#hes a fucking freak and he eats people and he in-game states that he likes doing it of course he should get a little deranged about it
Note
saw that ur reqs r open, and i love all ur work sooo here i am lol
what would the tf141 boys be like w a reader who’s into horror? (i was thinking reader is like rlly sweet but loves playing horror video games or smth, but u can interpret it however u want!)
i can js imagine johnny freaking out when he sees reader playing like,,silent hill or smth. or resident evil 7 (can u tell im a horror game nerd lol)
but yeah! js a silly little idea i had, feel free not to write it if u don’t want to! have a good day, ily!
TF141 Watching a Horror Movie With You 🎃
hi omg this is such a cute concept!! thank you so much for the support, you have no idea how much i appreciate it!
i have so many ideas for them with someone who loves horror movies so that’s what this post is about (i hope that’s ok :( ) but i’ll try to write about horror games another time because that’s such a cute concept! i just have lots of ideas for this one rn so i thought i’d do it first
female reader, fluff, not proofread <3
Simon "Ghost" Riley thinks it’s cute that you love horror movies. He spends half his life in a real-life horror, he’s seen things that you could never imagine. Teasingly calls you a ‘psycho’ for just sitting there happily, cuddled up to him as you watch something absolutely terrifying go down on the screen.
Simon is a pain in the ass to watch certain horror movies with, because if guns or fighting are involved then he will make sure to point out to you exactly what the directors got wrong.
"He’s holding it wrong… if I even… Price’d never let me hear t’end of it," he mumbles, not talking to anyone in particular.
When you cuddle on the sofa, if you’re laying face down on his chest, he loves to keep one hand on your ass. Sometimes, if something does make him jump, he’ll squeeze it out of instinct.
People don’t usually expect it but you’re very good with scary stuff, you rarely ever get spooked out. But sometimes you do, especially if you’re tired and it’s late.
Once, after you’d watched a film, you went to get ready for bed and Simon went ‘to eat something’. Even when you were all changed and ready for bed, he still hadn’t returned, and so - twiddling your fingers together for reassurance - you peeked out into the darkened hallway.
Only for a 6'4" soldier in a skull mask, wielding a cup of tea, to jump out at you from behind.
You screamed, stumbling back in a state of panicked confusion, about to cry out for Simon when you came to your senses and realised that the masked intruder was Simon.
He stood there, laughing his ass off, until he realised that you were obviously very on edge and a little bit teary eyed.
"C’mere…" he sighed, placing down his tea to take you into his arms, "i’m sorry, baby girl, please don’t cry…" Your heart was racing and you were debating whether or not to slap him, but you knew he didn’t mean to upset you. And you were happy so long as he made up for it.
Soap Mactavish claims that he’s not scared of anything. Nooo, no way, he’s not scared. He’s so not scared that he’s looking away and squeezing your hand.
Poor guy is so easily jumpscared, it makes you giggle.
"You sure this i’nt going t’be too scary for you, bonnie?" he coos, placing an arm around your shoulder as he half-watches the film that has plunged into a strange silence. He’s definitely trying (and failing) to be subtle as he flexed his muscular arms a little bit, in an attempt to show off.
"Oh yeah, don’t worry," you nod sweetly, smiling up at him.
"I’m just saying, angel, if you need to bury your head into my chest, or if you can’t look, then that’s okay, you just go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I’m a soldier, I could easily take on any- Shit! Fucking hell!" he jumps, squealing and then clearing his throat in a poor attempt to disguise it.
"You sure this isn’t going to be too scary for you, bonnie baby..?" you tease, kissing his cheek.
"Lay off it," he pouts, blushing a little bit as he nuzzles his face into your hair.
Alsoooo Johnny is a fiend for feeling you up when you’re watching a film together. He sees it as a perfect opportunity to get to know his pretty lass a little bit better.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick’s favourite part of movie night is the food. He loves takeaway (he’s definitely a Nando’s lover) but his absolute favourite food is your home cooking. When he was asked his favourite food when he was younger, he was always the one kid who would say "whatever my mum makes!" and now he’s an adult it’s just the same, but "whatever my girlfriend makes!" Whenever he realises you’re going to watch a film, whether you invited him or not, he will call out to you from the other room to "HOLD ON!" as he grabs snacks and drinks for the two of you.
Gaz isn’t too easily creeped out, but it happens. He’ll never admit that it’s because he was scared, but you’ve definitely noticed him ‘accidentally’ leaving the hallway light on. If it wasn’t an ‘accident’, then he obviously did it so that you wouldn’t feel scared in the night. He probably realises that you can see right through him, but you always say you believe him, just to make him feel better.
Kyle’s favourite horror movie series is Paranormal Activity, because it’s a so-bad-it’s-good kind of thing. He loves sitting in bed, eating popcorn, with you in his lap, laughing til you cry at all his jokes about how horrendously made the films are. Once, he was taking the piss out of how bad the film you were watching was and then immediately got jumpscared. He even let out a weird noise in shock - he didn’t hear the end of it for weeks.
Even if he’s not cuddling you as close as possible, Gaz loves to rouch you, usually by holding you with one arm as you rest your head on his shoulder. He is a serial thigh-squeezer.
John Price is a total dad, and that extends to when you can convince him to watch one of your favourite films with you. He wants to watch the movie, it’s not his fault if he falls asleep 15 minutes in every single time.
He lets you lay on his broad chest, that’s warm and rises and fall under your head, while he rests his hands behind his head and closes his eyes. He’s prone to snoring, too - in past, you’ve had to rewind the film because you missed part of it while you were trying to get him to wake up and shut up. The only sureproof way to wake him up is to try and move off of him - he’ll open one eye and grumble at you, as he pulls you right back into him.
"You’re not even watching the film, you’re asleep…" you whine, looking up at him.
"’M watching, love. Shhh," he mumbles, eyes still closed as he softly pats your hair.
"Are not," you pout.
"Shhh. ‘M trying to watch this," he hushes you, eyes closed and totally ready to go back to sleep. You’re almost annoyed at him but he makes that very hard, breathing softly through that moustache as he presses you against him, like you’re a teddy or a weighted blanket.
In terms of the films himself, Price isn’t easily scared (partly helped by the fact that he spends half of the time asleep). The first time that you two watched something scary together, he was almost expecting you to be terrified, but he was pleasantly surprised when you weren’t. He thinks it’s funny how you can sit in his lap perfectly happy and watch something that would have any ‘sensible’ (as he puts it) girl screaming.
He either gets very irritated by the main characters making terrible decisions and getting themselves into trouble, or finds it hilarious. He also loves to rub your feet while you watch the movie, literal princess treatment.
i kind of want to watch a horror movie nowwww
all pictures are from the game or from pinterest as far as i’m aware
i hope this was ok for you!!! i know it’s not exactly what you wanted but maybe we can just consider it part 1 of the horror obsessed reader saga >:)
masterlist
#cod mw2#cod#simon ghost riley#ghost#fluff#ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon riley x reader#cod x reader#headcanon#simon riley fluff#ghost fluff#soap fluff#cod fluff#gaz cod#cod headcanons#ghost cod#cod mwii#call of duty modern warfare#cod modern warfare#call of duty#soap cod#call of duty x reader#ghost call of duty#tf 141 x reader#tf 141#task force 141#141 x reader#cod 141#mw2 141
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Pretty Hate Machine
The Sequel to ‘The Downward Spiral’
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If you dangle meat in front of a predator long enough, the frenzy that follows will be violent and messy.
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This is a dark Ghostface fanfiction. Content Warning:
Fuck or Die
Violent sex
Blood play
Torture porn
Stabbing
Dubcon/noncon
Sexual violence
Humiliation
Degradation
Graphic descriptions of violence
Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. If the above are triggers for you, do not proceed. DBD lore does not suggest Danny is fun or nice, I wrote him as such.
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“I’ll see you real soon, sweetheart.”
The words echoed in your head as you sat on a fallen tree trunk, leg bouncing as you stared out into the forest and waited. You’d been doing a lot of that lately… waiting. Waiting for the next trial. Waiting for the next killer. Waiting to be hunted down and slaughtered. Waiting to be a sacrifice to the Eldritch horror of an entity that controlled this place.
Waiting for him. You’d been waiting for what feels like forever for him. You lost track of how long you’d been here, it could’ve been months, years, mere days, you didn’t know. The others, they called in The Fog. They called themselves Survivors, they all got here in some mysterious way (though none of them had been brutally murdered after they were fucked by their coworker).
Sometimes you wondered if people were looking for you, if people were looking for Danny, Jed, Ghostface, whoever he was to people. You landed on the guess that they were looking for your body, and as far as Ghostface, you’re positive they assumed he skipped town after likely slaughtering you.
You’d been looking for him too. Rather, you’d been looking out for him. It was apparent what would happen when you finally encountered him. He’d hunt you like the rest of the monsters that lurked here, you and three others that were dropped into these… trials. Four against one, at a staggering disadvantage, since that one was a killer with a horrible weapon and you got a shard of glass if you were lucky.
So far, you faced The Shape, one of the survivors called him Michael. She came from the same place he did, Haddonfield, Illinois, her name was Laurie. Forever pissed that she was stuck in an endless cat and mouse game with the man who killed her friends. At least one of them could understand your position. The Trapper was another one that you encountered a lot, a burley man who set rusty bear traps in places you always seemed to be. There were more. The Huntress, The Wraith, The Nurse, The Doctor. Those are just the ones that stuck out to you. The ones you saw most often.
But where was he? Why didn’t you see him? Why were you actively looking for the one everyone called The Ghost? Why did you care? What the fuck was wrong with you? You hated the feeling you got when the others talked about trials with him, how you began to get jealous. Why couldn’t you see him? It was almost not fair. You should be grateful you’re not being hunted by the narcissistic, knife wielding maniac, but you miss him. Why was this entity separating you from him on purpose? Surely it’s not out of mercy.
It freaked you out how obsessive you were about him. Danny consumed your every thought at the fire. The others asked you about him once he began showing up in their trials. Theirs. Not yours. They asked why he chose you (you didn’t know). They asked if he carved the word ‘MINE’ into your arm (you lied, it was your ex, they believed you). They remarked that you must be so happy you haven’t had to face him (you weren’t).
And fuck you for that.
You hated, loathed the idea that maybe you missed Jed. And then you’d remember that Jed doesn’t exist. Jed is a lie. Jed is Danny. Danny was behind murders states away from Roseville. Danny is Ghostface. Danny is unhinged. Danny is a good fuck. And fuck you for wanting him to fuck you again.
The man in the glasses and the tie, Dwight, sat next to you.
“What does he do in those trials?” you asked, staring into the flames.
Dwight swallowed. “He’s brutal. He hides around corners and in windows and watches us.” Gross. He’s such a fucking pervert. “I think he looks for you.”
That got your attention. “What?”
“I’ve noticed he gets worse when he figures out you’re not there. It’s like all of a sudden this rush of anger goes through him and he’s tunneling survivors, he’s brutally playing around, he’s watching us suffer on the hooks, he’s collapsing the end game. It’s terrifying.”
You scoff and then let out a laugh, which earns you a few looks from other survivors. “So he throws a fucking temper tantrum.”
“Temper tantrum?” The girl in the beanie, Nea, sneered. “Is that what you call it when the rest of us are being brutalized because you’re getting spared?”
“Nea…” Dwight warned.
“Spared?” You laugh again. “Spared? Did you forget what got me here? That asshole stalked me. He broke into my home. He bludgeoned me, then he tied me down, then he tortured me,” you conveniently leave out the part where he fucked you with your blood as his lube, “and then he cut my throat open. And now I’m here. So, yes, it is a temper tantrum.”
She started swearing at you, but it was drowned out by the loud hum that overtook your mind, you knew that tug. The Entity wanted to be entertained. That’s all these trials were for it. Entertainment. You grunted and closed your eyes, and when they reopened, you were staring down the streets of Haddonfield. Shit. Another trial with The Shape, at least, that’s who was normally here, or the Legion, creepy bastards.
These trials were simple enough. You and three other survivors were to fix enough generators to power on the gates that led to an exit. You just had to deal with a murderous nutcase of the Entity’s choosing chasing you down in order to shove you onto a sacrifice hook, or to murder you themselves with something the others referred to as a mori.
You got right to work on a generator, moving hastily as the adrenaline pumped through your veins. You’d gotten good at this game, you escaped a lot of the time, generators were tricky, but you were fast.
A scream ripped across the street, freezing you in your tracks before a bell rolled and signaled the death of one of your fellow survivors. That was fast… almost too fast. Was it The Hillbilly? No, you didn’t hear the chainsaw. The Hag? Maybe Michael really was the killer this time. You abandoned the generator and ran towards the scream, then you stopped.
‘Idiot! This is exactly how people die in horror movies!’ you scolded yourself. Not only that, if the killer had been blessed with the ability to use their mori, you’d be even stupider to investigate. You’d be a brainless moron. The kind of brainless moron that you used to point and laugh at in those stupid 80s slasher movies.
Then you felt a new sensation. Like someone was watching you. The hair on your arms rose, you were oddly aware of your pupils dilating and your forehead breaking out in a sweat. It kept you frozen where you were. This was different from when Michael was the killer, you never got the feeling of a dry throat or like you were hyper aware of your surroundings.
The others have talked about this feeling. Obsession.
Fucking fuck, you were the killer’s obsession.
Without a thought, your legs sprang into motion, you sprinted from between the houses you had stopped at. You had to get away from the area. Go! Run! Hide! You became less human and more animal as you banked around a corner and dove into in a locker, hand clamped over your mouth and nose, trying to will your heart to slow, fearing that it would be heard. Footsteps approached from the side, pausing in front of the doors. The shadow casted through the vents wasn’t anything overly huge, but it vanished before you could pick it apart. At least you knew this was a stealth killer, not one of those hulking brutes like The Trapper or The Executioner.
You didn’t dare move until the feeling of being an animal hunted left. When it felt safer, you carefully exited the locker and ran the opposite direction to continue on your generator. As soon as it popped, you bolted, still unable to shake that lingering feeling of being watched.
Not moments later, the explosion of a mis-crossed wire on a generator was heard, followed by a scream piercing through the air and then a bell tolling.
What the fuck…” you murmured. This only confirmed that it had to be a stealth killer. Which only left you with a few options. The Wraith, the Pig, Michael… or him. You heart pounded a little harder. There was a 25% chance you were in a trial with Danny. One where you were the obsession. One where he could slaughter exactly as he pleased. One where you were now down two teammates.
You were completely and utterly fucked.
A hand grabbed your shoulder and you let out a scream before another hand slapped over your mouth and a bloody Ace shushed you. “Shh! Sh! I’m sorry, listen- fuck- I need you to help me out!”
The gambling man was stabbed blood pouring from between his fingers. You nodded as he crouched down and you quickly started packing the wound. “Wh-who is it?” Your voice wavered, terrified of the answer you already knew.
“It’s The Ghost.” Ace grunted as you faltered a bit. “Ah! He- he knows you’re here, kid…”
Before you could form a coherent thought, a shadowy blur launched from the shadows and tackled Ace from you, knocking you flat on your ass. Ace rolled onto his stomach, I’m the process of yelling for you to run, but the knife was already in his back, puncturing his lungs before he brutally stabbed through his sides, head ripped up and the flash of a camera capturing a fresh kill. You stared up from your ass in pure horror as Danny examined his photograph and slowly raised those black, soulless pits of the mask to meet your terrified eyes.
“Fucking finally.” His voice was distorted by that fucking modulator, nice to know he didn’t drop the act here. He tore the knife from Ace’s back, standing. You scrambled back as his boots crunched on the gravel. “You’re all mine, bitch!” You screamed as he wiped the blood from his knife, turning and stumbling as you got up and ran, hearing the most unhinged cackle fall from the throat of the killer. Your killer. You vaulted over windows, threw down pallets, you tried to get away, but there was no escape, it was a fact you were so devastatingly aware of. You finished one generator, all three of your teammates were dead before you could even process you were alone.
Worst of all, he was pissed. You came to realize that night before you came here that Danny had some serious anger issues. He had an incredibly short fuse. Even answering his questions slower than he wanted pissed him off. And now, after probably having to watch you for however long you were here, not being able to have you? He must be irate. Evident by the fact he just brutally murderer Ace in front of you.
You turned into a house, rocketing up a flight of stairs and wedging yourself under a bed, hands clasped over your mouth to quiet your breathing. You heard the pallet you had thrown down across the door shatter under the force of Danny’s boot. “You can’t hide here, sweetheart!” he snarled from downstairs. You hear doors open and get slammed shut, pans clattered to the floor as he stalked through the house. “It’s just you and me now! No more hiding, no more watching, no more fucking games, you’re finally goddamn mine!” Floorboards creaked as he ascended the stairs and tears rolled down your cheeks until it went quiet. Damn him. Damn you for getting wet over this. What the fuck was wrong with you?
“Found you.” A hand wrapped a crushing grip around your ankle and dragged you out from under the bed, kicking and screaming as he shoved you against the wall by your throat. The soulless black abyss of the mask’s eyes bore into you with more emotion than you think any person could ever have. Because Danny was beyond pissed.
‘Shit. Shit, shit, shit!’ You kicked your legs and caught him in the stomach, falling out of his grasp and attempting to make a run for the door, only for your ankle to be caught again and you to land on the dirty hardwood face first, nose crunching and bleeding at the impact. Danny dragged you back to him and wrestled you into his arms, falling back as you knocked your head back to collide with his. You weren’t going to go down like last time, you were going to fight, you were going to make it as hard as you could for him. Maybe he’d get so angry that he’d just kill you instead of what you knew he was going to do.
He suddenly threw you to the ground like you weighed nothing before standing and kicking you in the gut. You wheezed, has he always been this strong? No… no way he had been. “Hey, doll? Did you miss me?” He growled, grabbing your hair and wrenching you up.
“Fuck you!”
“I see you haven’t lost that fuckin’ fight.” he growled. It wasn’t playful, it wasn’t giddy. It was said with downright terrifying annoyance as he hauled you to your feet and slammed your face against the wall, cheeks crushed to it, your back to his body, blood pouring from your broken nose. “She hasn’t broken you quite yet.”
“Go to hell, Danny!”
He pushed you harder into the wall, the splintering wood cutting into your cheek. “Choose your next words real fucking careful, sweetheart. I’m already having a bad fuckin’ day and I will gladly take it out on you. And I’ll make it really fuckin’ slow and painful… just for you.” You whimper, ultimately going lax under his fingers and taking a deep breath. This is what you wanted, right? To see him? Feel him? Touch him? This was what you asked for when you brooded over the fire and laid awake being jealous of your fellow survivors and angry that he may have their pictures too. “That’s it. That’s it, doll.”
You winced as he pressed against you, heavy breath muffled by the mask, erection pressed against your ass. You were not going to make it easy for him. “I heard you threw some temper tantrums when I didn’t show up in the trials.”
He slammed your head against the wall again and your vision blurred. “The more attitude you have, the worse this is going to be for you. I’m not above gouging out new holes to fuck instead of your pussy.”
Your eyes watered as you whimpered. Then tears started spilling from your eyes. You heard plastic hit the ground as Danny ripped it off his face. He trailed the tip of his knife down your cheek as he pressed his forehead against your temple, his hair damp with sweat. “Listen, and listen closely.” he growled into your ear. “You’re going to cooperate. I have waited since I got to here to have my way with you again. I even cut a deal with the Entity.”
“Wh-what kind of deal?”
He let out a soft breath of a laugh before grinding his hips against your ass and let out a soft groan. “We show her how far I can push you, I get access to you outside the trials. It’s a win-win.”
“Sounds more like a win for only you.” you muttered. The knife bit into your cheek, and to your utter humiliation, you whined. He shifted your position and held you to the wall by your throat. The eyeblack was still there like you remember, but he didn’t have your blood splattered on him. Danny smiled as he observed the shine of the knife.
You swallowed as he gave you that stupid smirk before he licked the blood from your cheek then leaned down and kissed you, the knife disappearing back into its sheath. You let out a muffled yelp, trying to find a way from between him and the wall. His hands ran up your arms, one descending down your spine while the other firmly cupped the back of your neck to keep you close, effectively cutting off any and all escape routes.
You shoved him back but he just locked his fist into the hair at the base of your neck and yanked your head up towards the ceiling as hard as he could. “It’s pathetic how you think struggling will get you anywhere, doll.” He made his point by stabbing your leg and dragging the knife upward, shuddering as you let out a high pitched scream. “Fuck, I love when you scream for me.”
“I hate you.” You growled, tears freely flowing now as the knife ripped from your leg and was lodged into the wall.
“Is that why you sit at that fire and stare out into the forest? Because you hate me?” Danny scoffed, roughly shoving his hand into your shorts and gliding his ring and middle fingers through the wet folds of your pussy, pulling a whimper from you. “Look at that, still a filthy slut for pain? Do you soak your panties for all the killers when the chase you down, or am I special?”
You glared at him as you tried to control your breathing and hold back your whimpers. He pressed his forehead against yours and focused his fingertips on your clit, slow circles stimulating you further, causing your eyes to drift close and your mouth to drop open.
“She kept you from me. She made me wait and watch. She tortured me by dangling you in front of me like I was a starving dog salivating after a slab of fucking meat.” He yanked you off the wall, taking the knife with him in the process, and pushed you back on the bed, straddling you, your blood soaking the fabric of his pants. “I have so many pictures of you. I’ve made a pretty collage of you.”
His eyes were crazed, he looked like a junkie that finally found his fix. He practically devoured you again, teeth clacking against yours as the knife tore through your top and shorts, nicking your skin, bright red blood blooming from the cuts. He was careless, you were probably in more danger now than you ever were the night he brought you here. But oh god, did it feel good when the worn leather of his gloves caressed your tits and pinched your hard nipples.
‘Fuck it.’ You reached down and cupped his pants, whimpered when he immediately started grinding his hard cock into your palm. He grinned against your mouth and broke away from you, pressing his knife against your throat.
“You try to run and I’ll pin you to the wall by your throat and fuck you that way.” When you nodded, he stood up walking backwards until he collapsed back in the chair, legs open wide. “Now, I didn’t get my cock sucked last time. Crawl to me, take it out, and show me what a good little doll you are.”
You winced as you moved your leg, yelping as you crawled, the muscle of your thigh torn by his brutality. You dragged yourself into a kneeling position and started undoing the belt, sliding it off and working the button open and dragging down the zipper. You hated yourself as you pulled out his cock, mouth watering. You didn’t get a good look at it before, but the stretch you felt made sense. And of course the asshole had a pretty cock. Fuck him. And fuck yourself for liking it. The other survivors, they fucked each other, you however couldn’t stop thinking of the fuckhead in front of you.
“Hurry up, sweetheart. I’m not a patient man.” he growled.
“I’m well aware.” That comment earned you a blade in the shoulder, bone crunching, and you screaming. Danny seized your hair and shoved your mouth onto his cock, slamming into the back of your throat and causing a wretch to interrupt the muffled cries of agony.
“You’re real fuckin’ brave, you little brat. You love running your fuckin’ mouth so much, but we can find a better use for it.” You wretch again as he thrusted, forcing you to drool down his shaft before he pulled you off so air. “Get to work. Now.” It was so embarrassing how easily you bent to his will. The nail was in the coffin from day one.
He didn’t need to guide you anymore. Message received. So you immediately began stroking his shaft and licking at the bead of precum on his tip. How long had he been watching you in the trial? How many pictures of you did he take? How often did he masturbate to you? How many hours had he spent wanting you from the shadows just outside of your survivor camp?
You opened your mouth and gave the head of his cock a quick, sharp suck, causing Danny to moan and throw his head back. “C’mon, baby.” He seized your hair and forced you to look up at him and his camera, clicking away. “Put on a good show for me.”
He tasted like you imagined. Earthy, but with a hint of sweat from the hunt, and he kept himself trimmed neatly. Your mouth watered, hands bracing onto his strong thighs, tears running out of your eyes like the drool running out of your mouth. Oh fuck, he was addicting. Your nails dig into his hips and dragged down, leaving him shuttering and laughing.
“Ah~ f-fuck, sweetheart. You look so good with my cock in your throat.” He forced your head closer, shoving himself further down your throat and your nose against his body, gagging you. His cock twitched in your throat, you braced yourself to take every drop of his cum. “Sick little slut.” Danny’s hand wrapped around your hair, a delicious tug making you moan as he pulled you off his cock and caught his breath. Your spit clung to the tip of good swollen cockhead and connected to your lip as you gasped for air. “As much as I’d love to see you swallow my cum, I’d much rather paint that pussy white.”
He got up and dragged you to the bed, forcing you to stumble and cry out in pain when your leg dragged against the sheets on the bed, staining the dirty floral quilt with blood. More screams and yelps of agony fell out when he pressed your busted nose into the mattress. Danny’s fingers brushed your pussy, growling out a laugh.
“What would your little friends say if they saw you here right now, dripping, even with a broken nose, scared out of your mind? What would they say if they knew I carved out that scar on you?” Just as your mouth opened to snap back, the knife was shoved through your shoulder, point sticking out the other side of your body. “Learn how to shut the fuck up, sweetheart.”
You nodded, finally giving in, finally accepting defeat. God you were pathetic. How embarrassing. Still, he rewarded your response with gloved fingers rubbing your clit the way he knew would get you squirming and moaning. He practically snarled as he pressed his forehead between your shoulder blades, blood from your wound soaking his forehead. “Please, Danny… please I need you…”
“I know you do.” He shoved you back and pushed his pants lower. “Arch nice and fuckin’ pretty for me.”
You obeyed, whimpering as the knife shifted in your back, well aware of the clicking and the flashes of the camera. So fucking creepy. Danny gripped your ass and spread your cheeks open and gave your pussy a quick, experimental lick before he kneeled behind you. He roughly collected blood from the gushing wound on your leg and spread it onto himself, teasing your pussy with the head of his cock, dragging it through your soaking wet folds, swirling it over your clit as you whimpered. More clicks. More flashes. God the disgusting gallery he must have of you.
“Please, just fuck me alre-“ you screamed out when he slammed his whole cock into your hole, grunting at the way you squeezed him hard. “Jesus Christ, Danny!”
“Ah fuck me. Finally… god fucking dammit finally!” He smoothed his hands over your back and sides, letting out a loud moan as he watched you take him, letting him thrust at a leisurely pace. Danny didn’t do gentle of course, he seized your hair and ripped your body up and against his chest, knife at your throat as he started pounding. You gasped and moaned, throat bobbing as you struggled to swallow without getting cut by his knife. “You’re so pretty when you’re being fuckin’ good for me.” He dropped the knife and fell forward, still thrusting, but now cheek to cheek with you as your arch deepened and his chest pressed down into your back.
He fumbled for a moment and regrouped onto your hair as the camera screen was shoved into your face. He forced you to watch as he flipped through photo after photo of you. You at the fire, you talking to the survivors, you sleeping. Occasionally pictures of your dead teammates showed up, until the trial now was apparent. It was only you.
You fixing the generator. You stopping in the alley. You running down the street, your terrified eyes as you realized who it was, you sucking his cock. Your pussy with his cock balls deep inside, blood smeared everywhere.
“You’re- mmh fuck!- You’re fucking crazy!”
Danny whimpered in your ear as you clenched in a particularly hot way before he bit on your lobe. “And you… fuck, you’re such a slut, ya know that?” he growled. “I just murdered your friends, I’m covered in their blood, and you’re still wet for me. You’re still taking me so good. Dirty little whore.”
You reached back and ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck as you felt yourself clench as Danny‘s breath fanned your neck. You were disgusting. Traitor. Weak. You weren’t any better than him, because if you were, you wouldn’t be fucking him right now. You wouldn’t be enjoying it right now. He moaned again and pulled out, flipping you onto your back and slamming back inside, your breath rushing out of your lungs.
He suddenly tensed and braced himself over you, angling himself even deeper as he moaned and came inside you, thrusting through the waves of pleasure. He started laughing and tapped your cheek with his knife. “Good god, sweetheart look at that… making me cum so quick…” Your breath hitched as he pulled his cock out of you and spread your pussy open, laughing as he watched his cum drip out of your abused whole, mixing with the blood. Danny turned his attention to his branding on your arm, tracing the letters with the tip of the blade. “It’s cute how you lie about this.” There wasn’t an ounce of flirt in his voice as the smile vanished. “How you make them think you aren’t my property.”
“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Danny.” you snapped. Before you could blink, the knife was through your hand, your high pitched scream piercing the air. “Asshole!”
“Don’t get smart with me, babe.” He twisted it, bones crunching. “Or I’ll carve a hole in your throat and fuck that next!”
You whimpered as he ripped the knife out of you, blood splattering on the both of you. The carnage was worse this time, you were practically covered and smeared in blood. “Please…”
“Please what? Please kill you? Please fuck you again? Please keep you here until she has enough and takes you away from me again?” He smirked, taking another picture of you. “Be specific.”
You hesitate, then swallow. “Please make me cum… I wanna cum… please, Danny, I’ll be good!”
Danny smiled and ran a hand through his hair, observing his blade before his eyes lit up with an idea. “Stick out your tongue.”
You obeyed, and his fingers started in on your clit. He pressed the knife’s base on you tongue before pressing his own to the other side, fingers now shallowly dipping into your entrance, cum leaking around the tips. Fuck, this was hot, the taste of the blood on the weapon, how the sides of his tongue pressed against yours as he slid the knife down between them, somehow managing to not cut either of you. When it was finally out, his tongue folded over your, blood and spit mixing as he finger fucked you.
Your breathing got heavy, a moan rose in your chest as his thumb played over your clit. You shook and reached up, fingers grasping his shirt as you broke the kiss to pant and whine and whimper. Your eyes shut and your thighs started tensing. Your tongue was coated in you and your teammates’ blood, the wound on your shoulder bled heavily and you’ve lost feeling in the shredded leg that was still spraying blood, your head was fuzzy, you were right there, so close, so-
He tore his fingers away and stabbed you in the stomach instead, right as you came, shock in your eyes as you coughed out more blood. “Fuck you!” He hummed with a smile as he slowly dragged the knife up and up and up, splitting your stomach and exhausting whatever adrenaline you had left to scream.
“A ruined orgasm is still an orgasm, sweetheart.” He smacked your pussy, splashing your cum on your thighs as he twisted and unsheathed the knife from your body. “Come to the edge of your little camp when you get back. Let’s see if this god of ours keeps her promises.”
#horror#ghostface dbd#ghostface x reader#danny johnson x reader#jed olsen x reader#dead by daylight#ghostface#fanfic
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I had no idea that Tolkien fans were so nasty and racist.
Any time I try to look up any information about Rings of Power, comment sections are overwhelmed by racist freaks. I swear to fucking god, these people don't have anything worse going on in their lives other than a film studio hiring a Puerto Rican to portray an elf or a black English woman to play a dwarf. (Even Isildur is too ethnic for some of these fans. Like jfc, so sorry he's not a WASP.)
What blows my mind is the sheer number of complaints, just about each one of them starting with, "I'm not racist but..." and ending with this rant insisting that Tolkien wanted all of his fictional little magic characters to be white. (Ok. Fair enough. He probably DID envision them all as white. He's a dead guy who was born in the fucking 1800's.)
Lol. "I'm not racist but I can't stop obsessing over the hobbits' skin color!" Jesus christ.
1. I'm currently re-reading the Silmarillion and nowhere does it explicitly state that everyone must be Caucasian.
2. There are numerous citations about some people actually having darker skin (e.g. harfoots).
3. The people who are screaming, "But this is OUR contemporary European mythology! Stop shoehorning black people into it!" Newsflash: there are black Europeans, assholes. Born and raised in your fucking countries. They know no other culture aside from --whichever country they gotta put up with your shit in. (Yes, my grammar sucks. Fuck off.) Why the hell do you act like these people do not exist?
I can't say the USA is any better with these attitudes, but I thank the fucking stars for having visibly outspoken, politically active African American women to keep our bullshit in line.
Imagine being a woman or a POC (or both) and anytime you apply for a job, audition for a role, or enter into any sort of competition and actually win based on your talents/skills, just around the corner there's a legion of assholes screaming that you were only picked because of tokenism. Imagine going through life being told over and over that your effort means nothing and that anytime you succeed at any given thing, you're just being pandered to. And imagine that the people saying this shit to you are pretending to be on YOUR side. And imagine, just for a moment, that these same people happily watch white guy after white guy walk into success and never ever question if whether or not their white guy peers are playing favorites -- because surely those people are impartial in all of their decision making. (Did they pick a white guy? It's an impartial choice! Did they pick a black lady? WOKE BULLSHIT PANDERING::blood erupts from esophagus::)
Imagine all of that, then go take a nice big shit in your garage.
Also, this uruk hai is totally gonna eat this little boy. Off topic, really. The pic is just there to get your attention.
Between the nasty backlash of Sandman and Rings of Power, complete with death threats and everything, I have to say this takes me back to the uprising of Gamergate.
They performed all of these same hate rituals, but aimed squarely at women in gaming. Zoey Quinn caught the brunt of it -- people even figured out her father's home phone number and made threatening calls to him.
I remember Anita Sarkeesian would have to cancel expos due to bomb threats.
These are typically the actions of some subhuman demographic, mostly male, aged 20's to 50's, typically white (not always) and either straight or profoundly closeted. Politically... they tend to think of themselves as freedom lovers, but at the root of their ideologies, you'll find stagnant traditionalism dancing in rhythm with contemporary neo-conservatism. Freedom for them, not for anyone else.
These are the people who don't want women to design video games, they don't want black/hispanic/Indian folks in their TV shows except as forgettable side characters, and they don't want the gays. Never ever with the gays. (And anything beyond "gay" doesn't exist in their minds. It's made up.)
I remember all this back in 2014. They review bombed games, in fact. They were a bunch of keyboard warriors for the most part. They eventually lost, because now we have a more diverse gaming industry. Most of them can only find their male gaze fixations with the big-tittied anime girls in obscure JRPG's pumped out by Japan, China, and Korea -- at best.
They're just scum. They really are. And they hate change. And they're cowards.
#rings of power#lord of the rings#lotr fandom#lotr#rop#the hobbit#neil gaiman sandman#sandman#neil gaiman#black feminism#african american#feminism#feminist#blm blacklivesmatter#hispanic#india#bipoc#women#video games#gamergate#gaming
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anyways this is tumblr and I actually do live in the wild west of America. I WILL talk about my protocreed au
So, to start off, Alex sees Desmond and Elijah while he's grabbing something at the university of New York in Manhattan, and actually catches a glimpse of Desmond eating a glass plate and a metal cup. He's so fucking confused and fascinated that he starts stalking him out of a scientific desire to study him.
Why is Desmond eating glass and metal you may ask? He is a piece of eden and his body needs nutrients in order to sustain itself. More specifically, he's three apples. Altaïr's apple was his 'body' which is why he looks so much like him, Ezio's apple was the 'voice' that allows him to properly speak to people through time, Connor and Aveline had the 'brain' apple which allows them to directly configure and control his abilities and memory.
Yes, Aveline and Connor get married in this AU. It should've happened in canon, and just bc ubi decided to drop their storyline, it doesn't mean I have to.
So, back on track, Elijah and Desmond are traveling together bc Desmond was absolutely ecstatic to learn he was having a child, and they decided to go to Manhattan after the 'Daniel incident' in Vermont. Alex manages to track Desmond down after two months working at Bad Weather and decides to just. Watch him.
And also get into a shit ton of bar fights, bc you can't tell me that Alex wasn't using his fighting moves in game before everything happened, you can't.
Most of the other employees that work at Bad Weather don't want to deal with Alex because, as previously stated he gets into a lot a bar fights and actually manages to win them, and Desmond is a good enough fighter that he can handle him. The interesting part is that Alex never tries to involve Desmond in his fights but he does let him pull him off people without attacking, like he would attack other bartenders, so they just let Desmond handle him.
Desmond is...conflicted on Alex bc on one hand, the man is stalking him and is persistent about it too, but also doesn't run away screaming when he realizes that Alex has seen him eating food that shouldn't be consumable by humans and will break a bunch of shit so people don't realize why so many dishes go missing in a week. But on the other hand, Alex is quite open about wanting to pin him to a lab table and seeing what makes him tick, which is fucking creepy. But he also??? Fights off any Abstergo agents when they're watching him in the bar (and later on he discreetly kills them) so its a really fucking mixed bag for Desmond.
This is kinda long. I'll stop here, but like I wanted there to be a reason Alex is so interested in Desmond before and after his death and rebirth, and I kinda wanted to lean into the fact that Dr. Mercer was absolutely a freak.
#prototype#[prototype]#alex j. mercer#alex mercer#alex and desmond#protocreed#assassin's creed#assassin's creed rewrite#desmond miles#please ask me about this au#someone asked me about it in another post and i was gonna reply#but then i realized I wrote like 7 pages on this au and why I think alex is the way he is#and i was like this is a fucking long ass reblog#and demoted it to the drafts
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Roadtrip
a journey made by car, bus, etc.
in sports, a series of games played away from home.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
In which we discover how Two-bit, Ponyboy, Johnny, and Dallas are like on a roadtrip.
part 2/2
"Enjoy"
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Dallas
Somehow the designated driver of car 2
Fought Two-bit for the keys.
Literal Speed demon.
"Dal, we're in 65 zone.."
"So?"
"You're going 80.."
"Okay?"
Challenges other cars to street races
Gets pulled over
"Oh, im sorry officer. I didn't see a speed limit sign anywhere."
If he didn't have Johnny and Ponyboy in the car, it would've been a high speed chase.
Controls the radio, and will have it on full blast.
He gets road rage.
Will slam his hand on the dashboard
Breaks hard.
Flips off people when he gets cut off.
Smoking
"Hey guys, look. No hands!"
Two-bit
Riding passenger
He spilt one of his beers due to Dal's hard breaking.
"What the hell! You owe me a beer"
"The hell i do!"
Cat calls broads
He sticks his torso out the window while doing it.
Also smoking
Tells Dallas to challenge cars
He tries to pretend he's asleep when they got pulled over.
Man probably, just somehow, has a warrant out for him.
Flips random people off for shits and giggles.
"FUCK MAN"
"WHAT!"
"I have to pee.."
He gets bored easily.
"Dal?"
"What."
"Are we there yet?"
Asks that question every 5 minutess
Johnny
He don't normally get car sick
Its another story with Dallas
"Im gonna puke"
Poor boy needs to be in the other car.
Dallas pulled over for him to puke.
Multiple times.
That boy is so light, inertia pushes him around like no big deal.
He hates the street races
"Dal, please don't.."
"Imma be sick again.."
Poor boy got scared when they got pulled over
Might pass out?
Either because he's tired or because of the street racing
Would get shaken awake by Pony
"Dal, pull over,"
He is the reason why Darry can catch up to them.
Barely eats the snacks
Unless they pull into a Dairy Queen
Chows that shit down.
But high risk of puking.
Ponyboy
Quietly points out out-of-state tags to Johnny
Would probably keep count of how many he sees
"Johnny's gonna puke!"
He probably has the window down for Johnny
He's somewhat used to the street racing? (Soda and Steve do it on occasions)
Inertia is also pushing him around, poor guy.
Offers Johnny a smoke
he refuses
He probably buys Johnny n Him snacks
Will NOT share.
He will slap hands away.
Probably gets sick like Johnny, but quickly gets used to the speeding/breaking/turning/etc.
Worried about the laws
Freaks out when Dallas takes his hand off the wheels
Terrified about getting lost.
He might take a power nap
But its quite impossible with Dallas' yelling
and street racing
Smokes to get over the nausea
Barely has to pee
Even though he's drank like, 5 Pepsis.
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ive also long since walked on from that fanartist mentality of ''people should support me rather than just lurking in the shadows cause i need validity to keep going''. you know those posts asking people to reblog and like peoples art or else theyll leave the fandom and all the content will disappear because like
i sort of fundamentally understand thats not true. because the reason my art isnt liked much at all is because theres just an oversaturation of content (fanart) because its thousands of people making art for a shared interest, and so theres people whove been doing what im doing for long mucher, much better, much quicker, and more interestingly than me. i aint going to get much engagement because my art is low quality repeat of years old content, and people already have their favorite artists and fics that have tread this ground, theyre not going to give a shit if i make it again because im not that artist who effected them first, so im always going to be a low barrel smuckers artist churning out content for myself in a cave and maybe like a handful of people will throw me a chance but i know deep down im never going to be good enough, because im lazy and not skilled and not as good at envoking emotion or intrigue like those artists who do have the followers and stuff
and i dont really give a shit, i used to eat myself alive when i was younger and being made fun of and compared to better artists as the ''worse version of them'' but at this point i see no reason to immolate myself or cry out ''reblogs over likes!!" because ive stepped back, looked at what i was making, and genuinely asked ''who would give a shit about this besides me?". and that answer is nebulous and far reaching, and maybe some unknown entities out there do love all my work and follow me with an intense gaze of respect, but im not going to shoot arrows at a flying target and then cry when it doesnt land, because why just poison myself with self hatred and basing my emotional state on how many reblogs i get on a drawing, when i can recognize im one fanartist in a big freaking ocean of people whove long since gone and more coming in who will always swim faster than me. and does it matter to me??? should i truly base all my worth over the images i make for a piece of video game media thats not going to exist in maybe 40 years? did god really give me life on this planet just to cry myself to sleep at night because my art isnt getting the attention i think he deserves?
like yeah it hurts to know when your shit doesnt do well! it makes me really sad! i miss the engagement being semi known in the utdr community brought but what i realize im missing isnt the attention on my art but meeting people and engaging with them, having conversations over anonymous messages over a shared interest, learning other peoples headcanons and surprising them with a drawing! i miss the sociality of fandom and getting to fuck around, i dont care about compliments or notes, i miss being en extrovert talking to people about the video game, not my goddamn ego getting fanned by strangers!
so will i ever care if my 50 hour art piece failed in getting attention? no, because thats not what i want, what i want is to meet people and talk to them and have fun with the connection something like a video game can bring us, and when i first tried for those connections in utdr i was met with people so blinded by their fascination and love with my art that trying to just fuck around and be friends with them felt like i was at a wall of having to be the artist they appreciate me as rather than just some bum online making headcanons, so leaving utdr behind was both very good because i no longer had to deal with that wall when talking to people, but it also means i now lose a ton of social communication that came with being well liked amongst a group of nerds and now jumping into a new group of nerds as a nerd who hasnt been around for long. so i guess i just miss that. its why i enjoyed going to sacanime as just a random cosplayer and getting to talk to the cooler artists and random cosplayers, i love the community that comes with fandom and not at all the ''attention'' or what have you of fanartist. if that makes sense
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✂️🌈🔥
emoji ask meme
✂️ SCISSORS - what is the “last straw” for them to cut someone out of their life? how easily do they let go of people?
Going to answer the second question first, because Python has cut people out before. His description in the Valentia Accordion Book (or, the translation I've located at least) states that "His father was a talented carpenter, but his alcoholism drove Python to leave his house in disgust and live a hand-to-mouth life." The only way that this situation is even vaguely referenced in-game is in his memory prism with Forsyth, where Forsyth sarcastically tells Python he's welcome to go home and become a carpenter like his father (which Python shoots down with a snide remark about hammers being the only thing he hates more than swords).
This dialogue combined with the knowledge that none of Python's endings ever imply anything more about his family leads to me portraying him as completely uninterested in reconnecting. The ties with his father have been cut, and he's walked away without much of a thought about ever sewing it back together. (His mother is never mentioned, so I have to make all that stuff up myself lol…but I don't need to get into all that here. This answer is already long as fuck 🙏)
As for what that "last straw" is, I haven't envisioned a specific action or insult that led to Python leaving home. I just work with the sense that despite Python's lackadaisical and self-deprecating attitude, there is a level of disrespect that he doesn't tolerate. When that line is crossed, he's ready to drop everything and walk out. (This is also why I believe he does like the Deliverance despite his whininess about work—he's chosen homelessness over a living situation he hated before. If he truly hates the whole thing, he'll pack his shit and go.)
🌈 RAINBOW - what advice would they give to their younger self?
"When all the oranges are collected during harvest season, eat your fill while they're around. Don't wanna freak you out, but there'll be less and less every year." Maybe he shouldn't say that last part. Gods, he's glad he can't actually do this. What a nightmare of a thing to do to yourself—popping in to tell yourself about the future. "Oh, and quit blowing off Forsyth's offers to read to you. It's a chance for some of the best sleep you'll ever get."
🔥 FIRE - do they have any self destructive tendencies? what habits do they have that hinder them from becoming their best self?
answered this one here !
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Eddie and Y/N getting caught while he’s hiding.
Summary: Y/N and Eddie in a secret relationship. Y/N brother Jason finds out when they’re at the hide out.
Warnings: some slight spoilers 🔞Mentions slight use of drugs.🔞
‼️NOT MY PHOTO‼️
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Y/N was with their brother and his basketball friends. While eating lunch Y/N heard someone jump on the table.
“You can by into science or parties. Or A GAME WHERE YOU TOSS BALLS INTO A LAUNDRY BASKET.”
“You got a problem freak?”.
Y/N looked up and saw Eddie make that face. They made eye contact and smiled at him.
Mike and Dustin noticed. “Who’s that?”.
“That’s Y/N. Uh, we have math and English together.”
“But find a replacement for Lucas.”
After lunch Y/N went to the woods and saw Eddie sitting there waiting for them.
While hugging and giving kissing each other they were a voice say.
“Oh, sorry I was gonna buy something from Eddie. Wait Y/N is that you?”
“Chrissy, can you keep this a secret from Jason? I won’t tell him you’re buying stuff from Eddie.”
“Yes, I will but I think I need something stronger from Eddie.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~Time Skip~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was after the game and hellfire meeting. Y/N, Eddie, and Chrissy were all in Eddie’s van heading back to his trailer.
Once they were there Eddie went to go get what Chrissy wanted. Y/N was getting her something to drink to calm her while.
They both walked about into the room Chrissy was in and saw her in a weird state. They try to call her out till Chrissy starts to float. Then all of sudden Chrissy ended up on celling with her bones breaking.
Y/N and Eddie scream and look at each other like what just happened.
Eddie grabs Y/N’s hand and runs for his van.
Eddie drives fast to his supplies house for a hide out because Eddie’s knows the police will be on his tail soon.
Just like he thought the police were on his tail but so was the basketball team. Jason was worried for his siblings safety and hoping they were safe.
They were found by Dustin and the crew and told them everything. Dustin and max told both of them everything about the gate and how this happened many times before.
“So Eddie needs to hide here and Y/N I don’t know if you should stay or go.”.
“I think she needs to stay with me so I can protect them from anything that would harm them.”
While hiding out for a couples of days another kid was killed by Vecna. Eddie knew sooner or later people would find them.
Eddie and Y/N were hiding out in the house. Y/N heard a truck outside and saw their brother and his friends get out with weapons.
“Eddie we need to hide now!”
Eddie and Y/N was hiding in the boat house when Jason found them. They both got on the boat and rowed out to the water. They were like a mile out on water when Jason and his friend found them.
“Get back here now freak! Is that my sibling. Oh you’re gonna die. Come on man let’s go get them.”
Jason and his friend were swimming out to the boat. Eddie started to paddle faster. While doing that Jason was almost to the boat when his friend stopped and went under the water. Then all of a sudden he came up out of the water floating.
“Not again.” Y/N and Eddie said at the same time.
Jason looked at them and at his friend. He was scared and confused. When his friend died he saw the cops coming and swam towards them.
Once he got to shore he told the police everything.
“He was with my sibling Y/N, I think they’re gonna be his next victim or he has them doing his dirty work. It was weird I think it was something satanic.”
The cops looked at him like what the fuck. While Jason kept talking he kept hoping his sibling was gonna be okay. He needs to get a bigger group of friends to help get them back.
“Maybe they’re dating and they helped him do his crimes?” “We found a T-shirt and many things that belong Y/N can you confirm any of that?“
Jason identified everything as Y/N.
“What if he kills them next?”
“We’re doing everything we can.”
“Bullshit you’re not doing enough.”
I’m gonna kill that freak Jason thought.
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Man. I completely forgot about a hypothetical fnaf game I wanted to make until I randomly remembered the main character. Sooo. Imma post about it. Yee.
The game would partially work like a dating sim (but no actual dating or romance cause my aroace ass cannot write a relationship for love nor money) So it'd just all be platonic, meeting people, making griends, helping them out, learning more about them etc.
At least part of the game was that. I imagined it as having day shift and nightshift sections. In the day shift, you would do all the talking to people and etc. During the night shift you were trying to investigate the animatronics and what shady shit was going on with them and Fazbear Entertainment. )I don't know if the game was set in any particular fnaf location, possibly fnaf 2?)
The main character was named Ange. They were in their late twenties, lost their job, and decided to work at Freddy's to make ends meet while they looked for a better job. I didn't have much fleshed out for their background though.
Then there were the rest of the employees.
Sal (Short for Salvatore) was the manager/owner. He was like, an intentional red herring type guy. Very purposely played up as shady, possibly Mafia type. But he's actually not. He's a bit rough, having grown up doing a lot of shady stuff, but after his brother and sister in law died, leaving him to raise his nephew Seth, he decided to try and make himself better. He's like, the uncle that shows up, gives sage life advice, and then 'jokes' and says to tell him if anyone messes with you and he'll 'deal with them.'
Seth, as previously stated, is Sal's nephew. He mostly got hired because of nepotism, and he doesn't really do much other than hang out in the break room, high (medical marijuana for chronic pain) and eat snacks. Also, might've been able to see ghosts, but was so freaked out by them that he just avoided them (Another reason he stayed in the break room all the time.) Chill as hell.
Marcell was the restaurants 'chef.' In reality he lied on his resume, saying he could cook when he can barely operate a microwave. He lied because he was desperate for a job, and his criminal record (Petty theft, shoplifting, etc) made it hard to get a job. Thankfully (or maybe not?) Sal could give a fuck less about the food, since all the pizzas are just pre frozen. Sal is pretty hard on Marcell, because he sees himself in him, and wants him to get his shit together.
Leto was was some nonhuman entity (with no association to the murders or Afton) who just hung out in the building. Sal got sick of it scaring people, and said to basically either do a job, or he'd exorcise it himself. (Unclear if that'd have even worked.) In the end, Leto chose to be the janitor cause it liked collecting stuff people accidentally left at the pizzeria.
There was also an idea for a waitress character. She didn't have an official name, so Cierra was a placeholder (cause there were too many names that started with an S sound ;-;) And I went back and forth like crazy between her either being chill as hell and only really being there because she had nothing better to do over the summer, or like, a stereotypical mean rich girl who's parents forced her to get a 'normal job' to humble her. (Maybe I split both those ideas and make two. Eh.)
I also messed with the idea of phone guy or Afton showing up, because fnaf 2. But I wasn't sure if I was gonna do that much.
#rambling#fnaf#fnaf au#if i ever have the spoons for it. i wanna find and draw them all#because i remember ange being my favorite
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Xenoblade 2 - Final Chapter (Part 5) - And thus, boy met girl.
And thus, everyone returns in... spotlight form...
...Rex is still stuck in his nightmare isn't he?
Oh, it seems we are out of the horror! It was just the Architect trying to peer into everyone's soul. That little rascal!
And thus the Architect informs everyone that he's been spying on them all, INCLUDING THEIR OWN PERSONAL THOUGHTS IT SEEMS! ...Klaus had no respect for privacy did he?
So it seems everyone had a different set of visions, but they all shared the same thread of being fears that they harbor. But he wanted to see in order to tell how humanity has changed over the years, and get a feel for their current direction as a species.
Klaus... I hate to tell you but a sample size of 3 humans, 1 Noppon, a Flesh Eater, and a bunch of blades is NOT a statistically significant sample size...
OH BOY! EXPOSITION TIME EVERYONE! Klaus is going to give us his memories, and the memories of the planet. Little did I know he could communicate with the Life stream.
So summary of the past - The word was stuck in a struggle for survival WORSE than what Alrest is experiencing now. Klaus saw it as unseemly, but he did recognize the glimpses of beauty (unlike some pope who SHALL NOT BE NAMED.... and not because I'm blanking on his actual name...)
"Humanity harbors desires, and struggles to realize them. This is the natural state of man" says Klaus. Right before saying "I thought that was stupid so I tried to rewrite THE UNIVERSE!"
Ah yes... the Zohar... I mean Conduit... the biggest plot-driver of the Xeno games. I think in Saga it was basically an energy source that connected to a higher plane of existance, that they used to then create the universe wide INTERNET! (which... caused ghosts to appear...) And now it gave someone the power to open gates TO THE MULTIVERSE...
APPARENTLY almost everyone else who used to LIVE ON EARTH got shunted against their wills into alternate universe BECAUSE KLAUS HAD TO MESS WITH THE FREAKING ZOHAR THAT HE DIDN'T UNDERSTAND.
This is why you don't mess with alien/divine artifacts that magically appear in front of you without KNOWING WHAT IT DOES.
Oh.... so THAT is how Klaus exists as both the Architect and as Zanza... he is LITERALLY stuck half way between two universes....
At least he got to feel eternal agony for his part in breaking all reality?
Huh... so apparently timeline wise Xenoblade 1 and 2 must take place at about the same real time if he can tell that Zanza is about to die.
Well, at least you accept this for what it is Klaus. You recognize you fucked up, and you have accepted your punishment for that.
Oh, more lore! Apparently Klaus didn't just accept his punishment. He sought out redemption by trying to restore the world. And now we learn that the Cloud Sea is A MUCH MORE TERRIFYING THING THAN I THOUGHT...
It's a sea of nanomachines that apparently tries to eat old matter to turn it into new matter...
... okay... I guess people calling him the Architect and their effective Creator God was... not farfetched at all since he APPARENTLY DID CREATE LIFE...
Apparently all the core crystals are miniature vessels with the memories of the previous inhabitants of the planet. Though... how did you get those memories if they were sent to other universes Klaus? HOW DID YOU GET THEM!?
So when a core crystal mixes with the cloud sea, you get new life apparently.
And thus Klaus seeded the planet with life, and just waited for evolution to do its thing.
I mean.. If you're worried about humanity repeating their mistakes... you could... I don't know? GUIDE THEM? LIKE YOU WOULD A CHILD!? This is why you teach the young Klaus. So they can learn from your mistakes and your successes without needing to go through the pain of it all themselves constantly... and so you can TRY TO AVOID THEM FROM MAKING THE SAME BAD MISTAKES YOU DID.
Oh.. he's mostly worried if someone like him (dumb, foolhardy, but also intelligent enough to actually break everything) appeared. Okay.. that might be harder to stop. But apparently his answer was to create the Blades.
I guess... to try and kill his doppelganger if they ever appeared?
Oh hey, apparently there are supposed to be 3 ZOHAR BLADES. But one of them just happened to disappear because of a "Space-Time Transition Event"...
Klaus... did you just throw it into the conduit one day because you were bored and wanted to see what happened? You can tell us.
Oh goody, apparently Pyra and Malos were in charge of managing every other blade in existence!
And... apparently every blade is constantly sending data to the two of them... How are they both so stable if they are CONSTANTLY getting data of basically EVERYTHING every other blade is experiencing all the time?
Oh, this is apparently a bi-directional data connection. Pneuma and Logos get the "what's the current status" data, and they send back new info to try and help the blades change over time to meet the needs of the new humanity. That.. is weird but I guess a way to try to automate your "guidance" of everyone.
Oh.... oh not EVERYONE was shunted into other universes... those that survived other than Klaus were... turned into those monsters we say in Morytha..
It seems they used the original version of the core crystals to try to achieve immortality.. As they... were supposed to replace your brain cells? I don't get how that is supposed to work... But hey! Klaus took it and repurposed old tech for a new, probably more useful function. (though possibly just as ethically gray)
And there is EVEN MORE EXPOSITION. But that has to be for the next part because I'm at the image limit.
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Don't freak out
The date that was supposed to happen on the 26th of August did not happen. It was agreed upon, and then I just ceased to hear from the girl for the rest of the week. I messaged her to follow up. No response.
I'm used to the ghosting by now, it's an unfortunate reality of these apps that you're going to have to deal with it from time to time. I've had plenty of seemingly nice conversations fizzle out after a while, but agreeing to a planned date on a specific day and then disappearing? That stings a bit more.
Today is not a great day. It's Labour Day, holiday Monday, I should be enjoying a nice day off, but I'm not. I'm kinda spiralling. I'm having a harder time than usual being here in this apartment, which I know is something that has happened before and will likely keep happening until I find a way out, but it doesn't make it suck any less. The despair and feeling of hopelessness when I look at the monthly expense on even a one bedroom apartment sends me into a dark fucking hole of depression.
I went and got the rest of my stuff from my brother's place so I can cart it off to my uncle's storage locker in London. So yet again my car is filled with big ol' chunks of my life that, like me, are sort of in limbo, just wanting to get to the next destination. And I'm currently in limbo waiting for my dad to get back from the mall since he insisted on helping me move that stuff to his car so he can bring it up tomorrow while I'm at work, and I am just waiting for the inevitable "this is too much stuff" and "why do you need all this?" which is certainly true of a lot of it, but people seem to often forget that when you take a whole-ass house's worth of stuff and try to squeeze it into one little room, it's gonna look like a lot more than it actually is. I definitely don't need all of it and I definitely plan to get rid of a big chunk of it, but I want to make those decisions based on where I'm headed and not where I am now.
Making decisions based on where my head is at now feels like it would be detrimental. But that's because I'm just in a slightly more aggressive than usual "bummer" state...but I also can't tell if this is my norm and the occasional times I'm doing things I enjoy are just temporary joy highs.
The last Friday before this long weekend was the last day of our summer hours, and seeing as I did the full shift last week, I would have the wonderful luxury of leaving at noon this past Friday...except I didn't have that luxury, my manager called me and informed me of this on Thursday of this last week. Bummer. But he cut a deal with me that if I take this shift, he would just give me the full day off next Friday. I'm trading four hours for eight. Good deal! Joy! Had my first physical last week where she confirmed that I was mostly healthy (joy!) even though I've been feeling sick for several days (bummer.) and she all but confirmed what I already knew which was that I need to eat better and lose some weight. Bummer again. Ran some tabletop gaming and took a day trip with some close friends over the weekend. Joy! Woke up with the crippling sense of dread that I would never get out of this apartment and dug myself deeper into that hole by looking at nearby one bedroom apartments, even the cheapest of which were grossly out of my budget. Bummer. Remembered that I've only got a three day work week this week since Friday is going to be my bonus day off! Joy! Remembered that Friday was also supposed to be my first date with the one girl seemingly left after that dating blitz, the one I vibed with the most, the one I should have paid more attention to from the very beginning...but that after several first dates already being postponed it seems like that one is fizzling too, and there's a good chance that if it doesn't happen on Friday, it's not going to happen at all...
Bummer. Bummer, but don't freak out. That's what I'm telling myself now, don't freak out. I literally went into my Google calendar and added a few question marks to the event reminder. Then I made a new event and set it for that morning and I called it "Don't freak out." And in the notes I wrote this:
"Don't freak out if you haven't heard from her yet. Don't freak out if the date doesn't happen. Don't freak out if it looks like you're never going to meet her. There will be others, but only when you want there to be. Take a break from it. You have today off. Relax. Enjoy it. Watch some TV, play some guitar. Wake up early and have some tea and enjoy the quiet of the apartment before mom and dad start their routine. Play some Switch, read a little, catch up on your podcasts. Just take the day to not think about any of the things that are making you sad. Just take the day."
I don't want to get to a place where I have to remind myself to be happy. I just want to BE happy. And I'm trying.
I'm trying not to freak out.
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This is a vent, so uhhh if you don’t want to see my ranting you don’t have to read
My eating disorder is back again. It isn’t apparent as it used to be, but I haven’t eaten in three days and chugged water to feel full. Before this I puked(not on purpose) when I was aware I was eating more than 500 calories. On top of that my boyfriend isn’t talking to me and I don’t know what I did, I have joined SO many communities to try to meet people or talk,,, literally I have tried so hard to fill the empty gap in my heart up since my father figure died, only for it to feel more empty after an attempt to get to know somebody. One of my favorite blogs on here followed me back, but I’m not sure if it was a mistake or if he saw my comments about liking his posts. Everything I do is to try and feel better.
But I reveal something, get made fun of.
Oh, I like cartoons? I’m a delusional person who thinks I’m a child.
I read fan fiction? Fuck, might as well be lonely
My cats are my only friends? I’m such a loser
Oh, I’m part of the lgbt and my dad happens to be abusive? I’m a fatherless freak
I still live with my family? I’m a poor piece of shit who lives in my moms basement
I like a certain type of music, I dress the wrong way, I do my hair the wrong way, I talk the wrong way, act the wrong way, it’s all wrong! According to EVERY FUCKING PERSON I KNOW I’m wrong in everything I do :/
God. Fucking. Damn it. I try so goddamn hard and all I get is made fun of or insulted. Being picked on is all fun and games until there’s people twice your age telling you to swan dive off the Empire State Building. My boyfriend is all I really have left and he isn’t talking to me..
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-rubs grubby paws together- Random assorted Pokemon AU stuff
I apologize for nothing.
- It’s mostly canonverse with Pokemon shoehorned in.
- Logia Fruit Powers do NOT always protect them from Pokemon moves. Not sure if I want to go ‘all Pokemon moves to count the same as haki’, or like ‘Normal physical moves wiff but elemental moves don’t’, or ‘Moves that are a legitimate foil to the fruit’s element will work but nothing else will’
- Pokemon don’t like devil fruits. They give off vibes that make them uncomfortable/afraid/on edge. They will actively refuse to eat them if offered (and may even hiss at you/throw out an attack, be careful). It’s not dangerous for them to consume them though, and a person who ate a fruit is NOT instantly hated by all Pokemon forever. Once the fruit passes your lips they don’t care anymore (and may actively like you for it, because you got rid of the scary thing)
- Zoan fruits don’t turn people into variants of Pokemon. Pokemon based zoans just plain do not exist. Yes, people do question this. The world is not forthcoming with the answers. Naturally, the questions change depending on if Pokemon co-exist with regular animals, or if it’s a ‘Pokemon 100% replace animals’ type of world.
- This AU runs off anime logic, not video game logic.
- Pokeballs don’t work on Giants, Fishfolk, Merfolk, or any other ‘that’s a person’ type race.
Luffy:
- Pokemon love him. Luffy is in a constant state of “it sure is great to live in a world where all the creatures are so pettable/huggable” and all the pokemon are like “gee I sure hope this guy pets/hugs me” He’s a super mega pokemon freak and pokemon can sense it, which creates a feedback loop. This includes legends.
- He’s got an Aipom. Literally only the one Aipom. Every time he wants to catch something else he never has any pokeballs on him. Which is kind of a good thing because Luffy wants to catch everything he sees.
- She’s strong as fuck tho. Terrified of Garp for the same reasons Luffy is. She was not spared.
- She has a nickname but I’m not sure. I’m thinking either Gummy or Pommy. Something cute, childish, and not very creative, because Luffy got her as a very young child.
- Garp just randomly brought home an egg one day like “Luffy I found this while I was at work! You can have it!” Luffy asked what it was gonna be and Garp point blank said he had no idea, and he meant it. The villagers were worried because “Garp, what if it hatches into something dangerous?! Luffy’s only like 4!” (maybe he’s 5 -shrug- who knows) Luckily it was just an Aipom.
- Garp acting unworried about what the egg might be had people thinking he’d given it to Luffy on a whim, but it was a genuine gift out of love.
- Did she imprint and think Luffy was her mother for several years? Yes, absolutely. She's probably learned otherwise by now. Maybe... She has, right?
- Ask Luffy anything about Aipom as a species and there is a good chance he knows it. Luffy properly studied up and takes excellent care of his partner, thank you very much. She’s one of the healthiest mons on the crew. People are always shocked by this.
- She knows Fire Punch. Other move candidates are: Swift, Acrobatics, and Power-Up Punch.
- If someone brings up Alabasta and Crocodile, Luffy will adamantly defend her performance. Only Luffy lost to Crocodile, Aipom was kicking his mons’ asses, and Luffy will not allow for slander.
- Croc’s mons weren’t just trying to beat her up, they were actively trying to eat her. So that’s fun.
- Aipom has the pick up ability. And Luffy’s insane luck when it comes to it. Go on a walk and come back loaded with nuggets, herbs, evolution stones, and just about everything else under the sun. Luffy is always holding her instead of letting her wander on her own because he got sick of carrying everything she brings back. Nami can never know her money making potential.
Garp:
- He has a Stoutland. It’s old as fuck and strong as fuck.
- Luffy is far happier to see Stoutland than he ever is Garp.
- Stoutland used to let Luffy ride on his back when he was small. Ace and Sabo too.
Ace:
- He’s the one with the chimchar line.
- Got an egg from Garp the same way Luffy did (got his egg before Luffy tho)
- His Chimchar was a monferno before Ace met Luffy.
- IF Ace were to die (Highly unlikely. We don’t do that here), then his Infernape would eventually end up with Sabo.
- His Infernape might have taught Luffy’s Aipom Fire Punch. I’m unsure.
Sabo:
- Welcome to Fort Fuck If I Know. -shrugs-
- Legit my only idea for a mon for him can only happen for something we don’t do here. (I’ve only recently started thinking of Pokemon AU, so not everybody is getting 50 paragraphs of love)
- I’d love to say elegant, fancy pokemon a noble would have are something he wouldn’t have, but the irony in him having one anyway is gold. Honestly either works and it’s frustrating.
- He also got an egg from Garp. New grandchild? Hand them a mystery egg. The ultimate showing of love is to give them their very first partner, obviously.
Nami:
- Purrloin. Sneaky thief cat let’s go.
- She gets a Castform eventually too.
- Surprisingly does not nickname her Pokemon.
Zoro:
- Pawniard/Bisharp. Eventually becomes Kingambit.
- Rowlet. But like, think Hisuian for Dicidueye. Maybe the Hisuian starters evolve that way in Wano or something.
- He might not nickname his Pokemon.
Usopp:
- Well obviously he has Arceus, what else would he have?
- No, but seriously he has a Rowlett. That evolves into a regular arrow shooting Dicidueye.
- The Sobble line seems like a good fit too.
- He doesn’t nickname his pokemon, but he DOES lie about what he’s sending out, or lie what pokemon is attacking if you haven’t seen it yet.
- I feel like him getting a Zorua/Zoroark would be appropriate.
Sanji:
- Slurpuff, and I’ll fight you on it. They help him get the freshest ingredients.
- A fire type would fit but I don’t know which exact one.
- Sanji picks his mons on their ability to help him as a chef, not on their ability to fight. (Which is why he doesn’t have something like a hitmonlee, despite it being a good fit for a purely thematic team)
- They’ll still kick your ass if you do fight them tho.
- They’ve got cooking themed nicknames.
Robin:
- She has a Cherrim
- Possibly something that could help with her archeology work. Not sure what that would be.
- She nicknames her pokemon.
Franky:
- He has something strong to help him with his work. Think Timburr and Machop lines.
- Super manly Pokemon!
- Not sure if he nicknames his Pokemon. Leaning towards yes.
Brook:
- The bad news is that there is a decent chance his first partner is dead, so we’re ripping that off like a band-aid.
- Unless his first partner was a ghost type. Maybe. Not sure how those fuckers work. Maybe he kept it in its ball and that kept it in a sort of stasis? Wow, not technically being alone but having to force yourself to keep the one person you can talk to locked away to make sure they don’t die? I don’t know if that’s better or worse than in canon.
- He definitely gets musical pokemon like Kricketune.
- He definitely nicknames his.
Chopper:
- Ah yes, the mechanically fun one. If animals co-exist with pokemon, nothing changes really. He’s just a reindeer. HOWEVER, if pokemon replace animals, then Chopper is a special drum variant of either Stantler, or Deerling/Sawsbuck.
- He can understand Pokemon regardless if he is one. They fall under the ‘animal’ umbrella enough.
We’re moving to ‘he’s a pokemon’ territory because that’s fun:
- He’s a shiny, which isn’t something anyone realizes until Law points it out. (Maybe Robin knew. Robin probably knew.)
- Pokeballs don’t work on him because he’s too human.
- He can’t evolve either, if his base form was capable of doing so
- Pokemon hate devil fruits but Chopper was very hungry (or he’s a weirdo who doesn’t get the bad vibes)
- His different points allow for different moves to be used. Leg point is Bounce, Arm point is Arm Thrust, Guard point is Cotton Guard (maybe?), etc. He can’t use moves in his full human form, and if he goes for his default form, he can use his full range of moves like a normal pokemon (still can’t be caught tho)
- He doesn’t have a Pokemon. This is true regardless if he is a pokemon or a regular reindeer. Chopper isn’t sure if it’s okay for him to have a pokemon when he’s not really a human (or ‘that’s a person’ type race).
- His crew will naturally encourage him that he can totally have a pokemon. Meeting and befriending Law will further encourage him, because Law uses his own pokemon as medical assistants. (and I really need the Law and Chopper friendship, it has so much potential -cries-)
- Not sure what his first partner would be. Absolutely a medically inclined pokemon tho.
- He’d ask them before he nicknamed them.
Jinbei:
- The only person on this crew with a water type.
- They’re all water types. This is very common with Fish and Merfolk, because of where they live.
- Might be interesting if he could understand water types and only water types. Not sure on that tho.
- I don’t think Sharpedo would be a wrong choice per say... but I dunno.
- Relicanth is yelling at me that it wants to be here. -shrug-
- Most of his water types are ‘from the sea’ rather than lakes or rivers.
- They don’t have nicknames to make Jinbei seem more ‘professional’ but he wants to.
- He doesn’t have one but he thinks Applin are really cute. Once he joins the Strawhats for real he might start looking.
Vivi:
- Karoo is here! Even if pokemon replace the animals, he’s just a unique species to Alabasta. Not even a ‘regional variant’ of something we already have, he’s just something new.
- If Karoo isn’t a pokemon then I don’t know what she’d have. Rather than a pokemon that’s naturally pretty and princess seeming (like Gardevior or Furfrou), it might be better for her to have a Pokemon that thrives in desert regions.
- Her family is definitely the type to go for Pokemon from their home region instead of like, importing something to be fancy.
- Her having a Sandile while Crocodile has a Krookodile would be so good for the contrast.
- Yes, they’re nicknamed.
Crocodile:
- Bastard man has a Krookodile and possibly a Feraligatr.
- They are indeed nicknamed, and not even anything intimidating (Think being named Banana)
- Crocodile has no qualms about sending out multiple pokemon to fight you at once, and he doesn’t care if they eat yours if you’re his enemy.
- Trying to eat Luffy’s Aipom was a thing they tried to do. Unlike Crocodile vs Luffy, they didn’t have invincibility tho and she was kicking their asses. They gave her more trouble because she kept trying to ditch to help a struggling Luffy than they did because they were any sort of real challenge for her.
- They’re rude. They’re incredibly well trained but in a bad way. Crocodile you shouldn’t teach them to do those things.
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Street Smarts: Chapter 5
The midnight’s gibbous moon shines its opulent lunar rays through the clear blue skies and lends its pale white light throughout the foreboding graveyard; glistening on the top of the gang’s van as they park right along the side of the front gates. The van’s passenger side slide out as the doors creak open, Satette and the rest of the crew beholding the modestly small yard of buried cadavers.
“Uh...It’s a graveyard? That’s where our little key is hidden?” Sat questions.
“Yep, Scions said that the spare key leading to the cults hideaway is stowed underneath this graveyard.” claims Monty.
“But, its so small. How do those guys expect to hide something so important well here?” Thursotte then wonders.
“There’s probably more to this place than it seems.” warns Frida.
“Back in my teens, a bunch of guys and I would hang around here doing all sorts of weird shit. One of them wound up knocking this tombstone over and found a way leading underground, found whole ass catacombs down there.” Wedsle explains.
“You guys just toppled them over for fun?” Sat scorns.
“Yeah, didn’t really hang with the best crowd back then.”
“As apposed to the one you got yourself into now?” Frida then retorts.
“That’s a double edged sword there your swinging around, Frids. None of us here our exactly saints.” their lightly leader reminds.
“Yeah, but we practically belong together.”
“Aww.” Sats coo’s.
“I mean what kind of freaks in their right minds would be caught in our little cavalcade of horrors besides people like us.” the dimensional psychic iterates.
“Oh…” the lively young lady deflates.
“Weds, do you even remember which of these tombstones you wound up knocking over?” Thurs then questions.
“Not really. All I remember from that night is that when we went down and ventured not to deep into the tunnels, the boys and I wound up running into, and I fucking kid you not, a decomposed rotting corpse walkin to us.”
“A zombie!? Like a real ass zombie!?” Sat exclaims.
“Pretty much.”
“Was it the Walking dead kind of zombie or was just brain dead?” Monty further asks.
“Did it talk?” Frida then joins in to questions.
“We didn’t stick around long enough to find out. We ran sharting pants screaming and bolting straight back up and outta the whole graveyard.”
“You...actually crapped yourself?” concerns Thursotte.
“My one friend did. Had some strange bowel problems.”
“How much you willing to bet he was that one friend.” Frida whispers to Sat.
“Fuck off.” Weds ends it with.
“Breaking into a graveyard? I...Fine, fine. Long as we don’t have to dig up any caskets. Feels wrong in the pit of my stomach.” Satette state.
“You know those are scams, right?” Thurs then speaks up about.
“Coffins?”
“Graveyards?”
“Funerals?”
“All if it, the whole thing.
Our bodies aren’t meant to be embalmed and stowed away underground in a box when we die. We’re supposed to decompose into stuff for other things to feed off, like flies, maggots, birds, the soils; all that return to Earth business like nature intended.
But some pieces of shit went off to try and capitalize on the sorrow of losing our loved ones and convinced everyone at large to just stuff’em in a box and bury them with all this expensive prep work; making them spend fat stacks of cash on all that fancy stuff cause they’re convinced it’ll give those that pass on they respect they deserve. It’s borderline evil if I’m being honest.”
“I don’t think they convinced everyone. There’s still cultures today that dispose of their dead in different ways.” Monty rebukes.
“Yeah, vikings doing that whole thing with the burning boat. The Philippines leaving the bodies on top of mountains. Hell, in the Madagascar, some people fucking dance around them.” Wedsle details.
“Some tribes even eat the bodies of their people when they die and use their bones as décor.” Frida then brings up.
“Doesn’t cannibalism make people contract diseases?” Satette then questions.
“Only if you eat the brain. Pretty sure everything else is free game.”
“How and why do you know that?”
Entering through the graveyards main gate shifts the lunar light shining above them from a welcoming glow into a turning melancholic uneasiness, like all of them were feeling an unspoken warning given by the grounds that make up the inner city graveyard; all accompanied by a barely noticeable thin line of dark green fog grazing the grass.
“Hey Weds. That zombie you guys ran into back then, you think that might’ve been a psychic’s handiwork?” Thursotte then questions.
“I don’t think there’d be much else that would explain it in retrospect.”
“Then we need to keep our eyes peeled in a place like this. If it is a psychic, the extent of their powers could reach through this entire graveyard.”
“Good Call there, Frida. Think our best bet here is to split into teams to watch each other’s backs.
You and Weds head out’n look through the west part of the yard. I’ll take the kids over out to the east.” Monty orders.
“Kay.” Frida affirms.
“Aye, aye boss.” Wedsle adds as both he and the dimensional psychic split from the pack towards where their leader had told them to venture out.
“Whoa, wait, kids?” Thurs utters.
“Yeah, I mean, we’re in our twenties.” Sat adds.
“Whelp, time to relive my disorderly high school days and go tip over some tombstone.” states Monty.
“Please don’t tell me you used to desecrate graves too.” groans Sat.
“Well, guess not tip over graves. More often than not, the gang I was in would run around near bars and knock over people that were plastered drunk. We’d make bets to see which of them would vomit when they hit the ground. Just good old teenage shenanigans, am I right?”
“I-No! What!?” Thurs exclaims.
Earthly soil, soften by the insects and worms burrowing underneath, is exposed to the cool midnight air when knocking the hefty tombstone off its bottom; a soft groan leaves Wedsle when peering down to the flattened dirt to find not a single open space hidden under the carved rock.
Glancing over to the massive tombstone sitting right beside him, the purple psychic sees his partner in crime slide up an out from the bottom of the grave and emerge from the flat plane that makes up its rocky surface.
“Nothing?” he asks Frida.
“Nope.”
“Alright.”
In fully returning to the 3rd dimension, a disappointed sigh seeps out from Frida’s mouth as she watches her violet partner kick over a couple more tombstones next to him; some of them left chipped up when falling right onto one another.
“Ahhg. I know were doing this for the mission, but I still can’t get over how you used to just defile people’s graves for shits and giggles when you were a shitty teenager. Like I didn’t even go out to do that when I was a kid.” she claims.
“Well, what kind of hormonal driven shenanigan did you get up to before the sense of dreadful unimportant and depressing realization started to seep its way into your adolescent brains.” Weds then asks her.
“Just normal teenage stuff. That’s it.”
“What, like wondering if the crush you had on that girl from English class was just you being curious or what?”
“Oh yeah, cause I’d just up and blurt out what turned me on, right?”
“Noticed you don’t real delve into much else when it comes to yourself either. We’ve been working under Monty for about what, 1½ years now; and you barely ever said damn a thing about yourself. Not favorite color, not your birthday, not to even what happened before we met.”
“So what? Do I got some kind of obligation to talk about myself? Was that part of the deal?”
“I’m just thinking you might be a little cautious to open up to people.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know when your pissed. Don’t need my powers to tell me that.”
“Ugh, whatever.” Frida dismisses as she starts to head over to the next set of graves, all while her purple partner is left concerned over her reservation.
The rough thud made by the toppling tombstones reverberates across the eastern side of the graveyard as its face smacks upon the grass; Monty letting out swift sigh while stretching out and cracking his fingers; going:
“Ooh, man. About to hit forty, but this man’s still got more lift than a shorty. But…”
The lightly leader’s optimism over barely any lose of his youthful vigor slightly melts when gazing underneath the tombstone he had just tipped over, finding not a sign of a secret way down among the dirt.
“Putting the spotlight on the soil might take more time. What about you two, bring anything to light yet?” questions Monty, gazing over to both his subordinates searching through the neighboring row of graves.
Though tilting over the sign of a grave proved little problem for the lightly leader, Thursotte on the other hand shows far more struggle in lifting the tombstone even an inch off the ground; the psychic of accidents letting out grunts and growls as he strangles his thinly arms in pulling at the rock plate. Thurs ultimately fails to uproot even an inch of the gravestone out from the dirt; his grip slipping off the smooth rock before he falls flat onto the dewy grass behind him. In pulling himself back off the slippery wet grass, Thurs peers over to find his lively partner in crime simply staring to one of the tombstone before her, refusing to lay even a single hand on the stone as she looks to the face with forlorn.
“Hey Sat, um...If your not to busy questioning the ethical morals of lightly tampering with the burial sites of the dead, you think you can help me get these stones out the ground? That’d be nice thanks.”
“No…”
“Huh.”
“I can’t just go defiling people’s graves like this, it’s just disrespectful.”
“Oh come on there, Sats.” Monty speaks up with as he leans onto the tombstone she faces.
“These dead guys are about 6 feet under us. You heard what Weds said, that tunnel into the catacombs is just hidden underneath the stones. We ain’t gotta dig anybody up or nothin, just pluck these oversized plaques like solid hard turnips and look for the prize.”
“Yeah, come on. It ain’t like were digging these guys up and peeing in their coffins. We just need to look under the stones; I’d hardly call that being disrespectful. Would you?”
“Um…”
“Oy!” all of them suddenly hear shouted at them.
Out towards the small mausoleum do all of them behold a hunched over figure looming over the shadow cast, wielding a pair of massive hedge clippers; this person steps into the moonlight to reveal themselves to be an elderly woman donning a groundskeeper uniform than comes hobbling out to them and screams:
“The hell are you doing?”
“Uhhh. Ma’am, I-I can explain, we-”
“Oh yeah, cause I’d love to hear the excuse of a little girl prowling through the graveyard on her own in the middle of the night!”
“Well, you see there, I was just...Wait, on my own?” the lively young lady then questions, glancing to her sides to find not a soul beside her.
But its in lightly peeking behind one of the gravestones next to her than she finds her lightly leader hiding on the other side; refracting the light across his and Thursotte’s body as he gives Sat a single finger over his lips; a clear sign to keep quiet about their escapades.
God damn you.
“Well, you got anything to say for yourself, or do you just wanna stare out into space like some dumb bimbo?” the old woman snaps at her to draw her attention back.
“Ah, uh, uh, you see, uh, I...was actually out here looking for a shoe I wound up leaving behind.
See, I wound up getting a little too tipsy last night and didn’t wanna risk driving back home; so, I decides to just walk back instead. But when I got back, I realized that one of my shoes was missing, so I thought “Okay, must’ve fell of as I was trekking back.” and waiting til tomorrow to retrace my steps, see if I could find it.
I-I know what your gonna say “Taking a shortcut through a graveyard?” I know, b-b-but its New York, in the middle of the night, while I’m plastered. Just seemed like the safest option compared to taking a chance through the streets. You get it.”
“Hmmmm…”
“I practically checked everywhere else but here, and I was just trying to figure out where the hell my shoe went, that’s it, I swear.”
“Mmm, and the tombstone?” the old woman questions pointing over to the toppled gravestone.
“Oh, oh no. Oh god. So-so that’s what I wound up tripping over...I’m so sorry.” Satette falsely apologizes for, wondering over the knocked over tombstone and lifting it back onto its base where it had stood.
The nearly detailed false story that Sat had cobbled together on the spot draws out a soft sigh from the groundskeeper as she shakes her head before responding with:
“Gah, you damn kids, I swear. What’s this shoe look like?”
“Um...They have a navy blue pattern with a yellow gold heel. A little fancy, sure. But my friend wound up landing a promotion at work and wanted to bust them out for an occasion.”
“Ugh...Just...don’t take too long. If I wind up coming across it, I’ll shout for ya.” the old woman offers as she starts to head back.
“Th-thank you.”
“Don’t mention...But just keep something in mind for me, will ya.”
“Uh, sure.”
“Don’t disrespect the dead; cause if you do, they won’t respect you.”
These being the last words that Satette hears out from the old woman before she slithers back into the shadows of the night, the lively young woman left utterly somewhat frightened and confused as she simply utters:
“O...O-Ookay…”
As soon as the elderly groundskeeper was out of site, the light controlling leader of the crew and the chaos controlling psychic come rising out from the other side of the gravestones behind her, Monty giving the young girl a pat on the shoulder as he compliment:
“Smooooooth there, Sats, real smooth.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think you had it in you to lie so well like that. I took as more of the unflinchingly honest type.” adds Thursotte.
“Believe me, I’m not proud of it. It just comes with years of unwarranted experience...I-I just still can’t believe I blatantly lied to an old woman like that.” the lively lady laments.
“Relax. What she doesn’t know won’t make her die any faster. Now, come on, you and Thurs gimme a hand here with this couple’s tombstone. The big heart there’s pretty damn heavy.” Monty requests out from her, leaving Satette to ponder over the old woman’s words of warning about respecting the dead, all the while she pulls out her phone to send out a quick text.
“Ran into the groundskeeper, told her I was looking for my shoe, play along if she asks.”
A fair warning sent by his teammate when Wedsle checks the messages on his phone, then glancing over to see the dimensional psychic sliding underneath more of the tombstones; stepping out from one grave and moving right into the next.
“Remind me again why you can’t just move across the ground to check under the tombstones.”
“Cause flat, and bare surfaces are easier to move through. You ever trying moving across grass in the 2nd dimension?” Frida explains.
“Not really, you never bother to relate to anybody, much less tell us about what’s going through that head of yours.”
“I don’t gotta tell you shit about myself.”
“See, its that kind of recluse demeanor that we in the business like to call bottom energy.”
“Fuck off. Also, nobody calls it that.”
“Well, maybe you’d know more people that do if you weren’t so closed off. Maybe open up a little.”
“No thanks. Been there, done that. Didn’t work out to well.”
“Okay, now where getting somewhere.”
“You wish. Looked underneath about 15 of these rocks and haven’t found a damn thing under them.”
“Meant more over your insecurities but go on, I guess.” Weds retorts.
“Yeah, cuss I definitely need therapeutic help from the guy who has the power to emotionally manipulate people.”
“Wouldn’t that make me more qualified?”
In the midst of their little back and forth over talking about her reluctantly connective mindset, Frida slips right into the plane of the last tombstone along the row and slides right underneath like the rest; the dimensional psychic stops halfway under the gravestone before crawling back up and popping out from the surface to inform that she:
“Found something.”
“Did you now?” Wedsle questions as his partner in crime as she slips out from the surface of the stone.
Putting nothing but one foot onto the tombstone about half his size, Wedsle uproots the grave with just a single kick, toppling the polished flat plaque right onto the grass with a soft thud. Rather than the usual softened soil that they have been uncovering under the grave stones thus far, the purple psychic gives a grin when they finally discover a hole lined with ancient brick leading deeper underground.
“Be it from the ground or a person, there is no hole that can hide from my penetrative influence and rock hard resolve.”
“...Was that a suppose to be a dick joke?”
“...What’s this dick you speak of?” Wedsle asks with a playful jest smile.
“Dah, shut up and get in the fucking hole.”
While the two mobsters take their decent the open hole and into the underground, neither of them notice the hunched figure gazing to them from the shadows; the dark green power that pours out from their body seeping through the graveyards very soil.
A chilling shutter suddenly crawls across Satette’s body in their search through the graveyard, all the while both the boys accompanying her work to pull one of the heavier tombstone up from their roots; Monty lifting the grave stone off the ground as Thursotte takes a peeks underneath.
“You see anything?” the light leader grunts out.
“Uh…” Thurs utters, peeking under where the hefty stone once stood, finding nothing but rocks and works waiting underneath.
“I don’t think so...”
“Did either of you get the worst kind of chill just now?” Sat asks the two of them.
“No.”
“Not...a jolt!” Monty grunts as he struggles to keep the weighty stone grave up.
“Oh...uh, I’m gonna take a peek in that Mausoleum, see if there’s anything in there.”
“Kay.” Thursotte passingly leaves her with, continuing to gaze to the soil that was under the hefty statue.
“I think there might be something in the dirt here.”
Alas does the last of their light manipulating leader physical strength fade in holding the hefty tombstone, both Monty and the statue falling back as the polished stones weight tumbles down on top of him.
“Jesus, Monty!”
A cloud of dust flutters through the inside of the Mausoleum as the doors leading inside slowly creak open; Sat pushing only pushing her way in so far before realizing the decades worth of flora and ivy having locked the place from the inside. Satette squeeze her hand through the open crack to brush her fingertips across the foliage leaves, letting her psychic influence seep into the collection of gathered ivy. The lively young woman commands the years worth of greens to slither out through the crack and wrap themselves around her arm like a natural sleeve; Sat looking to the plants enveloping her arm with a curious pondering.
Huh, kind of itchy.
Having unraveled decades gathered foliage inside the Mausoleum, Sat has no trouble letting herself inside as years worth of dust whip around from the fresh night breeze that bellows in; the light of the midnight moon flooding through the darkness. Little else but the tombs of the dead are all that await her within the small graveyard building, all of the surrounding a statue of a towering man donned in 17th century attire; the sort of clothing you would find somebody of importance wearing back there. Like a mayoral candidate, or a corrupt businessman looking to exploit immigrants for cheap labor cost. Sat on the other hand is still left curious over the strange chill she had felt across her body not to long ago as she strolls her way in towards the statue.
Seriously, what did I feel back there? It was like something in the pit of my head made my whole body quiver. What I felt wasn’t just a sense of fright either, every fiber in my body was screaming out that something was very wrong. But what could have made me feel like that? Did it have something to do with my powers? Am I just still a little creeped out from Wedsle story about that zombie? I don’t know, but that feeling is still lingering, so something is definitely wrong here.
Upon coming up to the statue set in the middle of the small mausoleum, Sat immediately notices something off about the statue’s arm, a hollow sleeve left where its hand would typically be. Curiosity gets the better of the young girl as she reaches up to the hollowed out arm and slithers her own limb deeper into the statues crevices, shoving practically her whole arm through the hole as she reaches deep up the statue sleeve.
But she then feels something squirming along the end of the hollow hole and swiftly pulls her arm out from the depths of the statue, the unexpected finding making her fall off the statues pedestal and onto the rough stone floor.
Before the young lady could ponder over what the end of her fingers had brushed upon, Satette witnesses something slink out from the hole she just had her arm through; the flooding moonlight letting her bare witness to what seemed like mold ridden flesh come squeezing out from the hole. There’s little time for Satette to run out the doors however as this rotting meat comes reaching at her; its flesh forming into the shape of several hands.
No you fucking don’t!
The collection of gathered ivy around Sat’s arm glows with her signiture lively green light as she commands the plants to intercept the reaching hand of decomposing meat; thrusting its roots into the arms of the elongated limb. Among the meeting of rotting flesh and ivy, that same sensation of dread she had felt before jolts throughout her body, cause the young lady to reflexively pull herself back; the swift retreat rending the molding and decomposed meat in her ivy’s grasp to chunky beef.
This tearing of the flesh causing the statue to swiftly start breaking apart into hefty stone pieces, their weight breaking apart the floor of the mausoleum and plunging into the darkness underneath. The stone under her feet crumbling, Satette bolts straight back towards the door, but is stopped short when just at finger’s length from the handle. She glances back with shuddering terror when discovering the tendrils of the arm she had cut to ribbons reconstituting back together wrapping itself around her leg as the chunks of stone it was attached to descends into the void. Like somebody tied to a cinder block and dumped into the lake, the fleshy rope that had entangled itself around the woman’s leg drags her down into the shadows; her screams drowned out by the crumbling stone.
Thursotte’s ears perk up in hearing the distinct crumbling rock and gazes out to the mausoleum, having just heaved the hefty tombstone off of his lightly leader; the chaotic psychic letting out a worried groan as he gazes towards the Mausoleum while wondering:
“Hey, didn’t Sat say something about checking out the Mausoleum?”
“Yeah...Why?” Monty questions as he catches his breath.
“I-I thought I heard something, like rock breaking off.”
“Thurs, this graveyards pretty damn old for being so small. Probably just some coffins collapsing or something.”
“Eesh, this place makes my skin crawl more the longer we hang around here.”
“Yeah, we should’ve brought shovels; finding a way under here’s taking way too long...Maybe our little search wouldn’t be in so much of a rut if a little accident were to happen, don’t ya think?” the leader claims, giving his subordinate a sly grin.
“Oh no, Abso-fricking-ulity not. You know I hate using my powers that carelessly, Monty.”
“Come on, most of the people that you could wind up hurting here are already dead; what’s the big deal?”
“Yeah, but in a graveyard, in the middle of the city; you know how much attention that alone would attract? Plus it ain’t even a guarantee that we’d find a way down the tunnels. Not to mention how easily I could see a cave in happening? Face it, there’s way too many factors here that could wind up hindering us more than helping.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll just text Weds and see if they found anything.” the light controlling leader concedes as he pulls out his phone.
While his commander was in the midst of sending the message out to the other team, Thursotte’s eyes are drawn to the fresh patch of soil that had been hidden underneath the weighty tombstone he had just finshed prying off of Monty; the young man concerned over the small pieces of white sticking out from the dirt.
When kneeling down to the soil for a closer inspection, he realizes that these pieces seemed far too thinly to be so naturally carved; Monty digging a little ways into the dirt to realize that this was no mere stone, but parts of a finger connected to a skeletal human hand with some skin still attached.
What the hell?...Why under…
Before his mind could fire off another question over the misplaced burial, the hand juts right out from the ground and clutches its boney fingers tightly to his wrist; Thurs letting out a sharp yelp as this hand starts to drag him into the ground.
“Gah! Monty!” the lightly leader hears his subordinate scream out, swiftly glancing back and is alarmed when finding Thursotte’s arm dragged down into the dirt.
“Oh shit!”
Monty immediately rushes to the young man’s and wraps his arms around Thurs’s shoulders in an effort to pull him out from the clutches of doom; the strength of the skeletal arm proving far more stronger than either of them could predict as it drags the two of them deeper into the graveyard soil.
“Let go, you’re gonna get pulled in!” Thursotte exclaims.
“Hell no. I ain’t gonna let any member of my team get taken from me!”
Try with every ounce of their combined might to uproot themselves from the skeletal arms deathly clutches, the two of them sink into the dirt as swiftly as quicksand, leaving not even a single trace of them anywhere above ground.
Alongside where the two had been plunged down into the dirt, Monty’s cellphone lays right side up on the freshly dewed graveyard grass; the device letting out a light chime when the text he had sent gets a reply from the purple psychic.
With nothing but the glowing screen of their cellphones to light the way through the underground, Weds and Frida journey through the halls of the graveyards catacombs; the ancient tunnels boasting a design unlike which seemed unconventional. Dirt ridden marble lines the floor of the tunnels rather than uncut rock; the walls lined with the still remains of those that have passed, propped up more like they were holding the ceiling up. The roof meanwhile seemed to be made from arched stone brick carved with Christian iconography, depicting figures such as Samuel, Moses, Mary, and of course Jesus Christ; their figures stretched along the bottom of the arches.
“This don’t feel right?”
“Yeah, all this seems way too fancy just to be any normal catacombs. Just how long had something like this been down here?” Frida wonders.
“No, I meant with Monty. Glitzy bastard usually texts back right away. Something’s up.” Wedsle claims, staring to the text messages on his phone.
“You think they might’ve found away down here like we did?”
“Doubt it. He wouldn’t be asking us if we did then.”
“Right, uh…”
Her eyes drawn to the corpses positioned like statues lining the walls, Frida notices some strange details about them that catch her eyes; primarily their heads. All that made up their faces be nothing but three same sized holes where the eyes and mouth would normally be, their hollow gaze staring to the two as they proceed through the tunnels. Something else that stands out to her be the hands and feet of these partially decomposed figures, their fingers and toe’s fused together much like those of a plastic doll. And not all of their bodies were made of rotting meat, as some parts of them had clumps of hardened dirt holding them together making up what flesh had been lost.
They seemed like actual dead bodies, the unmistakable stench of death made that fact certain, but the bizzare details in these cadavers and the way they stand raises too many questions for Frida to completely think such; asking her purple partner.
“Weds, that zombie. You notice something off about theme before you guys shat your pants and ran.”
“I didn’t shit myself, okay. That was my friend.
And honestly...none of us really took a real good look at them to see anything like that. Best we spotted was its torn body and mud festering skin before we bailed.”
“Cause these things along the walls are seriously creeping me the fuck out. I don’t wanna be in here longer than we need to. Soon as one of us finds that key, we’re getting the hell outta here.”
“Getting a little claustrophobic, huh?
“Why the hell would I be scared of tight space, I cross the 2 dimensional plane on a daily bases.”
“I can tell something about all this is making you on edge. You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?” Weds offers.
“Will you stop trying to relate to me. I told already I’m not in the mood for your shit.”
“Come on Frida, you can’t expect keep yourself closed off forever if you wanna make it far in this business. I mean, seriously, you don’t do this kind of cock tease bull with Thursotte...Unless…”
“It ain’t like that dumbass. He’s a decade young than me.”
“He could be into older women, you never know.”
“It’s just that...I know what that kid went through, okay. The kind of shitty hand he had been dealt just when his life was turning for the better. Left to rot by people you thought you could count on.”
“Ooh, now where getting somewhere.”
“Well that’s as far as your gonna get. We got a job to do, and I’m not gonna let your bullshit praddling get in the way of that.” Frida reminds him.
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” Wedsle jests.
Dammit. Just...why did you even talk to me that day. Least then I could wallowed in my sorrows in peace.
In walking through the darkened shadows held in the catacombs, Frida emerges into the light of a backroom held in the dim glow of a lone overhanging lamp; this light shining down to a table holding building blueprints depicting a manor, several pictures of people hanging around the property, and piece of paper holding passwords and number codes. Frida takes a seat at this table at this table along side several others, their CIA badges glistening in the lamp light. It was like any other big sting operation for her in this line of work, all like the ones she had performed with this very stealth unit.
Yet to be seen in the public eye as a threat; she would serve as the sniper on top of the neighboring building to shoot out guards and muscle that stood in the way of the rest of the team so they could sneak their way in.
The operation proceeded like clockwork, she sniped away the guards, the rest of her team would hide the bodies as they snuck their way in. Be it from outside or straight through the window, Frida vantage point let her act as the teams guardian angel as they made their way up to the boss’s chamber; where they successfully extracted the evidence needed to bring the Kingpin down.
Their finished assignments usually ended with them grabbing dinner, mingling among themselves as they jest and talk the night away with drinks. While on most nights would one of her other team members take care of the bill, it was her turn this time to pay for their expenses; Frida taking out her navy blue purse and slipping out her wallet.
After handing her card to the waiter, she peers back to her purse to find one of her teammates brushing her gloved fingers against the golden frame; a concern brushed aside as she thought it was nothing but simple admiration for her newly purchased handbag.
Yet come the day to prosecute the hidden kingpin posing as a mayoral candidate, they’re shocked to discover there having not been enough evidence to warrant blame for the man in his shady dealings and dubious political temperament. A terrible defeat for sure, one that had made the CIA stationed at the county an utter laughing stock.
Yet despite their overwhelming set backs, this department had attempted to proceed with their duties as normal; but judgment had come when the monthly inspection had rolled around and a small notebook had been found in Frida’s own purse. This tiny notebook held numerous contacts and numbers connected to international criminal rings and dates depicting trades among them, the last of which was the very night they had done their stealthy intrusion of the secret kingpin.
Though the notebook had been confirmed to be the very same notebook they had plucked from the manor on that same night, questions and persecution still arose when this critical piece of evidence had been found within Frida’s own bag. She claims to have no idea how something so crucial had found their way in her purse and how that her team were the only people that could have had it.
Its then that she remembers her team member brushing her fingers against her purse that night, realizing that very same woman had planted the notebook in her purse. But with little eye witness or fingerprints to back this up, her accusation had been cast aside; leaving her being the only one among them to hold responsibility for the downfall of their operation’s failure and making the New York CIA department into a laughing stock.
Even with years of service had spared her of being thrown straight into the slammer, Frida had been ultimately stripped of her rank and thrown out into the streets, jobless. Her expertise in the hands of firearms could only take her so far in the cities business focused job market; the policing refusing to take her in when having heard of her pinned treachery. Her living conditions quickly declined from then on, from a two story home to nothing but a one room apartment. From night of home cooked and healthy meals, to simple tasteless ramen. From a lovely and beautiful neighborhood to a dark corner of the city; the threat of being mugged being a constant threat every morning and night in her commute.
But fateful night do several gunshots ring out across the dark city blocks, Frida fighting off a several people that had attempted to mug her. Yet even with the advantage of numbers by her side, she nonetheless handles all of them with fire arm expertise and CIA training; taking cover from her foe’s frantic shooting as she waste not a single bullet on any of them, nailing each one of them right in the head.
She finds the last one however not having succumbed to her wounds and hears her pleading for her to take mercy upon her, a request she abides by as she starts to make her retreat.
Yet this mugger dares tempt fate as she picks up a pistol from one of her dead members, the cock of the weapon being enough of a warning for Frida to immediately turn around and fire another bullet right into her brains.
When all had been said and done, when the concrete streets had been left stained in the blood of her muggers, the applause of a single person echoes from behind as she hears somebody compliments:
“Nice shooting there, Tex.” this man donned in a blazer that matches his violet locks.
Alarmed by this mans unexpected appearance, Frida immediately turns about and aims her gun out to his head; the violet man putting both of his arms up as he claims that:
“Whoa, take it easy there, sharp shooter; I ain’t armed, kay.”
“The hell do you want?”
“Nothing, just fancied a little peek of your gunplay. And I gotta say, can’t believe those pompous dicks at the CIA threw out someone as quick to the draw as you.”
“That...That information was supposed to be confidential. How did you-”
“Get my hands on it? Lets just say that those kingpin sons of bitches weren’t the only people you’ve met with a web of dubious connections.
It’s unfair, the way this world treats people at the bottom. Be it having been born into it, or kicked right down, were all the same to them. Seen as nothing but bottom scrapping scum, no matter who we are, or what we can do, we’re deemed worthless before we can even say a single word or move a muscle.
But thankfully, there’s some people in this world that can appreciate the talents of those that society at large had cast aside.”
“Cut the details. Just spit it out and tell me what you want out of me.”
“Shit, okay. Just take the fun out of it, why don’t ya.
I’m here to offer you a line of work that might be best for somebody in your position to take, a little dirtier than what your probably used to, but pays pretty well all the same.”
“...And if I say no?”
“Then you simply go about the rest of your life scraping against the harsh grind in an endeavor of survival; bitterly reminiscing of better days when your world didn’t crumble and all the hard work you put in going straight down the shitter. Or...You can turn to people who see the value in the skills you possess and wish for such talent to not be wasted.”
Such promise of her years worth of gun expertise being no longer an unfortunate leftover of the past that had put her down causes her to lower the aim of her pistol down to the puddles of red staining the pavement; Frida gazing to the reflection held in the crimson pool at her feet, thinking of what could be wait for her in life if she declines this fateful meeting.
“Hehe, ahh...You know what, why not. What else do I have to lose?”
A harsh groan seeps out from the lively young woman as she opens her eyes; her vision adjusting to the dark as she starts to push away the concrete debris that had fallen in her descent down from the Mausoleum.
When her eyes finally pierce through into the shadows that surrounds her does Sat find herself standing within the middle of the marble maze, a section of which splits off into eight different directions. Beyond the piles of rubble and decayed meat, the numerous still figures made from flesh and soil almost immediately catches her eye; their odd structure and uncanny appearance lending her to a sort of unease, like they could break away from their posts and lunge at her any second.
Yet before Satette could ponder over which direction of the eight way split she should take, the sound of footsteps draw her gaze out to the eastern wing as she transforms the collection of foliage wrapped around her arm into a set of sharp grass claws. Sat slowly backs away as this newcomer stumbles out from the crypt shadows, coming into the leaking moonlight above to reveal one of the figures of dirt and meat clade in light leather armor; their hollow eye sockets holding strange glowing balls of ivory that lock to the young woman standing in path.
“S-stay back!” she warns the approaching corpse, the living cadaver failing to listen as it continues to shamble at her.
“I’m warning you!”
But when this terrible malformation of soil and flesh refuses to stop on her command, Sat slashes out against the shambling doll and runs the claws of her grassy ivy weapon straight across its stomach; discolored blood and loose dirt spilling from its wound.
The living cadaver peers up from its freshly inflicted gash and stares up to the woman that had just attacked it; a shivering shriek bellows out from the pits of its lungs and echoes throughout the eight way corridor, an outcry of which shakes Satette to her very core.
Upon this painful outcry do the rows of cadaver like statues turn each of their heads out to the young woman that had struck its fellow undead; their differently colored pupils staring down to her as Sat covers her ears from the scream.
Holy shit!
Angered from the unprovoked assault, the arm of the living corpse shifts its soil and flesh around to that of a nine tails whip of fleshly tendrils and lashes them all out the woman that had attacked it; the lively young woman leaping away from the lashing whips to witness it tear apart the hard marble floor on impact.
Sat peers back to her undead foe just in time to see it transform its other arm into a set of terrible teeth made from fractured bones; the zombie dashing out to her as its set of hideous chompers opens wide.
When the living cadaver was but seconds from sinking its mouth of an arm into her skin; Satette warps her collection of foliage around her arm just as the monstrous corpse bites its massive teeth against her; the sleeve of greens keeping the mouths rows of fracture bone shards from so much as scratching her skin. Before her undead foe could make another attempt to strike, the young woman slaps the palm of her hand upon the rotting flesh of its hand runs her lively power through its body.
But something unexpected happened when Satette tries to control the zombies unsavory meat, the glow of her aura clashing with one of dark green that seeps out from underneath the undeads skin; both pressure between the fighting powers quickly rising as they push each other back.
Psychic aura!?
The building pressure is unleashed in a violent burst of energy that blows them both away, the overwhelming force sending the lively young lady slamming into the column against in the corner; the unexpected explosion of force briefly throwing her for a loop.
After shaking off the swift daze, Sat peek over to her flora covered arm and finds that part of of the sleeve had thankfully tanked the brunt of the blast and suffers only mild scraps; but with over half of her collection of ivy and plants having been shredded to bits.
Glancing back to her undead foe is she left utterly astonished to find not just its entire arm having been blown off, but missing entire chunks of its upper torso; the zombie struggling to stand with its entire upper half having been destroyed.
What the fuck!? How...
Before Satette could even begin question the sequence of events that had just transpired, she bares witness as slivers of fleshy growth that was hidden underneath the mausoleum rubble slither out from the pile of rock and attach themselves to the freshly exploded corpse; this collection of dirt covered meat fusing together with what remained of the living cadaver and recreating its missing half in but moments.
Oh...shit.
Having witnessed the undead corpse having reconstituted to its former form, the lively young lady makes a break down one of the intersection’s halls and races away from her reformed foe as fast as she could; all with the rows of standing cadavers staring at her as she passes by them.
There’s no mistaking it, that stuff that came out from the zombie when I tried to use my powers on it was definitely psychic aura; somebody around here is controlling these corpses like some twisted puppets.
But when I tried to take control of its body for myself, that dark green power didn’t just stop me, it made the damn thing explode. I though psychic shields only supposed to stop another psychic’s influence, not just spontaneously burst like that. Something’s telling me that wasn’t part of its script, though; it could’ve used its other arm to lash out at me; but it just blew up instead. Just what the hell made it go off like some kind of biological firecracker?
“Mon...Mon...Monty…”
A soft whimper starts to slowly be heard in his ears as the lightly leader starts to come out from the depths of unconsciousness; Monty cracks his eyes open among the darkness to find Thursotte trembling next to him, the fright in his voice clear to hear as he begs:
“Please for the love of god, wake up.”
“Thurs...Uh...What happened? Where are we?”
“Ju-jus-jus-just don’t move. Don’t do anything.”
“The hell is it so dark down here for? Hang on, Lemme just…”
“Monty, don’t.”
Yet do Thursotte’s words of warning falls of deaf ears as his boss conjures an orb of light to illuminate through the curtain of darkness surrounding them, unveiling the room they sat within be a part of the maze with what seemed to be decomposing limbs breaking through the marble floor, some of these limbs twitching from intruding luminescence.
“Ew! Yeah, no wonder you wanted me to keep the lights off.” remarks Monty.
“That ain’t the only reason. Up-up above us.” Thurs tells him.
“Huh...Ahhh…”
Shock and awe crashes against Monty like an overwhelming wave when glancing to what hangs above, beholding the roof of the catacombs plastered with fleshy growths fused with stretching plant roots and soil; branching off from the rest of the plastered meat are what seemed to be humanoid figures hang down from the growths. Some of these bodies wriggle about as the glowing orb shines its light against their tissue.
“Oh…”
“The hell do we do?” Thursotte whispers.
“Alright; don’t panic. Uh...” the light controlling leader advises as he peers around the marble hall, catching a part of the room branching out deeper into the hallway.
“I see an exit right there. We just gotta carefully tip toe our way through and we should be alright. Just follow my lead.”
Slowly do the two rise up from the corner of the room and start to make their way over towards the hallway on the other side; tip toeing carefully around each of the fleshly arms and legs that wriggle along the crimson and dirt stained marble floor.
When Monty’s subordinate lets out a frightened shutter, he aims his light back towards the chaos causing psychic to discover an elongated limb softly brushing its fingers along Thursotte’s body; the young man paralyzed with dreadful fright as he seemed to be on the verge of bursting into tears at any minute.
“Easy. Just let it cop a feel and it’ll wander off.” Monty warns.
“Don’t frame it like that. That makes this feel 10 times worse.”
“Right, sorry. Just don’t move.”
A frightened moan escapes from Thursotte as he lets the arm of decomposed flesh brushes its fingers along his side, putting every once or will he can muster into keeping completely still. Thankfully does the arm soon bore of feeling the young man up and wanders off the other way, Thurs tip toeing as fast as he could away as soon as the limb is off of him.
“Almost there.” whispers Thursotte, the hallway leading out of this den of growing flesh but a few more feet away.
Yet with their escape but a few more moments away, a dreading terror creeps into the two when they hear the sound of bone snapping beneath them; the light psychic glancing down to his feet find himself having stepped and broken an arm laying across the corridor.
“Well dammit.” the light psychic sighs out.
Like a single flame spreading out, the lone fractured limb causes the rest of the flesh throughout the chamber to start violently trembling; the bodies hanging above dropping from the ceiling as the arms jut out from the marble tile and conjoin together to form whole standing cadavers.
As soon as a dozen of these bodies are formed together from flesh and soil, their hollow eye sockets stare down to the two of them; a sparkling glow forming in the middle of their sockets as they all let out stomach churning moan.
Both Monty and Thursotte make a break away from the pack of undead of dirt and meat before any more of them could sprout out from the ceiling, the cadavers racing after them in turn like an angry mob.
“What part of hell did we get dragged down to!?” Thurs screams.
“Don’t know! Don’t care! All I know is if we don’t wanna wind up as the after midnight special, we gotta keep moving!” Monty shouts as they sprint through the marble catacombs for their very lives.
Joining the light of their phones, the hollow eye sockets off the stationed bodies lining the hall walls that both Weds and Frida stand in let out a small glow; their sockets dispelling a soul like glow as they aim their eyes directly to the two psychic’s they surround.
The two of them stand back to back as they stand guard for whatever action the collection of statue like cadavers plan to take; yet despite their initial alarm to their unexpected movement, the bodies of flesh and soil raise not even a finger against them as they all simply continue to stare the pair of catacomb spelunkers.
“They’re not making any moves, they’re just staring at us.” Frida reviews.
“Yeah, almost like they’re waiting for us to give them the excuse.” claims Wedsle.
“But what’s the excuse I wonder? Think they’ll try something as soon as we turn our backs on them?”
“Like those angel statues in that one over hyped British show? Don’t know, don’t wanna risk it.”
“I don’t think I brought enough ammo to handle this many of them. They decide to come at us, we might be screwed.” Frida warns.
“Let’s not try anything then, we keep going and stay back to back.” Weds plans.
Keeping their backs glued to one another, both the psychics continue to make their way through the darkened corridor as the row of doll like cadavers stare them down; the numerous colors of their glowing pupils staring straight into their very souls.
A sense of unease and worry courses through their heads as the 2 proceed through the hall of the catacombs; the dozens of undead bodies making not even a peep as they just simply glare to the two, all the while Frida and Wedsle remain on guard for any of them to make a move.
“So, still think this might be the work of a psychic?” the dimension medium wonders.
“A psychic that can reanimate the dead? Just saying that makes me shiver. But I’m not seeing any aura on these things, just the glint in their creepy ass eye sockets.” the purple psychic reviews.
“What if they don’t need one?”
“Huh?”
“What if after this piece of shit necromancer is finished making them, whatever they left in these things are all that they need to move?”
“Like...a-a soul?”
“Whatever it is makes them autonomous. My question is if we can even use our own powers on these things?”
“Might be better not to risk finding out with us still surrounded. Better for us to grab the key and book it out of this shit hole.”
A spirit shivering outcry pierces through her ears as Satette sprints through the marble catacomb tunnels, the young lady hearing the stamping footsteps slowly nearing as she races from the agitated undead hot on her tail.
I don’t got much else to work with on this damn thing; this tiny line of vines can’t make anything strong enough to hold my ground against it. Not to mention what might happen if I try and manipulate it with my powers, lucky I didn’t loose my arm after it blew up like that. Still don’t know what caused that to happen, but I’m not in the mood to stick around and find out.
But her galloping sprint through the underground corridor is abruptly cut short when the tunnels before her continue to a broken off part of the catacombs; a widened lobby branching out into paths of four with the marble floor having been left fractured. All that remained of the looby was nothing but a massive hole leading straight down into a running river, the terrible odor of the running water causing the young lady to wince horribly and nearly vomit.
Oh god! That’s so damn foul! Is that-are those the sewers!? The sewers run right underneath these catacombs. Ju-just how ancient are these tunnels?
A blood curdling growl echoes out from the tunnels behind her, Sat glancing back to find more and more of the fleshy pile of a cadaver pursuing her emerging our from the shadows; the approaching corpse pushing her to swiftly peer across the pits walls.
Looks like I don’t got time to think about any of that. Need to find a way on the other side to one of those corridors or my skull might wind up being the bowl of brains for a zombie’s balanced breakfast.
Among peering through the bottomless lobby, a grin starts to run across Sat’s face as she begins to plan out the route that will lead her to one of the corridors on the other side; taking note of the fractured ledges and pieces of rock jutting out from the cavern wall.
But her swift path planning comes to an abrupt end when the footsteps behind her grow their loudest; the lively young lady peering back to discover the body of meat and dirt right behind her, ready to claw at her with its sharp fractured fingers. Sat then and there is forced to take the dive, the undead cadaver failing to grasp the girl as she leaps out from the corridor and drop down through the watery pit.
The living corpse of soil and flesh peers down into the pit that its prey had leaped down and discover that the young woman has yet to take the plunge down into the rapid sewer river; Sat hanging onto the broken rock wall by some of the brick and steel piping that sticks out from when the floor had collapsed.
Like to see this decomposing dick try the kind of parkour stuff I do.
Yet the lively young woman is made to eat her own thoughts when peering back to the corridor she had jumped down from, astonished to witness the body of flesh and soil stick to the wall and slither across the caves broken rock; the corpse leaving behind a trail of bloody puss like a snail.
You gotta be fucking kidding me.
Realizing her undead pursuer refusing to give up the chase, Satette immediately starts to scale her way up towards one of the broken lobbies corridors; the woman clutching every crack and piece of fractured brickwork that had once seperated the catacombs and sewers.
I’m not dead yet. I can still climb faster than this thing.
Yet its in checking the slinking corpse that she realizes that it wasn’t directly coming after her, but slithers towards the very corridor that she climbs up to.
What the hell!? Is it trying to cut me off? Meh, ain’t a problem. I’ll just take one of the other hallways.
Sat alters her climbing course away from the nearest doorway and instead scales her way out towards the one on the other side of the crumbled intersection, yet makes a horrifying discovering on her way up to the corridor; the sluggish cadaver slithering across the much closer ceiling instead of on the wall to reach the other hall faster.
Dammit! It’s sliding across the roof to try cut me off again! Just how intelligent is this sack of decomposing fertilizer!?
Desperate to reach over the hallway before the living corpse could, Sat tries to cast what greens she has left along her arm up to the corridor’s ledge; unfortunately finding her string of green failing to reach even halfway across the chasm.
Shit! I burnt through most of my ammo when defending myself against it earlier, and there’s nothing else around I could use to replenish. What else can I even do? This undead piece of shit’s got all the bases covered and can slither over to any of these corridor’s faster from the ceiling then I can climb up, I’m completely pinned in here. Unless…
A little idea springs to mind as Sat retracts the small length of greens she has and starts to reform the plant matter, all the while the undead cadaver slinks down to her; its blood ridden trail dripping along the catacombs brickwork wherever slithers.
The lively young lady transforms what foliage she has left in her possession into a sharp and sturdy dart; infused with as much of her psychic power she can pack into it, Satette hurdles the plant bolt right up towards the corpse coming down at her; the tip of the dart piercing straight into its rotting skin.
Her natural green aura seeping out from the dart and the dark forest aura holding the cadaver together clashes together like last time, its body bubbling over before the psychic reaction comes to a boil and results in a hefty explosion of power.
This boom shatters both part of the lobby ceiling and the sluggish corpse into wet sopping pieces that rain down into the running river below; Sat hugging the pit wall as she watches the parts of the zombie that had chased her plummet into the sewers.
After the slithering undead had finally been vanquished, Satette returns to scaling the broken catacomb lobby and finally pulls herself up to the corridor; the young lady letting out a breath as she stands back on solid ground.
She takes a peek back down to the bottom of the chasm for any sign of her undead pursuer and is glad to see not even a trace of rotting flesh among the running sewer river; shouting down into the pit:
“Like to see ya come back from that, you sack of decomposing sack of shit!”
Relieved to see her undead foe having been swept away into the rushing rapids, Sat strolls down into the corridor leading down into the rest of the catacombs; unaware however of the tiny pieces of flesh slithering down from along the ceiling and slowly slinking her way.
A terrible collection of screeches and moans echoes out from the collection of undead corpses that crawl through the hall like a scuttling insect crawling across the dank catacombs; the malformation of half way finished bodies leaving behind driplets of puss as it makes its way to a three way intersection.
The dozen or so living cadavers peer across both directions before splitting up to head down both ways, their ringing groans slowly fading as the mass of corpses scamper away; the last of this horde fading into the catacombs darkness as one of the walls beside the fork in the road fades away in a soft glimmer, uncovering Monty and Thursotte having hid from the pack behind the illusion.
Peering down both of the corridors that the horde had scuttled through, the lightly leader lets out a quiet breath as he sees not a single sign of the pack among the shadows, claiming:
“Thank god. We lost’em.”
“I-I-I can’t do this.” he hears Thurs shutter.
“Huh?”
“I-I can’t do this anymore. We can’t stay down here. I can-” the psychic of chaos hyperventilates as he tries to take his leave.
“Whoa, put the breaks on there, pally?” urges Monty, grabbing his shoulder before he could leave.
“We still gotta go out and find that key before we can pop out of this grave hole.”
“The key!? Are you out of your mind!? We’ll be devoured before we can even figure out where it’s stashed, the alone nab it! Fuck that! I’m getting the hell outta here while I have my skin intact!” Thurs declares, again attempting to leave.
“Alright, suit yourself. Just don’t come screaming at me when you run into a whole ass pack of undead after you wind up getting lost.”
“Yeah, like you know where the way out is any more than I do.”
“Not really, but you seen yourself how easy it is for me to fool those rotting sons of bitches. You wanna get out of this mud pit of decomposing compost alive, your best bet is sticking with me.”
“Gah, I can’t win. I can’t win in this, can I?”
“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey. Thurs, Thurs. I promise you we’ll get out of this, trust me. Relax.”
“I...I don’t even...How the hell are you so calm about this? You just seen actually walking corpses burst out from fleshy growths before your eyes and you act like its just a Monday for you! How, why?”
“I’m been in this business for half a decade now and, would you believe if I said I’ve seen worse, much worse. Like I still remember the first time I joined somebody to interrogate a guy. Watch the torturer gouge the poor bastards eye out and force feed back to him.”
“This is too much! This is way too much for me to...I-I mean I knew we’d be doing some weird and dangerous stuff, but this just borders on...overwheling dread. If we wind up getting lost and caught, would they just kill us? Would we even be able to die!? I-”
“Thursotte, listen. We can get through this together, okay. We’ll get the key and then we’ll be gone, I promise.”
“How do you even know…”
“I don’t, really...Which is why if things do wind up going south, I’ll order you to bail. Don’t worry about me and save your own hide.”
“But, the others, they’ll-”
“Understand. Weds known me long enough to understand how bad things got. So don’t worry, okay?”
“Mmm…”
“Now come on. That key won’t just find itself.” Monty claims as he is about to head down one of the halls.
“Monty.” Thursotte then utters, causing his lightly leader to briefly stop right in his tracks.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Though tension lingers between the two, Wedsle and Frida relax their guard when coming upon a whole ass tomb filled with countless stone graves and memorials of figures from the past; the widening room giving both of the mobsters more room to breath without the gaze of the watching undead in the hall behind them.
A brief relieving breath seeps out from the purple psychic as he remarks how:
“It’s about time we got all those eyes off our backs. Seriously felt like that one kid in the school play that just finds out that he has stage fright in the middle of “Of Mice and Men” and violently shit himself, so hard that the front row feels the urge to stand back and get out from the splash zone.”
“You know, with the kind of weirdly specific remarks you just spew out from your mouth without thinking, it makes me wonder if you were dropped on your head as a baby.”
“Well, not on my head. Landed my big baby booty when I was 2, right onto the edge of a trash can when they were throwing out weeks old display pizza. I still remember getting tomato sauce in my eyes as I was crying.”
“Just how in gods name are you so comfortable saying stuff like that out loud? You give me shit for being so closed of, meanwhile your going on about how you had a caterpillar living in your nose and watched as it turned into a butterfly.”
“Pfft, what? Don’t be dumb. I didn’t have a butterfly fly out from my nose...pretty sure it was my ear.”
“See, its that kind of crap any sane person would keep to themselves. Not all of us are as uncomfortably open and brutally honest about ourselves as you.”
“Well, maybe that should be something you should work on.”
“Yeah, right. To your worrying degree?” Frida doubtfully questions.
“Don’t gotta be that far. Just enough to let people in; let them know a part of yourself they can relate, like a favorite color or something.”
“And if I don’’t wanna?”
“Well, then I’d say your a lot more emotionally vulnerable than I am.” remarks Weds.
“This coming from the same asshat that makes explicit remarks to his coworkers.”
“Hey, I never claimed to be a clean and stand up guy. I show it as I sees it. Letting it all hang out in the open. If they don’t like it, they can go fuck themselves; just means the people that do or don’t mind are all the more worth keeping around.”
“Yeah, well count me out.”
“God...the hell is with you? I’m trying over here and you ain’t even extending out so much as a pinkie, much less a hand. You really think I’m just the kind of manipulative dick that see’s people as objects?” Wedsle questions, his patients running thin.
“What? No! I-”
“Then what even is it that makes it so hard to talk to people about yourself?”
“Maybe I don’t wanna wind up hurting myself again!”
The dimensional psychic’s outburst dispels any further words between the two as a deafening silence wafts through the tomb hallway, dribbling water echoing across the hall being all that breaks the quietness.
Wedsle and Frida calm themselves among this brief silence reprise; their upset tension against each other draining away as Weds withdraws his argumentative demeanor before attempting to say that:
“Frida...I’m-”
“Lets just keep moving.” the dimensional psychic suggests as she turns back to the way ahead.
“Ah...dammit…” Weds curses as he metaphorically starts kicking himself for pushing too far.
Out not to far from where the pair of psychic mobsters stand, Satette emerges from the shadows of the catacomb corridor to enter a different part of the tombs; the young woman carefully tip toeing through the darkened hall in case of any other undead attempting to ambush her.
I can’t afford to get into any more scraps this deep down in enemy territory, not having just spent the last of my natural greens on getting that mess of flesh off my back.
Doubt there’s gonna be much growing this deep in these parts, maybe a bug crawling around and a spider hanging in the corner; but any of that ain’t gonna be nowhere near enough fire power to work with.
If I wanna live to see the sun again, I gotta play it safe. Not getting into any more brawls til I at least meet up with the others.
But despite planning on keeping herself out of trouble, she already feels it come straight to her when feeling a sharp sting run against the side of her leg; Sat flinching from the pain before peering down to discover a soft laceration along her thigh.
The hell? Where’d this fucking cut come from? There isn’t even anything sharp enough near me I could’ve brushed past that can make a slit that clean.
Yet before she could question what could’ve made the unexpected cut, she feel a swift stinging slash brush this time along the her left; gazing over to find a gash of similar size having shot through her clothes and draw blood on the top of her shoulder.
I didn’t even see what went past me. Whatever this thing that’s cutting me is pretty small and pretty damn fast.
In her struggle against her unseen assaulter, Satette hurries over to the corner of the chamber and nestles herself between a standing stone grave and the wall. She keeps the open side of her neck covered as she peels her eyes for even a swish that could pass her by.
Whatever was cutting me did it in a complete straight line, meaning they can only come at me like such. Standing in a corner like this might not protect me completely, but at least I can catch what’s zipping by.
Among keeping a close watch out for whatever could be leaving its mark on her, Sat looks out to the corner of her eye to see something zipping right towards her; the lively young woman acting fast and clasping the thing in her hands with a swift clap, feeling it squirm in between her palms.
Gotcha, you little bastard. Now lets see just what the hell you are.
Astonishing shock and terror overwhelm her as she cracks open her hands and discover what she had just caught, beholding what seemed like an arachnid made from decomposed muscle tissue with a mouth line with a couple of sharp fangs; its single eye staring at her from between her hands.
Ahhggh! What the fuck!? Just what in gods name is this thing!?
As she attempt to wrap her head around whatever the hell she had just caught in her hands, something swiftly brushes past her wrist and leaves behind a nasty cut; the unexpected slash making her grip slip enough for the spider of bare muscle to escape. Satette glares down to where the little pest had dropped down to discover not just one, but two of them scuttling along the cold rock floor.
More of them? Where are they coming from?
Hearing a familiar slithering noise down the way she had came in from, Sat peers back towards the same corridor to witness pieces of slug like melted flesh slinking out from the shadows and across the hall; these lines of pustule littered meat sliding their way into the stone coffins that line the tomb.
And what emerges out from the inside of these coffins be the same sort of arachnid like creatures of rotting muscle tissue and teeth like the one she had caught. It isn’t long before dozens of these disgusting spiders all come out from the coffins and ready to leap out and sink their teeth into her.
Oh shit.
Sat jumps out from around the corner and makes a break down the corridor closest to her, running as fast as her legs could carry as the swarm of muscle woven spiders jump and scuttle after her; the panic in her voice ringing throughout the tombs inner sanctum.
Her screams manage to echo all the way out towards another part of the sanctum; particularly throughout a part of the tomb where the walking malformed cadavers wander around, searching around the countless stone coffins with their protruding, crust ridden eyes.
Unbeknownst to the undead combing this very chamber, there eyes prove little help in tracking their intruders as Monty had erected a barrier of reformed light which hides both Thursotte and his own presence; leaving both of them invisible on one side while letting them watch the searching undead from plain site.
“There’s so many of them here. They’re gonna stumble onto us eventually if we don’t move.” Thursotte whispers.
“Right, but we still need to be discreet about it. I ain’t sure if any of these guys still have their ears or noses left intact. We can’t risk making a peep.” his light leader whispers back.
“Gotcha.”
The two slowly rise up from the corner of the chamber and slowly begin to make their way towards the other side, taking the utmost caution when tip toeing around the stone coffins and searching cadavers while Monty cloaks them both in his manipulated light.
Both of them crawl right over some of the stone coffins in attempting to steer clear of the undead prowling through the chamber, slowly sliding along the top to not shake their loose stone lids.
But its when sneaking over some of the coffins that one of the nearby zombies suddenly swings its decaying grasps in their direction for seemingly no reason, its fingertips nearly brushing past the side of Thurs’s pants.
Despite his panic growing from the extraordinarily close call, the young man keeps his breathing steady as he and his boss sneak across the chamber; Monty helping the guy down as they climb down from the top of the coffins.
When upon coming to the other end of the tomb chamber, both are left worried over a couple of the undead gathered around and barricading their only way out; Thursotte cursing under his breath as he whispers:
“Damn. They gathered around the exit just so we don’t escape.”
“That shit don’t make sense. Their brains should be decomposed mush, how could they be smart enough to count for that?” Monty worries.
“I don’t know. But we need another plan so we can slip past.”
Pondering over how to break up the seemingly planned gathering of undead away from their exit, Thurs picks off a loose piece of fractured stone off the side of a coffin lid and chucks it out towards the other side of the chamber; the sound that the thrown piece alone being enough to bait about every zombie in the chamber over to where it landed.
A small grin cracks across the light leaders face when seeing the undead gathered to the corridor moving with the rest of their fellow cadavers; praising his subordinate with:
“Nice thinking there, Thurs.”
With their way out clear, both of the boys sneak their way over as quietly as they could; making not a peep among one another.
When just mere inches to the exit however, a wayward hand suddenly emerges out from the side and break through the light illusion to clutch at Thursotte’s ankle; the young man letting out a quiet yelp before glancing down to the hand that grasps him and discovers attached to this hand the top half of an undead.
“Ah, Monty!” Thurs alerts his leader.
Peering back to see the zombie tightly clutching his partners leg, the light controlling psychic turns over and stamps down on the cadavers wrist hard enough to sever its hand from its arm; the undead letting out a pained shriek which alerts the others towards them.
“Shit. Run!” Monty demands, both he and Thursotte sprinting down the hallway as the pack of cadavers chase after.
“It doesn’t make sense! We didn’t make a single peep! How the hell did that one zombie know where we were!?” Thurs questions while they bolt through the tunnels.
As Monty wonders the same thing, he brushes away the puffs of dust that get in his eyes; realizing what went wrong then and there and claims that it was:
“The dust.”
“What?”
“All the years worth of dust in these tombs. It must have started wafting through the air with all the commotion. The clouds of it we passed through must’ve given us away; that’s how it could tell we were right in front of it.” the light leader deduces.
“It paid attention to details that small!? I thought zombies were all supposed to be too brain dead to do that.”
“Guess all those horror flicks and late night TV specials got the details wrong.”
A single beam of moonlight shines through a grate in the roof and down to a tombstone of monumental size resting in the middle of the labyrinthine catacombs, glistening against the water lines from the sewers lend the soil surrounding the stone to prosper
Out from one of the many corridors leading into the chamber, a pair of figures step into the descending light to let their purple and chestnut luster locks respectively glimmer in its glow.
“Yep, this part is practically screaming dead center. It’d be like your lover on the bed by candlelight, its obvious. You get it, and you wanna go in hard. But not too hard. Not hard enough to fracture your pelvis and dick. It’d be like at back of the Wendy’s all over again, except without all the blood semen everywhere and painful shame when explaining to the paramedics what happened.” Weds proclaims.
“Wha...What the fuck are you talking a-” Frida question with worry.
“Yep, seems like a pretty good place to stow away yer wears and treasures away from the prying public eye, and maybe a few other things. Might take hours or days just to figure out where they stowed the key in this whole, spending all that time combing through the dirt and walls til we wind up starving and would have to resort to cannibalism. I wonder which one of us would-”
“Me.” Frida quickly concludes.
“Why, just cause your packing all the heat?”
“Yeah.”
“...Alright, fair enough.”
“Your right about one thing, though. Who know’s how long it’ll take before we end up finding that damn-”
“Found it.” Wedsle suddenly claims, staring up to the ceiling.
“The fu- Where’d you even…”
Peering up in the same direction her purple partner gazes up to, the dimensional psychic discovers the key they seek hanging on a string tied to the grate above.
“J-just dangling up in middle of- Okay.”
“Now we just gotta find a way to get the damn thing down. That tombstone don’t look high enough for the both of us to reach. Maybe standing on our shoulders, but-”
Among gazing to the dangling key above, a sudden shot cracks off as a bullet zips upwards and streaks right through the thin string holding it up; the small key bouncing off the top of the tombstone with a loud ding before falling onto the dirt. As the sound of the shot echoes through the catacombs, Wedlse glances back over to his partner to find a smoking glock in her hands.
“Yeah, nice job. That won’t nab any unwanted attention.” the purple psychic sarcastically praises as he makes his way to where the key had fallen.
Wedsle picks the key out from the soil and brushes away the dirt on its face, admiring its bronze finish shimmering against the moon’s glow above; the psychic peering to the engravings detailed with Christian iconography and remarking on how:
“Damn. This key here’s hella fancy. Wonder when it was made?”
His inspection of the finely molded key is abrupt as a frightened shriek rings throughout the chamber; the purple psychic jumping back as he peeks to his partner and claims that:
“Holy hell! I know we’re in the middle of a haunted dead ass crypt, but relax woman.”
“Bitch, do you seriously think I scream like that?” Frida snaps back.
“Then where did that-”
Towards the east end of the crypt chamber do the two witness a figure bolt out from the darkness; Frida aiming her gun at them until realizing it to be their fellow mobster, Satette sprinting out from the hallway darkness and towards the two.
“Sat? Where the hell’d you come from?” Weds questions her as he approaches.
“Where’re the others?”
“Don’t know...But we have bigger problems.” the lively young woman warns, pointing out towards the corridor she emerged from.
From the eastern way do the three witness numerous arachnids made from the muscle of the dead crawl and leap out from the shadows; Wedsle shuttering from the mere site of them as he exclaims.
“Shit! The fuck are those things!?”
“Don’t know, but they’ve been following me non stop.”
“They ain’t gonna follow us much longer.” proclaims Frida, delving her hand into the sleeve of her jacket.
Satette is completely taken aback as out from the inside of that same sleeve does she pull out a whole grenade, watching as Frida pulls the pin out with her teeth and hucks it out to the cluster of spiders. All of them watch as the resulting explosion rends and burns the muscle tissue they’re made from into burning flesh; some of the arachnids that had survived the explosion scuttling through the chamber while still on fire.
“Jesus, grenades!? How big of an arsenal do you got stashed under that jacket!?” Satette exclaims.
“Would you believe me if I said she got a whole ass bazooka in there. Saw her pull it right out of her ass.” Wedsle jests.
“Xcuse me!?”
“Not my actual ass, just the back of my pants.” Frida corrects.
“There much of a difference?”
Despite the overwhelming explosion having taken out a good chunk of the swarm, several more of these fleshy spiders leap out at them from the smokey shroud; the dimensional psychic reaching into her other sleeve as she going:
“Oop, still some left.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Two grenades might be excessive. Don’t wanna make the whole place fall down on us.” Sat warns.
“Yeah. There’s only a few more of them anyway.” the purple psychic adds before he lunges out towards the rest.
“Weds, wait!”
Yet does the lively woman’s words fall of deaf ears as her purple partner charges to the oncoming swarm, watching as the cluster of muscle tissue spider leap out to him with their sharp protruding bones brandished to him.
The violet psychic manages to pluck one right out from the air before he could even lay its hands on him and starts to spread his influence through it; Sat bracing for when the fleshy arachnid would explode in the palm of his hands.
To her surprise however, Wedsle’s emotional power spreads itself through the malformed spider just fine; the violet psychic throwing the creature back to its own kind as his aura flows through it. His influence seeps into the other spiders just as fine when the one he throws hits the others like a bowling ball flung straight into pins. The horde of fleshy arachnids scuttle away from them in overwhelming fear rather than violently exploding into messy pieces.
“Oh…” Sat utters.
“What?” Weds turns to ask.
“Uh...Nevermind.”
The purple psychic’s bravado shifts to distress when glancing back towards the two woman,; Wedsle shouting out to them to warn that:
“Girls! Spiders on your 180!”
“What?”
In the swift moment of pondering her partners urgent warning, Sat hears shots pop off from right behind her and looks back to find Frida firing her pistols out to another incoming swarm of fleshy arachnids; their bodies bursting into puss and blood when the bullets pierce through their little bodies.
“Oh, 180 degree turn.”
Yet Frida fails to nail all of the incoming spiders as a couple of them leap right past and brush their fracture protruding bones against her, leaving behind cuts that slash right through her jacket and right into her skin.
“Shit!”
After flying right past her, the muscle made arachnids lunge out and aim their sharp bone fragments straight out to Satette; the lively young woman evading their incoming swipes rather than trying to nab them, remembering what happened last time she tried to control these deformed corpses.
“The hell’s the matter Sat? These things would be literal putty in our hands if you nabbed them!” wanders Wedsle, struggling to keep a pair of them in his clutches.
“I...I can’t!”
“The hell you mean you can’t?” Frida questions to her.
“I don’t know what it is, but when I try and transform these zombies, they just wind up exploding. The moment I try and use my powers, they just violently burst apart; I nearly got my arm blown off cause of that.”
“You gotta fucking kidding! What the hell do we do then?” the purple psychic exclaims.
Questioning their next move herself, Sat’s attention is drawn over to the patch of soil surrounding the catacomb statue resting in the middle of the chamber; glimmers of hope coming to her in the form of some blades of grass poking out and shimmering against the moonlight.
“Think I know a way out of this. Both of you cover me!”
Satette plunges her hands into the graves very soil, using her psychic influence to gather as much plant life that remains among the dirt; all the while some of muscle made spiders leap out towards her with their sharp protruding bones.
Yet when just moments away from rending the woman’s flesh apart with their fracture calcium, a spread of bullets slide across the flat plain of the floor and erupt out underneath the arachnids; the shotgun spread tearing the entire swarm to bloody shreds.
Beyond that swarm having been torn asunder does another emerge out from the darkness and lunge out against the rooted young lady; their advancing assault halting dead in its tracks when one of its own kind is flung its way and break apart the pack like a queue ball breaking billiards. From the spider that had been smacked against the crowd, a layer of violet spreads across the swarm and urges them all to scurry away.
A plume of dirt erupts out from the dirt as Sat finally pulls her arms out from its depths, unveiling them to be covered in long buried plants and flowers that had remained hidden in the soil; the young woman going:
“Hah, here we go! Time for the real show to start!”
“Nah, it’s over.” she hears Weds claims.
“...What?”
“We did it. We beat them all back.” adds Frida, the middle chamber left with the puss littered remains of muscle tissue.
“...Oh...Well...That’s a little...anticlimactic. Kinda wanted to have some of the spotlight there. Had all this cool shit planned with our powers working in tandem together and all.”
“Hey, don’t sweat it, I’m sure we’ll need some of that thinking yet.” the dimensional psychic concers.
“Yeah, all that matter’s now is that we got our key and we can get out of this rotten shit hole.” their purple partner concludes.
“Eh, fine. But aren’t we forgetting something.”
As if right on queue to answer the young woman, the three shutter when hearing a frightened and panicked scream sound out from the southern corridor; glancing over in that very direction to witness the last two of their team race out from the shadows of the hallway.
“Oh yeah, them.”
“The hell does that mean!?” Monty shouts as they approach.
“Yeah, you just forget we were down here too!?” Thursotte questions alongside him.
“The hell are you two even doing coming in here like your seconds away from pissing yourselves for?” asks Frida.
“We have no time to explain. We need to dig our way out from these graves this instant.” Thurs claim.
“Where’s the nearest exit?” their lightly leader demands to know.
Its on this question that all three of them give their answer in pointing up towards the ceiling, both of the other’s peering up to see the only grate above the chamber letting in moonlight; its overall width seemingly to be just big enough for an infant to squeeze its way through.
“Oh dammit.”
Right out from the corridor that they had bolted into from do they all witness the terrible horde of undead corpses walking out from the shadowy depths; the glowing pupils in their hollow eye sockets aimed at them all.
“Oh shit!” swears Frida.
“We need to beat it, now!” Monty demands, all of them sprinting out towards the opposite direction.
Yet in nearing the hallway do they then realize their only means of escape was denied as fused together amalgamations of cadavers comes crawling out from the darkness; the encroaching mob forcing the five back to the middle of the chamber as zombies near them in every direction.
“We didn’t run into any of this sort of bull while we were down here. The hell happened?” the dimensional psychic questions.
“I don’t know. We got dragged down and wound up stepping on some arm. Next thing we knew, our living asses were being chased all throughout every which way.” Thurs explains.
“Pretty damn strange there. Saw a bunch of zombies on our way down and none of them tried so much as approach us, much less try and chew our cocks off.” Weds then tells them.
“Your-your kidding. The hell went through their rotting brains that made them go aggro on us and not you two.” Monty questions.
Pondering these notions herself, Satette wonders of the hostile interactions she had with the undead among her time spent down in these crypts, taking an overview of the point that it had all began; the destruction of the mausoleum.
The line of mold ridden flesh that had appeared when she had slid her arm through the sleeve of the statue; remembering when she had plunged the thorns of her plants into its body and rend it apart.
It all started going down hill right then and there. But what could’ve…
In that moment do the words of warning that the graveyard groundskeeper ring in her head, making her realize the error that her and her friends had made while down here.
“Guys...I got an idea. One that can get us out of this mess.”
“You sure about that.” Weds wonders.
“Positive. Just don’t any of you act until I say so.” Satette plans, peeking behind the giant tombstone standing behind them all.
“Got any objections, boss?” Frida asks their leader.
“At this, I’ll try anything, just go for it.” he gives the go to.
“Gotcha!”
The surrounding mob of the living dead was but moments away from overwhelming the five and rending them to pieces, when the young woman of life among them clasps her hands together and commands the plantlife set through her sleeves to come forth and gather in her hands in a bright light of lively green. The aura from the girl so bright, her allies and enemies avert their gaze.
When the light of lively green finally fades away, friends and foe’s alike return their eyes and are left perplexed by what she had transformed the gathered greens in her possession.
Laying in her hands, made from the remains of plants long buried down in this crypt, be not weapons made from their matter, but a collection of freshly picked flowers; their petals rejuvenated with the splendor of life.
Every soul within the chamber stands silent as this young woman turns away from them all and faces the tombstone standing from behind; kneeling down to the earth that surrounds the grave and helping the flowers take root in its ancient soil.
As she sits on her knees facing the giant grave, the young lady brings her hands together once more and bows her head, paying respect for all those who remained buried within these tombs.
The mixture of worry and doubt that were brewing in the woman’s friends drain away as they turn back to the mob of undead that surround them, the four left at a loss for words as each of the malformed cadavers slink back through the corridors without so much as a moan or growl; returning into the darkness from whence they came.
“Thank you…” all of them hear whispered.
When the last of the zombies finally retreat from the labyrinth's middle chamber, Satette stands back on her feet to let out calming breath as she turns to face her friends, finding all of them left completely dumbfounded by the events that had just transpired.
“Okay...You mind telling us what kind of dues ex bullshit you did there?” Weds questions.
“Yeah, I mean we were screwed. What’d you do to make all of them back off?” Monty asks as well.
“Don’t disrespect the dead, else they won’t respect you?” she reminds.
“Wait, what the groundskeeper warned you about?” Thursotte wonders.
“Its what we were told of before coming down in here. It wasn’t a warning, it was the answer. All we needed to do was just that and they wouldn’t hurt us.”
“That would explain why those zombies lining the wall didn’t try anything back there.” Frida thinks back to.
“Well, ain’t that just a fucking wholesome bowtie left on top of this gross body horror-esqe B movie rated plotline. Got the key, got our skin intact, lets get the hell outta here.”
“Yep, it all wraps itself up nice and tighty...except…”Sat then proclaims.
The pale light of the gibbous glistens across the graveyard as it starts to delve down towards the city’s western horizon; Monty and Thursotte listening to Sat recounting her own escapades through the underground catacombs, all the while Wedsle and Frida follow silently in the back.
After several moments of disheartening quiet comes to pass, the purple psychic finally decides to dissolve the silence between them and starts by stating that:
“Listen, about all that back down there.”
“It’s fine. I got where you were coming from. It’s just that I wasn’t really in the mood to just put myself out there.”
“I know. Really shouldn’t have tried to push you as much as I did. You don’t gotta say a damn thing about yourself if you don’t wanna. I get it.”
“...Yellow.” the dimensional psychic states with a soft grin.
“Huh?”
“My favorite color. It’s yellow.”
“Really?”
“I know. Don’t have a spot of yellow anywhere on me. It just makes me think back to better times, before I got kicked out of my dream job...and lost the trust of my colleges”
“Oh...Hey, since were at that, you think your comfy enough to answer something that I’ve been wondering since we met?”
“Yeah?”
“The hell went through your mind when you accepted my offer back then? With the kind of gunplay you got stashed in your barbed wire coochie, you could’ve gone to much better places then hanging around our sorry little crew, much more than the mob probably. What made you wanna stick around?”
“Just don’t...don’t fucking laugh, kay.”
“Hmm?”
“Really, the only reason was cause I missed being part of a team. Taking solace in the fact that people got your back just as much as you got there’s. Wanted that reassurance again, made things feel right.”
“And you thought the best place for that was in the mob?”
“I wasn’t in the best place when we met.”
“Whelp. Seems you got lucky on that, your definitely in a better one now.” Wedsle claims, both he and Frida looking to the rest of their team walking ahead of them.
“Yeah, guess I am.”
“So, they just blew up.” Thursotte questions.
“Yep, the moment I tried my psychic powers on them, a dark green aura would flare up before they exploded. Still don’t know what made those zombies blow up when I tried that.” Sat finishes describing.
“I’ll be damn, never thought all those whispers and rumors were true.” remarks Monty.
“You know something about all this?”
“Kind of. In all my years working under the mob though, I only ever heard it from word of mouth. But from what I remember is that some psychic powers don’t really play nice with each other, particularly those that control naturally opposing forces.”
“Like a magnet?” Sat wonders.
“More like an atom bomb, really. When those kinds of powers are forced to clash, they violently deny each other’s presence and go off in a psychic induced explosion. Try it with anything kind of opposites, happy and sad, space and time…”
“Or life and death.” Thursotte finishes.
“Then that proves it. What we bare witnessed to tonight was definitely the work of a psychic, and that very psychic holds dominion over the dead.”
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Came to me it just came to me out of the blue I know totally but seriously Saudi Arabia can you guys put some heavy heat on Vladimir Putin so that he doesn’t get these ideas that he’s really important and stuff because he’s trying to do this whole war with Ukraine and the American men are like oh my gosh we’ll have human trafficking victims to fuck no you won’t know you won’t especially especially after this goddamn nightmare all these little babies who are murdered you guys are disgusting
The a RE fuck you I’ll just call Germany you son of a bitch
I have Vladimir no you know what I wanna make fun of you for a minute you fucking piss me off you’re a dumb goddamn cunt you know that you really fucking piss me off oh can I not did you just fucking say that shit to me OK okey-dokey but that wasn’t him who said it anyways they want to know here what I can do to help them even though all they do is kill children in the United States of America and target them and play games with bestiality and rape and food and whatever other disgusting things Nicholas and Stephanie are about because they are such psycho pathic freaks who are also what kind of pathic? Are okey-dokey
Well I don’t usually get into fights with the people by the woods didn’t realize that Joshua Allen Jones was seeking a fight but now that I know that I suppose there’s not a such thing as the a RE or things such as that because people come here to America on their parents dimes wait wait let me back that up a minute I am people… Americans think that they can have an immigrant dime if their parents came over or if their grandparents came over all it takes is like two or three generations for these bastards to get too cocky and then we’re looking at like all this racist garbage and you got like people dressed as Irish people or dressed as German people fighting each other as the wrong thing not done meanwhile… I don’t give a shit what Alan wants Alan can eat shit
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Heyyyyy I’m new here :3 could I request ATEEZ reaction to you being a brat? :3
Ateez reaction: Bratty Y/N
__________________________________________
➼ requested?: yes
➼ genre: smut
➼ pairing: Ateez x neutral!reader
➼ Word-count: 2k+
➼ Warnings: nsfw content, strong language, cursing, threads, annoyance, bratty behavior, pet names...
➼ Note: This is not based on their real behavior or meant to represent real life. This is simply a fan fiction and is only for the purposes of fun, it’s a hobby. Read at your own risk!
➼ A/N note: Sorry for updating after a longer time, I had a few mental health issues... Thanks to everyone who waited tho and thank you so much for 200+ followers... Please let me know if you have ideas in mind for a ‘special'! Hope you all like this one tho. Feel free to leave some feedback! Also, let me know if any of you wants to be added to my taglist!
➼ Taglist: @teeztheflag @darkstarlights
__________________________________________
Park Seonghwa
You were sulking because Seonghwa didn’t bought you that dress you saw in one of those expensive shops today. Actually, you could call him your „sugar daddy”. He bought you anything you wanted whenever you wanted, but not today. Today was different, because you already started to provoke him in the early morning, disobeying and yelling at him. He didn’t know what happened to you, even after asking a hundredth of times, you just kept on being bratty towards the male. Soon, he had enough. While the two of you were sitting in the car, at the parking lot of the shopping mall, you kept on complaining about that dress. Seonghwa leaned into your side and grabbed your throat, immediately shutting you up. „You better stop talking, before I lose my shit and hit you right in the face and fuck you right on top of this car, baby. Would you like that? For all people to see how I put you in your place. Huh?” You silently shook your head, a hint of fear written on your face. „I thought so. Now stop being a bratty little bitch and start behaving, understood?” Again, you remained silent, nodding your head this time. Seonghwa then sat back and started the power of the car, driving off, back home.
Kim Hongjoong
Hongjoong finally took a day off, immediately calling you to go on a date but you were mad at him. Why? He knew that you had other plans today but still choose this day to take a break. „Y/N, baby, come on. You know I have no say in this. This is not my fault, so please come to the restaurant we always go to, okay?” You let out a ironic laugh. „Tz. First, you pick the worst day and now you want me to come there myself? Oh no, if you really want to get out with me then you are going to pick me the fuck up.” Hongjoong was kinda shocked, not excepting this kind of behavior. After massaging his temples, since this boy was stressed and annoyed by your way of behaving, he just hung up the call, not in the mood to keep up with you right now. You went absolutely insane. Like, how dare he? When midnight came around, Hongjoong entered the front door, food in his hands. You were sitting in the living room, still pissed about earlier today. A knock on the doorframe made you look up. When spotting your boyfriend, you rolled your eyes and kept watching tv. „Haven’t cool down yet?” You got back to 180. „Excuse me?! Get your ass out of this room Mr. 'I think I can allow myself whatever I want' because yes, I am still mad at you.” He stared at you, not believing what was happing. Since when did you get so bratty? Shaking his head while approaching you and placing the food on the table, he grabbed both of your forearms and looked you deep in the eyes. „Okay now listen here you bratty bitch. You’re gonna listen to me and start behaving or I will punish you so hard that you wish you could turn the time back and thank me for making time for you, okay? I want my good little kitten back because I don’t like nasty strays that don’t obey me. No one would like one, so be happy and appreciate me you ungrateful pice of shit and shut the fuck up.”
Jeong Yunho
He was just staring at you blankly, while you were throwing a tantrum. This already happened a couple of times but it was never this bad. He kept on watching you, until you eventually calmed down yourself. It really provoked you that he didn’t stop you or has done anything for that matter. At some point, you gave up because you knew how well Yunho could control his anger. Honestly, you didn’t even know why you freaked out like that. Both of you were searching for a movie to watch and when Yunho picked one that you already saw and absolutely hated, both of you started auguring. It’s his turn to pick the movie because you picked last time, yet that didn’t sit with you. Maybe you were just having a bad day? At least that’s what Yunho told himself. „Are you done now?” You sat there, at the ground while Yunho sat in front of you, on the couch. „Yea... sorry.” Yunho nodded, pulling you up on his lap. You thought he will cuddle with you but sike, he flipped you over so you were laying on your stomach, over his knees, ass in perfect view for him. „How many hits do you think you deserve? Hm? Maybe 20 or 30? Or... 40 or 50?”
Kang Yeosang
He had this furious and annoyed look on his face. You got kinda terrified now, knowing what a beast this boy could be when he was mad. He watched you until you went silent, sitting next to each other and waiting for what’s going to happen next. You started to get nervous because Yeosang kept looking at you without saying or doing anything. His silence never meant anything good... „Stop looking.” He raised one of his eyebrows. „Stop talking.” You did keep quiet, not knowing what else to do now. „Dumb pet, do you think you’re worth my time? Oh how embarrassing... It’s such a shame that there are so many people who want me yet I chose you over everyone else, an ungrateful little bitch.” His words kinda hurt and you stated to doubt your worth. Maybe he’s right? You maybe should have followed the rules. You shouldn’t have told him no and most important, you shouldn’t have done all of that in front of his friends. You kinda started to regret it but it was way too late now. Even if you did apologize now, Yeosang wouldn’t forgive you, he will punish you no matter what. The more silence there is, the harder the punishment will be. „Go into the bedroom. Take your clothes off and wait for me.”
Choi San
To be direct, you were unnecessarily overreacting. When you visited the boys and watch them while they practiced, San didn’t greet you as usual and you didn’t like that. At all. He was too focused to even notice you tbh. When he finally turned around and spotted you, he rolled his eyes, taking in your grumpy state. He made his way towards you, so he could give you a kiss but you pushed him away. He gave you a questioning look but you just turned your face away. „Hey, give me a kiss.” You still didn’t move, hoping to upset somehow. „Y/N.” His first warning. „Look at me.” Still, you didn’t move. The other members started to notice but kept on practicing because they didn’t wanted to get involved in anything. San exhaled loudly, pulling you up and dragging you out with him. „Don’t touch me!” You yelled at your boyfriend. He didn’t even bother to listen to you. „It hurts!” You hoped that he would loosen his grip a bit, but instead his grip on you got stronger. When he reached his room, he threw you on the bed and undressed himself. „You hurt me!” Still having that attitude on, you again yelled at him. He gave you a murderous look, finally shutting you up. He the hovered over you, staring you dead in the eyes. „If you ever dare to pull something like that in front of the other members again, I will make you regret visiting us, okay? Now better behave, before I completely lose the last bit of my self control, you stupid kid.”
Song Mingi
„Mingi, Mingi! Wake up!” You shook him until he groaned out in annoyance. „Y/N? What’s wrong?” You huffed. „I am bored. You have to do something with me, come on.” You tried to pull him up but he was stronger than you, resulting that you were the one being pulled and laying on top of him now. „Did you loose your mind? It’s three in the morning, let me sleep!” He half yelled, half whispered. As he was about to drift off to sleep again, you pulled on his hair, making him tear his eyes open and cry out loudly. „Ouch! What the heck, Y/N? That hurts!” A smile creeped on your face, finally achieving your goal of waking him up. He just stared at you, giving you a ‘are you serious?’ type of look. „Now that you’re awake, we can do something! Should we watch a movie or should we play some ga-“ „No! We are not going to do any of these! It’s bed time, so lay down! I am not in the mood for all of this.” You smacked his thigh. „No Mingi, get up! What do you not get from 'I am bored, let’s do something’, huh?” He really has enough. „Okay Bunny, you wanna do something? Let’s play a game. It’s called ‘try not to scream while getting your ass beaten and brain fucked out’. Sounds fun, right?” You gulped, then getting pulled and flipped around, so that your backside faced up. At least he’s full of energy now...
Jung Wooyoung
Both of you were sitting in a restaurant. He was already fed up with your behavior but he let go because he didn’t had enough strength to deal with you right now. This cutie was so hungry and tiered after practice, that he didn’t wanted things to go wrong but you really left him no choice. Just because you didn’t wanted to eat in this restaurant and wanted to go to your favorite one instead, you stated to act up, gaining lots of attention from all the nagging and yelling. Wooyoung grabbed your upper arm and pulled you near him, whispering in your ear so others wouldn’t hear. „Shut your mouth now Y/N, I’ve had enough of your bullshit. You’re so fucking embarrassing you stupid brat.” He then let go, harshly shoving your arm away and leaning back. When the waiter approached you two, to note your order, you remained silent. After rolling his eyes, Wooyoung ordered food only for himself. When he finished eating, he stood up and threw some money in the table. He was about to walk away when he turned around to face you. „If you don’t get up within the next two seconds, I will break your legs.” He gave you a last condescending look before walking out. You obeyed and followed him out, joining him in his car. He didn’t even spare you a glance, driving straight to your apartment a grin forming on his face, several ideas for your punishment popping into his head.
Choi Jongho
Hit after hit, you put in more effort to annoy him. You soon realized that this wasn’t enough, so you started pinching and biting him. „Ouch, Y/N, are you crazy?!” Ah, finally! You smirked at him and wiggled your eyebrows, satisfied that he finally showed a reaction. „Do you think that’s funny?” You smiled. „Very. And now that I finally have your attention, you can do something with me. Oh and, get me some water please I am thirsty.” He stared at you in disbelief. „Are you okay, Y/N?” You gave him a look of disapproval. „Uhm, yea? I still am but if you don’t get me my water I won’t be and than I am going to hit you, again.” He was kinda amused now. „Oh? Where does all that attitude come from, all of a sudden?” You shrugged with your shoulders. „I don’t know and I don’t care. You gotta deal with it now.” You laid down on the couch both of you were sitting on and placed your legs on his lap. „I am still waiting for my water Jong.” He didn’t move. You wanted to raise your head up to scold him but he was faster than you, now hovering over you. „I will give you something else to drink. Get down and kneel. We have to clean that bratty mouth of yours, yea? Come on brat, suck me off. You don’t want me to get mad now, do you?”
#ateez#ateez imagines#ateez reactions#ateez scenarios#ateez x reader#kpop imagines#kpop reactions#kpop scenarios#ateez smut#ateez reaction#ateez x gender neutral reader#kim hongjoong#park seonghwa#jeong yunho#kang yeosang#choi san#song mingi#jung wooyoung#choi jongho#ateez fanfiction#ateez brat tamer#ateez ot8#ateez hongjoong#ateez San#ateez seonghwa#ateez yunho#ateez yeosang#ateez wooyoung#ateez jongho#ateez mingi
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