#they feel like the types to think hanging out in a graveyard is cool

[quillyfied]

Things I’m noticing on this rewatch, which I’m hoping to take slow and ponder on but we will see how it goes, PART FOUR (obviously major Good Omens season 2 spoilers throughout, specifically for S2E4)

- Lesi?

- Shax really does have creepy down pat.

- Aziraphale not sensing her, though. They really do play Calvinball with the rules of that, it seems.

- “You don’t seem his type at all” mirroring “I am so not your type” between Nina and Maggie last episode ;A; “you have no idea,” Maggie said. Aziraphale thinks. I weep.

- Sometime in the last 18, 19 years…would that have put them square in the “raising the Antichrist” years? Hang on. 4 years past the failed apocalypse…makes it 14…they were working on it for 11 years…no, that would put them before that, wouldn’t it? Wtf is that timing, Shax?

- “This Angel Gabriel, who I’ve never heard of” = “who’s Morales?”

- Shax really is the kind of infernally clever that’s perfect for tripping Aziraphale up when he’s already flustered and panicked. Love to see them interact.

- Opening theme detail today: one of the headstones reads Jane Austen. Wonder if the headstones change every episode too?

- “Here lies the former shell of Beelzebub” reads another, and “here lies Adam” with some text I can’t make out. Went back to the beginning of the graveyard bit now and “Peter Paintball”, and of course, “Every day.” If anyone gets good eyes on the Adam headstone, y’all gotta let me know.

- This episode’s theater feature: Nazi Zombie Flesheaters, with a still of the Nazis from s1 still alive. Nice.

- Seems odd to call the episode “The Hitchhiker” when it seems the literal hitchhiking is done by the time the opening credits roll. Time to refresh myself on why this episode might be called that.

- Did they reuse footage? Or reenact it?

- Yknow…none of the demons are wearing obvious animals this season. I think only Beelzebub, Hastur, and Ligur might have done it tbh.

- I love the details of Hell tbh. The fire cooler. The sheer number of Nazis. The way Shax moves so mechanically but so cool and collected.

- Does Shax actually have any higher demon ears? Or is she baiting Furfur? Hard to tell for her.

- Yknow the teeth aren’t helping in figuring out if Shax has an animal aspect.

- The besotted Aziraphale bit here. I cannot BELIEVE this all happens immediately post church bomb.

- Okay but the Nazis not disputing the fact that they belong in hell, just that they’re dead based on trickery. Nice.

- The tongue bit. Yuck.

- OKAY. Crowley has present day hair color for this adventure. That feels significant. Is this minisode a flashback?

- Okay the signage of Hell. Always a favorite. But the “heaven looks down on you” sign. Hmm. Bit odd.

- Ah. Because I couldn’t see the bottom half of it. “Because you’re…” something. Move it, Furfur XD

- Pathetic. “Heaven looks down on you because you’re pathetic.” …hmm. Still an interesting take, tbh.

- Happy to be in the probable minority that likes the zombies bit XD which is interesting bc I normally hate zombie fiction. They do it the way I like, though. They’re conscious and sentient in their zombieness.

- Also the brain repeating on him XD what a gloriously stupid and delightful detail

- And okay yeah the dead rising from the grave thing from Jimbriel’s prophecy and the Nazi zombies here feels like a big ole clue for s3. I’m Mormon so my upbringing around the Second Coming is probably weirder than other Christians but a big part of it for us is the emphasis on the resurrection of the dead, ALL the dead. Putting a properly macabre spin on it feels like a very Good Omens thing to do tbh.

- There’s the dirty donkey again! It DIDNT move, Crowley LITERALLY planned his heist ACROSS THE STREET FROM THE BOOKSHOP. I WORK IN SOHO I HEAR THINGS INDEED.

- David Tennant what is that voice XD

- Lots of emphasis on sleight of hand this…entire show :P it does make one suspicious of The Final Fifteen Minutes. But also I don’t want to rob them of their power? Because damn. DAMN.

- (The lip reading. It. I. I will wait for the end but GUH)

- He’s so pleased with himself for getting it right XD

- They are SO. IN. LOVE. KILL ME.

- Natural dexterity. Like the magic words, I’m waiting for that one to come true.

- The way Pat tries to have some integrity XD

- THE WAY AZIRAPHALE CASUALLY DROPS THAT HE HAS BOTH A FIREARMS LICENSE AND A DERRINGER. AZIRAPHALE ZIRAPHALE FELL, ARE YOU POSITIVE CROWLEY IS THE JAMES BOND ENTHUSIAST?

- More importantly, does he still have that???

- …does that mean Aziraphale’s fired a gun when Crowley hasn’t? What does this mean for the paintball gun bit? Does your derringer lend weight to a moral argument, Aziraphale??

- Hang on have to squeal for the way Aziraphale just grabs Crowley’s hand in both of his. So excited. So cute.

- HA, the wrong ring XD

- Sad to see Pat get eaten. But the framing of it is really cool actually.

- Fell the Marvelous. That poster. How in the heck.

- Aziraphale having stage fright tho.

- Jiggery pokery indeed XD

- EXPERIENCE USING FIREARMS. AZIRAPHALE THESE ARE SOLDIERS.

- Omg the miracle blocker is a punch card. The worldbuilding implications.

- I wonder at how hell would have taken Aziraphale handing Crowley a rifle tbh.

- “Aim for my mouth, shoot past my ear” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

- the way they’re both shaking and nervous. The camera itself shaking. CROWLEY shaking

- The feather boa. I WEEP. He’s so happy.

- I know the implication is that Crowley, like Jim, is missing his memories, but. Also. The idea that maybe Crowley is just terrible at remembering people who aren’t Aziraphale. Poor Furfur.

- The sleight of hand is very subtle. Which is the point. But also. Idk man people have said it better and apparently written 16k essays about it, I’m just proud of him for pulling it off.

- Okay but. But they’re zombies. Neil they’re zombies. Aziraphale and Crowley just let three Nazi zombies wander off Neil. NEIL. WHAT IS THE PLAN WITH THEM??

- Dagon is in top form this season tbh

- I CANNOT BELIEVE. THAT THE ONE NAZI REALLY CAN READ LIPS. I CANNOT BELIEVE IT. Peak comedy always.

- I got it right the time that mattered ;A;

- I knew you would come through for me. You always do.

- You said trust me.

- And you did.

- MURDER ME.

- ITS CHATEAUNEUF DU PAPE AGAIN ARE YOU KIDDING ME I AM ALREADY TRYING SO HARD NOT TO QUOTE THIS SCENE WORD FOR HECKING WORD

- “If you were truly as evil as you like to paint yourself” the levels of deep seated misunderstanding and flawed foundational concepts I’m CRY

- Though it’s AZIRAPHALE who brings up shades of grey. A glimmer of hope.

- Can someone who knows accents tell me what is going on with Shax’s

- Beelzebub’s thanks and “good work” as a discordant note, but also their command for Shax to take an army to attack the bookshop knowing full well she isn’t going to get that kind of support…wut.

- THE BENTLEY FOLLOWING AZIRAPHALE AFTER HE PATS IT. CROWLEY FEELS WHAT IT FEELS.

- Peter Anderson’s screen effects are my favorite thing.

- Hate to see the way Nina is so broken down by Lindsey tbh.

- Yeeeah…Crowley seems to be purposely living in his car tbh. Retreating directly to it. I can’t tell if Aziraphale never thought to offer cohabitation or if Crowley turned him down but my money is on they’ve never discussed it despite both of them thinking about it very loudly.

- A night to remember! Never bodes well.

Okay. That’s it for tonight. An episode that seems out of place but has many good tasty morsels and I think more than a smidge of s3 foreshadowing. Why is the episode called The Hitchhiker? Maybe for Furfur trying to climb the greasy pole of bureaucracy? For the Nazis hanging onto life? Literally just for the one part at the beginning that sets the whole climax into motion? Who knows???

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #gos2spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #ugh okay brain is officially mush #this episode is fun but I think its utility is more meta than narrative tbh

[chocolatechimsugakookie2]

Did I imagine a 4Town music video where they sing the song Disturbia (by Rihanna) and they all are a type of monster made by the amazing @wondero28 …… Yes I did🙃

Basically the whole music video started off with them in some spooky ass woods trying to find this old abandoned mansion thanks to T because it was totally his idea

Once they find the house and enter they look around and everybody gets taken one by one

The music finally starts and the scene starts off with Tae as zombie ( he really is suppose to be a reaper but I imagined this cool scene so I changed it a little)

So basically we end up at a graveyard

and in the bottom right corner of the screen you see Taeyoung‘s name written in blood. Their name written in blood is how everyones scene starts off to let you know that this is the next person story

The camera zooms in on one grave and you see a hand pop out of the dirt and Tae starts crawling out of the grave!

(If the lyrics are white, that means everyone is singing)

Bum-bum-be-dum-bum-bum-be-dum-bum (what's wrong with me?)

Bum-bum-be-dum-bum-bum-be-dum-bum (why do I feel like this?)

Bum-bum-be-dum-bum-bum-be-dum-bum (I'm going crazy now)

Bum-bum-be-dum-bum-bum-be-dum-bum

Tae finally starts limping walking around the woods to look for the house to find his friends

No more gas in the rig

Can't even get it started

Nothing heard, nothing said

Can't even speak about it

Out my life, out my head

Don't want to think about it

Feels like I'm going insane, yeah

During the lyric “out my life, out my head” Tae fixes the angle of his head because it was very crooked

He finds the mansion during the lyric “don’t want to think about it” and he looks up at the house while singing “feels like I’m going insane, yeah”

Now it’s Robaire’s turn! The camera zooms in on a Stonewall with his name written in blood on the corner of the screen (he basically was in the basement)

The wall slides open and there’s mummy Robaire stepping out of the wall while singing

It's a thief in the night to come and grab you (uh-huh)

It can creep up inside you and consume you (uh-huh)

A disease of the mind, it can control you (uh-huh)

It's too close for comfort, ohh

The lyric “it can creep up inside you and consume you” Is where he lifts up his wraps and flashes his abs (just like the great creator of the monsters said) and his eyes also flashed this bright but menacing green to collect prey

Once the chorus comes everyone is singing

Tae and Robaire is giving face while also tormenting people, the other 3 have scenes running and trying to figure out what the fuck is happening (they are not together yet btw)

There’s a part during the chorus where Taes head turns all the way around

Put on your break lights

We're in the city of wonder

Ain't gonna play nice

Watch out, you might just go under

Better think twice

Your train of thought will be altered

So if you must falter be wise

Your mind's in disturbia

It's like the darkness is the light

Disturbia

Am I scaring you tonight?

Your mind is in disturbia

Ain't used to what you like

Disturbia

Disturbia

Bum-bum-be-dum-bum-bum-be-dum-bum

Bum-bum-be-dum-bum-bum-be-dum-bum

Bum-bum-be-dum-bum-bum-be-dum-bum

Bum-bum-be-dum-bum-bum-be-dum-bum

During the last bum-bum part, the scene switches to a throne type seat but the back of the chair is the only thing shown plus a leg that hangs off the armrest with Aaron Zs name in the corner

As he start singing the camera finally shows Medusa Z as it comes around to the front of the chair

What once were his locs now slowly rises since they are now snakes as he is bobbing a chalice around with his hand

Faded pictures on the wall

It's like they talkin' to me

Disconnectin' all calls

Your phone don't even ring

I gotta get out

Or figure this shh out

It's too close for comfort, oh-ohh

He stands up roughly during the “I gotta get out or figure this shit out” and you’ll see that he is wearing a long gold like expensive coat with no shirt under so his abs are on full display

And as he sees movement in the corner of his eye, he faces it and what once was rat is now stone once it was met with the golden glow of Z’s eyes

And during the “oh-ohh” he sticks his tongue out which is edited to look like a snake tongue 👀

The camera pans to Jesse singing and looking in the mirror with his name in the corner of the screen and he watches in horror as his reflection fades with a memory of his new found red eyes and sharp teeth stamped into his head

It's a thief in the night to come and grab you (uh-huh)

It can creep up inside you and consume you (uh-huh)

A disease of the mind, it can control you (uh-huh)

I feel like a monster, ohh

During the lyric “a disease of the mind, it can control you” he takes a female actors head pulls it to the side and ‘bites into her neck’

While singing the “I feel like a monster” lyric you can kind of see regret for what he did to the girl in his face as he is panting and huffing his shoulders with each word in the lyric “I *breathes* FEEL *breathes* LIKE *breathes* A MONSTER”

And for the “Ohh” he leans back a little and kind of screams it with his bloody mouth and sharp vampire fangs on display

The chorus comes again and everyone is singing giving face while being scary throughout the house and T is still running trying to find a way out

Put on your break lights

We're in the city of wonder (city of lights)

Ain't gonna play nice

Watch out (ohh), you might just go under

Better think twice (think twice)

Your train of thought will be altered

So if you must falter be wise (be wise)

Your mind's in disturbia

It's like the darkness is the light

Disturbia

Am I scaring you (oh) tonight?

Your mind's in disturbia (oh)

Ain't used to what you like

Disturbia (what you like)

Disturbia

Bum-bum-be-dum-bum-bum-be-dum-bum (ba-da-da-da-dee-da)

Bum-bum-be-dum-bum-bum-be-dum-bum (ba-da-da-da-dee-da)

Bum-bum-be-dum-bum-bum-be-dum-bum (disturbia)

Bum-bum-be-dum-bum-bum-be-dum-bum (oh, oh)

The Camera pans to T roughly almost falling out of a door that he opened that lead to the woods outside 

As he sings his parts after the bum-bum-be-dum parts he is constantly twisting and turning looking at his surroundings in the dark woods

During his “oh, oh” part he falls to his knees once his gets to the top of a cliff looking at the nails on his fingers turn into claws and starts to sing

Release me from this curse I'm in

Trying to maintain but I'm struggling

If you can't go

I think I'm going to oh, oh, oh, oh-ohh

While singing “release me from this curse I’m in”that is when he’s looking at his finger nails which turns into claws

During the lyric “trying to maintain but I’m struggling” He is basically twitching since his body is forming into a werewolf and his eyes are flashing a bright yellow

He kind of has like two tears going down his face as he’s trying to make it look like it hurts because his bones are forming in a non-human way while he sings “if you can’t go”

During the lyric “I think I’m going to oh, oh, oh, oh-ohh” he starts to get in a sitting wolf position at the top of the cliff and uses the “Ohs” as a way to be howling at the big full moon that’s right in front of him

As the chorus comes back on, everyone is in the same place and that’s when a whole Choreo breaks out in their monster form

Put on your break lights

We're in the city of wonder (woo)

Ain't gonna play nice

Watch out, you might just go under

Better think twice

Your train of thought will be altered

So if you must falter be wise

Your mind's in disturbia

It's like the darkness is the light

Disturbia

Am I scaring you tonight?

Your mind's in disturbia

Ain't (distubria) used to what you like

Disturbia

Disturbia

Bum-bum-be-dum-bum-bum-be-dum-bum (ba-da-da-da-dee-da)

Bum-bum-be-dum-bum-bum-be-dum-bum (ba-da-da-da-dee-da)

Bum-bum-be-dum-bum-bum-be-dum-bum

Bum-bum-be-dum-bum-bum-be-dum-bum (ohh-ohh)

While Z is doing the last run on the “ohh-ohh” part The whole group posed up together some sitting and some standing up, Tae is one of the ones sitting with his zombie head in his hands, and Jesse is attractively swinging on the chandelier above them with one hand hanging down and the camera slowly backs away

Once Z’s riff is finished the screen turns black with the word ‘DISTURBIA’ written in blood.

After the word Disturbia oozes down the screen, the screen cuts to the human version of the boys busting out the old mansion together breathing hard

Robaire: man that was crazy in there *he says while out of breath*

Jess: I know right I don’t even remember what happened *looks confused*

Z: yo me either… it’s all just a blur

Tae: *rubs his head* yeah my head is killing me

T: yeah that shit was so weird, I’m never having an idea like this again

Jesse: and if you do, we’re not listening

Z: true that

Robaire: agreed

Tae: mhmm

T: mannn whatever

As they walk away laughing together, their shadows follow them in the shape of their monsters

Not quite sure why I’ve been thinking about this but I hope y’all enjoy or even understand what the hell I just wrote😭 and please go look at @wondero28 post about monster*town it’s amazing

#4 town #4town aaron t #4town #4town robaire #4town headcanons #4town aaron z #4town jesse #4 town headcanons #4townie #4town taeyoung #4*town #4 townie #4town imagines #4town au #turning red 4town

[tinyhuman826]

Pokemon SWSH - Fluff Alphabet w/ Allister

Nothing too far on the romantic side because he's only a child

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Ok listen call me emo but he LOVES going to graveyards. So many ghost Pokemon hang around there and pretty much no one is there at the hour you two would go, so it's super peaceful. Especially if the stars are out, prepare for a long night of comfortable silence and an occasional ramble about astronomy/ghosts.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

I feel like Allister is drawn to a person's energy the most, but that can't be seen so I'd go with eyes. Eyes express so many things, and he's gotten very good at noticing and reading eye expressions. He loves the way people's eyes light up when they smile or get excited.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

It's Allister. He's chronically anxious. He of all people would understand. It really depends on what you're comfortable with, if you're cool with the eerie graveyards or abandoned buildings, he'll take you there. If not, he'll just bring you somewhere quiet and sit in silence with you until you feel better. He wouldn't let you suffer alone.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He wouldn't. He wouldn'y be able to comprehend that someone could care about him that much, he just doesn't see himself like that. But all he knows is that if you make him feel safe and loved, he will want to be around you for a long time.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

I feel like he's passive. He would have his own opinions but he would not force them in any way.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

He's normally scared off before anything can get bad. But if it EVER happened that you got into a fight (extremely unlikely), I think he'd just distance himself. He'd feel super bad, especially if he hurt your feelings. You'd have to be the first one to reach out. If you did something to hurt him, it'd take him a while to forgive you but eventually he will.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

I think he's completely aware, he just doesn't know how to express that he's thankful. But he'd start opening up as he gets more comfortable, and that's his way of thanking you.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

I feel like he keeps secrets, but not in a malicious way. He's just either afraid to reveal parts of himself or just isn't ready/comfortable. Especially if they're more emotional. Just be gentle with him :(

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You definitely helped with his anxiety. But other than that nothing really changed. He's still himself.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

He's not the type to get jealous, really. He might be discouraged if anything but I don't think he would be the super jealous type.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

It took a LONG time for him to even be comfortable taking off the mask for you in private. And assuming that he's in the ~11 age range, the most I think he'd give is a very quick peck on the cheek. He's still a kid so I don't think he would give anything more than that and holding hands really.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

There's a 95% chance he wouldn't. But in that rare percentage that he would, it would be very shy. As I mentioned in his headcanons, he isn't great with words so he'd probably just give small gifts and spend more time with you until you realize how he feels.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

He's still a kid. But if you guys are together years down the line I think he'd want to be married. It would be a very private ordeal, and the wedding would have very few people. Mostly his Pokemon in attendance.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Honestly I really don't think he'd be into the cute pet names or anything. He'd probably just stick to calling you by name or your nickname.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

I feel like it's only obvious to people who are around him. His Pokemon obviously know a lot more than any other people. But he's a very shy person, especially when he realizes he has a crush. He'll find himself spending more time with his crush, slowly gravitating toward them.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

No. No PDA. Poor guy would have an anxiety attack if you did any more than holding hands in public

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He's very good at reading emotions, and good at just having a comforting prescence. He befriends ghosts, which are normally timid and hesitant, so it's safe to say he has a calming aura.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Allister would show affection through very small gestures. If he's comfortable with holding hands, he will. But most of the time he shows his affection through giving trinkets or quality time.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He's a gym leader at 11 years old. So I think he would have faith in his crush's abilities and would do what he could to help.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

He lives by routine. In fact, if his routine is ever thrown out of whack he doesn't know what to do with himself. If you plan it out with him he'd be more open to trying new things but he would still prefer having a solid routine.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He is extremely empathetic. He has a somewhat docile nature and is very good at reading people (and Pokemon). So I think he'd get to know you rather well, and would pretty much always be able to grasp how you feel within a few moments

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Depending on what stage you guys are in, it varies. If you're just starting out there's still a barrier separating you two because the trust hasn't been built that much. But if you are further in your relationship, he values it a lot more.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

He likes to draw things as small gifts and give them to you, whether that be a drawing of you, your Pokemmon, or even just something you enjoy.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Once you two are a good amount of time into the relationship, yes. Still not in public, though.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He'll have his Pokemon to keep him company. He'd probably write letters or send texts when he misses you

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Yes and no. He wouldn't go way out of his comfort zones for a relationship, he wouldn't break his boundaries. But if it came to protecting you or helping you, he'd do what you needed if it was within reason.

#allister swsh #pokemon sword #pokemon #pokemon shield #pkmn #fluff #headcanon #fluff alphabet #request

[lightvsdark18]

Voicelines responses (Ace)

Ha ha, there it is. I thought I'd never be into your type, but maybe I was wrong? ...Or not!

What the fuck are you saying about?

School Uniform

There's never a boring day with you around. I swear trouble follows you everywhere.

Yeah, it's true you and Grim follow me everywhere.

It's nice that our dorm color and my favorite color are one and the same. Red's all in-your-face and classy, which is perfect for me, don't you think?

Yeah, cause you're always in everyone's faces. I'm joking, Ace.

P.E. Uniform

You might not've guessed it, but I'm pretty competitive. Wanna join me for some special training?

No.

It's not good to sit still all the time, y'know?

Do I look like I care?

Hey, PE's about to begin. I'm gonna leave you behind if you dawdle.

Then go without me.

Have you eaten yet? If not, let's go grab something. It gets old being cooped up all the time, right?

You get used to it.

Labwear

It's important to help each other out, y'know. That's why I'm leaving this assignment to you!

Ace, get back here and do your work!

There's nothing wrong with cutting a few corners here and there. As long as you don't get found out, that is.

Ace, do your work correctly.

What, you got a question? Fine, but you owe me one.

Then never mind. Deuce! You have a minute?

You never know when or where the headmage's gonna pop up. Yesterday, I glanced back to find him suddenly sitting behind me. I almost jumped outta my skin.

My first morning here, I woke up with him in my room.

Ceremonial Robes

What kinda celebrations do they have back where you're from? Do they host unbirthday parties and stuff?

Unbirthday parties isn't a thing in my world. And celebrations don't feel like celebrations. (Goes on an explanation)

Tadaaa! I can produce a hedgehog from my hood! Or...not. I guess magic tricks that use live animals are extra hard.

Wait, where's the actual hedgehog?

Don't you think this school is in dire need of more fun? There aren't any places to relax! Where are the cafés? The concerts?!

It's a school, they're not allowed have fun.

Dorm Uniform

Hey, Prefect, help me take care of the hedgehogs we use for croquet.

Only if I'm allowed to pet the hedgehogs.

How d'you like my dorm uniform? Pretty sweet, right?

Eh.

We freshmen are four to a room. It's cramped, but there's never a dull moment. You should come hang out with us sometime.

I don't want to be around smelly boys. Ace, I'm joking.

Shame you didn't get in Heartslabyul, too. It's kind of a thrill never knowing when it might be "off with your head."

Hmm, if we're taking this seriously, it's probably a good thing I wasn't placed in your dorm... I don't want talk about it.

Suitor Suit

I'll make you happy for as long as you live... There, how's that?

Hm, feels a bit flat.

Check THIS out. I've got "perfect prince" written all over me, right?

Sorry, I thought you were Cater for a second because of that hairstyle. But it doesn't look bad on you though.

Just so we're clear, this is a PRACTICE proposal. It's not the real deal, got it?!

The fact you have to state that makes it seem like it's not.

People give roses to their crushes in manga and TV shows, right? Sounds super embarrassing to me.

I think it's sweet, but I can imagine the anxiousness on trying to give them the roses.

Dealing with ghosts sure isn't easy, huh? Now I feel kinda bad you have to live with 'em.

Eh, they're not that bad.

I don't get romance, but the important thing's finding someone who's fun to be with, right?

Yeah. However, romance is something nice to have and do with your partner like going out to a nice restaurant together or spending time in a place you both enjoy. You'll understand when you find someone, unless you're aromantic.

I'm not thinking about romance right now. I'm busy enough looking after you all.

You mean too busy being annoying? Heh, I kid.

I'm definitely the type to get married later in life.

Like everyone else.

Halloween

The graveyard's our turf. We'll make anyone who wanders in one of us, no exceptions.

(Low energy) Cool.

Could you tell which jack-o'-lantern was mine? I'll give you a hint: it had a real goofy face.

So, the one that looks like you, got it.

You might wanna stay inside. It's pretty creepy out there tonight. You never know who might come crawlin' outta their grave.

You're saying that to a horror fan. If anything crawls out of a grave, I'll just put them back in the ground.

Okay, I've gotta warn you— don't look up at the ceiling 'til I tell you.

*Looks up at ceiling*

You're not actually trying to play a trick on me, are you?

If you count silly string as a trick, then yes, I'm playing a trick on you.

#twisted wonderland #twst voicelines #ace trappola

[unproduciblesmackdown]

i love the like conspiratorial feel to the opening & likewise closing numbers of gtm:pota, “goosebumps” & its reprise (ft. r.l. stine god bless us)....i love the >:3 and the playful quality and the way the song starts a bit downtempo and mezzopiano kind of Creeping Out at us. it has the sense of umm. an air of secrecy. some unauthorized activity. we are slyly having this covert meetup in a graveyard for this Song to happen. love that lmao like, those are my roots here as [little kid intrigued by / interested in / seeking out Horror at all] like, that being in the midst of kind of suspenseful conditions feels like oh yeah of course (lol...) and that Nighttime and the idea of being Up for those hours and all the more for kind of sneaking around & seeing what’s up / doing some secret shit oneself is an engaging enticing concept (lol....lived that dream to be sure, at later ages & nowadays) and wherein more generally it’s liiiike. new paragraph

i always enjoyed horror ft. Mystery the most (& comedy, really) which applies to goosebumps, there’s a ton i didn’t read but so far as i know they’re all written to be funny & have an underlying mystery. and i always found like, Mysterious Characters / Suspects to be fun & fascinating themselves lol wherein it’s like, whoa who’s This suspicion arousing person, what strange thing are They up to. when like, sure, a lot of times there might be like “oh you accidentally solved some whole other mystery” approach where like, xyz other suspects Were up to something, they just weren’t up to the main thing you’re actually trying to figure out. but it was always extra delightful when it’s like, oh really this is just some guy hanging out doing his thing. why was he doing some shit at night? idk, he felt like it. an Eccentric Character, who may have even been threatening, but it’s like, nah. they’re just like that, but they’re Innocent, nonthreatening in actuality rather than “idk. vibes,” perhaps even helpful. like, e.g. cue that photoset of bailey school kids series “[supernatural entity] don’t [occupation a child may encounter]” cover illustrations and captioning it like “schoolchildren gawk at flaming homosexuals” lmfaoooo b/c that’s kind of always how it pans out. my Queer Analysis: Horror experience isn’t one where i ever cared about like monsters type deal but certainly when horror is about Thee Other it’s like, well, the queer & the neurodivergent is othered, that sure applies to me lol, plenty of times that’s just used to Cue that something’s Off about someone and they’re dangerous &/or evil, but when that’s subverted like, oh this suspicious person was just hanging out / is cool actually, then that’s kind of aspirational / relatable all the more straightforwardly like oh shit lol i just innately Vibe with that impersonable loner man they saw wandering out & about the night that some shit went down....truly, same. operating suspiciously covertly? like that’s me and the cptsd, baby, i like the vibe of The Cover Of Night, i loved the idea of a house with secret passages and you just Can move undetected, loved like the idea of tiny quiet hidden places, v cozy, loved the idea of Secret Communication, some covert underworld in which to freely operate, sneaking out at night & traveling to some destination with a coded signal inviting one over / providing direction and a light in the distance to head to lol. it all has context in retrospect lmaooo. and the invariable Queer Vibe of like ooh this person’s styling / fashion is so Weird, what’s up with them....like idk but that pwns, the “yeah hmm Why look different vs the ‘normal’ way that surely everyone just Wants to / naturally chooses to look & operate” right along the lines of the intrigue of Why be someone up to anything at night when surely one would only want to or ever even think to operate in the daytime, the normal way. i do dare follow, and am ware. what’s that shit, are you afraid of the dark? (series) i Never saw where i think the framing every time is a bunch of kids who like scary stories all go secretly gather in the woods at night & do that for fun lmao like right the hell on. my people

anyways idk that went off the rails but yeah love that song (genderdivergently) (neurononconfirmingly)

#goosebumps the musical #catch me sneaking around among the graveyard at night like |･ω･)

[dzpenumbra]

6/18/23

Wow, the year's really flying by, isn't it.

I'm not avoiding talking about something... no... just making an astute remark that we're more than halfway through the year. That's all...

Okay. There's some guilt on my shoulders. And... it's part of this stupid predatory dating app game us homebodies are made to play. I got a like on Bumble, which is unfathomably rare. Like... "maybe 2 or 3 a year" rare And... I do this thing were if I'm somewhat unsure if I'm into someone or if I'm idealizing, I just close out of the app and come back to it at a different time. Either later that day or the next day, something like that. And I had someone up that... the way they communicated seemed like someone I would get along very well with. But there were two hang-ups.

1). I'm not 100% physically attracted to her, closer to like... 60%. And I have a bad history with that. I honestly don't think it's healthy... or fair for the other person for me to just kinda... force myself to be attracted. Physical attraction is far from the most important thing, by a long shot... but it's really the one of the most defining factors that discriminates this type of relationship from others. Physical intimacy. For me, at least, I get that others aren't like that... But for me, sex is for relationships and friends are for friends. So... with this chick, the personality seemed there (from what I could tell on a fucking dating app), but even coming back again I just... I wasn't there attraction-wise. Which sucks, because she lives in my neighborhood, and they don't have a "hey, let's be friends and hang out, you seem cool" swipe option.

2). She had her Instagram linked and some of the photos were just a little too weird for me. And that's coming from me, the guy whose last piece was painting tattoo ink on a goat skull. One was this big fungus bloom that looked like a flowery skull, one was a cat that was... I don't know, it looked kinda inbred or something, its eyes were way too low on its skull and it was just offputting to me... and a picture in a graveyard. And I feel bad for being judgmental, for judging a book by its cover. And yeah, I bet my shit could look that way to normies too... which made me feel extra guilty. But it's how I felt, and I just felt off about it.

But yeah, on third consideration this morning... I swiped left... and it said I missed a match. And my heart immediately sank. And I felt deep guilt and regret. Like... we might've been able to at least be good friends or something, or art buddies... I don't know. But I didn't want to mislead someone that might be more attracted to me than I was to her, because I've been there before and... my fawning does not react well in that situation. It impulsively tries to put me into a relationship out of guilt. And that's super bad for me, and for them. Yeah, it just made me feel shitty all around... but mostly that dating apps make us play these shitty games with each other.

I'm sure women go through denying people all the time on these sites. I feel super bad when that happens with someone I have actually put strong consideration into, especially because of how rarely it happens for me.

So yeah, that made me want to get the fuck off dating apps for a while.

I had a vivid dream last night that woke me up again, that same 3-4 hour window. I journaled it and eventually went back to sleep, getting up after another 3 hours of sleep. A short but sweet yoga routine today. Worked out, it was ab focused today. My abs are getting in shape super quick, I'm excited about it, it happened so much quicker than I expected. I'm even getting more mobility with my joints which is sick. Like I can go from plank to standing by just swinging my leg forward and standing up much easier now. That kinda shit, especially hip mobility and more range of motion squatting and shit, that's gonna help with snowskating a lot.

I watched RP for a few hours. The streamer I've been watching got engaged. He's 6 years younger than me. More power to him. Just... added a layer of... "woe is me, I'm going to die alone" to the day.

I just often feel like my life is passing me by. And I understand the sentiment behind my past and current therapists urging caution and encouraging me to be very slow with reintegrating into society, as to avoid flooding. But... I fear it's unavoidable at this point. And... it's been 4 fucking years, dogg. 5, really. When the fuck am I going to be "ready"? Is there a "ready"? What am I waiting for?

I think what my therapists have been waiting for is for me to naturally develop a stable healthy friend network before encouraging me to date again. So I have someone to talk to if I'm having trouble in my relationship. Even though... that's something I'm not supposed to go to friends with, right? I don't even know anymore. That's the problem with finding out you've got a full hand of shitty friends, you get super disoriented with what it's actually healthy and socially acceptable to ask your support system for support with.

Like... my former support network found retweeting my go-live tweets for my stream to be "too much to ask". My former support network thought penciling in once-a-month phone calls was "friendship". So... that shit gets disorienting.

But yeah, I just... I feel myself getting older. I see it now too. Hair is getting grayer (or greyer if you speak correct English), love handles have formed, posture is sagging. I'm begrudgingly accepting that I'm in my late-30's. And I'm sure if you're older than this, you're scoffing at this point. XD I used to scoff at people in my age bracket talking like this too. I know I have plenty of life ahead of me. But... what gets me is this...

I'm... for the first real time in my life... reconsidering whether I want to have kids. It was always a given. It was always "duh, being an awesome cool dad is like... my primary goal in life." Seriously. Some people want to be rich, some people want to be famous, some people want to be physically desirable, some want to climb to the top of some arbitrary ladder that is attractive to them... I've always just wanted to be a Good Dude. A good friend, an honest person, someone whose door is always open, who you can always talk to about anything even if it's 4AM, who is always down for a game night, who will fill the air with funny jokes and good music and the smell of delicious comfort foods. A good friend, a good partner and a good father. That's all I've wanted to be.

Now? I feel like I actually have to... reconsider whether being a father is an option. Because I'm starting to get to the age where... if I'm dating someone in my local age range? Having a kid is... starting to get to the zone where it might be a little dangerous for my partner. At least... that's what I've been told. And... to say that complicates things is an understatement. At that point, it's not just the insanely scary question of "are we ready for a kid"... but it's "are we willing to put your life in danger for a kid". And that's... its a whole other can of worms.

So over the past few years, I've had to actually branch out of this fantasy of me finding an awesome partner and settling down and creating a home and both have our first kid together... And instead entertain the idea of... parenting someone else's child. Possibly even straight-up never having the experience of my partner birthing my child at all. And that thought isn't "good or bad" by nature, it's just... severely novel. And kinda challenges my preconceived ideas of what my desired life looks like.

So yeah, the more I see these weeks and months and years peel by with me just gazing longingly out the windows... the more I feel that dream of being the Good Dude - in the form I imagined... - slipping out of my fingers like sand.

Depressing enough for ya? I could go on, but I'd rather share this thought I was going to add to last night's journal but never got around to.

I looked into an art collective near my building the other day. They have a website, they're a block away from my building. I guess they're basically an apartment building? But it looks like they have a gallery space too, and they do shows and... well... it looks like they mostly do the whole nude model drawing thing. I didn't see anything else openly scheduled. They have vacancies, open studios for rent. "$350/mo, high-speed WiFi, 24 hour access, great location, full kitchen, bath, W/D, roof access, networking opportunities, event space usage." I... my apartment I have right now is plenty of space. And it's actually a bit pricey. I don't think I can tack that on... especially for a studio I'm just not going to use because I'm just going to work here. And $350 is a lot to pay for just... networking opportunities.

But the place is there. It's a block away. It's an option to meet people. People who might get me, and accept me for who and what I am. It brings me hope. I just don't know how to proceed. If they had a show listed, I could just go to that and just introduce myself as new to the area and go from there. Idk, it's something. It's way better than the whole gazing longingly out the window and sand slipping through the fingers image.

Anyway, part of the depresso mode is because I streamed. I cooked a big-ass rice and bean burrito, shoved that in my face hole, digested a bit and then streamed for 3.5 hours. Literally no one showed up. In a way, it takes the pressure off of streaming. In a way, it's like "why the fuck am I bothering". I don't miss this feeling. All that considered, I got a bunch of work done on the digital piece, it's coming along nicely.

I've put more thought into the Micro Zen Gardens and I like the idea of using sand and stones to start. In fact, I can use the really cool stones that I have saved and put aside to be polished... maybe they were destined for other purposes? I can get bags of sand delivered from either Lowe's or Tractor Supply, which is dank. Gravel... I had less luck with. I might have to order it locally or something. Never even tried before, so... no clue. So... I'm considering getting some more pots and soil to grow the beans I've been planning on planting... and see if Lowe's has any kind of tray-like things to make a zen garden like this in... and get the sand too. The only problem with sand is... water features are probably a no-go, because that's a one-way ticket to clogging the cheap pump I have. Large gravel I have little to no concerns with, as long as the water is clean, but sand will go right in that thing. So... I'll look into that order tomorrow and see what it might set me back.

My depression has been getting a bit strong... but my inspiration was flooding first. And I'm very grateful for it. I don't think it's a coincidence that my dreams are surreally intense in the same timeframe. The High Priestess is back in town. :)

Tarot time.

Past - XI: Justice, inverted (A force that can see your true intentions, your inner thoughts, but can see the world as a whole as well.  She represents inner revelations coming to light, and the action of true justice.) Present - Queen of Swords (Facing/revealing the truth with dignity and poise.  When giving - phrasing critique tactfully, when receiving - openly considering perspective.) Future - King of Swords (Balance and harmony between intelligence and intuition.  Objective, meditative, balanced, clear of mind.)

I got really hung up on the first card. And it's kinda throwing off my whole reading. I've been doubting myself. Let me explain.

The first card is Justice, and she's inverted. This is my first time reading this card. So... I don't like to read inversions as opposites... more like blockages or personal refusals to engage with that symbol. This one... is confusing. Mostly because of the graphic itself. The card is a close-up of a woman's face, and the scales are reflected in her eye. But... if the card is upright, she doesn't look directly at you, the reader. If she is inverted, she looks directly at you. So... right now... she's inverted, but she's staring at me. Right in the eye. And the scales are inverted. And that kinda makes this conflicted for me in reading this. Because I feel like it's supposed to be read like "justice is not working for you", or "justice is working against you", or it's out of whack or something... but... she seems to see me just fine... So.. that's tricky to read and I'm not sure what to make of it.

That's connected to the Queen of Swords. She is the master of telling the truth, no matter how much it hurts. But on the flip side, she's really good at receiving difficult or challenging truths.

This is connected to the King of Swords, who is more of the strong, silent, meditative type. He has harmony between his mind and his heart, and he - as opposed to the Queen - leads by example instead of word.

So... I'm caught up in interpreting all of this because I don't know where to start with Justice, it's a powerful card. A symbol and power that I... have had quite a few face-to-face run-ins with in my life. It's a force that I deeply respect, to the point of fear. But... has Justice really been blind? Has Justice seen my true underlying Good and simply... been blocked a bit in bringing that side of justice to light? Has Justice been... unfair to me? Maybe that's what brought me to being directly blunt and truthful with others, often to degrees that make them deeply uncomfortable. (clearly not intentionally) And to be able to stomach those same truths, because I'm already well aware that whatever force Justice really is, it can already see through me. And I feel like it's ultimately a better life to live as though your inner thoughts can be seen. To live a bit more honestly. Though... it's vastly more difficult. Since I've been working on sorta... telling myself those difficult truths just as much as I tell anyone else theirs... it makes it much easier to hear them myself. But this doesn't have to be the final form of this. Because the Queen is not the easiest role to be in, especially emotionally. And she can often... piss people off, and not be the best friend. First I needed to learn how to speak, now I need to learn how and when to shut the fuck up. And that's the King. Leading by example rather than pointing out flaws, even if intentions are good. I think good therapists learn this quickly. You can help people see something in themselves, if they seek it, but showing it to them can very easily make you an enemy in their eyes. Then you can never be of help to them. Sometimes it's better to demonstrate the grace of being self-reflective, and hope they give it a shot themselves. I guess.

I'd like to learn more about the face cards. All of them. They're very interesting cards, they're all like... idealized people. Very different than the numbered suited cards. Whenever I pull them I feel intimidated, so... I'd like to spend a little more time getting to know them.

Welp, I'd like to think I turned that reading around a bit, that ended up working out. Alright, I'm pretty wiped, I'm gonna head to bed.

Fun final add-on: The placeholder card I pulled to use as a bookmark in my little reference book for the tarot deck? The Lovers. <shrug>

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of thoughts #stream of consciousness

[sagescider]

i might finish this eventually but for now,,,little sketch gif! they are taking a nap in the graveyard :]

#deltarune #deltarune fanart #kris deltarune #susie deltarune #krusie #they feel like the types to think hanging out in a graveyard is cool #because it is obvs #kris probably has a strange relationship with death #considering yknow #everything #sage’s art stuff #sage’s krisandsusie stuff

[starlessea]

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙨 - Chapter 1. Is It A Bird?

A/N Make sure you read the prologue before, or this chapter might not make sense!

Series Masterlist: Step on the Gas

Summary: A dishonourable discharge from the military results in you being hauled off to live with your grandparents in the boonies, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere Georgia. After running over a nail on the road, and pushing your grandpa's vintage Camaro to the nearest auto-shop, you meet Daryl Dixon - the local mechanic. At some point, the world ends, but that stubborn man never gives you a chance to slow down. His smile gives you whiplash, but he still insists that you to step on the gas.

Words: 4869

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury

You watched the bird fly from behind the clear glass, level with the top floors of the office building.

You followed it the best you could, walking the stretch of the room alongside it. The window was long and wide, filling the wall entirely. This whole section of the building was made of glass, and stood tall against the skyline — so that you could often see the flocks of birds that flew by.

Though, it wasn’t as tall as the ones closer to the inner city.

No, this was more of a dwarfed skyscraper.

You reached the end of the office, and placed your hands up against the cool glass as the bird continued onwards — leaving you behind. Below, the street seemed desolate, just as the sky now did. There wasn’t a single soul lurking down there — but you didn’t trust your eyes in the slightest. Especially not here.

You needed a better view. You needed a bird’s-eye view.

The fire escape steps were rickety, and metal flakes crumbled beneath your feet. They had rusted from the rain, and you tried not to think about how precariously they squeaked as you made your ascent to the roof. You’d done it before, but every time felt worse than the last.

You just couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d cave beneath you — and laugh their squeaky laughs as they sent you plummeting to the ground.

You reached the top, and felt the breeze on your cheek as you scaled the roof courtyard. Up here, everything seemed untouched. It always had done. This high up, people would look like mere ants — harmless, and far enough away that it didn’t matter if they weren’t.

The wind blew, and you stared out towards the building parallel to the corporate one you were currently standing on. It had been a hotel once. But now its roof held something far more valuable than deckchairs and a cocktail bar.

There she was, you smiled, and what a beauty indeed.

It was an army helicopter, sat perfectly still against the horizon — like a bird nesting. It was a camo green, but it didn’t camouflage against the greyish sky in the slightest. Though, it did seem like it belonged there; it was a hawk after all.

A Sikorsky Hawk, to be more specific.

You’d never flown her type before, but she’d been there ever since you first took refuge in the building, like an abandoned bird in an abandoned city. The army had been the first to flee, after all — or the first to die. Either way, the hawk had sat alone for nearly two months, teasing you.

You should have just stayed in Georgia.

It was only meant to be a weekend trip, but somehow you’d gotten stranded in Atlanta during the end of the world. You would have cursed your luck, but then again you were lucky enough to get stuck on the outskirts — only narrowly missing the bombs as they reigned down upon the city.

It was like a meteor shower. Except, instead of falling stars, it had been napalm.

You could remember it perfectly. First the power had gone out, then the water mains dried up, and finally the food whittled down to nothing. You’d hopped from building to building until you came across this corporate graveyard — which had enough supplies to keep you alive for a few weeks. But you should have just left Atlanta whilst you had the chance.

This tower had lulled you in with the promise of safety, but had kept you trapped there ever since.

Walking closer to the roof’s edge, you glanced along the building in the distance. You’d checked it a dozen times now — mapping out all of its exits to try and find a way inside. You had to be prepared. After all, it wasn’t like you could just wait until you got there. Your boot hit the fencing, and you felt the urge to peer over the railing at the alley below.

Don’t look down, you told yourself — but you always did.

A narrow sidestreet separated the office block from the hotel. There was a fence at one end, secured with a thick padlock, whilst the other was open. That would have been fine on its own; except, the biters had all stumbled into the alley as though it were a cattle cage — and couldn’t figure out how to leave once they were there.

Dumb fucks, you thought, watching them pile up against the gate as though it were a concert barrier.

Almost every day, you’d come to see that helicopter — separated by a channel of the undead, their heads bobbing like ripples on the surface of water — and every day you’d turn around and head back down the fire escape.

Your stomach gurgled, and you let out a sigh. The stale lunchroom cereal had recently run empty. You felt for your pistol in your back pocket — the one you’d managed to get a hold of during the initial outbreak.

Six bullets, you counted, before slipping it back into your jeans.

You smiled at the irony.

“Six!” you yelled at the man, placing your card face-up on the bar. “It’s my lucky number.”

Dixon knocked back his whiskey and grimaced as it went down. Joe’s was practically empty by now, but the man lingered about like the aftertaste of your drink — waiting for your shift to end.

“An’ why’s that?” he asked, not looking up from his own hand.

You smiled — the alcohol making you loose-lipped.

“It was your closing time. Six in the evening,” you explained, waiting for him to lay his last card. “But you still fixed up the Camaro anyway.”

Your fingertips rested along the hem of the jacket, feeling the worn leather. The air was stiflingly warm, but you kept it on. After all, it still smelled faintly of the man who’d given it to you.

Like whiskey and gasoline.

Atlanta had gone still and quiet, leaving you to your thoughts as you stood on that rooftop — trying to be brave. Military training was meant to beat that into a person, but maybe you’d gone soft since then. After all, you always preferred to stay above the action than be in the midst of it.

Six bullets, a Hawk, and a cattle grid filled with biters.

You laughed. Everything interesting always seemed to happen on a Tuesday.

Glancing over your shoulder at the bird once more, you tried to ignore the way your stomach dropped and your palms sweat. It was probably from the heat, you tried to tell yourself, but you knew better than that.

“I guess today’s the day,” you said, to no one in particular.

Then, you began to descend that rickety fire escape once again — because what goes up must always come down.

//

What you hadn’t realised, is that the same could be said for that Sikorsky Hawk, which spat you out of the sky like you didn’t deserve to be there.

When you finally came back around — after drifting in and out of consciousness for what felt like much too long — all you could smell was burning rubber.

That’s not good, you thought, as you blinked your eyes open.

Black smoke hung thick in the air, melding with the orange flames that flickered in the distance and caught the trees.

Those damn trees.

You hissed curses through your teeth as the pain finally kicked into gear — albeit a bit delayed. In your haziness, you’d barely realised how precarious your situation was. Like a puppet on a string, you dangled from the branches of a tall, leafless tree — caught by your parachute wires.

Your breaths were shallow and strained, and you slowly lifted a hand — the one not tangled in the cords — to feel your stomach.

Blood.

It was shrapnel from the crash. It stung like a bitch, and would probably need stitches. Well, it would if you could get down in the first place.

You glanced up at your other arm, eyes stinging from the brightness of the sky.

That doesn’t look right either, you grimaced.

It had gotten caught during the fall, and had twisted at an unnatural angle which only made you wince as you tried to free it. Like a marionette, if you plucked those wires ever so slightly, your whole body flailed.

The radios whirred below you, letting out a continuous note of high-pitched static as they caught alight. It reminded you of the screeching of wheels as they spun over tarmac — or something like that.

But, then you saw a man.

And the man saw you.

At first, you barely recognised him without his oil-stained work clothes — wrench in hand. But at the same time, he seemed to blend in perfectly with this new world. He had a crossbow slung over his back, and a rope of limp squirrels looped around his shoulder. A natural born hunter, indeed.

With numb toes, and blood rushing to your head, you called out to him hoarsely — hoping that he’d spot you perched among the trees.

“Dixon,” you spoke, and winced straight after.

Your voice didn’t even sound like your own.

Still, the man whipped around, and stared straight through you as though he were looking at a ghost.

“How’s it hanging?” you teased, and recognition flashed on his face.

It had taken him a while to cut you down, untwisting your limbs delicately from the cables. But once you were free, he carried you in his arms — like some trophy game from his hunting trip.

Then, he noticed the wound.

The mechanic looked down at you helplessly. He still hadn’t said a single word, but his eyes told you everything you needed to know. They rested on your hands — which were pressed down firmly to stop the bleeding — before trailing back up to your face.

He looked older than you remembered, and more hardened. And he didn’t view you with the same shy curiosity as before — you had noticed.

No. This was sadness.

You brought a hand up from your stomach and touched it to his cheek. He flinched at the contact, but didn’t pull away.

You could swear he even leaned into it.

His mousy stubble tickled your palm, and only then did you realise the bloody fingerprints you’d left behind on his skin. You let your head flop against the man’s chest, your ear pressed to his pounding heartbeat.

“Today really isn’t my day,” you murmured there, and he started walking.

//

You watched the sky the whole way back.

It looked so different from the sky in Atlanta. There were no hulking skyscrapers blocking it, nor fast food billboards that had begun to peel away. And there were far more birds flying by — the real kind, not any Sikorsky Hawks.

Dixon remained completely silent, except for when he’d occasionally remind you to keep pressure on that wound. He moved quickly, but he seemed lost in thought — lacking the usual bite you remembered.

He also seemed to have lost his words, you thought.

But then you reached a clearing.

You could hear the commotion before you saw it; there was some rustling behind the trees, accompanied by dry shouts and the clanging of metal. You glanced up at the man carrying you for answers, but he didn’t once look down.

Daryl stepped out into the open air, and squinted from the sunlight. You did the same, turning your head into his chest for some cover from it.

“Ya can drop yer weapons,” you heard him say.

Well, more like felt — since the vibrations rumbled against your cheek.

“Unless yer plannin’ on offing me with tha’ shovel,” he snapped.

There he was, you smiled, that was the Dixon you recognised.

You could feel his heart thumping as he spoke, and you had to coax yourself away to take a look at the scene for yourself.

A group of people holding spades, a bashed-in biter, and a mauled deer.

You laughed. Fucking Tuesdays.

Except, the laugh trailed off into a wheeze as the pain started up, and the blood poured.

Daryl quickly kicked into gear with urgency, and brushed off the group as they tried to ask their questions. “Someone best go get Merle off his lazy ass,” he yelled, “tell him his favourite helicopter pilot jus’ crash landed ‘ere.”

Your head snapped up at his words.

Merle Dixon, too? You weren’t sure you could handle them both.

Except, nobody moved to go and retrieve the older brother. Instead, a small asian man stepped forward — removing his baseball cap and wringing it in his hands.

“I can’t believe it,” he announced, eyes locked on you, “helicopter boy was telling the truth!”

You squinted at his words, trying to make sense of them amidst the heatstroke and blood loss.

But, you didn’t have to try for long. A second man stepped out from behind the frontline of people, also parting with his obnoxiously large hat as he did so. Except, this was no baseball cap; this was a damn country midwestern cowboy hat.

The badge in the centre of it caught the light and beamed it back directly into your eyes, making you cower away. The man shucked his hands into his pockets, and only then did you catch sight of him fully — clad in his King County Sheriff’s Department uniform .

Great, you sighed, letting your head flop back over Daryl’s arm. A fucking cop.

Dixon’s jaw clenched, too. You saw it above you — tensing.

“You come from Atlanta?” the officer questioned, “earlier today?”

That caught your attention. He’d been in Atlanta, too?

You definitely hadn’t seen any survivors on the flight over. But then again, it would’ve been nearly impossible to distinguish the dead from the living at that altitude. You swallowed thickly, and nodded.

“What happened to you?” he pressed.

The group’s chatter had died to a silence, and even Daryl seemed to await your answer.

“Engine failed,” you croaked, parched from a lack of water. “Couldn’t control the descent so I had to jump,” you cursed the last part, “too many trees.”

Then, you pinched Daryl’s arm lightly — feeling woozy from the sun. He nodded, and wordlessly stepped over the rotting corpse near his boot.

“You two know each other?” a voice interrupted, “and you just happened to find her?”

You didn’t like this man’s eyes; you hadn’t since you’d first caught a glimpse of them. He had dark, bouffant hair that seemed far too prim for the end of the world, and was wearing light cargo pants.

Then you noticed the dog tags hanging from his neck, and the combat boots which matched what you knew to be police-issued training gear.

Seriously, you thought, another one?

Daryl didn’t seem particularly fond of the guy, either, because he narrowed his eyes at him in the same way he did the biter at his feet. He looked as though he was considering ignoring him completely. And you couldn’t blame him.

It wasn’t like you were bleeding out, or anything.

“Was trackin’ tha’ deer,” he responded, toeing the dead animal with his boot. “Seen the bird go down an’ followed it.”

Daryl readjusted his grip on you, and you groaned from his heavy-handedness. But you didn’t miss his guilty expression.

After all, he probably tried to be gentle.

“An’ there she was, jus’ swingin’ from tha' tree like a big ol' piñata,” he finished — that southern drawl thick on his tongue.

You watched the other man’s jaw shift as though he were chewing on a bee, and spit at the ground like it had stung his mouth.

“You’re telling me that she crashed a damn helicopter in our backyard?” he barked, narrowing in on you with those sharp, dark eyes. “Drawing walkers from all over?”

Daryl shifted where he stood, making the leather of your jacket squeak as it rubbed together. You were beginning to feel like tinfoil in a microwave — cooking slowly in the sun as you waited for the men to finish brooding.

“Ya hear ‘nything?” the mechanic asked of the group, who turned away from his intense gaze one-by-one. “Din’t think so,” he spat, and you could practically hear his thoughts.

What a bunch of cowards.

“Was in the bow of the woods,” Daryl went on, eyeing the dark-haired man where he stood. “Land dips in at either side, like a noise tunnel.”

He paused, his eyes briefly flicking up to the sky as though seeing the scene once more.

“Only ones hearin’ it were the ones a’ready there.”

Daryl juggled you in his arms again, probably aching from the long trek, and seemed antsy to finally escape those heavy stares. But then, the man shook his head — as though remembering something.

“Now where’s my damn brother?” he growled.

And everyone’s eyes fell straight to the ground, like birds swooping down from the sky.

//

It would be an understatement to say that Daryl Dixon had exploded at the news.

He went nuclear.

If you hadn’t been in his arms at the time, you were certain that someone would’ve been on the receiving end of Daryl’s right hook. You’d seen it before, after all. That man wasn’t exactly one to pull his punches.

But, luckily, you had been there — crumpled in on yourself as the white hot pain also reached nuclear levels.

And so, you were ushered into a small, greyish tent that smelled faintly of oil and gasoline — and the unfortunate alcoholic stench of Merle Dixon — and stripped out of your jacket by a woman who tried her best to quell the bleeding.

But even then, you could still hear the storm raging outside the thin canvas material — the storm that went by the name of Dixon. He’d never shown that sort of temper around you before, so it came as a shock to see it brewing for yourself.

Yells competed with each other outside the tent walls, as a woman with short, greyish hair politely tended to your wounds — pretending she couldn’t hear anything at all.

But, you heard it and bolted upright, straight as an arrow.

Merle Dixon had been chained to a roof like a dog in Atlanta.

What fucking irony.

The smoking ban had loomed over rural Georgia for a while now, but it fell on the deaf ears of the regulars. They still smoked their thickly rolled cigars, and cheap cartons of cigarettes — clogging up the bar and your lungs every time you took a breath.

Dixon sat on the stool, watching as you wiped down the chestnut oak covered in sticky beer rings, and pulled new drinks for the impatient men twice your age. He was mulling over a particularly hard whiskey that day, but wouldn’t tell you the reason behind it.

So, you continued with your rounds until another man approached you, and took the only free seat beside the mechanic.

Big mistake, you smirked, and awaited his reaction.

Daryl Dixon shared barspace with no one - hence, the free seats on an otherwise crowded Friday night. Except, he did nothing but shoot the stranger a side-eyed glance, before returning to his whiskey that needed a top-up on ice.

The newcomer let his eyes slide down over you, in that sleazy way you’d become familiar with by now. He ran his tongue along the front of his teeth and tilted his head back in an exaggerated display of bravado.

And you snorted; you just couldn’t help it.

He scowled at you in response, as his gaze rested on the bare skin of your neck.

“Military dog,” he spat, despite your lack of tags, “where's yer collar?"

Beside him, the mechanic’s jaw clenched as he looked up from the ice melting in his glass.

You laughed. “Howdy, redneck, where’s your cousin?”

And Daryl choked on that same ice.

Surprisingly, the bitterness all but faded away from the unknown man’s face — as he seemed to take your comment in jest. He smirked, and wacked Daryl on the back forcefully as he hacked up his whiskey — yelling something about it being too damn expensive to go shooting out all over the bar.

You couldn’t understand the situation. You’d never seen Daryl act like that with anyone at Joe’s — let alone this particular breed of asshole.

“Feisty, jus’ how I like ‘em,” the stranger quipped back, sending a wink at you that lingered on your skin.

You pulled a face, and went back to wiping down the bar — careful not to lean over too much.

“Knock it off, Merle would’ya?” Daryl shot back, his voice rising in pitch over the name.

The other man — Merle — grinned, before clapping Daryl over the back once more. “No promises, lil’ brother,” he teased.

Then, he knocked back a drink you were certain he must’ve snuck in — because you sure as hell hadn’t poured it for him — and disappeared into the sea of drunkards playing pool and throwing darts haphazardly.

You froze, glancing over to the mechanic.

“That’s your brother? I’m so sorry-”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” he interrupted, before finishing his whiskey and handing you the empty glass. “Asshole deserved it.”

Back then, you saw no resemblance between Daryl and Merle Dixon — but, families always had a strange hold over a person. After all, that was the reason why you’d gotten shipped off to Georgia in the first place; your parents had swept you under the rug like a bad kept secret — simply to try and keep up appearances.

You’d followed your brother into the military, only for it to spit you back out and leave a bad taste in everyone’s mouths afterwards.

The tent door unzipped, and flapped as it caught the evening breeze.

Daryl entered like a hurricane, startling the woman — Carol — as she tended to you. He was followed by an entourage of curious faces who watched as he toed his boots off, and kicked them to the side.

“All of ya best get out,” he grumbled, as he peeled off his leather vest and set it down next to you — his eyes focused on your white shirt that had since been dyed red.

The group seemed to register his words, but no one made the move to leave.

The man let out a frustrated grunt, before fumbling with the small first-aid box near your feet. “Need to give ‘er stitches, an’ I ain’t need no one breathin’ down my neck,” he said, scowling down at the supplies.

You swallowed thickly, that didn’t sound very convincing.

A blonde woman near the tent entrance seemed to think the same, because she chirped up.

“You know how to do that?” she questioned — braver than any of the men who stood in stunned silence.

Daryl’s jaw set. “Y’ain’t believe me?” he bit back. “Think ‘m only good for spittin’ on the ground an’ feedin’ ya damn squirrels?”

The same woman recoiled at his words, and you sighed.

Always had a bark much worse than his bite, that one.

But then the man reached over for the hem of your shirt and you just froze — before slapping his hand away. He also recoiled with the same, exaggerated movements, and scowled at you as though your touch had burnt him.

You wanted to trust him, but part of you just couldn’t.

Daryl must’ve caught the look in your eyes — and recognised it for himself — because he sighed and shook his head, and glanced over at the women nearby.

“Anyone else know how to give stitches ‘round ‘ere?” he demanded, but the majority shook their heads.

All except one.

“I think I-” Carol piped up, before a burly man shot her a look so boldly threatening that it even made you flinch.

The woman paused over her words, before eventually shaking her head.

“I don’t. I’m sorry,” she mumbled, timidly, before that same man slipped his hand in hers and pulled her away.

You recognised that look, too.

And so the rest of the stragglers disappeared from the tent one-by-one, until only you and Daryl remained — deadlocked.

“C’mon, Camaro, quit yer bitchin’,” he coaxed, his voice more soft now that it was just the two of you. “Unless ya wanna bleed out o’er my tent.”

He had the needle and thread all prepared between his fingers, waiting for your permission.

You sighed. “You used to be a lot nicer, you know that?” you remarked, thinking back to the Dixon who shyly smoked cigarettes on that cliff’s edge, watching you like you were brighter than the stars.

You had noticed.

Then, you lifted up your shirt with your trembling hand, as he pressed onto your skin with his steady one.

And so Daryl gave you stitches — filling you up on Merle’s stash of whiskey to dull the pain — and muttering how, despite his work not being pretty, it’d be functional. You didn’t question how he’d come to learn how to sew butterfly stitches in the first place, thinking it best not to ask, nor did you comment on how gentle he wiped away the blood.

Always a man of his word, Daryl Dixon’s stitches were definitely not pretty.

But, to you, they looked like constellations.

He’d made it clear how lucky you’d been that it was only a surface injury; if it were anything deeper, he wouldn’t have been able to patch you up. It was probably thanks to that thick jacket that you’d managed to walk away from the crash mostly unscathed.

You’d seen him eyeing it occasionally as he worked, glancing over at the bloody leather that stained his tent floor.

Like hell would you be giving it back.

After that, he’d also managed to sneak Carol back inside — away from who you could only guess to be her husband. She’d told you that your arm wasn’t broken, but in fact dislocated, and helped set it back into place as your eyes stung with salt tears.

But you couldn’t complain.

After all, they’d tried to put you back together like humpty dumpty after your crash — albeit with staples and scotch tape.

Though, as soon as you were out of the woods and in the clear, Daryl pulled his boots back on and collected his things impatiently — not even sparing you a second glance.

“Where are you going?” you asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Your words left your mouth a bit slurred from the medical-whiskey concoction, but he only pretended not to hear them.

You asked again, until he finally responded. “‘M goin’ to get my damn brother back, where’d ya think?” he answered, frustration laced in his voice.

He stuffed a few things into his rucksack, before slinging it over his shoulder.

“Careful, Dixon,” you cautioned, “you have a habit of finding yourself in a mess when you let your temper get the best of you.”

The man scoffed, and made a point of looking you up and down — calling you hypocritical with his eyes alone.

“Don’ act like ya know me tha’ well,” he growled, startling you with his tone.

But, you couldn’t blame him for his words.

After all, you’d spent more time apart than you had together.

The man sighed. “Gotta go get Merle,” he reasoned, more carefully this time.

He flickered open the tent, and let in the sky. It was not yet black, but a burnt orange, as though preparing to be set alight with stars. It reminded you of those evenings you’d get to close up early, and walk past a certain auto-shop that still had its amber lights turned on, and its door wide open.

And the former mechanic started walking away, leaving you behind out on the sidewalk.

“Daryl-” you called after him.

The word spilled from your mouth like beer overflowing from a glass — pouring over before you could stop it.

He glanced back immediately.

You never called him that.

Even though you knew his name from other people’s tongues, he’d always been Dixon — ever since the moment you read it on his shoddy name-tag. Not once during the month you’d spent with him had you called him Daryl.

Not until now.

“It’s getting dark out,” you whispered, even though the sky was still clearly orange.

You swallowed the dryness from your throat — and with it, your pride.

“Please stay? Until morning?”

Dixon looked back at you, swaddled in one of his clean shirts that he’d buttoned up himself — making you look so small.

And he sighed. He always was the worst liar of them all.

“Jus’ ‘til mornin’,” he repeated, trudging back to that grey tent.

Then, he took a seat beside you, his knees knocking against yours. But you tried to fight against your smile, and racing heart that pounded deep in your chest.

Because what goes up must always come down.

Feedback is always welcomed; I love hearing what you all think - so feel free to comment, send in an ask, or just message me if you want to chat!

Also, if you enjoy my writing, you might want to buy me a coffee or commission me - tips are always appreciated. Thank you for reading!

A/N Boom. The series has officially been kicked off. Did you like seeing the parallels between Daryl’s POV in the prologue and the reader’s? I really hope you all enjoyed it - please let me know what you think :)

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[blookmallow]

rating spirit halloween’s new animatronics for 2021

or at least what’s showing as New Arrivals on the site for me. looks like we got 15 new arrivals listed here and im HYPE about them so here we go

the caretaker

pretty standard reaper character with a Gravedigger theme to it. hes... fine? nothing about this particularly stands out to me, but i dont dislike it at all. i like his gravestone. would be good for a graveyard set. i guess ill give him... 6.5/10

mr. dark

at first glance he also just looks like a standard reaper character (or voldemort. he definitely looks like voldemort now that i think about it) but it turns out he SPRINGS UP RIDICULOUSLY TALL LIKE A CURSED WACKY INFLATABLE TUBE MAN and the spring motion in the video is actually really fucking fast so, while this isn’t a lot different from other jumpscare animatronics, i gotta give him credit bc i guarantee this would have scared the fuck outta me in person. according to the site he’s almost 9 feet tall at his full height 

i expected him to jump out and scream but i did not expect. That. i feel like if you put him up on a stage or something to make him loom over people even more he’d be very menacing indeed. would also be really good if you put him behind something so you don’t see him until he's suddenly There

i like him, 8/10 springy spook man 

click for more 

grave grabber

pretty much just a zombie but he’s cute i like him. i like the green eyes. i dont know what it is about him in motion but the video makes him kind of endearing to me for some reason and i dont know why. 6/10

ophelia

at first for some reason i thought the monster’s name was ophelia but i think that’s supposed to be the name of the victim? i think the idea here is “girl haunted by a Nightmare” but the fact that the monster itself is so small and doesn’t actually have a body for the most part makes this unintentionally hilarious to me 

like. it. it’s so small. it’s just a little shoulder demon. it’s so cute 

psst. hey do we have any more cheetos

anyway i like how the girl’s eyes move back and forth but the sounds she makes are uncomfortable and she just looks so. stiff and solid and there doesn’t seem to be any movement at all other than her eyes and the monster peeking out so it’s just kind of weird to look at. it’s an interesting concept but the execution is just strange and unintentionally hilarious. 7/10 bc i still think its really funny 

someone should buy this and mod it into chrona and ragnarok 

harriet hustle

WE DID IT KIDS WE FINALLY GOT A FEMALE CLOWN ANIMATRONIC im so happy i could cry i wish my store had her set up i want to meet her  

i love how they have her hanging upside down like this, it makes it so much more visually interesting than the figures that just kinda stand there looking spooky, even though she doesn’t really Do much (she just swings and her head moves around a little, just laughs, doesn’t have spoken lines) 

i love her outfit i love her hair shes SO cute i love this little murder gremlin i love her i love her 

im still waiting on spirit to give us a female clown figure that isn’t “creepy little girl” (ive commented before on how their only female figures tend to be either the Old Hag or the Creepy Little Girl and not a lot else) but i absolutely love this all the same 20/10

this one is fun too because we also have: 

henry hustle

according to the description he’s actually harriet’s dad!! we have an evil clown father and daughter duo here and im LIVING for it

i dont think ive ever seen spirit do characters that are related to each other like this that’s so cute,

apparently his wife/harriet’s mother left them and ran off with the ringmaster. he’s a single father clown trying to raise his evil daughter clown and i support him wholeheartedly

there doesn’t seem to be any more animatronics on this storyline, we don’t have the mother here and the only ringmaster animatronic they have is the rotten ringmaster who was released previously, but i doubt he’s the homewrecker ringmaster in question. he Could Be. imagine if your wife left you for That. we dont even know if henry’s wife was also a clown or not. spirit halloween clown lore going on here

anyway i absolutely LOVE this clown, he does something INCREDIBLY STARTLING AND UNEXPECTED which i dont want to spoil for you. go watch his video and see what he does its great 

my absolute favorite type of halloween animatronic is the “does something completely unexpected” category and this one is ALSO a clown and a GOOD clown at that

and he’s got this great vintage clown style i really like, i love scary clowns like this that actually look like they could believably be a real guy and not just some kind of mutant Clown Monster 

and hes got cards!! card suit motif!!! i love it i love him this is a great clown 20/10 for him too

w. raith 

we have this one at my local store and listen to me. im completely obsessed with this ghost

it’s pretty much just a ghost but it’s SUCH A GOOD ghost. especially in this photo here with proper spooky lighting and everything. i would absolutely LOVE to see this in a haunt attraction, it looks SO good even in bright store lighting. i feel like this under the right lights and in the right environment could look SO fuckign cool  

the shredded rag look!!! the ethereal glow!! the weird jellyfishy movement!!! the classic wooOoO oO o o ooo noises!! this may perhaps be the ideal ghost. it is without flaw. a perfect specimen. i fuckign LOVE this ghost i want it so badly but i do not have the space or the money for this thing 15/10 w. raith my beloved. my true love. maybe one day 

buzzsaw

at first i was slightly disappointed to see that this guy didn’t have an actual name, but then in the description apparently his name is Bill “Buzzsaw” Jackson and his backstory is he tried to be a wrestler but it didnt go very well so he grafted weapons in place of his hands. i guess. you know, to be better at wrestling. i dont really understand it and i definitely would not have gone with “disgraced former wrestler” as the concept for this guy  

but anyway we have mr jackson at my store right now, he’s Big, i like him. he doesn’t really move very fast and doesn’t jump at you, he just kinda swings his saw around. for some reason he just seems friendly to me and i dont know why. makes me think of like an uncle dressed up for halloween rather than an actual murderer guy. i dont know i cant explain it but i like him hes my friend 8/10

wacky mole

this guy’s also at my store this year, i didn’t know his name was wacky mole fsdgjsdg

he’s listed as a new arrival, but i thought i remembered seeing him before, and the description says he’s a returning fan favorite, so. i guess this is a re-release 

anyway pretty standard Scary Monster Clown. his teeth look like candy corn. i like it but i think they should just Be candy corn. i like his colorscheme and his silly giant buttons. light up eyes are always a nice touch. he doesnt really stand out but hes overall a pretty good clown. 7/10

grim

good ol’ classic skeleton. he’s pretty nicely modeled though and i highly recommend watching the video for this guy because he moves REALLY well for a spirit animatronic, he’s got a way wider range of movement than most of them do and his head moves really nicely. one of the benefits of a skeleton animatronic is you don’t have to deal with lip movement, so his jaw movements match with his lines a lot more realistically. i like the animated glowing eyes too, it really gives him a lot of personality. he’s really interesting to watch. like, it’s just a skeleton, but it’s a really really good skeleton, so, 8/10 

BEETLEJUICE!!

i love love love franchise character animatronics and spirit has so much great beetlejuice stuff this seems well suited to them but looking at it............. hm. hm

he just looks so. stiff and his face comes across like, deer caught in the headlights to me. it Does Not look very natural but it looks slightly better in motion (he just swivels from side to side and says a few phrases but it somehow looks less. shellshocked when he’s moving) 

maybe not the greatest execution but maybe he looks better in person and im still hype to see him so 8/10 regardless 

night stalker

we have this guy at my store too, im still not really sure what’s going on with his arms (did he just rip loose from them and leave them behind? did someone do this to him? i dont know) but i love a good spooky scarecrow. love his Wiggles. hes a pretty good boy. 6.5/10

here we have another pennywise, it pretty much just pops out at you, but it’s still pretty good. i like the full size one they had before better, but this one’s slightly cheaper and would be easier to integrate into a haunted house attraction since he comes with a built in set piece. it looks good but doesn’t do much. 7.5/10 i guess 

GHOSTFACE!!!!

FUCK YES I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

please. please spirit halloween set him up in my store so i can see him

anyway hes got kind of the same issue beetlejuice has where the figure just. looks kind of stiff, and he looks more like a spooky ghost decoration than like, A Person. he doesnt seem to have any lines or anything either, he just kinda pops out. but then again i guess whenever we see ghostface in person in the movies he doesn’t usually talk anyway. i dont really know how id make this better but it seems a little underwhelming somehow. still hype to see it though. 7/10 i guess 

now if we could just get a jack torrance and a bela lugosi dracula id be content 

i would LOVE to see Red from Us but i doubt they’d do one. my other horror beloved is norman bates but i know if they made one of him it’d just be him in a dress waving a knife around (not that i wouldn’t still be hype to see him, but, y’know) (anyway. tangent. moving on) 

mr. howle 

it’s. a werewolf. he howls. that’s....... about it 

it’s a very nice looking werewolf, it’s a well designed figure and definitely looks very imposing, but it’s... just a werewolf. there’s not really anything particularly interesting or creative here. its a perfectly good werewolf. i dont have anything to say about this. 6.5/10 

i also just am not a werewolf person so maybe someone out there who has a greater appreciation for werewolves might like him more 

#spirit halloween #spirit 2021

[cashmeremars]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 || 𝐥.𝐣𝐧

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠:  jeno x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: jeno has always been your best friend, but he’s been feeling certain feelings and doesn’t know what to do about it. he prepares a speech to present on a winter day. will you walk with him on his love line?

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞:  fluff, non-idol!au, best friends to lovers

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4k+

𝐚/𝐧:  wrote this when i was 16 and it still makes my heart soft. this is also written in third person because it navigates how jeno feels about you rather than how you feel about him. i love jeno :(

“i want to walk with you on our love line”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The colour of love was delicate. The hushed pink tones emphasizing the softest features of one’s muse, shining a soft glow on the gaze of the eyes of one’s beloved. The colour of love was a warm glow on the flushed skin of an innocent blush. Although love accompanied the softest touches and warmest thoughts, the colour of love was dark. It sneaks up on you in your most vulnerable moments, taunting you, daring you to acknowledge it. The blush once seen as innocent becomes a nuisance as it accompanies a trembling voice and shaky hands. Love was almost too visible. It jumps out of one’s heart into the open to tease. Love was visible, but never to the one in which the love was directed to. 

Nevertheless, he still tried. He tried to bury it in the darkest depths of his rose-coloured heart. He tried to hide the soft pink that glazed his cheeks whenever she smiled at him. He tried to hide the way his breath faltered whenever she looked up at him and he saw swirls of the milky way in her eyes. He tried to hide it all. Despite all of the mush that squirmed around in his subconscious, he didn’t know if what he was feeling really was love. The day Jeno had realized he was in love was the day that his heart was coloured with a blooming red. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The pair had been out exploring the city when they spotted a duck pond on their way through a park. The girl cooed as she approached the pond, and Jeno quickly followed. Once they reached the pond the girl pulled a plastic bag from her backpack.

“What is that?” Jeno asked as he watched the girl in curiosity

“Bird seed” she replied nonchalantly as she shook it before opening it up

“Bird seed?” Jeno repeated

“Yeah” She smiled to herself as she reached into the bag and grabbed a handful of the bird seed.

“Do you always carry that around with you?” Jeno asked with a teasing laugh

“Of course. You never know who might need it” She smirked as she reached her hand out towards the ducks. A baby duck had approached the girl cautiously before it began eating from her hand. Jeno smiled as he watched her. She smiled brightly under the sun as the duck continued to eat her from her hand, quietly quacking when it had looked at her. 

“Don’t ducks like bread?” Jeno asked as he kneeled down beside her

“Jeno, bread can really damage the health of ducks, you know?” she spoke as a piece of hair flew into her eye, causing her to squint up at him.

“Oh. Didn’t know, but thanks for telling me” Jeno laughed as he pushed some of his own hair out of his eyes. 

The whistling wind and the running they had done had pushed their hair around immensely. Jeno averted his gaze to her reflection in the water; distorted, but beautiful. Her smile was still twinkling in the barely blue water. He found himself smiling to himself as she continued to feed the ducks. Then she turned her head to Jeno and laughed as the duck quacked, and when his eyes met hers, he felt as though his heart had spiralled onto the brink of uncharted territory. That’s when he knew. As fast as the clouds rolling in before a storm, he started to fall for the girl. He had been friends with her for years, but he found himself more drawn to her now than ever before. It was almost like everyday she revealed another part of her gracious heart, making him fall even harder. He found himself yearning to talk to her when they had spent days apart.

He tried to play it cool at first. He made sure that she never suspected a thing when he was around her. He wanted to keep his heart safe for as long as he could. At least until he was ready; and now, he was ready.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Jeno continued pacing back and forth in his room as the clock read 2:45 am. The only light was from his softly lit lamp glowing on his nightstand. Jeno yawned for the third time that hour as he rubbed his eyes. He’d been awake for hours trying to come up with a speech that would capture all of his emotions the way he wanted them to. He’d never been nervous for anything as he was for this. She was his first love, and he wanted everything to be special for her. 

The ping of Jeno’s phone had ripped his attention away from his dilemma, thrusting him back into reality. Jeno dragged his feet towards his nightstand and picked up his phone, lowering the brightness before checking the notification. Jeno’s heart pounded as his brain processed the current situation. It was her.

Hey, we’re still hanging out tomorrow right?

The text message read. It was a simple question, but Jeno being himself had begun to overthink. Why did she ask in the first place? Did something happen? Does she hate him now? Was there a miscommunication? Jeno’s fingers ghosted over his phone’s keyboard as he tried to think of a reply. His fingers stopped when he saw the three dots indicating ‘typing’ pop up. 

Just wondering. Nothing’s wrong

It’s almost as if she read his mind. Jeno laughed quietly to himself before typing a simple “yeah” as a reply. He saw the three dots pop up again before a message appeared

Why are you even up? It’s almost 3 am

The message read. Jeno’s heart skipped a beat as his brain once again went into overdrive. How was he supposed to explain to his best friend that he was thinking of ways to confess his love for her? He typed up a quick ‘No particular reason. I was heading to bed anyways’ as he let out a deep sigh. He hoped the reply wasn’t too out of character, or at least not enough for her to question it. As he was lost in thought once again, he hadn’t realized that another message had popped up until he got under his covers.

Okay, well get a good night’s sleep. I already worry about you enough and I’d rather not have you fall asleep on my shoulder. Sometimes you drool :/

Jeno smiled to himself as he read the message. ‘I promise not to drool on you, but I will admit that I love sleeping on your shoulder’ Jeno replied. Another message popped up and Jeno snickered quietly

You look cute when you sleep on my shoulder but your head is also heavier than it should be. Now go to sleep so I don’t have to worry any longer. Goodnight <3

Jeno sent a simple ‘goodnight’ before locking his phone and laying his head down on his pillow. A smile graced his face as he recalled her message. He called her cute. Jeno’s heart jumped at the thought of being called cute by his best friend, and the idea of her worrying about him was touching. Jeno’s mind bounced back and forth as he continued to think about the girl. Words plagued his thoughts, waiting for the day he could mutter them to the girl. As he continued trying to form his speech, he whispered quietly to himself,

“I try to act cool, but I can’t hide my heart. I think I’m in love with you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

As the days started to pass, Jeno found himself thinking about the girl even more than he previously had. The fact that she could possibly be his girlfriend had excited him to no end. It was what he dreamed about. Jeno thought about the way her nose wrinkled whenever she laughed, or the way her smile always reached her eyes, or the way her hands always found a place on his arm whenever she giggled. Her presence was one as cozy as warm vanilla, and he wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in it. His heart bloomed with rose-coloured feelings of fondness. If this was love, he never wanted to go a day without it.

Jeno grabbed his jacket before zipping it up and picking up his backpack. He looked at himself once more in the mirror before pulling out his phone.

‘Leaving the house. See you soon :)’

Jeno sent the message before shoving his phone in his pocket and opening the front door. The crisp autumn air danced its way into Jeno’s lungs as he inhaled. Jeno sighed before putting on his hoodie and walking out of the house, locking the door behind him. Jeno could see his own breath as he made his way towards the bus stop. As he walked on the sidewalk, under the autumn trees, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. After today, love would colour him. Jeno continued to smile to himself as he approached the bus shelter. Jeno sighed again and watched as a puff of cold air floated in front of his face. The bus wouldn’t arrive for another 5 minutes. Jeno peered out into the neighbourhood as he heard the sound of laughter from afar. It was one that resembled the laugh of the girl. Jeno smiled to himself as he remembered the last time they were together.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Graveyards are always so crowded” Jeno spoke quietly. He glanced at the girl and smiled expectantly. They were currently sitting on the floor of her bedroom, nearly on top of each other as they tried to find ways to diminish their boredom.

“What?” The girl asked in confusion as she stared up at Jeno. Her fingers were currently entwined with his as she mindlessly played with them. Jeno was trying his best to act like he didn’t notice, although he had noticed, and the slight blush blooming on his cheeks was a giveaway.

“People must be dying to get in there” Jeno smirked. There was a beat of silence before the pair burst into laughter. She leaned on him as she tried to catch her breath

“Jeno, shut up” She spoke as she hit Jeno’s shoulder. Jeno held his arm in mock pain before he laughed again.

“You know people always talk about picking their noses, but I feel like I was just born with mine” Jeno laughed again.

“Ew, Jeno. That was really lame” The girl stifled a laugh as she rolled her eyes. Jeno’s face had gone red as he continued laughing. 

“It wasn’t lame, it was hilarious. You just have a lame sense of humour.” Jeno defended himself as he leaned his head against the wall

“It wasn’t funny. You’re just boring” The girl spoke as she rested her head on the wall beside Jeno, placing her hands in his once again. It was simply platonic, but Jeno had always wished that it had meant more

“Sorry not all of us were born with Haechan’s humour” Jeno tilted his head to meet her eyes

“Maybe I don’t want you to be like Haechan” She smiled as she turned to face Jeno

“Really?” Jeno spoke as he raised his eyebrows, the smile never leaving his eyes

“Yeah.” She replied with a smirk “Besides, we all know Renjun is the funny one anyways” She spoke as she turned away from Jeno with a smirk.

“Shut up” Jeno chuckled as he pushed her shoulder lightly “You love my jokes” he continued before leaning his body on hers and placing his head on her shoulder, looking up at her expectantly.

“Maybe I do” The girl answered as she suppressed a smile

“Oh see! I knew you’d admit it. Now to boost my ego, tell me why you love my amazing humour” Jeno spoke as he lifted his head from the girl’s shoulder

“Love might be an overstatement, Jeno. But your jokes are so bad that it kinda gets amusing.” she sighed as she continued, “Maybe...you might be funny” she spoke with a sigh of defeat

“Funnier than Renjun and Haechan?” Jeno asked

“That’d be a lie. But if it counts for anything, I like you more than I like Renjun and Haechan” The girl said as she turned to look at Jeno once again. Their smiles were subtle as their eyes locked. Their faces were so close now. It would take just two seconds for Jeno to lean in, and kiss her. He could kiss her the way he’s been dreaming of for the past 2 years. But he couldn’t. He never did. So they looked at each other, their noses barely touching before one of them backed away. It had always been like this. 

“Good. I like you too.” Jeno whispered as he felt his face growing red. Jeno could never forget the way they looked at each other that day. It was cliché, but he felt like the whole world revolved around them. They were the only thing that mattered in the moment. As his eyes continued to look into hers, he felt his heart flutter. If this was love, he never wanted to live without it. As the days continued to pass, Jeno found himself calling the girl a lot more often just to hear her honey-laced voice; a voice that could soothe him into a deep sleep. He wouldn’t know what he’d do without her.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Jeno smiled to himself as he recalled that day. He looked around the bus shelter and focused his eyes on the frost patterns on the window as he tried to think of things to add to his speech. Jeno pulled out his notepad and huffed as he tapped his pen against the paper, trying to think of more sentences to add. Jeno sighed as he heard the bus from down the road. He was on his way to the girls house and he hadn’t felt prepared at all.  Jeno stood up from the bench and quietly practiced his speech as he saw the bus drove closer. Jeno scribbled quickly on his notepad before shoving it back into his backpack and heading towards the parked bus. 

“Your smile, your gestures, even the way you call my name. It all feels right.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Just as Jeno stepped out of the bus shelter, he felt a wave of panic hit him. There was no turning back now, the bus would only bring him closer to the girl. Jeno dug in his pocket and pulled out his bus pass, showing it to the bus driver with a smile before he moved to the back of the bus where it was fairly empty.

Jeno carefully leaned his head on the cold window as he watched the houses zoom past in a blur. He was getting closer and closer to his destination, and the thought of it made his stomach churn. This was his one chance to say everything he felt. To let love colour his heart. 

“I like you. No, wait- I love you. I think. It might be love. I’m not sure. Wait. No, it is love. It has to be. Okay let’s try again.” Jeno began to whisper to himself while mindlessly staring out the window. “Uhm, I’m in love with you - No that’s too forward isn’t it?” Jeno sighed to himself. “I like you as more than a friend, as in I like like you, like I like like you, like a lot-” 

“Are you alright? You’ve been muttering to yourself since you got on the bus” Jeno looked up and saw an elderly man watching him from the seat on the other side of the aisle with a curious smirk. Jeno’s cheeks blossomed a faint red as he found himself blushing once more; this time for a different reason.

“Oh I was just practicing” Jeno spoke, flustered to have been caught talking to himself.

“Practicing what? You seem a little nervous there” The man raised his eyebrows as he chuckled

“Oh,” Jeno sighed before he continued, “I’m gonna confess my feelings to my friend. I like her a lot and I really want to make this special for her.”

“Oh, she’s a special girl, huh?”

“Yeah. I don’t wanna mess anything up, and I don’t know what I’ll do if she rejects me.” Jeno averted his gaze as he spoke the last few words, the thought of it being too humiliating to even imagine.

“From what I understand. You seem like a kind young man with a big heart. You’re talking to yourself in public like a crazy person all for this one girl. If you’re putting in all this effort, that means that you know she feels the same way, otherwise, you wouldn’t bother. You’ve got this, and you’d both be lucky to have each other.”

“Thank you.” Jeno smiled shyly at the man’s kind words.

“Why don’t you give me a line you’re planning to say to her” The man said as he slightly turned to face Jeno

“Right now?” Jeno questioned as he took a peak around the fairly empty bus

“Of course. Who knows when I’ll ever see you again” The old man chuckled reassuringly

“Okay,” Jeno sighed before he continued

“I secretly think about you all day. I wanna walk with you on our love line with our hands held. Tell me you feel the same way.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The pair had left her house and had been wandering around the park for a while. The park was a place that sparked joy, even on the darkest days. As they walked down the path, Jeno couldn’t help but stare at the girl once again. The cool wind had left some of her hair wisped, and the moon had illuminated her features in the darkness, each moon beam gently reflecting against her skin. They’d been outside long enough for the clouds to turn into stars and the sun beams to turn into moon rays. The park was nearly empty. Under the midnight sky, it had only been the two of them in Jeno’s world. With their arms linked together they walked throughout the park.

“You’re staring” She spoke as they continued to walk

“I know” Jeno replied with sudden confidence

“Why?” She asked followed by a sniffle as they stopped in front of the pond they often spent their time at

“You look nice” Jeno smiled gently at the girl. The girl turned her head to look up at him and Jeno almost saw a twinkle in her eye

“Thanks” She smiled as she turned her head back towards the path, squeezing his arm slightly, while gently laying her head on his shoulder for a moment.

“You always look nice” Jeno spoke quietly. Despite how cold it was, Jeno felt his face heating up. He looked down at her and he was met with a slight silence.

“Are you alright, Jeno? You’ve kinda been in your own world for a while” The girl spoke after a while

“Yeah.” Jeno let out a breathy laugh as he took his hands out of his pocket  “Just a lot on my mind” He gestured

“Like?” The girl raised her eyebrows as she urged him to continue

“Just-” Jeno sighed as he tried to form the words properly, “Stuff” Jeno furrowed his brows and let out a sigh at his own words. Stuff? He had spent days thinking of the right things to say to her, and now all of that effort had disappeared.

“Stuff? Jeno, you can tell me things, you know?” She replied with a reassuring smile

“I know I can. This is just complicated” Jeno sighed once again as he struggled to explain. His heart started beating faster once again. It was almost time for Jeno to tell her the truth. He’d been preparing for this moment for days, only now, he didn’t feel prepared at all.

“I like complicated things.” She smiled before she continued “Tell me.” As she placed her hand on his arm reassuringly, Jeno felt his breath hitch.

“I’ve been trying to tell you for a while, but it’s just a lot and I get nervous and I always forget” Jeno replied as he began to become frustrated with himself. He fiddled with his fingers and furrowed his brows as he tried to recall the words that had been plaguing his mind for days.

“Jeno, it’s fine. Look, it’s just you and me here now. If you embarrass yourself or anything, no one will ever know. I trust you, you trust me. It’s just you and I. No one else.” She replied as she gently placed her glove covered hands on his cheeks flushed with pink due to the cold. She was right. There was no one there but the two of them.

Jeno placed his hands over hers, still placed gently on his cheeks. He held them for a moment before moving both of their hands away from his face, but never letting go of hers. He squeezed her hands as he took a deep breath in. As he gazed into her eyes, Jeno began the speech he had been waiting so long to reveal to her. 

“Under the same sky, looking at the same place, when I’m with you I can do anything. I try to act cool, but I can’t hide my heart. I think I’m in love with you. Your smile, your gestures, even the way you call my name. It all feels right. I secretly think about you all day.”  Love was dangerous. It coloured hearts however it felt. Jeno had poured his heart out into the midnight air, hoping that his words would fill the heart of the one his words were directed to.

“I wanna walk with you on our love line with our hands held.”  

As Jeno neared the end of his speech, he felt his heart blossom once more with the colour of love. A colour that once scared him was now a colour that he fully embraced. He stood in front of the girl in his full vulnerability, baring all of his feelings, his heart beating for her only. Jeno smiled as he spoke the last words.

“Tell me you feel the same way.” Jeno whispered shakily.

Love cannot be hidden. You can’t hide the lingering gazes, the unsteady breaths, the fluttering of the heart, or the longing touches. Cupid's arrow was on full display.

“Look in my eyes and tell me, so love can colour us.” Jeno whispered as he looked into the eyes of his beloved. Jeno felt at home; He felt safe and warm. She was his home.  Standing in front of the girl, Jeno was filled with nothing but hope as he whispered one final testament of his heart-struck emotions into the midnight air, loud enough for the girl to hear.

Words were not exchanged as the girl leaned into Jeno. Their lips pressed together in a soft proclamation of their newfound feelings. The blooming, rose-colored red of romance had coloured their hearts. She slowly leaned back as the wind howled past their flushed faces. 

“Wait, don’t pull away yet”  Jeno whispered as their noses brushed against each other. Breathing lightly as his eyes flickered from her lips to her eyes he spoke once more, “I just want to look at you.”

Under the midnight sky, they would walk on their love line. With their hands held. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n: the ending lowkey made me wanna cry :(

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#jeno #lee jeno #nct dream #nct #jeno imagine #jeno fanfic #jeno fluff #lee jeno imagine #lee jeno fanfic #lee jeno fluff #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct one shot #nct oneshot #jeno oneshot #jeno one shot #lee jeno one shot #lee jeno oneshot #nct dream imagine #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream oneshot #nct dream one shot #nct 2020 #nct smut

[daydream-believin]

Sure Took You Long Enough, Babe

Summary: (wlw) Reader pulls an all-nighter with coworker Zoe

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, uh i think i remember mentioning people doing drugs, that trademark wlw obliviousness

Word Count: 4374

a/n: g-g-gorlfren... *slaps roof of fic* this baby can fit so many gay fantasy tropes in it. yes, the bars in cali stay open till 4am idk

Your alarm blared it’s cheery tune, startling you awake. Strangely enough, the happy melody never inspired happiness, just rage. Yet, ever the eager beaver, you shot right up and slammed the button as you slid out of bed, not allowing yourself to dilly-dally. As much as you’d like to stay asleep for three more hours at the least, you forced yourself into a good start for the day. Today was the first day of your new part-time job at Hextech, and lucky you, you got the morning shift. Curse of being fresh meat, you supposed. As long as you could make it through the day without getting too terribly hazed, you’d be fine.

Back home in Arcadia Oaks for the summer, you’d needed a new job or you’d go crazy. What were you supposed to do? Relax? Nah. You’d start taking double shifts as soon as you could. It was a bit tricky finding somewhere that would be a good fit for you. Okay, that was a lie. It was a bit tricky finding somewhere that would even be willing to hire you, apparently. Really knocked your pride down a few pegs.

By a strike of fortune, you had been catching up with one of your old high school buddies over coffee yesterday. You know, the one you used to hang out in the graveyard and practice tarot reading with? Yeah, Evan. It was nice to be able to talk to someone who was just as excited as you were that My Chemical Romance was back. When you two ordered, he pulled out that old joke about taking his coffee black like his soul and it still made you laugh as much as it did in high school. Evan was doing good, new boyfriend, new job, new band. You felt happy for your friend. You were happy that he was happy. He deserved it.

After you’d lamented that you couldn’t find work, he told you about how lately he’d been working for that electronic store Hextech. Not subtly named, was it? He’d told you about how it was run by hedgewizards like you two. They only hired through connections, since they were a magical company run by magical people. You, thankfully, had one of those connections. Your buddy put in a good word for you and, just like that, you were in. They put you on the schedule crazy fast. Like, the first shift of the very next day fast. Good. You were going out of your mind having so much free time. Your relatives were starting to ask you *shutter* questions about your personal life.

You looked in the mirror, slicked back your hair into a neat style, and admired how you looked in your new work shirt. Of course, it would eventually join the trophy quilt of old work shirts you were making, but for now it was nice and new. A pretty baby blue, it will go well sewed next to the royal blue Domino’s shirt from last semester. You added about a dozen earrings to your ears as a finishing touch and headed downstairs. After downing your coffee and hastily scarfing down a still-warm blueberry muffin, you kissed your grandmother’s cheek goodbye as you headed out the door. You tossed a crumpled muffin to the crows waiting by the front door. The greedy bastards inhaled every crumb. As much as you loved having a job again, the sun was still asleep when you started your walk to work. Fuck that.

As you walked through the door at Hextech, you were astonished to see the absolute angel who was waiting there for you. An absolute angel who looked kinda hungover, actually. Well, it was 6 AM on a Sunday. The doors didn’t actually open to customers until seven, but you were here at the ass-crack of dawn so she could train you some before throwing you to the customer wolves. Said pink-haired angel introduced herself as Zoe. What a fitting name for someone as cute and feisty as her. You had to catch yourself from staring too much into her striking blue eyes, that reminded you of lightning, pure electricity, before she caught you. And really, they were distracting. It was hard to focus on what she was telling you, which was a bad thing since she was giving you vital information. You forced yourself to focus. As much as you could.

After going over the ropes of working the wizard-bar, she took you through a cool hidden door to show you around the back. The back had such wonderful rooms as the kitchen that someone microwaved fish in yesterday, workrooms, one of which had a poor guy who looked like her never left last night, tinkering away at some techy-thing, the room Zoe introduced as the room she went to scream in, and a common-room type thing with a sick floor to ceiling screen (or was it a window?), depicting a soothing nature scene. She told you that after you had been working in the front for a while and proved yourself, your bosses would move you up to the repairs and phone troubleshooting. Maybe even invention if you were talented enough. That filled you with dread, despite the inspiration it was supposed to be. You had to admit, you knew almost nothing about the technical/repairs side of electronics and you did not belong here. You were more of a coding/hacking type of hedgewizard. You’d have to fake it till you make it. You were sure Zoe could tell you were bullshitting through this, but thankfully she was gracious enough not to call you out on it. Although, you didn’t mind that impish grin that found it’s place on her face.

Damn. You did not need to get involved with a coworker. No matter how enchanting she was. Or how pretty. This was just a summer job. You would be moving back across California for school soon enough and you were not going to do long-distance again. Although, is a few hours really that long? Definitely not as long as your last relationship. Shut up shut up shut up. No. You don’t even know if this chick is into girls, don’t get ahead of yourself. Mmm, she is very pretty though. You can admire from afar. What’s the harm in that?

There was much, much harm. Stars, you had it bad. You had only been at Hextech for a month now and it felt like hell. Perhaps it was hell. Maybe you were dead, and this was your eternal punishment. Damned to forever pine after the loveliest wizard you had ever met. She took a liking to you instantly too, inviting you out for drinks that first night, and every weekend after that. And she’d invited you over to her place for movie nights and to hang out with her friends. Some nights she’d take you to go dancing with her. She’d taken to calling you Baby. Perfectly normal things for gals being pals right. You guessed this is what girl besties do. You wouldn’t know, you’d only ever really hung with guys. Really feminine goth guys, sure, but guys nonetheless. She seemed hellbent on spending time with you. Not that you were complaining, but it just made your emotions stronger. And harder to shove back into the abyss.

~ ~ ~

One Friday night, you two were just chilling up in your bedroom. A rest before one of coworker’s birthday party tomorrow night. Zoe was telling you that she really wanted to try out a new makeup technique. And you told her she could try it out on you. The joy that painted itself across her features is something that will be burned into your memory forever. But not as high a degree of burn as what came next. Zoe straddled your waist, eyeliner pen in hand, and pushed you back against the headboard so she could better reach your eyes. Your breath caught in your throat. You were helpless to do anything but stare at her face that was in super close proximity to yours. You were caught in a trance as you obeyed when she told you to do this or that so she could properly apply the makeup. Her pink lips were pursed in concentration, and her pink banged strayed into her face. Her signature pink style matched the pink of your cheeks. You were sure she could feel your heart pounding, her elbows were on your chest, basically. She moved on to eyeshadow. Weird, you were always an eyeshadow first kinda person but who were you to critique this goddess’s methods. As she rolled on the perfectly matching lipstick onto your lips, you couldn’t help but think about this being an indirect kiss. This lipstick has been all over her lips and now it’s on yours? Stars.

Once she was finished with her masterpiece, she leaned back to take a good look at it. You felt the heat blaze under your skin as her blue eyes scanned your face. Finally, she seemed satisfied and nodded. Zoe helped you up and you went to go check it out in the mirror hanging on your wall. It was brightly colored, garish even, yet perfect, in your opinion. Like Zoe’s personality distilled into something you could wear. She crept up behind you and put her hands on your shoulders as you both admired her skills.

“My best work yet if I do say so, Y/n,” She grinned like a Cheshire cat, “Hmm, I know it’s already like, 3 in the morning and we’re supposed to be relaxing, but we should go and show this off.”

You both had a shift in four hours but you didn’t know how to say no to those eyes. “Alright, Zo,”

You grabbed your jackets on the way out, careful not to wake any of the other inhabitants of the house, but unable to keep the giggles in. Zoe had thought it would be fun to swap jackets, and you weren’t going to say no to that. Her jacket was cozy, black leather, and smelled of her rosy perfume. You never wanted to take it off. When you put it on, her eyes lingered on your form, commenting how good it made you look. You were very thankful for the cover of darkness that hid your flush, rosy like her perfume. You thought she looked marvelous in yours too, but you weren’t as brave in order to say that out loud.

Suddenly you were in some club across town, being introduced to Zoe’s friend Mimi who was working the bar that night. Mimi looked you up and down, then cocked her brows and clicked her tongue, while nodded to Zoe? Who turned pink and angrily said something under her breath to her friend. You couldn’t make out what she said over the music, you were too busy trying not to put too much weight on this interaction. Telling your heart to stop jumping. Jumping just gets you hurt. Mimi snickered as she scurried off to the other side of the bar to fix up your drinks after Zoe finished her rant. She turned back to you and laughed nervously, leaning on the bar.

“That Mimi. What a card.” You nodded in response, not sure what to say.

You three chatted while you sipped at your drinks. Zoe had ordered you something fruity, sweet, and vibrantly colored. It was very tasty, whatever it was. Must have had a high percentage because your head was already fuzzy with just this one. You stopped after finishing it, not fancying being drunk at work, but Zoe got another. Her alcohol tolerance was way stronger than yours. You fucking lightweight. Mimi had started cleaning up since the bar closed soon. Zoe grabbed your hand unexpectedly.

“How about we dance until we get kicked out, Babe?” She said with a sparkle in her eye.

“Uh- y- yeah,” was all you managed to get out before she pulled you over to the dance floor. It was almost vacant, since it was nearing 4am and most people had either moved on for the night, passed out on one of the club’s couches, or were getting their fix in the bathroom. Nice. It was like the floor was just for you two. Zoe was really jazzed, spinning you around to whatever trashy party song was playing. It was infectious. Her energy, not the song. You were having a lot of fun with the pink girl dancing with you. She tossed her hair back laughing at one point. Right then and there, you decided to throw all those things stopping you out the window. If you missed her come fall, you’d just drive the trip to see her. It would be worth it.

The other trio of people who had been dancing left, and now it really was just you two. It would have felt like just you two even if the floor was full. As the current song ended, the DJ looked at you in sympathy. “Alright guys, this is the last song okay, we close in ten.” He switched it to a Viper song.

“OH! I love this song!” Zoe’s smile got even bigger. You didn’t know that was possible. Somehow, she got an energy boost too. You had completely no idea how the firecracker you were with could stay lit well into the morning. If it wasn’t for your manic pixie dream girl here, you’d be groggy by now. She flittered around you, having a blast. It was adorable. She mouthed the words of the song to you, which would have been rather cute if they hadn’t been considerably sexual lyrics. You felt that blush come back for the umpteenth time that night. And she had that impish grin plastered across her face again, like she knew what she was doing. Zoe had gotten closer to you as the song winded down, you hadn’t noticed until it faded out altogether. Your eyes were wide. She booped your nose, giggling. You blinked, surprised. You felt your heart squeeze at how fucking cute that was.

She took your hand again as she pulled you over to go give Mimi a quick hug goodbye before you two left. You still had two and a half hours to kill until your shifts started at six thirty. Zoe’s favourite coffee house wouldn’t be open until five. As much as a nap sounded good right now, you both knew that it would just make you sleepier. And grumpier from being woken up after such a short time. Might as well pull out an old goth kid staple.

“Wanna go hang around in the graveyard?”

~ ~ ~

Zoe tossed her head back laughing so hard she hit the gravestone she was leaning against.

“Oof, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” She rubbed her head and turned back to look check the name on the engraving, “Sorry Howard.”

“It’s too late, he’s offended now and he’s gonna haunt us,” you snickered, “Nice going, Zo.”

“Don’t worry Baby, I’ve been working on my exorcism skills. You know, since a certain dumbass brought spirits into the party last week.” Ah, Douxie, what a guy. Of course he hadn’t meant to ruin everyone’s night and release those ghosts. It just sort of happened. He was accident prone and you didn’t understand why people trusted him with cursed stuff like that to begin with. Luckily, within the number of wizards gathered, you guys were eventually able to find a way to banish all the spirits before any real harm came of it. It wasn’t a bad way to spend a Friday night. You got to live out your childhood dream of being a ghostbuster.

You looked around. The cemetery wasn’t as spooky as most people thought it was. Sure, there were strange noises, and endless headstones with disembodied names that meant nothing, and creepy mausoleums that cast big shadows in the moonlight, and a creaky gate that swung back and forth whether there was wind or not, but it wasn’t scary. Well, maybe that was just because you’d spent most nights of your teen years here, so you were desensitized to it. Zoe didn’t seem to mind it one bit either.

You glanced up and saw three of your crow friends on the top of the mausoleum across from you and Zoe. If crows could smirk these would be smirking. Fuckers. They were always around whenever you’d go out with Zoe. Watching so they could tease you later. Damn nosy birds. Why did you ever start feeding them. They were even there in a set of three, just to mock you. They may as well be singing “Y/n and Zoe sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

You ignored the crows, pulling out your phone and flipping to your ebook app. Because you know what would make this just like old times? Some dramatic goth poetry. What a way to woo a girl. Zoe was fond of the idea of some poetry reading too. She told you that you could pick. At first you thought to read some Poe, perhaps starting with ‘Serenade’, but decided against it lest the bastards on the roof started demanding you read them ‘the Raven’. It’s happened before. You settled on some Keats instead. And you knew the perfect poem. A poem you could put all your emotions into. The most sapphic poem ever written by a man, in your opinion. If she didn’t feel the same, you could always deny it and say that you were just getting way into character. Either way it was going to make work weird, but you didn’t think you gave a fuck anymore. Here goes nothing.

“Had I a man’s fair form, then might my sighs

Be echoed swiftly through that ivory shell

Thine ear, and find they gentle heart; so well

Would passion arm me for the enterprise:” You took a big gulp of air. Zoe’s gaze was locked on you, and that didn’t make this any less nerve-wracking. You could feel your hands shaking. “But ah! I am no knight whose foreman dies;

No cuirass glistens on my bosom’s swell;

I am no happy shepherd of the dell

Whose lips have trembled with a maiden’s eyes.” With those words, a sudden burst of boldness in your heart caused you to take her hand. Must be the alcohol. Yes, that which hath made them drunk hath made you bold. Zoe didn’t appear to be breathing anymore. You looked back into her electric blue eyes. “Yet must I dote upon thee, --call thee sweet,

Sweeter by far than Hybla’s honied roses

When steeped in dew rich to intoxication

Ah! I will taste that dew, for me ‘tis meet,” Your voice became breathy as you uttered these last verses. “And when the moon her pallid face discloses,

I’ll gather some by spells, and incantation.” You just froze there, breathing. The ball was in Zoe’s court now. Speak of the devil, she was really close, like really close. When did she get so close. You hadn’t realized. She lifted a finger to your face and brushed a loose strand of hair behind you ear. Your breath caught in your throat. She drew closer, your noses touching now. Her eyes slipped down into a half lid. Your eyes flicked to her lips and she watched you. It occurred to you that she was waiting for you to close the gap. So you did.

It was fireworks. Of course, you were kissing a firecracker herself. It was a sweet kiss, but laced with that fire. You both pulled back for air, but quickly returned to each other’s lips. Zoe’s hands drifted down to your hips and she pulled you into her lap, leaning back up against that headstone. And now you were snogging in the cemetery. Mary Shelley would be proud. Howard, however, was probably pissed off for sure now.

Your breaths mingled as you gasped for air. Zoe caressed your cheek, cupping your face. She chuckled, “It sure took you long enough, Babe. I was starting to think I’d have to spell it out for you.”

You all but collapsed back into her arms, exasperated. Stars, it sure did take you long enough, didn’t it. You could hear and feel Zoe’s snort through her chest. You raised back up to gaze into those baby blues. A pang of adoration shot through your heart like one of cupid’s cursed arrows.

“How about I buy coffee, for our first official date?” Zoe agreed to your offer. You got off of her, legs wobbling like a baby deer. Speaking of deer, you were happy to see that the herd that usually hangs out here in the graveyard in the early hours was peacefully grazing around you two. You hadn’t noticed them come in, too busy snogging. You reached out a hand and helped Zoe up. You two brushed the grass off your clothes and gave one last apology to Howard before setting off for the coffee shop. Zoe checked her phone for the time. It was 5:23, you two still had almost a full hour to spend lounging in the coffeeshop before you had to head off to Hextech. Zoe reached for your hand as you walked back to Zoe’s bike. You threaded your fingers together. Something as small as that shouldn’t have felt as nice as it did. But it did.

You completely adored riding on the back of Zoe’s motorcycle. You got to cling to her, arms around her waist, pretending that you were holding her for romantic reasons and not so you wouldn’t fall off a moving automobile. You wouldn’t have to just pretend any longer now. The thought made you giddy. And now that you think about it, that was probably why Zoe had insisted on giving you rides everywhere for the past month. You were so fucking oblivious. It was painful. Thank the stars above she was patient with you. You snuggled further into her back, inhaling that rosy perfume. It truly was intoxicating, Keats. A girl could get used to this.

~ ~ ~

The coffee house barista recognized you two as you walked in and started making your orders that he had memorized. He greeted you cordially as you handed over the cash. He looked down at Zoe’s hand joined with yours, raising his eyebrows teasingly but not saying anything. Did everyone in this fucking town know about you two before you did? You think you might have beaten that Parisian catboy at his own game. How embarrassing.

Zoe got cozy on you guy’s usual couch while you carried over the coffee. After you set the mugs on the coffee table and plopped down, Zoe swung her legs up onto the couch, and over your lap. Didn’t exactly take you by surprise. Zoe often sat like this. You were used to it. Wait, was this also flirting? Stars, you didn’t even know anymore. This was so confusing. She noticed the face journey you had taken with the internal struggle, and grinned, shrugging her arm around your shoulders to ease you. You snatched your cup of the table and downed as much as you could handle before it got too hot. You were still really nervous, despite her being very clear about how she felt, and Zoe thought that was pretty funny.

“So, we’re gonna have to say something to people tonight,” Zoe started.

You just nodded in response. Hopefully this wasn’t going to make anything weird. You hadn’t been working at Hextech long enough to know how the dynamics worked. Maybe someone had been pining after Zoe too and now hated you. Maybe someone was Zoe’s ex and now hated you. Maybe someone was just really homophobic and now hated you. There were plenty of possibilities, you could go on.

“I was thinking we should wear these matching dresses I found last week, and sort of bought already, to double our cute couple factor.” She had murmured that middle part but you still heard it loud and clear. You had to hold back a squeak. That was so sweet. And adorable. She just saw the dresses in the shop and thought to herself ‘I want to wear that with Y/n’? You could die right now. You settled for downing more of that coffee.

“Yes! That’s so cool? I- What color are they?” You didn’t know how to handle this.

Zoe pulled out her phone and leaned over to show you the pics she took of them. They were matching, made of the same brown floral-patterned fabric, but different styles. Either one would go great with Zoe’s leather jacket, which you were still wearing. You’d go for your denim one. Not the purple jacket that currently hung off Zoe’s shoulders. The colors wouldn’t clash but the style of it would. This was going to be awesome, anyways. Matching dresses, telling your friends the best news you’ve had all year, having fun at the party, not having to spend the whole night miserably shoving your feelings aside? You couldn’t wait.

“Which one do you want?” You picked the looser, more flowy one. Zoe was more comfortable with tight stuff that showed off her body. You had a sneaking suspicion she already knew you’d pick that one, and was giving you the illusion of choice. It was sweet, really. Your phone alarm went off, alerting you that it was time to start the walk for work. All the relaxing time was gone. A crying shame, but you’d still get to spend the day with your favourite person just the same, so not truly that big of a loss. Albeit, Zoe didn’t look too pleased to have to go back to work. Laughing, you stood to your feet, and held out your arm for her to link through.

“Shall we go milady?” You two waved to the barista as you headed out the door. “I think you should do our makeup for the party again, really show off this time.” Zoe perked up, excited at the prospect as Hextech neared.

“And I’ll show off my hot new girlfriend too.” There was that damned blush again.

#why does she not have a last name #how do i tag this #toa zoe #tales of arcadia x reader #toa zoe x reader #toa zoe imagine #zoe x reader #tales of arcadia imagine #zoe imagine #my writing

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: Día de los Muertos

GIF not mine! 

Dwayne x Reader 

Word Count: 2,810

Summary: Now that Halloween is over, it’s time for Day of the Dead. Dwayne celebrates with the reader and their family. In honor of the brown, mostly likely Latinx, people of Santa Carla as shown in the opening title sequence. 

It was a cool California night, the air carrying just a hint of ocean salt.

You had split from the other boys earlier to enjoy some time alone together, something that could be hard to come by given how close the four of them were. Once the two of you had slipped away, Dwayne brought you to a section of the beach that had trees, an area where soil converted to, and mixed with, sand.

Gracefully scaling the tree, Dwayne bent down, extending his hands so you he could pull you up. He settled back against the tree trunk and seated you in his lap, facing him with his hands resting on your bottom.

At this point in the fall there weren’t many beach goers who came out after dark. The temperatures were too cold for the locals and the tourist season was winding down.

Dwayne and you were the type to not mind sitting together in comfortable silence. You were a little drowsy this late into the night so you snuggled into his chest and rested your eyes for a bit. You could feel Dwayne stroking your hair which turned your muscles to liquid. The moment was so peaceful, it was hard to tell whether twenty minutes or twenty hours had passed.

“Love you,” he murmured quietly.

Those three words had you suddenly wide awake and you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw.

“I love you, too.”

You couldn’t stop the big smile from lighting up your face. It’s not that you didn’t know that he loved you; after all, you two had been a long-term item. He showed it every day through his gentle touches and supportive actions. It’s just that he didn’t often convey it with words. When he did it made you extra giddy.

And on that particular night, it gave you the courage to bring up something you had been meaning to ask him. “Hey Dwayne?”

“Yeah?”

You scooted backwards so you could talk to him properly. “Do you want to do Día de los Muertos with me this year? I mean, don’t feel obligated. The whole family will be there, and it’s right after Halloween but—”

He silenced your rambling with a kiss. “Of course. Besides, I love your parent. Your brother on the other hand…”

You wrapped him in your arms and squeezed tight.

“Don’t worry,” you grinned. “I’ll protect you.”

Dwayne snorted. As an immortal creature of the night, he could handle himself just fine. In fact, you were the one the needed protecting more often than not seeing as how you were the fleshy, fragile human.

So he was more than capable of physically handling your brother. It’s just that your brother was really hard on anyone who dated any of his younger siblings and he had had his fair share of arguments with your boyfriend. In his eyes no one was good enough for any of you. But you doubted that he’d be stupid enough to start something during a holiday celebration lest he risk facing your mom’s wrath.

Dwayne planned to meet you and the family at the graveyard off of 2nd Street first to help with the duties there before continuing the festivities at the house.

Speaking of home, you must have fell asleep because the next thing you knew, Dwayne was silently creeping up the stairs to take you to your bedroom. He tucked you in and the last thing you remembered in your mostly unconscious state was him kissing you goodnight. Then he disappeared and you drifted off to sleep

 _______________

Dwayne rolled into the cemetery a little before nine o’clock, like you guys had agreed, looking a little more modest for the occasion. Well, modest for him. His dark hair was still loose and wild, his ivory earring present. Black Chuck Taylors covered his feet and his jeans were ripped at the knees. But he was wearing a clean white shirt and he had switched his normal jaguar jacket for a solid leather one.

“Mijo!” your mom cried when she saw him. She enveloped him in a tight hug and the size difference between the two of them was as comical as it always was. Parting with a couple hard pats against his back, she yelled at everyone to come say hello to your boyfriend.

Dwayne knew your dad and siblings and was introduced to the extended family as they lined up to greet him. Your mom acted as the middle person.

“This is my mother… these are my sisters and their families… my brother, his wife, and their kids… my uncle and his daughter, my cousin and his wife…”

Dwayne shook all of the hands and accepted their hugs like a champ. At this point in the relationship he was no longer awkward with all the hugging, but he was good at remembering names which had always impressed your family given how many of you there were.

Finally, you interjected on his behalf so you could have time with him. You shooed them way and they went back to their assigned jobs.

“Y/N,” your mom directed. “Show Dwayne what to do.”

“Guess that means you’re stuck with me,” you joked.

“Perfect,” he said draping his arm around your shoulders.

You took him to the two graves that you were in charge of. All the graves that belonged to your family were split up and assigned to the living members. Your mom’s side had been in Santa Carla for four generations, meaning there were plenty of graves to clean up.

Your dad was the first in his family to live in Satna Carla so there wasn’t any work to do for that side.

You had been given your great-grandparents on that Día de los Muertos, so that’s where you and Dwayne headed. Luckily, those graves were a little further apart from the others which gave you more privacy with him.

You explained to him every year your family descended upon the graveyard to pay respect and spruce up the family graves.

“Not that the groundskeepers don’t do a good job, but it’s tradition that we clean up their graves on Day of the Dead to show that we still care for them.

Dwayne took the rake to remove some of the dead foliage and you wiped down the headstones with a rag and bucket. The water turned a murky brown color when you rung the rag out, which wasn’t pleasant, but you were satisfied that the grime was coming out.

You finished by placing a bouquet in front of both graves, barely-there-wisps of smoke from small candles curling upwards into the night air.

“How come we’re not doing the alters here at the cemetery?” Dwayne asked.

You looked at him, surprised that he caught that.

“I’ve seen it done before, you know. Just never done it myself is all,” he said defensively.

“Careful. Your inner old man is peaking out,” you teased.

He suddenly tackled you to the ground, extremely careful not to injure you or disturb anything in the vicinity. You were very aware of the way his toned body pressed into yours. He raised one of his eyebrows. Definitely not an old man, you gulped.

“Um, the alter thing. We call them ofrendas. We stopped doing it out here a while back because people complained.”

He looked at you, asking you without words to elaborate.

“The fact that a bunch of Latinos were hanging out in a cemetery, after dark, to essentially throw a party rubbed other people in town the wrong way.”

You rolled your head to the side to glance at the other tombstones from your position under Dwayne. “Now we just come here to clean up.  The fun stuff still happens though, we just do it at the house instead.”

“Bigots,” he grumbled. “I can take care of anyone who complains, you know? It’ll be a win-win for you and for me.”

He sat up and pulled you with so that you were upright too. You laughed at his proposal knowing that his proposal was entirely serious. Dwayne was such a protective boy.

“Thanks, amor, but that would require killing more people than you think. I promise we’re doing just fine this way.”

He huffed but let it go. You both looked at the graves you had finished with, satisfied that you had done a good job. The ancestors should be pleased.

“Come on,” you prompted, “Let’s go see if anyone else needs help.”

The efforts of the gathered small army, aka the family, meant that the work was finished quickly and it was soon time to take the party elsewhere. You told your parents that you were riding with Dwayne, which your brother overheard and didn’t like.

Dwayne gave him his most intimidating stare and you prepared to go on the defensive, but he didn’t get in one whole sentence before your mom there, slapping the back of his head. “Ay mijo,” she chastised.

She gave you a quick blessing and sent you on your way. You stuck your tongue out at your brother for good measure then climbed onto Dwayne’s bike. He patted your thigh twice in quick succession before squealing off a little louder than normal and you knew exactly who that was for.

Dwayne was an excellent driver and you were perfectly safe with him, however, that didn’t mean he drove slowly. He easily beat back everyone else in your family. You decided to start getting thing ready, knowing that you would be judged for sitting around when there was stuff to be do.

The pan was already done, having been baked earlier that day so you only had to arrange them on a platter. Dwayne helped fill coolers with ice and then added beer and pop. That’s all that there was time to do before the others started trickling in, which you took as your cue to hand the reigns over to the more qualified adults.

Excited to show Dwayne the ofrenda set-up in the living room, you noticed that he wasn’t in the kitchen where you left him. After a short search, you found him in the backyard sipping beer with your dad and some of the tíos.

You tried your best to sneak up on him, tickling him on his sides. You pouted when he wasn’t even phased and merely placed his hands on top of yours. His vampire scenes tended to see your surprises coming from a mile away, but still you never gave up trying.

“Come on, let’s go look at the ofrenda.”

Slipping back inside the house, one of your tías immediately pushed food into Dwayne’s hands as he passed by. He accepted it with the same politeness that had won your parents over when you first started dating. He took a small bite while you led him to the living room and hummed in delight.

“This is good.”

The ofrenda was impossible to miss once you entered the room. A large table covered in a yellow table cloth was set up against a wall, a large assortment of marigold blooms, candles, food, and other decorations spread out all around. In the middle, wooden racks where stacked up on one another and contained framed photographs of deceased family members.

Directly behind the table hung colorful paper cutouts, or papel picados, on cords which were tapped on the wall. Near by wall shelves were also filled with candles and some painted skulls.

“I see beer,” Dwayne said, pointing to the unopened glass bottles that were present in the display.

“You would point out that part.”

Bringing him closer to the ofrenda, you explained what was what. “The beer and the food are for the dead to enjoy since their spirits are here with us tonight.”

Dwayne nodded, intrigued. “This kind of marigold is called cempasúchil. It’s a traditional flower we use for Día de Muertos because it’s bright and will attract spirits. The candles and skulls are also common.”

One of the skulls in particular caught his attention and he carefully picked it up and turned it over in his hand. He smiled. “You painted this one.”

Your face felt like it was burning. That was your skull.

“I can tell,” he continued. “The yellow polka dots and purple flowers gave you away.”

Those were indeed your go-to designs and colors when drawing. And even though his keen observation skills shouldn’t surprise you anymore, you were still amazed at how he picked yours out without hesitation.

Clearing your throat to get yourself back on track, you point to a grainy black and white photo. “These are my maternal great-grandparents sitting with some of their kids. They’re the ones whose grave we did.”

“Actually, I think I knew them.”

Your mouth dropped. It was only after a minute that his lip started to twitch and you figured out he was playing with you. His ability to hold a straight face was maddening at times.

“Just because I’m old, doesn’t mean I know everyone from here,” he reminded you.

“Point taken. But you really did meet my grandpa back in the day.”

When Dwayne had first been invited to family dinner back when you had first started dating, it was hard for him not to look at all of the family pictures hanging on the walls. Later on, when you were outside hugging him good-bye he dropped that bomb on you.

He had noticed a picture of your grandpa and recognized him because he had worked on Dwayne’s motorcycle twice during the 1920s. You were incredulous. Your grandpa had recently died so it was surreal to hear that your boyfriend had not only met him, but met him before you were born.

Dwayne doubted your grandpa would have identified him had he still been alive since their interaction had been so brief.

Dwayne only remembered him because he was one of the few mechanics that took appointments after dark and he was pretty accepting, something that hadn’t always been true for the tan vampire at all points in the past.

Certain periods were worse than others, so when he did open up and speak about his memories you tried to be empathetic.

“I’m glad he was good to you,” you said in the present. You squeezed his hand and he squeezed back.

You went through the other relatives, introducing them to Dwayne photo by photo, sharing stories about them that had been shared with your over the years. He held you in his arms, content to listen to everything you were telling him.

Eventually you wandered to the couch to sit down. Everything was so lively and joyful.

Other conversations carried on around you as your family laughed and reminisced. An aging radio that sat in the kitchen played tunes in Spanish, unseen but heard. The younger kids would periodically run by, shouting and chasing each other.

Time passed quickly as it tended to do during parties and soon enough Dwayne was trying to leave as the festivities wound down. Trying being the operative word. He had been held up at the front door for nearly fifteen minutes while still there everyone said their good-byes.

“Here you go, Dwayne.” Your mom shoved a bag into his arms that was filled with several containers of tamales, rice, and sweets. ���Give some to your friends, too. Boys need a lot of food and you all looked skinny when I saw them last time.”

He face betrayed nothing but there was a shine in his eyes that let you know he found the familiar ‘food’ spiel entertaining.

“Alright, I’m walking him to his bike,” you said with finality. You slammed the door shut, cutting off the voices behind you. “Sorry about them.”

“I’ve told you many times that I like them. Don’t be embarrassed. They remind me of… my family.”

He didn’t have to specify which family he meant. You could tell that he was referring to his human one. As rare as talking about past memories was, talking about memories of his family was even more rare.

“So, don’t apologize for them. Please.”

He opened his arms and you walked into them. He placed his hand on the back of your head and, trying to be sneaky about it, you put your hand into one his jacket pockets. You weren’t sure if he honestly didn’t feel it, or if he was letting you have your moment, but he didn’t stop you.

When he arrived back at the cave after leaving you with sweet parting kisses, he remained seated on his bike and pulled out your gift. A small black skull and some marigold blooms. He unfolded the note and read it to himself.

For the ones you’ve lost.

He turned the skull painted with red and yellow designs over in his hands and smiled.

_______________

Thanks for checking this out. I hope it was a good read! I also realized I may have outed myself by calling it pop instead of soda, but oh well.

#the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys dwayne #imagines

[aloysiavirgata]

The Way That Light Attaches To A Girl

Title:  The Way That Light Attaches To A Girl

Author: Aloysia Virgata

Rating: PG (language)

Timeline: Season 1

Summary:  Maybe she’s not so bad, this gingery little doctor.

Author’s Notes:  Mulder reads Cicero and finds the method of loci tool useful in honing an eidetic memory. Also, the timeline of this show is absurd. Per canon, the Pilot is in March of 1992. But here it’s March of 1993 because...I just can’t, honestly. Thank you to @perplexistan for reminding me that I wrote this in 2013, and talking me through the timeline.

*** It's been a long December and there's reason to believe Maybe this year will be better than the last I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself To hold on to these moments as they pass - Counting Crows *** It’s gritty outside, gritty and gray with a rime of salt on everything. There are pockets of rotten snow for him to kick, slushy and satisfying against his heavy shoes. He pulls his coat tighter, feeling like a hard-boiled detective in a pulp paperback, thinking this would be a good time for a cigarette if he still smoked. His divorce papers were filed this time last year, just like his parents’ had been a couple decades back. The ink had scarcely been dry on the marriage certificate when they realized they didn’t know each other and changed their minds. It was the same time Diana left him and his - their - files for whatever the fuck had summoned her across the sea. Paperwork, as ever in his life, was all that remained of these experiences. If this were really a detective story, he thinks, stepping over a soggy Washington Post, a tall cool blonde would have walked in through the frozen mist and into his arms. Someone lithe, with red lipstick and half-lidded violet eyes. She would look like Veronica Lake and speak in a low, compelling voice, urging him to do brave and outlandish things to thwart the Nazis. He’d wear a fedora, buy a mink stole for the blonde. They’d drink martinis and make love in dark hotels smelling of leather and intrigue. But he’s not living in a dime-store novel, he’s living in Alexandria on Christmas Eve 1993 (“The New Age of Angels,” claimed Time magazine, somewhat cryptically) and is eager to turn the last page in his calendar. Mulder knows it’s symbolic only, that his Eurocentrism is showing, but he still watches the ball drop on TV. Last year he’d kissed a woman in a bar and gone home with her too, but doesn’t think he’d remember her face if he saw it. He hasn’t got the energy to entice a stranger this year, and Scully’s hardly his type. He shouldn’t be sleeping with coworkers anyway, it’s never worth the trouble and the FBI is full of people who are paid to do nothing but sniff out secrets. Besides, he is now 32 years old which is really about time to start getting your shit together even if your baby sister was abducted by aliens at Thanksgiving. Mulder generally holds the holidays in low regard. He pauses to watch a small flock of cats at an upended trash can, feasting upon pungent things like battlefield ravens. One of the cats glances at him sidelong, narrowing round yellow eyes as though Mulder has designs on the gray thing it’s gnawing at. He holds his hands up to show the cats he wishes them no harm, keeps walking. Scully had offered to drive him home but he thanked her and caught the blue line, the clank and rattle of the train making him feel like some variety of normal businessman. Maybe people thought he was a banker or a Congressional staffer, going home to a twinkling Douglas fir and a mantle hung with stockings. Nine months and a broken condom can, in many circumstances, result in a whole new person. But it’s been nine months with Scully and she’s still her own woman, though Christ knows Mulder’s tried to remake her in his own image. She’s trudged alongside him through graveyards, military bases, bad diners, and one memorable night in Pennsylvania where she had captured a frantic bat in the hotel lobby. (“Do you want to wait for it to take human form before I release it?” she’d asked drily.) Through all of it she remained disbelieving and supercilious, leaving him vexed. She’d chirped “Merry Christmas, Mulder” at him, assuming that he celebrated Christmas and was capable of merriment. He was afraid Scully’d bring in a little Charlie Brown tree for the office, ornaments smooth and shining as her earnest face. She is skeptical in all the wrong ways and probably has the Michael Bolton Christmas album on her stereo at this very moment. She probably has eggnog in the fridge and will drink it without rum. She probably likes fruitcake and ham with pineapple rings on it. Mulder, going home to the shadows of his apartment where he might listen to Pink Floyd and nurse his resentment with three fingers of whiskey, feels justified in his scorn. A couple loaded with gifts pushes past him and he nearly loses his balance on a patch of black ice, clutches at a lamp post. He gazes up at the endless sky as snow begins to fall again. (Scully’s probably delighted by the prospect of a white Christmas, probably whistling a few bars of the song as she puts on a green sweater.) But he’s being unfair, isn’t he? For all her tattling back to the higher ups, she’s never tried to present herself as an angel. Her primary fault is in not being Diana, not being a tall dark moon goddess. Being pretty rather than beautiful, being frank rather than alluring. He’s seen her smoking a couple of times, discovered that she says “Jesus!” a lot so that she doesn’t say “fuck” or “shit.” This amuses him; he thought the blasphemy would be worse. He knows Scully watches what she eats but turns to carbohydrates and wine in times of stress. He found out she was sleeping with that asshole Jack Willis, which really threw him for a loop because Scully has a schoolteacherish quality that led him to presume premarital abstinence. He thinks of her in that first motel room, her smooth back beneath his hands, her panic turning on some masculine caveman switch. It’s been a long year, perhaps she could be his type after all despite her sensible underwear. She’s attractive enough if you like that sort of Hibernian look. He can tell she’s a bit awed by him and he could manipulate that to his advantage. Mulder walks the last slushy block thinking impious thoughts about Catholic school uniforms and playing doctor. The honeycomb tile of his building is muddied, layered with fragments of leaves and footprints. A radio blares something about Barbra Streisand doing her first live concert in twenty years. Mulder shakes his head and imagines his mother on the Vineyard, frothing with excitement. “Merry Christmas Agent Mulder,” says Leo, the maintenance guy. Leo’s got some kind of intellectual disability that Mulder hasn’t bothered to diagnose, but he’s always quick to replace a kicked-in lock or a shot-out window, and Mulder therefore regards him as a master craftsman. He gives Leo money every year at Christmas. At present he’s attacking the hallway sludge with an ancient mop. “Merry Christmas, Leo.” He gets his mail, sorting through it as he ambles to the elevator. Bill; bill; Playboy; Christmas cards from his doctor, dentist, and insurance agent; coupons; a thick manila envelope from the divorce attorney. Mulder rolls it all into a bundle and shoves it under his arm. He’s fumbling with his keys when the elevator deposits him on the fourth floor. There are wreaths on most of the doors in his building, a handful of mezuzas. Number 42, as usual, conforms to no given standard. He stops when he sees Scully leaning against his door. “Um,” he says. “Hey.” She waves her fingertips, looking uncomfortable. She’s holding a cardboard FedEx envelope. “I forgot to give you this before you left.” “Okay,” he says, uncertain about the idea of Scully on his turf. “Hang on a sec.” He makes sure the packet from the lawyer is hidden, though she’s probably heard the whole story. He knows what the talk is. They all act like he’s John fucking Douglas, like he can guess what number they’re thinking of based on how they part their hair. He’s a sideshow act, the guy who can think like John Roche and Monty Props. A freak. Scully turns to slouch against the wall while he jiggles the latest lock open, wishing there were a convenient place to stash a can of WD-40. “So, uh, come on in, I guess.” She turns, walks under his arm as he hold the door open, and stands in the entryway. The door clicks shut behind him, a final sound. Mulder puts his mail on the kitchen counter, tossing his coat over it. “You want anything to drink?” he calls to her, unsure if he can make good on the offer. What the hell does Scully drink? Tea? Zima? He’s got a few beers in the fridge, his wife’s wine is long finished. “No, I’m good.” Her coat’s draped over her arm when he comes back out, and he hangs it up for her. He notices that she’s wearing jeans with a navy cable-knit sweater, no tartan in sight. Her boots are dark and practical. Mulder shrugs off his jacket, loosens his tie out of its regulation noose. “Here, sit down. There’s, uh, the couch is right over there.” His couch is the atramentous green of algae, appearing black in the close room. “So what’s up?” She holds out the folder to him. “I realized I had this when I got home and since it’s a three day weekend, I wanted to make sure you had it. I thought it might be important.” Scully sits down close to the edge of the couch, much of her weight on her knees. She presses her hands together between them after Mulder takes the envelope, bouncing a little bit. He looks at the return address and groans. Arlinsky, that idiot from the Smithsonian. Mulder’s got enough credibility issues without this nutcase on his tail. He tosses the envelope on his cluttered desk for later perusal. Scully, as the messenger, looks apologetic. “Bad news?” He sits next to her, why not? “Nah, just…you know. The usual.” “Ah.” He watches her do a quick scan of his apartment. He has nothing to be ashamed of, she can look around. Mulder removes his tie completely now, untucks his shirt and leans into the corner of his couch. “So I’m surprised you’re here, Scully. I got the impression Christmas was a…thing. For your family.” He waves his hand vaguely, as though families are something he read about in a Margaret Mead article but never fully understood. Something closes in Scully’s face, which intrigues him. Discomfort usually comes with a good story, but he’ll tease it out of her later. She scratches her elbow, stalling. “I’m going to go by my parents’ house tomorrow.” “Not tonight? No big Scully celebration with stockings hung by the fire and cookies for Santa?” He has picked these ideas up from Oxford and Christmas music. Santa would probably prefer a cold longneck and some nachos. “My sister’s coming in tomorrow, she’s staying with my parents so they’re getting everything ready tonight. My younger brother and his family too, they’re getting in late.” Scully looks faintly guilty for this wealth of relatives. Which one of them are you avoiding, Dana? “Fun,” he says in a tone that he hopes is not sarcastic. Scully shrugs, picks at the cuff of her sweater. “Yeah, it’ll be good. I’ll get to see my niece and nephew. What about you? What are you doing?” “Oh, just…you know. Laying low.” He’s meeting up with the Gunmen for Chinese food and bootleg video games from some Japanese guy they know, but he’s not ready to tell Scully about them. In part because she might want to meet them and would end up charging Frohike with a sex crime. “Sounds good,” she says in a non-judgmental tone. “I could use some down time myself.” “Job wearing on you?” Going to wimp out and request a transfer? She puffs a breath of air out, pushes the tip of her tongue to her top lip. “No. Well, I mean, it’s hard. We travel so much, I didn’t do that before and it’s taking some adjustment.” Mulder drapes an arm over the back of the couch, wishing he could take his pants off and order a pizza. But he wants to know more about what drives her; Diana left him wary of unknown quantities, and this is his first opportunity to peer into Scully’s head. “Yeah, I guess they mostly shipped the cadavers to you before, huh? When you were doing doctor things?” He sees a slight narrowing of her eyes at this, the implication that she’s not a doctor now. The fact that she took it as an insult means it’s a vulnerability. “Mostly.” He decides to push it, being as he has home field advantage. “How come you decided to stop practicing medicine?” Scully sits up straight, her palms on the tops of her thighs. “I didn’t realize I had.” Prickly. “Oh, sorry, no offense. I just….you left your residency to join the FBI, right?” Faker, he knows her career trajectory down to the day. “My work as a Special Agent has always revolved around my background in forensic pathology. I just felt…called to the FBI as the place to best put those skills to use.” Called, religious imagery. Interesting. Her reply had a rehearsed sound, it’s something she’s repeated numerous times. Who gives her grief about being an FBI agent? A younger brother wouldn’t, would probably look up to that. Mom or Dad, most likely, though it could be one of the older siblings. He’d put his money on Dad or big brother based on the cold formality of her words. Both men are in the military, she’d speak to that. And big brother wasn’t mentioned as being in town, so Dad it is. He throws her a bone for revealing so much. “I’ve heard nothing but commendations.” “Thanks.” The appreciation seems genuine. “So what about you, Mulder? Why….this?” Scully holds her arms out like an orchestra conductor. The gesture encompasses his desk, the groaning bookshelves and fading newspaper clippings. Area 51, Reticulans, ectoplasm, and jackalopes. “Study hard what interests you the most in the most undisciplined, irreverent and original manner possible,” he quotes. “Feynman.” Scully knows her physicists. “It’s the perfect con, really. I figured out a way to get the federal government to pay for my hobbies.” He hopes that will satisfy her, but knows better. “Why is it your hobby?” Ah, Scully. You little investigator, you. “I’m a lousy knitter.” She smiles. “Because of your sister?” He steeples his fingertips, taps them against his chin. It’s tempting to blow her off, but he considers the implications of her presence. There was no reason to bring that letter by; she could have called and he could have told her to round-file it. She’s trying to build something between them, she’s looking past his annoyance with her assignment and he’s not going to slap her hand away on Christmas Eve. “Hold that thought,” he says. Mulder goes to the kitchen for the beers and the churchkey magnet stuck to the freezer. He checks for food, but a cursory examination reveals that Scully is going to have to make do with some brews. She’s peering into the fish tank when he returns, scrutinizing the inhabitants. “I think one of your mollies is pregnant,” she says. “That spotted one.” “Yeah, they’re prolific little cannibals. Here, Scully. Have a drink.” He holds the bottle out to her when she turns, watches her hesitate for an instant before accepting. “Thanks,” she says. “Though I probably shouldn’t.” She pops the lid off when he’s done with the opener. Takes a long drink. “So,” he says, returning to his seat on the couch. “Why do I spend my time looking for ET and yetis, right?” Scully rolls the bottle between her palms. “It’s hard for me to understand why someone with your abilities chooses to use those gifts this way.” Once she rides out this dogleg, Mulder thinks, she’ll go far in the Bureau with her careful diplomacy. “When my sister was…taken, it was the first time that none of the authority figures in my life had an answer. Not my parents, my teachers, the police…no one could tell me what had happened. Years went by and there was still no solution. People stopped thinking about it, you know? They just acted like she was gone and that’s all there was to it.” “But not you.” Her voice is gentle. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that this was a question with an answer, even if no one wanted to delve deeper into what that answer was. I became, well, obsessed with the idea that there were all of these mysteries out there with answers that people were uncomfortable finding. So when I found the X-Files…” He glances sidelong at his partner, her nutmeg freckles and her cinnamon hair. “Isn’t that what you were doing already, though? Solving impossible cases?” He shrugs. “They weren’t impossible. They followed a pattern if you knew what to look for. But what I do now, no one wants the answer, Scully. That’s the real challenge.” “You caught Monty Props. Props, Jesus, that case is legendary! I want to understand, I do. I see what you’re saying about the challenge, it does make a kind of sense. But when I think about the people you stopped…” She shakes her head. She doesn’t get it. But she’s trying instead of dismissing him. That’s something. “That’s just it. Your reaction, it’s…look. Serial killers, they’re sexy. The public loves them. Everyone wants to be Bill Patterson or, or… Jack Crawford, right? People still read about Jack the Ripper, they practically turn these psychopaths into folk heroes. There will never be a shortage of people wanting to do what I did.” Half the beer is gone in his next swallow. Scully looks thoughtful, her thumbnail at the damp corner of the label on her bottle. “So this is like, what? Like a martyr thing? If you walk away from the limelight for this then it makes up for never knowing what happened to your sister?” She turns her head to give him a level gaze, her eyes so blue and clear they seem artificial at times. He’s been called worse than a martyr, but somehow it stings. “Martyr? That’s condescending.” “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry. I just, I guess it’s hard for me to understand what you hope to gain. What all this means to you in the end.” Mulder’s had enough of her analysis. “I’m not like you, I don’t crave approval.” It’s her turn to look stung. “I didn’t mean to pry.” He sighs. “Your questions aren’t unfair. It’s been a hard year.” “I heard.” There’s sympathy in her tone and he tries not to resent it. “Listen, Scully, I know you didn’t ask for this assignment and you’re doing your best with a bad hand. It’s just hard to share a career I’m passionate about with someone who pretty clearly thinks it’s a waste of time.” Scully sets her beer on the coffee table, resting her elbows on her knees, her hands cupped around her chin. Mulder props his feet up next to her bottle, patient in the silence. There are deep shadows in the room, illuminated by the ambient streetlight through the curtains, the cool blue aquarium lamp. Puddles of light leak from the kitchen, but they barely stain the rug. Scully looks like a Hitchcock girl, white and pure, untouched by the surrounding gloom. She reminds him of Ingrid Bergman or Greta Garbo, her good bones and heavy-lidded eyes. “You know,” Scully says, muffled, “Pathology’s hardly the hottest specialty in med school. It’s not really seen as a place to make a career.” “The malpractice can’t be bad though, right?” She rolls her eyes. “You spend years of your life learning to care for the living and use it to examine the dead. People have…opinions about that.” This had not occurred to him, and he says as much. Scully sits up and settles back into the couch. “And to then take that to the FBI, well…” Full circle to the truth. “Lots of grief for that?” She shrugs. “From some more than others. My dad, he – look, Mulder. I’m not saying we’re in the same place or have the same ideas or that we’re both noble misunderstood renegades. I am not trying to oversimplify anything. I’m just telling you that I know what it’s like to care deeply about something that other people don’t necessarily understand.” She looks defensive after this, takes a fierce swig of her beer. Mulder eyes her up with a new appreciation. “I guess I just figured all doctors sit on pedestals.” “If so, some of the pedestals are much higher than others. I know you don’t like me, Mulder. Or at least you don’t like our partnership. We may never be friends, I realize that. But it’s been three quarters of a year, you have to let your guard down if we’re going to work together. I want what you want, answers to these questions.” He smiles at her. A real smile, and thinks that it’s been a long time since he’s done it. “But you still think I’m spooky.” Scully smiles back. “Absolutely. And I still don’t believe in aliens. Or yetis. Or missing time or vampires or Nessie. But that doesn’t mean I don’t believe there are answers.” He scratches his chin, five o’clock shadow rough on his fingertips. Maybe she’s not so bad, this gingery little doctor. “I did say I wanted a challenge.” “You did at that.” She returns her bottle to the table, then turns to face him. The aquarium provides a ghostly backlight, her hair gleaming like rubbed copper. He holds this image of Scully in his mind until it is indelible, then tucks it away to remember her by. The Rhetorica ad Herennium advises sensory encoding to aid in recall, and so he places her in the sunlit portrait gallery of his memory palace. Scully stands, crosses the room to take her coat from the rack. “I’m sorry the letter wasn’t good news.” Mulder gets up to join her. “It’s okay.” He squints when she opens the door, the hallway so bright it hurts his eyes. “Thanks for bringing it by.” “Okay, well, I’ll see you on Monday, I guess.” She seems hesitant to go. She probably feels sorry for him. “Thanks for the drink. And the company.” “Go,” he says. “You don’t want coal in your stocking for oversleeping tomorrow.” She laughs a little, then takes his hands in her small white ones. She gives them a squeeze. “This is going to be okay, Mulder.” He thinks she might be right, squeezes back. She lets go of him, walks out and turns right. He locks up behind her, her perfume still lingering on his side of the door. Diana’s not coming home. It’s time that he moved on.

#my fic #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #season 1 #new years eve

[notsoharsh]

Let’s Grab a Bite || Miriam & Harsh

Timing: A week ago Location: Eluria Cemetery Participants: @meflemming​ and @notsoharsh​ Summary: Harsh and Miriam skip out on a party to find common ground over a late night snack. Content warnings: Quick medical blood mention

Eluria Cemetery was almost like a tourist trap as far as Harsh was concerned. Maybe he was getting old, but there was something about the ragers that new vampires threw that just seemed exhausting now. They didn’t have the same shine as they used to when he would dive right into the middle. He had come by to get a couple drinks, but his attention had started waning before he had finished his first solo cup of spiked blood. Waving off a few enthusiastic hangers on, he wandered his way out of the large crypt. The night air was still and cool away from the stuffy tomb. Cup still dangling from his fingers, he found a headstone to lean against as his eyes drifted over the cemetery. A solitary figure caught his eye. A woman, but an unfamiliar one. She didn’t look like the rager type either. Idly, he pushed himself off the headstone, slowly sauntering over. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. If you’re here for the party, I should warn you, it’s pretty lame.” 

Being around others of her “kind” always made Miriam a little perturbed. It wasn’t that she disliked other vampires. She simply didn’t care to get to know them. She had better things to do than go to Teeth or the Bloody Stake to indulge in blood with the rest of her cohorts. In fact, she had never been particularly attracted to the idea of sharing a meal with someone. Her meal tended to be long and messy, and she didn’t have time to share. So… she didn’t particularly understand why she’d been drawn to the party going on in Eluria. She’d been hunting magic users when she’d stumbled across it, the noise with a distinct lack of heartbeats catching her attention. She decided to watch a bit on the outskirts, intrigued and a bit disturbed by what was going on inside the crypt. They all seemed to be having fun, certainly. But she didn’t feel a part of them. She didn’t feel a part of anything. She noticed the gentleman walking towards her, though, and she gave him a charming smile. “I’m not one for parties, I’m afraid. Keep to myself, you know. And, well, if you say the party’s lame, darling, then I’m inclined to believe you. You seem like the type to know.”

“Oh, I do. I can spot a boring rager from a mile away.” Harsh offered his hand. “I’m Harsh, by the way. Are you new in town?” He couldn’t remember ever seeing her around, but then again, it wasn’t like he had been there particularly long either. There were always more vampires crawling out of the woodwork. He could probably live in White Crest for a hundred years and never quite meet all of them. Still, it never hurt to make a few new friends. Hanging around humans always posed a risk. There was a chance they might notice just how chilled his fingers were, or the smell of their blood might get a little too enticing. Though the music drifting from the party was on the edges of his awareness, he couldn’t pick up a heartbeat from the stranger. But, in White Crest, that could mean a whole mess of things. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Harsh. I’m Miriam,” she said, taking his hand. She gave him a wide grin. “Not new, no, I’ve lived here my whole life, actually. I just… had to leave for a bit.” Not that she could really leave town, a fact that embittered her every time she thought about it. She thought about the mausoleum on her property, of all the years she spent willingly trapped in there, not conscious but not sleeping, either. “What about you? Have you been in town very long?” She looked at the party going on a short distance away and gave a slight snort. “Besides being around long enough to tell a bad party from a good one, of course.” She felt uncomfortable even being within this proximity to the party. Not that she didn’t love parties; at least, she had when she was alive. There was just something that she didn’t really connect with when it came to supernatural ragers. They distracted her from her goals.

“Oh yeah? A local huh. Well, I’ve only been here for a little while, but I can’t blame you for needing to get away for a bit. This place is… kind of a lot,” Harsh said, with a little chuckle. Though he had only arrived some months ago, it felt like a few years worth of insanity had happened in that time. “Nah, not too long, well… actually, I think I’m getting near to six months now, so I guess that’s a decent while.” Following her look, Harsh nodded. “Well, that’s something I picked up way before White Crest. That one’s going to fizzle out fast. Y’know, I was thinking of going for a walk, I wouldn’t mind some company if you don’t have anything else going on tonight. How about it? Maybe we could even find something to eat?” The wink he added on was probably unnecessary, but if never hurt to tack on a little extra charm. 

“A lot is a terrible understatement,” Miriam said, smiling at this stranger. “But it’s home. Nowhere else I can ever hope to be. You get used to it.” She cocked her head a bit and nodded. Yes, she’d been awake for about six months, give or take. “I think the last six months have been the weirdest I’ve ever experienced in my time living here, which is saying something, truly.” Of all the witches and vampires, werewolves and fae, none of them had ever caused as much trouble as the last six months. It was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. Miriam cast her eyes back to the party that she’d had no interest in to begin with and then back to the vampire in front of her, one of the few she’d met that she actually found interesting. She grinned. “Well, when a gentleman like you ask, how could a lady possibly say no? A walk and a bite to eat would be lovely.” She wasn’t even particularly thirsty. Maybe she just craved the company. “Tell me, Harsh, what’s your favorite flavor?”

“Fair enough,” Harsh said, with a little chuckle. He definitely couldn’t argue with that. “Huh, I wonder if it’s just gotten extra weird recently. I’ve kinda traveled a lot and I’ve never been anywhere with as much weird as White Crest. It keeps things interesting at least.” As exhausting as the place could be, Harsh couldn’t recall the last time he was bored. Between the killer mimes and all the other nonsense that seemed to make the front page every few days, there was always something to keep busy with. Smiling, he moved to fall into step at Miriam’s side. The smell of death was everywhere, pretty normal. Somewhere past that, toward the edge of the graveyard, there was something a little more lively. Maybe a jogger or someone out walking their dog. Whoever they were, it probably wasn’t their lucky night. “Hmm, depends what I’m in the mood for, I guess. I like spicy things most of the time… but I don’t mind a little B positive now and then. What about you?”

“It wasn’t this strange, when I was growing up,” Miriam said, though she frowned. “Or, if it was, it was a lot easier to ignore. You’re certainly right, though. Never a dull moment around here.” She looked at him, interested and curious. “Where all have you traveled to? I haven’t been out in the world too much.” She regretted that, now. She should have traveled when she was alive, before she was stuck here, forever a prisoner in the place she’d always called home, haven. She supposed there were worse places to be trapped. At least White Crest was familiar. She glanced towards the sound of life, a heartbeat, a quickened pulse. It didn’t stir her appetite so much as remind her that she could go for a bite, if she were so inclined. And, looking at the gentleman beside her, she felt inclined. “Spicy things are nice, the stronger the better. Just so that it has any flavor at all. I find I’m not particularly picky, though,” she paused, “magic users. I think that’s my particular flavor of choice.” Miriam laughed, keeping her tone light. “ Of course, I know it’s just my mind probably playing tricks on me, but, I don’t know. I like to imagine that the magic in their blood gives it an extra kick.”

“Huh, I wonder if something’s changed,” Harsh said, frowning. It would make sense. If a place was always as weird as White Crest, why would anyone still live there? “Oh, all over. I cruised around Europe for a while, spent a couple years in India, then Australia. I’m, uh, a little older than I look. I sort of get this itch when I’ve been in one place for too long, y’know?” There was also the fact that… by the time Harsh left a place, he usually wasn’t exactly welcome there anymore. “Spellcasters huh? They do have a little kick to them sometimes, you’re not wrong. I remember this one guy I ate--he said he was a warlock or something, what a nerd--but he was the best I’d had in a while.” It was freeing, talking about eating people without worrying that he was about to get staked. He spent so much time, too much, trying to be normal, to pretend like he fit in with boring old humans. Not having to constantly watch his words, play the sweet little goody goody, it was a massive relief. The heartbeat was getting closer, a bouncing, healthy thrum. Harsh licked his lips. “So, do you wanna do the honors, or do you want me to grab dinner?”

“Maybe it’s aliens,” Miriam mused. “That used to be a big theory for some of the weirdness back in the eighties. Or maybe someone opened a portal to hell and let all the monsters out.” She grinned a bit. “More fun for us, huh?” She listen to him talk about where all he’s been, fascinated and more than a little jealous. “What’s your favorite place, that you’ve been? The place that makes you the happiest, or that you think is the prettiest?” It had been stupid, in her youth, to not enjoy the world while she could. “We’re all a bit older than we look, I suppose, though I’m only,” she paused, trying to remember, “sixty? Not old, by our standards, I suppose.” Though, how the hell was she supposed to know? Her interactions with vampires were limited, to say the least. “Spellcasters. My husband was one. Technically, I suppose he’s still one. A very dead one, along with the rest of his wretched family. The blood’s nice. The screams are better.” Miriam could so rarely talk about this. Morgan would judge her for it, hate her for it, and Evelyn… Miriam didn’t want to bring Evelyn into any of this at all. Both of them knew about her preferences, but they couldn’t understand it. Not like Harsh possibly, hopefully could. “Oh, you do the honors, darling. I wasn’t expecting a meal, anyway, so this is a real treat. I’m following your lead.”

“Could be. I feel like aliens would want to land somewhere a little more interesting though. Hell portal sounds about right though.” With all the strangeness Harsh had seen, that actually didn’t seem all that far off. It would explain some of the things he had seen at the hospital. “My favorite, oh that’s tough. Probably Paris, I hung out in the catacombs for a while.” He glanced over her, nodding a little. She didn’t look sixty, but then, he didn’t look over a hundred. The whole not aging thing definitely had its perks. “That’s not bad. I’m a little older than that… just take sixty and add a hundred. Or two.” It was weird saying it out loud. He had been telling people he was just twenty-eight for more than two centuries, it almost felt wrong. A little smile curled onto his face. “So you like it when they scream? Y’know, I gotta say, a little background noise makes it even sweeter. I usually try to keep them quiet, but sometimes, it’s nice to know you can still scare the shit out of people.” People were so desensitized these days, especially here. Grin growing, Harsh nodded. He didn’t need much more encouragement than that. They were closer now, enough to make out the jogger. The poor idiot was headed right for them. Bad night to try to get some exercise. Harsh let his pace quicken. Two beats of their heart, three. Harsh struck the second they were in reach. He jabbed sharply, catching their throat, leaving them stumbling and wheezing, momentum still carrying them a few more steps. Harsh was there in an instant, the jogger’s leg crunching soundly as he brought his foot down. They were still coughing, struggling to scramble away when Harsh’s teeth sank into their arm. 

“What?” Miriam asked with mock-indignation. “You don’t think that White Crest is just the most interesting place in the world?” She smirked though, not truly invested in her words. She was far more interested in his. “Paris always sounded lovely, and I once heard about how lively the catacombs are, all things considered.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a conversation with a vampire, much less one so old. She wondered, for probably the first time, about her maker. How old were they? Were they still in town? Did she actually care? “Well, I think we both look good for our age, don’t you?” She smiled back at him, showing her teeth. Her fangs. “I think the screaming, the fear, that’s the best part. Probably better than the blood, sometimes,” she said, a bit quietly. It didn’t matter. With his hearing, she knew he could hear her. She followed him, let him go in first. Hesitated, momentarily. This was… a new experience. Was this what their kind was supposed to do? Hunt together, feed together, a sort of twisted community founded on the blood that others provided. She found that she wasn’t against it, exactly. She rushed forward herself, taking the jogger’s other arm. She ran the tips of her fingers over the flesh near their wrist before digging her nails in, savoring the agony it brought them. She could almost imagine she felt magic inside them and wondered if it was real or not. Whatever it was, it felt heady as she brought her mouth to their already bleeding wrist and drank.

“I mean, it’s got it’s upsides, but I think that it leaves something to be desired.” Harsh didn’t have quite the hatred for White Crest that some of the locals seemed to, but… it didn’t take a genius or even a soul to see why they wanted to be anywhere else. “They’re great. I had a couple buddies there, we’d hang around and pick off tourists who got lost.” Maybe not the most noble way to hunt, but it was fun. Sometimes being the villain in a horror movie scenario was a pretty sweet gig. He nodded. “The fear makes it better sometimes. It’s a rush, isn’t it? Seeing that panic and knowing you did that.” A little sadistic maybe, Harsh had the awareness to see that at least, even if it wouldn’t stop him doing it. It felt good. Why should he hold himself back from one of un-life’s greatest pleasures? He watched, almost gleefully as Miriam sank her teeth in. This was how it should be. Eating, doing whatever they wanted without worrying about some damn slayer giving them crap for it. He drank deep as the struggling slowed and stopped, wiping his mouth as he pulled away. “Not as good as a witch, but I bet we can find one… maybe later on, if you’re already full.”

Snorting, Miriam said, “It leaves quite a good bit to be desired, one finds, especially when it’s impossible to leave.” She loved this town, the way it inspired a childhood nostalgia in her, but she wished she’d seen more of the world when the door had been open for her. Now she was held in this town by some sort of curse or strange happenstance, and there appeared to be no way to fix it. “Sounds delightful, darling. Fine dining, certainly. I’d imagine France is known for all that.” She liked this man, his understanding of her, his lack of moral high ground. They weren’t the same, but they understood each other. “It really does. Gives the whole experience a nice kick.” Perhaps he didn’t feed off of it the way she did, but that was fine. She’d never enjoyed feeding like this, but maybe that was because she’d never tried to share the experience. This was nice. It was far more than she needed, bloodwise, but it was nice, and it felt good, and, really, what need did she have to curb herself? What want, what desire, would make her stop? As the jogger took their last breath, there was none. Miriam licked her lips, grinning at the other vampire. “No, but it certainly hit the spot.” She checked her watch, making sure the sun was nowhere near rising. She should get back to her home, to her guest, but… this could be more satisfactory, if they found a witch, if she could properly feed and not feel so hollow. “Why the hell not? I wouldn’t mind a bit of an overindulgence, myself, and we’ve got a bit of time.” She raised an eyebrow. “Only if your interested, though, of course.”

“Impossible to leave? Are you trapped here?” Harsh frowned. White Crest was fine for a visit, but being trapped here or anywhere sounded like a nightmare. He would’ve staked himself years ago if he had been stuck in his hometown. Staying in one place had never suited him. “Right? That panic, I always like that.” It had been a while since he had really let someone get nice and frantic before he had bitten into them. That wasn’t a good look for his attempts at good deeds. But that didn’t matter now. He could take things nice and slow, make it last, really revel in that fear. And now there was someone to enjoy it with. Bending, he grabbed the body, hauling it up and tossing it over his shoulder. “Oh, I’m very interested. Let’s get rid of this guy and then we can go find ourselves a witch. I’m thinking we maul him a little then drop him in the woods. Works every time.” He offered his free arm to Miriam, grin wide.

“Yes,” Miriam said, bitterly. “I can’t go past the damn town line. It’s a bitch.” She’d never truly forgive her younger self’s foolishness, thinking that she’d have all the time in the world to explore and live. She made do, though, and it wasn’t like there wasn’t plenty of hunting to do in White Crest. For better or worse, there was just about always a spellcaster waiting in the wings to snack on. “I’m glad someone else gets it,” she told him with a smile, using her thumb to clean the last bit of blood from her lips. She knew he probably didn’t exactly get it. Harsh, though a vampire, most likely couldn’t truly understand her plight. Still, this was nice, to have a meal with someone like herself and properly enjoy it. “Marvelous,” she said, taking Harsh’s arm. For a man with a name like that, he was an absolute gentleman. “I absolutely agree. That’s a perfect way to get rid of a body. Let’s get to it, then.”

#meflemming #c: miriam #chatzy #para #wickedswriting #let's grab a bite #medical blood tw

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #318

“what can you do, where can ya go, when your mama is a burnout, and your daddy is a pyro?”

Do you have your ears pierced more than once? Yeah. Do you use an electric toothbrush? Yes. When was the last time you changed in front of someone? Oh, I have no idea. That's something I avoid like the plague because I loathe my body. When was the last time you got high? Never. Do you get along with your parents? Yeah. How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now? None. Have you ever used a Ouija board? No, I don't fuck with that stuff. Have you ever met anyone who claimed to be a witch? Yes. Do you go along with prank-callers, or just hang up? I don't answer numbers I don't recognize to begin with. Would you ever tattoo a lover’s name onto your body? Nooooo. Do you own any version of Guitar Hero? I have a lot of 'em. Do you use mouthwash every single day? No. Do you know anyone with asthma? Yeah, my mom. Have you ever walked through a forest at night on your own? Uh, no sir. When was the last time you were in a graveyard? It's been many, many years. Do you know what an ‘AMV’ is? Yep, used to make 'em. How many items are in your recycle bin? (On your computer!) Oh yikes, probably loads. I haven't emptied it in... I don't know how long. Would you rather be a bird or a fish? A bird. What’s one award show you have to watch every year? None. Who do you like more: the Batman or the Joker? Joker. Heath Ledger's is my favorite. Have you ever had a pet rock? No. How much do you weigh? Yeah, no. If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? Taking nature photographs. Have you ever lost your luggage at an airport? No. Have you ever been on a rollercoaster that actually scared you? I don’t do roller coasters to begin with. Have you ever gone in a sauna? Ugh, hell no. Has a stray dog ever tried to bite you? No. Have you ever had an eating disorder? No. Are you attracted to people outside of your race? Yes. Are you in love with anyone at the moment? No. Have you ever dated someone more than once? No. Best cough drop? Those creamy strawberry ones. If you have a pet, does it make a lot of noise? One's a snake, so she's silent as could be. My cat is generally quiet, but he has his times where he just walks around meowing, normally for attention. Are you a fan of eyeshadow? If I actually wear makeup, yeah, I like black eyeshadow. Can you tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi? Absolutely. I don't like Pepsi. Would you feel funny if you kissed somebody of the same sex? Done it before, didn't feel weird. Besides furniture, what’s the biggest thing in your bedroom? A Silent Hill poster. Which of your friends makes you laugh the hardest? Girt. Have you ever been in a Catholic confessional? Yeah, as a kid. What color was the hair of the last person you kissed? Brown. What was the title of the last song you listened to? So today I've really been digging dark synthwave/cyberpunk-ish music, and right now I have a playlist on that's currently playing "DNA War" by Absolute Valentine and Billy Mays. How far away is the closest Walmart? Not even five minutes. Can you do a backflip? No. Who is the lead singer of your favorite band? Well, Ozzy is the lead singer of Ozzy Osbourne, haha. When was the last time you went fishing? Not since Sara visited and we went catfishing with my dad one night. What brand of deodorant do you use? Secret. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? Yes. Do you regret it? Nah. Who was the last person to buy you a drink? My mom, lmaoooo. Who was the last person to buy you dinner? Also my mom, haha. How old is the oldest person you’ve dated? Juan's maybe like... 28 or something by now, idk. Have you ever run a stoplight? No. Have you ever dated someone & then dated their sibling? YIKES, no. That sounds miles beyond awkward. Are both your parents still living? Yeah, thankfully. What’s something that makes you feel more creative? Music, for sure. Do you collect Mason jars to use for crafts? No, but I do find those super cute. What gives you a quality of life? Not much nowadays, idk. What would give you a high quality of life? A sense of purpose, direction, and worth. Do you have any rugs on top of carpet in your home? We have a big one in our living room, yes. I don't get it. Do you have a mattress cover on your bed? Yeah. Do you hate taking naps during the day? No; naps are normal for me. Who has the best personality on YouTube? Maybe I'm biased, but I genuinely do think Mark for a multitude of reasons. He's just extremely likable imo and sincerely a fucking spectacular human being. Do you have any vinyl records? No, but I would love to collect classic rock and metal ones. Which serial killer(s) do you find most fascinating? I'm quite honestly not well-informed in serial killer stories. I think they're interesting, but not enough for me to learn about them. Have you ever visited any celebrity gravesites? No. How do you feel about archaeology? It's fuckin dope. Any animals whose behaviors you find particularly interesting? ALL OF THEM AHHHH!!!!! But I particularly love learning about social animals, like meerkats (mongoose in general, really), African wild dogs, wolves, etc. What are your thoughts on gun control? I don't support the idea of banning firearms altogether, but I am very much in favor of some reform. There needs to be a much, much more strict and complex system in order for you to legally own a gun, and I also support periodic "check ups" to ensure you still fit whatever criteria is laid out. "Bad people will still find guns;" yes, some most certaintly will, but you can't convince me that the numbers wouldn't decrease. It would take a serious villain to put so much effort into pursuing obtaining a firearm. Do you like animals better than most humans? Sure do. Have you ever had to block people online for harassing you? I've blocked people to prevent that. If you collect anything, what is your favorite piece of that collection? I cherish the plush meerkat Jason gave me most, probably; out of my Silent Hill stuff, the limited edition Revelation flyer I have in Japanese. Are you friends with anybody you didn’t like at first? Hi, meet my best friend lmao. Are there any musicians you didn’t like at first, but grew on you? Probably. Do you have any favorite books you’d like to have signed by the author? Not really. Well wait, Ozzy signing my copy of his autobiography would be pretty damn cool. Do you like any board games or card games? I'm not really a board game fan, but Magic: The Gathering is fun as far as card games go. What historical figure(s) are you most interested in? I'm not incredibly interested in any, but I do think Pharaoh Hatshepsut was a bad bitch. She was one of the extremely few female pharaohs, and if my memory serves me right, one of the most successful. Do you like Breaking Benjamin? I sure do. How many people of the opposite sex have you told you loved them? One. Have you ever had to change your phone number? Yes, because I was getting strange texts from numbers I didn't know. Have you ever played bingo at an actual bingo hall? No. What’s your favourite comic book/graphic novel? I don’t read any. What is something you take pride in? How far I've come as far as my mental illnesses go, particularly depression and PTSD. What’s the biggest magnet on your fridge? I'm not getting up to go look. Have you ever eaten a Big Mac? No; I hate lettuce on burgers, so. What brand is your vaccuum cleaner? Dunno. Do you believe in sex before marriage? Sure, but I don't believe it's a must for everyone. Plenty of people don't even want to get married. Be intimate once you're comfortable with the person, and be safe and smart about it. Are you for or against abortion? I'm pro-choice. Do you feel like you need to lose weight? It's fact that I need to. My body just doesn't want to, afuckingpparently. All I seem to be capable of is either maintain or gain nowadays. Is summer your favorite season? It's my least favorite, actually. Do you wear glasses? I'm basically blind without 'em. Can you say the alphabet in more than one language? Yeah, in German. What do you want out of life? To feel like I made a difference, even if it's a small one. Do you ever get carsick? No. Do you groom your eyebrows? Not really anymore, no. Have you ever liked someone who treated you badly? No. When was the last time you went in the car past midnight? Oh boy, probably not since I had my cyst in I think '16. I was in so much agony and we had no painkillers, so I had to wake up Mom to go to Walmart to grab some. They barely even helped at all. God, I couldn't imagine dealing with that again. Were your last two kisses with the same person? Yes. Do you have alcohol in your house? I don't think we do right now, no. Do you have any personal fashion rules that revolve around your own preferences/body type (e.g., you never/always wear a certain color, sleeve type, or length of dress)? Yeah; I don't wear anything that shows my legs unless I shaved, but I will never wear a dress that isn't at least past my knees. Do you remember any celebrity whose style you admired when you were a teen? What do you think of that style now? Avril Lavigne was/is an ICON. I still think she looks badass. So, is it gif with a hard G or soft G? I used to say the opposite, but I say "gif" now. Apparently that's how the creator of the term says it anyway. When you are invited to things like wedding showers or baby showers do you tend to go or skip? What about graduation parties? If Mom is able to take me, I'll try to go to the first two if they're my closer friends. Do you like spicy chips? Oh FUCK yes. What’s the last movie you watched at a friend’s house? Elf with Sara's fam. Can you remember your parents’ birthdays? Mom's, yes. Dad's, only the month. Do you read your friends' surveys? Yep, I love learning about them. Do you know anyone with a glass eye? Not to my knowledge, no. Do you ever use the n-word? Absolutely not. What piercing do you like most on the opposite sex? I tend to like lip piercings. Do you prefer beef, chicken or steak? Chicken. Ever spent the night in a tent? Yeah, multiple times as a kid, "camping" in the yard with Dad, haha. What do you call your grandparents? I called both sets just "Grammy" and "Grampa." Have you ever cried while reading a book? Oh, certainly. How many college degrees do you want? I got none, and I'm not going back to college. Do you know how to play pool? What about foosball? Yes. Have you ever attended a professional sporting event? Yeah, hockey with my dad a few times. Do you own any jerseys? No. Were you born with naturally straight teeth? No; that's why I had braces. If you were the opposite gender, what name would you like to be called? Maybe like... Victor. Idk. Do you prefer original or sour Skittles? I love both, but sour. Do you like bacon bits on your salad? Yeah. What is your favorite kind of soup? I'm not a soup person. Did you learn to type through a computer program for kids? Yeah. What do you take for pain? Advil/Ibuprofen. What is your favorite place that you’ve lived? My pre-teen and teenage years house: in the woods on a dead-end road and down a gravel path that everyone always missed when learning where our house was. The actual road itself had very, very little traffic, and there was a large expanse of cotton fields. I loved it and miss the house itself, but it's got a lot of bad memories rotting in it. Who are your favorite kids that you’ve babysat? My niece and nephew. <3 Who is your favorite cousin? I don't have a favorite. We barely interact at all. Does one side of your family live in another state? Literally none of my extended family (or half-siblings) live in NC. What states did your parents grow up in? New York and Ohio. Have you ever had an allergic reaction to an insect? No. Is there a good hospital where you live? God no. It is notoriously awful. When was the last time you were asked out? Did you accept or decline? Mid-2017. I aceepted. Does your job allow piercings or tattoos? N/A Do you want to get married? If so, what color will your dress be? Yeah. Probably white/ivory or black. Ever had a caricature done of yourself? How much was it, and were you satisfied with it? No. Do you like peanut butter and fluff sandwiches? No, I don't like the texture. If you got married and then got divorced, would you want to re-marry? Probably not. What’s your favorite amusement park? I haven't been to nearly enough to know. Do you play video games? If so, what kind? Yeah. My favorite are horror games, but I also love me some story-driven survival games like The Last of Us, and then there's "kids" games like Spyro, etc. I like a looot of different kinds. Would you buy used clothes? I don't think so. I know it's easy to wash clothes and stuff, I'd just still feel kinda... grossed out by it.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''pyro'' by shinedown

[aeneidpdf]

title: Among Friends

word count: 1.4k+

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23974015 

summary: "He knew that now Parker and Abraham were more to him than they really were. He thought they were the best friends he’d ever had, but now his life before the Walk and all his previous friends were a blur, so he guessed that didn’t mean much. Right now, they represented companionship, and an escape from the monotony of picking them up and putting them down, and that meant everything to Baker."

Hey I wrote this for day 2 of long walk week, and it’s about the friendship between Baker, Abraham, and Parker. I don’t know if this is my favorite dynamic in the novel, but I wanted to contribute something focused on a relationship besides gavries. I hope people enjoy! (also I promise this isn’t meant to rip off @binarystarkillers.)

The Long Walk wasn’t easy, but this part always was.

Walking with Abraham and Parker, shooting the shit and laughing. These were the bright moments, the ones that helped Baker forget about the pain in his feet and the dull ache in his legs, his back, and his neck. He felt like he’d known them for years, which he knew was strange, but the Walk accelerated everything. On the Walk, there was nothing to do but think, and talk- anything to distract from the sharp pain that shot up their legs every time they took a step.

Baker thought back when Dom L’Antio gave them watermelons, pink peppermint grins flying through the air as the man was hauled away by state troopers. Abraham reached up, blocking the sun from his eyes with his hands, and caught a wedge of watermelon as it pinwheeled overhead.

“I love everybody!” Abraham bellowed, his face streaked with the pink juice. He broke his piece in half and gave part to Baker. Baker dove into it immediately. The juice was sweet, and dribbled down his chin. He spat out the black seeds. It brought him back to June afternoons back at home, sitting out on the porch and eating watermelon from the patch out back. Through the screen, he’d watch his brothers and sisters playing in the yard. There were watermelon wedges waiting in a bowl of ice for when they were done, but now they were content to run around and play, and Baker was content to watch them. His Aunt Hattie was out on the porch too, rocking, rocking, rocking in her chair, but not even she could ruin this, these golden days of summer, Baker’s happiest memories of before.

That same joy was building within him as he walked beside Abraham, both of them eating the watermelon and savoring that cold, sweet juice. Baker was filled with the endless possibilities of summer. For a moment, he felt like a carefree kid, feasting on watermelon with his friends, and not at all like someone on a march to his death.

Up ahead, he saw Parker break a piece off his wedge and pass it to Garraty, who passed a piece to McVries. Baker’s giddiness was bigger than his body, and he started laughing. Abraham looked at him and laughed too.

They all had gotten some watermelon. All his people. Abraham, Parker, Garraty, McVries. That had been a good moment. Something you saved in your head all your life like a Polaroid picture, faded from age but time could never change the smiles, the happiness, the laughter.

That felt like ages ago, but it was at most only a day. The Walk had warped Baker’s sense of time. The minutes stretched on like ages, and all he could do to occupy his mind was talk with the others or think.

He’d thought a lot about home, and why the hell he ever signed up to do this. He couldn’t figure out an answer to that question. He knew he had a reason, and he knew that he felt he needed to do this, but he couldn’t figure out the why. Baker knew it didn’t matter much at this point. There were a lot of things that didn’t matter at this point.

He felt trapped inside his head. His thoughts just kept swirling around and around and around. He thought of home, and his Aunt Hattie, and big graveyard rats, and his brother. His brother’s body in a mausoleum, a pine coffin, one of those rats nibbling through the side-

He jolted out of his half-dream state and shivered. The sun was going down and the road was cast in shadow. It had been so hot that day- the temperature hovered around eighty degrees- but now that the sun was setting, chill settled in. Parker was right- this state had fucked up weather.

Up ahead, he could see Parker and Abraham. He picked up the pace to walk near to them before dozing off again. He could hear them talking, though they sounded so distant now.

Baker tried to fit Parker and Abraham into his hometown, into his school. Abraham would be the guy who always goofed off in class, and everyone would laugh and the teachers would hate him, but he’d still somehow be cool and above it all.

Collie Parker would hang out after school and beat up kids leaving from band practice. He’d stand out by the gas station and smoke cigarettes and pick fights. Maybe he’d even pick on Baker. Kids like that at his school had never been too fond of the mortician’s nephew.

Right now, the three of them were shuffling along in a loosely knitted group. Parker and Abraham were debating which snack food was the best while Baker walked on in a daze. Their conversation only reached him in snatches as he was lost in thought.

“Hey, Baker,” Abraham nudged him. “What do you think?”

Baker jolted out of his dreamlike state and blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “Would you guys wanna be friends after this?”

They looked at him, confused, startled, and Baker felt his skin crawl with shame. He sounded desperate. Desperate for them to like him, to be his friend, and to care for him as much as he cared for each of them. At this point, he couldn’t imagine this Walk without them. And what did he mean after? There was no after for any of them. This was it.

“I mean, uh, do you think we’d be friends if we met in real life?” It hardly sounded any better, and Baker looked down, face flushed and hands stuck in his pockets. Neither of them said anything, and Baker said, “Nevermind, forget it,” and picked up speed.

“Wait,” Abraham said, in his voice that always sounded too deep for his lanky frame. “Are you okay?”

Baker gave him a look but slowed his pace to match theirs. There was no point in asking someone if they were okay on the Long Walk- none of them were. It was one of those platitudes carrying over from the real world that they were having a hard time letting go off.

“I’m as okay as any of us are,” Baker replied. It was an acceptable answer, but Abraham was still looking at him with worried eyes and a serious expression. “I’ve just been thinking about back home. I wish I knew you guys back home.” Maybe if Baker’d had friends more like Abe and Parker, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

He didn’t know what the hell he was thinking. He knew that now Parker and Abraham were more to him than they really were. He thought they were the best friends he’d ever had, but now his life before the Walk and all his previous friends were a blur, so he guessed that didn’t mean much. Right now, they represented companionship, and an escape from the monotony of picking them up and putting them down, and that meant everything to Baker.

The three walked on in a sober, companionable silence. The halftrack trundled along beside them, and the soldiers occasionally parceled out warnings, reading off of their stainless steel chronometers. The trio walked without warnings.

“You know, I think we would be,” Abraham finally said. “Of course we would.” He grinned at Baker and Baker smiled back.

“I think we would be too.”

Parker wasn’t the sentimental type. He was brash and loud. But over the course of the Walk, the exhaustion, the pain, the malnutrition, and maybe the growing friendship among their small group had softened him. He said, “Yeah, but I’d probably beat the both of you up before I realized you’re good guys.”

Baker doubled over and laughed, both because of what Parker said and the relief that spread through him. He felt like one of the pink watermelon grins, twirling through a blue, cloudless sky. He felt lightness spread through him.

“Wow, Collie. That was almost nice. You sure you’re feeling alright?” Abraham asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Course I’m alright. I got my redhead and my redneck. What else do I need?”

The trio erupted into laughter, and it felt good to laugh all together. To dissipate any tension and to prepare for the impending night. To armor up and tell the darkness that they weren’t afraid, that they were among friends.

The sun continued to disappear behind the pines, and they walked into the night together.

#The Long Walk #tlw week #art baker #collie parker #abraham