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aerodaltonimperial · 10 months

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that spooky lighthouse au epilogue

(idk man i re-read this fic and was like oh, i love that universe still, that was so much fun to write, maybe i should write a little ending? so here you go.)

Darby wakes before the sun.

At this point of the season, not that much before, but enough that the glow coming in through the blinds is still a muted, reddish hue. It’s learned behavior, really; he was always woken up when something went wrong, or when the lighthouse turned itself on, and now, the instincts are slow to fade. Except that now he wakes up and stares up at the textured ceiling tiles of a just off campus apartment that’s far too small for the amount of people currently living in it.

There’d been a nightmare at some point last night, the kind that worms its way down into his bones. He runs a hand over his face and sighs. Then he rolls over to slide his arm across Jack’s waist. Jack is an indulgent sleeper—he never fails to curl around Darby’s hold, scooching back against him without waking up. He’s the sort of person who has never had to worry about his well-being while he slept, never had fear tickling the back of his neck even in his dreams.

Darby envies him, but more than that, he’s determined to make sure that stays true. He curves himself along Jack’s spine, slotting his knees behind the other’s. Presses a kiss to Jack’s shoulder, the little bit of skin peeking out from beneath his shirt collar. Sometimes, Darby can fall back asleep and catch another hour or two. This morning is not one of those times.

When it’s obvious he won’t be able to get any more rest, Darby slides out of Jack’s grasp and creeps quietly out of the room. There’s only one main room, separated into the living room and the kitchen; counter space is severely lacking, but neither Hook nor Jack seem to be much for cooking. The coffee maker holds a space of honor in the corner. The timer hasn’t switched on yet, so Darby flips it manually.

He’s sitting on one of the unpainted kitchen chairs, staring out the sliding glass door, when the door to the other bedroom opens. Hook makes it halfway out before he realizes Darby is there. Then he frowns, blinks, and sets his phone on the counter. “You’re up early.”

“So are you,” Darby returns.

Hook shrugs. He’s dressed in shorts and a tank. “Going to the gym. Can’t sleep?”

“Happens sometimes.”

Hook nods. He goes to the fridge and pulls out a bottle filled with an obnoxious green smoothie, one of those ridiculously expensive things both of them tend to buy without even thinking. He seems as though he’s getting ready to leave, but pauses before he hits the door.

“Hey,” he says, to get Darby’s attention. “I know you saved his life. So...thanks.”

“Thanks?”

“He’s annoying as fuck, and I swear he doesn’t have an ounce of sense in his head, but he’s my best friend,” Hook says. “I don’t know where I’d be without him. So. Yeah. Thanks.”

Darby nods once, slow. “You’re welcome.”

“You’re still an ass,” Hook tells him.

“Feelings mutual.” Darby jerks his head back towards the bedroom door. “He up yet?”

“Nah. He’s pretty lazy sometimes.” Hook doesn’t bother to wave when he leaves, just grabs his keys from the holder nailed to the wall. But the coffee is done, so Darby gets a cup. It’s some organic brand; the bag boasts that it was grown, like, beneath only blue lights that had been locally sourced in dirt flown in from a tiny island in the Pacific or some shit. Darby doesn’t know where the hell they buy this crap. Tastes good, though, so maybe he shouldn’t complain.

Halfway through the cup, Danhausen wanders out from the room. He squints blearily at Darby for a moment before waving a hand. “Ah. Good morning.”

“For an all-powerful entity, you sure would be easy to kill in the mornings,” Darby says.

Danhausen grumbles out something unintelligible when he goes to the counter to hunt down a clean coffee mug. “Yes, yes. Be sure to put a big neon light up when you invite things in. Danhausen will hardly be the most interesting specimen in the apartment.”

When Darby makes a face, Danhausen offers a wide smile. “Darby has been touched by an otherworldly. He is considered a delicacy in some realms now.”

“So has Jack.” Darby frowns.

“Huh,” Danhausen replies, with overly false surprise. “An added bonus.”

That makes Darby think a little. He takes another sip. “You keeping everything away?”

“Perhaps,” Danhausen says. “But it is not a full-time job. We are not very high on anyone’s lists. And right now, Danhausen will go shower, so that we remain that way: unnoticeable.”

Darby doesn’t really know what a shower has to do with not being noticed by dangerous entities from other worlds, but whatever. He finishes his coffee, pours another cup, and goes out onto the balcony. Dawn has broken, painting the sky red. Here, they are far enough from the coast that the smell of the sea is hard to pick up, but Darby lived his life by the brine, and he’d know it anywhere. It’s strange to be looking out over the morning and not hear the roar of the waves or the screams of the gulls.

Eventually, the door slides open behind him, and Jack pads out onto the metal. “Hey. When did you wake up?”

“Not that long ago,” Darby replies.

“I’ve only got Lit and Calc today, so I’ll be back early.” Jack leans over the railing, both elbows propped up against it. “Wanna hit somewhere near the beach for dinner?”

“Sure.”

Jack studies him, chewing on his bottom lip. “You okay?”

Darby turns, back hitting the rail. He loops an arm around Jack’s shoulders, mostly so he can pull the other in closer, press his face against Jack’s hair pulled back in a messy bun. The coconut scent of his shampoo is strangely grounding. His t-shirt covers none of his arm, the tattoo that’s still healing to hide the shadowy marks that will never go away: overlapping ocean waves against the rocks.

Against his better judgment, Darby misses those rocks.

But he’s here, standing on a balcony overlooking the sprawling student apartments that carry far too high a rent, drinking overpriced coffee that Hook will bitch about having to buy more often with more people drinking. Darby drops a kiss against Jack’s temple as Jack curls in closer, fingers sliding up beneath the hem of Darby’s shirt.

“Yeah,” Darby murmurs. “I’m okay.”

And for the first time in maybe forever, he really means it.

#Tag so you don't lose this shit #aaaahhhhh i missed this little universe so much #this was such an absolute BALL to write

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breadandblankets · 11 days

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Since Cass and Jason have such wildly different kill rules it makes sense that they would dislike each other at least a little bit. However, they are both friendly with Duke, so whenever the three of them are together they both try to be the favorite sibling

Cass and Jason are one of the tougher duos to keep a balance I think Jason is too afraid of Cass to try shit where she can see/know about to the best of his ability and to Cass he's like an especially weird bug she can't puzzle out (like you Died you know what that's like how could you think it's okay to bring to other people)

I don't think the three of em have much time to hang out in costume tbh so they're mostly hanging out in civies or in the Hatch (ie Dukes Turf because he's the only person who legally exists)

the moment Duke leaves for the bathroom or anything it's Dead silent as both Jason and Cass do their best to pretend the other isn't there

#cassandra cain #duke thomas #jason todd #batfam #bread talk #i love them but i know any au i make where Cass and Jason talk more then they Absolutely have to is a Very AU AU #even if i write them as twins or biosibs they Do Not Talk #jason is a tight ball of nerves in that silence too #cass is there well aware that hes afraid and enjoying every second

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ash-and-starlight · 11 months

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cosmo & wanda please make my ai enthusiast coworkers explode

#yooo photoshop beta is so cool no way look at how it changed the background of this pic!!#*the image looks absolutely fake and dogshit*#don’t get me wrong i think the auto fill feature could be really useful to the job but treating it as if it’s the second coming of jesus #bro shut up #SHUT UPPPPPPP #‘oh it’s so good it’s scawyy’ suck my balls #send post #‘o we can use this’#NOT THIS BITCH WHO JUST SAID THE FUTURE OF GRAPHIC DESIGN WILL BE THE SKILL OF WRITING AI PROMPTS OH I AM SEETHING #ABSOLUTELY SITTING THERE BOILING WITH RAGE #DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE

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willowser · 1 year

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okay but. vigilante!bakugou. with a full mask to cover his face, the only "super" one in a quirkless world. literally every dc trope ever, but i don't care because with him, it's so afhakfha.

you work together in some office job and he's always coming in late with his trousers loose and his shirt untucked. never really speaks to you, except for when there's a group task that needs to get done and your team reserves the conference room to figure out how you'll divide the work and he ends up sitting beside you somehow. borrows a pen, because he forgot one.

other than that, you just know of him, bakugou katsuki. quiet. always frowning. looks like he'd bite your head off for looking at him sideways. doesn't really catch your eye — though you agree with your coworker that he's kinda handsome when he's not scowling — and you don't think he's the kinda guy that's gonna go out for drinks after work with you and the team. and you're right, because he can't.

truth be told, you're not really interested anyway — because you're kinda-sorta, really-super into this guy dynamight, who stops by your apartment every night.

it's thanks to him that you didn't get mugged and left for dead in some alleyway a few months back, and though you think that makes him rather trustworthy, you know your friends would have a cow about the fact that you've never heard his voice or seen his face. that you're always sitting on the rooftop of your complex, waiting, until he's so close that you can feel the echo of his explosions in your chest. reverberating beneath your bones, just like your heartbeat.

you don't know why he bothers, but you also don't really care. he listens to the needless recount of your day, even huffs out a laugh at times. the most you've ever seen of him is the lower half of his face, the cut of his jaw when he took a drink from the chilled water bottle you had waiting. maybe a flash of his hair, but it'd been dark and you can't for the life of you remember if it was blonde or maybe light brown ?

the city is dying to know who he is because, despite being so explosive, he's pretty good at going quiet when he needs to; always manages to get away from the swarm of red and blue that chases him down the highway. and yeah, maybe taking justice into his own hands is a teeny bit irresponsible, okay, but you can't help but to feel a little safer, walking home under his echoing boom as he shoots across the sky.

#so dc but kfhakha grouchy bakugou katsuki that isn't friends with anyone at the office #assumed to have a major stick up his ass #everyone would sooner believe he's a serial killer than a vigilante hero with the way he acts #but there's something about putting on a mask that makes showing who he really is a little easier #especially to you 🥺#if only he could find a way to say something to you as himself 🥺#tell me his vigilante fit isn't just like deathstroke idk idk #AND YEAH deku is the only one who knows and he's such a total nerd and they geek out and make his support items together akfhaifha #i've been thinking about this for days goodbye #and you're absolutely right that he eventually finds the balls to pull his mask half up and plant one on you LOL #bakugou drabble #i guess akfhahfa #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou

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dykedvonte · 1 month

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Bisexual Benny mod redux where they keep the line: “Nice charlies too! Give 'em a shake for the Ben-man, will ya?”, When your a guy for the implication he likes your balls and wants to see them bounce.

#how we feel about Charlie’s also referring to balls yall???#I think he’d think it’s neat cause Benny “’Ball Lover’ Gecko loves balls #I feel like this is. crazy request during sex but bennys got priorities #this is absolutely nothing why did I write this #only cause I actually mention junk #fallout new vegas #fallout #benny gecko #benny fnv #suggestive

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stardustdiiving · 26 days

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They’re going to confirm my idea of Arlecchino cycles of abuse story and I am going to go absolutely bonkers

#fern.txt #I always am so restless bc everytime ppl weirdly handwring over the idea the anticipated woman char will be #written poorly bc there’s just no way genshin could ever write a complex or good female char #and like I get not trusting genshins writing competency but sometimes I think it’s just rlly unfounded #& ppl just wanting to be mad or even just not being very willing to engage w characters themselves #n weird to hear abt bc last character everyone was like this #abt was furina & complaints she was beinf made out to be a joke & not fit to be a real archon #and I just found it kind of bizzare when we just didn’t know her deal yet n they were clearly setting stuff up #and then they made her one of the best chars in the game which I was absolutely expecting fjcjnf #I think I have a good sense of when genshin is going to drop the ball or not #and I think arlecchino will be good. if somehow not then I will be a little heartbroken omg #genshin 4.6

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lloydfrontera · 4 months

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Now that Javier experienced Lloyd sacrificing himself do you think he will still want him to go and sacrifice himself and save others or will he be now fine with Lloyd wanting to runaway especially with what he heard through the door?

that's such an interesting question.

to start with javier never wanted lloyd to sacrifice himself. just to be clear. that's not something javier ever wanted of him. he hoped he would try to help others even if it meant risking his life which is different but i guess the difference can be a little tricky.

that being said.

i don't believe javier would ever want lloyd to put himself in danger ever again, not for him, not for the estate, not for anyone else. but. i do think he would subconsciously expect it from him. you get what i mean?

like. he'd never want or think to ask lloyd to risk his life again, he'd do everything in his power so lloyd is never in a situation where he would have to, just like he swore to do in ch 384

And on the other hand, he made a promise. He was determined. I will protect that stupid friend even more firmly. No matter what happens. No matter what situation comes. I will protect that coward who pretends to be calm. ‘So don’t whine that you don’t want to die. Because that won't happen. If that moment comes, I will be the one who dies. for you... I'm willing to do that.'

so like. as far as javier is aware he would never let lloyd do something like that.

but. he would expect it. because that's what lloyd got him used to. which is,, very important to remember imo. i don't think it's fair to get upset at javer for feeling disappointed when lloyd says he won't put his life at risk for the sake of others when time after time lloyd has shown that he's very much willing to do so. and has explicitly said he will do so. like!! talk about giving mixed signals here!

remember the mastodons incident?? that time javier got upset precisely because lloyd kept putting his life in danger?? and lloyd was the one that told him that sorry but he would keep doing it anyway??

"I fully get what you are saying," Lloyd continued. "And I know you have good intentions. You're telling me to run safely and don't take things into my own hands when danger arises. Right?" "Yes," Javier confirmed "But you're upset because I always get winded up in this situation by risking myself, totally ignorant of my place. I'm right on this one, too, right?" asked Lloyd. "Yes, that's right." "But what else can I do? I don't think I can be more careful in the future." "Why is that?" asked Javier. "There are people that trust and work for me." Javier wanted to refute and fight back. But he couldn't come up with anything, so he stayed silent. Lloyd continued to speak amid his silence. "Of course, I don't want to be in danger, either. I'm scared. And I hate dying all the more. But you see, everyone has their own responsibilities," said Lloyd.

like?? i don't think it's unfair for javier to expect lloyd to try to help others even if it means putting his life in danger when this is an actual conversation they had.

the misunderstanding here was that when lloyd said he had a responsibility to others, he meant the people that worked for him, the ones under his care, the people he's in charge of. he owes them that protection because they put his trust in him and he's not gonna betray that even if it means his life.

but javier thinks they have that responsibility with everyone. he thinks it's their duty to protect those than can't protect themselves, even if they're not part of their estate or territory. he believes they owe them that protection because they are stronger than they are and it's their responsibility to do their best to help even if it means their lives.

and guess what! lloyd always ends up coming back to save everyone anyway! despite his fears, despite his protests, he always ends up risking his life for strangers anyway!... okay, mostly for javier but still! javier doesn't know that! he doesn't know that the major reason lloyd disregards his safety is because he cannot stand the idea of javier dying while being a hero! why would he! they're both very stupid when it comes to the other!

as far as javier knows lloyd always ends up doing the altruistic thing despite his words to the contrary. why wouldn't he expect him to do it again even when he doesn't want him to.

so like. yes javier would be okay with lloyd running away but he wouldn't actually expect him to and it would be a jarring surprise to him if lloyd did.

and the thing is. i think if lloyd suggested running away and javier accepted, it would even more jarring for lloyd, because that's just... not what he would expect from javier. which i believe would then send him down a spiral of anxiety and mixed feelings about being the reason javier gave up one of the things he most admired in him that would end up with him deciding to stay and help. thereby confirming exactly what javier expected of him. again.

but again. that's just what i think ajskdjskdfds

#hey i got an ask #Anonymous #tged #the greatest estate developer #lloyd frontera #javier asrahan #ch 384 #ch 155 #this was fun! i didn't know what my answer would be when i started writing this down actually aksdjlsdfds #but yeah i think it's fascinating to see javier's expectations and wishes for lloyd developing through the novel #he's a little ball of contradictions that make perfect sense when looked at in context #remember that javier started with the lowest opinion possible for lloyd he had absolutely no expectations or hopes for him #him coming to expect lloyd to be selfless and risk his life for others??#completely lloyd's fault for. y'know. being selfless and risking his life for others!! funny how that works!!#turns out when you act a certain way other people come to expect that behavior from you! for both good and bad things! funny!!

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ctrl-lupin · 7 months

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I'm too gay for this shit

#i will not start talking about this scene or i might actually combust into a ball of fury #one day i will write a coherent essay about this episode and jigen's relationship to cicciolina. but today is not that day.#(i'm even MORE mad at fujiko because there was absolutely zero reason for what she did other than being a huge dick)#(...i said i wasn't gonna talk about it. i said i wasn't gonna talk about it. i need to chill.)#and that is all for TWFCM; next batch will be Seven Days Rhapsody #because we like getting emotional whiplash in this house! :D #daisuke jigen #lupin iii #twcfm #the woman called fujiko mine #takeshi koike

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sssusuki · 8 months

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In the story, Who Made me a Princess, Ijekiel Alpheus has his potential as a great character diminished by the way he was not only handled by the author, but those around him and the story. He is someone who has complicated relations with his family, who have only ever seen him as another tool in the family to achieve greatness and therefore uses his intelligence to bury himself in books to drown out that loneliness. Even if his father loved him, and says it later on in the story, it is never actively shown— and if anything, it is assumed that his father abandoned him after his mother died. He had his future decided the moment he was born and he had no control over his own life and that is why he fell so fast for Athanasia. Despite all his high walls and barriers, because she was something unachievable and, like her name, impossible for his father and himself to imagine. If he was given the chance to develop as a character rather than being a secondary love interest, they could've shown his complexities and— if anything, his quite gray morality. As he has shown that he will harm himself and others to get to his own satisfactory conclusion (as specifically shown in his standoff against Athanasius) as well as his more rivalry and forbidden relationship with Athanasia. In this essay I will

#athykiel #athanasia de alger obelia #wmmap #who made me a princess #ijekiel alpheus #HAHSKDUEKSBK I COULD WRITE AN ESSAON THIS MAN.#i am just saying. Ijekiel deserved to go absolutely feral.#they like framing Lucas as the one that is rebellious and more of a bad boy stereotypically #but id actually like to say that Ijekiel is more rebellious in his manner of going about things. he just had a more passive external persona #while Lucas. in my opinion. is a bit more emotional #which I absolutely love #they are both babies and I would rewrite this if I had motivation #ill definitely make a little chart on how I view the characters and how id use them in a story because. as much ws I love Spoon's story #she brought them to life afterall!#after Athy's debutante ball things seem to change courses?#because the first season as Athy as a kid and her being very smart and cunning going about Claude who. in all aspects would kill her #and then suddenly she loses all of that and constantly talks about how much she loves him as a father and. thats just an ick to me

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goldensunset · 2 months

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there are games that i enjoy playing more and there are games i enjoy thinking about more. sometimes the overall story and themes and blorbos are delightful but actually playing it is a little annoying so i just rotate it in my mind instead. sometimes i get absolutely sucked into the gameplay and the world and the experience for dozens or hundreds of hours and i enjoy listening to the soundtrack but it has little to no lasting impact on me as a person bc something in the story just failed to hit and that’s ok. both are good both are beloved. obviously the ideal piece of media is one i both enjoy actively consuming and thinking about but my mindset is that if a piece of media has any single good thing in it it’s a good piece of media. give me literally anything to work with and i’ll extract joy out of it. i’ve literally never played a game i didn’t like btw

#first category includes games like skyward sword and og twewy #for the record i do love both of those games even as actual games i enjoy a diverse variety of gameplay styles #but compared to some other stuff i’ve played yeah it’s not my absolute favorite #but the THEEEEEMES. the stories of those games give me brainworms #the kh mobile games fall into this category (<- has never played them per se but knows enough about em)#(in terms of gameplay i mean)#(also it is true that watching 6 hours of cutscenes isn’t always appealing)#second category is like. hyrule warriors age of calamity and tears of the kingdom #i bet you’re surprised to hear me put those in the same place #neither of them had the best writing in my humblest opinion but MAN did i enjoy playing both of those sooooo much #i got so sucked in they’re both really fun. in completely different ways lol #this is not to say i didn’t get driven crazy by totk’s story but just compared to other games maybe not as much #and that’s ok!!#oh also neo twewy is in this category. they kinda dropped the ball on the writing (even though i do have blorbos from that game)#but it is a really fun and cool game #botw does both things for me. beloved fav game #most perfect piece of media in existence #every pokémon game i’ve played has done both for me #well idk platinum didn’t have a Blorbo so it loses story appeal to me. but it makes me smile a lot i enjoyed playing it #even if it doesn’t like Live In My Brain like the others #i uh. can’t rank most of the kh games bc i haven’t played most of em 🫠#someday…#twilight princess is hmmmm ok so like the gameplay and music and world experience were PHENOMENAL #midna HARD CARRIED the story is the thing. i didn’t generally like the writing but she alone makes up for it.#in my view it still deserves to be docked points for that but like they did pop off nonetheless #peach rambles #this is the reason i have so much joy in my life btw #it’s because i simultaneously have a very critical eye and i have the ability to put into words exactly what i do and don’t like #AND i have the ability to turn off that part of my brain and optimistically embrace everything in good faith #i give everything the benefit of the doubt and focus on the good

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whos-hotter-jjba · 27 days

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Have you done the JoWives yet? Like Erina, Suzi Q, and Jotaro's Wife?

Ohh, not yet!

JoWives Matchup

#thanks for the submission!!#whats up with jojos and blonde crushes huh #im going for my absolute girlie suzi q who im writing a fic about #but they're all so pretty and i love jotawife's dress too #phantom blood #battle tendency #stone ocean #steel ball run

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and-stir-the-stars · 1 year

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@dire-kumori has an au where Scooped Mike gets time-travelled to before CC and Liz's deaths, and he's filled with such blind rage and self-loathing upon seeing his younger self that he kills young Mike over and over again in a time loop that young Mike barely even understands. Guess who wrote a one-shot for it? (I'm also tagging @serenefig and @cloudwhisper23 bc I feel like you'll be interested in reading)

word count: 3,715

“Have fun with your friends’, brats. Don’t even think about coming back until morning unless you want to spend the night outside, ‘cause I won’t bother unlocking the doors for you.”

Cold lines of metal pressed grooves into Mike’s back as he leaned against the front door threshold and waved his siblings goodbye. His voice resounded in sharp echoes across the tree line; he spoke a bit too loud considering that his little siblings were only a few feet away, but then again, that was the point.

You never knew what things were lurking in the shadows, listening and lying in wait for the moment they could get you alone. Sometimes, however, you could use that to your advantage.

Michael’s gaze roved over the tree line as his siblings turned their backs on him and walked down the driveway. The trees surrounded their entire house in a near-perfect circle; shadows crept beneath the trees’ gnarled, grasping finger-like branches. As the sun slumped further down in the sky, the shadows drew steadily closer and closer to the house like a tidal wave of darkness begging to be held back no longer.

The eldest Afton’s jaw clenched as he dug his teeth into his gum with even more ferocity. Slowly, he pulled his Foxy mask from the top of his head to cover his face.

He didn’t have to be afraid with the wicked smile and sharp teeth covering his face. It was an assurance that Michael could be strong and brave even when– no, especially when he was all on his own, just like the pirate fox he felt so much for.

If a monster wanted to chase him down, then so be it. But as long as Mike had his mask on, the monster wasn't the only dangerous thing around.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Electricity shot through every nerve ending in Michael’s body. The jolt of adrenaline made every hair stand on end, and heat roared through his veins like wildfire as Mike crouched behind the garage wall with his fingers white-knuckled and half-numb against the cool metal of his bright red bat.

Each breath passed his lips at a crawl. Everything around him seemed to blur and fade to gray as Mike focused his entire being on the harsh slam of rubber soles coming closer and closer.

A million ghostly aches, sharp and dull and stabbing and pressing aches of a million undeaths, all sparked to life with increasing intensity as the monster drew closer and closer, but Mike pushed away the memories of aches and pains assaulting his limbs.

He only needed to get one good shot in.

He smelled the bastard long before it got close. It was something like the curdled cup of milk that Mike had found in his room last week, the maggot-infested animal carcasses he and his friends would poke at when they found them on the side of the road, the stank of rotten eggs– all those putrid smells and more clinging to the bastard's skin in an eye-watering stench that made Michael’s stomach churn and his throat burn on principle.

Mike's heart hammered in his chest, almost to the same beat as the footfalls chasing him.

There was a flurry of movement as the sicko ran past Mike where he was crouched out of sight behind the wall.

The reaper's footfalls quickly slowed as though somehow aware that it had been duped, but Mike was already moving.

The decaying monster didn't even have time to turn around before Mike jumped forward and slammed his bat into the back of its head.

His years' worth of practice hitting baseballs did nothing to prepare him for the vibrations that rocketed painfully through his arms and shoulders and all the way down his back, nor for the sickening crack of a human skull shattering under his hands.

The monster went down, but Mike could only stand there even as a voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to run. Vomit burned his throat at the curdled blood and the dark red and purple slimy skin that clung to the metal of his bat before it fell to the ground with a wet plop beside the monster. Thick droplets of the creature’s ice-cold blood dribbled down Michael’s face and smeared against the teen’s lips as he stood there in shock.

Boney claws wrapped around Mike’s ankle. The sharp pain of bone digging underneath his skin jerked Michael’s mind back to awareness, and he brought his bat down on the thing's wrist just before it had time to yank him to the ground.

The fingers didn't let him go even after the impact of Mike’s bat ground the compact bones along the creature’s wrist into fine dust held together only by moldy stretches of tendon and skin.

Michael brought the bat down on the thing's arm again and again and again before its other hand finally snaked around and grabbed hold of the slippery dark red metal.

Michael yanked the bat closer, cursing himself for giving the reaper a chance to rip his weapon away. But the reaper didn’t; instead, it used the momentum of Michael’s action against him.

Mike's vision went red with pain as the handle of his bat flew back at him and slammed into his lips with enough force that Mike heard his plastic mask crack on his face.

Except Michael realized a split second later that it wasn’t just his mask that had cracked. Something sharp and coppery exploded in Mike's mouth and the teen choked on shards of his own teeth as the fractured remnants slid down the back of his throat.

The thing's fingers were still locked around his ankle, and the moldy strands of tendon and skin keeping its bony purple hand attached to the rest of the monster's body snapped apart as Michael stumbled backward with tears in his eyes and dark red blood dribbling down his chin. He was too stunned by pain to react even as the monster peeled itself off the ground with one arm; its other, handless appendage hung limply against its side in a mess of unnatural angles kept together only by thin layers of rotting skin.

Its neck snapped down to look at its obliterated arm, but somehow, the creature looked almost bored as its empty eye sockets focused on the mangled stretch of flesh and shattered bone attached to it. The monster’s remaining fingers latched around its broken arm before ripping the twisted limb from its shoulder with enough force that its entire body jerked at the motion.

The shattered lower part of the arm flopped to the ground in a pile of putrid skin, and the reaper's head snapped back up and its empty eyes focused directly on Michael with its fingers still grasping the remains of its upper arm.

"You're going to regret that,” it whispered in the grinding croak reminiscent of a bag of gravel and forks shoved down a garbage disposal.

"M-Make me."

Michael had wanted to sound stubborn and strong, but the words cracked in the air and passed his lips in nothing but a whimpering stammer as he tried not to gurgle on his own blood.

He should have ran the second he had gotten a hit in on this– this stupid son of a bitch. Things were– Everything was already going so wrong.

The creature lurched at him. Michael didn't have time to run or stumble away; he barely had time to raise his bat.

The reaper still had the upper part of its broken arm in hand, but Michael didn't notice the sharp end of broken bone protruding from the severed arm until the jagged point had already buried itself inside Mike’s shoulder.

Two pinpoints of light sparked to life in the monster’s eyes, and its gaping black eyes looked directly at him as Michael screamed.

The reaper ripped its broken arm out of Michael’s shoulder and aimed for the teen's heart.

Michael just managed to ram the end of his bat into the reaper's neck at the last second.

It was a weak blow. The monster’s close proximity didn’t give the teen enough room to maneuver the long bat and Mike's arms and wobbly legs trembled dangerously, worsening his ability to strike. But by some miracle, it was enough to make the monster stumble a few steps back, though it grabbed onto the teen's bat and ripped it from his hands as it stumbled.

Michael didn’t fight to get the bat back. He turned on his heel and ran.

The teen’s hands clawed at his own shoulder as the monster’s footfalls echoed behind him once more.

Tears stung Michael’s eyes as he remembered that bloody, grimy, disgusting bone piercing into him. God only knew what kind of germs that thing had put into his system– what if the wound got infected?

Not that an infected wound would matter if Mike didn’t keep himself alive and out of the creature’s way.

Michael forced the pain and panicked delirium away. He had to focus; this was the important part.

The reaper was just behind him, following at a pace closer to a walk than a run.

Somehow, that was so, so much worse. The monster didn't have to run to keep up with him, and it knew it. It would always catch him in the end, like a hunter casually strolling after the blood trail of a wounded deer. The creature would never tire nor stop chasing him, and it was just a matter of time before Mike got too tired to go on running from it.

‘No. No, no, no– not this time.’

The monster’s slower pace did make this more difficult, though. Michael couldn't move too fast. He needed to always be just out of the creature's reach, or he would risk the monster getting distracted or frustrated and trying to cut him off by going a different route.

This would have a way better chance of success if Mike could keep the monster right where he wanted it.

Michael dashed into the house from the garage and raced up and down hallways and from room to room. As he ran, he ducked and jumped periodically to avoid tripe wires, avoided stepping on any rugs, and danced around jagged pieces of metal and nails and blades that had been embedded into the hardwood floor.

He really couldn’t afford to mess up this part. Any wrong moves or missteps would have to be avoided at all costs. But with any luck, the monster hunting him wouldn’t be so careful.

As he raced up the steps, he made sure to skip the fifth step down. But as he reached the top, it slowly dawned on him that things had been unusually quiet. As far as Mike was aware, the monster never seemed to react much to pain, but there was a distinct lack of surprised grunts or infuriated yells, or whirring gears and mechanical parts snapping as traps were set off.

Chest heaving as he panted, Michael turned and looked down.

The reaper was standing right there at the bottom of the steps. It looked exactly the same as it had when Michael had fought it in the garage, like it hadn’t set off a single trap during the chaotic chase.

Its head was tilted back, staring at the kitchen knives and heavy hooks used to hang endoskeletons that Michael had stolen and hung from the ceiling over the steps. They were hung high enough that Mike could race up and down with no problem, but the taller monster should have gotten a nasty surprise as it came after him with that single-minded focus it always seemed to have.

Instead, the monster looked up at the trap with an annoyed expression before meeting Michael’s eye.

Keeping its head ducked low, the reaper placed its foot on the first step.

Michael’s heart leaped into his throat and he stumbled down the hallway, struggling to breathe properly through all the panting and the blood still flooding his mouth and throat.

How was that thing still walking?! Mike had set death traps up in every inch of this house; it just wasn’t possible that the reaper could have stumbled through the house without setting a single one off!

The thing on the steps was still way, way too quiet. Had it seen him skip the fifth step down?

Mike turned for a split second to see if the reaper had gotten to the top steps yet.

A sharp pain sliced through Michael’s throat.

That single second of distraction had been enough time to throw several hours of analyzing the layout of every trap he'd set up in this house out the window.

The sharp feeling wrapped around his entire throat as his own momentum forced him further into the trap. The wire tightened, and suddenly Mike’s feet left the floor entirely and he slammed against the ugly red wallpaper.

Hurricane was a small town. One where there wasn't much to do, especially when your father worked at the most interesting place in town and you had to spend nearly every day there for hours on end.

Michael and his friends had explored every nook and cranny and forgotten place there was to find in the town. Including the abandoned railroad tracks in the surrounding woods.

Those tracks were so old that the rusty spikes meant to hold them together could often be found lying on the ground around the tracks, ripe for the taking; even the ones still riveted inside the old tracks could mostly be removed with some determination, and the sharp, rusty, six-and-a-half inch long spikes were attractive prizes to a group of rowdy teens with nothing better to do.

Michael had stored a lot of them away in his closet over time.

Sticking the rivets through a slab of plywood and nailing the plywood plank into the wall upstairs with the sharp ends facing outward had been a lot of effort, just like a lot of the traps he had spent the entire day building, but Michael had deemed it a worthwhile venture because he had been certain those spikes would be able to do some damage.

And Michael had been right.

Michael had put six or seven of those spikes through the plywood, but when Mike slammed into the wall, he only felt one big blast of pain set his back on fire. He didn't even have time to scream before a gush of blood and vomit slid through his throat, staining his shattered teeth and turning his inhuman screech into a quiet gurgle.

The wire stayed wrapped around Mike's throat and cut deeper as his feet–- suspended by the railroad spikes and wire too high for the teen to reach the ground– thrashed wildly in the air.

Michael’s vision went black as the thrashing jostled the spikes, widening the holes in his back and sending the sharp, rusted rivets deeper into his flesh until some of them scraped against his ribcage.

Gasping, Michael sucked in one shaky breath after another and tried to ignore the desperate need to claw himself upward. His throat and lungs were filling with liquid, but he wasn't drowning in water. There was no surface he could rise above to make it all stop.

What a strange sensation it was to drown in your own hallway without a drop of water in sight.

Bloody fingers clawed at the wire around his throat, but he couldn't pull it away any more than he could clear his airway.

Salty tears leaked down Michael’s face in a futile attempt to clear away the blood still staining his chin. Between one blink and the next, the red wallpaper and family picture frames in front of the teen were replaced by two hollow black eyes and putrid purple flesh flecked with varying shades of green mold that peeked out of the crusty white bandages holding its splitting skin together

The monster cocked its head at him, and Michael finally got a good view of the damage he had dealt it earlier. The side of its head had caved in like deflated basketball or a sandcastle under an oncoming tide, and yellowish-white shards of bone jutted out from the jelly-like mixture of blood and decaying muscle dripping from the cracks in its head.

The white pinpoints of its eyes flashed up and down him curiously, watching the blood flow down Michael’s body and drip into an ever-widening pool under his feet. The thing's lips had long ago rotted away, but Michael realized as raspy, cracked laughter spilled between the thing's dried-out, wrinkled gums and bared yellow teeth that the monster was smiling at him.

"You bastard!" More blood dribbled down Michael’s chin and gurgled inside his throat. Mike tried to spit it all out like this was nothing more than his morning mouthwash routine. "You bastard!"

Floorboards moaned under the reaper's feet as it took another step closer. Michael flinched as it did so, and immediately bit back a cry at the white-hot pain of spikes shifting inside his back and scraping against bone and organs.

"That looks like it hurts," the reaper rasped.

Michael’s tears stung as they leaked into cuts on his face from his earlier fight with the monster. He had felt hot and sweaty before from all the running and fighting, but now his fingers were iceblocks against his neck as he struggled with the wire digging into his flesh. A frighteningly cold, bone-deep chill cut into Michael's form, and the child trembled as he struggled to breathe through the blood and the pain.

He couldn't run. Couldn't fight. The monster– the reaper– was going to kill him now.

At least the pain will stop, a voice whispered in the teen's head.

A quiet sob shook the young teen's core. He needed the pain to stop so fucking much, but he didn't want the pain to stop– he wanted to live.

But if he was going to die, at least it would be on his own terms.

"Go ahead," Michael growled. "Jus– Just g-get it over with."

The creature cocked its head at him again, like it had been too distracted watching the blood seeping from Michael's form to bother listening to what he had said.

"Just d-do it!" Michael sobbed. "K-kill me, you– you wrinkly, p-puss-filled ball-sack! Come on! Just– just– get i-it over with and kill me!"

The reaper took another step closer. "No."

Blood-shot eyes locked onto the reaper's gaping eye sockets. "Why?!"

Wasn't that the point?! Wasn't that what this– thing– had set out to do, over and over and over?!

The reaper's hand settled on Michael’s chest. Mike didn't have the energy left to flinch or be wary. He only met the reaper's eye in pained exhaustion.

But then the reaper pushed.

Michael screamed as his prized railroad spikes dug deeper into him until his bloody back was finally pressed flush against the wall.

One of the railroad spikes went all the way through Michael’s chest and stabbed into the reaper's palm, but the monster didn't seem to notice. It ripped its hand away before latching onto one of Michael’s wrists as the teen frantically tried pulling the reaper's arm away from him.

"You want to know why?" Its voice whipped against the air in a wild hiss.

The dull hallway light gleamed off the dark red liquid coating Michael’s skin as the reaper shoved the teen's blood-stained hand in front of his face before it snarled at him. "Because no matter how many ways you try to run or fight it, you will always bring this hell down on yourself with your own hands. You did this, Michael."

'You're insane,' the teen wanted to say, but there was too much blood in Mike's throat for him to talk, or even to breathe. He tried shaking his head at the thing, but the wire was starting to cut frighteningly deep inside his throat. Michael could only stare at the monster in front of him with wide-eyed horror and beg for it to just end this, like the bastard was supposed to do when it caught him.

The reaper released Michael’s wrist, and the teen's arm fell limply down to his side.

He should do something; he should fight. But his energy had been draining away with every second he spent hanging on his own death trap, and there was so little left inside him.

He couldn't even lean away as the reaper lifted its only hand, moved its fingers around the edge of his mask, and traced the curve of his head with an almost gentle touch.

The reaper's broken fingers paused on a string looping behind the teen's head. It latched onto the string and pulled, ripping the Foxy mask off of Michael’s head.

The reaper's teeth ground together as it glared down at the bloody mask before letting the plastic slip from between rotten fingers and fall to the bloody floor with a wet and heavy thunk. And without hesitation, the reaper slammed its foot down on the only thing that had ever made Michael feel strong.

Hearing the sharp crack of plastic as the monster decimated the mask and shattered Foxy's maw into pieces wrenched a hopeless sob out of the teenager's chest.

The reaper stayed still. It didn't move further away, nor did it move any closer.

It only watched as Michael struggled to free himself from the trap one last time before finally giving up.

Michael struggled to gulp down another shaky breath through his sobbing but was rewarded only with more blood in his lungs and pain searing every nerve ending until even the most minuscule movements lit every cell and nerve in his body on fire.

Through it all, the reaper stood back and watched with a smile.

Not wanting to see the monster's smug, rotten face or the blood staining his own body anymore, Michael could do nothing but close his eyes and wait for the moment when the last drop of blood would drip from his body and all the pain would finally end.

(Michael had the sinking feeling that death wouldn’t be that easy of an escape.)

#tw violence #tw blood #tw injury #tw child death #tw death #tw corpse #tw body horror #tw torture #anyway did you enjoy the parallels to the Bite of '83?#and the slight parallels to pizza sim?#and the motif of mike's foxy mask making mike feel brave and like he has a chance until the reaper rips #it from his face so mike can die ''like the coward he is'' (in reaper's mind)?#ik the theme of this au is the *reaper* killing mike but i really liked the idea of #mike setting off one of his own traps and r. mike leaving him to slowly die.#because he doesn't just want mike dead. he wants him to SUFFER. and it's poetic is it not?#mike bringing about (his own) death in more ways than one. you can't escape what you are.#also ''you wrinkly puss-filled ball-sack'' ajdfajksdfhsjfks michael you think you're SO FUNNY don't you #i haven't actually written a teenage mike who isn't subdued and traumatized by the Bite before #it was fun!#10/10 would do again. young mike is so stupid and arrogant. an absolute delight to write.#paradoxical reaper wip #paradoxical reaper au #michael afton #mike afton #scooped mike #foxy mask brother #foxy mask #kats scribbles

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