is what being haunted by a ghost is like. Not that she really believes in ghosts, but with all the Upside Down nonsense, she couldn't fully rule out life after death. And if anyone would haunt her, it would make sense that Billy would. He made sure his time on this earth made her life living hell, why wouldn't he make her life hell even after life? It just made sense to her.

I do kind of deserve it. All those days I hoped and prayed something would befall him. All those times I would watch him get into his dumb car and hope that he'd crash it... She shakes her head, wiping the thoughts from her head. She turns the sink back on to splash some water in her face, and she exhales. “You wanted me dead.” Billy's voice says, chiding her in the afterlife. She wraps her arms around herself, sinking to the floor, and sliding up against the wall. Her nails dig into her arms, and it takes all of her self control to not scream her lungs hoarse. Mom is already dealing with too much to deal with a fu¢k up like me. She had decided this when the first bout of nightmares came, and she wasn't about to change that. The boys don't need to know about this either. I'll just keep pushing away until they stop trying to help me. It's better that way. They wouldn't understand anyways.

She sniffs, thinking about how despite her breaking up with him, Lucas still insisted on being nice to her and trying to include in the things he was doing. Dustin and the others did try too, but no one was as persistent as Lucas Sinclair. She would find it touching, if she wasn't trying her hardest to avoid having to ever come to terms with her issues. She scoffs. “Issues,” she hates that word. As if she was unable to bounce back from all the things that have happened to her over the past couple of years. As if she needed to be fixed. She pushes herself to her feet, shaking her head. “I guess we'll do an early start today.” She decides, not wanting to try and sleep again. She shuts the bathroom light off, and walks back into her room. “You are a monster!” Dream Billy had said, and Max was finding it hard to disagree with him at this point. Sisters don't wish for their brother's deaths, no matter how cruel they are. She bites her tongue, and marches up to her wardrobe. Time to let this monster live another day.