#Danny holds some power over shadow's because he's a shadow child

[radiance1]

Inspired by this post because I have some thoughts about this one au.

So, Damian stuffs his shadow twin into the body of an unfinished clone, and somehow it just got worse really. Danny mostly just stuck to him whenever he was a shadow, and hide from basically everyone else.

But now that he has a body?

Sheer and utter chaos.

First of all, was the Batfamily's reaction to Danny. He explained who exactly Danny was, and it pained Bruce to only know now that he had another son that was killed because he was born with a birth defect.

Meanwhile Danny, feral child who may or may not have shadow powers with the maturity of a ten-year-old and the emotional maturity to match. Does not give a single care of what Bruce or anyone that isn't Damian feels.

Damian, meanwhile, is trying to stop him from putting a rat in his mouth because, as much as he loves his brother, he does dislike his specific trait to put basically anything in his mouth.

As a shadow creature? That would be fine.

As a human? No. He does not want his brother to get a disease.

So he is currently trying to wrangle his brother and trying to get him to spit out the rat, and he succeeds, and the rat runs off. Only for a spike of shadow to spear the rat right one through, leaving Damian stunned, and in that time frame the spike whipped back, the rat went in his brother's mouth, and he swallowed.

He looked down at Danny, only to find a tail of shadows peeking out from his back, horns and clawed hands and feet covered in shadows.

And him chewing on the rat.

Damian, did the only thing he could even think to do at that moment.

He smacked his brother's head and chided him for eating something who could have been who knows where.

[five-rivers]

Changeling Chapter 1

A DP Fae Au fic. I've been promising you this for so long XD. I can hardly believe I'm finally delivering, even if it's only one chapter for now.

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Chapter 1: In the Beginning, There Was an Offer

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They studied legends. According to those legends, today, Beltane, was a time of renewal, of birth, of fertility.

It was not supposed to be… this. Their dreams weren’t supposed to be crushed today. Not under this sun, not under these blue skies and among softly blooming flowers.

This kind of news should have come with rain. It should have come with storms.

Maddie wiped tears out of her eyes and Jack patted her on the back. The air smelled sweet and dusty at the same time. The bench was uncomfortable.

“We could try adoption,” said Jack. He sounded shocked, too. Drained. His voice was pulled taught over a great hollowness. “Lots of people adopt. We can- can do some good in the world, maybe.”

Maddie sniffed and cried harder. She’d wanted her own children, and Jack knew it. Adoption was all very well and good, but at this point the suggestion felt like some consolation prize, and she felt terrible for even thinking it was, because Jack was right, it could be a good thing, and…

She wanted children. Her own children.

“Excuse me, I believe I can help.”

There was something about how he said that, about how the voice wound and slipped through her ears that had Maddie’s head snapping up. The man who stood to the side of the bench wore a long coat with a deep hood. Symbols, symbols that Maddie had spent hours, days, weeks, researching were stitched into the fabric. His eyes glittered in the shadows. The fingers of his hands, clasped in front of him, were too long, their coloring faintly lavender, as if they had been dipped in ink and retained the stain even after they’d been washed clean.

This was not a human.

“How?” asked Maddie, feeling hope drip back into her limbs even as Jack tensed behind her. “How can you help?”

.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” said Jack as they drove home. “We really shouldn’t have done that. Maddie, they’re evil, there’s always a catch and it’ll always be looking for a way to push us into it.”

“The catch is in the open,” said Maddie, leaning back against the seat of the car and closing her eyes. “It isn’t as if it’s in the fine print and we’re going to stumble into it. We have one, and then I get my tubes tied, or you get snipped, and we go on with our lives.”

“What if we have twins? Triplets? Maddie, we should have talked about this.”

“There wasn’t any time,” Maddie said defensively. “I had to decide right away.”

“What are we going to do if we have twins, Maddie?”

Maddie bit her lip, her eyes opening without her full permission as she thought. “We know how to deal with things like him.”

The car jerked just a little to the right as Jack failed to suppress his flinch. “Do you remember our work on motivations? On why they take artists, musicians, children?” he asked. He forged on without waiting for an answer. “Creative sterility, we called it. For this one to be able to cure sterility, he has to be powerful. I don’t think nails in pockets and inside-out clothing is going to stop him.”

Such protections were hit and miss to begin with. One faerie might hate bread, another might love it. The sound of bells would drive off one, and another would wear them in their hair. Even cold iron was no guarantee against them.

“We’ll have to find something better, then,” she said, firmly.

.

Maddie laughed. Not a twin. A single child showed on the ultrasound monitor. A girl. A beautiful baby girl. Perfect.

On the other side of the bed, Jack sunk into a chair, obviously relieved. “She’s healthy?” he asked the OB/GYN.

“Completely,” she said. “This is quite the miracle the two of you put together here.” She shook her head. “We must have gotten something wrong during our examination. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am to have put you through all that, and I won’t blame you if you wanted to find a new doctor.”

“It’s fine,” said Maddie, patting the woman’s arm. “It happens.” Yes, being approached by a powerful fae just ‘happened.’ “The important thing now is to make sure there aren’t any complications.”

.

They made sure Jazz was born on a Sunday, with two middle names, one of which Maddie made sure to forget. They scheduled her baptism for as early a date as possible, even though both Jack and Maddie were as lapsed as it was possible to be.

Precautions.

Jack had his surgery only a month later.

They were safe. They had won.

The family of three snuggled together on the couch. Well, Jazz snuggled inasmuch as a newborn was able. They watched TV.

“Jack, dear,” said Maddie, roused to awareness by a news story about a rising young businessman. “Is that our Vlad?”

Jack blinked at the screen. “I think you’re right,” said Jack. “I haven’t seen him since college. I don’t think we’ve talked to him since college.” He frowned. “Did something happen? The three of us used to be so close… He was the only one in the whole folklore department that would put up with our theories, do you remember?”

“I don’t know,” said Maddie, trying to remember. “It was like he was there one day, gone the next.”

“Do you think he’ll mind us getting back in touch?”

“Only one way to find out.”

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(As it turned out, Vlad did not particularly care to get back in touch.)

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Jazz was not a normal child.

She saw too much. She understood too much. Her teeth grew in early. She learned how to get the milk out of the fridge at about the same time she learned how to walk. Her eyes were too large, even for her age. She didn’t start talking until she was almost two, and when she did, it was in complete sentences. She took to responsibility like a duck to water. No, she demanded responsibility, from waking up the family in the morning to answering the door. She loved rules and games, and the rules of games.

But they had never raised a child before. Perhaps this was simply how they were. Perhaps this was within the expected variety of humanity.

Most importantly, Jazz was theirs. Completely.

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Maddie was not terribly concerned when her period missed a few days, or even when it was late by a week. But when it started pushing two…

She bought a test.

It came back positive.

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Danny’s birth was different from Jazz’s in almost every particular. Instead of being infused with a sense of joy, proceedings were overshadowed by dread. Jazz had been born in a hospital. Danny would be born at home, behind every ward and protection Jack and Maddie could conceive of. The midwife they hired was more than used to odd belief systems and threw a few of her own traditions in as well.

It couldn’t hurt.

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It didn’t help.

After the birth, Maddie held Danny in her arms. He’d been born in a caul, which had been slightly alarming, even though Maddie had known that it was a thing that happened regularly, and that, by most accounts, it was lucky.

He was such a tiny little thing. Smaller than Jazz. Which made sense, he was a little premature.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she promised him, whispering into the silky, wispy curls on top of his head.

Someone knocked on the door. Maddie jerked her head up, even though the front door wasn’t at all visible from the basement. Jack flinched hard enough to drop the towels he was holding. The midwife froze.

“Hospitality,” croaked Maddie. Those rules were always humanity’s first defense against the uncanny. Don’t want something in your house? In your life? Don’t invite it in.

Although, she had arguably already invited in the fae they were worried about. Hence all the other contingencies.

The knock came again. And again, louder.

Jack let out a sigh of relief. “It can’t get in,” he murmured. Then he smiled, broad and bright. “We just have to wait it out.”

Maddie nodded, tears in her eyes. The knocking continued. This was far from ideal, obviously, but she’d been half expecting the fae to simply rip through the wards like tissue paper.

Perhaps the theory that more powerful fae were more bound by custom, more vulnerable to their weaknesses, held water? She and Jack had always dismissed it as fanciful, but they’d never been able to gather evidence before.

Then, a sound that made her heart stop.

“I’ll get it!” called Jazz, childish voice muffled by distance and the obstacle of the floors above. She’d been told not to answer the door when Danny was being born, to wait patiently in her room, but for all her unusual maturity, she was only three.

Faster than she’d ever seen him move, Jack bolted for the stairs, pushing aside several pieces of furniture and medical equipment in his haste. He took the stairs four at a time and nearly taking the door off the hinges.

He wasn’t fast enough.

“Who are you, mister?”

“Me?” said a voice Maddie had prayed against ever hearing again. “I am your uncle, my dear. Did your parents not tell you about me?”

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Jazz tipped her head to one side and stared up at the man, making her eyes extra big. She knew it made a lot of people uncomfortable when she looked at them like that, so she treated it as a kind of test.

The man smiled, kind and patient. He was kind of funny looking, but in a good way.

“No,” she said finally. “Are you Mommy’s brother or Daddy’s brother?”

“Ah, you already know about uncles, then. I was worried I’d have to explain. May I come in? I would like to greet your little brother, as your parents promised I could. I have gifts for both of you.”

Jazz liked gifts. “Okay,” she said. “But I dunno if Danny’s been born yet. Mommy said it can take a while. And I dunno if he can have gifts, yet. He’s gonna be really little. That’s what all my books say, and also the internet.”

“Jazz! Don’t!”

Jazz turned to see her Daddy skid around the corner, just as her uncle stepped across the threshold.

“Not quite on time, I fear,” said uncle. “Young Jazz has already let me in.” He patted Jazz on the head. She ducked away and stuck her tongue out, like she always did when Daddy did that. “Having greeted my niece, I would like to see my nephew.”

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The fae did walk past the rest of the wards as if they weren’t even there. It didn’t even break them, just ignored them. Some of them he even commented on, as if approving.

He gazed down at Danny with his otherworldly eyes. The midwife had retreated to the corner of the room, refusing to look at what was happening. Jack had attempted to attack the fae with his bare hands, only to be pushed away with something approaching gentleness by an invisible wall. Maddie didn’t know where Jazz was. Upstairs, somewhere, hopefully.

“So beautiful,” the fae said, brushing Danny’s forehead with his off-color fingers. Faster than Maddie could react, he had a pair of scissors in his hand and was cutting off a lock of hair. “A lovely child.” The lock of Danny’s hair disappeared into the fae’s coat.

If Maddie didn’t know better, she’d call the expression on the fae’s face love. But she did know better. Love was as incomprehensible to the fae as fae laws were to humans, so she’d call it by its true name: avarice.

She tightened her grip on Danny, as if she could keep the fae from plucking him from her arms.

“Not now,” said the fae, after another moment. “Soon, I should think.” It ran a hand over Danny’s head. “Soon.” The fae looked up, meeting Maddie’s eyes. “I will return,” he said, “in one year.”

“For what?” demanded Maddie, unwilling to get her hopes up.

The fae blinked slowly. “For his birthday.” He tilted his head. “To determine whether or not he is ready. Perhaps, also, to visit my niece.”

“You stay away from Jazz!” snarled Maddie. “You have no claim on her.”

The fae merely shrugged, then smiled, slyly. “She does, however, have a claim on me. I promised her gifts, before your husband whisked her away.”

“Gifts,” repeated Maddie, hoarsely.

“For the sister of my child, yes,” said the fae, voice and face as calm and even as ever. “Would you ask me to forswear myself?”

“Then,” said Maddie, “you can leave them here, with us.”

“You will give them to her?”

“Yes,” said Maddie, through her teeth. She did not say how long she would let Jazz be in the presence of these ‘gifts.’

“Very well, then,” said the fae, pulling a number of boxes out from beneath his coat. “One year. Be prepared.”

And, with that, the fae faded from view, as if he had been an illusion all along.

Danny was still with them. Their son was still with them. Still theirs.

“One year,” she said, breathless. “Only one year.”

“One whole year,” corrected Jack, rushing to her side. “You’ll see, Maddie. Next time, that fae won’t know what hit him!”

“One whole year,” echoed Maddie, weakly.

“One year to prepare,” said Jack. “Look what we did with half that time! We’re Fentons! We can do it!”

“We can do it,” breathed Maddie. “One year. We’ll be ready.”

Jack nodded, firmly. “We’ll be ready.”

[redrobin-detective]

give lilies with full hands

“Ghosts at the cemetery, why am I not surprised?” Valerie grumbled under her breath as she glanced at the glowing dots congregating near Heavenly Gates, Amity’s largest cemetery. It was just after 5pm on a Friday; Valerie should be at home getting ready for a fun and relaxing weekend. Instead, she was speeding forward in the dreary pre-rain mist about to tackle a hoard of the undead. Her life was so strange and unfair sometimes it just fueled her hatred for everything ghostly.

As she approached the cemetery, she slowed down and had her ectoweapon up and ready to shoot. Instead of a fire fight, she found an eerie, unsettling quiet that sunk deep into her bones and made her unable to move. She just hovered above the cemetery and took in the full scope of the scene. The Fentons were here, hard as they were to miss but like Valerie, they were also frozen with unease. Mrs. Fenton kept fiddling with her weapons but couldn’t manage to lift it in a meaningful way. 

The fog hung heavily around the cemetery, clinging like wet paint dripping down an unfinished picture. She could make out the unnatural glow of several ghosts, a few of which she recognized. That annoying child pirate ghost none of the adults could ever see was sobbing silently, curled up in a fetal position on the ground as if he were trying to make himself as small as possible. The biker guy and girl were cuddled into each other, leaned up against a grave looked scared and worn, flickering dangerously like static on TV. Val spotted Ember looking frightened and quaking looking like she wanted to run but was unable to. Her soft glow alerted Val that there was another ghost she’d initially missed.

The ghost was more shadow than anything, the fog moving through and from them. They were a swirl of greys and blacks in the approximation of a long cloak covering their face entirely. Pinpricks of bright lights shone from underneath the cloak’s hood. They bore down on Ember as if it were seeing deep into her soul and found her lacking. 

Phantom was there too, he looked almost normal compared to everything else going on so it’s not surprising she’d missed him at first. The fog dampened some of his ghostly glow and he was standing properly instead of floating. Like Val and the Fentons, he seemed unable to move. The heavy drizzle in the air flattened his normally gravity defying hair. If she hadn’t known better, she’d say he was a normal person standing there, albeit one with weird fashion sense who went a little crazy with the bleach. And if Phantom looked human in comparison then just what was this new ghost?

“Amber Jablonski,” The ghost whispered quietly within the cemetery but Valerie could hear perfectly well, as if were being spoken into her ear. From the shivers she saw come from the Fentons, they were experiencing the same thing. Ember moaned, something deep and agonizing. She fell to her knees as more of her glow faded. “An eager musician just making a name for herself in her small town. A performance at a barn had faulty wiring. The building caught fire and Young Amber was trapped by debris and unable to escape.”

The flame in Ember’s hair burst into brilliant blue flames before painfully sputtering out like a candle on the verge of going out. A wisp like ghostly hand reached out and tenderly ran a finger down the side of Ember’s face like a mockery of the tears she could no longer shed. “Cause of death was severe burns across her whole body and smoke suffocation at the age of 22.”

“Enough,” Phantom announced suddenly, stepping forward through the ghostly arm putting himself squarely between Ember and the wisp ghost. The dead rockstar barely noticed, her whole form trembling as she looked down at the cold earth with absolute horror. Val wondered if she was feeling the cold of the cemetery or the burning heat of an out of control fire. “You’re killing her.”

“She is already dead,” the ghost answered, “as are they all. They are but echoes of lives come and gone.”

“That doesn’t mean you have the right to remind them,” Phantom said, looking more ghostly again. His aura flared suddenly and his eyes lit up like angry lightning bugs in a jar. “Death is sacred, it’s private and you’re using it to hurt them.”

“It is my duty, I am the Mortem Obire. I make the restless dead confront their own mortality, remind them of what they lost.” The ghost stared down Phantom who flinched but overwise stood his ground. “It is because of you, Danny Phantom, that I have been summoned to this realm. Your life essence has made these ghosts forget what they were. They flock to you, drawn to your vibrancy, seeking what they’d lost. The dead were straying from their existence, emboldened by your example, they were forging new purposes. I am merely correcting their assumptions to preserve the delicate balance that maintains the two worlds.”

“But death shouldn’t have to define them, I mean us,” Phantom pleaded. “They can grow if they want, experience new things. The end of life isn’t the end.”

“How very human of you,” the other ghost said breathily, an unnatural imitation of a chuckle. “Your death, if we can call it that,” the ghost said, “was born out of innocence and ignorance. Nature demanded the experiment fail but your naivety allowed for the flow of life and death to be disrupted. You looked at a machine you could neither understand or control and made the attempt anyway. Your hubris consumed you in the form of electricity, pain firing through your whole body as you screamed for a relief that never came. Your old body was obliterated and remade into the abomination you are now.”

Oh god, Phantom was electrocuted. He had lived his last moments as a human screaming and in pain. She knew he was vaguely around her age but it was one thing to know a kid her age had gone through that and another to hear it described. Without thinking, she lowered her weapons. 

“Yeah I know that,” Phantom said weakly. “I took out the power in the whole city for a few hours which I felt bad about afterwards. What’s your point?” His glow was completely gone, the wet humidity of the air clinging to him much like how it fogged up Valerie’s suit. The shadow of the sinking sun made his white hair look dark and the greens of his eyes had faded into a less unnatural blue/green. 

The only think remotely otherworldly about him was a faint pulsing glow coming from the center of his chest. It beat like a heart, a soft brightness that seemed to dispel the overwhelming feeling of death. Ember looked up from the ground, the pirate kid uncurled himself a little, biker guy and his girlfriend became a little more solid. They looked at Phantom with such awe and envy and grief it was almost painful to watch them stare at what they clearly lacked. 

“My words hold no domain over your heart now, child of two worlds,” the ghost wheezed, floating past Phantom. “But someday you will greet death properly, be made humble by it, and I will be there to remind you of how fickle and fleeting that precious life of yours is.” 

“I-” Phantom defended, glowing slightly with his eyes once more an ectoplasmic green. But now it was obvious to see how much more lively and present he was compared to the others. She still hates him, will probably still hunt him but while she knew Phantom was a ghost she knew, whatever he was, she couldn’t call him dead. Not with eyes so sympathetic and expressive and alive.   

“Be gone, all of you mortals, this is a place for the dead,” the ghost commanded. The ghost hovered over to the Box Ghost who had been shivering behind a tombstone the whole time and suddenly went still as stone. “Your compassion for them does them no favors. This is the price for their existence, the dead cannot and should not forget. That is their purpose and this is mine. This is not an end to their existence, merely a reminder.”

Valerie never thoughts she’d see the Fentons flee from a fight but still she watched as Jack and Maddie slowly backed up until they reached their garish assault vehicle. They fumbled for the handles, not willing to tear their eyes off the ghosts before climbing in and driving off. Phantom looked torn, grief stricken as he watched the mist ghost, the Mortem Obire, speak softly to the Box Ghost. He looked like he wanted to interfere, to place himself in-between again but his shoulders slumped as he realized the futility of the action. This was the nature of death and memory and the living were not to interfere.

He glanced up at her, wary and saddened before disappearing from view, going off to wherever it was he lived his life when he wasn’t causing her problems. Valerie swiftly turned her board around and sped quickly in the direction of home. This had left her a lot of things to think about, about Phantom, about ghosts, about what it meant to stick around once your number was up. 

But that was for later, for now she wanted to get out of chill before the rain started in earnest. She wanted to drink something warm, sit close with her father and feel their hearts beating in time. Valerie Grey wanted nothing more, in that moment, to simply breathe in and appreciate her life before it was taken and those happy memories used against her. She would not die full of regret for what she had missed.

[boldycrazygirl]

Most People Think You Go To Either Heaven Or Hell, What I Experienced Was Much, Much Worse



By Elias WitherowUpdated June 26, 2021

 Forest Simon

I slowly opened my eyes. My head was swimming and a dull pain surrounded my throat. I was thirsty. That was the first thing I noticed. I licked my dry lips as my surroundings faded into focus. My body ached and I realized it was because I was tightly bound to a metal chair in the middle of an empty room. The barren concrete walls were stained and dirty, the floor beneath my bare feet was cold and slightly wet.

A single bulb lit the room, dangling from the ceiling by a string. It cast moving shadows and I blinked back darkness. An open door stood before me, but I couldn’t see anything but the wall of a hallway.

I tried to clear my head, tried to remember how I got here. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself not to panic. I slowed my breathing and focused my thoughts, desperately trying to summon some recollection of why I was here.

I couldn’t remember anything.

I opened my eyes and exhaled, my parched throat throbbing. I could hear sound echoing off the hallway walls outside the door. Screaming, clanging, howling, all very distant but that did nothing to help calm my nerves.

“Hello?!” I cried, the word tearing at my vocal cords. I felt my chest hitch in pain but I cleared my throat and yelled again.

“Is anyone there!? Hello!?”

The dark hallway remained silent except for the constant echoes. I shut my mouth and tried to wriggle free of my bindings, but the rope was knotted impossibly tight. I fought back against my imagination as it flooded my mind with horrific scenarios of what awaited me. If I could only remember!

Suddenly, footsteps erupted from outside the door, a rapid patter of small feet. My hopes rose and I trained my attention on the door, praying it was help.

A young boy ran into the room, dressed in a red onezie, complete with padded feet. Stretched over his face was a plastic Devil mask. The eye holes revealed massive blue eyes that greeted me curiously. Taken back, I opened my mouth to speak but that’s when I noticed something was off. His eyes were huge, impossibly round and bulging from their sockets. It sent a shiver of unease down my spine, but I shook it off. This child might be able to free me.

“Hey!” I hissed, urgently, “Hey kid, can you get me out of here?!”

The boy took a step closer, cocking his head, but remaining silent.

I rattled my bound arms against the chair, “Cut me free, please, I shouldn’t be here, this is some kind of mistake!”

The boy eyed me behind his strange mask and stopped directly in front of me. He leaned in close and whispered, his voice like wet silk, “You did a bad thing…”

Confused, I shook my head, “No! No this is a mistake! I didn’t do anything!”

The boy’s enormous blue eyes suddenly filled with sadness, “Oh, you did a really, really bad thing…”

I shook my head again, violently, “No! I’m sorry! I don’t remember, just please get me out of this chair!”

Suddenly, before either of us could speak again, a man came charging into the room. He was overweight and dressed in overalls, his grizzled face twisted in seething anger. He was holding a sawed off shotgun in his arms.

“I didn’t do anything!” I cried as he advanced on us, my voice cracking, “I’m not supposed to be here!”

The big man ignored me and instead grabbed the kid and shoved him hard against the wall. The boy grunted as his back struck the concrete and his eyes rose to meet the grizzled man’s.

Wordlessly, the man raised his shotgun, placed it against the boy’s forehead, and blew his head off. Chunks of gore splattered the wall as shock slugged me in the stomach like an iron fist. My ears rang and time seemed to slow as I watched in horror as the headless body crumpled to the ground.

My breath rushed back into my lungs and time seemed to readjust.

“Jesus fucking CHRIST!” I screamed, straining against the ropes, my eyes bulging in horrific shock, “WHAT THE FUCK!?”

The man ignored my screams as he bent down and picked up the boy. He slung the ruined corpse over his shoulder and walked out the doorway.

Suddenly, the hallway erupted with malicious laughter, a chorus of voices all howling in glee. I shut my eyes, the noise deafening, as absolute terror filled my every pore.

After a few moments, the laughter faded and I cautiously opened my eyes, unable to believe what I had just witnessed.

“Hello.”

I jumped as I realized there was another man standing before me. He was dressed in a simple, white button down shirt and jeans. His brown hair was cut short and he appeared to be in his early thirties. His green eyes were dull and lifeless, his full lips pulled down at the corners.

“What is going on!? Where am I!?” I cried, new fear pooling in my stomach like hot blood.

The man crossed his arms, “So you’re the new one huh?” He shook his head, “You people disgust me.”

Questions bubbled on my lips but he waved them off with a sharp chop of his hand, slicing the air and demanding my silence.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, sneering, “You look like you’ve already seen some of the horrors this place holds huh? Yes, I can tell by the look in your eyes. You’re terrified. You’ve seen something haven’t you? It doesn’t seem all that bad now does it, looking back? You’ve been here five minutes and already you’re shitting your pants.”

“Where am I?” I gasped, unable to hold back any longer, “What do you people want?”

The man crossed his arms behind his back, “I bet you want to get out of here don’t you? I bet you’d like to go back to your home, your family, everything.”

“Please,” I interrupted, “Whatever I did to you…I’m sorry, I really am, but I don’t remember!”

The man rolled his eyes, “You didn’t do anything to me. You did it to yourself. You really don’t remember anything?”

I shook my head and felt tears brimming in my eyes, liquid fear.

The man looked at me with contempt, “You waited until your wife left for work and then you went out to the woodshed and hung yourself. You’re dead.”

The recent memory rose in my mind like a monster from a bog. My eyes went wide. As much as I wanted to deny it…he was right. I had killed myself. The incident tore through my brain like a bullet train and left me reeling.

“I’m Danny, by the way,” the man said, ignoring the shocked look on my face, “And I’m number two here. I run the orientation process. I want to make this quick because I’m tired of repeating this fucking thing to you pathetic Suicidals. You get one question before I begin.”

He stared down at me and I scrambled to organize my thoughts into something cohesive. This was all horrifying. Why had I killed myself? I fought against the fog and panic and the mists of confusion slowly began to lift. I had just lost my job. Yes…that was the start. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced more of the memory to emerge. I had lost my job and I was about to lose the house. My wife…Tess…she found out and was going to leave me. I didn’t have any way out, didn’t have any options. Getting fired had come out of the blue and I didn’t have much in savings. I was broke, soon to be homeless, and my wife hated me for it. There was something else…yes…that’s right. She had been cheating on me. I had seen texts on her phone while she slept one night and confirmed my suspicions. My life had degraded to shit and I had run out of options. Humiliated and ashamed, I had decided death was my only option.

“Hey, fucker, do you have a question or not?” Danny said, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

I was sucked back into reality and I asked the only question that mattered.

“Is this Hell?”

Danny snorted, “That’s always what you people ask.” He began to pace back and forth in front of me, “No. This is not Hell. It’s not Heaven either. This is the Black Farm. And no, I didn’t name it that. This is where God sends the souls who have ended their own life. Suicidals. You see, he doesn’t really know what to do with you…and neither does the Devil. There are genuinely good people who kill themselves. Seems cruel to banish them to Hell for all eternity for a moment of weakness right? Personally, I think God and the Devil were just tired of arguing about it. And so, they send them here, to the Black Farm.”

“Did…did God create this place?” I asked, growing more and more confused.

Danny spit on the floor, chuckling, “Sure, at some point. But he lost control of it when he put The Pig in charge.”

“What’s The Pig?” I asked, unsure I wanted to know the answer.

Danny held up a hand, annoyed, “Can I fucking finish? God created this place, eons ago, put The Pig in charge, and then forgot about it for a while. Well, when his back was turned, The Pig decided to use his new powers to try and create his own little world. This mess you see around you is the fractured remains of that experiment. The Black Farm use to be a lot nicer, but The Pig wanted things to be different. He wanted to create his own vision. These people you see, these monsters? They are The Pig’s attempts at creating functioning life. Instead of mirroring God’s Earth, these mutated horrible creations are full of sin and hatred. They run rampant here, unabashed. This place is chaos. The Black Farm is a circus of freaks and monsters. And it’s your eternity.”

Fear boiled in my gut like thick oil. No. No this couldn’t be my end. I didn’t believe in stuff like this. This wasn’t real! I would wake up soon and realize I was just having a nightmare! That had to be it!

Danny stood before me and lightly slapped my face, “Hey, hey! Don’t go into hysterics on me. I haven’t finished yet.”

I raised my teary eyes to meet his.

Danny smiled, “You can always Feed the Pig.”

My breath pushed from my lungs like burning steam, “W-what does that mean?”

Danny spread his hands, still smiling, “It’s as simple as that. Feed the Pig. If you do so, there’s a chance he’ll send you back to your life.”

“A-and w-what happens if it doesn’t?” I bumbled.

“You get sent to Hell. So flip a coin if you have one. Stay here with us or Feed the Pig. If you choose to stay, I’ll let you go…I’ll let you go out there,” he said, pointing towards the door, “But let me assure you…what awaits you at the end of the hallway…well…let’s just say Hell isn’t that much worse.”

I swallowed hard, trying my best to digest everything. Why wouldn’t I try Feeding the Pig? Whatever that meant. If there was even a sliver of hope, I would take it. An eternity in this place, the Black Farm, be sent to Hell, or…or Feed the Pig? I would do anything for a chance to go back. This nightmare made my problems seem nothing in comparison.

Danny raised a hand before I could speak, “I’ll let you think on it a while. I’ll be back later.”

“I want to Feed the Pig!” I cried, not wanting to spend another second in this awful room. I could hear a woman screaming down the hallway, her cries rising as something meaty pounded into her. My breath came in sharp pulls and my throat burned. Danny noticed the noise and grinned.

“Sounds pretty bad huh?” He said softly as the woman’s voice creaked with agony. Something was still slamming into her, the sound of beaten flesh igniting my imagination with horrors.

“Please,” I gasped, breathless, “Just…just let me Feed the Pig. I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

Danny turned away from me, “I’ll be back later. Enjoy your time alone. Really think about your situation. Weigh your options. And remember…you put yourself here.”

And with that he was gone, leaving me in the dim room.

Tears streamed down my face.

The woman didn’t stop screaming for hours.

At some point, I fell into a semi-sleep. The darkness in the room seemed to press in on me and my eyes fluttered shut. My body ached and my throat was a halo of fire. Thirst raked at my windpipe like sharp glass. My lips felt like crumpled paper. My head thundered like a drum. The room swam in and out of focus and my mind drifted towards the horrific sounds that never ended.

I was lost in a haze, unaware that something was sliding into the room until I felt a sharp prick on my big toe. I jolted out of my daze as my bare foot ignited with pain. I screamed and tried to move, but my bindings held me tight.

The room rushed back into focus and I blinked in agony as I felt blood trickle between my toes. I looked down for the source of pain and I felt a scream claw up my throat.

Staring up at me was an armless man. He slithered on the floor like a worm, his bald head scabbed and filthy. His legs were wrapped together in barbed wire, forcing him to wriggle his body to move. His eye were lidless and wide, two bloodshot white orbs that stared up at me with hungry intensity. His teeth had been removed and replaced with long screws which jutted from his bleeding gums like a broken rock formation.

Around his neck was a chain leash, which I followed across the floor to the open door. The end of the leash was held by a tall, naked man. His body was hairless and flabby, covered in similar scabs like his pet. A dirty bag was pulled over his head that hid his features except for a single red eye that peeked out at me from a crude cut in the cloth.

He stared at me and groped his engorged penis, his breath heavy and labored. As the armless man wriggled towards me again, his master started to masturbate. I screamed as the screw filled mouth bit at me again and my cries seemed to stimulate the naked man even more.

“Get off of me! Stop it!” I screamed, horrified. I tried to kick at the man, doing my best to avoid his sharp metal teeth. I brought my heel down on his head and he screamed as his face bounced off the floor.

A moan of pleasure escaped the bagged man’s mouth and I turned away as a mist of black sprayed out onto the floor. There was a rattle of chains and I turned back to see the two of them leaving, the armless man dragged by his neck out the door. I looked at where the bagged man had ejaculated and saw a puddle of dead ants. I vomited onto myself, thick chunky curtains of bile and slime.

“GET ME OUT OF HERE!” I screamed, strands of puke running down my chin, “I DON’T BELONG HERE!”

I listened to the two men retreat down the hallway, the clank of chains accompanied by the sound of flesh being dragged across the concrete. I screamed again, but I knew no one was going to help me. I spit a wad of phlegm and bile onto the floor, ridding my mouth of its sourness. I forced myself to calm down. It wasn’t easy.

After some time, I heard someone else approaching. I had been in a miserable lull, my mind a blank canvas of dark despair, but the noise roused me from my trance like state. The muscles in my arms burned from being restrained for so long and I shifted them desperately, trying my best to prepare myself for whatever horror was about to walk through the door.

Footsteps drew closer and then a woman walked into the room. She stopped at the doorway and looked at me. One of her eyes was missing, a dark cavernous hole in her skull. Her hair was ratty and wild, a brown tangle like a forgotten nest. Her skin was pale and filthy and she was dressed in rags. I couldn’t tell how old she was, but there was maturity in her one good eye.

“Still thinking?” She asked, her voice course and brittle.

“What?”

She took a step closer, “Are you still deciding whether you’re going to Feed the Pig or not?”

I looked at her cautiously, “Yeah…I am. Who are you? What do you want?”

“I was once where you are now,” She said, “trying to decide my fate. I couldn’t believe that this was what happened…what happened after we die. It wasn’t what I was taught…religion didn’t warn me about this place.”

I tested my bindings again before asking, “You killed yourself too? You’re a person like me? You’re not one of those…those creations?”

She snorted, “Breaks my heart you have to ask, though,” she touched the hole where her eye should have been, “Though I can understand your caution. Yeah, I’m a Suicidal. I’ve been here a long, long time. But that was my choice. I decided to chance it here.”

I motioned with my head towards the door, “What’s out there? What is all this?”

She exhaled heavily and leaned against the wall, “I can’t even begin to describe this place. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen. You walk down that hallway and go out…into it…and…” she swallowed, “You’d have to see it to understand.”

“How bad is it? Why are all these mutated people hurting and killing each other?” I asked.

She let her head loll back against the wall, “It would take years for you to fully understand this place. Years you don’t have. Right now you have to make a decision. Stay or Feed the Pig. They tell me Hell is worse than here, but it can’t be by much. Monsters and Suicidals roam the Black Farm…killing, raping, brutalizing…and then you wake up and wonder how long you can survive before something else kills you. It’s an endless cycle.”

“So why did you stay?” I pressed, “Why didn’t you Feed the Pig? I don’t even know what that means, but I would do anything for a chance to go back. I can’t stay here, I…I just can’t!”

She smiled sadly at me, “Why? Why did I choose this? It’s simple really. I’m a coward. I was a coward when I was alive and I’m a coward in death. When it came down to it, when the moment presented itself, I chose to stay here. I didn’t know what awaited me outside. It boiled down to a simple choice fueled by my own fear.”

“What is The Pig? What does it do to you?” I pressed.

She suddenly turned to go, “I’m afraid that’s for you to find out. But let me warn you. Think hard before you make a decision. Sometimes suffering through your fear is better than suffering for eternity. Be brave.”

“What do I do!?” I yelled, shaking in my chair as she walked out the door.

She paused and took one last look over her shoulder. Her eyes darted around and she dropped her voice to a whisper, “Feed the Pig.”

And with that she was gone.

I sat in silence once again. My mind was spinning, desperately turning over my options. I still couldn’t fully understand the situation I was in. It was too much, too overwhelming. The other side of death wasn’t supposed to be like this. I didn’t know what I had expected, but it wasn’t this nightmare. Questions crashed over my mind like cold waves onto a sinking ship. How was I supposed to make a choice when I didn’t even know what my actions entailed?

This place, the Black Farm…I couldn’t stay here. But what if I went to Hell? What if I didn’t get sent back? I would be out of the fire and into the frying pan. My existence would forever be damned to unending misery. Here though…here there were people like me. Suicidals. It wasn’t all monsters and mutilated murderers. Maybe I could hole up somewhere with them, try to scrape together a passable existence. Surely that would be better than getting sent to Hell!

No. No this wasn’t going to be how I spent my eternity. I refused to let it be. If there was even the slightest sliver of hope, I would take it. I didn’t want to wonder what could have been. I didn’t want to be tormented by doubt. I would Feed the Pig and accept whatever fate chose for me. When I boiled it down, that was the only option left.

I would Feed the Pig.

“Hey! Hello!? Danny!” I yelled, rattling in my chair. “I’ve made my decision! Danny!”

After a couple seconds, I heard footsteps echo down the hall towards me.

Danny walked through the doorway, an annoyed look on his face.

“I’ve made my choice,” I said, “I’m going to Feed the Pig.”

“Sounds like you’ve really thought a lot about it since I left you,” Danny said sarcastically.

I licked my lips, “You’d do the same thing if you were in my place.”

Danny walked behind me, “I was in your place once. And I chose differently.” My eyes widened and then Danny wrapped my entire head with a strip of thin cloth, blinding me. I sucked in as much air as I could, but each lungful felt empty.

I felt Danny cut me free from the chair and my body sighed as my stiff muscles were released. I rolled my shoulders as my hands were released and I moaned with relief. I dug my fingers into my back and I stretched, my bones creaking.

“Keep your blindfold on and follow me,” Danny said, pulling me up.

My legs shook as I put weight on them, my thighs trembling after their long cemented position. I groped blindly in front of me and found Danny’s shoulder. I rested my hand on it as he walked us out of the room.

As were entered the hallway, I could suddenly hear sound I hadn’t before. The clank of metal, a long fleshy tearing noise, something vomiting…these sounds sprang to life in my ears, painting the darkness before my eyes with imaginary scenes of horror. I gripped Danny’s shoulder tighter, stumbling behind him, my heart thundering.

I heard something trailing behind us, but Danny didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t care. Flesh slapped the concrete mere inches behind me and I suddenly felt hot breath on my neck and the click of a wet tongue against gums. My breathing became even more labored as fear choked me.

“Go’in ta feed da piggy are ya?” Something whispered in my ear. I felt something press against the back of my head and I tried not to think about what it might be. It was wet and slimy and I heard the thing chuckle.

“Ee’s a ‘ungry piggy, you make shor’ ee gets iz meal now,” the thing whispered again, its voice low and unlike anything I had ever heard before. It was like a series of grunts and moans jumbled together to form broken words.

To my relief, I heard the thing retreat back to wherever it had come from and I continued to follow Danny. He remained silent as we walked and I could feel shifts in the air. The thick heat gave way to a cooler, almost pleasant temperature, but then it kept decreasing and soon I was shivering violently against the cold. I couldn’t see anything but I felt a breeze on my face, like we were outside. I didn’t hear Danny open any doors, but nothing about this place was natural. It was like reality blurred and bled into itself, like reels of film melting together.

Teeth chattering, I was suddenly blasted with intense heat and I gasped. My feet tripped over themselves as the terrain changed and I was suddenly walking on what felt like warm iron. My ears were filled with the sound of blazing furnaces and the clash of working machinery. I couldn’t see it, but I felt like there was a vast open expanse overhead. I smelled ash and tasted dirt on my tongue, sweat already forming along my spine.

Suddenly, I crashed into Danny as he came to a halt. I backed up a few paces, quickly, and muttered my apologies. I could hear movement in front of us, a rustle of chains and an odd clicking sound on the metal floor. Something else too…something…snorting.

And then the room filled with a deafening sound of an immense pig squealing. I covered my ears, head splitting at the high pitched wail. I grit my teeth as the noise echoed off the metal and faded into a series of snorts and grunts.

It sounded absolutely enormous.

“I’ve brought another one,” Danny announced, a slight tinge of respect lining his voice. “He wants to Feed the Pig.”

I waited, expecting to hear some answer, the cloth around my eyes sealing my sight to darkness. I realized my knees were shaking and my back was coated in sweat. I was terrified.

“If that is what you wish,” Danny said and I felt him bow under my hand. Apparently some unseen conversation had just happened and Danny took my wrist and pushed me forward.

“Approach The Pig,” he instructed.

My whole body trembled and my knees locked into place. Robbed from sight, I raised my hands, trying to get my bearings, the heat and ash filling my head with nausea. I felt like I was going to throw up, my stomach rolling like a dead sea. I didn’t know where I was or what horror lay before me. I felt lost and tiny, a fresh splash of tears dripping from my eyes and soaking into the cloth around my face.

“P-please,” I begged, “Let me see what’s happening.”

Danny was suddenly behind me, pushing me forward. He guided my hands towards something as we stepped together in unison. Even with the cloth around my face, I could see a giant mass of towering darkness before me. It was a spot of black on an already darkened canvas.

As we walked forward, I was suddenly assaulted by a horrendous smell and I gagged, turning away. Danny’s grip tightened and forced me to continue. I could sense something just in front of me, a living shifting mass of flesh. The smell increased to a wretched level and I gagged again. Then hot air was being blown on my face, a blast of heat that came in repeated short bursts.

I vomited into my cloth, the source of the smell stemming from the hot air. I choked as the bile gushed over the fabric, soaking it and momentarily cutting off my oxygen. Danny slapped my hands away and I took a few seconds to steady my breathing again. I was opening crying now, fear and misery collapsing my willpower.

The wet cloth stunk as I sucked in soggy breaths. My own stomach acid coated my skin and I begged for all of this to be over.

And then something squealed directly in front of me.

I felt my bladder go. I was standing before The Pig.

It was the source of darkness in my obscured vision; a fat, titanic creature that filled my senses with every breath it blew into my face.

Danny raised my hands and suddenly I was touching The Pig’s snout. I recoiled immediately, but Danny forced my hands back. Its fur was stiff and brittle and as my shaking hands explored up its nose, the size of the animal became clear to me.

It was gigantic and had weight over a ton. Its flesh wiggled under my sweating hands and it opened its mouth slightly. My fingers curled around teeth the size of kitchen knives and I realized its mouth was absolutely cavernous.

The Pig squealed again and I heard its hooves clack against the ground. It sounded like thunder rolling across an open field in the middle of summer.

“Take this blindfold off, please,” I begged, my legs turning to jelly.

Danny had taken a few steps back and I heard reverence in his voice, “You don’t want to do that.”

I jumped as The Pig nudged me with its nose, the wet circle of flesh squishing against the length of my face. I shuddered away, raising my hands and omitting a cry of fear.

“Feed the Pig,” Danny instructed, his voice like cold steel now. “You made your choice. Now live with it. It’s the only chance you have of going back. Or maybe The Pig won’t like how you taste and send you to Hell. Only one way to find out.”

My eyes widened behind the vomit soaked cloth, “Won’t…like…how I taste?!”

“Climb into its mouth.”

My bladder let go again and I felt warm piss run down my leg, “N-no…no you can’t mean…”

Danny’s voice hardened, “Climb into its mouth and don’t stop crawling forward until its done with you.”

“P-please,” I begged, turning towards Danny’s voice, reaching out blindly, “Please there has to be some other way…don’t make me do this!” I was a mess of snot and tears, my words bumbling from my mouth like a toddler.

Danny stepped forward and spun me back to face The Pig, “DO IT! You made your choice! It will all be over soon! This is your only CHANCE!”

I could feel The Pig breathing onto my face, its snout mere inches from mine. The smell and heat it omitted made me want to vomit again but I held it back. This was insane, this wasn’t happening. My mind spun and twisted in chaos and fear. There had to be some other way. I couldn’t do this, I COULD NOT do this!

Suddenly I remembered the words of the woman: Sometimes suffering through your fear is better than suffering for eternity. Be brave.

This was my only chance to get back to the world of the living. I had made such a terrible mistake in killing myself. If I could go back and change my life, I wouldn’t have to spend eternity here. I could change my ways, ensure a spot somewhere else. Somewhere away from The Pig. But what if it decided to send me to Hell? How much more suffering could I endure?

I had to take the chance.

“Please, God,” I whispered, taking a step forward, “If you can hear me…please…have mercy on me.”

My shaking hands reached out for The Pig and I grasped its thick fur. I felt it slowly lower its head and open its mouth. It was waiting for me, its thick, hot breath stinking in my nostrils. This was it. No turning back now.

I slowly gripped its teeth and pulled myself forward into its jaws. Its head was at a downward angle and so I immediately fell onto my stomach at a forty-five degree angle. Its wet tongue squished under me and I was shaking so hard I could barely breath. Tears soaked my blindfold and my heart crunched against my ribs.

I slowly reached forward and found another tooth to grab onto. Gritting my teeth, I pulled my body inward past my knees. The Pig raised its head and I was suddenly completely horizontal on its tongue.

Saliva and mucus dripped around me and the heat was so intense I almost blacked out. My knees clacked against its front teeth as I pulled myself even deeper. Its inner cheeks pressed in around me, squeezing my body like a soaking fleshy coffin.

Crying, terrified, I reached ahead of me and found more teeth. I pulled myself deeper into its mouth and I felt my feet slide past its lips. My whole body was coated in slime and I openly wept, grasping in the darkness for another tooth.

And that’s when The Pig started to chew on me.

I screamed in crushing agony as my body was compressed between its massive teeth. I heard my legs snap instantly and felt wet bone pop from my skin. I shook violently as my body spasmed in shock, a mangled twist of blood and pain.

Its tongue shifted me in its mouth and I felt it bite down on my shoulder. My eyes bulged in their sockets as I howled, a hot pillar crunching down on my collar bone. I threw up violently, unable to control myself, the pain overwhelming.

Keep crawling.

Screaming, bloodshot eyes rolling wildly, I reached forward with my good arm, wetly searching for another tooth. I grit my teeth, blood squirting between them, as my fingers wrapped around something solid.

The Pig bit down again, its tongue twisting my body so its molars could snap down on my knees. The pain brought darkness, but my howling screams forced my eyes to remain open.

“JESUS MAKE IT STOP!” I bellowed, my trembling hand still gripping the tooth ahead of me, “PLEASE MAKE IT FUCKING STOP!”

I ground my teeth together so hard they cracked, screaming as I slowly pulled my body deeper into the mouth.

Something was changing, the tights walls of its throat squeezed my head and I realized I was almost through.

“COME ON YOU MOTHERFUCKER! COME ON!” I begged, vocal cords cracking. I reached ahead of me and grabbed onto a thick wad of flesh. My head felt like it was splitting and The Pig bit down on me again.

I gasped, blood exploding from my mouth in a great gush of red.

It had pierced through my stomach, obliterating my insides like bloated noodles. Darkness rushed in on me and I was in too much shock to even scream.

With the last of my strength, right as the blackness took me, I pulled myself forward one last time and felt myself slide down its throat.

Darkness. Falling…screaming. I was screaming. Heat. Heat so intense I thought I would melt.

Clanging. Something was hammering on a metal. Colors and images flew past me so quickly I could only make out their shape. Blood poured into my eyes.

I felt like I would keep falling forever.

Suddenly, my eyes snapped open and I was falling, my breath rushing back into my lungs in a great wave of purity. My face bounced off wood floor and I cried out as I felt my nose break. I tasted blood and saw stars.

I had stopped falling.

There was a ring of burning fire around my throat and I felt impossibly thirsty.

I was lying on the floor.

I slowly opened my eyes again and the darkness began to fade like morning mist under a hot sun. Colors blended together and shapes came into focus.

I was in my woodshed.

I reached up around my throat and grasped at the source of heat. It was the rope I had hung myself with, but now it was severed, releasing me from the grip of death.

Relief rolled over me in overwhelming waves of thanks. I curled up on the floor and sobbed, tears dripping from my eyes onto the dirty floor. My body shook, unbroken, as I wept, wet horse cries rising from my quivering lips.

I had been spared. I was alive again.

From my spot on the floor, I turned my eyes upward, my voice cracking, “Thank you God. Oh thank you.” I fell into another fit of uncontrollable sobbing, “I promise I won’t waste my life again. I promise I’ll make things right, I’ll fix everything.”

I don’t know how long it was before I got up. Time seemed to stretch for eternity. My mind refused to rebuild, the horrors of what I had just witnessed crushing me.

But I knew I would do everything I could to make the most out of my life. I was going to live every day to the fullest. I would devote myself to helping others in dark times. I would reach out to as many Suicidals as I could and try to save them from awaited on the other side.

I didn’t want anyone else to have to witness the horrors of suicide.

I didn’t want anyone else to have to Feed the Pig.



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About the author

Elias is a prolific author of horror fiction. His books include The Third Parent, The Black Farm, Return to the Black Farm,and The Worst Kind of Monsters.



“Growing up reading the works of King, admiring the art of Geiger, and knowing fiends like Pinhead left me as a pretty jaded horror fan today. It takes a lot to get the breath to hitch in my throat and the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.. My fiance is quite similar, so when he eagerly begged me to let him read me a short story about The Black Farm by Elias Witherow, I knew it had to be good... And I was not dissapointed. Elias has a way of painting a picture that you can feel with all your senses and plays the tunes of terror created when our world meets one much more dark and forces you to keep turning the pages hungry for more.” —C. Houser

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AFTERLIFE FICTION HORROR HORROR FICTION NO SLEEP SCARY STORIES

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My Arm Was Amputated, And Something Really Weird Is Happening With My Phantom Limb



[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 2: Witch - Blame The Witch

Some see curses as blessings, but it’s only truly a sad thing when a child’s blessing is seen as a curse. But that’s just so much easier when there’s a ‘witch’ around.

A witch we say

A witch we say

That’s all you’ll be till your dying day

Was all Sam could really hear in her head at the moment. They were blaming her, her, for what happened to Danny. That she ‘cursed’ him. Put a spell on him. Sold him to the devil. Used him as a sacrifice. Sunk her black spiked claws into him.

She was pissed, to say the least.

And guilty. Because it, in a way at least, was her fault. She had asked. She had encouraged. And then she did it all over again. But that guilt shouldn’t be hers alone. They built that portal. They brought ghosts here. They couldn’t leave well enough alone.

But more than that she was sad. Sad for Danny. Had been for a while now. Everything had stopped being fun and games a long time ago. The injuries. The stress. The lies. It was all a lot worse than it used to be.

But right now?

She’s sad because of how he flinched when they spoke. How he leaned back and looked away, tuning out the one-sided conversation like it would physically hurt him not to. And maybe it would. Ghosts could be sensitive like that.

And that’s where she got mad. They spoke like it wasn’t their fault too. Like what they were doing wasn’t hurting him. She wanted to slap them. But she won’t, because she knows that’s something Danny might not forgive her for. They were his family. His. No one got to hurt them. Even if they were hurting him.

“-and what’s worse! This can’t even be fixed! This bone- no, DNA deep curse-”.

There's that word again. And there’s Danny flinching again. Which honestly only makes her madder. They shouldn’t have made something that could alter DNA then! But she’ll hold her tongue. If only so they won’t redirect their blame and anger at him. Clearly, they weren’t willing to see their own fault.

And of course not. How could they, scientists, be blamed? They were just doing what scientists do right? Inventing. And researching. Without a damn care who or what got hurt along the way. But who cares right?!? Anything’s worth sacrificing for science! Screw that. It was far easier for them to blame ‘the witch’. The spooky freak they shouldn’t have let near their son. They don’t say it, but it’s a damn close thing.

“-wouldn’t have happened otherwise!-”.

Yup, still blaming her. Even though things would have been different if they had just been safer. Or locked things up. Or unplugged one thing. Or done a million other obvious safety measures and forms of common sense. Instead, here they were practically crucifying her, the little witch, over a little dead boy, who’s not even actually gone.

And he’s just acting like he’s one with the wall. Like he’s not here at all. Which is fitting. Because they’re acting like he’s not. She’s not sure if it’s some twisted ‘it’ll go away if we ignore it’ or just obliviousness and hyper fixation. A small part of her hopes it’s the latter, of only for his sake.

“Get out-”.

That gets both her and Danny’s attention. His head snapping to them loud enough to audibly crack. He sounds like he’s being choked, “what?”. It was so out of place for a voice with enough power to take out cities.

The pair finally actually look to him, finally acknowledge for the first time in over an hour that his presence even existed. “Get out. Both of you”.

Sam has never wanted to hit someone so badly before. But Danny. She knows him. He’ll think this can be fixed. That they’ll come around. Well sorry, but she doesn’t hold that kind of faith in parents. If anything was a curse, it’s telling people that parents love unconditionally. A curse that burdens kids for the rest of their lives if they don’t turn out to be the perfect little porcelain doll their parents wanted. Not pretty enough. Not kind enough. Not smart enough. Not human enough.

“-nothing but a witch and her pet”.

Danny looks empty. Blank dull eyes and their heavy shadowed bags. Jutting cheeks, collar bones, and wrists; every bone practically on display. Pasty skin, dried out, bruised and scarred. Choppy wiry hair, with its noticeable knots. Chipped fingernails and teeth, caked with grime and blood. The ill-fitting tattered and stained clothes. At one time she might have felt proud over the lack of tears. She knew better now. There’s a difference between having the strength not to cry and simply being unable to.

Too tired. Too drained. Too used to it.

Tears were a burden the suffered couldn’t afford.

So really, if anyone was cursing anyone. It was them. They weren’t witches though. No. They were scientists. And wasn’t that worse? A witch at least cared and saw beings. Scientists saw a Petri dish. Experiments gone right, and experiments gone wrong.

The creaking of some ecto-weapon is her sign to drag Danny out of this Hell hole; dragging him past the threshold and only dignifying them with an angry disgusted scowl. To Hell, if they think that ‘confirms’ what they’ve said. To Hell, if they refuse to let him back in. To Hell, if they could maybe be argued with. If she was the witch, then she’s gonna be Maleficent.

She will take their son away. She will take their daughter away. And she will burn them to the ground one day. They say witches are aligned with Hell, well she sure hopes so. Because then Hell’s fire and ice will make them atone. And she’s absolutely willing to help them get there.

A witch I say

A witch I say

And know I’ll see to it that you pay

End.

[dannymayevent]

Great work @paper-glasses completing the daily calendar! It was great seeing all of the different art works you came up with!

This fic was created by @phandom-phriend for your day 29 prompt Heat

*tw mentions of death, parental fights

----

Ever since she saw those people on the TV screen with their loud instruments and voices, with their crazy hair colors and even wilder outfits, Ember knew she wanted, needed, to be part of that. Her parents were always quick to turn off the television when these bands came on, or change the radio station when something particularly loud or out of their comfort zones came on. But even at nine, that couldn’t stop Ember.

The second she had the chance, she found herself in the music room of her school. It wasn’t much, seeing as the school was for elementary students who couldn’t really grasp the idea of complexity quite yet, but she was desperate to get her small hands on something. Anything. The teacher was more than happy to help with her little hobby, taking the time to teach her things about rhythm and notes. Teaching her how each part worked to create the whole of what would later be heard on the radio by thousands.

Ember was entranced.

In middle school the very first thing she did was join the band. It wasn’t quite what she wanted, but even that tiny drum set served as the perfect outlet. Her parents had been fighting more and more lately, but because they were so absorbed in their own petty fights they didn’t even notice that she often returned home late from practice. It worked for her in that way, seeing as music still didn’t really seem to be their ‘thing’, but when she actually wanted for their eyes to look her way…

So Ember tried. She tried so hard to excel in all her classes, in her band performance, even in her chores to try and turn those angry glares into proud fondness like it used to be. Or maybe it was never like that and it was simply her child mind making the best of things. But it is a goal she strived to achieve in some sort of way from the moment she wakes up to the moment she goes to bed each night.

In the end, her grades slipped. Ember was still trying so hard, but it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t bring herself to focus on her studies the same way that she focused on music. No matter what she tried, she just couldn’t get the same joy from reading or equations that she got from beats and lyrics. Sitting in a classroom could never have the same appeal as being on a stage, but it seems that kind of logic doesn't work on teachers or state tests. Who knew?

In eighth grade, a friend of hers introduced her to the guitar. It was something her dad kept propped up in the living room corner. The previous times she had been over, Ember had thought the item was merely a decoration to ‘tie the room together’. But when he found Ember staring at it and offered to teach her, that was a moment she could never forget for the rest of her life.

Feeling those strings under her fingertips. The way her heart beat with each sound that strummed from the instrument with only a slight movement of her hand. The way it sent shivers down her spine with the absolute feeling of power and pride dancing in her veins with every new note. This was her instrument. The guitar called to her in a way that drums and flutes and clarinets never had. She knew that from that moment on, she would do everything in her grasp to keep this feeling with her.

At sixteen she is no longer in band, but instead choir. They had recruited her during freshman year and she found that she enjoyed singing just as much as she enjoyed the guitar. The freedom and range it gave her, the chances for solos and the spotlight. For all those eyes on her. Her parents never came to a show, but when the stage lights flashed in her eyes so that the crowd became nothing but shadows, it was easy to pretend they approved. To pretend things were okay and that she would see them after the show. To prove her worth was more on the stage than it could ever be on paper.

Now she is also working part time at some stupid diner. It’s totally not her scene with the overly stressed coworkers and the customers that pretend to know their jobs better than they do. The grease from the food and the same six songs playing during her long shifts aren’t quite the excitement she’s looking for. Not to mention the tacky uniform that totally clashes with her bright red curls…

So if she keeps waiting for a Help Wanted sign to appear in the window of the record shop across the street, who really needs to know?

But it pays well. Well enough that she finally, finally, gets what she’s been wanting for so long. An electric guitar of her very own, colors customized to shine perfectly in the spotlights glow. Holding that gem in her hands for the first time nearly brought her to her knees. This, this right here in her thin hands, is her legacy. This shop in this small town is going to be the start of something great, it’s just that no one else knows it yet.

At eighteen it’s her senior year and she refuses to graduate without doing something she deems herself as great. So without a second thought she signs up for some talent show with a grand prize of $5,000 and a record deal. She has to drive three states away and skip a few school days to make the auditions, but school work and attendance has never stopped her before.

A week later, she got an email congratulating her on making it into the first round.

And just like that she began to shoot up to the top like a rocket going to the depths of space. Ember won round after round after round. Sure, seeing the crying faces of her competition that got sent home wasn’t a good feeling. But the feeling of being so close to stardom, being recognized as one of the best, let those negative feelings be drowned out. They all may have had dreams, but she did too. And she wasn’t going to give hers up for anything or anyone.

And then

She

Won

She won the competition, driving all over the country to different venues to perform her way to the top all by herself. All those hours practicing, all those moments where she chose not to give in when the rest of the world told her to, lead up to this moment. This very moment where the gold and silver confetti falls from the ceiling accompanied by matching balloons. This moment where the judges she's seen face to face countless times over the course of this journey walk up to her with a golden trophy. This moment where she gets to choose which record label she wants to sign to.

This moment where she is truly free.

Then came time for her first live performance. Her hair all tied up, makeup done in a way to leave an impression. Outfit displaying all the power and ferocity within. This would be her debut song to the world. The first pillar after a long string of stepping stones leading her to the fame she has desired since she was small. Her parents still aren’t in the crowd, but that’s okay now. Now she has fans that watched her journey cheering her name. And the only way she plans to go is up.

Except that didn’t happen. Halfway through her song there was an… accident. One of the stage crew members didn’t properly put out their cigarette backstage and started a small fire. It could have been easily handled, but the assistant who found it panicked and fanned it with the papers they had been holding, unintentionally making the flames bigger.

By the time Ember realized the heat wasn’t from her workout of working her stage magic, but from the hidden flames backstage, it was already too late. The rope they had used in place of the rusted metal beam that once held one of the spotlights burned.

The rope burned and the light came tumbling down, down, down. All she could do was look up into it as the bulb flickered out. Look up and hope against all hope that this wasn’t it. That there would be more to her story.

“... But I woke up in the ghost zone instead of some hospital bed. Years had already passed by the time I manifested and everyone… everyone had already forgotten about me. Just another news story. Well, they did change the safety measures for stage performances after that. So I guess that’s a win.” Ember sighed, looking out at the stars above them. Sometimes it hurt to look at them, all twinkling and bright above her.

Sometimes she worries that one might fall.

“I’m… sorry, Ember.” Danny said sadly. He knew that all ghosts had their story, a reason they remained. But hearing them never got easier. The pain of having lost everything just to be stuck in some kind of in-between is a burden that feels like it’s too much to bear, but there is no escaping it either.

“It’s okay. Well, it’s not, but you don’t have to be sorry.”

“I wish I could help you.”

“Well, you could let me perform my hypnotizing show without issues.”

Danny laughed and shook his head. “Fat chance. Unless you can do it without the whole mind control thing, I don’t think that can work.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.” Ember laughed back before standing up “Well, maybe one tame show wouldn’t be so bad.”

The halfa stood up after her and smiled. “Then it’s a deal. The mayor owes me one, so I’m sure I can get you a great stadium attendance.”

“You know…. You’re not so bad, kid.”

“Neither are you.”

The two stayed silent for a moment, simply looking out to the stars, both of them thinking about their broken dreams caused by being a ghost. So many things were lost or taken from them. But that’s the funny thing about being broken, sometimes your edges line up with someone else's. Sometimes with someone you would never even expect.

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Mystery Baby Theatre, Part 4

(Short Story Post, 4/6)

“Hey, babe…” Carlos said. “I’m really worried about you.” Reggie was now eight months along. Over the last two months, weird things had started to occur in the house. While Reggie hadn’t told Carlos about the drain, Carlos had still noticed other odd occurrences. It started mainly with things going missing. It was strange, but they did have eight children, so it was hard to mark it down as more than just childhood thievery. After that however, it was lights going off in different rooms and things turning on by themselves. Carlos had an electrician come in to take a look at it, but they didn’t find anything wrong with the electrical in the house. When the kids collectively started complaining about having vivid nightmares with the same tall dark shadow in them, Carlos knew something very wrong was going on here. “Okay, actually maybe I’m really worried about all of us.” After a long day at the park with the kids, Carlos came home and found his husband going through their clothes in their bedroom, taking things out and placing them on the bed. He was having a hard time doing it with his overburdened middle. A lot of groans and sighs came from him as he hurriedly rummaged through their things. “What are you doing?” Carlos asked. “Are you looking for something?” Reggie paused suddenly and turned to Carlos. “How would you feel about a trip?”

“Trip?” Carlos asked. “What do you mean?” “We should go away for a bit. With the kids,” Reggie said. “Where are our suitcases?” “Is that what you’re doing? Packing?” Carlos questioned, getting so confused. “You want to go on vacation?” Reggie nodded. “Yep. I think we need a break. You know, you’ve been working really hard on Carloco and it’s very successful… We should take some time away to rest.” “Where would we go?” Carlos asked. “Shouldn’t we plan?” “No, I think an impromptu trip is just what we need,” Reggie insisted. “How about Hawaii?” “Hawaii?” Carlos shook his head. “You’re eight months pregnant. You can’t fly.” “Pshh. Sure, I can,” Reggie said. “And anyway…” He stood up and got up close to Carlos, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Didn’t we want a destination wedding?” Carlos blinked, blush spreading across his cheeks. “You want to get married now? In Hawaii?” Reggie grinned. “What do you say? You, me, the kids. The beach. The food. The altar. We could make it happen.” Carlos hesitated, lowering his gaze from Reggie’s intimate eyes down to his growing middle. “I don’t know, Reg… I don’t think we should risk it.” Reggie’s grin faltered. “Babe. We need to go. Think of it as…an extreme pregnancy craving.” Carlos frowned. “Mi amor, you crave chocolate dipped onions, not sudden trips out to the Pacific Ocean. What are you running from?” Reggie pouted, his voice cracking. “Carlos… Please. I don’t think we’re safe.” “From what?” Carlos insisted. “Just tell me. This isn’t like you at all. Just explain—” Suddenly the house shook throwing them a little off balance and the lights in the house shut off completely. They heard the kids start complaining downstairs and Leon started crying. Reggie whimpered. “Carlos! We need to leave! Right! Now!” Carlos didn’t hesitate. He took Reggie’s hand and they made their way down through the house, collecting up the kids along the way. The nanny had been reading to the younger children, but Carlos told him to go home for now and he’d still be paid for full hours. He was gone by the time they did a successful head count, then the family packed into their car and started driving. “Dad, where are we going?” Vance asked, leaning in from the backseat. The kids had been rushed out so fast, they were all still just in their pyjamas and didn’t even have shoes on. “What happened to the power?” “We’re going on vacation,” Reggie just said. Carlos gave him and worried look but tried to concentrate on driving. “But we didn’t pack!” Brynn complained. “Yeah, I left my laptop!” Donovan complained. “It’s okay, we can get stuff when we get there,” Reggie said. “Get where?” Daniel asked. Reggie bit his lip. “It’s a surprise.” Vance gasped. “Is it Disney World?” The kids all got excited and started making a lot of noise. Reggie shook his head. “We just went to Disney World last year. It’s somewhere else.” “Is this, like, for a vlog thing?” Brynn asked. “Where are the cameras?” “No.” Reggie was quick to answer. “No vlogging. No posting about it. No one’s allowed to know where we are.” “I can’t tell my friends?” Daniel asked pouting. “No, stupid,” Vance said. “The paparazzi will find us and bother us.” “That’s exactly right,” Reggie said. “But don’t call your brother stupid. It’s a private family—” He was cut short suddenly by Carlos hitting the breaks. They all lurched forward and tugged against their seatbelts. Leon started crying again, this time joined by Ocean. “Carlos, what the hell?!” Reggie asked. “You could’ve killed us!” “I can’t see,” Carlos said, pointing out the windshield. He was right, a dark thick fog had settled in around them and the high beams weren’t cutting through at all. To drive in it would be a suicide mission. Carlos let out a shaky breath. “Reggie… What’s going on?” “I don’t know,” Reggie said, trying to stay calm. “…I… Carlos…” Vance frowned. “Real funny… This is a terrible prank, Dad. Can we go ho—” There was a loud bang and the car lurched to the side, making everyone scream. The youngest kids started to cry. “Daddy! This is too scary!” Brynn insisted. “Please stop! This isn’t funny!” Their dads didn’t know what to say because they didn’t want to scare the kids anymore by admitting it wasn’t them. “Kids, I need you to stay calm,” Reggie said undoing his seatbelt. “Vance, Brynn, Donnie, Danny. Each grab a younger child and get down as close to the floor as you can.” The kids hesitated. “What? Why?” “Just do it and be quiet!” Sensing the seriousness in their dad’s voice, the older kids did as told, undoing their seatbelts to getting low to the floor with the other kids. They did their best to calm their younger siblings, bringing the crying down to pitiful whimpers. “Reg, what do we do?” Carlos asked, taking Reggie’s hand. “I don’t… I don’t know,” Reggie said, gripping Carlos’s fingers. Just after, there was another loud noise and suddenly the shape of a hand was seen on their windshield, holding a long-curved knife. The kids screamed again, but they covered the babies’ mouths to shush them. The hand started to wipe away at the glass and Carlos suddenly saw a recognisable face. “…Agent Korsy?” “Hey!” the agent called in from outside.  “Get out! Let’s go! Quickly!” Carlos started to open the door, but Reggie held him back. “Carlos, what are you doing?” Reggie asked. “He’s an APID agent!” Carlos said. “He’s here to help!” “How can we trust him?” “Reggie, do we have another option?” Reggie frowned but let go of Carlos. His partner got out of the car quickly. Korsy pointed to their car. “Get your family. Let’s go. I got a van.” “Do you know what’s going on?” Carlos asked. “No idea but I really don’t want to wait around to find out,” Korsy said. “Hurry!” Carlos nodded and went to open the back doors. “Help me get the kids!” Korsy nodded and went around to help the kids out. Carlos helped Reggie out and then went to get a pair of children to carry. Vance and Brynn walked themselves, carrying Finley and Alvaro, Carlos got Leon, Reggie got Ocean, and Korsy carried the twins under his arms. The evacuees couldn’t see anything, but the agent had a weird aura about him like he could see perfectly and led them down the road straight to the van he’d promised. Everyone loaded up into the back and he shut the doors. He climbed into the front and started driving. “How do you know where you’re going?” Carlos asked, helping Reggie get into the passenger seat. The van only had the two proper seats at the front and then just padded benches with seatbelts lining the walls in the back. It seemed like the kind of van that would transport soldiers, but a bit fancier. “Dark elf eyes,” Korsy said. “Darkness is no obstacle.” “Dark elf?” Reggie asked. “That explains the ears then.” “Don’t stare at my ears,” Korsy insisted though no one really was. “You sir, need to start talking.” Reggie frowned. “I have nothing to talk about.” Korsy frowned. “Are you serious? You really think this was just some weather effect? You really think you just happened to have a blackout and that your backup generates just happened to not be working?” “I don’t appreciate your tone! And how do you know about the power outage? And our backup generator?” Reggie asked. Korsy rolled his eyes. “It’s our job to keep an eye on you.” “That’s invasion of privacy!” Reggie said. “It would be if you didn’t already give us permission,” Korsy said. “Permission? We never—" “You have non-human children you’ve registered with APID,” Korsy explained, leaning over and pulling out a case file from the glove compartment. “In the registration is clearly listed that you allow APID to conduct surveillance upon necessity for alternative persons. It’s not my fault if you don’t read the fine print. You signed it.” Reggie snatched the file and started to look through it. Dividers labelled ‘Fuerte, Finlay’, ‘Fuerte, Alvaro’, ‘Fuerte, Leon’, and ‘Fuerte, Ocean’ separated everything up. “…This is so incredibly invasive!” “Honestly, I agree,” Korsy sighed. “I’m subjected to the same damn thing. But it is what it is.” The fog outside started to clear up and they could see the streetlamps and signs again. It was now like any other normal night on the road. “So, mister Tran,” Korsy started. “Care explaining what is that is after you and what the heck you’re pregnant with?” Reggie hesitated and looked back at his kids staying quiet in the back out of general fear and unease. “…I don’t know what you’re talking about. You tell me what’s going on.” Korsy huffed and pressed a button. A divider slid up from the floor, separating the back of the van from the front. Korsy and Reggie were left alone in the front. “Listen, I’m only trying to help you out here,” Korsy said. “Your husband’s the one who sent me a text before you left the house. He’s extremely concerned about you and so are we at APID. We’ve never seen anyone go through a pregnancy that looks like yours and doctors who we’ve had look at you through your husband’s videos all described your condition as high-risk and aren’t sure you’ll survive this without intervention. We want to make sure that you and your family get through this safely, but we can’t help if you don’t co-operate. So, I’ll ask you again. What did you fuck and what the fuck is inside you?” Reggie set his jaw, folding his arms over his stomach. “A demon.” Korsy sighed. “Oh boy… Okay, well at least we’re not completely out of our depths.” “You’re not?” Reggie asked. “You’ve handled demons?” “Just one.”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6

[cs-discourse]

Reccomendations (V long sorry 😅)

I offer you all some shows to watch instead of hAzBiN hOtEL:                         

Epithet Erased (On YT I think. - Animation style is a little hard to get used to, but I love the chars and story line. Wholesome fun.)

Brooklyn 99 ( Netflix - please remember that real cops are not like this, it is a fictitious portrayal - the actors themselves donated 100,000 $ to support protesters against cops. Enjoy it but watch it as the fiction it is. Be aware that it’s copaganda.)

She-ra ( Netflix- we stan that lgbtq representation)

Avatar the Last Airbender (Netflix - Most of you have prbly already seen it but uh. If you haven’t, it’s pretty good. Definitely a lighthearted semi childish show.)

Daria (Crave - We stan unique poc representation. https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/59kp45/daria-jodie-landon-suburban-black-girl) 

Adventure Time (Dailymotion -free- or Google Play - Just google best episodes and watch those ones. The ones with Marceline + PB are my personal faves.) 

Magic For Humans (Netflix - Basically an interesting magic show. Fun activity: when I watch this w/ other ppl we try to figure out how he did the tricks.) 

The Fresh Prince (Netflix - A classic. Still know the theme song by heart.) 

Hilda or Kipo and the Wonderbeasts (Netflix - these two animated shows are new unique takes on fantasy adventures. ) 

IZombie ( Netflix - Basically a zombie detective, but better. Think Veronica Mars. -also a good detective show y'all should watch. *trigger warning: it’s a zombie murder show so it has some semi-realistic depictions of gore/brains.) 

Disenchantment ( Netflix -The closest thing to Hazbin on this list. An animated show with dark humour without being racist or homophobic. *some animated gore that some people might find triggering. It’s been a while since I watched so idk exactly what.) 

Final Space ( Netflix -like disenchantment, an animated show with an intended audience older than your average animation show. *again, animated gore.) 

Mods, if any of these shows are homophobic/racist/otherwise problematic -(ignoring B99 which is obvious copganda. Again: It’s fiction. Do not -I repeat, DO NOT- look at it as a real representation of cops. It’s not.)- please say so. We not here tryna recommend problematic shows. Or, if you have any other reccomendations?

ps: I’m Canadian, so some of these shows may not be on american Netflix, or some of the ones that aren’t may be on it. Idk. Stay safe y'all. Oof way too long submission finally over. 

-

if you like anime, here are things i watch:

blue exorcist - DEMONSSS (hulu and netflix im p sure)

scissor seven - its actually chinese animated, but its very well made and the production value goes up as the show goes on. i honestly rlly like the cliche anime backstory for the main char bc its also funny as hell (netflix)

saiki k - its like if one punch man was a teen who was also incredibly sarcastic. if you have adhd this shows p good for you too, it goes really fucking fast and you cant look away or youll miss something. its hilarious, go watch. (netflix)

also, some youtubers if youre feelin like that:

dream - minecraft youtuber, child friendly (not in the annoying way. just no cussing)!! hes like 5000 iq and holy shit his minecraft manhunts are insane. holds the mc speedrun world record POG. good coder, my fav youtuber right now.

hellfreezer - reading reddit stories youtuber. his voice is very nice, and videos are faily long. i use him as background noise when doing work.

TRO (the right opinion) - long commentary/rant videos on controversial topics/youtubers, like onision and yandere dev. sexy british voice ;)

mossbag - hollow knight lore and theories. i love hollow knight sm

penguinz0 - streams, commentaries, very short videos. one of the funniest men alive. absoultely incredicble. hes very quick witted and his insults make me scream laugh sometimes

joana ceddia - random life videos. full of personality! i love her honestly shes really chill but also gives off the energy of a thousand suns

pointcrow - gaming youtuber. makes a lot of insane challenge botw videos/zelda vids in general. he streams and then makes the videos.

jarvis johnson - makes videos like drew gooden/danny gonzalas do, but he is also a poc. his bids are entertaining and interesting!! i recommend greatly if you like shorter commentary videos.

.phe

my current faves are:

dorohedoro - anime about humans and wizards coexisting during a war against each other. the wizards hate the humans and curse them to experiment with their magic. all-powerful demons control the magic world behind the scenes. very graphic in regards to gore, some nudity on occasion. anime not finished adapting from manga.

hunter x hunter - anime about hunters who do just that-- go out into the world and hunt for whatever it is they want. examples include justice for their clan killed by genocide, a new family because the old one is a toxic group of assassins who believe you can’t have friends, friends to fill in for an absentee father, and a phd. somewhat graphic in regards to gore, especially so later on in the series. anime not finished adapting from manga.

what we do in the shadows - tv mockumentary series about vampires living in staten island. very funny but also VERY NSFW... lots of sexual references/content, gore and blood.

snowpiercer - tv fantasy series about the apocalypse in which the government fucked up and sent the world into a total deep freeze. 1001 train cars are all the life that remains on earth. VERY NSFW... sexual references/content, gore and blood. there’s also a movie adapted from the comic series by the iconic and incomparable bong joon ho on netflix which is good.

// Mod Peach

[askeletonintheclosetfic]

The one with new pens and phone numbers

June 29, 1986.

Yesterday, I shared the lyrics I had written with Ceecee, who looked at them with this look of excitement on her face as if I had just penned the next "Blackbird". She took the lyrics and began strumming her guitar, and within time, she invented a riff for this song, this new untitled song, solely driven by her playing. I figured she's the maestro for this song whereas I'm basically just following her along. After a couple of takes, we decided that I sing on the second bar leading in.

We practiced it all day in her bedroom until we knew the words and music by heart. It took me a while to realize I had penned the song after the two of us meeting and then living near a place where that murder went down. It was particularly obvious in the chorus:

"don't wash it away, don't wish it away. Two shadows wondering in the dark, with the words unspoken and the cold of death. We are alive in the flesh light."

Since it was just us there at her house, we decided we would save this song for a rainy day, whenever that may be in the future.

Today, meanwhile was a normal day wherein Ceecee, Clara, and I met up with the boys again, all of them, at about eleven-thirty in the morning. The paranoia was hanging over us, the heavy feeling as we drove on past the house, the site of the murder scene. But the feeling soon waned away once we passed through the neighborhood and made our way out of Burien and into town.

This time around, we were outside of the venue that Metallica was supposed to play at the other day, but as it turned out, the show had been postponed for about a week. We met up at the Coliseum, a tall ivory white building of cinder block and pale brick lined with pitch black trimming, done such that it resembled an old fashioned casino. Metallica's drummer Lars, this cute short boy with long shaggy, disheveled hair and bright green eyes, and an odd accent that I knew from the get-go wasn't American, met up with us there at will call from all the way down the far side of the building. He invited us back there, mainly to get us out of the crowd, but partially to find the guys all congregated in the alleyway there behind the venue. There's a low brick wall there holding back a row of little ornamental cherry blossom trees, where they all congregated at for about half an hour, and I knew why because the trees cast enough shade since, at that point, the sun rose higher into the sky and everything began to warm up.

Lars assured the three of us that they hadn't been waiting for us for very long, given the main reason for them showing up was to find out details on the show. Apparently the delay was par in thanks to the promoters scrambling to find more money to promote the whole date with them and Ozzy.

Today's the eve of my birthday and when I told that to Joey and James, the reactions I got from both men varied from each other so much that I can't hardly seem to put my head around it.

Joey removed his mirrored sunglasses and coaxed me in closer to his body for a hug. I have given Ceecee plenty of hugs, and my parents both plenty of hugs, but he had to have been the best, given he held me so close. He rested his hand on the back of my head to hold me right up against his chest. His long spidery fingers entwined their way through my hair; and even though his body is so slim and slender in its build, he felt strangely silky, a feeling of which I can only describe as something akin to holding a teddy bear.

I gazed up at him and the late morning sun bathing over the back of his head, like he was wearing a crown, like an Indian prince. He showed me that little Mona Lisa smile once again and said, "happy birthday" in that suave voice laced with that Italian influenced upstate New York accent.

But on the other hand, James seemed less than enthusiastic about it. He sat there on the low brick wall with a thoughtful look upon his already stern face, and his bright eyes shaded from the sun by the prominence of his brow, and his hands resting upon his knees. A man of few words, but he could've at least given me a smile or blew me a kiss like what Metallica's guitarist Kirk did for me. He was such a far cry from what I witnessed the couple of days before at the restaurant. So closed off now, a stretch of unknown territory.

I asked Clara about it earlier after we came home and she told me it could've been from the fact he and I opened up to each other too soon, and he was retracting a bit. But there's something about him, like how there's something about Joey. Something that's calling me back to him anyway.

(Charlotte's note: perhaps it could be left over from the fact that a rather brutal murder happened awfully close by and Chris is wanting to uncover some emotions? I know I would.)

Either way, the bunch of us chatted for a bit there outside of the venue. Next to James, Metallica are these four guys from San Francisco, originally Los Angeles but relocated to be closer to their bassist Cliff. The exception was Lars, whom I found out hailed all the way from Denmark. Meanwhile, Anthrax kept up their friendly New Yorker demeanor toward the three of us. Just a bunch of guys, a bunch of guys willing to chat with three girls who happened to stumble upon their music by accident and then were whisked into their little circle all because of Clara.

At around three o'clock, or around the time in which they all had to file inside for sound check, Scott declared we do the honors before the show and exchange numbers with each other. Clara, who explained to Anthrax's bassist and drummer Frank and Charlie how she made her art in that she uses nothing more than the feeling of her hands and arms over paper, had brought a brand new pen in which she would do some abstract work with later this summer, so the nine of them were careful to use it on the pad of paper Frankie had taken out of his pocket.

He was all too kind towards Clara, saying she could shatter some glass ceilings with her art given she lacked sight. I could see it between the two of them, just the way he was gentle in guiding her closer to him and Charlie, and the way he let her caress his lanky arms, his shoulders, and his toned chest.

"I can tell you're handsome," she remarked, showing him a grin from behind her pitch-dark shades. "Handsome in a big way."

Joey then made a joke about starting a cover band of his own if and when he got the chance and calling it Chief Big Way, which got a laugh out of both her and Ceecee.

Ceecee, meanwhile, took attention to Kirk and Cliff, the former this slender dark skinned guy, about the same height as Joey, and with a lot more rich black curls about the crown of his head. Where Joey's toned, slender, and solemn, Kirk has a mischievous twinkle in his eye and a little baby face that makes me think of high school age. Cliff, on the other hand, towers over us with long straight locks of light brown hair and kind of a deep, serious look in his eye. Ceecee describes him as the tower of power.

And then there's Danny of Anthrax and Lars of Metallica, two guys who helped out the three of us with their intelligence and their quick wit. They all seemed to twin each other, these nine men hailing from opposite ends of the country--and in Lars' case, the other side of the world. And yet, they all had one thing in mind and that was to treat the three of us well.

After Mom had once again advised the three of us to stay safe, we were willing to take any chance whatsoever to connect with these men. Even after we headed into the venue to oversee sound check, one of the Coliseum's stagehands strolled on over to us to tell us that the show had been cancelled given the lack of money to handle all of the dirty work, we still walked out of there with the golden tickets, their numbers, to give them a ring whenever either of us had a moment.

But I think what's interesting is even after the bunch of us were told that the show was cancelled, Lars suggested Ceecee and I give a show.

The two of us. Play a show for these guys as Black Moon in the midst of the hot summer day.

Granted, we had to hustle on back home to fetch our guitars, but we did it. And we returned with the cases on our backs to find they had congregated behind the venue with a couple of the stagehands close by as security guards. I should mention Ozzy's dressing room was right upstairs, right up above our heads.

But Ceecee and I set up there on the sidewalk, under the rich golden light of this summer day with nothing more than our acoustic guitars slung over our shoulders. No fancy amps, no microphones, nothing fancy to help us out. Just the two of us while Clara behaved as usher using her cane.

I served the duty as singer as we covered Heart.

I'll admit that it was a bit nerve-racking since up to that point, Clara had acted as our audience. But there was a point in which I gazed on right at Joey, right into his deep brown eyes and the pensive look on his face. At one point, he gazed on at me as if he had been touched by the sound of my voice. And I hadn't heard him sing before, either.

At another point, I glanced over at James, who still had the same stoic look upon his face. But I could see it in his eye. I was tapping into the minds of these two men by merely singing and doing a halfhearted way of playing guitar. Ceecee is the guitar player: I'm just the girl filling in for her. The highlight was that Scott described us as "Paul Simon and Joan Jett had a love child together."

Soon, as the sun began to sink behind the brick building next door, we decided today was the rainy day. We played the song I had penned two nights ago, one that we hadn't given a name yet. But when I said this was a song that I had wrote, and Danny asked me what it was called, Ceecee filled in, declaring that it's coincidentally called "Black Moon."

She led the way and then I followed suit. I started singing on the second bar, just how we practiced it.

Joey's face softened even more. James even tilted his head to the side as if trying to figure us out.

Soon they figured out the chorus, and Frank and Charlie began chanting "don't wish it away" with me. Kirk and Lars followed suit. Soon we were all singing "don't wish it away" together like a whole gaggle of friends doing karaoke. And at that point, I had completely forgotten the show was cancelled, especially once Joey showed me that Mona Lisa smile again.

And this happened all because I wrote a song about my best friends living near a murder scene... and yet none of them knew about it.

[magiciaa]

Welcome to Magicia chapter 2: Demonic Shadows and Spider Girls

((this is a bit longer than the first one, just a warning))

chapter 1

“Wat’cha doin’” Tara asked, hanging over the wooden fence circling Kat’s backyard

“I didn’t realize how loud it was out here” Kat mumbled under her breath, sitting on the back steps

“What?” Tara replied

“Never mind, come in, I have something cool to show you” Kat responded

“Alrighty” Tara said, falling face-first off of the fence into the grass

The duo went inside to Kat’s room, where Kat transformed into Ace of Spades.

“Wow, so you’re a furry?” Tara joked

“I’m not a furry!” Ace exclaimed “I’m a magical girl”

“That’s so cool! Can you fight monsters?” Tara asked.

“Haven’t tried yet, you wanna join me?” Ace answered

“Of course! Maybe I’ll be able to become a magical girl too” Tara exclaimed

“Alright, let’s go” Ace said, de-transforming and grabbing her bag.

Tara and Kat walked downstairs to Cleo in the living room

“We’re gonna go and see if I can fight a monster or something” Kat said

“Alright, just don’t get killed” Cleo replied, not looking up from her book

Kat and Tara left the house searching for monsters, or something else to fight, when Kat’s watch started to beep.

“There must be something nearby” Kat exclaimed “maybe it works like a metal detector”

The two girls began following the beeping as it got faster, and they were led to a dark alleyway just as the sun began to set.

“This is really creepy” Tara said, hiding behind Kat

Just as Tara spoke, two pairs of glowing yellow eyes appeared in the shadows at the end of the alley. Kat looked around, making sure nobody else was around, and transformed to deal with the possible threat, summoning her scythe and pointing it towards the glowing eyes

“Whoa, no need to get hostile” A young-looking kid in a purple suit walked forward, he definitely wasn’t human, his arms seemed to be made of shadows, he had extremely large pointy ears and a crown that seemed to defy gravity. He also had metal rings on his wrists and what looked like a living shadow circling him. “I’m not here to fight, you two are magical girls right?” the kid said, he seemed desperate.

“She is” Tara said, pointing at Ace “I’m just her friend”

“I’m Lu, and this is King” Lu said, gesturing to the shadow creature

“Why did you have to come across a group of amateurs” King complained “These morons will never be able to help you”

“What do you need help with?” Ace asked, lowering her scythe “the name’s Kat, but you can call me Ace, and this is Tara”

“These” Lu explained, pointing to the metal things on his wrists “I can’t take them off and because of that, my powers are on the fritz”

“Oh, I have fire magic! Maybe that will help” Ace exclaimed.

“Let’s not set the child on fire” Tara jumped between Ace and Lu

“I will have you know I’m older than both of you combined” Lu interrupted

“Alright, kid, you want to join us? We might be able to find someone able to fix your thing.” Ace asked

“Fine, but I’m not a kid” Lu answered “And I’m just doing this to get these stupid power limiters off”

“First thing’s first, you have to look more human” Ace said, de-transforming “Currently, you look like an elf that got dipped in nightmares, and people don’t really dress like that”

Kat and Tara went into the convenience store down the street to find Lu something more casual to wear, while still keeping with his whole purple goth aesthetic. They came back with a dark gray shirt and a purple sweatshirt almost the same color as his current suit. The oversized sweatshirt hid Lu’s claws fairly well, and his hair could hide his ears, while King could hide in the hood.

“What do you think?” Kat asked.

“It’s certainly comfortable” Lu replied “Are you sure this will work?”

“Of course, let’s all go back to my place, it’s getting dark” Kat suggested

“Speaking of that, give me a second” Tara pulled out her phone and began typing “I had to tell my mom that I’m staying at your place tonight”

The newly formed trio began walking back to Kat’s house, but soon wandered into an unfamiliar part of town.

“Are we lost?” Tara asked, using her phone as a flashlight

“You do know I can just create a portal straight to our destination, right?” Lu said, petting King as he followed behind Kat and Tara

“They probably don’t want to end up in another dimension or halfway across the world” King snapped.

“You need help?” A disembodied voice said

“Who said that?” Kat yelled, summoning a small version of her scythe in case she needed to fight

A red and white magical girl walked up to the trio and said “go left at the next turn and you should be back where you know where you are” she then gave Tara a yellow pendant and disappeared

“Who was that?” Lu asked

“I don’t know, but I got a cool necklace out of it” Tara answered, putting on the necklace

“Do you want to become a magical girl?” The pendant asked, it had a similar voice to Kat’s watch, but higher pitched and friendlier.

“Yes, I do” Tara replied.

The pendant flashed a bright light, and standing there in Tara’s place was a blue spider magical girl in a coral colored outfit.

“User registered as Tara” the pendant said, now affixed to the front of Tara’s cape

“Whoa, this is weird” Tara said, staring at her hands “How do I de-transform”

“I guess you just relax and think of what you normally look like” Kat explained “that’s how I do it at least, I don’t know if it would be different for you”

Tara followed Kat’s instructions, and de-transformed. The trio then continued their walk back to Kat’s house, and it wasn’t long before they arrived.

“Yo, Cleo! I found a demon, can we keep him?” Kat asked, bursting through the front door.

“And what? Tara became a magical girl too?” Cleo joked

“Actually, yes” Tara added, holding up her pendant

“Alright since that was true, bring in the demon” Cleo said

“Cleo, this is Lu” Kat said “he does come with a little extra thing though”

“Another idiot, great” King snapped

“I assume that is the extra thing” Cleo said, pointing to King

“That’s King, he’s kind of a jerk” Lu replied.

“So what makes you a demon, you just look like a weird kid to me” Cleo asked

Lu moved his hair back to the way it was, showing his ears, and rolled up his sweatshirt sleeves slightly, making his claws visible

“Okay, got it now” Cleo continued “definitely not just some weird kid”

“I’m not a kid” Lu said, getting annoyed “I will have you know that I’m over 300 years old”

“Yeah, whatever you say, Danny Phantom” Cleo joked “I’m guessing Tara’s staying over too, I’ll go make some popcorn, make yourselves at home”

The group spent the rest of the night playing video games until everyone but Lu fell asleep.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #237

just a warning beforehand this survey has some probably tmi stuff.

Which is better: good 'ole southern food or sea food? Despite coming from and still living in, I legitimately enjoy almost NO southern food. Absolute garbage. I don't enjoy much sea food either though, save for shrimp, so I guess that. Have you ever had a very strong spiritual experience? I dunno. What do you think you want to major in at college? I'm an Art & Design major right now. Minor in? English is my minor currently. What song do you have on repeat lately? Quite a lot, actually. What’s something important you could be doing now? I could be working on finishing the draft to my Writing paper and this week's Art History chapter, but... yeah. I procrastinate all to hell, but I "justify" it with me having SO much extra time in the library while Mom takes her classes that I have a great deal of time to just do everything in there. How do you feel about Circuit City going out of business? I have zero clue what that is. About how often do you go on cleaning sprees? LOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL what're those? What’s the best story you’ve gone over in an English class? The Outsiders. Is your house haunted? Don't think so. What kind of tissues do you prefer? At least thicker as a single sheet of wet paper and soft. But ultimately it's nota a big deal. What face wash do you use? I prefer the Biore charcoal scrub, but I've been out of that for like... ever, and it's pricey, so we haven't bought any more. So now I use this peach scrub stuff Mom gets. I don't like it much because it's kinda abrasive, so probably bad for my skin, but it at least makes it feel cleaner. Do you reject Satan? I don't even know if a head demonic entity exists. Got no opinion on him. Are you violent? Far from it. Do you use google search or yahoo? Google. Was your step mother terrible? Her political views are fucking trash, but she herself is a wonderful person. Do you know anyone who doesn’t care about anything but themselves? HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM Are you single? If no who are you dating and for how long? I'm single for now. I don't believe prayer or "good vibes" have any power, but nevertheless, I almost DO pray Sara and I will come back together once she figures herself out and one of us is brave enough to move. Do you enjoy going for walks? Nowadays, no, but only because I'm still recovering from muscle atrophy in my legs, so it hurts quiiite a bit. But in a way, yes, I do enjoy walking as I know it's good for my legs, but it's still painful - but improving immensely. Before it started to get real bad, I fucking loved going on walks down the path by Sara's. When it wasn't cOLD AND WINDY AS A MOTHERFUCKER What are your favorite accessories? Do piercings count? If yes, totally those. And spiked chokers are fucking hot. I'll wear mine again someday, just fkn watch me. Do you wear makeup on a regular basics? Not at all. I am asking for *genuinely* black eye shadow and also quality black lipstick for Christmas, though, for when I do wear makeup. Ours suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. When was the last time you really established your favorite TV show? Oh, idk. It's been years. Write one lyric that really explains the way your life is going as of now? HAHA I'm actually listening to NSP's "Danny Don't You Know" right now and if "you're just going through an awkward phase from 12 to 29" aIN'T ME- Do you ever have any fantasies that involve certain celebrities? Who? Yes. Take an. idk. Wild guess. You can read like one or two of my surveys and already be absolutely sure lmao What is your favorite brand of shoe? Where can you buy these shoes? Converse, and... multiple places?? Does anyone ever judge you for something you naturally cannot help? Oh, I'm sure. Do you support homosexuality in general? Why do you or why don't you? Of fucking course I do. It's natural, and especially after realizing I was bi and experiencing a genuinely loving female-female relationship, I've only grown more ferocious in standing for gay rights. Fuckin try to tell me I can't love her without some sky demon firing me into Hell for it. I'll bring sunscreen. If you had your own personal dance crew, what would you name it and why? I dunno??? Has anyone ever called you an exact replica of one of your parents? Agree? No. Have you ever claimed to be in love when you knew you really weren’t? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I don't joke around with that shit. If you had the chance to meet an annoying celebrity, would you still do it? No?????? Why would I want that??????????? Do you ever lie in the grass during summer or are you afraid of ticks? 1.) That sounds boring and too hot and 2.) I'm fucking terrified of all parasites, so ticks are zero exception. Does it bother you when you see slutty girls getting all the cute guys? *chaotic eye twitching* In winter, would you rather wear jacket or hoodies? Why is this? HOODIES! Mega cozy. Would you consider yourself a good singer or are you tone deaf? Depends on the song, but generally, I don't think I'm real good. My voice isn't stable. Do you think regrets are better left unspoken or should they be out loud? Y'know, a real good question for once. I think maybe... it depends, I guess? Some things are just better unsaid, sometimes vice-versa. I suppose it depends on who you're telling, too. What color is your remote? Does it have any special/interesting features? Uh I know it's black, but that's it. I never use the TV. Name a time when you cried the most: The night of the breakup when Mom drove out to get me (I was walking to his house to talk bc she wouldn't take me), and she had to physically hold me down when we got in the house because I dashed and she knew I was about to do something stupid. I just fucking collapsed. That night is so blurry, but I'll never forget the crying. Fucking NOBODY deserves to go through that goddamn night. What color is your keyboard? It's black, though the keys are rimmed with red light. Have you ever thought about suicide? Too many times. Please please please please seek help if you have even a moment's consideration about it. How do you feel about Obama? I don't know much about him politically, but he was funny as fuck, I do know that. Seems like a chill dude. What was the last lie you told? I dunno, something little. Name 3 things in your purse (or wallet): My Harley Quinn wallet, hand sanitizer, aaaaand my keys. What time does your favorite TV show come on? *shrug* Where is the scariest place you’ve ever been? I haven't been to many seriously "scary" places, honestly... so idk, really. Do you like string cheese? NO. What color was the coolest insect you’ve seen? No clue. Probably some butterfly or moth. Do you own any pink clothing? ... How do I not know this. How do you usually style your hair? It's directed to the right with no part through it and swoops over/close to my right eye. Do you use anything to whiten your teeth? I'm also asking for whitening strips for Christmas. .-. Ah, how gift desires change as you grow. I took awful care of my teeth during the worst of my depression, so yeah, I need them. I'm honestly stunned they're in a decent condition now. Have you ever collaborated with anyone on a project (not for school)? Hmm, don't believe so. What is (going to be) your career? I refuse to drop my career aspiration of a photographer. Not giving up on that no matter what. What is the difference between an alligator and a crocodile? Crocodiles' teeth protrude both upwards and downwards over their lips while alligators' only show downwards; crocs have a more tapering snout, alligators' are more rounded; and crocs are generally bigger. I didn't obsessively watch Animal Planet for nothing, y'all. :^) Were you breastfed as a baby? Yeah. That woman had five goddamn kids with no epidural or anything. She ain't afraid of no pain, and she's also like, MEGA into child health, safety, etc., and while formula-feeding is completely fine and valid, it's factual breast milk is a lot healthier for babies. What does your favorite shirt look like? Man, that's hard to pick. My most comfortable and well-fitting one is a Metallica "King Nothing"-inspired design, which is black and just has some gnarly skull designs 'n shit on it. HA HA WAIT, found it! This is it. Just a few days ago though, my mom's coworker went to the NSP 10th anniversary show in Chicago AND SHE GOT ME A FUCKING SHIRT BC SHE KNOWS I LOVE THEM AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH I SQUEALED SO LOUD AND SMILED MY FACE IN HALF. What is the cutest breed of puppy in your opinion? Do not EVEN with this, omfg I couldn't even try. What is the cutest baby animal in general? Have you, like, SEEN baby meerkats????????????? They're not the cutest for the first, like, two weeks (BUT still cute!!), but once they're outside the burrow? Jesus fuckin CHRIST they are the cutest creatures known to the galaxy and beyond. If we're talkin' like, cutest from birth, maybe cats. I adore kittens. Do you have some sort of odd fascination with anything? Perhaps my "strangest" is what's referred to as "vulture culture," which is essentially using naturally-deceased (usually wild) animals for art, such as those popular crystal-covered skulls, necklaces, creative use of wet specimens, stuff like that. I find some odd beauty and respect in creating art of the dead - it's like... making death beautiful and honoring the creature by immortalizing it in an art form. I personally photograph roadkill (that shit's confused the fuck outta drivers lmao) with the goal of forcing the brutality of it onto viewers and just make you think "okay yeah I need to drive more carefully." I don't know if that technically qualifies as vulture culture as I don't really... use the corpses, but nevertheless, I really enjoy doing it. I do kinda question the morality of it, like you can't ask an animal "hey do you wanna be art when ur dead?", so you're left to decide for it, but I think I lean ever so slightly more towards it being respectful, showing the beauty of its life. I WANT TO SAY HOWEVER, I DO FUCKING NOT support hunting trophies. I even question taxidermy outside of being from hunting considering you're not really making art, something new, some sort of message, out of it. There's no creative purpose other than to show "hey look at this dead animal!!", and besides that, it kinda creeps me out. Wow sorry for the ramble, I'm just into this stuff. Who was the last person to text you? Sara. What did they say? Paraphrased, that life has been a serious cunt to her lately. Which is true. have you ever broken someones heart? He fuckin acted like it after two goddamn weeks. I suppose maybe Jason, though I can't really tell you that since he fucked off after the breakup, so it's not like I was around him. I'll admit his health and general demeanor was withering as time led up to it (I knew something was wrong, he'd just never tell me), so he was obviously suffering. I feel awful for that shit, seeing I was apparently that goddamn stress-inducing. Had yours broken? LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO I think the whole Internet knows, oops. Do you consider past relationships a waste of time? No. Well, maybe just one. I kinda wanna say Tyler was, but then again, as I was healing, it showed exactly what I would not tolerate. So I guess it had a silver lining. Do you think you’ll be around to see the world end? I wanna say no, but I wouldn't be surprised. It's gonna be climate change (reason #1 for me), the super volcano finally blowing, or nuclear war. Scientifically, we are far, far, far from overdue for another mass extinction anyway. Do you believe in second chances? Yeah, sometimes. Depends. Do you swear? Way more than needed. Swearing a lot just became part of my normal vernacular through exposure to Jason and his family lmao. I was just about always there, and whew does his mom swear like a sailor. Italian New Yorker to the core. To me, "swear words" are just normal vocabulary. What is the nearest photo to you of? A family of meerkats on my wall. Are you good at being quiet? Sure? Who has your heart? I'm guessing you mean romantically? Two people are tearing at it, then. One that's fuckin stupid and needs to stop. Do you like it that way? No. No. Sara is, realistically, the best match for me and a very healthy partner for me. But now that for whatever goddamn reason Jason sneaked back into the picture (metaphorically; he hasn't reached out or anything), hints of obsession/addiction are coming back. I know it's fucking creepy, but I was legitimately obsessed with him. I sent him a perfectly polite and genuine email of ME apologizing to HIM, and I guess that just shot my feelings back up. God, typing this makes me realize to a fuller degree that this is an awful idea. Where is this person? Sara's probably at home; hell if I know where the other is. When was the last time you saw them? I saw Sara this past February. Jason, not since February of '17. Do you prefer desktops or laptops? Laptops because of portability. Sunrise, or sunset? I think maybe sunrise, considering the colors tend to be more pastel. But both are gorgeous. What kind of mood are you in? A confused as hell one. The Jason thing is driving me insane, and TMI WARNING I've been dealing with a fucking ginormous libido that I'm guessing sprouts from my new birth control, and it led me to doing to thing I said I'd never ever do because I only want to share that experience with my partner. Y'know, the "m" word. Saying it feels too weird and dirty. That's the problem: it's so instilled in my head that masturbation is lustful and just "wrong" that my brain is still trying to process that it's okay and natural and, as I found, relieving. I had to look it up and everything to convince my shameful ass I wasn't being "dirty." Hey, on that note: Planned Parenthood offers way goddamn more than abortion, friends. I swear it's beyond wild what I used to believe. But yeah ANYWAY, I'm just feeling weird and still kinda "tail between my legs" today. Do you like fans that blow directly on you or oscillate? Depends on how hot I am. What is one thing you worry about most in long-term goals? "not having enough money to get there.." <<<< YUP this. Right before you fall asleep, what is your usual position? It's hard to tell considering you're falling into unconsciousness... but I THINK on my left side, hugging an edge of the blanket to me. When you have sex, do you keep your eyes closed or open when finishing? I wouldn't know; I've only ever been on the brim before freaking out and we stopped because I was literally scared of how overwhelming the feeling was. That and my family was home and I was having trouble staying quiet lmao. When you have mail do you open the biggest one first, or doesn’t matter? Uhhhh. I honestly don't get mail enough to answer this. I'd probably go for the smallest? When you wake up what is the first thing you usually look for? My phone. Think of the last habit/addiction you quit. What replaced it? Hm. I really don't know. Your phone rings but you don’t know the number, would you answer it? No sir-ree. Do you always take a shower after you have sex? I didn't always back then. Do you let your girl/boyfriend drive, or do you prefer to? 1.) I don't drive and 2.) I'm single. The last time you had sex was it in the morning, afternoon or night? Hell if I remember.

[maddie-grove]

The Top Twenty Books I Read in 2018

My main takeaways from the past year’s reading:

Growing up is hard, whether you’re a working-class college sophomore trying to adjust to an Ivy League college, a chronically ill medieval kid trying to beat witchcraft charges, or A GHOST THE WHOLE TIME.

You can go to Kansas City or the Congo or SPACE, but you can never escape the past. 

Maybe I should be more worried about getting murdered?

Anyway:

20. East by Edith Pattou (2003)

Rose, a sixteenth-century Norwegian farm girl, loves her large family, but sometimes feels at odds with their rather staid personalities. So, when a talking polar bear offers to end her family’s poverty and her sister’s illness if she’ll stay with him for a year, she accepts not only out of desperation, but also wanderlust. This expansive retelling of “East of the Sun, West of the Moon” (already a winner because of its determined, flawed heroine) shines because of its vivid use of multiple settings and its well-developed minor characters. I initially thought it was a little slow, but I really came to appreciate Pattou’s skill over time.

19. Joe College by Tom Perrotta (2000)

Danny, a working-class Yale sophomore in 1982, thinks he has a lot to worry about. His rich friends are clueless, his townie coworkers at the dining hall resent him, and his crush is dating a professor. Then he goes home for spring break, where he’s confronted with a pregnant ex and a bunch of mobsters who try to interfere with his father’s lunch-truck business. I mostly read this book for completism--I love Perrotta, but The Wishbones made me wary of his earlier work--yet this seemingly lighthearted story contains some fascinating moral and ethical dilemmas, plus a hero who is sympathetic despite his callowness. 

18. Monsters of Men by Patrick Ness (2010)

In the explosive conclusion of Ness’s Chaos Walking trilogy, the protagonists find themselves in the middle of a war with an enemy they don’t understand, forcing them to wrestle with questions of right versus wrong, forgiveness versus revenge, and the possibility of redemption. This was an intense read, but there was a lot of genuine joy and love mixed in with the death and war.

17. Ashes to Ashes by Jenny Han and Siobhan Vivian (2014)

In the less literally but just as emotionally explosive conclusion of Han and Vivian’s Burn for Burn trilogy, former revenge-partners Lillia and Kat try to move on in the wake of a tragedy, as well as the abrupt departure of Mary, the other member of their retribution-themed trio. The future is looking bright, but then it becomes clear that Mary is neither gone nor happy with their life choices. I read the first book of this trilogy way back in 2014 and, while I enjoyed it well enough, I wasn’t blown away. This spring, though, I had the sudden urge to read the next two books, and they were both a wonderful mix of affecting human drama and ludicrously soapy plot twists.

16. The Charm School by Susan Wiggs (1999)

Isadora Peabody, the awkward scion of an otherwise graceful old Bostonian family in the 1850s, decides to take her fate in her own hands and become a translator on a merchant ship bound for Brazil. The captain, freewheeling Ryan Calhoun, isn’t too happy with this unusual arrangement, but he comes to admire and sympathize with the independent-minded and painfully self-conscious Isadora. At the same time, Isadora realizes that Ryan’s untidiness and occasional bouts of drunkenness disguise a heart and principles and a talent for making out in lush Brazilian gardens. I was absolutely delighted by this romance novel, which is an absolute romp with some terrific character development. 

15. The Ask and the Answer by Patrick Ness (2009)

In the middle book of the Chaos Walking trilogy, the protagonists reach the end of a long journey, only to find themselves separated and caught between two warring factions. This installment does a great job of elaborating upon the world introduced in the first book, offering new perspectives on old characters, and introducing compelling new conflicts. 

14. Fire with Fire by Jenny Han and Siobhan Vivian (2013)

In the middle book of the Burn for Burn trilogy, classmates Kat, Lillia, and Mary deal with the fallout of their semi-successful Strangers on a Train-lite revenge scheme. Kat and Lillia want to call it quits, but their sympathy for Mary causes them to agree to one last score, so to speak. Unfortunately, FEELINGS and PAST TRAUMA and DANGEROUS PSYCHIC POWERS complicate matters. Despite my love for Ashes to Ashes, Fire with Fire has a special place in my heart because it’s the first book to explore the characters’ emotions in depth, as well as the first one to go way over the fucking top.

13. I’ll Be Gone in the Dark by Michelle McNamara (2018)

In the late 1970s and early 1980s, a rash of horrifying home invasion rapes, seemingly meticulously planned, plagued the bedroom communities of Sacramento. Then a series of uncannily similar home invasion murders broke out in the Southern California. In this book published after her death in 2016, McNamara makes the case that this was the work of one person, dubbed the Golden State Killer. McNamara has a clear, humane way of describing grisly and/or convoluted events, and her portrait of the dark side of California suburbia is enthralling. 

12. The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver (1998)

In 1960, a dangerously determined and self-righteous reverend from the American South travels to the Belgian Congo, even though his own church begged him not to go. He makes the questionable decision to take his exhausted wife and four daughters--vain Rachel, suck-up Leah, nearly mute Adah, and baby Ruth May--along with him. Their new home is a shock to all of them in various ways, and that’s before a personal tragedy and the Congo Crisis enter the picture. Kingsolver makes excellent use of her five viewpoint characters, all of whom have distinctive voices and enjoyably unpredictable (yet entirely appropriate) character arcs.

11. Lighter than My Shadow by Katie Green (2013)

As a young child, Katie has seemingly minor issues around food, but during adolescence she develops a serious eating disorder and almost starves herself to death. A diagnosis and the ensuing support of her parents seem to signal hope, but recovery is more complicated that one might expect. This graphic memoir offers a nuanced portrait of the sheer range of stuff that gets wrapped up in an eating disorder: religion, gender, sex, control, trauma, the desire for independence, and so much more. Green’s “cute” art style enhances the story, both because it makes an interesting contrast to the upsetting material and because it grounds the reader in the humanity of the characters. 

10. Mindhunter by John Douglas and Mark Olshaker (1995)

Throughout the 1970s, FBI agent John Douglas, along with the rest of the Investigative Support Unit, compiled information about an increasingly common type of criminal: the serial killer. Gradually, they developed the practice of criminal profiling. As gruesome as it might sound to call this an excellent beach read, that’s essentially how I experienced it (not that I went anywhere this summer, but still). The pace is fast, the style is engaging, and the authors are frank but not overly lurid in their presentation of the nasty details.

9. The Beggar Maid by Alice Munro (1977)

In this collection of connected short stories, Rose, a bright Canadian girl, grows up in a rough, deprived neighborhood with her sick, stern father and prickly but not unloving stepmother. Life in the wider world brings her mingled pride and shame at her background, a largely disastrous early marriage, and eventually a satisfying but decidedly unglamorous acting career. Munro is a master of description, and she has a sense of fun that puts her head and shoulders above most short story writers. And the title story is just the most perfectly painful exploration of why someone would stay with a partner who is deeply wrong for them.

8. Dark Places by Gillian Flynn (2009)

In 1985, seven-year-old Libby Day narrowly escaped death at the hands of her teenage brother, but her mother and two older sisters weren’t so lucky. Except that Libby doesn’t feel so lucky, either, because she’s thirty-one years old with massive trauma, dwindling funds, and few adult life skills. Then a true-crime enthusiast contacts her with an offer: cash in return for investigating whether her brother was actually the murderer. Dark Places may be the awkward middle child of Flynn’s novels, but that reputation is undeserved; it has a thrilling plot, a perversely lovable heroine, and a sly critique of the “Morning in America” view of the 1980s.

7. The Hostage by Susan Wiggs (2000)

In the confusion of the Great Chicago Fire, frontiersman Tom Silver kidnaps heiress Deborah Sinclair, hoping to force her industrialist father into compensating the victims of his negligence. He’s not prepared, though, for her dogged escape attempts, her hard-earned resilience, or the hints that something was horribly wrong in her life even before the kidnapping. I had my doubts about reading a kidnapping romance, but Susan Wiggs proved me wrong. (It helps that Tom’s motives are both understandable AND not presented as an excuse for dragging Deborah into his revenge plan.) The super-slow-burn romance pairs wonderfully with the action-packed plot, and I love Deborah so much.

6. Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn (2006)

Troubled reporter Camille Preaker returns to her small Missouri hometown to investigate the grisly murder of one tween girl and the ominous disappearance of another. As upsetting as the case is, it doesn’t hold a candle to what waits for her at home: a softly cruel mother, a barely there stepfather, and a teenage half-sister who alternates between adoring Camille and tormenting her. Sharp Objects entirely deserves its reputation as the best (if not most popular) Flynn novel; it has a beautifully constructed plot, descriptions so lush that you feel like you can reach out and touch Wind Gap (not that you’d want to), and a deeply flawed yet admirable heroine.

5. The Knife of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness (2008)

At nearly thirteen, Todd Hewitt is the youngest resident of Prentisstown, and nobody is ever going to take that distinction away from him. Just after his birth, a plague killed most of the humans on New World, including every woman and girl. What’s more, the same plague made it so the thoughts of men (and most other living creatures) are audible to all. And the mayor of Prentisstown is a religious fanatic who won’t let anyone watch videos or teach kids to read. It’s...not awesome. Then Todd makes a shocking discovery that forces him to flee his community and question everything he knows. This book is a fascinating sci-fi take on the frontier horror story (ala The Scarlet Letter, The Crucible, and, more recently, The Witch) with a read-hundreds-of-pages-a-night plot and astonishing moment of wonder.

4. After the Wedding by Courtney Milan (2018)

Lady Camilla Worth, daughter of an earl who committed suicide to avoid treason charges, has passed from home to unwelcoming home ever since, finally ending up as an unknown housemaid. Adrian Hunter, a mixed-race ceramics heir on a desperate mission to make his family happy, happens to visit the house where she’s employed. Under some very strange circumstances, they’re forced to wed at literal gunpoint. Working together to unravel the mystery and get an annulment, they grow to like each other, which complicates things. This is one of my favorite romance novels ever, with wonderful characters (especially Camilla!), an explosive plot, and masterfully explored themes of healing and being true to oneself.

3. Wild Things: The Joy of Reading Children's Literature as an Adult by Bruce Handy (2017)

A famous magazine writer and father of two young children, Handy expounds upon the classics of children’s literature (The Cat in the Hat, Goodnight Moon, the Little House series, Narnia, the Ramona books, etc.). As someone who frequently rereads the favorites of my youth to de-stress (House of Stairs 5eva), the subject was tailor-made for me, and Handy’s execution is impressive. He covers an amazing amount of ground, switches deftly from one mode of analysis to another, and shares plenty of funny anecdotes and moving reflections on parenthood.

2. Blankets by Craig Thompson (2003)

In this autobiographical graphic novel, Craig, a creative, devout, and deeply lonely teenager in rural Wisconsin, meets his first love, Raina, at a church retreat that otherwise would’ve been miserable. They become pen pals and are finally able to arrange for him to spend a few complicated, wonderful weeks with her and her family. Their relationship and its subsequent fallout drive him to confront his conflicted feelings about his faith, his art, and his family. This is an absolutely beautiful story, complemented perfectly by the wintry landscapes and expressive human figures.

1. Breath by Donna Jo Napoli (2003)

Salz, a twelve-year-old boy in medieval Saxony, is dismissed and sometimes even reviled by most of his community, including his own father and brothers, for the unnamed illness that stunts his growth and makes it difficult to breathe. Still, he’s got a lot going on; he helps his beloved grandmother around the house, studies for the priesthood, and belongs to a secret coven. When an abnormally wet spring drives the rats indoors and causes a strange disease to spread among the locals, Salz’s sharp intellect and thirst for knowledge are more needed than ever. This novel is a historically grounded retelling of “The Pied Piper of Hamelin” where the protagonist has cystic fibrosis, and did I ever think I would type that combination of words? No, I did not, but I am so glad things worked out that way. Napoli’s treatment of disability is unusually gratifying, because she illustrates the essential things that a society loses when it dismisses the sick and disabled (as well as some other marginalized groups, such as women). At the same time, Salz’s family and neighbors aren’t cruel for the sake of cruelty; they’re just uninformed, scared, and/or bad at managing their own problems without lashing out at others, which does not absolve them but makes for a more thoughtful story than if they were just bad seeds. The portrayal of Salz’s struggles to reconcile the different sources of wisdom in his life--Church orthodoxy, pagan folk practices, and the knowledge slowly filtering in from the Arabic world--is also fascinating, plus the pathological mystery makes for a tight, exciting plot. All this in less than 300 pages! And do not get me started on how much I love Großmutter.

[mvgicshcpx]

                              𝕋 ℍ 𝔼  𝕄 𝔸 𝔾 𝕀 ℂ  𝕊 ℍ 𝕆 ℙ                                                  𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐈

welcome to 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕄𝔸𝔾𝕀ℂ 𝕊ℍ𝕆ℙ  !! you have found yourself in 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐈. this is where you will learn all about our first 𝒯𝐻𝑅𝐸𝐸 heroes, villains, heroes-in-training, and civilians alike !! of course, if you have any questions about something that we forgot to cover here, feel free to ask !! all questions ( and non-questions ) are more than welcome !!

𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐈𝐖𝐎𝐎 𝒶𝓈 𝐻 𝒪 𝒩 𝐸 𝒴

honey was raised in the down-and-out streets of espilon city.

their father was a villain, their mother simply lived to raised them to be the best person they could be.

however, their mother passed away when honey was four, right before their quirk came to light.

with no mother in the picture to convince him otherwise, honey’s father saw them as nothing more than an object ( a doll, if you will ). his plan was to raise honey as a villain and no more than that.

however, when honey’s quirk came to light when he was four-years-old, their father was less than pleased with the result.

honey’s quirk is DOLLIFICATION, meaning that they have the ability to turn living beings to dolls - i.e. take away their consciousness and turn their physical being to that of a doll, as well.

the quirk alone was referred to as dainty, weak, fragile, soft by not only honey’s own father, but their father’s cohorts, as well.

then, as if their quirk, itself, wasn’t bad enough for them, it was revealed that the quirk came with a bit of a price.

the more honey uses his quirk ( i.e. the more people they dollify ), the more they slowly turn into a doll, themself.

of course, this displeased their father even more. such a powerful villain refused to have a doll for a child.

still, considering there was nothing to be done of it, his father decided that, since honey’s quirk, itself, was foolish and nothing to be proud of, they must use the quirk in such a way that would make them worthy to be his child.

thus, honey, in all his tenderhearted glory, became a villain.

honey was born with the visuals of a doll. however, due to being forced to use his quirk so much over the years, his visuals have only become even more doll-like and now he, almost entirely, looks like a porcelain.

again, due to being forced to use his quirk so much over the years, they have become incredibly fragile physically ( they have always been fragile emotionally, truly ) and, thus, cannot take part in much, if any, physical combat.

when they get injured, instead of their skin tearing, their skin cracks and their bones are easily shattered.

important note: their right eye is LILAC and their left eye is GOLD.

they are, quite literally, as compliant and submissive as a doll. they tend to go along with most things without any questions and, when being spoken to, they tend to just nod and blink emptily, ready to comply.

whether them being so compliant is their father’s doing, considering he practically programmed them to be this way, or its their quirk slowly dollifying them, no one is quite sure ( though a bit of both would make perfect sense ).

on a softer note, they adore people playing with their hair and holding their hands !!

on a less soft note, HERE’S A CONCEPT: a dumb, submissive baby boy with the power to, essentially, take away peoples’ lives ?? one could literally put them on strings and use them as a weapon and they would be none the wiser, so ?? some villains out there probably strive to do exactly that with them, because they literally no longer obtain the ability to oppose or fight back.

𝐊𝐖𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐋 𝒶𝓈 𝐻 𝐸 𝒜 𝒱 𝐸 𝒩

definitely doesn’t have as elaborate a backstory as honey does, but here we go, nonetheless !!

born in the city of epsilon to two incredibly well-known superheroes, heaven was raised in some of the wealthiest streets of the city !!

he lived the spoiled brat life. what he wanted, he got. what he didn’t want, he got. what he didn’t even know existed, he got. basically, he owned one of everything, no matter what those things were.

despite being pampered to no end, however, heaven is not close to his parents at all.

due to being such well-known and popular superheroes within the city, they were constantly too busy to actually raise heaven, themselves. thus, heaven was raised by numerous nannies.

his nannies never stayed for more than a few weeks, though, due to the trouble that he would get himself into while under their watch ( especially once his quirk came to light ).

heaven’s quirk is BOUNDARY MANIPULATION, meaning that he has the ability to create, shape, destroy, and manipulate boundaries, whether they be physical, material, spiritual, existential, pataphysical, conceptual, metaphysical, and so on.

considering his quirk and how, basically, limitless it is, one can only imagine the trouble that heaven could have caused for his nannies within the all-too-expensive penthouse that he had the honour of calling his home.

truthfully, it should have been obvious that heaven was getting into such trouble and causing such antics because he was trying to get his parents’ attention, yet no one ever brought that to his parents’ attention.

thus, heaven grew up as a bit of a troubled kid, despite being given everything he could ever possibly want or need.

due to this, he had a bit of a vendetta against superheroes, because he figured that they were all just as neglectful ( ?? ) as his own parents were.

with this, he began failing in all of his hero-training classes, seeing as he cared very little about becoming a hero.

around this time ( about middle school age ), he started fighting, using it as an ( unhealthy ) way to let his anger out.

his teachers took note of this and had him talk to his counselor who, to both his dismay and his luck, insist that he pick his grades up and continue on with his hero-training.

“ if you hate today’s heroes so much, why don’t you show them what heroes should be like ?? “ --- his counselor, the words that changed his life.

so, he did exactly that. he picked his grades up and has maintained a perfect gpa ( or the equivalent of ) ever since.

this doesn’t mean that he no longer gets into trouble or causes antics anymore, though. no, he still does all of those things, oftentimes nearly killing himself in the midst of them. but he still does them, because he wouldn’t really be himself if he didn’t.

and, of course, he is still entirely resentful and bitter toward his parents, but he is even more determined to show them up, to prove to them that you can be a hero and a human being at the same time.

on a lighter note, he’s a little shit, so do with that what you will !!

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐈𝐇𝐘𝐄 𝒶𝓈 𝒫 𝐻 𝒪 𝐸 𝒩 𝐼 𝒳

born into an unlikely ( and unknown ) family of villains, phoenix was raised in a mansion just outside of epsilon city.

her parents were some of the most successful villains within the city of epsilon, and yet, nobody knows that they were ever villains at all.

the two pose as the ceo of one of the city’s biggest, most well-known companies and a male model ( yes, her father poses as the model !! ), and they have never even been so much as suspected as possible villains.

phoenix, too, lived the spoiled brat life.  what she wanted, she got. what she didn’t want, he got. what she didn’t even know existed, she got. basically, she owned one of everything, no matter what those things were.

her parents were actually incredibly involved in her life, truly. they spent time with her every day, doing their best to make every moment special and exciting. they truly seemed like wonderful, dedicated parents.

of course, she also knows, all too well, that her parents are the villains that they are and that villainy is how and why she has lived in luxury all her life. she knew that the only reason they bothered to spend time with her was to try and distract her from their villainy.

it didn’t work, though, and, knowing that her life is the result of villainy, phoenix lived her entire life, ashamed and full of guilt.

thus, when she was about five and her quirk finally came to light ( no pun intended ), she began to use it to help other citizens within the city.

phoenix’s quirk is SHADOW MANIPULATION, meaning that she has the ability to create, shape, animate, destroy, and manipulate darkness & shadows.

so, she used her quirk solely to help those who needed it within the city, yet she never had so much as a thought that becoming a hero was a potential pathway for her.

it wasn’t until she was fourteen, when she saved a child from a villain and was, then, referred to as “ the shadow hero “ by him, that she even considered training to be a hero.

her parents heard of the good deeds that she began doing around the city and they gave her a choice: be a hero or be their daughter.

of course, it was a painful decision to make, because phoenix loved her parents, even despite their immoral and corrupt ways. they raised her and loved her all her life.

in the end, though, she chose to be a hero. she chose that she did not want to be as immoral and corrupt as they were. she did not want to live a guilt-ridden life any longer. she wanted to do good and only good.

so, she began attending hero school at around age fourteen and has been attending it ever since.

she is still somewhat resentful and hurt over the fact that she was disowned by her parents, but she knows that she made the right choice.

due to this, though, she tends to be reserved and reticent about most things, including her hero training, and, thus, tends to need a bit of a push in order to finally work up the courage to do certain things.

on a lighter note: her shadow essentially acts as a mix between peter pan’s shadow & johnny 13′s shadow from danny phantom !! it’s sort of like a friend or a pet !!

she and her own shadow like to play with other people’s shadows, as well. so, she will definitely temporarily take people’s shadows and, knowing her, she probably forgets to ask first, so ... missing shadows being a reoccurring theme on campus ?? absolutely !! 

so, do not be alarmed if you suddenly have no shadow !! just check with phoenix and she will be happy to return it to you, as well as offer a sincere apology !!

and on a depressing, finishing note: these shadows are most definitely her only friends and family ( even if other people see her as a friend, she is most certainly afraid to call them a friend in fear of being abandoned or disowned again ), so ... do with that what you will, as well !!

[fundeadasylum]

Phanniemay 2018 Day 10: Crossover

The three teenagers watch with curious interest as a string of cars pulls into the parking garage across the street. A line of well-dressed looking figures are making their way from the garage to the convention hall nearby, gesturing and strutting like a pack of gossiping peacocks. Sam is giving them all decidedly sour looks.

Tucker lets out a low whistle, “Must be some big rich guys thing goin’ on. That was a luxury car worth more than even Vlad could afford.”

“There’s stuff Vlad can’t afford?” Danny looks genuinely startled by the idea.

“He’s a millionaire, sure, but these guys are probably like…like 50 billionaires or something. Waaayyyy out of Masters’ league.” Tucker smirks at the thought of something being even out of Vlad’s reach, “If anyone in this town would hope to clink glasses with those guys it would be Sam’s—“

“Don’t. Say it.” Sam growls through clenched teeth.

Danny chews on his lip for a moment and then stands from his chair around the outdoor table, “I’m gonna go check it out.”

“Danny—“ Sam begins to protest.

“Relax guys, I’m just gonna pop my head in for a minute. I’ll be back before my ice cream melts.” Danny grins and ducks around the corner, out of sight of the rest of the ice cream shop’s patrons. One flash of light later and he’s in ghost mode and dropped into invisibility. He sours over the roof tops and follows the trail of rich folks to the convention center, dropping intangibly through the roof when he’s close enough. The air conditioning is cranked high and the place is chilly enough that Danny feels downright comfortable. He lingers in the air, invisible, watching the throng of people move about below him, before he swoops down for a closer look.

The people are dressed well but there’s something…off about them. Danny can’t quite put his finger on what it is but there’s a metallic taste in the air and the sense of things a lot bigger than he is crowding his senses. He flits away to search for a more open space where he can parse things better and rounds a corner into a mostly empty hall.

There is a scattering of people, clustered into groups of two or three, and far enough apart that they wouldn’t be able to pick up each other’s conversations. Danny hovers closer to the nearest group, still invisible, curiosity about that unsettling sensation growing.

There’s a man in a dark suit with a top hat and a polished black cane speaking in a low, growling voice to another man dressed in jeans and a lab coat who—Danny blinks and shakes his head. He can’t focus on the man’s face, can’t make out any defining features. His eyes refuse to stay and keep sliding away to something else. It had been hard to notice in the large crowd but now, with these individuals, he finds that he can’t really focus on any details about them. There are generic things like what clothes they’re wearing or how tall they are, but nothing defining like the structure of their face or the color of their eyes. Something is definitely not right here.

That’s when he feels eyes on him.

He jerks and looks down by the suit-wearing man’s feet. There is a young woman sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, legs criss-crossed and head titled ever so slightly to one side. Danny still can’t focus on her face but he knows, without a doubt, that she is looking at him. He checks and, no, he’s still invisible. But when he drifts to the left, she definitely turns her head to follow him. She’s watching him. He’s invisible and she’s watching him.

“Hay un espía invisible mirándonos.” She says and the other two instantly turn to face her. The man in the suit looks up, following his companion’s gaze, and Danny’s stomach drops because the man is looking right at him.

“¡Demencia! ¡Cosiguele!” The man in the suit snarls. Before Danny can blink the girl has launched herself off the floor in a whirl of bright colors and tackled him out of the air.

Danny struggles as he’s hauled backwards, trying to get a bead on his attacker. But she’s fast and lithe and moves like an eel through water, twisting out of his reach and slithering around him even as she drags him across the floor on his back. He doesn’t dare try and fire blasts off willy-nilly for fear of hitting an innocent or accidentally bringing the roof down on their heads.

He’s jostled over a threshold, a door slams, and the room is dark. His arms are yanked over his head, wrists pinched together. He prepares to fire an ecto-blast but yells in pain as someone—probably the girl—sits down hard on his arms, grinding his elbows into the floor. Florescent lights flare to life, momentarily blinding him as he bucks and kicks and struggles. There’s a sound like a nerf gun being fired and his ankles are bound with something so heavy it feels like a planet is strapped to his feet. He can’t phase through whatever it is and it makes his panic spike. He yells and struggles harder. Until something small and hard presses into his chest and, for whatever reason, makes him freeze.

Danny’s gaze travels up the silver end of the cane poking right into the middle of his DP symbol, up the polished black beam, up until he sees the black, gloved hand holding the cane in place.

The man is no longer keeping up his façade of pretending to be human.

His skin is dark grey and there’s and unnatural look to it, like something that doesn’t fit quite right in the dimensions of this universe. Only one of his eyes is visible, the other hidden behind a polished monocle, and it burns red with curious sort of anger. And his teeth…his teeth are dagger sharp and a pale, acidic green. Everything about him screams evil.

And for the first time in a very long time, Danny is afraid.

“Now, what have do we have here, hm?” It’s perfect English coming out of the creature’s mouth, not a hint of an accent. And he’s grinning, showing all of those horrible teeth, smug, confident, and utterly in control.

“An ectoplasmic entity of some kind, jefecito.” Danny’s head snaps away from the man in black to the man standing at his weighed down ankles. There’s…a paper bag over his head? Maybe it’s not paper because the goggles he’s wearing over them aren’t bending or tearing the material like it’s normal paper, “Though it doesn’t look like it’s the same as other ghostly creatures we’ve come across.” He peers closer at a device in his hands, the glint of his eyes through his goggles narrowed, “Hm, it appears to also be exhibiting mortal traits…odd…”

There’s a gun-like device dangling at the man’s (scientist’s?) side and from this angle, Danny can barely make out the thick, viscous substance clinging stubbornly to his feet. It shimmers like oil in the florescent lights.

“Señor Black Hat, puedo comerlo?” Says the girl presumably sitting on his arms. Danny doesn’t know exactly what she says but he recognizes the word “eat” and wonders just what the hell he’s stumbled in on.

“No, Demencia, I don’t think so.” The creature—Black Hat?—leans over Danny, his shadow blocking out the lights, his eye bright and glaring, “You’re a sneaky little brat, poking your nose where it doesn’t belong. But you’re strong. Stupid, but strong.”

“Who are you!? What are you doing here!?” Danny’s glad there’s bravado in his voice because there’s none in his hearts. Something about this terrifying being is filling him with an intensely cold and almost irrational fear that he wants nothing more than to run home and hide under his bed. This is a thing of nightmares and Danny knows, deep in his core, that this thing could erase him from existence before he could blink.

Black Hat cackles, a deep, throaty laugh that makes Danny’s head swim with images of snapping bones and slowly churning meat grinders.

“Ah, sir—“

“What, Flug?” Apparently Black Hat doesn’t like being interrupted while he’s gloating.

Flug shrinks back into his lab coat, “Ah, sir, sorry to interrupt, but I think that’s the local town hero. Danny Phantom.”

Black Hat grins and this time it’s predatory. He looks back down at Danny who has never felt more like a prized turkey ready for the oven, “A hero, eh? A child who thinks he has the power to save everyone? How cute.” He grinds the end of his cane into Danny’s chest, making the boy squirm, “If this were any other day, I might have let Dr. Flug here have some fun with you. But we’re here on business and at the graces of a potential client. Wouldn’t want to get on anyone’s bad side now, would we~” Black Hat removes his cane and steps back. At the same time, Demencia leaps off Danny’s arms and Flug dissolves the restraints with a shot from his gun. Danny is instantly in the air, fists clenched and teeth gritted. Ectoplasm swirls around his hands, blobs of energy gathering and dispersing as he struggles with himself.

On the floor, looking up at him without a trace of worry or fear, Black Hat says, “Run along home, little ghost boy, I’m sure there’s someone waiting for you.”

His grin and the tone of his voice make Danny feel sick. He rockets up through ceiling, zig-zagging through the sky and dropping back into the alley beside the ice cream shop. When he’s human and gravity is holding him down again, he almost collapses onto shaking legs. Taking several deep gulps of air and struggling to compose himself, Danny carefully makes his way back to where his friends are sitting. They notice him immediately and Sam half rises from her seat but Danny waves a hand at her as he flops into his. The ice cream in the bowl in front of him is mostly sugary blue soup by now.

“Dude, you okay?” Tucker asks, “You look like you’ve seen a—I mean, uh, you look…not good.”

“Um.” Danny says. The gears of his mind groan with ice from the cold fear still nestled in his chest, refusing to turn. He can’t tell them about those three in the convention center, they can’t know. Because Danny knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that it would get them killed.

“Danny?” Sam says softly.

“Oh, uh, it was��really freaky old rich people stuff.” Danny manages to push the words out, squashing the tremor that wants to sneak into his voice, “Like, really freaky. Gross freaky. Zero out of ten, would not recommend finding out what is happening in there.”

“Whoa, musta been bad if it left you lookin’ like that!” Tucker laughs. Sam looks doubtful but when Danny laments his melted ice cream, she scolds him for taking too long. And then gets him another one.

That night, when he can’t sleep, Danny uses his phone under the bedcovers to search the internet for any mention of Black Hat or this Dr. Flug. A page only half loads before his phone screen cracks on its own, starts leaking something sticky and dark, and dies.

He chucks it in the bin and tells his parents he lost another phone to a ghost attack.

He never tells anyone about that day and he never goes looking for Black Hat ever again.

-------

I admit, this one got away from me a bit and it ended up going in a direction that I really did not expect it to. Dang thing wrote itself. Ah well.

Not my best Villainous work but I’m not used to writing the Black Hat crew from an outside perspective. Anyway, this was fun to write even though it’s not what I initially wanted to do with it.

Also, sincerest apologies if my Spanish isn’t correct. I’m not the best Spanish speaker and I hardly ever deal with it in written form.

[phantomphangphucker]

ClockWork Say What? - Phic Phight

Prompt Creator: @latterdaysaintvampire Prompt: During a high-stakes chase, Danny’s parents’ newest invention has shorted out all his powers, except one - possession. Summary: ClockWork is really pushing the limits of what the Observants will tolerate

No warnings apply

Eyeballing the insanely massive corrupted ancient ghost, before turning back to face the ghost who’s become his mentor. “Huh, well ClockWork, looks like you’re the only friendly around. And I know this is probably the most absurd and dumb thing I’ve ever asked you but, mind if I over-shadow you for a time?”, Danny already knows the answer as soon as he sees ClockWorks slight smirk and the glint in his eyes. “Go ahead Daniel, I'm here because this will royally piss off the Observants”, Danny can’t help but chuckle even with the rampaging ghost in the background. “This shit is why you can actually handle my bullshit”, with a shrug and a goofy grin Danny hops inside of ClockWork.

Grinning even more because damn, ClockWork is strong but also surprisingly weaker than Danny himself. Patting himself/ClockWork down and eyeballing the ghostly tail that can’t stop being a tail. “Full-time tail seems like it would be annoying but I guess he’s rather used to it”, hearing the loud distorted roaring Danny snaps ClockWorks head to the side. Eyeing ClockWork staff he grins as he floats aggressively at the growling.

Watching the massive old ghost for a while before deciding to try out ClockWork’s time power’s, “time out” pushing on the top of the time staff. As everything just stops, Danny can’t help but curl up and laugh his ass off. “God, this is exactly as OP as I expected! Holy shit!”, Danny then blinks as his mind is bombarded by different futures and possibilities, rubbing his hand over his head and under the cloak hood. “Fuck man, wow it’s probably good I can’t do this myself”, he’s natural hero complex automatically seeking out whatever option is the least harmful for everyone else.

“You know what? Fuck it, I have a stick and I can beat you over the head with it! You will be pulverized by time!”, utilising teleportation to get up close and personal to the ancient ghosts face. Grinning like a loon, “time in”. Promptly full force smacking the ghost in the eye with the time staff and teleporting away, snickering as the ghost shrieks and grabs it’s eye. Though he gets a little startled by suddenly being a child, which almost results in him getting hit by an ectobeam. Doing a little backflip as he teleports to the other side before flying right at Its face. Just as he sees the ghost's hand coming to grab him, “time out”.

Danny floats lazily out of the way and laughs at the ghost who’s about to smack themselves in the face. “Time in”, smirking wildly as the ghost does indeed smack itself in the face and remembering his first encounter with the master of time. Danny reverses time and sets it in motion again, and again, and again. Making the ghost smack itself around five times. Danny can’t help but float to the ground laughing his ass off.

Sighing, he decides he really should deal with this. He can after all, see all the ways this ghost could destroy so much and at least two ways to fuck the time stream. “Your mind is a grade A cluster fuck ClockWork”, just as he's going to stop time again he spots Tucker and Sam running over. Muttering to himself, “I don’t think a wrist ray and thermos will do them much good this time”. Shaking his head he teleports straight in front of them, before they can get too close and get hurt; scaring the crap out of both of them.

“CLOCKWORK! HOLY SHIT!”

“Are you trying to give us heart attacks!?”, Tucker makes a show of putting his hand over his chest while Danny/ClockWork smirks. Sam looks between ClockWork and the giant ancient ghost a few times, “if you’re here this must be bad, where’s Danny?”. Grinning wide as he responds, “oh you could say he’s quite close, followed the corrupted ancient one and he’s been having quite a bit of fun in the meantime”. 

Tucker eyes ClockWork strangely, having become familiar with Danny’s punny nature but also knowing ClockWork’s trickster ways, “so what’s is he doing and how can we help?”. Sam nods holding up her wrist ray and a thermos while Danny responds as he changes into an old man, shaking his head, “no, this time you two will just have to wait out the clock”. Smirking as he floats back towards the battle, “just let old-time deal with the ancient timer”. Now even Sam’s looking at him funny as he teleports back to the fight, snickering to himself.

Smacking the ancient one with the staff because it’s funny to picture some super powerful being just hitting other super powerful things, with a stick, “I’m so going to clean your clock”. The ancient turns to roar at him so he levitates an insane amount of clocks straight into the guys mouth. “Pretty sure eating clocks is a pretty time-consuming endeavour!”, Danny laughs as he turns to a child. Calling a “time out”, for a perfect freeze frame on the ancient with his mouth stuffed with so many kinds of clocks.

Floating down to Tucker, Danny takes his phone, which has a way better camera than Sam’s. Floating back up to the ancient he takes a selfie and captions it “oh no I’m being vored”. Chuckling as he puts Tucker’s phone back.

Floating in front of the frozen ancient he flips through all the different scenarios to figure out how to defeat this guy, “how the hell does ClockWork ever make split-second choices? What does he just stop time and think through shit?”. Laughing to himself, “it’s not like anyone would even know! No wonder he can be so calm and logical! He literally has all of time to think out every action and every word!”. Rubbing ClockWorks neck, “my erratic off the cuff way of doing everything is his exact opposite”.

Crossing ClockWorks arms he elects for option 365, since it seems the most insane and is both absolutely something Phantom would do and will completely infuriate the Observants. It’s not like they can do shit about it, they won’t know if there was other options or if they’d even work. Smirking, Danny leaves this timeline frozen and opens a bunch of portals to different times, jacking all their long pointy clock towers and throwing time medallions on them. Snickering and grinning like a loon as he levitates them all around the ancient one, looking like giant clock tower needles. Nodding at the still frozen scene, “it’s time you got your shots”. Turning into a child as he floats intangibly inside the giant ghost and wraps the chains of pocket watches all around its core, lathered in the serum he just stole from his parents.

Getting another idea he floats out and changes all the hands on the clocks so that they’ll all gong at the exact time that they pierce the ghost and the serum kicks in. Knowing that combining the mass sound with all the time medallions falling off will yeet this guy straight into oblivion. With a smirk, “I’m about to make everyone’s eyeballs or eyeball, bleed”. Spinning the staff, “time in”.

Sam gapes at the scene, looking like something straight out of a clock based fever dream, that just suddenly appeared out of nowhere. While Tucker falls on his ass laughing, “holy shit! That has got to be Danny’s doing! How the?”. Tucker then curls up, hugging his stomach and laughing, “oh god! He’s! God! He’s over-shadowing! Over-shadowing ClockWork!”. Sam looks between the scene and Tucker as all the clock towers impale the massive ghost and a loud gong rings out.

The sound jerks Tucker’s head up as Danny/ClockWork slowly floats down towards them, hands behind ClockWorks head. While Sam and Tucker both gape now, as the massive ghost starts flashing a near seizure inducing mix of purple, blue, black and white. While all the clock towers start teleporting back to their times, taking chunks of the ghost with them.

Danny/ClockWork floats smirking next to Tucker, talking mostly to thin air at this point, “I hope you enjoyed your time on the Phantom Express though I recommend you don’t go back four seconds”.

Somewhere off in the ghostzone, a bunch of Observants rub at their eyes with a couple muttering, “that child should never have power over time”. Another shakes it’s head/eyeball, “and to think, he’s actually stronger than this”. The Observants shudder in unison as they watch Danny/ClockWork grin widely, obviously watching them as they watch him.

Tucker turns to Danny/ClockWork, “dude, just dude”. Danny just laughs as he decides he probably shouldn’t push ClockWorks fondness of him too much, so he hops out of him; with the fight, or job in ClockWorks case, finished.

Clockwork grins fondly at Danny while he lays on the ground laughing his ass off, Sam is a bit shell shocked because since when could he over-shadow ghosts? Especially one as strong as ClockWork? Sam facepalms as Tucker starts laughing with Danny, talking to ClockWork, “you let him do that didn’t you?”.

“Time teaches in strange ways Miss Manson”, with that ClockWork teleports away. Sam’s rather confused but for once Danny easily knows what he meant. Transforming back human he helps Tucker get up while talking to Sam, “I can over-shadow any ghost I’m stronger than, Sam”. Tucker gapes at him before slapping him in the shoulder, as both him and Sam get what that means.

“Dude, don’t the Observants or whatever, already think you’re too powerful to be allowed to exist?”, Danny shrugs. Finger-gunning at Tuck, “it’s not like they can do shit, I’ve literally got all of time in my corner”. Running a hand through his hair, “besides, I’m a force for good so they can’t really complain too much”.

Sam shakes her head, “so ClockWorks powers huh?”. Danny rubs his eyes a bit, “they are pretty sweet but that seeing everything thing is wild. No way I’d want that all the time”. Sam glares at Danny, “we’re going to have to deal with time puns for the rest of the week aren’t we?”. Danny grins wickedly, “well it was about time Tuck got a new screen saver”. 

Tucker instantly looks horrified, knowing full well Danny could have gotten up to all kinds of trouble while time was obviously frozen. Yanking out his phone, seeing nothing out of the norm he checks his photos. Wheezing he does indeed set it as his screen saver, “you are an affront to god!”.

Danny strikes a sexy pose, “more like an affront to time!”.

End.

[spnsimpleman]

The Unknowns: Twenty Three

This is a continuation for The Unknowns.  A one-shot turned into a long ass Prologue.  Part One.  Part Two.  Part Three. Four.Part Five.  Part Six.Part Seven.  Part Eight.  Part Nine. Ten. Eleven.  Twelve.  Thirteen. Fourteen.  Fifteen.  Sixteen. Seventeen.  Eighteen.  Nineteen.  Twenty.   Twenty-one.  Twenty Two.

Dean x Psychic!reader

Teaser/Summary: An AU sparked from a songfic challenge, The Unknowns is based on Season One Episode Nine, Dean met reader in Lawrence as a child and they created an unbreakable bond. At the end of The Unknowns, reader decided to stick with her boys because she felt something coming but she holds secrets; one she holds close to her heart and a few that she doesn’t even really know yet.

Word count: 3373

I stared down at the pretty calligraphy. I had snorted the first time I saw it and Pamela only grinned in response. A lot of my father’s family had thought this dream was merely a fairy tale and someone had taken it a step further by writing it down like it belonged in an old book or maybe had been torn from one.

Pamela had warned me multiple times that it had been translated too many times and rewritten to remove some of the flowery nonsense but I could hear her warning loud and clear, don’t waste your life hanging everything on a dream.

I think in some way she still blamed my father for leaving us too early because of his obsession but it might be the one thing that ends up saving my life, our lives. If it helps us in any way, could it really have been that much of a waste?

If I can’t figure it out, it just might. I shook my head and tried to focus.

A fair warning, powers shall bless and curse while some always remain stringently aloof. All will leave marks. To those who have the ability, to read and to choose, not only what legacy they shall leave behind, but what future they will set forth.

The same powers that whispered freedom into the ears of men at the Alamo on that November night when Halley’s Comet blazed high in the sky, a different kind of battle was revealed to an old warrior with spurs already retired. A vision of bloodshed and a solution, but only if he was steadfast with his time, his sweat and blood, and the iron and steel.  

A warrior’s sacrifice will prove fruitful if the solution stays on course and gripped by those destined to wield it against the evil that threatens them. The Marksman, Soldier, and Witness.

Below the text, someone added in a careful hand without the fancy swirls and ink,  

Samuel Colt built a weapon and thirteen bullets to end a war brewing between heaven and hell. The same night brave men lost their lives at the Alamo, the last sigil was carved in the revolver that would end a demonic plot and reign.

Entrusted to a fellow who appeared in the vision and held promise in his own right. Wesley Campbell bore a son that continued the line for generations, the weapon will pass through these hands until finally gripped by those destined to wield it.

The marksman, soldier, and witness?

Scrawled underneath in a familiar messy hand,

Halley's Comet- November 1835.

The Texans defeated at The Alamo- March 6th, 1836

Gun surfaced in 1920 with seven bullets in Chicago before disappearing again.

Marksman- Danny? Soldier- John? Witness- me.

My father had fact-checked what he could and added his own assumptions. Did he ever know Mary’s maiden name? Was it just coincidence that we ended up on that street?

Lips pressed against my neck in a sensual touch and I stretched my head to the side. Dean looked down at the paper as his hands smoothed around under my chest, “still reading over it?” I nodded and leaned back into him. “I thought your dream or feeling was four though. Why did you have something tell you four if this family thing is three?”

“I don’t know. I talked to Pamela about it too. She reminded me once again that it was just a dream and premonitions are not always clear but she did have a few ideas, only one that had any strength though.” He pulled me up, sat down, and yanked me into his lap. I chuckled but settled against him soothed by his energy swirling with mine. Even though he showered, he still smelled like grease and metal. He was so close to finishing Baby and I knew when he left I wouldn’t be able to go this time. My focus needed to be here and away from Sam.

Sam. My brother who could barely handle being in the same room as me.

He squeezed my side and nuzzled his face into my neck, grief and love surging through the bond and blending with mine, “what’s this idea?”

“Three is a strong magic number but Pamela said four is balanced and it would make sense since four always relates to stability. In some old cultures, and you can find it in almost every religion…” He pinched me again and I rolled my eyes, “okay, geez, she focused on Native American culture, the number four is sacred and she said the first thing that came to mind was the four sacred obligations of the Zia people; to develop a strong body, a clear mind, a pure spirit, and a devotion to the welfare of your people. She doesn’t believe in coincidence and she thinks the reason that came to mind is because we could break those four obligations up between the four of us.  Strong body, clear mind, pure spirit, and devotion to your people.” I worried my lip again, “although she spent a good amount of time in New Mexico where the Zia tribe lived so she could be...”

“I don’t get it.”

I blew out a breath and pulled away, “never mind. It still doesn’t mean anything.” He gripped my sides, not allowing me to leave his lap.

“Okay, come on, dumb it down for me.” I scowled at him and he chuckled, “sorry, I’m not dumb but I’m a little lost.” He pouted and I looked away, frustrated more by my lack of any progress than his attempt to distract me.

“It really doesn’t mean…” He turned my head to face him and his brow rose. His fingers playing against my jawline just skimming my lips. “Fine. Jess is the pure spirit, you are the devotion, I’m the mind, and Sam…”

“Wait, why am I not the body?”

“Seriously? You’ve been devoted to protecting us since we were kids.”

“So have you or did I just imagine a little girl holding up a bat to beat away a demon?” I narrowed my eyes and he chuckled, “okay, but this is just an idea? Because I’m not judging… I’m just...”

I punched him and he barked out a laugh, “we’re grabbing at straws.” I sighed, “I don’t understand why your dad thought it was us that the stupid dream was talking about when I know that Jess is supposed to be with us. That we’re supposed to be four, not three.” I scrubbed my face and pressed the heels of my hands into my tired eyes.

“You know what?” He stood, lifting me with him only to let me slide down his body until my feet hit the ground. He grabbed my hands, “enough of this for today. You need some fresh air.”

He pulled me toward the back door. “What are you doing? I don’t even have shoes on!”

He flashed that smile and despite the shadows beneath his eyes, it was blinding. “You leave them by the door, stop fighting me. You know you don’t really want to.” He stopped and turned as I bumped into him. “Actually, yes, fight me. You said yourself you’re grabbing at straws and we haven’t sparred in too long. You’re gonna get your ass handed to you if I don’t intervene.” He wiggled his brows, gave me a quick kiss, and then dragged me onward again.

My laughter, however scratchy, followed us outside. A good fight with him sounded wonderful, but anything with him was.

~~

I walked into the kitchen stretching my arms over my head. Dean had been right, of course, I needed to get out of my head. The stress had been knotted up my muscles more than I had realized. I smirked. There was no way I wanted to admit it but I knew he already felt it. There was no point in fighting it when it streamed through the bond completely awake because of our time together outside.

I bumped into a solid wall of muscles and winced. I was so busy thinking about this open wave between us that I completely lost focus on the world in front of my eyes. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

Sam walked across the room while I glanced around for Jess. No save there. I opened my mouth to say something else but nothing would come out. I snapped my jaw shut and winced at the stupid sound that echoed in the small room with too many acoustic surfaces. I rubbed my arms and moved to the cabinets Bobby kept some snacks in. I didn’t want any, I needed to get in the fridge. I glanced over and Sam shut the fridge door, a glass of orange juice in his hand. The one he would ultimately shove on me missing and completely jarring no matter how hard I tried to forget it.

The room was hollow, an empty void where I stood alone. My heart punched my ribcage, the rushing sound in my ears overbearing. I ached to tell him what I didn’t need to say, what I needed to say but couldn’t. Shouldn’t. There was nothing but empty space, an overwhelming silence that hurt more than anything I could imagine. I watched him from the corner of my eyes, the stiffness in his shoulders and arms, his back far too straight as he turned and strode out of the room without a word or a look in my direction.

My eyes burned and my vision blurred, the shelves in front of me weren’t even there. Memories crashed over me, more torture than relief to a throat too tight, a chest too full.

My laughter filled the room the second I saw my gangly goof. Sam held a glass against his chest with his forearm as he gripped another he carefully poured orange juice into, trying not to spill and incur Bobby’s wrath. “That’s what counters are for, pumpkin. Why do you need two glasses anyway?”

He glanced over and almost spilled the juice. “Shit. This is what I get for looking out for you.”

I laughed again and opened the snack cabinet. “Please, you give oj way too much credit.”

“No, you don’t take care of yourself. Everyone knows Dean isn’t going to help. The only vitamins he knows are flintstones.”

I shook a box of crackers and pulled them down. “I know and eat all the food groups.” I closed the cabinet and Sam was next to me holding out the second glass.

“Malnutrition is not only a third world problem.”

I glanced down and the juice didn’t sound half bad. “If I drink that will you leave me alone?”

He chuckled, “nope. Without me, how are you ever going to be as strong as you dream to be?”

I fought back the laugh, “okay, coach.” I narrowed my eyes, “but I’m not running 5 miles today.”

He grinned, “we’ll see about that.”

I closed the cabinet and turned. I needed water and a beer for Dean but my feet were so heavy. I rested my hands on the counter, my arms shook and I cursed myself. This was my own choice. This was what I had prepared for. My lungs screamed and I squeezed my eyes shut.

I snatched the water bottle out of the air, “hydrate.”

“I know,” I chuckled as he poured half of it over his head. He glanced at me and I knew that look in his eyes but didn’t move fast enough. He shook his head and I shrieked, “gross, Sammy! Damnit, get away!”

His laughter echoed in my head but didn’t match the man that couldn’t be around me, that couldn’t look at me without seeing the person who lied to his face, who allowed him to hurt for so many long months. This was mine to bear. I knew this would happen when I made my choice.

A searing pain in my chest had me leaning on the counter, my legs too shaky. I was strong enough. I had to be for him.

I was yanked off the counter and spun around before crushed in a familiar embrace. “Breathe, damnit!”

I knew what would come if I gave in to that desire, what I would unleash. “Y/n,” Dean’s voice cracked, “please. Just breathe. We’ll get through this.”

It was too hot in here, too heavy. Get me out of here.

BREATHE! His voice shocked through my system with an actual electric jolt.

I sucked in a breath and the sob was smothered by his chest. He lifted me up and moved. I couldn’t tell where and couldn’t care. I just let go while hanging onto him for dear life. Trusting him to tether me while I drowned.

“Not drowning. I got you. I’m right here. This will pass, we’ll get past it. Just keep breathing. I protect you, y/n. Always.”

The tears continued, my chest heaving out sobs I couldn’t control. I slipped into that place where his energy blended with mine, weaving through it and curling around it. I didn’t deserve escape but I couldn’t survive without him. At least I’d always have him.

“He’ll come around too. Just like you said. It’ll take time.” He whispered into my ear, his breath hot pulling me toward the surface.

I curled inward tucking further into his swirling green. The one thing I didn’t want to think, didn’t want to give any piece of reality to, slipped out, he hates me.

Never. You’re family.

But I knew Sammy. I knew his worst, most vulnerable thoughts. I knew how he felt about John during those years when things were tortured and crazy and things were just too much.

“I hate my own father, y/n. What kind of person does that make me?”

I touched his face, those eyes screaming and echoing the strong emotions churning with my own. “Human, pumpkin. It makes you human.”

“You’re different from him and you know it. We’ll always be different.” We weren’t moving anymore and he had me tucked into him somewhere soft or maybe that was just him.

I gripped him tighter and didn’t answer. I couldn’t because I didn’t have one.

~~

I believe there's a moment that everyone comes upon once or multiple times when they feel a future event coming. They call it gut instinct, women’s intuition, or sometimes a sign from above, but no matter what they call it or what rationale they give it, they all know that something’s coming, it’s going to happen no matter what and it's going to hurt. In spite of all that, they do it anyway because they also know it's the right thing, that it's supposed to happen. For better or worse. We just hope to hell it’s better. Or they don’t think they can change it because it’s already been written.

I don’t know which one is a better way to look at it.

I haven't had many moments where my intuition told me it was something I couldn't change ahead of time, but there have been a few. When I saw John at the motel the night Dean left me in bed; it had solidified a feeling I'd had the whole drive there but I ignored it because Dean was there and I was too excited to see him again. I could blame my sex drive but I have blocked things plenty of times because I didn't want to think about it.

But tonight, tonight I wanted to savor every inch of him, commit him to memory. I wasn’t clingy so much as I kept close within range so I could touch him at every chance. Sitting next to him on the couch finding any space for skin to brush, at lunch and dinner our hands sharing touches underneath the table, and then as we headed to bed, we moved together to the bathroom. We brushed our teeth, took a shower much like we had before but the touches were different, they weren't rushed or heated but slow, purposeful in a completely different tone. He dried me off, I dried him, and we pulled our towels around us for the walk to the bedroom.

Once behind the closed door, I thought we might lose that calm for frenzied action but we didn't. Dean peeled the towel away, each movement deliberate as if opening an unknown package. Before he touched me, I did the same to his. We stood naked in front of each other, taking in the person standing there. I could feel his melancholy, his longing, and that steeling; an armoring process he started when we were kids just before we had to leave each other. We knew tonight would be our last night for a while.

I shivered, an unfounded fear twisting in my stomach as I allowed my gaze to wander over a body I knew so well, but when I pulled at it, it fell away. The last time we said goodbye like this, darkness had been hanging over us, Dean’s possible death blocked from me. But there was no feeling of impending doom on the horizon this time, but there wasn’t one when he had come close to losing his life because of a damn taser either.

He closed the space between us and pressed his finger to my lips, “shh. Just us. Nothing outside of this room right now.”

I looked up into those eyes and didn’t need to say a word. He took my hand and led me to the bed. I climbed on but before I could crawl to the pillows, he grabbed my waist. I turned and knelt before him on the bed not having to question before his hands were on my neck, his thumbs brushing my jaw before moving up and over my lips. They were soft and tantalizing before moving over my cheeks and into my hair. His lips were next, gently teasing mine before pulling me in and pressing my body against his.

Sometimes it could be too much when he was constantly gentle, not demanding anything but more like gently lapping waves moving and discovering then taking what he'd found, marking it as his own. Tonight, it was perfect. We took turns exploring and memorizing, murmuring through the connection but not rushing the other.

When we finally joined in a slow, smooth stroke, my legs wrapped around his waist and we held each other there pulsing. Our foreheads pressed together, his darkened green gaze staring into mine.

I love you.

Forever and ever.

This was our memory. Our one moment we’d always want to keep the other in. We were both many things, both had so many favorite memories but this was where we always found ourselves. These were always the memories held closest to the heart, when we were joined in every sense of the word.

He finally kissed me and began a slow rhythm. We moved together, rocking, tweaking the position to find another until we found the one that was explosive, but still, he kept a torturously slow rhythm through each orgasm he coaxed.

His hands smoothing up my back, down my sides, gripping my hips. I pushed back into him, kneaded his thighs or his arms, and trailed my hands up his stomach and chest, smoothed my hands over the stubble on his jaw before pulling him down for a kiss. We changed positions, becoming a little more frantic when we felt him getting close and then finally wrapped our arms around each other, crushing our upper bodies into one as our last thrusts sent us reeling over the edge. My cries and his groans mingling in our ears until we fell to the bed, spent and yet still swimming on the high.

He kissed my forehead, my nose, and then my lips. “Perfect.”

I touched his face wanting to say that I didn't want to lose him but I didn't want to make this any harder than it already was. He kissed me again only this time he went deeper. You’ll never lose me because I will never let go.

No matter how hard it gets, I was still the luckiest woman on earth.

Twenty Four

@duchessofwinchester , @jodyri , @jencharlan , @deanssweetheart23  @torn-and-frayed , @chrisatplay , @mogaruke, @captainemwinchester  , @ashrod98 , @mrswhozeewhatsis , @caitsymichelle13  , @escabell , @thealyana , @michellethetvaddict , @ashch , @rashinyx2002 , @tamtamlov