#flashlight directly into camera

[whatithinkaboutdarkshadows]

Episode 98: My part of the bargain

Episode 98: My part of the bargain

A woman named Mrs Johnson joins the domestic staff of the great house of Collinwood. After reclusive matriarch Liz has sat with her in the drawing room for a few minutes, Mrs Johnson rises to begin her duties. Liz asks her to wait, and stammeringly warns her that some members of the household may seem unfriendly at first. She isn’t to take notice of that- they simply need time to get used to…

[misshugs]

The Cameragirl || snc

You've been Sam and Colby's cameragirl for some time now. Usually, nothing too crazy happened to you in most investigations, but this time...

warnings: paranormal activity, reader getting attacked, near death experience, strangling(?), cursing, angst?

a/n: took a bit of inspo after watching the boys' video of the asylum, but nothing exactly like it. just the fact that the place is an asylum

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

word count: 3.6k

[u n e d i t e d]

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As they were making their iconic intro and explaining what this new place was about, you made sure to have a sturdy pulse whilst filming them.

"Today, it's just me, Sam and our lovely cameragirl, Y/n." Colby said, letting you shift the camera towards your face and smile at it.

"Hello there." You said, making sure your face was extremely close to the camera, merely because it has become your way of introducing yourself.

"And since it's only us today like the good old days, we decided to make something fun. ALL of us." Sam explained to the camera and smirked, looking directly at you.

You batted your eyes, looking at them while they kept on smiling menancingly at you. "This wasn't a part of the contract." You said, gaining a laugh from both of them.

You zoomed onto his face and began talking with this soft, almost narrative voice. A voice you very well knew they enjoyed. "What is this oh so fun idea you seem to be hyping about, mr. Golbach?"

"Why thank you for asking." Sam nodded slightly, moving his attention towards the camera. "The three of us are gonna do a little challenge tonight." He clapped his hands together as you began unzooming the camera, putting Colby back on frame.

"That's right, we're going to walk alone, lights out throughout some of the most haunted corridors from this place." Colby continued. "The owners of this place told us it gets freaky when people are alone, so we thought this might get us some good activity."

"We have some cameras with nightvision but we're not gonna see shit." Sam added, "After a while, we all should find our way back to the main lobby."

"So stay until the end to see how that's gonna turn out." Colby says, getting close to the camera before covering it with his hand, making you stop the recording for the cut.

"That was pretty good." You said, looking at the video slightly.

"You're still good with the challenge, right?" Sam asked, looking at you. You scoffed.

"Please. I wouldn't have come if I wasn't sure about it. Remember you told me about it before the video?"

"I know, I know. Just making sure, you know how I am." He laughs. "Wouldn't want you to do something you're not comfortable with."

"You're saying that like we haven't known eachother for how long?"

He chuckles. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Alright, so since we're all settled, should we start right away?" Colby chimed in, looking at both of you.

"Not yet. This place has some good cinematic potential, lemme cook first." You said, looking around with your flashlight.

"Aight, we'll let you do your thing, I'll go ahead and look for the equipment." Colby said.

"Oh, shoot. I forgot to ask the owners about something." Sam said, taking out his phone.

"Go out with Colby, I'll be here waiting." You said, fixing back your camera to start recording.

"Alone?" They both asked, looking at eachother and then at you.

"I do my best work alone, gentlemen. You know that." You begin walking towards the shadiest corridor you've seen in your life, without even looking back.

"Oh wow. Fearless. She's trying to do the challenge before us." Colby laughed.

"Alright, I'll be super quick. If anything happens, just yell. As loud as you can." Sam said, smiling.

"Copy that." You laughed.

In the blink of an eye, you were left alone. You were used to these type of things, so it didn't bother you much. You've somehow become numb to all of this paranormal adventuring.

And that was one of the main reasons why you liked to take control of the camera, since you were able to keep your cool in stressful situations, making it easier for the viewers later on.

Plus, you didn't know how to act on camera and they were the professionals... allegedly.

Whenever something odd happened, you made sure to try and record as much as you could, in the best angles possible. You liked to joke around and call yourself a professional in your craft, although sometimes it wasn't even a joke.

You were passionate about it. The videos and the ghosts, it was only natural to try and do more, risk yourself to do something more interesting and outgoing.

That's a piece of yourself they loved about you. You were simply a perfect match in their combo.

As you began to do your cinematic, you began to have shivers. A sudden draft of air passing through you, as if a window suddenly opened.

Looking around, there was no possible way of that happening. You were in the middle of the corridor, absolutely no chance of an air draft simply passing through so randomly.

You thought it might've been a bit odd, but nothing you haven't felt before anyways. While you kept on making some videos, an eerie feeling of someone watching crossed over your spine.

The sensation of a presence slowly getting closer to you behind your back.

Almost feeling the heat of another person behind you, towering over you.

Hurriedly looking back, you were met with Sam's hand almost touching your shoulder. He stopped midway, knowing he got caught trying to scare you. "You bitch." You spit out, making him laugh.

"Damn it!" He said mid laugher. "I was so quiet this time, how do you always seem to know?"

"I can feel you lurking closer, you stalker." You looked away from his gaze, trying to ignore the thoughts of his pretty face. You began walking back to where he came from, meeting Colby in the process.

"I'm not a stalker, if anything, I'm protecting."

"Quietly from the shadows, sounds like a stalker to me, but you do you." You smiled softly, looking at the confused Colby.

"I left for a second, what did I miss?"

"Stalker behavior, nothing else." You said, putting your camera up again and ready to record.

Colby shook his head from side to side, already being on your side of the story without even asking further questions. "I can't believe you brother."

"Wha- it wasn't-..." Sam sighed, defeated. He knew you were joking, so he wasn't going to win anyways.

You laughed and pointed the camera at them. "Ready when you are." They nodded and you began to record.

"So as you can see, in our hands we have some devices that we'll scatter throughout this first room. If you've been here before, you'll probably be familiar, but if you haven't, these are basically some motion censor devices that will let us know if something walks infront of it." Colby explained, turning one of the devices on and showing to the camera how it worked.

As they organized everything, the REM-POD immediately began beeping. "Oh, shit. That's the rem pod." Sam said, stopping on its tracks. "That was the temperature dropping."

You made sure the camera caught that as you got closer to it. "Oh fuck. I was feeling a bit cold since we got here." Colby added. "Alright. I think we're ready."

"Okay. If there's any spirit around that would like to communicate with us, we would like for you to use any of these devices we've put up for you." Sam started, as you made sure to get far enough from everything for the shot.

"You can touch these lights on the floor, or maybe this device I have on my hand." Colby continued, pointing towards the EMF reader. "We mean no harm, we'd just like to talk to someone."

A couple of seconds passed, looking around, waiting for something to happen.

"Maybe they don't want..." Sam began, before getting interrupted by the REM-POD beeping, making you hurriedly move your camera angle. "Oop. Nevermind. Thank you very much. Can you do that again if you're here with us? To let us know it wasn't something else?"

Silence filled the room for a while, before the device started to beep once again.

Excited, they began asking questions to this entity, expecting for it to be somewhat intelligent enough to give answers back.

Luckily, it was. It seemed to be someone that died inside the asylum, a woman. Curious about the story of this woman, they kept on asking questions. Some of them being answered, others being completely ignored.

Asides from the constant beep from their device, you heard a knock coming from one of the corridors. Quickly looking around, they stopped talking. "What?" Colby asked.

"Heard something." You whispered. The room went silent, followed by what sounded like footsteps getting closer. You turn the camera back at them and their faces were shocked.

"Holy fuck." Sam whispered.

"That was like... thumps. We're the only ones here, right?" Colby asked him.

"Yeah, we're supposed to be." Sam says, walking towards the place they heard the sound, quietly. You followed close behind. "Hello?"

Nothing. They kept on looking around, searching and at the same time waiting for something else to happen. "There's no one here." Colby says. "But that was clear as day."

"Super clear, the camera must've have heard that, for sure." Sam said, looking at you as you nodded. "That was crazy."

"Yeah, let's try something else but closer to this area, maybe it's more active." Colby said, and all of you nodded.

A couple of minutes later, and you were all set up. This time around, they turned on a spirit box to try and communicate better.

The idea was to first use it as normal, then for Colby to do the Estes Method.

And so, the spirits began to talk.

"What's this." It spat out. Colby and Sam looked at eachother, smiling.

"Hello, this is a spirit box, you can use it to communicate with us. Would you mind telling us who you are?" Sam said, looking around.

"Hello?"

"Hi, hello." Colby responded. "Who are we talking to."

"I'm scared."

"Scared? Scared of what?" Colby asked, furrowing his eyebrows whilst looking at the camera.

"Behind you."

They quickly looked behind them. "Oh, fuck. I hate that." Colby said, as you smiled at their gestures.

It quickly faded away when you felt the familiar presence of someone behind you.

Heart racing, you looked around for a second, but there was nothing there. It didn't mean the feeling went away, though.

"Monster. Care..." It seemed the audio cut before finishing the whole word.

"Monster... care?" Sam asked, confused.

"Or maybe it meant careful? Like, careful of the monster?" Colby questioned.

"It would make sense. What monster are you talking about? Is it harming you? Are you scared of this monster... or... person?"

It took a while before responding. Last thing it said, before a screech filled the radio was... "Run."

Quickly, they turned it off. They looked at eachother. "That was terrifying." Colby said. Sam nodded and sighed.

"Let's try and look around for some other place. This doesn't feel safe." Sam said and everyone agreed.

For the past hour of recording, moving around and joking here and there, you felt a bit uncomfortable. Usually, you weren't the type to get scared over the paranormal, but this place felt more eerie than usual.

You heartbeat has been increasing slowly, as well as a slight pain in your chest that quickly faded. You felt watched.

There was a point where you even felt slightly touched, quickly warning the boys about it.

Due to this, they almost discarted the idea completely, thinking you might be getting targeted, scared that it might do something to you. It took you a couple of minutes of convincing them to keep on recording before the conversation was dismissed.

You tried to brush it all off, as 'something you've felt before', but deep down you were really anxious about it. Perhaps it made you feel better to think about it being just the nerves.

But you weren't the type of person to feel these nerves for no reason.

"Hey, you good?" Colby touched your shoulder and whispered to you, noticing you seemed a bit weird. "You seem out of it today."

"Yeah, I'm good. I was just zoning out."

"Yeah, I noticed." He chuckled, looking into your eyes. "You sure you're okay though?" He raised an eyebrow, seemingly concerned. "You don't look well."

"What? Do I look like a ghost to you?" You asked, smiling, which quickly made him show that gorgeous smile you loved.

"More like you've seen one." You shook your head.

"I'm fine. I've just seen some shadows running in the corners of my eye, but nothing too big to point out."

He batted his eyes. "You've what?"

"Calm down, you know I see those things all the time. It's nothing new." Half of it was true. The other half, well... there was a chance you might've seen a whole figure standing close to a doorframe, but you felt your imagination was tricking you too much tonight, so you didn't say anything.

You weren't a psychic or a medium or something close to it anyways. If anything, you'd probably consider it more like a hallucination due to the constant lack of sleep you've been having lately.

"I know, I know, but still. You could tell us about it, you know? Maybe we all see the same thing you do and since you don't point it out, we don't notice."

You rolled your eyes playfully. You were about to say something, but a breeze passed through your ear, a soft whisper saying "Come play."

You jumped, covering your ear and walking closer to Colby. "Shit." You whispered.

Confused, he held your shoulders. "What? What? You heard something?" His worry was enough for Sam to stop setting the cameras up and walk closer.

"What happened?" He asked. You looked around where you were standing.

"Did you guys not hear that?" You asked, the shook their heads. "I heard something like... right next to me." When you said that, Sam began recording once again.

"Alright, so... apparently Y/n just heard something right next to her." He began explaining to the camera, pointing it at you.

"It was like a whisper, it.. uh... it just said 'come play', like, the creepiest shit you can say. I even felt the air on my ear, that shit made me jump." You tried laughing about it to not let the mood down, but it wasn't working much.

"Although I really want to, maybe we shouldn't do the challenge." Colby said, looking at Sam straight in the eyes, genuinely worried.

"Guys. Come on. Don't back down when we're this close." You said. "We're basically done for tonight, this is the last thing we're doing and we're out, right?"

"...yeah." Sam whispered. "Let's..." He sighed. "Let's do it. Just like she said, we walk through the corridor and come back straight away."

Althought skeptical, Colby nodded. "Fine. Let's hurry up then. The quicker we begin, the quicker we're leaving this place."

And so, everyone held their cameras and said their goodbyes. The three of you went through your respective corridors and began walking, alone, with no light.

"Alright guys. I'm not good at, like, talking to the camera but I'll try." You sighed, pointing the camera at your face while slowly walking the dark corridor.

"Honestly? I'm usually not as creeped out when we come to places like this, but this one is like... up there. It's giving me the chills, making me paranoid, I feel like I'm... seeing thing. Or maybe I'm just sleep deprived. That's... that's also an option now that I think about it."

Looking around with the camera, although it's absolutely useless, you started feeling out of breath. Almost as if the air didn't reach your lungs anymore. "It feels... hard to breathe." You took a deep inhale and shakily exhaled.

You gulped, your throat suddenly feeling dry as the lack of oxygen was evident.

"I'm just gonna walk... faster. I wanna get this over with..." And so, you did. But the further away you got, the worse it all felt. You felt your vision starting to get blurry although you could barely see anything.

You paused as your vision began to get used to the darkness.

At the end of the corridor, what you could shape out like a human figure was standing there. Seemingly the same one you barely saw before.

This time, it didn't seem to go away.

You were also alone.

Unable to breathe.

You don't know when it started, but you were unable to breathe properly. You choked, trying to regain yourself from the feeling.

Your neck feeling tight, your stomach hurting at the sudden feeling.

Putting your hands on your neck, you coulnd't feel anything that would make you feel this way. You started to get worried.

You felt as if you were being choked. You tried to scream, but all that you could spat out from your lips was a soft, quiet, 'help'.

Trying to turn around and walk back, you saw the figure again and got scared, falling towards the floor. You coughed for air, sucking back as much as you could but being unable to.

Leaving the camera behind, you tried to crawl back to where you came from, but the lack of circulation on your body failed you as you coulnd't handle it anymore.

Your body falling on the floor, the camera seemingly recording your movements come to a halt.

Your eyes closing, leaving you unconscious.

It didn't take long before Sam and Colby got back to the lobby. Waiting for you, something seemed off.

They knew the corridor wasn't as long as theirs. You should've been the first one out by that logic. They've been waiting long enough and they were starting to get worried.

Even though the concept of the challenge was to be alone in the darkness, the idea of you being in trouble was too much to bare.

Heck, even if you were pranking them, the anxiety of you not coming back on time was driving them insane, they were ready for a scare if it had to come to that.

But the scare they were expecting wasn't the one they got.

Minutes of walking and calling out your name came to a stop when they saw you on the floor.

Hurriedly, they ran towards you and fell to the floor, yelling out your name. "This isn't funny, Y/n!" Sam yelled, moving your body, only to notice how cold you felt. His heart sank.

"Y/n, come on!" Colby said, putting himself on the other side, looking at Sam. The color from his face was gone when he felt her body. Colby, worried, touched your body and understood why he looked that way. "Oh, fuck. Fuck!"

Throwing the camera to the side, Colby quickly checked your pulse. "Sam. Call 911. This is serious." You still had a pulse, but you weren't breathing. First thing that came to his mind was CPR.

While Sam began to call, Colby was trying as hard as he could to help out. He began doing mouth to mouth, trying to bring some oxygen back to your lungs.

Tears streaming down both of their faces. Colby started making compressions to your chest, while Sam was talking to the 911 dispatcher and using the flashlight to illuminate Colby.

Luckily, they weren't too late. You began to cough and moved to the side to spit out some saliva. You breathed heavily and both of the guys sighed in relief.

As you tried to catch your breath, they softly held you up in place while your color came back to you. You blinked a couple of times, adjusting your view to your surroundings.

When you looked at them, they hugged you tight. "Fuck..." Sam whispered. "Let's get the fuck out of here right now." He held you softly and helped you out, as Colby grabbed all of the cameras.

It was hard for you to walk. It felt as if a ton of weight was keeping you from even standing up. It felt as if your limbs went numb, the lack of oxygen probably acting up.

Sam noticed, and didn't hesitate on holding you up and putting you on his back so that you could rest. They began walking as fast as they could, reassuring you that you will be fine.

You were focused on getting your breath back while listening to them scream at the spirits.

"You are not allowed to follow us home." Listening to Colby talk like this, while taking all of the equipment made you feel light. You started moving your arms and made sure to hold onto Sam, closing your eyes.

"You'll be okay. We're leaving." Sam reassured you, waiting for Colby to grab everything and get out of there in a rush.

After the police arrived and handed you an oxygen mask, you started feeling much better. You had some marks on your neck, like some hands were just squishing the air out of you.

Your body... at first, you could even see your veins pop out of your legs because of your lack of color. The poor circulation that ran through your body for a couple of minutes really drove your body to its limit somehow.

It took you a while to be able to stand on your two feet again, but before the police left you could walk on your own just fine. Sam and Colby however still managed to help you out.

"Let's head back home." Sam whispered to you. You nodded slightly and tried to walk on your own, only to be held up by Colby.

"Don't force yourself right now. You need some rest." He said, taking you back to the car. Your face having a rush of blood because of the gesture.

"I... I can walk."

"Let us do this. Please. It's too much already that you fainted right when we weren't with you." Sam said, looking at you, your heart racing at the look of his blue eyes upon you. You gulped.

"...f..fine." You said, resting your head on Colby's chest, making him smile.

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part two is up!! the link is in the beginning! <3

thanks for reading all the way! likes, comments and requests are much appreciated.

-nikkõ

[dmwrites]

Gem wasn’t sure how she’d been roped into this, but she was standing outside, at night, with a flashlight and a hoodie from Pearl over her dress. Grian, Scar, and Impulse were gathered around a map as she approached the bridge between Grian and Mumbo’s bases.

“Ah, there’s our other G!” Grian said, turning when he heard her footsteps and waving Gem over.

“Guys, what on earth are we doing? Old houses and buildings are one thing, but Hermitcraft? Nothing here was built over two years ago! What kind of ghosts could you possibly think exist here?”

“I don’t know, but there is some serious evidence that there is a ghost on this server.” Impulse said seriously. “We have freezing temperatures in some places-”

“What, like on top of mountains? Or in ice biomes?” Gem scoffed.

Impulse gave her a withering look and continued. “Scar swears he’s seen ghost orbs-”

“I saw them with my own two eyes!” Scar said.

“I thought you could only see them through cameras?” Gem asked.

“And, most importantly, we have a witness.” Impulse said proudly.

“A witness?” Gem asked.

“With bottled proof of this ghost’s existence.” Impulse continued proudly.

“If this witness has actual, real proof that ghosts exist, this could be groundbreaking for the world of ghost hunting.” Grian said, zipping up his backpack. “Okay, let’s go! Lead the way to the witness, Impulse!”

——

The second team GIGS landed in the hole in the ground, Grian made his thoughts known.

“Zedaph is our ghost witness? Impulse, please, you’re supposed to be the brains here. It’s not that I don’t like Zed, but he’s kind of…”

“How do we know he hasn’t been sniffing his test tubes as a zedvancement and hallucinated this all up?” Scar finished the sentence for him.

“Just wait and see.” Impulse replied.

Zedaph came out of a side tunnel moments later, holding a lantern in one hand and a small jar of fluorescent green liquid in the other. He was wearing a frankly horrifying dress (or just a really long shirt) that consisted of stitched-together clothing of all the other hermits.

“Hello, hello!” Zed called to them. “If it’s ghosts you’re looking for, I’ve got the spooks!”

“Zed, what on earth are you wearing?” Gem asked.

“Oh, this is my Halloween costume! I’m all the hermits, in a horrible amalgamation of cloth!”

“Well, he’s got the horrible part down pat.” Grian muttered to Scar.

Zed didn’t seem to hear the comment, as he looked at the four ghost hunters, counting them two times over.

“My friends, aren’t you missing someone?” Zed asked. “Where is the ‘S’ in GIGGS?”

“Skizz isn’t whitelisted on this server, duh.” Scar replied.

Zed grinned, and pulled a square-shaped item from his inventory. “Well, lucky for you, I have him right here on this i-pa- hi- hi-pad. A hi-pad, yes, that’s what this is.”

“Hi there, friends! Who’s ready to hunt some Hermitcraft ghost ass!” Skizz exclaimed from the screen, waving at his friends.

“Skizz!” Grian, Gem, and Scar exclaimed.

“Now that you’ve all assembled, I can tell you my spooky tale.” Zedaph said mysteriously, handing the hi-pad to Impulse. He pulled a campfire out of his inventory and set it down on the ground between them. “It was a dark and stormy night. I was up late, finishing up wiring my newest zedvancement trophy display. I came out to stand right in this very spot, on this ledge, looking over my hole, when something flew past my face!”

Gem gasped as Zed leapt forward, wiggling his fingers at his audience. Grian rolled his eyes. Scar was looking at the dangling animals, clearly not paying attention.

“It was glowing green, and this thing fell directly into the water feature around my bed!” Zed continued, pointing down into the hole, where his bed was. Around the bed were small streams of water, clearly so Zed wouldn’t take fall damage getting down. “I, of course, scrambled to get a lead, thinking it must be dangled at once.”

“I don’t like that your first thought when seeing anything is ‘can I wrap it up in rope and dangle it’, Zed. I would hate to psychoanalyze you.” Grian said.

“But when I got down there,” Zed continued, still acting like he didn’t hear Grian’s comments, “the lead went right through it! It was translucent, clearly a ghost! A green ghost of a man covered in chains! He gave me such a fright, speaking to me with a frankly grating American accent about pinball machines and other odd things. And then he left, floating up into the air and away! And all that was left behind was… this mysterious ghost substance.” Zed finished his story, holding out the bottle of glowing green liquid.

“Mysterious ghost substance?” Impulse asked.

Skizz gasped. “Dude, maybe that’s like the ghost’s sweat, or his p-”

Impulse muted him before he could finish.

“Scar, I dare you to drink that.” Grian said, pointing at the glass.

“Okay.” Scar said, and took the glass from Zed’s hand, popped the cork, and downed the whole thing in one gulp.

“SCAR!” Grian, Impulse, Gem, and Zed cried.

“Grian, why did you dare him to drink it?” Gem asked, smacking Grian’s arm.

“I didn’t think he actually would do it!” Grian cried.

“Don’t lie, you knew he would.” Impulse said, shaking his head. “Oh, sorry Skizz, did you want to say something?” He unmuted Skizz again.

“Is Scar okay?” Skizz cried. “And also, what does it taste like?”

They all looked to Scar, who was smacking his lips thoughtfully. He looked up at all of them. “Why is everyone looking at me?” He asked.

“You just drank ghost bath water, dude.” Skizz said.

“Ohh…” Scar said, looking at the empty glass. “I zoned out, sorry. So this was the ghost evidence?”

“And you drank it, yeah.” Gem said.

“This tastes familiar. I know where the ghost is.” Scar said. “Follow me.”

He took off, leaving Gem and Grian to stare at each other in disbelief, then follow, followed by Impulse thanking Zed for his help before taking off too, holding Skizz on the hi-pad. The ghost-hunting group followed Scar all the way to the middle of the ocean, to a huge pinball machine that lit up the night sky. They landed on the top, looking around.

“Why are we at Joe Hills’ place?” Grian whispered.

“Because that’s where the ghost is.” Scar said, pointing down at a glowing green ghost on the pinball playfield, moving around, placing blocks, trailed by chains. “It’s the Beetlejoest, it’s what Joe Hills turns into sometimes. Bit of an odd guy, but he still bleeds if you use the right arrows.”

“Wow, a real ghost! On Hermitcraft!” Impulse exclaimed. “Let’s set up our ghost hunting equipment, get as much information as we can! Quick, someone grab the parabolic mic!”

“So are we just going to ignore the part where Scar knew what Joe Hills’ ghost tastes like?” Grian asked. “Was I the only one that heard that?”

[thefanficmonster]

Hiii could i request a nate hardy x reader for the video in the Yorktown Memorial hospital?? People have had like earrings ripped out and i was thinking maybe on the solo investigations the reader gets their earring ripped out and scream and nate freaks out?? srry if it’s too much details 😭😭

Hi sweetie! Thank you so much for your request, hope you enjoy how I've executed it ❤

Hostile Presence

Pairing: Nate Hardy x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Paranormal Investigations, Aggressive spirit activity, Minor blood warning, Swearing

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, PRF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: see request above

The light from the camera covers less than seven feet ahead, just enough to light the group so you are visible on video and nothing more. Everything around you is washed out in complete darkness. Your eyes are playing tricks on you each time you try looking past the circle of light and try to pinpoint where the random noises you're hearing are coming from.

Shadows are merging and forming rather terrifying shapes, footstep-like sounds are echoing off the walls and the five of you have to maintain some sense of calmness. Still, none of you can remain completely still when a particularly loud crash comes from behind you, causing all hands to lift off of the planchet as all five heads turn to seek out the source of the terrifying sound. What you all fail to see is the few millimeters the planchet moves without any sort of physical contact from any of you.

"Whaaat was that....?" Sam rarely lets the fear he feels bleed into his voice but it's clear he is pretty shaken up.

And so are you, past the point of being able to express it into words. You'd be completely freaked out had your boyfriend Nate not been there. His unoccupied hand has been comfortingly resting on the small of your back, letting you know that despite how charged things get, you're safe and have him by your side.

Suddenly, you hear what you can only describe as a heavy sigh directly in your left ear. Startled, you whirl around to look at Seth, hoping to God it was him you heard but your hopes are quickly nipped in the bud when you see he's taken a few steps into the darkness, shining his phone flashlight around the vicinity to see if there may be a bat flying around, making all these sounds.

Before you can raise your concerns regarding the strange noise seemingly only you heard, you feel a sharp sting in your ear, causing you to hiss through your teeth.

"Oh shit!" Just as you reach up to touch the aching spot you all collectively hear a clink of something small hitting the floor. Looking down to find the dropped item is futile considering you see nothing but darkness.

However, a quick touch to your earlobe and a flash from Seth's phone confirm that your earring has somehow unclipped itself and fallen from your ear.

"No fucking way!" Nate is the first to voice his confusion and shock as he bends down to retrieve the small earring and examine it between his fingers. "It's not even unclipped! What the fuck?!"

Pulling your hand back, you find a small droplet of blood on the tip of your finger, "Oh my fucking God...." You can't even find it in you to panic out loudly the way it sounds in your head. Instead, you're barely stringing words together, muttering them semi-cohesively.

Luckily, Nate is quick to pick up on what's put such a tremor in your voice. And hands, and entire body at this point. "Fuck....ok....Hey, hey, hey, let me see." He can see the pure panic that's hollowing out your gaze into a thousand yard stare. He's doing his best to keep you grounded and stable while he too is shaking. He moves your hair to the side to have a look at your ear, wiping the little blood that's left. "What just happened...?"

"Didn't he say people would have earrings ripped out on tours and stuff?" Colby asks, referring to their tour guide who is still hanging around outside the premises in case of emergencies, "This place is known for physically hostile activity." You try and focus on the rationality of his words and calmness of his tone but your heart is thumping too loud in your ears to be able to hear anything else.

It only slows down once you feel Nate's arms wrap around you, your cheek resting on his chest. You hear his own heartbeat racing, pounding against his ribcage but it is a calming sound you can focus on rather than your heavy breathing. Focusing on any of your overdrive-set bodily functions would be a recipe for disaster.

Instead, you find comfort in Nate's warm and safe embrace. You can barely make out the reassuring words he's whispering in your hair but just hearing his voice and knowing that he's got you no matter what, it's enough to slowly settle your heart into a somewhat normal rhythm.

"It's ok. You're ok, baby. I'm here." It may take a minute, but you will, indeed be ok eventually. Your three best friends and your boyfriend are here for you and although they can't physically do much to protect you, the emotional comfort is more than enough for you.

"I know, I know..." You mutter, your voice muffled by his shirt but he still manages to hear you, acknowledging your statement with a kiss to the crown of your head.

In a couple of days it'll be nothing but a cool story to look back on and tell people. In a week you'll once again visit another haunted place with Nate, Seth, Sam and Colby. In a year you'll have forgotten it. Or maybe not.

Then again, how many people can say they've had an earring ripped out by an angry spirit?

[dancingdonatello]

donatello x gn reader

“So… what did we learn today?”

Perched on the edge of his table, you glared at Donnie. Your entire forehead was wrapped with bandages plus your left ankle and right wrist and lower arm.

Unfortunately Donnie was the only one who was available to patch you up. Your day had been horrible, clearly, and now all he wanted to do was rub your embarrassment deeper into your wounded ego.

“That next time I should aim to decapitate my head when I fall—”

“Uh buh uh uh!” Donnie interrupted you, wiggling his finger at you. It send a heat of anger down your stomach but you didn’t dare say anything. This guy could and would skin you alive in a heart beat for ‘research.’ “What was that?”

“…That I should look up from my phone for more than just 2 seconds and thank you, Donatello Hamato, for patching me up and making sure I didn’t drown in raw sewage after falling down a manhole.” This speech had been rehearsed several times and Donnie would not accept it if it was not word for word.

“Mhm. That’s what I thought you said.” Donatello smirked, standing up straight from his relaxed posture. “Anywho! I’ve got everything to go, and everywhere to do, so have fun…! Do NOT touch the bright glowing button. Bye!” He walked out. Suspicious. But not too suspicious in your mind.

Your arms were crossed over your chest so you drummed your fingers against your forearm, sitting there politely and obediently. They usually didn’t like you leaving after being injured.

After a few moments when he didn’t return, you made your move to get up. You were totally gonna press that button.

You snuck up to it and briefly looked around the lab for cameras before you gingerly pressed a finger to it.

A large cannon emerged from the ceiling, making the whole room shake and tremble. You fell right onto your ass and stared at it, frozen. You should not have pressed the button.

The cannon glowed red briefly and shot a bunch of cut up, multi colored paper at you. It hit you with such speed and force that it knocked you out. Again.

-

“So, what did we learn today?”

Your blinked open and squinted wearily at the ceiling, flinching at a flashlight beaming directly into your eyes. “Hmmmmm…” You groaned out and turned away from the bright light.

“Well, I’ll tell you what I learned today instead. Today, I learned that confetti can be dangerous if shot with enough force,” Donnie said and started to peel your bandages off your forehead. “And that silly people like you will always do what they are warned not to do. Luckily, you don’t have brain damage from what I can tell. Yet.”

“Silly?” You were offended. Out of all words, “Silly?”

“Repeating words, lack of comprehension, seems like you do have brain damage.”

“I do not have brain damage! No concussion or anything,” you sighed out harshly, sick of this topic. Donnie only smirked, amused.

“Looks like I did a great job in fixing you up then, huh?”

“Yet, I am still in pain.”

“I think I know something that will help.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You froze as he walked away, seemingly unaffected except for him literally shaking.

He disappeared from sight. You touched your head, suddenly feeling like you were going to pass out. “Donnie! Come back! I’m hallucinating! Or did you hit your head?!”

[subtly-a-selkie]

Tadashi is Here

Here is my re-written Tadashi fic! I wrote this June maybe July of 2020, and although its been edited briefly before its been two years and I've (probably) improved so I re-wrote it. Anyways!

Word Count: 700 ish

Warnings: implied death, (?) fluff that is secretly angst in disguise

"Tadashi is here."

Baymax's torso begins to light up showing a screen, Tadashi is looking into the camera, holding a small chalkboard with the words "Test #1" along with his name. A girl stands next to him, wearing his signature baseball cap and smiling.

"This is Tadashi Hamada and this is the first test of my robotics project."

With a little nudge from Tadashi, the girl spoke too. "And I'm Y/N L/N, Tadashi's assistant and girlfriend."

Hiro's eyes widen at the statement, not only did he not recognize this girl but she was Tadashi's girlfriend?

The girl -- Y/N presses a button and Baymax starts to speak.

"Hello I am Baymax--" the robot was cut off by a loud screeching noise, causing the screen to glitch, and both Tadashi and Y/N to clap their hands over their ears. Tadashi quickly shuts Baymax off, the screen showing the last frame of them for a couple seconds before starting up again.

"-is the 7th test of my robotics project."

Y/N waves from the background, wearing a pair of ridiculously fluffy earmuffs, probably an attempt to soften the screeching noises that Baymax had emitted, and Tadashi's SFIT sweatshirt. She is also holding a mug that had a silly robotics joke on it, and a teabag string hung out of the mug.

"Hello I am Baymax--" the screen glitches and suddenly the robot is attacking Tadashi.

Y/N's eyes widen and she sets the mug down, reaching out to Tadashi. Unfortunately Baymax's arm detaches from his body at that moment and she has to quickly duck down to not be hit by it.

"Oh my god." she exclaims as the arm manages to knock down the computer in the corner of the room.

"Wait! Wait! Stopstopstop!" Tadashi shouts, managing to stop Baymax. The screen freezes on the last frame a bit longer this time, showing Y/N's eyes wide at the destruction Baymax's arm caused, and Tadashi trying to dodge the arm that was still attached.

"Tadashi Hamada again. This is the 33 test of my robotics project." Tadashi said almost apathetically, dark circles under his eyes and messy hair prominent. Y/N moves into view of the camera and gently places her hand on his arm.

"Dashi we should probably get some rest." Y/N said, standing up on her tiptoes so she could give him a kiss on the cheek. Almost as if the electric system agreed with her the lights spark and go out. Tadashi switches on a flashlight and stares directly into the camera.

"I'm not giving up on you, you don't understand this yet, but people need you." Y/N gives him a fond smile "Now back to work." She rolls her eyes and Tadashi presses the off button.

"My name is Tadashi Hamada and this is the 84th test." The other videos were dark, but this one is flooded with light, quite clearly the late morning. The chalkboard has 82 and 83 crossed off of it and Y/N is leaning on him half asleep. Once she realizes that the video is going she straightens up, stretching her arms above her head. Tadashi smiles at her, kissing the top of her head and then turns to face Baymax.

"What do you say big guy?" he presses a button and the robot begins to speak.

"Hello, I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion." It takes a few seconds for Tadashi to realize that nothing bad has happened and when it does he becomes ecstatic.

"It works!" he yells "This is amazing! you-you work!" He pulls Y/N closer to him and cups her face, kissing her impulsively. "I knew it! I knew it, I knew knew it! I can't believe it!"

Although Y/N's reaction is definitely more subdued than Tadashi's she is very clearly excited, bouncing on the balls of her feet slightly.

"Okay okay big moment." Tadashi says, glancing at his girlfriend. "Scan me."

"Your neurotransmitter levels are elevated, this indicates that you are happy."

"I am. I really am. Oh man wait until my brother sees you. You're going to help so many people buddy. So many." 

(Y/N) wraps her arms around her boyfriend. "And then I get to meet him and your aunt right?"

"Of course. I am satisfied with my care."

The screen freezes on Tadashi leaning in to kiss Y/N again.

"Baymax?" Hiro asks "Do you know where Y/N is?"

continuation!

[bigfootmountain]

Handy blog on eyeshine, important to understand when squatching at night…

Eyeshine in animals is produced by a special membrane, called the tapetum lucidum (tapestry of light), a reflective surface that is located directly behind the retina. When the small rays of light found in the night, like starlight or moonlight, enter the eye, they bounce off the membrane, giving the eye a second chance to use the light. For animals that have this membrane, it is like having a built in flashlight that lights a path from the inside out.

The tapetum lucidum, coupled with big eyes and lots of light-sensing rod cells, allow nocturnal mammals to see well in dark or dim conditions. But eyeshine isn’t limited to mammals. Once, while at the edge of a pond listening to the midnight chorus of frogs, my flashlight caught the glimmering, emerald-green eyes of a huge bullfrog. And in my obsession over eyeshine, I am eagerly looking forward to the summer, when I will be searching the forest floor for the ruby red glow of a wolf spider’s eyes. I only wish that my eyes would glow, a fierce sapphire blue in the darkest of night, but although humans have many interesting adaptations, good night vision is not one of them. Our abundance of cones and lack of rods mean we see more colors than most other animals, but we can’t see in the dark. And we don’t have a tapetum lucidum – when our eyes appear red in photographs, it’s a reflection of the camera’s flash off the red blood cells of the choroid, which is a vascular layer behind the retina.

Eyeshine color varies by species, from the amber glow of a bobcat to the red glint of a black bear. The different colors are produced by the mineral content and the structure of the tapetum lucidum, as well as varying pigments in the retina. There does seem to be some overlap of colors, like bobcat and raccoon having yellow/amber eyeshine.

So is it at all possible to identify an animal by eyeshine color alone? According to ecologist and long-time tracker Dr. Rick van de Poll, eyeshine is somewhat variable so that even within the same species the color can look a bit different. Factors that influence individual eyeshine color, according to van de Poll, include the age and individual chemistry of the animal, as well as seasonal variation and the angle and intensity of the light hitting the eye. But this doesn’t deter van de Poll from using eyeshine as a clue to identifying mammals. “It’s part of the information” he said, “but you have to also be paying attention to the animal’s behavior, the shape and placement of the eyes, and how the animal moves away from the light, or if it even moves away from the light at all.”

[shywhumpauthor]

The Merry Whump of May—Day 19

“Apples and oranges.”

Chainsaw | Surprise | Home Base

Masterlist

Cw: murder, graphic description of death, filmed torture, dehumanization, humiliation, restraints, gagging, vomiting

Hero reeled back as a fist smashed into the side of their face, sparks of white crackling across their vision. Heat radiated from their jaw, nose, cheeks, blood dripping from shallow scrapes as bruises welted deep under their skin.

A sob, raw and painful clawed from their throat, tears mingling with the blood and dirt that painted their face, but their cries were muffled by the duct tape, wound tightly over their mouth and around the back of their head. Pulled tight enough that it would undoubtedly leave an indent even after it was removed.

“Come on, Hero, smile,” the Villain taunted, shoving their phone camera close to Hero’s face, grabbing their hair when the other tried to cower away. “Show everyone how fucking pathetic you are.”

The alley was dark and deserted, lit only with the faint glow of streetlights towards the mouth, but Villain had their flashlight on, focusing its directly on them. The light sent daggers shooting back through Hero’s skull, and they squeezed their eyes shut.

Villain let out a cruel laugh, their free hand drawing back before punching Hero hard in the stomach, practically giggling as they doubled over, gagging.

Bile stung their throat, but Hero was forced to swallow it back, lest they wish to choke on their own sick. They doubted Villain would save them if they did. They’d fucking stand there and video, laughing to the livestream as Hero suffocated.

With their hands bound behind them to the rungs of a fire escape, duct tape wound dozens of times around their wrists and forearms, their legs secured at the ankles and knees, there was nothing Hero could do except tuck their chin and try to curl away to protect their face.

“And you call yourself a hero. You’re fucking pathetic, you little bitch, you hear me?” Villain stood straight, the camera swaying as they brought up their leg before stomping down hard on the hero’s bound ankle. The scream was guttural, but it was lost to the gag as Hero heaved, fighting to breathe through their nose while the air refused to enter their lungs.

They were going to suffocate. They were going to die choking on their own blood tainted saliva, while this fucking bastard streamed it for the world to see.

They were a sick, fucked up asshole, Villain. A snake. They hadn’t won shit of a victory. Hero had spent the entire day chasing and fighting OtherVillain, by the time Villain had cornered them, they were already limping and too exhausted to flee in time. It had been a fucking cheap move, lower than a villain. At least people like OtherVillain earned their own fucking success, not steal someone else’s.

“You see, guys, this is what your fucking Hero is. Nothing but a crying coward,” Villain chuckled, their hand dropping to their belt, slipping into the small sheath that laid attached to it.

They weren’t even a fucking Villain. Barely. They hadn’t done crap—Hero had ended every single poorly planned scheme of theirs before it even started. This was just a matter of luck—or the fucking opposite—how they ended up in the same alley as the injured Hero.

Villain squatted down, the blade of their knife dragging down Hero’s chest, scraping the skin. Their uniform lay in less than tatters, the shredded, torn fabric barely hanging off their shoulders, the dark bruises that mottled Hero’s abdomen standing out starkly against the camera’s light.

“I say we leave them with a reminder, how ‘bout that. So they never forget this fucking moment,”

Hero sobbed, breath coming in short gasps through their nose that didn’t seem to draw in any oxygen. They turned their face away, digging their temple against the rungs of the ladder, the cold metal doing nothing to soothe their burning skin.

Villain brought their knife to Hero’s chest, setting the camera down for a second so they could saw away the last few threads of their shirt, leaving them bare and trembling. The night was cold, even colder with their sweating, flushed skin, and Hero let out a weak cry of protest as the knife touched just below their collarbone.

“Fucking watch me, Hero,” Villain demanded, twisting the camera to focus on Hero’s face. “Watch.”

Hero had been tortured before. Whipped and starved, left to hang and bend in the worst stress positions for hours. They’d been beaten and burned, denied water for days on end. They were no stranger to pain, but this, the humiliation adding a certain acid to the edge of the blade, was worse than anything. Blood poured down their chest, a waterfall of crimson opening down their front as Villain dragged the knife down, cutting deep into their skin. Hero couldn’t even scream as they continued, slowly and crudely carving away at their chest.

Fucking letters, Hero realized, the sickening truth dawning on them. Their vision was blurred with tears, distorted enough so they couldn’t even see Villain’s face, barely a foot from theirs. Villain split two jagged curves connecting to the first line, uneven with an intentional negligence behind their movements. They quickly split a second line next to the first, dragging it down nearly to Hero’s sternum.

Everything was spinning now, sensation lost to the terrible vertigo and nausea, world clouded with agony. Villain split two lines next, one vertical and the other horizontal, crossing against each other in the center of Hero’s chest.

The next letter was curved, Hero could feel as the blade slit their skin, and they knew exactly what it was being written in blood, the recording camera carving every humiliating, dehumanizing cut.

Villain didn’t have a chance to finish the fourth letter.

Their phone clattered to the ground, smacking loudly against the asphalt as they were yanked back by the collar of their shirt, thrown against the opposite wall with enough force to crack a skull.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” A low voice seethed. Hero blinked blearily, but they couldn’t get their vision to focus enough to make out more than two clouded figures in front of them.

“Wait- wait,” Villain gasped, every bit of arrogance fled their tone. “No- no stop, I didn’t mean- no-”

A sharp thud echoed around the alley accompanied by a mangled scream, closely followed by another thud, and then another.

A body dropped to the ground, and it was all quiet, except for Hero’s choking breaths.

“Oh, Hero,” The new arrival turned towards them, but Hero could make out nothing more than an outline as they stepped forwards and quickly knelt next to them, gloved hands raising to rip the tape away from their mouth. Strands of hair were wrenched along with it, skin stinging but Hero barely noticed as they gasped, straining for the first full breath, feeling the air rush through their lungs as if for the first time.

Something churned in their stomach, and they hunched to the side, and vomited.

They felt a hand against their back, pressing softly between their shoulder blades as another grabbed Villain’s discarded knife. Hero panicked for a second as they felt the metal, hot and slick with blood pressure to their wrists, but all the stranger did was slice away their bonds in one clean, sharp flick of their wrist, not even grazing skin.

“You’re alright, it’s alright, love,” the voice soothed softly, hand moving from their back to their face, cold fingers cupping their bruised cheek. Deep and calm, it was familiar, but Hero couldn’t make out their face yet. “Breathe, Hero. Deep breaths, you’ll be alright.”

Hero wasn’t comprehending the words, but between the gentle tone and the light touch, their heaving sobs settled back into gasps, then to shaking breaths. They blinked hard, vision clearing just enough so they could recognize the stranger.

When they did, their heart nearly stopped cold in their chest.

“That’s it, that’s right, Hero, you’re alright.” Supervillain murmured, their thumb brushing over Hero’s bruised cheekbone.

They weren’t. They weren’t alright. But their voice was so soothing, so compelling.

Once they had quieted, eyes barely managing to stay open, something thick and warm was draped over them. They barely had time to register what it was—a cape, made of fine, rich material—before they were picked up, an arm hooking beneath their knees and around their back, lifting them like nothing. Before they straightened fully, Supervillain grabbed something with their hand. They turned the phone’s camera, pointing it straight at the body crumpled across the alley, zooming in and pressing the screen to focus.

Villain was dead. Clearly dead. The back of their skull smashed in and split open, blood leaking from their nose and lips, eyes bulging slightly from their sockets. Dead.

“They’re not going to hurt you again,” Supervillain whispered to Hero, before letting the phone drop from their hands, crushing the screen beneath their boot. “No one is ever going to hurt you again.”

————————————————

@themerrywhumpofmay

[cherubic-cherry]

The Tragedy, Comedy, and Miracle That is Tim Drake snippet

“I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart, I'm Nightwing, I work with Batman and I just wanna help you get home.”

His plan wasn’t working. If only Nightwing wasn’t so nice, but of course he was. Tim knew that Nightwing would never just abandon a little kid on a rooftop in the dead of the night, it would be really great if he would, though, just this once. Another plan came to him, a better plan than just crossing his fingers.

He gingerly snuck his arm into his bag that was still resting on his shoulders. He wondered how long he could stand there seemingly motionless while facing outward before Nightwing tried to approach him. Hopefully a few minutes but probably not given his rotten luck.

His hands glided over the ridges on the flashlight, the smooth wrappers on the granola bar, and the cold, metal flip phone but he still couldn’t find what he was looking for in his overly packed bag, not without being able to properly look at it.

“Are you okay? I just wanna help. Can you come closer?’’ Nightwing egged, his voice had an edge of begging, but he sounded so sweet and soft. He dropped the fake-sounding voice he usually used. His normal voice made Tim be able to place him around his early twenties (just around the first Robin would be by now) and his voice sounded deeper and rough, it must’ve been hoarse from yelling but he still managed to sound so nice.

It was the perfect voice to use on what Nightwing thought was a scared and innocent little kid. Nightwing might have worked with kids as his day job. His gentleness was wasted on Tim, though, who, although was definitely scared out of his mind, could not claim innocence when it came to how he managed to get into this particular position.

His fingers finally found it: two chalky feeling spheres that lay on the very bottom of his bag, unused.

“Sweetheart, can you please turn around and step away from the ledge for me?”

The snow must’ve made Tim hard to see from where Nightwing was standing. Tim took a step closer, ignoring how weird it felt to walk when his joints still needed time to defrost. He forced himself to get as close to the vigilante as possible while still making sure he couldn’t make out his face with the heavy snow coming down.

“There we go,’’ Nightwing said to himself but because of their proximity Tim was still able to hear him. Guilt curled into Tim's chest from the translucent relief in Nightwing’s tone, Tim really was the worst kid on the planet. He edges himself as close as his body would allow him before freaking out.

“Hi there-’’ Tim didn’t allow him to finish his sentiment. He grabbed the mini smoke bombs from his bag and chucked them in Nightwing's direction. The snow was thick and his arm was tired from holding up his camera. He didn’t mean to throw the smoke bomb at Nightwing's face, he planned for it to fall at his feet or somewhere behind him and have it serve as a distraction. Instead, he ended up throwing the aluminum ball directly into the hero's nose, causing the smoke bomb to go off in his face.

Read the rest of the chapter here:

[whatithinkaboutdarkshadows]

Episode 179: The dead take their death with them

John Lasell is a tremendous actor, and was electrifying when he first appeared on Dark Shadows as parapsychologist Peter Guthrie in episode 160. But four weeks of endless recapping has taken its toll on him. In today’s pre-credits sequence, recreating yesterday’s final scene, we see what it looks like when John Lasell is bored. Dr Guthrie and hardworking young fisherman Joe have arrived at the…

[ewritesfanfics]

A Visit from St. Hisirdoux

My Secret Santa gift for @whitecatindisguise! Merry Christmas!

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52473265

Things have gone awry on Christmas Eve, and so Douxie steps up to save the holiday for his adorable if too smart for their own good niblings. And it proceeds to go about as well as things usually do for him. Jim and Claire owe him so much for this.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, in the midst of a blizzard Not a creature was stirring, none but one weary wizard The Guardians all were tucked in with their dreams Unknowing that Douxie had cooked up a scheme See, the children both slept with worries abound That this year by Santa they wouldn’t be found So Douxie slipped out of his warm, cozy bed And snuck through the castle, dressed up all in red

Douxie moves as quickly and quietly as possible through the darkness of Camelot, even more oppressive than usual with the winter gale outside blocking any and all light they might have gotten from the stars or the moon.

Luckily, though, he can light the way with his flashlight – oh how he loves modern technology that can be powered by just a couple of dollar store batteries – and so the darkness of the long hallways does nothing to hinder him. He easily makes his way down through the massive castle, floor by floor.

Now, does he want to be maneuvering his way through a dark castle via flashlight in the dead of night during a storm? No. No, he does not. He would much rather be asleep right now, curled up under his blankets snug and toasty, enjoying the marvel that is Krel’s heating system. Truly it is a thing of wonder to keep the ancient Arthurian castle as warm as it is currently with the blizzard outside and with how far up in the sky they are, and thus it deserves such appreciation as his remaining in his bed which is gloriously situated directly above a heating vent. But he can’t in good conscience do that – Matty and Izzy were so heartbroken earlier when this blizzard started (one of the worst blizzards Douxie’s ever seen, and that’s saying something) and when Krel told them all it was too risky to fly through it. They were convinced Santa wouldn’t be able to find Castle Camelot in the storm and were not accepting of any of the adults’ placations.

So here Douxie is.

In the middle of the night.

In a red coat and a fake beard.

Now, one might wonder, why? They could just tell the kids in the morning that Santa came, and they would know none the wiser, right?

Except Matty and Izzy got both of their parents’ stubbornness and ingenuity, making them more formidable than your average 5-year-old. Add in the fact that they’ve lived in a castle with tech-genius Krel all their short lives, and you’ve got a recipe for two small children with advanced reasoning and the capability (and access to the necessary materials) to set up night-vision cameras so they may check in the morning if Santa truly came as a way to say ‘I told you so’ to all the adults. He can’t even lie about Santa using his magic to evade the cameras – those two know for a fact that he and Krel have ensured all the tech in this place is capable of seeing through concealment charms. He’s been thwarted by his own magitech and a pair of children too smart for their own good.

Not that their parents know anything about this plan of theirs. No, Jim and Claire had been off cleaning the dishes after dinner when Douxie overheard Matty and Izzy discussing this.

Should he have told them? Maybe. But he’s got this! How hard can it be to play Santa?

He makes a stop to poke his head into the main living room where the large 12-foot Christmas tree is set up. He can’t use his flashlight in here lest the cameras catch it, and the main lights are out, making it hard to see, but the twinkling Christmas lights strung around the tree and the bright star on top provide just enough light that he manages well enough. The bottom half of the tree is so full of ornaments, it’s difficult to see the actual needles, but no one had the heart to say no more when Matty and Izzy were decorating all that they could reach, their excitement boundless as they hung ornament after ornament after ornament, the lights becoming half obscured, the garland becoming more just cushioning between the ornaments than an actual decoration itself. So what if the tree looks a little lopsided – the kids had a great time decorating, and that’s the important part. There’s also garland strewn about the room, pinned up messily on the wall and draped over the backs of the couches and over the mantle above the fireplace, woven through the numerous wreaths hung up and at points decorated itself with the same velvet bows that are tied to the wreaths – also courtesy of Matty and Izzy. It’s like Christmas exploded in here (and not just in here – the kids wanted to deck the halls and by god, all the halls have been decked to the high heavens and back; he’s basically spent every day since Thanksgiving decorating with them). Around the bottom of the tree are piles of presents, so many that Douxie just knows cleaning up the wrapping paper in the morning is going to be a pain. Of course, these are the friend/family presents – the presents “from Santa Claus” are stashed elsewhere. He made sure to tell the others that he would bring them up so that he wouldn’t be interrupted.

Once he determines in the low light that the fireplace is indeed open (never hurts to double-check), he continues on his merry way.

Douxie Claus is coming to town!

Down to the storage to gather each present Douxie then braces for a chilly ascent Away to a window he runs like a flash He hypes himself up and throws open the glass The icy winds cut Douxie down to the bone It’s truly the coldest night he’s ever known He mutters a heating spell under his breath He hopes it will keep him from freezing to death

He better get the Uncle of the Year award after this, he swears.

He takes one last deep breath before stepping out into the falling snow and whipping wind. He can’t see two feet in front of him in this, but he grits his teeth and forges forward. He just has to keep reminding himself it’s for his adorable niblings who deserve the best Christmas he can give them. And since it’s within his power, dammit, he’s doing this!

Keeping a hand on the wall, he tucks his head down and marches into the gale. He can’t see shit, but as long as he knows where the wall is, he can find the stairs he’s looking for, the ones that wind all the way up around the tower to the belvedere, from which he can locate the chimney that leads to the living room.

His foot hits a patch of ice, and he nearly eats it, only his many years on this great green Earth saving him from needing his front teeth replaced and his nose reconstructed. His body reacts automatically, muscle memory kicking in, allowing him to twist at the last second to land on his side instead of his face. Not to say it doesn’t still hurt like a motherfucker. It very much does – he’s certain he’s going to have nasty bruising all along his shoulder and hip tomorrow.

He manages to pull himself back to his feet, grunting as hot pain flares through his shoulder – he thinks he might have dislocated it. Of all the crazy shit he’s done over the years, he dislocates his shoulder by slipping on a patch of fucking ice!

Deep breaths, Douxie, you’ve got a job to do.

It’s a problem for later.

He repositions the sack full of gifts over his non-injured shoulder, placing an impervious spell on it just in case he takes another spill like that in a more unfortunate area, and continues onward. After what feels like forever, fighting against the wind, blinded by the snow, deafened by the mournful, angry howling, he finally finds the first step.

He finds it by stubbing his toes against it, but that still counts as finding it.

And now he can say dressing as Santa has done something for him tonight – his heavy black boot took the brunt of the stub. While his foot may hurt, he did not break a toe (it’s surprising how easy it is to break your toe just by stubbing it).

He breathes a sigh of relief – the stairs wind around the tower, so there will at least be a few stretches where he’ll be shielded from the cutting wind. He might have the heating spell, but it doesn’t do anything for the wind, it just keeps him from getting frostbite, leaving him to deal with the horrific gusts of air that slice straight through him like a hot knife through butter.

As he starts his ascent, one boot after the other sinking into heavy snow nearly up to his knees – and the snow is so deep that he never actually sets foot on the stone beneath it, just on the bottom stuff packed tight enough to support his weight – and his unbruised shoulder pressed to frozen stone to help keep him upright, breath shoved back into his lungs by the wind along with flecks of snow and ice as quickly as he exhales, he’s sure he makes quite the sight – a man in a shitty DIY Santa costume trying to climb stairs outside in a blizzard, and just shy of failing, the force of him walking forward and the force of the wind blowing backward nearly equal.

He’s sure if you saw him, he’d look like a kook But goddammit tonight he’s good ol’ Saint Doux As rapid as a sloth, he trudges on up Cursing as the wind follows him, it won’t stop; "By Daya! And Kanjigar! By Merlin and Mordrax! And by Vendel as well, that grumpy, old yack! I hate this! Fuck this! A thousand fuzzbuckets! If I am to die, I’m haunting Jim, fuck it!"

No matter where he is around the tower, he cannot escape the elements; the storm is so frenzied that only complete enclosure could spare him. It seems like the wind comes from every angle, buffering and battering him without mercy, tearing at him with icy fingers in attempts to fling him from the staircase.

But he is Hisirdoux Casperan, and if he is anything, it is crazy and stubborn enough to do this! He’s faced worse odds than climbing a tower in a snowstorm! He’s climbed a titan for fuck’s sake! He’s fallen from a similar height before and lived!

He just has to keep reminding himself of that. It doesn’t help that he can’t even use the same trick here as he did for the titan – that spell sticks you directly to the surface of what you’re standing on, so he’d just have a layer of ice and snow stuck to each boot, which isn’t exactly helpful when it comes to grip. And as for the fall … well, he’s still not 100% sure as to how exactly he survived that, so he does not want to have to try and replicate that.

He also keeps telling himself that if his luck has indeed finally run out, he’ll at least have haunting Jim to look forward to. It’s his offspring who’ve driven Douxie to do this, it’s only fair he’s the one to get haunted!

Technically, he could haunt Claire too, but he wouldn’t put it past Claire to exorcise him. And he thinks haunting Jim would be more entertaining anyway.

He takes comfort in thinking of all the things he’ll do as a poltergeist. He can fuck with Jim’s cooking, not enough to ruin it but just enough that nothing ever tastes quite right again – things will always be just a touch too salty, or just a bit overdone. He can keep knocking his Vespa’s alignment out of whack and let the air out of the tires so that they’re never quite inflated enough. If his dying in a blizzard has any bearing on his ghostly abilities, he can make sure every room is just cold enough for Jim to be uncomfortable, no matter how bundled up he is. And he’ll do all of this when no one else is around, they’ll all think Jim’s gone crazy, and he’ll laugh and laugh and laugh from beyond the grave.

He almost cries in relief when he finally reaches the top – but he’s sure the tears would freeze instantly, and so refrains. He’s not too keen on getting ice burns from his own tears.

He scans the roof, doing his best to keep the floor plan in mind, but it’s quite difficult – he can’t see shit, and with what Krel’s changed, there’s just enough variation to be familiar but still confusing.

He can’t pinpoint it, the snow’s just too thick, and keeping his eyes open too wide for too long physically hurts in these conditions, so he decides to just start heading in the direction he knows it’s in.

Across the rooftop, Douxie practically flies So he can flee faster the ice of the skies He seeks out the chimney with the floor plan he knew To throw down the toys, and Saint Hisirdoux too He nearly misses it in the flurries thick But his memory saves him before the last tick He skids to a halt, not a meter to spare And he’s ready to climb out of the night air

Oh, he’s so happy he found it so quickly.

Finally, something’s gone right!

Now all he’s got to do is shimmy down, place the presents, and be on his merry way back to bed. He’s taking a shower first though. Oh, how nice the hot water will feel … maybe even a nice, steamy bath, where he can just lounge in the heat as long as he wants, the water spelled to stay just the right temperature … and if he goes with the bath, he could also get himself some hot cocoa to drink at the same time …

Come on, man, get it together.

If he keeps fantasizing like this, he’s going to end up chickening out, he knows it. The temptation of warmth and being inside will simply be too great for his 4 AM resolve.

He’s almost done! He just has to focus!

Eyes on the prize, Casperan! You’ve got this!

He considers things for a second and decides that, if the space is the right length, he can brace his back against one side and his feet against the opposite and slowly wiggle down. It should only be about 50 feet down to the pit; he’s had to maneuver through worse and longer spaces than an old chimney.

Never in the midst of a blizzard that’s effectively blinded and deafened him and with a bum shoulder, but eh. He’s sure it’ll be fine. He just has to keep reminding himself that he’s done stupider shit before and came out on the other side just fine. Relatively.

And hey, inside the chimney, it might be cold, but he’ll be shielded from the elements, which will let the heating spell do its thing unimpeded. A win. And at some point on the way down, things will start warming up thanks to the insulation and the heating system, and then he’ll be doubly warm after the torture of walking through this hellish wind! Another win!

Truly, shelter is one of humanity’s greatest triumphs.

A cave is all well and good, but it doesn’t hold a candle to manmade walls and insulation, and he’ll die on that hill.

If he doesn’t die up here on the roof, that is.

But he won’t! He’s so close to being inside where it’s warm and dry that he can practically taste it!

Just a few more minutes, and he’s scot-free! Ne’er again must he set foot in the frigid winds of this winter tempest!

Hallelujah!

He carefully gauges the length and width of the chimney, taking slow, cautious steps to measure around all four sides to make sure he’s as accurate as possible. It turns out to be a little larger than he’d like, he thinks he’ll be okay, what with how tall he is. He’s got long legs and tenacity, and it’s truly amazing how much a person can do with just those two things. Long legs and tenacity have gotten him far before, and he trusts them to take care of him now.

He then leans over it to get a good look And sees he’ll be tarnished with ashes and soot The bundle of gifts he drops down the tall vent Knowing they’ll all land without damage or dent He sits on the edge, places one foot then two Douxie maneuvers himself over the flue He takes a deep breath, braces against the walls But the soot makes him sneeze and down, down he falls

Sometimes, he wonders if God just likes taking the piss out of him.

He doesn’t even believe God exists – it’s rather hard to when he’s had to fight and kill two epically pissed off ancient demigod wizards hellbent on ending the world and traveled the country with their sweet but also gremlin ancient demigod wizard sister, the three of whom were responsible for the creation of Earth as he knows it.

But he could believe a god exists solely to dunk on him. That’d line up with, well, his entire life.

And right now is a prime example.

The deep breath that was supposed to steady his nerves and brace him for the descent instead carries a whiff of soot right up his nose.

He doesn’t even get the chance to hold it in, everything happening too fast to register any of it before it’s far, far too late.

His sneeze is loud and violent, reverberating through his entire body, the kind of sneeze that makes your diaphragm ache with the force of it and throws out your back in a snap of white-hot pain, also causing his head to crack back painfully against the stone. It echoes down the chimney and is followed quickly by first his scream and second himself, all purchase on the sides lost, the sneeze having jerked him loose.

He tries to catch himself, scrabbling at the walls through the pain lancing up his back, but to no avail – he’s falling too fast, each attempt at bracing just taking skin from the palms of his hands and whatever other bare parts of him that touch the filthy walls.

His own sneeze and subsequent high-pitched scream echo back up at him, alerting him to the impending firepit below.

He can at least console himself that it’s not lit right now, and a glance down tells him the bag at least bounced out of the way.

It doesn’t even occur to his pained and frozen brain to use magic until it’s too late.

He hits the bottom with a CRASH, logs splintering beneath him, sending up a plume of ash in a mini mushroom cloud, leaving him in a bed of slag and splinters.

He knows not how long in the wood logs he lies He’s dazed and amazed that he’s even alive But a sigh finds him there, and what does he spot But Jim Lake Jr., by whom Douxie’s been caught He grins sheepishly but’s cut off by a groan Jim takes pity and helps him onto the stone Together they place presents ‘round the lit tree Then Jim helps him down to the infirmary

“You do know Krel can doctor the tapes, right?” Jim says as he helps Douxie lay down on one of the higher tables – the metal isn’t comfortable, but it’s near the entrance and high enough for Jim to work without squatting or needing a chair. “It would have been so easy to just fake the footage.”

“Well sor-ry if I wanted to do something nice for the kids,” Douxie says. His coat and pants are ripped in several places, more black than red right now, and through each hole are bloody, sooty scrapes and already blooming bruises. His beard and hat are utterly ruined – if he were a better textilomancer maybe he could save them, but he’s not, so they’re a lost cause. And he’s not about to go telling on himself to Zoe, no sir. He’s sure she’ll find out anyway, she always does, but he’s not going to aid the process. The hat and beard are wrecked, and that’s that.

But no bones are broken, and he’s taking that as a win.

The fall also relocated his shoulder, so double win!

Sure, he may not be able to move all that well since that sneeze threw out his back and then the subsequent back-first crash, but that’s what Jim’s for. Who needs a functioning body when you’ve got a pseudo-brother to ferry you around?

“I know, I know,” Jim says. “We’re still going to have to doctor them anyway – I don’t think we want to traumatize them with the image of Santa screaming and falling down the chimney. You’re just lucky none of the presents broke on top of that.”

“No, no, no, not just lucky, I actually thought about that one! There was a spell on the bag to ensure they wouldn’t break, I put it on the bag after I slipped outside before climbing up the tower to get to the roof,” Douxie says, indignant. He bites back a pained grunt as his back seizes slightly – too indignant, apparently.

“Slipped outside … why didn’t you use the stairs inside the tower?” Jim asks.

…

“I don’t see why you need the answer to that,” Douxie says, refusing to meet Jim’s gaze.

“You’re going to get yourself killed doing something stupid one of these days, I swear,” Jim says.

“Oh, fuck off,” Douxie says.

“Alright, alright,” Jim says. “Anyway, heavy editing will still have to be done.”

“Some of what I did better be usable,” Douxie grumbles. If he did that for nothing, he swears to every god that’s ever been worshipped …

“I’m sure some of it is, at least with some touch-up,” Jim says.

“I’ll talk to Krel before the kids wake up in the morning,” Douxie says.

With Jim’s help, he gets patched up, looking quite the sight by the time they’re done – his arms and legs are almost entirely covered in bandages, and there’s deep bruising along his torso, with some mottling on his left temple and the left side of his jaw. He at least doesn’t have a concussion though.

Jim then helps him roll onto his stomach and he starts cracking Douxie’s back, something Douxie actually taught him how to do. When Jim cracks his lower back, the sound that’s forced out of Douxie is inhuman, and then his entire body goes limp.

“Nice one,” he groans out, voice strained and wheezy.

“How’re we explaining all this tomorrow, then?” Jim asks.

“Uh … I fell down some stairs in the middle of the night?” Douxie says.

“Matty and Izzy will buy it, but no one else,” Jim says.

“Let’s cross that bridge when we get there, I just want to go back to bed,” Douxie says. Bed sounds heavenly right now. He could sleep for 100 years after this adventure.

Bed will have to wait until after that bath though (he’s definitely not standing for a shower). He’s not getting all this soot and ash all over his nice bedspread, thank you very much. He doubts Archie would appreciate it either.

And he’s sure the water will feel heavenly on his back.

The next day, the children do cheer with glee Knowing Santa visited that Christmas Eve His friends grill him about the bruises and scrapes And Krel shows them all the original tapes They watch them with mirth and laughter much greater But Claire pulls him aside to thank him later And he says to the kids when they’re both tucked in tight “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”

[keepthetension]

the first shot of day is his eyes, staring directly into the camera

but i am intrigued by the fact that the first time we see mork he has a flashlight in his mouth, essentially gagging him. and then, because he's smoking, the first words we hear him say are muffled and unclear

extremely possibly i am reading WAY TOO MUCH into it but it is so interesting!

[clems-grove]

Why do phone companies keep improving their camera and adding another lens like who give a shit. When can I instantly blind a man by shining my 10,000 lumen flashlight directly into his eyes

[ambercoloredfox]

Crown of Curses

Summary: A thief steals something more than a jewel to find that the curse she bears runs deep as the blood in her veins.

Pairing: Morpheus x f!Reader/OC

Rating: Teen. Maybe Mature for cursing (ha).

Notes: Content warning for choking, mentions of murder, crime scene photos. Nothing too graphic.

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"Regression to the mean." My mouth formed the words without me meaning to.

The blade dropped again, halting nearly within arms reach. I whimpered.

"Yes, exactly." The man said, nearly sounding proud. "The universe always has ways of trying to, ah, correct it's mistakes. You are here to do the correcting."

"Correcting?" I echoed. "Correcting what?"

Another foot. The point hovered directly above my heart.

"Your ancestor's mistakes."

"Yer cursed."

I tore my eyes away from the fence to glance at the man who had spoken, barely visible from his shadowed alley. His clothes were expectedly torn and filthy, layered rags to vainly fight against the growing New England chill. Eyes glossy and unfocused, he brought a bottle to his dry and cracked lips before continuing.

"Ye'll never know peace. Yer cursed."

"Yeah," I muttered, "Heard you the first time."

Adjusting the strap of my pack, I reached into my pocket for a few bills I could spare. I was used to this by now. At least he wasn't screaming at me to leave.

Why was it only those lost in their misfortunes could spot my curse? It had certainly made growing up on the streets as a teen difficult.

I handed him a wad of twenties and he was good enough to take them with a nod and a quick lift of his bottle, like some half hearted cheer. If I asked him what he meant by cursed, I knew I wouldn't receive an answer. The only answer I had ever gotten from those like him was that they just knew.

On some level I did too. I could feel it in my bones.

It didn't matter. All that mattered now was getting answers. Answers that were just beyond this fence.

I followed the barrier until I found a spot where the buildings surrounding it had the least windows, where the absent street lights threw the area in comforting shadows. Setting down the pack, I quietly pulled out the bolt cutters and got to work removing a portion of the fence.

In short work I had a hole big enough for my small form to slide through. Gathering my pack, I slipped inside.

Soft footsteps in harsh snow. Heel to toe. Heel to toe. The scarf wrapped around my face did more than hide my appearance, it also contained the fog of my breath. Here I was in my element. Here I didn't exist.

I was merely a shadow in the night.

The cameras were old and out dated, I discovered at a glance. Likely only filming in black and white. Stick to the dark and my presence might never be felt at all.

The closest container to me read #35. I pulled the folded note from my jacket pocket. It had been surprisingly easy to figure out which storage container was his. The receptionist had been very susceptible to social engineering.

I needed #63. Finding which way the numbers increased, I kept my body low and my movements precise. It didn't help the growing pit in my stomach.

The storage container was across the path, lit up in the most unhelpful way. The only options were to be spotted by the security cameras or retrace my steps and find a different part of the fence to breach.

Or.

Be creative. I could do that. With a hop and a groan, I was up on top of the closest container, sliding along the gathered snow on my belly until once more out of sight. I jumped across the point where the containers angled together, then landed right in front of my target.

A decade spent as a burglar was really paying off.

Finding my lockpick set in my bag, I made quick work of the 'master' lock and opened the large doors as silently as I could. Just enough to slip inside.

It was dark as hell. I fumbled for my flashlight, accidentally knocking my lockpick set out of the bag. There was a hollow metal echo as they clanged to the floor. I froze.

Fucking curse.

After counting to thirty and hearing no noise, I clicked on the flashlight.

"Goddamn it."

The storage was floor to ceiling with junk. I wasn't even sure what I was looking for-- how was I supposed to find it before the morning? Frustrated, I rearranged my pack as I thought of a plan.

My answer to whatever the hell cursed me was here. I knew it was. But just looking through boxes wasn't going to help. And it certainly wouldn't help to stumble upon something I didn't want to see.

Like pictures.

Hazy memories gripped me unbidden, and I fought back the images of a face I didn't want to remember. I waited for my breathing to even out again before moving. There had to be something I overlooked.

A folder was tugged from the confines of my pack, it's edges crinkled with wear and use. I hardly blinked at the photos of the corpses that greeted me. This puzzle had been with me for so long that I saw the victims every night in my dreams. Yet the question always remained.

Why?

Only one report didn't have a picture and was good enough to leave my dreams untarnished. Younger me had thought it had been a weakness. Now I knew better.

It would've been terrible to have the only picture, the only image I could remember of my mother, be her mutilated corpse.

I glanced once more at the boxes lining the walls. Did I dare? Would it be worth it?

No. The fear of seeing his picture, of remembering what he looked like instead of my mother, was too much to bear. This was his storage after all. All of his things.

Much more like I'd find pictures of my father rather than my mother.

The bastard didn't deserve to have his face remembered.

I flicked through the crime scene reports that I had memorized long ago, searching for some clue I might have missed. The whole event was strange. Looking too closely, none of it made sense. The facts were obvious. The facts showed my father had gone on a murder spree. He had admitted as much.

A murder spree, where every killing blow was made by someone other than him.

Cursed.

It was as I read through my father's screaming ramblings the night he had been arrested, that it happened. 'My ruby-!' the page read.

The room filled with a faint red glow. I nearly dropped my flashlight in shock. With a click I washed my self in darkness.

Red light was coming from the cracks of a crate on the far back wall. Cautiously, I approached and pulled it from it's long forgotten place.

Inside was a large rectangular ruby, adorned in gold. It glowed with an unnatural light. I reached, but hesitated before my fingertips touched the gem.

This, this was the reason I was cursed. I was sure of it.

Pulling my sleeve over my hand, I made sure not to touch the cursed object with bare skin. With the gem tucked safely in a spare pocket of my pack, I returned the crate and slipped back into the night.

I leaned over the motel room desk, staring at the scarlet facets that mocked me. For so long I had wished I had some answer...

But now I found it, it only brought more questions.

The alcohol burned all the way to my nostrils as I took another harsh swig. It hadn't glowed again. I didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad.

I had it now. This cursed ruby that had taken everything away from me. And now that I had it...

I had no idea what to do with it.

What the fuck did I know about curses and magic? I was a goddamn thief.

Of course I had one idea on what to do. The one thing I really really didn't want to do.

Don't be a coward, I chastised myself with a sigh.

My hands shook slightly as I raised them, causing me to pause and stare.

"Fuck it."

I pinched my eyes shut and pressed my fingers to the ruby.

Nothing happened.

I opened a single eye. The damn thing wasn't even glowing. I let out the air I had been hoarding in one quick whoosh.

"How anticlimactic." I muttered, taking another drink.

The first light of the morning was forcing it's way through the shut blinds, becoming impossible to ignore. Double checking the door was locked, I finished my drink and flopped down on the bed.

Emotional exhaustion had me slipping consciousness before I could even get my shoes off.

The gentle lapping of calm waters greeted me. It was harshly contrasted by the oppressive darkness that met my eyes. Black water mirrored the void above. The dark rotting wood beneath my feet groaned in protest under my weight.

My reflection in the water stared expectantly back at me. I didn't know what it wanted.

Looking behind me I could see the old dock stretching infinitely in one direction. I saw no sign of shore. With a final glance at my reflection, I started walking in the only direction I could.

The landscape never changed, no matter how long I walked. Black water. Black sky. Dead wood under my boots. Occasionally I caught my own gaze in the water.

I still didn't know what it wanted.

After some time, I began to tire. I was getting nowhere. It was useless. My mouth was dry.

I looked at the water again, unsure of what to do. But there I found my answer. By my feet, in my reflection, was a small clay goblet. My eyes found it where the mirror image had promised it would be.

Crouching down, I examined it. Immediately, my mind made a strange, unwarranted connection, as often happens in dreams. My mind, for some reason, decided this must be the holy grail.

Now, whether this inky water was safe to drink seemed not to matter. Hadn't I read somewhere that the holy grail could make all water pure?

I dipped the goblet into the water and began to quinch my thirst. The water was unlike anything I had ever tasted. In fact, I wasn't sure I had actually tasted anything. I heard songs, saw images, felt things. The word synaesthesia comes to mind.

And yet it felt so good.

It was filling some craving, some hole in me I hadn't even known existed. I drank until my soul ran over and the water spilled out my eyes and down my cheeks. Until it became too much to bear and I knew I could drink no longer.

That knowledge didn't stop me.

My hand shook as I filled one more cup. And then one more. Voices screamed in my head. My eyes watched me from the water, my reflection frozen and tilting it's head.

The only thing that stopped me was the goblet tumbling from my trembling grasp. I watched in shock as it disappeared into the dark depths, my chest heaving. I clutched my head in my hands and tried to stop the tears.

I felt too much. I felt not enough.

My head hurt.

When I finally composed myself, I found the shore was only a short distance away. Had it always been that close? Or had it only revealed itself after I drank the darkness?

Shaking my head, I got to my feet and followed the only path I was given.

A great ornately carved gate blocked the way. It was impossibly tall, nearly disappearing into the clouds. The carvings seemed to move the longer I stared. I was sure they told a story, like the carvings you could find in temples. What the story was, I had no idea.

I didn't have to try to pry them open. The gates opened as soon as I decided I wanted to enter.

Black sand became grey mud. The landscape was brighter, but bleaker, marked only by it's barren nature. It was eerily quiet, not even the wind was good enough to howl to give the place life. It was like the land itself was holding it's breath-- like it was between breaths. My feet kept me moving onward.

When the twisting path had me rounding the corner, my heart caught in my throat. A palace. Or a castle? An impossible structure made of care and beauty.

It was crumbling.

The world itself was crying out in anguish as this, the only landmark in this barren place, was rotting. I could feel it. The last living thing here, slowly succumbing to the frostbite of time.

My feet felt disconnected from my body. I carried on towards it in a daze. Three mythical creatures carved from stone glared down at me as I approached, the life long gone from their eyes. A piece of the griffin's wing fell as I stared at it. I placed my hand upon it, my eyes closing if their own volition.

Confusion. Despair. Resignation. Decay.

I choked on the emotions that bubbled up in me, tasting them in the back of my throat. My hands wiped away tears that were not my own. Had these statues been alive?

The atmosphere was suffocating. I didn't know what I had to do, but I had to do something.

Inside was nearly as bad as outside. Everything was decrepit, a terrible place haunted by the memories of what had once been. I could taste the sorrow on the dust coating my tongue. Something was wrong here. Something was so terribly wrong.

One hallway melted into the next. I didn't know where I was going, the building itself seeming to draw me into the heart of it. For a brief moment I knew I would keep moving if I tried to be still. I had gone past the event horizon and space was twisting upon itself to move me forward.

A set of double doors swung open, moving with the energy of an eager mouth ready for it's next meal. Past the threshold, my feet finally stopped. The room inside was impossibly quiet, like a hospital church.

Dust swirled in the air, lit from three elaborate stained glass windows in the back of the room. The glass was cracked and broken, pieces of the windows littering the ground and crunching under my boots as I stepped. A chill ran up my spine.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

It sounded like funeral bells.

A stairway stretched high in the air, reaching towards the heavens. The bright light from the windows made it impossible to see what was at the top. I hesitated.

Go on, a mad voice deep within me demanded. A strange little impulse. Go on. Go on go on go on.

I set my foot on the first step, straining my eyes to see. Something black was at the top. Some dark shape.

Go on go on go on go on go on go on go on.

I took another step. Then another. It was impossibly high up. The stone steps were ancient and crumbling.

GO ON GO ON GO ON GO ON GO ON.

Three steps from the top my eyes adjusted to the light. The shape was a pale white seat, carved from marble like stone. The back of the seat was unusually high, like some sort of...

Throne.

My vision twisted, the world lurched, the ground tried to come up to meet me. With a cry, I fell to my knees and scrambled up to the even surface, away from the crumbling stairs. I glanced behind me. Nothing moved. All was well.

I took a few shaky breaths, then looked back at the throne. It seemed to fill my entire vision, my entire mind. Slowly, I got to my feet again.

GO ON GO ON GO ON GO ON GO ON GO ON.

Adrenaline spiked up my spinal chord, making my limbs feel numb. I stood in front of the throne and froze. Anxiety gripped my throat like two clamped fists, squeezing until marks would surely be left on my skin. Tears prickled in the corners of my eyes.

I knew what I had to do. I knew what this voice in the back of my head demanded. But something was stopping me.

Why me?

I didn't want this. There had to be some other way. I turned back around and found I could no longer see the floor. The stairs stretched on forever downward.

The stone beneath my feet twisted again and I stumbled, reaching back to hold on to the throne for support. It was so far down. Dizziness gripped my head.

I didn't have a choice.

GO. ON.

I was going to fall.

NO. YOU'RE GOING TO--

"--fly."

Hands grabbed my shoulders, pulling me forcefully backwards. Sitting me upon the throne like a horrid coronation.

I tried my damnedest to fight, but it was useless. The hands felt like facts, no matter how much I denied them, they held me still. The carved armrests sprang to life under my fighting grip, thin white bindings crawling like ivy over my skin. It held me fast to the throne.

The hands let go once I was secure, finding grip in my hair and forcing me to look up. I cried out it panic, kicking uselessly at the stone.

How had I not seen it on the way up?

Suspended in the air above the throne was a sword with a ruby red blade. It gleamed dangerously in the low light, it's point aimed straight for me.

The sword of Damocles.

"No. No, no, no, no, please." I cried.

A voice shushed me, a hand patting my hair. "It's quite alright. No need to be frightened, really."

He sounded like the only voice that had ever existed. Like the voice in the back of my head, only older. As if the voice in my head was only a poor mimic of what he was.

The sword dropped half a foot and I choked on a scream.

"Really now. There's no need for that." The man behind me chided. "Don't you know why you're here?"

My lips quivered, hot tears spilling from my eyes.

"I'm cursed."

Again the sword inched closer, catching itself before it came down completely.

The bastard had the audacity to chuckle.

"I suppose. From a certain point of view. Though one could argue a curse and a blessing are two sides of the same coin."

A blessing? What in the ever loving fuck was blessed about this? My eyes never left the blade.

"No, no. You see," The man continued, "Are you familiar with statistics?"

I said nothing, but my mind clearly remembered the books I had devoured on the many days I found myself practically living in the public library.

"When the extreme of a variable is found in a sample, the second sample is more likely to return to the average of the population, you see."

"Regression to the mean." My mouth formed the words without me meaning to.

The blade dropped again, halting nearly within arms reach. I whimpered.

"Yes, exactly." The man said, nearly sounding proud. "The universe always has ways of trying to, ah, correct it's mistakes. You are here to do the correcting."

"Correcting?" I echoed. "Correcting what?"

Another foot. The point hovered directly above my heart.

"Your ancestor's mistakes."

"But I didn't... I didn't do anything!" I sobbed.

He patted my head again.

"Oh dear, I know. The blood running through your veins was spilled in an ancient rite, upsetting the balance of the universe. Unfortunately old magic and even older laws have bound your fate. We of the First Circle have no choice but to ensure... well, regression to the mean, as you say."

With that, the sword fell, plunging it's red blade into my chest. The hum of the sword pulsed through my veins with every heartbeat. I let out a shocked wheeze.

It felt like fire. It felt like ice. It felt like electricity. It felt like a storm. It felt like a whisper. It felt like a roar. It felt like stories untold.

It all melted into me.

His hands found my shoulders once more.

"But do remember what I said. A blessing and a curse can be one in the same. It's all a matter of, ah, perspective."

My vision filled with a flash of blinding red light.

I startled awake, blinking away dots in my vision as if someone had just taken a picture of me with the flash on. Gulping down lung fulls of air, I was never more glad to see a shitty motel room.

It was just a dream. Just a fucked up dream.

Letting out a disbelieving laugh, I wiped the tears that had been running down my face. My phone told me I still had a few hours before I had to check out. Enough time to shower and check my messages. I did the latter first, not wanting to give my mind time to dwell.

It seemed like I had been missed in Brooklyn. I had three potential clients asking for me and Giovanetti left a message inviting me to dinner at a restaurant that didn't exist. Meaning the Boss had a job for me.

At least I wasn't about to go hungry from my little vacation.

Pulling out my laptop, I wrote to the clients asking for details before pondering what job the mob would want me to do this time. Surprisingly, they weren't too bad to work with, if you had firm boundaries. I was a thief, an agent for hire, nothing more. I had no loyalties. If they didn't like that, I could disappear and they'd never get my expertise again.

Turns out they appreciated the honesty of our arrangement just fine. I had been working with them for a few years now with little problem. Didn't mean I would let my guard down.

I turned on the shower and watched as the water heated. Maybe they had taken my advice about the insurance scam that would be easy money. Announcing my intention to steal a piece of fine art after already stealing it-- best idea I'd ever had, and it had already worked three times.

They only had to was invest in some extra sham security after the announcement and then act surprised when it was gone. All while selling the piece themselves on the black market.

Easy money. And the only people it hurt were some insurance executive assholes.

What was it the media had started calling me? The Unicorn? Because they didn't believe I existed.

Amazing.

These thoughts had plastered themselves over the unease carried into my waking hours like pleasant wallpaper over an ugly paint job. I had nearly forgotten the strange dream as I began to pull off my clothes to shower.

It all came rushing back as I took off my shirt and something cold hit my chest. Right above my heart.

I didn't dare look down. Like a coward, I turned slowly towards the mirror.

Blood red. Over my heart.

Impossible.

Not giving a damn that I was still naked, I rushed out of the bathroom to the small desk.

It was empty. The ruby was gone.

I still didn't want to look down. I went back to the mirror. The sound of the shower was an echo of my mind. Drowning white static.

The ruby necklace lay hanging around my neck. I didn't put it on. I wouldn't have.

Surely I was losing my mind?

I touched the golden chain, unable to face the red gem. Hadn't the chain been longer? Or had that been my imagination?

I was losing my mind. Just like my father had.

Panic clawed it's way up my back like a startled cat. I twisted in fear, fingers fumbling to find the clasp. Only one thing ran through my mind as my fingers flew.

Get it off. Off off off.

There was no clasp. A strangled sound escaped my throat. My vision narrowed so I could only see the cursed ruby in the mirror. Terror thrummed through my blood like war drums.

GET IT OFF.

I clenched my fist around the gem and tugged with all my might.

The ruby tugged back.

Red light flared to life. Gold constricted around my throat, getting tighter the more I struggled.

Panic held me tighter than the curse ever could.

I clawed at my throat and fought the chain, leaving deep red scratches that mimicked the infernal light. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't scream. My vision blurred, then darkened.

Only when I slumped over the counter, nearly passed out from my efforts, did the punishment finally stop. My hands and forearms pressed into the cool linoleum as my body fought to regain oxygen. I raised my head and met my own dark eyes in the mirror. Red glimmered just beneath my vision.

I was fucking cursed.

[scarletwritesshit]

LostDex: Beta Pokemon Fanzine Writings

All of the writing that I have done for @thelostdex zine. I wrote various types of entries for Ramoose, Tubacapra, Togekiss, Espeon, Leafeon, Gavillain, Suicune, Moibelle, Belladam, and Kiwundo. It was a pleasure working with everyone, and I hope you enjoy the product of our hard work!

-

Ramoose

10/18/2020

Approximately 3:00 A.M.

Unknown Woods, Lost Island

I should know better than to be out this late, this far away from base camp, on an island this deserted. Unfortunately, my persistent curiosity got the better of me, and so I set off on an expedition deep into the woods to see what might greet me while I tread alone.

I must’ve been traveling for a solid hour at the very least when I was stopped in my tracks by a massive shadow glaring directly at me. I couldn’t quite tell what it was, and I was unable to turn on my flashlight for there was a great risk of accidentally scaring it away. Slowly but surely, I approached it, and I could eventually begin to make out a silhouette as I inched closer.

Stantler? I initially assumed. However, my hypothesis was quickly disproven, as I noticed that its antlers were far too wide and its body, too bulky.

I soon found myself face to face with a massive beast holding its ground and staring into my soul with its glowing red eyes. I tried to keep low, so as to not startle the beast into thinking I was a threat, but it seemed to be well aware of its power and authority that it held over this dreary forest.

I went to grab my camera to take a quick photo, lest a photograph be the only remainder of my encounter, but as soon as I blinked, the creature disappeared in an instant.

I know what I saw. It was all too clear to merely be a hallucination.

Could it have actually been Ramoose? There was simply no other explanation...

-

Tubacapra

I almost feel bad for disturbing the peace of such gentle creatures, but Tubacapra are so laid back that I simply couldn’t help myself but walk among the herd. None of them turned their attention to me for long periods of time as I walked past individuals both young and old, bountiful and sickly. They seem almost too gentle for their own good…

Then again, they were overall not the most intelligent looking Pokemon that I have seen. There was a certain…emptiness that could be seen in their eyes. Their expressions were not plagued with despair, but rather, devoid of thought. A carefree life it must be, to have the bare minimum thoughts to occupy your brain at any given moment at time.

They paid little to no mind to me, as the majority of the herd remained resting on the ground with their poncho-like roots anchoring themselves into the soil. I wonder if their bodily compositions were closer to that of a plant, rather than the flesh and blood of an animal, as they appear to be sapping nutrients from the soil to recharge themselves.

I have also noticed that the individuals with larger branches on their head seem more attentive and alert contrary to those with smaller twigs. Perhaps it could be an indicator of age, with the older Tubacapra being far more mentally developed than the youngsters. This also presents the plausible theory that these tree-like structures function as a brain or brain-like organ for these creatures.

Now, this implies that Tubacapra walk around with an exposed, photosynthesizing brain. The thought irked me in the weirdest way, but it could not stop me from gently scratching behind their ears or letting them lick my palm.

-

Togekiss

I cannot believe what I am witnessing before my very eyes.

I have never seen so many Togekiss gathered in one location in my life.

Their numbers are still small, but relative to sightings in other regions of the world, this is a huge discovery.

However, these Togekiss are clearly different from the ones that we are familiar with. They’re more...dragon-like, in a sense. Their underbellies are solid blue and the spikes on their head are much larger and sharply angled. Their eyes were glowing red with a fierce, passionate gaze. It wasn’t filled with seething hatred like a feral beast, but rather, it was more like that of a gentle yet formidable guardian.

While I was watching them from the ground, I heard one of their cries. It wasn’t quite as aggressive as a Hydregion or Tyranitar, but it certainly had an aura of demand to it. Simultaneously, it was soft and graceful to the ears. One could describe their cry as being that of an old, gentle beast, capable of great might yet dared not bring harm to the innocent.

Unfortunately, I was unable to get close enough to properly confirm any of my observations, including the extent of their possible draconic features and overall demeanor. It was rather difficult to keep up with them, as they were quite fast and would soar beyond the clouds.

One thing was for certain; If the Togekiss we know are bringers of peace, then these are its guardians.

-

Gavillain

Ahead of me in the midst of a sloppy, muddy swamp, I spotted a Gavillain creeping up on an unattended nest of eggs. It was so intensely focused on the meal before it that it didn’t turn an eye to my presence, even after I had accidentally stepped on a branch, splitting it in half. I froze in place, expecting it to jolt into the air and scan its surroundings, but it continued creeping ever so slowly towards the nest. This Pokemon must think that it’s some sort of slick, devious cartoon villain. Obviously, it’s really not, seeing how easily I was able to sneak up behind this “stealthy” individual and grab it.

I held it by the neck and base of its tail, so it would be unable to swing around and take a bite out of my flesh. As it squirmed in my grasp like a captured snake, I noticed that it seemed to be wiggling around with the intention of escaping, not aggression. If only this woeful creature could understand that I merely wished to observe it up close, not endanger its fragile life in any manner.

It had muddied brown scales, which felt like dried mud as well, presumably to act as camouflage. With a bright green frill around its neck, it seemed rather pointless, as it would stick out like a sore thumb amidst the mud. Perhaps it served it some good to disguise itself as an aquatic plant, or to perhaps hide among the bushes?

Who knows. I crouched down and let the creature have its freedom that it so desperately desired. It panicked and ran off, abandoning its original goal of snatching the eggs completely.

Incredibly pathetic nature and incredibly impractical design. Thus is the fate of Gavillain.

-

Suicune

...graceful, aqua blue panther leisurely strolling through the fields. Its mane resembles that of our majestic steeds, in terms of…was more akin to that of an amethyst, as intensely violet and crystalline its coloration appeared to the human eye. Pure white tiger’s paws...spots adorning the entirety of its body...rippling water…

...peaceful in nature but quick to dash towards cover at the faintest trace of an interloper. Left no signs of...light footed. The beast’s movements were swift and graceful, comparable to that of a gentle breeze along the surface of a calm lake. The lake-blue panther-like creature had a...-like howl, yet I do not believe for it to have any relations to…

It drank from a heavily soiled lake in the midst of the forest one afternoon...later that very day, the water was crystal... I can only begin to speculate that this divine beast must have some form of water blessing powers. I had never quite seen anything like it during all of my years of exploring... I fail to believe that natural causes have cleansed the water...

...has only been seen within the forests of...legend among us, unlike any other that lies beyond our sacred land?

...shall be called Sui... a name fitting for a monarch of the water itself.

-From a weathered manuscript, date unknown

-

Leafeon & Espeon

Leafeon -

These Leafeon are far from being considered prized specimen. Their tails were more like long strands of wild grass, and their paws were covered in similarly structured strands. Their coloration was quite variable as well, with some Leafeon being more intense shades of green or weathered brown than others.

The most notable feature about these Pokemon was not their appearance, as they simply resembled a more feral deviation of Leafeon. The smell, I must say, was agonizing on the senses. The organic stink of unattended weeds was so revolting for the sheer fact that they triggered my immune responses so violently. Even worse, was that some individuals were curious of my presence, directing their pollen and chlorophyl towards me.

I couldn’t bring myself to call these adorable creatures weeds, however.

Espeon -

In the mountainous regions of the forgotten island, an abandoned temple is the home to a variant of a beloved species that were once regarded as deities. Golden Espeon prowl this secluded temple, away from the contact of all humans or most other Pokemon.

Its golden fur shone spectacularly in the sunlight, except for the markings at the base of its tails and around the edges of its ears. Unlike the more familiar form of Espeon, this deviation has two distinct tails, rather than one being split into two at the tip. I do not believe these, along with the Leafeon, to be a subgroup, similar to regional variants from Alola or Galar, but rather, more like an ancestor of sorts.

If this proves to be true, then not only is it possible that other similar forms of Eevee exist, but a whole new field of Pokemon evolution research becomes a distinct possibility.

For now, I must respect these Espeon and their solitary nature.

-

Kiwundo

I have never seen a Pokemon quite as round and birdlike as what I am currently observing before me. My initial impression of this curious new species is that they seem exceptionally impractical. Their wings are tiny, their bodies are heavily rounded, and it appears that their heads are locked in an upwards facing position. None of them seem adjusted to walking on such long legs either, as all individuals in the flock were stumbling and struggling to maneuver around a simple grassy plain.

These bird Pokemon appear to greatly lack in the cognitive department as well. I witnessed a larger predatory bird Pokemon pluck an individual out of the flock without a struggle, and the unfortunate victim’s companions seemed to have not noticed. They were comparable to ripe kiwis, who exist solely as pickings for those higher up on the food chain. Arguably, they were more like sentient kiwis than conscious specimens. The resemblance is uncanny, yet they were neither fully bird nor fully kiwi. The overwhelming majority were a dull brown akin to that of the common bird Pokemon, with textured feathers easily mistaken for kiwi skin.

I noted one unusual exception, to this, however, where one individual was a vibrant green unlike the earthy brown of the rest of the flock. I couldn’t help myself but throw a Pokeball at the weird green specimen to take back for further observation. It put up almost no struggle, which was rather unsurprising considering what I had noted earlier about its absentminded appearance.

These bird Pokemon were better compared to Magikarp, as even the common Pidgey would put up a decent fight. I don’t recall them having a name, so I shall call them Kiwundo after their round, kiwi-like appearance.

-

Moibelle & Belladam

It’s easy to tell when a clan of Moibelle are nearby. What may sound like an orchestra of a thousand little jingles is actually a group of seven individuals max, skittering through the alleyways. They seem rather shy and difficult to approach, as they go out of their way to avoid even harmless Pokémon.

One lone Moibelle seems to be the exception to my observation, as it cautiously but curiously walked up to my leg and began to rub on it. Its fur was velvety soft, and the bells around its ears were softly ringing. It did not utter a peep, which has led me to believe that its primary form of communication was the bells on its head, neck, and tail.

Strangely enough, it didn’t seem frightened around me. In fact, the little baby quickly grew quite attached to me. I slowly held out my hand, offering for it to climb on. It was taken aback at first, but after a quick sniff, it climbed onto my arm and dug its claws into my sleeve. How could I say no to taking in such an adorable, mysterious fella? I saw no others seeking it out, so it may have been abandoned for some unfortunate reason.

As I gently stroked my newfound friend, I looked above me to notice a Belladam looming over me, laying on a guard rail on the balcony above. Its bell tail flickered silently, a great contrast to the "talkative" Moibelle. It was staring down at me fiercely, as if it were ready to strike should I make the wrong move.

Along another balcony further down the alleyway, two Belladam were tense and flickering their tails at each other. This time, I could hear the ringing, further supporting my theory of the bells being used for communication.

Moibelle may be shy, but they will grow up to become some aggressive beauties.

[moviehealthcommunity]

American Fiction (2023)

This is a Movie Health Community evaluation. It is intended to inform people of potential health hazards in movies and does not reflect the quality of the film itself. The information presented here has not been reviewed by any medical professionals.

American Fiction has one scene where flashlights are used at night, and one of them is waved directly into the camera a couple of times. The rest of the film is safe for photosensitive audiences.

During the scene with the flashlights, there is some brief, mild shaking camera work. The rest of the camera work in this film is either stationary or very smooth.

Flashing Lights: 1/10. Motion Sickness: 1/10.

TRIGGER WARNING: One character suffers an observable decline due to dementia. A backstory is told that involves suicide.

Video ID: Admin Brandon's review of American Fiction