#jane the killer snow
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In the snow
A little preview for a short comic I'm making.
#jane the killer#jane arkensaw#jane everlasting#jane creepypasta#creepypasta#creepypasta fanart#creepypasta snow#jane the killer snow
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some creepy kids and they lesbisn mom
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#my video#grunge#silent hill 2#silent hill#snow#depressing post#kinda depressing#slenderverse#slender proxy#jane the killer#dark winter#winter nature#gothic#witch#goth#creepypasta#ghost#winter ❄️#cold 🥶#grungegirl#sadcore#sad thoughts#alonetime#leave me alone#cold weather#darkness
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𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Zombie Apocalypse AU w/ Gwendoline Christie characters; (~9.2K words)
(Featuring: Larissa Weems, Brienne of Tarth, Jane Murdstone, Anna from WTM, Lucifer Morningstar, Miranda Hilmarson, Captain Phasma, and Jan Stevens) x Reader
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
It started about two months ago. Russia went down first, then Mongolia. China. India. And in the midst, Finland, Sweden, Norway, the United Kingdom, down to the very southern tip of Africa. The Ocean is no killer of disease, frozen or not, and encouraged it to ravage South and North America, then Canada and Greenland. Until every place was overrun by dead freaks. Stinking corpses and moving gore.
They traveled in herds, packs, whatever it was that people wanted to call them—murders, perhaps—and shuffled aimlessly across any land they could find. Eager for food, for sustenance, to fill the empty bellies that would never be full. Gorging themselves on creatures like you.
Officially ‘the other’. Officially ‘the enemy’. The sole survivor of a good group that was attacked some days ago because an idiot forgot to shoot one of the creatures in the head. And by sunrise, it was over. Screams echoed into the silence and you soon found yourself alone… running for your life with a duffle bag over your shoulder (slowing you down) and a gun in your hand (low on ammo). Trekking through thick woods in a heavily-infested Vermont town was not a good idea, but you had no choice. The house you were camping in was left behind, ravaged by bullets that you put into your friend’s heads, and every other spot nearby had been looted. You couldn’t move all of those bodies yourself. You couldn’t do much yourself. There was no army background attached to your name, no conspiracy theorist survival-obsessed gene in your body, and not much training in fighting either. All you could do was run. Run and run and run until you were miles away and your lungs started to burn. Not the most useful skill considering most people could run, but if you were quick enough to speed past the shuffling bastards, you were quick enough to make it to safety.
—
Safety…what a joke. A shit joke. A joke that was, quite honestly, the worst joke to ever exist. There was no safety. No place, nowhere. You’d been walking for a few hours, hearing nothing but the forest’s silence, and stumbling over leaves and branches. They ravaged the animals, took them into their mouths like they were people, and ate until there was nothing left. Not even a squirrel, or a fox, and the birds had grown weary of the vast number of hunters (both dead and undead) that found themselves in the woods looking for food. So no birds either. And no houses. And you were pretty sure, as you paused to catch your breath, that you were doomed.
Only a few bullets left and your aim was never perfect. One knife tucked into your waistband but it was getting uncomfortable, digging into your skin, and caked in blood. Creature blood. Everything smelled horrible. Like burning flesh or dirty meat, raw and soiled. You probably didn’t smell too good either. It wasn’t like the world still worked without the people; only a few places had running water and you couldn’t trust the creeks and rivers. The undead enjoyed walking through shallow water, knowing somehow that there’d probably be prey nearby.
But you hadn’t seen anything in a while. A long while. A suspiciously long while...
Everything was green and brown around you, whisked by wind and soil, and you stood out like blood against snow. The last thing you saw was yesterday. Ever since? Not a single flash of undead flesh.
You swallowed, throat embarrassingly dry, and tapped your fingers against your thigh.
It wasn’t good when everything was still. You were vulnerable, out in the open, and without a good few rounds of bullets to spare. Every muscle and organ in your body screamed for mercy, crying with the effort it took to keep surviving even when you didn’t want to.
You thought about it a few times; gave the gun in your hand a long look on several occasions, but ultimately decided that ‘opting out’ was only a last resort. Somehow, even amidst the chaos and hatred and swill of humanity’s nature, you managed to hold hope. And often wondered where it would get you. How it would get you. While you were sleeping? While you were already wounded? Fighting off the hands of a loved one? The twist of hope’s rope… would you feel it closing in around your neck? A literal metaphor for the eventual death you’d experience?
Thinking about it gave you a headache.
For where was the point in wondering?
You had no one else. Whatever form of death awaited, it would end up being your fault. Probably because you couldn’t run fast enough. Probably because-
Because-
Wait.
Somewhere behind you, on the right, was a low sound. A hum. The smooth whoosh of something quick. The parting of wind… the low growl of…
“Fuck.”
You shot off in that direction, bag smacking against your shoulder blades, and instantly felt the exhaustion pull at your body again. It lingered like a plague, like the undead disease, and you yearned to fall to your knees - to give in - but it wasn’t the time for that. You had to at least try. You had to at least make it over the hill. Right over the hill. So close but so far. You leaned forward, threw yourself at the ground, and grasped onto gnarled tree roots. The Earth smelled wet with decay, sweet with promise - you huffed against dry leaves. They crunched and scratched at your fingers, eventually crinkling into nothing when your arms worked to drag you up. You probably looked a little mad, scrambling up a steep hill to reach something that probably won’t save you, but there was no other option. The hum grew louder, the quiet was broken, and you only had a few moments to get this right.
“Help!” Your lungs caved around your scream, but the forest swallowed it instantly. Greedy trees with their greedy barks, wanting to keep you hidden from salvation. The hum grew louder. Your fingers grew clammy, sweating and slipping against rough wood.
You’d be bruised to high heaven later, and probably exhausted, but the hum and the growl of an engine meant a road and a road meant civilization and goddammit you just needed to get over the stupid fucking hill.
There was a loud ringing in your ears, nearly deafening, and making your voice sound fuzzy.
“Help! Help!”
Was that you? Were you the one screaming like that? Why couldn’t you be quiet? Those things could have been lurking… wandering nearby… coming up behind you, eager to grasp at your ankles and drag you back down to Hell.
A glance back over your shoulder, aching from the duffle bag, found nothing but blurred terrain and darkened leaves–a symptom of the setting sun. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. If the light went out, you’d be screwed. You couldn’t use the last of your matches and the world went black when evening struck. So there really was no choice. As the growl turned into a roar… there was no choice. Just a little higher- a little more. Your arms pushed, biceps straining against the cotton of your shirt, and your pants threatened to get caught on wayward sticks and tear into rags. The boots on your feet pressed hard against loose rocks, kicking them out of place, and gained just enough ground to push you up - over the ridge. The final stretch. Your chest pushed to the hard dirt and forced a grunt of effort from your tired body; the sound echoed through the woods, through the ground, and through the air that sat above the concrete road in front of you. Hard and vast, grey and long… you looked at it as though it were the holiest of grails, lying just beside it with your arms outstretched, your fingers still pulling at dirtied grass. Soil covered your skin, masked your features, caked beneath your fingernails, and when the roar of the speeding vehicle grew so close you had to close your eyes and wince, you knew raising a hand for help would not be enough. In the shade of the forest’s edge, half draped over the peak of the hill, you were inhuman to other survivors. Your dry mouth opened, your throat croaked, and your legs moved to push you up–closer–just short of the wind that caressed your hair when the car, the truck, ran past you with no second glance. You looked after it, watched it pass, and felt the burn in your heart grow into its own inferno. It licked at your insides, at your desperation, and had you hauling the duffle bag off of your shoulder and out onto the road. It rolled, a shuffling sound, and you followed after it with deep growls of effort and dwindling strength.
“Please,” you wheezed, panting for breath as soon as you staggered up to your feet.
In the distance, the car turned into a disappearing black spec. It drove and drove, out of sight, and you stood there, putting your arms in the air to wave it down and bring it back. To beckon it back. To beg and plead.
“Please please no-,” your voice was soft, weakened by days of rugged survival, “no…” rough and lost to the wind, it dissipated into nothing and you were forced to swallow again.
The thick smell of car exhaust settled against the steaming road. You watched the horizon, tracking the space in the atmosphere where the gold traced into a deep blue, and felt your bones quake beneath your skin. Their final cry. The last hurrah as you watched your future, the tatters of it, drive away from you.
Too late.
You were too late.
And you’d die there, on that road, and they may never come back and find you again in the morning. And your corpse would be chewed upon by undead bastards who would never give you a proper burial. And you’d be just another stupid human that found themselves trampled beneath the stinking feet of the walking dead.
Tears teased your eyes, burning the dry lands of your irises, and you felt the heart in your chest lurch against its cage.
Too late.
You were too late.
You had a duffle bag, a handgun somewhere off to the side, and the clothing on your back. One lasting water bottle, the knife you felt poking your side, and small bags of food that wouldn’t last you long at all. The tent, too, was destroyed by animals the night before. The most you could go was perhaps one more day, but your feet were aching so terribly that each step was a journey within itself. And you couldn’t push yourself to go further. There was no further. There was nothing in the woods and there was nothing beyond the road and you were running on fumes that no longer existed.
But you couldn’t just lie there and take it. You were about to reach over, bending at the waist, to grab your bag. To pull it up over your shoulder and trek on, even though it was pointless. But something stopped you.
Something–a sound–made you freeze.
It was faint. It didn’t sound like the undead, with their discordant groans and disgusting squelches, no… it was far. Getting closer. Closer. The hum and the growl. The purr of a motor. The hiss of pavement.
Your head snapped up, eyes bulging wide as you looked over the horizon to see…. Yes. Yes! Yes, it’s them! The car! A grin pulled at your lips. Halle-fucking-lujah! You felt the anxiety ebb, slowly falling away from your body, as they got closer. The black spec turned into a black blob, then a figure that took shape, and finally you could make out a Vermont license plate and the dirt that stuck to big wheels. Up close, it was a sleek thing, tall and well-built. Midnight black and aside from the splatter on the rubbered wheels, it was polished and clean. The dark paint reflected the bright world around you, turning it into weird warped versions of a faux-paradise. You swallowed at the feel of warmth against your legs, the exhaust from the truck flooding over the smallest sliver of skin around your ankles. Suddenly fearing a changed mind and bad intentions, you stumbled back until your heels pushed against your bag.
Tinted windows stared down at you, menacing and opaque. Not a thing to see behind them, even if you squinted. Nothing moved, nothing jumped, and you watched with bated breath for a window to roll down - until finally, it did.
The driver’s side. It went whirr-ing down, sliding for the shortest period of time in the world until only a shadow met you - and then a flicker of movement. And then-
“Oh my god! Jesus! Okay okay!” You flinched, not even hesitating to raise your hands above your head. You spread your fingers out, desperate to prove your innocence to the stranger in the car. And the gun they were holding, pointing at you, through the gap.
“Were you bit?” A rough voice, muted and deep, broke the atmosphere.
You shook your head.
“Words. Use them.”
“No,” you licked your lips, instantly deciding to turn around in a slow circle. “Not bitten. Not scratched.” You tried to ignore the way your hands shook, even as you shifted all the way back to face the gun’s muzzle.
“Ask where…” a voice, soft and feminine, came from somewhere beyond the driver’s seat. It was saying something, telling something, but faded into a whisper so quiet you couldn’t hear a thing. Your eyes shifted to the dark backseat windows, trying to see something- anything- and found no surprise in the lack of life.
“Any weapons?” The driver seemed to ignore the other person, and instead held the gun steady. You watched it with weary eyes.
“Yes.” And before they could ask, you tugged the knife out of your belt and the gun out of your pants pocket. They were held up in the air, another white flag, and you twitched the hand that held the firearm. “At least three bullets left, but that’s it.”
“And the others?”
You blinked. “Others? What oth-”
“Where is the rest of your ammunition? In the skull of a human or scum?” The stranger spat, and you detected the hints of an accent.
Scum… you’d never heard them referred to as that before. Your last group called them walkers, and some others claimed flesh-eaters. You were tempted to use ‘zombies’, but it felt rather silly. The world took that term too lightly, and the undead were nothing if not a very serious problem. But scum? Like they were beneath humanity and not its current destroyer? You’d ask about it later, you decided, if they deemed you well enough to take in.
“Both,” you breathed honestly, dropping your weapons to your sides with a heavy sigh. “They um- weren’t quite there yet. Got ambushed overnight.”
The gun still didn’t move.
“They don’t ambush. What really happened?”
Hm. They weren’t wrong. Animated corpses didn’t ‘ambush’, but when a herd of them went lurking about, it certainly felt that way. You didn’t think logistics were entirely necessary, but you understood the need for specifics. Trust among men was eviscerated in the face of danger, especially against those once living. You’d seen paranoia before, in others. Humans simply didn’t take each other in anymore… not without some level of severe mistrust. The second thought after seeing the truck drive off was that you probably wouldn’t be accepted anyway - you’d killed without technical reason. Could have just left. Run away.
But you didn’t.
You didn’t want to see them turn into those… creatures.
So what else was there to say? You stared at the gun, willing a click and the shot of a bullet, as you opened your mouth.
“A herd. A lot of them. Just… descended upon the place. Someone might’ve been walking around in the woods or something, and there was just not enough protection,” you paused, licking your lips, “...I was the last one alive. Had to shoot them and go.”
“How long since?”
“Few days, give or take,” you shrugged. The exhaustion only built as you stood there, trying not to sway and collapse in your spot. The truck was still running, hissing hot exhaust; it was the first genuinely warm thing you’d felt in so many days that you wanted to crawl underneath and take a nap. The world, turning to autumn, was growing chilly. There was no chance you could survive winter on your own.
“...Give or take,” you heard the driver scoff and laugh, bitter and mean. You frowned.
Then the window started going up, and you couldn’t help yourself. With a hard thunk, you pushed your shoulder hard against the car, and knocked on the thick glass with the butt of the knife. A look of utter desperation crossed your features, heavy and thick. Urgency, anxiety, fear forced any sense from your mind. There was no chance. There was no survival at all.
“No please- please I can’t be out here alone please- I’m smart and- and I can run fast and be an asset. Please,” you shook your head, searching with worried eyes, “please, please you can’t do this to me-”
Something dark spliced through the corner of your vision, dragging a shadow with it, and you just barely dodged the sudden swing of the truck’s backseat door. It bounced with force and you glanced back at the driver’s window once before stepping back and hastily swinging your bag over your shoulder. The knife and gun were slipped back into your clothing, concealed, and you held yourself strong as the black leathered interior bore itself to the world.
“-we can’t just leave them-”
“-on’t be stupid. They could be a liability-”
“-not stupid. We need more people-”
Voices, at least two, were rushed and tangled in an argument. You didn’t pay much attention to what you could hear, though the growing irritation was hard to ignore. It would be a hassle to be accepted, you knew, but you’d deal. There was no choice. The backseat door was open and there was a figure hustled back against the other window.
“The offer won’t last,” the stranger murmured, somehow louder than the two people in the front seats, and you decided not to take any chances in the world alone.
With a grunt, a push, and a final slam of the door, you found yourself in the truck. Your bag was pushed down by your feet, you tugged your knife out to rest it on your thigh, and you turned to say thank you- but was cut off by a cold blade at your throat. It grazed the soft dirty skin, less than a centimeter away from pushing, and you felt saliva pool in the back of your throat. Swallowing would have pressed you closer, so you fought the urge and only stared.
“Woah-”
“Try anything and you die. I don’t want a peep, not a shuffle. Do I make myself clear?”
The driver’s voice, clearer in such close quarters, was deep and mean. Accent, as you had clocked, from somewhere in the United Kingdom. It held a natural growl, a gruffness from years of smoking, perhaps, and you couldn’t help but sense the intimidation. It wasn’t fake confidence, you noticed, as you looked up and met the cool sharp grey gaze of a woman. Her hair, a deep blonde, was slicked back and short, ruffled slightly by the nape of her neck. A long neck… that led to strong looking shoulders. They were half covered by a jacket, but you could see the strength in the chords of her muscle. A force to be reckoned with. A leader, perhaps. She was pale, with a defined nose and lips twisted into a permanent sneer, and you probably would have thought she had some potential for post-apocalyptic modeling, if it weren’t for the scar that covered one half of her face. Slashed across the left eye, the wound was jagged and rough - it dragged from a point close to the exact middle of her forehead, right to the corner of her jaw. Thicker at parts and thinner at others, it split through a pale eyebrow and seemed to have permanently rendered her blind. The lid didn’t even move when one stormy eye shifted, and you suddenly felt extremely creeped out. Something about her was undeniably cold. Almost reckless, but her hand was so steady with control you knew not to make a move. She’d probably kill without hesitation, dump you back into the road, and drive off with the duffel. There was no choice but to answer, answer quickly, and do as told.
“Yes, clear.” Your head shifted half an inch up and half an inch down, still cautious of the blade.
But she didn’t move.
It was a battle of wills for just a moment, with your hands in your lap, empty and docile. You weren’t looking for a fight, or a staring contest, but the stranger didn’t let up until the figure to your right decided to sit up and speak.
“Ah they do not seem so bad. Look at them. Tired and scared, like sad city mouse,” another woman, one with a Russian accent and a voice a hint too loud, cooed.
Silence followed, persisted, for only a minute- and then the blade was tugged back so quickly you swear it nearly cut the air in two. The driver tsked as she twisted herself around, murmuring as she went.
“More like a rat.”
And then you were thrown to the side with a heavy wheeze as the truck lurched and began moving, working into a turn so you could go back the way they’d come.
You glared at the back of the headrest, not feeling above a little bit of irritation for some poor handling, but eventually grew bored. With some apprehension, your eyes flicked over to the person in the passenger seat. Their profile was strong, feminine, and you noted the unbelievably well-kept head of snowy hair. She looked clean, just like the driver, and a spark of hope welled up in your tired heart. Running water and food existed where they came from, wherever they were camped out, and if you played your cards right, you could finally indulge in some good hygiene. Unless the woman in the passenger seat was stingy with her water… god her skin was so clear, and she seemed to be wearing makeup. No one wore makeup anymore. Not the people in your old group and not the few stragglers you’d stumbled across. It simply wasn’t a necessary luxury anymore, but the woman sitting across from you, back straight and hands in her lap, seemed to think it was of the utmost importance. You wanted to speak, wanted to ask her name, but found yourself turning to your right - and catching the gaze of the person that opened the door for you.
“Anna,” your savior spoke, tilting her head to the left and regarding you with curious eyes. A pale hand, big and long-fingered, shot out and hovered above your lap. You glanced down at it, at the clean skin and the perfect fingernails, and knew that you hit the survivalist jackpot.
With a nod and a quick clasp of her hand, you whispered your name in reply. She nodded before leaning back against the door and crossing her arms; she seemed quite comfortable there, with a rather large gun resting across her lap. Her hair, blonde as well, fell in gentle waves to her shoulders. She saw with deep blue eyes - a contrast to the cold steel of the driver - and didn’t hesitate to flick them over your body in some sort of analytical search. Weapons, you figured, is what she was looking for. And the knife in your lap, which she eyed with some interest.
You wanted to say something, wanted to thank them, but it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough those days. Asking something of someone was a risk every single time. And you’d asked—begged—them to take you in. You needed to pull your weight, no questions asked.
“Um- thank you for-”
“Shoot them.”
“What?!” You straightened up, eyes going wide as, in your peripherals, you saw Anna’s hand inch toward her gun. Through the rear-view mirror, you caught the way the driver’s brow twitched.
“You heard me. Shoot them.”
“Pha-”
“I said no talking,” the stranger growled, not even bothering to address the woman in the passenger seat. The white-haired woman looked frustrated, her red lips tugging into a frown, as she watched the driver double down on her focus. “Didn’t I say that?”
“But I-,” you wanted to plead your case, wanted to defend yourself, but were cut off.
“I am not going to shoot,” Anna said before you could speak. “Why do you expect her to be quiet hah, Phasma? We just saved her жопa. No need for fighting.”
You glanced at her, picking up on the Native tongue. Fresh off the boat, or perhaps visiting, with the way she said it so easily. Zhopa? Given the context, it wasn’t hard to tell what she meant. Yes, they had just saved your ass. And yes, you wanted to say thank you. Even if that Phasma person wasn’t too keen on a bit of gratitude.
“I hardly think thanking us for a kind deed is worthy of execution, no matter how much silence you require,” the fair-haired woman across from you said smoothly, throwing a slight glare to the woman on her right. And finally, she took that moment to turn around in the seat and make eye contact.
Something that proved to be far more difficult than you thought it would. Good lord, she was gorgeous. Pale skin, deep admiral blue eyes, and lips redder than blood. Not even a scratch on her face, not even a single spec of dirt - as if the apocalypse never happened and there weren’t dead people roaming every street in the world. In fact, she didn’t seem incredibly worried about the predicament the human species found itself in, and was looking at you with kind eyes, a furrowed brow, and a smile that she hoped was welcoming.
“My name is Larissa,” her hand, gloved in white fabric as soft as silk, reached out as an olive branch. You wanted to take it, wanted to feel something so lovely for the first time in a long time and create some sort of bond, but your hands were very dirty. A part of you guessed that Larissa hadn’t put them on earlier that day with the hope to return to camp holding soft fabric smudged with dirt and dried blood, so you only looked down at your palm and then back at hers.
“Oh uh- I don’t wanna get your gloves dirty-”
“Oh,” she glanced down, realizing that she was, in fact, wearing hand-coverings. “Later, then,” a warm smile shone back at you - and you were helpless, instantly offering her a nod in return.
“Finished?” The driver piped up, eyes cold as she stared at you in the rear-view.
As if on cue, Larissa turned back around in her seat, rolling her eyes as she went, and you could only fall quiet. Introductions were over, you were warming up to the easy heat in the car, and Phasma–if you dared address her by name in your head–had a good handle of the wheel. You were safe. For now. And with one last suspended look at the gun on Anna’s lap, you reached over for the seatbelt, tucked yourself in with a click, and leaned back in the seat. It was so suddenly comfortable, such a huge contrast to the shit you’d dealt with recently, that you couldn’t help but close your eyes and revel. Even for a moment. Even for a second.
—
“Get up,” a mean grunt, paired with a quick rush of piercingly cold air, tugged you from the depths of sleep.
Before you could even open your eyes properly, a shiver set itself into your bones. Eager to escape it, and the confines of the car, you jolted and scrambled for your seatbelt. Leaning against the open door, watching you grab your things, was the driver. Phasma? Weird name, but there was no time to dwell - especially not when she was looking at you like that. Eyes sharper than the knife on your lap, holding a polished chrome pistol in one hand, and waiting with some tension for you to hurry up. The duffel was pulled up onto your shoulder, the knife was tucked into your belt, and your hands scratched at the leather as you looked around wildly for your gun.
“We took it. You’ll get it back when you prove you’re not a complete imbecile,” she spat, peering down her nose at you. Disgust danced in her expression, sparking flames of unwanted insecurity, and you felt compelled to look away. Her nostrils were flared, her pink lips curled into something disdainful and mean, and you couldn’t help but watch the way her jaw shifted as she tensed, watching you watch her. The hatred seemed a bit out of place, too strong for normal trust issues, and you briefly wondered if perhaps she’d always been that way - even before the end of civilization. She was clearly a bitch, and not interested in showing you kindness any time soon, so you decided to forgo a response, ignored her glaring, and slipped out of the car without a word.
Before your feet were completely on the ground, and your bag was out of the way, the door slammed closed behind you, quick and sharp. The speed of it nearly clipped your shirt, and you whirled around to face the stranger’s irritation. She seemed to have lost interest in you and side-stepped your figure without another glance. One finger on the trigger, a shit-ton of audacity-filled swagger in her walk, and a back broad and strong. She looked like an outlaw, tall, mean, wearing grey with a belt around her strong hips and a leather jacket over her shoulders. You wanted to throw your gun at her and watch it hit the back of her head, but there was no way in Hell you’d be able to run away faster than she could catch you.
“Come,” you heard Anna speak, interrupting your train of thought as she trudged up to your left. You turned, seeing the way she cocked her head. “I’ll introduce you.” The gun swayed in her grasp as she turned, making little shuffling sounds in the grass.
The grass.
You went to go forward, but stopped. The grass. It was… terribly neat. Very well maintained. Not like apocalypse grass, which was flat and bloodied and mudded and dusted, but like rich person grass. Striking green grass, healthy, it bounced back behind you when you stepped on it. And the air… you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. It was fresh. Pure. Free of the smell of death and free of gunpowder and spraying blood. Just where on Earth were y-
oh.
Oh.
You looked up, finally, and found yourself in a courtyard. On all sides was a wall, sections of it made of brick, others of stone, and the rest of wrought iron fence, bolted hard into the ground; and across the way, piercing the sky, was a manor. Or what looked like a manor. No - what was definitely a manor. Dark, illuminated slightly by the deep blue of the atmosphere and the torches that littered the ground in neat paths, splitting off into cobblestone sections. You swallowed. It was gorgeous. Untouched. A world that seemed to run on and on while the rest of the globe went to shit.
How fucking lucky were you?
“Come! I must say twice?!” Anna called, giving you an exasperated beckon as she started disappearing behind the dark stone brick of the main entrance.
Sparing a quick glance behind you, you found a fortified gate and short stone walls - reinforced and built upon with barbed wire, wood, and sheets of metal. It must have opened up for the truck when you were still asleep, but was very much firmly shut and impenetrable once closed. You wanted to explore it more, wanted to study the mechanism and the layout and come to understand just how they managed to get the place so protected, but you didn’t want to leave Anna waiting. And a low rumble of thunder, far but rolling quick, told you that rain was eager to make her appearance - and you did not want to get caught in that.
After adjusting your bag and patting the knife in your belt for reassurance, you set off after the Russian stranger.
—
“So I am Anna, this you know already,” she pointed to herself, tapped her chest twice, then rolled her hand over to gesture to the clearing ahead.
It was beautiful, outlined against a dark wood. Rocky paths led to a big circle in the middle, and the ruins of stone benches and statues littered the camp. You could definitely see what it used to be - a beautiful place for the elite to sit, to bask, to enjoy the nice air and the wind. But the end of the world had gotten to it, not with the bearings of total destruction, but with the promise of change. A big spruce shelter had been built to the far left, reinforced with four beams and no walls - clearly just meant to keep the rain at bay while they worked outside. Beneath it, there were wooden benches and designated spots for farming equipment, guns, and even a water purifying system from the looks of it. If you assumed that sleeping quarters and showers existed in the castle, then they seemed to be in the best shape anyone could be in.
Even the people, who were busy going about their evening and tending to their duties, while you watched by Anna’s side and felt your excitement grow.
“Phasma was woman driving. Not so kind,” she tsked, giving you a knowing look, and you found yourself unable to ask about the strange name. You figured she wouldn’t have known the answer anyway. Then her hand moved, stealing your attention. “That is Jane,” she pointed to a pale woman sitting on one of the large stone benches.
Her back was turned, but you could see the severity of her expression in the reflection of a hand mirror. She was handsome, free of makeup, with jet-black hair. The strands fell from between her fingertips, spilling like water, as she threaded them into a braid around her head. Her movements were slow, methodic, and you watched, sort of hypnotized, as the long sleeves of her hooded dress stretched across her slim back. Tight along her arms and resting over the black pants covering her thighs, leading down to knee-high leather boots. Fit for an apocalypse, but somehow still chic. You watched her hands for a moment more, and turned slightly to her right when Anna gestured to the woman beside her.
“Miranda. Good girl, but way too skinskie,” she nodded to herself while crossing her arms.
The stranger in question–Miranda–was holding up an antique hand mirror for Jane to look into while doing her hair. They seemed to be the same height, though Miranda’s build was lankier and toned. The sleeves of her white top had to have been torn off, leaving freckled shoulders free to the air, and around one wrist was a black watch. It nearly matched the same leather as her belt, which held an attached holster and a sleeve for a walkie-talkie. Its antenna stood out against the baby blue of her uniform pants; tight by the hips but baggier toward the ankles, tucked into dark laced boots. Her hair was styled into a fair blonde bob, probably recently cut by the sight of such clean edges. It looked unbearably soft kissing the back of her neck.
“She was policewoman. Strong.” Anna commented, gazing at her from your spot by the castle wall.
You nodded absentmindedly, looking over the two strangers and the chess board that sat between them on the bench. Jane had black and Miranda white. The latter seemed to be focusing quite hard on the game, holding a pawn loosely in one hand, as the dark-haired beauty tsked and adjusted the hand mirror that slowly slipped to the side. You watched Miranda jump and offer what you assumed was a sheepish apology, as she tried to multitask. Her small smile was pink and soft, warm and welcoming. A friend, perhaps.
“Very…domestic,” came your soft murmur, sparked by the surprise of such a peaceful camp. In the past group, everyone was too busy trying to sleep, find food, or talk themselves through panic attacks. Maintaining sanity with comfort was not a priority.
“Da. Comfortable,” your companion nodded. “Jan is there, washing.” And you turned, yet again, to find a figure standing in front of a clothesline.
The combat boots made her seem tall, though they were a bit out of place—not really matching the long white sleeved shirt and full red skirt combo. Immaculate and clean, you noticed, though that was to be expected from a woman trying her hardest to get blood out of a white blouse. Her hands were covered by blue rubber gloves, with one clutched around a sponge and the other around the neck of a bottle of white wine vinegar. On the ground by her feet was a large pale jug of hydrogen peroxide and a bucket of what you assumed was water. And the blouse in front of her, held up by wooden clothespins, rippled from the breeze. It seemed to get colder and windier the longer the night went on, probably bringing the rain with it at some point. With any luck, it would clear up the light splotches of pink that covered most of the shirt’s chest up to the collar, but ‘Jan’ didn’t seem too patient and satisfied with that. She got back to her scrubbing a moment later, the strict waves of her blonde hair bumping gently against her neck.
“Jan is very chic. You go to her for fashion advice, no?” Anna tilted her head at you, dragging dark blue eyes over your face. The lawn lamps stabbed into the grass lit everything up with a sweet warm glow, bringing out the flames in her expression as she peered at you curiously. Very handsome, in her own sharp-featured sort of way. You couldn’t help the snort that bubbled up.
“Respectfully, I think fashion is the least of my concerns right now, Anna.”
“Hm. Maybe,” she hummed, shrugged, and gave you a once-over that set your heart racing before turning her attention back to the group.
“Brienne!” You jumped, flinching away as Anna’s loud voice carried into your ear. In the distance, a hulking figure shifted and unfolded, moving to look up at the call. They were sitting on a big pile of cut logs, holding a stone cylindrical sharpener in one hand and a… sword… in the other. Anna waved, talking to you gently as you both watched the figure’s expression change into one of suspicion. She was handsome. Pale, with the lightest blonde lashes and brows, and eyes that sparkled even from that distance. They squinted, drawing frown lines across her face, as she straightened up in her spot. You tried desperately not to stare at her figure, but it was impossible. The deep blue ribbed shirt clung to her torso like a second skin, wrapping tightly around strong biceps and broad shoulders. It was tucked into muddy green cargo pants, offsetting the brightness of the steel that covered the toes of her dark boots. You tilted your head and watched as she glanced between you and Anna before she finally decided to shoot the woman a firm nod. Anna’s lips quirked up into a smile. “She was once soldier. Good woman - she will protect you if you’re in trouble. Saved me many many times.” Her blonde curls swished as she nodded to herself.
That was good to know, you reasoned. Everyone seemed quite strong. Tall, too. And pale. The camp was gorgeous, the people seemed mundane enough, and the company was… well. Your eyes drifted over to Anna’s side profile, a silhouette of soft dips and curves, and you couldn’t hide the attraction you felt even if you tried.
“Larissa, you know too. She is leader, xорошо?” You didn’t really know what ‘harasho’ meant, but the light intonation of her voice had you saying ‘Yeah’ anyway.
Then an arm was winding itself around yours, jostling the bag on your shoulder and the gun slung around Anna’s body. It rested against her back, hitting her thighs, and you were suddenly powerless to the way she steered you further down the gravel path. Toward the right, there was a makeshift driveway; a patch of land ripped up from the grass and replaced with gravel, soil, and rocks. The black truck made an appearance again, probably having been driven up from around the back, and you watched with curious eyes as Phasma busied herself with a few bags and boxes from the trunk. Jesus, she was fit… tall and lethal. A small grunt left her lips when she hauled two boxes up into her arms, never faltering or pausing. Damn. You found yourself getting lost in the sight of her legs in those cargo pants, filling them out, until Anna clicked her tongue.
“Lucifer is strange, but ultimately harmless. Do not worry, they are not naked under the robe.”
Lucifer? Naked under the what?
You were going to take a quick glance around, to find whatever the hell Anna was talking about, but there was no need. Some feet in front of you, lounging on a red and gold velvet chase, was a lithe figure. They were almost glowing in the reflection of the walkway lamps, with the deep crimson of a flowing silk robe offsetting the smooth pale planes of soft skin. One elbow was propped up on the arm of the chair, and you traced the folds of flowing sleeves up to a slim forearm, wrist, and a delicate hand. Slender fingers were curled under the curve of a pale cheek, and you felt your heartbeat speed up at the sight of soft features and crystal eyes. And their hair, curled so perfectly into handsome shining ringlets of spun golden-web… goodness, they were…
“Luxurious,” you murmured, tilting your head as you watched the stranger chat with Larissa. She was standing over them, in front of the chase, and even at that height, you had a feeling that the one laying down was somehow a little bit taller. “Is Lucifer their real name?”
“Da,” Anna nodded, “little strange, no?”
“Yeah,” you gave her an odd look. “Strange as fuck.”
“Don’t get comfortable,” a voice growled from behind you, making you slip away from Anna’s hold and turn around. Phasma was walking past, holding a big bag under each arm. Her muscle was impressive, but dear god she was an asshole. You had to sort out that situation as quick as possible.
“Hey what’s your problem, man?” You spread your hands out at your sides before letting them slap against your thighs. “You picked me up, and while I’m grateful for that, I am, you didn’t have to-”
“Exactly,” she bit out as she whirled around and marched right back to you. Her breath was cool, washing lightly over your face, and she stood so close that your foreheads nearly touched. From that angle, looking up, you could reach out and trace the jagged line of her scar. It was quite attractive actually, even if her eyes narrowed as she watched you look at her. They were cold. Not an ounce of care.
“Don’t. Get. Comfortable.” Her lips twitched, carrying a silent threat.
“Okay,” Larissa’s voice, sing-songy and weary, cut into the conversation. “Why don’t we all take a moment to calm down, hm?” Her smile was blinding as she turned to you. One gloved hand hovered above Phasma’s right shoulder, but was instantly shrugged off the second it made contact. Her sneer didn’t fade even when she stepped back, eyes still flaming with anger. Larissa cleared her throat. “Y/n, you’re new here. Why don’t you and I have a little chat?”
Her expression, although kind, hid a sharpness that you didn’t think was wise to fuck around with. If Larissa was the leader, according to Anna, then it was her you had to charm. You didn’t really know why she was the top dog, especially because some of the other group members seemed more… abrasive… but clearly something about her was good enough to be the one in charge. And pissing her off, messing around with her people, was a one-way ticket to possibly turning into those fuckers lurking in the woods. So you didn’t really have a choice - and you didn’t really want one. No matter what, you’d stay. You’d be of some help. You’d stay on the soft grass, smelling the clean air. You’d become best friends with Larissa, the group would learn to like you, and you’d try not to combust when any of them looked your way.
Easier said than done though, of course. Especially when Larissa’s smile knocked down all of your reservations at once, in one big swing, and coaxed an obedient nod from your body.
“Okay. Yes. Sure.”
“Perfect,” Larissa’s grin, somehow, grew even wider.
“It’s getting late,” were Phasma’s parting words before she turned away and headed off toward two big wooden double doors.
You watched her strut without much thought, and found yourself on the other end of a staring Larissa. Her eyes were utterly striking in the evening light, and the outline of her face… a sight to be seen for a person as weary as you.
“So… is your group considered women only?” You murmured, peering up at her through your eyelashes.
Red lips twitched.
“Not intentionally. Though we have had the discussion before,” she contemplated her next words carefully, looking all over your face before resuming, “and we think it’s best if it’s just women. And Lucifer.”
“And Lucifer?” You still can’t get over that being their real name. Probably just picked out in a moment of edginess when they were a teen. Lucifer did sound cool, sort of bully-worthy. Like they were emo kid once upon a time.
“Lucifer is what many would refer to as non-binary. Not a man and not a woman. I hope that won’t be a problem?” Something flashed behind her eyes. Not a threat, but a warning. You couldn’t help but smile.
“Not at all. They and I are… one and the same,” you shrugged and adjusted the bag on your shoulder.
“How lucky I must be…,” someone purred from over your shoulder.
You tensed up, surprised by the closeness, and felt yourself grow a little weak at the tone. Like spiced honey, their voice was intense and smooth. You wanted to lap it up.
“Ah right on time for a proper introduction,” Larissa, ever the most efficient woman from what you could tell so far, found herself a golden opportunity. One hand shot out and gestured over to you, then to the person slinking around to your right. “Y/n this is Lucifer, one of the strongest members of our group. Lucifer and I make most of the big decisions, with the necessary input from everyone else. And Lucifer,” Larissa’s grin relaxed into a smile, “this is Y/n. Depending on our discussion of the rules, they may become a familiar face, so I suggest you play nice.”
You found that you couldn’t look to the side without short-circuiting. There was something.. something… about their aura that had you wanting to shy away and cower. It wasn’t the explosive intensity of Phasma or the consuming strangeness of Anna, or even the gentle but strong hand of Larissa… but instead a subtle sort of consumption. Utterly intriguing and fascinating - like they were put on the Earth to confuse humans. You didn’t even look at them and you could feel that. Didn’t even know them and you could feel that. Standing so close. So much body heat.
“It’s a pleasure,” they murmured, turning to you fully.
You swallowed, braced yourself, and looked up to your right.
Sweet holy Jesus. They were even more handsome up close. Just absolutely soft and glorious. And carrying the faint scent of… firewood? You cleared your throat.
“Um yeah- likewise. Hi.”
A flash of black, followed by measured footsteps in the grass, had all three of you shifting to see Jane walking past. Miranda was not too far behind, taking her time to cross the yard.
“Dinner is being prepared. Show face in the next 20 minutes or go to bed hungry.” Jane didn’t even spare you a glance before she disappeared behind the same doors Phasma had gone through.
“Thank you, Jane,” Larissa managed to call just before they closed behind her with a dull bang.
“Three moves…,” Miranda was muttering, holding the box for the chess set in one hand. “She beat me in three moves.”
“Oh it’s not hard. I would’ve beaten you in two,” another voice entered the fray, polite but amused. Jan, you recognized, as she sidled up between you and Larissa with a small smile on her deep red lips.
Miranda scoffed and turned to look at Anna, only to find that she was gone. One glance behind you revealed that she’d wandered over to Brienne, probably prompting her to go inside for dinner. You hummed, hiding the amusement of friendly banter. It had been so long since you felt even the smallest sense of normalcy. If they were so comfortable with each other, then it must have been a bit since they were all alone out in the world. You’d probably ask Larissa about that later - once everything was said and done.
“I would’ve beaten you in one,” Lucifer smirked as they pulled away and went walking inside. Had they been barefoot the entire time?
“That’s not even possible!” Miranda yelled, but the door was already shut. “...Is it?” She turned to Larissa, then to you, then back to Larissa.
“I don’t think so, Miranda,” Larissa smiled before looking at you. “Any chance you’re good at chess?”
Dear lord, having two sets of beautiful blue eyes on you was nerve-wracking, but you ignored the flush building up on your cheeks and nodded.
“Um yeah- it’s possible to beat someone in two moves. But it’s only black, I think.” You gave Miranda an apologetic smile and a shrug as she pouted.
“You will beat her next time Miranda,” Anna returned with Brienne in her wake. The sword she was sharpening earlier was still in her hands. “She cannot win forever.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Brienne cut in, her voice strong and deep. Her mouth was pulled into a light frown, and you noticed the scar that cut through the upper lip on the right. From the time before, you suspected. Otherwise she’d be turned. “She beat me and Phasma one after the other.”
Miranda sighed, tsking beneath her breath.
“Then there’s no hope…” Goodness, she looked like a sad puppy.
“Why not?” It slipped out of your mouth before you could grab it.
And of course, all of the attention then dragged itself over to you. Five sets of sea-blue eyes, all gorgeous in the glow of the evening lamps, traced lines over your tired body. In comparison to them, you looked a sight. Obviously having been picked up from the side of the road, unclean and awkward, somewhat detached from society. In your bag? Not enough clothing and not enough supplies. In your belt, peeking out from beneath your shirt? A knife, dirty and growing dull. And in your eyes? Lurking sadness and horror - the same which probably lived in the women that were observing you.
Larissa, thank goodness, finally broke the lull of silence.
“Brienne and Phasma were in the military,” she said gently.
“Oh. That makes sense.” And it did - Jane must have been an intellectual force if she beat people that used to be in the military before the world ended. Though that made you wonder… “What branch?” You turned to Brienne, not really surprised that you had to look up to meet her eyes. It seemed you’d been adopted into a camp of skyscrapers. Though the sharpness of her eyes had you swallowing. “I mean- if you don’t mind me asking.”
She seemed to consider it, sizing you up, before saying, rather shortly, “SAS. Then Delta Force.”
You couldn’t hide the way your eyes widened.
“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed,” Larissa hummed. “But I think now would be a good time to head in, wouldn’t you say?” She spared her smile for everyone, meeting the gaze of each woman, before finally looking at you and raising her eyebrow.
It wasn’t really up to you, so you just shrugged and waited for Anna to say ‘Da, da, xорошо’ before heading in. Brienne followed after her, then Miranda, who was studying the back of the chess box, and Larissa, who started taking off her gloves. Jan, meanwhile, stayed where she was and kept her eyes on you. They were curious and deep, never-ending, and lined with mascara and eyeliner. Mascara and eyeliner that… well it suited her, but goodness it was certainly intense. Dark and shadowed, but beautiful nevertheless. You couldn’t look away.
“Jan Stevens,” she breathed and gave you her hand, elegant and admittedly quite charming. Her nails were painted a deep cherry red. Utterly flawless.
At the sight of it, you weren’t entirely sure what to do. Your palms were still dirty, and sort of calloused, and you didn’t want to… ruin her. So you hesitated, stared at it, looked back up at her, and found her kind smile to be unwavering.
“Go on,” Jan finally whispered, giving her hand a pointed look, and you fell prey in an instant.
Quickly, you shot out to gently cup her hand into your own, and gave it a gentle shake. You felt strangely compelled to bring it up to your lips, but you weren’t sure that meeting a stranger in an apocalypse really called for such formalities. Even though you yearned to feel her skin beneath your mouth. It wasn’t proper; though you did think that Jan’s expression fell just a little bit. Like she was excited. Like she wanted you to kiss her hand.
“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” she purred, looking you up and down, before turning toward the door. “Come quickly now. If we’re late, Jane will send us off to bed without dinner. And we wouldn’t want that.”
It probably would have been wise to consider and contemplate the fact that you were in a stranger’s camp, with a stranger’s group… but the saucy little wink that Jan threw over her shoulder sent a deep blush crawling up your cheeks. And just like that, without fail, you were one of the flesh-eaters… caught in the pretty paws of eight different beasts.
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷���₊˚⊹
Please let me know if my characterization is okay and if you'd like to see more. Be safe, darlings. - Rip x
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Far too many names to tag. Find it as you come.
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
#rippersz#fanfictionwriter#fanfic#fanfiction#wlw fanfic#gwendoline christie#gwendoline christie characters#larissa weems#captain phasma#jan stevens#lucifer morningstar the sandman#brienne of tarth#jane murdstone#anna welcome to marwen#miranda hilmarson#x reader fanfic#x reader fic#x reader#larissa weems x reader#phasma x reader#jan stevens x reader#y/n#x y/n#jane murdstone x reader#anna x reader#miranda hilmarson x reader#brienne of tarth x reader#lucifer morningstar sandman x reader#lucifer morningstar sandman#got brienne
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★ creepypasta music headcanons ★
characters mentioned:
ticci toby, nina the killer, jane the killer, clockwork, eyeless jack, jeff the killer.
★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆
WARNINGS (?)
I apologize if any of the genres are wrong, I looked most of them up on google.
I do not own any of the songs/albums I'm also not part of the bands mentioned, nor am I the singer/songwriter.
I claim NO ownership to any of them.
Also, if any of these bands/singers are involved in any serious controversies, please tell me so I can replace them.
Please understand that these are headcanons, and may not be 100% accurate to the characters themselves.
(I just felt like I should say that before I start this)
★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆
Ticci toby
Midwestern emo / indie rock
Duster, modern baseball, the smiths, mom jeans, neutral milk hotel, merchant ships, etc.
He thinks he's super cool and special because of his music taste
He's the type of person to say stuff like "YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY LIKE THIS SONG THE WAY I LIKE THIS SONG"
he will argue with someone over the smiths
He likes to sit outside in the snow and smoke a cigarette while listening to music, even though he got hypothermia once from doing that.
Nina the killer
crunkcore / metalcore / rap
Bullet for my valentine, brokencyde, millionaires, breathe carolina, dot dot curve, hollywood undead, etc.
she goes around the manor saying "BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, POW, POW, POW, POW" (dot dot curve song reference) all the time, and it gets on everyone's nerves
there's not a time when she isn't listening to music tbh, even when she's out killing
sometimes she'll make her victims listen to one of her playlists and rate it, if they give it a good rating she'll give them a fast and easy death, but if they give it a bad rating.. slow and painful.
Clockwork
rock and roll / glam metal
Joan jett & the blackheart's, guns n' roses, the rolling stones, ramones, queen, the runaways, etc.
Joan jett is her idol
Her walls are COVERED in band posters, and she also collects old magazines just cause she thinks they're cool
She knows how to play guitar, the only reason she learned how to play was because of slash from guns n' roses
She will try to fight you if you talk shit about her favorite bands
Jane the killer
dark wave / post punk / gothic rock
siouxsie and the banshees, she past away, bauhaus, the cure, london after midnight, lycia etc
She's a fan of the cure, tobys a fan of the smiths.. they fight, a lot.
she collects a lot of cd/tapes of her favorite bands, and plays them ALLLL the time
if she's not too busy sometimes she'll go to a goth club, she doesn't really dance though.. she'll just stand at the back of the club and vibe
She usually doesn't care about other people's opinions when it comes to music, but if you diss robert smith she's throwing hands.
Eyeless Jack
Alternative hip-hop / britpop / psychedelic pop
Blur, tame Impala, oasis, MF DOOM, beastie boys, out kast, etc.
he will correct you if you spell it "mf doom" instead of "MF DOOM" but other than that, he's a pretty chill guy
He secretly thinks that blur is a bit better than oasis, but he'll never say that out loud.
he doesn't take music too seriously
he has a "each to their own" mentality when it comes to music
he does collect records though, and if he sees even a tiny scratch on one of his records he freaks out.
If you need a good playlist to listen to during a smoke sesh, he's your guy.
Jeff the killer
dsbm / hardcore punk / death metal
Woods of desolation, bathory, cradle of filth, forgotten tomb, carcass, the exploited, etc.
Regularly calls people "posers" and he will make you name eight songs instead of five
he thinks any other music is overrated, and will voice that opinion.
Average reddit user (I'm sorry)
He looks cool as hell in corpse paint though
He frequently goes to shows, but he has no "mosh pit etiquette" if he sees someone fall, he'll just stomp over them and continue moshing.
#creepypasta#headcanon#creepypasta headcanon#jeff the killer#nina the killer#clockwork#ticci toby headcanons#ticci toby#headcanons#jeff the killer headcanons#jane the killer#jane the killer headcanons#eyeless jack headcanon#eyeless jack#music#nina the killer headcanons#clockwork headcanons
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Cuddle bug - Jeff the killer
The sun slipped in through the cracks of the broken blinds with a bright warm glow, the beams hit your face your eyes opened winching slightly, you felt a soft weight on your chest, you cran your neck down a bit seeing your adorable boyfriend Jeff cuddle up on you with a blanket draped over both of you the sun shined off of his pale almost snow like skin making him look angelic ironically, you used one you your hands brushing through his dark locks slowly trying not to hit any knots, you used your other hand to rub his back in a comforting manner, you adored these moments since they didn't happen often because its always chaotic around the mansion, the man in your arms stirs slightly groaning he raises his hand taking off the lace sleeping mask you had bought for his last birthday as a joke but he now begrudgingly uses it since Jane burnt his last one "good morning lovely" he says in his morning voice you loved so much "good morning darling" you kiss his forehead, he buries his face into your neck as he begins to blush it being obvious from the pink that dusts his ears, you smile softly as you wrap your arms around hims, you wish this moment would never end.
#horror#creepypasta#jeff the killer#jeffrey woods#proxy#x reader#oneshot#fluff#fluffy fic#marbel hornets
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𝘼𝙏𝙎𝙑 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧
Cw: no witty title, it's just headcanons about their weather preferences.
MILES MORALES is a totally a spring/autumn kind of guy, maybe slightly inclined towards fall, he likes the cafes and overall aesthetic, drawing on rainy days typa stuff. And he likes the cold weather outfits better, he doesn't get that cold, but his mom definitely tells him to wear more layers of clothing because it's cold and he'll get sick.
Heat resistance: 6/10
Cold resistance: 7/10
GWEN STACY is a summer girl, surprisingly. However, her heat tolerance is very bad, so it's common to her to have a killer headache after a beach day, she says it's worth it, she also sunburns really easily and has to apply sunscreen in copious amounts. She doesn't dislike the cold, but I think her favorite part of winter is the snow, she loves snowball fights (snowball wars, to her) and hot cocoa, she doesn't like spring as much since she became spider-woman, she doesn't have terrible allergies, but she has some, and it gets hard to breathe under the mask.
Heat resistance: 4/10
Cold resistance: 7/10
PETER B. PARKER is also an autumn enjoyer, he loves Halloween, loves the occasional rain, and it loves that the color palette reminds him of Mary Jane, he's cheesy like that. He likes winter too, mostly Christmas (I headcanon him as partly jewish, but he celebrates Christmas, you cannot tell me this man doesn't leave cookies for Santa), summer is not his favorite part of the year, but he learned to love it for his wife.
Heat resistance: 5/10
Cold resistance: 9/10
HOBIE BROWN has no preferences, I mean, he has them, but they're constantly changing. He likes winter/fall clothes better, but it doesn't matter, because this motherfucker has the best heat tolerance ever, he doesn't even break a sweat, it's 40°c outside and he's wearing a leather coat and combat boots while Gwen is becoming a puddle on the floor. He likes to eat ice cream, no matter the season, he also bites ice lollies/popsicles. 💔
Heat resistance: 10/10
Cold resistance: 8/10
PAVITR PRABHAKAR loves spring, he doesn't like that valentine's day is in winter, he thinks it should be in spring!! It's much nicer!! He also likes the festivals that occur that time of the year. He has mild allergies but not enough to make him dislike this beautiful time of the year. He likes the rest of seasons equally, but spring takes the grand prize by a long shot. He doesn't have particularly bad cold resistance, but he likes wearing a lot of knitted items.
Heat resistance: 7/10
Cold resistance: 7/10
MIGUEL O'HARA is a winter person. I think he really enjoyed summers when he had Gabriela, because she was on vacation and they did cool summer activities together. But now that time of the year brings him sadness, and he never loved the summer to start with, he doesn't like to sweat.
Heat resistance: 5/10
Cold resistance: 8/10
JESSICA DREW likes spring, she likes cold strawberry lemonade, maybe a beer after fixing her bike, he likes to get flowers for herself and be gifted flowers. She also strikes me as a morning person, so she loves those healthy breakfasts with fruits and granola. She likes having the summer vibe without the heat. She's another hot cocoa lover, but she wants to perfect the best recipe, and tries every winter, and she's a sucker for maple syrup, and can't wait to spend winters with his child.
Heat resistance: 8/10
Cold resistance: 7/10
MARGO KESS likes winter too, but it'd be most appropriate to say it's late autumn she likes staying indoors, but being able to go for a walk or simply step out of the house without a blizzard, she likes the freedom it provides, it doesn't force you indoors, it just makes it easier. She's adores the cottagecore spring though, but it's mostly the aesthetic, but it does feel nice to have some warmth hitting your skin after winter.
Heat resistance: 5/10
Cold resistance: 6/10
PETER PARKER aka Spider-Noir doesn't have much of a preference, his world doesn't have colors, so he can't fully appreciate spring, winter feels the most natural to him, but he'll pick summer because he likes seeing his Mary Jane in summer dresses. He has average tolerance for any climate, so he's quite indifferent.
Heat resistance: 6/10
Cold resistance: 6/10
PENI PARKER likes summer! She likes going to the pool, eating ice cream, going to convenience stores to buy icy treats, loves summer fruits, summer really cheers her up, spring is a close second though. She still likes winter, mostly the festivities.
Heat resistance: 9/10
Cold resistance: 8/10
GAYATRI SINGH likes spring, this is due Pavitr's influence, she always liked spring, but seeing him so hyped really pulls her heart strings, she also likes celebrating Sikh new year with her father, she has good childhood memories. She does hate something, and that's SWEAT, she hates it, she can stand sweaty hands, but she'd distract the other person and wipe her hands in desperation, and I'm sure she's the type of person who'd leave the bed because Pavitr was sweaty, or who'd take a cold shower in the middle of the night because of this. So summer is not for her, early spring is her favorite time. She also enjoys autumn a lot.
Heat resistance: 4/10
Cold resistance: 6/10
GANKE LEE is a winter lover through and through, he likes the snow, has mixed feelings about Seollal, but loves it most of the time, and his favorite part is staying inside drinking a hot beverage. He loves winter but has poor tolerance to the cold, like Gwen and summer, so he's freezing most of the time, but it's okay (he'll steal all the sweaters Miles doesn't use).
Heat resistance: 5/10
Cold resistance: 3/10
MILES G. MORALES was one of those kids whose nose constantly bled during the summer, he also fainted a couple times, he's embarrassed by it, so he always has a fan near him, and eats a lot of ice cream and cold drinks to lower his body temperature. He can't bring himself to hate summer though, it's his mother favorite time of the year, and he's a mama's boy. His favorite time of the year is also fall, because the weather isn't that extreme and he still gets to enjoy the cold.
Heat resistance: 2/10
Cold resistance: 9/10
RIO MORALES loves summer with her whole heart, she's the mom that makes caldo when it's hot like hell outside, she loves going to the farmer's market to buy fresh fruit, and she loves having a girl's night with her friends during the summer. She loathes the cold, not because she can't resist it, but because she is paranoid about her and her family getting sick. She used to give Miles those weird ass concoctions that claimed to solve every illness, she still threatens to give it to him when he's leaving home without a jacket. She trusts vic vaporub with her life.
Heat resistance: 10/10
Cold resistance: 7/10
JEFFERSON DAVIS is fucking cold blooded, when it's hot outside he acts like a lizard bathing in the rays of sunlight. Obviously his favorite season is summer. He wears so many layers under his police uniform he needs a bigger size during the winter. Jefferson loves Brooklyn and could never leave, but it's SO COLD, he has asked Rio more than once, "honey, do you ever feel like going back to Puerto Rico?" And she's like "Jeff what the hell???".
Heat resistance: 10/10
Cold resistance: 1/10
MARY JANE WATSON loves new year's eve and Christmas, winter really brings back beautiful memories of her youth with Peter, but MJ is a summer gal at heart. She has a (strictly monogamous) hot girl summer every year, she likes feeling sexy and desired by her husband and doesn't want to take the spark for granted. She loves taking Mayday to the beach with her, and buys her the cutest toddler bathing suits, they regularly buy matching ones, MJ wearing a bikini and May on a frilly onesie. Unlike the other snowbunnies in this post, she doesn't sunburn easily, just gets a lot more freckles. She still doesn't leave the sun screen behind, ever.
Heat resistance: 8/10
Cold resistance: 8/10
#atsv headcanons#atsv hcs#miles morales headcanons#gwen stacy atsv#gwen stacy headcanons#peter b parker headcanons#42 miles headcanons#rio morales#Jefferson Davis#mj watson#mary jane watson#Jessica Drew#Jessica Drew headcanons#margo kess#Margo Kess headcanons#peni parker#spiderman atsv#spiderman noir#spider noir#spider noir headcanons#ganke lee
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Songs I think the Creeps would use to Describe their Relationship
Exactly what the title says + explanation
Also I definitely think there are more songs that just these, but I liked these the best
Features : Jeff the Killer, BEN Drowned, Eyeless Jack, Ticci Toby, Masky/Tim, Hoodie/Brian, Jane the Killer, Nina the Killer
Jeff the Killer :
Partners in Crime by Set it Off
I think this one is pretty self explanatory, but Jeff the Killer wants you in on the action. He likes seeing you get up to nothing good, being not him but someone who can stand with him. Not him but someone who is similar but different. But someone who isn’t only his crime buddy but someone who is his partner, someone who can patch him up and give him rest from the chaos.
BEN Drowned :
Lonely Day by System of a Down
BEN is the kind of lover who has a lot of love to give, but doesn’t know how. When he loves, he loves hard and long. Lonely Day’s lyrics speak of dying with each other, staying to the end and more, and for my version of BEN this is perfect.
Eyeless Jack :
Your Guardian Angel by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
Your Guardian Angel is a song about standing with one forever, never leaving through the thick and thin. How the world is cold to a monster like Jack yet he finds peace and solitude in someone like you. Your his peace and in return he’s your guardian Angel. He wants to protect you and fight for you, no matter what the world throws at you.
Ticci Toby :
Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol
Ticci Toby loves their privacy with you. They want to be able to do everything with you, and they know that you guys don’t need anyone. Your happy together and that’s what matters. You and Toby would lay on the floor or in the street, just in a comfortable silence, no words needed. You might not can find the words, but it’s ok because you both know that you care deeply for one another.
Masky / Tim :
Over and Over by Three Days Grace
Every time you walk into the room, he’s falling head over heals again. For the most part, his life is just a repeat everyday, but you change that. You bring him out of that routine and giving him something new. He longs for you, chasing you around and falling more everyday. He knows he has important matters but he just can’t himself, not loving you is too difficult for him.
Brian / Hoodie :
I was Made for Lovin’ You by Kiss
Tell me this man isn’t a fan of soulmates! I know what this song is really about, but I like looking at it more romantically! You and Brian were made for one another, you clicked instantly when you met. Brian can never get enough of you, starring into you eyes and falling in love all over.
Jane the Killer :
Cant Help Falling in Love cover by Ice Nine Kills
Jane can’t help herself when it comes to you! She loves and adores you, and every time she sees you, she feels the need to love on you like crazy. She just can’t help herself when it comes to you. I choose Ice Nine Kills however because Jane can be violent and almost horror movie cliche stuff when it comes to her love. She’ll protect you, even if it gets messy, and she’s so cheesy like a movie!
Nina the Killer :
Still into You by Paramore
Nina falls quickly, like the moment she lays eyes on you! She doesn’t say anything at first, but when you guys hit it off, it’s crazy. It’s not always easy, but knowing your there for one another makes her feel better. They get butterflies all the time around you, and the two of you just make sense together. From the moment they saw you, their still into you.
Thank you for reading, hope you have a lovely day/night!
#creepypasta#creepypasta headcanon#ticci toby#ben drowned#eyeless jack#jane the killer#jeff the killer#nina the killer#creepypasta x reader#song headcanons#ben drowned headcanons#eyeless jack headcanon
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BLOODYNEREID'S MULTIFANDOM MASTERLIST ✭
"she had literature inside her heart that she couldn't sometimes write." - juansen dixon
requests are currently closed but feel free to message me if you want to chat ꨄ︎
-> HOUSE OF THE DRAGON:
RHAENYRA TARGARYEN:
Tinsel, Gold and Dragons - one-shot - modern au! - fem! reader x rhaenyra targaryen
OTHER:
Eye of Madness/Eye of Greatness - part 1 part 2 part 3?? (not yet finished) fem! oc x aemond targaryen but mostly platonic! oc with the targaryens
Zaldrītsos - Little Dragon - part 1 part 2 (requested) sickly fem! sister reader x targaryen/velaryon family
-> WEDNESDAY:
WEDNESDAY ADDAMS:
Donec mors nos separaverit - Love and Death - one-shot fem! necromancer reader x wednesday addams
Dancing In Green - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x wednesday addams
Platform Mary Janes - headcanons (requested) gn! shorter reader x wednesday addams
-> DAISY JONES & THE SIX:
WARREN ROJAS/RHODES:
Rulebreaker - one-shot fem! reader x warren rojas
Rhythm of Our Love - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x warren rojas
Notes on a Rockstar and a Bookstore Owner - headcanons (requested) fem! booksmart reader x warren rojas
The Language of Love - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x warren rojas
Innervated Love - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x warren rojas
Comets Ricochet - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x warren rojas
GRAHAM DUNNE:
Here's to the Fools Who Dream - one-shot (requested) fem! actor reader x graham dunne
Tucked Away in the Ocean - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x graham dunne
KAREN SIRKO:
Radiance - one-shot (requested) fem! gf reader x karen sirko
Echoes of Pain & Love - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x karen sirko
Intertwined Heartbeats - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x karen sirko
OTHER:
Reconciliation - one-shot (requested) warren rojas x eddie roundtree
Dissected Blush - one-shot (requested) the band x reader (platonic) (reader x fem!oc)
-> GEN V & THE BOYS UNIVERSE:
JORDAN LI:
Reapers & Ravens - multi-chaptered fic - chapter i chapter ii chapter iii chapter iv chapter v chapter vi chapter vii chapter viii - fem! oc x jordan li (s1 of gen v completed!)
Time and Space - drabble (requested) gn! reader x jordan li (platonic ish)
Whiskey in the Shadows - one-shot (requested) gn! reader x jordan li
Kisses Under the Moon's Eye - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x jordan li
Psych Classes & Lakes - headcanons (requested) fem! reader x jordan li
Falling Grand Pianos - headcanons (requested) gn! reader x jordan li
Heartstrings - one-shot (requested) fem! rival reader x jordan li
Inked Souls - drabble (requested) gn! human reader x jordan li
Seeds of Jealousy - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x jordan li
Ice Crystals & Hot Chocolate - drabble (requested) gn! reader x jordan li
Stained Glass - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x jordan li
Stolen Kisses - headcanons (requested) gn! reader x jordan li
I'm With You - drabble (requested) gn! sick reader x jordan li
CATE DUNLAP:
Forgotten Snows - one-shot - fem! reader x cate dunlap
LUKE RIORDAN:
Double Sided - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x luke riordan
OTHER:
Paws of Darkness - one-shot - a gen v mystery (part 2 of my halloween double feature) - limoreau, sam x emma, cate x andre
Brewing Love - one-shot - limoreau - coffee shop au
Paper Petals - one-shot (requested) gn! reader x marie moreau x jordan li
Love (A Tale of Two Souls) - one-shot (requested) gn! reader x oc, x jordan li
A Gen V Christmas - headcanons (requested) - limoreau, sam x emma, cate x luke
-> SUCCESSION:
ROMAN ROY:
Lunch Confessions - one-shot (requested) fem! reader x roman roy
-> SCREAM FRANCHISE:
TARA CARPENTER:
Hiding Place - drabble (requested) gn! reader x tara carpenter
OTHER:
Scream for Me - headcanons (part 1 of halloween double feature) my fav scream killers x reader (there are fem & gender neutral readers)
Of Flowers Flooded With Blood - drabble (requested) fem! adopted reader x tara x sam carpenter (platonic)
-> TOP GUN:
BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW:
Sorrys & I Love Yous - drabble (requested) gn! reader x rooster
House of Cards - one-shot (requested) gn! reader x rooster
OTHER:
Bundled Up - headcanons (requested) gn! reader x rooster/gn! reader x phoenix/gn! reader x hangman
-> MASTERS OF THE AIR:
MAJOR JOHN 'BUCKY' EGAN:
Navy Blue Ink - part 1 part 2 fem! reader x john egan
Strangers in the Night - one-shot fem! reader x john egan
MAJOR ROBERT 'ROSIE' ROSENTHAL:
Zodiac Suite - one-shot fem! reader x rosie rosenthal
Those Sunlit Kisses Universe - part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 fem! oc (lucy everett) x rosie rosenthal (not yet finished)
MARJORIE 'MARGE' SPENCER:
Melted Gold - one-shot fem! reader x marge spencer
navigation
#maria's masterlist#masterlist#house of the dragon#fanfic#wednesday#fanfics#updates#djats#daisy jones and the six#gen v#masters of the air
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In the snow
Not entirely happy with it, but pretty decent for my first comic!
#creepypasta#creepypasta art#fanart#jane the killer#jeff the killer#jeff vs jane#jane everlasting#jane arkensaw#jeff the killer fanart#jane the killer fanart#jeff the killer vs jane the killer#digital art#snow#knife#creepypasta comic#jeff the killer comic#jane the killer comic#comic#comic art
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Well, that was a ride. Unmarked spoilers below the cut.
Took me about 5 months to clear episode 8, and three days to clear episode 9.
Episode, well, where to begin. I'll admit that I read too many spoilers myself on major plot elements, undercutting some of it. Still, it was neat to see just how hard Deathless Black Snake is into a kind of violent nationalism, possibly even fascist thought?
Favorite moment is without a doubt Alina's death in R8-9 After, and abject refusal to allow Talulah to know her killers. Because Talulah will take revenge if given a chance, will let anger consume her, will fall to Kaschey's arts and hateful manner of thinking - even if the arts weren't there, it would be a path of violence for her.
The white-haired Draco keeps trudging on in the cold, endless snowfield. On her back, the Elafia girl trembles away, pausing only to take in deep breaths now and then.
Snow drops down from the Elafia's horns. As Talulah slogs along, the snow-covered trees behind her begin to burn alight in silence. She has unknowingly begun to set her path ablaze.
The final climax of chapter 8 is also some great otaku-ass nonsense as Amiya, our cute soft bunny CEO, has a powerset almost perfectly geared to ruin the Deathless Black Snake's day. And she knows it
The introduction of Priestess, and her vow to Doctor was also really neat:
and I liked the story beat that Kaschey is still inside Talulah, still tempting her. Fuel for my anarchist reading of the story;
It's this urge for control, for power, for violent revenge that undergirds why Reunion goes wrong. The pull towards authoritarianism, towards unchecked violence, is what destroys the liberation movement.
as for mechanics, wow. Boy I hate ursus civilians. Ep 8 was probably the high water mark of difficulty in arknights, and I feel like from here I can handle anything. I gotta say Talulah was really a pile of nonsense, but with her Burning Breath mechanic defanged, she's pretty tractable.
The basic core of my strategy going into her final fight was to use Gravel and Projekt Red, who have 17 sec redeploy timers, to bait her breath move with its 19 sec cycle time. Absent that mechanic, the rest of her fight is...not easy, but manageable.
On the other end of things, ep9.
This one was a much smaller scale story, and I appreciated that! It was shorter too, which in some ways worked against it - the guys Outcast faces off against scream jobber - but it worked. It's also notable as being an episode who's plot almost doesn't feature Rhodes Island - the focus characters are instead Horn (Rita Skamandros), Bagpipe (Fiona Young), and Saileach (Jane Williams), with a little bit of time in Reed (Lougshinny)'s head. Notable is that none of those are part of the feline majority race in Victoria, and the first three all to some degree believe in a pluralistic, welcoming vision of Victoria instead of the oppressive one they have.
High points gotta be watching Saileach go from "the nice girl Janie who is nice to everyone and takes care of the flag" to "Me and this entire hospital ward are gonna beat your ass if you harm one hair on a patient's head", and Outcast's whole deal.
Like, back in prior chapters we've seen Elite RI ops show up, paradrop without chutes, tear buildings apart with telekinesis, so you know the old lady's gonna be dangerous. And she is and the payoff's great! Great old lady cowboy character.
Also, found a bit I liked:
Janie: But it's not… the whole story.
After the conversation we had, I remembered some things from ages ago I'd forgotten.
My da's a lawyer, and he used to tell me stories about how my grandda's grandda came to Victoria with nothing. He went from rags to riches.
The Victoria he described was an advanced, open-minded, prosperous country.
Here, technology and capital conquered savagery. The people's hard work and wealth wouldn't be destroyed just like that by Catastrophes or racial conflict.
In making it to such a magnificent land, we Vouivre were able to live a "civilized" life, compared to one of barbarism and violence in the old country.
Outcast: Victoria was the most advanced industrialized nation in the world, for a very long time..
Janie: But we had to give up a lot, in order to become Victorians…
When I was five, I climbed to the top of the tallest tree in our garden. My da caught me having a blast and gave me a good scolding.
Then he locked me in my room and gave me dozens of books to read. The next day, he hired a Leithanien piano teacher for me.
I missed the view from the top of the tree, but I didn't give it much thought. I knew my da was doing it for my own good.
Outcast: He was helping you to get used to the rules.
Janie: That's right. Books, piano, the garden… He understood that those were all things we'd need to know, in order to enjoy the life we had.
Janie's family had to work hard to fit in, to not express their racial traits, to shape themselves to the society around them. Similarly, people know and sense that Victoria's glory days are past - but they don't quite grasp just how soon, how fast, the whole thing may end up unraveling. A few characters note that the fire started in County Hillock may destroy the nation, but for people like the Colonel, the magnates who wish to meet Dublinn, it's not understood - these are quite possibly Victoria's last days.
Mechanics and gameplay wise, ep 9...knocked it out of the park! It wasn't too hard, the Dublinn guys had some interesting mechanics that kept any one thing from being stale, there wasn't anything that felt like I was getting smacked with a wall of pain. I will note that 9-14, with all the pre-deployed jerks, I had to use a support Fiametta to funnel all the enemies into her bombardment kill box.
The tattered pillars mechanic is kinda tricky sometimes, with how it actively reshapes the map, but it opens the door for a lot more engaging strategies. I kinda hope it comes back now and again. Mandragora's a fun boss. I had Nearl The Radiant tank her phase 1 (shield this, loser!) and then just kinda threw random fast-redeploys and snipers at her in phase 2 including tex alter to drop pillars on her. Part of my line broke and it was nearly a fail but I got the 3* clear! A fun time.
(Edited 11/2 to fix Saileach's legal name and a capitalization error on Victoria)
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Crush Too Much - Master Playlist
Here is the current master-list of all the songs you all have recommended to go along with Crush Too Much! This page will update as more songs come in:
Mirror Mirror (White Trailer) by Jeff Williams
Ocean Away by Barlow & Bear
El Clavo by Prince Royce
If I'm James Dean, You're Audrey Hepburn by Sleeping With Sirens
Figure You Out by Djo
Go for It by Djo
Connect the Dots by Greer
Rocky and Window by Still Woozy
First Time by Lucy Dacus
Kissing Lessons by Lucy Dacus
Baby by Hippo Campus
Vanilla Twilight by Owl City
El Tango De Roxanne by Ewan McGregor, Jacek Koman, and José Feliciano
Tongues & Teeth by The Crane Wives
Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives
I'm Not Crazy by Kevin Walkman
Shit by Bo Burnham
Your Stupid Face by Kaden MacKay
Coffee by Jack Stauber
Let You Break My Heart Again by Laufey and Philharmonia Orchestra
Two Time by Jack Stauber
Nobody Gets Me by SZA
Meteor Shower by Cavetown
I Like You by dandelion hands
Ocean Waves by Alaina Castillo
Smitten by Leanna Firestone
Olive Branch by Sophie Holohan
O Sol e a Lua by Pequeno Cidadão
Sally’s Song by Catherine O'Hara
To Exist With You by Madilyn Mei
Roses by Phoneboy
Boy's a Liar by PinkPantheress
Dsco by Sweet Trip
Genesis by Grimes
Remember When by Wallows
i love you by Billie Eilish
Just a Friend to You by Meghan Trainor
The Winner Takes It All by ABBA
I Love You So by The Walters
Line Without a Hook by Ricky Montgomery
Mr. Brightside by The Killers
The Night We Met by Lord Huron
An Idiot by Phemiec
Where Do the Lonely Souls Go? by George Salazar
Less and Less by Matt Maltese
Irrational by Cavetown
Without You Around by Rare Americans
Loverboy by A-Wall
What About Me (Television / So Far So Good) by Rex Orange County
Out of My League by Fitz and The Tantrums
Fear & Delight by The Correspondents
Bullet by Saint Motel
i think you're really cool by Guardin
Obsession by OK Go
Feel Better by Penelope Scott
Teenage Runaways by Hot Milk
Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy
Again by Crusher-P
despair by leo.
Where Did the Party Go by Fall Out Boy
Almost Is Never Enough by Ariana Grande
Invisible by Anna Clendening
Starry Night by Jordan Critz
Dark Beach by PASTEL GHOST
All I Wanted by Paramore
Astronomy by Conan Gray
Nervous by The Neighbourhood
Afraid by The Neighbourhood
I Want You by Mitski
Francis Forever by Mitski
First Love / Late Spring by Mitski
Humpty by Mitski
The Only Heartbreaker by Mitski
Come Into the Water by Mitski
Escapism. by 070 Shake and Raye
Kawaki wo Ameku by Minami (カワキヲアメク by 美波)
I Really Want to Stay at Your House by Hallie Coggins and Rosa Walton
save your breath by JVKE
Tonight I Wanna Cry by Keith Urban
Painkiller by Beach Bunny
Sunsetz by Cigarettes After Sex
Snow by Ricky Montgomery
Let Her Go - Acoustic by Passenger
Why Do I by Set it off, Hatsune Miku
Bite Me by Avril Lavigne
Bad Habit
Song by Steve Lacy
In an Emergency Such as the End of the World by Chase Petra
Wait On by Hayley Williams
Asystole by Hayley Williams
firearm by Lizzy McAlpine
I Know the End by Phoebe Bridgers
Yours by Conan Gray
Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley
i want, doesn't get by DellaXOZ
Hope by Blood Orange and Dev Hynes
Never Wanna Fall in Love With U by nelward
The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives
Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley
Heartache Tonight by Eagles
Waves By Dean Lewis
I'm Not in Love by 10cc
Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri
Ready To Love by Emarosa
Cautious by Emarosa
Wait, Stay by Emarosa
Fireworks by Mitski
Eternity With You by Adventure Time feat. Michaela Dietz & Zuzu
Monsters by All Time Low feat. Demi Lovato and blackbear
Out Like a Light by Ricky Montgomery & The Honeysticks
j's lullaby (darlin' i'd wait for you) by Delaney Bailey
I Don't Wanna Be Okay Without You by Charlie Burg
Don’t Wanna Fall in Love by Jane Child
Grow As We Go by Ben Platt
Creep by Radiohead
Happy by Mitski
Someone You Like by The Girl and the Dreamcatcher
An Awkward Duet by Dodie and Jon Cozart
Ma Belle Evangeline by Jim Cummings
Mamma Mia by ABBA
Um, it's Kind of a Lot by Will Wood
Hollywood by Jukebox the Ghost
Would You Be So Kind? by Dodie
Kill the Director by The Wombats
Conversations with the Moon By grentperez
The Color Violet by Tory Lanez
Heart Attack by Demi Lovato
Maybe So by Kid Cudi
Can’t Shake Her by Kid Cudi featuring Ty Dolla $ign
Willing to Trust by Kid Cudi featuring Ty Dolla $ign
Want It Bad by Cowboy Malfoy
My Heart Is Buried In Venice by Ricky Montgomery
Violet by Wild Party
A Shitty Love Song by Jye
You Are in Love by Taylor Swift
Accidentally In Love by Counting Crows
I Hear a Symphony by Cody Fry
FFF by Zara Larsson
Heartbeat by Childish Gambino
Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears
Here With Me by d4vd
One More Shot by CIL
Hopelessly Devoted To You by Olivia Newton-John
I Ain't Perfect by IV of Spades
If It All Goes South by Sammy Rae & The Friends
I Dare You by The Regrettes
Sarcasm by Get Scared
Die for You by Joji
golden hour by JVKE
moon and back by JVKE
this is what falling in love feels like by JVKE
how deep? by Tai Verdes
Nonsense by Sabrina Carpenter
Glimpse of Us by Joji
Try Again by JAEHYUN and d.ear
Pluto Projector by Rex Orange County
Wag Kang Mag-expect, Tanga by Fishy Bishie
All I Ask by Adele
Against the Kitchen Floor by Will Wood
Absence by Rio Romeo
Inarticulation by Rio Romeo
Never There Enough by PROM
Ever After by Marianas Trench
Science & Faith by The Script
Patchwork Staccato by Rachie
Hopeless by Khalid
It Ain’t Over ’til It’s Over by Lenny Kravitz
Snow On The Beach by Taylor Swift and Lana Del Rey
Your Hands Are Cold by Dario Marianli and Jean-Yves Thibaudet
A Postcard to Henry Purcell by Dario Marianli and Jean-Yves Thibaudet
Salut d'Amour by Edward Elgar
What's Wrong by half•alive
Dandelions by Ruth B
Move Me by half•alive
Arrow by half•alive
selfdestruct by torr
Lovers Rock by TV Girl
I Didn't Know That I Could Feel This Way by Roger Bart and Susan Egan
Pink in the Night by Mitski
A New Hour by Mr.Kitty
@cryptkillo was kind enough to put together a Spotify Version!
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Okay sleepover questions.
Tell me about 5 of your tumblr crushes and why they’re so amazing to you.
Also, what kind of books do you like to read? Romance? Mystery? And do you have a book you love recommending to people?
to be completely honest i don't really understand the concept of a tumblr crush BUT if this is an opportunity to brag about how amazing my friends are i will happily oblige! i will endeavor to limit myself to only 5 people, and for those of you reading this whom i did NOT mention my sincere apologies and please know that i love you anyway. i am going to list them below a cut and put my book recs first just so this post isn't fifty miles long lol.
let's talk books! i will read just about anything i can get my hands on, but my favorite genres are urban fantasy, mystery, and historical. i don't read a lot of contemporary books that are only romance with nothing else, but i love jane austen and shakespeare. i also ADORE genre-melding, eg the seven deaths of evelyn hardcastle by stuart turton, which is a sci-fi 1920s murder mystery.
my top 7 favorite books of all time- i originally was going to do five but realized i also would recommend 6 and 7 to literally everyone i know- which i would absolutely recommend to everyone, are:
the book thief by markus zusak (historical; coming-of-age of a german girl during wwii as her foster family hides a jewish man in their basement. this book should make you SOB)
the sweetness at the bottom of the pie by alan bradley (historical mystery; 11-year-old aspiring chemist solves murders in 1950s england)
murder on the orient express by agatha christie (historical mystery; a passenger is found dead on a snow-trapped train. basic premise but i am not exaggerating when i say that this book reinvented the murder mystery genre)
six of crows by leigh bardugo (high fantasy heist; six teenagers are recruited to break a chemist out of prison in order to stop- or maybe start- a magical war)
if we were villains by ml rio (mystery; a shakespeare student at a performing arts conservatory is found dead and his classmates try to decide if they want his killer to be caught)
code name verity by elizabeth wein (historical; a spy and a pilot during wwii are sent on a mission that only one returns from. holy SHIT this book is plot-twisty)
good omens by neil gaiman and terry pratchett (urban fantasy; an angel and a demon team up to stop the 11yo antichrist from starting armaggedon)
sleepover asks!!!
(read on for me gushing about my friends!)
@tellthemhowihope NINA MY SCIENCE SISTER MY RECENT OVERGRAD LIGHT OF MY LIFE!!! nina is one of the sweetest funniest and most brilliant people i know (she is a scientist!!!) and it always makes my day to exchange doctor who memes, cute animal pictures, and souffle recipes with her. throwback to the time she cut off a foot of her hair on impulse and one of our mutual mutuals thought she cut off her foot... the good old days...
@wespers aka tuser weepers... jamie is one of my oldest mutuals and i am so so grateful she's in my life! she has the market cornered on beautiful pale gifsets, is my go-to for book recs, has excellent opinions on just about everything, and actually gets around to consume all the content i bully her into consuming (see: knives out, hadestown, the book thief...). ily jamie you're not beating the theatre kid allegations any time soon. i am also planning to think of something else to bully you into reading/watching/listening to shortly. what about into the woods have you listened to into the woods before. or little shop of horrors. i think you'd vibe with both of them.
@gracelcdomas is another very old and dear friend and is my murdoch mysteries and knives out buddy for LIFE. milo is one of the most upbeat people i know, and i love chatting to them about just about anything. also am ETERNALLY grateful that they will always send me an ask if i rb an ask game. get yourself friends who will enable you to rant about yourself for fun online.
@jewish-mulder- hi anna! a relatively more recent mutual of mine but one who can always be counted on to have the most correct x-files opinions, and is also a very talented screenwriter! i hope my incoherent x-files liveblog as i watch the show for the first time brings them joy, because i always love reading their little replies to my comments.
and last but certainly not least @anakinskyiwalker, who might actually be my very first mutual? ashlyn has always been such a constant and kind presence in my fandom experience and i adore her to bits.
(other people i love and cherish who deserve shoutouts: @iloveuspiderman @eohwyyn @heroeddiemunson @laowen @faithinthefuturedeluxe @angela-bassetts @danielsousa @billhaders @elliewillaims @karmas @trashcora and @clayfaced SAM WHEN WILL YOU RETURN FROM THE WAR I MISS YOU)
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Writing ask: 5, 7, 16 & 24
5. with description i'm proud of
mildly cheating, since monsters of men is a character study and 90% descriptions, but i was always very fond of:
Monster and man eye each other warily, the deck swaying under their feet. Jones’ pincer hand shifts. Norrington keeps one hand on the pommel of his sword, the other crossed behind his back. Beckett knows this is a feint; if Jones drew a blade, Norrington would pull his gun instead. Were Jones killable, he would instantly have the fatal upper hand.
Beckett’s sister Jane had always said Cutler should be a duelist. He had the wits and the temperament, she insisted, and the only things he needed were a sword and a rival. He has many rivals now, and swords aplenty at his disposal. Yet Jane is gone, and still he does not duel.
Beckett folds that memory up as neatly as a sheet of paper, folds it once more for good measure, and tucks it away.
7. that i nursed in a daydream before finally writing but ALSO 16. from a recent piece i want to brag about
one of The Absolute First scenes i imagined that led to the dragon fic(s) was this one, featured in the most recent chapter though it largely exists as an excuse to use the word "verglas"
Then he is falling.
In all his years at sea, Norrington had fallen overboard only once, as a child on campaign with his father. He remembers little of the actual event — only the way fear consumed his every function, even that of his lungs, a process so automatic he did not know it could stop, drowning and drowning him. Well after he had been fished out of the sea did his cough linger, and his mother insisted the ordeal left a mote of cold in chest, one that young James carried every day since.
It has been many years since, years of camaraderie and valor that had seared the cold away. Yet now a reprisal of dread darts through him now, verglas over his lungs and heart. He is not afraid to die, had accepted it as a hazard of service, had steeled himself to the possibility the moment he stepped into his first commission. But — God and King forgive him — he does not want to. He does not want to die.
24. that makes me go "huh…i wrote that?!"
much about anything i wrote for assassin's creed is weird and liminal, but this bit is one i always find myself pausing at, as i don't remember writing it At All 🤪 (from this chapter of an AC3 longfic)
A slab of ice pins [Achilles'] leg to the ground, and he is bleeding badly. The blood is vivid against the blinding white of the snow. Haytham’s saber had been lost in the snow, so he instead draws his father’s shortsword and approaches slowly. The sound of his own heartbeat is deafening.
Do you truly fancy yourself a mediator? Birch sneers, an echo, a presage, a haunting. Look at you, dripping with blood and fury, and tell me your creed is not just as hypocritical.
Achilles does not move to fight. The Templars gave him no tools but control to broker peace; the Assassins gave him no tools but death to remove tyranny. If this expedition has taught him anything, it is that his desire for compromise between the two groups is nothing but fantasy, and for all his experience, he is ill-equipped to bring it to fruition. Birch had always been correct — he is a killer, not a mediator. And he will grant Achilles the mercy of a swift death.
He closes his eyes as Haytham raises his sword.
excerpt sharing asks
#local girl cannot stop writing about historical cycles of violence#nor can she stop using words she learned from d.estiny the video game™#thank you friend!!!!! :)#aloveforjaneausten#ask game#excerpt game
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Take this because I have too many TTTE AUs created uuhh this one is called “Duskytracks”. It's just basically the TTTE characters merged with Creepypasta characters— Here are my ideas
TW: MENTIONS OF D34TH, $•1C1D3, MU®D3®, POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, EXTREME IDOLIZATION, FR33ZING, BEING FORGOTTEN, BODY HORROR
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I didn't really choose people like Jeff The Killer, Eyeless Jack, Jane The Killer, Laughing Jack or yada yada because they honestly don't intrigue me anymore due to their flanderization and stories. The fandom butchered them so uhh yeah. So i picked the ones I liked and saw potential in. Well, anyways, here they are:
$•1c1d3mouse.avi was meant to be an anthropomorphic mascot to bring joy to children but after many loses in life and the feeling of being unwanted, he decides to commit unalive multiple times? Sorry Charlie the NWR 14, he's going to you.
Charlie was meant to be the funny, cheerful guy, but became universally hated due to how horribly written he was and ended up in the dump. I'd say he met Dash, Bash and Ferdinand who also ended up in the TTTE version of Wasteland but no one lives there for long as they will fade away from existent. Losing his new found friends and living in a cursed hell had him on chokehold. So uuhh yeah Charlie hehehhehe
Next one up: Sonic.exe. Mistaken to be a demonic entity possessing Sonic. His true name is X. He admires Sonic and idolizes him to the point that he wants to be him and have him all for himself. He kills all his friends and kills people who play his game and turns them into his slaves. Thomas would've been an obvious choice, but....
This one goes to James.
James is shown to be charismatic, boastful and impatient. He likes going quick and being deemed as important. In future 3D episodes of TTTE he's shown to like going extremely fast. And lastly? It seems like he idolizes Gordon, a big, blue, fast and strong engine. In this AU TTTE is an 8-Bit Game were Gordon is the main lead. James is quick to idolize him and kills all his friends to have him for himself. So yeah, Gordon.exe, a.k.a James.
Now lastly: Lost Silver. A young boy in the Pokemon universe who only wanted to become the best Pokemon trainer, met with a fatal death and became forgotten by everyone. In other stories, he was climbing up Mount Silver and slowly died due to the harsh climate. Sometimes Red is depicted to be a brother figure of his. Who did I think of when I saw this?
Douglas.
At some point in the future TTTE 3D episodes he gets stranded in the snow with no one to help him. In this AU, his name is Lost Snowflake. He felt that he was considered the less useful brother, the more annoying and unreliable one. That if he just threw himself over the docks, no one would noticed. So one day he decided to go shovel snow outside all by himself, heading up towards a mountain. A year later there's been an on-going investigation looking for Douglas McIntosh. Duck heads up a familiar mountain in the snow one day and never goes up again. No one knows why he didn't allow them to go up and only told Donald about what he saw.
Ok so that's it do whatever you want with this hahahaha
#ttte#thomas the tank engine#creepypasta#creepypasta au#ttte au#duskytracks#ttte charlie#suicidemouse.avi#ttte james#sonic.exe#ttte douglas#lost silver#ttte humanized#ttte human au#ttte fanart#art#tw: body horror#tw: death#tw: grief#tw: murder#tw: sui ideation#tw: sui mention#tw: missing limbs
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The Wight- Chapter One: Who Is She?
In the middle of a dark forest stood a large mansion. It belonged to the strongest of Monsters and Spirits. And that was Slender Man. He was the leader of many Monsters. He often patrolled around the perimeter, usually hunting down humans. People often thought that he wasn't real but he was real. Very real. He had done many things to go and prove that by himself.
He even had some Proxies he had taken in during his outings. Many like Jeffrey the Killer, Eyeless Jack, Masky and Hoody, Ticci Toby and well, many who tended to stay with Slender Man so long as they obeyed his rules.
The Proxies always obeyed Slender Man, some of them oftentimes protesting in the most amusing way. There were many monsters like Slender Man and his Proxies.
The air was cold and crisp and the moon was glowing bright in the dark blue sky. It was snowing a bit.
And Hoody absolutely hated it. Said Monster let out a loud groan of annoyance. "This is ridiculous! Why did Slender Man have us out here in the fucking first place?!" He snapped at the air.
"C'mon, man," Jeffrey said, shrugging, "Slendy's pretty cryptic. He probably thought there was some enemies or some shit."
Masky stuffed his hands into his pockets as he looked around before he saw something that caught his eye. It was dried blood that was caked on a nearby tree.
'Blood? Who's been here?' He thought with a frown as he walked over to the tree and placed his hand over the blood. It couldn't be more than a few minutes old.
"Masky? What's up?" Jack asked when he noticed the Proxy standing near the tree. "Someone's been here," Masky said.
When Hoody, Jeffrey and Jack heard that, they immediately became alert. "As in here, here?" Jeffrey asked, his voice dark, "who?"
"Definitely a human," Masky said before he followed the blood trail. The others quickly hurried after their friend.
He looked around, his eyes narrowed. When he looked over at the lake, his eyes widened. There was a girl laying on the snow, her head bruised and bleeding.
Masky hurried over to her and he knelt down and placed his hands on her side. He almost jumped back upon feeling how cold the girl was. She wore torn clothes and there were some bruises and scars on her back, chest and neck. She had raven black hair that seemed to have silver strands and her skin was snow white.
"Guys! Over here!" He called out. Hoody, Jeffrey and Jack ran over to them. "What the fuck?" Jeffrey exclaimed, startled.
"Who is that?" Jack asked. "Hell if I know," Masky huffed as Hoody placed his head on the girl's chest. "She's dead!" Hoody exclaimed and yelped as Masky punched him in the shoulder.
"Shut up, you idiot! She's breathing!" He snapped. "Then why is she fucking so cold!?" Masky yelped.
Hoody frowned and Jack carefully scooped the girl up into his arms. "Let's get her to Slender," he said.
Hoody furrowed his eyebrows and nodded as he and Masky got to their feet.
Thunder rumbled distantly and Hoody looked up at the sky, baffled. 'How the hell can it snow in the middle of the night?' He wondered as he and the others headed back to the mansion.
Zelda and Sally sat on the couch, watching tv. They heard the door opened.
"Move your asses, you two!" Jeffrey exclaimed. Sally jumped up with a startled squeak as Zelda glared at him. His eyes widened when he saw the girl in Jack's arms.
"What the hell?" He yelped as Jack placed the girl on the couch. Masky and Hoody rushed to get Slender Man as Jane hurried over with the first aid kit.
"What happened?" She asked. "We just found her near the lake," Jack said, frowning. He heard footsteps as Slender Man walked over to them.
"Do you know who she is, Slender?" Jack asked. Slender Man looked down at the girl and he reached out and gently brushed his hand over the girl's hair.
"No. But I do know that she is not a human. She is a Wight," he said calmly.
"Are you serious? I thought those became extinct!" Masky yelped. The girl twitched slightly and she whimpered softly, turning her head to the side.
Slender Man gently ran his fingers through her hair and she relaxed. "Who is she?" Hoody nervously asked. No one answered. Not even Slender answered.
And that was a question that everyone wanted to know themselves.
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