#Eerie writing

[bubonicbandages]

A GUIDE TO FOLLOW WHEN HOME ALONE

•You are alone and you know this. It's just your parent's footsteps still echoing outside the door. Do not mind them. Resume your tasks normally.

•During your unchaperoned time, it's best to not turn on the television or anything louder than forty decibels. You don't want to attract them. Even whispers have a heartbeat in here.

•Do not try to be gallant. You already know how heroes end up.

•The sky is your companion. The sky should be trusted for it shows everything and nothing. The sky is your friend. Do not look at the leering shadows. The sky is safe.

•If you feel lightheaded around noon, drink chamomile tea. Regular tea works too. Do not remain in the kitchen; promptly head to the basement. Under no circumstances drink from the the cup. A headache will pass, and they will too.

•You are alone and you know this. Everything else is a mirage created by the bored mind. Do not listen to the knocks of the leering shadows.

•When it is lunchtime, share your food with the neighbor's cat. It will bring you something useful in return. If the feline leaves and doesn't return for half an hour, proceed to grab as many shiny things as you can and place them around yourself. It is recommended to close your eyes. Do not leave the circle until the cat returns.

•Occasional humming will be heard at around four o'clock. You are free to sing along but remember the golden rule: the student cannot surpass the master.

•A flock of birds will visit you three times by your bedroom window. The first time they do only ever listen to their chirping until gone. The second time they appear, you will notice that they are remaining silent and still: take immediate example. The final apparition respects the following: if you see that all the volatiles have a certain ribbon tied around their tarsus then everything is going to be okay. If only one isn't bedizened with anything proceed to lock every window and rooms that have a bed. But if only one returns, then you have approximately fifteen seconds to flee the Strangers that flicked the door handle and are calling for your name. You are not alone and you know this.

[urfriendlywriter]

Horror/Eerie st0ry prompts:

(feel free to use<3 tag me when yall writeee )

"[name], w-why is there blood on your face-"

hyperventilating because your feet just touched blood but there's no body.

"it-it's--fuck, it just moved-"

"stop breathing at my ear, [name] --" and turning around to find nobody beside you.

looking at the mirror but the reflection isn't. looking. at. you.

"we need to get out, this is--a bad idea!"

being stuck in a nightmare.

"don't look back, please, i b-beg you, 'name', don't!"

"look at me-no! hey, no, don't, just focus on me, okay? okay, u got this!"

talking to a person and suddenly they turn weird-their face, and voice changes. their eyes turn white.

learning about whatever that is haunting you

"Do you know (an item that you found) belongs to?" and their face go white. "how. did you. find this."

"we need to run, you moron!"

lights flickering so hard

hallucinating shadowy figures

having your actions controlled by a shadow figure that's moving right outside your room

finding dark bruises all over your body you have no recollection of getting (ok but whys this creepy as fck)

having all things shake violently, fall and break

that gut feeling something is following you (if ure that mc, you'll def go investigating what it is. which DEF WILL GET YO ASS IN TROUBLE)

^ or that it might be progressively getting darker as you walk down a road where not a single life is seen

blacking out and waking up somewhere else

if you lift your head up and acknowledge it's presence-then you're done.

you blink once it's there. you blink again it's not but when you blink once again, it's on top of you, choking you.

"i shouldn't die, damn, i haven't even had my first kiss yet TT " (the comedic relief friend in horror stories lmao)

"are you haunted ?! sigh. do i need to save you? " "if you're not gonna piss your pants, yes please."

"if it ever comes between you and me-" "I'm-" "choose you." "obviously choosing you." "no. no! you are choosing you or i am going in there without you. i don't need to lose you too. understood?" ".... okay."

crying out loud, heaving and shuddering but nobody can see you breaking down

having blood smeared all over you

having to watch yourself slowly loose your identity and go paranoid

not being able to be alone anymore.

[demigods-posts]

it's heart breaking knowing that there is a strong parallel between percy and luke's upbringing. both had distant fathers. both had loving mothers who would do anything to protect them. both grew resentful of the gods even as they embodied the roles of pawns in their game of chess. and yet. luke's story is what blends into the wallpaper. lurks in the background like a descending melody in a thundering chorus. something we aren't made aware of until it's too late.

[thisischeri]

instagram: cheri.png

[eeriefeelingsat3amuwu]

In my Kagehina feels, so y’all are getting my headcanons

-they got together in their first year after Kageyama’s second crowning

-this happened in the most Kagehina way possible, where they were walking home together and Kageyama just says ‘I think I want to date you, dumbass’

-Hinata says ‘think I wanna date you too, asshole’ and that’s it, they’re dating now

-sure, the conversation following the confession is a bit more emotionaly charged and Kageyama thanks Hinata for the support, but there’s no more mention to the nature of their relationship

-they continue on in their relationship up to their third year

-no one notices

-this is because nothing changed. Sure, they are physicaly close, but they basicaly fell asleep on each others’ shoulders before this, it’s not like them holding hands is weird

-they don’t really enjoy kissing, because it’s just weird to do so

-until they find out about the horizontal tango in their third year

-this kinda expands their horizons, but they still dislike kissing in public without any followup, because they’re very competetive in everything, including bedroom activities

-Yamaguchi, Yachi and Tsukishima kinda think something is going on, but they’re never sure and it’s driving them insane

-anyone can ask ‘Hinata, is Kageyama your partner?’ And the answer will be ‘yes’ but the answer has been yes for three years now goddamit and surely the two of them couldn’t have been together for THAT long, right????

-their touches border platonic and romantic, but they never really cared about the distinctions, so who even KNOWS

-they spend a shitton of time together, but that’s NORMAL, stil

-chaos in the gc. Their senpais get in on this and it’s a whole bet going on

-Brazil time. Why should they ‘take a break’? Nah, they’re fine, long distance is no problem for either of them as long as they get to talk to each other weekly

-Oh sure, they miss the physical aspects of their relationship, but the way they feel about each other hasn’t changed at all and they both know Hinata is doing this for the both of them

-that being said, when Hinata gets back from Brazil, Kageyama is the one to go pick him up and then doesn’t show up at practice for two days straight because they keep each other ‘occupied’

-they both also cry when they meet at the airport. The only lucky thing is that this was at two in the morning on a Tuesday and Hinata was nowhere near as popular as after his MSBY debut, otherwise Kageyama would’ve probably been followed by at least three journalists and their ‘Welcome home’ kiss would’ve ended up plastered on every single sports magazíne cover the next morning

-as soon as they settle into their new routine, the ‘when will they get together/are they together yet’ game starts on a bigger scale, now including their V-League teammates

-Kageyama comes to practice bruised up? The bruises look natural and could be from a number of other activities he regularly does

-Hinata has scratches on his arms? It’s a well known fact that he’s very fond of cats and has been seen petting a stray one just the day before

-both of them drop out of practice on the same day and are seen together? Turns out Hinata’s sister came to visit and she just LOVES Tobio, really, how could you deny the Hinata smile™️ anything?

-they call each other by their first names? Oh, they’ve known each other for AGES

-they share an apartment sometimes? Tokyo is EXPENSIVE and Tobio lives so close to the Adlers gym, why waste an opportunity to play volleyball together?

-funny thing is that they’re not even the ones comming up with the excuses, it’s just the two sides of the bet arguing over the possibility of their win

-and along comes Japan national team

-they win their first gold together

-and kiss on the olympic court

-afterwards, both of them look so giddy and shocked that EVERYONE assumes they must’ve just gotten together. And really, that has always been the more popular assumption, because the two of them can be DENSE

-read a really funny fic where Kageyama was doing a press conference and he was asked who his favourite spiker he ever played with was and instead of saying someone from his current team, he just said Hinata (they do this constantly)

-so it’s not that big of a surprise. Money is payed out to the assumed winners, there’s a general sense of great ease and everyone congratulates the two of them

-they seem confused about the congratulations, but then again, it has been a very emotional day for the both of them

-well, there’s an afterparty for the national team

-Kageyama and Hinata sit next to each other on one of the couches and the team is huddled around them and everyone is just having a good time

-and then Hinata turns to Kageyama and says ‘Hey, let’s just get married after the games end’

-the party grows quiet

-Kageyama’s response? ‘Oh, sure, works with me’

-you could hear a pin drop

-and the two of them just try to continue on with the conversation that the question interupted

-then Bokuto, bless his heart, and Ushijima, no social awareness extraordinare, congratulate them on their engagement, to which Kagehina smile and thank them and then try to pull them into the conversation

-Atsumu is the one to speak up next

-‘um. Shouyo-kun, I don’t want to be mean or anything. But uh. Don’t you think it would be better to wait with the engagement a bit? I mean, I know you two have known each other for years and all, but then again, you just got together. Wouldn’t it be better to think this through a bit more?’

-…

-Hinata and Kageyama look at each other

-wide eyes, they mouth Atsumu’s sentence back to each other

-then Hinata bursts out into laughter and burries his face in Kageyama’s shirt

-Kageyama snorts and gets redder than the Japan jersey

-everyone else is confused as fuck, that is until Hinata manages to get his breath back

-‘We’ve- uh, hah, we have been together since the first year of highschool, ‘Tsumu- Tobio- To- Tobio. Fuck- we never fucking told anyone’s have we?’ more laughter

-this time it’s Kageyama who loses it and hides his face in Hinata’s shoulder

-‘No, no we did not-‘

-que everyone else losing their shit

-that night causes more chaos in the V-League comunity than anything else in the past decade in the least

-next morning, after a LOT of phonecalls, a post appears on all of Ninja Shouyo’s social media accounts, with only a ‘We’re here’ and a photo of Kagehina, with their olympic jerseys on and showing off their gold medals

-and under all of these, the first comment is always from the underused, almost empty accounts of one Kageyama Tobio, stating ‘can’t wait to marry you’

[theshoesofatiredman]

I'm revisiting a part of The High School Survival Guide: Making the Most of the Best Time of Your Life (so far) by Adam Palmer. It's a Christian book despite the fact that the title makes it seem totally areligious, and I read parts of it when I was in high school. It was the first time I ever read about being gay in a book. I found a free version online and while I didn't think the Bible could shock me anymore my mouth dropped open at this:

Apparently the MSG version of this passage really says the quiet part out loud. Gay people aren't even human / lose the knowledge of how to be human. Not sure how that works. There's such a dissonance between the tone of this verse and the tone of the text in the book too.

GEE I WONDER WHY??? How strange that Christians, who believe their sacred text claims that homosexual acts strip people of God, love, and their humanity, view homosexuality as 'icky' and 'gross.' In fact, I would think they'd think much worse in that scenario and treat gay people far worse. In fact, it kinda seems like you're downplaying the absolutely brutal treatment and systemic discrimination of gay people that was carried out in the name of Jesus.

And all of this is being aimed at (presumably Christian) teenagers who think they might be gay. There's no real advice here other than to surrender to god and to seek accountability.

I was keenly aware as a gay Christian that I was at the center of a culture war I did not want to be a part of. People out beyond my religious community were fighting for an acceptance and celebration of homosexuality that I thought was harmful and sinful. People inside my religious community had all kinds of incorrect ideas about gay people and I didn't think there was much space for me to be "out of the closet" even if I stayed single, celibate, and god-fearing. And I had no idea what to do about any of it.

I didn't come out to anyone until after high school. I prayed and I prayed and I prayed, and the weight was still heavy. God did not make it easier, did not lift the burden of homosexuality from me. I had plenty of accountability in my life, constantly watched by helicopter parents with Internet filters, confessing sin regularly in men's groups (both before and after I started to tell people I 'struggled with same-sex attraction). 'Accountability' only served to intensify my shame.

The only time things got easier was when I started to take God out of the equation, when I started to see my sexuality as a part of myself to embrace rather than excise. Christians will drone on and on about how Christ sets people free from their sins. In my experience, to be free of my sin I had to first be free of Christ.

[theficpusher]

My Little Poet by Thingssicant | G | 1861 Louis is a librarian and someone keeps ruining his books

don't be shy, i'm your guy by winterPearls | nr | 4658 "...Harry wondered if this pixie of a boy with crinkles by his long lashed eyes had a personality as addictive and loud as his laugh that reverberated around the otherwise silent library..." or AU where Harry is a cute librarian that really likes one of the boys that is a regular and he just wants to talk to him but he's shy and it's cute honestly i just suck at summarizing

Just Jump by jaerie | E | 9748 Finally, after years of suffering alone, the insurance plan at Harry's new job covered omega heat services. As a grown omega adult, it finally felt like the right time to try it out. And, since taking an entire week of heat leave would really put him behind at work, using a service to shorten it seemed like a responsible decision. At least that’s how he rationalized it. He was nervous about his decision but it was too late. The doorbell rang. “Hi!” The alpha said again and Harry took the hand he offered and shook it firmly. “I’m Louis from Omega Services. It’s nice to meet you.”

Record Your Fate (and Write Me In) by LadyLondonderry | T | 13012 Harry is the Archivist, it's his job to record what happens in the universe. He's only a few days into the job when things take an odd turn. Suddenly, the small blue eyed boy seems more important than writing about crowning dignitaries.

If the Surface Begs You Home by QuickedWeen | T | 17752 Harry is a mermaid from the underwater kingdom of Mercadia who is a little too fascinated by life above the surface. He's kicked out of his home after he winds up pregnant, and has to figure out how to make his way in the world. Louis is the darling of the small neighbouring seaside village who came home after university to take over their local library, and can't seem to stay away from the mysterious pregnant mermaid his friends introduce him to.

Checking Them Out?: How To Use Your Library Science Degree To Get an Alpha by InsightfulInsomniac | E | 19965 When a flirty, attractive alpha patron checks out an entire shelf of literature on omega behavior and omega rights, Harry can’t help but wonder why the man is so interested — is he a really attentive partner, or is he just a creep? It doesn’t help that this alpha visits weekly to exchange his books… and that he smells absolutely divine. Whether he likes it or not, Harry has a crush.

The Library Universe [Series] by allwaswell16 | E | 33825 Harry Styles has a great life. He’s a children’s librarian at the New York Public Library, he’s got wonderful friends, and he loves cooking, green tea, yoga, and his collection of bow ties. He doesn’t mind that his life seems a little structured, maybe even a little boring. But when Louis Tomlinson joins the library staff as the new Installation Coordinator, things become a lot less predictable. Louis gets under his skin right from the start, bossing Harry around, making noise during story time, and eating the last cupcake in the staff lounge. Louis may be almost offensively attractive, but Harry will not be succumbing to Louis Tomlinson’s charms, even if the rest of the library staff have.

i was yours (i wish you were mine) by staybeautiful | E | 56283 “Harry Styles!” His name rang out clear through the city streets. He turned quickly back to the bar, startled by his own name and startled by the voice that called him. Standing in the doorway to the bar, back lit and glowing slightly was Louis. Not an eighteen year old apparition dressed in the same low slung blue jeans and t-shirt with swooping bangs that was always the image in his mind. No, he was Louis now. or Ten years ago Harry dropped his best friend and high school boyfriend off at the train station and never saw him again. Now, he's twenty seven, living in NYC, and dreadfully unlucky in love. He can't stop wistfully thinking of Louis promising that they'd see each other again in ten years time. A chance meeting outside a bar has them tumbling head first into a summer of music, milkshakes, and maybe each other.

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore | G | 102104 For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead. The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

[the-cypress-grove]

Prompt: 190

She had stars in her eyes. And her hair. And scattered across her skin like freckles. She was the void and she would not be ignored for much longer.

[flowercrowngods]

part 1 | ao3

shattered on the cliff’s edge, trapped by the tides

— a steddie ghost story —

part 2 / 7

Soaked through by the icy water and the howling winds, and weighted down by shock and fright, Steve’s legs may as well have been made of lead as he, slowly, with a racing heart, accepts his fate and enters the lighthouse. 

He flinches, hard, when the door falls shut behind him, as if pushed by an invisible force, and he flinches again when a wave crashes violently. It’s almost as if the lighthouse is shaking with the impact, but maybe that’s just him. 

“Okay,” he breathes, whispering because he doesn’t dare to speak any louder, lest the unending darkness might be disturbed — and something tells him that it wouldn’t take all that kindly to that. “Okay.” Once more, with feeling. 

Before he can move and find an oil lamp or even just a candle to bring some light into this place, something thumps from somewhere up the stairs he cannot see. 

He knows that, just like ancient manors, lighthouses have a life of their own, knows they’re prone to moving and moaning along with the tides, with the wind and the water — but that was not the settling of wood or metal. That was something else.

“Hello?” he calls with a trembling voice, closing his eyes at the echoes of his own voice travelling up and down the tower he is being made to call home for the foreseeable future. “Is— Is anyone there? I’m… Well, I’m Steve.” 

Images fill the space behind his eyes, horrible visions of the old keepers luring him here to murder him, out of sea madness or cannibalistic urges, or just to have a bit of entertainment out here, just for a while. Other images, then, of ghosts coming to haunt him, to drive him to the brink of madness, to the railing all the way up on the tower, and watch his descent into— 

Another thump. The sound of a door opening, the wood groaning, the hinges creaking, everything insists the lighthouse protesting its new inhabitant. 

And then, through the pitch black darkness, a whisper. Travelling down towards him, growing louder as it comes closer and closer and— 

Steve takes a step back, his breath coming in shallow rapidity as he reaches for the handle and finding it unmoving.

Run, the whisper says, sounding more like an inhale than anything else — and is the air getting thinner? Run. 

Another wave crashes into the lighthouse. 

Run. 

The whispering voice is in his head now, loud for all of its tonelessness. 

Run!

Steve stumbles backwards, his body too frozen with cold and fear to catch his fall. His body collides with the wall and he slides down, covering his ears with his hands to keep out the noise, to keep out the world as he tries in vain for the fear to subside. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, hiding behind his knees like a little boy, scared of his father’s raised hands and his brothers' gloating. “I’m sorry, I mean no harm, I’m just— I’m here to fix the light. I’m here to make sure it’s— everything’s, everything’s fine. I don’t mean to disturb, I’m sorry. I’m Steve. I’m sorry.” 

Everything stills then — or maybe it’s the cotton in his ears and the staccato of his heart that drown out everything else and remind him that he’s painfully, desperately alive. And mortal. 

But the whispering stops, and so does the groaning up ahead, and silence falls. An unnatural silence, not even broken by the ocean waves outside. 

It’s like the lighthouse has stilled to listen to him. 

It’s something Robin told him once (or rather, debated at him while he was letting her rant wash over him in a whiff of fondness for his best friend in the whole wide world): 

“Ghosts don’t know your intentions, right? So it’s only fair to communicate with them. It’s you breaking into their house, after all. Well, unless they’re haunting your house, but even then it’s fair to assume they have been there all along and you either deserve the haunting and had it coming, or you’re just the poor lad caught in the crossfires. Either way, worth a try, right? If even those still alive assume the worst, I would think an eternity spent in the aether is unlikely to be beneficial to your judgement of character.”

Steve had waved it off then — or, in his case, smile patiently and waited for her to answer his initial question from half an hour ago before she went on a tangent on aether and ghosts and the supernatural; she’d been spending too much time in the library. 

“You learn a thing or two about haunted houses, growing up in a family such as mine,” he’d said, and then, “Dinner?” 

A pang splits him down the middle, regret and uncertainty tearing at him concerning Robin’s wheareabouts and her safety. She must be safe. She must be! 

“They say you don’t like— you, uh, strangers. The locals said you don’t like when people come here, so I’m sorry, but… I’m sorry. I have to fix the light. I’m Steve.” 

It’s madness, it must be. Early onset, although his father would have a thing or two to say about that, would claim it had always lived in him, would claim the way he looks at men is proof of that and reason enough to have him hanging in the streets. 

It wasn’t madness back then, Steve knows, vehemently, desperately knows. But this? Talking to a lighthouse, speaking into the darkness like it’s sentient even just a minute after he first set foot into it? It must be. He’s never been superstitious, has never been prone to ghost stories or supernatural appearances like Robin. 

But something about this place, something about the way it has been haunting his dreams, something about Old John capsizing is enough to make even the calmest man lose his wits. 

Something tells Steve that talking with the darkness is the right thing to do, if only for his own comfort. 

He looks up, his head thumping against the brick wall behind him, as steps approach. They still, right in front of him, and he’s staring into nothingness, almost expecting to make out a shape. Expecting for the next breath to be his last. 

Expecting… something. 

But nothing happens, and the sound of the ocean returns. The darkness seems less impenetrable as a sliver of light falls in through a side light up above. 

“Thank you,” he says, as stupidly as it is soundless, his voice buried beneath fear and dread. 

Miraculously, the darkness seems to fade a little more. 

Enough, eventually, for Steve to get up and dust off his trousers in an attempt to look presentable, or to shake off the residue of his fright — if only it was merely residue. 

Now that the darkness has lightened, he keeps his eyes fixed to the spot where he feels like he can make out a shape in the dust. Maybe it’s just his mind playing tricks on him, though, maybe it’s just the expectation of finding a spectre that makes one appear. 

Madness, he reiterates. But something about it doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t feel mad. And the steps never receded. If they were not an illusion, something created to steal the grounds from beneath his feet, playing with his senses to warp his perception of reality and the truth, then something — someone, quite possibly — is still standing right in front of him. 

He looks on even long past the point of impolite staring, searching the dust for a shape that only appears in his periphery when he moves his eyes. 

It feels rather undeniable, though, that someone is watching him. 

“Hello,” he says at last, having regained some of his voice and footing. His hands clench by his sides, though, his body revolting against speaking with an apparent ghost. 

The darkness doesn’t answer, and neither does the dust. But with the memory of urgent whispers still on the forefront of his mind, Steve is almost grateful for it as he carefully reaches for his bags and stars to move so slowly that it might almost be a mockery of the situation if his legs weren’t so shaky. 

The weight of an invisible gaze rests on his shoulders and settles in the bones of his neck. It takes everything in him not to rub at it — he has no idea what the darkness would take offence to, and he already feels incredibly lucky to have made it this far with his life still intact and only his sanity and his pride having taken a crack along the way. 

He thinks of Old John again, thinks of Good luck, kid. He almost asks the darkness about him, but he bites his tongue just in time. The stairs are steep and if he fell, given an invisible push, chances are he wouldn’t remain as alive as he is right now. 

So he swallows and feels his way along the wall up the stairs. When he finds an oil lamp, he reaches for the matches in his bags — blessedly dry — and lights it.

It’s almost blinding, the shine of the flame that sets to illuminate the way, but Steve feels his gaze drawn to the foot of the stairs where the spectre is still framed by the door. Still appearing to look at Steve. 

Stalemate is one thing to call it, maybe, this tension in the air, the weight of their gazes accompanied by the stumbling of Steve’s heart and the trembling of his hands. 

Steve swallows and continues with his ascent of the winding stairs, never once losing the feeling in his neck. He finds more lamps along the wall and lights them until they lead him to a set of chambers that in any other lighthouse would have been down at the bottom or even in another building altogether, leaving room in a large house or a tiny hut for the keepers to reside in. But none of that is possible out here, in the middle of the sea, towering on top of cliffs that already make it nary impossible to get here. 

The lighthouse is prone to flooding if the wind shifts or the ocean remains ruthless in a storm, so everything needs to be located above the threat of sea level. 

He finds two bedchambers, the beds unmade, a richly stocked pantry that will last him several months if he keeps it locked away from wet air, and an almost inviting kitchen. A burnt smell wafts from the oven, grown stale over time but a certain bite has never quite managed to air out, and when he takes a look, he finds what was supposed to be bread still in there. A coat hangs on a rack, another is hung over the back of the chair, and another stool has been thrown over. 

It looks for all intents and purposes like someone was just here. Like someone is still here. 

What happened to the old keepers? — That does not concern you. 

A shiver runs through him and he tries not to succumb to the terror that seems to lurk inside these walls as he starts a fire in the hearth. He is exhausted, adrenaline rushing from his body and leaving behind only apathetic tiredness and a longing for rest. He doesn’t even remember the light, his head filled with fog and exhaustion.

Once the fire is going and he is sure there is enough coal for it to last all night and keep him from freezing to an early death, Steve falls into bed without dinner. He only has enough strength not to retreat into a dead man’s unmade bed, instead finding new bedding and linen to make it his own. 

He doesn’t sleep on that first night, but he falls into a haze thick enough to be unable to move as the whispers return, knocking and hammering along the walls almost rhythmically, as if waiting for a signal. 

There is no time, they say, though he cannot be sure the next morning if he dreamed that or if he really heard it echoing along the walls. 

Run. Leave. There is no time. 

Tick. 

Tick. 

Tick.

And the night remains dark.

tagging: @klausinamarink @steviesummer @auroraplume @dragonmama76

[esteemed-excellency]

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Malice (Dad Squad)

Fair warning, this does have TotK content but none of it is spoilers. It's all literally stuff from the trailer. But anyway, I had fun writing it. :)

The lurch was absolutely nauseating.

Rusl shivered on his hands and knees, dizzy and disoriented and so unbelievably ill. He'd never been pulled in so many directions at once at such an unimaginable speed. He could barely make out his surroundings, having been torn from the jungle where they'd been wandering.

Taking steadying breaths, Rusl kept his eyes squeezed shut to reorient and not throw up. He remained stiff, not daring to move until the wave of nausea had passed. As his mind slowly stopped spinning,

The grass beneath him was damp, littered with little stones, which was the first thing he noticed. The stones felt... unnaturally shaped. Running a finger along it, he felt the curved edges, the too straight lines framing it.

Cobblestone. Cobblestone with grass growing through it, so withered and worn it was barely there anymore.

More ruins?

Exhaling, Rusl slowly opened his eyes. It was a dismally dark day, wherever they were. Storm clouds brooded overhead, he could tell by the lighting and the damp. Beside him, Abel was laying on the ground staring up at the sky, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. The Fierce Deity was crouched just a pace away from the pair, apparently reorienting faster.

Rusl wasn't surprised.

The Ordonian leaned back on his knees and feet, a trembling hand reaching for Abel's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Headache," Abel muttered before sitting up. "I'll be fine. But..."

The Fierce Deity rose to his full height, helping Rusl to his feet. The blacksmith stumbled a little, dizzy at the speed at which the deity lifted him up.

Rusl's companion opened his eyes, glancing around before gasping. "This is--this is just outside of Castle Town! How did--did that item bring us here?"

This was Castle Town?

Rusl looked around again, horrified to see the ruined remains of what should have been a sprawling city. He'd seen pieces of ruins, leftover outposts, a destroyed wagon here and there, but nothing of this magnitude.

Spirits above. He swallowed, suddenly thankful that the Twili invasion hadn't reached this level of destruction.

"But how did we--?" Abel cut himself off abruptly, and Rusl was about to ask what was wrong when he noticed it too.

What was that aura? Why was there ominous mist emitting from all around them, oozing out of the ground like steam from a boiling lake?

The Fierce Deity hissed, collapsing to the ground, a hand clutched to his face.

"Fierce...?" both men made their way to him, hands hovering over him uncertainly.

The deity was trembling, in obvious pain with his sharp teeth bared and eyes glaring into the earth. His hand on his face slid up to his hair, fingers curling around it in a desperate attempt to alleviate whatever was wrong.

"What's wrong?" Abel asked.

Fierce curled in farther, shriveling from their attempts to touch him. "It's the mask."

"What mask?" Rusl questioned.

As the Ordonian tried to figure out what in the blazes was happening, Abel's eyes roamed forward towards the city, and beyond it, to the castle.

"This mist..." he muttered. "It's the same as..."

Rusl looked between Abel and the Fierce Deity, wondering what in the world was happening and how they could fix this. "We need to get him out of here."

"Kill him." Fierce suddenly snarled, pulling away when Rusl tried to reach for his shoulder. "I'll be fine. Get him."

"Who? Who are you talking about?" Rusl asked, growing far more nervous than he cared to feel. He was usually fairly adaptable and had seen so many things that had little explanation in his life, but seeing a war god writhing in pain was beyond unsettling, particularly since he was his friend.

Abel rose, eyes dark. "It can't be..."

Rusl was clearly missing something, a connection that both of his companions had made. Nevertheless, the priority was to help the Fierce Deity, not worry about whoever they were talking about.

Abel clearly didn't seem to understand that, gripping his sword with enough ferocity to make his knuckles white. He marched ahead.

"Abel, what are you doing?" Rusl called. "We have to get Fierce out of here!"

When he got no response from the world weary traveler, he looked back at the deity, who insisted through gritted teeth, "Go with him. I'll be fine."

He looked distinctly not fine, but watching Abel walk into a heavier dark mist made Rusl equally unsettled. The Ordonian sighed. "Get away from here. Find somewhere safe to lay low. I can help you--"

"No," Fierce hissed. "I do not require help. Abel does."

"Fierce--"

"I will retreat as instructed," the deity acquiesced shakily. "But help him."

Abel had almost vanished into the darkness. Rusl bit his tongue, standing stiffly, filled with dread and annoyance. "Fine."

Drawing his blade, he hurried after the former knight, feeling cold dread sink into his bones the closer to the castle he got.

Abel's world was a desolate place, filled with mausoleums for villages, but this place had to be the pinnacle of it all. Rusl didn't want to get any closer. Had those guardian creatures really caused such destruction?

Despite his misgivings, the Ordonian did manage to catch up to Abel, who was slowly descending a stairway into the damp depths beneath the castle.

"I don't understand," Abel said softly as Rusl approached. "There are no guardians here. There's... no sign of anything."

"I'd say this mist is a pretty clear sign," Rusl pointed out, grabbing Abel by the wrist. "As is our friend's ailment. We should go back to him. There's something wrong about this place."

Abel pulled out of Rusl's grip sharply. "I know. It..."

The two men stared at the dark abyss below. Abel's face glowed with equal parts determination and dread. He was just as scared as Rusl, but rather than listening to his gut instinct, he ventured forward.

Rusl sighed. This man was beginning to remind him of Link.

Rusl had been to many a place that gave unnerving auras, but that had always been milder sensations. A feeling of being watched, an innate sense of danger to the area that would linger near dungeons. This... this was something entirely different.

This, for lack of a better word, felt demonic.

Pulling out a lantern, Rusl lit the wick and glanced at his companion. "If you're insistent, we should at least have a means of seeing where we're going."

Abel nodded in thanks before continuing. Rusl sighed and followed him down the stairs.

The farther they went, the sicker Rusl felt. He broke into a cold sweat, shivers racking his body. He'd never had such a visceral reaction to anything - even the Twili barriers that infected his world, despite their wrongness, hadn't made him physically ill. They'd felt more like the sensation of being in the dark, an overbearing heaviness and fear of the unknown, whereas this felt like a violation of body, mind, and soul.

He honestly didn't know how Abel wasn't at least reacting to it. Even the Fierce Deity had been affected. It had crippled him.

Spirits. It had crippled a war god. What were they doing down here?!

"Abel," Rusl tried again. "We should go back."

"What happened to your cheer for exploration?" Abel asked in a monotone, not really asking so much as distractedly challenging. He was far more focused on what was ahead than his companion behind him.

"I have a sense of self preservation," Rusl replied. "We don't know what we're walking into."

"It's like the Calamity," Abel muttered, more to himself than to Rusl. "But it's... I don't understand."

"The Calamity?" Rusl repeated. "The destruction of your land?"

"The Calamity isn't just an event, it's a monster," Abel explained, walking ahead despite his ominous words.

"So... we're walking towards the monster that destroyed the entirety of Hyrule," Rusl supposed with a raised eyebrow, continuing to follow his friend.

Abel huffed, stepping hesitantly as they seemed to reach the bottom of the stairway. "I don't hear any guardians yet."

"Those aren't the Calamity?"

"No. The Calamity used the guardians."

Rusl looked around warily, lantern raised. "So we're potentially looking for a beast that is stronger than guardians. And a single guardian can annihilate both of us."

Abel's shoulders stiffened, and he shook his head. "Dammit, Rusl, I don't know. This... this mist surrounded the capital on the eve of the Calamity. But... then the Calamity happened. Nothing is happening here, except that our companion is falling ill because of it."

"We should be trying to help him," Rusl reasoned.

Abel turned sharply. "This is me helping. He... he said..."

"He said kill him," Rusl repeated, a little disturbed at the words.

Abel grew very still and silent.

"Do you really think we can defeat something that is incapacitating a war god?" Rusl asked solemnly, trying to get through to the knight. "I had an entire resistance to assist me in my journey to save Hyrule, and inevitably it was Link who did the most work."

"Yes. Link. A child." Abel hissed. "We left the fate of our nation in the hands of children and expected them to--"

There was the sound of a foot scuffing on a rock and both men immediately froze. It came from somewhere ahead, vague and distant and bouncing in the chilly air, steadily making its path to them. It moved rhythmically, steps on stone, growing ever quieter.

Someone else was down here.

Someone else was down here and they were walking further into the abyss.

Abel stepped forward, sword at the ready. Rusl followed, armed and on edge.

Who else was down here? Had they heard the two men arguing? Was it just Rusl, or was the mist getting thicker?

The pair walked through some unusual corridors, and though Rusl's lamplight wasn't the best, he could make out odd shapes and figures in the stone. Abel glanced at it in passing, noting it and moving ahead. Neither man spoke at this point, ears peeled for any indication that they had caught up to whoever else was down here.

For such a foreboding place, there was certainly a strange lack of monsters. Rusl didn't know if he should find that reassuring or not.

Finally, the two men descended further and emerged into a large underground cavern of sorts. A strange light shone ahead, dulling Rusl's lamplight to that of a mere stub of a candle. The pair paused, uncertain and leery. Rusl's eyes settled on a strange swirling pattern of light that emitted from a... severed arm? The arm was perched on a half rotted corpse, almost as if it were pushing the corpse to the ground.

As if this place couldn't get any creepier.

Notably, though, Rusl's eyes caught movement. Up by the mummified body were two other figures, their voices lost in the echoes of the large space. All he could make out was that one was a female and one was a male. The male had a sword with an uncomfortably familiar shape to its hilt.

Rusl squinted in the darkness. It was hard to tell from here, but something about the swordsman's blade... he tried to focus more on it but couldn't, not at that distance with the dim light. The Ordonian turned to his companion and saw Abel transfixed at the sight.

"Is... this the Calamity?" he whispered. Was the foe already defeated? Was it trying to recuperate its strength? Who were the two in front of it?

Abel didn't answer. Voices grew louder, a strange sound emitted from ahead of them, and Rusl jumped, turning to look at the scene ahead of him to find that the corpse was moving.

There was a flash of light and the entire room shook. Rusl grabbed on to Abel's arm, pushing both of them against the wall to brace themselves as the entire place seemed to crumble in a flash of red, hellish light.

Abel dove forward, and Rusl yelped, pulling him back and trying to fight his vicious energy.

Abel was frantic; he didn't even seem to notice Rusl was there anymore. Instead, a scream tore out of his throat, desperate and pleading and terrified.

"LINK!"

The ceiling collapsed, and they were sealed into darkness.

[distant-lullaby]

[pinklandpainter]

don’t you think it’s funny?

how we’re all doomed in the same way?

how we all make the same mistakes?

isn’t it beautiful?

how you can just drown yourself in your own head?

how you can’t deal with reality?

how you don’t even know what it looks like?

choose a path, regret your choice

don’t choose, stay still, regret, die

waste your life

convince yourself it’s over

feel the doom

swim deeper, child

then drown

nobody warned you

nobody cared

the surface? scary

stay where we put you

it’s just water in your lungs

don’t you think it’s funny?

how you could have stopped that?

how they laughed when you begged to be saved?

how you were left alone?

isn't it beautiful?

how now you’re nothing?

how there’s nothing left?

it’s just sand and bones

you can’t change that

think it’s too messy?

(it’s all inside your head)

breathe. nothing’s wrong

stop worrying. nothing’s happening

the paths lead nowhere

you can’t escape anyway

they told you nothing’s wrong

but can you trust them?

[eeriefeelingsat3amuwu]

So, because my friend wanted me to draw hunky men in corsets, have some Kaer Morons, in all three versions.

Sketch:

Lineart:

Final:

Yes I did forget their pendants, yes I realized it after I finished doing lineart, yes I am mad at myself. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy lol-

[sirhugespuds]

Memories - pt. 1

"The first time you give a mortal your blood, their feelings about you become stronger than normal. And just so you're aware, these feelings are artificial so long as they drink your blood. The second time, the feelings grow strong enough to influence them. He might even fall in love with you. He might even become your slave. And the third time, is a blood bond. At this point, that friend of yours will no longer be anything but just your measly follower, and his entire personality will revolve around following you." - Arthur Bennett

I sit alone. The night has swallowed me again, as I shift around nervously. The cold concrete below me has taken all the feeling from my arse, and the cold wind blows around my bare arms.

I do this every night, just waiting for him. I occasionally glance up, scanning the steel trusses above me, and the holes in the roof beyond them. The sky is a dark yellow, and the light pollution from the city means I can't remember the last time I saw a star. If the city is so busy, then why hasn't anyone found me yet? Sometimes I get excited just thinking about how I'm hiding in plain sight. Sometimes I wish someone would find me. Try to take me. Then he would have to fight for me. Him. Fighting for me.

I shuffle my legs slightly, trying to get the blood circulating in them again. The cold air used to bother me more, but lately it's been alright. His blood is warm, and it stays warm. Sometimes, when I catch myself on something, or I trip and hit my nose, I stare at the blood, wondering how much of it is mine and how much is his. My blood. His blood. His. Blood.

I feel a pang of hunger in my stomach. I get up to my feet, and start to pace, trying to distract myself. But the idea of his blood is in my head now. I walk from one wall to another. The feeling returns to my legs now as the soles of my feet pump my blood again. My blood. His blood. His blood. I need to distract myself again.

I walk to one end of the warehouse. Turn. Look around. Look up. Nothing.

I walk to the other end, crossing my arms. Turn. Look around. Look up. Nothing. Just as bare as before.

I walk back again. Turn. Look around. Look up. Look back down. The entrance has opened, and a dark figure stands there.

My stomach lifts, thinking it could be him, then drops again, as I remember that he always uses the roof to enter, then sinks, as I stare at the silhouette. It looks to be wearing a leather jacket, with hair gelled back, and big boots. That's all I can make out.

"Thought so". The silhouette says, the words echoing through the dark. "May I come in?"

It moves forward, dropping its arm down as it enters through the doorway. The arm holds a metal pipe, which drags along the ground. The grating sound is surprisingly soft, it doesn't screech, but it fills the room. My legs feel heavy, and it feels like a weight has been hung from my throat, as the tension in my body forbids me to speak.

The silhouette moves below a hole in the roof, and the light of the moon reveals his face. The gelled back hair gleams, as do the sharp, oversized fangs that protrude from his mouth. He rests them against his ruby red lips, contrasted against his pale skin. He lifts the pipe up and rests it on his shoulder.

"You're not him. Are you one of us?". The figure calls out to me, but I give no response. I couldn't if I wanted to. I try to reply, but the words don't form. They can't. I feel every muscle tense, and my skin tightens, as a hand firmly grips my shoulder.

"Doesn't look like one of us, mate." Another one. He must have come in the other door, behind me. This one has a bit more stubble than the other man, but has the same leather jacket, and gelled back hair. I see flashes of his fangs when he talks. He walks away from me slightly, but seems to be examining me. "Same pale skin, but the fangs are underdeveloped. Reckon it's a ghoul".

"Really?" the first figure says. A wry smile crosses his face. "First time dealing with a ghoul. This should be fun." The pipe moves from his shoulder, as he slowly walks towards me. "Fact is, kid, this is Reaper territory. The blood that runs in the veins of everyone from here to the river is ours. It's our food. And your sire has been stealing from us."

He's close to me now. He rests the pipe on my shoulder, and looks me dead in the eye. I try to move, to run, but I can't move. The adrenaline has locked every single muscle in my body into place. He smiles, then lifts the pipe from my shoulder, and starts swinging it back and forth next to my head, like he's lining up a shot. I close my eyes.

"Let's see if you bleed like the rest of them."

I think of him. My master. My sire. Him. His blood. If only I could feel the warmth of his neck between my teeth one last time.

[thepenultimateword]

Short Prompt #81

“Don’t look into the mirrors at night.”

“Why not?”

“When it’s dark, you can never tell what’s looking back.”