I Have Problems And Tumblr

Tibby | 25yo | She/Her

[mistertiberius]

Blog Update!

Hey y'all! I have decided to move my slasher blog to a secondary blog and keep this as my main one! I know I've been MIA for a while but life did life things. So, if any of you are interested in continuing to follow and support me, then please head to this blog! Thank you all so much for the support so far! I look forward to posting again!

[constantcrisis19]

Rules: pick a song for each letter of your URL and tag that many people!

AN: Thanks for the tag @jamesrifftapes!

[C]  Change - NF

[O]  Orange Juice - Melanie Martinez

[N]  Nothing - Emilie Autumn

[S]  Sad Rappers - Tom McDonald

[T]  The View Between Villages - Noah Kahan

[A]  A Letter To Time - Livingston

[N]  No One's Here to Sleep - Naughty Boy (ft. Bastille)

[T]  Take Me Back to Eden - Sleep Token

[C]  Cosmic Love - Florence + The Machine

[R]  Ready Or Not - Mischa "Book" Chillak (ft. Esthero)

[I]  I'll Sleep When I'm Dead - Set It Off

[S]  Savage - Whethan (ft. Flux Pavilion & MAX)

[I]  It's Alright - Mother Mother

[S] Scarecrow - Citizen Soldier

___

No pressure tags:

@slasher-central,

[mistertiberius]

[S] "Stay And Decay" by Unlike Pluto

[L] "Little Talks" by Of Monsters and Men

[A] "Anthem of the Lonely" by Nine Lashes

[S] "Silence" by Marshmello (ft. Khalid)

[H] "How's It Supposed To Feel" by NEFFEX

[E] "Eternity" by Alex Warren

[R] "Rabbit Hole" by AViVA

[C] "Caramel" by Sleep Token

[E] "Exothermic" by Faouzia

[N] "No Light, No Light" by Florance And The Machine

[T] "Two" by Sleeping At Last

[R] "Red Lips" by Good Times Ahead (ft. Sam Bruno)

[A] "Arcade" by Duncan Lawrence

[L] "Lovely" by Billie Eilish (ft. Khalid)

[absolutegibberishandnumbers]

jokes to make after failure that aren’t self-deprecating:

I’m the best to ever do it

Nobody saw that (best if said loudly)

No one’s ever done it like me

I could be President/they should make me President

Behold, a mere fraction of my power!

The public wants to be me soooooo bad

I’m an expert in (thing you just failed at)

How could this have happened to god’s favorite princess?

Nothing ibuprofen and a glass of water cant fix

I’m being sabotaged

[awriterfaraway]

In case it's not common, reading is a part of your job as a writer.

Not every reader is a writer, but every writer MUST be a reader. Reading inspires you, motivates you, and keeps your creativity flowing. Make sure to read more than you write.

[louisegluckpdf]

every time i sit down 2 watch a horror movie i think of that one tweet :/

[louisegluckpdf]

rb if you too sit down in ur room and watch horror movies alone

[spirefoul]

Say something random about yourself reblog chain!

I’ve never tried peanut butter and I’m not even allergic to it

@caligulas-right-wing @scroofy-was-here @bluewillmeetyellow @delicatetigerobject @somewiseouttheree @fart-knocker321 and anyone else (no pressure)

[sufferingfrommoodpoisoning]

I have lived in four different countries before my 18th birthday.

@randomgaynerd @vyoch @loversnoworse @elephantshoetoo @pinksmonkey @michellewheeler @jovialpenguinfox @pointmetotheundertow @jesslikestowrite @decemberbyler @lloversslake @faguettism @wickeddreamerr

[pointmetotheundertow]

Thank you for the ping! (Love your username, btw. It’s so cool.)

Hmm. Something random… well, I’m afraid I don’t like the smell of lavender at all. :,D

I’ll hand it over to @jesslikestowrite @bylertrruther @uhhyupmlb @bugssavetheworld @faguettism @decemberbyler @cosmorom @moonlight-froggy + anyone else who’d like to join! <3

[faguettism-deactivated20260715]

@sufferingfrommoodpoisoning @pointmetotheundertow thank you for the tag!

this might be an original experience because i haven't heard anyone else say this yet but...

I have a phobia of moss/seaweed🧍🏻‍♂️

@ode-to-berlermo @the-bogginses-are-gay @your-ivy-grows13 @zar-bylerz @missuesoup @letterbetter13 @dumbkitsune @wizardelio @miwiromantics @shadowyyyidk @eeriesilkworm @4-6-1-3-7 @chenetira @zombiewheeler + all my other moots and anyone who'd like to join <3

[zarzar-zinks]

Thanks for the tag :)

Whenever I have a song stuck in my head I HAVE to sing it, because if I don’t then I’ll actually explode, even at SCHOOL or something 😭

Sorry if some of you have done this: @ryaoi @maddyxroses @belovedkenzie @noneedtoargue1994 @hypoclericalcunt @televangelistics @miwiheroes @bylerlesbian @elherself134 @elieandra @wizardelio @the-bogginses-are-gay @st5byler

[the-bogginses-are-gay]

omg tysm @muduus @faguettism and @zar-bylerz and anyone else who tagged me in this! <333

I yap about my hyperfixations irl so much that my family just tell me to be quiet if they are ever brought up lmao

npt: @sadiesinkobsessedsstuff @asneakyobserver @lorax-devito @bylerlipglances @stormy-days-27 @spocks-got-a-glock @sarkylittlemonster @20riley25 @miwiromantics @higuysetc @leofromsomewhere @moonlight-froggy @iwanderbecauseimlost @thebitterbeanjuice @leoluvsbilkyjo @missuesoup @ode-to-berlermo + anyone else who wants to! <333

[thebitterbeanjuice]

whenever i make a new friend i think of a song i can associate with them :33

@jameslongforjimshortforgabriel @c0nstantlyscreaming @but-aint-this-texas @your-local-starstruck-dreamer @ketchup-is-green +open!!

[tid3drift3r]

I accidentally almost poisoned myself once, which for some reason seems very in character for me

@xx-d3m0n-k33p37-d47k-xx @mintbecrazy @bnuuwitch @hardtobethebardbitch +open tags!

[bnuuwitch]

I once stabbed my hand with a knife while trying to fix a fidget spinner when I was ten. Needless to say I didn’t play with fidget spinners after that

@mystic-menagerie @moodymuu @sleaslug @maryymaruu @indiestsnake go, my scarabs

[indiestsnake]

one time I got a virus that was completely identical to the flu in terms of symptoms, but due to a technicality it was not a flu strand :P

@paradox-crows @mushroomhasreturned @artificer-real @a-rabid-snake @cursed-ceren @chyurro

[erratic-meowmeow]

Hmmmm... I am so oblivious to drama that one time in my junior year, someone baked brownies that were secretly edibles for a class i was in (i didnt have any cuz i was feeling sick) and i didnt find out until just before graduation.

@sapphicrot @omegaspoon3141 @clubsheartsspades @skrunklie uhhh who else have i got... @crippledinafunway you still like tag games?

[omegaspoon]

uh. when i'm trying to remember a word/name/etc i imagine a slot machine in my head??? like as i get closer to the information each wheel stops

@accidentallyoccidental @kisforkerosene @consumerofshorthomies

[consumerofshorthomies]

I have a crippling fear of windows

@theboredvoid @localcanadiancreature62 @the-nephelococcygian @bl0ated-corpse and idk who else to add

[localvoidcreature62]

I like mint choco (in general) but other people don't like it lmfaoo. I love toothpaste flavor 💖.

@rayyanishere1 @goblinofthelaboratory @triptychcryptid @tinfoil-jones

[triptychcryptid-deactivated2025]

I think Nightshade is pretty cool and I love Venus Flytraps. I think it's so cute when they catch themselves a big ol' spider or a little frog. Like they got themselves a good lunch!

@i-am-harmless @maridrawss @cameforstuff @ratprincess212 @slasher-central

[mistertiberius]

I have a birthmark in my right eye. It doesn't affect my sight at all and it's small, but it's there and people find it cool so... yeah 👍

@tinfoil-jones, @tearosepedall, @early20sfailingplenty, @phoenixe3, @oxyphara

[caats]

[mistertiberius]

Making cookies with rz Michael Myers

No Sugar Is Sweet Enough

RZ Michael Myers x GN Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,005

A/N: Just a short and sweet warm-up to hopefully get back into the swing of writing for slashers other than the Sinclair brothers, lol.

And, if any of you are interested in throwing me a tip, why not buy me a coffee?

Living with a serial killer was, uh… something, to say the least. Being best friends with the notorious Boogeyman in specific was even more strange. Well, strange in the sense that it was actually ridiculously domestic. Occupying the same house as Michael turned out to be relatively normal if one were to ignore the occasional stalking, the random blood smears on various surfaces, and the late-night murder sprees.

Regardless of Michael’s peculiarities, it was kind of like living with the feline equivalent of a human. Michael would hover when he wanted your attention, shadowing you around the house like an overgrown, homicidal duckling until he had his fill of company. Otherwise, Michael mostly kept to himself, making and painting paper mache masks at the dining table or reading a book on the couch.

You noticed that he never did anything noisy, nothing that required moving around a lot; which was probably a result of being incarcerated at a young age. Michael would sit down with whatever activity he felt like doing and simply entertain himself with that one thing for literal hours, only briefly looking away from his task when you wandered into whatever room that he had settled in.

You usually left Michael to his own devices when he was occupying himself with some activity or another, periodically checking in on him to refill his chosen beverage and give him more snacks if he was running low. Most of the time Michael preferred a sweet treat with a glass of ice cold water. Although you had gotten him to start drinking milk with his cookies, so you considered that a win.

However, when you weren’t fussing over Michael, you took the opportunity to complete some chores and bake more snacks since he tended to go through them in around two or three days. Michael favored cookies of all kinds, but he would eat any sweet treat you put together so long as it had enough sugar to give a lesser man diabetes. Fortunately for Michael, the laws of nature didn’t seem to apply to him, his body deferring to an entirely separate set of rules.

You were drawn out of your reminiscing when a familiar pale hand reached around you from behind to scoop up a heaping pile of chocolate chip cookie dough from the bowl that you held, retreating just as swiftly and silently as it had appeared. You shook your head in fond exasperation at his usual antics, head turning to peer up at Michael from over your shoulder, the man already staring at you through his curtain of hair as he practically inhaled the dough.

“Done with your book then?” You asked, setting the bowl onto the countertop in favor of grabbing a towel to wipe off Micheal’s fingers –which he had, predictably, licked clean– and his head dipped a tiny bit in what was the closest to proper communication that he could manage considering that he had been mute and disconnected from the world for most of his life.

“I’ll return it to the library tomorrow after work and check out the sequel.” You hummed, setting the towel aside to throw in the washer later before grabbing the bowl of cookie dough and an ice cream scooper, depositing the sizable piles of dough onto the cookie sheet.

“You can have the bowl when I’m done.” You offered, once again glancing at Michael over your shoulder when he moved closer, practically plastered to your back. You couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he was when he was excited, his demeanor reminiscent of a child. He obediently shifted back a step once you put the last dough ball onto the cookie sheet, his head turning as his eyes followed your path to the pre-heated oven.

“Two batches of chocolate chip cookies and that last batch of lemon poppyseed shortbread cookies should last you until I go grocery shopping the day after tomorrow, yeah?” You inquired, shutting the oven on the first batch before setting a timer to make sure the cookies wouldn’t burn.

As usual, Michael had no input on the matter, a mute sentinel that loomed in the center of the kitchen like an omen of death. You had never taken his silence personally though, not when he actually made an effort to communicate with you nonverbally. Michael still had days where he wasn’t responsive at all, staring blankly until nightfall, his preferred time to hunt.

You returned to your spot at the counter to start scooping the second dozen onto another cookie sheet, Michael reclaiming his position directly behind you, the mammoth of a man occasionally reaching around you to try and sneak more cookie dough. You thwarted his efforts each time though, gently catching his wrist to redirect his hand from its route to the bowl. Michael allowed the contact, skin warm and surprisingly tan considering he was usually only outside at night.

Constantly fending off Michael’s wandering hand made it difficult to complete your task since the bowl kept sliding around on the countertop, though you were quick to come up with a solution. So, the next time that you saw Michael’s hand going for the bowl, you laid your hand over top of his. The man paused, unresisting when you guided his hand to the side of the bowl, his fingers obediently holding it in place so you could comfortably scoop the thick dough out.

You kept your hand on his until the tray was full, the other wielding the aforementioned ice cream scoop. Then it was time to clean up, Michael assisting you by drying the dishes that you’d scrubbed clean, even going as far as to put them away. You had no idea why he was in such a good mood, but you weren’t about to question it since a happy Michael was a cooperative Michael.

Although it wouldn’t occur to you until much later that Michael had been uncharacteristically persistent about swiping more cookie dough because he had wanted you to hold his hand.

[mistertiberius]

> I do not own any of the slashers/fandoms that I write for (except my Yautja oc's)

> Works that do not feature a gender neutral reader will be labeled

> Order of works is from oldest to newest

Comfort

Reader Goes To Therapy Headcanons with RZ Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Tom Hanniger & Harry Warden

[mistertiberius]

Could we just get some headcanons about the slashers (and youths please), with a reader that goes to therapy?

Thank you!<3

(idk, going to therapy feels emberasing when I go there)

Comfort

Slashers x GN Reader Headcanons

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,134

A/N: Not sure what you mean by ‘youths’ in relation to slashers, but I hope I was able to interpret your ask in the way you intended. Also, I’m trying to get the hang of writing in a headcanon format, so sorry if my first attempt is a little disorganized and clumsy.

And, if any of you are interested in throwing me a tip, why not buy me a coffee?

RZ Michael Myers

Michael has had many therapists attempt to interact with him while he was incarcerated at Smith's Grove, but he doesn't have any opinions on them due to being pretty dismissive of people in general.

Out of all the slashers on this list, Michael is the one who’s the most neutral about you going to therapy. He’s not particularly social or clingy, so he doesn't really care what you do during the day.

Although, if you return from your session rattled, Michael will hover in your personal space menacingly until you fess up about why you’re acting out of the ordinary. I’d advise you to exercise caution though, because Michael will not be pleased that some stranger was the cause of your distress.

With that said, you can’t allow his anger to fester or your therapist will wind up dead, and distracting him by asking for his company is your best bet to do just that. He'll go on a walk with you –in a secluded area of course– or watch a movie with you, he’ll sit at the dining table while you cook/bake, or even do arts and crafts with you. There’s not much he won’t do if you’re the one who asks.

Jason Voorhees

Jason will greet you at the entrance to Crystal Lake camp when you get back from your appointment, climbing into your vehicle with a surprising amount of grace considering his substantial size. And, if you don't drive a vehicle, he'll happily walk you to one of the entrances to his underground tunnel system like a gentleman.

Jason is very fussy, he’ll set you up either in the main area or your room –which is also underground for safety reasons– and proceed to meticulously place all your favorite things within your reach. From snacks and beverages to books, you won’t have to look farther than the nearest table to find whatever it is you want.

Jason isn’t smothering though, if you want to be alone, he’ll go out to stalk the campgrounds for unwelcome intruders, check the various traps, or hunt. Though if you do want his company, he will gladly stay, coaxing you to either play a card game or a board game if you don’t want to talk about your session.

If the session was a rough one, Jason will go all out with his care. You get the softest blankets and the fluffiest pillows to cuddle up with, your favorite meal, and a movie of your choosing put into the portable DVD player that you had found in an intruder’s pack.

Jason is all too happy to provide you with anything and everything you need to make you feel better, including his presence. You want to use him as a mattress? Absolutely. You want a massage? He’s on it. You want a hug? Done. You want to talk? He’s all ears.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas is hovering in your personal space as soon as you get home, having been both dropped off and picked up from the therapist’s office by Luda Mae since she insists on it.

Hoyt and Monty keep their distance for a few hours after you get back, limiting their offensive and/or vile comments to a few grumbles here and there. Thomas is the main reason for this, because he doesn't like it when you leave the property, to say the least. Thomas gets restless, prowling around the house in search of something to keep him busy until you come back.

When you get home, Thomas is waiting outside for you, opening the car door for you. He respectfully keeps his hands to himself until you give him permission to touch, then he’s pulling you into a bear hug. He’ll be constantly touching you for the rest of the day. A hand rubbing up and down your back, an arm slung over your shoulders, a hand gently squeezing your hip, more hugs… he’s all over you.

Thomas can’t help but worry. He doesn't like people –and for good reason too– doesn't like that he’s not there to protect you if someone tries something. You try to reassure him that you’ll be fine, your therapist is perfectly professional and the townspeople are content to leave you be, but he’s not convinced.

You and Thomas share a room, which is one of the larger bedrooms on the second floor because Thomas is a big guy and needs a considerable amount of space. It had taken some getting used to, but your sense of modesty and desire for privacy are long gone after spending so much time in close quarters with the Hewitts. Besides, with Thomas being such a light sleeper, Hoyt can’t sneak into the room at night to mess with you.

Tom Hanniger & Harry Warden

Tom is no stranger to therapy and all it entails, he himself spoke to several different therapists during the seven years that he spent in a psychiatric hospital. So, with that being said, Tom waits for you in the parking lot after dropping you off, listening to the radio and absently drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to entertain himself.

Tom is usually in charge of the body, with Harry only making an appearance to either kill someone or get it on with you, which is a division that they’re perfectly content with. Tom is a better boyfriend anyway, taking you on romantic dates and being disgustingly domestic at home. Granted, Harry spends time with you as well, he’s just more callous and has a shorter fuse.

On a normal day, Tom will bring you straight home after your session, the two of you cooking a meal together. But when you come out of the building with red-rimmed eyes and a defeated slump to your shoulders, Harry stirs. Tom maintains control of the body with considerable effort, asking after what happened once you climb into the car.

You don’t have to give him a play-by-play, he just wants to get a feel for where your head is at so he can adjust his plans accordingly. If your session was more emotionally draining than anything, he’ll make a pit stop at an ice cream shop to get you your favorite flavor. Though, if your session has torn open old wounds, Tom will bring you home and do his best to comfort you.

Tom is a little awkward, but he is genuine with his efforts. Please throw the man a bone by telling him what you need from him, he will be more than happy to give it to you. Harry will also chip in in his own way when he fronts that night, doing some chores around the house for you before he goes out to blow off some steam so you have the day to relax.

[macdenlover]

it came to my realization that 99% of my fandom related headaches would be cured if everyone understood this

[byjove]

do you remember the first horror movie you watched?

no

maybe? not sure?

yes and it was…(tell us in the tags)

Voting ended onMay 27, 2024

[writtenroses1813]

I’m so sorry but in the nicest way possible do yall actually read books or just read words??? Cause I’ve been seeing that trend of people not understanding how “snarled” and “eyes darkened” and “eyes softened” etc. was used in a book and like…

Genuinely, do yall just not have imagination?? Or not understand figurative language??? Also eyes do literally darken and soften have you not lived a life??? How do you read with no imagination? Is this how you get through so many books in one month - you simply don’t take the time the understand the words as they are read?

[mistertiberius]

> I do not own any of the slashers/fandoms that I write for (except my Yautja oc's)

> Works that do not feature a gender neutral reader will be labeled

> Order of works is from word count

100 - 200

N/A

300 - 400

N/A

500 - 600

Darling You Are A Work Of Art | Jason Voorhees, Female Reader

“Jason, great timing!” You exclaimed with visible relief, gesturing to your sketchbook by way of an explanation when Jason tilted his head at you, the book in your lap opened to a previously blank page that was now covered in quick and rough sketches of the male physique. “I need you to take your clothes off.”

I Believe I Can Fly | Michael Myers

Michael just wanted to hold your hand.

700 - 800

Life Is A Collection Of Moments | Michael Myers

You contemplate your relationship with Michael.

We All Start Somewhere | Thomas Hewitt

Thomas with a s/o that makes little noises like chirps, squeals, or small yelps when happy and/or excited.

900

You’re Safe With Me | Jason Voorhees

You and Jason catch a pair of peeping toms watching the two of you.

[mistertiberius]

Hi tibby, I love your house of wax stories.

Can I request a blurb about Jason and a female! Reader that is weird and an artist?

You are a great writer. Hope you can write this request. Thanks. 😋

~Sam w.

Darling You Are A Work Of Art

Jason Voorhees x Female Reader

Warnings: Partial Nudity

Word Count: 525

A/N: This was a great warm-up for me, especially since motivation to write for Tumblr hit me like a sledgehammer to the head today lol. Not sure what you meant when you described the reader as weird, so some creative liberty was used. Thanks for the request, hun!

And, if any of you are interested in throwing me a tip, why not buy me a coffee?

You reluctantly tore your eyes away from your sketchbook when Jason emerged from one of the tunnels and into the main area –which resembled a living room– with three heavy-duty packs, one haphazardly slung over each shoulder with the third held in his hand and a cooler tucked under his other arm.

You noticed that there was a bit of semi-dry blood splatter on the cooler when Jason deposited it beside the coffee table with an amount of care that most people would find surprising considering his size, though you weren’t too concerned about the mess since the stain was relatively small and could be washed off with the right supplies and a little elbow grease.

“Jason, great timing!” You exclaimed with visible relief, gesturing to your sketchbook by way of an explanation when Jason tilted his head at you, the book in your lap opened to a previously blank page that was now covered in quick and rough sketches of the male physique. “I need you to take your clothes off.”

Jason paused halfway through setting the last pack down in favor of aiming a scandalized look in your direction, obviously wholly against fulfilling this particular request. And, while you weren’t exactly sure whether or not his shyness was due to embarrassment or the fact that he found the act of undressing in front of you indecent, you were determined to get your way.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s for anatomy practice.” You huffed with a roll of your eyes, flapping a hand at him. Unfortunately, Jason still wasn’t for it, shaking his head in silent denial as he crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive fashion.

“I only need you to remove your shirt, Jason. I’d like to use your back as a reference. Please?” You groaned, waving a hand at the slightly-off figures currently occupying the page as if the gesture alone could somehow convey the sheer amount of frustration you had been experiencing from the moment you put pencil to paper.

Jason tilted his head in a contemplative manner as he peered down at your numerous attempts to produce something that you didn’t want to set on fire, the mammoth of a man heaving a long-suffering sigh before he shrugged out of his jacket and laid it onto the arm of the sofa, your eyes eagerly taking in every ounce of tantalizing pale skin that was revealed as he pulled his shirt off before tossing it down onto the armrest beside his jacket.

“Thanks, sweetheart. You’re a life-saver.” You mused, shuffling around on the couch cushions in order to get comfortable before twirling your finger in a circle in a silent bid for him to turn around. Jason held your expectant stare for a prolonged moment before he begrudgingly obeyed, his back muscles shifting under your appreciative gaze as he adjusted his posture in order to settle in for the long haul, the man having long grown used to being your model. You grinned triumphantly, your eyes mapping the skin that had been bared to you in a blatant display of trust.

“Okay, now hold still…”

[mistertiberius]

The Best Time For New Beginnings Is Now

Zai’kuur & Hollow x GN Reader

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Xenomorphs and all the bad stuff that goes with them

Word Count: 2,341

A/N: Surprise, I’m back with more OCs and another series! Honestly, I had so much fun building the reader’s personality in this particular setting as well as really ironing out Hollow and Zai’kuur’s characters. And one last thing, the reader goes by a callsign (basically a nickname for those of you that don’t know), so that is the name that the reader will be referred to for the majority of the series.

Also, if any of you need a quick refresher on who Zai’kuur and Hollow are, check out this post!

Series Masterlist

And, if any of you are interested in throwing me a tip, why not buy me a coffee?

Taglist: N/A

You weren’t exactly sure how you ended up here, at this very moment, with two Predators trilling and clicking at each other like you weren’t even there while you awkwardly sat on what you suspected was a bed –which belonged to one of the two ridiculously tall Predators in your immediate vicinity judging by the sheer size of it– your lower body engulfed by a soft animal pelt. 

And to make matters more confusing, the pair of Predators seemed to be in a heated discussion, with the shorter one, who had a biomask secured over his face –you distantly recall him mentioning that his name was Hollow when you had regained consciousness in this wholly unfamiliar spaceship– petulantly packing away tools that you had never seen before into what appeared to be a medkit.

Meanwhile, the bigger one that was bare-faced –who had introduced himself as Zai’kuur before he stepped aside to let Hollow unravel the bandages around your thigh and scrutinize the sealed wound that had nearly taken your life– had crowded into Hollow’s personal space with a familiarity that implied that whatever was between them was a little more intimate than friendship, a hand adorned with black claws pressed between Hollow’s shoulder blades.

They kept stealing glances at you every so often, but didn’t otherwise acknowledge you in any way. You didn’t know if they weren’t communicating with you because they just couldn’t bother with giving you the time of day. Regardless, the atmosphere was tense as you mutely watched on with thinly-veiled wariness, severely tempted to make a break for it despite knowing that you wouldn’t make it far without at least one –if not both of them– catching up to you before you even made it down the corridor, let alone the exit.

Who knows, maybe the only thing keeping you from being hunted for sport was the fact that you hadn’t tried to run, and running now would only result in your death? Or perhaps it was because you had been half-dead when they came across you in those damn ruins and they saw no merit in killing wounded prey?

From the numerous horror stories that you’d had the displeasure of hearing over the duration of your career in the Deep Space Search & Rescue division –which was usually referred to as DSSR– you had managed to piece together the fact that the Predators had a pretty strict honor code when it came to killing. There were rules that the Predators followed, rules that went unnoticed by those who focused on the grisly depiction of the Predators unmatched brutality instead of questioning their peculiar behavior.

But eventually one hears enough recounts of those gory tales to recognize a pattern.

You had been one of the few humans to look past the details and discern what some of these unknown rules were, proceeding to try and figure out how you could apply them to yourself should you ever have the misfortune of coming face to face with a Predator. Because specific behaviors that the Predators exhibited seemed to link directly to their rules, so you were reasonably sure that you would survive an encounter if you were able to present yourself as a non-threat before you were condemned to be their prey.

However, none of it was really useful in the end considering that it wasn’t a Predator that wiped out your entire team, but Xenomorphs. The distress beacon that Mother had picked up was on what appeared to be a desolate planet with the only life present being the plentiful vegetation.

Turns out, the crew had abandoned their crashed ship and unknowingly walked right into a dormant Xenomorph nest, which resulted in the nine surviving crew members getting infected. And, on an even worse note, they were already dead by the time you and your teammates touched down on the surface, the chest-bursters having grown a significant amount in the time it took for the ship to reach the planet that the signal was originating from.

The Xenomorphs had been all but fully grown when the you and the rest of your team geared up and made the descent to the planet’s surface in the rescue shuttle, the matured murder-happy parasites instilled with the single-minded purpose of collecting both food for the nest and hosts to birth more of them.

You and your teammates never stood a chance.

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise that you had found yourself steadily bleeding out in the dilapidated ruins of some ancient civilization not even three hours after touching down with the seven men and women that you had called your teammates for over four years, waiting to see whether the blood loss or the Xenomorphs would get you first.

Thankfully, you had managed to kill two of the damn pests using both a flamethrower and your sidearm before you found yourself grievously wounded when a third one ambushed you and grazed your inner thigh with its tail, dangerously close to your femoral artery.

It was kind of a blur of panic and adrenaline after that, though you distantly recalled using your hunting knife on another Xenomorph –you had no idea if it was the same one that had wounded you– when it tried to drag you off to god fucking knows where, it’s acidic blood promptly eating through your last means of defending yourself as the blade disintegrated and you were forced to rip your tactical vest off to avoid suffering the same fate as your knife.

Then you had proceeded to use up the last of your energy to limp deeper into the ruins before your leg gave out, forcing you to sit down and sluggishly tuck yourself away in some darkened corner with your melted blade clutched in your shaking hand before simply waiting for the end, in whatever form it may come.

But here you were, alive, with no knowledge of what happened once you lost consciousness. Although there was a faint recollection of what you suspected to be a memory, even with how distant and hazy it was. You’d had one foot firmly in the grave when you had miraculously managed to pry your eyes open, blankly peering up at the towering figure that loomed over you. And you probably would have panicked if you hadn’t already been dying, blissfully numb to everything.

Which brought you to here and now, very distinctly not dead with your leg and other various minor wounds expertly patched up, still clad in your filthy clothes and aching all over like you had been trampled by a stampede of Predators. But you were breathing, and that’s what mattered. You could figure out the rest later, hopefully after a shower and some proper rest.

“Um… excuse me?” You asked, grimacing at how wrecked your voice was, probably from all the screaming and shouting you’d been doing from the moment that the Xenomorphs had made themselves known by attacking AJ and Hazel.

“Aye?” Hollow grunted in a thick and slightly robotic Scottish accent as the two Predators turned their collective attention onto you, staring in an expectant manner.

“What exactly are your intentions?” You blurted after a lengthy pause only to immediately be slammed with regret because you were supposed to ask if they had a bathroom and if you could use it, not demand to know what they were planning to do with you. Your brain had one fucking job, which was to not let you run your mouth.

“Intentions?” Hollow parroted blandly, earning a light smack to his massive bicep courtesy of Zai’kuur, who hissed and clicked at Hollow in a reprimanding fashion.

“Yer strength an’ resilience are admirable, human. Yer kills were impressive.” Hollow huffed, crossing his unfairly large arms. On the other hand, Zai’kurr’s stance was much more relaxed, which you were kind of coming to expect from him considering that he had been the picture of calm and composed since you woke up.

“…right. Thanks?” You said haltingly, unsure of whether he was just deflecting or not. Either way, there was a good chance that you weren’t going to get much out of him when it came to the topic of why you were on their ship instead of being left behind to be used as fodder for the Xenomorphs. Which, now that you thought about it, those homicidal pests had probably been annihilated by the two Predators standing a few measly feet away from you.

“Hm.” Hollow hummed noncommittally –as if to confirm your suspicions about him being less than forthcoming on the matter of your presence here– his head turning to look at Zai’kuur when the larger Predator started warbling and clicking at him. Whatever was said, Hollow nodded in response then fixed his focus back onto you.

“Ahm assumin’ ye want tae clean up a wee bit? Yer mocket.” Hollow commented with an unnervingly predatory tilt of his head, regarding your uncomprehending expression with a low rumble of amusement.

“Yer dirty, wee yin.” Hollow clarified in a tone that was colored with mirth, tacking on what you assumed to be some kind of nickname. For all you know it could be an insult, or a derogatory term. 

“What I want is to go home.” You retorted hotly, feeling completely out of your depth and for good fucking reason too. Sure, it probably wasn’t a good idea to lash out at an alien that can and will absolutely kill you with their pinky finger without breaking a sweat, but you were stressed and scared and all your friends were dead.

“Who are ye tae make demands ae us? Ye shuld be grateful–” Hollow abruptly cut himself off when Zai’kuur’s hand fell onto the back of his neck, fingers curling to gently squeeze. Hollow’s shoulders rose and fell as he heaved a breath, his head turning a bit when Zai’kuur began to trill and warble at him. Hollow switching to his native tongue when he responded, the pair once again lost in their own little world.

Hollow seemed less than pleased with whatever Zai’kuur was saying, practically bristling as he hissed at the larger Predator, who was entirely unruffled by Hollow’s belligerent attitude. Zai’kuur gestured to you as he clicked, which piqued both your interest in whatever was being exchanged and also dread because what if they were discussing how to dispose of the rude human that had the audacity to snap at them even after they’d saved said human’s life?

“We’ll give ye a ride tae the nearest human outpost.” Hollow grunted, only sounding mildly disgruntled instead of pissed off, which was a good sign for your continued survival. Even so, you blinked owlishly at the pair, utterly baffled by their unexpected agreement. Never in a million years did you think that you’d get a ride back to civilization from a Predator, let alone two of them.

“That’s– well… thank you.” You tripped over your words, reeling from the fact that you were going to get dropped off so close to home, and at an outpost on the frontier no less. If they brought you to the outpost themselves, that meant you wouldn’t have to struggle through a language barrier while trying to get transport on some alien planet.

“Nae bother.” Hollow waved a hand dismissively, moving to a nearby table to deposit the medkit onto it, probably since he would need it later when he changed your bandages and looked at your wound to make sure infection hadn’t set in.

“Right…” You said haltingly, figuring that you could determine what he had said using context clues and body language. Though you had already pretty much resigned yourself to learning to recognize phrases and words so you could feel less lost when communicating with Hollow.

“So… about that wash?” You tentatively prompted, glancing down at yourself and grimacing at the sheer amount of dirt and dried blood that caked your clothes and visible skin. Your uniform was a lost cause, torn to shit and stained with all sorts of disgusting fluids that you didn’t even want to think about lest you suddenly find yourself seized by the urge to douse yourself in bleach just to get it off.

“Zai’kuur will get the water runnin’ fer ye.” Hollow hummed, sharing a look with the Predator in question, who nodded and left the room. You took Zai’kuur’s swift departure as your cue to get your ass moving, so you shifted to the edge of the bed. However, before you could get your feet on the floor, Hollow was suddenly kneeling in front of you with one of his hands hovering over your arm.

“Donnae try tae stand, wee yin. Ye’ll only hurt yerself.” Hollow said in a rush, pointedly tipping his head toward your thigh, his hand slowly retreating without ever actually making contact when you obediently remained seated. “With yer permission, ah’ll carry ye there. Ye can do the rest yeself if ye donnae want assistance.”

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to your bandaged thigh as your brows furrowed. Unfortunately, if you chose to be stubborn and refuse the Predator’s help, not only would you be ignoring Hollow’s concerns, but you would also risk potentially angering the already pugnacious Predator. Furthermore, you knew for a fact that there was no way that you would be able to stand up –let alone walk– in your current sorry state.

“Sure, go ahead.” You allowed with a begrudging sigh, lifting your arms a little so Hollow had easier access, his arm wrapping around your waist to carefully haul you up and out of the bed. His other arm looped under your legs, his hand cradling your injured thigh to hold it steady so it wouldn’t be jostled when he moved. You shifted in in order to get comfortable when he cautiously straightened with you secured in his arms, the Predator patiently waiting for you to settle before he strode out of the room and into the corridor.

[mistertiberius]

Search & Rescue Masterlist

> I do not own any of the slashers/fandoms that I write for (except my Yautja oc's)

Part 1 | The Best Time For New Beginnings Is Now