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#tool box killers
ceteradesunt · 2 years
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The Devil and the Death Penalty (2012) dir. Philip Gibbons
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bandaidfingers · 7 months
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my little inktober illustration series this year ✨SPARKLE SLASHERS✨
drawing various slasher villains every other day for the month of October on some sparkly card stock I got my hands on
I've been adding them (originals! not prints!) to my ✨ Ko-fi shop✨ as I draw them, all priced at $50 rn, but! on Halloween everything in my shop will be 15% off with the code SPOOKY23, so mark you calendars if you want to get one a little cheaper as a treat ^__^
v my full slasher lineup under the cut also v
Peeping Tom (1960) -Oct 1
Twisted Nerve (1968) -Oct 3
Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) -Oct 5
Halloween (1978) -Oct 7
My Bloody Valentine (1981) -Oct 9
Prom Night (1980) -Oct 11
Friday the 13th (1980) -Oct 13
Slumber Party Massacre 2 (1987) -Oct 15
Sleep Away Camp (1983) -Oct 17
A Nightmare on Elm Street (1983) -Oct 19
Hellraiser (1987) -Oct 21
Maniac Cop (1988) -Oct 23
Child's Play (1988) -Oct 25
Alice Sweet Alice (1976) -Oct 27
Candyman (1992) -Oct 29
Scream (1996) -Oct 31
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focsle · 1 year
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I never did a long thing about scrimshaw, so it’s time! At 1 am, apparently.
I think scrimshaw is one of the most fascinating material goods to emerge from the history of the American whaling industry (which is the context I’m discussing here, though of course the artform exists across numerous eras and cultures outside this brief blip of nautical history).
It’s one way to see amatuer art that usually doesn’t often survive in other forms. To see the art project of an ordinary man who was bored and needed something to do with his hands. Others were highly skilled craftsman, creating intricate engravings or mechanically expert tools. The most common scrimshaw was images etched on sperm whale teeth. Sometimes those images came from the maker’s own imagination and sometimes they were copied illustrations. Ships & whaling scenes, women, mythical figures, and patriotic symbols make up the bulk of the visual language in those pieces that survive.
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But alongside the teeth were all a manner of carved items: canes, candle holders, pie crimpers, children’s toys, sewing boxes, yarn swifts, corset busks. So much bone fashioned into quiet little homegoods. And it’s that contradiction within scrimshaw that fascinates me. The brutality of the industry, this ivory from an animal that frankly died terribly, that’s then softened into a little domestic item. An object that could have hours to years of work put into it. Some were made to be sold but many were made as gifts. In the long stretches of boredom at sea, in the lull between back-breaking work and life-threatening terror, scrimshaw gives a window into where the minds of these men continually turned. It shows where their hearts were and what they were holding on to over all the years they spent adrift in saltwater and blood and oil. That’s the poetry I see in scrimshaw. Pain and love and longing and creativity and playfulness all bound together in these complicated little pieces that found their way out of the hands of their anonymous makers to preserve a small part of their story.
Some scrimshanders names are known. Frederick Myrick is one of the most well known American whalers, not so much for the scope of his life (of which little is known) but for his scrimshaw. Born in Nantucket in 1808, he first went whaling in 1825 on the Columbus and then again on the Susan 1826-29. In the last few months aboard the Susan, Myrick engraved over 30 sperm whale teeth, all depicting the ship he was on (though there are a handful that depict other vessels). He signed and dated nearly each one. These pieces are often referred to as ‘Susan’s Teeth’ now, and when one comes up at auction it’s not unusual for it to sell for six figures.
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Many of the teeth Myrick scrimshawed included an inscribed couplet of his devising: A dark wish for luck that succinctly gets at the violent and unstable heart of American whaling.
“Death to the living, long life to the killers Success to sailor’s wives, and greasy luck to whalers”
Sometimes large scenes were etched on panbones as well.
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Moving from scrimshaw on teeth and jawbones, pie crimpers are some of the more common sculptural items. Popular motifs included animals (dogs, snakes, and unicorns/hippocampus are big), body parts (mostly clenched fists or lady’s legs), and geometric designs.
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Others were more mechanically complicated, such as automatons and children’s toys with moving parts and gears. Here’s one of a small rocking sailboat, perhaps made for someone’s child or younger sibling.
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Sometimes a particular creative fellow created something more eccentric, like this wild writing desk kit fashioned out of a carved panbone and sperm whale teeth.
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Another frequently scrimshawed object was a corset busk that would be slid into the front of the garment in order to maintain the posture. A rather private item compared to others. And one with a very on-the-nose message of wearing close to one’s heart the memory of someone who’d be gone for 3-4 years, who might never come home again. On some level, so many of these daily objects whispered ‘forget me not’, ‘think of me while I’m gone’. 
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There’s something tender to all the various domestic items that were fashioned on the job so long and far from home, but it’s the yarn swifts that really captivate me. They were one of the most complicated pieces of scrimshaw to make, with over one hundred different pieces that would have to be carved. It could take someone the length of the voyage (2-4 years) to complete a single one. Unlike teeth which were comparatively very quick to make and were frequently intended to be sold, it’s very unlikely that a swift was made with the aim of selling it because of the significant labor that went into it. They were almost certainly all gifts, and very special ones at that. Every time I see one I can just feel the love towards its intended recipient radiating off of it.
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Scrimshaw captures a specific snapshot of a moment in time. On a broader scale it’s a surviving reminder of a bloody industry that flared up and winked out, preserved in the form of a long-lost ship and the spout of a long-dead whale inked on a yellowing tooth. But that snapshot also reveals the emotional world of the men who were caught up in such an industry: what they valued, what they thought about, what they missed, and what they wanted to be remembered of them.
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Part 8 - Romance Isn't Dead
Slasher Handler Masterlist
NSFW under the cut.
CW: Bones, flashback, high anxiety/panic, violence and gore, brandon being brandon (assholery), crying, manic pixie dream ghost (assholery), MREs, descriptions of knives/multi-tools (not in use)
You can’t fucking breathe. It’s like your diaphragm is frozen and you can’t pull air into your lungs. Your vision is tunneled onto the skull in the box, the bright blue scrap of painters tape with Simon’s messy scrawl. Behind and under you, you know he’s saying something. All you can hear is the blood rushing through your ears.
The last expression you’d ever seen on Brandon’s face flashes before your eyes.
A big hand closes over your mouth and nose.
You flail. Before you even know you’re doing it, your elbow comes up to slam against the man behind you. The hand disappears. Using the momentum of your swing, you pitch yourself sideways. But a huge arm wraps around your waist. You’re trapped. You’re trapped. The killer is at your back and you’re trapped.
Simon’s voice cuts through the panic. “Stop squirmin’ before you hurt yourself, precious. Or I’ll make you.”
Every muscle in your body locks up. You burst into tears.
It’s awful, the way he coos at you. But when he gathers you in this arms and cradles you, you can’t help the way you cling. You’re torn between burying your face in his neck and being too terrified to close your eyes.
Images from that night at the ski lodge flash behind your eyes. Finding Stacy bleeding out from her shoulder, already too weak to stand. Your manager, propped against a wall with his guts spilled in his lap. Amber, her throat slit long before you and Brandon stumbled across her. Brandon, who’d followed you downstairs as you looked for matches and candles. The same Brandon who had been trying to convince you to share a bed with him when the power went out.
“To conserve warmth,” he’d said, with that that stupid smirk on his face as he followed you into the kitchen area.
“No, Brandon,” you’d finally hissed at him, whirling on him with a long, unlit white candle in your hand. You poked him with it as you whisper-shouted, sick of his shit. “No. No. Fucking no. What do I need to say to get you to get it? I don’t sleep with my co-workers. And even if I did, I wouldn’t sleep with you because you’re an asshole who can’t take a hint. Go find Amber if you’re so hard up. She’s actually interested in you.”
“Amber’s a slag,” Brandon said, not bothering to whisper. “What, you’re not actually fucking Riley, are you? Won’t fuck a co-worker, but you’re fine shagging a neighbor.”
“I’m not fucking Riley,” you’d snapped, still at a whisper because you weren’t about to be goaded into shouting.
“Then what’s the problem?” Brandon’d snapped right back. “Stop being so stuck up. I bought you drinks, I walked you home more than once-”
“I told you not to!”
“-I’ve brought you flowers and chocolates. I got you coffee from your favorite spot, and a pastry-”
“You think I’m interested in dating you because you picked up a danish on your way to work?” You’d wanted to pull your hair out. Wanted to wrap your hands around his throat and shake. “Brandon, I fucking hate cherries and you-! No, that’s not even the point. I’m not interested. I’ve never been interested. Leave me alone.”
His fingers closing around your upper arm, tight, had made you push him away. Not as hard as you could, just enough to startle and put some distance between you. But he’d slipped in something on the tile and fallen to his knees.
“Shit,” he’d yelped. “What the fuck? Ugh, the floor is wet. You’re lucky I didn’t break something.”
You had snorted, turned your back and picked up the matches that were laying on the counter. Lighting one, and then your candle, you’d turned back as you heard him getting up. You’d opened your mouth to say something scathing, but… “Brandon, what… is that?”
There’d been something dark and wet on his hands, his sleeve. Whatever it was, he’d slipped on more than a trickle of it, coming from under the table. And when you rounded the table, there she was. Amber, in a pink pajama set and a pool of her own blood.
Yours was the first scream of the night. Brandon’s had been the last.
And now the man that had killed both of them is petting your hair and shushing you. You gasp as you pull yourself from the flashback, teeth chattering with remembered cold. A wave of goosebumps sweeps over you. You’re very aware of the gloved hand that rubs up and down your calf.
“A couple of deep breaths now,” Simon murmurs. You can feel his lips on your forehead through the cloth of his balaclava. “Deep breath in, there you are, precious. Let it out. Slow yourself down. That’s it. There’s a good girl.”
Another memory flashes through your body. Simon’s hands holding your hips steady as you rode him, just last night. His voice smoky and soft, “Easy, easy. There’s a good girl. Let me do all the work, yeah?”
You’re wracked by another wave of sobbing.
Eventually, you tire yourself out. Your limbs are suddenly just so much dead weight. Your eyes are so sore it hurts to blink. Every hitched breath shakes your whole body. You don’t fight it when Simon makes you tip your face up so he can see how puffy and red your face is. Only let out a shaky breath when he lifts the bottom of his mask just enough to let him taste the tears on your face.
“That was the worst night of my life,” you rasp.
Simon hums at that. “Worse than the hospital?”
“I thought I could trust you,” you say. You sniffle, then continue. “I knew you weren’t safe. But I thought I could trust you.”
“Can’t you?”
You think about that for a long moment. Have to concede, “Don’t think you’ve ever actually lied to me. Well… you lied about your name. Fae rules.”
He chuckles at that. “Callin’ me a fairy?”
“Equal opportunity serial killer,” you murmur. If you weren’t so tired, it might have been funny. Right now, it feels like the words are all that carry you from one moment to the next.
“Cute.”
He lets you sit in his lap for a little while longer. It reminds you of being locked in his apartment that first week after the lodge. You’d sobbed yourself empty so many times. Felt hollowed out just like this. You’re going to need water, soon.
Finally, you put your feet on the ground, so you’re perched on Simon’s knee. He lifts a water bottle to your mouth, tips a mouthful at a time for you until you feel ready to hold it yourself. When you look at him, the skull is less menacing than in your memories. But his eyes are just as cold and dead.
“You’re fucked up,” you say to him. “You know that?”
The way his eyes crinkle at the edges means he’s genuinely grinning. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
“That’s good, clever girl. Can you tell what I’m thinking?”
You shrug. “Any time I try, I get it wrong. So tell me.”
“I’m thinking,” he says, leaning in to kiss your cheekbone. “That you have eleven minutes left.”
Everything in your body freezes. “What?”
“Haven’t found the key,” he says, kissing your cheek again before pulling his mask back down. “Clock’s still ticking until you’re out of the cuffs.”
The urge to burst into tears again wars with the urge to scream. You take a deep breath, hold it, and let it out slow. “Why are you like this?”
“Probably all the trauma,” he drawls. His hands lift you to stand and he pats your ass. “G’won then. Key’s in the box. You have plenty of time.”
Looking back at Brandon’s skull makes you feel ill. “Can I have the key you have?”
“Too late for that, precious. Don’t have enough time left to trade.”
“You fucking fucker,” you mutter around a hitching breath. A few deep breaths and you make yourself look at the skull again. Try to look at it as an object, a pile of shapes, not the remains of a person.
It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to step closer to the box. But you do. And you realize that the skull is on top of something. Cloth is folded up under it. On the left side of the box is a small, black hard case. You step over to that side, crouch down to pick the box up. Avoid the profile of the skull as much as possible. It has simple clasps. You take a deep breath and hold it before you open it.
Inside, surrounded by foam lining, are what look like three folding knives.
“It’s not in there,” Simon tells you. “Once the timer stops, you’ll have plenty of time for those.”
You don’t bother to answer, just put the case down next to you on the ground. The only other option for looking for the key is to move the cloth and, by extension, the skull. You clench your hand into a nervous fist, take a deep breath, and let it out. The cloth, when you touch it, is stiff. A gentle tug wiggles the skull a in place, just a bit.
You put your hands on the edge of the box and close your eyes for another few deep breaths. Fight the urge to vomit. Try to think.
Simon put it there to get a reaction out of you. Labeled it so you’d panic and cry. He knows you, so he probably knew you’d have to interact with the skull with a time limit. The key is in the box, somewhere, under all of that cloth and the skull.
The key… is under the skull.
Before you can let the nausea set in, you open you eyes and reach out to poke the skull hard with one finger. It tips, the bulk of it falling away from the jaw. And there’s the key, taped to the palate. A tiny metal cylinder, just like the one around Simon’s neck.
Even though you know the answer, you ask, “Do I have to touch it?”
Simon, of course, doesn’t say anything. You tug the cloth closer to yourself so you don’t have to reach too far and lay your fingers on the cheekbone. It’s cold, solid, and dry. You’re not sure why you expected different. You use your thumb to pick at the tape, focusing on that and nothing else. It comes away remarkably easily. The key falls from its spot with a soft clack against a tooth and lands on the cloth.
Unlocking your cuffs feels anticlimactic after all of that.
“Three minutes to spare,” Simon says. He sounds impressed.
You sniffle a bit as you rub your wrists. “New personal record.”
“You did yourself proud, Precious.”
The truth bubbles out of you before you can think better of it. “I can’t think of a reason not to hate you right now.”
“That’s because you’ve got some sense in your head,” Simon says. He stands, turns his back to you to go to the table. He picks up two of the MREs, reads off, “Chili with Beans or Mexican Rice and Bean Bowl?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Gotta eat more than crackers,” he says. “Might as well have some while I tell you about the rest of our little adventure together. Come sit at the table.”
You stand, look at his back where he’s picking grapes from the bag. “What’s outside the door?”
“The not-so-safe zone,” Simon says, without turning. “You go out that door, the next part of the game starts.”
Hunting trip three-point-oh. You sigh and walk across the mattress to the chair at the table. “Mexican rice, please.”
He passes it over. “Good choice.”
He’s quiet while you reacquaint yourself with the heating element and examine the rest of the package. He opens his own MRE and cracks open a bottle of water, offers it to you first. You use it to start the heating process, watch him do the same.
“So,” you huff, crossing your arms. There are a few minutes until the food will be hot. “What’s the next part of the game?”
“We’re gonna play a bit of capture the flag,” he says. “You ever been paintballing?”
You stare at him, jaw dropped. A headache starts to form under your left temple. “Have you lost your mind?”
It’s not often that Simon looks affronted. “Paintball is fun.”
You can’t help the disbelieving laughter. “Then why didn’t you take me to paintball?”
“Gotta train you on gun safety first,” he points out. “And most places make you play on teams.”
“And the guns aren’t real,” you counter. “That’s the real reason, right?”
He shrugs, “I prefer knives. But yeah, I’d want you to have something real.”
That reminds you. “What are the knives for?”
Simon goes to retrieve the little carrying case, snags his chair on the way back. He places the box on the table, turns it toward you and opens it. He picks up the leftmost blade and flicks it open with a quick motion. He hands it to you, black handle first as he takes a seat.
The handle is thick and the whole thing is a bit heavy. You turn it in your hand and realize that it’s a multi-tool.
“This is a Leatherman Free K4,” he says. “Decent multi-tool, lots of uses. How does it feel in your hand?”
How are you supposed to know? “Fine? It’s a knife.”
“Show me you can close the blade?”
You find the mechanism pretty easily, close the knife without incident. Simon nods, presents his hand, so you give him the knife back. He fiddles with it for a moment, and out pop a pair of scissors. And he hands it back.
“This one,” Simon calls your attention to the second item. It has a black handle as well, but the frame is open so you can actually see the tools. “is a Leatherman Skeletool CX.”
It’s impossible for you not to poke around. There are 8 little tools attached the the knife, including the scissors. A few you don’t really understand, but there are three separate screwdrivers and a bottle opener. You can think of a few times in the last couple of years a multi-tool like this could have come in handy.
You snort. “Skeletool?”
“Hush,” he chides you, smile audible in his voice as he hands it over. “This one has pliers, and a few other tools the other one doesn’t. Shorter blade, a bit lighter.”
“I can kind of feel the difference?” you offer.
“Don’t worry too much about it. Open and close it.”
You do. Pliers first, because you can. Then the blade. “Cool.”
He hands you the last one, a tiny thing that’s all silver, as he takes the second from your hand. “This one is the Skeletool KBX.”
You flick it open and closed without him asking. “Itty bitty.”
“That one’s very straightforward. Just the blade and a bottle opener on the handle.”
You pick up the little package of pretzel nuggets that came with your meal and cut into it. The plastic splits like butter. “Dangerous.”
“I dunno,” you admit. “I haven’t used them yet. You gonna tell me what they’re for?”
Simon hums, a noise you secretly have categorized as one of his “happy tiger” noises. You look up to see he’s got those eye wrinkles that mean he’s pleased. He’s looking at the little blade in your hand.
“Do you like them?”
“They’re gifts,” he says. “One for your usual purse, one for your backpack. The little one for the next time you want to go out dancing. After lunch, I’ll show you how to hold them.”
Staring at him, you think that you’d call the way his shoulders come up toward his ears bashful if he was anyone else. “Did you get me romance knives?”
“Skull’s got me in the doghouse,” he mutters, picking up his now-hot food. “Gotta give you something nice to balance it out.”
“Drugging and kidnapping me got you in the doghouse,” you correct him. “The skull has you under it.”
“I’ve got experience digging myself out,” Simon says with a shrug. “Eat.”
You grab your food and start extracting it from the heat pack. “You want to get back into my good graces? Tell me what the fuck happened in 2007. What the fuck does Roba mean?”
Simon chuckles. “That’s not a story you want to hear while you’re eating, sweet thing.”
“You made me touch Brandon’s skull,” you point out as you tear the packaging open. The smell of hot food makes you suddenly aware of how hungry you are. “So you had better start talking.”
“Promise I’ll tell you more when we’re home, Precious.”
“Swear it.”
“Cross my heart,” he says, flat blue eyes staring into yours. “Hope to die.”
“The whole story.”
“Promise you a summary that won’t make you vomit more than once,” he offers. “And I’ll rub your feet.”
You scoop a spoonful of rice and pop it in your mouth. “You’re going to rub my feet regardless.”
Simon gives a dry little laugh as he pushes his mask up over his mouth. “Yes, ma’am. Now eat. I’ll tell you the rules of capture the flag.”
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shelbgrey · 9 months
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Next to me(Emmett Cullen)
Chapter 20: Testosterone and Truck repairs
Table of contents
Tags: @itsmytimetoodream @f-1-maniac @purplesiren @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads
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“that would never happen” Paul said as he stuffed his face with Doritos, it was Saturday and Paul decided to stay in a watch Bones while Emmett was out hunting. Paul still hated the idea, so we just decided to never discuss it.
“good morning” bella said coming into the living. My head shot up confused, she never really spoke in such a bright tone in the mornings “what's that supposed to mean?”
“nothing...good morning” she repeated as Owen came shuffling into the living room, he plopped on to Charlie's favorite arm chair looking like he just woke up.
“mornin' sunshine” Paul joked, Owen looked at the TV and flipped Paul off while he watched his favorite character Angela do her thing on the show.
I rolled my eyes and continued to watch the TV show. Bella quitely sat down on the arm of the couch with me and took a sip of her drink. She cleared her throat and looked at me and Paul, we ignored her as i tried to finish the episode we were watching. “you look nice today... You too paul”
“I always look nice” Paul smirked, I rolled my eyes and hit his chest.
“What do you want?” I sighed, looking down at the sleep clothes I had yet to change out of, it was one of Emmett's black t-shirts and underwear, his shirts looked like a dress on me so there was no reason to wear pants.
Bella looked shocked. “What? I can't compliment my cousin?” As Bella failed to be suck up I sighed, she was always overly nice when she wanted something.
“suck up” Owen mumbled, Bella shot him a glare as he looked at the TV and not her.
“What do you want?” I said.
“m-my truck won't start... Could you guys look at if for me?” she asked, I signed and nodded. Paul who didn't look up from the TV slightly nodded. “after this, I need to see Booth and Bones catch the killer”
“they always do” I said, smiling.
Bella immediately jumped out of her seat. “t-thanks!” she's stopped and took a double take. “I'll be outside washing it while I wait for you”
The three of us nodded not taking our eyes off the TV. We didn't really notice she left until Owen spoke up and we gave him out undivided attention. “ya know, you certainly have a type sis”
I raised an eyebrow. “what's that mean?”
“you've been in love with David Boreanaz since the show Angel, he was indeed a big buff vampire with dark hair and in Bones he the same way just bigger and goofyer and minus the vampire” Owen explained.
“Buffy the vampire slayer was better... And had good tips” Paul added, I gave him a side eye. “sorry” he mumbled.
“I don't really have a type” I said with a nervous chuckle. “big, goofy buff dude” Owen pushed. “Seeley Booth and Emmett cullen are the basically the same thing, your fictional and real boy friend are very similar”
“why are we even talking about this?” I asked getting up and shutting the TV off. “I'm gonna change and we'll go help little miss. Main character” I said stretching.
After I got and old t-shirt and jeans on, I went out side while Paul and Owen got Uncle Charlie's tools. Paul sighed and droped the metal box on the ground as Owen climed into the bed with one of his my Stephen King books.
“put SpongeBob down and give it a crank” Paul said to Bella as he opened the hood. Bella climed into the squeaky vehicle and tuned the key. The truck made a sickly noise as Paul rummaged around. He sighed and wiped the grease off his hands onto his shorts.
“you got a battery?” he asked. I shook my head no. “we used it on the Impala were working on, remember?”
“let's try and jump start it then” he said as Owen handed him the jumper cables that lived in the bed of the truck.
Paul hooked one side to Charlie's Cruiser, as he hooked it to the truck battery the truck rocked suddenly. I looked up and saw Emmett on the roof.
“can you act human, we have Neighbors” I chuckled, he jumped down as Edward rolled up in his fancy-pants Volvo.
“what's wrong with the truck?” Emmett asked.
“its not starting”
“none of your business” Paul said over me. Emmett's gold eyes looked towrds Paul with hate. I rolled my eyes.
“it might be the spark plug” Emmett said, examining the engine. “I can bring one over later tonight” he said shutting the hood.
“thanks” bella said quickly and turned back to Edward. “there's still a dent though” Emmett said, grabbing the red metel and popping it back into place.
“now, that's hot” I said nudging Paul, He scoffed. “I could do that”
Emmett chuckled while Paul gave him a death glare.
“gald Enzo Ferrari could be of service” Paul said rolling his eyes, Emmett ignored him and turned to me.
“you wanna come over tomorrow?” he smiled leaning against the truck. “Sure, I want Owen to come too. He doesn't like to be left alone anymore”
“Sure, Carlisle and Esme want to meet him” he smiled, our conversation was cut short when Billy and Jacob rolled up in his new truck.
“peace was made, what's the problem?” Emmett asked when he saw my face drop. I shrugged. “I don't know... I just feel like I've been walking on eggshells since the meeting”
“well if they really care about you they wouldn't make you feel that way” Emmett said loud enough for Paul to hear.
Paul and Jacob are the only two that had been acting normal since the meeting. Paul didn't care, I mean he hated the Cullens but he was one of my closest friends and he wasn't gonna ruin it. Jacob just didn't know anything about the supernatural world yet so he was completely clueless.
He actually liked Emmett, Jacob came over to the house the other day to help me and Emmett on my Impala, they got along great. Jacob couldn't figure out what the packs problem was, he even asked and I couldn't give him a real awnser.
“we should go” Edward said coming up to us. Emmett shrugged. “you can... I don't have to”
My best friend rolled his eyes and gave me hug before racing off in his Volvo. “What was that about?” Bella asked.
“I'm sure you'll crack that case too Sherlock” I mumbled as we watched Jacob hop out of the silver truck.
“Hey, Emmett” Jacob smiled as he pulled out Billy's wheelchair. Honestly, Billy got over the whole thing. I think he was just galde Emmett was respectful towards me and and wasn't a killing machine.
Jacob and Emmett did some kinda bro fist bump which was bizzar in itself, I worry what Jake will think when he knows the truth about it all. Would him and Emmett still be friends? Would he look past all the wolf and vampire drama?
“you here for the game?” he asked Emmett, he looked over at me and just prayed he'll say no. I hate sports.
“I'll be upstairs with y/n” he said as Charlie walked outside with a smile. He greeted his best friend and Jacob then turned to Emmett.
“your welcome to join us if you want Emmett”
Emmett nodded with a smile. “I appreciate the offer sir, but I promise y/n we'd watch a couple of movies together”
As we walked towrds the house Billy spoke up. “any luck on the Waylon case?”
“well, I don't think it was an animal that killed him” Charlie awnsered as he pushed Billy's wheelchair up the small stairs.
Jacob and Bella looked at me and Emmett while they spoke about the murder. Emmett gulped and took my hand while we followed the group into the house.
“so spread the word out at the rez, huh? Keep the kids out” Charlie asked. “will do, we don't want anyone eles getting hurt” Billy said looking directly at me and Emmett.
As the sports watcher filed into the living room, I pulled Emmett towrds the stairs. He jokingly stoped and looked at the TV. “ya sure you don't want to watch the game?”
“we can watch it if you really want to” I smiled. I quickly shook his head no. “na, let's go to your room”
As we walked up the stairs Uncle Charlie called out to us. “better keep that bedroom door open!”
“okay!” I said rolling my eyes knowing he couldn't see me.
When we got my room Emmett plopped on to my bed as I looked for a movie to watch. He rolled over onto his stomach and reached for the book that was on my nightstand. It was Christine by Stephen King.
“what do you want to watch?” I asked, Emmett shrugged flipping through the small book. “I don't care, as long as your cuddling me... I don't care”
I chuckled and looked over my shoulder at him. His eye brows were knitted together as he concentrated on the book. “you can read it if you want, it's not like the movie but it's good”
“yeah... I might give it a try” he said as tossed him a padd of red sticky notes, he pealed one off for a book mark. “now... Movie, what are we watching?”
“Pult Fiction or Bill and Ted's excellent adventure?” I asked, Emmett looked up, thinking for a moment. “Bill and Ted” he smiled.
I nodded a put the movie in before crawling into bed with him. He wrapped his arms around me while I rested my head on his chest. I smiled feeling immediate comfort. “your like a big teddy bear” I said wrapping my arm around his waist, scooting closer to him. He chuckled and kissed the top of my head.
The rest of the day we stayed in bed, Owen came in about two hours later and watched Lethal weapon 3 with us. When 6 'o'clock hit Emmett got a call from Alice to come home, He promised to help get supplies for tomorrow. He said his goodbyes and kissed my goodbye before going outside to his jeep.
A/n: man, sorry this took so long, hopefully I'll post more regularly with this story. I'm so happy you all enjoy this story and want to read more.
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glassartpeasants · 6 months
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small kidd drabble
~~~
There's no way he can be this dumb, right? You've given him so many signs that you like him, yet you're still stuck in this endless loop. For Valentine's Day, you got him an expensive tool set that he'd been talking about but wasn't able to get cause he forgot to grab it before heading out to sea again. You got him the tools and a small heart box with chocolate in it.
When you gave it to him, he said 'Finally! Damn tool set never being where I need it.' You weren't expecting a thank you cause that's just how Kidd is but he could have at least acknowledged that you gave it to him.
When you tried to hand him the chocolates, he was already on his way to his workshop! You were so close to exploding that you went to your room and you screamed into your pillow so hard that you thought you might lose your vocal cords.
Killer thought it was hilarious. Whenever you vented to him about your struggles with the captain, he wouldn't even give you advice or encouragement! 'Kidd's just dumb when it comes to shit like this.' is all he would say, and if you were strong enough, you would have strangled him by now by laughing at your misery.
At times you'd go to Kidd's workshop and watch him work. Most of the time, you just wanted to be next to him, so you'd watch him work on whatever project he started. It was so fascinating how he was able to create such things with simple metal.
You'd love to be the one he'd call his partner, but with how things were going so far, it might be awhile.
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rubykgrant · 1 year
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There, a great big bunch of RVB Barbies for you all! (though to be more accurate, they should really be 98-Cent store knock-offs that wind up in thrift store boxes)
The text for each of them-
Simmons; This Ken is wondering why we;re here (seriously, WHY this)
Grif; This Ken is pretty sure it's one of life's great mysteries
Tucker; This Ken is NOT going through the teleporter again
Caboose; This Ken is saying HELLO
Church; This Ken is like, 10 other Kens. Also a couple Barbies
Sarge; This Ken is drinking the blood of his enemies
Wash; This Ken is SICK and TIRED of getting hit by CARS
Tex; This Ken is going to beat you to death with your own skull
Kai; This Barbie is throwing the hottest raves ever
Carolina; This Barbie is a singer. She sings. So good
Lopez; This Ken is un robot magico *a magic robot
Doc; This Ken is hoping to find a nonviolent solution
O'Malley; This Ken is the original bad-boy
Locus; This Ken is not killing (you don't need kneecaps to live)
Felix; This Ken is a killer, a monster, he's an absolute tool
Sharkface; This Ken is so smooth. Just like a real shark
Flowers; This Barbie is a daddy, giving you a bear hug
Donut; This Barbie is PINK! And ready to kill god
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raccoonspooky · 9 months
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Your "slashers react to babygirlfication" post is hilarious, but I'm curious how'd they react to the number of fans who see them as father figures 🙌
Pfft okay so I took some time to ponder the concept and I present:
Slashers react to choosing and being chosen to be father figures.
Sorry u stinky men covered in blood. Ur a dad now. U cannot run, u cannot hide.
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Characters included: Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Billy Loomis, Leslie Vernon, Brahms Heelshire, Michael Myers, Patrick Bateman, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Billy Lenz
2k words. SFW, mild references to nsfw but not for horny purposes. Gender Neutral. Second person. Silly, sometimes surprisingly cute. Sometimes surprisingly stupid. Ur an adult. No Y/N is used here.
Not everything ends in a fatherly dynamic, but it's always familial except for stupid Bo. Most are from the killer's POV. This is intended to be a realistic take on the subject, please expect canon behavior and violence.
Leatherface:
Bubba’s closeness is a little overbearing, to be honest. You don’t hate it. No one you’ve ever met has been so eager to be with you every moment of every day. You’ve begun to appreciate everything he does for the farm in a new light. He works hard and you want to be just as solid and hard-working as him. Bubba is used to everyone belittling him and for you to see him as someone fully functioning, someone you want to learn from or take after is just seemingly wrong. He’s not a daddy. He can't remember his own daddy so he’s pretty sure that he’s not someone to be seen as fatherly. He understands wanting to feel safe more than anyone else so he sort of gets it.
Nonetheless, it's all very confusing. But… you’re so smart, he trusts you… you can’t be wrong about anything. If looking up to him makes you happy, he’ll do his best to be the person you see him as. Expect almost comically fatherly behavior. This guy is gonna demand you go to bed at sundown and eat ALL your food. He’s gonna give you tripled servings of veggies and insist that dandelions are good for you. He’s gonna put his hands on his hips and stomp around mumbling frustratedly because that seems to be all that Drayton does and it’s gonna be hard to not laugh at it all. 
That being said, if you leaned into his mother-hen aspects, he’d fucking love it. He wants to brush your hair and make you pretty. He wants to plant flowers and squawk and squeal over boxes of jewelry and makeup. He leans into a motherly role easily and he loves taking care of someone happy to receive it. He starts carrying around a purse because duh, that’s what mothers do. In the purse is a bunch of cool rocks, chicken feathers and the occasional worm or mouse or something. Expect to see the pretty lady mask much more often. 
Thomas Hewitt:
It's hard to determine much of anything he's thinking or feeling due to the mask. You slipped on something the other day and Thomas didn’t seem to appreciate the resulting calamity. He stomped up the stairs and grabbed you by the armpits to hoist you up in order to check you for damage. He grabbed your head like a basketball to inspect it for damage and you took it to mean that he cares about your well being. Communication isn’t his strong suit but he cares… at least you think he does. He’s unaware of the role you’ve slotted him into but he’s been giving you things to do and he tolerates you in his vicinity.
With gestures and the occasional huff of breath, he sat you in front of some scrap wood and you quickly realized that he wanted you to check for wood rot. It felt good to be given a task and perhaps your happiness alluded to your thoughts because he’s been showing you all sorts of things and how to use a bunch of tools. There’s a certain approving grunt he does that’s become your favorite thing to hear. You've started to not hate waking up at the crack of dawn. You wonder if he’ll one day let you work with leather. Maybe he’ll teach you to tan it?
Billy Loomis:
This is amongst the worst possible characters you could’ve possibly chosen to see as a father figure.
First of all, he’s barely out of high school and second of all, his expectations are high and impossible to achieve. He wants a protege, he wants to create a killer that he refined with his own hands but unfortunately, he's stupid. Unfortunately, he gets stuck in long-winded rants about the power of a knife and blah blah blah movie reference blah blah.
The asshole’s given you fucking homework and on top of that, he keeps making you go get him slurpies and vape refills from 7/11. It's the worst. You thought he was some kind of mastermind killer but he smells like axe bodyspray and keeps talking to you about his expert manipulation skills when you saw him fully kick a trashcan when someone refused his fake ID at a bar. You’d like to get onto some KILLING lessons or maybe see the Ghostface with your own eyes, but so far most of what you’ve seen is him checking himself out in mirrors.
You're beginning to think you could definitely kick his ass and everything he’s managed so far has been a genuine fluke. You feel as if you’ve looked up to Ghostface for so long that the real deal is a huge disappointment. Perhaps it’s time for a new ghost to take up residency.
Leslie Vernon:
This is what he’s doing all of this for. It's the height of killer fame to retire and let your successor take up the reins. He’ll fade into memory and fearful recollection and he’ll make you a mask of your very own so you can continue his legacy. He’s been planning for this for years down to the itty bitty specifics. You’re gonna be some down-on-your-luck kid and you’re gonna make some rookie mistake with your first crime and then he’s gonna get you out of a pickle and the rest is history. At least… that's how it works in the movies.
With all the planning he’s put into this, it’s gonna work out perfectly. You haven't seen him yet but he’s seen you. You're perfect. He can already feel the fatherly love slamming some burgers onto a grill inside of him. Maybe the two of you can play ball with someone’s cut out heart. Wouldn’t that be something huh? Alright, squirt let's get this shebang started! He’s just gotta put the finishing touches on the whole orphaning thing…. 
Brahms Heelshire:
You were lonely in this dead place. That much was obvious.
Brahms knew the feeling. Meeting you went smoother than it regularly went, but there was a clear roadblock in place when it came to taking care of him. You don’t follow the rules at all and that’s just unacceptable. You can't both be babied, that’s not gonna work!
Despite your inability to give him the structure he needs, he decides that just being around you is better than nothing. You seemingly don’t mind quiet and he's happy just to be seen. Even if you both need something that neither of you are able to provide, it's nice to just exist without fear or the worrisome concept of rejection.
In silence, the dusty air settled and it was easy to find some solidarity between you both. Both of you were hugely in need of someone to cling to. You’re scared and so is he. It’s… nice to know that someone else understands his feelings so well. You settle into an easy routine, eating together and sleeping in the same room... It takes a while but he begins to piece together the idea that if he wants to be mommied, maybe you need a daddy? Maybe you just need someone else to look to when you’re feeling alone and scared. Really, that’s all he wants too.
At the very least, Brahms can be that person for you. The two of you might be stuck in an awkward jumble of power dynamics but none of it feels wrong. He loves you but not like he’s loved nannies in the past. He’s starting to think that the two of you are in desperate need of a mommy and a daddy. He’s gonna be a good big brother in getting you exactly what you need. You’re not alone anymore and neither is he. It doesn’t hurt so much to be a real boy when you’ve never thought of him as anything besides human.
Michael Myers:
Well. This is happening.
He’s tried killing you multiple times and for the first time in his life, he’s found someone who disrespects death just as much as he does.
No matter what he does or where he goes, you’re close by. Hiding from somewhere, watching him from somewhere. If he turns around and walks away, you’ll manage to find him again no matter what. It's annoying. You’re annoying. Too loud. Too alive.
You've begun to wear a jumpsuit like his and an eyesore of a mask. Michael pointedly doesn't look your way or acknowledge you in the slightest. You might pester and ask questions but you get no answer. He makes sure to not even breathe in your presence. No matter the targeted coldness, you still chase after him as if you’re excited about wherever he’s going.
Once, he picked you up and physically tossed you through the front door of a recently “vacated” house just so you’d have somewhere to stay and unsurprisingly, you were back at his heels the next time he went hunting. You took up permanent residence in his peripherals and sometimes you managed to even sneak up on him. He’s climbed into impossible places and found the most hidden crevices he could find to rest but you're impossible to outwalk.
You’re a buzzing fly but he’s stopped trying to kill you because it doesn’t work. You don’t have his stature or his stride, but he’s beginning to think that you might be something other than what he’s assumed. Recently, he tossed a knife at you with enough precision to kill and you not only caught the damned thing— but you proceeded to ask when you’d get to use it. Slowly, he turned his head toward yours and you tilted yours ever so slightly in question while your hand tightened around your blade’s handle. That was all the discussion needed. He stood and so did you, you were like a shadow behind him and he’s never felt any particular violent urge toward a shadow. 
Patrick Bateman:
Children are god-awful things. Still, Patrick understands their purpose. With a child comes respect. Others will ooh and ahh over someone bragging over their brat’s acceptance into some ivy league school. You get to brag about your trips to all the best places once you’ve cultured your child enough to let them anywhere near Milan or Dubai. Kids are accessories to people like him. No one raises their kid of course, you hire help to do that for you— but even so, Patrick loathes the idea of something other than himself wearing his face. While Patrick understands now is about the time that someone like him is expected to breed, he hates the idea of letting some whore take his seed and brew up some vile squirming thing that’s half made of someone he knows he’ll hate. How can he trust her genetics? All women are whores and breeding one just sounds disgusting. Ugh. He’s not a family man and he finds the concept stomach-turning. 
With a few moments of thought, he thinks about the youngest person he can think of and he decides that the coffee barista at the expensive roastery is fine enough of a choice. You’re polite enough. Your handshake is firm. He’s looked you up before and you have no criminal record to speak of…. 
By the end of the day, he’s drafted a formal questionnaire and had it delivered to your place of employment via a courier service. When his email lights up with a notification, the subject line: “Interview scheduling.” He crinkles his nose. You don’t know how to spell? Anyone with a brain knows that “Schedueling” is spelled with an E after the U. Obviously, you have a lot to learn but… he’s already had a suit tailored to your size so he might as well interview you despite your poor spelling.
Bo Sinclair:
Someone looking up to him has something new and weird surfacing from the graveyard inside of him. It’s all sick and twisted, it moves like a roach with its head cut off. He’s sort of flattered but the sincere baffling concept of someone seeing him as a father figure has him edging the line of being pissed about it.
You’re playing some kinda mind game with him, right? He’s not a fucking loser so he’s definitely gonna figure out wtf you’re on about and why you keep asking him to teach you some bullshit or other. You don't care for shit about the engine he's workin' on. Clearly, you're trying to be clever and do something... Y'think you can get one up on him? Ain't no goddamned way.
Unfortunately, the wires in his brain are all over the place and they’re all connected to his dick’s hair-trigger sensor. Obviously, you have the hots for him. You’re flirting with him. You’re doing all this shit for his attention huh? He’s unable to comprehend that your stockholm has turned itself inside out and you're beginning to as a father figure. He's the big man around this town, wearing his big pants and walking with his big man walk. It's not your fault for getting confused in this rot filled town.
Bo immediately assumes your behavior is some lil deviant kink thing of yours and any innocence you intended is quickly destroyed by a loud mouth and a peacock strut.
Vincent Sinclair:
Charcoal coats the side of your wrist and Vincent wonders if he should tell you to go to bed. You’ve been sketching all day and he knows from experience that your back must hurt from the contorted way you’re sitting. Every lesson he’s ever given you has been taken in stride. Anatomy is something you’re giving your all to learn and it’s… fulfilling to have someone so eager to learn from him. His mother’s teaching was enforced with several painful implements and whether it was a metal ruler or stinging words, Vincent learned out of loyalty to appease her. He turned loyalty into passion out of survival instinct and still, he creates out of muscle memory. He’s still haunted by his mother's ghost but he looks at her with less disdain now that he has someone eager to make everything he knows worth something. 
You wear that same sense of anticipatory nervousness he once armed himself with. You shyly show him what you’re working on, and when he shows you an error you always take it with pride rather than shame. You must know how proud he is of your progress. It’s been years since he’s stood up for himself but his twin is somewhere nursing a shiner after he let himself into Vincent’s workspace just to bother you. No. you didn’t need a nude model. No, you didn’t want to do something more fun. No you didn’t want to take a break and look at something less fuck ugly for a change. 
No matter the circumstances that brought you here, Vincent’s been your protector since the day he found you locked in the garage’s basement, drawing in the dirt. You’re his student. Under his care. You’re a good thing and he’s not going to let his twin spoil you like he’s spoiled everything else. 
Billy Lenz:
He’s still got a scar from when he accidentally happened upon you.
Finding you was a complete accident. He broke into a creaky old house, looking for somewhere dry and he quickly realized that someone else had already staked their claim on the dusty shithole.
Crazed eyes met his and you launched at him like an animal immediately, completely without hesitation. The impact knocked him through a rickety old door and you whooped like a monkey before wildly falling into a pit of screaming laughter. Your laughter was contagious. Little thing full of so much rage. Like a kitten scratching and scratching at a fancy couch. It began to be difficult to laugh at your joke on account of the phone cord wrapped around his neck, cutting off his oxygen. You might’ve killed him if he didn't find enough clarity to throw you off of him. 
You scrambled onto a counter, bare feet disrupting the thick layer of dust and you bared your teeth, breathing heavily. Your nose was red as if you just got here out of the cold and it was just so clownish. Billy mimicked you just the same, squatting on the ground and offering you a series of clown honks and circus noises. After a few moments, you relaxed but with his ever so slight movement forward you growled like a dog before telling him that you were going to shove his stupid bellbottoms so far down his throat that he’d be shitting out a denim baby. Instantly, he wriggled about, wincing while imagining the horrible sensation of denim up his ass.
You’re funny! Funny funny clown. Not a piggy. Not to be gutted and pulled apart. His head was a mess and it hurt where it knocked against the linoleum, it had him agitated but not toward you. A nearby house’s Christmas lights snapped into visual existence and you glared through the dirty kitchen window as if startled by the red and green. With a series of vocalizations accompanied by tonal hissing, Billy asked if you wanted to go Christmas caroling and you’ve been having a holly jolly time ever since. 
This time of year is much much more tolerable now that he’s got a red nosed Rudolph who likes bloody red ribbons just as much as he does. You’ve gotten good at prank calls and you’re just so very mean to mouth breathing boys. While Billy handles the snobby sluts, you take care of heavy-shouldered neanderthals. Fratboys are your favorite flavor and Billy is just so tickled that you have similar tastes to his.  You're a fast learner. Good at climbing. Good at killing. You make the noises go away. The frantic clamor of mutated memory quiets when he's got you wedged in his hindbrain.
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soldat-buck · 10 hours
Text
holy shit you guys, look, there's more.
bg3 culinary headcanons: Absolute Edition
- Minthara: would accidentally fit in as the Addams Family home chef (and be angry about it). Gomez would praise her assassination attempts which flusters her (internally) because she's cooking with the normal amount of poisonous mushroom and not an attempted murder amount (and also she would hate loud, in-your-face-chaotic Gomez SO MUCH. if she wanted him dead, he would be dead, do not insult her assassinating abilities). makes the coolest Halloween party food until you realize it's not fun, spooky-mimicry decoration, those are real black widows on those cupcakes (what? they're venom and merlot flavored) (she used cricket flour, too). you don't know where she gets the "red" for her red velvet cakes, but you *do* know that ignorance is bliss and this is a pretty bitchin' birthday cake, so don't think too hard and just eat it
- Dark Urge (pre-game/embrace): slaughterhouse nightmare aesthetic - chef's apron is leather and something more appropriate for blacksmithing, there are way too many cleavers around (why in the blue fuck is there a meat hook over a drain in the floor?). some people watch tv when they cook. some listen to music, podcasts, or nothing. Durge listens to the Toy Box killer kidnapping tape (not to be mixed up with the (not safe for LIFE) Tool Box killers torture tape. that one is for relaxing baths). watches Dahmer documentaries for culinary inspiration. Hannibal Lecter would find most Durge dishes tasteless and over the top.
- Ketheric: listen, he didn't want me to tell you this [so you did NOT hear it from me], but he actually doesn't eat. he has a symbiotic relationship with the bacteria and fungus that keep his body animated and undying (they're why his blood is black). he consumes rotten things to keep his corpse puppet fungus happy and the corpse puppet fungus allows him to keep his consciousness/sentience and keep serving Myrkul. Myrkul's cool with it, as long as his bidding continues to get done
- Orin: Martha Stewart would have a nervous breakdown upon entering Orin's kitchen. the average person would consider Orin's cooking to be a hate crime. if someone doesn't vomit uncontrollably upon first sight, she considers it an insult (she grew up with a gross misunderstanding of what a Roman vomitorium is). her spaghetti and meatballs is wrapping a handful of uncooked noodles in unseasoned ground meat (she neither knows nor cares whether it's fish or chicken or cow. meat is meat), then baking it in a casserole dish sprinkled with still-condensed tomato soup from a can. Midwestern casserole cooking brought to you by Hell. doesn't use salt because she finds it too spicy. she has an entire pantry section for savory jello
- Gortash: culinary techbro. kitchen is spilling over with unitasker gadgets ("and THIS contraption evenly distributes heat for the perfect boiled egg! what do you mean 'what else does it do'. it boils eggs perfectly i already told you, why the fuck weren't you listening"), and the most stupid, overengineered 'smart' devices ("no no no, you don't understand, this is so helpful. the fork connects to the plate to measure the temperature of the food, and then the plate changes color to warn me if it's too hot, and then i don't burn my tongue, because i really hate that"). despite all of the pricey kitchen shit that he keeps buying, he's skilled at making exactly one dish: microwaved Totino's pizza rolls
(i'm sorry if Gortash is out of character; my brain replaced his voice with John Oliver's and won't put the original back)
if you want more bg3 culinary headcanons, there's also: the Companion Edition
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oltammefru · 2 months
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I'll be honest when I saw your post yesterday about differences comparing is3 and 4 and you brought up rejections I kinda wondered "what is she talking about" but apparently you're just fucking built different huh. Relics-less N15. . . . .
The thing about rejections is like. You have to fail a lot of consecutive rolls for them to like really matter. If you're taking every voucher you get offered (you should be, if only because it pads out your chances of getting rejections on some random reserve operator) you're generally at like 7 operators at the end of f1, 11 at the end of f2.
To roll a rejection that's actually significantly negatively impactful you need to:
Roll the wrong rejection
Roll low on your dice
Roll low on your dice again, one time (because you have a reroll)
Have the rejection land on an actually relevant operator and not just one of the reserve operators you have in the back
Not have a good way to get rid of it (which to be fair are somewhat rare, but they do exist and are perfectly useable)
A somewhat smallish number of rejections skip a few of the steps, but they still have to fail several "in your favor" rolls for it to matter.
And then if you're playing at a difficulty where you start at 100 Light, you have to leak to be able to get rejections in the first place.
Furthermore, there's a surprising number of situations where rejections are actually beneficial. Neurogeneration is incredibly easy to get some benefit out of: any throwaway melee unit that gets neurodegeneration is now suddenly a really good block-stalling-without-dealing-damage tool (which sounds like it might be just some irrelevant highly niche tech but it is something is genuinely really useful to have in IS3, specifically in the stages Craft Brewer Killer, Nethersea Brand Land, 'Joy' From A Box, and Ubi Bona). When it lands on a good unit, metastatic is terrible like 75% of the time but like 20% of the time it doesn't matter or might even improve the unit somewhat (Weedy, Texas2, a good portion of vanguards) and 5% it turns an ok unit into a phenomenally good one. (Metatstatic Yato1 solo stalls Highmore on D15 Relicless! I've done it before!)
ADHD and bleed are harder to find good upsides for (although they do exist), they also tend to be the rejections that are the easiest to play around or ignore or brute force through.
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wildlife4life · 7 months
Text
WIP Wednesday
Tagged by @spaceprincessem @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @devirnis @lover-of-mine @sibylsleaves @hoodie-buck @loserdiaz @daffi-990 and @ladydorian05 Thank you all so much! I look forward to all your fics!
Alright, so yesterday I asked basically for permission to work on my Halloween fics instead of NFL Buck and many of you said to do it. So just for a short time, I will be pausing on NFL Buck. I promise it is still being worked on a bit, but most of my concentration will be on my Halloween fics, which I really hope I can actually get done before Halloween.
Also, I cannot promise that I will be posting much more for tag games this weekend. My daughter is having minor surgery on Friday that we are going out of town for (hospital where I am was a year out), so I will be making most of the weekend taking care of her. I will try my very best to post something, but no promises.
Now that I've caught ya'll up, I know I mentioned a possible werewolf buddie fic. Well that is not this today. Instead I am bringing back Jigsaw Buck, my serial killer fic based off the Saw films. Previous post can be found here.
Warning below the cut. Description of grotesque death and also Devon's suicide. ENJOY!
Pretending to care, to have those emotions that make him approachable and later ignored, is hard work. Buck slipped just a little once.  After losing Devon on the roller coaster.  Of course, Buck wanted him to fight for his life, to see how much better it could be after the game was won, but in end, it wasn’t enough. And that was on Devon. But his old fire captain somehow took his quick acceptance as a form of shock and sent him to department therapy. Buck hated therapists. They were of the few who had the power to peer past the layers, rip off the masks, and see the twisted bloody hunk of flesh that resembled what remained of his dead brother-in-law. Cold with no emotion to be found; just the void that demands the retribution of others. Thankfully (and somewhat unfortunately), Dr. Wells was too distracted by the shiny layer that is firefighter Buckley to actually do her job.  Sadly, she abused the small amount of power she held in her delicate, manicured hands and tried to sexually exploit the man she was supposed to help. When Buck dug around a bit and found her many other victims, well it was a good thing Dr. Wells had such a precise schedule. It was almost too easy grabbing her in the blind spot of her office’s cameras. Too bad the therapist spent most of her given time, screaming that she did no wrong. That those she exploited wanted what she forced upon them, that she didn’t abuse the power she held. And when those last few precious second ticked away, Buck stepped into the room, saddened by her reluctance to take the second chance, learn her lesson. “Game over.” He told her bluntly then turned away, unable to witness his masterful contraption drill into her skull. The whirring tool flung ringlets of bone, blood, hair, and brain matter across the room and onto the floor. The key to her freedom, sat unused in a box just a mere two feet away. The price…a single hand, relinquishing the power she held in it and a tool of her neglect.
Dr. Wells isn't the first or the last of Buck's victims. Spoiler: Eddie will be a subject to Buck's games as well. Mwhaha.
Tagging (no pressure): @callaplums @elvensorceress @eowon @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @thekristen999 @theotherbuckley @wikiangela @giddyupbuck @watchyourbuck @buddierights @cowboy-buck @jesuisici33 @fortheloveofbuddie @forthewolves @try-set-me-on-fire @eddiediaztho @eddiebabygirldiaz @thewolvesof1998 @lizzybizzyzzz @shortsighted-owl @homerforsure @monsterrae1 @911onabc @adiazhalloween @housewifebuck @honestlydarkprincess @bvckandeddie @arthursdent @glorious-spoon @bigfootsmom @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @gayhoediaz @gayedmundodiaz
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wazzappp · 5 months
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Weird thought. Could be sad or could be dark.
What if Movie!Khaji Da is acting/was acting at least in the beginning of it?
Like, the Siri/Alexa/Cortana/thing. What if that’s fake, and the Scarab is acting to make them (mostly Jaime) less afraid of it. Either bc it’s aware of pop culture opinion around AI (and is downplaying itself so they’re not scared of it so much), or is still loyal to the Reach and wants Jaime to trust it bc it’s an infiltrator.
So skittish Khaji Da acting robotic and hiding its emotions until like the end of the movie, post the synchronization thing (bc it’s scared of their opinions).
Or Khaji Da working to gain Jaime’s trust and pretending to not understand human stuff (and playing into pop culture expectations of androids/ai/robots/etc) so that way he doesn’t question the whole “world killer” thing.
Either long-term manipulation with bad ending (reach takeover), or Khaj slowly comes to actually care for Jaime/his family (possibly bc the Reach do treat it like an Alexa [actually wait 3rd option, it acts like an Alexa for a while bc it was made to act like that (subservient, emotionless) for the Reach, and thinks they want it to act like that?], while the Reyes’ actually like. Address it. And care about each other. [and possibly Khaji Da itself] So it starts to feel guilty, decides “fuck the Reach” and comes clean to Jaime.
Have this mess (unproofread) bc I am procrastinating on other tasks.
(If general/non-body horror ideas are not something you’re interested in, you can tell me to stop)
ACK FUCK SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET TO I THOUGHT I RESPONDED TO IT ALREADY I JUST CHECKED MY ASKS AAAAUGHHHH!!!
I really do enjoy khaji being more mechanical just because it's how they are. In my opinion it makes their development so impactful because it requires them to literally break their own coding. Go against the very fabric of your being, what you were MADE for, to try and be something more like yourself even though you don't know who that is yet.
Khaji only PRETENDING to be more robotic has some very very interesting potential though. Attempting to fit in a box your entire existence and then literally only being accepted once you step outside that box? Jeez, what a disorienting experience. My poor little murder bug :'(. They would probably end up needing a LOT of reassurance from Jaime. Just in subtle ways to make sure it's truly better that they behave as a person and not a tool. It would take soooo much time to build khajis self confidence and autonomy back up from that. Therapy. SOOOOO much therapy for the both of them on god.
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azhuur · 5 months
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What's FNAF?
Five Nights at Freddy's is a video game series and media franchise created by Scott Cawthon. The first video game was released on August 8, 2014, and the resultant series has since gained worldwide popularity. The player controls Mike Schmidt/Micheal Afton, a night security guard for the family pizza restaurant Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. The player must complete their shift that lasts from midnight to 6:00 a.m. without being caught by the homicidal animatronic characters that wander the pizzeria at night. Five Nights at Freddy's tells the story of a serial killer, William Afton, and his degenerate family, who prowled through a chain of family pizza restaurant in the 1980s. William's original motive for killing the kids was because of his jealousy toward Henry. In the books, there were indications that William was spiteful of Henry (like the diaries he wrote in, explained in TSE). Seeing that Henry could bring life into creations. The main series consists of now 11 (fnaf 1, fnaf 2, fnaf 3, fnaf 4, etc) video games taking place in locations connected to a fictional family pizza restaurant franchise named "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza", after its mascot, the animatronic bear Freddy Fazbear. In most games, the player assumes the role of a night-time employee, who must utilize tools such as security cameras, lights, doors, and vents to defend themselves against animatronic characters who inhabit the locations and become mobile and hostile at night. The series' lore is gradually revealed through voice recordings, minigames, and Easter eggs featured throughout the games. The Five Nights at Freddy's series consists of horror-themed video games in which the player is usually a night-time employee at a location connected with Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, a fictional children's restaurant that takes inspiration from family pizza chains like Chuck E. Cheese and ShowBiz Pizza Place. The restaurant has life-size animatronic characters resembling anthropomorphic animals that perform on a show stage, usually for children's parties. The animatronics wander the restaurant at night, and the guard is instructed to watch over them. To progress through the games, the player must guard themselves against animatronics with a variety of tools. The original stated explanation for the animatronics' mobility is to prevent their servomotors from locking up due to lack of use, and their homicidal behaviors are caused by their mistaking humans for animatronic endoskeletons, whom they will force inside character suits, killing them in the process. From the third game forward, however, it is retroactively established that the animatronics are actually possessed by spirits of children murdered by restaurant cofounder and overarching franchise antagonist William Afton, who stuffed the bodies inside the animatronics, then accidentally killed himself when he disguised himself in an animatronic suit and activated its spring-locks. This backstory is hinted at through a secret in the first game, where a hidden news article explains that the restaurant's reputation was damaged when blood, mucus, and foul odors began to leak from the animatronics' eyes and mouths.
In Five Nights at Freddy's, the player can control the two security doors connecting their office to the adjacent hallways as a barrier against animatronics in the vicinity. Each night, the player has a power supply that depletes faster when a tool is used. If the power goes out, the player can no longer use any tools and is defenseless against the animatronics unless a shift ends before main animatronic Freddy Fazbear can attack. Five Nights at Freddy's 2 has different tools; there are no protective doors, and the player must instead use an empty animatronic head and flashlight to defend themself against the animatronics. The game introduced a music box which must be remotely wound up on a regular basis to prevent an attack from a particular animatronic. Eight-bit mini-games were introduced, which are played randomly after death and give cryptic clues into the lore.
Five Nights at Freddy's 3 uses a monitor panel, which contains audio, camera, and ventilation. The player must keep certain systems from malfunctioning. These malfunctions can be triggered randomly or by the hallucinations of the animatronics from the first and second games. The ability to seal vents is also added and must be used to prevent the sole tangible animatronic from entering the office. The player can use an audio-based function on the cameras, which triggers a childlike voice to lure Springtrap, the game's only physical animatronic possessed by William Afton's spirit, away from the office. The 8-bit minigames return and are playable after each night if the player completes side tasks such as clicking on a poster or inputting a code into a wall. If the player completes the minigames, they unlock a secret ending.
In Five Nights at Freddy's 4, the gameplay occurs in a bedroom setting, and instead of being a nighttime security guard, the player takes the role of a small child who experiences nightmarish visions of the animatronics due to fearing their real-life counterparts. The player also no longer has access to a camera system. The player has four areas in the bedroom to monitor: two hallway doors on both sides of the room, the closet directly in front of them, and the bed behind them. At the doors, the player must listen for animatronics' breathing, which can determine whether they are near.
If the player hears breathing at the side doors, they close the door and wait for the animatronics to walk away. If they open the doors too early, however, the animatronics jump scare the player. The player must also prevent small animatronics from accumulating on their bed, and prevent an animatronic from entering their closet. Five Nights at Freddy's 4 also introduces a minigame involving a new animatronic, which offers the player a two-hour skip in the next night for completing the minigame.
An elevated control pad is introduced for Sister Location, which can light a room or shock the animatronics. Other mechanics include a second control pad in a breaker room, which controls power to the facility and a flash beacon, which allows the player to see in the dark Funtime Auditorium (a party room) and avoid its animatronic. Sister Location is the only game where the player can move between rooms.
Pizzeria Simulator has business-style gameplay, and the player must spend in-game money to buy features for their pizzeria.[28] A series of minigames can be played by testing the establishment's attractions.[28] After the player has completed this portion of the game, they complete tasks in a room and fend off hostile, previously salvaged animatronics. The gameplay of Pizzeria Simulator shares a number of elements with Five Nights at Freddy's 3, including the importance of ventilation and the ability to distract animatronics with sound.
Ultimate Custom Night is a customizable night, in which fifty animatronics are present and have a maximum AI level of twenty. The game includes many mechanics from the previous games, such as the heater, fan, music box, and power generator. The player can choose which characters they want active for a night, and how active the characters will be.
Help Wanted combines the gameplay of every other game, and turns into a virtual experience for the player. It also introduces several other minigames, in which the gameplay is variant, and also at times has free-roam. Special Delivery features location-based augmented reality gameplay. The player can switch on their camera, and the footage itself is the game's background. The animatronics will try to attack corresponding to the environment. The animatronics generally have cloaking, which leads them to being invisible.
Security Breach holds the open-world aspect to this title allows players to experience a new level of immersion, similar to that of Five Night's at Freddy's 4. Players will also have access to a nifty tool called the Faz-Watch, which allows them to view maps, read messages picked up from random areas on the map, check security cameras for nearby danger, and look at their current objectives. It incorporates Freddy as a helpful companion throughout the game, though he has limited power and must be charged at stations through the map. Players can distract hostile animatronics by knocking things over to get their attention, while they can crouch and hide in various structures to evade them as they follow you throughout the map. Unlike other Five Nights games there are limited save points and there is only a single save station after 6 a.m. The Five Nights at Freddy's series mostly revolves around a chain of family restaurants under the ownership of Fazbear Entertainment, a company founded by Henry Emily and William Afton, an engineer that created a series of animatronic mascots for the company: Freddy Fazbear, Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy. Additional animatronics that were created include the Marionette, Golden Freddy, and Circus Baby, which was the mascot of the restaurant's sister location, Circus Baby's Pizza World. William was also a negligent father and child murderer, who would take his victims bodies and hide them inside of his animatronic creations, where their souls would inhabit the animatronics; he also specifically designed Circus Baby to be capable of murdering children, which led to the accidental death of his own daughter, Elizabeth (leading to the shutdown of Circus Baby's Pizza World). Afton's direct murder victims started with his co-worker Henry's daughter Charlie, and would expand to include children visiting the restaurants with their families. Alongside this, a child (nicknamed the "Crying Child") was continuously bullied by his older brother, making him develop a fear of the animatronics. Eventually, the older brother and his friends forcibly shove him inside of Fredbear's mouth, where his head is unintentionally crushed. At an unspecified point in the series timeline, William's son Michael investigates Circus Baby's Entertainment and Rental, the underground facility where Circus Baby is kept, only to be forcibly "scooped" by Baby, who has combined with other animatronics to form Ennard, using Michael's body as a host. Eventually, however, Michael's body rots, and Ennard is forced to eject itself out.
A while after the death of his victims, William is confronted by the ghosts of the children he murdered. In an effort to try and hide from the ghosts, he seeks refuge inside of an old yellow rabbit animatronic, Spring Bonnie. While inside the suit, the springlock mechanisms inside fail and snap shut, crushing Afton to death as his soul inhabits the animatronic, becoming Springtrap. Eventually, the restaurant chain shuts down. Thirty years later, a horror attraction based on the restaurant chain known as Fazbear's Fright is constructed and Springtrap is unearthed for it. Before opening to the public, however, a fire destroys the attraction, which frees the souls of most of Afton's victims and destroys the original mascots, though Springtrap manages to escape. Some time after the fire, Henry lures Springtrap (now Scraptrap) and all animatronics that weren't destroyed, including the Marionette, Ennard (now Molten Freddy), and the now-rebuilt Baby (Scrap Baby), in Fazbear's Fright into one single pizzeria. After all of them are in one location, he sets fire to it, destroying all animatronics inside, freeing all the souls of the children. Afton, meanwhile, is trapped in eternal hell by the spirit of Cassidy, one of the children he murdered.
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thedustybunny · 8 months
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Chamomile kisses - Chapter 4
Viktor Arcane x Fem!Reader
You can find this series under the #chamomilekisses tag
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As he entered his lab, the heart of his revolutionary research, he couldn't shake the lingering thought of you. He settled into his routine, slipping on his goggles, his focus on the complex equipment and intricate hex crystals that lay before him. He was driven by a vision of changing the world, of proving that science had the power to transform lives and offer tangible solutions to those who believed.
Just as he was about to lose himself in his work, the door swung open, and Jayce walked in – his one and only companion, the unwavering supporter of Viktor's ambitious endeavors. However, today Jayce's expression was far from pleased. "What is your deal, Viktor?" he demanded, his frustration evident.
Viktor huffed, readying himself for the impending conversation. "She's done nothing to you, and you're treating her like-… like she's some kind of a puppy-killer! What's your problem?"
"She might as well be," Viktor retorted, his voice carrying a mix of annoyance and conviction. "All that herbal nonsense, it's a waste of time and a mockery of real science."
Jayce's brows furrowed in disbelief. "Viktor, she's tried to be friendly, and you're shutting her down at every turn. The incident with the basket? That was completely uncalled for."
Viktor's gaze turned cold. "She's a purveyor of false hope. I don't need her sympathy, and I certainly don't need her so-called remedies."
Jayce's frustration reached its peak as he locked eyes with his stubborn friend. They argued back and forth, with Jayce attempting to reason and Viktor standing his ground with unwavering determination. "You're pushing people away, Viktor. You're doing yourself a disservice by isolating yourself like this."
"I don't need her. " Viktor snapped, his tone icy. "Now, if you're quite finished, I have actual work to do."
Defeated, Jayce sighed heavily, a sense of hopelessness washing over him. He had tried to bridge the gap, to get through to Viktor, but it seemed impossible. With a final, resigned "fine," Jayce took a seat nearby and picked up his own tools. The sound of soldering irons and machinery filled the lab, a stark contrast to the underlying tension that remained.
In the midst of their separate pursuits, Viktor buried himself in his research, fueled by a need to prove himself right and change the world. Jayce, on the other hand, worked beside him, torn between loyalty to his friend and a growing sense of frustration. The chapter of understanding and reconciliation had closed abruptly, leaving a rift that seemed impossible to mend.
A week had passed since your futile attempt at reconciliation with Viktor. As you walked by him in the hallway, you couldn't bring yourself to glance his way anymore. The polite nods and exchanges you once shared had vanished, replaced by an icy silence that seemed to be your new norm.
Then, the unexpected happened – the box full of papers he was struggling to carry slipped from his grasp, scattering its contents across the floor. Normally, you would rush to help, especially given that he was visibly struggling right in front of you. But this time, you held back a snicker, a small act of defiance that betrayed the frustration and hurt you felt.
His glare shot daggers your way, and he scoffed. "So mature of you to help me."
With a mixture of anger and bitterness, you shot back, "I'm useless, remember?" Without another word, you walked ahead of him, your footsteps carrying you toward your clinic.
Guilt tugged at you, a reminder that this wasn't who you were. You had never been one to be mean or callous, but the walls you had built were strong, fueled by the hurt he had caused. Why should you waste your love and kindness on someone so resistant to it?
You reached your clinic, where eager customers were already lined up outside. As you opened your doors, a wave of satisfaction washed over you. Today was about something positive – introducing your new line of herbal goat milk soaps. With a genuine smile, you greeted each customer, explaining the benefits of your products, and basking in the warmth of their enthusiasm.
You reveled in this new chapter of your life, one that was defined by your own pursuits and passions. As you stood behind the counter, engaging with customers who appreciated your work, the echoes of Viktor's muttered curses behind you served as a reminder that you were on the right path. You wouldn't allow his negativity to dampen your spirit any longer.
With every smile you exchanged and every product you introduced, you found a sense of fulfillment you hadn't known before. The cloud that had hung over you in recent times was lifting, and you were determined to let the light in. As your clinic thrived and your new line of herbal goat milk soaps gained popularity, you couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph over the negativity that had once weighed you down. The journey ahead was uncertain, but you were more than ready to face it head-on, leaving behind the memory of the man who had only served to sow discord in your life.
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koreposion · 11 months
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Horror doesn't really emote much because he finds his actions to be far more important. He struggles with what he's done, and what he will do, and only lets Nightmare feed off of those emotions. However there is a way he likes to get out his horrible feelings.
He likes to play a hunting game, in which Killer and Cross arranged for a bunch of friends to go on a trip together in a cabin in the woods.
Dust usually films the whole thing as he finds the fear and rash decisions that humans make fascinating.
Horror will start out the game by playing little haunting jokes, tapping, creeking, scratching, things that can simply be brushed off. And then it slowly gets worse, windows break, food spoils, wooden floors rot, lights aren't working, things are missing. Does anyone remember where the tool box was?
Every means of escape is possible, by car, by boat, by simply just running off and surviving. After all prey will keep running as long as they have hope.
He sets down traps, warns them with soft lullabies, takes his time killing them or even making them turn against each other.
"I have a hole in my skull...big enough to kill me....after all a wound like this would kill you."
"Do you really think they enjoy your company? Oh how they'll laugh when they find you."
"They saw a knife earlier, they took it and you saw, you saw and didn't say anything. How could you, I thought you trusted your friends?"
"How can I be real, this place is hell right? You're in hell, and you can get out. All you need is someone else, their blood, that's how it works, right?"
"They probably left you for dead, with your own mind and thoughts. I wish we could feel pity for ourselves...but we know we don't deserve it."
Projecting much into humans, he watches, he rips and tears, and then he's done and feels much better. Killer and Cross are too scared to watch, but Nightmare and Dust find it so enchanting!
Horror gets to have fun!
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saffronwritings · 8 months
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Songbird A Self-Indulgent Self-Insert Trickster Fanfiction
Part Thirteen: Playdate Word Count: 5.9k Content Warning: gore, violence, language , substance use, alcohol use, drug use A/N: welcome to chaos that is my brain. no idea how im gonna continue this one but here we go~
Songbird Masterlist
You had an extensive list of killers that you had befriended, each new killer that entered the fog was a new challenge for you. You weren’t expecting to befriend the Onryo, or as you and Steve lovingly called her: The Oreo, on the first day she entered the fog. Although it was very short lived because you honestly think you had just confused her. The next encounter did not go as smoothly as the first.
Wesker was another one in which took a bit of time befriending; the last thing you expected was when Wesker had joined in you and your friends' antics in the snowmen the Entity put in for the holidays. An excited squeal had left your lips as you had high fived Wesker inside of the decoy snowman. You had run back to the campfire exclaiming to Quentin what you had done, and looking over to see Chris Redfield’s jaw drop.
Another killer that was on and off with being your friend was the Pig. There were matches that she was a total sweetheart and let you and your friends boop the snoot. (A small game that you and the survivors had come up with after you had befriended her the first time.) On the opposite end though… When Amanda was in a foul mood, she was not in the mood to play games unless it involved your death.
You were dropped off at Coldwind Farms with your fellow survivors and you had gained your consciousness making eye contact with Jake. He sneered at you and made for the opposite direction. Rolling your eyes, you decided to head into one of the killer shacks on the map. You started cleansing a totem and notice David sneak into the shack and start working on the generator. 
You hopped onto the generator as well after making sure the totem was broken to bits. “Any idea on who the killer is?” You asked after getting into the groove of getting the generator working again. “It’s Pig, saw one of her cages on the other side of the shack.” He answered after sparking two wires together and pulled one of the cranks in quick succession. As if speaking her name was enough to summon her, you heard her pig like roar before swinging at David. 
Thankfully, David sprinted out of the shack before hand and vaulted over the window. Leaving you to be face to face with Amanda. You quickly dropped your tool box and lowered yourself to the ground. The first way you attempt to befriend the killer. This however, did not seem to appease the killer in the slightest. She swung her blade at you and managed to land itself deep in your arm. 
You let out a hiss and ran towards one of the exits, quickly slamming the pallet lined up at the exit way. You didnt mean to hit Amanda with it but you heard her surprised squeak and knew you were in for it. Even when Amanda was not in the mood to be friends, she never placed a bear-trap helmet on your head. You felt your blood run cold and you immediately broke out into a sprint.
“Shit shit shit shit” was all you could think and all you cold exclaim as you wove your way through the cornfield. You knew she was not going down without a fight, and she was hot on your trail. “AMANDA WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS!” You shouted as you vaulted another window leading into the pig pens. There was no answer from the angered killer except her ragged breaths as she kept her eyes on you. 
The problem you encountered a lot was that you were good at befriending killers; not running them. You were not nearly as good as Feng or Nea when it came to running the killers around the map. Its like they got some twisted pleasure when they got a rise out of the killer enough to tunnel them a whole match. And with not running the killers as often as they did, you didnt know the maps very well.
You had run into a dead end and quickly tried to climb over the pig pen fencing when Amanda grabbed you up like a cat. She tossed you hard onto the ground before putting the trap-like device onto your head. “There is no talking. Just suffering.” Amanda whispered into your ear before picking you back up and stringing you onto a hook. 
x x x 
That wasn't the only time that things had gone a bit weird in your trials. A few matches later, you found yourself on Leery's Map, the broken down hospital that was notoriously the Doctor's home map. Preparing for the worst, in this case; preparing for the doctor, you headed towards the center of the map. Getting the gen done in the main operating room was the biggest priority because if it's one of the last ones there was no way in hell the killer was going to let you finish it.
They will camp the shit out of that generator.
You started the gruesome process of pulling levers and turning knobs in order to get the gen working again. You barely got one of the gears turning before you felt your heart rate pick up - alerting you that the killer is on the way. “For fucks sake, can’t these killers leave me alone for once.” You groaned as you hopped off the generator and snuck up the stairs to your immediate right. 
You heard a loud nooting come speeding through the room and stop dead at the generator. The Blight had whipped out his cane and smashed it against the gen. You held your breath until he turned directly towards where you were trying to hide. You whispered out a curse and attempted to sneak down the other side, but you heard his screeching again and you knew to run. 
“Grandpa! Fancy meeting you here!” You shouted as you started putting foot to pavement. There was no response from him besides gurgling and the occasional screeching as he injected himself with zoom juice. You had found one of your favorite loops since finding out about it from Leon and prepared yourself to piss off the Blight.
As soon as he charged at you, you threw the pallet down and stunned the killer instantly. You baited him with starting to run in the other direction, which he fell for and started to follow you. A smirk grew across your face as you spun around and ran over to the pallet. 
This little game of back and forth went on for a little bit until the Blight finally broke the pallet in frustration. Another curse left your lips as you hightailed out of there and onto the next loop. This went on for what felt like ever. The repeating cycle, only making the Blight even more angry with everything you were doing. It wasnt until the last gen popped and he got a lucky hit on you and you went down instantly.
Hex: No One Escapes Death…
One of the cheapest tricks in the book for the killers. You could do an amazing job as youre running the killer, but if you happen to ignore a small detail as the totems, it could be the end of your run. “What a load of bullshit.” You groaned as you attempted to try and force yourself up. However, it was too late because he had picked you up and strung you on the hook. He hit you multiple times while dangling from the hook. “Awwww, Grandpa is big mad at me. Poor thing.” You cooed and he hit you with his weapon again.
“You’re going to regret that old man.” You whispered, hearing the exit gate open. “I’m not scared of you little girl.” He said back to you with a grimmace. Camping too? Wow. You noticed one of the other survivors start their way over and you knew you couldnt sacrifice all their hard work for you.
So you attempted to throw yourself off the hook to no avail. The entity’s claws came with a vengeance to try and end you. “GET OUT. ILL TAKE THE L HERE, DONT RISK IT.” You shouted, in hopes your team members wouldnt fall for his NOED trap of baiting. It seemed to work as quickly after the Entity’s tendrils pierced your abdomen and sending you up into the sky…
A frustrated yell escaped your lips as you found yourself in yet another match, it was relentless lately. “You alright kiddo?” Bill had asked as he made his way over to me. You had rubbed your temples and shook your head. “Can I happen to bug you for another pack of your smokes, Bill?” He gave you a weird look, as if disapproving, but you were ready to call him a hypocrite until he handed you a pack. “You can find them typically in chests in the killer shacks as a future reference.” He said before hobbling over to the nearest gen.
You inspected your surroundings and noticed you were on one of the MacMillan Estate maps. You shoved the cigarettes in your pocket and got to work on the gen with Bill. You and Bill probably had half of the generator done before you had noticed the TV sitting a few meters away from you two. “Fuck its the Oreo.” You muttered. 
Oreos had a tendency to not like the survivors; in fact you think they get a deeper satisfaction from killing you than any other killer in the roster. Well, besides from Bubba that is. “The what now?” Bill asked, but before you could clarify your eyes had noticed the killer crawling through the television you had just noticed. “Run.” You said before getting the Onyro’s attention. “Common Sadako, its time for your walk-”
You couldnt finish your little quip before she shoved her energy at you in full force, knocking you out of breath. A cough forced itself out of your diaphragm and you attempted to vault over the nearest window but she had been surprisingly fast this time. She yanked you just like the pig had done a few matches prior like you weight nothing at all. “You know we could be good friends, if you let me help-” You started to say before she essentially threw you as hard as she could onto the hook. For some reason, it felt like all the killers recently were all hella aggressive for whatever reason.
Maybe the entity was mad at you after all. 
“Or not.” You muttered after you let out a long scream from the pain. You were tempted to yeet yourself off the hook but you felt a twinge of pain from the last match's attempts. “What do you think you’re doing up there?” Leon quipped as he snuck his way over to you. “Oh you know, I thought I’d hang around.” You smirked as he groaned and unhooked you.
You let out a sharp inhale as the pain coursed through you more than usual. “You look rough buddy.” Leon said as he pulled out his medkit. “Do you say that to all the ladies to make them swoon?” You asked him as he poured out a salve onto one of the gauze pads from his medkit. “Only to you.” He quickly replied which made you quickly look up at him. 
Before you could say anything else you felt the terror radius closing in on the two of you. He took your hand and pulled you in the opposite direction that the terror radius was coming from. He dug something out from his pocket and he had chucked it behind us. When there was a decent amount of distance between the killer and the two of you Leon had thrown the two of you into a locker.
The killer's radius had circled around the locker you two were squished into and had disappeared. A relieved sigh left both of your lips when you both knew you were safe for the time being. “I think we’re in the clear for now.” You said and looked over to Leon and caught his gaze. He was staring so intently at you that you felt your heart-rate pick back up. “I think the killer’s on her way back.” You squeaked out.
Leons eyes kept flicking back and forth between your lips and back to your eyes. “Leon?” You softly asked, before he cupped your and closed the distance between the two of you. You froze, feeling your heart pound harder in your chest. Leon had quickly pulled away and his eyes were wide. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinki-” He had started to say before you had grabbed his RPD vest and crashed your lips onto his again. 
You weren’t sure what possessed you to do this. However, with all the matches that had been going on, this was honestly such a breath of fresh air. Leon was shocked at first that you had pulled him back into said kiss. However it took him a moment of being stiff to threading his hand through your hair as if he’d been waiting for this moment for so long.
His lips were slightly chapped, which was to be expected when you were all fighting for your lives constantly. It was almost as if he couldn’t get enough of you, his other hand trying to pull you closer to him. My dove… Rang through your head and instantly pulled you to your senses. You quickly pulled away from Leon and stared wide eyed at him. 
What had you just done?
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” You said before getting out of the locker. You almost wanted to cry; how could you do that? After everything that had happened with Ji-woon, how could you be hiding in a locker smooching on the rookie cop? You held your hand over your mouth as you tried to regain yourself. “Saff, over here.” Bill said through a sucked breath of pain. 
You rushed over to him and started to work on healing him. Surprisingly you healed him up in no-time and got back to working on the generator with him again. Your thoughts were racing a million miles an hour as you were unsure what to do. If you told Ji-woon what happened, he would make Leon’s life a living hell. (As if it wasn’t already) And you weren’t sure how he would react to that information.
You also valued honesty, and didnt want to lie to the man who just shorty ago felt vulnerable enough to admit he loved you. Anger coursed through your veins at your own actions. You got the generator with Bill running again before long and the exit gates were powered. A sigh of relief that the match was coming to an end.
Of course, Sadako had other plans. She had teleported once again next to the two of you. As if waiting for a golden opportunity to strike. What was with the killers lately with their end game tactics? “Go, I’ll take the chase.” Bill valiantly said. It was very on brand for Bill to try and sacrifice himself for the team.
“And let you have all the fun? I don’t think so.” You laughed knowing you’d get a groan response from the seasoned veteran. Bill had taken a protection hit and made a run towards the killer shack. Sadako had seemed to be on his trail, and yet when you were pulling the lever on the exit gate you felt the terror radius pick up near you. “I must be a killer magnet today huh Entity?” You stifled a laugh, and knew you were going to go down here.
“Sadako! Fancy meeting you here.” You attempted with your best killer charming aura. The exit gate was probably 98% done when she had made her way to you. “Don’t talk to me as if we’re friends.” Her voice came out just as glitchy as her movements were. “Awww, don’t break my heart here. You’ll make me cry.” You said, standing your ground. You were tired of running, tired of the chase. You just wanted to be done.
“Thats the point.” She said, hitting you with her force of energy. “Then get on with it.” You said, accepting your fate. The Onryo once again hit you with her energy force and knocked you straight onto the ground. “You know, Ji-woon won’t be happy to hear about your little locker session with the cop.” She said in a mocking tone. You felt a chill go through your body.
How did she know? 
“That's okay, it's only fair you get your pay back.” She hummed as he used her telekentic energy to pick you up. A confused look spread across your face and almost making your heart break at that sentence alone. What did Sadako mean by that? “This is why we shouldn’t intermingle. If you go looking for pain, you’ll always, always find it.” That was the last thing she said before once again throwing you onto the hook.
Your body ached like it had never ached before. You were onslaught by multiple killers with bad attitudes back to back. The entity must have put you in at least ten trials by the time you had made it back to the campfire. You walked over in a daze to one of the logs and slumped onto it. “Saff?” Quentin had questioned before sitting down next to you.
“Hi Quent.” You mumbled, staring blankly into the fire. “You’re looking really rough friend, are you okay?” He asked as he sat down next to you. “I’m exhausted.” You muttered, looking at your tired friend who had nothing but concern written on his face. “I just… need to rest..” You had slumped onto his shoulder and fell asleep so fast. 
You don’t know how long you were out for, it felt like a moments time before you felt yourself being roughly hauled over someone’s shoulder and being carried away from the campfire. You stirred a bit in the sudden movements and your vision finally cleared from the tired blur and noticed the campfire getting further away from you. Quentin was walking next to whoever was carrying you although he looked extremely nervous to do so.
You looked down and noticed a varsity jacket with some torn up jeans and knew instantly who was carrying you. “Frank I swear to god if you don’t put me down I will punch you in the balls.” You warned very cautiously and that had gained a laugh from the killer. He instantly put you down and continued his walk. You fell into step with Quentin who had just shrugged and followed Frank out to Ormand. 
Susie ran up to you with an excited squeal and crushed you in a hug. “I’m so glad you came! We wanted to throw a party and knew you had to come!” Susie exclaimed, looping her arm through yours and directed you inside of the abandoned ski resort. You had to explain to Susie that kidnapping you was not the ideal way to find yourself at a Legion hosted party and she apologized. 
She was honestly more surprised at your attitude towards Frank, considering the last time you saw him he had tricked you with Danny. You grimmaced at the thought and shook your head. You were tired of the grudges and the ill feelings towards everyone. You wanted to start fresh and wanted no bad blood with anyone; including Danny. 
“Well, we did invite him to this party, but he was brooding about something so we decided to leave him be.” She explained when you had looked around. However, you were surprised to see Kate, Meg, Dwight, Nea, and Steve there already mingling in the longue of the ski resort. David was behind the bar serving up drinks to the other survivors. 
“Ji-Woon also declined, we told him you were going to be here but he said he had some things to take care of.” She continued, making your heart sink. Sadako’s voice echoed through your head about pay-back. What did she mean by that? A scowl had rested itself on your face and Susie picked up on the mood change immediately. 
“We won’t worry about that tonight though!” She cheered, dragging you into the party that was in full swing. All the members of the legion were present, all masks removed to let the other survivors know they were safe. Amanda was also there, but keeping mainly to herself. Susie had bounded over to the bar to grab drinks for the two of you. 
Joey had passed you a blunt which you gladly accepted. You took in a long drag before passing it over to Dwight. You locked eyes with Steve and a smile crept on your face. He came bounding over to you and wrapped you up in a hug. He messed up Quentin’s beanie and plopped down between the two of you. “Its been a while since the three hooligans got up to some tom-foolery!” He laughed and took a swig of his drink. 
You nodded your head and smiled at him. You were exhausted from all the back to back trials but you also wanted to have fun with your friends. Although it was weird that the Legion considered themselves your friends. Frank came over with Julie and sat down on the couch adjacent to you and your friends. “Good to see you, Saff!” Julie said, smile widening as she looked at you. 
“Likewise! It’s been a while.” You answered, taking the cup out of Steve’s hand before taking a swig yourself. You cringed immediately at the contents in his cup. “Are you insane and drinking Tito’s straight?” You coughed out immediately, handing the drink back over to him. A dangerous smile spread across Steve’s face and he just winked at you as he chugged down the rest of the contents.
The party that the legion had assembled had gathered and the shenanigans had began. There was silly party games that usually only appeared at childrens parties. There was even a pinyatta in the shape of a flashlight that Frank had a blast beating the shit out of.
You couldn’t remember how many drinks you had in your system by the time the entourage of survivors and killers were sitting in a circle with an empty beer bottle sitting idly in the middle. Joey was the first one to spin the bottle and it landed straight onto Nea. “Truth or dare.” Joey challenged her with a wicked smile spreading across his lips.
“Dare, obviously.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes with an obvious smile on her face. Everyone was in very good spirits; Dwight was actually actively socializing, Kate was playing her guitar lightly enough that it wasn’t cutting over anyone’s conversation, and Quentin was actually partaking in the activities as well. He had a beer in his hand and occasionally took the blunt that was passed around to take a hit or two.
Your head was in the clouds and you felt like the world was yours. The fog and the impending doom that was the eternal hell was no match for the friendships you had built here. You had no idea how much time had actually passed since you had entered the eternal nightmare, but with the friends you made and the fun you had during your matches couldn’t be beat.
Meg had nudged your shoulder as you had dazed out while listening to Kate’s guitar and the background mingling. You noticed that the bottle had landed on you and silently cursed. “Alright Saff, truth or dare.” David said, pulling your hazed attention towards him. “Would i truly be my crackhead ass self if I didn’t pick dare?” You smiled at him, and he smiled back at you. “Spin the bottle and kiss whoever it lands on.” He challenged you.
For a moment, you hesitated. You thought of Ji-woon and how hurt he would be. Your thoughts flashed to the moment in the locker with Leon and more hurt twinged in your chest. Then, Sadako’s words sunk in. “If you do, I’ll tell you some tea.” He continued, adding fuel to the fire without even knowing. However, when you met his eyes you almost knew it was about Ji-Woon.
Without hesitating further, you spun the bottle in the middle of the group. You watched the bottle intensely as it spun and spun. You felt all the color drain from your face as you noticed who it had landed on. “Well come on, don’t be a baby.” He said with an evil smirk on his face.
You felt your heart-rate pick up immediately and almost wanted to spit in his direction instead. However, you weren’t going to be the only survivor not to follow through on their dare. You stood up and walked over to Frank who was smiling. Both of you didn’t want to do this. Frank hated you more than any other survivor in the line-up. 
“Hey there, trouble.” He greeted you as you finally closed the distance between the two of you. “You’re the one who’s trouble.” You countered, swallowing hard as you realized what you had to do. You took a deep breath as you lazily draped your hands over his shoulders. You had connected your hands together at the base of his neck and pulled him into your lips.
It wasn’t the worst thing you could think of doing. His lips were a bit chapped, his snake bites cold on your skin. He had returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer. He had swiped his tongue against your bottom lip and you had pulled away immediately. You glared at Frank who was only smiling deviously at you. 
You rushed over to Susie and pulled her into a kiss. She let out a surprised squeak and when you pulled away, her face was flushed red. You had smiled at her, mouthing a sorry before you ducked over to Julie. A wide and mischievous smile had crossed her lips as you approached her.
Julie seemed to catch onto what you were doing, and she grabbed both sides of your face and pulled your lips to hers. It was your turn to let out a surprised squeak before she pulled away and then gave a small little forehead kiss. You smiled back at her and ran over to Joey who was trying to escape your tangent.
“Uh uh, no way you’re escaping this Joey.” You smiled as you grabbed onto his hoodie. He groaned and faced towards you with a smile. He was playing around with you, as he had forever. He was the last of the legion you had befriended, which was surprising to everyone. You had befriended Frank and Julie way before you had even saw Joey in a match.
Every single time you were placed in a match with him, he was always in such a fowl mood. It wasn’t until much later that he had recognized you as Susie’s friend in a match and actually allowed you to befriend him. In his defense, he didn’t personally care about the survivors. He only cared about his friends. It wasn’t until you started to come along with Steve and the rest that he started to care. 
Only because his friends also started to care about you guys.
You had pecked him on the cheek and that in itself had elicited a blush to appear on his cheeks. “To the killer that took me the absolute longest to befriend.” You giggled, alcohol still churning through your system. He had kissed your cheek back, earning another squeak. “To the survivor who has been the biggest pain in the ass for all of us.” He mused back and went back to behind the bar. Since David was playing party games, Joey had taken his turn as bar tender. 
You had plopped on the ground next to Steve and Quentin who were staring at you with shock. “It was a dare.” You shrugged your shoulders and they shrugged along with you. You didn’t want to worry about the semantics when Ji-woon had outright refused to be here. Especially when he had known you were going to be there as well.
You guys had played a few more rounds of spin the bottle truth or dare before the area was cleaned out to make a makeshift dancefloor. You were significantly drunk by the time you had ended up on the dancefloor. You were singing and shouting lyrics to songs you had knew and partying harder to the ones you didn’t know.
Kate, Susie, Nea, and you had all been dancing in a circle. All too drunk to care about what was going on around you. It wasn’t until you were pulled aside by a dark figure that you had sobered up a bit. “Danny?” You asked and his smile was your only answer. “Seems like you’re having a blast, sweetheart.” He mumbled as he brought his solo cup up to his lips.
“I was until you interrupted me.” You smiled at him, trying to not feel as awkward as the tension hanging in the air. “I wanted to apologize. For everything. I didn’t mean to hurt our friendship.” He admitted, chugging the rest of the contents in the solo cup. He winced a bit at the after bite of the alcohol and handed the cup over to Joey, who had filled it up in record time.
“I shouldn’t have played into the Entity’s games. It was wrong and I shouldn’t have tricked you. I was worried that Ji-woon swooped in and was going to cause harm. I wanted to see what he would do in the situation. Think of it as a test for him rather than you.” He continued, swirling the drink around in his cup. He hadn’t looked up at you. Guilt was written all over his face. 
“You showed up tonight, I’m glad.” You said, nudging his shoulder with your own. He looked over at you surprised at first, but then a look a adoration spread across his face. He wrapped you up in his arms and let out a laugh. “Oh how I’ve missed my favorite chaos gremlin.” He said and you gladly returned the hug.
“You are an asshole though.” You admitted, making him laugh out a hearty laugh. “Oh, we both knew that, darling.” He rolled his eyes and pushed you back into the frey of the party. 
Frank had approached Danny with dark eyes, both of them knowing something that the other didn’t want to say. “David already promised her the information. The last thing we needed was you to tell her and her to not believe it.” Frank said, staring out into the crowd where you were dancing with Julie and Susie. “Steve will probably try to kill him again.” 
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