#im out here with a metal baseball bat and im swinging

[definitelynotshouting]

everything i loved and feared (first 1k)

hello scarianblr beloveds this is the unedited very beginning of my completed scarian fic that im posting for the hell of it. fic is 7k rn but that will likely expand after the final draft rewrite<3 so this is just a funky little teaser thats gonna be rewritten anyway, hence why i dont mind sharing.

CWs for: blood, graphic injury, implied character death. Enjoy :]

Grian’s eyes are red now.

It’s an odd color on him– not because it doesn’t suit him, but because it suits him far too well. Like a glove, Scar thinks past the hazy, heady fog settling over his mind. Red like his tattered sweater– like the blood that beads between Scar's neck and shoulder, clouding the water he kneels in. Red like life.

Red like love.

That’s the fog settling thick over his senses. Love, the amalgamation of it, something so beautiful and terrible that anyone else wouldn’t– shouldn’t– look at it head-on. But inside Scar’s chest is a warm purr; he has rolled the die, shown his hand, and now Grian stands over him, vibrating red, red, red. He’s gorgeous like this, all righteous, trembling fury. Scar wants to pull him close and kiss him until they’re both dead.

“You can kill me” he says, and his voice shakes with the cost of this victory. “Grian. You can kill me.”

Above him, an avenging angel falters. Grian’s sword, so swift with its raging swing, lowers by a noticeable fraction. “What? No.”

“For everything you did to me,” Scar says, breathless, “to keep me alive this long– you may slay me, and take the enchanter.” He lowers his head, until his forehead brushes against cool, rippling water. It feels like benediction. It feels like a curse.

Grian will win. It is both the least and most Scar can do for him.

When Grian speaks, his voice is small. “No– no, I can’t. I literally can’t. Scar–”

“Do it,” Scar insists, that eager haze billowing through his veins, unfolding to rest with steady pressure against his bowed spine. Distantly, he wonders why nothing is singing. There should be war horns, trumpets, a blazing, crescendoing melody. Birds, at the very least.

Instead there is only miserable silence.

Grian sucks in an audible breath. “I’m not–” he starts, then breaks off; Scar lifts his head to watch him struggle, how his grip loosens on the hilt of his sword, how his eyes pinch around the edges. Grian flinches, presses his free hand to his head, eyes going middle-distant.

“The spectators want a fight,” he says at last, hollow.

And this is what he's waited for, this moment of realization; the other shoe dropped, the culmination of the game they've waltzed around. Scar smooths his voice, curling it around the two of them with gentle, insistent pressure. “It’s okay, G. You can kill me. You can be the winner.”

For one, long moment, Grian holds his stare, expression flayed open for only Scar to see. Raw and wild, his eyes gleam in the dawning sun– thin strands of hair curl around his ears, damp from their earlier struggle in the pond.

Slow, so slow it’s almost imperceptible, Grian shakes his head. Clenches his jaw. “Scar, they want blood.” Something in his face shifts– some beetled brow, a muscle jumping before smoothing out. He’s shaking: ripples blooming around him as he wavers on his feet, as if adrenaline has finally retracted its claws.

Scar’s shaking too. Even in this, they are together.

Scar opens his mouth– to push, to press, to snap him out of whatever spell holds him in suspension– but Grian beats him to it; his sword lifts from its helpless stance, glittering bright and blue in the sun. His mouth twists, tired affection curling the corners of his lips.

“Scar,” Grian says, “no matter what happens, we can claim this as a double victory. Right?”

The words are a cool caress against his fevered skin. Scar sinks into them, eyes drifting shut– because even now, with victory dancing through his veins, he can’t look Grian in the face when he kills him. “Yes,” he breathes, and braces for the blow, the cut of diamond against his carotid–

It never comes.

Instead, a rush of air as the sword comes down; the sharp, wet schlck of a blade entering flesh; a choked-off, gurgling yelp. Scar’s eyes fly open just as Grian falls to his knees with a splash, and–

And blood is tumbling from his gut in great scarlet waves where his sword is buried, slicking around his hands where he grips the hilt. Grian’s teeth are stained as he grins up at Scar, sharp and feral, eyes alight with more fire than Scar has seen in them since he knelt to die. “You win,” Grian hisses, and shudders, one hand flying out to sink into the silt of the pond they’re both kneeling in. Like a toppling tower, the rest of his body follows suit, falling sideways into bloody water.

The fog clouding his mind is ripped away in one fell swoop. Scar isn’t sure if he screams– all he knows is that one moment Grian is collapsing, and the next Scar is holding him, breath stuttering in his lungs.

“Grian– Grian, no, hang on. Wait, wait, wait, no, no– no, no, no, no. Grian.” His hands find the hilt of Grian’s sword, but make no move to pull it out– that would just kill him faster. It's like he's been punched– the bright, earnest rays of the sun have missed their mark, gilded the wrong death in stunning, flagrant gold. “What are you doing?” he chokes, like that will reverse everything.

Grian was supposed to win. Grian was supposed to be the winner.

“They never said what kind of blood,” Grian says, hazy. His lips wobble. “I can’t– I couldn’t, Scar. I couldn’t kill you.” When he coughs, blood bubbles on his lips. “Sorry.”

“No you’re not,” Scar whispers, fingers shifting to catch in the wet strands of Grian’s hair. “You did that on purpose– Grian, you were supposed to win.”

He’d done everything– cast the die, folded his cards, offered up his life, because Scar knows himself; he could never handle being alone. Not in that emptiness. Maybe it’s selfish, how he’d planned to let Grian take that fall instead– but Scar is selfish. And more than that, he’s in love: awful, truthful, scarlet love, with a man now dying in his arms.

“You weren’t supposed to die,” Scar wails, terror thick in his lungs, despair a weight around his ankle. He leans forward, brushing his forehead against Grian’s, until the trembling puffs of breath from Grian’s lips fan over his own. “Grian– how could you?”

When he pulls back again, Grian grins at him. The sun slips across his face, revealing the pale, faded remnants of freckles scattered over his cheeks. Scar has always wanted to count them. He’s never gotten close enough until now. “Guess I’m just not cut out to be a winner,” he murmurs, one hand lifting to rest, delicate as a butterfly, over Scar’s cheek.

He does not say I love you. He does not say anything at all. Instead he guides Scar’s head down, until their lips brush, the taste of copper flooding Scar’s tongue. Then his hand drops, breath hitching, head lolling back–

Scar wakes up choking on his own desperate scream.

[hatsukeii]

hi hatssun!! congrats on 900 followers!!

i would love to be on the guitar and bass with kageyama! i heard someone say "takes one to know one" in my in-ear monitor and prefer my “pining” guitar pick ;) thank you <3

nice! the band you've joined is...

lessons in love / bsf!kageyama tobio x reader

genre(s): angst in between bouts of fluff but this will be a very sweet fic methinks, lowkey found family, subtle but definitely pining, learning to love and learning to live!!!

warning(s): family issues smh, blood because kageyama is reckless and upset ngl, a smidge of depression/implied self-harm + suicidal ideation so pls be cautious! im basing those things off of what i've felt before so im trying not to romanticise it iykwim

wc: ~1.7k

your first gig is at… a waste yard?!

setlist:

🎵踊り子, vaundy

🎵lonely rhapsody, fuji kaze

🎵fake plastic trees, radiohead

Life leads Kageyama Tobio to a wasteland.

His feet kick at soda cans as he treks through mountains of thrown out televisions, yellowed mattresses, emptied beer bottles with the edges smashed open. His hand holds a baseball bat, yours carry along a skateboard. Leaves and paper crunch beneath your board as you jam it into the sooty ground ahead of a worn down Corvette. Once, a long time ago, it must have been the priceless possession of some young, fiery man. Now, it ages with him, alone and rusting through trials of life.

"The car? You sure?"

"Go on. Tell it what you want to." You egg him on, smacking your board into the ground once, twice. Tobio tosses the bat and catches it by the hilt, but his steps are shaky, careful as he approaches the hunk of metal. He raises it by his side, and slams it into the sideview mirror until it comes clean off with a snap. You watch him, hands pressing your board firm into the ground. Tobio is silent, even as he hammers and slashes and plows relentlessly into the rusted metal body of an unloved, unwanted Corvette. You imagine every crack in the car's windows carrying a little weight for him.

"I can't stand it here anymore."

Tobio gives the windshield one final blow, before the entire thing collapses into the cockpit of the car in chunks and shimmers of foggy glass. Frowning, his hands grab onto the frame, palms sinking into jagged shards of smashed window. He'll patch them up for volleyball, he thinks, but for now, he would rather watch them bleed for tonight. His feet push off the bumper, hands pushing further into the glass as he swings himself onto the roof of the car. He lies his head down on his bloodied palms, hair poking into fresh wounds. You sigh, tossing your unused skateboard to the side, and push yourself onto the trunk of the car, standing over Tobio's head.

"You're actually insane, you know? Dragging me out here so I can assault a car." He stares at the sky. The moon cowers behind grey clouds tonight, billions of stars following suit. The only star he sees is hovering above his face, but he's too busy trying not to wince at the stench of his blood oozing into his hair.

"Takes one to know one, Tobio. You fucked it up real good."

He sits up, pushing himself to the side and leaving bloody handprints on the off-white roof of the car. You press your hand onto the cool metal , swinging one leg over. Your boot lands on Tobio's stomach, and he doubles over before falling limp again. A second leg follows up, slinging itself onto the first. His eyes flicker from the sky to your seated figure, legs sprawled across his body, a fallen star in a barren wasteland. If his palms weren't bloodied and battered tonight, he'd lift you back up into the sky and away from the abyss that is himself. You deserve at least that much.

"Need to get away from here." He mumbles into the air, wisps of cold puffing from his mouth.

Your legs shift, one bent for your boot to rest between his legs, the other lying comfortably across his knee. Swallowing thickly, he lolls his head to the side, the corner of his eye catching the way your hair falls loose from behind your ear when you turn to look at him. If his hands weren't stinging like hell behind his head, he would push it back to see you properly. His eyes train onto nothing in particular, melancholic. Tired. You click your tongue and reach over to pinch his earlobe, a pinch that tells him, hey, I'm still here. You're still here. We can stay forever if you'd like. Once an odd quirk of yours turned a habit that seems to ground Tobio every time he feels the dull ache. You've done it so much that he's memorised the swirls etched into the pads of your fingers just by the feeling of them pressed against his ears.

"Hey, y/n."

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I have it in me to live?"

You gasp, feigning hurt as your hand shoots up to your chest. Yet in your mind, you do not want to talk about this, because you have no answer for him. So, you hope that Tobio laughs at you. He doesn't. Instead, he pushes himself upright on his elbows, palms facing the air. The blood has dried and clotted now, streaks of reddish-brown slashing across the pale skin of his hands.

"Live?"

"Yeah, like really live."

He stops to think, eyes rolling to stare at the blank sky, devoid of stellar or lunar presence. His eyes dart around to draw into the clouds, two people sitting atop a Corvette that has expended its time, legs tangled betwen each other, minds connected by brain waves unseen by each other, but so very present nevertheless. Two minds so detached from the rest of the world, from fighting parents that storm into different rooms at midnight, from the horrors that have made their marks in their chests, their heads, their ears, their eyes too. Two wandering souls that bumped into each other on a school rooftop by chance one day, one learning to live, the other living as if tomorrow was not guaranteed.

"I'm still alive, for what it's worth. What makes you think you can't?"

Tobio looks back to you, and it's almost like he's back on that school rooftop a year ago. The rooftop where the wind howls and whistles, no matter how low he crouches behind the barriers to breathe. The rooftop where you pinched his ear for the first time, and he didn't even know your name. Now, he knows where you head to when nights of muffled screaming from downstairs become ringing in your ears, and how you like your breakfast on the mornings that you jog to his house when dewdrops form on leaves at dusk, usually after sleeping through the night in a Corvette at a waste disposal. You know the recurring nightmare that plagues his waking dreams, the one where his toss hits an empty court, his teammates huddled outside the lines, and the anxiety that eats at his very being, fear that he will never really learn how to live freely, to spread his wings and take off.

"I have nothing but volleyball. I don't know if anyone really cares for me outside of that. Except you, probably. Which is weird already."

"What's so weird about that? I think I love you anyways." You freeze at your casual confession, holding your breath. Then you decide that it's not worth it, and breathe out. Tobio stares, the thought of what you have just said being true is inconceivable. Heavy breaths line the silent air, your chests heave at the same pace, and he thinks that maybe your bodies are connected in some capacity too.

"You think?"

"Don't exactly have a good reference to go by now, do I?"

Tobio can't bring himself to nod. The idea that you've chosen to consider loving him, of all people, is frightening. The prospect of you choosing to stay in this abyss alongside him, refusing to go back amongst the stars, where you belong, is gut wrenching. Why? Why stay here? All he knows is volleyball. He can't even figure out how he wants to exist. There's so much waiting ahead for you, beyond the dysfunctional family, and the wasteland, and the Corvette. A youth of dancing on top of cars, and watching planes fly by from grassy fields, and chats of last night's dinner instead of last night's nightmare. So much that he knows someone else could give you, maybe even better than he can. You puff your cheeks, and blow a raspberry at his silence, before he finally breaks it.

"Why me?"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm awful?"

"You're just learning to live, like everyone else. That doesn't make you awful. That doesn't stop me from loving you either."

"You've gotta stop saying that, man." You raise your eyebrow at his request, heart sinking to your stomach.

"What, that I love you? Does that scare you?" He shakes his head, and you only just notice the faint pink that lines his cheeks. The clouds above thin out, the glow of the moon is diffused, but finally there nevertheless. His bloodied palm tucks the fallen strands of hair behind your ear, tracing over the curve tentatively. He wants to learn you all over again.

"It scares me. But it excites me. It excites me to like, no end." His fingers ghost across your neck, gliding over your pulse. This feels like the real thing, he wonders if you know when you smile back at him.

"Good. That's what it feels like to live."

You reach for his hand, feeling the cuts and gashes in his palm when you press your own to his. He links his fingers with yours, and sets your hands back on the cold metal of the Corvette. Then, he pushes forward to you, pressing his lips against yours for just a second. This tastes like the real thing, and Tobio hopes that by the way you pull him back in, you know it too. His other hand snakes around to your back, pushing you impossibly close to him. You don't let him go until your lungs are shrivelled discs, begging for air. And even then, you hold his forehead against yours, and breathe against his lips, cupid's bows still touching. His eyes are lidded, staring at the puffs of white that don't stop coming from your mouths.

"Yeah, I think I love you too." His confession sends shivers down your spine, shivers that are caught by his hand on your back, his fingers against yours on the roof of a car, and his lips on yours again.

Life leads Kageyama Tobio to a wasteland. Love leads him into the night sky, right beside you instead.

author's note:

this is an apology and a fulfilment of a promise for ave because yeah ushijima HURT you but im about to pull you back out of it bb<3 have yourself a wonderful angsty fluff pining hurt/comfort found family learning to live learning to love fic i love you also i hope it's angsty enough because i think i went the found family route a little too much so it's not explicitly sad but it's more like melancholic iykwim

off topic but i haven't gone so heavy on like mental turmoil in my writing since forever but i hope that what i've written here is realistic(?) i personally have dealt with most things i wrote here so im not worried about being weird and romanticising awful things but i need to like just clarify LOL

anyways tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @hiraethwa @catsoupki @staraxiaa @fiannee @akaakeis @4ngelfries @wyrcan @kuroppiii @bailey-reeds

interested in joining a band? come on over to the build-a-band 900 !!

[understandableparadox]

camping diaries of a charub: alternian forest-side b

a massive blood shot eye with red iris glares into the camera before pulling back. the same creature as the last entry sits cross legged in a cruncified tent. they wore a somewhat tattered purple outfit with the same such hue. the only difference seems to be that four of their fangs are turned outwards and a somewhat shoddily made tricorn perched on their head.

"FUCK, OK I GUESS I NEED TO DO THE VIDEO WHATEVER AS WELL, WHOEVER WATCHES THIS IN THE FUTURE, FEEL BLESSED THAT YOU GET TO WATCH A GOD DAMN MASTER AT WORK"

he walks out of frame, still talking as if the camera was with him. its not. its on the floor. recording a patch of intresting tent interior. it would take exactly one hour of recording for the alien to realize their mistake and reterive the camra...

"THE MASTER LESSONS ARE NOT FREE, IF YOU ARE CLOSE TO BEING A MASTER THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE LEARNED WHAT I DID BY LISTENING..."

he turns the camera towards his work, scrap would has been constructed into a crude set of tables. on one, a few cans of soda and other such tins. had been assembled in a rather odd configuration.

"BECAUSE MY SISTER IS SUCH A FUCKING WIMP AND WONT EAT THE PERFECTLY GOOD MEAT I COULD BRING IN, I HAVE TO GET A SET UP GOING TO MAKE SOME HOME MADE NASTY ASS CANDY."

he tosses a stick into the feeder and ontop of the grate, he places a hunk of werid looking steak...

"ANYWAYS, THIS IS A "HOBO" ROCKET STOVE, HOBOS ARE FUCKING COOL, I DONT CARE IF THEY HAVE A CLOWN NAMED AFTER THEN, THEY HAD SECRET CODES, TOLD TRAINS TO GO FUCK THEMSELVES AND HAD SHIT LIKE THIS~"

theres an edge of actual enjoyment to his voice as he flips the steak over again.

"MY SISTER WANTED ME TO DO SOME SHIT??? GATHER MORE METAL STUFF, CHECK, TRY TO MAKE AN AXE, FUCKING GROSS...OH ITS FOR TREES...STILL GROSS, LOOK ANY WEAPON SOMEONE NEEDS CAN BE DONE WITH A BAT!"

to demonstrate his point, he forms his strife, a wooden baseball bat covered in various shards of scrape metal.

"IT CAN CUT, SMACK, BLUDGEON! AND IF YOU THROW IT HARD ENOUGH, ITS RANGED. PERFECT WEAPON, TEN OUTTA TEN."

he contemplates his weapon for a second before grabbing the now slightly cooked hunk of steak and ripping into it with a bit of ferocity.

"THOUGH I DONT WANNA LIVE IN THIS FUCKING TENT ANY LONGER THEN A WEEK OR TWO SO I GUESS AN AXE IS NEEDED...IF i CAN YOINK ONE OF THESE ASSHOLES CHAINSAWS, THAT MIGHT WORK TO, i SAW SOME FUCKING WERID WHITE BUG GUY WHEN I WAS SNEAKING AROUND IN TOWN AND THEY HAD A SAW."

they gain a werid twitch in their eye...

"BULKY TALL PEICE OF SHIT, DOES HE THINK HES BETTER THEN ME?! JUST SWINGING THAT SHIT AROUND LIKE HES THE HOTTEST THING TO BE PURGED OUT OF THIS SHIT TEIR ROCK?! HALF THE INSECTS HERE HAD WAY COOLER ATTACHEMENTS."

another bite of meat and he seems to come off his second of indignit anger...

"AXE...THATS NOT FUCKING EASY TO MAKE SO I DONT KNOW WHY I GET STUCK ON CRAFTING DUTY, OH WAIT, YES I FUCKING DO! ITS BECAUSE IM THE FUCKING BEST AT IT!"

from his inventory, he unloads a large pile of scrap metal. he starts digging around looking for specific pecies. thick nails, peices of an old lawn mower blade...

"YEAH THIS WILL WORK... FUN FACT, YOU DONT NEED TO SHARPEN SOMETHING INTO A BLADE IF IT ALREADY HAS A BLADE."

he looks around and stares up a tree...

"WAIT HERE."

he climbs a tree up and out of frame, theres the sound of rustling, angry birds and wood ripping before the charub drops back down with a branch.

"WOOD IS GOOD FOR HANDLES, IT HURTS LESS BUT LIKE... ONLY IF ITS SHAPED RIGHT? ITS WERID, ITS BULLSHIT BUT I LIKE IT BECAUSE ITS MY BULLSHIT."

he starts to scrape away at it, creating a decently sized handle, useing a scrap metal knife to shape it through widdling. it takes him a few hours but he soon has a semi decent handle. he rummages through the junk again to drag a long length of wire.

"I WAS GOING TO USE NAILS BUT OOPS, I DONT HAVE A FUCKING DRILL OR ANYTHING WITH POWER AND WERE NOT TO THE STEAL SHIT PHASE OF OUR STAY HERE WHICH AGAIN, BULLSHIT. NOT LIKE THAT HAG WOULD HAVE LET ME HAVE POWER TOOLS..."

he uses the knife to cut out a channel into handle. he gets distracted and looks around, abandoning the project to mess with something in the crater and grass, ripping chunks off it and going off screen to where the stove is.

"I FUCKING FORGOT THE GLUE, HOW THE FUCK IS SHIT GOING TO STAY IF THERES NO GLUE...I LEARNED THIS TRICK FROM HUMANS, APPERENTLY IF YOU HAVE SAP AND BURNT SHIT... WHICH SHOULDNT BE TO HARD TO MAKE, SAP IS JUST... SUGER RIGHT? SO IF I JUST GET SOME OF THIS BAD CANDY, MELT IT AND..."

Theres a gagging noise, and a rather noxious looking smoke that roils out from of screen... he quickly comes back with a tin can filled with something miasmic that he dips a stick. he pulls it out to reveal a semi liquad black material that he pours into the channel. he shoves the old mower blade in and ties at two points with a wire. he lets it sit as he throws the contents of the candy pitch away into the crater.

"UGH, IM TIRED... IM NOT CHOPPING DOWN ANY FUCKING TREES RIGHT NOW, GOOD NIGHT I GUESS? THIS PLACE IS WEIRD... BUT ITS NICE I GUESS, KRATANOR SAYS WE HAVE TO WAIT TO TALK TO OUR "CONTACT"? WHICH I DONT UNDERSTAND, IM FUCKING BORED... WELL, NO THATS NOT TRUE, IM NOT BORED, ITS JUST QUIET HERE, BUT NOT AS MUCH AS THE MOON. WHICH I LIKE...IM DONE TALKING."

The charub reaches over and cuts off the feed.

[asteriismos]

flashing lights — bill denbrough

pairing: bill denbrough x fem! reader

warning(s): smut, eighteen! bill denbrough, is it choking if he doesn’t squeeze?, fingering, piv sex, cursing, ig kinda degrading idk tho judge for yourself, unedited

summary: bill, the star baseball player of derry, and you, from another high school, meet in the locker room and get to know each other. 

words: 3.1k

note: don’t say i never gave you anything i am a woman of my word

sitting here in the bleachers adjacent to the baseball field, with the setting sun in your gaze and the feeling of newly spring wind on your skin, you had high hopes that your schools baseball team would win. out of all the schools in lieu with your own, bangor high school, derry’s team was the most anticipated of in the season. where most high schools in the nation favored the fall sport of football, the central part of maine where you lived actually liked baseball more, so when the first sprouts of spring showed, everyone was excited for the next season. 

you were a senior, almost finished with school and personally tasked yourself and your group of friends with trying to go to every single baseball game that you all could make it to - whether they were at home or away. 

“look, he’s up to bat,” your friend marcella said, catching your attention by lightly tapping your shoulder and motioning to the field. there you saw your close friend owen, who was the star player of your school’s team and one of your friends since you were a little kid. he was the person who introduced you to the group that you were here with now, here specifically to cheer him on. 

you saw him walk to home plate, bat in hand and getting into position to swing. your eyes took you across from him to the pitcher of the other team, who you didn’t know but could see the name displayed on the back of his shirt. denbrough. you raised your eyebrow at the last name, it didn’t ring a bell. 

the crowd started to cheer for your friend, waiting for denbrough to throw the first pitch. everything became silent, and the ball was thrown with stellar accuracy. whoever this denbrough boy was, he was seemingly a really good pitcher. when the second ball was thrown and owen missed yet again, your hand ran through your hair nervously. you could hear people whispering all around you, wondering if he was going to strike out. 

just as if someone of the heavens was listening to the anxious worries of your fellow classmates, denbrough went to throw the ball and owen swung and the ball went flying, going straight for the outfield as owen ran with all his might to first base. you cheered with your friends, yelling words of encouragement and praise towards your team. 

the game, from that point, was in your high schools favor. it was seemingly decided almost halfway through that bangor high school had it in the bag, which did nothing for any person in your crowds ego. just as the last inning was finished, your school came out victorious. 

“hopefully this means that we’re going to the championships this year,” you heard people say. “and maybe we can host it at our school so we don’t have to drive all the way out here again.” 

you were anxious to see your friend, running down the stairs of the bleachers and shouting his name, but owen didn’t hear you. sighing, you turned to your group to say, “should we get back home?” the team would have to come back by bus anyways, which sucked, because you wanted to congratulate your friend on such a good win. 

“yeah, probably before it gets too late, you know how bad those backroads are,” jake stated. “do you want to catch a ride with me? im sure marcella can take your car back.” 

half of you wanted to go with them and just see owen later, but to you, it felt like poor taste to make him wait that long. plus, maybe you could catch him before he left. you shook your head, “no, i’ll stay. i want to see the team. go without me, I'll see you tomorrow.” 

jake laughed. “okay, just don’t get lost.” he wiggled his eyebrows in a teasing manner and walked away, taking your friends with him and leaving you alone in the front of derry high school. 

you had been here once before, just for a short while and after a baseball game like right now. but that was all the way back during freshman year when you were trying to find the bathroom, you really had no idea where the locker rooms were. 

opening the large door, you started along the main hallway, looking at the posters that aligned the wall that reminded you of your own school. derry was really similar in layout, so perhaps it wouldn’t be that hard. turning the corner, you saw a sign that pointed to the gym and the locker rooms. in no time you were there, but there was no one coming out of the doors. had they already left and you missed them? it was silent. 

you put your ear to the door and listened, hearing some rustling. you knocked, but there was no answer, making you raise your eyebrow. and you don’t exactly know what prompted you to open the wooden door and make your way inside, but you did, and along the array of closed lockers, your eyes took you to the one person who was in there. 

it was the denbrough pitcher. 

you got a good look of him now, with his honeyed locks that fell messy on his forehead, standing taller than you. his back was slightly turned to you and through his jersey you could see his toned back muscles, making you lose yourself for a moment and send you almost stumbling over your feet. you knew that he was attractive from the moment you set your eyes on him but you didn’t know that he was this attractive. 

he turned around now and immediately those dazzling cerulean blue eyes landed on you, making your face heat up in realizing that this was not the visitors locker room like you had intended on trying to find. 

“sorry,” you fumbled out after a moment of shameless staring. “I was looking for my friend.” denbrough tilted his head to the side and you watched him take out a bag and push his locker door closed. instead of walking out like you should’ve, you just stood there watching him. it was in poor taste, since the longer you looked at him, you could see clearly that he was angry. 

a tiny grin came to his face. “it’s fine, no one’s in here except me anyways.” a silent moment passed and then a quizzical look came to his face, eyes falling back on you. “wait . . . weren’t you cheering on the other team?” he had noticed you, just as you were now noticing him. the room seemed a lot smaller than it had earlier and you ignored the fluttering feeling in your stomach the longer he stared at you. you didn’t even know his name. 

“yeah, it was a good game,” you shrugged your shoulders. 

“we should’ve won that game.” 

a cocky grin splayed on your features. “well, im sure you’ll get another shot next time.” you would have to play them again to secure a spot in the championships, it was still rather early in the season anyways. 

“will you be at the next game?” denbrough asked, he walked closer to you now, and there was a look in his eyes that was not easy to mistake. he was looking at you like you were a full course meal and he was the hungriest man on earth. and you liked the way that he looked at you, this gorgeous boy that you had barely met, and you wanted him to keep looking at you like that. well, you would rather him be doing other things. “maybe we could go do something together afterwards.” now you were certain of his likeness for you. 

you gave him a smirk. “well, i don’t know about that, i wouldn’t want to get involved with the opposing team.” when he noticed you were directly giving back the same energy he was giving, his feet stopped so he was just inches away from you. it took everything in you to keep yourself from grabbing him by those large muscles and - 

in a moment of weakness or just pure idiocy, you did exactly as you thought, lunging yourself forward, hands reaching for his face and pulling him into a searing kiss. when he reciprocated your movements, you had to stop another smirk from rising to your face, pushing it down and focusing on your hands that made it’s way to his soft hair. 

your kiss was unexpected by denbrough, though seemingly not unwelcome since his hands found their place exploring your sides, not being exactly gentle with his touches which you didn’t mind. this was so unlike you, doing something like this with someone you didn’t know. and to be honest, it was unlike him, too. 

but both of you were giving each other the ‘fuck me’ eyes and well, you only live once, right? 

as the kiss became more sloppy and he broke it to press kisses to your jawline and trailing down your neck, you breathed out and closed your eyes. “I don’t even know your name.” you sighed into his touches though, not really caring what his name was but knowing that it would probably be useful sometime soon. 

denbrough came back up to meet your gaze. “it’s bill,” he gave you a grin. “pleasure to meet you.” there was a sense of teasing in his tone, which you would’ve laughed at if his hands weren't reaching for where your shirt met your pants. 

“y/n,” you said weakly, already feeling your legs start to give out by the way that he was looking at you. you reached out to bill, wanting to feel his body pressed against yours again. he chuckled at your eagerness, giving you what you wanted by slowly pushing you against the lockers behind you. you felt the cool metal through your shirt and instantly realized how hot it was getting in this locker room, your skin was already on fire. 

bill reattached his lips to your skin and you spent the time trying to undo the belt that was around his pants that nicely accentuated everything that you wanted from him. thank god for baseball pants. 

tentatively, you pressed your hips against his and you heard a groan leave his throat, his lips stalling for a moment and then going back to his earlier movements. you were well aware of how excited he was, taking a moment to note that you could feel that he was absolutely fucking enormous. 

of course he was. 

as if he had enough of this teasing, his hand reached down and went straight under the band of your pants, being met with the wetness that was gathering in your panties. you bucked your hips forward into his hand and he smirked at how compliant you seemed to be with him. his other hand was gripping your side, keeping you close to him while the other pushed your panties to the side and the pad of his pointer finger came into contact with your slit. 

you moaned out and bill covered your mouth with his own, not kissing you but keeping it there. “so tell me,” he said, breath hot against you, finger tracing a line from your slick folds to your clit, making you almost keel over if it hadn’t been for his hand keeping you up and body pressing you farther into the locker. “this friend of yours, he was on your team wasn’t he?” 

you nodded, not trusting your voice. but he didn’t seem to like that, his hand stalling and not moving no matter how much you tried to gain friction. 

“answer me with words,” the hand on your side coming up to the bottom of your throat so you were forced to look at him in the face, those blue eyes on him seemingly had become darker. 

you took in a sharp breath. “yes,” you answered. his movements started again, but this time he took one finger and pushed it inside you till he was knuckle deep in, a large moan falling off of your tongue, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. 

“and how do you think he would feel seeing you like this for me? the star player of the other team?” bill’s tone was condescending and you wondered if he was normally like this, or he was just angry about the outcome of the game. his finger sped up, soon being joined with another one that slipped in with ease. you were so wet for him already. “but you wouldn’t care, would you?” 

it was seemingly rhetorical, because he didn’t wait for you to answer and instead attached his lips to your throat, teeth grazing a point that had you gasping, hand coming and tugging on those locks of his, the other falling to his neck. 

“bill,” you muttered. “please just-” you were cut off by a moan, gripping him close as his thumb came into contact with your clit and rubbed tight circles against it. 

he looked up at you from the mess he was creating on your neck. “please what?” 

“just fuck me.” 

you were really in no position to be making such requests since bill seemed to be in control (which really, you didn’t mind if it meant that he was making you feel good in the process), but at this point you were too strung out to care what he thought of the rather forward request. you knew that you needed him and you needed him now. 

bill pulled away from you and you took in his now ragged features, noticing the tint of red in his cheeks and the freckles that dotted them, and the goldenness that he seems to radiate. in some ways you hoped that this wouldn’t be your only encounter with the denbrough boy, but that was something to worry about later, since his hands were undoing the rest of his belt and you knew that was your cue to do the same with your own pants. 

soon enough you were back in the same position, one of his hands next to your head on the locker behind you as he moved to position his cock at your entrance, eyes meeting with yours as he pushed in to look at your reaction. and it was everything that he hoped to see, your mouth opening into an ‘o’ shape, lips parted and eyes never leaving his own. 

once he bottomed out, he already started a fast rhythm, giving you little to no time to adjust. but you were so needy you didn’t care, not one bit because he was making you feel so good that you wished for this moment to last forever. and you were already so wet and willing, bill couldn’t wait a second longer. 

your hands gripped onto his forearms, steadying yourself, but it was hard to keep your legs from giving out. bill must've noticed your struggle and leaned down, grabbing you by the back of your thighs and hoisting you up in his arms, using the leverage of the locker to fuck into you. 

the change in position made you quiver in his arms like putty, arms wrapping around his neck and caging him close to you. incoherent words fell from your mouth that wouldn’t close no matter how hard you tried, while his pace became fast, rough, and unrelenting. you didn’t know bill well but you could tell that he was adamant about making you feel good, which fueled the fire inside of you even more. 

if he was tired from playing the game, he didn’t even show it. bill fucked into you with such a frenzy that it was almost animalistic, which made you wonder how much energy this boy possibly had. what you didn’t know was it was your moans what were spurring him on, your moans that kept him going. bill had already been to point of exhaustion from the game but you were able to give him a second wind and he was not fucking up this one like he had fucked up in the game. his determination both of the field and in this moment caught up with him and well, he was bringing all of his emotion out. 

and you loved it so much that you couldn’t think straight. all you could do was try and keep yourself still, words stringing together into barely put together sentences of oh fuck yes and that feels so good. 

it was a moment of pure bliss that you didn’t even feel yourself start to clench around him, noticing it finally when you felt every inch of him scrape against your willing walls, bringing you closer to that cliff into a sea of pleasure that only he could give you. what finally made you break was the groans that he was making, which were hot and heavy and like heaven to your ears that you knew you would be playing on repeat before you went to sleep tonight. 

and then his hand slipped between your legs, pressing up against your swollen clit and that was it. you were sent into a state of pure, fucked out bliss as you came around him, your moans everything but silent. luckily there seemed to be no one around to hear, and if they did they didn’t bother with stopping it.

a few thrusts afterwards and with an insistent command from you to cum inside you because you were on the pill, bill came undone and it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in his life. as if this boy couldn’t get more perfect, haven been basically sent to you on a gift from god himself. he pulled out and you could feel the evidence slightly dripping out of you and onto your thighs. 

there was a moment of cleaning up, where he actually grabbed a towel from his locker and helped you wipe away everything and eventually sit down onto the bench between the sides of lockers. where you thought would be awkwardness, there wasn’t, a few words passed between the two of you and then you told him that you should go, you had to drive home. 

surprisingly, he asked if you needed help and then you remembered you barely knew him and shook your head. it was late anyways, he probably had things to do. 

and when you got control of your limbs again (which bill cheekily smirked at), you walked out of the high school, him trailing behind you. you gave him one last look before parting ways, and in the heat of the moment, you told him your number and to call him if he ever wanted to get together again. 

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

write about one of those dreams you think is real until a moment after you wake up

okay so since i have a story in the works about one of these, i'm gonna write about the first one i ever had, at least a little :3 no im not giving context this is in the late beginning of it tho <3

The wind whistles through the empty plains. Dust picked up from the dirt fields that stretch miles flies through the long grass, and bends it to and fro. Something else is forcing the grass to bend.

Standing in the middle of the brown-green field is a person. Their hair is overgrown and starting to curl around their neck. It's matted with dirt and dust and grease.

Their long jacket is worn and patched, with multiple half-decent pockets visible on the outside. In one gloved hand is a baseball bat covered in grime. In the other is a backpack that's missing a strap.

Their skin is covered in a layer of dirt, covering any blemishes that would be visible on their face. Their eyes glance back and forth as they wade through the grass, and they freeze whenever a strange sound is made.

Out in the dirt fields behind them, a shrill screech echoes out into the emptiness. The person glances back behind them, and, seeing nothing, looks out in front, and sees the same thing.

"Fuck." They whisper under their breath as they swing the bag over their head and around their shoulder in one smooth motion, and take off.

Their body rushes through the grass, and their boots pound against the packed earth in a desperate attempt to go faster.

Another shriek sounds out, this one higher in pitch and closer.

They don't look behind themselves this time, instead trying to pick up speed. They pass the grass field, a clear path made from where their body crushed everything in its path.

It's another hundred yards to the next . . . anything. A half destroyed car with most of its paint worn off, revealing the rusting metal below. The wind blows, billowing dust and dirt around.

Another horrifying note, this one less of a shriek and more of a warbling howl that sounds like its shattering the sound barrier. The person's eyes lock onto the car, and, impossibly, they go into a dead sprint.

There is nothing behind them, and only the car in front of them. Nothing is here but them and a car missing its back half.

The wind picks up, their boots beat against the dirt and their body tilts forwards.

A hundred feet. Fifty feet. Ten feet. Five feet. Another shriek.

They leap into the car, tucking their body close as they hide between the passenger seat and the front of the car. They hold their baseball bat close to their body, which is tense as they take shallow breaths.

There's a dull thud outside of the destroyed vehicle. Soft huffing comes from the same area, and the car creaks as it is lifted up. An unnaturally red claw-like appendage shatters the side door window with a tap, and it reaches inside slowly. The person slowly shifts down and away as the thing pierces the seat.

The thing leaves the car, and it lands on the ground again. The person listens carefully, and raises their arms over their face only half a moment before a violently green eye appears in the broken window. It flicks back and forth, lingering for a moment on the person, before disappearing.

There's noises of something moving, but the person stays absolutely still for another minute before lowering their arms. They shift up and sit in the seat, still tense.

They take off and open their bag, taking out a few folded up pieces of black polyester and a thing of duct tape. They take the two largest pieces, and tapes one over the windshield. The other they get out of the car and securely tape it over the missing half of the car.

They carefully sweep out all the glass, and, with the smaller piece of polyester, they cover the shattered window, and get back inside the car.

Finally, they let themselves relax. They rummage through another bag in their backpack, and take out a water bottle and a small bag of almonds. They also take out what looks like a flip-phone.

They turn on the phone as they slowly eat from their bag, putting in a number and waiting.

It rings.

It rings.

It rings.

It hangs up.

Sighing, they put in another number, and sip at the water bottle.

It rings.

It picks up.

There's silence on the other line.

"I'm safe." The person says. "Ran into some Quathar, but other than that I'm okay."

There's a sigh from the phone.

"J, what the fuck?"

The person, J, laughs, but it's dry and shallow. "I got the shit, though. So doesn't matter, right? Net positive."

Another sigh, this one heavier. ". . . You can't take back what happened to her. You need to move on."

"Like fuck I will." J laughs again, but this time it's sharp. "Arteri wouldn't let it go so I won't either."

"Arteri wouldn't want you to be running into Quathar either!" The person on the phone yells. "What if you found an Ithiquri, huh? What then?"

"I've dealt with Ithiquri before nothing new."

"Yeah, with me and Arteri we barely bested one. It didn't even die. Fuck, J."

J doesn't respond, only leans back in the car seat and waits for the other to say something.

"Just, come back safe? What are you in right now?"

"Half of a car, sheeted up with one window open."

"You have your covering?"

"Yeah. I'm not a complete suicidal moron, O."

This time, O laughs. "I know." There's a fond hum. "Trust me, I know. Sleep, come back safe. Call me when you get to another safe place, 'kay?"

J takes a stabilizing breath as they look out the lone window into the vast nothingness. "Yeah." They say. "I'll be sure to."

They hang up, and watch the wind blow outside.

[beomglocks]

unlikely allies ; txt x reader

part: zero, ,,,next chapter

plot: when a zombie apocalypse breaks out in your town, you're forced to team up with a group of boys from very different social standards in your school.

genre: fluff, angst, horror i guess?, not really that scary but alright, some funny moments

w/c: 3.3K

warnings: blood, gruesome scenes (kind of really detailed), cursing, everyone hates each other, definitely some major injuries, zombies duh, everyone kinda pining for mc

︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵

"yeonjun you're late...again," your history teacher sighs. you watch as choi yeonjun strolls into class like normal. "sorry teach, i didn't really wanna come."

yeonjun is the school's heartthrob. everyone likes him, at least you think everyone likes him. you wouldn't say you like him but you can see why people would. he's an asshole but a cute asshole. he really doesn't care for his studies and treats people like they owe him something.

you roll your eyes at his answer and decide to focus on the roll call for when your name is called. "choi soobin?" you see a boy with purple hair raise his hand silently. you hear yeonjun snicker from the back of the class. you watch soobin turn around to glare at the other.

"something funny choi?" he seethes. yeonjun raises an eyebrow at soobin, leaning forward in his seat, "yeah something sure is funny."

soobin gets out of his seat and strides up to yeonjun's seat, easily towering over the boy. he grabs the collar of yeonjun's hoodie and lifts him up so that he's standing face to face.

"why don't you laugh in my face then?" soobin challenges. yeonjun looks bored, not even the slightest intimidated by the taller boy.

"ha. ha .ha." he annunciates each word mockingly, smiling in soobin's face.

the next thing you know the two boys are the floor fighting one another. "hey hey hey!" your teacher runs from the front of the class to the back to break up the fight. there's already a small crowd around them and no one seems adamant on helping break the fight up.

the thing is, choi soobin and choi yeonjun are known to fight a lot. you're not sure why they hate each other so much but every time they're near each other fists start flying. who thought putting these two in a class together was a good idea.

soobin was a quiet boy, everyone knew that. somedays he'd come dressed like the fluffiest cat you'd ever seen and sometimes he'd dress like a total greaser. he could just switch up like that; just like his attitude. he was nice, from what you knew he would always participate in extracurricular activities and charity events around the school. however, because people thought he was soft they would always mess with him. he was always able to hold his own though.

"hey break it up!" you hear your teacher shout. the two boys were in their own minds continuously throwing punches at each other. you were still sat at your desk, not really caring for fights between two stupid alpha males.

your teacher somehow manages to pull soobin from yeonjun and hold him back while a friend of yeonjun's holds him back as well. both boys have a good amount of blood on their faces so you can't really tell who won.

"you're fucking weak soobs! that shit barely hurt," yeonjun teases. he has blood trailing down his hairline from when soobin pushed him to the ground and blood on his nose and around his pouty lips. "bold talk for someone who just got their ass beat," soobin spits. he too has blood on his nose and lips but he's also sporting a cut on his cheekbone, yeonjun must've scratched his face.

"enough! yeonjun go to the nurse's room to get fixed up and soobin straight to the principal's office, you'll go to nurse after he's done, you hear me!" your history teacher orders. you watch her look around the room for someone suitable enough to escort yeonjun to the nurse's office.

you silently pray that she doesn't pick on you but seeing as you were the only one not interested in the drama, her eyes fall on you. "y/n please escort yeonjun to the nurse's office, i frankly don't trust him to actually go there on his own."

you curse at her in your mind but stand up anyways. "no problem," you force a light smile.

you and yeonjun leave the class ahead of soobin. as you're walking down the hallway, you glance at yeonjun. he doesn't look angry, if anything he looks calm. "i know i'm hot but stop staring at me," he looks down at you.

you roll your eyes at him. "do you not talk? come to think of it... i didn't even know you were in my class," yeonjun looks at you quizically but with curiosity in his eyes. you know that if you don't answer him he'll keep pestering you. "we've been in the same class for the past four years," you mutter.

you can feel his eyes on you but thankfully he doesn't say anything. while you two are walking through the halls you see a boy on the floor playing with something. "what's that kid doing over there?" yeonjun asks. he's already starting to walk away from you but you grab his sweater.

"sorry yeonjun but our only destination is the nurse's office," you say to him. he looks at you with his eyes narrowed down at where you're grabbing him. you stumble back as he yanks his arm away from your grasp, striding towards the boy. you huff following him.

"hey loser, what you got there?" yeonjun looks down at the boy. the boy turns around with confusion laced on his features. he sighs, "what do you want?" he pouts.

when you reach the boy you recognize him as choi beomgyu. the kid is smart but only when he wants to be. he's in your science class and is always messing around and not actually ever doing the work. either that or he skips class to run off and experiment with random things. he's a nice guy and you sometimes ask him for help during labs since he's probably the smartest kid in your class.

"hey beomgyu, what's up?" you greet him. he turns towards you and smiles warmly. "hey y/n," yeonjun looks between the both of you and rolls his eyes. "what the hell are you doing with one of the baseball teams bats?"

beomgyu moves the bat behind him and glares at yeonjun, "i was just curious as to what makes it so hard-hitting. i've been craving my way into it but can't seem to get too far."

you crouch next to him, "maybe you should've picked up one of the metal ones. i'm pretty sure the wood ones only have wood in them. though i heard they're made with bamboo so," you shrug. beomgyu stares at you silently.

"y-yeah you're probably right...thanks y/n," beomgyu snaps out of his daze and pockets the butterfly knife he was previously using. yeonjun tsks, "cmon y/n, let's go i already lost interest." yeonjun pulls you along as you watch beomgyu wave and head to the auditorium.

"god why did we have to take the long route this is fucking boring," yeonjun complains. you sigh, hoping he'll shut up already. "do you ever not talk?" you ask him. you both are too busy glaring at each other that you don't see when someone bumps into you.

the person drops the pile of books they were holding in their hands. "ah shit," they mumble. you snap out of glaring at yeonjun to see a boy on the floor with books scattered around him. "shit im sorry! i should've been looking at where i was going," you apologize kneeling down to help the boy pick up his books.

"oh don't worry i shouldn't have taken up carrying so many books to the point where i couldn't see!" the boy's voice is so cheerful it makes you smile. you're glad he's not mad at you.

the boy is really cute too. his boyish features suit his face well and his hair is messy but looks like he stylized it that way. he's dressed comfortably in a huge sweater and baggy jeans with a molang keychain attached to one of the belt loops.

"where are you even going with all these books?" you ask. "i offered to take these back to the library for my english teacher, in hindsight i really should've just taken two or three not the whole stack." he chuckles sheepishly. he gets up, picking up as many as he can.

you pick up the rest and set them on top of the already tall stack lightly. "well good luck," you pat the stack in encouragement and it makes him lean forward a bit. he thanks you and makes his way down the hall once again.

you turn to yeonjun who was leaning against the wall watching you. "seeing you being nice to everyone is making me want to choke," he grimaces. "take notes choi."

it felt like forever since you arrived at the nurse's office. walking with yeonjun was really torture to you since he wouldn't shut up about how amazing he thinks he is.

once you walk in you both notice that the nurse isn't at her usual place at the front desk. "she went out to get more ice from the cafeteria," you hear someone speak. you both turn around and see a boy sat on one of the cots the nurse sets up for people who injure themselves.

the boy is kang taehyun, member of the baseball team. "hey tae!" yeonjun greets. taehyun raises his brow and moves the now melted ice bag from his wrist. "what's got you in here?" yeonjun asks sitting on the cot across from taehyun.

"i'd rather you not act like we're friends," taehyun states calmly. "but if you must know, i was practicing my swings and got a little too caught up. i barely noticed that i sprained my wrist." he looks down at his wrist which is slightly swollen.

kang taehyun was the baseball team's most prized possession. they really did cherish him because he was the ace of the team. he always scored home runs and when he was pitching, he always managed to get the batter to strike out. he was really talented no one could deny that. despite his hard work on the field, he was dedicated to his studies and was always at the top of all his classes. you wondered how he felt about spraining possibly the most important part of his body.

"damn, that must suck," yeonjun states, he doesn't sound apologetic at all and you wonder how that guy could have any friends. "im just here to get patched and cleaned up because that dickhead soobin decided this was fight club," he tsks. taehyun chuckles, "hope he knocked some sense into you." yeonjun rolls his eyes.

taehyun finally notices your presence by the front desk and motions you over to them by the cots. he's friendly but not someone you'd normally hang out with. "you don't look hurt?" he chides. you point to yeonjun, "i was asked to bring him here since our teacher didn't trust him to come here and well, actually arrive. since the nurse isn't here im guessing I'll have to stick around in case he tries to escape."

taehyun chuckles, "makes sense."

the room is quiet for a couple of moments, save for the ticking of the clock on the wall. you feel awkward being around two of the biggest names at your school. yeonjun is sprawled out on the cot and taehyun is still cradling his wrist. "uh...when do you think the nurse will be here?" you ask quietly.

taehyun looks up at you, "well when you got here it had been about 15 minutes since she left. she probably took a detour or something?" you nod looking at his wrist once again. "you should probably wrap that in a gauze, it'll help with the swelling," you suggest. he smiles at you, "thanks...uh?"

"y/n"

"right thanks y/n," he stands up and walks over to the cabinet to find the gauze wrap. in the meantime, you turn to yeonjun. it looks like he's sleeping but being in a class with him for 4 years has taught you better. "yeonjun."

he doesn't move. "yeonjun get up, i know you're not sleeping," you try. he sits up with a groan, "what do you want? i barely know you." for some reason you feel rage bubble up inside of you. you're not sure why either. usually, you were fine with not being noticed by the "so-called" popular kids but because of yeonjun, you were stuck in the nurse's office watching over him like a babysitter.

"why the hell did you fight soobin? if it wasn't for you i wouldn't be here talking to you right now," you say through gritted teeth. yeonjun raises an accusing brow at you, "were you not watching the fight? he threw the first punch for fucks sake." "you provoked him," you retort.

"it's not my fault he's dumb, god do i have to take responsibility for that too?" he groans laying back down on the cot. you eye him but decide to leave the conversation at that.

after your mini argument with yeonjun, you see taehyun return with the gauzes already wrapped around his wrist. "this is much better," he smiles down at his wrist. "glad i could help," you smile at him.

silence falls upon you three again until you hear a groan from outside. it doesn't really sound like a groan a human could possibly make, it sounds way to pained and low. "what was that?" taehyun asks. you shrug, "it might be the nurse." you walk over to the door and take a look outside.

the hallways on both sides are dimly lit and desolate. you can't really see down the hall because it just fades to black. you walk back inside the nurse's office. "there's no one out there and honestly, it looks way too cree-," you're cut off as a shrill scream rips through your conversation.

yeonjun sits straight up this time, "what the hell was that?" taehyun's eyes are wide with alarm, "that scream did not sound like a happy scream."

your eyes dart back and forth from yeonjun to taehyun. "i swear when i looked outside there was nothing," you say hurriedly. you're not sure why you feel panicked but you do. "check again," yeonjun tells you. you want to tell him 'no' or 'do it yourself' but you were the one to check first so you figure a second check done by you is only fair.

sighing, you walk to the door once again and look into the halls. for the second time, you don't see anything except for the darkness of the long hallways but you peer further and notice something.

all the way near the end of the hallway you see the nurse running towards her office. "hey i see the nurse," you call out to the boys. they make noises of acknowledgment and you hear yeonjun mumble a 'finally'. you keep watching her but you notice that she's running quite frantically to be considered normal. you don't say anything watching her run towards the office with confusion laced on your face.

that's when you see it. you see a figure running almost at the same speed as her but with more of a limp in their step. that's when you can hear the groaning more clearly but it's not coming from the nurse, its coming from the figure behind her.

the nurse makes the fatal mistake of tripping over her heels because she's running so wildly. her body slides a couple of feet from the door but she struggles to stand. she looks up at you and you can see that she has sweat and blood all over her face and her hair is unruly and matted.

"h-help me please!" she calls out to you. your heart is beating intensely. you don't know why she looks like this but you want to help. "y/n?" you hear taehyun call out to you. "what's going on out there?"

you bite your lip and decide to help her but as soon as you step out of the office the limping figure lurches forward and pounces on the nurse's idle body on the floor. you let out a horrified scream and step back. you can see the 'limping figure' clearer now and it seems to be one of the lunch ladies.

the only thing was that she didn't look the way she did when she served you breakfast this morning. her skin was pale and her veins were strangely very visible throughout her face and arms. her uniform was tattered and ripped as if a struggle of some sort had taken place. her face had deep scratches that had drying blood pouring out of them. her eyes were not warm, they seemed to be greyed out and she seemed very rabid.

you stood there, horrified, as the lunch lady tore through the nurse's clothes and body. you wanted to throw up as a bit of the nurse's blood was unintentionally launched at you. the lunch lady dipped her head down to use her teeth to devour the nurse's flesh in cold blood. you couldn't even rack up a sob.

it was like something out of a horror movie. except this was real life.

before the lunch lady could even finish eating the nurse, you watched as the nurse's body convulsed and thrashed violently before standing up on her own. her head was hung low and she seriously smelled disgusting.

you felt stuck as you watched both women stumble towards you before breaking out in full sprints. you flinched and shut your eyes tightly as you waited for your life to flash before them. it really felt like at any moment you would find yourself being eaten alive and convulsing into whatever monster that was.

but the feeling never came. instead, you felt your body crash against taehyun's on the floor. the only thing you could hear was the door slam shut and the screeching and groaning of whatever the hell those people were outside as they tried to get through the door.

you opened your eyes slowly and noticed that yeonjun was to one to slam the door shut, it seems like taehyun had pulled you inside.

taehyun groaned, moving to stand, "what the hell was that?" you shook your head, now having time to process what you saw. "she ate her...s-she- her body," you couldn't even finish explaining as you broke out in tears. taehyun ran a soothing hand up and down your back.

yeonjun moved away from the door. there was a tiny window on the door so you guys could see that the monsters were still trying to get in. "what the hell are we gonna do! if we go outside they'll tear us to shreds!" yeonjun too had tears streaming down his face. you have to admit you'd never seen him so vulnerable.

taehyun was the only one not crying. you could see tears in his wide eyes but they never fell. you figured he was trying to be the strong stable one in the group right now. "ok guys lets calm down. we don't know if we're the only people alive so we need to be careful." taehyun explains.

you do really feel bad for him right now. you know he's a year younger than you and yeonjun and him having to be the 'leader' at this moment must be tough.

he sighs looking at the both of you. "if we wanna make it out of here alive...we're gonna have to fight."

[uwu-shinsou]

Stakeout

Summary: After an unexpected breakup, pro hero Ground Zero is the last person you expect to be comforting you. And also conducting a stakeout in your living room.

Warning(s): Language, themes of breakups

Pairing: Pro Hero!Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Genre: Hurt/comfort, I guess slight angst?, light fluff, Bakugo tries to be comforting

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: Okay first off idk about the whole legality of a hero secretly having a stakeout in your home but let’s just IGNORE that pls and thnx LOL. I was scrolling through AUs and saw one that was like “im an assassin conducting a stakeout in your house and you weren’t supposed to be home until next week” and I said okay but what if it was pro hero Bakugo and BAM HERE WE ARE!! So pls enjoy my first baku fic, I tried to make him just as fiery but also slightly more mature since he be a PRO in this 😌

You gotta be honest, the last thing you were expecting to come home to was a famous pro hero conducting a stakeout in your living room.

You hadn’t even planned to be home at all this long weekend. You and your boyfriend had planned a weekend trip together, driven all the way to the hotel, only for him to promptly break up with you and confess that he’d been seeing another girl for almost the entirety of your relationship. You’d dumped him, kicked his butt out of the car, and promptly driven two hours back home, trying your best not to cry over it.

You’d lugged your suitcase up five flights of stairs to your door, fumbling with your house key before sliding it into the lock. You tiredly stepped into the dark apartment, closing your door behind you with a sense of finality.

While locking the door, you began to mumble out the stream of consciousness that had been running through your mind since the moment you left the hotel.“If I ever see his face again I’m seriously gonna break his nose. How dare he even-” 

You walked a few steps forward into the living room, only to freeze up and let out a screech as the dark outline of a person moved from your couch. Your hand shot out behind you, and the metal baseball bat that you kept near the door flew through the air and into your hand. You took a prepared stance, ready to bash the intruder’s head in with your weapon.

“You have three seconds to tell me who you are before I start swinging!” You hiss, readying the bat.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” The darkened figure said, taking a step towards.

“No! No, do not come any closer to me. I’ve had a very bad day and I will take my anger out on you!” You threaten, pointing that bat at the intruder to act as a barrier.

“Hey! Don’t do anything fucking rash! I’m just turning on the light, okay?” In a moment you were blinking into the soft light of the room, gaping at the man who you’d almost just clobbered with a bat.

Your arms slowly lowered, the tip of the bat resting on the floor as you blinked in disbelief. “...Ground Zero?” You asked dumbly.

“Yeah, that’s me,” He answered curtly. “Now what the hell are you doing here?”

You looked at light haired hero in disbelief before glancing around the room. “Uhhh, this is my apartment? We’re standing in my living room, and you were sitting on my couch. I think I’m the one who should be asking what you’re doing here.” You slung the bat over your shoulder and glared at him, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach from the fact that one of Japan’s top pro heroes was standing in your living room. 

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” He grumbled, walking back to the couch and grabbing his phone. “WHAT THE HELL?” Ground Zero yelled as his phone flew out of his hand and into yours. His eyes closed and he huffed out an angry sigh. “Fucking telekisnesis. I forgot that was your quirk.”

Your mouth opened in surprise and you clutched his phone to your chest. “How do you know what my quirk is?”

Ground Zero opened his eyes and glared harshly at you. Questioning and antagonizing the most temperamental pro hero was probably not my smartest move you thought as he began stalking towards you.

“F/n L/n, early 20s, telekisnesis quirk, barista and occasional babysitter, lives alone, has been dating her boyfriend for five months, and, most importantly, isn’t supposed to be home for four days because she was on a trip with her shitty ass boyfriend!” He finished his statement with a growl, and his red eyes felt as if they were burning a hole in your face.

You averted your gaze, shuffling your feet as you mumbled, “Well you’re right that he is a shitty ass boyfriend.”

“Listen, I don’t have tme for your drama. According to our intel, you shouldn’t be here until Monday night,” He said accusingly.

“Well I didn’t want me to be back this early either!” You said, letting go of the bat and sending it back to it’s spot by the door. Your hands tightened into fists in frustration and you pushed past the intimidating hero, making your way into the kitchen.

“Hey- don’t you fucking walk away from me!” Ground Zero stomped behind you, staring in disbelief as you started rummaging through your pantry. “I asked you a question!”

You turned around to face him, holding a full package of cookies. “Guess what, Ground Zero? I don’t care!” You exclaimed, opening the package. “Honestly? I don’t even care why you’re in my apartment! Go ahead, make yourself at home! Sit on my couch, eat my food, watch my TV, it doesn’t even matter! The past five months of my life have been a fucking lie, so please just leave me alone to cry in my room and eat my feelings away.” You shoved a cookie into your mouth and tried to step past him. The hero side stepped into your path, and no matter which way you tried to go, he was in front of you. You were just about ready to take a swing at him when he started talking.

“Y/n,” He said. Hearing him use your name startled you enough to stop you in place. He huffed out a quick sigh before speaking. “We’ve been tracking down a rising villainous organization for half a year now. Eveytime that we get close to making the bust, they pick up and move operations. This time, we’re one step ahead of them.” He gently took your arm and guided you back into the living room and over to the window. “We have to take extra precautions when dealing with them, since any sign that the police are on to them causes them to run.” He points out the window to the building next door. It was a squat, rectangular warehouse of four stories. With you apartment being on the fifth floor, it had the perfect view in through a poorly covered sky light. 

The pro hero switched out the lights in the room, allowing you to see clearly out and into the other building. You crouched down to get an even better look, and Ground Zero lowered himself down next to you. He handed you a pair of binoculars and pointed to the left side of the skylight, where you could see a group of people working at a long table. Looking through the binoculars brought the figures into clearer view.

“Ground Zero, are they-”

“Bakugo,” He said, interrupting you. “Just- Bakugo is fine, okay?”

You glanced at him in surprise before looking back into the adjacent building. “Alright then, Bakugo. Are they making-” You squinted and focused harder on the objects lying on the table. “Support items?”

“Yeah that’s right,” He responded. “A black market organization for support items to supply to villains. We’ve been through hell trying to track the weapons back to them, but we had a breakthrough a few weeks ago.”

You hummed in thought, shoving a cookie in your mouth before offering one to the pro hero. Bakugo’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but he accepted it nonetheless.

“So you needed my apartment to finish getting your dirt on them, and then you planned on doing your big bust?”

“More or less, yeah. And being here,” He gestured vaguely to your apartment. “Was critical because that skylight was in the perfect place to capture incriminating photos of them doing deals earlier tonight. We’re fucking finally ready to finish this.”

“And how many heroes are on this job, exactly?”

Bakugo held up a hand, counting on his fingers as he thought through it. You hid a smile behind your hand at the gesture. “I guess a dozen or so, plus the local police force. There’s a good number of those shitty criminals in there, but we’ve faced a lot worse.”

You sighed, eating another cookie. “Well, sorry that my breakup got in the way of your important hero plans. I could leave I guess, maybe stay with a friend for the weekend-”

“Shut the hell up, I’m not gonna kick you out of your own damn apartment,” He said, rising from his spot on the floor beside you and going back to his supplies laid out on the couch. “I’m not exactly a very patient person so the bust is happening within an hour anyways. There are heroes and police stationed all around in the other buildings and streets, so I won’t be in your hair for that much longer.”

“Oh,” Was all you said, slowly putting a cookie in your mouth. 

The hero stopped fiddling with his supplies and plopped onto the couch, his furrowed eyes meeting your gaze. You raised an eyebrow in question, holding out the cookie package in a silent offering.

“No that’s not- did you say ‘breakup’?”

You huffed out a humorless laugh. “Uh huh. Bastard was cheating on me for basically our entire relationship. I guess I just wasn’t good enough or something.” You bit the inside of your lip and looked down at your lap, furiously trying not to cry. I’ve already embarrassed myself enough, I definitely do not need him to see me crying right now.

“But don’t worry about me, I should just leave you to get ready to, er- arrest some criminals and- do your hero stuff.” You quickly stood up, clutching the cookie package to your chest, and tried to make your way past him while hiding you face. “I’ll just- go sit in my room so I don’t bother you.”

You’d almost made it to the hallway when you suddenly bumped into something that was definitely not your furniture.

You let out an “oof” as you collided with Bakugo’s chest, his hands landing on your shoulders to steady you. You glanced up at him, and his face showed he was just as surprised as you were. He then realized he was still touching you, and took his hands off your shoulders like it had burned him.

“Listen- it’s shitty that he did that to you, and there’s no way you deserved it,” Bakugo said, and the absolute sincerity of it made you burst into tears.

Bakugo started to panic then. “Oh shit, what’s wrong? Did I say it wrong or-” He cut himself off as you vehemently started shaking your head, trying to rub the tears away.

“No no no no,” You said, assuring him. You sniffled, desperately trying to stop your crying. “I guess that I just-” A fresh wave of tears hit you and started rolling down your face, making Bakugo hover his hands in front of him, unsure of what to do. 

“I know that I’m not very good at this, but if you want I can go and beat the shit out of him or something,” He said, making you laugh as you wiped your face.

“I was trying to say that it just- meant a lot to me, that you said that,” you said as you started to calm down. “I didn’t really believe it before, that I didn’t deserve that to happen to me, but when your favorite pro hero says it to you…” You shrugged, giving him a wobbly smile. “Maybe it is true.”

He gave you an assuring smile that you could almost call a smirk. “Well you better believe it, honey, because it’s the truth.” He paused, smugly crossing his arms. “So, your favorite hero, huh?”

“Ahaha,” you felt your face go warm, and you gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorta kinda yeah.” The admission seemed to surprise him, like he didn’t know how to respond.

The beeping of Bakugo’s phone in the living room drew the two of you out of the moment. He bumped his shoulder playfully into yours as he passed. “Glad to hear that I’m your favorite.”

You scrambled to the kitchen to put away your cookies and splash a bit of water on your face as he answered the phone. You could just make out his conversation over the running water.

“What’s up, nerd?... Yeah, I know. I got all the pictures we needed... Good. Everything’s still quiet in there… Got it, I’ll see you in a few.” 

He hung up his phone just as you edged into the living room, watching him glance out the window into the criminal’s headquarters. He let out a huff of a sigh as he started packing up his things. 

You wandered in a little bit further. “So it’s time, then?” You asked. He looked up at you as he finished his packing.

“Yeah, time to beat some villain asses,” He said, shouldering his bag. “You gonna be alright?”

You gave him a soft smile. “I will be. I already feel a lot lighter, like the weight of a whole ass grown man has been released from my body.” Bakugo let out a snort of laughter before falling quiet. “Really, I will be.” You reassured him.

“Of course. But I was serious, if you ever need me to go and knock him around-”

You snickered at him. “Very hero-like.”

“Hell yeah it is,” He responded as you walked him towards the door, opening it for him. “Also maybe don’t go around telling people this happened, ‘cause I’ll probably get my ass kicked for sharing classified information.”

“My lips are sealed, pinky promise,” You said, holding your pinky out towards him. He scoffed but linked his pinky with yours nonetheless. “Good luck, Bakugo.” You started pulling your hand back before he grabbed it and pressed something into it.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” He said with a wink before making his way downstairs and out into the night. You slowly closed the door, leaning back against it and taking a deep breath before opening your hand.

Inside was a scrap of paper with a phone number scrawled across it, and the words “your fav hero” written below.

You may have looked out your window a little more than usual during the rest of the night.

[dipplie]

Temporary list of my stories and OC’s until one day I make a comprehensive and well made list:

Blinded:

Polli: My oldest OC and fun fact was my persona till she become edgy and I wasn’t 12 anymore. Everyone’s favorite yes yes I’m aware. Yellow, energetic, eats dirt and bugs, I can’t tell if she’s evil because of a wisp possession or just crazy. Breaks the 4th wall. Is she a Mary Sue???????? Who knows.

Melody: NOT Polli’s girlfriend despite Polli’s delousions. Has an abusive mom :(. Only has one eye and then no eyes and then robot eyes or smthn idk she becomes a badass when she gets older. But otherwise trembling in her shoes all the time.

Melodys Mom/Sharren: Bitch. Okay well all I’ll say is she’s old and grumpy and probably smells bad.

Louise: Total hotty, rich kid, FtM, got bullied as a kid for his weight. Had a squad of fans basically in high school. Lived with his mom after his parents got a divorce but his mom was semi abusive, projected her femininity onto him, and wouldn’t have been supportive of his transition, so between middle and high school he went to live with his dad and got his sex change and testosterone. His best friend in elementary and middle school stopped talking to him after his transition, and became his competition for the most attractive and sought after boy in school (except Louise is a sweetheart while his friend Tommy is a dick and really gross) His dad runs a company that specializes in technology, and after meeting and falling in love with Melody (even after all her abusive trauma and losing both her eyes) he has his dad and some of the developers create a way to get her vision back and I mean honestly I love him how could you not love him he’s so perfect.

Watching:

Fick: Big nerd boy with thick glasses. I feel like he’d use Reddit but don’t quote me on that. Big crush on Vivinya. Boy don’t wander into the woods- oh look dead body with a curse on it don’t touch it- aaaand now he has a wisp that makes him kill people, way to go kid. Panic attack central.

Vivinya: True crime girl, yucky yucky. Probably had a knife collection. “uwu I’m insane” except she actually is and starts using Fick to kill people for her and treats him like her “Yandere boyfriend” or something cringe and gross oh god. She deserves jail. JAIL. Needs to learn guys need to give consent too. Just overall sucks 1/10.

Tommy: I mentioned him early to be Louises ex best friend and rival. He used to have a crush on Louise actually but that don’t excuse being a BITCH!!!! Also needs to learn people gotta give consent he is just as gross as Vivinya. Cheats on all the girls he gets with because he’s again, a bitch. Idk if he deserved to get murdered though I mean he was still a teenager but it’s fine. Thinks of the song Seventeen from Heathers actually this story does feel a tad reminiscent of heathers with vivinya being a crazy and wanting to off a bunch of students. Huh.

Suzannie: Tommy’s older sister who’s a detective. What a coincidence. Monotone and depressed. Probably because her little brother got murdered. Gets real awkward when she’s talking about her brothers murder(s) to Fick and Vivinya like “when I find who did this to him they’ll regret being born”. Kind of really pretty actually.

Adolescents (there isn’t actually a story here yet but don’t worry about it shhhh):

Nelson: HIMBO HIMBO H- Jock stupid idiot big dork god he’s so awkward and his main personality trait is having a crush on Naomi and being a dork when talking to her. Probably could benchpress you.

Naomi: Gamer or something and a nerd geek. Her main personality trait is having a crush on Nelson and also being a dork when talking to him. Probably a weeb and fandom dweller. Can’t draw but she commissions artists to draw. She does write copious amounts of fanfiction though.

Andrés: Ohhh the school bad boy babyyyy. Baseball bat with nails in it or something. There’s like... A thing between him in Charlotte and he wants to be a thing but she’s being difficult and makes it hard to talk to her or about her and ugh.

Charlotte: Princess, high school princess. She’s actually pretty nice when you get to know her- but she’s a diva. Ballerina after school. Best friends with Naomi and doesn’t know what she’s talking about when she mentions ships or OTPs but she listens anyways because she’s a good friend. There’s like... A thing between her and Andrés but she doesn’t know if she’s super into him but geez he’s really hot but she gets such mixed responses when she asks her friends about it and what if it doesn’t work outttt.

Marlon: They/Them but they’re okay with either pronouns they aren’t sure yet, he or she is okay... Box boy box boy. Autism... He doesn’t want to admit He’s attracted to men but he’s totally attracted to men. He lives alone which is probably illegal for his age but somehow he manages. Everyone thinks he’s “the quiet kid” and he’s really sad about it no don’t make jokes like that please guys ahh-

Sing for Me:

Kat: The color pink, addahadda(adhd), angry and loud and short. For being only like 10 and being an adorable little lesbian dressing in sparkly pink dresses she actually likes screaming a lot and would totally sing heavy metal if her producers let her. Loud and mad but gets so soft around her girlfriend. “If anything happens to Brie I’m killing everyone in this room and then myself”.

Brie: French... Birds and stuff. Loves her girlfriend even though she is so loud. So fast. So much. Likes to write pretty things. Is only like an inch taller than Kat. Filled with so much love for everything.

Elliot: The girls manager. Lots of coffee. Stressed out of his MIND please help this man. Probably gay. Seems like a smug dick but he is just a tall and lanky dork that loves puppies and wants nothing more than for Kat and Brie to be happy. Accidentally brands them as sisters and then Kat kisses Brie and- oh fuck oh shit oh no what has he done. Hides the fan and non fan responses from them. Poor guy.

Horror Hosts:

Ichabod: Hot demon who’s the son of the current ruler of hell or something. I mean he’s hot, smart, and royalty, what more do you want. I very specifically hear the dub voice of Kyoya Ootori from OHHC as his voice don’t @ me. Goat legs????? Yeah??? Don’t be rude.

Barnabie: Ohhhhhhhhh big orc teddy bear I’m crying I love him????? He puts up a more confident ploy and the given stereotypical personality orcs supposedly have but he’s just a shy boy that wants to give girls flowers and call boys pretty. Help him.

Garrison: Gary Burger. Fat hairy gay man. I mean werewolf. Wouldn’t it be funny if I made the whole werewolf thing backwards and made him transform into a HUMAN only on the full moon??? Party animal, pun absolutely intended. LOUD AND FUNNY he’s a dork. Bites. Horny on main Garrison please you’re supposed pamper and flirt with the guests but not quite that much.

Vincenzo: Token Vampire but he’s Italian because I felt like it. Talk and lanky of course. Bitch face. Blood coffee? Yeah lots of coffee. Tired. Let him sleep in Ichabod. Steps on people. Can summon and reanimate corpses but has a bitter attitude towards them because they get annoyed with him as much as he gets annoyed with- everyone else. He does have a soft spot but idk where it is. When he’s talking to guests he’s more suave and sexy though.

Kai: Genderfluid haha get it because slime fluid-... I’ll stop. Probably objectively the hottest because they can look anyway they want and shift their vocals to sound like almost anything, also probably objectively the best in bed (if you’re okay with the texture of Jell-o) and honestly come on save some for the rest of us it’s not fair. This boy can SING oh my god seranade me and whisper in my ear baby. Spunky and sassy.

Hallvor: BABY OCTOPOD BOY OHHHHH I LOVE HIM HE’S SO SWEET AND IS AN ANGEL DARLING BOY SO EMBARRASSED SO SHY SOFTEST VOICE OHHH- ohhh nooo he’s got a knife ohhhhh Hallvor baby don’t be like that ohhhh... Used to work in hentai actually (I wonder why) but quit because of immoral practices and good for him we love that. Okay he’s not actually a yandere or whatever but he DEFINITELY wants to squeeze you a little too hard and has those crazy eyes.

Carla: Main character of this OHHC monster clone. She sucks I don’t like her because listen listen she kills monsters as a living and when she tries to kill our boys here, Ichabod catches her and goes “no” but then the rest (not knowing her murderous intent) fall in love with her and Ichabod is like: “shoot well I’ll keep you alive and around but I’m watching you” and blah blah romance and feelings and character development and wow she seems like she’s grown to care about them... So Ichabod removes a curse he put to prevent her from harming them or leaving... AND THEN SHE STABS THEM ALL IN THE BACK IM CRYING. I mean she might have an extra reason for needing to kill them but I haven’t decided if I want to actually put it in the story yet so.

Fingertips:

Maria/Marianna: Was this goth angry chick and the head of these losers but after a failed heist, fire, and being betrayed and dropped from a window on a 3rd or 4th story down into flames, and going to the hospital and changing her name, she changed totally and become a soft pretty girl... And then the next three boys went “HEY BOSS WE FOUND YOU” and she went “oh no” and now she’s just an anxious wreck like “no no no no no I don’t shoot people in the face anymore no no no no no” And has a fear of hands. Also was Diamontés best friend in primary school and yes all these characters went to the K-12 school all the other characters do/did. Pretty voice. The story is mostly about her being anxious around all the other characters because who was it that betrayed her and dropped her into the flames below? Find out next week on th-

Nikki: He’s that character that you see and immediately go “oh he’s gross and is angry and is a bitch” and you’re right he is and has a cockney accent and screams a lot and probably swings a knife around a lot, but he’s got a sweet interior (somewhere in there... somewhere) Screamo heavy metal. Him and the rest of these character briefly talked about having a band and then they didn’t and then at the end of the story they do and although he plays guitar mostly, if he does do lead vocals he screams a lot. Bitch.

Anthony: Pretty boy but like the “was in the army” pretty boy vibe. Probably played football in highschool. Pyromaniac. Punches Nikki a lot. Almost gives himbo vibes sometimes, almost. Kind of likes the old timey cozy aesthetic. Plays the piano sometimes but “oh I’m not very good at it” Plays extremely well

Diamonté: TALL. Purple goth boy aesthetic hellll yeahhhh. CRAZY EYES AND THEY SPEAK VOLUMES WATCH OUT. Drums. The scary kind of quiet because he just smiles at you. Crowbar. Okay but he’s actually really sweet though. Secretly loves watching Anthony and Nikki get into fights so that’s why he rarely puts a stop to it. I think he’s a sadist. Can be a gentle giant, but can also be a not so gentle giant. The only time he’s really talkative is after copious amounts of booze.

Unnamed/Undesigned 1: Literally a pimp and he’s pretty gross. Blonde hair and pink and white clothes.

Unnamed/Undesigned 2: Chick that likes to throw knives and be angry and threatens Marianna a lot but in a quiet and monotone way, Marianna is pretty scared and hopes that these are just shallow threats uhhhhh.

Unnamed/Undesigned 3: Sells guns (without a lisence of course) and wears a bandana over his face a lot. Tired. Grumpy.

Unnamed/Undesigned 4: Like Marianna, was cold hearted and cool but then got caught in the fire and got all soft. He only has one eyes but how sweet his eyepatch is a heart. Recoved along side Marianna and they are good friends good friends tha- wait Marianna are you going back with them oh god you can’t do that oh dear oh no oh-

(I don’t have a story or name for these two but they’re my comfort ship OC’s and my current hyper fixaction right now):

Rodriquéz: I literally designed him with almost all the traits I find attractive in a guy other than freckles so as you can imagine I find him super HOT. I also designed his personality on what I find attractive from a guy so as you can imagine I find him super GREAT. But anyways he’s grumpy and closed off and monotone and smug. I really could go on for hours about how I want him to step on me I’m so sorry guys. Both him and Samantha give the “21 and having immature fun” vibes. They’re a thing but they like going to bars together and splitting off and doing their own thing (or doing someone else’s thing if you get what I mean haHhahHhahGahGhaha-) But so help them if anyone doesn’t oblige by the “no” from one of these two, someone’s gonna get beat up.

Samantha: (She literally just my personality shhhhh don’t tell anyone it’s a secret) Bubbly, energetic, a little shy by extroverted, bombshell blonde or something? It took me way too much time and effort to design her but I’m really happy with how I finally designed her, I love her outfit. She could kick me in the face and I’d say thank you. Girly drinks at the bar. Got that trauma and anxiety™️ secretly though. Skips and jumps a lot. As I’m typing this I keep looking up at the drawing of her and more and more I would want her to also step on me.

(Space Story I don’t have a nice title for):

Unnamed/Undesigned 1: So... Funny story this story originally was with me and uh... My ex I guess... So I gotta replace the MC’s... Whoops ahaha... Awkward. But anyways the MC is a robot and a girl and is a slight tsundere or smthn.

Unamed/Undesigned 2: Has a space ship, works for this organization in space that protects the galaxy. Is cocky, lazy, sly, oblivious, and an idiot. The love interest- obviously. Probably accidentally committing space crimes. (Like space pirating hAHAHA-) Kind of cool when he wants to be.

Dandelion/Dandy: CAT. WITH A JET PACK. Kind of an asshole. Fun fact used to be Polli’s cat but then when the Second MC crash landed on earth she was like “fuck this noise I’m going with space boy laterz” (okay she can’t talk but she thought it).

Zizii: Lesbian alien? Yeah???? Okay but I mean her main character trait is being a dorky back alley doctor and engineer obsessed with the MC because they’re a sentient robot with emotions and a lazer arm and rocket boots WOW!!!!!!!!

Story I want to revive:

So I had a story I started writing a long time ago about this tech theatre kid that had a crush on this other theatre kid character, but in a play that other character has to kiss another person for the show, and as the story progresses the MC convinces themselves that it isn’t just a play and that their crush actually loves and is kissing that other kid. And in the play, that other character is supposed to die. Show night comes along and they die, but like actually, and by the hands of the MC (Idk maybe like a light falls on em or smthn). So it’s a grotesque scene the audience sees as just an act. (Mutters I dunno I think my idea’s cool...) So I’ve been wanting to design these characters and work more on the story but I’m busy being obsessed with Rodriquez and Samantha so. (And the Horror Host Club too I love them too still).

Other Characters that either don’t have a specific story or are kind of like background characters:

Jacqueiliquinne Merril: Sara Berry vibes from 35mm (go look up The Ballad of Sara Berry, maybe like an animatic idk the first one that comes up is nice) But otherwise rich, pretty, popular, bitch. Tries to like, steal Louise from his squad and it’s like bro that’s unnecessary who hurt you that’s so rude. She gives Nui from Kill La Kill Vibes too. Oh she knows her name is long and annoying but you have to say the whole thing.

Brianna: Jaqueiliquinne’s sister. Big titty goth gf??? She’s pretty popular too and kind of a bitch too but to a much lesser degree. Her and he sister throw hands a lot when no one is around, you know, “THEY GIRLS ARE FIGHTINNGGGG”.

The Louise Fan Club: 4 characters I haven’t named yet. One writes fanfiction of Louise and shares it with the others and with him sometimes and although he thinks it’s a bit weird he also finds it a tad endearing and supports her. One is an aspiring photographer and is constantly asking Louise to model for him. One is an artist and draws Louise all the time. And one is an aspiring musician who writes songs based of Louise’s relationships which again he finds a little weird but endearing and supports her.

The Jacquiliquinne Merril Fan Club: Genderbent-ish (I say ish because one of the characters is a little bit less defined gender wise) versions of the Louise Fan Club. Yes I’m lazy, and no they don’t get along with them, infact they hate each others club with a passion. 

Unnamed/Undesigned: I wanna make some hacker kid just because I wanna have one.

Unnamed/Undesigned: I also really wanna have a super cutesy magical girl and then a really super duper generic boring character probably like star vs the forces of evil idk I never watched that show but it looks cute.

Me: I exist in the universe fukc you I can do what I want it’s my story and I get to chose the who also if you wanna be in the mess of a universe go ahead draw yourself with my OC’s I allow and encourage and appreciate it. I literally made the Horror Host Club as a sort of Harem story and you are absolutely allowed to make out with them if you’re a monster fucker DO it GO ahead it’s canon.

and that is ALL I have FOR now Knowing me I’ll make like 12 more characters by July, and I mean I need more characters for the high school anyways so...

[ilguna]

i also have a list of shit my history teacher (this year) has said and done so I will share it with you:

warning: its really fucking long bc he would say/do shit MULTIPLE times a day

goes onto the next slide, “it’s a meme, get it?” proceeds to explain the meme (its the hey arnold meme with the first)

also goes onto another slide, with the twitter opinion meme. at the end of the paragraph it says “this class smacks, I’m lit”

“I’m going to beat up your brother. i am going to pummel him.”

On the 6th day of class he finally realized that there was a total of 6 guys and the rest were girls

student: “You should not put it in (as an assingment)”. teacher; “laugh out loud, im dead”

he was teaching us how to write a DBQ, the computer had a pop up saying that the battery was low, and then a spider shows up out of fucking nowhere, hanging from the ceiling. he CLAPS it, jokes about eating it, and then sets it on his desk (not in the trash can 2 feet away) so he can “deal with it later”

his endless military stories, specifically ORANGE DESERT

he wrote “if you would have had your thinking skull on” on my first DBQ

him saying “I hate this” after typing a word wrong multiple times while teaching us DBQ’s lmfao

“For the lols”

Threw a box of tissues across the room into the trash can

threw a box of tissues at a student

he had this obsession with throwing expo markers at his whiteboard, trying to make it land on the metal part so expect that a lot.

“Do you want me to drown him in a bathtub?” (which was about a student’s dog that had separation anxiety lmaoo)

Sang the rain drop, drop top song

The collars on his shirt turned up

“He’ll be beaten for that distraction” (after his son called him during his lesson and he willingly answered)

“Stay woke” 

“It was a hot boy summer for him”

expo marker landed on the metal thing for once thanks to a towel that was there

kyle (it must have been a story or something i dont remember)

He woah’d at some point

HAHA so there was a kid in my class that had got caught with a bong on the second week of school and he was suspended. when he came back to class, we were going over what the south grew in the U.S. very early on into colonization. and he used the bong kid as an example of a tobacco farmer

tried to eat a balled up paper

“important revolutionary war stuff”

“My bae, George Washington”

“They could’ve killed g-dubz, but they didn’t”

called george washington “g-dubz” frequiently

“Facts”

“Swagtastic”

he got excited over a military general (baron friedrich von steuben) for being a gay military general--”That was very well respected!”

“He had a ton of swagger”--referring to ben franklin

“His nickname was the swamp fox. You guys can call me that”

The snowball fight story--his brother was friends with a kid he hated next door. my teacher challenged the kid--Eric--to a snowball fight. In preparation, my teacher had froze snowballs, and so when he did have the fight, he LITERALLY knocked Eric out and left him on the front lawn unconscious (he was an elementary school kid)

one time he gave us the punishment quiz by accident, tried to make up for it by giving everyone the answer to #6. however, it turned out to be wrong so he just gave us all 100′s instead

another military story of the goat he bought from an old man with his buddies. unfortunately they had to kill the goat to eat, but the FACT that my teacher said this “a cute little goat--you know, baaa?” as if we didn’t know what a goat was 

He was the golf/hockey coach!! so not only would he talk about beating up the kids in the golf club

he would also do random golf swings all the goddamn time! with no gold club or ball, it was just air.

“You are about to get clowned, young lady”

pronounced pamphlet as pamplet fora good part of his teaching career (another story he told us)

“It’s definitely not the declaration of independence you mouth breather!”

George washington = bae on a powerpoint

“you tied me up real good”

“France also popped off”

Compares the Connecticut compromise to ppap (with the song and everything!)

Told someone to shut up after they suggested that Iowa was the least populated state (he’s from Iowa)

hick iowa, to be exact

Wrote 23 as 32, realized his mistake and said “oop im dyslexic”

“If it’s a purge, I’m killing everybody”

“Federalism, not onion!’

“Who’s the dumbass guy? Ducey!” (our state governor)

he got arrested once. his mugshot is on google images and everything

he got arrested bc some guy was destroying his house w a baseball bat at a party his friendw as throwing (but it was at my teachers house). my teacher respectfully punched him and brought him to the front lawn. called the cops when the guy wouldnt leave and ended up being arrested too. teacher thought his career was over and threatened the guy the entire way to the police station

“laugh out loud!”

“We beat the begeezus out of a bunch of british people”

pronounced wolf as woof

“Who was his daddy? Who’s his daddy?”

Called a swim cap a bonnet

“Kick!”--then proceeds to kick a tennis ball. before that he had just thrown it to get out of his way

“Jesus, you’re a big boy”

for like 2 weeks straight he used that same tennis ball to try and erase a whiteboard. and im not talking rubbing it on the board, he fucking threw it at the wall, getting it off little by little. he eventually gave up, though

“I’ll snot rocket into the trash can”

“Cause I realize most of you are morons”

was obsessed with the cowboy boogie

“Every time I cough, my tail bone hurts”

“Do i look normal?”

“I look like an old man”

“Shut up your faces”

“I see you back there, queen”

“Some of you girls need to learn from this article”--the article was old & about girls being submissive

“that would hurt some people’s feelings, but I’m not gonna show it hurt mine”

“He’s just--’meow’”--about his cat

he had a sweater that had his face on it, photoshopped over a boxer that a student gave him. he wore it during winter

flicked a tennis ball across the room with a hockey stick. hit the coffee thermo on his desk, stared for a couple of seconds, and THEN realized that it was open

First off, all you kids making memes about dodging the draft--we don’t want your dumbasses anyway” --continued to rant for a few minutes after that

he HATED the national anthem with a burning passion

“I’m old as shit”

also, his cat’s name IS meow cat

more expo marker throwing

“Hey there handsome”-- to the teacher next door

“Henry clay is going to haunt you until april” (unfortunately we didnt make it that far into the school year bc of covid. disappointed that i didnt get to be haunted)

Singing electric avenue

“but here’s the tea”

“Flagstaff is like--” *reaches as high as he can to put expo marker on the wall

“I’m adopting all of you, and we’re moving to saudi arabia”

teacher: “I’m gonna break bowers kneecaps in front of you. you still want to be on strike?” not bowers but a different kid: “no...?”

Cleaned the shades in the middle of him explaining something

“You know your pinky toe? this little roast beef?”

THE TURTLE SOUP STORY. when my teacher was still a kid, he found a turtle in the wild, and brought it to his grandparents house (they owned a farm). he took care of the turtle for a while, even after his grandfather found out. until one day he came home and saw blood everywhere, went to find the turtle to see it was gone. then found his grandfather chopping up the fucking turtle so they could have it for soup for dinner. his grandfather literally made him fatten up the turtle so they could eat it

“Did mr.*****--?” (referring to himself in 3rd person, also blocked out to protect privacy)

“i’m going to staple your nostrils closed. staple, staple. ‘I can’t breathe mr.*****!’ should’ve done your DBQ!!”

his pedo stache 

stood with a paper and smiled, thinking that a student was taking a picture of him when it was really the paper

doesn’t know who gaston is???

him: “I’m going to staple your noses together. One staple” Student: “*****’s piercing parlor!”

*singing* “beauty and the beast”

“I’m going to tackle you”

more random golf swinging

“What’s up (my name)?” me: hi *he then hits the bun on the top of my head on his way in the door*

And he did it again the next day

he literally made kids compete with pastries

which reminds me, he brought donuts in 2 days in a row like a week after that and make us (his first hour) take bites bc he realized he didn’t want to eat it. one of the girls was glad to take it from him, everyone else told him no

“Good morning (my name) how are you?” me: “I’m sick again... do you need help? (with the door)” him; “Actually, yes” (normally he can open the door even when his hands are full but there was a stack of pop tart boxes that were as tall as him so) i opened the door, he goes in and says, “thank you (my name), for not being rude”

the following quotes are for the Hot Seat

Student: “what do you do--?” him: “you’re in the hot seat!”

“Some people cry”

“La *****, luxurious”

“You sit here, and you stare (into the projector light)”

basically everyone in the class had to answer a question as a review. there was a stool in front of the smartboard, perfectly placed so that the projector light would LITERALLy be in your eyes. i actually got the question right on some miracle.

“2 points of weed?”

“Can I get some of that hot leaf?”

“They will make more drugs! You can’t do that much drug!”

“You guys bullied me and stole it”

“Whole rest of the nation sucked an egg”

“Whelp, let’s just kill myself”

“Do you guys know david chapel?” *sigh when everyone says no*

*some girls singing the national anthem* Him: “no! none of this, none of this!”

“Calibri’s for idiots” (the font)

“The only thing that was in--shit”

“and uncle sam--gettin lit”

“Their daddy--UH--”

“They’re going to blame the jews--my people” (he got a dna test done, he’s not actually jewish)

“Whatever you say, boomer”

“Use my words to plagiarize in college”

“I’m jewish, that’s offensive”

“Tell him he gave me instant cancer”

Me: “can i go to the bathroom?” him: “I’ll allow it”

him: “He’s antisemetic and it hurts my feelings” student: “what does that mean again?” him: “Hates jews :(”

“You guys can call me kingfish if you’d like”

~ after we said no to the nicknames, we tried to make one for him ~

student: “cornhusker!” him: “no, that’s offensive... and it’s also nebraska”

student: “corn picker!” him: “no--that sounds like a racist term or something”

“Unless corona really does take over--” (thank u, mr. for ruining the school year”

Student: “how old was she (his mom) when she had you?” him: “thirteen”

“My mom just turned 40 the other day...” (a joke)

him: “My brother got t-boned by a semi truck last night” Student: “Why are you laughing?” him: “Because he lived.”

“Yeah bc I would hide out in a public school with 300 new kids a year” (about him not living in iowa so he’s hiding out in az to get away from his “criminal record” (refer to the 1 time hes been arrested))

“Baby death?”

“Their family has more money than jesus”

*Standing outside the door yelling “CORONA” to students walking in”

“Hey I’m *****, f-word, blah, blah”

“We should fight our cats.”

“OH that’s a big chonk cat.”

“Mortal Kombat is pretty cool. I haven’t played in 25 years”

he told us in class once that we shouldnt open the front door if cops show up at a party. just to shut the blinds and be a little quieter bc the cops cant legally open the door

also one time he had a gun pointed to his face but he never finished that story bc he never liked it

during quarantine he set a DBQ as 1000 points (and i still didnt do it)

and “Here’s the tea, kiddos!”

honorable mentions: all the time he’s sent out emails bc theyre fucking hilarious

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Freak's Show

The man pirouetted across the asphalt and struck a pose like an elegant dancer. Like an elegant dancer, he slipped his leather jacket down his arms and then spun out of it, gingerly hanging it onto the side-view mirror of a parked car.

Only steps away from him now, zombies shambled towards him. They groaned and growled in unison, forming a chorus of inhuman moans. He then returned to where he had discarded his backpack on the sidewalk. From the flap-covered main pouch of the pack, a metal baseball bat’s grip jutted out. He slung the makeshift weapon out and weighed it, making it look as light as a feather in his hands.

The dancing man turned and flexed his biceps, posing theatrically with the bat, and gave the camera a toothy grin, waggling his eyebrows and picturing what his audience expected to see next.

“The Frostinator swings,” he announced with an uncanny cheer in his voice.

He spun around and swung the bat in the same motion. The top of the nearest zombie’s skull went flying away in a high arc, replete with brain matter splattering onto the zombie beside it and scattering across the street.

“He scores!”

The zombie collapsed while the others shambled closer towards him. They reached out with their hands, trembling with hunger for human flesh, grabbing and pawing at this “Frostinator” while he stood there, savoring his impeccable display.

He stepped back from the next two zombies and pulled the bat back behind him, then swung overhead at the next one. The sounds of the metallic THWUNK and the squelching sound of a skull caving in could easily wrench anybody’s stomach, but “Frosty” reveled in his one-man show, chuckling at it.

He commented with the same sing-song of a sports commentator, “The crowd goes wild!”

Stepping away from the third zombie and getting close to the trembling camera with arms spread out, he breathed out sounds to imitate the noise of a raving crowd of spectators.

The zombie behind him lunged forward in a sudden burst of speed. The camera shook even more and the person holding the phone to film this suddenly yelled at him, “Fucking look, behind you!”

Charlie Frost swiveled with lightning speed and batted the head of the third zombie.

He cheered, “Ooh, home run!”

Its neck cracked and bent, letting its head hang in an unnatural angle for a second before the zombie collapsed onto the sidewalk in between Frosty and the camera man. All of the walking dead people twitched on the ground. The camera man breathed heavily, audibly afraid.

Frosty walked up to the nearest zombie and began stomping on its head with a heavy black boot. The camera man emitted more and more noises of disgust with each kick flattening the skull some more and and more and more viscous mass splotching about.

“These boots are made for walkin’,” Charlie Frost sang Nancy Sinatra’s song, merrily stomping one zombie after another, cutting off abruptly after each line, sometimes even between words.

He tilted to a side and peered down at one of the three zombies after another. Biting his lip, he turned back to the camera with his brow furrowed in clear elation.

Staring past the camera, his mien darkened and he puffed his chest out.

Jutting his chin out, he asked, “What, you gonna piss yourself now all of a sudden?”

The faceless camera man stammered something unintelligible.

“This is the best fucking show on this side of the quarantine lines,” Frosty said with a sneer. He then cocked his head to look straight into the camera lens. “Twenty-four seven zombie slaughter. Remember, kids—you can’t spell slaughter without laughter!”

He then backed away from the camera, drummed his chest, and cackled at the camera man again.

“Tune in later, for when the Frostinator takes out twenty zombies with nothing but a kitchen knife. The Michael Myers special,” he mused.

Frosty snatched a rag from his backpack and wiped off the slimy gore from the tip of his baseball bat before sticking it back into the pack and shouldering it.

The camera man asked, “Uh, your jacket?”

Frosty paused and looked over to the car where he had hung his jacket from.

“Oh yeah,” he muttered, heading back there next. “Are you still filming?”

“Uh, yeah,” replied the camera man.

“Fucking why? Cut,” Frosty said.

“We can cut out filler like this,” whined the camera man.

Frosty slipped back into his leather jacket, grabbed his bat from the pack again, and shook it at the camera man, less as a threat and more as a reminder.

“But the audience likes it raw,” he said, spitting out the last word with furious zest. “And when I say cut, I fucking mean—”

The recording ended abruptly.

In the next video, the view was of Frosty’s legs and boots. He crossed the street in a different part of town. A car alarm honked and blared in the distance. The camera tilted upwards, showing smoke as it formed a shifting pillar on the horizon, rising from a faraway building’s roof.

Frosty asked the camera man without turning around, “How many views?”

“Um, one sec,” said the camera man.

He fumbled with the phone, causing the recorded images to shake and the audio to go wild with the rustling of fabric.

“Broke the one million mark on the roadkill rodeo, and just breached a hundred K on the baseball show.”

Frosty said, “Told you, you shoulda recorded right away, you chickenshit. Three brainings is not enough!”

After a pregnant pause, the camera man muttered, “Maybe you shoulda not sucked at singing in a band of decent instrumentalists, or you shoulda gotten a real job.”

Frosty looked back over his shoulder and glared past the camera at its operator.

“The fuck you say?”

His eyes narrowed as he shot a glance at the camera.

“You fucking recording this? Turn that off, shit-head,” Frosty said, spinning around and pointing a large kitchen knife at the operator. “You gotta save battery for the money shots.”

The recording cut off right there.

In the next one, a grainier and shakier image panned over to a single-story convenience store. A lonesome man, garbed in layers of sweaters and a dark blue beanie on his head, stood at the edge of that store’s rooftop. Beside him was a camping tent, some white plastic lawn chairs, and a bunch of blue and purple plastic buckets spread out. The busted store sign rested on top of the roof, as if he had used it as a ramp to get up there in the first place.

The place was under siege by zombies. Dozens, if not hundreds of them had clustered around the store, clawing and pawing at the walls, reaching up to the lonesome man stranded up there. The sea of walking dead groaned so loudly that it was clearly audible on the recording, even at the distance of them being a block away. There were so many of them that some of them could almost climb up from a dumpster onto the rooftop.

The lonesome man wielded a makeshift spear, which appeared to be made out of a fishing pole and a hunting knife duct-taped together. He stabbed with it at the zombies, trying to keep them off of the dumpster, and then the fishing pole snapped in half. He gesticulated with fury and visibly swore out loud, though too far away for the camera to pick up his words.

The camera zoomed back out and shook less. The operator shifted the shot so Frosty was on the left edge of the frame. The two of them stood on a different rooftop as Charlie Frost observed the man on the convenience store.

“Nah, fuck ‘im,” Frosty said. “Just a buncha tedium to get through that cluster, I don’t see any titty-hot footage comin’ outta that.”

The camera man sighed.

“Man, you already let that poor woman get eaten because you were ‘not feeling photogenic vibes from her’,” the camera man complained in a mimicry of Frosty’s voice. “The hell is wrong with you?”

“Fuck you. I can’t make a good show without the proper protagonists and action,” mumbled Frosty, still staring at the man atop the convenience store. “And when I say action, I mean—”

He turned around, grabbing his own imaginary boobs on his chest. His lopsided grin faded instantly when he noticed the camera man filming and he exhaled in a dramatically sharp sigh.

“Motherfucker, what have I told you?”

“Yeah,” said the operator in a shaking, fearful tone.

“You know you’re only alive because o’ me, right? You punk-ass scrawny little bitch wouldn’t make it, like, two hours in the zone.”

He slapped the camera man on the chest with the back of his hand.

“Cut that shit out. And you know what? I got a great idea, and it’s gonna stop your nagging. I have a great scene in mind for that loser down there, after all.”

“What?”

Frosty enunciated every syllable with angry clarity, “Fucking cut it. No spoilers!”

The recording stopped there.

In the next shot, a soft snow fell, drifting down gently from the skies. But the street below was ablaze with several fires. The zombies shambling down the street bumped into each other, crashed through windows, flailing around in a panic; most of them covered in flames themselves.

The camera shook and displayed Frosty in the bottom right. The psychotic showman cheered and held a Molotov cocktail in his hand. He used a cheap plastic lighter to set the cloth sticking out of the bottleneck alight, and then threw it into the closest horde of zombies. They groaned and moaned as the bottle shattered and exploded into another lake of fire, spreading out and blanketing them, adding to the infernal mayhem that Frosty had summoned.

Frosty formed both hands into devil’s horns and stuck his tongue out at the camera. He then shouted into the lens, “I am the god of hellfire, bitches!”

He ducked out of the image and when he stood back up straight, he held a heavy-looking fire axe in both hands. He raised the axe over his head and shook it like a savage, then yelled at the burning, shambling hordes in front of them, “Sally, I’m home!”

Frosty waded into the mass of zombies. As they stumbled around in confusion, he made short work of one after another, hacking them down with the axe, one by one. Pausing here to stomp down on one and pull the axe back out of its chest with a bone-cracking sound, pausing there to perform another little pirouette in his exaggerated dance of senseless carnage.

After the first dozen, a sheen of sweat had built up on Frosty’s forehead and muscular arms. He moon-walked backwards through the crowd, biting his lower lip and pointing finger-guns at the camera.

Swiveling around, he hacked into the neck of the nearest burning zombie, dragging it down onto the sidewalk, and then chopped into another that fell sideways into a clothing store’s window front, shattering the already broken glass even further. He paused and caught his breath and then shot another sadistic grin at the camera before carrying on.

Frosty did not even bother really clearing out the horde, just cutting a path through the burning mob as they neared the convenience store. The haze of heat and smoke rendered the man on the rooftop over there into an ominous blur.

When he had cleared some breathing room around them, Charlie Frost lazily rested the axe on a shoulder and asked without turning to the camera, “How many views on the baseball show now?”

The camera trembled. More rustling. Then it shook violently.

“Ah, shit. Fuck. Ow, fuck,” said the operator. The image flashed violently between bright and dark spots, as the camera man stopped caring what was on display. “Oh, fuck, no. Oh fuck, no,” he continued to whine until he started sobbing.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Frosty growled to the camera.

It displayed a bleeding wound on the camera man’s calf. Blood gushed out of what looked like a bite mark on his lower right calf.

“No,” cried the camera man. “No, please!”

The audio exploded and transitioned into crackling sounds as the camera phone clattered onto the ground, filming the sky. The burning hell around it was barely in the picture, though the edge of it suggested that Frosty was hacking his axe into the camera man on the ground, as the latter’s screams synced up with each blow, and eventually stopped when the fifth hit struck.

Frosty yelled at the ground, “What am I gonna do now, use a fucking selfie stick?”

He howled in rage and spun around, hacking at something off-screen, likely another approaching zombie.

Amid the zombified groaning and squelching sounds, a man’s voice traveled from the convenience store rooftop, too distorted or distant for the phone to pick up anything intelligible. Frosty appeared out of nowhere and picked up the phone, flipping it around to display the scene of chaos he had engineered, then the recording abruptly ended.

When the recording sprung back into life, Frosty smiled into the camera with the joy of a kid opening a present on Christmas. Blood splatters and chunks of bone or other undefinable mass clung to his face, painting him like a sinister clown.

“Hey everybody, this is your boy, the Frostinator, back for season two of Frosty’s Super-Ethical Quarantine Cleaning Show,” he said in a melodious voice, making sure to display his pearly whites with an even wider smile.

“Everybody give it up for our new and beloved camera man, Clive,” he continued.

Then he flipped the phone and showed off Clive. The bearded man from the convenience store with the blue beanie on his head smiled into the camera. But his smile never reached his eyes—his eyes sparkled with a glint of dread. He held up a hand covered in a fingerless glove and waved at the camera.

“Nice to meet y'all,” he said in a southern drawl. “Pleasure to be part of this production.”

The picture flipped again, showing Frosty as he looked off into the distance to show off his perfect jawline.

“We’re gonna have some great chills and thrills this season, folks,” Frosty announced with the rising momentum and cadence of a veteran announcer. He then looked straight into the camera once more to add, “This season’s gonna show the Frostinator throwing the book at zombies in court—literally. And shootin’ guns in the police station. And plastic explosives mixed with fireworks at the mall. We’re goin’ all out, baby. Woo!”

He shouldered the fire axe again for emphasis and said, “So, all of you who haven’t yet, better punch that like-button in the face and give me a subscribe for more of the best content from the apocalypse.”

The grin he displayed for the camera undoubtedly underlined his naturally good looks, but the madness in this man’s mind unmistakably oozed out into the recording.

The shot ended.

Clive flipped through the recordings on the phone, thumbing through the menu, reviewing them with earplug headphones on. He sat underneath a window of an apartment building they were squatting in. The battery display for the phone warned him of a low charge, urging its user to recharge it.

The “new camera man” picked up the portable power bank and clicked a button on it to check its charge. Five percent remaining. Not enough for another day of recording this psycho’s videos.

Videos that could not be uploaded—because the internet had stopped existing weeks ago, as far as he knew. And electricity had been cut off to the quarantine zone a few days ago.

Frosty slept on the floor on the other side of the room, curled up in some blankets and snoring away with his back turned to Clive.

He shot a glance to the pistol sitting on the floor next to Frosty. Clive considered if he should shoot this sick “Frosty” fella in the head and move on.

Better him than me, he thought. Just one thought in a long chain of many dark contemplations. Clive could not fathom whether Frosty was just plain delusional or trying to make light of the apocalyptic world they were trapped in. He decided that the show-man was too crazy for anybody’s good.

Clive gently placed the phone onto the ground beside him. With painful slowness, he rose from his seat on the floor.

He crept towards the gun.

—Submitted by Wratts

[afjakwritesarchive]

yooooooo 7. "you can’t even punch someone decently, and you want to torture me? " w usuk spy au maybe?? (not them torturing each other tho bc thats sad :( ) but like?? rescue mission style??? :000 ((im in love w that prompt list sfbfdghfkhgb)

Title: End of the RopePairing: USUKWords: 793AU: SpiesGenre: Action/DramaSummary: “You can’t even punch someone decently and you want to torture me?”A/N: Finally getting around to the torture prompts from @rpdepartment! TW for violence.

Alfred heard the creak of the door opening before he saw it, watching as a stream of light flooded into the previously pitch dark room. He’d been tied down to a metal chair which was turned away from the door, but he’d retained enough mobility to turn his head and glance over his shoulder as the figure of a bulky man flicked on a light switch. Then, he turned a pair of calculating grey eyes upon Alfred and grinned maliciously. 

“Jones,” the man greeted simply as he shut the door and locked it behind him. Alfred’s eyes followed the man as he sauntered around the room, stopping when he was standing in front of him. He folded his muscular arms across his chest and loomed over Alfred, leering down at the other man. 

“‘Sup?” Alfred greeted, grinning cheerfully up at the man. He shifted slightly in the chair, the skin of his wrists rubbing uncomfortably against the rough rope as he did so. “What’s with all the bondage, man? You into some kinky shit?”

The man, equally unfazed by Alfred’s nonchalance, allowed his smile to morph into one of amusement. “You’re funny,” he said coolly. “I wonder if your smile will look as pretty without any teeth.”

Alfred continued to grin, as if taunting the man. “You think I’m pretty? I’m touched, babe, really - but a few sweet lines aren’t gonna get you anywhere.”

The man grinned and turned around, approaching a plain grey table pushed against the wall. “Yeah? What about a baseball bat?” He asked as he reached out and picked up heavy wooden bat from the table, demonstrating a swing for Alfred. 

“Your angle’s a little off,” Alfred told him, still unfazed. 

The man shrugged as he sauntered closer, stopping when he was once again standing over Alfred. “Never did like sports. Pretty sure I’ll be able to crack your head open all the same, though.”

“And here I thought you were flirting with me.”

“Hm. Well, I would hate to ruin that pretty face of yours... If you give me what I want, I’ll go easy on you. How’s that sound?” 

“Slow down, tiger. Don’tcha know you’re supposed to wait ‘til the third date to share highly sensitive government intel?” 

An amused smile crossed the man’s face and he leaned back, raking his eyes along Alfred’s prone form for a moment. His eyes were calm and cool as he wound an arm back, then swung his first forward in a rough punch across Alfred’s face. Alfred’s head jerked to the side from the force, but when he raised his head he was still smiling, blood now dripping from his nose and the corner of his lip. “You can even punch someone decently and you want to torture me?” He taunted. 

No longer amused, the man pitched the baseball bat forward on a course toward Alfred’s head. Alfred, who had been working at the ropes binding him, slipped his hands free and braced himself to strike.

Several things happened at once. The door burst open and several people burst into the room, one man immediately diving toward Alfred. He tackled the man, chair and all, to the ground just before the bat could hit him. The man let out a cry of surprise as a woman, Elizaveta Héderváry,  rushed at him, swiping the bat from his hands before he could even begin to swing at her. 

Alfred slipped his hands out of the ropes and wrapped his arms around the agent who had taken him to the ground, none other than his partner and current boyfriend, Arthur Kirkland. 

“I had him, you know,” Alfred said with a pout as Arthur clambered off of him and bent down, unwinding the ropes from around his thighs and ankles. 

“I know,” Arthur answered as he helped Alfred to his feet. The pair turned their gaze to Elizaveta, who had easily taken the man down and who was now handcuffing his wrists together behind his back. “Eliza wanted some action, though.” 

Alfred laughed and leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to Arthur’s lips. “Mhm, sure. I bet you were just nervous that I hadn’t gotten out of the ropes yet.”

Arthur’s pale, freckled cheeks turned scarlet and his green eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Yes, well, I’d rather not have my boyfriend’s head cracked open, as that idiot put it.”

Alfred laughed and tugged Arthur closer. “Thanks, babe,” he purred before drawing him into another kiss.

Elizaveta rolled her eyes. “Seriously, you two? Can you stop being mushy for five seconds and help me drag this idiot out of here?” She asked sarcastically, but even she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips as she watched the two. 

[jinxthequeergirl]

The New Hero on The Block ( pt. 3/?)

Peter Parker x reader ( Mentor! strange x student! reader)

Summary: you take matters into your own hands after the fire and set out to save a the city to the best of your abilitys catching the eye of a few people.

Warning: cursing

Sorry this took so long guys I haven't been feeling my Hashtag Best but im trying to get back into a writing grove so enjoy!

Also I hate writing action because it always turns out so much worse than what I imagined in my head but! I gave it a shot and this is a superhero story so.

~~~~~

The convenent store wasn't to much help in your quest for finding a disguise.

There where quite a few avengers masks,spiderman masks and only a few left over from halloween. You sighed not liking anything you saw until your eyes landed on some goggles haphazardly placed on the bottom of the shelf. And an idea spring to your head.

"Sure this is it?"

You nodded at the cashier who eyes you supisously. "It-it really isn't what you think by the way." she raised an eyebrow as she scared the items. A pair of goggles, a bandanna, rope, a new back pack and a few other tools and items that with a single glance looked like the start to an awful crime. "Whatever you say." you smiled nervously and handed her the money.

Since the fire every night seemed colder. Which sounded like some weird movie line in your head but it was true maybe because just the thought of having your dad alive and knowing he was out there some where working made you feel comfortable and safe.

Now he was gone so it was a constant fear,glancing over the shoulder and now...

"Hey!" the gang of people you dropped down besides looked up at you. "What do you want!?"

"What I want isn't important...Now What I need is!" you pulled the baseball bat from your back pack and made your way to them.

"And imma need you guys to stop trying to Rob this place."

"What are you gonna do stop us?"

"If you won't yourself" one of them stood up and pointed a gun at you but you quickly swatted it from his hand with the bat and drove the handle of it into the other man's chest as he made his way behind you.

He stumbled doubling over but grabbed the bat and yanked it from you.

"What are you gonna do now?"

"Do you think i was stupid enough to bring one weapon!?"

The man frowned at you as you pulled your make shift grappaling hook from your belt. "Please that won't do sqwat." they circled around ready to attack. "That's what you think." you spun it in a loop in front of you quickly enough to set of the sling ring you attached to it.

"What the hell-" you spun around staging the newly open portal and catching all three men inside before yanking it shut. "Cool!" You smiled at yourself proudly.

You went on like that for a few months you handled little stuff you figured wouldn't hurt you enough so peter would start to notice when you got back. Besides the city already had a thousand other hero's defending it they just needed someone to look out for people like you.

Of course that was your initial plan.

Parker:

Are you going to be home tonight?

Parker:

C'mon (y/n) I'm worried about you!

Parker:

Please don't be of some where getting into trouble

Parker:

Come home tonight ok? Take a rest from doing whatever your doing please...

Parker:

Don't get hurt ok?

Your thumbs danced above the key bored once again. But instead shut your phone off completely and shoved it in your backpack. A troop of police cars raced down the street below you.

You followed them with your eyes noting the smoke coming from that place. "What the hell?.." you swung from the roof of the building you stood on and swung across to the next swinging along side a car and firmly planting your feet of the roof of the car. You pulled your baindana up over your noise and planted your goggles over your eyes. You rode the car until you got to your street corner swinging your grappling to the top of the building and swinging off the car and hoisting yourself to the top of the building.

Once you where firmly on the ledge you looked down at the remains of you home across from you frowning. Scowling actually. You wanted to find the men that man inside your apartment that night worked for. You wanted answers. But didn't have any solid things to work off. No evidence no witnesses. Nothing it was either nonexsistant or burnt to ash.

You watched now as men worked outside your building. Men who probably shouldn't have been. You opened a sling ring letting you step onto the building across the street next to the burned building.

"The distraction fire set!?"

"See the cops drive by!?" you looked up looking across the millions of roofs to see the smoke you spotted before with a light orange glow eminating from it.

"HEY!" you jumped thinking the voice called you out.

"Enough bikering get to work you know what I want now do it!"

The two men started climbing into the rubble as you attempted to look at the man who yelled at them.

He was hidden well in the shadow of the truck. You leaped through another sling ring portal landing on the other building.

The two men started sifting through the rubble looking for something. "Anything?"

One man shook his head in response. The man from the truck growled. And stepped out of it. "Move aside."

You gasped seeing one of your close friends father step out wearing a green suit with large metal wings attached. "Mr.Allen?..." his wings expanded and lifted him off the ground.

You groaned realising who he wlreally was.

"Fuck...ok..ok...HEY!"

You stood tall at the edge of the building gaining there attention trying to mask your voice.you where good friends with Liz and certain he would reconize you of you didn't "What do you think your doing!?"

"I could ask you the same thing kid."

"I asked you first?..." he looked down at his men and nodded to the truck. The both hurried to it and he flew over to you.

"Listen kid I've got a job to do I don't need you getting in the way so-"

You backed up off the edge on to the flat of the roof and heard something eletric charge up from below.

"We can do this the hard way or you can scram."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Yea well...i don't see my self scaming MAN." you fell through a portal you conjured at your feet and pulled your baseball bat from your bag poping up behind him and slamming it into the side of his knees.

He hissed in pain and spun around smacking you with his wing. "Hard way it is!" He flew up above you and grabbed you with his talons attached to his shoes.

"Light her up boys!" your eyes widened in fear as the two men held up large not normal guns. You sneered and used all your strength to swing your legs above you to kick him but failed to reach.

His tailons dug into your arms restraining you from moving any more than you where. The fun lit up more as they aimed it at you. But just before they could pull the trigger someone kicked it from there hands. "You know you really shouldn't be playing with guns!" spiderman took out the two men and looked up at you.

You heard falcon growl as his talons realeased you. You fell into The rubble of the building below and falcon dove for spiderman. You sat up grabbing the sling ring and making a portal under spiderman sending him landing behind you. Flacon crashed into the truck.

"Wha! That's so cool how did you-" you looked at him confused and helped him up to his feet as falcon freed himself from the truck. "Magic! LIsten man you have to get us outta here!" falcon growled from behind you using his free leg to kick the truck from his other.

Spiderman nodded grabbing your hand and swinging the both of you away from him.

The both of you didn't make it very far when falcon got himself free he made a B line straight for you. "Hey can you go any faster!?"

He looked down at you surprised. "No! Can't you distract him!? What about another portal thingy!?"

You huffed. "Fine imma try something alright!?" spiderman turned the corner quickly throwing voulter off for a second. You pulled yourself up onto his back. "Hey! Hey! carful!" you pulling yourself up made it harder for him to swing slowing him down allowing vulter to catch up and grab the hood of your coat yanking you off him. "No!"

Spiderman stoped on a near by building. "You aren't getting away that easily!"

You smirked in zipping your coat. "I beg to differ!" you held your hands up letting yourself slip through your coat you bag came crashing after you.You pulled a big bomb from your pocket and tossed it up at him. You grabbed the strap of your bag just in time for spiderman to catch you.

"I have an idea! Get me to the top of the building!"

He quickly got the both of you to a building out of sight. "Here!" you tossed him a big bomb.

"Seriously!?"

"Hey I don't have superpowers like you! This is as good as it gets so-" you slid the sling ring on your fingers and tossed your bag over your shoulder.

"Follow my lead and we'll bag this sucker got it!?"

"Wow your pretty good at this stuff what your name?"

"Tell me yours first bug boy! Go all you have to do is anger him and lead him over to me!" you smiled from under your bandana and he nodded running over to the edge of the building.

Yelling at vulter. You had your grapling hook stretched across the two buildings and waited pastently for spiderman and vulter to round the corner.

"READY!?'

You nodded and opened up a portal in front of the two. Spiderman jumped of your rope and joined you on the building vulter flew into the rope and it sent him flying into the portal with that you shut it. "It worked!" you high fived him excitedly. "That was increadible!"

"I know!"

"Your increadible!"

"I kn-"

Before you could finish your scentence you fell through the roof and landed on an unfamiliar floor. "(y/n) (l/n)! We need to talk!"

~~~

Tagging:

@cutie1365

@crumpets-are-better-with-jam @spaceslonechild

[chinxino5-blog]

who are you

suckles oneshot  warnings: mentions of being drunk, coarse language. 2268 words

note: sorry this is literally so trashy. it was better in my head. really bad when i edited. i dont have the time to re-edit tho or rewrite - it’s just bad quality. but i still hope it can be of some enjoyment.

next oneshot will be better i promise.

-

Mason’s head was pounding. And by pounding, he meant it was splitting seven different ways and simultaneously imploding in on itself.

“Urghh.” The moan of pain slipped out of his dry mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut tighter. Light from somewhere was filling the room he laid in and it threw more kindling on the fire of his agony.

Unfortunately, his mind refused to let him resume his slumber, only becoming more and more conscious with every the moment he laid splayed out on likely Toby’s couch, if he remembered the end of his night correctly: far too late and far too drunk. Seeing as there was no possible way he’d be able to open his eyes painlessly for a number of long minutes, he allowed his senses and very broken memory to fill him in on what had happened in the previous twelve hours.

He remembered drinking with Cam until very late. It had been John’s birthday… no- it had been Smitty’s! And with his dumb friends it was tradition on someone’s birthday to get absolutely fuckin’ smashed.

So unsurprisingly, they did.

From the celebrations, the cheering, the dancing: after losing count of how many drinks he’d had, his memory only seemed to be able to catch bits and pieces of the rest of the night. Smitty was definitely sitting in John’s lap at one point, and the images of Cam downing shot after shot across the table flashed behind his eyes. He knew himself well enough to guess he had been doing exactly the same. Other than that, he recalled little to nothing: only climbing back in through Toby’s window and collapsing wherever he deemed comfortable in his drunken haze.

Trying to clear his head and sharpen out the blurry memories was steadily becoming more and more difficult so the Australian stopped himself, letting out a heavy sigh and turning his face more into the cushioning beneath his head.

As he shifted he felt the sticky skin of his back peel away from the leather couch, only to resettle in a sweaty mess of discomfort.

Huh.

He’d also lost his shirt sometime during the night too, it seemed.

But since when did Toby have a leather couch?

… Mason gave this another few minutes of careless though before furrowing his brows. Toby didn’t have a leather couch. He’d spent weeks living in that house! He knew there wasn’t a single bit of leather furniture in there – so how on Earth was Mason laying on a leather couch?

He regretted opening his eyes instantly. Even just a crack. The brightness poured gasoline into his head, flames erupting outwards.

“Aw, fuck,” he groaned, throat feeling red-raw and just as agonizing as his head.

But no matter the pain, Mason did not like the idea of being not in Toby’s house. So with the limited energy he had, he lifted his hands to cover his eyes and lessened the pain of opening them. He blinked.

This was officially the worst hangover he’d ever had.

Peering through his fingers, it was very easy to confirm he was, indeed, not in Toby’s living room. He wasn’t even in Toby’s house. Had his headache not been so consuming, he probably would have been a lot more concerned. But with this level of agony, all he wanted was a glass of water and some painkillers.

He sat upright, peeling his hot skin from the sticky couch and cringing at both the feeling and the headache. A pair of black skinny jeans were laying on the floor, one leg still caught on one of his feet and he mentally thanked his intoxicated-self for having the common sense not to fall asleep in them.

In his exhaustion, he took a moment to glance around at the room he laid in.

There was a very casual, careless atmosphere to it, not that clean but also not grossly untidy. Another brown leather couch sat beside the one he occupied, both angled to face a big screen that sat on the wall above a cabinet that showed off several different consoles and a rack of coloured controllers.

There was a window either side of the screen, the left one wide open (obviously having been Mason’s entry point the night previous). He wondered for a minute what kind of idiot left their windows unlocked and unalarmed, before swinging his legs off the couch and standing up. Hands on his hips, he stretched up and yawned widely.

The little wooden coffee table had a few magazines and an empty bowl, and his toes curled in the fluffy carpet that covered the floor of the comfy room. The walls were painted a soft grey, matching the white of the carpet. But Mason could tell his attention was not gonna be able to stay with the room for much longer.

Sitting back down and kicking his foot out of his jeans, he picked them up and breathed a sigh of relief to find his phone and wallet still in the pockets.

-

Friday. 22:03.

john but not really john: mason come home soon and let yourself in

john but not really john: the doors unlocked

Saturday. 00:42.

john but not really john: mason youre gonna die if you keep drinking

john but not really john: you and fitz come back here

john but not really john: come on you fucking dumbass check your phone

Saturday. 00:53.

Missed call from john but not really john.

Missed call from john but not really john.

Incoming call from Missed call from john but not really john.

Saturday. 1:39.

john but not really john: mason. home. now.

zuck my ass: oksy muuuuuuuuuuuiuimm

zuck my ass: hheeheh

john but not really john: is fitz with you

zuck my ass: fitzfitzzyyy is wih dniittttyyyyyyy

john but not really john: okay are you coming now

zuck my ass: eslkinf nowee!!

zuck my ass: vlinmbing in urr wondpw!@!!@

Saturday. 2:31.

john but not really john: where the fuck are you

john but not really john: i hate you. let yourself in if you get here

john but not really john: im going to sleep

john but not really john: text me in the morning.

-

Oh.

Toby was gonna be pissed with him. He didn’t remember answering a call at all. Well… He didn’t remember anything to do with his phone in general. He definitely remembered climbing in a window though. It just wasn’t the right window.

Whoops.

The pounding in his head was only getting louder and heavier and he was not ready to call Toby for help without getting some sort of medicine and some damn water. He just hoped the owner of this house was either asleep, or not home.

The second he was in the hallway, he noticed just how silent the place was. There wasn’t a single sound. No ticking of clocks, no sounds from plumbing or electricity. The lights were all off but the morning was bright enough to make things clear. Everything seemed very still and calm.

Perhaps the eeriness of it made him so cautious as he stepped down the hall, staying on the balls of his feet in fear of making any sort of sound. All he needed was water and painkillers. Fortunately, the kitchen was just at the end of the hall, a couple of dried clean dishes in a rack on the sink and a bowl of fruit on the bench.

Mason felt no regret in running the tap cold and lapping at the water like a kid. The cool liquid quietened the clanging in his ears and he sighed, standing upright and wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist.

Now painkillers…

He pulled open drawers, finding utensils, baking instruments, bags, bowls, cups and mugs; everything a kitchen would have. But he didn’t come across any sort of medicine. In his search, he forgot that he wasn’t really supposed to be in this house.

“Hey!” The shout scared Mason out of his skin, the scrawny boy jumping in fear and smacking his head on the door of the overhead cabinet.

“Shit!” he cried out, gripping his head with both hands and turning to face the man in the doorway. He took in messy brown hair, sharp dark eyes and the metal baseball bat held tightly with both hands and staggered back a few steps. “Who the fuck are you!”

“Who the fuck am I!? This is my house!” The combination of complete confusion, panic and fear smacked them both in the face as the homeowner took two steps forward and pointed the bat at Mason. “Who the fuck are you!” Mason stumbled back until he met the counter, eyes wide and fearful at the idea that this guy might actually fuck him up with the metal bat.  

The guy waited, bat still held out but making no motion of actually attacking the random stranger in his kitchen. “Uhh…” Mason glanced around the room, eyes wide and fearful. Thoughts of how exactly he’d escape the room ran through his head in the chance this guy actually tried to hit him. “Mason?” He said his own name with confusion and after another long moment, the baseball bat lowered to point to the floor and the homeowner lifted a hand to his face with a sigh.

“Mason.” The guy spoke with a tone of defeat, realising that the boy was completely harmless. “Why the fuck are you in my house?” he asked, voice far more calm and flat. It was thick with lethargy, and he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and finger.

With his heartrate lowering back to a humane level, Mason took a deep breath. Unsurprisingly, there was no explainable answer to the guy’s question and he didn’t even try to stop the dumb sounding: “Uhh…” from drifting off his tongue.

The guy blinked, brows raised. A moment passed and dark eyes dropped from Mason’s confused face to the rest of him. “Why are you naked?”

Mason’s eyes widened, falling to look at himself in surprise. “Oh fuck,” he said, the biting cold of the room suddenly making a lot more sense. When he looked back up at the guy, he ran his fingers through his hair and tried to make some resemblance of a smile. To relieve the awkwardness? Maybe to come off as friendly? He didn’t know his own intentions, but he knew his headache was getting more and more murderous by the second. “Hey, uh. Do you have any painkillers?”

Another moment. He took a step forward and Mason jumped in alarm, fearing the worst. Instead, the bat was placed on the kitchen counter and the guy ignored Mason, walking to the furthest overhead cabinet. From inside, he pulled a marker and a box of painkillers. He pulled a glass from the drawer beneath, filling it with water and placing it on the bench beside the stranger.

He didn’t give away anything with his expression, other than exhaustion in the bags beneath his eyes. Mason flinched back when a pale hand held itself open in front of him, waiting. Cautiously, he mirrored the action, trying not to react when the man took hold of the back of his wrist and easily popped two pills from the packet into the palm of his hand.

He closed his fingers around them, confusion growing when the hand slipped up further to grip his forearm, uncapping the marker. But something about the guy encouraged him to stay quiet and not bother him with questions. He just waited, soft tip inking numbers along his arm.

“Door’s out there. If I hear you banging around in my house any longer I’ll bury you.” Mason listened in surprise, hand finally released and feeling cold in contrast of the warm fingers that lifted to card through soft-looking brown hair. “Text me and tell me what happened in a few hours when I can actually process shit.”

The ten-digit number made his skin tingle and Mason blinked. The sound of the man’s voice was nice to listen to: deep and rounded. It was unlike other voices he’d heard before and he barely paid attention to what he was telling him, too focused on the sound of his voice. “Uhh, sure. Okay. Thanks.”

He took a step back. The dark eyes scanned him again.

“D’you have clothes?” Curious, still sleepy. Mason glanced down at his nudity again, mouth opening to offer an answer only to be stopped by the guy’s hand held up to face him. “Y’know what? Never mind. I don’t actually give a fuck. Just drink that and go home, uhh… Marson?”

He snorted. “Mason,” he corrected and the guy nodded, waving his hand vaguely.

“Yeah. Mason.”

With that, the homeowner nodded and walked past Mason and out into the hall. He watched him go, confused and stunned and slightly amused in his hungover. The painkillers went down his throat easy and the water helped considerably in refreshing his hot head. Rinsing the cup and sitting it in the sink, he returned to the living room, snatched up his jeans and opened up the phone app.

A sigh greeted him when he put the phone to his ear and he couldn’t help the immature grin on his face at his friend’s dissatisfaction. “Hey Toby,” he said, pinning the phone between his ear and his shoulder. He staggered, trying to yank the jeans up over his feet.

“Where are you?” Tired and already fed up.

Mason giggled. “I climbed into some guy’s house through his window.”

“For fuck’s sake, Zuckles. You’re kidding”

“Nah.”

note: again! sorry for the trash-tier writing. ill try improve on it when i have something better plot and better planned to get out here

gi

[danganronpa-despair-au]

Ahm.... Who is knocking on Hiro's door?

Knock knock knock

The two men stood there in silence, observing the door.

Knock knock knock

The knocking became more intense. “LEAVE!”, the clairvoyant yelled.“COME IN!”; the baseball player yelled at the same time. The knocking stopped for a moment. They assumed the visitor left. Yasuhiro let out a sigh of relief.“What are ya so happy about?”, Leon asked.“Leave my hide out.”, the taller man demanded.“Not until I can carry yer head under my arm.”

“Not as long as I’m here.”

A female voice popped up out of nowhere. Leon and Yasuhiro didn’t notice that the person didn’t leave in the first place. The visitor was a surprise to both former Hope’s Peak students. Yasuhiro has a worried look on his face. The females timing was the worst possible. Leon on the other hand had a mischievous smile on his face. “Hey there honey buns.”, he greeted.“Shut up Leon.”, the girl demanded, “Leave. Now.”“I could do that.”, Leon slowly let go of his bleeding arm to pick up his metal baseball bat, “Or I could kill the both of ya. My best friend and the most important person im my life. The despair would be really big in this one.”“Leon, I swear, if ya come near her-”, Yashiro couldn’t finish his sentence. Leon threatened him with his bat. “What do ya wanna do, huh? Stab me again?”Yasuhiro stayed quiet.“That’s what I thought.”, Leon stopped threatening the fortune teller and slowly approached to the visitor.“Ya know how the sayin’ goes. Ladies first.”Leon lifted his bat, ready to swing but at the same time the visitor threw an object at him. Naturally, Leon swung the bat to avoid getting hit with the object. That was a mistake. He hit the object, tensed up, dropped the bat, fell to his knees, and finally fell unconscious.“Help me take care of his wound and then let’s bring him back to Maizono.”, the visitor told Yasuhiro.“Are ya sure, Kanon?”“Yes, I’m sure.”, Kanon knelt down to check up on her cousin.“What did ya throw anyway?”, Yasuhiro asked while looking for bandages.“A stun gun. Metal conducts electricity. Don’t worry, he’s fine.”“Yeah, I wasn’t really worried about that part to be honest…”

[dumbass-bisexual]

Stan Pines: Real Life Hero; A Gravity Falls One-shot

im back again with more gf fanfic friends hope u enjoi also u can find this on my AO3

Summary: Stan defends the Shack from an unwanted guest

“Grunkle StaaaaaaaaaaAANNN!”

What is it now, I’m trying to run a business here, Stan thought as Dipper and Mabel came barreling into the Shack, dodging customers and displays in order to get away from whatever “magical beast” they’d encountered today.

“Hey!” Stan barked, grabbing Dipper by his vest before he ran into the mer-monkey display. “What’s the big idea? You two knuckleheads are takin’ away from my profits!” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice, and added, “You know today is the day that Greyhound bus from L.A. comes through.”

The twins, however, were unmoved.

“Grunkle Stan,” Mabel began gravely, “Roderick is back.”

At his niece’s words, Stan’s heart sank. Why me? Why today?

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. “Where was he last?”

“Out by the dumpster!” Dipper squeaked. “He almost got the Journal. Soos is still out there.”

 Peering out the window, Stan watched as his faithful handyman shook a broom at the seagull from hell yelling, “Take that dude!” and then screaming in terror and ducking for cover as the bird swooped in, aiming for Soos’s head. Seagulls didn’t have talons, but the way this force of pure evil would beat his wings and slap his feet at you, he might as well have.

Stan sighed once again and turned to his great niece and nephew. “You two take care of the store. I’ll deal with the seagull.”

Mabel and Dipper nodded solemnly as Stan made his way to the closet to don some protective gear.

Roderick, as you might have already guessed, was an evil seagull that had been terrorizing the Mystery Shack for years. Roderick would show up every couple of months, each time with seemingly more vengeance than the last. Stan didn’t know where this evil entity went when he wasn’t scaring away customers, but he could only assume that it was hell itself.

Probably drawn in by Ford’s stupid anomaly stuff, Stan grumbled to himself as he slipped on a pair of steel-toed boots, heavy leather gloves, canvas coveralls, and an old racecar helmet. With a metal baseball bat in hand, Stan was ready to face the beast. Childhood boxing skills, don’t fail me now.

“SOOS!” Stan yelled, stepping out into the open. “INSIDE. NOW!”

Soos dropped the broom and sprinted inside as fast as his little gopher legs could take him, eager to get away from this resident evil.

“Alright bird, it’s you and me,” Stan announced, pointing his baseball bat at the feathery monster, who had stopped to preen his feathers before hitting Stan with an icy stare that was almost human.

Roderick cocked his head to the side, as if sizing Stan up.

“C’mon, bird, I don’t have all day!”

Stan waited another moment before readying himself for battle. I don’t have time for this, he thought before raising his bat and running to face Roderick head on.

The bird was also ready, flapping his wings to dive bomb Stan.

Stan swung, missing, and leaving himself wide open for a pecking and wing beating attack from the demon bird from hell.

Swinging the bat again, he was able to ward off Roderick, who had retreated, preparing for another offensive maneuver.

The two clashed again, matched wing for bat.

“Is this all you got?” Stan yelled, shaking the bat in the air as Roderick prepared for another attack.

This, however, was the exact moment that the tour bus from L.A. pulled up in front of the Mystery Shack.

And Roderick knew it.

Stan’s momentary distraction gave the bird enough time to turn around and jet to the bus, preparing to terrorize Stan’s glamourous profit-carriers.

Swearing, Stan sprinted over to the bus, managing to bat Roderick away, but not before the tourists began piling out of the bus.  

“Welcome to the Mystery Shack, folks!” Stan panted as he chased the bird away. “Head inside and I’ll be right with you!”

The tourists, realizing the imminent danger, ran to the Shack, some screaming in terror.

Alright, Stan, lets finish this.

Mustering up all his strength, he gave the bat one more good swing at Roderick. The bat hit its target with a satisfying smack, causing Roderick to squawk loudly. He then flapped up and away over the trees, seemingly dazed and defeated, finally retreating to wherever he came from for the next few months.

“And don’t come back!” Stan yelled, muscles aching. I’m getting too old for this.

Exhausted, sweaty, and covered in feathers, Stan made his way back into the Shack, which, to his surprise, was bustling with business.

“LOOK! THERE HE IS!” Mabel yelled from the cash register, making a big show of pointing at Stan as he entered.

Stan froze, startled from the attention, especially looking like this.

“Here he is, ladies and gentlemen!” came Dipper’s voice from over by the mer-monkey display. “Stan Pines, our very own Mystery Shack hero!” Dipper and Mabel both came over to stand next to Stan, grinning toothily.

“Uh, kids,” Stan began, slightly uncomfortable, “What are ya-”

“That’s right folks!” Mabel exclaimed, cutting him off. “This man here saved us all from a terrifying force threatening our local business!”

“He’s a true hero!” Dipper added. “Now’s your chance to get your picture taken with a real life hero! Only $30 a picture!”

Mabel held up a camera. “C’mon folks, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

Stan felt a smile begin to wind its way across his face as he realized just what these kids were doing.

There was a beat before the entire crowd in the store went crazy, practically throwing money at Stan and the twins and fighting each other to get a picture.

Stan had to wipe a tear from his eye. It was beautiful.

“Alright folks, let’s form a line,” Dipper announced as Mabel led Stan over to the backdrop Soos had set up for cheesy family pictures.

Stan’s heart soared as Dipper began collecting money and ushering people in while Mabel manned the camera.

Heh, I guess these kids are good for something after all, he thought fondly. In that moment, Stan realized just how much these kids meant to him.

“Smile!” Mabel said enthusiastically. “You’re with a real-life hero here, people!”

Stan. A real life hero.

He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, like some sorta sissy. He loved these kids. Stan! Their hero! He may have screwed up in the past, but things were different now.

So even though Stan was covered in feathers, dirt, sweat, and bird poop, there was no one else he’d rather be.

“C’mon, Grunkle Stan,” Mabel called. “Smile for the camera!”

And he did.