aviiarie · 4 days ago
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˚ ₊ ‧ ♡ HAUNTED HOUSE — feat. lyney event masterlist.
synopsis. your new house is a bit strange. doors keep slamming, there's whispering in your ears, and you have the distinct feeling you're unwelcome here. warnings. none (?) notes. requested by anon. ghost!lyney au. gn!reader. 2.2k words. IM SORRY THIS IS LATE. i was busy and forgot :((
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“Four bedrooms, two bathrooms—not including an ensuite in the master bedroom—and a very large garden. There’s a lake towards the south of the property, and it is within walking distance of the local town.” The real estate agent flashed you a dazzling smile. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Houses of this quality aren’t typically offered at this price.”
You looked around, admiring the delicate architecture. The paint might have been peeling in some places, but the arched windows and carved pillars gave the place a timeless and elegant atmosphere. With a little fixing, the house would return to its former glory in no time.
“Why is it priced so low, then?”
“While it is still in good condition, the house will require a lot of upkeep. There are renovations and repairs that need to be done, but nothing that isn’t salvageable.” The woman explained.
The reasoning wasn’t unplausible, but it still didn’t sit quite right with you.
“Is there not any other reason?” You pressed further. “You told me there weren’t any other buyers lined up. Why is that?”
Her smile dropped minutely, and her hands clutched her clipboard tighter. “I-I suppose that would be the fault of its… um, reputation.”
“Reputation?” You frowned.
“Oh, just silly rumours. It’s nothing to be concerned about, but the townsfolk are a superstitious lot.” She replaced her smile, gesturing to the front door. “Shall we look at the interior now?”
-----
It wasn’t a difficult decision to make. She was right, it was an unmissable opportunity; there wasn’t a chance that you were going to find a house as nice as this one on a budget as tight as yours.
You moved in over the weekend, settling all of your belongings in the spacious, already furnished rooms. The inside of the house was just as pleasant as the exterior, filled with expensive-looking furniture covered with dusty sheets, and hanging chandeliers that cast a warm glow over every room. Even the gardens, covered in dead leaves and debris, were oddly quaint.
It was perfect, almost too perfect.
“Mail… got to check the mail…” You muttered, fumbling for the key to the mailbox. It was your third day, and you had already almost fully settled in. Most of your possessions were out of their boxes, and almost all of the rooms had been cleaned and dusted.
When you opened your door, there was a woman stood on your porch, staring up at the house with a melancholic expression. She looked much older than you—in her fifties, perhaps—with ash-blonde hair streaked with gray, violet eyes and pale, wrinkled skin. On her left cheek was a faint, star-shaped mark, like a tattoo that had long-since faded.
“So, it’s true…” The woman murmured, eyeing you up and down. “They finally sold the place…”
“Can I help you?” You asked hesitantly. She stared at you for a long time, before shaking her head.
“No… just reminiscing.” She straightened up, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself. “Good luck. He is fickle, but not unreasonable. I hope for your sake you are able to reason with him.”
Bewildered, you watched as she shuffled back down the street into the direction of the town. Her words made no sense, but her tone was enough to make you uneasy. The way she spoke of a ‘him’ made it sound like there was someone for you to be wary of, a hidden face to fear.
When you made it to the mailbox, it took a few turns of the key for the lock to click open. You peered through the slot, fishing out a flyer, two letters, and a folded piece of paper shoved into the corner of the box. The flyer was a promotion for a new pizza shop downtown, the letters were both bills, but the last item caught your attention most of all.
Tucking the others under your arm, you unfolded the note. The paper was fragile, almost crumbling under your fingers, but you managed to pull it open anyway to reveal an old advertisement that looked to be cut out of a newspaper.
Lyney & Lynette’s Magic Show. The title was printed above a cartoon drawing of two magicians, with one holding a large top hat and the other pulling a rabbit out of it. At the bottom, in much smaller text, was the date of the performance: February 2nd, 1985.
Despite being decades old, the advertisement was still intact and fully readable, even if the colours were slightly faded. And yet, as you moved your hand, you noticed a smudge of black on your fingers.
You flipped the paper. On the back there was a simple message, scrawled in fresh black ink: GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.
-----
The note should have been your first sign to leave, you didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, you crumpled the paper up and threw it in the garbage bin outside, chalking it up to some kid trying to play a trick on their new neighbour.
You had more important matters to concern yourself with, namely the attic that you had yet to clean. It was filled from top to bottom with enough dust to make you cough and splutter as soon as you opened the trapdoor. Still, you pushed forward, covering your mouth with a cloth as you cleaned away the dusty furniture and boxes that were stacked along the side.
Leaning against the attic window was what looked like a frame, half-covered in another white cloth. With a gentle tug, the fabric was pulled free to reveal an oil painting, depicting a family portrait. There were four figures, a tall woman with white hair and sharp eyes, a young boy with a blonde bob and grave expression, and a pair of slightly older children with matching ash-blonde hair.
The dust covering the frame was twice as thick as the rest of the attic, as if the painting hadn’t been touched in decades. With the fabric shielding the family from view, it was as if whoever lived in the house previously had hidden them away, out of sight.
Absently, you stretched out a hand, intending on wiping away some of the dust with your fingertips.
Crack.
The sudden noise made you jump, pulling your hand back to your chest. With a pounding heart, you looked over to where a floor-length mirror, one that was leaned against the wall only five minutes prior, had fallen onto the floor and shattered to pieces.
“No!” You hissed, leaping to your feet. You hurried down the ladder to grab a garbage bag and broom from the kitchen, returning to sweep up the broken glass and quickly dispose of it.
In your rush, you never noticed that the oil painting had been covered up with a cloth once more.
-----
After that, the strangeness kept adding up.
Doors slammed at random times of the day, glasses shattered in your hands before you could take a sip of your water, whispers sounded from the corner of your room in the middle of the night. You couldn’t keep telling yourself you were overthinking things, not when the signs were so clear.
Whatever apparition was haunting your house, you could sense how unwelcoming it was to your presence. There was an anger that hung in the air, as if it resented you for simply being there. It didn’t seem as though it was trying to harm you—not directly, at least—but it was clear that it was hell-bent on driving you out. When scaring you didn’t work, it seemed to redirect its strategy to irritating you instead.
One morning, you woke up to find all your left socks missing. With a scowl, you put on a mismatched pair and walked to the store to buy several new pairs.
The next day, all of the furniture in the living room had mysteriously moved to the bathroom, including the television. Unfazed, you simply curled up on the armchair and watched your favourite show right there.
That same night, you stumbled out of your room to pour yourself a glass of water, only to realize that the cups and glasses were stacked on top of the refrigerator. You didn’t even bother to drag a chair over to retrieve them, you just found a decorative teacup out of the display cabinet, and sipped your water out of that.
It was persistent, but unlucky for it, you were stubborn. This was your house now, and you weren’t going to let some ghost scare you off.
The final straw came when you were relaxing by the fire, reading a book. It was a long day at your new job, and coming home to a warm house was a dream come true. But you had barely opened up your book when all of the lights above you flicked off, and the fireplace was suddenly snuffed out.
The room was plunged into a thick darkness, and your precious warmth was stolen away, making you shiver. Something inside you snapped, and the annoyance you’d built up over the past month finally made you crack.
“That’s it!” You shut your book with a click, slamming it down on the table.
You stood, scanning the darkened room. The shadows of the furniture loomed across the walls, twisting into ominous shapes by the moonlight spilling through the blinds. “I know for a fact you’re here, so listen. I don’t care what vendetta you have against me, but this needs to stop. I’m not going anywhere, this is my house now.”
There was long pause, before you spoke again. “You can hate me as much as you want, but I am not going to let you push me around.”
You glance around, waiting for some shift in the shadows, some sign that the spectre was hearing what you were saying. “Am I clear?”
The room fell into quiet again. It stretched on for what felt like hours, leaving you wondering if there truly wasn’t anything there at all, and whether it was just your paranoia getting to you again. The air was thick and tense, the only sound being the distant ticking of a clock from another room.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Finally, a voice cut through the silence. “…It is my house, actually.”
Your head snapped to the side, finding the faint, flickering image of a man sitting on the side of the couch with his arms crossed. He looked young, in his early twenties at the oldest, and was dressed in some sort of stage costume. On his cheek was a small teardrop marking, standing out against his pale face.
“Who are you?” You blurted out before you could stop yourself.
“Should I not be asking you that question?” The man raised an eyebrow, annoyance etched across his expression. “Considering you are the one who is trespassing on my property?”
“It’s not your property if you’re dead.” You said bluntly, internally wincing at how insensitive it sounded. Still, knowing how much he had put you through halted any pity you felt for him. “I bought this house, therefore it's mine.”
“It is mine.” His eyes narrowed. “I lived here for years. If it is not mine, it is my brother’s or my sister’s. You are neither of those people, so you are not welcome here.”
“Clearly neither of them want it, or else they’d already be here.” You countered. “I’m living here now. You’re going to have to get used to it.”
He glared at you. The edges of his image blurred and wavered, becoming indistinct. “That’s easy for you to say. Do you know how frustrating it is, having a stranger barge into your home? Having them rearrange your furniture, disturb your belongings? Sure, I’ll get used to you sifting through my family’s heirlooms and tossing them aside like they’re nothing. I’ll get used to it all.”
The anger in his voice didn't hide the trace of pain behind his words. He was clearly just frustrated, and you couldn't exactly blame him.
“Look, I’m sorry,” You sighed, shoulders slumping. “I know… I know it must be hard for you. And...”
You chew the inside of your cheek in thought, looking away from him to observe the empty fireplace. There were still embers flickering at the bottom, even after the flames had been extinguished.
“We don’t have to be friends,” You turned back to him, smiling hesitantly. “How about you consider me your… roommate?”
The man stared at you unblinkingly. The proposition looked like it offended him just as much as the idea of giving up his house did, but there was something else that you couldn't quite figure out in his expression.
Was it... loneliness?
It made sense, in a way. Being trapped for however long since he'd died, without another soul to accompany him, loneliness was inevitable. You could only imagine how he felt, holing himself up in his house and lashing out at anyone who dared to disturb him. Even with the anger clouding his face, there was still a longing in his gaze at your proposal.
“A fresh start then.” He broke out into a sharp, painfully fake smile, and held out his hand in offering. “My name is Lyney. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
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🏷️ taglist: @tragedy-of-commons, @mollzaj, @wystiix, @mikashisus.
© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai
91 notes · View notes
piper-2244 · 17 days ago
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sophrosyne
how liaison intern!reader and spencer grapple with a recent case that's taken an individual toll on them
angst! eeek! word count: 1277 warnings & tags & stuff: lowkey sad, reader cries a little, mentions of schizophrenia (in an unsub), and correlations to spencer/diana are hinted at, it’s mentioned that that unsub gets shot, like the beginnings of a crush showing but otherwise no fluff, just gentle spence as always, social commentary & my personal thoughts on our justice system definitely peek through. very first attempt at some bigger sad scary feelings authors note: hi!!! im alive!!! and guess what!! its my birthday!! i'm 20 which is totally insane. anyway i missed you all and i HAVE been writing, just not posting. it just got like too much when it registered that THAT many people are reading my stuff, yk? i do appreciate all the love SO MUCH but its still a little scary. anyway. i hope you enjoy, i think this is an interesting one? not sure. i fear my intentions for it may have gotten lost in the writing so please let me know if it doesn't make any sense. okay have a superb day ily!!!
Spencer is spinning and he won’t stop and it’s hypnotic.
There’s a little squeak coming from the chair with each turn that sends goosebumps down your legs, filling the otherwise silent bullpen with noise.
You imagine it must be a little sickening, or at least uncomfortable, spinning in a chair for such a long amount of time. You're honestly a little concerned. His legs are crossed like a child’s.
The look on his face—one that you can't quite make out right now due to his motions—has been the same for the better part of the afternoon. That was concerning. It’s so contemplative and stoic. Like an old Greek statue, Odysseus? you think, carved from marble, weathered to the point of near crumbling.
But this case, this case, the one you got back from exactly four hours and twenty two minutes ago, wasn’t anything too bad, was it?
You blink at that thought, taken aback with yourself, the empathy hitting you like a wave. Of course it was bad. They’re all bad. People are dead. All those families are broken in ways that won’t ever heal.
Your second month as an intern under Agent Jareau, working to become a liaison just like her, proved to be almost everything that one grouchy ex-FBI-Agent-turned-guidance-counselor at your university said it would be. 
Harsh. Sad. Cold. It will strip you of your sensitivity. Your gentleness.
But this case. It had a sharper edge to it than the rest, slicing the littlest bit deeper into your skin. A lingering heaviness weighed on your chest. Were you the only one who felt it? Clearly not, if this guy spinning in his chair was any indication. 
Most of the bullpen had cleared out, leaving only the mess of the team’s half-finished mugs behind in the sink. You had stayed though, needing to shake this weight off before you brought it home with you. The last file of the day is spread out on your desk, but you’re far from it, standing across the room by the coffee machine. Hiding. 
You pour two cups, unable to stop the methodical replay of the case in your mind. Not just the brutal MO, but the bigger picture. The circumstances. The diagnosis. The history.
Agent Jareau had made it your responsibility to take care of all the family-related files.
Male, aged 30, diagnosed with acute schizophrenia at age 22. Stabbed 6 women in the throat.
Family history of disorder? (Check one) : Y ☐ N ☐
The unsub, his father, his aunt, and his grandfather. They all had the same last name, bump on their nose, gap between their teeth, and identical diagnoses of schizophrenia. A twisted family tree. The branches, the unsub’s fate.
You turn toward the spinning blur of the chair, unsure if Spencer even knows you're there.
… 
Ceramic scrapes against wood. Still warm, it leaves a condensation trail in its path. “I added a bunch of sugar,” you offer quietly, unsure if he’ll even acknowledge it. 
Spencer slows. He doesn't reach for the mug like you’d hoped, but he stops spinning. Small victories.
He stares down at the file in front of him, and for a second you wonder if your interruption made things worse. That little groove between his eyebrows- today, there more often than not- shows up, a problem trying to become untangled in his mind. 
You really should go. Leave him alone, Spencer clearly has his own things to sort out. But your legs are tethered to the ground. Maybe it's due to the fact that he just got a new haircut, and it’s nice. Really nice. Or maybe it’s because you, too, feel like getting lost in your own head right now. 
You swallow. “You okay?” you ask, before you can help yourself, and you regret it instantly. It sounds too personal, too sudden, too much, like teeth clashing during a kiss. You're intruding on something that Spencer isn’t prepared to share, something unfinished.
His eyes finally land on you for a split second, and he gives you a nod, shallow and unconvincing. You know better than to push for the truth.
You lean on the edge of his desk, keeping your distance but not leaving. You stare into the swirls of your coffee, fingers drumming on the side of your mug. This moment is fragile, you know, and yet you’re unable to stop yourself from talking. A chronic weakness, on your part. “I don’t think this case was…” you pause, searching for the right words. “It wasn’t like the others, was it?” 
Spencer looks at you again, for a beat longer than you expect. The tension in his face softens, just a little. You see it too.
“No,” he says finally, voice low. “It wasn’t.” 
There's something in the way he looks at you that makes your heart pound. There’s a sense of openness to it. He’s not exactly confiding in you, not yet. But he’s also not completely shutting you out, either.
Strange. The total opposite of what you’d expect. You keep talking.
"Everything he did was just a clear demonstration of his schizophrenia, which is genetic and so prevalent in his family. I just keep feeling like… like it wasn’t his fault. Like it was predetermined. And he died for it,” you ramble quietly. “Morgan shot him.” Your voice breaks.
He stills, not saying anything for a beat.
“He wasn’t given much of a fighting chance, was he?” Spencer asks quietly, almost to himself. Like the question was a familiar one. His eyes drift over the file, the unsub’s family members listed front and center. There's something sad in his gaze. Resigned. Like he’s thought about this before.
You shake your head.
“I think,” Spencer starts softly, staring at a point on the floor, voice barely above a whisper. “You're the only one here who sees it. The way we villainize them.” The words sting in a way you didn’t expect.
Silence rings between you two. It’s thick, and nothing but sad. The weight of the case, of the pain, of the impossibility of it all hangs in the air like a dark cloud.
You dip your head, a sudden tear slipping down your cheek and falling into the fabric of your brand new dress pants. Your hands hold the edge of the table behind you and you inhale shakily. 
“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this job,” you whisper after a long while, the words delicate.
Silence hangs between you two again. Then, his voice, thoughtful and deliberate and caring, breaks it up. 
“I don’t think it’s about being cut out for it. It’s not about being tough. It’s about being able to hold that much emotion without letting it break you, because you recognize the alternative of not doing the job would be worse. And it’s hard. It’s so… hard. But you’re doing that. You're doing really well.”
You blink, surprised by the calmness in Spencer’s words. The logic is almost comforting in and of itself, in a way.
“Not everyone can hold that much empathy,” Spencer continues, his voice low. “We need more of that, the team does.”
Your throat tightens. 
“I'm sorry,” you say, your voice small. “I didn't mean to put this all on you.” Spencer shakes his head, not minding. 
“You should go home and get some sleep. Maybe it’ll be a little better in the morning. It usually is.” 
You nod, but you don’t move right away. You feel like the moment you leave, you’ll slip from this edge you’ve been teetering on.
“You go,” you eventually say, quiet. “I’m gonna wash all those mugs people left in the sink.”
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ryndicate · 1 year ago
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Hypothermic ⨳ Todoroki Touya
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“Still thinkin’ about running?”
warnings: fem body/pronouns, zombie apoc au (ofc), assault, enemies to not quite enemies, gun mentions, choking, quirkless au (no scars), blood mentions, dry humping, make out, starts out dubcon as in he doesnt ask first but she doesnt tell him to stop, and a semi ungodly pov switch but let’s run with it
event: @medusashima’s Rise of the Dead collab! Click the link for similiar lovely works!
notes: thank you for being so accommodating of me Dusa!! this came right from my soul. Love how its somehow a zombie au fic with no direct contact with zombies but like.... it works. and im over the moon about it (himmm)
By expanding, you are consenting to viewing adult/dark content, and all warnings listed above. 18+ Minors DNI
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The first thing Touya notices, besides the glaringly obvious there’s an intruder—is that somehow, you’re both pretty and don’t look like much. Pretty in a way that wiggles old thoughts into his brain, old from long gone time where’d hesitate to hurt a little thing like you. But there’s a more prominent, high prevailing relief that he’s confident he can, because he has to. Because of that stupid little ramen cup that you’re helping yourself to right now. Because there’s no way you’d have that right now now unless—unless…
The undead corpses on his front lawn had been his first clue to something being wrong. Shoto doesn’t leave the zombie fuckers to rot if he can help it, an annoyance Touya’s barked at plenty of times as a waste of time and energy, only for his words to be met with quiet disapproval. So to find four of the disgusting things still pouring putrid black and stenching up the frost on his front porch…well, it gave Touya reason to be cautious. Swallowing a burst of nostalgia, he quietly opens the kitchen window—the back door squeaks loud enough to wake the dead—and climbs through with perfect silence, a skill earned in a long forgotten world that had been nothing but a blessing in the world it had turned into. The slow movements it requires give his swirling panicking mind a moment to gauge all the what if's, but when he discovers that the person sitting in his house is not his little brother it's impossible not to come to a single grim conclusion. 
That’s how he was lucky enough to get the drop on you, sitting in front of the makeshift fireplace in his beaten up living room, slurping up that ramen cup like it’s the only thing you’ve eaten in days—and given how his last run went, it’s pretty fucking likely that's how it is. Touya had already been in a pretty foul mood on his return to the safehouse, leaving to find the one thing they’re always running out of. And for the first time, he had nothing to fucking show for it. Clouds on the horizon sent him trekking home empty-handed. Scavengers fearing the approaching cold probably cleared everything out before he could get a look in. Everything they had left to eat, which wasn't much, he’d left with Shoto—who'd promised him that stupid instant ramen on his return. Said he'd save it for last. And damn it all if he couldn’t trust everything that came from his brother’s mouth, even in a world like this. 
The seconds are dragging past in Touya's mind but he knows in real time you'll notice him any moment now. By luck or skill, you've survived this long, and that counts for something. He can't give you the benefit of the doubt. He’s got a gun, secured in the waist of his jeans, but it’s been out of bullets for ages now. It’s mainly been a deterrent for strangers, kept in vain hope that he finds more ammo one day. He’d use it now, if he wanted to scare you.
But he doesn’t. Touya’s past that now. His knife comes off his belt just as silently as he came through the window. Stepping quickly on the balls of his feet, Touya crosses the room towards you, and you react a mere breath before the blade finds a new home in your neck.
Your body twists, and his reach slashes too wide. Before he can redirect the arc you’ve got your hands braced on his arm, forcing it straight with a strength he couldn’t have expected from you. Touya snarls at the combination of anger and fear on your face. You have no right. 
“The fuck’re you doing?” you growl at him through grit teeth. There’s evident strain in your voice so Touya doubles down and your wince sends a blistering satisfaction tearing through his body. When your grip weakens, he lets the blade fall and tackles you to the carpet. 
You let out a muffled yell as your back hits the ground hard, and Touya is quick to plant himself over your center mass, hands bearing down on your throat. You buck and thrash, trying to dislodge his weight, movements limited as you try to block him from cutting off your air. Touya spits a curse down at you as your nails shred at his wrists and the back of his hands. It’s incredibly difficult to keep hold of you. You’re like a fucking animal, choking and wheezing and hissing and fucking growling at him as you fight him off. With ridiculous effort, you manage to shove one of his hands off and get leverage with your feet on the ground, using his own weight to send him in an ungainly tumble to the floor.
It’s startling how quickly you react after that, gasping for air and lunging for him, putting a fist in his gut. The force of it shoves air and spittle from his lungs and has him sucking in air desperately. He rolls away from you as you pounce at him again, your shoulder checking his chin and giving him the taste of blood in his mouth before he gets a solid shove at your chest, resulting in a moan of pain. There’s a brief pause as he staggers to his feet and he freezes as his eyes lock with the gun you now have pointed at him.
You seem to have frozen as well, joints locked and chest heaving.
After a long moment Touya scoffs. “What? You just gonna point the thing at m—”
The gun clicks; time shifts; Touya jerks. 
There’s no gunshot, and your eyes fly wide in obvious fear. Time slows down just enough for him to realize that he recognizes that gun, patting his waistband. His eyes narrow, and you react, whipping the gun right at him.
Touya dodges and you turn and sprint from the living room. He lunges after you, skidding nimbly into the hall as you make a run for it. He grabs at the back your jacket, howling a curse as you jerk out of his grip, the material making an audible ripping sound and snagging at one of his nails instead, forcing him to falter. Blood wells up out of the cuticle and drips down his hand; Touya grips it tightly, hissing through his teeth and tearing after you again, catching up with you right as you start slamming a door on him. He gets his weight against the door and there’s a mad struggle as you both become opposing forces, but there’s a moment where he loses traction, the blood from his finger making his hand slide.
The door slams shut and Touya slams his fist against the wood as fury overtakes him.
“Where’s my brother, you fucking bitch!” 
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Fucker was carrying an empty gun!
You wildly look around the small space that you despairingly realize is a bathroom. The man is still pounding on the door, shouting, and shaking the handle. You have no idea what he’s talking about and you need a fix before he stops being pissed enough to figure out that a few solid kicks is all it would take to get through the flimsy wood. You rip down the grimy plastic shower curtain and twist it tightly around the handle, looping it through the towel bar above the sink, hosting a pair of decrepit floral washcloths that look like they haven’t been used since patient zero. You continue weaving the figure eight until you’re forced to tie it off as you run out of length. It’s not much, but it’ll buy you an extra minute or two if you’re lucky. 
The handle creaks with one last aggravated twist. There’s a short silence that follows as you stare at the door, heart beating out of your chest. Then his voice filters through the door, a throaty rasp full of a rage that makes you quake with adrenaline and fear.
“Ain’t nowhere for you to go, lady. Get the fuck out here and maybe I won’t kill ‘ya.”
This not what you’d bargained for. “Like I’m gonna trust the guy who tried to stab me without so much as a hello.”
He chuckles, a soft sound that you’d find pretty if it weren’t for the way your skin breaks out in goosebumps that have nothing to do with the cold. “You want a hello? Come get one.”
Ignoring him—and the way your body tremors—you turn and start trying to peel away the board covering what must be a small window. If you’re lucky enough to get it off, maybe you can drop out through the window. 
But after a solid half hour of tugging, scraping and peeling, and nothing more to show for it than torn and bloody fingernails, you admit defeat. Wincing, you carefully wipe away the blood on your jeans and listen to see if he’s still outside the door. It’s hard to tell anything over your thumping pulse in your own ears, but it sounds quiet. 
It’s better not to risk it. You settle against the back of the tub and sit; if you wait long enough, he’ll pass out and you can slip out quietly. Moving quietly and disappearing is the only thing that’s kept you alive this far, especially after the last group you left. The last thing you want to do is be out at night, between the cold and poor visibility—that’s just asking to get killed. But no part of you can deny that facing that deranged stranger outside this door would be doing more than just asking. 
Time passes slowly, painfully. Ever since the turn, dozing off idly became a thing of the past, something dangerous. You’re stuck being alert and aware of every little creak, every little sigh this house can produce. The wind tears around outside and your fingertips have become numb. It’s gotten much colder tonight that it has in the past few days, and you dig your arms from your sleeves into the body of your clothing in an attempt to keep warm.
A light tapping puts you on edge before you realize you’re shaking so hard that the buttons on your jacket are clacking against the floor. You clench your jaw. You have to try now; if you wait any longer it’ll be too cold to make it down the street, let alone how far you’ll need to get away from this place to feel comfortable ever again. Your joints protest as you stand as silently as you can, after sitting for so long. It’s much more painstaking to get the shower curtain from the door; it’s like trying to tiptoe with a windbreaker, but eventually you manage and crack the door open. 
The house is dark, but even after a few moments no one shoves the door open, so pull it wider and peek out. There’s no sign of him. You step quietly out and feel your way down the wall, back towards the living room. There’s no chance you’ll get your pack back, not much in it besides clothes and water anyways, but you’ll have to make do. You inch into the kitchen where you remember seeing a backdoor, and gently turn the lock before pulling the door open. The hinges squeak so painfully loud that you suck in a breath, heart thudding in panic, but that’s not what has you frozen, shivering in the doorway.
What you heard from the bathroom floor wasn’t just wind, but a full blown snowstorm. It’s too early for snow, at least you’d thought, but here it is swirling so thick that you can’t see more than a couple of feet into the yard, and there’s already about a foot of snow. The moon highlights your breath getting swept away in the wind.
“Still thinkin’ about running?”
You shut the door and warily face him, not deigning to answer. The chances of making it more than a couple of blocks without freezing to death are slim. You can’t see much but his silhouette and a mess of pale hair, so it’s hard to make out what he’s thinking. All you know is that he hasn’t wrapped his hands around your neck yet.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t go pointing a gun at me again, and I won’t kill you tonight.”
“Try not to stab me then.”
You think he’s smiling. “No promises.” 
Another shudder wracks through you and you try to tighten your jacket around your body. There’s a tear somewhere near the underarm seam—another reason why running is a terrible option.
“C’mon. It won’t last the night, but I’ve got a small fire going.” He turns his back on you, and you have no choice but to follow him. “Name’s Touya, by the way.”
The “fire” Touya’s got up is nothing but a few table legs crumbling into ember, but you have to admit it’s much warmer in here than it was in the bathroom. The soft light gives you your best look at him yet, and you notice he’s far more handsome than he should be. Hair a bright white, his skin is fair beneath the light grime, and he has piercing green, maybe blue eyes—it’s hard to tell in the flickering orange glow. 
He glances at your raised eyebrow and scoffs. “Look, it’s all I had left. Shoto was supposed to be gathering wood while I was gone.”
You sit slowly a small distance away from him, as close to the fire as you can get. He tosses you a ratty blanket that had been hanging off the back of the couch. “Is Shoto your brother?”
He looks at you and scowls. “Yeah he is, and the only reason I haven’t come after you again is because I have no leads if you’re dead. I need you, if I’m gonna find out what happened to him.”
“Is that why you attacked me?” you ask him quietly. He’s throwing a couple of torn book covers into the embers, light flickering brighter as they catch and blaze. “You think I—”
“An eye for an eye,” Touya chuckles, his expression hardening into something devoid, something frightening. 
“I didn’t kill your brother.” You tell him softly, wondering how you’re supposed to convince him when he’s already convinced himself. You have no idea who he is. He simply stares at you.
“Right.”
“Look when I got here, there were a bunch of zoms in the yard. I barely got past them, my knife broke in one of their heads. I figured the place was empty and needed somewhere to hole up. I never saw your brother, I swear.” Touya’s expression is still hard, but his eyes have begun to flicker with doubt. “Bet you went through my bag already. You know I don’t have any weapons. I’ve got no reason to lie.”
“Other than to save your own neck.”
“Isn’t that what we’re all trying to do?” You glare at him. “Look, if he was here, I would’ve asked him to let me in. I’ve never… I’ve never killed someone like that before.”
“Like what?” He looks at you now, eyebrows slackening at the tremble in your voice. “You were all too willing to pull the trigger on me.”
“Self-defense is different.” You look away, curling your legs to your chest. “I’ve never…murdered someone. I’ve seen it happen before, but I can’t. That’s why I’m so good at running.”
Touya stills, seemingly taking in your words, sifting through them like one would examine sand through a looking a glass. Finally, he sighs.  
“He’s not dead.” You glance at him; that didn’t really seem like he was talking to you, so you let it rest in the air like that. His eyes shine in the dying fire before they flicker and pin themselves to you.
“So that’s why’re you alone, then? Couldn’t kill someone?”
Your lips twist into a frown, and you look away from him, resting your chin on your knees. Your mind is a swirl of blazing violet eyes, crimson full of rage, viridian vexed of indecision. “My last group was falling apart. Left before things got ugly, been on my own since.”
“How long ago was that?” Touya asks quietly.
You peek at him warily. “Long enough.”
He nods at you at that, grunting as he lays down and gets comfortable. You take that as his signal that conversation is over and follow suit, inching closer to the tiny flames that you vainly pray will last the night.
The night passes but sleep does not come for you, held at bay by memories that you wish would fade as quickly as the fire seems to, a deep cold settling over you as the embers turn to smoke. You pull the blanket tighter around you, now scared to sleep in case you don’t wake up.
“Well fuck,” Touya sighs, sitting up and leaning on his palms. You can hear his teeth chattering. With the fire gone you can’t see his face, there’s no lighting coming through the covered windows either. “Daylight’s still a few hours off. That sucks, ain’t nothing for it.”
“What?”
He rolls into your space and you try to scramble away from him, only for him to yank you to his chest and curl and arm around your back.
“You’re fucking insane.”
“No, I’m fucking freezing, and not interested in dying. You interested in dying? Or I don’t know, losing a few fingers and toes?”
You glare into his chest, clenching your jaw to keep your teeth from echoing his own chattering.
“That’s what I thought.”
After your racing heart settles, you hate to admit that it’s the only way. Wrapped up in his arms, tugged tight to his chest like this…it’s still cold, but an endurable kind of cold, the kind that has you worming your way closer to him to make it less uncomfortable. 
“Don’t,” you warn him as you feel his cheek stretch into a grin against your temple.
“Alright, alright. Fine. Could make this nicer, you know. Just sayin’.”
Suspicion blooms in your chest at his cheeky attempt at charm. “What are you talking about?”
A growl tears up your throat as he rolls you onto your back, ready to shove him off but you tense in shock as he leans down and closes his lips on the spot right beneath your ear. You exhale sharply on instinct. You haven’t been touched like this since—you slam your mind closed on those thoughts and try to think through his tongue tracing over your pulse point.
“Wh– what are you doing?”
“‘M gonna make you warm,” he whispers, nosing up and nipping lightly at the shell of your ear.
“Holy fuck, you are crazy. I’m not sleeping with you,” you hiss sharply, trying to wiggle away from him.
Touya tosses his head back in a wry laugh. “Sweetheart, if you think I’m dropping my pants in a blizzard, you’re crazier than me.”
“Then, then wh—”
“Shut up and stop thinking for a minute, won’tcha?” Touya grumbles and lowers himself back towards you, capturing your lips and working your mouth open with a little rumble of approval when you relax back to the floor. One hand comes up to hold your cheek, fingers cradled around the back of your head and the way he groans into your mouth sends a heatwave of embarrassment and arousal crackling across your body.
He paws at your covered chest, something warm and hard digging into your thigh as he grinds against you, and you resist the insane urge to wrap your legs around his waist.
Like he’s reading your mind, long fingers dig into one of your thighs and hike it up, and you gasp into his mouth as he shifts and suddenly his clothed dick is pressed hard against your core.
“Oh, you ain’t so hard are you?” Touya chuckles as you bite his lower lip in retaliation. You can almost imagine his eyes flashing at you as he begins to grind against you in slow, controlled motions. Your clit throbs underneath the rub of denim, and you can feel yourself slowly soaking through the material of your panties. “Still fiesty though. ‘S nice.”
“Fuck you.”
Touya groans, fingers digging into your hips as if trying to pull you up into him. “Don’t make me think about that, darlin’”
“Not your darling.”
“Yeah, yeah. Keep reminding me darlin’.”
He moans low and sweet into into your neck, suckling softly in one spot and continually moving to the next. It’s maddening and you keep shifting and rocking your body into to his, feeling pleasure unfurl in you so hot and deep, clit pulsing and sensitive, sparking until you’re sure it’s going to take you apart.
Touya stiffens, hips jumping before he grits his teeth and collapses gently over your chest, fists curled tight on either side of your head. The swirling ball of pleasure that had been moments from reach boils and begins to fade, leaving you gasping in frustration.
“Seriously, you’re stopping now?” you whine, squirming when he holds you in place. 
“‘M not interest in finding out how fast my pants would freeze to my dick with spunk all twisted up in there,” he snarls under his breath, biting back the urge to keep rutting against your body. “Believe me, sweetheart. Blueballing myself is not the end goal here. Fuck. You’re warm now, yeah?”
You’re struggling to get your heavy breaths under control, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. You’re warm all over, but you don’t know how long that’s gonna last. 
Touya grabs the ends of the blankets and makes sure they’re tucked around you both, shifting so that he’s no longer on top of you, but on his side next to you. “Then fucking sleep, okay? I know you haven’t yet. We’ll figure it out later. Deal?”
You snort. By figure it out, you wonder if he’s talking about the thing still twitching against your hip, or the whole mess of a situation. But either way, you’re heeding him. As the rush slowly drifts from your system, exhaustion takes over and you find yourself dead asleep, tucked under his arm. 
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dangraccoon · 23 days ago
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Catching Up
Day 9 ~ bruises ~
Wrecker
Word Count: 739 Content: sedative, bruises, bacta, talking to the dead, Tech's goggles, mentions of and references to Plan 99 and Tech's death, grief, Wrecker being the glue that holds Hunter together between season 2 and 3
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In his entire life, Wrecker had never felt so alone, yet it was rare that he found time to himself. He’d sat so still on his bunk for so long after Hunter had fallen asleep just making sure he’d be okay and stay asleep. 
His oldest brother hadn’t slept for nearly a week, and after two days of reasoning, arguing, nagging, and–eventually–begging, Hunter had agreed to take a sedative. 
He slowly eased himself from the bunk, cringing as it creaked beneath him, but Hunter didn’t stir. Wrecker sighed his relief as he stepped as quietly as he could out of the bunkroom.
He walked up to check on the NaviComputer. Finding it was alright and nothing needed to be adjusted, he wandered somewhat aimlessly around the ship. 
He pulled out their med kit. It was still disorganized from the last time they’d needed it. He still wasn’t used to it; Omega always straightened it out any time they used it. He organized it, placing each item in its place again. The last item was a tub of bacta gel. 
Setting the kit aside, Wrecker took the gel to the refresher. He took a deep breath, staring at himself in the mirror as he pulled his shirt off. Bruises practically covered him, various purples, greens, and yellows blotting out most of his rough, scarred skin.
He winced as he poked at a particularly dark one, then opened the tub, and started to apply it to the worst of them. He remembered each one. 
The particularly angry bounty hunter that threw Hunter, and how he’d caught him just before they both stumbled over a ledge. The cave ceiling he’d held up until Hunter could slip out. The old base full of B1s that hadn’t gotten the memo about the end of the war. 
By the time he’d smoothed a thin layer over them, he could feel the medicine working, and could feel the side effects washing over him. Wrecker was tired. Usually, when he fell asleep, Hunter would monitor the comms channels endlessly. Wrecker watched him for a while after he’d woken up once. It was trancelike, the way his older brother would sit at the console, eyes flashing from channel to channel, and occasionally sparing a split-second glance at the yellow lenses.
Wrecker made his way to them now. Lowering himself into the chair, he took the goggles in hand. 
“Been a while since… since I got to update ya,” he said quietly to them. “It’s been three months– nah, four I think. Still haven’t found her. It- it feels like we’re so close, but this Hemlock guy… he covers his tracks.”
He stared at the goggles in his hands, wishing that… well, wishing that he wasn’t holding them. That he’d still be forbidden from touching them because “no, you’ll break them, Wrecker” and “I don’t want to clean ration crumbs off of them”. He wished that at least the holorecorder on them would be activated remotely. 
Wrecker sighed. “Echo’s been lookin’, but he’s busy fightin’ the Empire with Rex, too. Gettin’ clones out and keepin’ ‘em safe. Pretty sure he’s got somethin’ goin’ on with the senator, too. I’m proud’a him. Still miss ‘im though.” He glanced down the hallway, trying to listen as best he could. A soft snore reached his ears and he continued. “Hunter’s been– Maker, he’s been a mess. Not eatin’, barely ever sleeps. Finally got ‘im to take some meds. Doesn’ even talk much ‘less it’s to make deals.”
Wrecker’s shoulder twinged and he rolled it. “You use’ta tell us our age would catch up with us,” he chuckled. “I think I’m startin’ to get it. Stuff feels heavier. It’s gettin’ harder to keep Hunter outta trouble, too. Always pickin’ fights, runnin’ in without lookin’, tryin’ just find any trace’a her.”
He sat quietly, as if he was listening to one of Tech’s rambles about their accelerated aging or taking risks. 
“Miss you. Wish you were–” he sniffed. “Wish I coulda pulled you up. ‘M sorry.”
He groaned slightly as he rose from the seat, setting the goggles back on their ledge, adjusting them until they were just so.
He made his way back to the cockpit, slouching into the copilot’s chair. He watched hyperspace streak past in the viewport, unable to stop himself from remembering the first time they’d jumped just after graduation, and unable to stop the tears streaking down his face.
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« Previous Day Next Day »
Thanks for reading! - River
Whumptober 2024 Masterlist DangRaccoon Masterlist Taglist Form Read on AO3
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Tags: @writing-positivelyexisting @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @idoubleswearimawriter @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @winter-phoenix1995 @serenityselene @nomercyforthewarrior @luna-the-lone-red-wolf @Padawancat97 @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902
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my-insanity-is-an-artform · 2 years ago
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A cut from a fic I’ll never finish:
“Throwback to the time I wished to be dead rather than go through exams!” Reader says, throwing themselves to on the ground with their soup.
“What the fuck are you talking about.” Legend asks.
“Just gotta remind myself that its better to be here than back home.” Reader replies.
“Thats fucked up.” Wild says, straight to the point.
Readers’ head turns. “No its not?” They say, questioningly.
Legend scowls. “It is too.”
“Listen man,” Reader turns back to their food, ignoring the looks of horror from the rest of the chain, “Say what you will, but this is infinitely better than back home.”
Twilight frowns. “You almost died half an hour ago.” He points out.
“And I'm pretty sure my old roommate was planning on killing me and selling my organs to pay off her student loan debt. Also she ate pineapple on pizza which is a whole other level of wrong that I’m not getting involved in.” They place their bowl on the ground. “At least here I won’t lose my only source of money if I sleep in for twenty extra minutes. And I don’t have to pay rent!”
Vaguely horrified looks from the rest of the chain.
“You don’t even have a house here?” From Warriors.
“Yeah!” Reader smiles. “Isn’t it great! Now I don’t have to worry about my landlord breaking into my apartment while I'm sleeping!”
“Your landlord does WHAT.” Twilight stands up, enraged.
“That cannot be legal” Four says, looking horrified.
“It’s allowed on the barest technicality.” Reader explains. “But dont worry! He might have the key to my apartment, but he doesn’t have the key to the six padlocks I added to the door!” All of this said with unnerving cheeriness.
Time places a hand on Twilight’s shoulder, calming him before turning back to Reader.
“He never did anything did he?” He asks. Menacingly.
Reader doesn’t seem to notice the eldests fury. 
“Oh he never got the chance. My most recent roommate was a terrifying sight to behold when angry.”
“Was she the one trying to steal your organs?” Wind asks, clearly in morbid fascination.
“No that was my first roomate. Freshman year in college. Weird times.”
The horror had not dissipated.
“What the Fuck.” Hyrule says. “Seriously, what the Fuck.”
“Yeah it sucks pretty bad.” Reader allows. “So you can see why I like it here.”
“We can see it.” Sky says, still looking vaguely terrified. “I just don’t think we want to.”
“Well you asked.” Reader says, shrugging. “Besides, what I have going on now is nothing compared to my early college days. And by early I mean last year.” 
“First off, we didn’t ask. Legend did.” This from Wild, drawing an offended ‘Hey!’ from Legend. “Second, what the fuck is wrong with your era.”
“Dont say capitalism.” Reader mutters to themself. “Its true but you shouldn’t say it.”
“What’s capitalism?” From Wild.
Oh Boy.
oh my god I love this so much. Just the absolute disbelief that Reader would prefer death over their own world.
Reader is such a whole mood. The good ol' days of crushing capitalism and living off of noodles. Nothing to see here, don’t worry.
Just imagine them telling the chain this and is promptly stuffed with food and muttered promises of various ideas
Please I need more. Im begging you.
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spiritunwilling · 9 months ago
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Do you have a full version of the poem on the left of your webweave.im thinking about it
i do :3 havent decided what im going 2 do with it bc i wrote it specifically 4 the webweave and then it got out of hand and was too long to put the whole thing in the picture
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ONE DAY IT ALL COMES TRUE I WAITED FOR YOU. I RAN INTO THE LAKE WITH MY PANTS UNCUFFED, MISTAKING IT FOR THE OCEAN. I WAITED FOR YOU. I SWALLOWED EVERY RING AND NECKLACE AND BRACELET I COULD FIND, EVEN IF THEY WEREN’T GOLD. I THOUGHT I COULD MAKE MY STOMACH INTO A CRUCIBLE. I WAITED FOR YOU. I BUILT AN APARTMENT BLOCK AND EVICTED EVERYONE INSIDE. THE YOUNG UNMARRIED COUPLE, THE FATHER WITH HIS KIDS, THE OLD LADY, THE FOUR ROOMMATES. I EVICTED MYSELF. I TORE DOWN THE BUILDING FOR A NEW AND MORE LUCRATIVE STOREFRONT. I READ IN THE PAPERS THAT MOST RESTAURANTS DON’T LAST FIVE YEARS. I SIMULATE FIFTY YEARS OF URBAN DESTRUCTION IN A SINGLE SMOKE BREAK. I WAITED FOR YOU. THE SKY OPENS INWARDS INTO ITS ONE LONG AND INFINITE RAGE. IT BEGINS TO RAIN. I WAITED FOR YOU. I DREAMT OF FLIPPING MY EYES IN A PAN LIKE FRIED EGGS, DREAMT OF KISSING YOUR THIGHS PURPLE, TOUCHING THEM, COOKING PORK AND CHICKEN LIVER WITH YOUR CELLULITE. I WAITED FOR YOU. I REMEMBER THAT YOU ARE BAD AT DANCING, BAD AT LOVE SONGS AND POETRY AND PICKING OUT FLOWERS WITH NON-OFFENSIVE MEANINGS. FOR MONTHS AND MONTHS EVERY SURFACE IN MY HOUSE WAS LITTERED WITH THE FALLEN PETALS OF YELLOW ROSES AND WHITE CHRYSANTHEMUMS. I SAVED EVERY BOUQUET UNTIL I RAN OUT OF VASES. I STARTED DRINKING MY COFFEE OUT OF BOWLS. I MARVELED AT HOW THEY COULD SUBSIST BRIEFLY AFTER DECAPITATION, I CRIED WHENEVER ONE SHRIVELED FOR GOOD. I WAITED FOR YOU. EVERYTHING I LOVE IS ALREADY DEAD IN THE WATER. I WAITED FOR YOU. I ONLY CRY WHEN I’M ANGRY. I WAITED FOR YOU. I IMAGINED DYING AGAINST MY WILL. I WAITED FOR YOU. ALL OF THE THINGS I SOMETIMES YEARNED FOR ON THE EMPTY ASPHALT AT DUSK, AT MIDNIGHT, AT THE PINK HOURS BEFORE DAWN WHEN THE STREETLIGHT BEACONS THREATENED TO SWALLOW ME, THEY FORMED A MOUTH WHICH WAS A BOWL WHICH WAS A LACERATION WITH ITS LIPS GAPED WIDE. ALL OF THE THINGS I HAVE WANTED COULD HAVE KILLED ME. YES, YES. THEY COULD HAVE, YES. I WAITED FOR YOU.
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seven-stars-in-his-palm · 5 months ago
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heyyyy💖 your wips sound amazing! Looking at 'in a west end town and dead end world like' 👀👀👀 will this be a multichap or a one shot?
And for the asks🤭 (Hope it's not too much?)
From the first one J & K and and from third one 13, 17 & 22?
HI MARI!!! i have answers for you, friend 🫵
so first off, in a west end town already has three chapter out of four out 🥹 i have one chapter left in the works, so it stilll counts as a wip?? if you'd like it to?? i CAN talk about the last remaining events tho (spoilers just in case you want to read it urself before): aziraphale and crowley's reunion. i am SO excited to show the world that bone crushing hug fr‼️ crowley has been through so much these last six years and deserves to know that aziraphale is still here and still loves him despite his mistake🫵🫵🩷 also having the reassurance that no matter what heaven or hell might do in response to all this, they'll get through it TOGETHER AND THATS ALLL THAT MATTERS pardon me. im emotional
J: What’s your favorite fanfic trope?  Have you written it?
i gotta go for them presumed dead/fake character death thangs 🗣 i will genuinely NEVER get over it, its just so MMMMMMMM. im gonna read more of them tonight actually, this has just reminded me i wanted to. and as for writing it...the closest ive done is it comes and goes and that one kid from jersey, but not exact exact. but two of my bang fics do involve it for a little while!!! 🔥🔥
K: Do you have a guilty pleasures in fic (reading or writing)?
watching characters be angry at the universe. specific, yeah, but this little trope can be molded in soooo many ways and i'll eat it up EVERY TIME!!!!!! imagine it like the "show me a great plan" scene. THAT anger, whether it be obvious or not, KILLS ME. i have crowley get close to these of moments multiple times in my fics, even if its not always noticable. sometimes that anger is masked for aziraphale. ougj
13) what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?
write what you have energy go at that moment? wanna write chronologically? go ahead. wanna write the climax when you havent even wrote the first scene? right-o. wanna write one scene in the second act that makes you feel all soft inside? hell yeah. do whatever you want forever!!!!!
17) what do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)
step away for a while (from either a couple days or weeks), read other fics, and shower. those are usually the go-tos, because most of time whenever i cant write its due to some external force like tiredness or boredom rather than "i dont know what to write". i know what to do, i just cant DO it because it feels like miniscule progress in comparison to what i want when its meant to be finished. doing something else usually helps :)
22) are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)
first person pov, accidental pregnancy, and smut are the rock solid nos, but everything else is possible (though some things need a lot more convincing than others). and that "everything else" is very fluid. i am very attached to hurt/comfort and pain tho
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gaylanrivens · 5 months ago
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AO3 Tag Game
Tagged by @skelingtonsderek (thanks justie!) and I am definitely not two weeks late on this
Last year's for comparison
1. How many works do you have on ao3?
34
2. What's your total ao3 word count?
33, 311. Which wow! Didnt realize i had broken 30k!
3. What fandoms do you write for?
At the moment just justifed! I've written for I think a dozen but have only published for a handful though.
4. Top five fics by kudos?
family we find 9-1-1, 549
I Can't Steal You (Like You Stole Me) 9-1-1, 429
i could be found, I could be what you had saved Stranger Things, 176
A Fan Knows Julie and the Phantoms, 135
blueboys and teddy bears Stranger Things, 117
5. Do you respond to comments?
Yes!
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Oh my god I've written four mcd fics uhhh voicemail from your grave???
7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Oh shit usually it's open or like. Happy for *them* not traditionally happy ending. Got That Solid Gold Country 33 on Repeat maybe
8. Do you get hate on fics?
One time and its still funny
9. Do you write smut?
Not well or confidently
10. Craziest crossover?
Ok so I never published it but I was workshopping a ted lasso/spn one at one point
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Lmao not steal worthy
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Nope
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
@willowmckinley wrote a slasher au installment
14. All time favorite ship?
One??? Impossible. Top three: destiel, stucky, raylanboyd
15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
Uhhh idk I have a lot of wips from previous fandoms that I'll likely never finish. What to Expect When You're Expecting (an 11 year old) was supposed to be the start of a series and then....my mom died like. A week after posting and dead mom is a pretty big part of that so lol lmao. Maybe I'll feel like touching it again one day who knows.
16. What are your writing strengths?
I think I can do ok dialogue sometimes
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Instead of annoying everyone with self depreciation im gonna refrain from this one
18. Thoughts on dialouge in another language?
I mean as long as you do it respectfully?
19. First fandom you wrote in?
Supernatural
20. Favorite fic you've written?
Slasher au!!!! watch a few movies, take a few notes but id i have to give one fic instead of a whole series..... maybe The Ballad of "Just Tim" Gutterson that's one I had been wanting to write for a long time and I think it came out decent?
Tagging uh... idk who has and hasn't been tagged. So....if you see this and want to do it I'm tagging you
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bonesandthebees · 9 months ago
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chapter six time!
and you are excited because its not going where we would expect
im not quite sure what i expect, i dont think it will go perfectly, i think perhaps something will happen that will change force their dynamic to change in a sense theyre going to this abandoned area, lots can happen they could get stuck, they could experience something crazy, a lot could happen and any one of them should realistically either drastically change their relationship or lead to a change that will eventually force their relationship to change but yk
anyways time to read!
he left the ferro thing (i cant bother to look at how to spell it right now my bad) which is you know interesting
i like this little flashback because niki obviously realizes that wilbur will do what his dad says and its obvious his father wants him to play into tomys. and thats the game of politics niki knows there arent truly friends here, but its hard to watch someone youve trusted and had on your side for so long suddenly be pulled in a different direction due to this game and i think its also just niki’s own game in a way as she figures out what she must do and yeah its a balance
and thats another thing because they know each other the way friends do but they cannot be truly “friends” because of how this works
be careful on the mountain roads… somethings going to go wrong there and itll probably be wilbur who pays the price
i think ive seen this film before and i didnt like the ending
a bad feeling…
oh my goodness shouts!
bandits!!! this is going to go terribly!
and theyre here for tommy so of course wilbur is going to protect him (right…) yeaaaa get behind him (this is going to go terribly)
oh lord we’re going off roading i dont think this carriage has four wheel drive
and crashed
PRETEND TO BE DEAD
oh god his leg is broken isnt it
yes! play dead!
A BROTHERHWHEHEHEH
the contract? someone paid for tommy’s death and i have a sneaking suspicion its one of the potential heirs quackity would make sense with his warning and schlatt probably would i wouldnt be shocked
oh lord i got so distracted it is significantly later than when i started writing this
they lived! big shock!
but uh oh! now they have to try and survive in the winter in the wilderness alone! i wonder how that will drastically change their relationship!
anyways this chapter was great im very excited for the upcoming arcs and whatnot and im very invested in wilburs broken leg and all because ive taken one too many medical courses that have made me a tad too aware of how to properly care for a good chunk of injuries but thats besides the point! hope you have a good day and i cant wait for the next chapter :]
- 🪿
the thing with niki is that her and wilbur's friendship is very real and has existed for longer than they've been aware of the political games. it's a matter of is that friendship going to continue through all of this? how far can their relationship bend until it breaks completely? niki in no way thinks her friendship with wilbur is fake or over. but she's trying to figure out what matters more to him—is it loyalty to his father, or loyalty to her? is she ever going to be the most important person to him? or is she always going to be one step behind?
"oh lord we're going off roading I don't think this carriage has four wheel drive" this made me laugh out loud thank you for that the carriage does NOT have four wheel drive
lol knew the brother line would get you guys
hmm who paid the contract for tommy's life... so many options...
wow now they're stranded alone in the wilderness together! surely this won't have any lasting impact on their relationship!
don't hold your breath for proper medical treatment tommy and wilbur are 1) trapped in the wilderness and 2) this is technically a medieval-ish era so. medicine ain't exactly up to modern standards lmao
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sentanixiv · 2 years ago
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Always Something [AO3] [T] John and Arthur debate whether it was worth it, killing one bounty to secure three others. Cost, cause, and consequence; and then a hint of Morston, because this is me we’re talking about. Inspired by bounty hunting in RDO, wherein we tried real hard to lasso that fourth bounty. Turns out the bullet is mightier than the rope.
Dust settles, blood congeals, and the world carries on. There’s no care to the lives and losses of its denizens, nor tribute to the sacrifices made to make ends meet. Little more than the tip of a hat, nary a ‘thank you, sir’ before the next demand sweeps away the success of the last.
Toil and tedium that ain’t unfamiliar, the days long and the work unending when there’re nearer twenty mouths needing feeding. That ain’t cheap and might be the reality of it’s why Arthur huffs out a breath as he counts the bills from this nobody town’s sheriff. Payout for turning in four of the county’s more notorious criminals, but ain’t quite the windfall he’d aimed for when riding out.
John sits astride his mare, rubbing blood from his gloves to smear on his pants as he nods towards the meagre jail building. “Three outta four ain’t bad,” he remarks. Pulls his hat to wipe the sweat from his brow, the day’s heat heavy on them after three hours of hard riding, running, and shooting – to the lessening of their reward.
“Four outta four’s better,” Arthur drawls. He nods towards the rear of the building, where a pair of boots lie – owner still attached, lifeless from the bullet through his chest. Dead costs ‘em on bounties, always has.
Silence is golden, and lasts about four beats before John sighs. “It’s always something with you,” he mutters with a shake of his head.
Arthur tucks the bundle of bills into his satchel, resettles his weight in the saddle, and looks out past the town’s boundaries. “I ain’t the one what got trigger happy and killed the fourth,” he replies easily, irritation fraying the worn patchwork of his patience.
“He was runnin’, what else was I s’pposed to do?”
“You got this thing, John. It’s called a rope and y’use it to hogtie ‘em so’s we can bring them in alive.”
The way Arthur says it, slow and simple like John is, well, slow and simple? Grates his nerves and shortens his temper. “I weren’t leaving you to run ‘im down and mess with that,” he grumbles, brushing uselessly at the blood on his pant leg.
“I had it handled.”
“You had shit”!
The accusation comes with an angry gesture to the blood on Arthur’s sleeve, where two separate bullets carved a line into his jacket, shirt, and through his skin. He flexes that hand and it moves, proof that this wound won’t kill him any more than the dozens before it have. “They was hardly hittin’ me,” he replies, flat. His tone brokers no argument.
Oh, but of course John Marston does broker one, fool as he is determined to be. “There were five guys, three of ‘em bounties!” he snaps, agitated. “You was about to become holier than the damn church if I ain’t been there to cover you.”
“I had it handled, Marston!”
Arthur reins his horse about, reaches over to haul John with a fistful of his shirt, leaves the man balanced precarious between his mount, Arthur’s hand, and the ground. “You ain’t so good with doin’ what yer told,” he snarls, them threads of patience snapped. “I told you to run that feller down and now we got shorted ten damn dollars because you wanted to play hero!”
“Ten dollars don’t mean nothing if yer dead!”
Something in them words kills Arthur’s anger, silences him, and loosens his hold long enough that John pushes back from him, pulls himself back centre in the saddle. Tugs down his shirt to smooth it, muttering under his breath. “Yer damn stupid some days, Morgan.”
Arthur catches his senses where they was scattered to the winds, fingers flexing in the emptied space here he’d dragged John. Realizes it and drops his hand with a scowl, pulls his hat down low. The way his head tucks, the way it pulls shadows over his face, says there ain’t more worth talking ‘bout here if John values his life.
John considers it, thinks real long, then lets out a sigh and starts down the main road. “C’mon, sunshine,” he calls back when Arthur doesn’t move to follow. “I’ll buy you a drink, maybe it’ll rinse off that sour look.”
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solardick · 1 month ago
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I see. Card letter Rr temperance would fallow card letter Xx-rus. Except that in this case card Cc claims captivating.
Take card Xx-rus. The cherub and the toil. Trees are bare. Whats left on the top is out of reach. Everythign else is dead or picked clean. The peaks speak of christmas. And a place of warmth. The cherub. Gardian of the gate to the gardennof eden. In this case. The tops. To be reserved. For cheer and holi. Prob’em issue is here with the person toiling, encumbered. There’s no reservation. All consumption. In this case, as a c’ash, speaks for the cherub to say. “Uh, no.”
But i foond somethign fun too.
Card letter Фф, for at the moment,- ehich originally gave letter F to the emperor. And yes that works.- but here in this case card letter Bb, is being used for the jcuzen set. As images a man behind a table. Card letter Cc as the virgin priestess. With the old letters BcD on it. And card letter Ww the moon card, to all be tied up with card letter Дд, russian Dd.
A curios for the symbols Фф compared the Bb. Purely symbolically speaking of the form.
Im pulling the moon card out completly. Fuck that card. The only thing boiling up to the surface for me is my pecker.
But, guess this feeling is here to stay to remind me hiw they wasted over 25 years of my life. Neglected my childhood to shit and then raped me. Somy entire existance from birth on is nothing but bs by ither people fucken around with my existance. I dont want to be alive anymor w
Sorry i selflessly helped out a member of the opposite sex yesterday. I deserve to feel like i just got fucked up the ass all night.
Im juts going to
Start trashing awomen and fagskets from now on. Like it matters on my karma.
Ive been being treated as trash simce i was born. 40 years later nothings changed. Well it dorsnt seem to have anything yo do with ciggareetes. Might ascwell keep smoking. Ive barely snoked at all in four days. And its wirse now than it has for the last couple weeks. Oh its a mars venus aspects again. Lets give him another dose of dick in ass desease. Instant suicidal idealization. Motovation to boot.
Y’all traininf me like a fuxken dog.
Yay. Another biolent putburst. Rape me sone mote. Its bever been that intense in the morning.
Honna lise my shit one day and go on a killing spree.
I got a few neighbours that need to go. My ebyire family needs to go. The history tracher from highachool neesa to go. And along with have the people ive ever met withholding personall information about me from me with sly cicksuckers smiles. They all need to die too.
Its ok myqyeer side doesnt have any moral barriors. Thats whyni killed it when i was 14. That blond from the billards…. List fgoes on.
But i want to take my sweet time with my father and two ilder brothers. My mother can watch and lise ger sanity. And then ill tell how much i love her.
Hurry up nato get russia to throw a preliminary warning missile to the states. It’ll get shot down but the message would have been made.
Im sick of being alive anyway. All there is in the world is fucken harm to my person. Everywhere ive ever beensince my first memeory. The only
Consistency ive evwr had.
Well, nit so much, they’re doing a miraculous job at ruining my entire existence, my will’s been broken for over 25 years. And all they do is make such it never mends.
This dick and ass desease theyve given me. Is just going to keep me in a self-destructive spiral away from nirvana. Which is just a infantile glowing golden light.
And there s nothing i can do about it. Just dwell on 40 years of sick memories. And people
Laughing at me.
Look at this crap.
Tumblr media
The only way this chart makes any sense is the natural system. Or (whole -1=aries) what a load of crap. I dont want this. Send it back.
Keep the fire burning for a long lost hope.
No family, no fun, no growth. Juno and vesta. Before ine walks into pluto. And saturn cutting the bud of any solar acheivement. Wanting peace, calm and goid things. Held back into the shadows of scorpio and orhers peoples bs. Mars goes to the moon for somwthing substantial yet, destructive and intoxicating. Pluto pluing into neptune as the midheaven. Creating his reputation for him.
Jupiter is a sham and doesnt makevany sense other than a large group of people making the decisions. In opposition to nessus. And the poison seeping in from his desperation and misery and reactions from all the chaos and harm to his person. From all the stress.
Any harm done by him. Is emmidiatly fallowed by care and concern. Which is mostly fue to other peoples interference. Even if its disrupting their peace. “ i didn’t want to intrude…” i dont mean to offend” or. I wasn’t aware. Because its slways hardship. They can play nice. But they just quip in that saturn at the end.
Pholus opposition vesta. Hahah. They’ll make you lose the flame everytime. And then things get dark. Anddsly smiles come out from perversion grooves of mildread.
It says. There is no help.
And yet at the end of any connection. A flame is lit. A good deed is made. Before being forced in by external forces by obsessive personalities. It’s the same light he tries to share withanother. Holding their hand watching them die. And moving on. But it is not his power. And the forced changes are never pleasant and nothing good comes out from them. He can still look back at that one “last” lit flame and know that he is still himself.
If thats the power of the hermit. I know him better than anybody.
Seeing how his family is leo/cancer dominant. They run the monopoly as being the source of toxicity. The nessis chariclo whathave you. Stelium on 14 leo. Conjuncts the pluto of his pstents. The mother is uranus in sag. She being a sag. Always home. Always absent beyond her erratic tendencies of violent outbursts. Off away in another faraway land inside her head. Yet gifting him an appreciation for beautiful things. Father is cancer and leo. Alwaysl absent. Never present. Erratic and violent himself. As he was never home. Always off in some far land somewhere fucken his hookers. So they’re both uranus.
Both distant relatives that you dont know very well but, you do know they exist.
….. juno, the asteroid of anothe rof jupiter consorts, signifier of marriage, commitment and pregnancy, conjunct the descendent. Point of paterneships and marriages. In the personal experimece in which it is found to history as his father holding the torch of marriage to a dead relationship. Seeing to his life’s work goes to the support of his memory. Though shat over every other part of it. Same one i carry seems to be. But to personal experience. Theres not much to trust. Cant count on the line up of women set and pressed to dis-stress any positive attachment to. But they all seem to be women in the whole spectrum of age fertility. In the last few years. A woman, with a child, a baby, or a soon to be. The older ones are better. Carry the torch through the rough. See to the necessities.
But, needs or way over there, compassion, temperance as she really is. The virgin priestess. As all new mothers are. All the choas and roughhousing the spyche lead to needs of peace and calm and absence of family and harm not harmony. It was all scorpio shit. The sex becomes flaccid theres too much negative energy being stung out of there that there can be no loving attendance.
They can gift wrap it in rainbows and corrupt the core by letting the victim invite dracula in his home. Kind of hard to be one with nature.
Y is counted as a consonant but plays its part as a vowel. In -ony, as in one, ona, oni, onu, ono, its really only one, with an e, thats starts with a w-y sound. As one may get from Yne. Pronounce Y with ne. If you get when. Then. Thats acceptable too. May call the final judgement card harm and harmony. Man and woman. The eerie part of it is. It has a time. Resolute, it intimidates.
But, all torches aside. Im not going to survive.
And that is him. All bundled together in aries. Everything else outthere. Isnt him.
He’s not going to be alive no more, he’s gonna be dead
Sing with me. Bring some holi into this bs. 🎶he’s not going to be alive no mo-re. He is going to be dead. 🎶
Hurry up ww3 so people can leave me the fuck alone.
🎶dick in ass desease. He‘s gonna be dead.🎶
He‘s not gonna be alive no more. He’s gonna be dead. He’s not gonna be alive anymore. He’s gonna be dead. 🎶 why is he at work? He has nothing to fo but walk around and sing.
All he wants to donis sooth his ass. But its a futile endeavor because its chronic. And he’ll end up doing nothing else but fiddling with his ass every day. Multiple times a day. Not a life worth living
Just a while longer. Ans he can be dead. He’s not surviving this life. He was never foing to. It was alreasy before he was born. He’s a dead man.
All he can do is game. And even that is hoghly conditionign and manipilative of the psyche but its the only thing he can do to forget about suicide.
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tony-gunks-italian-pizzeria · 5 months ago
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Chapter Seven: Investigation! And Hunger!
“Hey, thanks for the save back there, Officer.” Tony led the policeman through the dining area of the pizzeria, passed the counter and through the hall towards the kitchen, “I thought i was a gonner for sure.” The man remained silent, all the while checking for hidden rooms or any sign of dead bodies. The officer looked towards the walk in freezer and asked, “Mind if we take a look in there?” Tony replied with a smile, “Sure thing!” He walked towards the door and opened it. As they walked in the officer questioned, “So you make pizzas, what are the meat hooks for?” Tony looked at the row of empty meat hooks along the right side of the cold room, “Oh those nasty lookin things? Here when i got the place, i guess it was a different type of joint before i got ahold of it.” The officer nodded and said, “Okay one last place to check, mind if we check your office?” “Not a problem!” Tony laughed. They walked out of the freezer to see Todd standing in the kitchen. “Hey Tony.” Todd said, the officer asked, “Who's this?” Tony answered, “Oh thats my top employee, he's here to help me prepare for tomorrow, its two months since i started this place, heh. Now lets get that room checked out huh?” They looked and found nothing of interest.
At the door the officer turned to Tony, “Thank you for your time, maybe sometime ill stop in and try this place out.” Tony grinned, “Not a problem, sir! We'd love ta see ya around.” “You two have a good night. We'll give you a call about the crazy who attacked you tomorrow. See where to go from there.” “I think it was just a misunderstanding, still shook me up something awful though.” Tony smiled, “Have a good night.” Tony and Todd waved the police car off and went back inside the pizzeria.
Tony walked to his store phone and dialed a number Todd couldnt read, “Hey, can you have the ingredients in by morning? Yeah. Thanks alot.” He hung up and turned to Todd, “Thats what earlier was about, more people on your side is useful.” Todd asked, “So the people you turned took all the evidence out while we were gone?” “Aint it awfully convenient?” Tony laughed, “And that hunters gone for now too! Say, didja catch that guy?” “I did, i dont think ill get used to it though. Sorry for the police by the way, i didnt know what else to do.” Todd admitted. “Ya did good, kid. Plus yknow the pizza only tides us over so long.” Tony praised. Todd looked down, “i think im going to go home, i need proper sleep.” “Go crazy, kid. See ya tomorrow?” Tony smirked. “See ya tomorrow.” Todd nodded.
Tony decided to go on a regular walk that night. He figured he'd tempted fate enough for that day. Tony went downtown, he turned left from the shop door and down the sidewalk. The street lights loomed overhead and he had a thought, “Four months, huh? Been a while since you've felt the sun. These lamps are the only light that touches your skin anymore aside from the pizzeria.” He turned down an alley before the upcoming intersection. “We're almost ready. Just a little more money. I can't help that it bothers me, I used to love its warmth. Now i dont feel much of nothin. When ya do your cold.” A group of friends come out of a bar ahead of him. They walk by, laughing. One of them bumps his shoulder as they struggle to remain side by side on the narrow sidewalk. Tony looks back and contemplates eating them, “Wait a second,” He continues walking, “Eating them? Sure i coulda taken em all down but id jus drink their blood. Did i want to eat them? You couuld devour em whole, yknow? You dont know the full extent of your abilities yet. Eh? Maybe ill give it a shot next time i get some grub.” He moves on passed the bar and eventually stands in front of the local dollar store, its bright yellow lights shine down from the leds displaying the stores name. He looks down, “My stomach feels empty, like, now though.” He sighs and pats his stomach lightly, “i could grab somethin soon. I should stop in here though, get a soda or somethin. Tide me over till i find someone.” Tony walks up the steps to the double doors and pushes one open.
Tony stands in the cold drink area, the glass doors slightly frosted over, blocking his view. He's stood next to another man, who's also trying to figure out what he should get to drink. Tony wondered for moment, “Could i?” Tony glares from the side of his eye at the man. The clerk by the register sits watching the camera feed of the aisles throughout the store, he glances at the feed for the soda, juice and water. He spots a man standing, confused by the glass. The clerk looks down at his phone to answer a text, its from his coworker, fun. “Yeah, sure.” A disgusting crunch noise brings his attention up from it however, and he quickly surveys the different feed options on his monitor. Camera one, the chip section, nothing. He looks up and sees a man in a cape, “Weird, must be a late feed.” Camera two, toilet paper and paper towels, a woman in a suit selecting laundry detergent. Camera three, cold drink cases. Nothing, except two unfamiliar shapes on the ground, he cant make it out through the grain. The clerk gets up and heads passed the chips, candy and cleaning sections. He turns when he meets the frosted doors and looks to the ground hoping to find the things he saw. Ahead of him sat a pair of shoes. Put together as though taken off and placed neatly side by side. He got closer to pick them up and put them in the “lost” bin behind the counter when he saw something in each. Bright and dark pink and red, layered with what looked to be white bone protruding slightly from it. He looked at the entrance of the right shoe and saw what looked to be a hairy piece of an ankle.
The clerk turned, horrified, he headed quickly to the desk and register. He needed to get to the phone and tell somebody about this but more importantly, he wanted to get away. “This just happened a minute ago, i need to get help.” He makes it through and stands in front of the chair to the register. He takes his phone from his pocket and presses the power button. The screen remains dark. He presses it a few more times to no avail. “Damn, ill use the store phone.” He looks to the landline beside the register, under the table. He dials 911 when a customer speaks from the other side of the counter, “Hey there! I got these and could i bug ya for a pack of Marlboros?” The caped man from the chip aisle stood in front of him, he dropped a bag of Cheetos and Ginger Ale onto the counter. The clerk looked up from the phone and said, “Of course! Just one second though sir, i need to make a quick call.” The caped man smiled and said, “Sure thing!” The clerk looked down not trying to take his full attention away from the man as he clicked the call button and held the phone to his ear. He didnt feel the signature resistance of its looped cord on his hand and it through him off. He looked to the cord and one half dangled from beneath the number pad, and the other from his receiver. He looked to the man nervously and remembered why he needed to call, he quickly glanced over the camera feeds again to find that he was alone in the store. “There was a woman here before, right? Which aisle? Which aisle?” He scanned frantically and stopped at the cleaning supplies aisle. He noticed a jug on the floor next to two similarly shaped objects, surrounded by a dark puddle. He didnt have to wonder what those were. The caped man behind the counter laughed, “Can ya grab my cigs? And ya know, scan my stuff?” The clerk stammered, “Oh uh- yeah uh-” He lifted his shaky hand towards the Ginger Ale and wondered where this man had come from. Nobody on camera had been wearing a cape. Suddenly the caped man's arm flew up and he lunged at the clerk, grabbing his arm. The clerk panicked and fought to get away from his strong clutch but it felt impossible, he tugged and tugged. The clerk tried pushing with a leg on the counter to gain more control but once he did the man pulled. He pulled with such ease it seemed mechanical. With no effort he was being dragged by his hand over the counter, the clerk tried to punch the man with his other hand but it was caught by the caped mans free hand. He had a better hold now.  The clerk's heart sank as the mans mouth opened wide, his jaw almost appearing to drop by a half a foot. The man adjusted his grip on the clerks arms, grabbing him by the wrists. He tried flopping, he tried to roll away but the caped man just threw him back onto his back each time. He couldnt sit up. The caped man intensified his grip so much so it felt the clerks wrists would snap. And they eventually, through a little force, did. The caped man began working his way down his arms, breaking the bone beneath his skin with just his fingers, inch by inch. Just before he began sliding the clerks arms, little by little, into his jaw. The jaw sliding open more and more to adjust for the bigger size of the man's body. There the clerk lied, in a puddle of tears and mucus as he let out scream after scream, pleads after pleads for the caped man to stop. And eventually the man did, not before making it to the clerks shoulders on each arm. The caped man slid the clerk back onto his side, bleeding profusely from his stumps, barely conscious. The caped man's mouth hung at least a foot more than it shouldve, it zipped back closed after a moment and he spoke “Do you want to survive?” The clerk nodded weakly, yes. “I can make that happen, wanna hear?” He nodded yes again. The caped man smiled, “Names Tony, you're hired. I can't wait for ya to meet the staff.”
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asakurahaos · 1 year ago
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tw animal death, tw pet death
long vent/rant bc i need to sort my thoughts.
right. so, my family has a house in the village my grandpas from and we go there whenever we have time. and whenever we go there, our neigbours' cats flock to our yard.
two years ago one of the cats had kittens - and out of all of them only one survived. (theyre all outdoor/barn cats; no one even thinks of having a cat as a pet, or in the house at all, and dont really care for them)
well, that one came over to our yard for the past two years and he would be tangled in our legs before we could even get out of the car.
last week, my grandma and i stayed in the village while my parents went back to the city. hes there, bothering us for pets and food constantly, and other cats are laying about, relaxed. everything is fine until thursday morning.
i woke up and my grandma immediately mock complained about him not eating like usual (he always ate a lot) and said that the lazy ass wandered off to sleep like usually. he ate, bothered us, slept, ate, we bothered him, he slept... you get it. we didnt think anything was wrong at first.
then i found vomit on our porch. we thought it was one of the other cats - she ate a lot that morning, and shes the one who hunts most mice, so with the amount of vomit and a mouse in it, we figured it was her. but she seemed fine, and he didnt show up at noon, evening, night. he was always ready to eat, so him not showing up for an entire day was worrying.
then he didnt show up the next day either, and one of our neighbours came over to tell us another neighbour passed away, and while he was there he wondered where the cat was because he was unused to the cat not bothering him while he was there. grandma explained his not eating + vomiting + disappearance and the neighbour told us people use poison for mice and that the cat mustve eaten a poisoned mouse and got poisoned himself.
i tried to comfort myself: hes a young cat, decently sized, well fed. healthy. the mouse he threw up was nearly whole (if youre squeamish look away - the head and body were separated, but it seemed like he gulped down the entire thing in one bite, which wouldnt even surprise me if he did, and didnt look like it even started dissolving. it was like he swallowed it and threw it back up almost immediately). so, because of its state and him throwing up what seemed like everything he ate, i thought. maybe hes fine. maybe he didnt get poisoned. it shouldnt be possible when the mouse was nearly intact and he threw up everything... right?
and we waited and waited and expected to see him waiting for us either on our doorstep or in the shed where we feed him, like he did every morning since he was a kitten.
we returned home today (sunday afternoon) and were still hoping he will be there, tripping us up on friday afternoon, when we go back to the village. at this point, its been four whole days, and hes never been gone even half as long, but were hoping.
my grandma took it really hard, and its making me worry. i feel like mom is trying not to think about him, and im stuck between 'hes fine, hell return', completely ignoring the situation, and remembering him every time i start laughing or feeling positive and becoming sad, and crying over him and every other kitty weve lost, and all the kittens were inevitably going to lose soon.
on the other hand - a young cat(f) came to our yard for the first time yesterday, and another cat(m) we thought was dead showed up after months of not being there. hes so skinny its heartbreaking to look at (last we saw him, he was hurt pretty badly, which, along with his long absence, is why we thought he died). seeing him was bittersweet, since we love him too, and hes alive but hes so skinny + the timing of his return.
if hes dead i wish that it was quick. and im sorry that he was alone. if hes not, then im bringing him back home, fuck my allergies and apartment-cat trauma. the thought of never getting to bother him again or carry him like a baby and him never bothering us again.... i want him back
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namuneulbo · 1 year ago
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week eighty-six
i was so busy on sunday so i couldnt post in time. sorry!! ill write and post this now at 1 am on monday. it was a good sunday though, cute person at the till but i got so flustered i forgot to look at their last name when i ided them so i just know his first name and middle name loool. went to the bar after work w c, l and s. we then went for food and ate in the school cafeteria. a cute security guard came after a while and asking for us to show our keys to prove we could be there lol.
ive been listening to loooots of saosin. im so in love w their stuff. so the sotw is obvious hehe.
okay now ill go through the week in order lol.
monday i dont really remember. just work.
i had a shorter shift on tuesday, only four hours! afterwards i met up w e and e and we walked around town and then had some food and then went to some shops. it was fun and time went by so fast.
on wednesday i thought id have to rawdog the music quiz and just go alone and hope id find someone ik there to play w BUT c came home just in time so she joined me along w d, e and s. s left before the results and d and e left right after the results. we did HORRIBLY!!! we came like,, 9th ??? out of 14 probably?
s joined us afterwards and m also joined in after a bit. i thought it was a lot of fun but apparently ive now gotten the news that s is... a bit weird. idk, i always thought my friends were kind of,,, making him seem worse than he is but ig im starting to understand what they find so odd ab him and back on wednesday i still enjoyed his company. after talking for a while, m left to go to another table and c and i were left w s. h joined us at one point and omg i was so excited ab it, i think hes so cool and cute and sweet and i kind of fangirled internally. like truly its not like a crush or anything, hes just so sweet and funny so i was so excited to talk to him. THEN..... D JOINED??? idk if ive talked ab him too much on here but basically hes just this bassist dude whos so fucking cool to me and ive never spoken to him and before this i hadnt even sat at the same table as him or stood within the same circle as him. ig this experience was quite humbling though lol i think i made him up to be more talkative and louder than he actually is. nothing bad ab that i just realized ive probably made him way cooler in my mind than he is irl. hes just human lol. hes still cool to me though but i need to mention that its funny that c had literally said to me like “girl, ur hyping him up way too much. hes just a man.” and now i was indeed proved right. he is just a guy lol. its kind of become an inside joke by now though and i like that ive created that correlation to him now so itll always be in the back of esp c and ls minds. i did fangirl a lot when he sat down at our table out of nowhere though and it was so funny bc c kept giving me a look.
d left quite quickly to go to talk to others and after a while me, c, h and ss convo turned into a film bro convo bc apparently all three of them r film bros and i havent seen like,, any movies so they started listing movies from every era and of every genre that i had to watch and it was so funny. after they had been listing stuff for a good 15 minutes they finally said dead poets society and i could finally be like “IVE SEEN THAT ONE”. i then watched interstellar the next day... no reason why i specifically watched that one...
after watching interstellar on thursday, i got so inspired to go learn cornfield chase on piano so i ran to school at 12 am but obviously it was closed. i knew it would be but sometimes the gates might still be open or something so there r loopholes but yeah, not this time. i checked every door lol. i still havent gone to practice it. i practiced a little bit at home on the keyboard but it sounds so bad and its so hard to play, mainly ergonomically.
friday! played sims all day and then went for a drink w t. we then went for a walk and then got some food to end the evening. i love them sm <3
saturday was work again but it was a five hour shift that went by pretty fast and it was such a weird shift lol. theres this guy that comes in every now and then and weve always had this little tension between us, like a pretty obvious romantic tension. i remember all the times hes been at the till while i was working. one time he was also just in the store while i was fixing some shelves, i think i was specifically organizing cat food? anyways, first time, i actually cant remember fully if it was him but im pretty sure?? idk, like i said, i get flustered when i see pretty ppl so i just remember a BIG tension and his hand shaking a bit when holding his card to the card reader. second time he bought cigarettes and i ided him and TURNS OUT ITS A GUY I WENT TO ELEMENTARY W LOLLLL. hes two years older than me and all i remember of him is that he used to show me gore on the computer at the after school thingy we were at. honestly shaped me a lot as a child probably. i wonder if he remembers me from that as well. anyways. he bought food some other time too and i remember just really feeling the tension still. like its sm fun??? like how u can feel that we both find each other so attractive yet no one says anything apart from just smiling and doing like a specific type of eye contact and just like idk... speaking in a certain tone ig??? its sm fun. hes so hotttttt. anyways on saturday he came in twice, once w his friend (who i also know and hes not a great guy sooooooo) and that time his friend was just buying cigarettes but he stayed away for some reason and like fully turned his back to me lol idk what that was ab but then after an hour or so he came in alone to buy some quick meal and the tension was back. i think he mightve genuinely just avoided me the first time bc he didnt want his friend to know??? or am i being totally delusional rn?
later that shift d shows up. THE d. we were both as surpised lol i just looked up from my phone when i heard someone start piling up stuff on the conveyor belt and then i meet eyes w him and his eyes widen just as much as mine and hes like “hi!” and im like “hi!”. we dont say anything else but it was just so funny and i keep smiling lol. hes so iconic to me. maybe a little hot too but like mostly iconic. i think. he is QUITE hot though... like to be fucking fair....
THEN omg. this was so fucking funny and i laughed ab it for the rest of my shift. this guy came in to buy alcohol and he was young so he showed id before i even got to asking him for it and his name is literally the same as w, my crush. FIRST AND LAST NAME WERE THE SAME??? what a fucking coincidence??????? it was so funny and i had to keep myself from bursting out in laughter in front of him it was so fucking weird. i didnt think w had THAT common of a name. like yeah first name sure, one of the more common ones for his age but like first and last name??? woah.
anyways, thats a fucking wrap.
sotw: saosin - racing toward a red light
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ladydemolatronselfship · 2 years ago
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Mysterious Girl (Alex PoV) part 1/2
Yes here comes mine fanfic what will be written in PoV of two persons for now im Showing events from OC point of view in this one:
Alex well sighed, as she was glancing herself on clock at the bottom of computer screen in the shop, she was night working in and tried to ignore that restless itch that developed under her own skin, but so far there been only four minutes that passed when she last looked. 
Trying to keep herself from ripping again some of her hair from practical boredom, she let her gaze roam around that now deserted shop place and empty parking lot. Outside those windows, and beyond those slightly harsh fluorescent lights, the lot been empty still as it been most night. Whole store be itself been deserted, aisles empty with no one of customers or some more enthusiastic younger people as not always this city been safe, sometimes its infamous nickname of "City of Assassins" been showing often with those crazy fights spilling day and nights and now been even silent but sure deadly still.  
Since now been Summer there, those slushy machines been setup two days before her start of work and was rotating neon colored ice-cream and some hot dogs been left also next to them. 
She would have to look on them and change them out next ten minutes, and maybe stuff herself a few in her Ziploc bag, she always kept as occasion. 
And whole her thoughts on hot-dogs with choking one down as lukewarm temperature of it when she was going back to home with her beat up car made her stomach turn, but she couldn't afford herself 
to end again being picky on food she is eating, especially as next semester of her college years was coming up. And still she never found mystery of who is her soulmate too since that mark just showed up when she come to this infamous city looking for a work and also to find cheap college so she can do studies up too.  
Alex had gotten for now what she, in most of her generous moments of life, thought of as late life start. She well had not easy life as grown up on less generous as family members, more or less lived on even with all hell she survived as school, and some of at home too until as fifteen had enough and left whole family out that time from having taking her clothes with her and all of her allowance of cash carefully spared with her. 
Honestly this was no wonder why she landed now here on known dangerous city and somehow so far never landed on situation that she would be dead in any days, even she was suspicious of this since somehow nasty element was avoiding her somehow after that incident with her mark manifesting. 
And for Alex problems, she mostly landed on night shifts and even if this meaned more cash for hour, she cannot afford herself being too picky in anything really. Stared onto empty linoleum and well even listening to hum of freezers working in silence gave her time to think about her projects on art degree or new piece she would try to tag somewhere in dead of night. 
She was considering that wall of closed down restaurant near her place, right near boardwalk, when suddenly she heard the rev of a coming engine. She blinked and looked back on PC, noting that it ended twenty minutes past when her colleague Lisa was supposed to come and relieve her from duties. 
She liked her, Lisa been like person who never took shit from anyone and kept sometimes her hair short and into different styles too what suited her mild heart-shaped face and well green eyes. But she was sure, she ended in her latest coding some program project as she was in IT department beside this same nightly job, and would in end now rush fast from hour then, apologizing tumbling from her lips too, as she could throw her bag on back and clock in. This would not be last time in her opinion, she thinked herself hard. And well not to mention she was like her an unbound Guide too. 
So, she fidgeted with her work vest, peeling it away from her chest for moment to try get some air between that and her black top. Today was slightly hotter in store this evening, even if it was supposed be colder in this night. Apparently, this was case of her boss who chosen to consider air conditioning as luxury again. Also, he barely kept stocks shelved. And still she called him a creep when he too much looked on her with his strange smile. 
She was really pulled from her whole musings, when that approaching engine noise came to loud roar and then cut off. So well, she leaned on the counter and slightly looked over to see well and glimpsed a sleek way in her opinion too big red motorcycle, pulled to a stop on nearest empty stop on shop parking. And she did double take when realized that this is not ordinary type of those but more like custom ones. And she was sure this thing would outperform even her bad small 2-person car. 
Alex finally noticed driver jumping out from the thing and scurried back to her place at register so all would not be obvious she been looking and drooling on thing like someone who is motorization fan. She did busy herself tidying things like place where been cigarettes offered, just to have her restless hands to do something. The practically tiny bell over the door rang out and she turned to greet newcomer with her smile. She felt that smile fix in place as man approached the counter and crossed his arms. 
Her eyes followed the path of that whole light like been magnetized up across man shoulders and his chest what she was sure was pretty build too. The stranger was wearing slightly damaged blue jeans, and also looking custom red leather jacket unzipped from she was also possible seeing some anime related t-shirt too. His whole hair was short and spiked, practically ink black. She would see his eyes as they been seen able behind those clear yellow sunglasses and she was sure they been blue. 
His mouth suddenly quirks up into self-satisfied smirk, the kind she was sure he knew she did been looking. 
“I was standing here for five minutes. This pass for well good customer service here on those parts?” 
He suddenly said, breaking whole silence that fallen between them. 
Alex blinked, feeling something from her neck, seriously just had her boss to shut off AC today? Her head felt dizzy but she took a deep breath. Also, she reminded herself, yes, she needs this job and, no she cannot punch this guy... and.... 
“Depends. Well what asshole wears his shades at night on these parts?” 
Well. Here went her job. It was nice when having it and to think she not told that one Karen other night. And also, lights felt a lot sharper for her that they been second ago. Had her boss fucked with lights here too? 
The guy chuckled, and she was surprised that it felt warm. He raised one of arms that been coated in that red jacket and taken his sunglasses off, tucking for now in his glowed hand. 
When his eyes met hers, her breath ended caught. They been light blue but for second she swore they changed color to known gold one. For a moment they just stood here, considering each other, his eyes on her own, and then his head gave small jerk like he inhaled, like he was forgetting for a moment. 
“Excuse me for being blunt but what in actual fuck you guide doing out right now?” he again talked, eyes fixed at point over her shoulder. 
Alex shaken; her hackles immediately gone up at this tone. There been some conservative types of sentinels that still thought their counter parts guides are weaker to only being seen not heard, and not so much else.  She was thinking this one asshole would not be one of them, not with his bizarre sense with fashion, and maybe good taste with motorcycles, and that voice but fuck, again bigotry comes on all shapes and sizes, and she was really long around to see it.  She ignored her sinking feels in her gut, to fix her glare at him, the kind that made guys well rethink their approach. 
“Some of us have to work for living”  
She, told him dryly, resisting the urge to nervous fidget in place. And now seeing even her spirit animal manifest suddenly was also not suspicious to her. She knew her spirit was often defiant even for form it took, that small bronze cat just now chooses to sniff onto that sentinel before well acting like betraying her will and trying to make attention of the man. And also, well she ended good aware of something sitting on her right arm now suddenly, as looked smally to well see bird perched on her right arm, in more precise a hawk.  
And this really meaned a clusterfuck to her aka sudden compatibility of her Guide thing to this Sentinel and she hoped he is not case of Prime Sentinel too since even now she was getting a vibe to try do Fight/Flight response. 
So, well she reared back properly now and even offended now also with wondering how much problems she could get if now she went and get her baseball bat she used for protection from her car and try to put this guy on his ass, when suddenly like her he broke from some spell and moved. 
He lunged forward, waist hitting the counter as he reached for her with one of his hands, his second one digged somehow onto cheap wood of the countertop until she would swear, she heard squeal as wood gave way under pressure. 
Alex had fast jerked back hitting the shelves of cigarettes behind since she jerked back at his approach, bewildered and smally intimidated in whole spite of herself. 
There been moment of silence as his hand still hung suspended in the space between them, his breath coming quick, much like her own. Then she again caught sight of his eyes and was startled to see them blown wide. A shiver passed through her when it finally hitten her. 
“Fuck not this thing of Guide/Sentinel bond now.” 
The man slowly somehow retracted his arm, also movement felt pained. 
“Fuck.” 
It was then well when suddenly bell over the door chosen to rang out once more and she felt gust of fresher air swirl around them, cool, cleaning her head for few moments. 
Lisa stood in the doorway, one hand holding her bag and other frozen on pushing door act, her eyes also been wide on this scene and mouth opened wide on what she nearly walks into. With that blessed minutes of sanity that came back to her, she chosen to practically slide back from hold of his hand, even pushed with all of her strength. He went with stumbling back but she couldn’t to keep on looking at him, or give apology or explanation to Lisa. Her mind again had flight or fight moment, and was stuck on flight. So, she bolted back to counter even feeling rubbery legs as she hurled trough door behind her, grabbing her things and backpack from rows of employee lockers and rushing out of back door into night.  She paused to get some crisp night air, feeling bad with each new lungful when she also heard that faint sound of bell again and fast approaching steps on gravel coming her way. 
So, Alex didn’t dare to look behind her but took off once more, booking it fast down in double time to her 2 people car and fumbling her keys out of her pockets with nerveless fingers. 
“Wait!” 
She hears him shout. But on same time she unlocked door of her car, thrown shit inside and thrown herself into too after. The engine revved to life, and she threw reverse, barely missing swipe on the guy as he did get close, before she escaped out of parking lot. 
Alex wiped sweat she had back from being in shop and cranked AC, trying to listen to radio and well even ignoring hissing at her spirit animal what chosen to manifest now on passenger seat. The bad was that now she caught a flash in the mirror and saw that motorcycle from shop tear out behind her and well engines making a war with her music. 
“Fuck my life!” 
She shouted. Was that guy seriously following her? Surely not, she was no one ideal of Guide, even to herself. She never thinked an Sentinel could be interested in her. And now this all fallen to her. 
She again glanced in the rearview and saw that he was properly tailing her now. Shit, how she can even lose him at this rate? She needed her apartment so she can hide there for few days if man tries to find her again. 
Her new problem still was not letting up from her and her car any time soon, even practically on her bumper and she ended swerving at the last second with screeching the U-turn and well then taking any first road fast she could off on the right. She could hear second tires squealing behind her and choose to accelerate. Hopefully for her that guy not know this area as good as she, and maybe she will lose him and finally get back to her place to hide for 2 days.  
A random left, cutting on some generic nice neighborhood and another right, trying for keeping eye on rearview whole time. Finally, she came to stop, blowing past those signs. Also been not concerned if she was seen by any police since this been nearly 5 AM. So, she took first on ramp on highway she could again find, seeing none of hint of that sleek red motorcycle that been following her and from this been ten minutes' drive to her home. 
Alex pulled up on front of her apartment complex and barely had the presence of her mind but locked her car and texted two of her friends with code red, meaning of soon talk again on term Guide. 
After climbing the stairs on her small useless legs, she finally made it into her own apartment, taking also in scent of her own well-loved place. Locking the door behind her and falling on the bed. 
She caught the edge of her blanket and wriggled her way to the center of her big bed, the only luxury she ever shelled out for it, and then curled in on herself. She dozed off hearing ambient of traffic outside and could now swear she heard familiar engine rev right before she got to full sleep. 
Her dream been hazy and possible distorted. She saw again that familiar blue eyes, one having a scar too fixated on her with big intensity that make her squirm, saw again hand in red leather trailing cold feel across sensitive skin of her tights. She could feel too a huff of breath at her neck. 
And every moment ended on her resurfacing to normality, as she curled on herself. At times she thought she heard some faint shouting from front, one voice somehow familiar and warm. 
Part two should be tommorow at least or on Thursday.
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beaversatemygrandma · 2 years ago
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Oh my god. So. My wisdom teeth surgery is tomorrow. (*internal screaming*) And i woke up early today so i’d be able to easily wake up at like 830 tomorrow for it. And i got the reminder i set on my phone for the day before about that time, looked at it, and rolled over in bed for a couple minutes. SomeHow. The twenty minutes i was there was long enough for my brain to give me a 24-hour jump in time. It was 10:15am tomorrow. I was fifteen minutes late for the appointment and I was more scared of having the surgery itself (checks out) than having everybody mad at me for being late (still pretty scared tho). And i went out into the living room to find my mom waiting for me so she could drive me. And that was when i noticed it wasn’t real. My mom lives hundreds of miles away. I wake up. It’s 10. The dread of having to wait another 24 hours hits. Great.
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