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1ddotdhq · 3 years

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👁 Sun 01 Nov ‘20 🍼

After yesterday’s amazing show (the timey wimey of which was even more wibbly wobbly than we thought- it was only an hour late in SOME markets, there was just a big confusing daylight savings time fail in the announcements), today Liam’s Halloween merch is making quite a splash! There's a mask with his name in a spooky gothic font with classic flash tattoo style doodles, including swallows, a microphone, an eye, several skulls, a weird tongue looking thing, and some lyrics! His T-shirt design is also Halloween themed (or, like - Dia de los Muertos themed, which is different) and has a large skull covered in purple and yellow roses (and patterns), his name, another eye, cobwebs, lightning bolts, and some more swallows. There are indeed designs on the merch that match up with many of Zayn's tattoos but honestly that line art eye looks as much like MY eye as it does Zayn's. I feel like a comparison to Zayn's eye TATTOO would have been more convincing, but that wasn't the conjecture! Meanwhile Zayn and all six of his eyes (tattooed, real, and glasses) were seen again! Twice in ONE DAY, truly a holiday! Late in the day yesterday we got one last treat (or trick, depending on your perspective) from Gigi: a family zelfie of her, Zayn and zaby X in their family-of-geeks costume...oh wait no that's their actual identities! Their costumes were Gigi as not just a videogame character but a specific variant suit (Zero Suit Samus? I guess? *shrugs as if I know what I'm talking about*), and Zayn in his full Slytherin uniform including a jumper and thick glasses he'd left out of his earlier post, smiling down at the zaby in his arms (tiny hulk!! uwu) with a soft happy face. You'd think this would generate discourse, and it has, but mostly people are busy arguing about whether Z is a Slytherin! Messing with peoples' sorting headcanons is no joke, it's an even more surefire way to get the fandom fired up than babies and girlfriends.

A receipt has circulated wildly from an Kuwaiti man who describes an encounter with Louis from Vegas in like 2016 or '17 it seems like. He says Louis walked up to him randomly, touched him and complimented his beard (lol), and then walked away again. A few days later they ran into each other again and Louis (and Oli!) passed by him and - yup! Louis touched his shoulder, complimented him again, and asked if the man remembered him. The guy was like, ‘uh, yeah dude, it's been like a day,’ and then Louis disappeared into the party once more like the vision he is. Our hero was then like, ‘who WAS that man’, googled him, and figured out that yes, he'd been hit on TWICE by an international superstar. In my head, I imagine Louis flitting around being very charming, capturing people’s attention, then leaving just as quickly as he came, leaving Oli standing there smiling awkwardly. Anyway in slightly more professional Louis news: Lyric Drop 2 has been pulled from Louis’ merch store (that was REALLY limited edition, huh?). This means the next single for release is We Made It, and we’re keeping our fingers crossed for rainbows! An A&R Sony manager (Micheala Lundin, who previously worked on Louis’ team at Syco) celebrated Two Of Us’ milestone - it reached 100 million streams on Spotify! Her instagram story tags the people involved with the making of the song and says, “This little baby reached 100 million! 🌟...Will always be a special one! Pop perfection by my favorite legends”. Same, though it always makes me cry! And, in other Louis things that make me cry, Reverse Rett (a charity that works to improve the lives of those touched by Rett syndrome) - which Louis donated thousands of pounds through an art fundraiser in 2016 - has revealed that he has quietly been supporting them by donating auction prizes ever since. I have a lot of feelings about this, and I’m always floored by his consistent and continued kindness, though I definitely shouldn’t be at this point.

Drip, drip drip it goes - the news, I mean, but I can see why you might think it would be milk! GQ posted a Golden picture of Harry on instagram (from the video, but also a good description of the picture itself), and the comments are really something else! “Didn’t know my dude was a C cup,” said one guy. “Is my dude lactating,” asked another one. And the band Cannon announced that they would start their “Covers by Cannon” series with a cover of Golden, and Harry, apparently lurking around insta, liked the post: I hope this means he's seeing the GQ comments too cause that's the real entertainment of the day! And finally, Instagram Issues Curse strikes again: “did Niall just post something on ig and deleted it?” and to which Niall - always creeping around in his mentions - replied, “Yeh I think so...I can’t see it on my story”. Well, neither can I, so I can’t tell you what it was (:/), but I’m gonna be keeping a closer eye on his insta in the week leading up to the show!

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incoherentbabblings · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Young Justice - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake Characters: Stephanie Brown, Tim Drake, Cassie Sandsmark, Kon-El | Conner Kent Additional Tags: Missing Scene, Kissing, Romance, Established Relationship, Tim Drake is Drake (DCU), Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, Minor Canonical Character(s), Fluff and Humor, Light Angst Summary:

Expanded scene for Young Justice (2019) #15. Tim and Steph finally get to reunite after the team’s reality hopping adventure, and whilst Tim is keen for Stephanie to be (re)introduced to his friends, Stephanie isn’t sure she belongs.

Tim watched as people piled up the big green monsters into one giant pile of unconsciousness. He was standing on top of his pickup truck; the one Stephanie had apparently driven halfway across America without even a scratch to come meet up with him.

Tim watched as she very awkwardly extracted herself from a conversation with Jackson and Derek, not sure what to say or do, and made a beeline towards Tim. He tried to control his expression as she did so. He wasn’t disappointed in her, but he had hoped she would be able to feel comfortable enough around a bunch of strangers to strike up a friendly conversation or two. At the same time, he understood. Afterall, they hadn’t really gotten their reunion yet. At least, not the one that Steph had teased about wanting.

Tim could see her slight nervousness in the way she held her shoulders as she looked up at him, face hidden under her black mask and purple hood.

“We done? No more bad guys to punch?”

Two days they’d said. Two days and they would find each other.

They’d known it was a promise neither could keep, and things had very understandably gotten out of hand, but still, Tim felt like he had disappointed her.

“We’re done.”

He reached down, tugging her up onto the roof of the truck. She didn’t need the help, but he wanted to see how readily she took his arm.

She did so immediately, without hesitation, a light laugh bubbling out as she was heaved upwards. Stephanie was deceptively light, or maybe Tim was deceptively strong. Regardless, he tugged up until she was able to twist onto the roof on her butt. She then pulled herself up to standing to be level with Tim.

She was smiling under her face cover.

“Can I take off my mask, do you think? Do you trust them all?”

“Yes,” he replied immediately. “They’re our friends Steph.”

His heart broke a little that she didn’t quite understand it yet. It was a bit of a white lie, but Tim saw no reason why it could not be the truth. They had left Gotham for many reasons, altered timelines being one of many, but another was simply the desire to go new places, meet new people, and have a life outside of the damn Bat for two weeks.

Finding his friends again, finding that safe space... He wanted Steph to find her own place within it. He had mentioned it to Cassie, Kon and Bart on the rare quiet moment during their interdimensional travels. He didn’t want there to be a hard line between his life in Gotham and life with them. He didn’t see the need. Not anymore.

Needless to say that the three of them took his thoughts very well. Yes, the four of them were finally reunited. Enough with the melodrama; be grateful that they could spend time together once more and stretch it out and milk that time for all it was worth. Remember how easily it was taken away?

Besides, it couldn’t do Steph any harm to have friends too, right? Admittedly she was a bit rough around the edges, as socially awkward as she was genuinely kind, but then again it wasn’t like the team were exactly behaving at peak social norms either. Bart alone was surely testament to that, right?

Steph was ignorant to Tim’s musings and continued their conversation.

“Good. Because,” she sang, pulling down her hood and her full-face mask off. “I need to give you that proper greeting, remember? Can’t wait any longer.”

Tim exhaled at the sight of her smile and long blonde hair, but it collapsed when she leaned in, eyes half shut.

“Wait,” he said, jerking back a little.

“What?” Stephanie asked, voice quiet and sad. Worried at the rejection, she put her hands up to rest on his chest. He flinched as she did so, and she felt like crying. “Oh no… Something happened didn’t it? Is it those memories you got back? Was I horrible in them? Because I’m really sorry if I was. I’m a different person now. Literally or metaphorically I dunno but…Or is it something that happened whilst you were away?”

She spoke with such sincerity despite the farcical nature of the statements, that Tim felt the need to put her out of her misery. He grasped her wrists and then intertwined their fingers when she raised her palm from his chest. He squeezed tight, and he saw her tremble.

“It’s not you. I didn’t keep my promise.”

“What?” Her voice shifted from upset at herself to the situation.

“You needed me. We said two days. And I tried but-but…”

Stephanie pouted at being denied affection for such a trivial reason as – as far as she saw it – losing track of time. Tim was punishing himself in that silly head of his, and by extension, it also felt so to Stephanie. She took a deep breath and mellowed out her tone.

“Stuff happens,” she responded firmly. She was not interested in a debate or Tim’s proclivity for self-flagellation. “I know you didn’t deliberately leave me hanging, so why would I resent it? Impulse mentioned reality hopping…”

Her look became worried as she drew the wrong conclusion. The confidence fled her as quickly as it had come. “Was it bad? Trauma? Where did you go? Is that where you got this outfit from because ooft honey –”

“You gave it to me.”

Stephanie paused, then tugged Tim’s hands round to hold her waist.

“I did what?” she scrunched up her eyes and face cutely, shaking her head like she was trying really hard to remember giving Tim a brown superhero suit without a cape and a yellow bat on the belt buckle. “Is it another missing memory? Because it’s so unfair that you have yours and mine are still wibbly wobbly. I’m actually a little peeved about it to be honest.”

“This costume. It was… we were…”

Like she was speaking to a toddler, she squeezed tight and said, “Start at the start. What happened after you got to Metropolis?”

Tim told her.

It was an oddly long story, and yet simultaneously brief. It was chaotic and frantic, and yet the affection with which Tim relayed the adventure with his friends made her chest warm. When he reached the misdirection of Earth Three, Stephanie’s patient and attentive expression turned a little distraught. She didn’t mind having the title of Batwoman, she didn’t mind being a good guy in a world of not good guys, but there was just the fact that…

“But you said everyone on Earth Three was evil? A flip of this earth’s morality.”

“I thought so. But you weren’t. You were good there too.”

This only served to further confuse Stephanie.

“But… but…but!” she gulped in a large pocket of air. “But that would mean this me is evil! Right? Am I evil? All this time we’ve been worrying about crazy bat you –”

“Ouch.”

“—But what if it’s me? You could have stayed and helped her right? But you didn’t. And she gave you that costume as what? A present? Something to remember her by? Oh, that’s romantic and sad. But what if this means that I’m the ticking time bomb? You could have stayed and made a huge difference, right? You could have… turned that whole place upside down and made it better for everyone. From the sounds of it, I’m sure not evil me would have been down to clown... Which, great. Now I’m gonna spend my days thinking that me getting the wrong Starbucks order is going to be my start of darkness or something equally stupid. Your friends will think I’m a lunatic...”

Her eyes darted backwards, looking at the team, chatting and oblivious. Superboy was sitting off to the side, quietly watching as everyone wrapped up their work, Wondergirl and Arrowette were catching up, whilst Impulse spoke to Jinny and Naomi. Stephanie felt abruptly ashamed and as a result shifted, almost trying to hide herself behind Tim.

With a firmness and certainty that reflected Stephanie when she had rebuked his earlier guilt, Tim pressed her cheeks together to make her face scrunch up in a pout

“You… are not evil. You never will be if I have any say in the matter. Think you’re about the least capable of it in Gotham, if not in the world. You pulled me back last month from the brink of being a monster. I’d say I’d do the same for you, but I’ll never have to. You’re not stained by the dark.”

She blinked owlishly. Tim was not often that grand and romantic (though he could be histrionic), so it made her blush to be spoken of so highly. Still, her nagging concern, an uncomfortable tightness in the pit of her belly, remained.

“You could have stayed there,” she insisted. She was holding onto the fact that Tim had returned wearing a costume and a name which had been gifted to him on another earth. A name from his alternate self and a costume from an alternate her. There was something to be dissected there right? What would a psychologist make of that tangle of identity and interpersonal relationships?

He had returned from an earth where motives were selfish, and heroes were rare. He had returned wearing a name that was simultaneously his and yet not, wearing a costume that was not hers to grant. Tim wanted more than anything to make a difference. That world was ripe for his ambition.

Tim did not even seem concerned at such a concept. For once, it seemed he had not even given the matter much thought.

“Sure. Maybe I could have stayed. She would have been happy if I had. That Stephanie didn’t have anyone to help her. She…I think she was very lonely.”

Steph sighed shakily, and Tim held her closer. He knocked his forehead against hers, and her grip went up to cradle his face. They kissed, and Tim heard and felt Stephanie’s right foot pop up.

Finally granted the kiss she had been craving for hours, Tim swallowed the sound of her whimper. Not even remotely ashamed of who could be watching, Stephanie deepened the kiss and moved closer, curving her body against Tim as she tugged at his neck, encouraging him to make it harder.

It had been too long, and Stephanie was sure she was developing a complex regarding Tim, like if she took her eyes off him for three seconds he would – for the third time in a year – be zipped off to another dimension. It was almost funny how much the two of them could apparently not stay joint at the hip as they desired, and Stephanie suspected she may have started developing some bizarre attachment disorder as a result.

Although, it was worth it for moments when they kissed like this. When Tim allowed himself to feel like a seventeen-year-old. Kissing felt good. Kissing Stephanie felt great. She always tasted of cinnamon gum and liked to hold his cheek and tug his hair and she made cute squeaks when he –

No, he couldn’t get too carried away.

Tim ended the kiss with a most content sigh, like his worries had been laid to rest forever (which was false and a lie, but he indulged in it for now), and kept his eyes shut.

“I came back,” he whispered, keeping his forehead on hers and missing how Stephanie looked a little cross eyed from the kiss. “Because I had to get home to you. I promised, even if I couldn’t keep to two days. I had to come home.”

“To me,” Stephanie breathed. Looking at him reverently, she cradled his chin and kissed him again.

“To you,” Tim confirmed. “I missed you, Steph.”

She tugged him closer, making him rest his forehead against her shoulder as she buried a hand in his hair.

“Missed you too, boy wonder.”

They embraced for a moment too long, then Tim pulled back a little to speak into her ear.

“Come on. I’ll introduce you to everyone. Properly. I’m sure Bart did a rush job of it. They already know you, which isn’t fair. You should get to know them again.”

He very distinctly felt her tremble. Fighting monsters, fine. Facing her dad down, fine. Meeting her boyfriend’s friends? Terrifying.

Tim hopped down off the truck, but held out his arms, fully intent on catching her. Stephanie looked around once more. It seemed Wondergirl and Naomi were wandering over to the truck, so she swallowed her fear. She leapt off the car, straight into Tim’s arms. He caught her easily and spun her around twice, making her laugh sharply, until using the momentum he flung her up and off. She landed on her feet with a delighted shriek, and it was with that smile on her face that Cassie reached them.

To Stephanie’s surprise and delight, she was enveloped in a warm hug.

“It’s so nice to see you again. Both of you,” Cassie said. Chin resting on Stephanie’s caped shoulder, Cassie saw Tim’s look of relief and gratitude. “You guys will stick around a bit?” she insisted, raising her eyebrows in a gentle chide.

Stephanie choked on her reply, not sure how to react. Behind her, Tim grimaced. Why was she so reluctant around his friends? Was it because she didn’t want to know them, or because she didn’t feel she had the right too?

“I… I want to,” she said, Tim watching her struggle. “But-but my dad…”

Stephanie looked over her shoulder at Tim for guidance, and Cassie broke out the hug. Seeing Stephanie’s hand reach back, Tim took it tightly. He could see in her face no disdain or dislike, just insecurity and the realisation that she didn’t know how best to say her father was a pressing issue without seeming like a haughty holier than thou girlfriend.

Paradoxically, Tim relaxed. That angle was much easier to deal with. It simply was that Stephanie was nervous, and unsure of what her place was in the team. They had their memories of each other back. She held no such memories. She felt locked out, and undeserving.

How to make her understand…

“We have one loose end to tie up at our end,” Tim explained. Playing with Steph’s fingers, he had a sudden thought as a solution. “After though, how about the fact that we’re gonna need to see if the place in Rhode Island is still standing? The team should be able to use it again.”

“Huh?”

Cassie chuckled at Steph's confusion, and smiled broadly at the thought of returning to Mount Justice.

“You’ll love it Spoiler. Better than living out the back of a truck, believe me.”

Stephanie seemed bemused, like she had just suspected Cassie of mocking her but also not hearing any genuine insult in the dig at her current living circumstances.

Cassie wasn’t mocking her. She didn’t have a passive aggressive bone in her body and was not capable of being underhand. She was only trying to gently tease, as a friend would do.

Not that Stephanie knew that, but still, Tim’s heart stuttered for her.

Tim kissed Stephanie’s cheek and explained, “It was Young Justice’s home away from home. There’s a whole headquarters up there. An old Justice League site.”

“We appropriated it,” Cassie said. Her eyes were patient and encouraging. Stephanie, meanwhile, still did not understand.

“That’s cool,” she said politely. Tim sighed good naturedly, exasperated at her obtuseness.

“Stephie,” Tim moaned as she burned red from the pet name in front of his friends. He jerked his head at Conner, begging his direct nature to intercede.

“Whu—”

Endlessly patient, Tim stated, “It’s gonna be your home away from home too. If you want it to be. It can be all of ours again.”

She could not reply, as she was then embraced in a bear hug courtesy of Superboy. Cassie smirked, then called for the others to come gather. Tim held onto Stephanie’s fingers, and watched carefully what Conner did and spoke. Tim had seen that melancholy look from earlier as Conner had watched the team.

Tim knew Conner was feeling a little out of place, but he was grateful that he had put it aside to help Tim and welcome Stephanie. Hidden to Stephanie, he mouthed a thank you in Conner’s direction, who responded by wiggling his head in smug satisfaction.

Stephanie remained oblivious, her only thought as she endured the hug was at the blatant display of strength and control that the clone displayed. She grunted when he squeezed the bear hug tighter but found herself smiling all the same. There was only genuine joy and laughter in Conner’s voice as he teased.

“Hey, we finally got the lovebirds in the same room again, huh? It’s been a while, Spoiler, even if Tim says you don’t remember.”

When he set her down, she returned to Tim, holding his hand still. She didn’t understand why Superboy saying such a thing made the pit of nerves in her gut settle, but the warmth that bloomed in her chest made her smile until her cheeks hurt.

“I’m sorry I don’t. Remember, that is.”

Conner shrugged, “Hey, we’re still young. Gotta lifetime to fix that. Or make new memories. Or both.”

Tim’s hand snuck round her waist, and he pressed his cheek to her temple.

“We’ll deal with your dad. Then we’ll go home?”

“Home?” Stephanie asked.

“Second home,” he quantified.

Looking at the friendly faces surrounding the pair of them, Stephanie smiled awkwardly and nodded.

A home away from home sounded…nice.

#DC #tim drake #stephanie brown #timsteph #my fic tag #young justice

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mamashereslashersweetie · 5 years

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Do you love me? [Slashers/Reader]

Author’s Note: Jason, Michael, Bubba, Brahms and Thomas’ reaction to their S/O asking if they love them.

Jason Voorhees

It was an odd question for you to ask him. You’d told him before you loved him, he took you at your word but had never been able to say it back. Words were not his strong point. He tried to show it though, as best he could. He protected you, brought you flowers, spent time with you when he wasn’t hunting. But maybe it wasn’t enough, because you were looking up at him with big watery eyes and anxious pout.

A slow blink, and careful shift of his wait, Jason tried to ignore the wave of panic. How could he show you how much you meant to him? No one had spent time with him since his mother, no one had cared about him until you. Uncertain, and afraid you would turn away and leave him alone, he pulled you in, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he pressed you close to him, and pressed his mask down to the top of your head. You were still in his arms for a moment- had he done something wrong? Was this not right? Panic began to rise- and then your arms came around him, and your face pressed into his chest, and he relaxed.

“I love you too.” Your voice was muffled against his shirt, but he recognized the words and relaxed as your fingers tightened in his shirt, slipping beneath his heavy coat. “Thank you.”

Michael Myers

He was still, so still, watching you like a statue. Uncertainty didn’t plague him, anxiety was nowhere to be felt, but curiosity perked up from the back of his mind. He had not harmed you or tried to kill you since he’d first met you. Did that not count as ‘love’? He wasn’t sure what love was in the first place. That you asked him about it was confusing at best and frustrating at worst.

You stood before him, looking like you might cry- annoying- and fidgeting. Restless movement with no purpose and it made something in him feel tight and unsure. He didn’t like it. You shifted, and he stayed still, watching. Until you couldn’t take his piercing gaze any longer, turning to take a step away.

You’d barely turned away fully when a large hand gripped your shoulder, the strength he possessed was terrifying, but he touched you with all the gentleness he could muster, and you relaxed slightly into that touch.

There were no words, he had nothing to offer and didn’t know how to show you whatever it was you wanted to see. Your bottom lip wobbled, and something in Michael froze in what felt almost akin to fear. He blinked, his head tilting slightly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” Your voice was small and quiet, almost as wibbly as your pout. He didn’t like it, at all.

A low huff was all the sound he’d let out, the most you would grab from the silent killer. But it was something, and when he pulled you a step closer you went willingly. Releasing you only when you stilled, Michael reached up to pull his mask off, a slow, careful movement. Letting mask fall, he watched your eyes go wide and your lips part in a soft 'o’. But when you reached up to touch him, he caught your wrists, holding them away, bright blue eyes narrowed. His head dipped faster than you could react, and his lips met yours in a clash of teeth and lips and tongues, enough to steal your breath away.

When he pulled away, letting go of your hands, you caught the softest sigh from him, a barely there word, “Mine,” and felt an odd sense of love in the only way you were sure he could understand it.

Bubba Sawyer

Flitting around anxiously, Bubba let out nervous whines and apologetic sounds. You were seated in the corner of the kitchen, looking so sad and worried. He didn’t know why, but it was horrible, why were you sad? How could he have made you sad?

You sniffled, and Bubba tried to pull you close, letting you melt into his arms, your face at his chest. His fingers clumsily stroked through your hair, he gave soft whimpers and babbled noises as he kept you as close as he could, waiting. It seemed to relax you, but when he pulled back again you still looked sad, if a bit brighter.

Jumping back up, Bubba left you for a few moments, rushing to the living room. He wasn’t gone for very long, and you could hear his heavy footsteps, as he moved from spot to spot, and eventually came back clasping something small in his hands. When he dropped to his knees in front of you it was heavy sound, and the kitchen shook a little with it. You flinched and he made a panicked noise in response.

Rubbing at your face, you offered him a weak smile. It was only with that small encouragement that he held out his hands, opening them to let you see a pretty string of teeth and tiny bones. It wasn’t finished, but you could see the way that it was being pieced together, a necklace in the making. He held it out to you, babbling softly, and you slowly took it from him.

Holding each side so that it wouldn’t fall apart, you let your eyes slide over the bones. They were bleached from the sun and carefully strung up to make a pretty pattern. It was obvious he’d made it himself, maybe with a bit of Nubbins’ help, but carefully devoid of any gore or skin. It was pretty, in its creepy way that everything in the house was.

“Did you make this?” You asked, voice soft, and he gave a happy little sound, bringing a smile to your face. “Thank you, Bubba, it’s great.” You could tell he was grinning beneath the mask, his crooked teeth showing, “I love it.”

Brahms Heelshire

He thought it was a pretty silly question, after all, you were everything. You were his, his to protect, his to keep. Just like he was yours. Just the two of you, always. But still you asked it, sitting in the library, a book held in your lap, the pages open. When he looked at you from his spot sitting on the floor, one arm around your legs, and his head against your thigh, peaking at the words on the page. With a careful tilt of his head, craning his head back to look up at you, meeting your gaze.

Soft, in the childish voice he used when playful or anxious, Brahms said your name questioningly and you immediately turned your head to look at him a bit more closely.

He found himself blinking as you set the book aside, and instead reached to cup his face. Fingers sinking lightly into his dark curls, and thumbs brushing against the mask’s cheeks, “It’s silly, I know, a weird question… but could you answer it for me, Brahmsy?"

A moment passed, and Brahms shifted his long lanky limbs, pushing up onto his knees and half folding over your lap. So close he could breathe in your scent, the shampoo and special soap you used and sometimes used when you forced him to bathe too. It was nice. His long arms wrapped around your middle, between you and the chair, and Brahms tilted his head, brushed his lips to yours with only the mask between you. His protection.

"I love you, I’ll always love you,” His tone came out deep, a voice he used mostly when upset or very serious. It was nice to feel how seriously he meant his answer, but that anxious childish tone took over when he asked the following question, “ You love me too, right?"

Laughing softly, a please, careful sound, you brushed your lips against his forehead, and combed your fingers through his hair, "Always and always.”

Thomas Hewitt

He didn’t much like it when you were in the basement while he was working. It was messy and grisly and Thomas always worried you’d look at him in fear if you saw him killing the meat. But you never had, and even now there was no fear in your eyes as he carved into the flesh of fresh meat strapped down. Instead, there was something curious, a little too serious in your eyes.

Blood on his hands, Thomas set down his tools and wiped them on his apron to try and clean them a little. Turning towards the table with all his cleaned tools and some of his collection of bones, where you sat, legs swinging slightly, your head tilted as you watched him.

It wasn’t fear, but Thomas wasn’t sure what it was either. What could be going through your mind when you asked something like that. What was he supposed to do?

The silence stretched between you both, broken only by the sound of the meat whimpering weakly, throat too raw to scream anymore.

“I just,” You started, moving your hands flippantly as you spoke, “I know I’ve said it to you, and talking isn’t really your strong suit.” You gave a shrug, to let him know it wasn’t too important that he speak. It was a relief, as he wasn’t very good at it and it hurt his throat sometimes to try. But you didn’t linger on that continuing on, “And like, you protected me from Hoyt but… I mean… You never really told me why- or explained why? I’m just wondering, am I like a passing thing? Are you going to get bored of me, Tommy? That would be horrible, cause I mean,” You continued to babble, oblivious to him moving closer, “I do love you, so so so much, like I can’t even really say, and I just… I just wanna be sure you feel it too, ya know?"

He was brushing against your knees now, but you hadn’t stopped, your mouth opening up to say something else, and Thomas reached up a hand to close your jaw before you could start another string of words. As you blinked owlishly at him, lips pressed together, he wondered what you saw when you looked at him. He had protected you, would still protect you. You’d smiled at him the first time you met him. Talked to him like he was a person, not a monster. Even though you were scared, and your kindness had never faltered. Charlie said it would, that it was just a trick to get him to let his guard down, and even Momma said it. But it never happened. Months passed, and you still smiled at him, bright and excited whenever he came upstairs. Not like the mean kids that picked on him at school. Just sweet and friendly and sometimes more than that.

Letting his hand drop down, he rested it over the beat of your heart. Felt it beneath his palm, knew that familiar rhythm. With his other hand, he took yours to press it over his own heart. You couldn’t feel his through the thickness of his apron, but you knew it was there. Just like you knew the person beneath the mask of human skin was human, was in need of love and kindness that a world like this one couldn’t give.

Sitting on the table you still only came up to his shoulder, but he hunched over gladly to press his forehead to yours. You could see his eyes through the mask, even in the dim light. So bright and hopeful with something so deep beneath that you could only see it as love, as he pressed in close. He was warm, and you could feel the fresh blood staining your clothes, but didn’t worry about it. A smile came to your lips, and before he could react to pressed a soft kiss to his through the dryness of the mask, "Thanks, Tommy. Love you too.”

#jason voorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #my writing

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thepandathatwrites · 7 years

Text

Trying some humour and so naturally decided to write about...

Death.

Considering it’s something that happens to and each and every one of us there’s a hell of a lot of fuss surrounding it. It’s something to be revered, respected, intrigued by and feared. It’s an…event, a finality.

It is nothing like what I expected.

Although I suppose I’m not really sure what I expected. None of the cliché things happened anyway. My life did not flash before my eyes (not that it would have exactly been much of an exciting movie to watch); I was not inexplicably pulled towards a white blinding light, I was not greeted by the sounds of angels singing and the sight of big pearly gates but, thankfully, neither was I greeted by an intense heat and a cackling horned thing poking me in places best left unmentioned.

It was really bloody painful though. Actually that’s not true. The death itself wasn’t painful. Getting hit by a car and the aftermath of that- now that was painful.

Now I like to think that I am relatively street smart, at least savvy enough to know that if you’re walking, you walk on the pavement. Cars on the road, pedestrians on the pavement. Basic stuff. I’d kept my side of the bargain.

I never saw it coming is also a valid defence on my part since the car hit me from behind. This, as you can imagine, came as something of a shock. I was walking along, minding my own business, listening to some music when suddenly I wasn’t.

I was in the air, heading up and since the impact hadn’t registered, mightily confused about how I’d come to be there. Then my body twisted and I saw the car, the horror stricken driver and the phone in their hand and I had clarity. I was very annoyed when I saw that phone.

What goes up must come down.

Fuck.

Things get hazy after this. There was pain. Sirens. Medical jargon. More pain. A squeaky wheel. More sirens. More medical jargon. Even more pain. That damn squeaky wheel. Just when I think I can’t take any more it all starts to fade.

Well almost everything.

Squeak….squeak…squeak.

There is darkness. Complete and absolute. Oh no. No, no, no. I’ve never been particularly religious but this can’t be it. There can’t just be nothing! This is so unfair. I could cry.

It’s this thought that makes me realise what a complete and utter idiot I am. Crying means tears. Which are produced from eyes. Which are currently closed.

I open them and take what has to be the biggest sigh of relief ever uttered by a human. It is just a room. A rather boring room by all accounts. Grey walls, grey carpets and grey filing cabinets. Lots and lots of filing cabinets. Although they appear to be somewhat obsolete as every available space in the room is filled with files. Piles and piles of them.

Boring as it may be I am also aware that it is weird. But being the ever logical person I am I soon come to a perfectly reasonable explanation. The pain must have become too much and forced my brain into a coma. Apparently I cannot handle any more excitement, hence the rather mundane surroundings. My brain obviously needs a breather.

So coma equals bad but also significantly better than the alternative. And as an added bonus pretty pain free. This epiphany feels momentous enough to be said out loud.

“I’m not dead.”

“Oh I’m sorry dear but you are most certainly dead. However you will not die today.”

I stare as the pile of paper that just spoke to me begins to move slowly to the side, precariously wobbling as it does so, thus exposing the man that had actually spoken.

It becomes immediately clear as to why I hadn’t spotted him before. He’s a, oh what is it you call them these days – oh yeah – vertically challenged person.

“Oh don’t worry dear there’s no need to stand on such politeness. I’m a leprechaun. Now we don’t have much time-“

“But that doesn’t make sense.” I interrupt.

“Well yes. I’m sure it doesn’t. You are in a very rare situation. Now as I was saying..”

“You can’t be a leprechaun.” I interrupt again. Very rude of me I know but I am obviously not in the right frame of mind.

The little man blinks twice, obviously taken aback from my outburst.

“And whyever not?”

“Well… You’re not Irish.” I say as though it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“Oh for pities sake. One renegade little shit decides to have a bit of fun down below and be seen and now everyone thinks we’re all the same.”

His face is turning a peculiar shade of red.

“Well for your information I hate the colour green, cannot stand Guinness and abhor wearing hats and I am still a leprechaun!

Now if you don’t mind we have quite a lot to get through.”

“Sorry” I say. Still not a leprechaun I think.

As I think this he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. I can visibly see him counting to 10. I wait for him to finish.

“So, er, what’s going on then? Am I dead or not?”

“For the next three minutes and 31 seconds you are indeed dead.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t really sure what to say.

“Then you will be brought back to life by the wonder of modern medicine. But that does not change the fact that you will have died. Been dead. Kaput. You will go back different.

“Different?” This was a weird dream but I figured I’d best just go with it.

“You’re going to be a difficult one aren’t you?”

I shrug. It’s not the first time someone has called me difficult.

“Yes. Different. You have been somewhere you shouldn’t have. Formed a link between your world and the next. There are consequences. Put simply you will see dead people.”

“Dead people?”

“Your repetition is really not required you know. Yes dead people. Ghosts. Lost souls. Spectres. Whatever you want to call them. Now what you do with them is entirely up to you, however we would like you to move them on. Now we understand that this is overwhelming so we will be giving you a mentor to help you through the transition. Yours will be..”

He holds his hand out and looks up expectantly. I look up and both of us stare at the grey ceiling for a few seconds. Then it begins to… wobble. Like jelly. Wibbly wobbly jelly. I fight the urge to giggle and lose. Clearly the pain is affecting my mind.

A piece of paper dissolves through the ceiling and floats down to his waiting hand. He glances down and a look of disgust passes across his features.

“Ah. Sam. Yes of course. I should have known. Well I am very sorry but someone has to get him. I just hope you have more luck than his last four charges of the last two years. Really is a terrible track record. We just can’t get rid of him.”

A beeping noise erupts out of nowhere. Loud and piercing. I instantly cover my ears but it feels like it’s coming from inside my head. Somewhat terrifyingly the little man (not leprechaun, never leprechaun) seems unperturbed by either the noise or my reaction.

“We really do never get enough time. Practically impossible for us to do our job. Now Sam will be down to see you soon and he will explain everything. Maybe. There never is any telling with him.”

It’s then that I realise I’m moving. Being pulled slowly backwards.

“Charge” A voice practically bellows in my ear.

I look backwards almost expecting to see a legion come streaming towards me, swords drawn but there is nothing but a swirl like those hypnotic things. This dream is really messed up. I can’t take my eyes off the swirl. It simultaneously looks like the most enticing and most terrifying thing I have ever seen.

“Good luck!”

As the swirl begins to swallow me I think I’m going to need more than that. To start with I’m going to need a rather large and deliciously alcoholic drink.

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