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spookyspaghettisundae · 3 years

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Going Home for the Holidays

Rita hid behind the couch. She dared not peek over the edge or around either of its corners, fearful that she might be seen.

Almost everybody grows up in fear of the dark, using light to keep at bay any things unknown and scary. But the bright overhead lamps and strings of fairy lights on the shelves and even the mellow shine from the Christmas tree did nothing of the sort.

Even night itself had yet to fall, dusk’s twilight shedding a dim blue glow from outside, pouring in through the windows. The living room of her old family home was anything but dark.

None of that helped. For they were here and not a single one of them feared the light.

Worse, the light only made their each and every visage all the more horrifying to behold. Masks covered their faces—masks made of what could only be identified as dried husks of flesh, stitched together like bandages, covering any semblance of a human countenance.

Rita trembled all over. The grandfather clock tick-tocked away, so loud and obnoxious as if to mock her. She prayed without words that they had not seen her hide where she cowered, that they could not hear her. Holding her breath only made her heart race faster.

She hoped their hearing was no better than her own. Because these were no normal vampires.

They did not bite you, nor did they drink your blood. They did not have superhuman strength. They could not fly, nor could they turn into bats. Vampire fiction had gotten it all wrong.

All they did was chase, and talk in familiar voices not their own. Regurgitate words and phrases that sounded almost exactly like the people whose faces they had stolen, with only a mild warble or eerie distortion that gave them away.

When they caught their quarry, they made them wear masks.

Like Rita’s brother, Steven. They had made a mask out of their father’s face, and now Steven wore it. Or whatever Steven was now.

Her whole hometown, the entirety of Greenwick—everybody had been turned. Everybody she ran into on her mad dash through town, everybody had been wearing these hideous skin-masks. Every one of them gave chase.

Whenever Rita lost one, others spotted her, or heard her, and ran after her in pursuit.

Her lungs now burnt with the fire of exhaustion. The house of her family where she had grown up in had been her last resort. She had hoped to find safety here, to warn her family, to escape Greenwick with them. But she was too late.

Vampire Steven, wearing her father’s face, now stalked through their childhood home, hunting for her.

Something fell, something that sounded like plastic slapping on a hardwood floor. Her nostrils flared as she struggled to not breathe loudly. Part of Rita wanted to peer around a corner—needed to. If she saw him first and knew which way to flee, then she would have better chances at outrunning him.

Worst case scenario, more of them were converging on the house. Right now. Hunting her. A blanket of beautiful snow had covered the entire town, and her tracks would lead them all right here. Even as night fell quickly outside, all the Christmas lights adorning this suburban winter wonderland would clearly outline her footprints crisscrossing through the village. Right back here.

Just a matter of time. Time she wasted in hiding. Behind a crummy couch.

That realization finally sank in, steeled by an instinctual drive to survive. She had to escape and she had to make a move—now. Complacency would get her turned into one of them and she did not want to find out what that meant.

Shaking like a leaf, she crawled to the end of the couch and looked around its side.

Vampire Steven sat atop the bookshelves, amidst the fairy lights, perched there in a grotesque pose of a human mimicking a predatory bird.

The awful mask hid his natural facial features. The layers of frayed and sewn-together human skin strips left only hollow dark spots where his eyes should be, through which he could see. And she could feel his stare, meeting her gaze and burning a hole into her very soul.

He tilted his head. He had been waiting there. He had known she was there, all this time.

Rita scrambled to her feet and stumbled up into standing, staggering as she broke out into running from behind the couch. The loud thud behind her heralded Steven leaping down and chasing her right out of the living room. Her awkward lurching start robbed her of any much-needed momentum and he grabbed her by her arm.

“You know how expensive that tablecloth is?” he asked—but in dad’s angry voice, repeating a traumatic line she had long forgotten from decades ago.

Heart pounding like a drum, she kicked and screamed and flailed about. A fist connected here, a kick there. Multiple times, hitting things both soft and hard. Fleshy patches, spots that hurt where bone struck upon bone. His grip tightened, another one of his hands groped at her shoulder but slipped away in the struggle.

“Why the hell are you late? Answer me,” said her dad through the vampire mask. Repeating that caused her blood to curdle as he screamed, “Answer me!”

Rita began crying, sobbing, and Vampire Steven grunted. The next moment her eyes were open, she had clawed him in the face and he let go, clutching his horrid man-mask, burying its front in both hands.

She had no sympathy for him—for it. Deep down, she knew: this was not Steven. This was not her father. This was a thing. This was them.

She ran, knocking over a chair and slamming a door shut behind her. She almost gasped in relief when she saw a set of car keys on the counter. She snatched them while dashing and exited through the next door, hearing thundering footsteps nearing until someone ripped the kitchen door open through which she had entered.

“Bacon’s great, but bacon alone is hardly breakfast, honey,” said her mother’s voice, albeit distorted. The words came from Vampire Steven again.

He lunged at Rita, swiping at air instead of connecting.

She grunted and stifled a scream as she pushed over the heavy metal shelves in the garage. A cacophony of metal screws rattling out and a toolbox clattering to the ground and plastic boxes exploding and spilling everywhere erupted, the contents of those shelves all tumbling down and barricading the door to the garage.

The pounding of Vampire Steven’s fist as it hammered against the door sang with murderous rage. Rita whimpered as she backed away from it, growing certain that it would hold for now.

He stopped punching the door in futility and retreated, likely to find another way to get to her, but she wasted no time and fumbled with the keys, unlocking the car, sliding into the driver’s seat, and firing up the engine.

Little lights on the dashboard flared up, a soft and repetitive dinging sound nagged her to put on her seatbelts, and the quiet engine all drowned in the bedlam of the car smashing through the garage door, splintered planks of wood raining down on and around the vehicle as she backed down the driveway.

The car skidded, the inch of snow on the ground reducing its traction. She pulled the hand brakes and ripped the wheel around, causing the car to slide and spin around in violent motion, surprising Rita with how effective the unintentional maneuver ended up being. The car was now facing down the drive, ready to roll out into the streets of Greenwick, and she could escape this doomed town.

Switching her headlights on, the cones of bright illumination sliced through the darkness of night that had fully fallen. They exposed the many people from around town, all standing in the road, all staring at her with hatred, or hunger, or some combination of both.

All of them wearing those God-awful masks. Even outside of the cones of light shed by the car, the Christmas lights on the lawns and houses of neighboring properties drew clear and ghastly silhouettes of the horde of these vampires, standing in wait for her.

The tires spun out of control when she stepped on the gas and the car lurched forward but the mass of vampires engulfed the vehicle. Some of them must have gotten hurt and knocked around, but they were too many. A living sea of bodies that brought the car to a halt before it ever really started.

Hands and fists thumped against its body and windows with fury, a staccato of menacing thunder erupting all around Rita. The car’s wheels found purchase and propelled it forth another few feet, but the mass of vampires held the car in place.

And voices of people she had known from growing up in Greenwick, they reached her through the windows, muffled, sounding bizarre in how out of place their words seemed now.

“I tried my hand at professionally raising and selling koi carp for a while, but I got back into working at the hardware store after two years of that,” said a garbled Jacob from down the street.

“Both of these toasters look pretty good. Help me decide,” said Gina.

“Eh, I wouldn’t rely on those maps. Just use your phone,” mumbled Mister Ferrer.

The voices blended together and the shock and adrenaline and the pounding of Rita’s heart and the rushing of blood in her ears and the panic all blended together into one toxic soup, clouding her every thought. The darkness encroached from the edges of her vision, the chaos and noise blotted out her hearing, or her sensory faculties just all began shutting down, all at once.

She remembered the nightmare from the night before. The blur of the day, waking up early and slapping the alarm clock beside her bed, silencing that annoying beeping noise when it went off—and tearing her out of that nightmare.

Packing her bags for the long drive from the city to Greenwick. The weird thing about that dream was how she had been someone else—a woman named Caroline. Everything else looked and seemed and felt like her own life, but she was this Caroline instead. On her way home for the holidays to get together with her family. All the same, but something was slightly off about it.

And before that alarm clock went off and saved her from the end of the dream, the sky ripped open in it. The void between the stars of a night over the same idyllic town of Greenwick, it just parted and the hungry maw of something greater began to feast on the ripe fruit that was this town. Something colossal, monolithic, and awful. Something that wore the heavens like a mask. An entity by the unspeakable name of Yoz'odrhaxz.

The ringing in her ears grounded her, the thumping of hands against the car which she still sat inside of, locked in, with the vehicle bobbing wildly in every direction due to the vampires in the hideous masks shaking it. The dream was gone. Reality mercilessly caught up to her.

It dawned on her that thinking of last night’s nightmare was her last form of escape. Her final feeble attempt at thinking her way out of this predicament. Her last hope that none of this—none of these vampires, none of this hopelessness—that none of it was real.

But the shaking of the car was real. The horde of aggressors, separated from her only by thin sheets of safety glass, plastic, and metal; protected only by pathetic synthetic things that bent and groaned and threatened to break any second now.

And that panic, seeping into her bones.

The first window cracked, then a fist punched it in and hands started grabbing her. Rather than fighting back anymore, the shock had fully seized her. Just like the hands that grasped and clutched and pulled, the cold embrace of wintry air engulfed her as she was tossed onto the wet ground, slipping and sliding on a slick of trampled-down snow.

Before she could turn around onto her back of her own volition, vampiric hands had pushed and pulled and thrown her into that prone position. And Jacob, her childhood friend and long-time crush, held out one of those hideous masks. In a way that she saw it from the inside.

The stitched-together strips of flesh shuddered, either in a gust of wind, or because they were alive somehow.

He lowered it down onto her with slowness and precision until the last inch in which it just slapped onto her face like a piece of raw chicken. All the air got sucked out as it nestled snugly against her skin, like a suction cup grabbing hold of the flesh.

She did not black out. She did not wake up.

Rita was one of them now.

Only one objective remained in the wasteland of her quickly eroding mind, standing atop a mountain of bleached bones and rubble, looking out from the mountain of broken thoughts and surveying her surroundings with a laser focus.

The violence ceased abruptly. They helped her up, getting her back up onto her feet.

They had more people to turn. Had to make more. Make them more like them. Once they had gathered enough, the feast would begin.

Yoz'odrhaxz demanded it.

The sky waited.

Caroline awoke.

—Submitted by Wratts

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takeiteasypeasybaby · 3 years

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Save Me: Chapter 61 - A Foiled Plan

~Hey guys! I hope everyone is doing well under the current circumstances :) I hope everyone enjoys this chapter and as always have a good week!~

Michonne and Negan decide what is best for Molly, on the basis of their own good intentions. But, will Molly be able to respect their wishes or will vengeance get the best of her?

The following morning...

I awoke early, having not really slept well last night because my mind was buzzing with thoughts of killing that woman.

I know that Negan didn't want me going out there by myself, but regardless of the outcome, I had to do this for Tara and for me.

I tiptoed past Lydia's room and down the stairs where I picked up my jacket and my weapons.

The snow was clearing now and I couldn't wait any longer, I had only promised to wait until the end of the storm, which I did.

Hardly anyone was about so I managed to walk to the front gate unnoticed.

Just as I creaked the gate open, Michonne stood behind me and said warningly 'don't try it Molly'.

I sighed, saying sternly 'I have to do this, you have to let me do this. If it was Rick, you wouldn't stop'.

She contemplated my plea, but still insisted.

'I'm not gonna let you go out there' she said pulling out her walkie talkie.

'I want all eyes on Molly, under no circumstances can she leave the compound. George and Sam, I need you two to guard Molly' she spoke into it.

I scowled, saying 'you can't be serious'.

'I'm deadly serious, you're not well Molly' she said pleadingly.

'Who said that?!' I asked furiously.

'You're acting rashly' she continued.

But I wouldn't let up, 'who said that?' I asked again.

'Who?!' I added, getting increasingly frustrated with her silence.

'Does it matter?' she asked as George and Sam started to walk towards us.

I looked at them and begged again, 'it matters, tell me'.

'Negan, he came to me and said you weren't ready' she said sternly.

I just looked at her in shock.

'He wouldn't' I said angrily.

'You know that he would Molly, if he thought it would protect you' she said calmly.

I stormed off as Michonne pointed to the two guards to follow me.

I barged past them both, almost knocking them to the ground as I marched down to Negan' cell.

'What the hell?!' I screamed at him.

He sighed, saying 'so Michonne spilled the beans...'.

'How could you do this to me?! After everything I said yesterday, did that mean nothing to you?!' I yelled.

He stood up and said sternly, 'it means everything to me, you mean everything to me so I'm not sorry that I didn't want you going back out there when your judgement is blinded'.

I paced around the room angrily and yelled, 'that's what you think?! That my 'judgement' is blinded?!'.

'Yeah I do! I know exactly what you want to do, you wanna go out there guns a blazin' by yourself and take her down and you don't care if you die in the process! You can hate me all you want for this, but if it's what keeps you safe and alive, then screw it' he yelled back.

'It wasn't your decision to make' I said sadly.

'Well I made it. Look, I want you to kill her, but you have to be 100% because if not, you will be putting yourself and everyone else at risk. What happens if something goes wrong? She could kill you and then come here and kill everyone you love. You are strong as shit Molly, but you have to be all in, you can't be dealing with grief when you do it' he said sternly, but like he was more afraid for me than angry.

'I don't think that's the whole truth' I stated angrily.

'What do you mean?' he asked as I got closer to the bars.

'I think you're sabotaging us, you're backing out. Looks like you're saving your own ass by going to Michonne. Was that you trying to get in her good graces?' I said harshly.

'That's not fair' he replied.

'Oh isn't it?! Literally hours after we kiss in front of everyone, you give Michonne intel. You can't say that that was all about me' I said sadly.

'You really think I'd do that?' he asked with hurt in his voice.

'You could've gone to anyone else, you could've asked me! But, instead, you make me feel like some sort of mental patient trying to break out of an asylum! I have burnt all of my bridges for you, over and over again fully knowing that the people I love will hate me for it, why haven't you?' I asked as I walked out of his cell.

When I left the cell, dumb and dumber followed me back to my house and stood outside the front door, effectively caging me in my own home.

I needed to do something in our fight against the whisperers and this morning Michonne seemed like she was hiding something from me.

I rifled through my bag and boxes until I found an old walkie talkie.

I audibly shouted 'yes!' as I tuned it to the Alexandria radio, to listen in on the latest intel.

It took a while but soon enough Luke connected the line and said that a hoard was heading towards Hilltop and that it was probably the whisperers.

I had seen that hoard and connecting the pieces it all made sense, she wanted to hit me where it hurt, my former community.

I packed a bag and chucked it out of the window which faced the fence.

I knew no 'eyes' would be watching me from that angle, so I hopped out the window and jumped down to the ground.

I winced as I felt my legs shudder, but there were no sprains or broken bones so I was all good.

I knew that climbing the fence would clang and rattle, alerting my guards so I brought a shovel and dug a hole straight under, filling it mostly back up so that walkers couldn't get in.

I sprinted for the woods and was undetected as I ran towards Hilltop.

I knew it would take several hours on foot so I kept running as fast as I could until I came across any abandoned vehicles.

Most of them had no gas and were practically falling apart but a miracle must have befallen me when I came across an untouched motorbike.

I whispered, 'yes!' to myself as I hot-wired the engine and it had enough gas to get me to Hilltop.

As soon as I got there, the gates opened as Luke welcomed me frantically and said 'boy am I happy to see you! But I thought that Michonne said-'.

I stopped him and said, 'that doesn't matter now, we need to get ready'.

He nodded seriously as we both briefed everyone on the plan.

I knew that Michonne and Judith would be here somewhere so I did my best to hide in the shadows until I saw the whisperers.

A few of our snipers fought some off, but they increasingly started to surround our defences.

Many stabbed at them with long pikes from the watchtowers and others simply shot them dead.

I made my way to the front gate when I saw Michonne and Judith battling off walkers outside the walls.

'Shit' I said as she saw me.

'What the shit?!' she yelled as she kept on fighting.

'Can't stop me Michonne' I shouted as I ran off in the opposite direction and slipped through the back gates.

I sliced down walkers that came after me and shot a few whisperers.

The only advantage was that they didn't have guns, only knives.

I was starting to get swamped by them when a shadowed figure mowed them down with an assault rifle.

When the smoke cleared, I looked up at the watchtower to see Lydia.

'Lydia?!' I shouted.

'Molly?! Doesn't matter, I can cover you' she said enthusiastically, clearly ignoring the part where she forgot to tell me about her going to Hilltop.

I looked at her sternly but nodded, thanking her for helping me out.

Amidst all the chaos of dropping bodies all around me, I saw her.

The woman who murdered my sister was standing away from it all.

My eyes locked onto her and I sprinted towards her, not caring about the whisperers near me.

The woman smiled sinisterly as she saw me running after her and started to run into the forest.

I grunted and paced after her, when suddenly, like in slow motion, I saw Daryl and Connie going after a tall whisperer.

He looked like her right hand man.

I hesitated and shot a couple whisperers chasing me and then changed my course of direction and headed to help Daryl.

As much as I wanted to kill that woman, I needed to prove that my judgement wasn't clouded.

I sprinted after Daryl and Connie as they chased the tall man.

I shot at him, but he managed to weave in and out of the trees, avoiding each bullet.

'Son of a bitch' I said as a whisperer came out of nowhere and tackled me to the ground.

Connie stopped and was about to help me when I told her 'Daryl'.

I struggled with the masked man as he tried to strangle me but using the barrel of the gun, I whacked him across the side of his face, sending him toppling off me as I drove my dagger into his skull.

Then a dozen whisperers came after me and then Connie after I caught up to her, we were encircled and unable to go after Daryl.

It took a while, but standing back to back, Connie and I managed to take them all out.

We took a deep breath as I said 'okay let's go' just as Daryl came running back towards us.

We both looked at each other in confusion, as Daryl said breathlessly, with his daggers covered in blood 'that son of a bitch is dead'.

I nodded and smiled, saying 'yeah, we did some damage here too' as I high fived Connie.

Daryl smiled slightly and said 'c'mon let's get the fuck outta here'.

I chuckled, saying 'don't have to ask me twice'.

I thought I would feel angry or at least upset that I didn't go after their leader, but killing some of them was enough and knowing that Daryl had taken out her second in command, made it all the more sweeter.

Negan was wrong, I was ready.

But, I was also wrong, whether he thought I was ready or not, he had lost me all those years ago and he just didn't want to lose me again.

I knew that now.

The only guilt that wracked my brain was what I said to him before I left.

Fuck I could be a bitch sometimes...

#negan #twd #the walking dead #mollychambler #saveme #negan x original female character #negans thirst squad #the walking dead negan #michonne #daryl #saviour #lydia twd

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littlenightma · 5 years

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Could you write an imagine for Stu, Michael, Billy, and Jason confusing their s/o for a random victim, and they realize it’s them just in time?

Michael Myers

• It would be when the Shape was in control and on a frenzy of bloodlust. Most likely in the weeks or days nearing Halloween.

• It was at night, late, late enough where you would usually be home, tucked in bed safe and sound. But you found that forget your phone at work and needed to go back and retrieve it.

• Work was near enough where you did not need your car. You took your bike instead, opting to save gas.

• Michael would see you riding back, walking beside your bike. He would be watching you intently, his hand jerking and gripping the knife in his hand. The light of the lamps did not create enough light to see your person fully in detail so he would have no idea it was you.

• You stopped to tie your shoelaces before they got caught in the gears of your bike and this was when Michael decided to strike. No cars in sight and no people were around. It was the perfect opportunity.

• With your back turned and you humming happily, you never noticed the man in the white mask approaching you with silent steps, the knife ready to kill.

• The hairs on your neck stood up and you turned just as Michael whipped his arm and sliced you on your cheek. You screamed, falling backward onto the hard sidewalk. Michael didn’t take your scream as one he recognized. After all, all of their screams sounded the same after hearing so many.

• Another swipe and he caught your arm. You realized it was Michael and fear penetrated your being. Why was Michael doing this?

• “Michael! Stop please, it’s me!”

• He would stop immediately. The knife would slowly fall and clatter to the ground, Michael walked back, not believing he didn’t see it was you.

• Your quivering voice would bring him out of the state of shock. He’d gather you in his arms, quickly bringing you home. You’d mention your bike and bag but fuck the bike and the bag. You were hurt and because of him. You were his first priority.

• He set you on the bathroom rug and get rid of his mask so he could inspect the damage. His damage. The cuts were deep and needed bandages, but luckily they would be fine.

• He would be extremely hostile for a good while, becoming extra protective and making it up to you by allowing you closer than he usually allowed for. That would be his apology.

• This would the very first time that Michael would think that just this once, the Shape had gone too far.

Jason Voorhees

• You were exploring the woods while Jason was setting up the fishing net at the lake. The book you’d been reading was getting too cliché so you decided to stretch your legs

• You managed to find an old cabin that held old fireworks from past inhabitants. Your excitement got the best of you as you began to rifle through the boxes of colorful sticks

• Somehow, one of them became lit and started going off, sending a flare of colorful sparks amuck. The sound pierced your ears so you covered them in hope your eardrums wouldn’t burst.

• Jason was almost finished when he heard the fireworks going off from a distance. He instantly became angry, assuming another group of campers had found his home and were now causing a disturbance.

• He’d grab his favorite weapon - a machete - donned with a newly sharpened blade, and marched his way to the cabin.

• He’d kicked down the door, his anger getting the best of him. The sparks would hinder his sight along with the mask. His eyes spotted a figure in the corner of the room, cowering behind a chair.

• He stalked towards you and raised his arm above his head. Your eyes would widen when Jason didn’t help you up or seem to know who you were.

• You managed to miss the stab, however you hit the box of fireworks and they all spilled towards to where you lay. The heat hit your clothes and your skin and you screamed for Jason as tears streamed down your face

• Jason froze, his eyes widening upon horror and realization. He kicked the box away and picked you up in his arms, dowsing the small flecks of flame from you with his hands.

• You never saw Jason run so fast in your life. You had to cling to him with all of your might to keep from being bobbed up and down like a rag doll.

• Back at the cabin, Jason would be an absolute wreck of sobs and hiccups. You were fine after an hour of comforting and cold compresses.

• You would relay that back to Jason but he still would sob into your chest, hugging you tightly because he almost lost you.

• This would be the second most traumatizing thing Jason would ever experience after seeing his mother being decapitated when he was younger, but this time it was almost done by his hands and he will never forgive himself.

• He was so sorry. He was a good boy, please don’t be mad at him. He was sorry. He was a good boy…

• You wouldn’t be allowed to leave the cabin after that

Stu Macher and Billy Loomis (I decided to do these two together)

• You weren’t going to lie. You were mega pissed off that Stu and Billy had forbidden you from going out tonight. They didn’t give any other reason other than that they said so.

• Assholes even bolted the door shut. Who even does that?

• Well tough shit, you were going to whatever you damned well pleased. You put on your favorite outfit, did your hair, and placed on a masquerade mask for extra measure and then snuck out the kitchen window.

• Adios, motherfuckers.

• The party was small but everyone was having a blast. People dancing on each other, a drink in hand and a smile plastered on everyone’s faces.

• You were busy dancing with another girl, not noticing that the party was slowly dwindling down. Either people decided to leave or something else was happening that no one could see.

• It was then just you, her and another boy you couldn’t remember the name of and weren’t going to bother with finding out.

• The boy went upstairs to use the bathroom and eventually the girl followed suit, wanting to freshen up, but when she got to top of the stairs a scream escaped her lips.

• You bolted up the steps asking her what was wrong when she pointed to the bathroom. You peeked in and saw the boy had been gutted from ear to ear. Blood coated the pure white, tiled floor.

• “Holy shit, call the police!” you told her, but as you turned you saw a knife go straight through her chest and into her heart, the blade tearing the front of her dress.

• The person wore a Scream mask and you realized that this was the murderer who had been terrorizing the town for god knows how long

• You screamed and attempted to make a run back down the stairs when another of the man blocked your escape so now they both had you trapped and cornered.

• “Please, don’t kill me!” you begged hopelessly, feeling stupid. Like asking them to not kill you would make a difference.

• Billy, Stu…I’m so sorry…

• The one at the bottom of the stairs was teasing you. He opened the gap just enough for you to slide through, but would you try? He twirled the knife in his hand as he leaned against the banister, waiting for your decision.

• You did, jumping down the stairs and almost was at the opening when a hand grabbed your hair and pulled you back, slamming you onto the floor. You cried out as your head bounced on the hardwood.

• You saw both of them above you. One raised his knife above his head and the other mockingly scolded you by waving a finger in a back and forth motion. The last thing you saw was the knife coming down into your stomach. You never felt a pain like that in your life. You blacked out because the pain was unbearable.

• It was dark, your mind was clouded, but you could hear voices. Hands roamed your body, pushing and pulling.

• “Man, is she dead? Don’t tell me we killed her!”

• “Shut the hell up, Stu! Fuck, Fuck, FUCK!”

• “She wasn’t supposed to be there! Why was she there? Billy, we can’t lose her, man. I can’t handle it.”

• “We’re are NOT…going to lose her. Stop fucking freaking out because you are freaking me out,” Billy growled.

• You opened your eyes to see two figures above you. Your stomach screamed in pain and you moaned out. The voices were familiar. So familiar…

• “Stu? Billy?”

• “Jesus, she’s alive!”

• “Of course she is, stupid. She’s our final girl, right?”

• Your eyes found them over you, their faces filled with worry. Stu was a wreck, his eyes and face red from crying. Billy’s usually gelled hair was a tangled mess, but his eyes held relief. However, you noticed the mask your attackers wore on the floor beside them and they were wearing the same outfits. No, it couldn’t be…

• “Oh my god. You’re them. You tried to kill me,” your eyes widened and your breath left your lungs. You tried to get up and away from them, but the pain became unbearable.

• “It was an accident, I promise! You weren’t supposed to be there!” Stu cried. He grabbed your hand and held it tightly. His hands were shaking out of control.

• “You kill people. Why? Why?” you whimpered into his chest.

• “We’ll explain everything, alright? Just promise you won’t run or try to escape. Promise us. Promise,” Billy asked, his voice low and cracking. He was trying so hard not to cuss you out for disobeying his orders.

• You stared at them and wondered what you had gotten yourself into by being with these two men. Not once did you expect them to be killers. They had asked you to stay inside and not go out. They were trying to protect you.

• “I Promise.”

#congratulations anon I am now watching the whole scream series #michael myers #michael myers x reader #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees #stu macher x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher #billy loomis

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chemicalmongrel · 5 years

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Out in the frigid tundra, a blizzard raged across an immense expanse of ice and sleet gripping the rock, soil and conifer trees in an icy chokehold. Wind whipped across the mounds of snow along the banks of a frozen river once responsible for dividing the immense forested side of a mountain range down the middle. It tore over the ridgelines of said mountainous terrain, shrieking in a way that could only be described as ethereal. But while intense vision-obscuring weather was no stranger to the Freljord--this natural phenomena was particularly nasty. Even still, though, the pelt-bound Freljordians trodded through the white powder that came up to their mid-calves. “Frode!” called the one taking up the rear, yelling over the scream of the wind. “We’ve been chasin’ this fool’s errand’a yours fer three moons now! We’re all gunna freeze ta death at this rate!” Spearheading the expedition, Frodge stopped for but a moment to throw his voice back over his shoulder in response to the naysayer. “If ya can’t handle a wee bit’a cold, then turn back Arne! I ain’t givin’ in, not with what was promised ta us!” “Us? What ‘us!’ Ya ain’t even told us who in the name’a Annivia is promisin’ so much we oughta risk our lives doin’ their bloody to-do list!” Murmurs of dissent disseminated among those present for the argument, of which none fell on deaf ears. Frode gritted his teeth and about-faced, really stopping in his tracks for the first time since they set out on the journey. A gale whipped past him, throwing the matted mess of hair hanging from the back of his head in thick braided ropes to billow past his shoulders. The edges of his beard were coated in a layer of frost, just like the countless furs overlapping one another. Fierce eyes narrowed down the slope they’d been ascending the last hour at the uncertain and naysayers. “Told ya all w’at ya needed ta know! Soothsayers I found said ta get what they needed ta help our village! Ya all know we aint gunna last any longer in this winter! Is the only way!” One of the men piped up, “But there’s nothin’ out here save fer snow, snow ‘n more snow!” “Yeah!” Several others cried. Frode looked from the initial voice to the two that joined in the same sentiment as Arne, face a mask of mounting anger. “Cause we’re not there yet, fools!” “But we’re runnin’ low on rations, ‘n the snow’s eatin right through our furs now! We can’ barely make it back from ‘ere, let alone wherever this thing a yers is!” shouted Arne. “He’s right!” “’n we’ve seen no animals ta hunt ‘round here since we reached this neck of the journey, we gotta turn back!” Frode’s nostrils flared as his hands balled up into fists, knuckles whitening from the sheer tension. “IF YA ARE SO SOFT, THEN TURN BACK WITH ARNE!” he hollered, cheeks burning. “THE ELDER LEFT ME IN CHARGE OF PROTECTIN’ THE VILLAGE, ‘N THIS IS HOW WE DO IT! GO BACK IF YA WANT, BUT KNOW YA GAVE UP ON-” Suddenly, the crunch of snow reached the arguing band’s attention. In an instant, whatever confrontation that’d been building up between Frode and the uncertain was pushed to the backburner. Their weapons were drawn without hesitation. Arrows were knocked, shields raised and blades brandished as they scanned their surroundings for whatever begot the interruption. Bit by bit, they began moving in towards one another to form a defensive circle. However, the flurry of ice and sleet hailing down upon them made seeing more than five feet impossible. “Great... jus’ great...” “Shut it Arne-!” “Yer yellin’ attracted some beastie...” “I said--quiet!” “...gunna die cold and-” “I said-!!” A scream silenced them as everyone whipped around just in time to watch one of the stockier tribesmen got dragged off by the leg into the veil of snow. Some immense shadow disappeared along with him, the one responsible for whisking the man away. And just as soon as he’d started crying bloody murder, the shriek of the wind and ice drowned all in quiet. “By Lissandra’s- FORM A WA-” But there was no time to bark orders, for another two who’d backpedaled from where the first was dragged off got yanked back into the curtain of weather with loud shouts, both of which cut out abruptly. They spun about to try and face where the attack came from, but the sound of a screeching star from behind kept them guessing. A flash of purplish-blue tinted orange and red pastels of light streaked out from beyond the five-foot limitation of sight, colliding with one of the hunters. They screamed at the burning sensation of raw starlight. But this, too, was cut short as the light drew in an armored form like a missile. Platinum blonde hair trailing down past ample hips whipped behind the form as she crashed into the man with a loud crack. The body crumpled to the floor as she swiveled to position the shield responsible for the impact between herself and the rest of the group. Plates of star-touched metal expanded to fully cover her form as an orange-violet glow emanated from the nooks and crannies of the protective tower mounted to her arm. A light like the sun radiated off her form, blinding the majority of the men remaining. Even still, though, two more of the seven remaining tribesmen charged blindly at her. They did not hear the gradual clicking of the very shield responsible for laying out their friend. Nor did they notice how the light shining from the woman’s shield grew in intensity bit by bit until something gave. Before it did, though, she lurched forward to slam the same instrument against the two brawny warriors, dazing them from the sheer force of the impact. At which point, the energy welling up inside of the woman, her armor and shield released in a blooming wall of force and superheated gas. They were sent sprawling onto their back, smoke wafting off the singed layers of furs covering their body. “WHY YOU-!” cried Arne. He came up from behind the woman with twin hand axes drawn, ready to bury them into her skull for seemingly frying his kinsmen. But she was far faster than he, spinning around to knock the hafts clutched in his hands with the searing length of star-kissed metal forming her sword’s blade. The man gasped and stepped back, loosing hold of his weapons, as he hollered out in pain--for even a momentary touch of such material was enough to scald stone. Before he could react further, however, the woman lunged forward anew to crack Arne in the face with the pommel of her longsword--knocking him out cold as well. In no time at all, Frode was down to only three of the original ten warriors he brought with him. Or so he believed, for when he cast his eyes over his shoulders to try and give commands to the three men he thought still standing, the only sight that greeted him was the towering pillar of white and blue-tipped fur, muscle and sheer mass of some lupine chimeric entity with the unconscious body of one of his kinsmen clenched between its teeth. Frode’s eyes widened the moment he spotted the arm of True Ice on the creature. From back when he was but a tot listening to the stories of ole, he recalled hearing of a hunter-turned-monster that had an arm of True Ice replacing the one he lost in a conflict with a wizened troll. He remembered how the storyteller told him and his childhood friends how this man-turned-beast only ever hunted the greedy, the prideful and people with ill-intent in their hearts. That only brigands and wrongdoers were ever subject to its ire. Before Frode stood none other than the Tundra Stalker, Hunter of the Malicious. And when faced with nothing short of a childhood nightmare come to life, Forde could only fall onto his back in terror, scrambling to get as far away from the beast as possible. “I asked you to take no life, Moonie,” said the woman as she sauntered up from behind Forde. “BLOOD SHED... LIFE EBBS, YES, BUT NONE TAKEN, JUST AS SUNSHINE ASKED...” the beast replied, releasing the unconscious body from its jaws. Turning to be on hands and knees, Frode tried to scramble away as fast as he could, but the firm wall of metal impeded him. He looked up only to meet the judgemental warmth of gold and purple coalesced eyes. Her radiant features were hardened with determination, a drive to see whatever goal laying ahead of her through to the very end. She stepped forward to place the heel of her boot against the waist of the man, raising her sword up to hover mere inches away from his neck. The sheer intensity of the heat wafted off and chafed his skin. “I seek the soothsayers with which your bargain was made, speak and no harm will come. But hold your tongue and I will forced to do what must be done.” Heavy footfalls approached from behind now--they were undoubtedly the Stalker. Swallowing hard, a dry wad caught in his throat and kept him silent for a moment, two moments, three. Each second elapsed allowed the Stalker closer until the crunching snow filled his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut and awaited the end that never came, only to open them anew to find the immense head of the Stalker nestled up under the arm that’d been holding the woman’s shield, nuzzling up into the hand freed up following her stabbing the shield into the ground. In response, a subtle grin played on her lips for a moment while her fingers ran through the dense fur of the Stalker. Confusion marred his facial features at the twist of events, but the twitch of the blade beneath his chin incentivized him. He whispered a prayer to the gods he stopped believing in when he became a man, clenching his eyes shut. “U-up north of Rakelstake lake--past the mountain ridge!” he stammered. For a moment, he believed his end would be then and there. Once the information passed his lips, she would surely plunge the tip of her sword into his throat and let it charr him alive. But no such action came, rather all he heard was her mumbling something to the chimeric beast and the waning sound of crunching snow. Until, at last, he was left with only the screeching wind and furious blizzard to keep him company.

#🐺 Warning :: Possible Triggers Within 🐺#🐺 Graphic Descriptions 🐺#🐺 Disturbing Imagery 🐺#🐺 Graphic Depictions of Violence 🐺#🐺 Blood 🐺#🐺 Blades 🐺#🐺 Profanity 🐺#✍️ Mun's Writing - Drabble ✍️#🏔️ Tundra Stalker - Verse 🏔️#🌕 A Radiant Star to Thaw the Frozen Heart - Verse☀️#🐺 Gnawing Hunger - IC 🐺#☀️ A Star in the Dark - Leona ☀️#🐺 The Beast - Warwick 🐺#(( Part one of a thing I want to do

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