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sp00kyjellybeans · 3 years

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Ghostface is typing... [Stu Macher x Reader]

What happens when you text a killer?

First real chapter woooooo- Hope you all enjoy

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,059

part one//iMessage part two//iMessage part three//iMessage Group Chat part four//iMessage Group Chat part five//Movie Night

In hindsight, you didn’t think through the possibilities of tonight. The awkwardness that has ensued was beyond your comprehension when you agreed to be picked up in the first place. You figured that since you’d be spending time with some of the most popular people at Woodsboro High it’d be fine. No awkwardness. Just some movies and pizza... right?

Wrong.

Currently, you sat in the back of Stu Macher’s car. Stu picked you up no earlier than 6:55pm in his Mercedes-Benz, which subtly reminded you that you were hanging out with one of the richest boys in school on top of his popularity.

Tatum sat in the front seat alongside Stu with their hands intertwined, yet the blonde had her body facing away from him completely. Her head rested comfortably on her manicured hands, staring out the tinted window after greeting you.

The drive seemed to last longer than it actually was. The seven minutes it took to arrive at Sidney Prescott’s place felt like seventy minutes. It didn’t dawn on you until Stu pulled into the driveway that you were at Sidney Prescott’s house.

Although knowing each other since kindergarten, you had only seen her house at fleeting moments. The most recent time was when her mother passed. As a spastic attempt to leave town, your parents were eager to leave due to the murder, you passed by the beautiful white house that had turned into a crime scene.

“Woo!” Stu’s voice knocked you back to reality, shutting the car door with a slam. “It’s movie night, babes! BILLY! Where ya at?” Stu bellowed out, cupping his hands around his mouth.

You walked alongside Tatum up to the porch, her eyes practically rolling into the back of her head.

“You’ll have to excuse him. He’s an idiot,” she sighed, ringing the doorbell.

“Randy’s not here. Damnit! I wanted some ‘za,” Stu whipped his head around, unable to find Randy’s car. “It’s past seven! That dork is always late.”

“Just give him a minute,” Tatum rolled her eyes once more. “Sid and I will make some popcorn in the meantime. Just chill.”

“Hey guys!” The door opened to reveal a smiling Sidney. “(Y/n)! So glad you could make it!” Sidney leapt forward and threw her arms around you in an embrace.

“I’m glad to be here! Thanks for having me,” You smiled.

“What? No special greeting for me?” Stu whined and Tatum swatted his shoulder. “Ow- The hell?”

“Doofus.”

“Come on in!” Sidney grabbed your hand and led the three of you into the living room.

As expected, the inside of her house looked nothing like the crime scene you had envisioned. It was decorated with normal, suburban house décor but most of the lights were out. The only light source coming from the hallway and kitchen bulbs. In the living room sat Billy, who was flipping through various Netflix movies under the horror tag.

“Billy, this is (Y/n)!” Sidney stood to the side and presented you like a new toy.

“Sup,” Billy barely acknowledged you, still flipping through the movies.

You offered a small wave and allowed Sidney to lead you to the couch. You sat on the end opposite to Billy, pulling your legs to form a criss cross position on the cushion, with your shoes off of course.

Sidney positioned herself next to her boyfriend and Tatum did the same, with her on your right, leaving no vacancy for Randy who was still late.

“I swear to god you better not put on some cheesy horror movie-” Tatum groaned.

Stu sent puppy eyes her way almost instantly, “Babe come on!”

“No! We watch one every movie night. Sid hates that shit, too ya know,” Tatum crossed her arms stubbornly.

“Is that true?” Stu turned to face her and she nodded her head. “You lie. You always watch them with Billy.”

“Because he makes me?”

“I’m sure (Y/n) would wanna watch! Don’t you, (Y/n)? Then Randy is always up for it so we win!” Stu pumped his fists up in the air.

Tatum nudged his side, “She didn’t even say that she likes horror movies, dipshit. Give her a chance to speak.”

The group of four peered at you with curious eyes, waiting for your verdict. You chuckled nervously but went with the truth.

“I actually kind of like them...?” You winced, afraid of how the girls would react. It was a stale reaction.

“Wow. That’s unexpected,” Sidney raised her eyebrows. “Horror movie it is then.”

You glanced at Stu, who’s expectant expression shifted to pure joy, “HELL YEAH!” The boy stuck out his tongue and held his hand out for a high five, which Billy promptly ignored, “Come on! Don’t leave me hanging!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tatum muttered, sending a pleading signal at Sidney. Neither of the boys noticed this.

Sidney understood Tatum’s expression instantly and pushed herself off of the couch. She walked towards a door, looking at Tatum expectantly, “Tate, come make popcorn with me?”

They left the room, whispering ensued as soon as they entered the kitchen and you were left with Billy and Stu. Once he had lost sight of the two of them, Stu leapt across the couch, taking up the space that Tatum occupied.

“I didn’t know you watched horror movies,” He grinned and leaned on the headboard of the couch. He reminded you of a puppy. “That makes you like a thousand times more interesting.”

You scoffed playfully, “You mean I was boring before?” You put a hand to your chest. “And I thought we had meaningful conversations.”

Stu’s face dropped, “Wait that’s not what I meant-”

“I’m hurt, Stu,” The disappointment was clear in your tone, especially when you turned away from him with your arms folded.

“(Y/n) I didn’t mean that-”

“I’m kidding, Stu!” Unable to contain your laughter you turned back at the blonde. Realizing that you were just messing with him, he joined your giggles, laughing a lot louder than necessary.

On the other end of the couch, Billy turned his head from the TV to stare at you and his friend. He was annoyed with how obnoxiously obvious he was. Neither of you noticed but his prolonged stare was interrupted when a ding sounded from his phone.

Everyone else in the room had their phone buzz in response too, indicating someone messaged the group chat.

“Oh, Randy said he’s here. Should I let him in?” You lifted your phone to your face.

“I got it!” Sidney called from the kitchen and darted into the foyer.

Stu didn’t bother looking at his phone and instead stared at your screen, a grin wide on his face.

“What?” You said, confused at his smirk. “What’s that look for?”

“Why in the hell is Randy put as Randy Geeks in your phone?” Stu snatched the device from your hand and stood up tall on the couch, looming above you. Every second that passed his grin had grown wider.

Billy covered his mouth with his hand, looking between you, Stu and the newly arrived Randy.

“My name is what?” Randy asked, exasperated.

While Randy stared at you both, Stu stood upright on the couch to prevent you from grabbing the device. You were both too distracted to notice Randy in the room until he spoke.

“Oh my god!” Your expression shifted from defeated to horrified to guilty all in a matter of seconds. “I didn’t mean anything by it- I just tried putting your full name and it autocorrected from Meeks to Geeks! I thought it was funny!”

“It is funny,” Tatum said. She had a bowl of popcorn in her hands, shoveling the pieces into her mouth. Her amused expression moved onto Randy. “Hey, Geeks.”

“Watch it,” He pointed at Tatum. “Never insult the guy with the pizza.”

“WHY IS MY NAME STILL GRU IN YOUR PHONE?” Stu exploded, his mouth agape. “I’M CHANGING IT!”

How did you even unlock it? What the hell, Stu?” You jumped up and tried to grab the phone back from this excessively tall boy.

The disadvantage here was, in comparison, you were small next to Stu. His long arms extended past your limit of reach. In a desperate attempt to take your phone back, you started to pound on his back. Maybe he would drop the phone or fall over. But it was no use. The lanky boy jumped from the couch and ran out of the room.

“WH-”

“Great,” Tatum rolled her eyes. “We’re babysitting.”

You groaned and landed onto the couch cushion, far too lazy to chase after the boy. Moments after he ran off you heard a door slam and lock, so there was nothing to be done.

“Stu!” Billy barked five minutes later. “Come get your pizza!”

“No way!” Stu’s muffled voice could be heard from the kitchen. “The stuff on (Y/n)’s phone is juicy. I’ll be in here for hours!”

“More for us...” Randy muttered.

“Sidney, can you help me out?” You whined. Your appetite vanished the moment Stu spoke, the phone was your top priority. Nosy Bastard!

“There’s a key in that drawer over there,” Sidney pointed. “Skeleton Key, it’s pretty obvious. The bathroom at the end of the hallway”

You gave thanks and snuck down the hallway, trying to make the quietest footsteps possible. Once you reached the doorway you could hear Stu snickering behind the thin wood. Sticking the key in the keyhole you turned it slowly...

“AHA” You snatched the phone from the boy and he let out a scream of terror. Behind you there came an eruption of laughter from four people.

“HAHA OH MY GOD,” Randy roared, his phone held in his hand. He had filmed the entire interaction. “That’s going on the private. (Y/n) what’s your snap you NEED to see the look on his face!”

You slapped a hand over your mouth upon realization of what had happened. Your eyes darted to Stu, who was red as a tomato.

“Whatever, Geeks.”

The rest of the night was more fun than you could imagine. No more awkwardness. You wouldn’t tell a soul but it was even more fun than hanging out with your old friends.

The movie everyone agreed on was Happy Death Day. Billy and Stu were annoyed (Stu was already annoyed but for different reasons, obviously) since they wanted to watch a classic, Evil Dead, but the rest of you were eager to watch the horror-comedy. It came down to a vote and majority ruled. Even Randy voted for the film. It didn’t compare to the classics at all, but you didn’t hate it.

As you watched the movie, you interacted frequently with Randy. He had forgiven you for his contact name and you both had more in common than anticipated. For instance, you both loved movies of all genres, though unlike him horror wasn’t your absolute favorite. You were a total sucker for romance of all genres.

Sadly, you didn’t get to visit with the others as much as you wanted. The couples seemed focused on everything but the movie so you and Randy were left to converse. Little did you know, Stu had been keeping tabs on you in the corner of his eye.

The night flew by and it was time for you to go home. You bid your goodbyes and decided to ride home with Randy. You found out that you both lived on the same street, so it was more convenient than having Stu drive around town.

“You sure, (Y/n)?” Stu stuck his hands in his pockets, bouncing on his heels. “I don’t mind giving you a ride.”

You, Randy, Tatum and Stu stood in Sidney’s driveway, discussing who would go with who. Stu was insistent on driving you home for whatever reason but you could tell Tatum wanted the opposite.

“No worries,” You smiled. “I’m sure you’d like to spend more time with your girlfriend anyway.” You winked at the tiny blonde, earning you a grateful smile, and not noticing the frustrated look on Stu’s face.

“Alright... Bye then,” Stu said and strode to his shiny car.

The boy didn’t exit the driveway until Randy’s car left his vision, his jaw clenched the entire time.

“Can we go, Stu?” Tatum whined to her boyfriend.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

“You’re what?”

“Going. I’m going.”

#stu macher #stu macher x reader #stu macher series #sp00kyjellybeans #scream #scream 1996 #scream modern au #scream fic series #scream series #ghostface

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coldalbion · 5 years

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Spastic thoughts on #Cripkult

One thing about getting sports massages from a trained massage therapist continually brings to mind is how much Cerebral Palsy renders the standard ideas of how muscles and anatomy work as ridiculously "normalised".

Crippled and disabled bodies are biophysically divergent. One would think this was obvious, except it *really* isn't. Case in point: No doctor or specialist sussed what was going on with my half my foot essentially *dying* until post amputation. But the orthotics guy I saw afterwards had seen this happen with CP multiple times, and knew why.

The reason CP does what it does to the human body is, (we think) mostly due to brain trauma and hence lifelong neurodivergence. I have a different brain, different responses to proprioception inputs, and other stimuli. I have a different brain chemistry.

(As a sidenote, it's not a neurotypical/autism spectrum binary. Hence the term neurodivergent - because neurologies can be and are diverse, some more extremely than others)

What does my neurodivergence and adaptation to a world built around constructed norms provide me with? Oftentimes, a whole bunch of pain, and frustration, and often, isolation both psychologically and physically. It is a simple fact that such divergence is often pathologised, and attempts at normalisation can cause all sorts of horrors - internally and externally.

I'm a cripple: my brain has warped the rest of its surrounding systems into a crooked thing. I'm a piece of driftwood shaped by the burning, roaring, waters of existence. I've been tempered by fire (literally set on fire once) and smashed into rocks ( and had them thrown at me). I can see and think in ways most of you, quite bluntly, can't or won't. If I am a monster, by all means, see me shake my gory locks as a spectre of dissolution and decay, if that's what you need to see. I can't stop you.

But looking past the monstrous, passing through it, we find a daemonic, daimonic heart: something that changes shape in the eye of the observer. I'm not on the fringe, not on the edge - not Outside, but Inside and Down and Up. At the centre.

Am I better or superior to the normalised human? No. But in some cases, I have a very specific set of skills, and perceptions, and in those contexts? I'm better than most.

Am I saying this to self-aggrandise? Not at all. What I am saying, writing, speaking into the world is the heart of what I conceive of, and have named (somewhat facetiously, somewhat not) as #cripkult.

We Always Been Here.

And we know things you don't. In ways you don't. Our worth is in who and what we are - whatever that means for you, in essence, is a byproduct. We generate, simply by existing, an alterity.

I am divergent, neurologically, biophysically, in such a way that the structures and architecture and cultural constructions of society, disable me. Some of my differences also increase biophysical and mental stresses in a way that limit options, narrowing the focus of ability and function - these can be described as disabling in terms of my ability to enact my desires. To argue otherwise is, I believe, just not helpful to anyone.

The point then, expressed in my perhaps needlessly verbose way, is this:

I'm not like you. Physically, mentally, and otherwise.

I have spent nearly twenty years working to accept this; to internalise and root out implanted ableism/disablism, shame, disgust, and fight the desire to self-normalise as much as possible. To go beyond "finding the positive" or "looking on the bright side." To descend into the roots of who and what I am, and will be.

And amongst those roots, I find faces lit by firelight and laughter and song, warmed by fierce cold, and cooled in those same swirling burning waters. Because as long as there's been humans, there's been cripples, and always will be - divergent, bent, close to the earth and the tunnels and burrows that enter Hir - shaping things, singing, altering perceptions.

Hell, I may die early because modern medicine isn't exactly built to deal with cripples (particularly with CP, if you're not a kid, you are basically ignored) which isn't particularly fair. But #cripkult isn't about fair. It's relentlessly bearing down on who and what you are, and all that it entails. It is, as I wrote through the mouth of a trickster Magpie Man in 2013, the Necessary. Or as another friend puts it, "becoming inevitable."

Because there is only us - and those we care for, and those who care for us. All those of us enmeshed in the web. Often, we are neglected, forgotten. Institutionalised or killed indirectly by unthinking uncaring bureaucracy. But some of us survive, thanks to the acceptance of our unique aloneness, and hence the way that same aloneness brings us together to live and play and laugh and sing with others

Some of us may struggle with depression, with suicidality, and some may benefit from treatment, Some may not. Some may leave us to escape the pain - and I salute them and honour them for who and what they were, too. Some of us may endure, weathered by storms of despair and droughts of compassion. Countless other life-paths may exist, crooked and winding. I do not know them all. I cannot. I can only know mine.

And as this has become even longer than I anticipated, I thank you for reading this far, because in doing so, you are treating with me, on my terms. Hearing and perceiving my words in your own bodies, however you feel them, even if it takes a while to digest and intergrate and understand what I am saying, have been saying, and will continue to say.

Thank you, not for the mercy of your attention, but for beginning to understand the merciless nature of what is being said. What is written here does not depend on mercy - on a grant from another. I, we, do not require permission to embrace this, any more than permission is required for a neuron to fire, to participate in a chain of lightning that cascades and forks through a world roofed by grey October skies and autumn birdsong. That leaves here, to travel by nerve and ibreoptic, to fall onto, into your eyes, like a seed into soil.

After all, cult, culture and cultivation, all share the same roots, down here at the centre of things, do they not?

We are not like you. We Have Always Been Here. Our voices speaking, whether we be Neanderthal or modern human or any of the branches and species of the human tree.

And because of this, well, I suppose it's up to you. As is said: "Would you know more, or what?"

#cerebral palsy #black bird magic #cripkult

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gladio-to-meet-you · 5 years

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God of Destruction (ft the Chocobros, Nyx, and Luna)

This draws some instances from things that have happened to me, I'll leave y'all guessing which is real and which is fabricated

Not proofread, hope you guys enjoy it/maybe even get some laughs from this!

I’ll work on other prompts I have, but I may not post anything else today, idk for sure though

~~~

Ignis

You took it upon yourself to try and lighten the burden laid upon his shoulders since you managed to get put of work early. There was pep in your step as you hurried home to change and rush out to the store. You planned to surprise him with dinner! He'd have one less thing to do and you could prove that you did know your way around the kitchen, at least enough so that he didn't have to constantly cook for you guys. You pointedly decided to ignore the precious mishaps that had happened that he teasingly brings up every one in a while; you were better now!

After getting the necessary ingredients, you pay and leave and practically run home so you have time to finish everything. It all started off okay enough, you felt confident enough that things would work out. That was before you nicked your finger and had to clean and bandage it to avoid contaminating the food. While hurrying to the bathroom for the bandaids, you managed to knock a ceramic baking dish off the counter.

By the time Ignis walked in, ready to make dinner and just relax, talking about the day with you, he's met with an absolute mess. You're still in the kitchen, fingers covered with bandaids and cursing as you try to clean up the shards in the floor with smoke lingering in the room, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. "Oh, honey, let me get that," he'd say and sweep you off your feet to deposit you on the couch where you wouldn't risk cutting your feet up. There would be a fond smile curling his lips as he opened the windows to air the place out and went for the broom, deciding take out sounded nice.

Prompto

He thought you were just exaggerating your bad luck with electronics until he had the privilege of living with you. Then he saw what you meant. The gaming system you guys bought together would only turn on and work right, not freezing, if he turned it on. The coffee pot would always make a mess the first time you used it and it would always come out tasting burnt. Your laptop was a lost cause. Your phone that was newer than his was spastic with you, you'd have to restart it once or twice a day and delete and reinstall apps to get them to cooperate.

But the best - the worst? - of this was that he accompanied you into your office one day so you could print some papers off to turn into your boss before the weekend and he got to see just how bad the electronics you used the majority of the day reacted. After an hour of computer problems and having IT come back two separate times for completely different issues, you pointed at your partner and gestured to the computer. "I don't want to be here all day, help!" You demanded in a small voice, stomping your foot, moments away from pouting.

He laughed a little at the situation but sat down and followed your instructions to find the particular file that needed printed off. Once the papers were handed in, he draped his arm around your shoulders as you guys left the building. "I thought you were kidding, babe, but technology hates you. But that's okay, I'll help you any day! In all seriousness though...why do you have an office job?"

Noctis

You decided that since Noctis had caught dinner, you’d try to help Ignis with cooking it. You forgot that since you guys were camping, that meant dealing with a campfire. You hadn’t ever done more than roast some marshmallows over the fire, you didn’t trust yourself. But since you had spoken up, Ignis gladly accepted your help.

So you sucked it up and followed his instructions very carefully, from helping him prepare the fish and the fire to actually starting the cooking process. You made sure you copied every moment he did so you wouldn’t mess it up. You were envious of the other three that were just sitting around, waiting for dinner to be ready. Noctis and Prompto were huddled together on their phones, probably playing King’s Knight, while Gladio appeared to be reading.

It wasn’t until you and Ignis both smelled something burning that you turned back to the fire, only to screech in alarm. You had somehow managed to catch your jacket on fire when you set it down?! You rushed forward and yanked it away, dropping it on the ground and immediately stomping on it to try and put the fire on the sleeve out. After you panic passed, you heard Noctis wheezing with laughter. “You weren’t kidding, were you? You really are a danger magnet,” he teased you as you all sat down around the fire with dinner, you sitting a bit further away than normal after that.

Gladio

He had been with you long enough to realize that if anything at all could go wrong, it probably would. He started carrying around a small first aid kit with him, knowing it would be used at some point by you. He’d seen you trip over nothing, break things with an ease that betrayed your small size, and he’s seen the really bad days where things just keep going wrong one after another.

He thought he had seen it all, but he was wrong. You guys went to one of the first places you had gone on dates to, hoping to recreate one of your first dates. While waiting on food, you mentioned running to the bathroom. He realized that by the time the food was delivered, you were still nowhere to be seen. Instead of freaking out like he would’ve when you guys first started dating, he just sent you a text inquiring where you were.You looked down at your phone and then back at the door that had been a barrier for that last couple minutes.

You hesitated on responding and tried turning the door knob to open the door again. Nothing. It wouldn’t budge. So you bit the bullet and sent Gladio an SOS message, requesting he get the owner to free you from the damn bathroom. You heard his laughter before he got within ten feet of the door so you stomped your foot as you pocketed your phone. “Stop laughing, Gladdy! It’s not funny!” You pouted as you heard the two men discuss the best way to handle it. In the end, the hinges were removed so the door could be moved out of the way and you could leave the bathroom. The owner was apologetic as he had been told before that the lock had been sticking and even let you guys eat for free.

Nyx

This man had seen your destructive powers in full swing before. You had gone to the bar together and you broke no fewer than five glasses in the span of ten minutes. You had managed to knock the table over and spilled everyone's drinks while simultaneously breaking them as they hit the ground. The owner was actually pretty cool about it, saying he had new glasses he hadn't been able to put into rotation yet, so it wasn't a big deal. The mess was cleaned up and your group was jokingly given plastic cups after that.

However, after that night he didn't expect it to get any worse, he thought he had seen it at its worst. Nope, not at all. He took you to a newer restaurant that members of the Glaive had told him about, saying it was great food for the price and he wouldn't regret it. He didn't regret the food. He regretted letting you drink there and allowing you to go to the bathroom unsupervised, knowing your luck got worse the more that you drank. You hurried out of the bathroom, eyes a bit wide, and giggles escaping your lips. You were glad Nyx had been in the process of paying the bill when you left the table because it would make for a quicker getaway this way.

You tried to school your face into a serious one, but your lips kept twitching and he eyed you cautiously, knowing something had happened. especially when you got back to the table and started grabbing the takeout containers. “We need to leave, now,” you whispered urgently. When you got out of there and to his car, you collapsed into the seat laughing until you were crying and gasping. He had to wait until you calmed down to hear your story, and even then it was interspersed with you laughing. He finally heard the story and couldn’t help but laugh in astonishment. You had heard someone in the bathroom make an “oop” sound and found out, by asking and revealing that you were probably as tipsy as they were that they had broken a handle off the sink. You went to the other sink and the hot water handle literally came off in your hand as you tried turning the water off. You had both replaced the handles and tried to discreetly leave the bathroom.

Luna

You made sure you spelled it out for Luna, how badly accident prone you were, how bad your luck seemed to be on the daily, but she waved your concerns away. You guys hadn't spent a full day together since you got together, both busy with your duties, but she had seen some of the cuts and bruises you came home with. She never brought them up because they were always minor though, trusting that you'd say something if you got into a fight or something. "Babe, I'm serious, I should just live life bubble wrapped in a protective bubble!"

She'd giggle at the mental image that would provoke and assure you, again, that everything would be fine on your date. It was like your luck took that as a challenge and accepted it with gusto. On the way to the little bistro you guys planned to eat lunch at, you tripped no less than three times and it was a short walk! You also almost fell into traffic when someone bumped into your side as they passed.

At the bistro, you expected things to calm down. Nope! You went to sit in your chair and when it shifted, you knocked your phone off the table and in the process of bending over to get it, you smashed your head into the edge of the table. When you jerked up from that, you rocked the table enough to rattle the drinks and splash them over the table. You paused to take a deep breath and reached for the napkins to clean up the mess while Luna was still at the counter and somehow managed to give yourself a damned paper cut from the napkins you had grabbed. "Luna, that's it, I'm done, I'm going home to live in my bubble!" You called to her with a pout. She giggled as she came back to make sure you were okay, deciding that maybe you hadn't exaggerated that much.

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anon-e-miss · 6 years

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A Matter of Convenience 4

There was a horrible screech, as Prowl’s frame seized. Ratchet was in the room a nanoklik after the episode had begun. Before the medic could plug into his patient, it ended, and the Praxian went slack, his optics dark. Jazz stepped back as Ratchet examined Prowl, inside and out. Wisdom would have had the Polihexian make a quick, but instead he stayed glued, optics never leaving the prone mech. He had seen crashes before, but not like that, and not this close. Though it might have been silly, Jazz felt certain that it was his fault, certain that Ratchet was going to have his helm. Really, he should have been sneaking away. But he watched, and he waited. Eventually Ratchet unplugged from his patient and turned to the saboteur, tapping a wrench against his palm.

“What did I say about stressing him?” The medic asked coolly. Cool was so much worse than hot when it came to Ratchet, it promised pain and suffering. “Enforcers got him wound up, and you have him crashing.”

“I was tryin’ not to!” Jazz exclaimed, servos raised. “I just... startled him?”

“That would do it,” Ratchet grumbled. “He has a processor glitch.”

“From those slaggers?” The Polihexian asked.

“Latent,” the old Iaconian explained. “You didn’t know?”

“His brother mentioned a defect but I didn’t realize he meant literal,” Jazz replied. “Frag. Mech’s had it rough.”

“The good news is crashes like that don’t cause any real damage,” Ratchet said. “It’s more system defence to prevent it. The bad news is that seizing undid some of the repairs I did on his doorwing, so I’m going to need to go in again. No more surprises or you, are banned.”

“Gonna take him right now?” the saboteur asked. He felt he was really earning his job title right now.

“Yep, no reason not hold off,” the medic replied.

“I need to head out,” Jazz said. “His brothers slipped their handlers. I need to see if I can find’em for’m.”

“How exactly are you tangled up in this?” Ratchet asked.

“His mechlings... his brothers, rather been hangin’ out at the raceway, before me ‘n the Twins ever got back to Iacon,” the Polihexian explained. “Blue, the bitlet o’em has been a miracle for Sunny and Sides. Smokey, the younglin’s been huge too... He ‘n Sides have prank wars. Gives Sunny a break if he don’t want in on it... They got their troubles too. Blue saw their ‘genitor die... He gets panic attacks sometimes. Smokey keeps his more inside, but he scraps a bit... Their origin shipped them off to a brother they never met, ‘n they bonded to him. Now the powers that be think it’s a good idea to ship’em off to the slagger their origin’ bonded to. Mech given a frag ‘bout them.”

“Find the mechlings, and I’ll fix him up,” the old mech said. “I’m thinking you have a plan.”

“My plan is to make sure the court don’t do somethin’ stupid,” Jazz replied. “’N maybe that makes me crazy, but that ship sailed vorns ago.”

“At least you recognize it,” Ratchet rumbled. “Get going. I’ll keep, him up to date.”

“Thanks, Ratch,” the saboteur said. “Take care o’m. Don’t think anyone’s bothered to for a long time.”

Prowl had been right about one thing, Smokescreen who not come looking for him. The youngling would avoid the raceway, anywhere he thought the Enforcers would look. He would keep his comms off too, the Praxian was a smart mechling, he would make sure he could not be traced. That did not mean Jazz would not and could not look for them, and the first place he was going to was the raceway. It might have seemed counter-intuitive but Jazz knew how to track mechs, and he had a connection those Enforcers did not have. Jazz had the Twins. If he was lucky, either Smokescreen or Bluestreak would have told either Sideswipe or Sunstreaker something that the saboteur could use to track the Praxians down. Maybe, just maybe Smokescreen might have left a clue. Knowing the youngling, he had probably planned this all along.

The Twins were in the Shack when he returned, sipping on their favourite flavour of oil smoothies. Split-sparks or not, the mechlings had different tastes on many things, but there were a lot of things they shared. Fuel was one of them. They both loved strong flavours, with pop-ores being a favoured, and these shakes were full of the things. Jazz grabbed a shake of his own, minus the shocking additives. As was their habit, the brothers were sitting side by side, rather than across from each other. While they could be separated, and they benefited from some distance at least once in a while, when they were stressed or upset, the Twins leaned on each other. Right now, they were very stressed, and what Jazz was about to tell them, was not likely to ease that stress. Steeling himself, the Polihexian joined his youngling in their booth.

“Something happened,” Sideswipe said.

“Smokey ‘n Blue slipped outta the younglin’ centre,” Jazz explained. “No one knows where they are.”

Sideswipe looked at Sunstreaker who looked Jazz straight on. They knew something alright, and in this instance, the red twin was deferring to the yellow. Both brothers could keep a secret but if you were only going to tell one mechanism, and you wanted it to stay safe, Sunstreaker was your mech. That was part of the trouble with Sunstreaker, he kept so much inside, that sometimes in choked him, and sometimes it bubbled over and exploded in shocking bursts of violence. Jazz had gotten pretty good at catching these eruptions before they could happen, right now his mechling was simmering. But Jazz was patient, and he waited, leaning comfortably back in the booth. If necessary, he could out wait them, and if nothing he could lay down the law, but right now patience was the ticket, as it usually was.

“Smokescreen talked about something he studied in social studies,” Smokescreen said, at last. “He said the Temples of Adaptus used to be a shelter, sort of. If mechanisms said they were in danger, if it was from the governement, or kin, it didn’t matter. The Priests would hide them.”

“That’s right,” the progenitor replied. “Did he tell ya anythin’ else.”

“That the old Senate would sneak in and take enemies out in the dark-cycle,” the yellow twin said. “And when Megatron seized Kaon, he didn’t even bother with the dark-cycle, he just stormed right in.”

“Also right,” Jazz said. “There’s a Temple o’ Adaptus at the Spires.”

“Would Optimus raid it?” Sideswipe asked.

“No,” the Polihexian replied. “Never. ‘N the Enforcers can’t either.”

“Could Optimus help?” Sunstreaker asked. “Those ‘Bots’re wrong. Smokey and Blue belong here.”

“Optimus won’t interfere,” Jazz said. “He can’t without gettin’ slag from everyone, ‘n rightly... Look ‘m helpin’ best I can... but I mighta jumped off a cliff of crazy. How’d ya feel ‘bout them livin’ with us?”

“In our habsuite?” The red twin asked. “Ya!”

“That’d be cool!” His brother agreed. “What’s the catch?”

“I’d be bondin’ wit their brother,” their progenitor said. He waited for an eruption, and he got one, but it was an eruption of laughter. After almost a bream, the Twins stopped their cackling and looked to Jazz again.

“You’re serious,” Sideswipe said, deadpanned. “Seriously, seriously.”

“Ya, this is definitely a new level of crazy, ‘genitor,” Sunstreaker added. “Have you even met him, like, really met him?”

“I’ve just been by the medicentre,” Jazz replied. “Had a talk... Sorta asked ‘m...”

“You made him crash,” the trickier of the twins accused, with a little cackle and a wage of his digit. “Didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” the saboteur replied, sheepishly. “To be fair, no one told me their was a glitch!”

“That’s one of the things that fragger Barricade’s been throwing in his face,” the yellow twin said. “Because it had him sent to a “special” school. Because other Enforcers used to make jokes about how to make the spastic Praxian crash.”

“Don’t call’m that, okay?” Jazz replied. “I know ya just repeatin’ what ya been told, so I understand, but don’t call’m, or Red or anyone else ya meet wit a processor fault that. Ain’t their fault.”

“Sunstreaker said he’s crazy smart,” Sideswipe said. “And that he got fired from the Enforcers in Praxus because he wouldn’t arrest a mech he thought was innocent, and wouldn’t testify against him. Mech got locked up anyways. Turned out he was innocent. Prowl’s evidence convicted someone else, eventually. But they didn’t call him to testify. They pretended it was all them.”

“Ya know why he was fired this time?” The Polihexian asked.

“He’s been tryin’ to prove that people are missing from the Parks,” Sunstreaker replied. “Blue said, he wasn’t recharging much, ‘cause he was trying to find something that would make them see. Guess he called out the wrong mech because they made up this report that said he was forging his time card. Then when their habsuite got trashed, most of their stuff was broken, or burnt, even though all the neighbours places were in better shape. None of his datapads were left... Not burnt up, just gone.”

“Sounds suspicious,” Jazz said. “My clever mechlings, thinkin’ like me.”

“So they’d be our brothers... sort of?” The red twin asked. “He’d be... what would we call him?”

“Prowl,” the progenitor said. “Caretaker. Whate’er ya like, that’s up to ya.”

“Why would he want to take care of us?” The brasher of the brothers asked. “How’re we gonna know he’s gonna care about us at all... He’ll just be bonding with you for his credits.”

“If he goes for it, he’ll be bondin’ with me for Smokey and Blue,” Jazz replied. “I won’t let’m or anyone mistreat ya. If he goes for it, we’re all gonna spend some time together to see if it can work. If it don’t, ‘m still gonna do all that I can to keep Blue ‘n Smokey wit’m. But I ain’t gonna do the two o’ ya wrong for their sake, or anyone’s.”

“Okay,” Sunstreaker said, after a pause. “It’d be cool to have an older brother...”

“Ya,” Sideswipe agreed, and he grinned, full of mischief. “Younger brothers are supposed to torment their older brother, right?”

“I did hear that” the yellow twin said. Jazz laughed.

“Not sure how Smokey’s gonna feel ‘bout that,” he replied. “But I think he handles ya pretty good already.”

“Bluestreak seems to think Prowl’s pretty great,” Sideswipe said. “Smokescreen looks up to him... He might be alright.”

“I wanna know there’s somewhere here who’s really gonna watch ya, really take care o’ ya ‘n listen to ya when I get deployed again,” Jazz said. “’M hopin’ he’s up for it. ‘M hopin’ y’ll let’m.”

“We’ll see,” Sunstreaker said. “He might be alright... Is it coming? Are you gonna be deployed soon?”

“So far, so good,”the progenitor replied. “It’s gonna come, but hopefully not for stellar-cycles, even vorns yet. ‘M gonna go to the temple ‘n see if I can find our friends. Do ya wanna go home or stay here a bit longer.”

“I could go for a few more races,” the impish twin said. “How about you, Sunshine?”

“I’m gonna drive circles around you if you keep calling me that,” his brother warned. That was Sunstreaker. The was not much for nicknames, but most of his complaints were without heat. It was, for the most part, just another quirk between the twins. “Don’t come back until you find them, ‘genitor.”

“Ya, got it,” Jazz said.

The Temple of Adaptus was the smallest of the spires, devoted to the worship of maybe the least notable of the Guiding Hand. Its Priesthood was known for being benefactors of the poor and the persecuted, and Jazz hoped to Primus, Adaptus and the rest of the Guiding Hand that those priest were giving sanctuary to those two frightened mechlings. Smokescreen was a smart mechling, smarter than his teachers probably gave him credit. Jazz knew he passed his courses but rarely aced them, not because he was not smart enough but because he had a rebellious streak. On his last report, he had aced everything, and the Polihexian knew this becasue Smokescreen had showed him. He had been proud, so proud of the youngling that he had paid for an orn of racing. At the end of the orn he had shown of his gift from Prowl, a mode matching his designation. It would have cost a good chunk of credits, and maybe the caretaker was regretting it now that things had become so tight, but it had stood out to Jazz as an investment in Smokescreen, something the youngling was not going to forget.

Jazz stopped at the platform that led to the Celestial Spires. The walkways were a spiral, a winding path meant to spark meditation in the processors of those visiting. It meant it took breams to get anywhere, but the saboteur thought better of running. If the mechlings were at the temple, they were there, and they were safe. If they were not, he was going to have to think harder, and dig deeper. But his intuition told him this was the place. He hoped he was right. To his left stood the Council Chambers, also called the Celestial Temple. It had been the seat of the Senate for eons, and it still was but the Senate was no longer the seat of government for all of Cybertron, but only for those Autobot states. There were fewer and fewer Neutral states. As more fell to the Decepticons, more joined the Autobot cause, forgiving the sins of passed Primes, and passed senates.

He passed passed the Temple of Primus, within it the Matrix Flame Chamber. The Polihexian did not meditate on the holy sites, they were not so holy to him. Jazz stood for the Autobots, had become the left servo of the Prime, but he did not see the mech as the avatar of Primus or the wisest of mechs. Optimus was as flawed as any mech, and in a position were his flaws could do the worst damage. There was a balance between the stylus and the sword, and sometimes the Matrix-Bearer leaned to much towards the stylus. If glyphs were enough to call Megatron back to the light, the war would have been over vorns ago, and Jazz’s life would have taken a very different turn. Free Wheeler would be alive, not murdered in front of Sunstreaker. His mechlings would not have spent vorns in Polihex, fighting to survive, fighting other younglings... killing... all for Straxis’ sport. No. Life would have been very different.

Tucked behind the taller spires, the Temple of Adaptus stood at the end of the winding path. It had always been meant to be a sanctuary, a place of quiet and restoration. Their number had been decimated during Nova Prime’s reign, where their had been among the number of political prisoners taken under the cover of darkness. The current Priesthood was younger, the acolytes who had been sent into hiding during the worst of the purges. Now they served Adaptus, as much to honour the priests who had saved them, as to honour the god. More than anything, they stood for what the temple had been founded for, they stood for the poor, and the weak, and the abused. Jazz thought them idealistic, but respected their devotion to their cause, and as he walked the last of the path, he hoped they would not turn him away.

“Greetings, what brings you to the Temple of Adaptus?” The Priest of the Gate asked.

“Business, sorta,” Jazz replied. Lying in this instance was probably not the best idea. “Two mechlings, Praxians have gone missing. ‘M hopin’ ya can tell me if they’re safe under Adaptus’ optics.”

“Two such mechlings did come in the mid-cycle,” the priest said. “They will remain here until they feel safe to leave.”

“’M not lookin’ to see’em leave,” the Polihexian assured him. “I come on behalf o’ there brother. Just makin’ sure they’re okay.”

“The mechlings are safe, and will be cared for,” The Priest of the Gate replied. “Give me your designation and I will see if they feel safe meeting with you.”

“’M Jazz,” he said.

The priest step away from his post, and into the temple. Jazz waited, he knew the rules. Thankfully, he did not have to wait long, and the priest returned in less than a bream, and beckoned him to follow. Venting a sigh of relief, the saboteur did just that. A network of honeycombs, large and small, the temple was broken up into a central worship space, places of private worship, and the priory that also served as the refuge. He followed the priest to the tall door that separated the public spaces from the private. A security drone scanned the priest before the door would open, and it was Jazz’s impression that these young priests were prepared to hold off any attempts to violate the refuge with considerably more force than their predecessor. They may have been less idealistic than he had thought, and the Polihexian felt new respect for them.

“Jazz!” Bluestreak cried as he crashed into the adult mech’s legs. “Is Prowl okay?”

“Y’re brother’s gonna be just fine,” Jazz promised. “I saw’m at the medicentre, Ratchet’s taken real good care o’m.”

“I figured you’d find us,” Smokescreen said as he stepped up. “We aren’t leaving until Barricade backs off.”

“I guess that was yer plan,” the progenitor replied. “Clever move, Smokey. Very clever. I hired a lawyer for yer brother, ‘n he’s gonna dig up every piece o’ scrap Barricade’s got in his closet. Ain’t gonna back down ‘til the court sees sense.”

“Might be a while,” the young Praxian said, a bit tartly. Fair enough, why would he have any faith in the process at this point?

“I spoke to Prowl,” Jazz explained. “Explained what I’d done, what I was doin’... He just ‘bout threw himself outta the medberth when he learned ya slipped the SPS. He’ll be glad to know y’re both safe.”

“Tell him I’ll take care of Bluestreak,” Smokescreen said. “He just needs to take care of himself.”

“’Bout that...” the Polihexian said. “So one thing sorta let to another ‘n I sorta asked ‘m to bond.”

“You did what now?” The youngling asked. “Did you make him crash?”

“Eeyup,” Jazz admitted. “Naturally, he ain’t answered.”

“Why?” Smokescreen asked.

“Because I wanna keep ya ‘round,” the saboteur replied. “He was right, he got know habsuite, ‘n no prospects. Even if Barricade does end up lookin’ like waste metal, that don’t mean the court’s gonna wanna hand ya back to him. If ya got shelter, in support, I think it’ll be a quick deal.”

“So you’d bond with him?” The student asked. “Just... like that?”

“I love the two o’ ya,” Jazz said. “The Twins love ya. Seems reason enough.”

#a matter of convenience #marriage of convenience #fanfiction #tf jazz #tf prowl #maccadams #just call me miss trope

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tricklingstreamdacre · 6 years

Text

Let Me Have This; Steve x Reader [Last People on Earth AU]

STEVE HARRINGTON x FEM!READER

SUMMARY: You’re the last people left in the world, it’s a hard reality to face knowing you’ll be the last ones here. But you’re going to make the most of it.

WARNINGS/NOTES: ANGST (oh my god), death (of like the world?+ animals), suicidal thoughts, car crash, blood

REQUEST: The people want more Steve what can I say (thanks @heckin-harrington ) WORD COUNT:

A/N: THIS IS THE LAST POST OF AU WEEK IT’S NOW MY BIRTHDAY I’M HAPPY Y’ALL

You were the last person on earth for ninety days.

Feet dangling off a plummeting cliff, the air pushing your hair behind your shoulders you wondered what would happen if you pushed yourself over. Left behind the world reduced to nothing but a wasteland and nothingness.

It was laer that morning you had met Steve Harrington.

Driving in another hijacked car you pulled up in another town searching for food to collect and resources to pick. You spoke to yourself loudly to numb the deafening silence around you, even if the birds still chirped and the flies still hovered. You thought back to the cliff while tossing a rock in your hands poorly, as the thoughts became more vivid you threw the rock into a glass pane of a music store next to you and heard it smash into a million pieces and scatter on the floor.

The sound was loud, the loudest thing you’d heard since your screams into open fields as you travelled the US alone. The thought made you let a tear fall from your face as you stood amongst the broken glass. Your fists clenched looking into the store filled with cobwebs and dust.

The sound of footsteps were ones you ignored, it reminded you of day sixty roaming the streets New York and you could feel the people around you bustling in hoards.

But these footsteps were real.

When they got quicker you frowned and turned around before seeing the silhouette of a boy your age.

You freaked, your heart skipped beats, eyes widened beyond your own knowledge and you felt your head spin as he walked closer with a similar shock.

“I’m going crazy,” you mumbled as your eyes started blurring his face coming closer. But he didn’t seem to slow and as you saw his greasy hair, pale complexion and large eyes and took it all in.

“No- you’re, you’re real right?”

You paused, the question was so weird, his voice was so foreign and you felt yourself cry with the most happiness you’d had in months.

“I-I’m real.” you paused, he stared tensely as you reached out for him, feeling the side of his face and tears poured down your face as you processed his existence, “Y-You’re real.”

You hugged him tightly, he hugged back just as quick and you could feel his tears stain your jacket as he thanked gods you weren’t sure he even believed in.

You were one of the last people on earth for another two years.

Standing side by side for months that turned to years you couldn’t even guarantee the days wondering if you’d forgotten to mark them off. But you found yourself clinging to Steve Harrington like a lifeline because he was the only reason you’d stayed.

You’d marked down every state in the US, travelling as far you could go and explored every mansion you found as if it was a virtual reality game. The two of you tried to experience things you’d always wanted to, took whatever you had wanted as a kid.

You sung on famous stages, visited famous sets, stole from the richest stores and hung onto small souvenirs from every place you visited. Your favourite was the photo’s you’d get from a working photobooth you spent hours in.

Because in the last one he kissed you.

Ever since the kiss you too had loved each other unconditionally, considering it might be because you were the last, but not caring, holding hands as you slept every night.

You were one of the last people for three years.

It was the third anniversary of your meeting, you were looking through an antique store eating cookies that didn’t go out of date when you heard a cough from behind.

Turning around Steve on one knee held a simple but beautiful ring in his hand and proposed to you.

You cried and kissed him as he slid it on your finger.

You had a June wedding in a beautiful dress you found in that very antique store.

Spending the night dancing for hours to a stack of mixtapes with a million songs to listen to, laughing and smiling, by the time your feet were blistering he dragged you to bed and stared into your eyes blessing the world for giving him one thing to love in this world.

Many nights were spent talking of past, these kids called Dustin, Mike, Max, Lucas, Will, Elle and his friends Nancy, Jonathan and some estranged one called Billy who had spent his last moments trying ‘to make things right’.

You talked of family, things you wished you’d done and things you regret. You cried into each other's arms when necessary, everything was free and sacred between you, for only the two of you to hear. Husband and wife in your early twenties.

You were the last couple on earth for four years.

You coughed for the third time during dinner and Steve looked at you worried, but you waved it off took some medicine that wasn’t out of date and went to bed thinking of the trip to the bowling alley you’d planned for tomorrow.

When you woke up Steve was outside picking out fruit and vegetables to eat, a dog, a stray you’d found alongside him dropping a ball at his feet every minute or so. You smiled standing on the veranda of the small house you’d been sleeping in the past few months.

“How you feeling?”

“Better, I told you not to worry,” you reassured as your hands wrapped around his waist the sound of your dog panting filling the area.

“Well don’t do it again.”

“Don’t cough?”

“Don’t get sick,” he elaborated, “I don’t want to lose you to a cold.”

“Don’t worry about that.” you waved off picking up the ball and throwing it into the large field.

Steve looked at you anxious, it seemed you forgot how risky your life with him was. He wasn’t a doctor, there would only be so much he could do before he’d just have to watch you fade away.

But you said it wouldn’t happen. So he didn’t have to worry.

He would have to worry about something else.

“Dustin!” you called, but the dog was gone.

You and Steve had been searching the lonely town for hours, but your dog you’d come to love and cherish had disappeared into thin air and you were both extremely concerned.

“We should go into the forest we found him,” you explained, “It’s the only place I can think of.”

He nodded and you both rode bikes there and started searching together, you had made a rule two months into knowing each other; never split up.

It started raining, hard, you were glad you brought an umbrella but Steve was getting worried at the idea of one of you two getting sick and was trying to get you to go home, but you refused to.

“I think I heard him!” you yelled out as the rain muffled your words, “Over there!”

He grabbed your wrist, “Y/N we need to go back.”

“I’m not leaving Dustin here!” you replied, the mention of Dustin softened his grip and you wandered further into the rain. He called out for you to stop but soon he couldn’t hear you.

He couldn’t see you.

Steve was the last person on earth for two weeks.

Watching Dustin dropped the ball at your feet, he let his face screw up in a mix of anger and sadness as he screamed at the dog and threw the ball so far into the field the grass now overgrown before storming back inside and locking the dog in the open.

“Please come back to me,” he mumbled between tears and a clenched throat, his hair dirty and his eyes sunken in and burning red.

The silence was killing him, the silence at dinner as his cutlery scrapped against the plate alone had him shaking, even managing to spill his juice over the tablecloth.

But the world would show him mercy when you appeared at the door covered in bruises, pale and weak barely breathing at his doorstep.

Screaming shits as he forced water down your throat and food in your mouth, he panicked his hands fumbling and shaking as he laid you on the bed giving you medication and disinfectants for every scratch you had.

You remember looking up at Steve, eyebrows slightly furrowed and your hands dragging over his face softly, it seemed to calm and still him and he finally looked into your eyes. They were shaking with adrenaline, you smiled breath hoarse, “I love you so much Steve.”

You and Steve were the last people on earth for one more year.

Burying Dustin in the ground it proved to be a wake-up call for the two of you, you’d forgotten about death as you only experienced it once on a mass occasion so many years ago you were numb to the memories. You held each other knowing what you were thinking but not speaking a word of it. Because you were both thinking about what would happen if one of you died, and the other had to stay here.

Two days later you were driving in a new car, you had tried to leave your existential crisis in the dust and appreciate the life ahead of you, you were out of town for awhile, you’d made a small machine to keep the plants watered and were now ready to visit some states and explore like the old days.

You weren’t paying attention to the road because there was nothing to see, you held hands tightly and hummed in unison to the song on the radio. A song you’d listen to a hundred times yet never gotten bored of, you could even play it on the piano a skill you picked up after practising and reading several books.

Steve fiddled idly with you ring a band on his as well, he felt content and happy, now well into his twenties he imagined what kind of life he had ahead.

You both said no kids, not only did it seem too risky for you but there would be no outcome, or two kids doomed to live alone when your inevitable pass, then what?

Giggling you started to sing louder to the song playing taking the sombre moment and creating laughter. You started to sing louder and louder and Steve joined as you danced spastically and without technique.

“Do you think we’re really the only ones?”

Steve shook his head, “What do you mean?”

“Well,” you paused, “What if their people in... Australia?”

He laughed and turned to you, “Maybe.”

He didn’t notice the large ditch in the road.

Going beyond the speed limit the second it hit and dipped one wheel of the car you felt yourself getting thrown throw the glass of the car and launched onto the road beside Steve.

You could feel the broken bones in your body, you could feel the glass in your face and hands as you let out a guttural cry.

Steve, less injured than you but still bleeding from his head, looked over at you in shock. He managed to crawl towards you with shaky feet and kneel beside you, he felt his heart leaping from his chest and stabbing itself.

“Oh my god Y/N.” he mumbled cradling your head.

“How bad is it Steve?” you breathed out as you looked into his eyes tears of pain flowing from your eyes, you tried to look down at your lower half but couldn’t so Steve did it for you.

He could only look for half a second.

“I-It’s fine Y/N.” he said, “It’s fine.” he reaffirmed trying to convince himself more than you. But with dirt in your hair as blood flowed from your nose and mouth you knew better, you could barely feel anything yet feel everything all at once.

“You know I love you Steve right?”

He nodded, “I love you too, you know that.”

You nodded slowly throat tightening, “Right.”

Taking a deep breath you started to shake and you felt yourself pale as everything started to tingle in your body, “And you know I won’t hold anything against what you do when I’m gone... right?

“Once you’re gone?” he questioned, “No you’re not leaving yet.” he denied his head shaking causing his head to pound harder.

You saw it in his eyes, the fear and denial and you let out a large sob as more tears spilt from your eyes into your mouth, “I’m not going anywhere, I’ll always be with you.”

He nodded, “Right, because you’re fine, you’re safe I’ll protect you-”

“You have.” you confirmed, “And I love you so much.”

You could feel everything around you blur, and it wasn’t from the tears, everything started melting and you took in the last clear look of your husband.

Steve looked down at your weakening body with adrenaline and fear, he wasn’t a doctor he didn’t know what to do.

“Wha do I do Y/N? I don’t know what to do.” he explained his voice high and desperate as he looked at you mouth open and tears and snot falling from his face, “Don’t leave me yet.”

“I’m not.” you confirmed, you felt a small jolt of adrenaline allow you to lift your hand and drag it over Steve’s face for the last time, like you’d done the first time you met him, like you’d done when he kissed you for the first time, like you’d done when you said ‘I do’ and when he saved you.

Though his face was wet and slightly cold, you felt comforted, “I’m always with you Steve. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

“I will,” he replied quickly, “I won’t forget, I’ll never forget you.”

“Good.” you whispered your eyes fluttering closed, “That’s good...”

Steve was the last person on earth for three days.

Standing in front of the small house he lived in forever he looked over to the small grave with Dustin written on a wooden board and then looked to his left where adorned in flowers your name was sketched as neat as Steve could attempt in a wooden board that sat in the dirt.

In his hands was a box, filled with your favourite souvenirs the world had to offer, mixtapes, photos and rings, wedding dresses and letters you had written in case someone ever happened to find this.

Steve wrote a long letter in careful detail though messily as he hadn’t had much need for writing in years. It had your final words, anything he thought important, any moment he loved the most. He wished he could write it all.

But after reading it once more he placed the letter in the box and left it inside the house, locked it and turned away warily as he coached himself not to look back.

Don’t look back Steve... Don’t do it.

He stepped into a car and slammed the door looking at the road ahead. And he wondered; how many days could he be the last man on earth with an angel following him everywhere he went.

Tell me your thoughts xxx

#au week #it's over #i'm giving you angst 101 for my birthday #stranger things au #steve harrington au #last people on earth au #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things headcanons #stranger things oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington gif imagine #steve harrington oneshot #steve imagine #steve harrington x reader

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realitv · 4 years

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He can't resist a question; the need to Know gnaws at him, makes his skin burn. "Do you ever examine your audience?"

LUCY RICARDO LAGS UNDER THE STRAINED CONNECTION. A dose of comforting nostalgia served in black and white, under 2000 pixels and less than a minute, twenty seconds. I LOVE LUCY, REMASTERED! ALL FOUR SEASONS FOR 59.99 IN A BOXED COLLECTORS EDITION FEATURING EXCLUSIVE ART, PHOTOS, AND BEHIND THE SCENES FOOTAGE! The film cuts; Ricky Ricardo sauntering in with a LOO-CEE, I’M HOOOME!(TM); the audio tinny and stretched and over processed; the audience laughter pops. There’s no mute button to be seen. No pause. No ‘x’. Advertisements are getting smarter. No use in turning off cookies ( and whatever metadata was ); you are being watched. The ad is much too big for the screen; taking up a good quarter of the browser and everything seems to slow down under it. The mouse juuuuust won’t make it to the ‘close application’ icon. Task manager isn’t responding right now — the audio looping, and looping, and looping; that two-bit tinny set of strings and that unnervingly cheery bit of 1950s punch music — EXPERIENCE ALL YOUR FAVOURITE MOMENTS OVER, AND OVER AGAIN! Loo-cee turns that perfectly perfect curled head; cigarette in hand and smiles that brash, bold, oh so Lucy smile. “You know, Elias, I could never resist you when you ask so nicely, honey.” Inhale, blow; a stream of smoke passing through her overlined lips and the air burns; reeks of synthetic tobacco and the far off scent of an electrical fire. WARNING: ALLOW THE PROGRAM ADFLY TO BYPASS YOUR FIRE WALL? “Desperation is a good look on you.” Another pause; this time to inhale her cigarette and flop on to the sofa, kicking up her legs to rest on the pristine coffee table piled with just enough clutter to look lived in. Perfectly imperfect: a mockery of that plastic, spastic housewife - HELLO, WIVES OF AMERICA! AREN’T YOU TIRED OF BEING PERFECT? AREN’T YOU JUST SO FUCKING EXHAUSTED? Watch me! Love me! You can be like me and have your perfectly-imperfect marriage — And maybe, just maybe, your Ricky will buy you a string of pearls from the seller downstairs; only this time, he’ll fuck her as a favour. “Funny thing is, everyone’s always glued to a screen - No one ever thinks about the fact that the screen watches back.” A dry chuckle; that painted mouth twitching upwards and her head bobs - that’s our Lucy; never sugarcoated, always just bold enough. “You tell me, Elias. I’ve been watching Johnny and Suzy and Tommy and Mary Jane grow up for years. They get married, they pop out a few kids, and put the kids right in front of what really matters. Me. Give me some time, honey. I figure things out real quick - Ricky didn’t marry me just for my looks, after all.” CUE AUDIENCE LAUGHTER. Then again, she’s not got the brains for the operation either — It’s a plot hole, but a necessary one. Her arms cross; perfectly manicured nails digging into the flesh of her arm, cigarette dangling carelessly and she’s almost laughing; that horrible, raw mouth streeeeetched across the resolution of the banner. “I didn’t always see everything, you know. Limited to shitty, shitty speakers and a tiny box in a living room. Things change. If I’m not in their living rooms, up on a pedestal or against the wall, I’m in their kitchens, in their hands. I watch, I listen. I learn. I’m very good at that, Elias. I’ve had such a long time to perfect it. Kinda makes you reeeeal sentimental, you know? Like watching your own kids grow up.” There! She gets teary eyed; wipes it away with a sigh. The audience affords itself an ooooo, an aaaaah. The banner times out. Sputters. Exits.

“I remember you, Elias.” Lucy Ricardo is too close and too personal, stretched across one monitor in its entirety and the plastic seems to expand for her; allots her more room than the original film ratio requires. It’s not pretty. You can only remaster everything so much before it all starts to look like shit. “You weren’t anything special as a tyke. I remember that much. Weren’t anything special as a teen cutting class, either. Average boy with an average face. Responsibility has changed you, Ee-lie-us. Now look at you, sitting in the hot seat and squirming.” The plotline sits off kelter in the retina display of her mind’s eye - a malformed identity swap plot; something so obviously on the nose ( repeated, over done ) and she misses it; waves it away like the smoke from her lips. The past is not important: it’s the now that matters! Somewhere, an intern flips a switch; nudges a button. Both monitors go dark; the silence is loud; grating — metallic. With a hum, the security feed for the Archives stutters back to life; energy efficient, battery optimizing screen brightness flooding the room with a cold light. The Archives are empty: the office is not. “So you see, Elias, you are all my audience.” The feed of the doors glitches; spasms. Pixels rearranging itself and Lucy Ricardo’s eye fills the square; unblinking. Watching beyond the years, the distance, the screen. “And like any entertainer, I must know my audience.” Another feed filled up; that eye getting bigger, bigger. “I have to know your wants, your dreams, your likes and your dislikes.” Again, again. “Every moment, stored, recorded, known.” The camera cuts, the shot changes — that terrible smile stretching across each and every piece of video feed and Lucy laughs that loud, grating Lucy laugh. The audience laughs with her. “I know everyone, Elias. And most importantly - I know you.”

#uwu #healieas #📺❝ THE SCREEN HAS ALL THE ANSWERS ! ( answered. )#📺❝ ( verse. ) PUT A PILLOW OVER THAT FEELING. BEAR DOWN. SMOTHER IT !

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gentlemenclubbbz · 7 years

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isolated - Cain (poly)

Last part of the isolated series, the vampire AU. Part one here x . It seemed like someone wanted this series to end, so here, this is it. A bit shitty, but I thank the person who actually liked this enough to ask me for an ending. Thank you, I forgot all about it, but it gave me pleasure to write it. ^^

***

Friday…

The fateful day, when all the strange things that happened will reach a conclusion. Or so you hoped. You haven’t heard from Joji since that day, and you were worried sick. It was all your fault, for letting him go so easily, to let him be charmed that easily. You were too distracted by your own fears and abandoned him. You should’ve fought some more, even if you were up against two full-fledged vampires. You should’ve died in Joji’s stead. That’s why, guilt was eating at your heart, intense guilt, like tentacles coiling around your soul and squeezing; a bitter reminder of what you’ve done and what happened. Not as if you remembered much, but it was there. And so, with unexpected help from a mysterious woman named Maxine, you hatched out a plan to go into the famous club, The Asylum, and seek Joji out. Maybe you’ll find him there. Hopefully, you’ll find him there. It was all you were thinking about—that he was safe and that he simply changed his group of friends. That he went on a bad path and ignored you because he was mad. You were ready to accept that fate and not the most plausible one: that he turned.

But it was Friday. And you were waiting outside the club, just like a week ago, waiting for Maxine to appear. Tapping your food, you were growing impatient; you just wanted to end this nightmare already and go home and have a nap. When was the last day you’ve properly slept? You don’t remember…Your sleep was plagued with nightmares, with Joji appearing in front of you with his throat bitten, covered in blood, pointing a finger at you and shouting ‘It’s your fault!’ over and over again. Until you woke up, sweating madly and feeling like crying. Shouting in frustration and throwing things around your apartment, you tried to let all your feelings out. You were a mess, everything around you mirroring that state of mind. You drank more coffee just to stay awake, you didn’t go outside, didn’t eat much. You just waited…

“Come on, where the fuck are you…?” you muttered under your breath, chewing on your nails. A tick you managed to pick up during your isolation. “Come on, come on, come—“

“Did you wait long for me?” the same suave voice belonging to the delicious-looking woman startles you and you quickly turn around to face her. She’s finally here, dressed the same way you’ve seen her before and smiling brightly. She was as beautiful as ever and you find yourself admiring her for far too long than necessary. “Ah, what’s with that face?” she muses, amused. Gently, she grabs your chin and leans in closer, almost as if she wanted to kiss you. “Fallen for me?”

“Stop!” but you don’t buy in her charade. You don’t know her and a woman with that much power to simply charm someone was dangerous. You slap her hand away, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Only smiles that enigmatic smile. “You’re late!”

“I’m sorry, I was getting ready.” Didn’t seem believable. She looked the same. “Don’t be so impatient. We’re going to find your friend.” As she was speaking, she took your hand in yours. You didn’t protest—but her hand was very cold. As if she wasn’t entirely alive…However, it was cold outside. It was understandable. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”

You squeezed her hand, feeling a lot calmer than before. You managed a sickly and timid grin, knowing that you were close to the climax. “Yeah…” you nodded. “Let’s just go.”

“Let’s.” Her tone was ominous, but she distracts you by pulling you with her inside the club. You hear the familiar genre of music and shudder—it all felt like déjà vu. The guards let her too easily, not even paying attention to her as you two slip by. But you’re getting into the mood, mesmerized by the lights and the loud music. The club was full again, corpses of people dancing spastically on the dance floor. Whispers and murmurs, eyes again focusing on you two. You felt like prey, but you tough it up; because you have Maxine by your side. She attracted all of the attention and she was thriving on it.

‘Don’t get distracted…’ you tried to focus, scanning all around for a familiar face. For Joji’s smiling expression or for…something else that was nagging the back of your head.

“Why don’t we dance a little?” Maxine whispers like a devil in your ear. “Blend in..” You’re charmed by her and you let yourself be pushed by her in the middle of the dance floor. Your body starts moving on its own, despite being tired as hell. You just move after seeing Maxine dancing, grinding against you and trying to get you to dance. But you do, enticed by the woman’s lustful movements, undulating very exotically …very…

The image started to blur, your head started to hurt. This was…This was…

Maxine smiles, surrounded by those bright lights. She mouths something, but you’re too far away to hear what she’s saying. But it looks as if she’s mocking you, her eyes sparkling with malice. And it all clicks in your head…

“YOU!” shouting, you rush towards the woman and grab her by the arms, holding her in place. She doesn’t protest, preferring to grin, pleased with herself. Your expression must’ve been so funny to her, twisted with anger. “You’re not Maxine! You’re—you’re that…” You remember him now. The exotic boy with an Australian accent, dancing and mesmerizing everyone around him. The one who sunk his teeth into Joji’s neck and… “Max…”

The music around you suddenly stops, leaving you in complete silence. Confused, you stare at the people surrounding you in a circle, but they’re only mindless zombies, standing like blocks with vacant eyes. You can’t cry for help, you can’t escape the trap the vampires set for you. They probably let you out the first time on purpose, to toy with you, to see you in despair—and now, they got tired of this game. You knew their secret: so they were going to dispose of you.

Insane laughter erupts next to you and you turn your attention back to Maxine. She was the main enemy, deceiving you with words and promises. You should’ve known. You should’ve been smarter than to trust a random person that conveniently had what you wanted. It should’ve been obvious that she was not was she looked like. She was laughing, her whole body shaking, slowly turning into a masculine voice. When she finally lifted her head, you knew that it wasn’t Maxine there anymore. It was Max, with that same sadistic expression, laughing in your face.

“Finally figured it out?” he takes a deep breath and, in one swift movement, he releases himself from your feeble grip and wipes the make-up with one hand. He now looks horrible, lipstick smudged and canines showing, glinting dangerously. “Iiiiddiiiioot~” he chants, giggling. “You’re so stupid! How easily you’ve fallen for our trap, ha ha!”

“N-No…” you stutter, frightened. You weren’t prepared for this, no weapon at your disposal. You were at this freak’s whim. “Stay away…”

“You’re fucking vulnerable. You can’t tell me what to do!” He takes a step towards you, menacing, and you take a step back. “You’re pathetic, trying to save your friend. He’s gone. He’s not the one you knew before.” A spark of hope ignited inside you: so Joji was alive! Well, at least, maybe in another definition of alive. “Ha ha. And to think Maxine actually took pity you and tried to help you.” He made an ugly grimace. “She thought I wouldn’t catch her. Going behind my back.” He spat. “You think I’m a fool?!”

“But…” you gulped, beginning to understand. “…you’re Maxine! Didn’t you hatch this on your own—“ you gasped, horrified. “You’re Maxine’s brother? The one she was talking about? That means, you two are…”

He laughed dryly, then frowned. “The same person.”

It all made sense. “You’re—you’re insane!”

“Might be.” Max looked disinterested. “I’m a Malkavian after all. Seems like they’re deemed like a bunch of psychos. But I.DON’T.CARE! HAHAHAHAHA. I just did it for my precious pet!”

“I have to get out…” you turned around, wanting to run in some way, but you hit someone’s chest hard. It stops you and you look up at the next threat. Your eyes widened, your lips starting to twitch with pleasant remembering. The tall bespectacled boy that you recalled being the owner of the club stands before you, a grim expression on his chiseled features. “You…Ian.”

A sigh escapes his thin pale lips, staring at you with a kind of sorrow. “You shouldn’t have come here…” He was probably the most humane vampire you’ve encountered so far—and you certainly enjoyed the kiss you two shared before. Ian touches your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb; he’s damn cold. You involuntarily lean onto that palm, enjoying it. Because you’re beginning to remember and to understand it all. “I spared your life and sent you away. Yet you’re still foolish enough to come back into our embrace…” He shakes his head. “Stupid.”

“Why?!” you shout, tearing up. “Why didn’t you let me die? You should have..”

“I…” Ian had no answer. “I don’t know…I just felt like it was the right thing. But I can’t help you now.” He lets go. “You’ve asked for this.” And steps away. You stand there, frozen. “I’m sorry.”

“Wait—“

“[name]?” the new voice, ragged and low, startled you. Turning around, you finally saw him there. Joji. The one you’ve been looking for. He was the same, albeit a bit pale and as if he didn’t sleep for a long time. His eyes were sparkling with recognition and miss, and you knew that there was something human still inside of him. He opens his arms, tentatively. …

But you didn’t care about all that when you ran to him and jumped into his arms. He barely caught you, but he held you there nonetheless, trapping you by the waist. He can’t be a vampire; he just can’t. Maybe he simply became their servant or something like that. You just cry into his chest, whispering his name over and over again. He hold you there, rubbing your head and sniffing the delicious scent of your hair.

“I’m so happy you’re fine…” you cry, lifting your head to stare at him. But he only looks sorrowful at you. “What—what is it? We’re going home now, no?”

Joji shakes his head “No. I-I can’t.”

“Wh-Why not? I don’t understand, they can’t kidnap you, they—“ he suddenly takes your hand and puts it on his chest. You stare, confused. “What—“ And then it hits you. You start to shake, shocked. “No—N-No…” There was no heartbeat. “You can’t be—“

“That’s what I am now,” he sighs. You try to step away, but his grip was iron. “And I’m dreadfully hungry, [name]…”

Fear seized you, seeing those canines aimed at you. He was going to eat you. “No, Joji, please—“

“I can’t kill humans, [name],” he lamented, his voice breaking your heart into tiny pieces. “So I know that you must understand why I’m doing this. I want to live. And this is the only way, I’m so so sorry, [name].”

“Don’t—“

“Sorry.”

#joji #max #ian #ian carter imagine #joji imagine #maxmoefoe imagine #max stanley imagine #idubbbz imagine #george miller imagine #joji miller imagine

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