Theth0ughtdaughter - WesAnderson

adding to my collection, need more

haiiiii omg ^_^ hi!! hiiiiii <3 haiiiiii hii :3 (threat)

ᥫ᭡

no way joe biden cameo

This is so cute😆I live for these kinds of fics

literally no excuse for why this took so long. i wasn't having fun with this chapter because i want argenti and gallagher to show up arleady. also i remember writing the start of this around when huohuo got released. so erm. shes oldddd

next chapter should be more fun as it will involve my lovely husbandwife (argenti) and i love him. also maybe sampo will be there. i was struiggling with him this chapetr. as usual with these big chapters; formatted on my pc. sorry if she looks funny

< prev .. meme intermission .. next >

** Written PRE 2.1 – Any mentions of new characters is pure speculation and or headcanons. Outline written with the intent (and at the time) of being placed around 1.4’s Topaz introduction.  Written over the course of months, some details may be incorrect.  Also warning there is some “crossdressing” in this chapter.  The person identifies and is a man, dressed in women’s clothing as part of a disguise.  When dressed like this he is referred to using they/them pronouns.  I don’t really know much about “crossdressing” or if I should even call it that, but as a trans person I don’t find this portrayal offensive in any way, but that’s my two cents as the author.  Long story short man dresses as a woman as part of a disguise.  It is not a big deal.  Trans rights!! 

The cold air of the Outlying Snow Plains is starkly different from the warm comfort of the Astral Express.  Mr Yang lent you a spare coat, but you still shiver in the icy air.  Pompom parked the Express near the Bud of Memories Calyx.  You’re fascinated by the golden glow of the… you’re not even sure what to think of it as, but the shine is enthralling.

Dan Heng tugs you along, “we’re not here for that.  Let’s get to the city.”

The Administrative District is more beautiful than you’d expected.  There’s the bustling of city life; shop owners calling out and advertising their wares, there’s people and families walking along and shopping.  The shine of the Geomarrow heaters attract stray citizens, taking breaks from their travels, conversing over the warmth.  March has looped her arm through yours and she, Caelus, and Dan Heng form a little square as you begin your search.

“So, who are we looking for first?” She asks.

“Bronya, and hopefully Gepard.” Dan Heng answers for you, the two of you having formed a loose plan and order.

Your group approaches the large government building where Bronya should be.  The guards let you in, giving you a warning that Lady Bronya has a guest from the IPC.

You hide your frown, having onwen you walk in and see a woman with a short gray bob with red streaks and a warp trotter you know instantly she’s intended to be playable.  You tug March to a stop, making the two behind you still as well.

“She’s a part of this as well.” You say quietly, as to not draw the Supreme Guardian and her guests’ attention. 

“Eh? How can you be so sure?” March glances at you then eyes up the IPC agent.  

That makes you furrow your brows, is her stand-out outfit not as eye-catching as it is to you? Her hair and outfit scream playable character.

“Look at her.” You respond, and Caelus next to you nods, narrowing their eyes.

“She feels different compared to the average person we come across.”

“She is different,” Dan Heng points out.  “That’s an IPC worker, and a pretty high ranking one by the looks of her.”

“Not in that way-,” Caelus is forced to snap his mouth shut as Bronya notices your party.

She looks tired, but smiles at the four of you, waving you over.  “Astral Express Crew, what brings you to Belobog?”

The silver-red haired agent has turned her back on you, using a piece of IPC tech to report her report, or whatever it is IPC workers do.

“Bronya!” March starts off jovially.  “Can you spare the time for a meeting later on? I promise it’s important.” 

The four of you manage to convince the Supreme Guardian to meet you at the Underworld border later on in the day.  You looked for a moment to speak to that IPC worker, but she’d slipped away at some point during your conversation with Bronya. 

On your way to Serval’s workshop you spot her, Gepard, and Lynx.  The three siblings are standing outside of the museum Pela manages, talking over one another all seeming to be discussing the pamphlet in the youngest Landau sibling’s hand.

“If we follow the guided tour–” “We’ve done the guided tour a million times before, Serval!” “They’re constantly adding new Relics!”  Lynx is looking rapidly between the pair, before promptly folding the pamphlet up when they see your group. The sudden action causes Serval and Gepard to look up as well, before their faces brighten at the sight of you.

“Trailblazers! It’s good to see you!” Serval steps away from the group, wrapping an arm around March’s (and your’s by proxy) shoulder in a loose hug.

“Trailblazers!” Gepard nods at your group, a hint of a blush on his face.  Lynx gives your group a wave, a tight (but friendly) smile on their face.

It doesn't take much work to convince the Landaus to meet you later on, and before you know it Pela, Seele (who you ran into on her way to see Bronya), and Luka (on a trip for some Overworld groceries) all have been rounded up and agreed to meet you later.  It’s a short trip to the underworld where you need to find Natasha, Clara and Svarog, and Hook.  You’re not sure if Sampo is even, like, not imprisoned.  You told the group he’s a part of the group of people you need to gather, but he’s slippery, and you’ll only be able to catch him if he wants to be caught.

Natasha and Hook happen to be together in the clinic, which is another convenience for you. The two of them agree to meet you (Hook had demanded you pay for Pitch Dark Hook the Great’s time, which was easily bought with the promise of snacks at the meeting).

You hardly have the time to admire these characters you adore; the age lines on Natasha’s face, the way her long hair is tied back messily, the smooth texture of her clothes that only comes with that of a clothing iron and time.  Not to mention Hook is adorable, the way her clothes are covered in soot, and her serious pout that makes it hard not to coo at her.

The last destination you need to find is the Robot Settlement, which (with luck) is where Clara and Svarog are.

The security robots recognize March, you aren’t sure how as you see no camera or other sensory detectors on them, but when March approached, they  opened.  Svarog is standing in the exact spot he does in-game, the smack middle of the concrete platform.  His singular red eye lights up and scans over your party.

“Trailblazers,” his scan covers your form, once, then twice.  “Unknown guest.”

You offer an awkward wave.

“Is Clara around?” Caelus asks.

“Negative, Clara is visiting the Outlying Snow Plains.” “Oh? Why is that?  Is she alone?” March worries.

“Pascal requires a specific core that only is found in buried ruins.  She insisted.  She has guards, she is safe.”

“Hm, we’ll have to go find her.” Dan Heng decides.  “March will you accompany me?”

“Huh?” March looks at him.  “What?”

Svarog’s eye lights up and scans over the two of them, observing the situation.  Caelus laughs, trying to clear the air. “I’ll stay here with you and talk to Mr Svarog, okay?”  They squeeze your hand kindly and March is pulled away with Dan Heng to find the little girl.

Snow crunches and eventually the sound fades away before Svarog breaks the ice.

“You wish to speak with me?”

“Yes, we wish to speak with you,” Caelus gives a charming smile.  You attempt to mirror the smile, unsure of if your charming human smiles could work on the robot.

“What do you know of as the truth of this world, Svarog?” You ask, gauging his answer.

“Query received.  Processing answer.” You  exchange a glance with the Trailblazer, who looks about as nervous as you feel. “Answer found, results unsatisfactory.  Unauthorized persons in area.”

“What?” you manage to ask, nerves eating you alive.

“Step inside with me.”  Svarog turns, clunking with every step he takes.  “I must asseverate the Trailblazer remains out of earshot.”

“No problem,” they nod.  “I’ll go check up on some of the robots.  They make good company, you know?”

The inside of the building (is it Svarog and Clara’s house?) is made of steel, but isn’t modern in the way that the space station is.  It’s duller and rougher, like it’s in a constant state of being repaired or renovated. 

It smells like metal, when you take a breath through your mouth a stinging metallic taste lingers. You wonder, if you were closer to Svarog if such a scent would be on him.

“You are an organic being. This world is not so.  You asked for what I know the world to be and I will provide you what I know.

“This world is one many.  All beings of this world exist in a binary, you do not.  We exist in a flat plane that exists as a subsidiary to your own.”  His eye lights up, the red flashes in quick succession.  “Error.  Information restricted.  Extraction unavailable.”  He sits on one of the thick, reinforced metal chairs.  “Sorry.  It seems I lack the authority to provide you with further information.” “It’s okay thank you for what you’ve told me, Mr Svarog.  It helps confirm some things for me.  You were very helpful.”  It’s hard being around him in the same way as it’s easy. He lacks the human judgment you often face, even if unconsciously.  It’s hard because he’s so large and intimidating.  (And you would smash.)

“I appreciate the compliments.  I wish I could help you further.  I believe your companions mentioned needed to talk to Clara.  Do you know what that is about?  I ask out of concern for her safety.”  Svarog stands, joints whirring as he does so.

You nod, looking away from his face, “I do.  Actually we’re having a meeting later on, you’re also invited to come.  Hopefully Clara will be there.” “I see.” Svarog goes quiet for a minute and the air fills with the idle sounds of his machinery. “Then I will be there.  Where did you say this meeting was taking place again?”

The meeting went about as well as it could have gone, save for the lack of Sampo.  You asked around the Express crew and Gepard, who all reported not seeing him.  A shame, you really wanted to get his perspective on this whole situation.

You’re sure he would have something to provide, well mostly sure.  The scene at the end of Belobog’s chapter in the game, the one where Sampo looks directly in the “camera” and at the player, resonated deeply with you. What was it he said…?

“Time to make my curtain call,” before turning to meet your eyes through the screen. “To you, my dear audience, I dedicate my performance... I wonder, did I bring a little more joy into your lives?” He pauses dramatically.  “...You don't have to answer that - but if the answer is no, then you'll break my heart.”  Sampo’s voice breaks in a controlled manner as he finishes his lines, giving you a bow.

That has to mean something.  It just has to!

Gepard mentioned him being gone for over a week now, which isn’t uncommon for the Fool, but it squashes your hopes of contacting him.

You’d be kicking rocks (if there wasn’t a permanent layer of snow over the ground) if it weren't for the Trailblazer insisting upon stopping at a vending machine before heading back to the express.  So now you’re sitting on a bench with March and Dan Heng on either side of you while the lot of you wait for the Trailblazer to get their Mung Bean Soda.

“Don’t look so down!  I’m sure he’ll be here next time we visit.” March pats your back.

You people watch to pass the time before asking to take a moment alone.  Belobog seems like a safe enough place for you to wander without anyone snatching you up, so March and Dan Heng agree to catch you later.

You stroll the wintry streets, watching the citizens talk and enjoy their day-to-day lives, reminiscing about when you were once like them, back in your world.  You get lost in your memories, only being pulled out when you spot a very familiar shade of blue hair.

That’s Sampo Koski, no doubt about it. 

Well, there’s some doubt about it.  Instead of the more masculine version of Sampo portrayed in the game, this Sampo is oddly… busty.  It’s not like you’re trying to look at their breasts, they looked at you first!!!

As if feeling your gaze Sampo, they– she? he? –are they allowed to be transgender or whatever this is?  You don’t question this out of meanness, genuinely wondering if the game would affect such a thing?  What… but you don’t have long to worry about Hoyo possibly forcefully transitioning or detransitioning their characters because the person of the hour walks on over to you, strides long and confident.  

“Why hello there, you must be a member of my dearest audience!”  Before you can so much as greet them back, they continue, a sparkle in their eyes.  “It’s an honor to finally meet you!  Oh, I’m so moved you’ve come all this way for little old me.” You don’t know what this is, and if this is a gender thing you’d hate to deadname them, but you have to ask.  “Sampo?”

An immediate, “SHHHH!”  You flinch away and blush at the suddenness. “Why don’t we talk somewhere a little more private, doll?”

And never let it be said that you’ll decline a beautiful person wanting to drag you to an alleyway, sign you up all day! 

So Sampo, or Madam Poisson as they requested you refer to them as when dressed in such feminine attire, is currently wanted by the Silvermane Guards, though when is Sampo not wanted by them?  They refused to elaborate on that odd greeting they gave you, instead pressing you for a more casual conversation; how’s the express? how are his dear friends doing? how is Belobog treating you?

Madam Poisson eventually sends you back on your way to the Express crew with a big fat red lipstick mark on your cheek and a dumb smile on your face that you can’t hide.

All in all, your trip to Belobog was fun.  Though you found no answers to you being in this world, even raising a few more questions than you began with. Thus as you reboard the Astral Express, a sinking feeling of not belonging strikes you.

Everyone is so kind to you, so ready to assist, but all efforts have been fruitless.  You don’t have long to wallow in your sadness because Pompom shuffles into the center of the train cart and clears their throat.

“Passengers! May I have your attention please?  The Astral Express has received an invitation to The Land of Dreams, Penacony!”

Oh joy.  Uncharted territory for you, as the game’s progression had not at all gotten this far while you still had control.  You might want to call for a group meeting…

taglist 🫶 hmu if you want to be added or if i forgot to tag you! @leafanonsforest @c00kie-cat @andromeda-gay @starsofabundance @help-whatdoimakemyusername @mitsukashi @anonboyhalo @raechu11 @satvrnlr @nightw-izhu @whateverifeellikedoingtoday @sixxui

reblog to pet the sad cat 　　　　　　 ＿＿ 　　　　　／＞　　フ 　　　　　|  　_　 _ l 　 　　　／` ミ＿xノ 　　 　 /　　　 　 | 　　　 /　 ヽ　　 ﾉ 　 　 │　　|　|　| 　／￣|　　 |　|　| 　| (￣ヽ＿_ヽ_)__) 　＼二つ

— Franz Kafka // Richard Siken

fanfiction is so awesome. some of the most brilliant writers youve ever met are writing the most crazy porn youve ever seen. does that not move you

This is hilarious, I love it😭😭

BEEP BEEP! YOUR RIDE IS HERE!

"𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘳."

Sypnosis: You ordered an Uber to get home— but something about your driver is… off. Not in a dangerous way, just weird. Genre: Fluff/Crack Characters: Blade, Boothill, Aventurine x gn!reader Warnings: NEVER let Boothill drive you around. Lots of reckless driving (keep your eyes on the road and follow traffic laws guys), Aventurine gambling addiction core, reader just gives up on Blade's part LMAO, a lot of cussing, this is pretty ooc😭 A/N: Heh...how long has it been since I last posted?! This has been rotting in my drafts for quite a while so take this as an apology [masterlist] [about me]

BOOTHILL

It’s well-known that Boothill has a reputation for stealing vehicles and disregarding traffic laws while he was in Penacony, so it’s safe to say he’s probably not the best Uber driver around.

But you were exhausted. Your feet were aching from walking around the city, and you were way too far from the train station. Besides, it was late, and at this point, calling an Uber seemed like your only option. You scroll through the app, frustration building as you realize there’s no one available to pick you up at this hour— except for one driver.

Boothill.

The name itself was odd, but you figured, why not give it a try?

That is, until you started reading the ratings and reviews. Now you’re regretting your decision and seriously considering texting your friends and family the car details, just in case.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 3 out of 5 stars. “A very odd fellow, and he almost got us both into a car crash!” ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 2 out of 5 stars. “I was a drunk passenger, but honestly, I can’t tell if I was the one who was drunk or if it was him.” ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 0 out of 5 stars. “Does this guy even have a license? He’s seriously reckless! But I’ll admit, he managed to speed across the streets and get me to my destination on time, even though I was running late.” >Cyborg69 replied: "Oi, don't cha think I should get at least 3 stars for that?"

You barely have time to read another review when a sharp honk pulls you out of your thoughts.

Beep!

"Hey, you the one who ordered an Uber?" A rough, almost drawling voice calls out, and you look up to see a man with black-tipped bangs leaning out of his car window. In all honesty, he looks pretty decent— well, as decent as someone can look when you realize they’re not exactly human. Penacony really does attract the strangest people.

His fingers tap against the car door, a playful grin spreading across his face as he gestures toward the vehicle. "Hop in! Front or back, your choice." he says with a casual shrug. You pick the back seat, deciding it’s the safest bet.

As you settle into the car, you’re immediately hit by the sharp, almost overpowering scent of gasoline. It catches you off guard, and you can’t help but wince. He notices your expression in the rearview mirror and lets out a low chuckle, rolling down all the windows with a flick of his hand. "Heh, sorry ‘bout the smell. Kinda rushed to... ya know, grab some fuel."

If his ratings didn’t already make you second-guess this ride, the way he spoke just sealed the deal.

“Oh! Uh, that’s fine.” You force a smile, nervously buckling your seatbelt as he starts driving. At first, everything seems normal. You keep glancing at him through the rearview mirror, your eyes meeting his for a few seconds before he quickly looks away, whistling casually.

"Don’t hafta keep lookin' at me, sweetheart. I ain’t no danger." He flashes a smile, but it doesn’t do much to ease your nerves. "So, headin’ home?" he asks, and you nod slowly, giving him an address near your place for him to drop you off.

As the drive continues, your gaze shifts to the interior of the car, and you can’t help but feel a little weirded out by some of the decor. A heart-shaped pillow? Really? That didn’t exactly match the vibe you’d expect. And a bottle of perfume— one that definitely looked like it belonged to a woman. Maybe he just liked the scent, but still, it felt… odd. After all, men’s perfumes could be strange sometimes. Who wants to smell like wolf shit and pig ass anyway?

Then again, he did kind of fit that description.

Maybe he liked the scent of blood— because suddenly, he floors the accelerator, speeding down the highway, earning a chorus of honks from terrified drivers.

“woAH!” you shriek, the force slamming you back into your seat. Your hands instinctively grab the handle above the door, knuckles white as the car swerves dangerously.

“Oops, sorry.” His voice comes out nonchalantly, but there’s no trace of remorse on his face— just that stupid grin. “Hold on tight! These folks on the road are way too slow.” With a wild yell, he floors the gas again, pushing the car even faster.

At this point, you’re just praying that if the car flips, you’ll go down with it. You didn’t want to survive whatever mess would follow if he really did manage to send the car tumbling. Your heart’s pounding in your chest, and you scream again in pure horror, watching him laugh as he skillfully dodges every car in his path.

“What the actual FUCK are you doing?!” you scream, feeling your life flash before your eyes.

“I’m driving! What else am I doing? Taking a dookie?” he retorts with a scoff, eyes flicking briefly to the rearview mirror. You glance back, and your stomach drops: blue and red lights. Are there cops behind you?

“Uh, ignore the cops, darlin’.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Pretend this is just some free clubbing lights for ya.”

You panic, a fresh wave of terror rushing over you. "I don't want to fucking club!"

"Woah there, panic at the disco, heheh."

You don’t find his joke funny at all when he suddenly misses the turn to your house, and for a brief moment, you actually consider choking him out from the backseat just to make him stop. But then, something heavy falling in the car catches your eye.

Wait. Was that a gun? Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

He must’ve noticed your body stiffen in horror, because his free hand quickly rummages through his pockets. With a groan, he mutters, “Oh my Aeons— sorry, that’s my gun.” He clears his throat, and you can only deadpan at him, your mind racing. The reviews on his profile had to be way too generous. He didn’t deserve 0 stars. Hell, he should be banned, his license revoked, and his profile deleted.

But of course, he tries to reassure you. “Don’t worry, that’s, uh… a toy gun. For unruly passengers, ya know? Get it?” His sharp teeth flash in a grin, and you swear, for a split second, you see a glint of something dangerous. Then he curses some censored version of a swear word under his breath. “Ah, crap…I missed your turn.”

Yeah, you’re never booking an Uber again.

The car screeches as he whips it into a sharp U-turn, sending a cloud of smoke from the tires. You glance over to the police officer in the next lane— his bright blue eyes reflecting dim streetlights, a black-haired guy with an unreadable expression. But it’s the person sitting in the backseat that catches your attention. Two glowing golden eyes peer out from the window, face pressed against the glass.

“What the heck do they want from you?!” you scream, your body drenched in sweat as you grip the seat, heart racing.

Boothill shrugs nonchalantly. “Ehh... I dunno.”

Oh, he definitely knows.

He suddenly slams the brakes, and you slam forward, your face colliding with the back of his seat. Before you even have a chance to recover, you scramble out of the car, your breath ragged. But something catches your eye— there’s a pair of black heels in the backseat.

Wait. What?

“Think of this ride as, uh— on the house, ‘kay?” Boothill calls out from the window, giving you a thumbs-up with his metal fingers. You can barely catch your breath as you clutch your chest, your heart still racing.

“I’m kinda in a sticky situation— er…” His voice trails off as the sirens grow louder. He grunts, pulling the handbrake, but not before shouting at you as he slams the gas and speeds off.

“Remember to give me 5 stars on the Uber app!”

You stand frozen, staring in disbelief as his car disappears into the distance. Your mind is still reeling, trying to process what just happened, when the police car whips past you in a blur of lights and sirens. And then, you hear it— a panicked scream.

“HE’S DRIVING AWAY WITH HIMEKO’S CAR—"

AVENTURINE

After a long night of clubbing, you called an Uber, eager to escape the blinding lights and noise and head home. But what you didn’t expect was stepping into what felt more like another club than a car ride.

This didn’t feel like an Uber at all. The backseat was spacious, plush even, with a basket full of snacks— gum, chips, candy, just about anything you could imagine.

“Feel free to take whatever you want, yeah? It’s an accommodation,” a smooth voice drawls, and damn, you did not expect your Uber driver to be someone so... dazzling. A pretty blonde guy with striking purple and blue eyes, his gaze cool and calm. His cologne was strong but intoxicating, a heady mix of something sweet yet fresh.

"Are you sure I can take the snacks? No extra charge?" You raise an eyebrow, hesitating as you reach for a packet of chips.

"No extra charge," he repeats with a smirk, his hands casually gripping the wheel. He taps his fingers on the leather-covered steering wheel as he waits patiently for the car in front of him to move.

You mumble a quiet thanks before grabbing a few packets of chips and stuffing them into your bag, quickly buckling up your seatbelt. As you settle in, you start taking in your surroundings. One look at this guy, and it’s pretty obvious he’s loaded. The seats are unbelievably comfortable, and the extra touches in the snack basket are a little surprising. Alongside the chips, there are bottles of mineral water and other beverages, perfect if you’re parched. And judging by the brand of the snacks and drinks, it’s clear— this is first-class treatment. Something you’d expect to find on a luxury flight.

Suddenly, a tiny dice clatters against your leg. You freeze, slowly picking it up, unsure of what to make of it. He doesn’t seem to notice your hesitation, his grin widening as he speaks.

“Roll the dice,” he says, his tone playful. “The number you land on will decide where you’re going.”

You blink, completely caught off guard. “I’m sorry— what?” you stare at him in disbelief. “I just wanna go home, dude.” You hand the dice back to him awkwardly, hoping he’ll drop it.

He tuts, the sound almost childlike. “Ah, no, no, no. I offered you some wonderful snack choices, the least you could do is play along with my game.” He whines, like a petulant child, and you’re starting to feel uneasy. But there’s something about him that doesn’t scream dangerous— just weird. Definitely weird, like the one Uber driver you met last month.

“…And what is this about?” You furrow your brow, a little frustrated. “You’re an Uber driver, shouldn’t you listen to your customer on where they want to go?” You toss the dice back toward him.

“Please,” he suddenly pleads, slumping in his seat dramatically. “I have a gambling addiction.”

You raise an eyebrow, eyeing him cautiously. “What does that have to do with me?” You glance down at the dice now sitting in your palms.

He lets out a dramatic sigh, his eyes glazed over with a mix of frustration and longing. “My job banned me from going to casinos for a week,” he mutters. “So, I took this Uber job to kill time. The only way to salvage my boredom is to have my customers gamble for me.”

This Uber driver is definitely fucking weird.

“And what is your job, besides being an Uber driver...?” you ask, gulping slightly as you glance around his car, trying to pick up on any clues. His outfit, the decor, anything that might give you an idea of what’s going on.

“Well… I work for the IPC—”

“Okay, I get it now,” you quickly cut him off, your face twisting into an expression of judgment and unease. Those three letters were all you needed to hear. Of course, he worked for the IPC. All the people you've met affiliated with the IPC were just off. Like that strange Uber driver from last month? He was a huge IPC hater— and, oh yeah, he robbed a car. Then there was that girl you ran into last week, the one who casually introduced herself as an IPC worker. And trailing behind her? This bizarre creature that looked like an anteater... or a dolphin— you’re not even sure. You overheard it was her pet, but you’ve never seen anything like that in your life.

"Hey," he sighs, sitting up straighter in the seat. You’re desperately hoping he’ll drop the dice nonsense and just start driving already, but he stays put, even though the car in front of you has been long gone.

"I know the IPC has a bad reputation," he says, "but I promise you I’m not that bad."

"Yeah... not that bad for a guy who has a price on the IPC’s head," you mutter under your breath, and you catch the flash of recognition in his eyes.

“Oh! Boothill?”

You instantly regret even saying anything.

“I bumped into that guy last week— well, more like he crashed into my car,” he continues, seemingly unphased by your discomfort. “At first, he apologized. Then, out of nowhere, he pulled a gun on me and—”

Without thinking, you hurl the dice somewhere in the car, scramble to get out, and bolt for the door, heart racing.

"No tip???"

BLADE

It hadn’t even been five minutes in the car, and your driver was already chastising you.

"You're breathing too loudly in my car."

You freeze, immediately holding your breath, your hands clutched tightly in your lap. "I apologize—"

"Don’t talk."

You bite your lip, feeling your patience slip. Let me just fucking die then, I guess, you think, staring blankly out the window.

You glance over at the drawer in the car and notice a piece of paper peeking out. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you tug it out, only to find the words written in... lipstick?

“𝒲𝒽𝑜𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝒾𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓴𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓊𝓅, 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓃𝒸𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓀𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾𝑒. 𝒟𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎, 𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒾𝒸𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑒!~"

What the hell? Why are all the drivers like this? You can't even begin to describe it anymore.

"If you're feeling afraid right now, I suggest you get off," his deep voice cuts through the silence, and without missing a beat, you nod— pushing open the door while he’s still driving and rolling out onto the pavement.

reader rn:

Everyone is after that chainsaw heart!