I am a person who has quite a bit of passion for writing. I love writing, especially writing fanfiction, but most of the time I can't do it due to a lack of ideas/proper prompts. Which is exactly why I will be doing writing requests.
The fandoms I will be focusing on will vary based on my interest, and I will update them quite frequently.
Sometimes I will post writing of my own stuff
The current fandoms are:
☆ Killer Frequency
☆ Hollow Knight
☆ Underworld Office/Charlie in Underworld
☆ Homicipher
Rules:
Mostly focusing on x reader
Be as specific as you want. If not, I'll improvise the details
If not specified, reader will be gender neutral
If not specified, the relationships will be platonic
Note: this follows the theory that the protagonist is a younger version of Joseph Randolph; the protagonist is addressed as 'Joey' and with he/him pronouns; Trash Collector is addressed as 'Ro' for the last part and with they/them pronouns; ooc?; like one or two swears; no ships
A short stop for rest
Running around the Heilwald Klinikum was exhausting and quite frankly terrifying. It seems that the courtyard is the only relatively safe place where Joey can rest. And plus, the Trash Collector is there! Maybe he should ask what their name is, after all this time... But also, does he really need to? They don't seem particularly offended about it, nor have they ever brought it up themself. As he walked forward into the main part where he knew he'd find his buddy, he thought about giving them a nickname instead. Calling them 'Trash Collector' every single time feels a bit too much, so a nickname would totally work, right? He just needs to think of one...
Once he arrived, he sat down on the stairs leading up to the library, resting his arms on his knees while pondering over the matter. A nickname... Was he even creative enough to think of one? He's a med trainee, he's barely qualified to do his own fucking job yet and that stresses him out beyond belief, so it feels like his mind is way too preoccupied to participate in simple endeavors like this one.
Anyway, while he was sitting and sulking, Trash Collector actually noticed him. They came over and sat down next to Joey, mostly out of curiosity.
"What are you doing?" Joey almost fell back out of surprise and anxiety. That prompted a giggle from the Trash Collector. It sounded weird, but at the same time extremely mischievous. Did they do this on purpose? What a bastard.
"Nothing much... Just... thinkin'."
"About what?"
"About life. Like, all of this... I don't think I've acknowledged just how... insane all of this is," quickly realizing that he was about to start rambling, Joey added: "sorry, you probably don't need to hear about that stuff."
"No. Go ahead."
"Huh?" He was confused. Why would the Trash Collector of all people care about his thoughts?
And almost like reading his mind, they responded:
"You've listened to what I have to say. I want to hear you back."
"But–"
"The trash doesn't count. You've listened to me before that, have you not?"
Damn it. That was a fair point. Were they being genuine? Or was this another scheme to manipulate him...
No, no, he shouldn't think about them like that. They're different. They're not... hostile. At all. Even the Ominous Voice couldn't give him that. But they can and it confuses Joey just as everything else in this cursed place. Maybe he should reconsider his career choice...
"Well? You gonna talk or not?"
"Oh, um– yeah, yeah... I was just..." Wait, what should he even say? About the nickname and whatnot, or about just everything else?
Trash Collector scoffs and nudges Joey on the shoulder, "Come on, just spill it already. It's not like you're hiding government secrets, right?"
"No, of course not." Joey sighed and brushed his hair back, a habit he'd picked up in his teenage years when he desperately tried to straighten out his hair. Whatever he did, it never worked. He's in his 20s now and his locks still stay proudly fluffy. "There's just a lot going on in my mind. Um... Would it be okay if I gave you a nickname?"
"Hold it, what have you been calling me all this time?"
"Trash Collector..."
"You can't be serious." Somehow it was clear to Joey that they were more amused than upset.
"Sorry... I couldn't think of anything better. But yes, I got lazy with referring to you in such a way in my mind, and, to be fair, I don't really want to know your real name. Unless you want to tell me?"
"No, not at all."
"Figures. So how about this: I will tell you my nickname, and you'll tell me yours. Surely you have one?"
"Yes, I do. It's a sensible deal, kiddo."
"You can't call me 'kiddo,' you're like, only 2 years older than me."
"I'm 42."
"Nevermind." The two of them laughed it off, but Joey's smile quickly vanished. It feels like he understood just how tired he is only now, in this very moment. The pitter patter of rain hitting the concrete ground was a rather soothing noise despite the gloomy atmosphere it created. But at this point, what isn't gloomy about this place? It's like it's eating him alive, devouring whatever positive feelings he'd harbored before. What did he do to deserve this? What kind of deadly sin he committed that all of this fell on his shoulders and crashed him under the pressure? He couldn't answer that question even if he tried.
"What's wrong, son? I can practically smell the negativity on you." Joey scoffed at that, once again smoothing his hair back.
"I'm pretty sure it's not 'negativity' that you can smell. But, um... I don't know, like I said, there's just too much to think about. Anyway, about the nicknames."
"Right. Mine's Rat man."
"People just call you rat man?"
"Yes, but I don't really mind. There are always worse things they could call me, aren't there?"
"Fair point. Call me Joey."
"Oh how nice, you have an actual name." Trash Collector quickly made the connection that Joey must be a short version of the name Joseph, which was... suspicious, to say the least. Is it just a coincidence? Probabaly. And if it is, it's a funny one.
"Don't say it like that. I don't have nearly enough brain power to think about anything other than surviving and making basic conclusions right now, so it's not like I can give you an actual name." Surviving... Ha, such irony it is to call this experience 'surviving.'
"It's all good Joe, I never asked you to anyway."
"You're not even saying it correctly."
"I'm aware." Joey only rolled his eyes at seeing that mischievous smile on their face again.
"Then I'm gonna call you Ro."
"Why Ro?"
"Because I don't want to call you a rat."
It was strangely sweet of Joey, but Ro isn't even surprised at this point. Just at a glance they got the impression that he was a good guy. Or at least tried to be. And the more they talked to one another, the more that belief firmed in their mind.
And while they were thinking this situation over, Joey actually fell asleep, leaning against their side. Not the greatest idea considering how dirty they are, but to be fair, Joey is not exactly clean himself.
Ro sighs quietly and puts one of their arms around Joey's shoulder to keep him from falling off and lean back, staring up at the dark sky above. Might as well get comfortable now, who knows how much sleep this kid will need after everything they went through?
Update on the LeshyCatPril Book Binding Project! :3
The first 3 storys have been sucessfully printed, bringing the page count to a solid 29 so far! ^^
Sorry, I printed my own stories first xD
Sadly, for the next 3 weeks I'm in summer vacation. Meaning I don't have access to a printer to print more, for now.
So in the meantime, I will go and format all the remaining stories, for easy printing ^^
Ignore the adds, these are just the people I asked for permission to print and bind their fanfics. I thought this was the easiest way to keep them "up to date" with this little project of mine :3
I FINALLY got the chance to experiment with how to print book pages!
And it imidiately turned out bad, because the pages where printed upside down on the back xD
So, I tried it again with test pages, to save ink, to see if I gave my printer the wrong "flip on X side" input. First try gave me the same upside down results, so I tried a different setting and finally got it right! ^^
Turns out I had to pick the input "flip on short side", not "flip on long side" xD
Now I'll slowly but surely start printing the different stories as I get the chance :3
Once that is done, I only need to figure out how actually binding them into a book works xD
Ignore the adds, these are just the people I asked for permission to print and bind theur fanfics. I thought this was the easiest way to keep them "up to date" with this little project of mine :3
Honored to be a part of this project for writing something as a way to get back into this hobby of mine and just for fun. Extremely curious to see how this will turn out in the end. Do keep me updated. :)
Note: headcanoned to hell; Yellow cat is called Nael and uses he/they; 3rd person pov; can be interpreted as both romantic and platonic (same goes for this entire "story"); pretty short 🤷
@aniflowers
The Promised Day
The previous day was a roller-coaster of emotions and feelings. And yet, today Nael and Leshy both woke up feeling quite refreshed.
After that talk in the medical bay, Leshy and Nael spent some more time together, simply hanging around the cult grounds and chatting some more. When night has fallen upon them, they were the last to go to bed, since they just couldn't get enough of one another.
The Leader has thoughtfully placed their beds together, so the two of them held hands throughout the night until they eventually fell into a deep slumber (this time without nightmares on Leshy's side).
It was still quite early in the morning, the Lamb still hasn't returned and the rest of the cult was still sleeping peacefully. Rain adorned the dark sky up above, watering the farms Glorious Leader has set up around this piece of land.
Leshy turns his head upwards, taking in the wonderful scent of the humid grass and Camellia flowers that fills the air.
"It's so... quiet. I like it."
"Never thought the God of Chaos would love the peace and quiet," Nael said with a smirk as he tugged Leshy towards the Temple. They hid beneath its roof, sitting down on the floor in front of the entrance. They were decorated with special tiles of the Old Faith, the crowns of the siblings standing to the left of the building on four cobblestone pedestals, like trophies.
Leshy could feel the magnetic pull of his own crown calling out to him like some sort of siren. And yet, he knew that it no longer belonged to him, to this strange mortal body he still wasn't used to.
"I was the God of Chaos. But now I'm a simple mortal who goes by the name 'Leshy,' as much as I hate to admit it."
"I think you look cute as a mortal." Leshy was so stunned that he managed to accurately turn his head towards Nael in surprise. "Even so, I can't help but be curious about your divine form and how you looked like before..."
"Before the Lamb tore the heart out of my corpse?"
"Yes. You didn't have to say it."
"But I did."
"Insufferable."
"Same to you."
Both of them smiled at this silly exchange, not even once letting go of each other's hand as they covered away from the early morning downpour. Appreciating the beauty that surrounds him through his senses, Leshy speaks up once again:
"You know, I used to favor my brother Narinder above everyone else, because I thought that death was the most beautiful thing ever. But now, sitting here with you, I can't help but feel like... maybe life is what truly beautiful." At first Nael wanted to say how uncharacteristic such talk is for Leshy and how cheesy it sounds, but he quickly stops himself. No no, he shouldn't say anything of the sort when Leshy is being so sincere and open with him. So, instead, he answers:
"Maybe the fact that death is a part of life is what made it so beautiful to you." Lehsy was honestly expecting to be made fun of, but that didn't happen, which surprised him.
He could feel the divine energy of the Temple behind them, and it attracted his attention for a moment.
He knows for a fact that Lamb can hold marriage rituals for themself and a lucky choosen follower, but would they agree to...
"Nael? Would you ever consider... you know, marrying someone?" The words came out of his mouth before he could truly think over what he was saying.
"Marrying someone? Why? Are you proposing?"
"Maybe."
"Then, if 'maybe,' then maybe I'd say yes."
"Really?" The cat was willing to marry him this easily and without question? Does that mean that they... perhaps they share his feelings?
"Yes, really. I don't see a single reason not to agree."
Note: headcanoned to hell; Yellow cat is called Nael and uses he/they; 3rd person pov; maybe swears included?
Ahaha, nooo I totally didn't forget to write and post this last week wdym hahaha
@aniflowers
A Lost Embrace
"It's dark... it's so dark... where am I?" Leshy asks himself into nowhere, the voice of his inner thoughts echoing in the dark abyss of his consciousness. Then he hears it again:
The terrifying sound of his siblings' agonizing screams. He feels liquid dripping down his face, staining his body. And then he hears his voice... His voice, begging to just hear him out, to just let him explain. Clanging of chains follows after, and then Leshy can hear the sound of Narinder practically tearing down his vocal cords with how painfully loud he's yelling. It's not screams of pain, not for the most part. They're screams of betrayal, anguish and hurt. But how dare he sound so pitiful when it was him who betrayed their faith?! And how dare he make Leshy feel so... so... empty. So broken. Confused, lost, scared.
"Did you know that Gods can be scared too?"
...
He awakens suddenly from his slumber, with a harsh gasp and a terrible headache. He tries to catch his breath and calm down, but nothing is working. He's trembling like a leaf in cold seasons, unable to control his own body and its natural reaction to fear. Fear... how long has it been since he experienced it in such a raw, unfiltered way? Far too long, that he has forgotten the feeling completely. Feeling the strange liquid begin sticking to his face, he takes off the bandage and fold it neatly, putting it aside for a moment as he feels his face. The sensation of his tears mixed with blood is really unpleasant, so he tries to wipe it away, but it persistently stays on and only seems to flow down his cheeks even more. How annoying.
He tried to figure out whether someone was in the room with him, but felt no presence and no scent around. Actually, where even was he? How and when did he fall asleep? He tries his best to recall what happened before...
"...A God? I thought you already knew?"
To say that Nael was stunned, is like to say nothing at all. A God... how is this possible? Rather, how did he not make the connection before? His slightly strange and unique appearance... his behavior with the cult and the Lamb. It makes so much more sense? "Wait, are you seriously telling me that you didn't know?" Leshy repeats his question again, looking pretty much as flabbergasted as the cat himself is.
Nael doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know how to respond.
"So... you're the God of Darkwood?"
"Yes, I am. Or, rather, used to be. Why? Does that make any difference?"
"...No. No, it... it doesn't." Except for the fact that cats weren't exactly welcome in Darkwood, much like Anura. And to think that he's been talking to the literal diety of that land, the land from which thousands of his brothers were shun away from and left wandering all on their own until they were killed somewhere in Anura... Yeah no, no difference at all.
Leshy seems to pick up on Nael's thoughts, or more so speculate on his thoughts based on the sudden change in his tone of voice.
"Look, I know what you're thinking, but–"
"No. No, don't say anything. I... need a moment to think." Nael gets up and leaves the medical bay abruptly, practically storming out of it. Why did he react to strongly to this information? He didn't know. Was it because he himself was from Darkwood before getting indoctrinated? He doesn't remember. Is it really that big of a deal? He can't tell.
What he knows for certain is that he needs a moment to calm down. Plus, it'd be best to leave the sick child to recover in peace and silence.
Leshy groans in frustration again, clutching his arms tightly. His head is starting to hurt from the amount of thoughts swirling around in his mind all at once, mingling with each other and becoming pure chaos of words and sentences. Very fitting, don't you think?
All of his siblings were here in the cult... even... Him. And yet, their connection is worse than ever. They barely talk with each other. Shamura and Narinder who used to be so close have grown apart and don't speak to one another. If anything, it seems like Narinder is avoiding his sibling. Heket doesn't want to speak to him either, and if he ever tries, she just pushes him away under some lame excuse. Kallamar... Kallamar is a whole different story. So who does he have left now? His followers? They've long gone mad after the death of their God, or were converted to the New Faith, indoctrinated into the Cult of the Lamb much like he was.
The Lamb themselves? He'd rather be impaled on a stick and fried like a delicious kebab than trust them with anything.
That annoying cat, Nael?
...
...Well, actually–
"Leshy? Hey, I– Oh dear! What's wrong?!" Nael rushes towards Leshy, taking his handsome face into their paws and closely expecting the strange mix of liquids running down from his empty eye sockets. Was it tears? Was it blood? Was it the leftovers of his divinity? Hard to tell. Nael suddenly freezes when he realizes that this is the first time he sees Leshy without the bandage covering half his face. How peculiar... "Um... what is this...? Are you crying?" Leshy's silence does nothing to relieve Nael's worries. What's gotten into him? Was it because of how he reacted yesterday...? Nonetheless, Nael feels like he has to help his fellow cultist anyway, just out of the kindness of his heart. Moreover, he has done so once, so there's no reason not to do it again.
Nael tried his best to get rid of the strange substance, but to no avail. When he was about to grab a wet towel, he suddenly felt Leshy leaning into their hand on his cheeks, placing his own on top of it like that was the most natural course of action at this very moment. At first, it was extremely strange. An unfamiliar and weird sensation. However, slowly but surely, their tense muscles relaxed and their body language eased up. They sat down next to Leshy on the bed, allowing him to lean his head onto their shoulder. For a while, they sit in a comfortable silence, both their minds preoccupied with their own worries and troubles.
Eventually, Leshy speaks: "The kid... where is he?"
"Without Leader around, we couldn't do much else to cure him." There is a moment of silence, almost like Nael is trying to come to terms with those little bits of lingering regret and guilt as he continues speaking: "Do you remember that spider guy that snitched on us? He said he knows someone who would be able to get the kitten back on his feet in no time."
"So... he just... left the cult ground? Does the Lamb allow that?"
"I'm just as surprised as you. It's the first time I saw someone up and leave the cult with my own eyes."
"And... will you miss him?" Nael slightly turned his head towards Leshy upon hearing that question. For some reason, it caught him off guard.
"Hm... Maybe. It's hard to tell. But I think they made the right decision to get the child somewhere safe where he can be nurtured back to health, instead of keeping him here." While the cat talks, Leshy feels around for their hand, taking it into his own once he found it. "In my opinion, bringing children into the cult is way different than raising them here. So maybe it was meant to be this way after all."
Once more silence has befallen between the two, yet they won't complain about it. It's a soothing quiet, one that makes them both think about their life and the choices that led them here. Strangely enough, they feel content in this moment with one another, like they could conquer the world...
Note: headcanoned to hell; Yellow cat is called Nael and uses he/they; 3rd person pov; swears included; I forget the previous paragraphs mid writing so maybe inconsistent story
@aniflowers
Gracious Fall
Nael has not left Leshy alone even for a second after their little fight. Of course, after the Leader returned from their crusade, the spider disciple that intervened the last time told on them almost right away. Fucking snitch.
Surprisingly enough, Lamb somehow figured out that it was Leshy who started the fight, so he was the one who had to go through the horrifically embarrassing process of getting intimidated by the Leader. Not only was it embarrassing, it also genuinely scared Leshy. Not because Lamb was scary to them, hell no, but because...
Because they wore the red crown. And the crown belonged to...
...
Nevermind, let's not uncover this can of worms. For now.
Anyway, today was one of the days when Leader just came back home from a three day long crusade, with precious resources and a new addition to the cult.
It was a peaceful day, and nothing could ruin the comfortable silence with the occasional buzz around the flock, be it the distant chatter of the other cultists, or the sounds of them working–
Oh, huh? Leshy could pick up a subtle sound of footsteps getting closer and closer. Sounds like someone was running in the direction of the cult grounds.
"Leader, Leader! Glorious Leader, please help!" Nael's voice rang through the air, a clear tone of worry and concern in it. People immediately gathered around the entrance, looking at Nael with a mix of emotions: confusion, curiosity, worry, or maybe all at once.
The Lamb quickly approached the group that formed around the yellow cat, Leshy following suit to find out what the ruckus was about.
Nael had just returned from his mission, looking exhausted and panicked. He reached out towards the Leader, placing his paws on their shoulders.
"Glorious Leader! I found a follower awaiting for indoctrination like you requested, but they're sick! They will die soon if we don't help them!" The Lamb only nodded in response, immediately rushing over to the indoctrination stone to aid those in need. As the soon-to-be follower appeared in front of them, they realized why Nael was especially worried about this one: it's a tiny kitten who looks badly injured and on the brink of death.
Leshy could sense a new distinct scent of this orange kitten. How? That is a mystery that will remain uncovered for a while longer.
He could hear all the chaos ensuing around this sick baby, and for the first time in, what felt like, forever he felt like he missed being able to see. He felt the same a couple of times before, especially strongly when he just lost... no, when his eyes were just taken away from him. But to have that feeling reappear again now of all times was... strange. Strange and unpleasant.
The orange kitten was laid to bed, and the Lamb then asked both Leshy and Nael to pick the Camellia flowers they've been growing for the sick. Normally Leshy would feel apprehensive about anything the Lamb asks of him and would complain all the time, but now he felt compelled to follow through with the Leader's orders and do as he's told.
He and Nael both went ahead to pick up the needed flowers, with Nael directing Leshy throughout the process. After the entire farm was cleared out, Leader left them both to take care of the kitten, and their disciples to look after the cult while they went to gather more flowers and seeds from Darkwood. That will probably take another two to three days... and now Leshy's left alone with this stupid cat again. Great.
They sit together in the medical bay, Nael's paw firmly yet gently placed on the other cat's side as he sleeps. Leshy is sitting at the edge of the bed, messing with his hands to drown out his thoughts. That's when in their silence he catches a faint smell of blood.
"You're injured..." he comments, turning his head in the general direction of the yellow cat.
"Yeah, I am. But taking care of him was more important,'' Nael felt no shame in admitting that he didn't come home from his mission unscathed, since, in his mind, that just further proved his loyalty to the Glorious Lamb.
Leshy hesitated for a moment, deciding on his next action very carefully.
When he was still a God, he had his own followers, his own cult. But experiencing this type of devotion first hand, or rather, witnessing such devotion with your own very eyes was... somewhat disturbing. But also very moving.
With a frustrated sigh, Leshy gets up and pushes Nael down.
"Hey, what are you–?!" Leshy hissed at Nael, using this gesture to keep him silent in order to not disrupt the child recovering from his sickness. He picked up whatever medical supplies were left, including a bandage or two, and sat back down onto the bed, disinfecting and patching up Nael's wound in silence. "Oh... thanks... I guess." Nael chuckled awkwardly, watching Leshy's every movement out of caution. Leshy has been around the cult for some time, yet Nael still knew so little about him. He tried asking other cultists, asking Leshy's siblings and asking the Leader themselves, but none could give him a cohesive answer. So he was determined to find out more. Nael relaxed his tense muscles, letting Leshy do his thing and heal him, before he gathered the courage to ask: "Hey, Leshy? Why did you attack me back then? I'm not looking for confrontation, I just want to know the reason."
For some reason, when Nael was using this diplomatic tone, his brows furrowed subconsciously, Leshy had to pause for a good minute to collect himself again. He didn't really understand what was that about, but...
"It's... it wasn't your fault, you know? I just... I get irritated when people stare at me this much," he sighed and put back all the supplies after he was done with Nael's wound. "I thought it wouldn't affect me, I was a God for fuck's sake! People used to admire me, pray to me, sacrifice lives for me, but now... now that I'm a mortal it just– it feels so fucking disgusting when they stare at me. And I can't even see it, but I can feel it, which is even worse." Leshy turned to face Nael after his little rant was over, awaiting his reaction.
The only sounds that filled the air at that moment was the orange kitten's soft but shallow breaths, the buzz of the cultists outside the medical bay, and the ruffling of various fabric inside of it, before Nael finally spoke:
Note: this is from the perspective of my own cult (like in-game cult), so it will include the traits that the characters got in my game, my followers and ect ect; the yellow cat is called Nael and uses he/they pronouns; 3rd person pov; swears included
@aniflowers
Broken bones and blooming flowers
Another morning, another day. The cult runs like a broken clock: sometimes the handles don't turn and get stuck in place, sometimes they go too fast and mess up the time. But the main point is, it's working.
This time around, Lamb returned early in the morning, before everyone woke up. At the sermon they announced this day to be a holiday, so everyone got a chance to rest from the relentless work they do around the base, in the glory of the Lamb.
Typically, the Leader of the flock would stay put for a couple of days, taking care of their place and interacting with their followers, but today was different. When their usual routine after giving a sermon was done, they suddenly left again, whether to play knucklebones at their dad's house or to crusade again remains unknown.
Leshy watches them leave in silence, slightly confused by this new development, but it was not his place to worry about such unnecessary things. So he shrugs it off and goes over to the farm to tend to the crops. He's been doing this ever since he got indoctrinated into the cult. However...
"Hey, you're Leshy, right? Whatcha up to?" Oh, there he goes again, that yellow cat. What was their name again? Nael, was it? A "gift from God"... Huh. How pathetic.
The Lamb dares to make a mockery out of him by bringing this... this mockery of a follower to their cult! Oh that was a crime, a crime specifically directed at Leshy! A "gift from God"... How dare they!
"...Leshy?" Oh right. The cat's still there.
"...I'm just tending to the farm."
"Ah, I see, I see. You do seem to like working in this field huh..." Leshy could hear the sound of Nael's robe flattering with the gentle breeze, and smell the faint hint of blood on them. How badly this stupid cat irritated him, yet how much he desired their company...
He couldn't help himself. Come on, the first thing Nael did upon his indoctrination was start a fight with Narinder, how could he not at the very least admire them? Moreover, so far Nael is the only one who hasn't been treating Leshy like some kind of suspicious traitor. Not that Leshy isn't suspicious as hell, and not that he doesn't think that Nael is naive and stupid for trusting him so easily, but it's the thought that counts, right?
While Leshy was spacing out again, something caught his attention:
Aside from the main farm where Lamb planted crops that went into the cult's food later, there was also a smaller one, all consisting of Camellia flowers. They've been ready for harvest for about a month or two now, yet the Leader never harvested them... and they weren't there for the sake of decoration either, because there were several potted plants around the base already. Leshy would know, there is like a thousand of flowery scents around this wretched hell hole. And so, despite himself, Leshy interrupts whatever it is Nael was talking about (he wasn't listening anyway) and instead asks:
"What are the flowers for?"
"And then they– Oh, huh? The flowers?" Nael looks around before spotting the farm that Leshy was referring to. "Oh these ones? Leader grows them in case we run out of medicine to cure the sick with."
"Cure...? Are they... they're Camellia flowers, right? I can feel their scent even from here."
"Oh yeah, they are! Man, you got a pretty sharp nose, eh? Although I don't really... you know, see a nose on you?"
The only thought that ran through Leshy's mind in that moment was a single word: "Stupid." Sure, maybe he was a bit mean, but at least he didn't say it out loud!
"You're dumb." Oh well, nevermind then.
"Haha, maybe I am! Still, what do you smell with? I'm not exactly familiar with the anatomy of a bush." Nael reached out his hands, placing them on Leshy's surprisingly fuzzy cheeks and feeling his face with zero shame. Leshy was about to burst from irritation and chomp this sopping wet cat to death, until he realized something.
From what he heard from the Lamb, Nael was one of the hot tempered butch, hence the constant fighting with Narinder. But he literally called them dumb – and yet they didn't react negatively at all... it even seemed like they were trying to flatter him? Why?!
"Hands off," Leshy slapped their furry paws away from his face, subtly readjusting his bandage, "I don't need– Did you just call me a bush?!"
Nael erupted with laughter once the realization hit Leshy. That was exactly the response they were hoping for, and it was fantastic! He had to take a moment to calm down and get himself together, all the while Leshy was repeatedly bonking him on the head with his plush arms.
"Have you never seen a worm before you stupid cat?!" Leshy looked like a pouty little kid despite probabaly being centuries old. And maybe at heart he was. Just a pouty little child who wanted love and attention. But he was grown up now, and although no longer a God, he was still a man of pride.
"I have! You just don't look like one!" Nael was struggling to breathe from how hard he was laughing, which earned him another bonk on the head. "You look like a mix of a bush and a worm. A... borm! Or a wush!"
"You–! You are an ignorant and infuriating mortal piece of scum! Don't you dare to call me either of those stupid names!"
"But we had a worm in the cult before and they looked nothing like you! You only look similar to the other bushes from Darkwood!" Nael was still quite hysterical after his laughing fit, and he was clearly struggling trying not to laugh again, barely holding himself together.
"THAT'S BECAUSE THEY'RE ALSO WORMS YOU UNCULTURED FUCK." All the sudden yelling caught others' attention, making them turn towards these two. Of course, Leshy couldn't exactly see that they were staring him down, but oh how well he could feel the judgemental stares burning into his body and it pissed him the fuck off. So his natural response? Cause chaos. And, in this situation, that meant beating the shit out of this yellow motherfucker.
Before Leshy could process what he was doing, his hands were already wrapped around the cat's neck, their claws in turn scratching at his back.
This was a first time experience for Nael too, usually Leader broke up any fight he started before anything real could happen, but now they're not here... and it is already getting bad. Nael was slowly starting to see stars in his vision as more and more oxygen left his body. But he kept on persisting, kept on trying to break free from Leshy's deadly grip.
"Stop it this instance you two!" One of Lamb's disciples chimed in, breaking up the fight and butting themselves in between the two to act as a barrier. "What has gotten into you, Nael? This is the sixth time this week that you started a fight! And now you're targeting Leshy too? Leader will have to put you in prison if you keep behaving this recklessly." Nael was smiling while being scolded by the spider, his uneven breathing getting interrupted by an occasional cough or two. Leshy didn't understand... why was the cat just accepting the blame like this? Technically he was the one who attacked first, so why were they allowing him to get out of responsibility? This Nael guy must be stupid, just like Leshy thought. Of course he is, Leshy is never wrong about people!
Yet still he couldn't help but become more and more curious of the strange yellow cat. He wanted to know more.
How about Forrest and Peggy working with their coworker that’s accident prone? (Example: they fall down the stairs on a daily basis or get paper cuts often)
Note: second person pov, gender neutral reader
My apologies that this took so long to write. I feel like I've strayed a bit from the original request, but I hope it's still to your liking.
Thunder strikes twice
"You know, it surprises me how you even made it this far, especially during this night," you and Forrest make your way down the stairs to the first floor of the building, to check who rang the doorbell. Maybe not the greatest idea, considering that there is a killer on the loose, but oh well.
"You don't have to remind me about that, you know," it was a well known fact around KFAM that their new colleague was very much a disaster magnet. Thunder doesn't strike twice they say, but it would definitely strike them four times, in the exact same spot at the exact same time.
Either way, as the two of you walk down the stairs, fate decides to be extra cruel, as usual. You trip over your own feet and stumble off to the side to catch the wall instead of planting face first onto the floor. And just as that happens, your gaze lands on the doors of the building, where... who the heck is that?! Is that the Whistling Man?!
You see a man standing at the door, a black coat and a very noticeable white mask with red stains on it. That surely gotta be him, right?!
"'Play me on air?' What a freaky thing to find, huh?" Forrest's speech pulled you out of this trance you were in, or more like a state of panic. You rush to his side and pull him away from the door, firmly gripping his arm. He looks confused. "Hey, what was that for?"
"Did you not see him?!"
"See who?" Now you were just as dumbfounded as him. You definitely saw that, right? There's no way you imagined it, that white mask will surely appear in your dreams multiple times, turning them into nightmares.
"Are you kidding me? I definitely saw that! Forrest, if this is another one of your stupid jokes–"
"I'm not kidding, I didn't see anything. Maybe you hit your head too hard during one of the many accidents?" You sigh out of frustration and brush your hair back as a way to relieve at least a little of the stress that has been building up over the night. Without a word more, you go back up the stairs, almost tripping again when making a careless step upwards. Forrest catches up, and at the same time, your words catch up with him.
"Hey wait a moment, what do you mean 'one of your stupid jokes'?!"
You've seen him again. And again. And again. It feels like this damned killer has been lurking around KFAM, which makes it all the more suspicious. How can this be? How can he... she...? How can this person be making attacks on the outskirts of Gallows Creek and then appearing right outside the building. By all laws of physics, this should be impossible! Something more must be going on here. Which is exactly why–
"No, you're not going down with me. Knowing you, the whole building and yourself will end up in ruins."
"Don't treat me like I'm some kind of burden on you, you prick! I can handle myself perfectly fine!" You hated being treated like this. Sure, fate, or the universe, or God, or whatever doesn't really like you. Sure you make a mess of yourself and your surroundings almost anytime you do something. But that does not make you incapable! You're only a victim of circumstances, and not a careless person. So for them both to make it out like you are... it's offensive, to say the least.
"I'm sorry, but I think Forrest is right. It'd be better for you to stay here. Plus, who's gonna protect me if Forrest is down there?"
"Well, if you think I'm not capable of making a trip down to the basement, how can I be any capable of protecting you from a killer, huh?" Sure, maybe you were acting like a child. But it's a sensitive topic, so it's a natural reaction, like a fight or flight response.
"Come on now, don't be like that. You know we only want the best for you," you hate the fact that Peggy is so kind. Maybe if she was a prick like Forrest, then you wouldn't feel so bad about throwing a tantrum.
"...Right. Okay. Fine. But you better be back soon."
Forrest leaves the recording room, the door slowly closing behind him. You and Peggy sit in silence for a while, giving yourselves time to process the situation.
"It's for the best. Let's be real, Forrest can probably protect himself better than both of us combined."
"Can he though?" You raise an eyebrow, your eyes narrowing slightly as you cross your arms over your chest.
"Fair point," you can hear the muffled sounds of Peggy's quiet but joyful laughter. You can almost physically feel your heart become all warm and fuzzy. This woman really is like a gift to this world, huh?
The two of you spend time chatting, while you aimlessly walk around the room and take in your surroundings. At some point, you've stopped at the map hanging on the right wall, and started asking Peggy questions about what is where, what places she's personally visited, yada yada. However, your chitchat is quickly interrupted by Peggy receiving a call. On her personal phone nonetheless. You immediately have your guard up, because judging from Peggy's expression, something is not right here.
"Peggy? Who was that?"
"It's... it's Forrest! He said he needs help!" Upon hearing those words, you panick and want to rush down there to come to the rescue, but your mind quickly stops you. Why'd Forrest contact Peggy on her personal phone instead of just using the intercom? Something is definitely fishy here. But then again, what is "normal" about this night?
"Forrest...? Are you sure? It could be someone pretending to be him, you know."
"Why would someone do that?"
"To... lure one of us out?" Judging from the silence that fills the air, your suspicions are correct, and Peggy received some strange, suspicious call, and is trying to get you out of the picture for whatever reason.
Despite not working here for a long time, you know Peggy. She can be stubborn as hell. And the fact that she can't hide her emotions at all makes it all the more worse, because if you didn't know what she was up to, you wouldn't have to worry. "...Fine. I'm gonna go see what he's up to. You... be careful."
You both know what it means. You both realize it. Yet you still choose to accept things the way they are. But... at this point, what choice do you have?
You leave the room to go check up on Forrest, a twinge of worry bubbling up in your mind. What if something did happen to him? You know you're the one here who's very accident prone, but... on this night, fate turned against everyone, so there is no way to tell what's going to happen.
Entering the hall behind the reception, you're fairly certain that you hear Forrest somewhere in the storage room. Or was it the kitchen? Might as well check the kitchen, right? And preferably grab a snack or two on the way. Something makes you especially hungry when you're up late at night.
Grabbing a cup and placing it on the counter, you walk over to the fridge to check if there's something in there. Of course, it just so had to be that the counter had water spilt on it, and you placed that cup very conveniently in the puddle of that liquid. The cup slid off and shattered on the ground, its broken pieces flying all over the floor. Great...
While you were busy carefully stepping around the floor that felt like a minefield now, you didn't notice the sound of footsteps retreating from the storage room. But you did very clearly hear the sound of the door closing and being locked...
Once you're done sweeping off the shards in a hurry, you get up and open the door, but quickly rush back in to hide behind it.
The Whistling Man...
Slowly, you peak out from the narrow gap of the open door, looking around for the killer. Once you are sure the coast is clear, you creep out from the kitchen and make your way to the storage room. Unfortunately, fate clearly has some plans for you, as an empty can of paint falls right behind you, making painfully loud clink-clanks against the floor. Damn it.
Oh no, how the hell did she get here?! You've seen her outside the building multiple times, but how come she is inside now?! This can't be... Forrest! Your panic quickly gets replaced by a stubborn sense of determination. You have to warn your colleague. No, you have to save him.
Acting fast, you slip into Clive's little hangout spot, and from there, into the backroom. You try to make your way through the dusty shelves as carefully as physically possible, and surprisingly enough, succeed. The silence is piercing, and it scares you to death. But what scares you even more is the sudden sound of the door being opened, and that familiar tune whistled somewhere from the entrance. A tune that everyone grew to despise and fear during this night.
Your breath hitches in your throat. You feel as if your ribs are going to crash your insides. You feel your lungs burning. When come face to face with a ruthless, psychopathic killer, you have only yourself to relay on.
You can hear the squelching sounds of blood from beneath her boots as she creeps around the shelves, looking for her prey like an avid hunter... What a freak. The chances of escape are minimal, but not zero. You steady out your breathing and focus on the sounds around, while watching every step of the killer from your peripheral vision to make more accurate measurements. You can hear her dragging a sharp, metal knife along the wall, clanking it against the shelves. Is she trying to scare you on purpose? Well too bad. Your adrenaline is way too high now, but it is not fear based. Seems like your body has chosen to fight.
Once you see her go further inside, you quickly come out of your hiding spot. The plan was to lure her further in and lock her. She did get out from such a trap before, but... somehow you doubt Maurice in his abilities. But, who wouldn't, if we're being fair?
Either way, picking up a cassette player that was on one of the shelves, you aim it somewhere deeper into the room. You'll have to throw it in a way that the Whistling Man won't suspect that it came from your side. So you prepare to throw the thing...
...And of course it just had to land straight on her head. And pretty hard too. If it didn't hit her, you probably wouldn't have even realized how tightly you were clutching that thing.
...Well, okay, maybe you did want to throw it at her. But there's bad news, she of course noticed that, and now you see the lifeless holes of that bloody mask staring straight at you. Wonderful. This night just keeps getting better and better.
And now, since the fight response didn't exactly work out... the next step is to run. You turn around with the speed of light, booking it the hell out of there. You throw over like 2 stacks of crates and a small coffee table while running up the stairs to the second floor to find Forrest. Wait, there he is! In... Peggy's booth...? Damn it, that means she probabaly left somewhere. But hey, at least if the Whistling Man is here, and you don't see your coworker's body anywhere, that must mean she is safe, right?
You run into the room as soon as possible and grab onto Forrest's arm, trying to pull him out and away from there.
"Huh–?! Oh, it's just you. Where the hell have you been? And where's Peggy?"
"No time to explain! We have to–"
Before you could finish, the door slams shut behind you both. Locked. Oh no... did you fall right into her trap? Or was it you all along who was doomed to bring disaster everywhere you go? Maybe this whole thing started because of you...
Well, no, that's too much of a stretch. Sure, you can barely walk two feet without some kind of accident happening to you or around you, but to think that this is somehow your fault is absurd. As you come back to reality to hear the conversation between Dawn and Forrest, something catches your attention:
"Meet my boy. Henry Barrow."
...Excuse me?
Ohh she's definitely not gonna be happy about what you did down in the basement to "her boy" just now... eeesh.
Could you maybe write Forrest with stubborn teenager reader that’s a found family trope? I thought of it once and it never left my mind lol
Note: gender neutral reader, usage of they/them pronouns, short
Not gonna lie, this is the one I'm least proud of, and I feel like I haven't done this idea and this request a lot of justice, but bear with me.
Kids these days
"For the last time kid, you are not going to fight the Whistling Man, you hear me?" Forrest really wasn't having it with these kids today. First Jimmy (fly high) and his stupid pranks, and now this asshole of a kid. Can this night really get any worse?
"Come on Forest, cool off a bit. They're just a child, they have ambitions to be the hero of this town, just like you!" Peggy would say to calm him down, laughing with glee. It was amusing how this grown up man didn't seem to notice just how similar he and this caller are.
Forrest only grumbled something inaudible in response, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.
"You know what, I'm not responsible if this kid dies, that's on them entirely."
"Forrest! You can't just say that!"
Of course, Forrest himself knew he didn't actually mean it. There's no way in hell he would let this kid die. In general, as much as he didn't like to admit it, he was fond of kids. Most of them anyway, there are always exceptions to the rules.
Either way, after a brief moment of silence on their end, Forrest speaks up again:
"Fine then, if you will keep insisting on fighting the Whistling Man, do you at least have the skill to do so? Or a good weapon?" But then, without giving you a chance to answer, he adds: "This is insane, you shouldn't be getting anywhere near that freak! Didn't you hear what he did to Murphy? What he wanted to do to Eugene?!" He just couldn't understand why a damn teen would want to fight a grown man with a mask and a knife. What was going through their head?
"I know. This is exactly why I want to do this. I want to avenge all the people that he's hurt. Who does he think he is, to hurt people like it's his God given right to do so?"
"Murphy had the same idea. Didn't work out well, did it?" Forrest really wasn't having any of this. It's like this kid doesn't hear what they themselves are saying. His response was followed by a moment of silence, before they spoke up again:
"Okay, well, I know how that sounds, but I have a plan. You'll see!" With that, the call ended.
And he did see. He did see what that "plan" was when, apparently, the same kid got pushed into the room with him. And now they're both trapped here. Great. Wonderful. Just purely fantastic.
"So let me get this straight. Your entire plan was to stalk the killer and find out what his motives are?" However, just when he was about to call them crazy, they interrupted him:
"Save the talk for later old man, you have to hear me out first." What is up with these snarky teenagers and calling him an old man? "Something doesn't add up. Here, look for yourself." They give him a notebook, which had recorded times of each attack, how and where those attacks happened and how the killers move. They point out a specific point in the timeline. "See those here? That's barely a 10 minute difference. And the killer seems to be using different weapons in different scenarios." Forrest carefully read over all the details that the kid noted about the attacks on Eugene and Virginia. Different weapon types, too much distance, too little time. To be fair, he was actually a little impressed with their work, since it did provide helpful details. Forrest couldn't help but give the tiniest of smiles as he looked over at the kid, ruffling his hair.
"I hate to say it, but you did a great job. I think Deputy Martinez will appreciate this for sure." Both of them were snapped out of their conversation as the "Peggy button" suddenly lit up, receiving a call from the Whistling Man.
As the two wait for the cops to handle dealing with Henry, an awkward silence falls between them. Until eventually, Forrest sigh and turns to the kid with a simple question:
"You going to the festival tomorrow? We could get ice cream or something."
Could you write of Roller Ricky protecting reader from the whistling man?
Note: second person pov; can be interpreted as platonic or romantic; in this reader had to move away and then back to Gallows Creek; kinda choppy?
His second reason to act
20 years ago, he already had to protect you once. And he'll be damned if he doesn't do it again.
As you hurriedly barricaded every single entrance to the rink, Ricky couldn't help but be reminded of the same situation that happened in the past.
You ran and ran and ran until your legs couldn't move any further. You're completely out of stamina and ahead of you are seemingly endless woods, with the Whistling Man chasing close behind you. "This is it," you think, "this is where it ends for me." But just when you were about to accept your doom and let your final moments pass by, someone knocked your assaulter off his feet by bumping into him, grabbed your wrist and practically dragged you away from your death. And you may be wondering, who was your hero?
To your surprise and ultimate unsurprise, it was Ricky. As in, the one guy you managed to befriend when you first arrived to Gallows Creek, the only person you knew well enough in this entire circle, the one who invited you to this party in the first place. And now he becomes your saving grace too? Damn do you have good taste in people.
Anyway, once you were far away from Whistling Point as it is called now, Ricky doesn't stop for a second. I guess they don't call him Runner Ricky for nothing huh...
You were even more out of breath now despite not being the one doing all the work. And luckily enough for you, he noticed and stopped to allow a quick rest for both you and him.
"You alright man?" he asks, letting go of your hand and bending down with his arms on his knees, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. You tried to catch your breath as well and nodded to answer his question. You simply didn't have the energy to use your words.
Apparently, to ensure your safety, he didn't let you go home on your own. If anything, he didn't let you go home at all, and instead brought you to his place. You ended up staying for the whole night. To say that you were grateful is like to say nothing at all.
He sat down on the couch next to you, handing you your cup of hot chocolate as you sunk further into the blanket that he oh so generously gave you.
"Man, I'm sorry I dragged you into this mess... I didn't know any of this would happen," it was pretty clear that he was being eaten alive with guilt, because he was the one who brought you there in the first place, he was the borderline cause of your traumatic experience and it shattered his heart. How can someone even recover after that? You felt like no matter how much you were to try and convince him that none of it was his fault, that, like he himself said it, he couldn't have possibly known about it, it wouldn't work. You weren't a professional, so you didn't know what to do in this kind of situation. Still you tried your best to comfort him and do everything you could to make things at least a little bit better. And he remembered that for a long time, even in the toughest moments of his life, he appreciated your kindness and care for him, even if he felt like he didn't deserve it.
Which is exactly why he let you in when you suddenly showed up at the rink, terrified and exhausted just like back then. With your voice as shaky as a leaf in the wind, you tell him that the Whistling Man is after you. He felt his heart sink down to his stomach. Not again, no, this can't be happening again. Why him– no, why you? Why was this killer targeting you again? Did he come back for revenge now? Or was he stalking you ever since and you just didn't tell him? Whatever the case is, it doesn't matter. All of Ricky's doubts and fears are swiped off to the back of his mind, and the feelings of protectiveness and frustration take front row.
Just then, you heard the alarm go off, which could only mean one thing: the Whistling Man was trying to get in.
The thought of losing you to this bastard has kick started Ricky into action. He grabbed his rifle and and practically ran up to the window. Which was not a good idea apparently, since he got hit on the head. But the stress and danger of the situation didn't allow him to pass out or anything of the sort. He fired the gun and soon enough, both of you heard footsteps quickly getting away from the rink. Is... that it? Are you safe? Is this over? There was no way to tell for sure in this damned place. So he asked you to help him take care of any and all openings to his "sanctuary".
As you hurriedly barricaded every single entrance to the rink, Ricky couldn't help but be reminded of the same situation that happened in the past. He... only now could he realize that he protected you back then, saved you from a serial killer – and today he did it again. And it's not even said to brag about how amazing he is, no.
...Okay maybe a little bit. I mean, he is pretty cool after all, is he not? Either way, not the point. Just coming to accept the fact that he quite literally is the reason why you're still alive, it made him see that maybe, just maybe, he is worth more than he thinks, more useful. And maybe it's a fucked up way to find value in yourself, but shit man, he will take whatever he can get.
When you and him felt safe enough, with your successful survival reported to The Scream, you sat down, this time wrapped around each other, since you were both afraid that if you let go – the other will disappear, with Maxy laying down at your feet.
"Man... who could've imagined that this will happen again?" Ricky says as quietly as possible, looking down at Max to try and find some comfort in his best buddy.
And that made you think back to the Whistling Night 20 years ago. You remember how he apologized... And so naturally, you had to ask if he still felt guilty about it.
"I... don't think so. You know, a lot of things changed while you were away. We have quite some stuff to catch up on, don't you think?" He chuckled, bringing his eyes back up to look into yours.
Oh how fond you have grown of his laugh... you almost wished you could hear it every day.
Hey, can you write Forrest x reader, enemies to friends please?
A/n: Thank you for the request! I hope the setting and reader's personality is to your liking.
Note: no usage of Y/N, instead [name] is used; second person pov; there are two time skips in total. Reader is gender neutral and they/them pronouns are used like two times.
Trauma Bonding.
You don't really understand why it happened, but that doesn't matter now.
What matters is, Forrest is an annoying piece of shit. By God how much he pisses you off, and that feeling seems to be mutual. You really can't help it, that guy is just a definition of a bastard. Neither of you cares how this stupid rivalry started, but you've been on each others' asses all the time, just constantly being a bother and a menace to one another.
And while you hated to admit it, it was sort of fun. Forrest's reactions to your little stunts were amusing as hell, so it only added fuel to the fire.
And you would be perfectly fine with things staying that way, but now you were stuck at the god damn KFAM building because what? A serial killer is out on the streets? Pfft, whatever man.
"Just so you know, I'd much prefer if the Whistling Man got me than staying here." you said harshly, sitting down at the couch in front of Peggy's booth. Just hearing Forrest talk made you upset. That man had way too much snark going on, he seriously needs to calm down with that shit.
"No one's holding you here." It just felt like you wanted to punch him every time he spoke, which was the case right now too.
"Settle down you two, we have more important things to care about now." Peggy brought you both back to reality. She was leaning her head on her palm and already looked tired of your constant back and forth bickering.
"Peggy, how come you tolerate him so well?" you could swear you saw Forrest roll his eyes.
"You guys just need to stop arguing so much. Why are you even fighting?" Peggy asks, shifting a little to be more comfortable in her chair.
"Because he's/they're annoying," the two of you said in sync, which only made you exchange a glare between each other. The woman laughed at that. It was honestly hilarious how you two hated each other for no apparent reason, even though your personalities would go well together in theory.
"Oh I see how it is. So you two are just being bitter for the sake of being bitter?" Only silence followed Peggy's question...
Hours have passed already. The night was getting more and more intense, and it was stressing everyone out. You were honestly both impressed and surprised by how well Forrest have managed to deal with this situation. Maybe that alone has earned your respect for him.
Even still, it was horrible to hear that kid get murdered. Poor guy, he was probably no older than 16... sure he was an ass, but that didn't mean he deserved to die. That made you think... if Forrest was to meet the same fate, would you feel the same way? Would it be a petty kind of grief? You would rather not find out.
Which is exactly why-
"Forrest man, you know I can't stand you, but no fucking way. I'm going down with you." Your tone was firm, and it was obvious you wouldn't back down no matter what he said.
"Whatever, lets just go already." He knew it would be pointless to try and argue with you, you would just keep being stubborn to annoy him. But maybe, just maybe, he was a little glad that you would tag along. It was totally not because the presence of another person with him, a person who he knows all too well, would make him feel more safe and protected, of course not, you would be foolish to think that that was the case! He'd just use you as a meat shield if the two of you got attacked. Yep, that was totally it, no other reason whatsoever.
You followed him downstairs, taking in the sight of the interior. It was kind of cozy in here, although you had to admit that the place was a mess. Well, on the second floor that is, the first one seemed pretty neat if you don't look behind the reception.
You made your way through said reception, through the basement and finally through the fire exit. As Forrest walked through the door, you stayed behind to hold it open just in case, that thing didn't look reliable enough for you to be sure that it won't shut behind you. Forrest only raised an eyebrow at you but didn't question it any further.
You'd hear him talk to no one in particular and of course you had to make a snarky remark about how this man had went insane while being so up in his own ass. However, just as you heard something that sounded like footsteps followed up with rustling, you panicked and quickly ran to find Forrest, completely forgetting about the door.
"Forrest?! Bastard man where are you?!" You half whispered half screamed, frantically looking around the back alley. When you came around the corner your eyes first landed on the Whistling Man who stood behind the fence and then walked away. Forrest, however, didn't seem to notice him at all... What a dork.
"So you found it?" You questioned him, looking over his shoulder briefly with your hands crossed over your chest.
"Sure did- Wait why are you here? Weren't you supposed to hold the door open?!" after a while, you began to pick up on certain behavior patterns and habits that Forrest had, one of which was that half lowered tone he always used when he was stressed and frustrated. Damn, pulling out all the dirty moves now, are you Forrest Nash?
"What the hell do you want from me! I thought you were about to be murdered!" ohh, you didn't like the way those two sentences sounded coming from you, it almost made it seem like you actually cared about him, which was totally not the case!
Forrest gasps dramatically, covering his mouth with the free hand that wasn't holding the "Lomg Ride Home", "Oh my God [name], is that what I think this is? Are you perhaps... worried about me?" he said in his signature smug tone, handing you the recording while you were distracted fuming over his stupid words. Without even realizing it, you took it from him.
"Shut up." A classic response, one that is usually a sign that he said something frustratingly stupid that you can't be bothered to come up with something witty to say.
"Sure man. We have the recording now, let's return." You hate to agree with him, but nod anyway, and the two of you make your way back to the fire exit.
Of course, just as you had suspected, it shut behind you as soon as you left, which only caused you both to be even more annoyed. This night was already horrible as it was, you couldn't get stuck outside now! Forrest said something about finding another way in, like a lift to the basement or whatnot. And surely enough, there was one right nearby.
Since it had no power, the two of you found a generator, and after that split ways to hunt around for some fuses to replace the burnt out ones. "Does anything work properly in this God forsaken place?" You think to yourself, picking up a good handful of fuses. However, those aren't the only thoughts that were plaguing your mind. You can't help but feel anxious being away from Forrest after you saw... well, him. And of course, it was totally only because you didn't want to help him or drag his body inside if he got killed! But either way, you hurriedly made your way back to the generator, looking around for Forrest. When you didn't see him anywhere, you could feel anxiety rise in your chest.
"Forrest? Forrest where are you?" You whispered again, dropping all the fuses on the crates nearby. Then you felt a pair of hands suddenly slam against your shoulders.
"Boo," you heard from behind yourself. Naturally, given tonight's circumstances, your first reflex was to fight. So as soon as you turned around, Forrest got shoved away and punched in the stomach. "Augh, what the hell."
"Jesus Christ Forrest! Do you have wind in your head or what?!" Even despite the fact that you cursed him out, you still felt kinda relieved to see him again. At least he wasn't the Whistling Man...
"That hurt you know." He said nonchalantly, as if he didn't just give you three heart attacks at once. You also noticed that he brought back some fuses too.
"Good. That's what you deserve." Truly, these two were made for each other. Who else would bicker and argue about dumb things when out at night in a dark alleyway with a killer on the loose?
The two of you made quick work with that generator, turning the power back on and making your way into the building through the basement.
But not in a single lifetime did you imagine finding... whatever the hell this was. You couldn't choose what creeped you out more: the fact that there was a secret hideout in the basement, all the mannequins with red cross eyes, all the photos attached to red strings and hanging in the air, or the board with news article cutouts and stickers with names and places on them. The latter seemed to grab Forrest's attention first though. Overall, this entire situation made your anxiety grow even more, and your thoughts wandered over to Peggy.
Sure, she is supposed to be safely locked in her producer booth, but... still, what if the Whistling Man somehow got to her? And both of you were downstairs, unable to protect her... You didn't want to imagine the sight of the glass being broken and Peggy laying lifelessly on the floor, probably horrifically injured. You didn't want to imagine it, but you did, and it only made things worse. You could feel your body heat up from growing stress, and only a minute or two later did you notice Forrest shaking you by the shoulder.
"[Name], you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." No way, did Forrest sound worried too? That's hilarious. Sort of endearing too.
"What if... something happens to Peggy?" You didn't even want to say it, you didn't want to express your concerns, especially not to him, but it came naturally. You just blurted it out without thinking.
"She's gonna be alright." Forrest was dumbfounded by your sudden serious tone and panicked look. He didn't expect you to suddenly act like this, if anything he expected another snarky reply. However, the fact that you trusted him enough to let him have a peek into your thoughts made him feel responsible for making things better for you. He already had to comfort a bunch of terrified victims today, so he could surely do it again.
"And what if she won't? What if the Whistling Man gets her? We're not there to protect her, but even if we were, would we be able to protect her anyway? That freak is strong and fast..." your mind began to spiral pretty fast.
"Thinks this through [name], how could he possibly get to her if he was at the old murder house and she is here, in her booth with the door locked?" And that was the worst about this. Forrest didn't know. He didn't see. So you took it upon yourself to break the news to him:
"No, no! You don't understand, I saw him here! He was right outside the building!" Your voice was growing more and more hysterical the longer you had to talk, and it was making him panick too.
"Wait, here? You saw him here?" Forrest asked you, mindlessly placing his hands on your shoulders.
"Yes Nash, here!" Oh damn. You usually only used his last name when things went over the line, so it only made the situation more tense.
"Okay, okay, calm down, deep breaths [name]. Let's get this thing," he patted the board you saw on the wall, "upstairs first and then we will check up on Peggy, alright?" After a moment of hesitation, you agreed. You grabbed the keys from the staircase that were on the table, and Forrest took the board. While you made your way back, with you occasionally glancing at Forrest and him giving you a reassuring nod in return, you couldn't help but feel grateful to him for helping you calm down. It was almost disgusting how well this man managed to soothe your worries, even if just a little bit.
When you finally made it back, you were relieved to find Peggy safe, sound and unharmed. That made your respect meter for Forrest go up like 0.5 percent. Still, you hated his guts. Or... or did you?
The second time wasn't so fortunate. Peggy wasn't unharmed, but she was relatively safe and getting help. You let out a breath that you've been holding in for ages, and you could feel your heart rate begin to slowly decrease. You turned to Forrest after he signed off his show, and couldn't help but smile.
"Maybe you're not as much of an ass as I thought."
And with that, you've bonded over your mutual trauma of the Whistling Night of '87 and have been friends ever since. Inseparable and insufferable if you will. So yeah,
You don't really understand why it happened, but that doesn't matter now.
