#i like him he's like a weird coyote you see outside the street at like 2 in the morning while you're sweeping your driveway

[perfectnothing]

[valhallaas]

Out To Get You

Chapter One - October 24th

Masterlist

pairing: bob floyd x poppy!reader

summary: death was surrounding you. why were you the only one seeing it? It was all tied to you. When your friends started getting phone calls, and the sudden disappearances, it didn’t take you long to figure it out.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni) some themes may be upsetting, this is a slasher fic. there’s going to be gore. death. blood. violence. horror. (eventual) smut.

a/n: here it is!!! chapter one! i am so happy to share it with you all! please let me know what you think! this is only the beginning…

The bowl popcorn sitting in your lap goes flying when you hear a bang come from outside. It litters the floor, clings to the couch cushions, you’re pretty sure there’s some even in your hair. Huffing, you stand and pause the movie you’d been watching—ruining the ambiance you’d been building during your scary movie marathon—as more kernels fall to the ground. Stepping carefully to avoid most of the mess, you make your way to the front door. Stepping out on the porch, the lights flick on as you glance around. One of the neighbors' trash cans has fallen over. Rolling your eyes, you turn on your heel and head back in. Better them than you. If Lisa sees that, they’ll have a thorn in their side for the next month. Your eyes roll again. Lisa. The old bat. She’s not even that old, she’s like fifty-five at most. She’s the type of woman who believes you live in an HOA when you don’t. You find notices taped to your door and in your mailbox that nobody takes seriously. She calls the cops when you don’t comply with what she wants. It drives you up the wall. The last time she’d done it to you was a few weeks ago when Bob had been by. She taped a notice to his truck window telling him he couldn’t park on the street in front of your house. Fucking unbelievable.

Your marathon continues its pause as you clean up your mess, even going as far to pull out the cushions. All because of a damn trash can. Finally settling in to hit play, the phone rings. Is God against you right now? Can you not enjoy your evening?

“Hello?” No one says anything, just heavy breathing.

You hang up only to be called again.

“Hello?” You ask a second time.

“Hello.”

“Can I help you?”

“Who am I talking to?” You adjust the phone on your ear, uncomfortable, the line crackling, breaking up.

“Who’re you trying to call?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hope you figure it out, buddy.” You say lightly, tugging a blanket up over your legs. “Take it easy.”

Weird. You toss the phone down next to you and settle in. One moment, you’re watching TV, the movie you had put on right at its climax, the next moment, you’re jolted awake, unsure of your surroundings. It’s dark in your house. The TV is on the main screen of the streaming service, all the lights are off—which you don’t remember turning off to begin with. That feeling again, the tingle on the back of your neck. Sitting up, you glance around the house, unsure of what you’re looking for. Grabbing your phone, you wince at the time. It’s late. What was it that had woken you up? You’re in desperate need of a long, hot shower. There’s a few texts. One from Jake and two from Bob. Jake’s is a pic of him and the Hard Deck, Rooster and Coyote with him. You frown when you see in the very back—Bob and that one guy, Jagger, in what looks like a heated argument. You know without a doubt that it’s about you. He had grabbed your ass and pinned you against the wall like a ragdoll, like you owed him something for wearing anything other than your khakis. Didn’t take long for him to get thrown out. He’s lucky that’s all that happened. The other two texts are Bob telling you when he got to the bar and when he left. You smile. He doesn’t have to tell you, but he knows you worry.

The smiles cut short when you hear screaming. You’re not sure what house it's coming from, but it’s loud. You don’t know if they’re in pain or if it's fun, but it doesn't last long. Waiting a few minutes without hearing anything more, you get in the shower. Things have been off, kind of weird lately. You’ve been on edge, slightly paranoid since the incident at the park. It creeps up on you when you least expect it. Waves of terror that never seem to go away. No matter where you are, you swear you can see that ghost faced figure out of the corner of your eye, standing there watching.

There’s a text from Bob waiting for you when you enter your bedroom. Open your door. Cocking your head, you tug the towel tighter around you, walking silently through the house. Strange, the only thing you can hear is your own heartbeat. You eye the clock above the stove. 3:38am. You’re caught right in the middle of the witching hour. Fingers slightly trembling around the knob, with a sigh accompanied by a soft smile, you’re greeted by cobalt blue eyes, an easy grin in return.

“How’d you know I was awake?” You ask, making room to let him in.

“Lucky guess.”

He follows you into the bedroom, leaning against the doorway watching as you get dressed. A smile crawls on your face, feeling his eyes roaming. This is new. This—whatever this is with him. You’d been playing will they or won’t they for months. You like to tease, and Bob, Bob is always willing to indulge you.

“You going to stare all night, Bobby?” You question pulling on one of his t-shirts. “I hear a picture will last longer.”

Shaking his head he steps forward, pulling his shirt over his head. Toeing out of his shoes on the other side of the bed, he sets his glasses on the side table. He’s watching you crawl into bed, burrowing down deep into the blankets.

“Hm, I’ll have to remember that for next time.”

Your head falls back with a laugh. This man, he makes your toes curl and heat gather in your cheeks. He puts up a good front. That meek back seater. Sometimes others can see how he truly is. Natasha more than others. But nobody comes close to you. You just get each other. Ever since Lemoore. As a native to the Central Valley, you showed him the best parts that reminded him of home. Something shifted at some point. Home was no longer a place, but a person.

Once in bed, Bob’s legs slot with yours, arms pulling you in close. You sigh, content, finally relaxing. The presence of another person calming you, the heaviness of sleep weighing on your eyes. Lips brush against your forehead. God, you could get used to this.

“Hey,” you mumble, “did you hear anything while you were waiting outside for me?”

“No. Nothing out of the ordinary. Saw that one of the neighbors' trash cans was knocked over. Why?”

“I heard screaming earlier.”

Bob pulls you closer. “Screaming?”

“Yeah. I just—I don’t know.”

“Spooked you?”

You shrug. “Well, I had been watching scary movies. Tonight’s been weird.”

He laughs, his warm breath dancing across your skin. “That’ll do it, Poppy.”

It’s silent, but it’s comfortable. Your eyes are heavy and sleep is pulling you under, but you feel it. You’re being watched. Tilting your head up, Bob’s laying with his eyes closed, lips slightly parted. It’s amazing how fast he can fall asleep. A real talent. Paranoia. That’s all it is. You snuggle in deeper and finally call it a night.

“Poppy,” You groan, swatting at the hand cupping your face. “Poppy, baby, wake up.”

Peeling your eyes open, a blurry Bob is leaning over you. He’s fully dressed, glasses on, bed head still untamed. Pushing yourself up on one arm, you glance over at the alarm clock and frown.

“Why are you waking me up so early on Saturday, Floyd?”

“There’s police outside.”

“What?” You’re squinting, still not fully awake.

“There’s—here, just look.”

Bob all but grabs you and pulls you to the window. Your breath catches in your throat. They’re everywhere. You’re pretty sure they have the street blocked off. You follow the caution tape, heart just about coming to a stop in your chest.

Lisa.

Oh, God. It was Lisa. You heard Lisa last night. Goosebumps cover your skin at the thought. You heard a murder last night. You jump when you feel the warm press of Bob’s hand against your lower back. It stills you, you didn’t realize you’d been shaking. Taking in an uneven breath you move away from the window on unsteady feet. Instantly you’re reaching for your phone, pressing it to your ear before you’ve even registered who you’re calling.

He answers on the first ring. “Poppy?”

“Lisa’s dead.”

Jake pauses. “What?”

“She was murdered last night. I heard her get murdered last night, Jake. I—”

“Poppy, Poppy. It’s—are you alone?”

“No, I’ve got Bobby with me.”

“Good that’s, that’s good.” You can tell he’s nodding his head. He’s reassuring himself. You fiddle with your dog tags. Something’s wrong.

“Jake?”

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Poppy, they found Jagger's body mutilated in a dumpster by the Hard Deck.”

He’s whispering, like he’s not supposed to be telling you this. You hear him talking to someone, hearing the distinct voice of Rooster. They are probably there. They were last seen with him. Instantly your eyes land on Bob who’s sitting beside you. He’s watching you with deep seeded concern. You reach out for him, shaking your head. This is a mess. What the hell is going on? Two murders in fighter town? One of them is an aviator? You swallow thinking of that picture Jake sent you, the one with Bob in the back.

“What is it?” He whispers.

“Jake says they found Jagger. He’s, he’s dead. Murdered.”

The blood drains from his face. Blue eyes widening. You wonder if he knows that it isn’t looking so good for him.

“Let me talk to him.”

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything before he’s taking the phone and heading out of the room. Dragging in a much needed breath, you force yourself to go about your routine. The day has just begun, and there’s no doubt that it’s a bad one. After getting dressed and ready for the day, you pad into the living room, boots in hand only to pause in your step. Bob’s at the front door talking to an officer. You swallow around the lump in your throat when they both turn to face you.

“Good morning,” the officer says, causing you to frown.

He’s here about Lisa and he starts off with good morning?

“Morning.”

His gaze travels between you and Bob. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

You look at Bob who nods at you in encouragement. You’ll get through this. You have to.

[coquettecowboy]

🫒☎️🦷🚗 for the ask game!!

🫒- I don’t have any scene ocs rn! I’ll have to remedy that lol. Although my trans nb oc may have had a scene phase in the past lol I could see that.

☎️- probably my gray fox and bunny ocs, they live in a looney tunes-esque universe with cartoon anatomy and logic and hijinks. It’s super fun to draw them and their scenarios. You can find them tagged under “ocs” on my page

🦷- my creepiest oc is a dark magician satanist guy who lives down the street from Trina, who is a preachers daughter. She finds a book in his basement that summons bubbabel the demon. He’s weird and wears a cloak and has lots of reptiles in jars. He likes magic the gathering and being in the dark. Can’t get laid to save his life. Based on a guy I knew lol

🚗- most problematic oc is my gray fox girl probably. She’s sultry like Tex Avery’s Red but she uses her looks to lure my rabbit oc in. He thinks she wants to date him but in reality she just wants to eat him. He’s oblivious to it bc he loves her lol. Her plans r always foiled by some outside force though like wile e coyote. She’s a girlboss failure and I love her

[petnews2day]

Readers reply: should I let my cat outside? | Cats

New Post has been published on https://petnews2day.com/pet-news/cat-news/readers-reply-should-i-let-my-cat-outside-cats/

Readers reply: should I let my cat outside? | Cats

Should I let my cat outside? Apparently she’s in danger – and is a danger herself. Alicia Burton, Shrewsbury

Send new questions to nq@theguardian.com.

Readers reply

Outside cats kill songbirds and small mammals. They use neighbours’ flower beds and children’s sandboxes for litter boxes and spread disease. Cats should be kept inside. PennsylvaniaModerate

Where I live your cat might get eaten by a coyote, so no. Also they are terrible on birdlife. If you must, create a nice catio for outdoor fun. I think cats that have never been indoor/outdoor do OK indoors-only, but it is hard to change from being in and out to in-only. martimart

Cats are outdoor creatures – if you can’t allow them outside, for whatever reason (and there may be good reasons not to in some locations), you shouldn’t have a cat. To keep a cat inside-only means you have put your desires ahead of his/hers. I don’t have a dog because I can’t give one what it needs – the same applies; it’s selfish and cruel. It’s not unlike people who declaw (anyone who does so should have the same done to them) – if you don’t accept the risk of damage to furniture etc, don’t have a cat. We’ve always had a cat flap and so know that the cat chooses to live with us – she could leave at any time but doesn’t. I am not sure it’s healthy to keep an animal trapped with you against their will. bobbitygobitty

My cat was a rescued feral kitten, he barely survived starvation on a Miami street before I saved him. He adores my screened-in porches and lanais, where he can be “safely” outside without actually being outside. I’ve left my front door open by accident and he cringes away from it. He knows what is out there. He sees them (the wild animals) from his screened porch and he wants nothing to do with the outside world. Slinger

People tend to have very emotional responses to questions regarding pets, so this particular debate tends to get quite heated quite fast. My view in general is that it just seems odd we have this weird exception where cats are concerned. If I chose to keep a dog or some other animal and I let it roam around other peoples’ gardens unsupervised doing its business on the lawn they would be rightfully angry with me. But if it’s a cat it’s fine for some reason.

My preference in general is for people to keep their pets on their own property, or otherwise under control (eg, on a lead when out of the house), but where cats are concerned free-ranging has been the norm for so long that it would be hard to put that genie back in the bottle (or that cat back in the bag).

It seems undeniably bad for the cats (we had several that were killed on the roads when I was growing up), and bad for wildlife. Even ignoring the death toll on small mammals and birds, inter-breeding with free-ranging housecats has all but wiped out Scottish wildcats as a separate species. Pode

If you are worried about whether they’ll be OK being indoor-only cats, don’t worry. There are about 75m of them in North America. The vast majority are just fine. In many cities in Canada and the US it’s against bylaws to let cats free roam. If you have space, a catio is the perfect solution. KimberlyCoast

Once I got a couple of chickens (free to roam). Then I got rats. Then I got a cat. Now I no longer have rats. She hunts all night, sleeps all day. She seems to need to touch base with me once a day, but apart from that is doing her own thing. I put that down to me allowing her to fully pursue her instincts, so I am mostly OK with the small mammals she brings in. The bat was like something out of Hammer horror film, though. How a cat catches a bat remains a mystery. lcj4949d

Like everything, it depends. If you live in a high-traffic area, there is an increased risk she could be injured. If you live close to a nature reserve there is an increased risk she could snack on an endangered or protected species. If you live in a quiet-ish neighbourhood and she has a bell on her collar, you’re probably OK. Stroppimare

I’ve shared space with cats and they were all outdoor cats, to be fair I never thought of keeping them in. Sure there are dangers out there, but I feel they have a life much more in tune with their natural instincts being outdoors roaming about, doing their thing. I wouldn’t have a cat and keep them in, I’d feel cruel keeping an animal just for my own selfish pleasure if it couldn’t live as it wanted. As I’m away a lot I don’t have a cat now, however the local neighbourhood has a few cats bouncing around. They mainly seem to laze about, occasionally shagging and fighting with each other. Nice life for them. Liverpooldave

I adore my cat and would never let him outside for the simple reason that it’s an ugly and dangerous world. If I let him outside, he could get hit by a car, he might be injured by some unpleasant and unstable person or he might be kidnapped and I’d never see him again. At home he has his big lovely cat bed to relax on, loads of toys and access to fresh food and water. I think if you truly love your cat you won’t put them outside. Hyufcdtb

I am pretty sure that even if he was capable of making a rational, risk-based decision, my cat would still choose to go outside. The world is dangerous for humans too, but we don’t sit at home scared to go out. whatwasigoingtosay

If possible, harness train. A cat who has a strong urge to go outside will more than likely tolerate having a harness as they’ll start to associate the harness with outdoor access. Keeps them safe while enabling them a bit of freedom. I adopted my cat when she was about six months and harness trained her a few months later. Hilarious floor flops at the first attempt, but the desire to be outdoors over-rode her initial resistance to the harness and now she comes running when I jingle the harness for her. I will likely draw the line at pushing her around in a stroller – witnessed someone in my neighbourhood doing this with their cat last week. The human looked ridiculous, but I must say that the cat looked quite content and imperious. Jammygal

Do not harness train your cat! Cats are flight animals and harnesses impede their ability to run off when they’re stressed or feel a sense of danger. It will have a negative impact on their overall welfare and severely impacts natural behaviours. Please do proper research on cat behaviour. If you want to let your cat outside you should actively play with it for at least 15 minutes a day and feed it a high protein/ real-meat-rich diet – this has been proven to decrease the amount of wildlife cats prey on. Additionally, do not let them out at dusk or dawn but just during the day. GoblinBombardment

This reminds me of one of the Inspector Morse episodes, Who Killed Harry Field? The titular Harry being an artist (and murder victim) with a sideline in concocting bogus coats of arms complete with Latin mottos for the credulous. Here goes …

Morse: “Felix noctu exponendus” [Laughs]. Lewis: lt’s the way you tell them, sir. Morse: lt’s translated for the Pfeiffers of Chicago as “Happy the man daring to go out into the darkness.” Lewis: What’s it really mean? Morse: “At night, put the cat out.” Mobilepope

[nightingaelic]

Reactions to a vampire courier? Companions plus Benny, Ulysses, Graham, House, Caesar, and Yes Man. (sorry if that's too many :x)

TW: Blood (maybe obviously)

Also I don't normally feel some type of way about AUs but the idea of Joshua Graham encountering a vampire courier is giving me shivers

The courier was a little... strange. Not in any way that stood out to the average wastelander just by looking at them, everyone in the Mojave had their quirks and the courier was no exception. Hell, you get shot in the head and come back, you're bound to have a screw or two loose. They were unquestionably a night owl, but so were half the people on the Strip, who only started to wake up after the sun had gone down and the slot machines were singing their loudest. They usually had bags under their bloodshot eyes, but every caravan driver from here to the Hub was short on sleep.

On the other hand, the courier had some habits that were a little beyond surface-level eccentricities. For one, no one had ever seen them eating, not once. Even when the King laid out a spread of pre-war snacks and liquor or when the buffet at the Tops was refreshed, they politely declined and took a swig from the canteen that they never offered to anyone else. They were also rather odd about bathrooms, insisting that anyone accompanying them remain outside on watch and let no one else through the door until they were finished. But the undeniable moment of oddity came one night in October, when their companion rounded a corner in Freeside after a trip to the Atomic Wrangler and discovered the courier behind a rusted dumpster, holding a man against a brick wall with their teeth buried in his neck.

The courier drew back at the interruption, blood smeared across their face. "I'm not- it's not what- he- oh, fuck."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stared open-mouthed for a moment, before snapping violently back into the present. "Is he dead?"

"Umm..." The courier glanced at the man they were holding, whose head was lolling against the bricks. "Yes? Mostly."

With no patient to resuscitate, Arcade rounded on them. "Six, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing?"

The courier tried to wipe away the blood that was dribbling from their chin, but they only succeeded in spreading it up their jawline. "Well, I, um, I was trying to..."

Whatever excuse they were searching for eluded them, so they dropped the pretense. "I was feeding, Arcade."

"Feeding? What, like some kind of-" Arcade's eyes widened and he cut his sentence off early in realization. "No. No way. That's not- vampires aren't real!"

That earned him a look of intense skepticism. "Arcade, we've fought off plant monsters and rattlesnake-coyote hybrids together. I have a gun in my pack that lets me teleport."

"Oh, okay, so you have some kind of iron deficiency and you're delusional." Arcade laughed, the sound high and harsh in the quiet alley. "Great. Fuck."

Craig Boone: Rather than engage in an abandoned alley, Boone immediately backtracked to a busier street. He was unsurprised when the courier didn't follow him: Even in Freeside, someone covered in blood was sure to be noticed and questioned.

Boone left town that night and made for Novac. He was pretty sure the courier would follow him, but he didn't know where else to go. At least he knew they were coming. A few people in Novac asked about where he'd been, what the courier was up to, but eventually they stopped asking.

A couple of weeks went by. Boone was on the night shift again when the door into the dinosaur swung open to reveal the courier. He'd heard someone coming, their feet on the stairs, and he already had his gun pointed in their face. "We will never work together again," he said, before they could open their mouth.

"Boone, can you just-"

"I don't want an explanation." Boone shook his head. "I don't need one. I already did you a favor, leaving New Vegas without putting you back in your grave. This is over."

The courier took a deep breath. "71."

"What?"

"71. I've killed 71 Legion soldiers and left their bodies empty under the Mojave sky." They looked down and shuffled their feet. "I've tasted their fear. They're more scared of me than the Burned Man, now."

Boone studied them. Ever so slowly, he lowered his gun.

Lily Bowen: "Put him down, dearie," Lily chastised them. "You're playing too roughly with that man. And watch your language around your grandma!"

The courier looked down at their victim, at their torn throat and limp limbs. "He tried to mug me, Lily. It wasn't pretty."

"He looks like he's had enough," Lily insisted. "Set him down. Gently."

With a sigh, the courier obliged and lowered the man to the ground. "I'm sorry, Lily. I should have told you earlier. I don't mean to be rude when I turn down your cooking, I just... I can't seem to..."

"Hush, now." Lily produced her enormous handkerchief and gathered the courier up in her arms, dabbing at the blood on their face with a corner of the cloth. "You've gotten it all over yourself, haven't you? We can clean that right up, but it looks like Grandma's going to have to do a load of laundry. You made the mess, so you get to help."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul swallowed nervously, something he'd noticed he was increasingly doing around the courier. "You know, we get murciélagos down in Arizona that do the same thing. They won't leave the brahmin alone."

The courier took in his anxious stance and sighed. "Raul, I'm not going to hurt you. Prometo. It's okay."

"Sure boss, but I don't think the hair on the back of my neck is going down anytime soon." Raul smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "Or it wouldn't, if I still had any. Como..?"

"No clue." The courier shrugged and held their hands up, letting the corpse they'd been holding slide to the ground. "I think it had something to do with me surviving Benny's best attempts to do me in, but a bullet is a bullet and I don't remember if I was like this before, or..."

"Or only after." Raul chuckled. "Jesucristo, and here I am thinking I'll outlive you like most everyone else I've known."

"Yep."

"Should I start calling you el chupacabra?"

The courier grinned, a bloody smile with sharp teeth.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Fuck," Cass echoed, scrambling to pull her shotgun from its holster. "Knew I had too much, can't even- who are you and what've you done with the courier? Some kind of cannibal, wearing their skin? Alien? Shapeshifter? I'll blow a hole in your liver to match mine!"

"Whoa, Cass, it's me, it's me!" The courier dropped the man they were holding and held their blood-stained hands up. "Same old Six, just... maybe I wasn't straight with you about why I don't order anything at bars."

"Goddamn right you weren't straight with me!" Cass gestured at the body on the ground with the barrel of her gun. "Who's the fucker on the floor and why are you two pints in on him?"

"Just trying to get my drink on," the courier muttered.

Cass repaid this facetiousness with a jab of her shotgun, and they raised their hands higher. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! You tell me, how do you tactfully tell someone that you're a creature of the night and you need to drink blood to survive?"

"Creature of the night? You're fucking loopy." Cass' eyes narrowed. "There's plenty of critters in the Mojave that only come out when it's dark, but most of them don't tear into..."

She trailed off into curses when she realized she was wrong. The courier smiled hesitantly and lowered their hands an inch. "Hey. Let me chuck this failed mugger in the dumpster and we can talk about it like a pair of civilized folks?"

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica squeaked and fell back a few steps, banging her elbow against the edge of the dumpster. A jolt of confused pain shot up her arm, and the Scribe couldn't help giggling harshly at the sudden assault on her funny bone.

"Not- laughing... at murder," she managed to get out between hisses of pain. "Oh, for the love of... right, you're not getting out of explaining what you are, exactly, just because I'm indis-indisposed!"

The courier couldn't help laughing at the squirming Scribe, but they did their best to stifle it. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I um... I guess I don't really know... what I am?"

"There's books!" Veronica burst out, pointing at the courier and their victim wildly. "I've seen them, in old libraries. Creatures that feed on blood, only come out at night, don't show up in... in mirrors, of course, no wonder you're weird about bathrooms, I should test... Dracula! That's it, you're a Dracula!"

"A Dracula?" The courier held their hands up, as if seeing them anew. "Never heard of them. Are they... bad?"

"Well, traditionally, yes." Veronica made a face and rubbed her elbow. "Black cloaks, sleeping in coffins, seducing and manipulating everyone around them... and people don't like it when you take their blood, in my experience."

"Whose blood have you taken?"

"This isn't about me, Six!"

ED-E: The eyebot bobbed wildly and made noises of concern, blips and blats and a flat burst of trumpets from some old jazz tune.

"I was hungry," the courier protested. "And this asshole pulled a knife on me and wanted all of my caps. Probably more than that, if we're being honest. He wasn't doing the world any good, but he did me some, for sure."

ED-E flipped between old clips of a Silver Shroud radio show. "Well, isn't this a deep, dark <static> secret? <static> In a situation such as this, the best anyone can do is <static> try to control it!" The robot added some more concerned beeps for good measure.

"I'm trying," the courier said with a sigh, looking down at the dead man they were holding. "You know I wouldn't hurt some random person, ED-E. Not if I could help it. The Mojave's full of bad people, enough to keep me going if I'm careful."

Rex: The hair on Rex's spine stood up, and he let out a long, low growl. The courier froze for a moment, before realizing that he was growling not at them but at the man they were holding.

"He's dead, Rex," they reassured the cyberdog, lowering the corpse to the floor for inspection.

Rex sniffed the body over, taking in the copper scent of his blood and the Freeside stink on his clothes. He sniffed the courier too, each of their hands they held out to him and the thick headiness of adrenaline. He whined and wagged his tail twice.

"Good boy," the courier said, straightening up. "It's about time I turned in, anyway. Let's dump this guy and split."

Benny Gecko: Benny crossed his arms. "You know, Six, if you're dead set on getting your kicks in Freeside every now and then, you might want to ease up on the passions with the next greaser you snag. This one's torn all to pieces."

"I wasn't- what kind of-" The courier dropped the man they were holding and sputtered. "Christ, only you could make a midnight murder awkward, Benny."

"Murder?" Benny raised his eyebrows and looked from side to side theatrically. "Who said anything about a murder? All I saw was some dreamboat and the best apple butterer of New Vegas playing back alley bingo, officer."

The courier's eyes narrowed. "Not gonna rat me out? Tell the King or somebody that I'm..."

"What, taking a page out of the White Glove Society's book?" Benny held his hands up. "None of my business. Well, if you ever come for me with that look in your eyes, though, that'll be a different story."

"Not much you'd be able to do," the courier pointed out. "You already tried and failed to kill me once."

Ulysses: Rather than react like any normal wastelander might've upon encountering someone attacking a man with their teeth, Ulysses just stood there, taking the scene in. "Heard tales of a tribe like you. East, farther east than even I've walked... a coven hiding in tunnels, emerging only when their hungers grow too strong to ignore, strong enough to pull blood from the veins of the world around them."

"Well, I don't hide in tunnels." The courier grimaced and heaved their victim up over their shoulder, depositing them unceremoniously in the dumpster. "Unless some disgruntled Frumentarius sends me out to hunt mutants under Hopeville."

"Perhaps you have more in common with those predators than I assumed," Ulysses admitted. "But then, your path has always run red. Blood of the Old World, blood of the new, blood of the Bull and the Bear..."

The courier rolled their eyes as they peeled off their red-stained coat and tossed it in the dumpster as well. "Don't talk to me about blood. I know you've seen just as much as me, but it doesn't mean the same thing when I look at it."

Ulysses cracked a hint of a smile. "You see life where I see death. Two sides, courier."

"Yeah, yeah. If you're not going to try to kill me, come on. You can wax poetic and lecture me about which road I'm walking while I take a shower."

Joshua Graham: "A creature far from God," Graham said in his most reproachful tone. "Forever damned for the souls of the innocent they've taken from the earth. Aren't we a pair, courier."

"You can fuck right off with that attitude." The courier dropped the man they were holding and wiped their hands on their coat. "He tried to kill me first. For some caps."

"The crimes of others do not absolve you of your own sins, courier," Graham continued, leisurely retrieving his gun from its holster. He held it up in the muted neon light that filtered through the alley, turning the weapon this way and that. "Though I confess I am also looking for absolution in this way."

"Are you going to kill me?" the courier asked, eyeing the gun as well.

"I've no doubt it would leave this world better than when you walked it," Graham replied. "But my own opinions are not enough to seal your fate. Perhaps we should find this man's family and hear their feelings on the matter."

The courier took a step forward, then another, until their chest was right up against the pistol's muzzle, pressed against the fabric of their shirt. "Go ahead. Try."

And though Joshua Graham was sorely tempted to pull the trigger, though the courier made no move to stop him, something in their eyes... some faraway pain, older than the desert itself, fresh as the blood on the ground, stayed his hand.

He lowered the gun, chastised, and the courier walked away.

Robert House: The Securitron that bore Robert House's face on its screen leveled a minigun at the courier. "Whoa!" the courier protested, dropping their victim and putting their hands out. "Can't we talk about this?"

"And what have we to discuss?" House sounded absolutely disgusted. "I believe you're familiar with my contract with the White Glove Society. If they wish to continue their current prosperity in New Vegas, cannibalism is strictly forbidden. You are subject to the same terms and conditions, as one of my employees."

"Terms and condi- hold on, hold on, you never asked me whether I was a cannibal," the courier replied. "Are you talking about that document you had me sign, way back when I agreed to help you fight the NCR and the Legion?"

"The very same."

"How is that fair? That thing was over 200 pages long, I didn't grow up in the 21st century, I don't have a degree in... okay, okay." The courier waved their hands. "Cannibalism is a no-go. This isn't cannibalism, this is vampirism."

"Which falls under the definition of cannibalism," House replied, his annoyed tone still detectable over the sound of the minigun spinning up. "Section 3.65, subsection F. Next time, read the fine print."

Caesar: The Legion's great leader pivoted in an instant from surprise to quiet anger. "Clean yourself up, courier. I expect to see you in my quarters within the hour."

He turned and left the alley swiftly, letting his powerful stride and swinging cloak cover his shaken confidence. The people of Freeside cowered as he passed, shrinking into the shadows as he made his way back to the Strip, but the fear in their eyes was not enough to erase the image of the courier bent over in bloodlust, holding their victim in total subjugation.

The courier found him on the top floor of the Lucky 38, gazing out over the city he had conquered and named his Rome. "Leave us," Caesar bid his Praetorian Guard. They bowed and departed the room without question.

"You asked to see me," the courier said nervously, shifting their weight from foot to foot. They had changed clothes, and no trace of blood remained on them.

"I did." Caesar beckoned them to the window next to him. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the lights wink below.

"I'm a well-read man, courier," Caesar said finally. "I know the legends of the Old World, and I recognize the marks of one of their nightmares in you. I order you to tell me the truth: Do you fit the full definition of the creature they called 'vampire,' or do you simply mimic the things to add to your fearsome affect?"

The courier didn't answer right away. When they did, their voice was soft. "I pretend to be nothing. I am what I am."

"And everything that comes with it?" Caesar pressed. "Darkness, the blood of the innocent, eternity?"

"Yes."

Caesar turned to face them fully. "Then I, Almighty Caesar, command you to make me as you are."

Yes Man: "Now that's a twist I didn't see coming!" Yes Man said, his happy tone only slightly tempered with uncertainty. "Boy, am I glad I don't have a circulatory system right now!"

The courier shushed the Securitron and looked around the alley surreptitiously. "Yes Man, I swear to god, if you blow my cover I'm disassembling you."

"As I've told you before, I can't technically die!" Yes Man reassured them. "And I certainly wouldn't want to endanger you and your hobbies, but my volume mixer is tied to my enthusiasm simulator and I can't adjust it! You'll just have to hope any passersby aren't interested in following my friendly voice into an alley!"

"Then go back to the Lucky 38 and we'll talk later," the courier insisted, through gritted teeth.

"I technically never left! But if you mean this Securitron, sure thing!" Yes Man zoomed away on his single wheel, whistling the whole way back to the casino where the rest of his consciousness was housed. He kept whistling as he ran probability algorithms, only pausing when the courier returned after a few hours and crossed their arms in front of his main screen.

"Hi there!" he said joyfully. "I've just been cross-checking Mr. House's records on noteworthy disappearances in the Strip, and I've flagged eight of them as potentially being connected to you! I don't want to assume your intentions, but if you don't want to be found out, I've developed a plan for choosing your next victims that will help you remain undetected in New Vegas for 184 years! Give or take a few!"

The courier put their head in their hand and sighed.

[hy5ter1cal]

Drowning

Okay so this is part 1 to a fantasy SBI series. Please tell me if you liked it or if you find anything that I could improve, I really need feedback lol.

Summary: After a terrible accident Tommy and Wilbur finally return to their childhood summer home. But something is wrong, Tommy is plauged by horrible nightmares and memories - a voice keeps telling him to change it. To change the ending.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, swearing, angst lol

Word count: 2.2k 

Tommy was trying to run, someone, he didn’t know who or what, but something was chasing him. He quickly jumped over the fence into the garden of his family’s summer home, the flowers had long since died and parts of the grass were burned. He tried to open the door but it was locked, he tried again but to no avail. He eventually retorted to kicking the door open, he could hear the being getting closer and closer every second. 

     Tommy didn’t bother locking or closing the door properly, he rushed for his father’s room as he remembered the big wardrobe he used to hide in when playing hide and seek. He opened the door and saw the old room, the bed was just like it had been left. The sheets still looked pristine after all these years as if they never left. He could however see the thick layer of dust coating all the furniture in the room, coating the picture of him and his family. 

He was startled out of his thoughts as he heard the front door slam open. Tommy jumped, carefully making his way over to the wardrobe while trying to avoid the boards he knew would creak. He slowly closes the wardrobe doors and covers his mouth with his hand, sitting down. Afraid to make any noise at all. “Oh, ____…” a voice he didn’t recognize playfully sang, static filling his head as he heard the door to the bedroom swing open. “Don’t hide from me,” The voice trilled happily as the footsteps got closer to the wardrobe. Closer, closer, and closer. 

Tommy suddenly woke up in a chair. The only sound that met his ears was his heart beating like a hectic drum, drowning out all the other noise surrounding him. He took a deep breath, calming down as he could hear footsteps approaching him. Tommy turned around, and smiled. “Are you ready to go, Tommy?” He asked, brown eyes meeting Tommy’s blue. “Yeah, I am.” 

     “Good, get your stuff. Your horse has been saddled, so we’re pretty much good to go whenever.” 

      Tommy nodded and told Wilbur to give him a minute. He needed a minute to process what he had just dreamt about, what the hell was that thing... He thought as he grabbed the satchel beside him. He was ready. 

Similarly, Tommy felt ready as he stepped off his horseback, grabbing the reins once more while he looked at Wilbur. “Hey, it’s getting dark quickly-” Tommy muttered, shifting his gaze from his brother to the dark sky, only a few specs of orange and red visible in the far distance. “Yeah, I doubt we’ll get there before late in the night,” Wilbur sighed and he too got off his horse, “I think we’re better off going into town, staying the night at Logstichire inn.” Tommy nodded and started to follow him on the gravelly path. “Since when did they get lanterns here? No one ever visits this place.” Tommy blurted, looking ahead as if trying to spot the first few houses. “I dunno.” 

      “Maybe there’s something in town that is getting them more visitors?” 

“Maybe,” Wilbur muttered, “Though, I doubt it.”

       “Why?”

He shrugged as he continued to drag his horse with him. Tommy swallowed, ever since the morning something had just felt off, the dream was still bugging him.  The crunching sound of gravel steadily withered away as Tommy felt as if he was being forced underwater. A voice seemed to surround him, overflowing his senses. Change it, Tommy. It somehow echoed under the water, carving its way through his skull and into his mind. Change it. 

     Tommy desperately tried to grab something to hold onto. Don’t let go. The voice echoed, and suddenly he felt the reins get handed back to him as he pulled himself out of the water, finding that he was completely dry and still on the road with Wilbur walking in front of him. He could hear the gravel under his feet, feel the wind blow through his hair and the cold of the wind meeting his sweaty skin. 

“Look, Tommy.” Wilbur smiled and gestured to the prominent lights ahead, they could see the outlines of houses. “We’re here… finally,” Tommy huffed as he picked up speed to walk alongside Wilbur.  “Why are you out of breath?” 

      Tommy caught up with him. “No, I guess- just a bit tired.” 

“Right, you’ve been riding that horse all day. I bet you’re so exhausted.”

      “Shut up, Wil. Let’s just get to the damn inn.” Tommy scoffed as an awkward silence fell over the both of them. He could feel a slow burning rise in his stomach, rising towards his lungs. The long journey combined with little to no sleep was doing him no good. Something so little sparked the flame he thought laid buried for good. 

“Tommy,” Wilbur coughed, trying to start a conversation again. 

      “What?” Tommy barked, not meaning to sound so mad, “-sorry..”

“Don’t worry. Look over there!” He pointed towards the large tree in the middle of the plaza. It had been covered in small lanterns and folded paper figures which bore the wishes of the town’s children. “The tree is still there!” Tommy chimed in, feeling the burning sink, it waited for another moment to strike. “What name did you give it again?”

      Tommy chuckled, “L’man-tree..” He sprinted towards the tree, looking at the small folded paper figures. “I doubt yours is still here.” 

      “You never know, Wil!” Tommy continued to excitedly check every single one for a name he recognized. “Wil- look at this one!” He was pointing to an old figure made out of dark grey, hard paper. It had once resembled a vulture. “I remember this, Techno made it!” Wilbur smiled, “Yeah, he was always so good at making these things.”

“Tommy, for the love of god I’m not making another one.” He huffed tucking a stray lock of his hair out of his face. His crimson eyes met Tommy’s blue, “Pleaseee?” 

“No.”

“Pleaseeeee?” He tried once more.

“No, Tommy.” Technoblade grumped as he tried to go back to writing, he was hunched over his paper. His quill moved quickly and skillfully, easily forming the letters he desired. Tommy was situated on the floor next to him, arms crossed and blue eyes glazed over - tears threatening to spill if he didn’t get his way. “Techno, I want the wolf thing you made!” He shouted as he stood up and stomped on the floor. “It’s a coyote, Tommy. There’s a difference.” 

“I don’t care if it’s a coy- whatever, I want one to hang on the tree!” 

      A staring contest ensued, Tommy’s cheeks were red, the anger showed in his eyes. “Fine, I’ll make another…” Technoblade mumbled as he brought out another sheet of the expensive paper. “If you lose this one I’m telling Phil-” 

     “Techno you’re such a pushover-” Wilbur laughed from the doorway as he entered, sitting down next to Tommy on the carpet. “You should-”

“-ask him to make another one for you the next time you see him.” Tommy nodded, “Yeah, I should.” He gently grabbed the vulture figure, “I’ll give it to him.”

    “That sounds good, now come on- I’m exhausted.” Wilbur breathed as he grabbed Tommy by the shoulder, leading him through the village. 

     The streets were lined with the humble homes of its occupants. They were rather small, the base built of stone bricks and the upper being wood. Some of the houses had a  small stable next to it, or a small garden. The most notable one was that one building covered in vines. They stretched across the walls and led to a larger area filled to the brim with flower pots. Above the entrance was a sign which read: “Niki’s Flower Shop.” Tommy made a mental note to himself to let Wilbur know of it, he’d love to visit Niki sometime during the week while they were there. Continuing along the street they finally found the inn. It was a large building with three floors, the windows were large so it was easy to peek into the rooms. The door leading inside was open and Tommy could feel the warmth radiating from the fireplace inside. 

      “Well, Tommy. Let’s get inside.” Wilbur sighed with content as they stepped inside, the warmth did not disappoint as it was a pleasant contrast to the cold outside. The first thing Tommy saw was the front desk, currently occupied by a young woman with fluffy white hair. Wilbur walked up to the woman to ask for a room for the night, and he continued to look around. Tables with seemingly hand-made table cloths and candles were spread out in the large room. Along one of the walls was a bar, a man who seemed to be a bit shorter than Tommy was occupied with serving one of the guests a drink. Behind the man there was a door which he assumed to lead to the kitchen. 

      “Tommy,” Wilbur walked up next to him, keys jingling in his hand, “come on, let’s go to our room. We can get dinner later.” He put the keys in his pocket, grabbing Tommy’s shoulder. “Wilbur, did you recognize that woman at the desk?” Wilbur was slowly leading them towards the large staircase in the very back of the dining area. “No, why? Did you?” 

      Tommy shrugged, something about her had felt so familiar. Just from distantly listening to their conversation Tommy could recognize her voice. It was like a weird case of deja vú. “I don’t know, Wil- It’s like I know her, no, more like I used to. I got that feeling- like, when you see an old friend for the first time in years.” 

      “Huh,” Wilbur paused in front of the stairs, “I’ve never seen her in my life before. Maybe you saw her the last time we came here.” Wilbur started walking up the tall stairs. “Our room is on the second floor,” he shrugged off his coat as they reached the top of the stairs. “I bet you’re fucking burning up in that coat here,” Tommy laughed as he stretched his arms in front of him, following Wilburs lead towards their room. “Yeah? Well, you would be too if you were wearing it.” Wilbur gently punched his shoulder as he stopped in front of a door. “Here it is.” Tommy nodded, “Well come on, open the door then.” Wilbur clumsily handed his coat to Tommy, trying to reach into his pocket for the keys. “Shit, Wilbur - your coat is really heavy-” Wilbur huffed out a laugh, “Is it? Or are you just weak?” He inserted the key and turned it, the door opening. “Ouch-” Wilbur huffed as Tommy threw the coat over him. “What the hell was that for!?” 

      “Well, since it isn’t heavy I thought you could carry it yourself,” Tommy mocked as he stepped into the room. It wasn’t large by any means, it could barely fit the two beds which leaned against the big window. Next to the door was a lit fireplace and a wardrobe. He walked to the window and pulled the curtains apart, seeing how the last bit of the sun sank in the horizon. 

“This is a nice room,” Wilbur sighed as he hung his coat in the wardrobe. “Wil, the sky is really pretty isn’t it?” Wilbur turned towards him. “Where are you going with this? You usually make fun of me for pointing that out.” 

    Tommy sighed, looking down at the few people who were still outside. “It’s just that- something has been bugging me.” He swallowed, “What?” 

      “Do you still think Tubbo’s alive?” He breathed heavily as the words escaped him, he had wanted to ask that since the trip was announced. Tommy suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around and making him face Wilbur. “Tommy?” Wilbur asked. “Yes?” 

     “I know you feel guilty for what happened, but you have to realize it was the only way.” He paused, “If you hadn’t done that both of you would’ve died.”

     “But I hurt him-” Tommy mumbled, turning his face away from Wilbur’s piercing gaze. “Stop, Tommy. I’m sure he’s alive, and even if he isn’t I know he would forgive you.” Tommy could feel Wilbur’s arms wrap around him, trapping him in a tight embrace. “Thank you…” Tommy whispered as Wilbur hesitantly stepped away, as if he wasn’t ready to. “Now, Tommy. I want you to…” He started to dig through his hip pouch, finally finding what he was looking for. “...I want you to order whatever you want for dinner, okay? Order me something you think I’d like while you’re at it.” Wilbur handed him an open, small coin pouch. It was nearly full. “Are you sure-”                                               

     “Yes. I’m going to make sure our horses are safe in the stable, it might take like- 20 minutes.” Wilbur started to walk towards the door as Tommy started at the floor, holding back tears. “Oh and Tommy, don’t think about the price.” He could hear the door close, and he sank to the floor - closing his eyes and letting the tears fall freely. He could see it in front of him every time he tried to sleep. Tubbo’s bloody hand trying to reach for his leg from the ground. Tommy having to snatch his leg away and ground himself, readying his shield and-

     Tommy tried to open his eyes, but when he did all he could see was darkness. Don’t let him die. The voice echoed as he was plunged beneath the surface of the water once more. 

[katrinawritesthings]

jonghyun / taemin; it's real big…; PG

summertime stargazing…

for summer of shinee 2021 : )

A second later, it's very bright as Jonghyun taps the light in the ceiling of the car. Taemin grunts, bringing his hands up to shield himself from the light like a vampire. He very much disappreciates Jonghyun’s quiet chuckles. On the other hand, he very much does appreciate Jonghyun’s hand, warm and soft on his thigh.

“I didn't think you would wake up,” he says. “Sorry. I wanted to look at the stars.”

Taemin wakes up when the truck jostles him all around.

It's a gentle jostling, so he's not panicked or anything, but he still rubs his face blearily and makes an inarticulate noise of question as he comes back into consciousness. Jonghyun says something back that he doesn't understand with his sleepy ears.

He pushes himself up, his sweaty cheek sticking and peeling slowly off of the window, and tries to blink his surroundings into focus, to figure out where they are. It doesn't work; everything in front of him is dark like his eyes are still closed. It's only when he frowns and looks down that he sees the little lights of the dashboard and radio lit up, sees the time. 3 in the morning.

“Wuh?” he asks. Looking back up and out of the windshield, a lonely pair of headlights rolls past their stopped truck and gets swallowed up by the darkness. He knows that they're definitely not at Jonghyun’s mom's house yet, because they weren't supposed to get there until another, like, five hours of driving. Also because they're in the middle of nowhere on a dark country highway. “Why'd we stop?” he asks Jonghyun, his voice a hoarse whisper. He squints at the driver's seat, trying to define where Jonghyun’s outline is in the darkness.

A second later, it's very bright as Jonghyun taps the light in the ceiling of the car. Taemin grunts, bringing his hands up to shield himself from the light like a vampire. He very much disappreciates Jonghyun’s quiet chuckles. On the other hand, he very much does appreciate Jonghyun’s hand, warm and soft on his thigh.

“I didn't think you would wake up,” he says. “Sorry. I wanted to look at the stars.”

“Muh,” Taemin says. Buh. Sure. That makes sense, he guesses. Space gay and all of that. He scrubs his palms into his eyes, flaking away sleep crusties, while Jonghyun tells him that he'll be right back. Then the sound of a car door opening, a rush of hot summer night breeze, the sound of the car door closing. Taemin sits there blearily in the car and watches Jonghyun’s silhouette walk around to the back of the truck. Then, in the rearview mirror, he watches Jonghyun clamber into the truck bed, feels his weight and movement shift the whole car until he gets settled.

Shifting his gaze down a few inches, Taemin watches the darkness. In the light of the crescent moon, with his eyes adjusting more and more the longer he keeps them open, he can make out the shapes of trees and bushes dotting the plains on the other side of the road. The wind rustles through them, shaking their leaves and branches. It makes them look alive, their forms just shapeless and blurry enough to have him thinking that they could uproot themselves from the ground and start walking around.

Or maybe like something could spring out of them, big and wild and never before seen by anyone else. Like a monster, or a cryptid, or maybe even just a coyote or something. That would be cool, too, Taemin guesses, if not as exciting as it could be.

Back in the rearview mirror, he can see just the top of Jonghyun's pink hair, and passed him, a pair of headlights emerging from the darkness and getting closer. The car comes up fast, and then passes, and Taemin follows it with his eyes back in front until it disappears once again. He wonders who they are, and where they're going, and if it would ever occur to them to stop on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere and look up at the stars.

He wonders if it would ever occur to anyone but Jonghyun. He's sure that it has to. He's sure that Jonghyun isn't the only space gay with the same flavor of impulsive patience. With the sudden and unavoidable urge to just take a minute. To stop and smell the flowers, except the flowers are the stars.

Or something. Taemin isn't too sure why he's trying to think right now. He's not that great at it while he's awake, and now that he's half asleep, he can barely follow one train of concrete thought, let alone abstracts and hypotheticals. And now that he's thinking about how tired he is, a ferocious yawn opens up his throat. He covers it with the back of his hand, and then rests his hand against the window and his head on top of it. He'll try to go back to sleep.

And he'll try, and he'll try; but now that he's here, awake, it's not going to happen. It never works when he tries to put himself to sleep. He always just does it by accident. That's how he fell asleep earlier – one minute he was watching the sunset, counting the lines of the road as they zoomed underneath him, listening to the soft playlist Jonghyun put on the radio, and the next, he was out.

He squints open his eyes again and reaches for the radio. Jonghyun paused the playlist when he got out, but he'll put it back on. Jonghyun won't mind missing a couple of songs.

Except, when he reaches for the buttons, the display screen on the dashboard cuts to black. The car has been off too long and now it won't come back until Jonghyun finishes outside and starts the car again. Taemin frowns at the screen, then closes his eyes again, sighing slow through his parted lips. Maybe a story. Maybe an adventure about a weird little shadow creature creeping around the road in the middle of the night. Maybe it's hungry, and maybe it's always wanted to try devouring one of the cars that it always sees rushing past, never stopping, never giving it any opportunities. Maybe –

Maybe another car, coming down the road in front of him this time, blaring light even through Taemin's closed eyelids until he's grumbling and rubbing his palms into them.

Taemin knows what he needs. What he needs to actually get back to sleep, what always works. He knew it from the start, and now he's just faced with the prospect of expending the energy to do it.

In the rearview mirror, Jonghyun's pink hair blows gently in the wind. Taemin watches that for a minute, psyching himself up. Then he struggles clumsily with his seatbelt for another minute, then gets out himself and shuffles over to join him.

It's the same temperature outside as it was inside, but the summer breeze disrupts his body temperature as he clambers into the truck bed and makes him wish he had a jacket. He folds himself into Jonghyun’s side instead, wrapping an arm around his waist and letting Jonghyun sling his arm around his shoulders, trying to soak up some of his warmth. He yawns big and wide against the side of Jonghyun’s head, then presses a little kiss to his hair.

He thinks about saying you're really cute, or you smell good, or I love you, but he can't really find his voice after having just woken up. He knows that Jonghyun knows that he's thinking all of those things anyway.

As if reading Taemin’s thoughts, Jonghyun squeezes him close and nuzzles their heads together, saying, “I love you too.”

Taemin smiles, warm in his heart.

"I was actually thinking about bothering you to join me in a minute," Jonghyun continues conversationally, his voice smooth and low like it is when he's at work on the local radio. "I don't know, every time I look in front of me instead of up, I just keep thinking something's going to come out of one of those bushes. Spooky. It's making me anxious.” He shivers, his entire body jostling Taemin.

Laughing through his nose, Taemin drops just low enough to kiss Jonghyun's temple. He doesn't tell Jonghyun that he was just thinking the same thing and taking it further by imagining that whatever came out of the darkness would be itching to devour them. Instead, he wraps his arm more around his shoulders, offering himself up to be comfort and protection against the near darkness underneath the far darkness. Jonghyun smooches his jaw back.

Comfortable now, Taemin figures it wouldn't hurt to take a minute or two away from trying to fall back asleep to join Jonghyun in his stargazing. He turns his eyes up to the sky, up to the stars.

There are a lot of them. With no city lights, no street lamps, not even the car headlights on to ruin the view, the entire sky is just a wide expanse of black with infinite little tiny pinpricks of light.

Sooooo many. So many tiny little stars. So many stars that are actually huge, giant, exponentially larger than him. Exponentially larger than even the whole planet. So far away that his brain can't even comprehend the distance. He thinks back to a video he watched one time that kept zooming farther and farther out into the universe, shrinking down stars and planets and celestial giants and galaxies.

It's when he starts feeling the tingling in his fingertips that he remembers that when he watched that video it gave him a panic attack. It made him feel too too too small. Tiny and minuscule and Infinitesimal. Not unimportant or anything, just. Too small in a universe that's way too big.

Overwhelmed, he might say, if the casual definition of the word meant that he can physically feel the entire infinite scope of the cosmos as a bulging lump in his throat, can acutely sense the endless expanse of unimaginable universes as a huge ball chasing him down a narrow hallway short enough that he can see it and his own end barreling closer and closer by the second.

Looking up at all of the stars just now like this makes him feel the exact same way. He decides, after another couple of seconds, that he really doesn't like this. He turns into Jonghyun, throwing his other arm around his waist and burying his face in his shoulder. Jonghyun makes a little noise of surprise, then tsks and coos and pets his hair.

“Sleepy?” he asks. Taemin shakes his head. He is, but that's not his problem.

“Space is too big,” he grumbles. He doesn't elaborate. He and Jonghyun have had this conversation before. While they both agree that space is too big, where Taemin hates it, Jonghyun loves it. He has a thing for feeling small. He also has the incredible ability to look up at the stars and just think that they're pretty instead of about being crushed under the weight of everything in existence.

“You keep looking,” Taemin adds into Jonghyun’s shirt. “I'll nap. And then I'll drive a little bit so you can nap.” The plan was for Jonghyun to drive the whole time, but Taemin knows that he'll want to spend time with his mom and his sister as soon as they get there and he won't be able to do that if he's tired from driving.

“You sure?” Jonghyun asks. He punctuates the end of his question with another kiss to Taemin’s head. Taemin wiggles a little, squeezing him close, nudging his jawline with the top of his head to get more kisses just because he wants them. Then he nods and hums out a little noise of affirmation. He's sure. “Okay,” Jonghyun smiles. Taemin can hear it in his voice.

Then, “here,” Jonghyun says, and suddenly he's moving in Taemin’s arms. Standing up, leaving; but not even for a long enough time that Taemin opens his eyes to see. He gets up and then sits right back down between Taemin’s legs, leaning back against his chest, snuggling under his chin. He takes Taemin’s hands and wraps them around his waist, laces their fingers together.

Taemin holds him, and as he drifts slowly back to sleep, he feels warm, and he feels loved, and he feels big.

[spilledreality]

Highlights from Jacob Clifton's Gossip Girl recaps, S1 pt1

On this show, we fall on our knees before biography every time

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If Jenny came there looking to use B for a tool, then that means she’s in the game. And if she’s in the game, then that means she is a tool in turn. If Blair’s going to start a War, she needs soldiers, and here is one offering itself on a platter, with no allegiances and a hunger so deep she’d give herself up to Bass again… Jenny is maybe too young to understand the terms, but hungry enough to make a deal. “An Eleanor Waldorf original is the uniform of B’s private army. But will J be a loyal soldier, or side with S’s rebel forces?”

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I stumped for this assignment hardcore all summer because I love this, I love it when you talk in war metaphors with teenage girls, because... teenage girls invented war. My friend Karen has a t-shirt that says “I Survived Eighth Grade.”

#

"You know, be honest with where you're both at. Just do that, okay?" I'm not saying it's bad advice, but I think better advice at this point in the game would be to walk before you run, because as any Upper East Sider can tell you, you have to be honest with yourself before you can be honest with anybody else—which hardly anybody on this show has accomplished anyway—or else you're just using them as a sounding board for your own propaganda, which is all Dan and Serena ever do to each other anyway. Mainly about what good people they are.

#

Dan promises not to tell anybody about Eric, which this whole episode, everybody keeps doing, and meanwhile Serena spends the whole time saying Eric shouldn’t be a secret, but then she ends up stepping in and ruining herself to... keep him a secret. Gossip right there in the title, folks: Disclosure and surveillance, secrets and lies, are just two sides of the very radioactive relationship you have and must mediate between yourself and the world outside. If you’re not writing your story, somebody else is going to. And if you are the one writing it, guess what? Same result.

#

Asher tugs softly on the boy's St. Jude's school tie, in the age-old manner. (We've all done that, every one of us, because it works on everybody: adjust the tie, adjust the collar. It's subservient at the same time it's controlling; it's intimate but out of their line of sight. Their eyes can't see what your hands are doing, which is touching them, and reminding them that you can see them. How many times in a day does somebody touch your throat? If wolves had neckties, they would do that shit to each other constantly.) The boy stands, smaller, on the other side of him, but you can see rigidity in his pose. You can see him not giving in. And when Asher looks around, furtively, afraid, in love, and surveys the street, and kisses him, you can see the boy give in again. Just like he knew he would.

#

Blair's afraid, confused; Serena's eyes track her like a snake. "I wasn't feeling well..." Serena make a barely sympathetic moue and hmms at her for a moment, lovingly, and then takes the scarf from around her head, and ties it around Blair's neck. (How many times in a day does somebody touch your throat?) "You poor thing," she says, musically; Blair starts to panic. She stammers out that she needs to get her missed assignments, and Serena strokes her hair. Just like Georgina did, once upon a time. She promised it would feel so good, to let it burn. She was right. Blair walks away, touching her hair where Serena singed it; the scarf around her neck, like a collar. Chuck appears, grinning. "Well well well. Look who's back on top. I wonder how that happened!?" Serena goes among the people, admiring their necklaces, adjusting their hair, giving her favor and taking it away again. The sun lights her up; she is on fire.

#

Serena: “I for real thought you were running late. Those were just test shots just now. I... encouraged you to do this. Why would I try to steal something that I pushed you to do?”

Blair: “Because, again, that is how you roll.”

This is everything; this is the show, what it is about. Even what Dan is about, in a way. Blair instinctively knows, correctly, that she deserves to be loved, which makes it so confusing that Serena’s “it” makes everybody give her stuff instead. We came into this at a weird time, but it’s their whole relationship: trying to hold onto each other in the constant onslaught of this narrative unfairness. A friend emailed me, before this episode, like, “Why do you care about this show so much? Why do you care if Serena and Blair work it out?” And this was exactly why: Because Serena will always get the thing, and Blair will always lose the thing, and they will try to love each other anyway, and it’s riveting. Blair is going to want a thing this week, I promise, and whatever it is, she will almost get it, and then Serena will get it, and they will both want to die as a result. And if you’ve never been on one side of that relationship at one time, and on the other side of that relationship at another time, what have you been doing instead of having friends, because you always feel one way or the other, and you have to recognize how gross it makes you feel to be on either side of that, because it’s nobody’s fault, it’s just how it happens. There’s a totem pole, and you’re on it, and there’s always somebody above you and somebody underneath you, and you have to be kind to them both or else you’re in an uncomfortable position, and learning this is how we get ourselves under control.

#

Dan's response [to getting dumped] is confused sadness, in combination with the easygoing acceptance that could have led to greater heights of pleasure than he might have imagined if he didn't suck so greatly. It's more interesting than that, though, because in all three stories tonight you have a rug-pull about the relationship: you thought it was like this, but it's like that. You thought I liked you, trusted you, loved you, you thought we were on a team together forever, you thought I enjoyed your company, you thought nothing would come between us... The most painful thing about a breakup, or a momentary shame, or the embarrassment of getting played, or finding out the game behind the game, is feeling like an asshole. You were going along like everything was fine, and they knew it wasn't fine. They lived in the real world, and you didn't.

When people scream and yell about getting played, or cheated on, it's not pride. Nothing like that. It's pain, and it's fear: the world wrenching itself around you, from one position to another, like finding out the floor is the ceiling and always has been; that sickening coyote drop in your stomach just before you go into free-fall. The world changes around you, its angles and symmetry force themselves into new and unfamiliar shapes, and it's terrifying and sickening; deception is betrayal less on the emotional level than an ontological one.

[sincerelyreidburke]

got hitched

Quick ficlet for my Bencole people. Featuring domestic Quindo. Cross-posted to the ao3 cricket ficlet collection.

//

eight years after graduation | august

 Sebastián is completely unsuspecting, when the Snapchat comes in.

The house is quiet, and he and Quinn are in bed. He figures they’ll actually go to sleep soon, or at least soonish, but for now, they sit up against their pillows, with the light still on. It’s long past Violet’s bedtime; Quinn put her down at least an hour and a half ago, and after sitting out on the patio with him for a bit, Sebastián carried his husband to bed for little to no reason other than he just felt like carrying him.

He’s watching a Coyotes preseason weekly recap on his phone, and next to him, Quinn is knitting. His yarn is royal blue and bright red; he’s working on a scarf he keeps swearing he’s going to mail up to Remy to wear to games when his season starts. To celebrate his contract , Quinn said, when he told Sebastián what he’d be doing, all self-satisfied smiles. I think he could use something new in Montreal colors, don’t you?

His needles clack together every now and then, and the audio on Sebastián’s phone is low, but it’s not like Quinn would be bothered by that anyway, seeing as he took his hearing aids out for the night hours ago. Their house, Sebastián is happily aware, is a safe zone for Quinn, has been since the day they bought it to build their life in together.

A notification buzzes his phone, and the banner at the top tells him he has a Snapchat from Ben. Which isn’t weird, until it is— because what time is it in France right now? It has to be, like, kind of early in the morning, right? In what world is Ben up early on vacation?

He opens Snapchat to investigate. The Snap has been sent into a group chat, but not a new one; it’s one containing himself, Ben, and Quinn, and has to have existed since college even though it hasn’t been used in a short while.

He opens the Snap. It loads. As it loads, he wonders if this is a leftover message from Cole’s show last night. That was, after all, the whole reason Ben crossed the Atlantic Ocean for vacation in the first place. It’s Cole’s first tour outside the US, and Ben and Remy created this whole scheme for Ben to surprise him, which Remy was on board with because he will use literally any excuse to travel to Europe, especially France, and Sebastián has heard about this over several elaborate text exchanges, phone calls, Snapchats, et cetera—

The Snap loads.

Sebastián looks at it.

Wait. Wait . WHAT?

It expires before he can fully process, but he knows what he saw. He scrambles to replay it, leaning forward and off the pillow.

It’s a picture, a selfie, of Ben in bed with Cole wrapped up in his arm. They’re both, like, clothed and everything, and they look all soft and in love, but that’s not the main point of interest.

Because Ben is holding both of their hands up to the camera, and although Cole has had his black engagement ring for upwards of two years, Ben… is also wearing a ring. And Cole is holding a piece of paper. A certificate.

The caption Ben has typed reads: got hitched

Cole is holding a marriage certificate .

Sebastián screenshots the picture before it can disappear again, and then immediately starts tapping-slash-whacking Quinn in the thigh to get his attention. He’s gentle about it, but he still feels bad when Quinn startles and shoots daggers up at him. He drops his needles and signs. What’s wrong?

In lieu of signing a response, he turns the phone to Quinn, because it’s easier than attempting to convey via sign his current stream of consciousness (Ben got married is he kidding how did he just get married in the middle of Paris on a whim oh my God he is going to bust his ass so much but also he’s pissed because he wanted to go to his actual wedding and Ben Shaley Is Actually Fucking Married he can’t believe it like yeah he knew this was coming because he’s been engaged for two years but like— Rho got married !!!!!!!?!??!????!!?!).

Quinn studies the photo, then his eyes widen with realization. In a moment, he shifts from his complete bedtime serenity to animated, excited confusion. He looks up to Sebastián, then back to the phone, then up to him again, and signs, in quick and snappy motions, They eloped? , and then, immediately, Call Ben.

Sebastián nods, as Quinn lunges to the bedside table and grabs his hearing aids. He opens the phone app, and picks Ben out of his favorites, and as it rings, he just sits there vibrating. He can’t believe it. He actually can’t believe it. Ben just went and got married. Like— okay, that’s admittedly the most Ben way he could possibly think to get married, but— is this real life?

Ben picks up on the second ring, as Sebastián is putting the call on speaker. “Helloooooo!” His voice is singsong, like he knows exactly what he did. Which, like, obviously he knows what he did. But Sebastián is still shook —

“ Dude !” he cries, half-laughing, as Quinn leans back over to him and scoots closer on the mattress. “How could you just send that out of context?”

Ben laughs. “In my defense,” he remarks, his voice the picture of chill, “it really doesn’t require that much context, right?”

Quinn fiddles with his ears, and then he must get them turned on, because he chooses that exact moment to cry, “Benjamin Shaley.”

“Mini!” The joy in Ben's voice is indescribable. “I knew you’d bitch me out for this!”

“I cannot believe you,” Quinn says. “You did not elope last night.”

“Oh, but I did,” Ben remarks, every bit the wise-ass he’s always been, and he sounds so happy , and Sebastián is, like, so fucking happy for him right now—

“Rho— congratulations , holy shit,” he tells him. “Did you plan this?”

“No,” Ben laughs. “Not even a little. And I think that’s maybe the best part. Hold on.” There’s rustling and mumbling on his end for a second, and then a fourth voice enters the conversation.

“Good morning, guys.” Cole’s voice is super raspy, like he just woke up. Sebastián tries to do some quick math, but all he can determine about time zones is that it has to be early over there. “Sorry we didn’t tell you.”

“Cole, I can’t believe this,” Quinn says. “How could you let his chaos influence you?”

“Mm.” Cole pauses, contemplatively, and then yawns. “I’ll actually be letting his chaos influence me for the rest of my life, now.”

Quinn takes a deep, therapeutic breath. Sebastián wraps an arm around his shoulders. He has, many times, seen his husband get simultaneously pissed and excited; it’s a hilarious thing to witness. “I love you both,” Quinn says, in a slightly less sharp voice. “And I’m so very happy for you. But words cannot describe how much I wanted to actually attend your wedding.”

“We’re gonna have a party, Q,” Ben replies, like he was ready for this question. “When we get home. Well. Like. Not right when we get home. But we’re gonna start planning it when we get home.”

Quinn pauses, like he’s contemplating this, and in the silence, Cole adds, “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”

“Well, I’ll say,” Quinn says. Sebastián thumbs at his shoulder, to soothe the good-natured rage. “My goodness , you two. I should have known you’d get married some crazy way.”

“Tell us the story!” Sebastián adds, because he is extremely eager to know.

Cole lets out a soft laugh. “It’s not a long story,” he says.

“We were at dinner,” Ben explains. “Last night, after the show, with Remy. And Cole just… out of nowhere. He was like, we should get married.”

“ Cole Kolinsky ,” Quinn gasps. “Your mother is going to kill you.”

“She knows!” Cole cries. “She knows. I promise. She’s the only person who knew before you. Her and Remy.”

“Was Rem with you?” Sebastián asks.

“He was with us when we decided to do it,” Ben says. “But not at the town hall.”

“That little shit,” Sebastián cries. “Where is he now?”

“Out galavanting in the streets, I bet,” Ben mutters, and Cole laughs at him.

“I’m sure Remy is asleep,” Cole amends. “We were out so late last night.”

Quinn rubs his temple, leans into Sebastián’s embrace, and whispers, “I cannot believe you two.”

“Oh, you love us, Quinny,” Ben says. “Don’t even try to hide it.”

“Of course I do,” Quinn replies, in that tone so characteristic of him , where he’s firm and kind at the exact same time. “My goodness,” he says. “You’re entirely too much for me.”

Cole laughs again. “I promise, Quinn,” he says, “it’ll be a really good party.”

“Oh, it best be.” The grin on Quinn’s face is so cute, Sebastián could combust. “I have very high standards.”

“Ah, yes,” Ben says, in a posh accent, “nothing but the best for the esteemed Quinny Cooper—”

“ Ben ,” Cole mumbles, and Ben laughs so loud.

“I’m so—” The initial shock has sort of worn off, but Sebastián still feels like he’s processing several things at once. “I’m so happy for you guys, jeez ! Why are you awake so early, anyway? It’s your honeymoon morning!”

“I have to—” Cole breaks his sentence with a yawn, like talking about being up early is making him more tired. “I have to be on my tour bus at eight-thirty.”

“Oh, Cole ,” Quinn whispers. “That’s a real wrench in your morning, huh?”

“Is what it is,” Cole replies.

“Wait, so… what time is it now?” As soon as he mentioned the fact that it’s their honeymoon morning, it started occurring to Sebastián that he and Quinn are… keeping them on the phone. On their first morning as a married couple. He loves his friends to death, but nobody interrupted him and Quinn the morning after they got married. It was just the two of them; even Vi was at Mama’s house for a sleepover. The only thing they had to do was bask in that fresh joy.

“It’s seven,” Ben announces. “Seven-oh-nine.”

“Okay, so,” he says, “I’m gonna, like, hang up the phone now.”

“ Nanny ,” Ben says, with a snort. “We knew you’d want to talk.”

“Yeah, but we talked,” he replies, “and now I’m hanging up so you guys don’t have to, like, talk to us until Cole leaves.”

“Hm.” Ben pauses, and then, in his peak wise-ass tone, remarks, “What if I hang up first?”

“Oh, goodness , you two,” Quinn mumbles, into Sebastián’s shoulder, “don’t get into one of these arguments.”

“Bro, you hang up first.”

“No, you hang up first—”

5,000 miles away, in a hotel bed in Paris, Ben Kolinsky hangs up the phone. He rolls over in bed and grins at his husband. “How did I do?”

Next to him under the nice white sheets, Cole is the best thing he has ever seen. He laughs, with his hand over his face, before he reaches for him. When they meet in the middle of the mattress, Cole presses a kiss to his lips. “You are an idiot,” he whispers.

“Mmm.” Ben kisses him again, and Cole wraps around him, and he thinks there’s absolutely no way heaven could be any better than this. “That’s a title I’ll proudly own, but only with an amendment.”

Cole tangles his fingers in Ben’s hair, long and now sort of messy from sleep, but who gives one single fuck what their hair looks like when they just got married to the love of their life last night. “What’s the amendment?” he asks, between kisses.

“That I’m your idiot.”

“ Oh .” Cole laughs. His eyes wrinkle shut, and Ben is going to be gone on him for the rest of his days. “You’re definitely my idiot.”

“Perfect,” Ben says, and kisses him again, and he doesn’t need anything else.

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

Tonight, Stephen has again blessed me with his presence outside my living room! probably because I left an offering of opossum friendly snacks there, as it seems to be the spot he feels most comfortable eating. Makes sense because my condo is on the end of the building with my door facing an incredibly busy street. His tree is on the corner of busy street & smaller not at all busy street (which literally just wraps around our one little building of like 10ish condos). So my living room window faces not at all busy street & is sorta near the front porch of the condo next door, but it's empty. There is a large bush between my bedroom window (where his tree is) & the living room window, so his general habit is to scamper down the tree into the bush, go through the back of the bush up against the wall, & come out the other side to see if there are snacks.

I got BETTER PICTURES!!

Click on those puppies to enlarge them because OH MY GOD he is magnificent & absolutely fucking adorable.

Also nobody get weird. I don't ever directly interact with the dude & all the fruit, veggies, & nuts I leave out are all things found locally & all stuff I already had that was on the cusp of going bad that I knew I wasn't going to be able to use before it turned. Some of the fruits are ones that had half of them go mushy & gross (looking at you, 5 day old nectarine) so I cut off the gross bit, then chop up the rest for him. If I have anything that day, I scatter it over there just before sunset so there's no chance of bumping into him accidentally. If I have a lot turning at once, I chop it all up & seal it in glass airtight tupperware so I can space it out a bit.

I don't see why I should waste produce that is totally edible by critter standards, especially since I can't feasibility compost here. Tossing it when I know the local wildlife can eat it just seems... wrong. Before he moved in, I would toss it all at the edge of the wooded area in the field out back because I know raccoons, opossums, coyotes, & random other creatures live up in there. I also know that with them living in an urban area that has slowly given them less & less options for housing & food*, that it's slim pickings. I'd rather feed them my old produce (& meats for the coyotes & buzzards) than have them get trapped or killed while going through someone's trash or something.

* the city in which I live actually has pretty strict laws regarding planting a tree for every one you chop down for construction. I also think there are specifications regarding the age & level of development of the new tree vs the tree that was killed. And relocation of existing trees is encouraged & if I'm remembering correctly actually insentivised. Our city also has a significant number of large protected green belt areas that are wooded, as well as massive wooded areas & areas of tall grass & brush at many of our parks. Our city's general attitude about protecting local flora & fauna, as well as minimizing waste is one of the reasons I stay here. That's not something you see often in Texas.

[11thstreetgirl]

Neon lights

Scene: Deserted gas station at 2am (Nasty x reader)

Requested by: @thespacecowboyyy

AN: hah this turned out weird and pretty shitty lol ~

- Fucking shit motherfucker…

I was pulled from my thoughts by the driver’s harsh words. I was dozing off at the front seat of the bus after staring at the empty road for what must have been hours. It calmed me down after a busy day like today, and even if I wanted to sleep there was no chance: Razzle’s snoring kept me awake once again.

- What is it? I muttered, straightening up in my seat. My back cracked as I reached my hands overhead to stretch. This tour life and mostly the endless sitting in a bus was starting to get the best of me.

- We’re almost out of gas.

Great. Just splendid. Nothing but empty road for miles. I wanted to strangle the man for not filling the tank before we started the overnight drive to the next city, but what good would it do? I glanced the clock on the dashboard – almost 2 am.

We drove in silence. The driver hummed quietly, he had turned off the radio so the guys could get some sleep. The show’s afterparty had been cut short as we needed to get to the next city by noon. To be honest I was glad we got out of there that fast, I was happy to be somewhere quiet with just the band, the crew and the driver. When the guys had asked me to come along to the tour as the merch seller I didn’t know what kind of circus I was getting myself into. Of course I knew they partied hard, I’d been their friend for years, but this was something else. They were like little kids on a field trip across America. Far away from home and carefree. I was glad they trusted me this much, but more often than not I ended up being their babysitter. I was starting to think that was another reason for them to ask me to come.

The band was asleep, each and every one. They smelled like booze, weed and perfume, they were snoring and talking in their sleep, they definitely were like little kids. The sight warmed my heart. Above all, I felt privileged to be here with them. They were batshit crazy but also the most lovable, friendly people ever. If they accepted you as a part of their gang they loved and protected you with all their might. Michael had been giving me some singing lessons and Sami was always telling me the little tidbits of did-you-know-information he’d read somewhere. Andy with his stories and nobody knew if they were true or not. Razzle being the die-hard prankster always trying to make me laugh. And Nasty… Nasty trying to teach me how to play guitar. Nasty always offering a swing from his beer, Nasty sneaking his way close to me just to start a nonchalant conversation that usually led to us talking all night.

But there was something about Nasty that I quite couldn’t put my finger on. He was both quiet and outgoing at the same time and even after all these years I’d known him I didn’t quite get the man. And being on tour just made the contrast higher. Lately he’d become more quiet around me as if he was trying to avoid me. We no longer had the deep, hours-long conversations we used to have and it hurt. He was after all the first one I became friends with. Every time he turned his back to me stung like hell. I missed him, there was a strange ache in my chest when he wasn’t around.

Suddenly there were lights on the roadside. As we got closer we realized that it was a gas station in all it’s glory. But as we got next to it and the bus slowed down to a stop it became pretty clear it wasn’t up for business. There were no lights inside the shop, just the lonely glow of green and yellow neon signs stating that there at least had been gas for sale. It was eerie to say the least.

- Why are we stopping? Nasty’s tired voice spoke behind me.

Speak of the devil.

- We’re running out of gas, I answered blatantly. The darkness outside was all-consuming and as the driver killed the engine it got perfectly quiet. All we could see was the road as far as the headlights lit it and the dim, greenish glow of old neon lights from the station. Nasty yawned and leaned his elbow on the back of my seat.

- That’s definitely deserted. No way there’s anyone out here, I stated as I observed the scene. A couple of cars drove past, then quiet again. Just Razzle’s snoring and Sami’s sleepy mumbling filled the air.

- It wont hurt to go and check, just to be sure, Nasty mused.

- Nasse look at it! It’s empty! I was tired and frustrated.

- We’re seriously not gonna get far with what we have left, so I think we really need to check, the driver said quietly with an apologetic hint in his voice. Damn right he should be sorry.

- You two go, I’ll stay here and try to stop a car if one comes by.

I shot the man a questioning look. He gotta be kidding me. Irritation was building up inside me by the minute. What a train wreck.

- Go on, we don’t have all night.

Nasty flashed me a grin as I groaned. It probably was cold outside, it sure was dark, and god knows what kind of predators the bushes hid. Coyotes and mountain lions, weren’t those the creatures around here?

Nasty opened the door and poked his head outside. A cold wind blew his hair around and made goosebumps rise to my skin. A fleeting thought to get something to protect us, like maybe a baseball bat, ran through my head but before I could say anything Nasty was already outside. I followed him suit. The distances seemed a lot longer out here in the dark and it didn’t take many steps to be out of the reach of the bus’s lights. No way I was going to let Nasty get far away. Determinedly he walked over to the gas pumps and took one in his hand. Just like I expected, no gas came out no matter how he held it or how hard he pulled the handle. He even kicked the machine and cursed under his breath. I just stood there watching because I knew it was no use. After poking the buttons a while and trying another pump he gave up.

- Doesn’t seem to work, he muttered. I kept all ”I told you so”s to myself. We stood there quietly. It really was cold, I hugged myself to keep warmer. Nasty seemed deep in thought. There was no sound anywhere, not a single car in sight, just the wind blowing in the bushes behind the station.

- We should check the the store just to be sure. Who knows, maybe there’s something useful inside, Nasty spoke more to himself than to me.

- Why do you think the door’s open?

- Well maybe not the front door but let’s try the back door! He looked at me with mischief in his eyes. Things were getting illegal fast there was no doubt about that.

- You gotta be kidding me.

- Oh come on, let’s have some fun while were here!

I rolled my eyes. There was no way stopping him, so I just followed him across the station. Just as I reached him a strong gust of freezing wind blew across the concrete yard. I visibly shivered.

- Here, wanna take my jacket? He offered and before I could say anything he took it off and handed to me.

- Aren’t you cold? I tried not to let my eyes linger on his bare arms for too long as I pulled the garment on. It smelled like Nasty and it made me feel strangely better. Like I was safe.

- Nah, I still have alcohol in my system.

Well of course. We walked around the corner to the other side of the building. The glow from the neon lights dimmed and it got almost dark before we got to the back door. It was lit by a single flickering light bulb that cast ominous shadows everywhere. Nasty tried the door but it was locked.

- I told ya, of course it’s not open.

Nasty tried to yank the door again just to be sure. He looked otherworldly under the bright light as he turned towards me.

- Like that has stopped me before…

- You’re not seriously going to break in are you?

- I sure am. Let’s just check if there’s anything useful! Besides, you said it yourself: it’s probably deserted. Come on, don’t be such a pussy.

I just huffed in response. Fine, if he wanted to go in to the deserted gas station that was likely haunted and/or had a murderous coyote living in it he could go by himself. I’d just wait right here.

It didn’t take long for him to get the door open with a bobby pin he had in his pocket. As much as I knew not to be surprised by anything at this point it still took me by surprise.

- Where the hell did you learn that?

- Try living on the streets for a while… he just grinned at me and sneaked inside. He disappeared into the darkness and I was all alone in the cold. I stared at the door, snuggled deeper into the Nasty-smelling jacket and listened to his footsteps echoing from inside. The quiet would’ve been soothing if only it had been completely quiet. But of course not, there just had to be something rustling in the bushes right outside the light’s reach. I changed my mind about waiting outside pretty damn fast.

At first it was impossible to see. I fumbled my way out of the small backroom into the store. The neon lights outside cast a beautiful light inside. It was plenty to see as soon as my eyes got used to the dark. Nasty was rummaging through the shelves just a few meters away, humming to himself. My heart was pounding loud and fast in my ears. I had never done anything like this before. To break into a gas station? I must be out of my mind. Nasty on the other hand didn’t seem to mind at all.

- Oh you came! I already checked the cashier – nothing there. And you were right, this place is empty. All that’s left is some canned stuff from almost ten years ago. Funny how this place hasn’t been robbed before, he kept talking and almost waltzing between the shelves.

I stood there for a moment. Every little sound made me jump so I tried to move as close to Nasty as possible. I admired the light filtering through the window, making everything seem like time couldn’t touch it. Nasty’s carefree figure danced against the light. He seemed like he belonged here, in this timeless spot, with the green painting unfamiliar shadows on his face.

It would’ve been almost romantic if I hadn’t been so scared. I took a step closer to Nasty just so that if the murderous coyote snapped onto my leg and tried to drag me into it’s den, I’d drag him with me. Suddenly he turned around right in front of me.

- Romantic huh? he grinned at me. Bloody hell was he a psychic, reading my thoughts like that? He just stood there, the grin on his face melting away. Slowly he reached for my hand. I just stared at him with my eyes wide. No coherent words were forming in my mind. The light seemed to be whispering something into my ear but I couldn’t make out the words, just a buzz.

I think Nasty heard the same alluring buzz because he moved closer. And closer and closer until all I could see was his eyes staring at me behind his hair and his lips way too close to mine. A strained sound that didn’t even sound like it came from me escaped my throat. It brought me back to reality just enough.

- Nasse what are you doing? I finally got out of my mouth. It came out more sharply than I intended. He looked startled. He leaned back and melted into the most heart-breaking puppy dog eyes I had ever seen. I wanted to say I’m sorry but he spoke first.

- It’s just that… I like you a lot. And I thought you liked me too. He turned his face downward in defeat and let got of my hand.

- Nasty I do like you, but…

- But not like that right?

- No, no I just, I just thought you suddenly hated me or something, always sneaking away from me and everything.

- I was just confused by what I was feeling. We’ve been friends for so long and I didn’t want to ruin it.

I took his hands into mine. I felt soft inside. This little moment in this timeless space made everything so much clearer, so much more simple.

- You can’t ruin this no matter what, I whispered.

He leaned closer and this time I didn’t try to back away. My heart was pounding in my ears so loud as he leaned towards, I closed my eyes and felt my heart skip multiple beats as the seconds seemed to last forever before….

TOOOOOT!

The sound of the bus horn startled us both. I jumped and hit my forehead to Nasty’s.

- Fuck!

- Come back here! the voice of the busdriver ran through the air just loud enough to hear. Nasty burst out laughing.

- We better get back.

- But… I was confused and a little hurt. Of course the moment had to be ruined.

- But what? Come on, let’s go!

He was like nothing happened. He avoided my eyes. His voice was stern and his movements sharp as he took a few items from the shelves and walked towards the door. He didn’t look at me, he didn’t say anything, he didn’t even hold the door for me. I felt hollow.

Nasty almost ran back to the bus. I tried to keep up with him but gave up and just watched as he hurried under the neon lights. They painted his hair with a green glow and made his skin look even paler than usual. The darkness around felt like it was creeping in on me. I pulled the jacket tighter around me. It smelled like home.

[ollifree]

Apprentice April Week 1

1. The Basics. What is your character’s name? How old are they? How tall are they? Skin color? Eye color? Hair color? Gender identification?

Skylar, 6’9”, male, dark brown skin, green eyes, curly black hair, 38 y/o

2.  Love Interest. Who does your character love? What attracted them to that particular LI?

Lucio, his main draw being that he really does have a one-of-a-kind personality. Even after meeting so many types of people Skylar still went 👀 when he first heard Lucio open his mouth. It also helps that he’s rather physically attractive. Their main bonding early on happened over their shared immense love of animals.

3. Familiar. Does your character have a familiar? How did they meet?

Skylar has Salsa, a bastard gremlin coyote. How they met is as much of an enigma as the coyote herself.

4. Hobbies. What kinds of things does your character like to do for fun?

You will never find him more than two feet away from a book and that is a threat. He gets outdoor activities in with the dogs, but isn’t a big fan of being outside unless there’s snow on the ground.

5. Hidden talents. Is there something neat that your character can do? Tie a cherry stem into a knot with their tongue? Say any word backwards perfectly?

Very good at constructing card houses, and excels at word problems.

6. Magical talents. Is there a specific type of magic that your character excels at? Any magic they aren’t so great at? Or do they actually shy away from magic altogether?

Skylar’s natural affinities are for fire magic. He does know party tricks, but doesn’t go out of his way to perform them.

7. Interaction. How does your character typically interact with people?

He likes listening to people and learning their stories. For those he becomes friends with he’s stellar at providing emotional support.

8. Romance. What is something that your character and their LI love to do together? How do they show affection?

If your shared love language is physical touch and you aren’t all up in each other’s business 24/7 are you really in a relationship?

9. Travel. Does your character like to travel outside of Vesuvia? How often? For how long? What kinds of things do they do away from home?

He loves travel! It was what he did for the bulk of his life before staying in Vesuvia. He did take a few trips here and there after coming to the city, but never as often or as long as before.

10. WTF. Has anything just…weird ever happened to your character? Something that made them stop and go “What just happened?!”

This was also the bulk of his life during his traveling years. Skylar tends not to be very observant, to the point that almost everything he had his attention drawn to could fit under this umbrella.

Staying in Vesuvia fits here as well. The most he'd ever remained in a place before then was a number of months instead of years.

11. Crime. Has your character ever been arrested? If so, what did they do? Have they ever helped stop a crime?

Never been arrested, no. But, constantly being in new places meant he accidentally busted a few minor laws he was unaware of. He has been detained, however. Thanks, Ilya.

12. Secrets. What is a secret that your character has? Are they in line for the throne in a far off land? Was there this one time at band camp…? Are they secretly involved in an assassin’s guild?

This man’s backstory is so secret I don’t know half of it. Skylar doesn’t intentionally keep secrets so much as he travels so often and meets so many people he’s fallen into the habit of not telling others deeper things about himself. Sure, he could go out of his way to make stronger connections and let people know more about him, but he’s gonna leave in a few weeks anyway.

He is from a noble household, and will tell people this if they ask, but he doesn’t bring it up on his own due to aforementioned reasons.

13. Overcompensation. Is there something that your character just HAS to do better than anyone else? Or are they just that dang good without trying? If they see someone else showing off, what is their kneejerk reaction?

Skylar’s not one for competition or proving he’s the best at anything. He knows his own worth.

14. Fight Club. Is your character a good fighter? What kind of skills do they have?

Despite his affinity for fire magic, he’s much more a defensive person than an offensive one. And he doesn’t care for violence much to begin with.

15. The Arts. Is your character a creative type? What kinds of things can they create? Can they act? Street perform?

Skylar knows a good bit about the arts, but doesn’t have an interest in doing them.

16. Goofy. Is your character a clown? Do they like to make people laugh?

Not outright goofy, but he has a dry wit and is a master of deadpan snark.

17. Language. Is your character multilingual? How many languages do they speak? Do they have an accent? Is it sexy? Is it silly? Do they have a multilingual lisp?

Skylar grew up in a multilingual home! I kept him to six (plus a smattering of words in others) because I didn’t want to outstretch Julian’s eight. His accent mostly comes out in different stresses on consonants and difficulties with some back-of-the-throat sounds. Part of the reason he has Julian’s blessing to keep calling him “Ilya” is that he had trouble with that pronunciation of J.

18. Embarrassment. What is something really embarrassing that your character has done/said?

Please give him a five hour grace period of ignoring his presence whenever he fucks up which word he meant to use.

19. Memory. Has your character gotten any of their memory back? If so, what? Did it change them?

He does get his memory back (all of it), but that being in my own AU that’s replaced game canon. In that he never got his memories back.

20. Family. Talk about your character’s family. Who were they?

Skylar’s immediate family consists of his mother, father, and two older sisters. They lived with aunts, uncles, and cousins of varying degrees: all descended from his grandmother (who he knew) and grandfather (who died early on in his childhood).

[rhetoricalrogue]

I was tagged by @happywitch416 to list my top 5 weirdest animal encounters, thank you!

Tagging @eeveevie, @alittlestarling, @theashenphoenix, @chuckhansen, and anyone who wants to play!

I was 8 and tagging along with my dad at the deer lease he used to go to. We were checking the hog traps and noticed that it had several baby hogs in it. Me, being 8 and a City Kid™️, went “awww, cuties!” and went to go get a closer look. Mama hog came running out of the bushes and chased my ass up the top of the hog trap. To this day I don’t know how I climbed that thing as fast as I did. It was also the last time I went out to the lease with Dad because I flat out refused to go again.

I was 9 and riding my bike at our new house with my dad. We had just moved to the country that fall and were coming home from riding around the new neighborhood. Dad had me riding my bike a little ways behind him so he could look for traffic and I heard him go “watch out for that snake” in front of me. Seeing as we had only recently moved, my City Kid™️ instincts were still intact and I went “what snake?” without paying attention. I ran over the snake with my bike, got scared when it tried to book it across the road to avoid getting trod upon, swerved, ran over it again, screamed and hit my dad’s back bike tire with my front bike tire, and went ass over handlebars into the ditch. Straight into a dewberry bush full of thorns. I walked my bike the quarter mile home and had to pick gravel out of my skinned knees.

I was 15 when I got woken up by something at my window. It was summer and my first thought was that it was entirely too damn early to wake up. I opened the blinds and saw that there was a cow poking her nose at my window and eating my mom’s rosebush. The neighbor who owned the pasture across the street had a hole in his fence and the cow had gotten loose. After giving them a call and helping herd it back where it belonged, they came back a few weeks later with several packages of beef and some links of homemade sausage as an “I’m sorry your roses got eaten” gift.

My cranky old lady barn cat Boots (we tried over the years to get her to become an indoor cat, but she was a dedicated barn cat. It was only within the last few years of her 20 year life that she became a 100% indoor kitty) would regularly patrol the next door neighbor’s chicken coop. She’d never attack the chickens, but every so often she would kill snakes and leave them on either the neighbor’s back porch or bring them home to our back patio. One time I saw her walking from their back yard to ours with what I thought was a huge stick. Nope, she caught an enormous rat snake and was trying to bring it over for praise. As thanks for keeping their chickens safe, we got regular gifts of free eggs over the years.

I was visiting my parents one night a few years back and I was outside enjoying looking at the stars on the back of the tailgate. The City Kid™️ instincts were back in full swing after moving out of the country for 10 years that I forgot for a bit what coyotes sounded like. Kinda spooked me at first, but then as I was sitting there listening to them talk back and forth, for some dumbass reason I decided to howl back. Coyotes kept making noises and I kept answering. Since my parents’ house is between several open pastures and sound always carries really well, I couldn’t tell where they were coming from, but I remember it was such a quiet night you could hear a pin drop. It was only after around 5 or so minutes of this back and forth calling that I got a weird back of the neck feeling and Country Kid™️ instincts about things that live in fields, not looking out of windows at night, and definitely not bothering whatever’s out there in the dark kicked in and I got the sudden strong sense to get the hell inside, especially when I swore I heard the next yip/call from closer than it had before and it didn’t sound quite like the coyotes from earlier. It was probably nothing but me getting spooked at night, or maybe (quite possibly) a neighbor from another barn across the way who was all “who is the dumbshit howling in the dark, lemme howl back to get them to stfu” but I booked it inside without looking behind me and didn’t go back out until morning.

[davidedwardking]

My dog was lost for three days. What came back wasn't my dog.

As a kid, I was raised in a small fishing community on the Eastern side of Canada, surrounded by the gulf of Saint Lawrence and the Boreal Forest. The entirety of the land was close to 4000 foot square with an even smaller number of residents sprawled out over "main street", the main road running straight through our little town, and farming houses spread widely between areas of trees that were changed to domestic residential homes when agriculture stopped being profitable. In total, our community is surrounded by a vast expanse of ocean, and a seemingly endless barrage of trees that's spread over 55% of Canada's entire country. I spent most of my life hunting in those woods, so you can imagine my joy when my parents got me a "hunting dog".

Sandy was a Shetland Sheepdog, and while they were more fit to be herding and tracking sheep over grassy plains rather than rabbits and deer through dense forest, it didn't stop me from taking him with me on every excursion I possibly could. Sandy had been by my side for enough hunting trips that he'd grown accustomed to waking up just before breaking daylight, and on a few occasions helped track down small game like squirrels and rabbits through considerably large areas of forest.

Sandy wasn't my property, and wasn't treated like he "belonged" to me. Sandy was a member of the family, my best companion, and my truest friend. I think fondly back on all the times he'd sit in the front seat of the truck without being told, ready to go for a walk in whatever part of the forest I took him to. I can honestly say that there will never be a dog that will fill the void Sandy left in my life. I find that dog lovers relate to that sentiment more than others.

It was October 30th, the first day of deer hunting season. I had been talking with my family about taking Sandy, my hunting gear, and some essentials to one of the cabins my Grandfather owned in his heyday off an unmarked road a few hundred miles into the wilderness for a few days. This was met with a lot of protesting, but nothing could stop me from getting in some time looking for wild game in an area that wasn't already picked clean by illegal hunters earlier on in the month. Everything was packed into the old blue ford, Sandy included, and a few hours of driving later we were setting up camp in one of my Grandfather's secluded old cabins.

Here's where things got fucked up. Sandy, I'm so, so sorry.

I had spent most of the time of my life being in the wilderness. There were only a handful of times that things had gotten weird for me, but usually everything can be explained with scientific reason. That's why I brushed off Sandy's weirdness on the first few nights, chalking it up to the nervousness of a dog that's capable of hearing the far off noises of various coyotes, wolves, bears, and moose. This was untouched territory, of course. There had been plenty of time for wildlife to set up camp here, too.

The first night was fairly normal. I had set up Sandy's bed in the corner of the living room, next to the T.V. that looked like it came out of the early 90's. I figured I'd give Sandy the option to have someplace to lay down for a while, despite the fact that he slept curled up with me nine times out of ten. Close to 10 at night, Sandy looked straight at the wooden door and whined. I figured he needed to piss, and opened the door to let him out, not worried about having my best friend stray too far from me. Instead he sat just inside the door, looking out at the forests edge beyond the path. I too stood and looked for a few minutes before deciding he had just heard an errant critter close to the cabin. The rest of the night was fairly normal, and Sandy slept with me fine.

The second night, I chalked the weirdness up to Sandy's stress. Earlier in the day, we had been walking a few miles through the woods beyond the house, and I thought I heard the sound of twigs cracking under something heavy. I hoped it wasn't a moose, because my shotgun wouldn't have stood a chance, but something changed in Sandy that I didn't pay close attention to at the time. He hunched himself on his hind legs, his front pressed close to the ground. His mouth pulled up over his teeth, and he growled towards nothingness. I figured we'd try hunting again later, if whatever it was had left and should he be feeling up to it, but once we were inside he didn't want to move. Even when I tried to get him to go outside and do his business, he sat at the door and cried, wailing at me to let me know he didn't want to go out there. I didn't pressure him. If he pissed on the floor, so be it. Sandy never acted up before. I could excuse an accident or two, if he really didn't want to be out there. It must've been a bear, I thought, before locking the door and calling it a night.

The third night is where things went to hell, /nosleep/, and I still don't fully understand what happened.

Sandy didn't eat all day. I managed to shoot a rabbit in the early morning, when Sandy decided he didn't want to be outside any longer than he had to, and retired inside for the day. I cooked it up, threw a little gravy on it, and gave it to my dog. I didn't do this all the time, but I figured now was a special occasion, and maybe a treat would put him in a better mood for another walk the next day.

Sandy didn't touch it. He didn't so much as sniff it. Instead, he sat at my side on the couch, watching the doorway intently. I tucked him under one of my arms, and he laid his head on my lap, eyes still locked on that door. Close to three hours of watching grainy VHS tapes on an outdated television set, Sandy started crying, hugging himself close to my body. This is where my judgement took me down the wrong path for the first time of many.

It must sound silly, being my dogs protector rather than my dog being mine, but this was my family. I figured if there was something out there that was scaring Sandy so bad, then it was my job to do something about it. I loaded my 4.10, opened the door, stood in the doorway and waited.

I must've waited at least a half hour, staring into nothing. There was barely any sound, save for the faint buzz of insects and leaves rustling in the cold autumn wind. Moose aren't elegant creatures, and if it were a moose, I would've heard it coming. Around the 40 minute mark, Sandy took off like a shot, into the darkness of the trees beyond the path, barking wildly. I started to get worried, despite my knowledge that my dog isn't entirely helpless in the wilderness. There were still bigger animals that would've liked to take a bite out of him if there wasn't a lot of food for the winter.

I heard Sandy's bark fade away in the distance, and then stop altogether.

I waited hours standing in the doorway with my shotgun cocked and ready to put down whatever it was that was waiting in the woods. I waited hours for Sandy to come back to the house. I waited until the sun was cracking through the trees, and then I waited until that night, sitting on my porch step, feigning off sleep deprivation to see my dog come back.

Sandy did come back, but not for another three days.

Fog had rolled in at that point, and it was getting darker, the night painting the sky a navy blue. Tracking over the last few days proved futile, and I started to get worried that I'd need to leave and find more provisions to last me the next few nights. I couldn't leave Sandy up there, lost in the woods, cold and probably hungry. The thought that he might be waiting out there for me to find him and bring him back home was distressing enough. I was packing the bag that hung on the coat rack next to the door with what I'd need for the next day's trip. I figured tomorrow would be the last day before I'd go into town and see if my Father would help me find Sandy. He was a retired, graying man, but I was sure if I brought up Sandy's name he'd be more than willing to help me search for him. Thankfully, Sandy came back before I'd even finished that train of thought.

I saw him from the window, on the path that lead down to the main road, a few dozen feet away from the house. Normally I'd hear him scamper to the doorway and paw at the door a few times, eager to come in, but this was different. I could see the reflection of his eyes as green pearls in the murky fog that had swamped the house. For a moment I thought it might be an animal, but the outline of his body in the wisps of thick low-lying clouds was unmistakable. Still, despite myself, I hesitated. There was something different about his body language. I stared out the window for a few more moments before reason overcame my gut instinct. Sandy could be hurt, I thought. Or worse.

I flung the doorway open, but he didn't come right away. Instead he stood there, watching me intently, and when he didn't move I whistled to him. "Here, Sandy," I coaxed him towards the house. "here, boy".

The way he moved was... different. It was as though his hips had been dislocated, and the angle of his paws changed direction with every step, as though he'd forgotten how to walk properly. His head was bowed to the ground, but his teeth weren't bared. He didn't seem aggressive. The only way I could describe the look he gave me was "sheepish", like he'd just gotten into something he wasn't supposed to and I yelled at him for it.

I thought he might hurt himself hopping up onto the elevated step if he'd dislocated his hips, but he did just fine. His back half swung a little, oddly enough, and his paws almost folded underneath himself, but he didn't go sprawling. He sat on the step and didn't take his look off me. It wasn't until I had moved from the doorway completely, opened the door wide and waited for him to walk in that he moved.

Straight to his bed. He didn't stop at my hand and sniff at me. He didn't wait for pets or jump up on me like used to. It was straight to his bed, where he sat and watched me for quite some time afterwards.

I returned to the movie at hand. I called to him a few times, but he didn't respond. His ears didn't so much as raise to the sound of his voice, or the pat of my hand on the worn out couch beside me. I had missed my buddy, but I wasn't about to move him physically towards me. There was something about him that said I shouldn't have let him in, but I chalked it up to silliness, and a few hours later I went to bed. The more I think back on it, I don't recall him blinking once. He sat there like a statue, and when I turned off the light, I could still see the reflection of jade green following me as I went into my room and shut the door.

I could have sworn I heard him walk in the night, the sound of nails clicking against the wooden floor coming up to the door of my room, but they were slow and deliberate. They weren't like the quickness of Sandy realizing I'd gone to bed and coming to curl up. I heard the noises stop outside of my bedroom, but I didn't hear his whine. I thought nothing of it and fell into a deep sleep.

When I woke in the morning, I figured it must've been a dream. Sandy was still sitting in the upright position I left him in when I went to bed. It was as though he didn't move a muscle the entire night, and when I said good morning, he didn't so much as wag his tail.

He did follow me into the kitchen, but he paused at the doorway when I put his bowl down on the floor and filled it up with supermarket dog food. Once again, his back half moved weirdly as he slowly made his way towards me. There was a nagging feeling that something was off putting about the way he looked that day. It was like he had gotten a little longer overnight.

Sandy hunched down again, like when he was walking to the door the night before. He didn't come into the kitchen. I figured he must've been hungry being out in the wild for so long, but he eyed me like he was waiting for me to come a little closer rather than touch the food. It goes without saying, but after a few moments of a staring contest between me and my unblinking dog, I called off that foolishness and called his name out loudly. Not even a flinch. I didn't want to move closer to my dog to leave the kitchen door, but this was my Sandy, and the most damage he'd ever done was eat flies. Sure enough, as I passed him, he turned and his body swayed unnaturally, but he didn't move towards me.

When I left that day, I couldn't find anything. The deer tracks in the mud were made a few days prior and went cold off naturally made trails through the woods. I couldn't hear bugs, or birds, or even the howl of a nearby coyote. The only sounds for miles away from the campsite were my own breathing, and the sound of crunching leaves underneath my feet. When the sun started to set, I started making my way back, but I should've just packed my shit and left.

Just behind a cluster of trees, with the house just visible beyond the rise, I figured I found out the reason why the animals had abandoned this place.

Generally, when there are mass animal deaths, that usually means that something is wrong in the area of the slaughter, and wildlife are usually smart enough to get the hell out of dodge. Even cats are bred instinctively not to like drinking from water that is close to where their food is, because if you saw a dead animal close to a stream, you'd figure the stream was tainted and find another source of water.

Hundreds of squirrels were disemboweled and strewn across the grass in an almost perfect circle. Most of them were skinned alive, but when I turned to heave up all the contents in my stomach, there were a few dozen that were inside out. I couldn't help but vomit repeatedly as I tried my best to walk around the circle of tiny organs and mashed up bodies, not just over the sight, but because the smell was ungodly. I don't know how long they'd been out there, but if I'd stumbled across this sooner, I'd have left with Sandy in tow immediately after. Gradually, the bodies stopped, and delved off into a random dead squirrel here and there. The biggest thing I managed to find, just a few feet off the unholy feeding ground, was a deer.

It looked as though something had decided to skin it alive from hide to neck, and draped some of the skin over a branch like someone was tanning the hide. I don't know how long it had been there, but it smelled like it had been dead for quite some time, despite the fact that there wasn't a single fucking fly. The head had been cut off clean just above the shoulders, and when I realized the organs had been removed, I moved from a walking pace through the forest to a jog. Thankfully the cabin wasn't too far off. I heaved one final time, wiped my mouth off on the back of my sleeve, and looked up to the house to see Sandy watching me from the window.

I tried to reason with myself, and tell myself Sandy's odd behavior could've been trauma. I know it's stupid to think of it now, but at the time, it was the only reasonable explanation I had to keep myself from going insane. The elongating body could've just been the loneliness getting to me. Sandy had realized there was something up with this place, and the second he noticed it I should've taken this warning and taken off back into town.

Once the door was shut behind me, I started packing the food and essentials back into boxes, moving quickly to try and get my things into the truck before night came. It'd be dangerous to try and maneuver my way through the trails at night, as the hills off Kelly's Mountain were steep, and in pitch darkness with my only companion being my headlights, it would've been easy to slide off a ravine and never be heard from again. I didn't want to stay one more night, but I had no choice. I had gotten back to the house just moments before the sun finally receded past the horizon, and we were bathed in a navy blue sky once again. I didn't pay attention to Sandy. He just sat at his bed and watched me pack. I figured no harm no foul, I'd throw his stuff in the truck in the morning and we'd be back in town before night the next day. Glancing at him for just a moment, it was a passing thought that he was looking a little longer today, and when I went to bed, it was a hard time getting to sleep for the next few hours.

It must've been close to 4 or 5 in the morning when I heard it.

The sound of whistling. The same whistle I used to call my dog. I broke out into a cold sweat when I realized that whoever slaughtered those squirrels, hung the skin up, left what he didn't need, could've very well broken into my house.

The door to my room didn't make a sound as I opened it slowly, thankfully. I waited a moment, listening to someone call my dog for a few more seconds before I dared poke my head out from the door frame to get a good look and whoever it was that could've hurt Sandy.

The outside door was open. All I saw was the back half of Sandy, too long and lanky, almost coiled around the back of the door. His front half was outside. Whatever it was that had impersonated my dog, it was whistling slowly, calling for Sandy.

When I could've sworn that it had hunched down to the ground again, and said "Saaaannn-deeee" in the most ungodly voice I'd ever fucking heard, I closed the door just as softly as I'd opened it.

I don't know how long I waited with my back pressed up against the door. I knew I left my gun in the bag on the coat rack. I know I didn't sleep. I waited until I saw the sun break over the horizon, and then I waited some more, until it must've been mid-day and I finally got the balls to open the door again and make a break for the truck. I wouldn't die in that place.

"Sandy" was gone, and the door was open. His food was untouched, but the fridge was open, and all the meat was gone. I didn't bother packing his stuff. I just threw my bag over my shoulder, made my way to the ford as fast as I could, and turned on the ignition. I can't describe the feeling that overcame me as I realized that I'd have to leave Sandy in this place. The thought that he could be dead was never a thought in my mind. I don't think I could cope with the knowledge that whatever I allowed in my house, whatever disemboweled those animals, could've done the same with him.

I made my way down the winding paths and roads as fast as I possibly could without veering off the cliffs. I felt like I was turning in circles down this labyrinth that would take me back to that house, but when I reached the pavement on the stretch of road back to town, I felt relief wash over me, thinking I was safe.

Just as I was pulling off onto the cement, I felt something hard hit the back windshield, sending broken glass into the passengers seat. I only got a glimpse of the deer's decapitated head catching on unbroken glass and tumbling into the back seat. I cried for most of the way home, hands clenching the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were white.

I wish I could leave this off with a positive note, /nosleep/. I wish I could tell you that I found Sandy at home, waiting for me. I wish I could tell you that was the end of it, a traumatizing experience in the woods that I'll get over with time.

Last night, I found it hard to sleep. I kept replaying the entirety of my trip to Kelly's Mountain in my head. I figured I wouldn't be sleeping for a while, and laid there, listening to the wind through my open window.

I could've sworn I heard the whistle I used to call my dog with, coming from the forests edge.

[adventuresloane]

Original ask: "u know i gotta hear those soft sloane hcs my good friend (if you want to!!)"

Listen I'm convinced Sloane is a massive softie despite her best efforts and I am always keen to expose her for that. 

 -what they smell like: Dusty leather, mostly. Pre-canon, you'll occasionally get the scent of hot street food mixed in with that, too--she's sometimes-broke and not one to cook for herself much and likes to patronize independent vendors. 

 -what their favorite smells in the world are: The smell of night, you know what I mean? The smell of when you get far enough outside a populated area at night and the air is so clean that you smell things in it you never noticed before. She takes a lot of drives into the deep desert, is what I'm saying. (She used to really enjoy floral scents, too, but they became pretty ubiquitous after she became a dryad.) 

 -what pajamas they wear/what they wear to sleep in: T-shirt and shorts, honestly. Nothing too complicated. 

 -my favorite ship (if applicable) and a cute headcanon about them: So like I think entirely too much about elves and half-elves doing that soft-blink thing that cats do when they're happy. Sloane isn't especially demonstrative most of the time, so she really only does this when she forgets herself, and of course only around Hurley. The first time Hurley sees this is one time when they fell asleep around dawn after pulling an all-nighter in the garage. They woke up facing each other on the shitty mattress on the floor they brought in just for such occasions, and the very first thing Sloane, still groggy, did after opening her eyes is look right at Hurley and just gaze for a minute before giving her that slow blink and a little smile. Hurley just about died on the spot, and, because I imagine that at this point they were in a weird in-between "so are we actually dating or nah?" phase in their relationship, she had to physically restrain herself from just making out with Sloane then and there. 

 -my favorite friendship (if applicable) and a cute headcanon about them: I'm aware that it's got basically no basis in canon but I desperately need Angus to be Sloane's unofficial adopted nephew. I'm confident that Angus researched the Raven on his own time (more out of his own curiosity than his aiming to catch her, since his priority is hunting dangerous people). So when they meet post-canon, he, starry-eyed, is able to rattle off a bunch of facts about her exploits than not even the newspapers reported. She's equal parts jarred and kind of flattered, and Sloane (along with Hurley) likes kids anyway, especially very smart kids who are interested in learning to build things. He ends up liking to spend time around the garage and the track. Sloane makes him his own racing mask. 

-a song that reminds me of them: "Sky Full Of Song" by Florence + the Machine has already been brought up on this blog before, but it bears repeating. Also "Racing In The Street" by Bruce Springsteen, for obvious reasons. 

 -what animal I think they would be if they were an animal: I mean, obviously she believes she'd be a raven, and I think that's pretty accurate, but I also like associating her with another common urban "pest," the coyote. Adaptable, reclusive thieves who are sometimes solitary but also sometimes found in very tight-knit pairs or families... 

 -what position they sleep in: She sprawls all over the bed in her sleep and often doesn't leave enough room for poor Hurley, although she doesn't mean to. She's also a somewhat deep sleeper, so when Hurley tries to shove her out of the way in bed, she'll often only sigh in her sleep and slightly shift position and squeeze Hurley right up against her like a teddy bear. Not that Hurley minds the last part so much. 

 -their favorite drink: Whisky, babey!!! She's a gal with simple needs. 

 -a gift I would give them if I could: Just. A really good blanket tbh. She's cuddly. I feel it in my bones. Thank you for this I love her.

[benhardyisdaddy]

Howl - Part 1

MASTERLIST 

Werewolf!BenxReader

(welcome to a new fic im starting ugh ik i have so many im working on lmao but im a good mulitasker i promise, this is really long but im trying a different style so bare with me plz!!!! ily ok BYEEE)

Word Count: 3,193

The twinkling of the stars above you made you stop and stare. They were high in the sky and gleaming all around, causing your eyes to stare in amazement. Darkness surrounded you, besides one street lamp down the road that illuminated a tiny portion of your street. A warm breeze rustles through your hair as crickets chirp all around, being the only form of noise you can overhear. You continue gazing at the stars as you stroll towards your house in front of you. You silently thank yourself for moving to an area with no neighbors for a few miles away. Complete solitary, just how you adore it. Nobody telling you to turn your music down, no having to make small talk to people you barely know. It was an actual dream come true. The only downfall, in your opinion, are the sinister woods to the left of your new home. An almost eerie like shadow lingers over it, as if reminding you to never enter inside. And you understand, loud and clear.

You continue staring up to the glistening sky as you start on your front porches steps. You finally break your eyes away and look to your bright red front door, reaching for the outside lock. You fumble in your pocket and finally retrieve your keys. As you slip the key inside the lock, before you can fully unlock, a loud rustling noise in the woods makes you fling yourself around to stare. Your eyes dart around in the darkness as you watch for any signs of movement. Your heart begins racing at an ungodly speed and every hair on your body stands up in horror. You hold your breath and once more turn around and hurriedly unlock the door. You scramble inside and slam the door close, eliciting a loud BANG throughout the empty house. You quickly try to find the lock in the pitch dark and click it locked. You reach over and blindly move your hands on the wall next to the door in search of the light switch. After several seconds, you finally find it and flip it on. The foyer illuminates brightly and you finally let out a breath you had been holding. You look to the door once more and lock the deadbolt.

The noise you heard outside had to have been a wild animal making its nighttime rounds. It was probably a squirrel or rabbit that were rustling the leaves. You keep repeating this to yourself in an effort to calm down your wired nerves. As much as you love being far away from civilization, it also has its downfalls. Like being completely alone and nobody will hear you scream if you need help. You quickly shut your eyes and shake that horrible thought from your mind. Of course this is where your mind takes you when you’re terrified. It wants to jump to the most horrendous possible case scenarios, as if that helps you in any way. You lean away from your front door and place your purse on the table near the wall. You slide off your burgundy cardigan and drape it on your coat rack.

You stroll into your kitchen and flick the lights on once more. You peer around and spot your fat, orange tabby cat on one of your kitchen island chairs. He peeks up to you and watches as you stroll over to him. You softly scratch his ears as he purrs loudly, letting you know to keep going. You smile to him and scratch once more before standing up straight.

“What do we want for dinner, Tiger?” you ask him as you open up your refrigerator.

You place your lip between your teeth as you look up and down the shelves, in search of something to put this harsh growling in your stomach to rest. The only items you see are an old box of Chinese food, a bottle of now flat Pepsi and a full bottle of ketchup. You let out an annoyed huff and shut the door quickly. You really need to go grocery shopping, but being in college and having a part time job was putting a dent in your wallet. You had tried to convince your parents that you could manage living on your own, even though they fought and fought with you on the topic.

“Why don’t you just live with us while you attend college?” your mom asks as she’s sat in a salon chair, with tin foil in her hair.

You’re sat across the room in another chair, a magazine in your hand. You let out a breath and roll your eyes for the millionth time that day.

“Because mom, I’m an adult and would like to do just a few adult things on my own.”

She purses her lips and you can tell she won’t let this go.

“You can save so much money if you live with us. You won’t have to pay for rent, or groceries, or your car payment!”

You drop the magazine in your lap and look up to her quickly.

“Mom, I don’t need you and dad to pay for every little thing for me. I want to do this for myself. I promise I’ll be okay.”

You’re snapped from that memory when your stomach suddenly rumbles. You had told your parents you could do this on your own, so you’ll be damned if you allow them to find out that you can barely afford your own groceries. You wanted this, so you’ll deal with it. You reach your hand to the back pocket of your jeans and slide out your cell phone. You unlock it and scroll through your contact list, in search of the Chinese restaurant you love. As you’re searching, you hear a low, faint growl. You snap your head over to look at Tiger, but he was no longer on your island chair. You walk back over to the chair and look around confused. You finally hear the noise once more and you look up to your sliding glass door, that leads to your backyard. Tiger is stood in front of it as every orange hair on his body is stood straight up. His back is arched as he stares intensely out the window. You freeze and gaze out the window, trying to find what it is he sees.

Tiger suddenly loudly meows, as if to warn something to not come any closer. You take a step back, still looking out the window. This was the first time you had ever seen your cat act like this and you were definitely not a fan.

“Tiger?” you whisper out to him.

Just then, you see movement outside. You clutch your phone tightly as your eyes open wide in fear. A large, dark figure darts in your your backyard. Your voice is caught in your throat, which might be a good thing, seeing as you would be screaming for your life. Whatever was in your yard, it was giant and it was peering inside at you. You gasp suddenly when two large, giant yellow eyes stare directly at you. As if on cue, Tiger suddenly lets out a loud, angry hiss and you finally find your voice as you scream. The yellow eyes suddenly disappear as you scramble to dial your best friend’s number. You bring the phone to your ear and back yourself up into the back wall. You feel yourself shivering when a voice finally answers the phone.

“Hello?” asks a familiar voice.

“Joe!” you scream out, your breathing hard. “I need you to come to my place! Please hurry!”

You can hear concern in his voice as he speaks to you, but you ignore everything as you stare outside, searching for anymore movement. You hear your name being shouted and you come back to reality.

“I can’t explain it right now! Just please hurry!”

And with that you hang up the phone. You were use to seeing foxes and coyotes in your backyard, as they search for any kind of food, but this thing. This thing was different. It was terrifyingly huge and it’s eyes were as if they were trying to speak to you. You feel crazy for even thinking that. You were just terrified and silently pray to yourself that Joe hurries over. You walk to your living room and sit on your couch, bringing your legs to your chest. He only lived about ten minutes away, yet to you, it felt like hours in this current situation. You weren't sure exactly what you were going to tell him. You were going to sound insane and like a scared little helpless girl. A big scary monster is outside, you sarcastically think to yourself. You’re still sat when suddenly there’s a pounding at your door. You jump and gasp as your heart races once more. You slowly stand up and walk around the corner, peering at it. You walk up to it and lean in to peek out of the peephole. Joe is stood there, bouncing on his heels. He reached forward and bangs on the door once more.

“Y/n!” he shouts.

You quickly unlock the locks and swing the door open. You grab his shirt and pull him inside as you slam it shut. You lock the locks once more and lean against the door, eyes closed as you take in a deep breath. Joe watches you with a brow raised, confused as to what’s happening. You open your eyes and look to him. You furrow your brows and stand up straighter.

“You were really fast getting here.” you say, almost curious.

Joe shrugs and leans on his other foot, looking down for split second.

“There was no traffic.” he says as he lightly laughs. “And I took that one back road to get here.”

You squint your eyes and lightly shake your head.

“A back road?” you ask, almost forgetting about the main reason Joe was at your home.

Joe opens his mouth to talk, but quickly closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“Forget about it. I’m here for you, so talk to me. What happened?” he asks, slowly walking to your living room couch, you following behind him. The two if you sit down and you glance to your sliding glass door, half expecting to see eyes staring back. You lightly shutter and look to him, taking in a deep breath.

“Okay,” you start. “Tiger was staring at something in the backyard and it really freaked him out. I thought he was just being weird…” you pause and glance back over to the door. “But I saw something move. I saw it’s eyes. They were just staring at me.” you whisper, not breaking your eye contact with him. He raises both brows and blinks a few times.

“So you saw an animal in your backyard? The backyard that’s surrounded by woods…” he says slowly, making you feel almost embarrassed. You exhale and lean your head back and groan.

“This thing was huge, okay? I’m not crazy!” you shout, throwing your hands up. Joe shakes his head and puts up his hands in defense.

“Hey, I never said you were! I’m just saying it’s late, it’s dark, you’re home alone. You saw something move and your brain was playing tricks on you. I’m not denying what you saw.” he says softly. You stare at him and slowly nod your head, coming to realize that maybe he’s right. You were exhausted and maybe you were just seeing things.

“I just won’t get over it’s eyes, that’s all.” you say as you cross your arms and think about them staring at you. Joe lifts a brow and sits himself up, leaning his elbow against the back of the couch.

“What did they look like? The eyes that is.” he asks, curious. You look to him and shrug, looking down at your hands.

“They were big and yellow. They literally were glowing yellow. And they just stared at me.”

Joe sits up straight and stares at you intensely. He doesn’t move or say anything, as you continue talking.

“I’m thinking I should call animal control and have them come look around here, or at least for them to keep a closer eye on the woods.” you say, still looking down. That sounded like a good idea to you. It put your worries to rest.

“No!” says Joe, a little more louder than he wanted to sound. You look up to him quickly and raise a brow. His once anxious face had fallen into a relaxed, sorry look. Sympathetic almost.

“I just mean, it’s probably not anything to worry about, y/n.” he says, quietly. “It’s probably just a wolf. We have those you know. Big ones. In the woods. Probably these woods.” he says, speeding up his words. You watch him and your eyes open wide as you glance to the back door once more.

“Wolves? Here? Is that suppose to make me feel better? That’s terrifying, Joe!” you say, quickly standing to your feet. You wrap your arms around yourself and begin pacing back and forth in the room. Joe is sat still, watching you. He finally stands up and walks to you, placing both hands on your shoulders to stop you. You look up to him and frown.

“Y/n, listen,” he starts. “You’re safe. I promise. How long have we been best friends now?” he asks, smiling. You return one and lean your head back.

“A little over three years now.” you say quietly.

“Yes, a little over three years now. I won’t let anything happen to you. We’ll buy you protection if you want? You can carry mace or even a taser.”

You frown and drop your hands to your side.

“What about a gun?” you ask, raising your brows. Joe shakes his head and half laughs, finally dropping his hands as well.

“You and I both know that you and a gun would not be a good idea.”

You laugh loudly and nod. He was right. That would not be a good combination. You're not even sure if you and mace would be a good pair, but it’s a good idea.

“Okay,” you finally say, taking a deep breath. “Once I buy some stuff to protect me, I’ll feel better. And I won’t call animal services.”

Joe lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He smiles and nods fast.

“Okay, good. Just know you can always call me for anything. Even if big foot comes knocking at your door.” he says, teasing you. You sarcastically laugh and swat at his arm, eliciting a loud laugh from him. He smiles and pulls you into a big hug, squeezing slightly. You release and look up to him.

“Still on for tomorrow?” he asks, raising a brow. You smile and nod.

“Who’s gonna be there?” you ask, walking back to the couch and sitting down. Joe follows, but he continues standing.

“Rami, Gwil and Ben.” he says, naturally.

You were super close to Rami and Gwilym, but Ben?

“Ben?” you ask. “Who’s Ben?”

Joe sits on the arm of the couch and threads his fingers together.

“He’s the new leader of our pack.” he says, dramatically. You roll your eyes and laugh at his comment.

“You make it sound like you’re wild dogs.” you say, laughing. Joe’s face falls for a split second and then he’s laughing along with you. He stands once more and looks to the front door.

“Well thank you for coming to my rescue again.” you say as you stand up with him. You walk to your front door and he opens it up, a warm breeze making its way inside. He turns to face you, smiles and once more pulls you in for a hug. You squeeze him and back away.

“I’m just a call away.” he says, walking on your front porch. “Just don’t think about what you saw too much. It’ll only freak you out more. And go to bed.” he says sternly as he walks down the steps and to his car.

“Fine!” you call out as you wave him goodbye. You slowly close the door and don’t forget to lock it tight. You turn around and lean your back on it, taking in a deep breath and closing your eyes. This was too much excitement for one night. You were now officially exhausted. You drag yourself through your hallway and to your bedroom. You walk in and discard every item of clothing you have on. You pull out an over sized, white shirt from your top drawer and slip it on. You click on your TV and the news pops on. You shut your light off and quickly hurry to your bed, sliding under the cool covers. Your head hits the pillow and your eyes automatically close. You sigh once and then you fall into a deep sleep.

That night you dream of bright yellow glowing eyes staring at you. You were lost in the woods and all around you were tall trees and no path. It was pitch black, the only light being the full moon high in the sky. The glowing eyes stare at you and you couldn’t look away. You were almost in a trance. They had some kind of spell on you and you couldn’t break free. You wanted to open your mouth and scream, but you couldn’t. You were fixed on these bright eyes and you weren't sure why. Just then, the eyes seemed to get closer and closer. You realized and started backing away until your back bumps into a tree. You had nowhere to go, you were cornered. The eyes get closer and right before you wake, the creatures mouth snarls and long, sharp fangs appear as a hideous growl rips through the woods and right through your heart.

You suddenly wake up and gasp as your eyes shoot open. You grab your chest in an attempt to slow your breathing. You look around frantically, half expecting the yellow eyes to be in your room, but they weren't. It was no longer dark, as sun rays break through your closed curtains. You slowly sit up and look to your right as a sleeping Tiger is curled up next to you. You smile and gently pet him, making his stretch and yawn. You look over to your bedside table and grab your cell phone. 7:28 AM. You lie back down and stretch your muscles awake. You stare at the ceiling and suddenly remember the dream you had. It had to have been because of Joe talking about wolves. Yeah, that’s why you dreamed that. You shake your head and sit up once more. You needed to get up and get ready for the day. Suddenly the name Ben comes to your mind and you’re curious about him. You wonder why Joe had never brought him up before. Who was he? Why had you never heard of him before? You quickly push those thoughts away and head to your bathroom to shower. You guess you’ll find all of that out today.

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