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yerawizardjulia · 3 years

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Too Rich for a McNugget (Wolfstar)

A university student enters an antique shop in a panic. How do you buy a wedding gift for a cousin you hate?

Sirius wouldn’t have looked twice at the dusty shop if he wasn’t stupidly, desperately late. The high street itself was laughing at him and he was uncomfortably aware of the scrubby guy on the bench that had definitely seen him walk past the same shop window three times in a desperate attempt to see anything other than tea towels and obnoxiously cheerful decorated mugs with ‘World’s best dad’ printed on the sides in Comic Sans. His fingers were slippery in anxious sweat as he pressed the home button on his phone, his iPhone six, another reason his presence would be scorned at this godforsaken gathering. The smudgy screen blinked into life and displayed, seemingly smugly after Sirius’ growing resentment towards the device, 12:42.

Twenty fucking minutes. If he didn’t show up with a gift he might as well not show up at all, an option he would have embraced wholeheartedly if his mother hadn’t pincered him into a corner at their last, regularly depressing routine coffee catch up and told him the deeds to his inheritance were under considerable threat if he did not attend. He wouldn’t have minded, but being twenty grand in debt to an English degree in a rented apartment with black mould creeping onto the ceiling made him reconsider his options.

Fucking Narcissa.

He wouldn’t have been looking forward to the wedding even if she wasn’t marrying a right wing, Eton-educated, ‘can’t control these blasted immigrants’ CEO of whateverthefuck that looked as though he’d never even touched an item of clothing that didn’t come from Armani. It was so typical of his cousin to find a man who deferred so minimally from their shared families’ frankly alarmingly consistent Tory heritage that Sirius had had to do some extensive Googling to confirm that Lucius Malfoy was not in fact, a not-so-distant relative.

A text buzzed in his hand, the little green notification welcome on the screen. At least it was an excuse to loiter outside this shop window for another minute or so without looking like a genuine psychopath.

‘Just get her a toaster or something idk.’

Sirius hadn’t really expected James’ solution to his predicament to be helpful, but his flatmate’s response nevertheless sent the hopeless feeling in his stomach a few inches lower. He had never expected for his future to be balanced on the purchase of a wedding gift, but he would almost prefer to sit his first-year exams, which he had taken with a hangover so severe it felt like he was going to vomit out of his eyeballs, all over again than have to look at this shop window for a second longer. He pictured sitting in a gutter in London, like the tramps that his mother refused to make eye contact with during their trips out during his childhood, drinking from a bottle wrapped in brown paper and thinking; if only I had gone with the luxury jam set. He had discarded the idea after noticing the Tesco’s Finest logo above the barcode, but it was beginning to look like his best option.

Another text. No, a call. Sirius shoved the phone back into his hoodie he was using to mask the aristocratic wedding attire beneath. Keepers of pretentious little shops such as the ones lining this dusty high street tended to bump their prices through the roof if they saw someone of his blood walk in. Old blood. Old money. It was unfair, really, because Sirius didn’t actually have any. If he did, he probably wouldn’t mind paying the exorbitant prices; James spent half his life agonising over how independent businesses were being suffocated by Amazon. But Sirius had nothing to his name until his dear grandparents decided to snuff it. The phone ceased buzzing waspishly in his pocket, and he decided he had better check who he was ignoring.

Typical fucking Regulus.

Probably the only human being under twenty that actually went out of his way to call people, rather than text. He would be there already, exchanging pleasantries in the foyer of the Malfoy’s third manor home. Checking to see whether the Black family disappointment was showing his face, or if he’d have to rely on his six predicted A* grades and brand new Porsche that probably cost more to insure than it did to buy to present himself as the golden child. He’d probably have a stupid little flower in his stupid little button hole. Being a cousin of the bride and a groomsman of the groom, Regulus had firmly nestled himself already into this hideous conjunction of families. He had a job lined up for him in Malfoy’s London branch. In six months, he’d probably have his own office.

Sirius had diluted his shampoo with water for the second time this morning.

He scowled and kicked a bottle cap along the pavement as he stumped, once again, down the row of shops. The circular metal projectile skittered across the tarmac and bounced off a door frame. He stopped, staring suddenly at the sign swinging on a pair of metal hooks like it was a medieval fucking tavern.

Fletcher’s Quality Gifts and Trinkets.

Somehow, inexplicably, Sirius’ eyes had slid over this shop four times as he’d panicked his way up and down this stretch of pavement. There was no window display, that was why. The door fit seamlessly between Bobbin’s Haberdashery and a derelict Cafe Nero. Sirius felt his phone buzz again and suppressed the urge to throw it into the path of the lazy, midday traffic crawling its way up the high street. He stared at the chipped paint and begged silently, to whatever entities may have been listening, that he would find something, anything to take to this fucking wedding.

The door jammed awkwardly on the floor as Sirius pushed it open. It made a juddering, dry squeak, scuffing on the splintery wood. Sirius winced, and half thought about just turning tail and walking out again, going back to pick up that cheap-as-shit jam set. Narcissa probably didn’t even eat jam. Was jam vegan?

He had to push his way in sideways, and as he did so, the door unstuck, swinging open and leaving him standing, pointlessly squashed back against the door frame. Sirius closed his eyes and wondered whether anything was going to go right today.

When he opened them, a guy was blinking at him from behind a checkout desk. A book was open on the surface before him and his long legs with too short trousers that showed a few inches of garishly coloured socks were rested upon the desk next to the till. He removed them hastily to the floor as Sirius stared.

“Sorry, the door- It gets stuck- you have to like-“ He mimed something that Sirius couldn’t even begin to relate to unsticking a door. “Sorry,” he finished, lamely. He bent over his book. Sirius peeled himself from the frame, not taking in the low beams that he would probably hit his head on or the items grouped together in nonsensical piles on the shelves and stacked on the floor.

This guy was gorgeous. He had an odd collection of features that were nothing special, when you looked at them individually- a nose that listed to the left, a thin top lip, a smattering of pigmentation on his cheeks that suggested acne that had been grown out of- but together... Sirius couldn’t stop staring at him. That tawny hair- fucking tawny, who am I, William pissing Wordsworth?- That sharp chin, those long fingers that teased the edge of the paper as he finished reading his page.

He was absolutely, fundamentally, not Sirius’ type. Any romantic entanglements he had had- and granted, it was not a long list (he and James had one sellotaped to the fridge)- involved men so deep in the closet they were practically choking on mothballs. They were footballers, mostly, insecure, ‘just experimenting’. Sirius didn’t know why his gaydar was sounding off so strongly. Was it the deeply uncool granddad jumper that somehow looked like it belonged in Men’s Vogue when draped over his long torso? Sirius was hardly modest about his own looks, but if he tried that jumper on he would look like the kid that forgot his P.E. kit. The same went for the not-skinny, not-baggy jeans that looked as though they were made for literally anyone other than him but somehow, looked really cool and why did Sirius love those hideous socks so much? Did they have pineapples on them?

The guy, seemingly unaware of Sirius lurking behind the shelf closest to the door, propped the book up in his hands, and Sirius read the title- The Picture of Dorian Grey.

Well, there it is.

“IneedapresentforacousinIhatewho’smarryingaguythathasprobablynevereatenaMcDonald’schickennugget.” Sirius was hardly more aware of the words projectile vomiting from his mouth than he was of the way he was sidling towards the checkout desk with his hands wringing in front of him like he was expecting this guy to stand up and shout at him.

Brown eyes emerged from behind the finest work of Oscar Wilde, carrying a look of mild alarm.

“Because, he’s rich, not a vegetarian.” Sirius finished. His mouth seemed a long way behind his brain, but perhaps that was a good thing, because his brain was currently screaming FUCK ME and Sirius was not willing to be barred from any more establishments for hedonistic behaviour.

“A wedding present?” His voice was mild, like Sirius had just asked a perfectly normal question for a stranger to ask a shop employee.

“Uh, yeah.” Why was he blushing? He never blushed. He stepped back needlessly as the guy rose from behind the desk. He was tall. Proportionately tall, with long limbs and a long neck and long god knows what else. Sirius nearly fell to his knees in reverence when the guy cracked a smile that caused a dimple to poke in his cheek and exposed sharp canines that Sirius never considered worth noticing in anyone before but holy fuck he would be now.

“You know what, I think I’ve got something.” He was walking away down one of the dark-ish isles, stooping considerably to avoid the beams and Sirius was trailing after him, awkward and out of place and acting so drastically not like himself he wondered if he had sustained a concussion at some point. Maybe when he was forcing his way through that rude fucking door. The hair at the nape of this guy’s neck curled slightly like he was due a haircut. His trainers were really beat up and old, and Sirius was sure he could see one of the laces fraying and considered whether he should warn him he was about to trip.

“When is this wedding?” His voice was still mild and almost disconcertingly polite; he had stopped and was rummaging among a pile of objects on a shelf-seriously, how was anyone supposed to find anything in here?- and Sirius was still staring at his trailing shoelace.

“Well, sort of now.”

He stood up a bit straighter as the brown eyes widened, and he was looking at him, properly, for the first time and Jesus Christ, how were you supposed to stand normally? Where were your arms supposed to go? Eyebrows, light brown and shapeless and a bit sparse at the ends, furrowed and he let out a small huff of amusement. It was the politest expression of ‘this dude’s a complete disaster’ that Sirius had ever seen. “I’ve been putting it off,” he added needlessly. Something about the way this guy was now looking him up and down as if he could read his life story just from Sirius’ tailored trousers that he’d forgotten to get dry cleaned and his hoodie that was actually James’ and his shoes that looked expensive but were actually from TKMaxx was making him need to offer increasingly poor explanations for his shambles of a life. “I don’t want to go, but I have to, and I hate weddings anyway, but especially this one, and I-‘

The look of curious amusement on the guy’s face- god, Sirius really wanted to know his name- halted his rambling. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I’m not normally this stressed.”

“That’s okay,” he replied, as if it was his job to tolerate a load of garbled nonsense from strangers, like he did it regularly, in fact, which made him wonder what kind of people actually came into this shop that you could barely tell existed. He was still rummaging through the shelves, Sirius was pretty sure a couple of things had fallen off the back and were now in the dark recesses of the between-shelf-and-wall space where things went to die. God, did anyone ever actually buy anything in here? He found it easier to control himself when the guy stopped x-raying him with his eyes, so he said “er, how long’s this shop been here?”

“Oh, I’ve only worked here six weeks. No idea, ages, probably.” He picked up a remarkably creepy porcelain figure of a shepherdess that was covered with so much dust that at first glance, Sirius thought it was some kind of radioactively-deformed elephant.

“I see what you mean,” said Sirius, staring at the figurine reproachfully. “How does anyone find anything in here?” The questions were not what he actually wanted to ask, which involved something along the lines of are you gay-are you single-are you safe from asbestos in this shop and do you think I’m a complete weirdo. He perked up when the guy let out another polite huff of laughter.

“Most customers have been coming in here for years,” he said, “I don’t see a lot of new people.” His eyes flickered to Sirius and back again and Sirius felt as if he was preparing to dive from a very large boat into a sea that was very cold.

“What’s your name?” Sirius asked, louder than he had meant to. He cringed inwardly and for the second time, considered legging it out of the door when he was once again regarded by a pair of searching brown eyes.

“Remus,” he said. Sirius could tell he was waiting for him to laugh. When he didn’t, because how the fuck could this man get any more attractive, and somehow the name Remus suited him down to his shredded laces, he turned to face him, as if in defiance.

“Hilarious, I know. Remus Lupin, which makes it even better.” Sirius’ resolve cracked at this.

“What?” He squawked, dragging his eyes over Remus again, because he looked like any novelist's wet dream and his name was Remus fucking Lupin... “Mine’s worse.” Sirius said, straightening again. Remus Lupin was rolling his eyes as if in grim acceptance of the barrage of snide jibes that had yet to tumble from Sirius’ mouth, but his eyebrows had disappeared into his hair at Sirius’ response and his arms were folded across his chest, which pulled the loose neck of his jumper down and exposed a few inches of pale sternum.

“I don’t believe you.”

Sirius grinned at this. He cleared his throat and pulled his hand out of the pouch/pocket/thing on the front of his hoodie which was definitely not a secure place for his phone, wallet and keys, and held it out.

“Sirius Black. Pleasure to meet you.” Remus’ mouth had fallen slightly open and a smile was touching at the corners of his lips as he took Sirius’ hand. Sirius was almost surprised that there was no jolt of electricity from all the built up static in his woollen jumper, but his skin was cool and his fingers were thin and twiggy and the knuckles were surprisingly big, and he didn’t drop it straight away, which made Sirius wonder if it was intentional, like a sort of gay signal, and then he remembered the Oscar Wilde book on the checkout desk and stopped trying to look for gay signals.

“Holy shit,” Remus spluttered. The profanity rolled masterfully from his lips; Sirius had never quite got the hang of swearing after his stuffy, conservative upbringing. Remus made it sound graceful.

“What a pair, eh?” said Sirius, and then cringed inwardly again because they weren’t a pair, they were complete strangers but somehow it felt like they’d known each other forever and fuck when did it get so hot in here? He looked at the shelves where Remus’ other hand still rested, and tried to ignore the eyes that were sliding up and down his body as Remus Lupin gave him what Sirius recognised as ‘the gay once-over.’ Dressed in the odd assortment of James’ secondary school football hoodie that had been surpassed by the frankly unnatural growth of James’ shoulders, pretentious shoes and crinkled dress trousers, Sirius was acutely aware that he was not looking his whole and considerable best. Christ, he might even look straight.

“There’s um-you said you might have something?” Sirius said, after another twenty five seconds in which Remus’ gaze had lingered on the rings Sirius had forgotten to take off (his mum would kill him if he turned up to a wedding looking like anything other than a Conservative Straight Man) and then drifted to his hair which was probably fried from all the sweating and running about and cheap shampoo. Remus blinked at these words, and whipped his head back to the shelves as if startled he had been caught in the act.

“Yes! Sorry, it’s-erm-can you hold this?” He plonked a cast iron sewing machine into Sirius’ arms who sagged beneath the weight, wheezing as he tried to lock his knees without Remus noticing. What the hell kind of Hulk body was hiding under that jumper? Eyes streaming, he balanced it on top of a pile of ancient National Geographic magazines and prayed it would not succumb to the inevitable force of gravity. Remus was deep into the recesses of the shelf, standing on tiptoe to reach the very back. His socks were visible again and Sirius could see now that they were not pineapples, but durians. Cute. His jumper was riding up as he stretched to whatever unknown artefacts lurked at the very rear and now it was Sirius’ turn to stare, because there was some pale midriff exposed above the waist of his jeans and he was skinny, but not skinny, kind of-lean? Was that the word? He had that vee of muscle above his hip and Sirius was suddenly struggling not to choke on his own tongue.

"Here it is!", came Remus' muffled voice, and Sirius took a step back hurriedly. He was pretty certain he had been gazing glassy eyed at the shop-keeper's navel where a delicate line of dark brown hair descended below his belt, and pinched his own wrist hard behind his back as Remus' head emerged, and he shook some cobwebs out of his curly hair. He was holding a small box, and Sirius’ first thought was that if something covered in that much dust came within eight feet of Narcissa, her immune system would likely spontaneously combust due to overexposure. People like her didn’t have immune systems, they just loaded themselves up with fucking multivitamins and avoided any establishments without at least two Michelin stars.

“Sorry it’s a bit-“ Remus blew a cloud of dust off the top of the box, coughed, and wiped it off on the back of his jeans, muttering ‘need to stop smoking.’

Sirius almost went feral at the image of his lips pursed around a Marlboro, but managed to pull his face into a socially acceptable frame in time for Remus to pass the box to him. “What do you think?”

Squatting in a bed of midnight blue velvet, sat a pair of silver napkin rings. They were ornate, and completely hideous. Sirius started to grin. He picked one up to examine it. It was decorated with a stag, and the other with a doe. It was likely the engraver had never seen these animals in the flesh, which would account for their mildly horrifying humanoid faces.

“Perfect,” muttered Sirius, turning the ugly silver object over in his hand. It was heavy and looked antique, and Sirius knew it would fit right in with the future Mrs. Malfoy’s entirely tasteless kitchen decor. He looked up at Remus, disbelieving in the way he had absolutely nailed Sirius’ mission. “Absolutely bloody perfect.”

Remus grinned back, a wondrous sight, his hands half in the pockets of his faded jeans. Sirius returned the napkin ring to its box, and then thought of something that made his smile falter.

“Are these solid silver?”

“Yep,” Remus said happily. “Nineteenth century antiques, I believe.” But Sirius was pushing the box back into his hands, shaking his head.

“I can’t afford that, sorry I-“

“Five quid.” The box flew back into Sirius’ hands before he could blink.

“Come again?”

The shopkeeper shrugged. “I’m the only person who knew they were there, and I doubt anyone else would want to bestow something that vile on a newly wedded couple.”

Was this guy even real? Sirius couldn’t quite fathom what he had done to deserve this act of kindness, but he wasn’t about to turn it down.

“Thank you,” he said, earnestly. Remus shrugged again, but the smile remained. He took Sirius back to the counter, where he took the box back from him and, while Sirius dug in his pocket for some change, produced some silvery wrapping paper and parcelled it. Sirius stole a surreptitious glance at him as he tied it off with a navy ribbon. His eyelashes were sandy like his eyebrows, but they were thick and almost touched his cheeks when his eyes were cast down on his work.

Sirius was having a crisis. He had never asked for anyone’s number before, but the thought of walking out of this shop and never seeing this god-sent individual again was criminal. His mouth felt dry. What if he had misread this interaction completely, and Remus was just a friendly, helpful guy? He glanced at the book, now balanced on top of the till while Remus rang up, and took a breath.

“Good book, that” he said, indicating The Picture of Dorian Grey awkwardly. Remus looked from him, to the book, and back again. While Sirius experienced a burning sensation in the base of his chest, Remus nodded non commitantly, and swept the stack of pound coins Sirius had placed on the desk into the till. He looked away, agonising, kicking himself internally at his own ineptness, as he pulled a receipt from the till and passed it and the neatly-wrapped box across the table.

“All done.”

“Thanks.” Sirius could feel his cheeks burning, and decided a clean getaway was well overdue. He had picked up the items and had half turned away when he heard- “I wrote my number on that receipt, you know.”

The burning in his chest now felt like a slowly inflating balloon. He looked down at the smooth piece of paper and saw a number scribbled in biro on its surface. Eleven numbers. Definitely a phone number. He turned hastily back to Remus, who was- Sirius was pleased to see- also looking slightly bashful.

“Thought my gaydar had malfunctioned for a minute there,” Sirius said. Remus laughed.

“It was really great to meet you.” He said, placing his feet up on the desk again.

“And you,” Sirius replied. Elated, he headed for the door before Remus could change his mind. He dreaded to think how late he was now, but he couldn’t think of a situation more worth a bollocking from his mother than this one. He had yanked the reluctant door open when-

“Hey, Sirius?”

“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder. Remus was peering over the top of his book at him again.

“Let me know how the wedding goes.”

#wolfstar #Wolfstar fanfiction #muggle au #Marauders #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #wolfstar au #remus x sirius #remus is a little shit and i love him

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moved-to-void-kissed · 3 years

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Of Rubies and Sapphires

Document link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1MXlNYYIQPVEeOXwsWuA4WIQ6E-LPJ-Z1BYljZbqlfuM/edit?usp=sharing

Trapped by the shadow brought to life by a magical mirror as she wanders the realm of darkness, Aria is forced to finally reconcile with the other aspect of “herself”, once assumed to have been devoured by the dark. (1656 words) My piece written for Our Canon Now! 2020, a self-insert zine created by ginari and shirorabu.

This was my contribution to the self-insert zine created at the end of last year! I was really happy to be able to take part in such a great project, especially since it let me write out this scene between Aria and Ves. I also created an MMD render to portray a specific part, so.. I’ll have to see if I can find that, too!

Reblogs are appreciated but not by any means required - I also highly recommend going and checking out all the other wonderful art and writing in the zine!! As always, there’s a transcript of the doc under the readmore, too~

I spoke aloud to myself as I stood before a tall oval mirror, coldly ornate with a rim of decorative gold. Dotted about the design were a series of red and blue gemstones, well-crafted in spite of their current neglect. The glass itself was smooth and clear, but obscured by a film of dust and dirt, so that the details reflected were hazy. A shame, really - for the backdrop it faced was a sea of glittering fragments, suspended in the air for as far as the eye could see. This was the shadow of a sky, and I appeared to have found my way to an open-air gallery. Here and there, sparkling shards shone a thousand colours in the flickering lights of the torch fires, subtly shimmering as flames flickered and glowed. Behind all of these lay the purest black of darkness - the fabric which held this entire realm together, ripped raw to expose itself wholly.

I was no stranger to this endless abyss; in fact, it made a welcome change to have something so bright and yet piercingly empty stand before it. A useless curtain, if it were meant for obscuring - but the glittering glass still reminded me of the stars I had not seen for so long. Now though, afraid of where my mind would take me if I dwelled on such matters for too long - and wanting to discern what was actually happening - I turned back again to face the wall where the mirror hung.

..Now that I thought about it, something was missing from its reflection - myself.

And then, like a fool, I stepped closer.

I expected to see the familiar sights of my wings, my eyes, my ears - the parts of me that turn others away. Instead I was faced with something a lot more human, which appeared out of nowhere in the mirror. She had the same face that I wore, but her eyes were wrong - instead of hard amber, her eyes were a brilliant green. And staring directly into mine with piercing anger. I was startled and tried to step backwards, but the girl reached out of the mirror and grabbed my right arm’s sleeve. Caught off-guard, I slipped on the cold stone under me and awkwardly fell forwards. The reflection was undaunted, though, and wrenched herself backwards with a shout to pull me straight through the mirror glass.

I instinctively tensed up and closed my eyes, expecting a shower of shards in my face, but instead was sent tumbling into a curious space inside the mirror itself. The ground was solid, but my entrance sent some kind of ripple through the floor, as if I had landed in shallow water. There was no real difference between the walls and the floor - both were made of a strange dark blue material, like some kind of clouded silk. However, as I had found out firsthand by crashing into it, this material was hard and solid to the touch. What was this world within..?

That was anything but my main concern, though, as I quickly came to my senses and tried to get back to my feet. The imperfect reflection was doing the same, having managed to launch herself backwards by pulling me through the mirror. Now I could see her in perfect clarity, no longer obscured by the dust time had left on the glass - and she was in quite a state. She wore the same clothes that I did, but where mine were comfortable and deliberate, hers looked forced-on and ill-fitting. Her hair hung limply on either side of her face, with no sign of my cat’s ears, and my pitch-black wings were nowhere to be seen either. It was like she was someone human, someone normal, trying to dress up as me. There was anger pulsing through her body, but it seemed somehow hesitant, and her face was soaked with a thousand tears. I could work with that.

“Why have you brought me here?” I asked her. No use fighting when you can reason with someone, after all. Especially given that I could not summon my Keyblade, and if this entity had tried to reflect my appearance then there was every chance it could mirror my power.

“You know why!” she cried, in a voice like a child’s. “Look at what you’ve done to me!”

Oh.

That wasn’t what I was expecting to hear. “So you’re saying that you’re-”

“Look at me!” She yelled to drown me out and pointed at herself with a sob. “I never wanted to be like this. You’re the one who did this to me!”

In the face of her anguish, I refused to let my rising emotions show. “You say it like you think I don’t know that, Ves.”

“Don’t call me that!-”

All of a sudden she lunged out towards me - I tried to leap out of her way, but there was nowhere to go and I was too close to the edge of the “room” to try and fly. There was a flash of ice as Ves tried to summon a blade of her own - but like mine, it faltered into nothing. It seemed we were linked in that aspect. In retaliation, I sent forth a blast of dark fire to get her away from me so that I could regain the upper hand. I was tired from my previous exploring, but my magic was always at its height in this realm, thanks to all the darkness to augment it. Luckily, that held true in the mirror too, and she was flung backwards again.

If nothing else, her reaction to her name confirmed my suspicions. This was not a reflection at all. Instead, she was what remained of the vessel I had taken so long ago, what I had used to live on and be complete again. I had assumed whatever was left of her had faded away with time; perhaps that was the reason for her having almost the same appearance as me. Given a choice, she would certainly not have done so, but it may well have been the only way the mirror could give her a form.

To try and show that most human of aspects - mercy - I kept low and attempted to look as non-threatening as possible. This was not something I could do easily, but I tried anyway, lowering my wings and removing the mask over my mouth. Ves’ eyes widened at this, and she retained her anger, but sadness was building up behind it. It was clear that despite her outburst, she was not seeking to destroy me - perhaps she realised that doing so would lead to her demise as well, or perhaps it was merely that she was not a fighter.

“Fine, then.” I paused, and used the name I took from her. “Aria. That’s you, isn’t it?”

“I’m me.” she started coldly, then I think she realised what I had actually said. “You- you stole my name. Like everything else about me.”

No way of getting around that, unfortunately. “I suppose that’s true. So, what, have you come to take it back?”

“I- yes! I have to get rid of you!!”

She was clearly caught off-guard, however defiantly she stated her intentions. The fact she had no weapon was likely the main factor, although there was still every chance she could use the same magic as me. It was then that I realised the mirror had appeared behind her - and through it, I caught a glance of the real world I had come from. A chance to escape! The ceiling of this strange space looked too low, but there was still a way of getting around her. I slowly crouched lower, let my wings unfurl, darted to the side as Ves flinched from the sudden movement- and my hand brushed against hers when I passed her.

A cascade of emotions brought me to the floor. All her anguish, all her pain, from all those years - I felt every aspect of it in a single moment. She was what I had used to live on, the reason I could be as I am now; but how I had repaid the favour? In the most Heartless way I could have - by twisting her form, taking her name, and leaving her dormant. She was a shell trapped in slumber, with her light consumed and overshadowed. No more than a soul left to fade away in place of all it could have been. How could I have done that to her? To anyone?

I turned and looked up at her, now understanding what I had put her through, but unable to speak through the emotions. Ves seemed to notice that, too, and her expression had shifted - perhaps our connection had reunited her with the memories I had that she never experienced.

Then she spoke, with what felt like a much more characteristic quietness. “Can you.. let me be myself again?”

I rose to my feet, and gave only an honest answer. “I can’t let go of you entirely. I don’t remember how to. But.. if you have the strength to show up, I won’t fight it. I’ve kept you down long enough.”

“..I understand.” She smiled, even if it was not all she was hoping to hear. “Thank you, Aria.”

“You’re welcome.. Aria.”

A more amused smile from her this time. “That’s going to be confusing, isn’t it?”

We both managed to laugh at that one, despite ourselves, and as I stepped through the mirror, the sound of her laughter shifted from outside to inside me as my reflection became nothing more than that. I felt different now, but as the cold and empty realm sprawled itself before me again, I knew for sure that I had done something right for once. And I had a new goal in sight - to find a way for us both to survive.

#a call from the void #creations from the void #selfship #selfshipping #self‑inserts #self‑insert: darkness' champion (aria)#self‑insert: ruby in the light (ves)#our canon now! 2020 #this post is okay to reblog!#if I didn't quite literally have the voice of a 12-year-old (as evidenced by my ursula impression) I would try and record this #since it *is* from aria's perspective.. which would therefore be mine.. so yeah #hey maybe I should repost that commentary on it that I rambled about to dragon #but yeah anyway I hope this is alright #the tag list was mostly just copied from the xiara render so hopefully it's all still applicable #waiting in the wings #so it goes out a little bit later

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monochrome-in-madness · 3 years

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My Top 10 Favourite Horrors

Within this top 10 list, some will include the prequels, sequels and any other follow ups as 1 ranking number. Some may be considered thriller, sci-fi, suspence etc, however, I do regard these as horrors myself.

I have take many aspects into account, such as videography, actor quality, SFX makeup quality, soundtrack, directors, CGI etc.

Note : this is my personal opinion. You do not have to agree with it, though if you haven't seen these, I highly reccomend them.

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1. The Conjuring

(1 & 2)

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The Conjuring 1 :

The Perron family moves into a farmhouse where they experience paranormal phenomena. They consult demonologists, Ed and Lorraine Warren, to help them get rid of the evil entity haunting them.

The Conjuring Trailer :

youtube

The Conjuring 2 :

Peggy, a single mother of four children, seeks the help of occult investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren when she and her children witness strange, paranormal events in their house

The Conjuring 2 Trailer :

youtube

My Opinion :

The Conjuring was the start of an incredible series of horrors that beat any other horror to the ground. It is absolutely fantastic and I basically worship these films. James Wan is my favourite director and he never ceases to amaze me.

Paranormal horror is my favourite and as someone who actually believes in the paranormal and who has had paranormal experiences, I can confirm that The Conjuring is much more realistic than any other paranormal films, which just makes it extra spooky.

The actors, camera angles, music, sfx makeup and storyline is just - chefs kiss -. I've been waiting for the 3rd one for so long, but they keep extending the release date. (R. I. P)

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2. Annabelle

(all of them)

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Annabelle :

John and Mia Form are attacked by a Satan worshipping couple, who uses their doll as a conduit to make their life miserable. This unleashes a string of paranormal events in the Forms' residence.

Annabelle Trailer :

youtube

Annabelle Creation :

Samuel and Elle embed their daughter's spirit into a doll, only to realise it is a demon. Years later, they open their home to a nun and six orphan girls, one of whom finds the doll.

Annabelle Creation Trailer :

youtube

Annabelle Comes Home :

Judy and her babysitter are left alone in her house after her parents leave to investigate a case. However, an unexpected guest sets Annabelle free, unleashing demonic activity in the house.

Annabelle Comes Home Trailer :

youtube

My Opinion :

Another great film series that was birthed form The Conjuring. Definitely less realistic, with many more jumpscares and spooky characters, which is appreciated in the horror world. Many people find dolls far more creepy than ghosts, myself included, so that's another perfect aspect that adds to the suspense.

I prefer Annabelle 3 over the others, mainly because I found that one to be more scary overall, even though Daniela is an idiot and she makes me so frustrated 😂

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3. Saw

(all of them)

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For the totally unindoctrinated, the Saw movie franchise revolves around the Jigsaw Killer (a.k.a. John Kramer), who tortures victims he believes are complacent or guilty, in order to make them appreciate their time on Earth.

All Saw Trailers :

youtube

Obviously I'm not going to list every Saw movie, because there are 7 (Jigsaw aka number 8, does NOT count. It is a disgrace).

My Opinion :

A classic for horror and gore lovers of all kinds. Of course I need to list this as number 3. I simply adore these movies. I even have the DVD set, so I am definitely a long term fan haha.

The obstacles and creativity regarding Saw as a whole needed a lot of thought put into it, plus it has a happy little side note of "make sure you don't cause harm to others in life and don't take anything for granted" which some may have not even noticed while being overwhelmed by the amount of fake blood.

Yes, a lot of characters are annoying, but that just makes us enjoy seeing them tortured even more (shh it's not real). Some of the blood doesn't look very realistic, the sfx can lack attention, BUT... It's still great and I can overlook these few flaws to appreciate the movies to the max.

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4. Blair Witch

(2016)

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A young man and his friends venture into the Black Hills Forest in Maryland to uncover the mystery surrounding his missing sister. Many believe her disappearance 17 years earlier is connected to the legend of the Blair Witch.

At first the group is hopeful, especially when two locals act as guides through the dark and winding woods. As the night wears on, a visit from a menacing presence soon makes them realize that the legend is all too real, and more sinister than they could have ever imagined.

Blair Witch Trailer :

youtube

My Opinion :

I love the camerawork. Not because it's perfect, because it's the opposite. It's a documentary style and this makes it feel more realistic, as if you are within the film yourself. I enjoy how they skip to the action at just the right time after a mild buildup.

The visuals are great as well and there were definitely some parts where I was disgusted and claustrophobic, which is good to experience while enjoying these types of films.

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5. Under The Skin

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Disguising itself as a human female, an extraterrestrial drives around Scotland attempting to lure unsuspecting men into her van. Once there, she seduces and sends them into another dimension where they are nothing more than meat.

Under The Skin Trailer :

youtube

My Opinion :

I would classify this as horror, but many won't. Either way, this is an amazingly artistic film with beautiful imagery and silent awe. It definitely makes you feel the suspense in a calming manner and it has some really dark moments. Without reading the description, one might be confused as to what is going on, but how art is supposed to be interpretated is by the imagination of individuals.

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6. Veronica

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During a solar eclipse, young Verónica and her friends want to summon the spirit of Verónica's father using an Ouija board. However, during the session she loses consciousness and soon it becomes clear that evil demons have arrived.

Veronica Trailer :

youtube

My Opinion :

A Spanish masterpiece, to put it simply. It's hard to find proper horrors like this in English. I really enjoyed this one and I watched it subbed not dubbed, because I feel like voiceovers tend to ruin the art of the original film. The buildup is perfect and unlike many horrors, it barely shows you the face of the "monster". That leaves it to the imagination, which in general makes it far more scary.

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7. Underwater

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Disaster strikes more than six miles below the ocean surface when water crashes through the walls of a drilling station. Led by their captain, the survivors realize that their only hope is to walk across the sea floor to reach the main part of the facility. But they soon find themselves in a fight for their lives when they come under attack from mysterious and deadly creatures that no one has ever seen.

Underwater Trailer :

youtube

My Opinion :

This movie was released quite recently and I didn't know what to expect. I was definitely blown away by how good it was. Being trapped underwater gives most people a sense of anxiety. Add being trapped underwater and being hunted by creepy sea monsters and you've got yourself a good horror. Kristen Stewarts general anxious personality definitely suits this film well.

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8. Split

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Kevin, who is suffering from dissociative identity disorder and has 23 alter egos, kidnaps three teenagers. They must figure out his friendly personas before he unleashes his 24th personality.

Split Trailer :

https://youtu.be/84TouqfIsiI

My Opinion :

An incredible film with phenomenal acting on the part of James McAvoy. You can get lost within his character and almost feel as if you are the character itself. Suspense is built up slowly and the climax of the film is released rapidly. People I know who do not enjoy horror, love this film themselves, which is saying something. It's definitely one of the best modern films that draws you in from the start.

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9. A Quiet Place

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A family struggles for survival in a world where most humans have been killed by blind but noise-sensitive creatures. They are forced to communicate in sign language to keep the creatures at bay.

A Quiet Place Trailer :

https://youtu.be/WR7cc5t7tv8

My Opinion :

As you can tell by now, I love anything alien related. This film has some of the most amazing looking aliens I've seen, I was honestly in awe by how great they looked. Another silent film, but in a different sense to the previous one. Instead of being the hunter, this family is being hunted and this adds more to the fear factor.

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10. Unfriended - Dark Web

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When a teen finds a laptop with a cache of hidden files, he and his friend discover that the previous owner has access to the dark web and is watching over them.

Unfriended - Dark Web Trailer :

https://youtu.be/XenTM_C9fxM

My Opinion :

A modern take on horror. Involving the actual dangers of the dark web and the use of technology and turning it into a horror was a magnificent idea. It definitely had me at the edge of my seat.

Due to another film type that is not often explored (thus being that most of the movie is equal to what it would be like to look at your computer and video chat), it makes it different and therefore more compelling than the usual videography styles.

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Thank you for reading, if you've made it this far! Feel free to share your top 10 in the comment section, I am definitely interested in your opinions and finding new movies to watch myself. Any questions are also welcome.

Until next time, take care and stay spooky!

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10 notes · View notes

see-arcane · 4 years

Text

Jon, Moths, and Terrible Changes

So, yeah, I’m climbing onboard the Moth Jon train. Not just because of the hints

(He’s mentioned moths twice in canon! And being in a chrysalis*! (*Though it should really be a cocoon) CONFIRMATION IMMINENT!)

Or the potential for the v i s u a l

(Eyes on his wings! Eyes on his wings!)

But because it lines up so thematically well with his position within/against the Web, his own nature throughout the podcast, and because the symbology leads in beautifully to the intro of my favorite under-loved Entity, the Extinction.

Yes, it’s essay o’ clock again.

So, first off: why a moth? Other than moths being Cool and Eye-spotted and Symbolic+? How does Moth Jon make plausible sense beyond simply seeming like a neat metaphor?

Some points:

-Sight.

A small thing, but yeah--moths have amazing eyesight. The nocturnal little guys can see clearly in pitch black. And really, Jon may as well have compound eyes too at this point, why not?

-Silk.

The Web is all about its metaphorical spider silk, its puppet strings, its tricks and traps touching everything. Jon’s been caught in it for so long it seems inescapable.

Because Jon, pre-Change, was in his caterpillar stage. Moth caterpillars are the little guys at their most vulnerable, weak, scuttling things just trying to eat enough to be ready for their cocoon. Easy to catch, easy to hurt. Silkworms have it the roughest.

Those are the caterpillars of the Bombyx mori, the silk moth, which is bred in captivity specifically to be killed inside their cocoons—which are, of course, made of fine, precious silk. The ones not kept alive for future breeding are melted down and threaded into silk strings to make the fabric. The adult moths can’t even survive in nature because they’ve been domesticated to the point of dependence on their human breeders.

And for the last four seasons, Jon was absolutely in silkworm territory. He was trapped from the get-go, his fear and his struggles used as fodder to result in his captors’ own self-centered desire for the Fear-choked world. (There’s probably something even more meta in here. Something about the difference between spider silk—strong, powerful, necessary for the ecosystem, can be put to human use without harming the spider—versus the moths’ silk—collected only by harvesting cocoons, collected for vanity’s sake, et cetera. But, moving on.)

Now, though, Jon is out of that larval stage. He’s left his chrysalis/cocoon (supposedly) and has emerged powerful. Not a weak silk moth, but a thing glutted with energy and strength. He is strong enough that Annabelle Cane won’t even risk calling up Martin if he’s too close. Picking off avatars in their own domains—not a new trick, if we remember how he finished off the Dark Sun and Peter Lukas.

The Web is, of course, making plans around him regardless. But another thing about moths?

-Dust.

Moths have that fine little powder that comes off their wings. Those are actually tiny flakes of ‘scales’ (or possibly pollen they’ve picked up) that sheds very easily. In many cases, that shedding is key to helping them escape the average spider web. While the Mother of Puppets is hardly an average weaver to go against, it’s still a good sign. (And if we’re being mean, we can draw a comparison to his apparent bad skin condition)

But, speaking of the wings…

-Camouflage and Countermeasures

We all know about the camo routine. Some have their wings patterned with scary false eyes—I M A G E R Y !—to spook predators. Others blend into their surroundings, looking like leaves, bark, flowers, et al.

But there’s more to them than that, and it also lines up with Jon’s general deal.

I.e. the chemical defense. Bats and other predators take a sniff or an unfortunate bite of the moth and recoil in disgust. There are moths that just smell and/or taste like shit, with some species being outright toxic to their would-be predators.

The same way Jon’s proven to be a very, very unwise choice of prey for aggro avatars. Because for all those scars Jon’s collected, for all his fear and all his fumbling and all his struggling—this scrawny fucker has outlived every single avatar that’s tried to kill him. All of them far more skilled and powerful than he was at the time. It’s a guaranteed jinx.

Rough Jon up? Fine, go for it.

Go for the kill? Rest in fucking pieces.

Sure, we can chalk some of that up to the Web. A great deal, even. Can’t have the prized pawn killed off before he opens the Door, right? But here’s the thing.

It literally could not have been the Web for all of it. Because much as the Spider can micromanage, it still has limits.

The Unknowing? Even knowing that the ritual would fail, at its zenith, that thing was pure, undiluted confusion and impossible, horrific nonsense. I imagine the Web would’ve gotten tangled in on itself even trying to orchestrate anything during the event. The best it could do was set Jon and his co-pawns up—the handily explosive Tim Stoker included—and hope for the best.

And Jon came through with his Archivist upgrade just in time.

Same with consuming the Dark Sun, a literal, actual star made of darkness. You think the Web could just ‘convince’ a fucking cosmic horror-star not to kill him? Fuck no. They made sure Jon was fed up on fresh statements to get him strong, sure, but it was still a gamble.

You think the Web could reach all the way into the Lonely, a domain whose very nature is Disconnect and Solitude, to make sure Jon—half-starved from subsisting on paper statements—could find his way out? Nope. It just had Peter chuck Martin in as bait and hoped for the best.

And Jon came through again.

Because whenever he’s put in just enough danger, pushed to the very edge with no one there to save him, be it Tim or Leitner or Daisy or Basira or Helen or Oliver or whoever else Elias or the Web recruited, Jon comes out on top. Jon does. Not. Die.

Something to chalk up to the Eye, then? It certainly wouldn’t want to lose its Archivist, its favorite show. (Seriously, the way the show’s progressed, it’s starting to seem like the more Interested the Eye is in one of its avatars, the more power/protection/ ‘gifts’ it’s willing to throw their way. See: Jonah Magnus not getting a single upgrade since the Victorian era while Jon ‘Never-A-Dull-Moment’ Sims gets omniscience, murder-Eye powers, and free tape recorders.)

Jon has defenses, is the point. Unconscious or otherwise, even before the Change, trying to kill him never, ever goes well for his attacker. He’s constantly leveling up. Because, like the moth, he’s a perpetual victim of…

-Change.

This is the big one. One of TMA’s biggest running themes, too. ‘People change.’ Not always into something they want to be; case in point, Jon, the World’s Unhappiest Avatar.

He’s a perfect representative for metamorphosis from the weak, but familiar—his human/caterpillar stage—to the surreal, and unfamiliar—Archivist/moth.

Do caterpillars know what they’re doing when they start making that cocoon? Do they understand why their body is doing what it’s doing? Is it free will that drives them, or an implacable impulse?

Do they dream inside that silk? Are they elated at the strange, grotesque alteration of their bodies, or horrified in their tiny, insect hearts at this Change which no parent was ever there to explain? Is it even the same creature that emerges from the cocoon? Did they ever want those majestic wings, the terrifying ‘gift’ of flight that insists they soar into the impossible heights of the sky, so far from the earth that had been their home and life forever?

I think it’s in this that I see the most connection with the Moth Jon setup on its own.

Yes, he is powerful. Yes, he is more than he ever was before.

But did he ask for it? Did he want all the gruesome trappings that Change came with?

No more than the caterpillar wanted to dismantle itself inside the cocoon, I’d think.

Which is all fine and thematically dramatic.

However.

I don’t think Moth Jon is the only thing with a claim on the Imagery ©.

Because, again, we’ve got hints dropping for the Extinction’s appearance every other episode. I.e. the Terrible Change. But, if the series is going to end with all the Fears getting some kind of cathartic comeuppance—which they will, even if it does end tragically for Jon (because of course it will)—that has to include The End too. Meaning the Extinction can’t come about as plain old death. Otherwise, it’s just Terminus stretching out its roots.

No, it needs a different shape for this.

It needs to turn the Change, a term literally every avatar seems to be calling it, because that is all the Fears see it as, into the Terrible Change. So, let’s go back to the caterpillar versus the moth.

Does the caterpillar want to Change?

If we compare it to Jon—no. No, it doesn’t.

Even if the Change makes it objectively ‘better’ and ‘stronger?’ ‘Evolved?’

Again, asking Jon—No. The Change is bad. The Change is terrifying. The Change has made him into something he never wanted to be. Even if it feels ‘right,’ it is still Wrong to him. Terrible. Terrible.

Yes, quite Terrible. Which is exactly how the Extinction/Terrible Change/Future-Without-Us will turn against the Fears without killing off humanity.

I can see the shape of the Extinction coming out of its cocoon, prepared to inflict another Change upon the Fears, making them into something new and abominable to them—into Joys, maybe? Who knows?—but making them Extinct the way the moth’s appearance signals the obliteration of the caterpillar.

“People change,” I can hear Jon saying to Annabelle, to Jonah Magnus, to the Fears themselves, as the Extinction unfurls its awful wings and begins wrapping them in their own horrible cocoons. “And now, so will you.”

#I don't know the meaning of brevity and I never will #tl; dr: Moth Jon Rights #jonathan sims #moth jon #the extinction #the terrible change #the future without us #the magnus archives

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yankyo · 4 years

Note

Can we please have some comfort for all that hurt? ;u;

Yes! Yes, you may!

Accident - Part 2

Warnings: Mention of abuse, blood

Chamie was acting weird, it wasn’t that he was trying to help, no that wasn’t it, but you could see an odd look on Beetlejuice’s face as the clone was being lectured and Chamie seemed to droop even lower as he looked at the charred remains of his attempt at cooking. And then as the mess in the kitchen was being situated, Chamie was found in the living room attempting to vacuum. It was an honest attempt and you were flattered again that he was trying to help, but you couldn’t help but grimace at the state of it. You certainly didn’t have the money to replace it this month, not when your rent was due and feeding so many new mouths left you a little strapped for cash. Speaking of, you were already running a little too late for work this morning, so even though you wanted to stay and take care of the situation, you had to rush to get ready and run out of the door yelling goodbyes as you went - Chamie wasn’t anywhere to be found and as much as you wanted to assure him that you weren’t upset and make sure he got his goodbye kiss, you resolved to make it up to him when you got home.

Work was long and boring, a day of dealing with frustrating customers and pasting a smile on your face as you pretended to be listening to them ramble about whatever coupon they were so certain should be working and just how rude the other cashier had been to them last time - you were pretty certain it had been you, but then again, you really didn’t care. No, you were too busy thinking about Chamie’s sad face as he looked at his feet, just taking the lecture without even attempting to fight back. It hadn’t been the first time, but you hadn’t really noticed it before. No matter who it was, once someone started to yell at Chameleon, he seemed to almost shut down, his shoulders hunching and his ears drooping as he just let them take out their anger on him. The only time you had ever seen Chamie fighting back was during the little mock fights he had with the others during game night and even then, it wasn’t really shouting. Despite all the time you had spent with them, how was this the first time you really noticed this? Was there other ticks you had overlooked? Other little signs things weren’t entirely alright with the group of demons you loved so dearly? The thought made your heart ache and it was all you could do to just stay at work and not rush back home to your lovers.

After what seemed like an eternity, you were finally off the clock and rushing back to your car with a new ball of yarn to replace the one Chamie had messed up this morning. You would sit him down and have a talk about this morning and make sure everything was alright with him, and definitely smother the cute clone with kisses and make sure he knew just how much you really appreciated him, how you appreciated all of them. Your plans for the night were optimistic, but as you pulled up to your home and stepped out of your car, you could hear shouting from the driveway. A chill went through your veins, unsure of what was happening but from the yelling, you could be certain it wasn’t anything good.

“My books! Why would you even mess with them?”

“We’re going to have to clean up your mess again!”

“The kitchen is covered in bubbles, you idiot! What did you do?”

“What is going on?” You cut in, tossing your bags to the side as you pushed through the gathering of demons to find what they were swarming around and the sight just broke your heart. Chamie was curled into a ball, his arms locked around himself and his grip on his arms so tight you could see blood beginning to stain his sleeves. His hair was a swirling mess of purple and blue with a flash of grey that made you want to cry. “Get back from him, give him some space!” The clones blinked at you, looking down to their comrade as if just realizing how bad the situation had gotten, giving you space to lean in and try to pet Chamie’s hair to get his attention. As you moved closer, the clone raised his head, his eyes glazed and sightless before fear filled them and he stuck out as if trying to fight off his aggressor. You couldn’t help the pained yelp, falling back as you instinctively grabbed the wound, blood welling up through your clenched fingers. Yellow flashed through Chamie’s hair as his eyes seemed to clear before bleeding back to blue, to purple to a dark color you had never seen any of them wear before: black. He gaped at you, looked to his own hand as if it were a separate entity entirely before he reached out for you once more, looking so sorry you thought he would burst into tears right then and there, but before he could touch you the other clones swarmed around you both. Chamie was shoved back as you were dragged into someone’s arms, more shouting and hissing at the cowering clone before Chamie bolted away, half running on all fours as he fled deeper into the house.

The clones clamoured around you, half dragging you into the bathroom to rinse out the bleeding wound on your arm. Ren took charge of the situation, calling for Bee to get the medical kit for him as he gingerly checked out your wound, sighing in relief after a moment.

“Thank goodness, you won’t need to get stitches.”

“What happened today, why was everyone yelling at Chamie?” You couldn’t care less about your injury, no, you needed to know what had lead to Chamie lashing out like that. You knew he hadn’t been attacking you, but something else, something he was clearly terrified of. Chamie would never have hurt you, none of them would, you knew that. The question made Ren wince, as if ashamed of his actions now that he had calmed down but instead of answering, he instead busied himself with tending to your injury,

“Chamie half destroyed the house,” Jazz, on the other hand, didn’t hold back. “The kitchen is filled with bubbles, he fucked with the washer and dryer, pretty sure half of your clothing is ruined, and he messed with our shit.”

“He put up the puzzle I’ve been working on all this time.” Jay was pouting in the corner, but you could see a guilty light shining in his eyes. “But all of us jumping on him like that wasn’t right. He doesn’t do well with shouting...” the clones all fell silent, a chill going through them all that stopped you from pressing any further. It wasn’t until Ren finished wrapping your arm and Beetlejuice stepped through the group around you to inspect the job that the silence was broken.

“I should really clean up the mess...” Ren started shepherding the others out the door, “Someone needs to go find where Chamie holed himself up in.”

“I’ll find Chamie.” There was no room for negotiation in your tone and the clones didn’t seem surprised, though Beetlejuice didn’t move from his place in front of you.

“When he gets like this, it won’t be easy to get through to him.” It was phrased like a warning, but Beetlejuice looked resigned, as if this were something that he had tried to fix but knew that he couldn’t. “He might lash out at you again, and next time he might not recognize you in time.”

“I’ll be alright.” Even if he did lash out, you weren’t scared. Chamie needed someone to reach out to him with kindness, needed to know that you weren’t angry at him. “Ren, can you handle the laundry? Bee and Wasp, clean up the mess in the kitchen, Jazz, Cici, and Jay can put their things back in order how they like it.” The clones nodded and Beej stepped back finally, closing his eyes and focusing for a moment.

“He’s holed up somewhere cramped and dark. Pretty musty.” You thought to where in the house Chamie would feel the safest and your heart sank with the answer.

“I’ll be back.” You kissed Beej on the cheek, giving him a reassuring smile before you headed up to the attic. Your attic was tiny, more of an extra storage space than anything, but a person could fit up there if they stooped, and Chamie could definitely curl into a tight enough ball to cram himself into even the smallest space. Your fears were confirmed at the sight of a trembling black and white ball stuffed up against the wall, black and white hair swirling violently. “Chamie? Baby, it's me.” As you crawled in closer, you could hear the muffled crying grow louder in response to you. “Chamie, it’s ok, I promise.”

“No it isn’t!” Came the responding wail, anguish clear in his tone. “I hurt you! I ruined everything! You hate me!” You could hear his bones creak in protest as he curled in tighter on himself, even his flexibility was being pushed to its limits.

“I don’t hate you, look, I’m all patched up, you didn’t ruin anything. The mess is already being cleaned up and everything.” Instead of trying to touch him again you settled down with him. “I could never hate you.” Despite your words, he continued to cry, heart wrenching, body shaking wails that made you want to gather him up in your arms and never let go. Between his sobs, he spoke, the words almost unintelligible, but you strained to understand him,

“Monster..... useless... ruins everything.... she was right....” The last part caught your attention,

“Can I touch you?” You asked, the ball jolted, but he didn’t respond, so you laid a gentle hand on his back, slowly rubbing back and forth. Though he didn’t relax in the slightest, Chamie shuffled closer to you, his head almost in your lap now. “Is....” You paused, almost afraid to ask this question for fear of hurting Chamie more than he already was. “Is that what Juno told you?” His trembling worsened, but he raised his head slightly to place fully into your lap.

“She... Juno... She didn’t really like any of us, but...” His shuddered, his eyes tightly shut. “She hated me. I... I wasn’t supposed to exist, I was wrong. Demons aren’t supposed to feel and making something like me was just another sign that Boss wasn’t what she wanted him to be. When she was angry at boss she would make him bring me out and she would...” He trailed off with another shudder, his hand reaching behind himself to touch the small of his back, a sign you had seen once before but hadn’t asked what it meant. Slowly, watching him to make sure he was ok, you reached out to tug up the edge of his shirt over his back, your heart breaking at the sight. Each clone had their own scars, Beetlejuice as well, but this was bad. There was a gnarled, nasty looking scar from countless injuries as if someone had slammed something into his back countless times over the years, and it wasn’t just in one place either.

“Oh Chamie,” you pulled him in closer and despite his shaking, Chamie let himself be pulled into a hug that he returned after a moment. The demon clung to you tightly, laying his head on your shoulder as he continued to cry. "I'm going to kill her. I'm going to find whatever sandworm ate her, drag her pieces from its belly to out her back together, figure out how to resurrect a dead demon lady and then I'm going to throttle her to death." Murderous anger was a feeling you never thought you could feel, but ever since you had heard of Juno and what she had done to your demons, you didn't doubt that you could have ripped that bitch apart with your bare hands if she were to stand before you. "Chamie, listen, Juno is nothing more than a bitter old bitch who liked nothing more than to make other people miserable because she had nothing better to do with her life. She was wrong about Beetlejuice and she's wrong about you." He raised his head slightly, but wasn't meeting your eyes so you continued on. "You're such a good boy that cares so deeply for everyone around him, and I'm so happy to have you in my life. You knew that I was going to do laundry today and tried to get it done for me, you knew today I had to clean up and brought out the vacuum, even if you messed up a bit you still tried and I'm so proud of you for that. I'll show you how to work everything next time and you'll do an amazing job because you're so smart and attentive that it just blows my mind that you're with me." Watery eyes finally met yours, a streak of green cutting through his hair.

"Really?" He asked weakly, you couldn't help it, you cupped his cheeks and kissed him softly.

"Really." Another tear escaped him, but a small, wobbly smile curled at his lips.

"I don't think you could pull body parts out of a sandworm. That'd take a really long, really strong fishing pole."

"Hell, I'll tie a rope around my waist and dive headfirst if I gotta." He laughed now, hugging you tighter.

"No! Sandworm spit is so gross! It smells and clings to you like a jelly!" He stuck his tongue out at the thought, making a disgusted sound.

“I’ve gotta do what I gotta do to defend my baby boy.” This time he kissed you, his cheeks still wet with tears but a laugh still at his lips.

“Thank you.” He murmured. “But I prefer my babes sandworm spit free.” He pulled you into his lap now, his arms wrapped around you and his head on your shoulder, much like how he would cling to his stuffed animals at night. “Babes?” He paused, swallowing hard as he seemed to be trying to gather the words he needed. “I love you.” Your heart skipped a beat, tears gathering in your eyes now too.

“I love you too, Chamie.”

#clone wars #Chamie #yan writes #Beetlejuice #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice x reader

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sosa-sketch · 5 years

Text

Fright or Flight: Chapter 4

Parings: Prinxiety // Logicality // Platonic LAMP

Story Summary: Virgil and Patton investigate the New Prince Castle, when a brutal accident kills Patton. Patton wakes as a ghost and meets friendly ghoul Roman, who has been haunting the castle for 20 years. Virgil is determined to bring Patton back to life and brings Logan, the ghost expert, to help him out. Time is quickly running out, and the four must work together to undo death. If only it was as simple as Logan made it sound.

Unknown to them, a secret entity in the castle does not plan on letting them succeed.

First Chapter Previous Chapter

To Patton’s surprise, he loved the woods! The chirping sounds of birds and the scurrying of fluffy critters excited him as he matched his pace to the bubbly gurgling of the creek hidden beyond the trees. It was calming and serene. Pacifying enough to get his mind off their final destination.

Virgil, on the other hand, disagreed with Patton’s five star forest Yelp review.

“Are we there yet?” Virgil groaned, dragging his feet behind Patton.

“If we’re quick, another half hour kiddo!” Patton chirped.

Virgil sighed dramatically, yanking his hands from his purple-patched hoodie. “We’ve been walking forever, I’ve learn the true definition of drowning in sweat, and I think every car that passes us is a ephebophilic murderer.”

“E-phe-bo-philic.” Patton perplexedly sounded out.

“A pervert who would be all too happy to find two lonesome teenagers walking alone a forested road.” Virgil explained while plunging his hands back into their homey pocket abyss. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

Patton frowned emphatically and slowed his pace until him and Virgil were hiking side-by-side. “You’ve just had too much time to get into that silly ole’ head of yours. We’re just fine!” Patton reassured, grinning as an idea crossed his head.

“I know! Why don’t we play a game?”

Virgil raised a suspicious eyebrow at his direction. “What kind of game?”

“I spy! Why don’t you go first?” Patton invited.

Virgil crossed his arms in resistance. Patton pulled his favorite card and shot his puppy-eyes in return. No one was too old for a bit of distracting fun! And definitely never to broody-no matter how much black his son determined on coloring himself with.

Virgil blew a raspberry into the air and shrugged, which Patton greedily took as an enthusiastic win. “I spy with my little eyes…something black.”

“Right on brand, but at least you’re trying.” Patton quippedd. “Is it the road?”

“Nope.”

“Your hoodie?” Patton tried again.

“Nuh-uh.”

Patton craned his neck to the sky. “The birds?”

“Wrong again, pops.”

“Well what is it?” Patton eagerly gave in.

Virgil stared at him with a deadpanned expression. “It’s what we’ll see when a murderer stabs us in the back and we lose consciousness because we were so enraptured with a preschool game.

Patton ogled at Virgil, dumbfounded and disturbed. “I…appreciate your imagination. But you see, Virge, the game ‘I Spy’ is usually about others trying to figure out what you see. You know, physically? So maybe give it another go.”

Virgil lazily eyed Patton before scanning his surroundings in relent. “I spy something red.”

“It better not be blood this time.” Patton warned. “Is it my sock?”

Patton pointed at his long mismatched socks, one red, one yellow. Virgil shook his head.

Patton scanned his surroundings, thinking hard. Two pinpricks of light hidden in bushes caught his attention. “Is it those eyes in the trees?”

Virgil naturally shook his head before halting and snapping his head to the bundle of trees. “Eyes?”

“Yeah!” Pat confirmed. “I think it was a deer.”

Virgil squinted his eyes, following the direction Patton was enhtuastically pointing at. Swiftly, he took quiet steps to the cluster of evergreen.

“Virgil, don’t go in there. You might spook it away!” Patton warned.

“Deer eyes glow yellow. Not red.” Virgil apprised faintly. He stepped off the broken road and shuffled through the trees, scanning the area. The entrance to the wood was spread out and bright-if there were any animals there, he would have spotted them.

Despite the beaming sun and thick hoodie, Patton’s hand iced his skin when he briefly touched Virgil’s shoulder. “Maybe I was seeing things. Let’s just get to the castle.”

However, when Virgil met Patton’s sky blue eyes, shrunken and unsure, he took another step deeper into the wooded area. Patton had seen something, and it wasn’t an animal.

“Who’s there?” Virgil called into the trees, omitting the tremble from his words. He kept one hand on his backpack as security, despite there being nothing inside that would offer protection. With the other, he motioned Patton to wait at the edge of the road, facing the sparsely spread trees. “Stay where you are. I’m going to look around. If you can’t see me, call me and I’ll come back.”

Patton looked as if he wanted to argue, but then settled down and nodded. treading back until he returned on the aggregate. “Be careful, Kiddo.”

Feeling steadier knowing Patton was simultaneously safe and watching his back, Virgil hastened his pace deeper through the trees. were clustered enough for Virgil to have to watch his stepping, but spread out enough for Patton to spot glimpses of him through windows of wood. However, the deeper he stepped, the closer and thicker the trees became. Sunlight slowly became subdued from the overhead spanning of branches and leaves.

Surveying the area around him, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The dirt mushed around his Converse, adding filth to his worn-down shoes. The dark leaves idly dangled from their branches, softly swaying in the breeze like wind chimes. Chirping fell from the sky in undertones as red birds flew overhead. The red birds Patton was meant to spot.

Watchfully turning around in a circle, Virgil widened his eyes in investigation. Nothing caught his attention. Patton wasn’t the type to pull pranks, but he was the type of get carried away in his imagination. About to call it quits, Virgil began to take a step back.

Without warning, two spots of red blinked in the brushes, a bright contrast from the cool tones of the forest. It was far off from where Virgil stood and it only shone for a second, but Virgil had it.

He sped off to a chase where the red light flashed, hopping over fallen logs with twisted branches that prodded his legs as he fell. It was getting darker now-the trees crowded and loftier-blocking the pastel sky. Faintly, he heard Patton calling after him in the distance.

Virgil rationally understood he could be rushing after the trick of the light or a prankster. Be that as it may, Virgil’s heart was pumping with exhilaration. What were the odds that in the forest near a possibly haunted castle, both Patton and Virgil spotted gleaming red orbs?

“Is anywhere here?” Virgil called into the woods, slowing to a stop. He hastily fished out his phone, pressing record. A small line of light pierced the wood as Virgil scanned his camera in front of him.

A sharp crack erupted from his left, abrupt and quick. Virgil swiveled to the left and held out his phone. A stick laid in the dirt, snapped in half. The black hairs on his pale arm stood up straight, each an individual sensor for any sudden sound or movement.

“If that was you, can you give me another sign?” Virgil stood tensely, awaiting another indicator. Upon utter stillness, he suggested, “Make a leaf from the tree in front of me fall if you broke the stick.”

Virgil craned his neck upwards, scanning the leaves of the broad overhead tree. Leisurely, almost tauntingly, a single leaf unlatched itself from its twig and fluttered down gracefully. Virgil followed the movement with his phone’s light. The narrow leaf landed on Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil attempted to calm himself down. Not from fear, but from excitement. This was the closest he had gotten to a response affirming a self-aware entity. And the entity was communicating with him personally, manipulating responses to make their answer clear. This was a big deal! This is what Virgil expected ghost hunting to be like!

“My name is Virgil Storme,” he introduced. “What’s your name?”

A soft whisper rasped, coarse and hoary. As if the voice had not been used in a long time, and it was testing out its tongue once more. Pausing deeply after each syllable, the voice croaked, “Roman. Prince.”

Roman Prince? The Roman Prince? One of the tragic victims from the New Prince Castle’s brutal murder?

Okay. Relax. As long as he didn’t screw things up, this could happen.

“Hello, Roman. Are you from-” Ring! Ring!

Virgil jumped as his phone violently buzzed. Patton’s contact flashed on the phone, loudly beeping. Irritated would be an understatement as Virgil answered loudly, “What, Patton?”

“What do you mean, ‘what, Patton?’” Patton yelled, equally loud and much more aggravated. “I’ve called you at least five times! I can’t see you at all. You’ve had me worried sick!”

Virgil furrowed his brow in confusion, checking his phone log. His last call had been from Remy this morning. “I have no missed calls from you. The signal must have been jacked up.”

“I don’t care!” Patton cried. “You just went running off into the middle of the forest where I can’t see you. You ignore me when I’m calling after you. You were supposed to stay in my sight.”

Virgil guiltily ran his sweaty palm through his hair. “I’m sorry for worrying you, Pat. But, I think I really got something here.”

Promising to head back, Virgil hung up and sighed at his phone. The video had stopped. At least Roman spoke before Patton called-right in the nick of time as well.

“Roman?” Virgil called. “Are you still here?” Steady silence answered Virgil. The cold weight that was brought upon the entity’s presence had lifted. The manifestation had disappeared.

Still, Virgil had a name. And a connection. Roman Prince from the New Prince Castle.

This investigation might be the one to finally unlock his answers of the paranormal. Finally, Virgil would win.

The sun was slowly setting, casting warm hues onto the early evening sky. Remy gently hobbled up and down in his seat as they headed down the bumpy road. Soft, classical music drifted from the car’s radio.

“Can you believe it? They walked! Walked! Alone in the woods; like a couple of white guys!”

Logan shot Remy a questioning glance. “They are a couple of white guys.”

“Yeah, but I’ve practically raised Virgil-bringing him coffee and letting him inside my house at four in the morning. He should have some Hispanic blood running through his veins. Where are his street smarts?”

Logan sighed, keeping his eyes on the road. Remy and Logan’s father were relatively close. Remy knew Logan since he was a kid. When Logan’s father received a call from Remy asking for a ride, he had sent Logan to pick him up and drop him off at his shop.

Remy has been huffing about today’s former events since Logan had arrived to pick him up. In the back of Logan’s vehicle, Remy’s sad excuse of a car was being towed. “If you are so wound up about them walking to the castle, why did you grace them with your consent to proceed?”

Remy crossed his arms, pouting. “Gurl, don’t you think I tried to stop them? But, at the end of the day, I’m just Virgil’s fun, sexy roommate. I’m not the boss of him. And when Virgil sets his mind to something, he does it.” Remy pulled his hazel locks. “It’s so irritating!”

When a silence settled over the pair, Remy could feel Logan’s calculating eyes fall upon him, studying his body movement, his words. Remy shifted uncomfortably, but kept his back facing Logan as he stared out the window. Remy felt like a textbook under his gaze.

Finally, Logan seemed to reach his conclusion. Clicking his tongue, he determined, “You’re upset.”

Remy harshly glared at Logan, feathers riled up and fuming. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“However,” Logan enunciated, “I do not believe it’s because Virgil and Patton took a walk in order to arrive to their destination.”

“Oh wise one, please enlighten me on how you reached that conclusion.” Remy sarcastically pleaded.

“Because you and I know that Virgil can take care of himself-you have seen it countless of times. Additionally, the circumstances in which the are embarking on their travels is more than suitable. They left well during the earlier hours of daylight, they have all the supplies they would need for survival, and if there was any danger, they would easily be able to call you.” Logan explained, ticking down each factor on the list with a soft hit on the driving wheel.

“You wouldn’t get it.” Remy mumbled. “You don’t feel things like other people.”

“Just because I am more logical than most does not mean I don’t feel.” Logan defended, voice slightly rising. “I just believe you are upset and need to see things from a different perspective-hence, my explanation.”

“Yeah, okay.” Remy conceded, shooting Logan an apologetic smile. “You’re right. Thanks for trying, nerd.”

Logan seemed perplexed as whether Remy was genuinely expressing his gratitude or if he was as the butt of another insult. It was a bit of both.

“Not to, as the saying goes, ‘stick my nose where it doesn’t belong,’ but you had mentioned having history with the New Prince Castle. Does that, perhaps, have something to do with you exaggerated concern?”

“Sayings exist for a reason, Lo. I didn’t have a good experience with that castle when I was younger. I just want the kid and his friend to stay safe.”

Logan took the hint and let the conversation die. Remy suddenly felt awfully tired, and he wasn’t up to make small talk, and he definitely wasn’t up for nerd talk, so instead he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window.

“Thanks for the ride, hun.” Remy mumbled.

“You are very welcome, Remy. Do not hesitate to give me a call if you’re in need.”

Remy pictured the New Prince Castle in his head from his childhood. Colorful and full of life. Everyone gave it their all to make the castle come to life. He wondered what the castle looked like now, aged and abandoned. Covered in dust and mold with only remnants of what it once been.

No matter how it looked now, it could not be uglier than what is used to be.

Taglist: @suspicious-sweaters @septicstarlight

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders fanfic #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #remy sanders #ghost story #adventure #LAMP #platonic lamp #prinxiety #logicality #deceit sanders #CALM #sanders side fic #fluff #angst

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vantaelier · 4 years

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BU Theory Time : Taehyung — by 美

It’s been made clear countless times that Taehyung isn’t just your regular troubled and traumatized teen. Points have been made from the RUN MV moving forward. The notes have accounted for Taehyung’s childhood. This leads me to believe that instead of Taehyung being a different entity entirely, he might’ve been a normal human being up until some certain point.

After analyzing all the certified BU content in order, or even without doing so, it’s clear that a turning point (quite literally) happened during the RUN MV.

Prior to the RUN MV, we have the Onstage : Prologue video that shows us Taehyung seemingly leaping towards the sun from the platform but we can assume he ultimately fell down into the sea. Gravity exempts no one.

In the Blood, Sweat, and Tears MV, Taehyung’s actions are compared to The Fall of Icarus. It is solidified when he appears as a being who’s wings have been burned off.

Something that truly did happen in the BU timeline however is the scene of Taehyung drowning. At the end of the music video, we see him looking back into the camera and though we could believe that was just for visual purposes, what if he truly did see something down there?

It makes you especially curious when you remember that at the very end of the credits we see him emerging from the water as if he never fought a battle for his life down there. Something definitely happened in the water.

Something peculiar we know about BU Taehyung is that he can see the events that happen in all Seokjin’s time traveling endeavors in his dreams. We still have no clear answer as to why he can do that but I think a lot of us have assumed it was because Taehyung was the entity that got Seokjin into this entire mess.

Truth be told, I’m no different but I definitely do think that the emotions he’s felt because of the dreams wasn’t just a front he was putting up. I do think he still is as human as the rest of them. He’s just being used as a vessel.

A clear takeaway from the Japanese version of the BST MV and the recent SY Final VCR is that whatever entity takes over Taehyung’s body, it has no sense of time and it lurks in the shadows.

In the Japanese Ver. of the BST MV, we see Taehyung moving in the dark past paused members and it is only in his Speak Yourself Final VCR where we don’t see any device that tells time. Hm... dots are connecting...

Singularity (n.) - a point at which a function takes an infinite value, especially in space-time when matter is infinitely dense, as at the center of a black hole.

Taehyung has fallen and in the pit he has fallen into, there is no escape. It’s getting harder to deny — Taehyung must be a fallen angel.

He’s even been depicted as one. From the Wings Era up until today where we’ve just seen him rock a coat of raven black feathers, it’s pretty clear what they’re making him out to be.

Other signs can be found in his graffiti. We know now from his notes that he illustrates what he “dreams”. In his recently released note in the Year 22, he drew a portrait of the scarily empty face Seokjin was wearing in his dream. We’ve seen him create images of Abraxas before in his Wings Short Film so by rule of logic … he has seen Abraxas.

Of course the possibility of Taehyung being 100% human and unaware of the circumstances is considerable. Where in an attempt to escape the world, he meets him and unknowingly invites Abraxas to use him as a vessel of sorts. He isn’t aware of this and goes through confusing experiences as he dreams at night.

But, the reason why I rule this out is because he’s held a Smeraldo flower. He himself has an untold truth.

Taehyung, out of all the characters in this universe, was the most transparent character from the very start. Though he might have not told anyone in the BU about his father’s abusive tendencies, from our perspective, he was the easiest and the first one we could crack among all the members. Because of this, the reason behind his untold truth must be something other than the abuse. He is more than that. He is not merely human.

Think about it. We were introduced to all these characters in the I Need U MV.

Back then, we never knew there was more to Namjoon than his job at the gas station, we never knew why Hoseok collapsed on a bridge, we STILL don’t know why Jimin nearly drowns himself in the bath, Yoongi might’ve well been an arsonist & Jungkook could’ve just been a kid who got into some trouble on his way home.

They all had very vague roles except for Taehyung. He clearly was dealing with an abusive father and in the original version of the MV, we see him dealing with him in the worst way possible.

It truly may be right to assume that Taehyung became a fallen angel when he fell into the cold water to end it all; to erase the stigma. And in that cold frozen lake water, he might’ve encountered a being that woud allow him to fix it all for a price — his body.

He may be in the same position as Seokjin and Jungkook. However, I think that it’s still a little too early to rule out the possibility of him being the entity that caused this whole mess as well…

I haven’t drawn a conclusion on that part of Taehyung yet. But then again, it’s never wrong to keep your options open ESPECIALLY with BigHit. It’s never really quite what it seems yet sometimes it’s exactly as it seems. There’s no telling what’s true or not unless they confirm it themselves.

The notes that they’ve released so far have only been touching on the time travel aspect. But we know through the Japanese version of the Blood, Sweat, and Tears and Spring Day MVs that there are parallel universes that are at play as well. And with this, shall I move on to my next theory?

p.s. i posted this on my twitter as a thread but i felt it was way too messy. it’s better posted here — twt : vantemei

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shaylybaby2032 · 5 years

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Let Me Be Your Lighthouse

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: Explicit/18+

Pairing: Gabriel x OFC

A/N: Please do not copy my work to any platform without my permission, even if giving credit.

Warnings: Eventual smut, physical/mental abuse, angst, fluff, language

Summary: A Duke of Hell wants to use Gabriel for his own nefarious plans and makes a deal with the Empty Enitity to bring the Archangel back from the dead. But, when Gabriel escapes, the Duke must reach deep into his arsenal to try and track him down. Not long after Gabriel's great escape, Sam and Dean race to save a fellow hunter who has been captured by demons and, after rescuing her, convince the woman to let them help her get rid of the demons hot on her heels. While the two occurrences seem unrelated at first, they may have more in common than any of them realize.

"A wise man once told me, 'family don't end in blood.' But it doesn't start there either. Family cares about you, not what you can do for them. Family's there; for the good, bad, all of it. They got your back, even when it hurts." -Dean Winchester

Chapter 1: Unexpected Return

The full moon hung low in the night sky over the large patch of deserted dirt in Fort Collins, Colorado that had once been an attempt at a cornfield. The former owner of the land hadn't expected this particular patch of land to be so deprived of the nutrients required to grow grass, much less the crop he had staked his financial well-being upon. He had become quite aware of the losing battle when the ground had all but spit out the yellow kernels as black and hollow husks. If he had been aware of the door that laid deep below the surface of the ground he had been trying to grow the plants in, he would probably have gone running for the hills, or the nearest church.

Unfortunately, there was no way he could have known that the very energy seeping into the ground making it volatile would find its way in to his own mind during the single year he spent trying to make the decision to dump all of his money into the plot a worthwhile choice. There was no way he could have known that exactly one year after he first set foot on to the place that he would be sitting in the local mental institution staring blankly at a wall mumbling about a void no human was ever meant to see.

When he died less than three weeks later, the bank had put a “For Sale” sign on the land. It stuck up from the ground until the elements faded the bright writing away, and it became one of those properties that fell through the cracks as it shuffled around in the system of more appealing purchases.

That was, until almost a decade later, when a man in an expensive five-piece suit walked into the bank asking to speak with the president of the establishment. The man was charming enough to disarm anyone he was speaking with in a way that, had anyone really been paying attention to the ease in which it happened, would have made them fear for their very souls. They hadn't noticed, however, and before long the engaging man with professionally short midnight hair and piercing, dark brown eyes had the female bank president completely enthralled.

It wasn't the sharp and attractive features of his face that drew her in. No, she was far too smart to be taken in by a pretty face and a fancy suit. Years of dealing with business men and women had sharpened her skill of rifling through bullshit and pipe dreams. It was his confidence that drew her in at first, and it slowly mixed in with an attribute she couldn't quite describe. After having checked the credentials he had given her, she discovered he had more than enough money to pay the offer he had presented to her for the property. It was an offer that was more than quadruple the listing price.

While she couldn't see the appeal of the dead piece of land that sat on the outskirts of her town hidden by brush and now overgrown woods, she had finally accepted his offer. When he smiled his approval, her stomach dropped to her feet. The gesture had sent a sense of unnerving through her that had her hair standing on end, and could only be described as wicked. He hadn't given her a chance to go back on her acceptance of his offer, and he grasped her hand in a handshake to seal the deal. She had fought with everything she had not to jerk away when she came in contact with his cold skin. The connection made an overwhelming sense of dread crash over her so hard that she could have sworn the light in the room hit his eyes in way that made them appear to be deep black orbs, threatening to drag her down.

As the suited man walked out onto the moonlit field, that same wicked smile was painted on his face. After all these years he had found the doorway, one that he was sure God had loathed having to make after his Archangel had fallen and created those first dark beings. His eyes flashed to black again as he pulled a glass jar of dark red liquid from a pocket inside his suit jacket. He walked in a circle as he poured the thick substance onto the ground in the shape of sigils that predated even the earliest Sumerian cuneiform. All the while he chanted a language long since dead enough to not be in any written form. When he had completed the circle, the ground beneath him began to rumble and he stepped outside of the markings just as they began to glow with an eerie black hue.

Thunder rolled above his head and lightning lit up the sky as the dirt within the circle began to shift and swirl. A thick tar like substance started to bubble up from the dirt, jerking and spasming as it was drawn to the center like metal to a magnet. The substance pooled and started to build on itself, slowly forming a humanoid shape. With another crash of thunder, the vile liquid crashed back into the ground to reveal an exact copy of the suited man standing in the center of the circle with pure loathing etched into his features.

“Eligos,” the copy growled, addressing the man that summoned it. “To what do I owe the annoyance of being called on by a mighty Duke of Hell.” it's voice held a disgusted tone as it mocked the being in front of it. “Had I been sleeping when you called I would have dragged you down to my domain on sheer principle, so I advise you to tread lightly.”

Eligos bowed respectfully as he spoke. “Oh great being of the Empty, please, pardon my intrusion, but, I am in need of your assistance.”

“MY ASSISTANCE?!” the Empty Entity barked. “WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I WOULD WASTE MY TIME WITH THE LIKES OF YOU?!”

“Because I will make it worth your while,” Eligos said cooly, not even phased by the primal shout that had come from the being in front of him as he straightened his posture. “I have discovered that you know a good deal when one presents itself.”

The Empty Entity regarded the Duke with interest, though it's ire was still prominent. “What is it that you want, Eligos. My patience is already thin. Don't make it worse.”

“The Archangel, Gabriel.”

The Empty threw it's head back in a spurt of laughter so sinister that the wildlife around the area, had there been any dumb enough to wander close, would have scurried away in haste. “Why would I even entertain the idea of freeing an Archangel?”

“Because I offer two of my sixty legions of demonic soldiers for him.”

The Empty scoffed at his bargain. “Twelve thousand demon souls for an ARCHANGEL?! Even one as broken as Gabriel is worth far more than that.”

“Then name your price,” Eligos insisted, his calm exterior never faltering.

“What use could you have for an Archangel with low grace and a hefty dose of PTSD? Your superior really did quite the number on him. But, you know that. Asmodeus confided in you and you alone about his pet, among other things.”

For the first time Eligos’ still presentation faltered as his eyebrow arched in questioning.

“I receive the memories of each being that comes to my domain,” the Empty explained before he could ask. “Asmodeus was sick, even by my standards. I will only ask one more time why you want one of his broken toys.”

“Gabriel's low grace makes him vulnerable and open to... persuasion.”

“I see. You understand how devastatingly wrong darkening an angel can go, correct?”

“I have the means to control him once he's mine.”

The Empty crossed it's arms over it's chest as the being contemplated the request made by the Duke. “I want half.”

“HALF?!” Eligos spat, his tranquil demeanor completely falling. “You want HALF of my army?!”

“Yes,” The Empty confirmed. “A hundred and eighty thousand demon souls should fit the bill.”

Eligos snarled as he bit back on the expletive words on the tip of his tongue. He took a second to center himself again before he spoke. “Deal.”

“Not quite. You still need to...what's the saying? Ah, yes, sweeten the pot.”

“What else could you possibly want?!”

“Oh, you know exactly what I want.”

Realization crashed down on to the Duke and he glared at the entity before him. “You know I can't give you that.”

“I'm well aware of the rules, Eligos. I am, however, the one that had to agree to them all those eons ago with that pompous idiot that plagued the universe with his perverse creations. I am also very much conscious of your connection with what I want. If anyone can make it happen, it's you. Or...do you doubt your control over the abomination?”

“No!” Eligos spat. “She will do as I say. But, only after I have Gabriel how I want him.”

“Fair enough,” the Empty said as he closed the distance between them and extended his hand toward the demon Duke.

Eligos grasped his offered hand and shook. Thunder crashed as lightning streaked the sky, the sound causing the ground to shake. Swirling black smoke filled the air above their heads as the sound of desperate screaming ripped around the area. With another clap of thunder, the black cloud was sucked into the circle on the ground and disappeared beneath the dirt.

***

Gabriel sucked in a harsh breath as his eyes shot open. Pain seared through his skull as his blurry vision started to focus on... nothing. A complete black void surrounded him, yet somehow he laid on a sturdy surface. He jerked to a sitting position as he clutched at his chest, searching for the wound that he was sure had ended his life. He was shocked to find his body free of blood or the hole he knew he should have. He was certain he had died. Wasn't he?

“Yes, you are definitely dead,” a voice drawled from behind him.

A voice he knew well, and the sound of it took him completely off guard as he scrambled to his feet to whirl around. He then came face to face with... himself?

“What the hell?” Gabriel whispered.

“Not exactly,” he watched the other him say. “Just your friendly neighborhood primordial being.”

It finally dawned on the Archangel with whom he was speaking to. “You're the Empty Entity.”

“DING DING DING! Give the angel a prize!”

“Why am I awake?” Gabriel asked, then rolled his eyes as a thought occurred to him. “Winchesters. What have those idiots broken now?”

“Oh, trust me angel, you are going to wish it was those boys that bargained for your broken being.”

The next thing Gabriel's mind registered was the feeling of being thrown to the ground as his body forcefully coughed up the dirt that had somehow found its way into his lungs. Slowly he started to realize there was a breeze. There had been nothing but stillness in the Empty and the sudden change had his head jerking up even as his coughing persisted.

He was back on Earth.

His Earth.

He was alive.

Why?!

That's when fire erupted in a circle around him, flames he quickly recognized as holy fire. A growl rose from his chest as he pushed himself to his feet, facing the figure that was now illuminated by the flames. Rage rushed through the Archangel's system at the sight of the Demon Duke.

“Eligos,” he snarled.

“Gabriel!” Eligos retorted with mock excitement. “So nice to see you up and moving, though I think I preferred you chained with your mouth sewn shut.”

“I swear I'll incinerate you where you stand-”

“And how do you plan on doing that while you are trapped in holy fire with low grace?”

Gabriel's eyes flicked up to the sky at the dark storm clouds that had moved in. He turned back to the Duke with a smirk on his face. “I do believe it looks like rain.”

As the last word left his mouth, mother nature smiled on him and the first drops of rain started to fall. They landed on the fire with a sizzle that caused the flames to jump.

“Only a matter of time,” Gabriel continued. “Even low on grace, I'll have no problem doing away with you.”

Eligos barked out a laugh as he gestured to the Enochian symbols around the outside of the fire that the Archangel had missed in his anger. He studied the symbols closely for a moment. They had been altered with dark magic, a sinister power that he hadn't seen since before Lucifer had been locked away. His stomach dropped as he realized what the Duke intended to do and his eyes shot back to him.

“You see, Gabriel,” Eligos started, “that fire won't matter once I've darkened what little grace still resides within you, because then you will be mine to control.”

“NO!” Gabriel shouted, frantically looking around for a way to deter the Duke's plan.

“Yes!” Eligos said as an evil cackle started to flow from him.

He started to chant in a language that was a mix of Enochian and Latin, causing the sigils around Gabriel to glow and the holy fire to roar to a size that towered over his head. Immense pressure punched into his chest, sending him to his knees. He could feel the magic seeping through the fire and into his vessel. He fought against the parasitic force with every ounce of strength he had, but he could feel it invading into the very sense of who and what he was. Could feel it twisting around his grace, forcing the shadow of his large wings to blaze forth into existence. The flames licked and sighed at his shadowed feathers and an idea formed through the suffocating pain it caused. He had no choice. He couldn't allow himself to become what this magic was trying to drag him towards.

He wouldn't allow it.

With a renewed strength he contributed to the pure adrenaline of the moment, he reached behind his back and grasped at his own wing. His fingers knotted into the soft shadowed feathers, and with one last breath to accept what he was about to do, he pulled. With twisting and wrenching motions he jerked on his wing with all his might, the pain exploding into his being and blurring his vision. A feeling like magma being poured into his vessel stampeded through his body, making his throat constrict and his feathered appendages jerk of their own accord almost like they were trying to escape. He was vaguely aware of Eligos’ failed attempts at coming through the amped holy fire to stop him, but when the base of his wing separated from not only his vessel but his very being, a scream of agony ripped from his lips that sent the ground trembling. The blur of his vision turned to complete darkness for a split second before he pulled himself back from the edge of unconscious by pure will alone. He wouldn't succumb and let this demon win. Not again! Not ever again! Eligos crashed to the ground as Gabriel started the same process with his other wing. When it, too, was torn from him, both wings burned to ash as his grace shot out from the gaping wounds in his back. The ash and grace swirled around him, dousing the flames with a force that sent the Duke flying through the air out of sight and leveling everything within a twenty mile radius.

There was silence, then, as his grace shot into the sky and vanished.

Gabriel was left lying flat on his stomach, gasping for air. The wounds on his back had somehow been healed, but he still felt the agonizing emptiness from what he had done. His skin was covered in a thick layer of sweat as nausea rolled through his stomach threatening to spill the bile that his stomach now created. His body trembled as he forced himself to roll to his back, trying to control his breath and attempting to grasp what he now was.

Human.

Chapters 1 through 3 are up on Ao3. Continue reading here...

#gabriel spn #gabriel #gabriel x ofc #gabriel smut #gabriel fanfic #gabriel supernatural #spn fanfic #spn #supernatural #fanfic

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fullmetalscullyy · 5 years

Text

My Every Road Leads To You - Chapter 2

Detective Roy Mustang is brought in to head the case of a high-profile kidnapping. The Hawkeye family’s daughter is being held for ransom and he is tasked with finding her before tragedy strikes.

Rated: T

Words: 1415

part 1 | part 2 - your light gets me through | part 3

read on ao3 and ffnet

and in the hour of darkness darlin'

your light gets me through

“What’s the report, Mustang?” Grumman asked tiredly. Despite his obvious worry and exhaustion, the Captain lowered himself into the chair behind his desk with his usual composure, sharp eyes watching him from behind his glasses. He hadn’t given up on this case in the last three days Roy had worked it. Grumman offered his assistance where he could, shelving all other cases, which had been approved by the Captain’s superiors.

“We’ve narrowed it down to three suspects. All male. Late twenties. Our prime suspect goes by the name Frankie Grey. He may be working as part of a group, we’re not sure yet, however we’re close to pinpointing a location. There’s no house address in any records. He’s been a drifter for a while. Havoc has been looking back on his bank records for the past few years and there was a purchase made in the warehouse district. I’ve tasked Breda with tracing the property to find out if he still owns it.”

“Why is Grey the main suspect?”

“He was spotted near Riza’s apartment building on the building CCTV the night of her disappearance. He entered around eight thirty and the cameras never picked up him leaving again, however they went down for four hours between nine and one. Riza’s neighbours mentioned a disturbance around nine o’clock.”

“Okay. Good work.”

“I’ve put Fuery and Falman on a stakeout of the warehouse. There’s been no sign of Grey moving to the property yet, however he has been making coded phone calls to two other men – Fuery managed to bug his phone using some kind of new technology,” Roy further explained. “It’s definitely suspicious, sir.”

“Can we bring him in then?”

“Not yet, sir. We don’t have any concrete evidence to warrant for an arrest.” Grumman made a frustrated sound and Roy didn’t take it to heart. “Give us another hour or two, Havoc will be able to confirm if that warehouse is his, and if that’s where we can find him.”

Grumman sighed, his exhaustion showing. “Excellent work, and sorry to take out my frustration on you. Let’s suit up.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Mustang?” Havoc called as they exited Grumman’s office. “The warehouse is Grey’s,” Havoc confirmed, approaching him with a piece of paper. “The realtor just sent this over.” Roy took it, anticipation pooling in his stomach. It was an email of the deeds Grey had signed for the property. They had finally got him. “Also,” Havoc continued. “Two months ago, he applied for planning permission with the local council and the councillor I spoke to confirmed they were still in talks with Grey to this day. In fact, he just phoned them yesterday and was rather aggressive about the fact they were withholding his progress for whatever he wanted built.”

“This is it, then,” Grumman announced.

“Yes, sir. Whether Riza is being held there or not, I’m not sure, however, I don’t imagine it would be anywhere else. The building is isolated, the main entrance out of view.”

“This must be it,” Roy muttered. He really hoped it was, however, that wasn’t how the world worked. They would have to wait for confirmation, but it was at least a start to begin searching. “He’s a definite suspect,” Roy stated to the other two detectives. “With this we can question him at least.”

“Let’s go,” the Captain commanded, expression setting into determination.

* * *

“Can I help you?” Grey asked, his tone betraying his irritability.

Roy and Havoc were already at the warehouse. Grumman was ten minutes out and would remain on standby, out of view, behind the building next door with a squad in case they were needed. Underneath his black overcoat, Roy was equipped with a bulletproof vest and armed to the teeth in case this went south.

They both flashed their badges. “Frankie Grey?” Roy asked. The suspect didn’t confirm or deny his identity, but Roy noticed how his grip tightened on the doorframe. He had barely opened the door, so they were unable to see into the gloom behind him, the light from outside barely able to permeate it. “Central PD,” Roy continued. “Detective Roy Mustang and Detective Jean Havoc. May we ask you some questions?” His tone was polite however Roy didn’t feel like Grey deserved it. Ever since they had arrived his expression had remained sour, offering no indication he was willing to help.

Their conversation was short and sweet, Grey answering their questions and giving an alibi as to why he was in the victim’s apartment building – something they would need to check up on.

“He’s the prime suspect,” Roy muttered as they walked away, schooling his anger. If he had his way, he would have arrested the man right now, however they were still waiting on confirmation he had taken Riza.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket. “Mustang,” he answered.

“Roy!” Fuery called frantically. “Grey’s on the phone now,” he revealed. There was a flurry of activity in the background of the call. “He’s saying “we need to move her”.” Roy’s stomach tightened, his breathing stopping momentarily. This is it. He had already turned around, back towards the door as he reached for his gun. Without a word, Havoc removed his own weapon from its holster.

“Mustang,” Fuery urged. “She’s in there. There was a muffled woman’s scream then Grey stopped it. You need to go.”

“Get back up here, now.”

“Already here,” Grumman barked, rounding the corner. Roy had never seen such rage on his face before. With the squad composed, Roy nodded and readied himself in front of the door.

* * *

Roy Mustang… That name poked something in Riza’ mind, something very old. She wasn’t sure why the name was familiar, her mind frantically trying to make a connection as she shuffled in place. The handcuffs rattled against the metal and Riza cringed at the sound. Her mind took a while to kick into gear, having been stagnant for the last few days.

Riza was sure her sanity was slipping away. Between the isolation, complete darkness, and both the verbal and physical abuse she had received in the hands of her captors, it was no wonder.

But that name… It sparked something within her. There was a memory from years ago. From school? Trying to conjure up a face to go with that name yielded no results.

Riza shook herself. Now was not the time.

Regardless, he was a detective, along with this Jean Havoc. They would help her. They would get her out of here and away from him.

Hope gave her strength as she rattled the handcuffs, trying to make enough noise they would notice her. It didn’t work. They kept talking. With a frustrated whine, she settled back down, wincing as she rolled her aching shoulders. Frankie had kept her here for days in the same position. Her body was a constant throbbing entity, desperate for release and a chance to lie down and rest.

That may never come, Riza, if you don’t do something right now.

A slam jolted her from her daydream. The sound of the metal door closing made her panic. The feeling had been dormant within her for today, which was a nice change. It had been her constant companion since Grey took her from her home.

Frankie had been a friend from her university days. She had invited him over for a coffee the night the bastard had taken her, only for him to turn on Riza and attack her, unprovoked, screaming about something to do with her father. Riza hadn’t understood it. She hadn’t seen her father in years either, since she left high school, so had no idea what was so bad it would prompt Frankie to kidnap her. Her leg ached at the memory. To stave off the rising panic, she quickly forced it from her mind.

Focus.

The detectives were gone. They were leaving.

Grey wasn’t going to kill her. They needed her alive to get the money from her father. Once the money came through though, all bets were off. If she didn’t take this chance, she would die. Riza had nothing left to lose, after all.

With the gag in her mouth, Riza took a chance, hoping that it would be loud enough. Filling her lungs with as much oxygen as she could muster, Riza screamed as loud as she could.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #emma writes #my every road leads to you #camp nano 2019 #royai au

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jarienn972 · 6 years

Text

The Inbetween - Chapter Five

Time for the next chapter of my ghostly @cssns tale! The cliffhanger that ended the previous chapter is quickly revealed and you’ll find that it is partially resolved, but our heroes aren't out of danger yet. There’s just one chapter left after this one. Once again, thanks to @kmomof4 and the rest of the event organizers for a summer filled with amazing supernatural tales and thank you @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 for the header and the character art!

AO3 FF.net Tumblr: One Two Three Four

What the hell just happened? Emma found herself asking for the umpteenth time tonight. There's been a brilliant burst of light and a blast of air that nearly knocked them off of the sofa, but honestly - what really happened? She had witnessed similar signs from curses breaking, whether from a True Love's Kiss or whatever the hell else broke curses around here, but this was an entirely different type of curse. Would the curse breaking to free the trapped spirits look or feel the same?

Sensing that her magic was still intact - for the moment, at least, Emma gave a quick swish of her hand to bring the candles back to life. Beside her, Killian was hunched over with his head lowered to his knees and arms still drawn tightly over his ears. "You okay?" she asked, giving his shoulder a little nudge.

Killian drew his head up hesitantly, his eyelids tentative in their opening before he dared lower his arms. "It's quiet…" he whispered, sounding befuddled by that very revelation.

"You don't hear the voices anymore?" Emma asked, hopeful the spell had been a success, but not rushing to inform David or Regina until she was certain.

"I don't believe so...," Killian replied, intently listening for any voices present aside from his wife's. "I think Regina's spell just might have worked…" His voice trailed off as Emma noticed his eyes were locked in an icy stare, but she couldn't tell what he was focused on.

But trying to figure out precisely what Killian was staring at became less important as she became aware of a presence attempting to fill the space between them. "What the hell?" she exclaimed as she felt something trying to force its way between Killian and herself, but even though she was feeling as though that same something was trying to push her away, her husband appeared oblivious to it. "Killian?" she called out to him, but he just sat there, seemingly entranced by whatever was still in this room with them. "Killian!" She shouted his name once again as a chill enveloped her.

The temperature inside the mansion hadn't exactly been balmy all night, but it now seemed to have dropped at least another ten degrees in mere seconds. She knew that all of the windows in the room were closed and even though there had been a blast of wind that had blown through the room just moments ago, it hadn't been this cold. She thought about what they could be experiencing and all that came to mind was that there must still be a spirit here that didn't cross over - one that was suddenly manifesting its presence. It was also blatantly trying to separate her from Killian by inserting an invisible barrier between their bodies, but she'd been prepared for it this time.

"Oh, hell no!" she cried out, directing her words to the unseen spirit. "Not this time, pal…" If this thing was trying to possess Killian again, it wasn't happening. Earlier, when she'd healed the majority of his injuries from the tumble down the stairs, she'd snuck in a protection spell blocking any entity from gaining control of Killian's body again. She doubted even a virus could sneak in right now and that was perfectly fine with her. She hadn't trusted Jeremiah or any of his other ghostly friends to keep their word and not take another turn at controlling the pirate against his will. A quick-thinking modification of the protective spell she'd placed on his heart long ago to prevent Gold or anyone else from taking it had been a potentially brilliant idea, but she had no way to measure its success or failure unless a ghost tried to possess him once more.

Now, with him transfixed - some sort of magic attempting to exert influence over him - she would get her answer, but if her plan was successful, it also meant that they'd be dealing with a very pissed off ghost - and she was definitely right about that. The presence she felt trying to repel her from Killian was exerting increasing force, reaching a point where the pressure was so great it actually tipped over the sofa, sending both Emma and Killian tumbling to the parquet floor. Emma recovered almost instantly, rolling off of the upended sofa and drawing herself into a ready-for-action crouch (not that it would be particularly effective against an invisible enemy). Hampered by the prior head injury, Killian didn't get up quite as quickly, struggling against the sensation of blood rushing to his already pounding skull which left him slightly disoriented. Fortunately, at least the impact with the floor had broken the trance. He toppled over onto his side in attempt to right himself, but couldn't seem to muster the strength to push himself even to his knees.

But what Killian didn't realize was that he wasn't just fighting against his own vertigo - something was intentionally trying to keep him pinned down. It took Emma only seconds to realize that the entity was still attacking him. Oh, no you don't, she thought as she propelled herself forward, grabbing a fistful of the soft, black leather that made up the collar of Killian's jacket and yanking him off of the fallen sofa. The abrupt movement caught him off-guard, leaving him slightly dazed until he regained his senses. One thing was absolutely certain though - they were definitely not alone in this room.

And this ghost wasn't playing nice anymore.

Angered, the spirit diverted its attention from the couple, instead focusing its energy on objects in the parlor - starting with small items it could easily manipulate as it worked toward larger ones. Emma's thermos suddenly became a projectile launched at her head and while it was easily deflected, there were undoubtedly going to be more.

"I'm thinking that maybe we should get out of here…," Emma suggested, although she truthfully had no idea where they could go in this blasted house that would be safe.

"I don't think that this spirit intends to allow us to leave here, Love," Killian replied as he regained his wits. "Our unseen companion is rather upset that you prevented him from possessing my being again - and thank you for that, by the way."

"So, it's the same spirit? The one who called himself Jeremiah?" Emma wondered, trying to figure out why any ghosts would have been left behind if Regina's spell had been successful. Why didn't this one cross over?

"Aye," Killian confirmed. "Tis the same entity. The other voices I was hearing earlier tonight have gone silent so it appears the others have moved on…"

"Why the hell didn't Jeremiah move on?" Emma asked as they ducked an airborne urn that sailed over their heads. "Is that why he's so upset?"

"I don't think so," Killian said, shaking his head as he strained to understand the spirit's message through the chaos. "He's quite irate, but the aggression appears to be directed more towards you than anything else."

"Damn - what did Regina get wrong that kept this one here?" she questioned as the flames of the four candles she'd just re-lit flared, the flames reaching nearly the height of the taper candles themselves before they began blending together to form what looked like a mocking face in the fire. Emma waved her hand to squelch the maniacal flames with a magically guided breeze that would once again envelope them in darkness, but both would agree that they were more unnerved by the fiery visage staring back at them than they were of the dark.

"That was truly disconcerting…," he started to say as they remained frozen in place, trying to discern where the next attack might originate. In the faint light that remained, a glimpse of movement drew his eyes upward and he immediately recognized that the motion he was seeing was the parlor's chandelier swaying - and separating from the ceiling. "Swan - look out!" He cried out as the bracket that once secured the massive light fixture to the ceiling pulled free and sent the entire metal and crystal contraption plummeting to the floor. While they managed to roll out of the way of the bulk of the fixture, broken glass sprayed everywhere along with bits of bronze shrapnel.

"I think he's gotten stronger without the competition," Emma stated as she carefully brushed away the crystal shards along with the dust and cobwebs that accompanied them. "Maybe that's what he wanted all along?" she theorized, figuring it wasn't any crazier of a thought than anything else they'd faced tonight. "I think it's time we got the hell out of this house!"

"I'm in full agreement with you there, but this spirit is not about to cooperate," Killian warned. "From what I can garner, this spectre is quite incensed, yet at the same time, he appears to be gloating…"

"Gloating? Really? Look, I'm partially glad that you can still hear him," she responded, "but I'm really sorry about what it did to you…"

"We can discuss all of that later, Love," Killian assured her. "Right now, it seems our friend, Jeremiah, is in need of a recharge. These manifestations and manipulations drained his energy, so we may have a brief window of reprieve…"

"We should head back to the butler's quarters. I don't think the ghosts have invaded that part of the property because from what I saw when I was briefly in there earlier, nothing in that area seems to be even remotely enchanted." She pushed herself up to a standing position, still wary of invasive spirits and flying objects as she searched for the radio, knowing it had fallen somewhere around the overturned sofa. Killian, still on his knees, spotted it first, locating it beneath one of the loose cushions. He leaned forward to retrieve it, wrapping his fingers around the device before he finally pushed through the dizziness and forced himself to stand.

"If you think that's the best, lead the way, Love," Killian replied, extending his arm to offer the radio to her which she accepted and pocketed, certain they would need it later. She took a few steps over to the console table where the still smoldering candelabra rested, eyeing it suspiciously before daring to pick it up. They were going to need the light, but would there be residual spirit energy accompanying them if they brought it with them? After a brief hesitation (and a struggle with lingering doubt that her magic would fail again), she wriggled her fingers ever-so-slightly to re-light the wicks.

"Good thing I healed that ankle of yours," she quipped as she lifted the candelabra from the table. "We'd better move quickly before Jeremiah regains his strength. We've got to head through the kitchen to get through the butler's quarters and I really don't want to get caught in there by a pissy spirit who can move objects…"

"There'll be no argument from me," Killian assured her as they darted out of the parlor, back into the vestibule. He unintentionally kept a fair distance between himself and the curving staircase as they dashed past it, heading down the corridor that would lead to the dining hall. "Hurry, Love," he urged. "Jeremiah isn't exactly pleased with our attempts to elude him. I can hear him cursing us - and using words far less refined than those of my crew. He isn't yet prepared to throw any more parlor tricks at us yet though."

"Good. C'mon then...through here," she advised as she grabbed his hand, practically dragging him into the dining hall towards the unfurnished square anteroom, immediately noting that its door, which had been propped open earlier, was now closed. She briefly contemplated the possibility of the door being blown shut by the blast of wind moments ago or if it had been intentionally closed by ghostly manipulation. Either way, she had no intent of lingering as she gave the door a forceful kick to swing it back open and allow them to pass through. One more swinging door admitted them into the kitchen where eerie glints of candlelight reflected off of the still shiny steel, aluminum and chrome.

Emma hesitated only for a split-second as they made their way through the room Killian would have referred to as the galley, her mind suddenly invaded by images of flying pots, pans and most worrisome - knives. She shook her head vigorously to dismiss those disturbing thoughts before yanking open the final door that would take them outside onto the covered sidewalk connecting the mansion to its caretaker's residence, whispering a silent prayer that no magical barrier would stop them and then giving silent thanks as the door opened unhindered.

"Swan, we need to move faster," Killian stated anxiously as they passed through the doorway. "We have a very antagonistic spirit here that has nearly reached full strength again!"

They sprinted the remaining few yards to the detached apartment, the dwelling which Killian not-so-fondly recalled had been the Apprentice's home - at least before he'd trapped the old man inside the Crocodile's mysterious, magic-sucking hat, all while the pirate himself had been Rumplestiltskin's unwilling slave. It hadn't been one of his prouder moments, and he sensed Jeremiah taunting him with the haunting memory. Laughter echoed in Killian's ears - evil, mocking laughter that only brought further shame about his actions. Emma noticed his brooding as she shoved the door open, drawing him out of his self-imposed trance by taking hold of a fistful of his lapel and yanking him inside the apartment's living room. She gave him an forceful, almost impolite shove away from the entrance as she slammed the door behind them, turning the deadbolt lock instinctively before realizing how ridiculous that action seemed in retrospect. A deadbolt wouldn't exactly be any barrier to a ghost she thought as she stood breathlessly pressing her back to the doorframe and then two words came to mind.

"Now what?" Emma sighed loudly before pausing to catch her breath. "Can you still hear Jeremiah? What's he thinking now?"

Killian stood in the center of the Apprentice's former living room for a few seconds, listening for the ghostly voices that had plagued him all night before realizing that no - he couldn't hear anything except his own pounding heart. "No. I don't hear him, but I'm not about to believe that or let my guard down just yet. It may just be another trick."

"Hopefully not," Emma replied, unintentionally flinching at the sound of a door slamming in the distance, certain that it was Jeremiah locking them out of the main portion of the mansion. "Earlier tonight, Jeremiah said that the Apprentice knew of their presence, but since he lived here and not in the main house, maybe the old man created some sort of barrier to keep the ghost out of his home?"

"I hope you're correct," Killian replied, massaging his aching temples as he dropped his exhausted body onto the dust-covered, faded plaid sofa. "I'm not certain how much more my head can take…"

"Maybe the Apprentice has some aspirin or something stashed around here?" she suggested, trying to determine where the bathroom might be as she hadn't made it past this room earlier.

"I'll be fine, Swan. Question is - can we leave the property from here without traipsing back through the main house?"

"I don't know, but…" Her train of thought trailed off as the radio in her pocket came to life and she heard the muffled sound of her father's voice.

"Emma? Hook?" David voice pleaded anxiously. "Are either of you able to hear me?" She suddenly realized that while they were trying to remain a step ahead of a ghost, David had been sitting out in front of the mansion, most likely seeing the flashes of light and maybe even overhearing some noises of a rather disturbing nature.

She shoved her hand into her pocket and withdrew the radio, immediately depressing the Talk button. "Yeah...we're here, Dad."

"Oh, thank goodness!" They could hear David's relieved sigh over the crackle of static. "I was seeing more of those strange lights and then, a few minutes later, I thought I heard a crash. I got out of the truck to see what was going on and when I looked through the front window, I could barely make out the chandelier laying on the ground next to an overturned couch…"

"Sorry - we didn't exactly have time to alert you," Emma responded as she made her way over to the other side of the room to join her husband on the sofa. "We've got one angry ghost to deal with here. Killian is pretty sure that the others were freed to cross over, but there's still one here - Jeremiah - and he's dispensed with all of his pleasantries."

"Well, Regina's here," David informed them, the announcement coming as a bit of a surprise to both Emma and Killian. Was she just following up to see if the spell had worked and if so, why didn't she just call David to inquire? "That ghost - Jeremiah - she thinks he might be dangerous…"

"I think we've found that out," Emma replied, perhaps a little too snidely. "He tried to possess Killian again, but I blocked him with a protective spell. I think it pissed him off just a bit because he started throwing stuff at us."

"Where are you now?" David asked impatiently. "You're not still in the parlor, are you?"

"No, we're around back - in the butler's quarters where the old Apprentice used to live," Emma explained. "If you can find a way back here without going through the mansion, it doesn't seem like this section has enough magic for Jeremiah to use so we seem to be alone. He probably has the main house on lockdown again."

"Okay, thanks," David responded. "We'll find a way to get back there because Regina needs to fill you in with what she just told me." The radio went quiet again, leaving Emma and Killian to ponder the last part of David's statement. What exactly did Regina need to tell them and did it have anything to do with Jeremiah possibly being dangerous? Just what the hell had they walked into tonight?

#cssns #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff #cs ghost ff #the inbetween

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thedivinefish · 4 years

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TGIWednesday and party like it's MY birthday

TGIWednesday News

Today is my birthday and yes, this is how I feel as my g'daughter Charlie represents another year has come and gone! Where does it go? I have a movie star client that always says, “The days are long but the years fly by!” The ultimate lessons that I have learned over time are as my sweet momma always said, “I don’t do rush.” So slow it down a bit and don’t hurry up into anything or anyone! Know that I appreciate you and every birthday. I am now making every effort to receive personal self-care, whether it’s a haircut/massage/reading or other. And with all of my birthdays I like to treat others...

So here you go in celebration of my birthday on August 19th we have activated a Special 19% off Discount on ALL Audio MP3 and eBooks in the shop for the next 19 hours! You'll see the price adjustment after you Add To Cart and begin Checkout. This deal will be gone in a FLASH so don't delay! Go here now and have fun shopping! (*sessions/prayers zoom videos and certification are NOT included - time runs out at 6pm ET/ 3pm PT on Thursday the 20th) Make it fun today and every day and know that I appreciate you and I plan on having my version of fun too!

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~ CLEARING YOUR DAY AND EVERY DAY ~ I believe, think, know and feel that my day today is Clear. I know, when, where, how and why to release my day today from unclear. I am ready, willing and able to have everything today in this very day, running forward with grace and ease and I am asking in all time lines and languages and so it is.

Fish Food

The Daily Bread To Feed The Fish

AUGUST 19th- HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! Birthday Greetings from my Inbox: "Jimmy, Happy Birthday, listen my tooth is really bothering me and I have another dentist appointment tomorrow but I am hoping to get with you today to get rid of this pain and anxiety, so get me in on your first available, K?. "Happy Birthday, do you think my resumé is being received because the recruiters act skittish and I am wondering if it’s just me or the whole state of Florida? Can we schedule? "Jimmy, Happy Birthday my dear friend, I hope you are having a blast and I know that traditionally you don’t schedule clients on your birthday, but I am hoping you will make an exception for me because I just got back from the doctor, hit me back. "Jimmy, Happy Birthday, I forgot that you are a fellow Leo like me, listen, I cannot find my car keys anywhere.....Thoughts? Hints? Impressions? "Happy Birthday buddy, I know you’re not working today but my anxiety and loneliness is at a new level, honestly we have to get together ASAP anything available noonish today? Call, text or email asap. "Jimmy, I know that you’ve been working on me for attracting more women and I REALLY want to get with this new girl. I don’t think I told you that I found out her husband’s name is the same as mine and now she’s acting all cold towards me. Do you think that all the attractive good mojo stuff you’ve been sending my way went to the wrong Phillip? I know it’s like midnight but call me ASAP." Daily Affirmation: "Today I will remember that we have choices. That "No" can be a one word sentence. That other people are generally self-absorbed and that I can make the choice to buy into that as a belief and or as much as a choice that they have made. Today I will choose peace and quiet."

From the Fish Box

"Good morning Jimmy, When I woke up early this morning my cat still hadn't come home. So I got dressed and went to go look for her. After 45-min and feeling into where she was, I stood at a spot quietly calling (as it still was really early) and suddenly she started meowing from somewhere and found her way to me. After a bit of saying hello, she led the way home. So, she's back and I'm happy ;) Thanks for the session and assistance yesterday. It helped a lot!" - Nicky

From Jimmy: Some of you may have read on Facebook that MY sweet black male cat "Kitty" has been missing for over a week. If you can offer your prayers for his safe and quick return, we sure could use them! 🙏 It would be the best birthday present ever!!

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Next MySwitchWorks Live Zoom Event Wednesday August 26th 7:30-8pm ET August: Themes of Loss

Have you recently suffered a loss of work, a loved one in spirit, lost innocence, lost health, lost youth and vitality?

Let’s have this one be about what you feel you’ve lost and what you’d like to reclaim! Gainful employment, peace, restored zest for life etc... Send in your Top 3 to [email protected] (please do not reply to the confirmation email)

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NEW VIDEO FORMAT! WATCH IT LIVE TUESDAY'S at 4pm EDT / 1pm PDT Watch and Participate (via Comments) during the Live TV Show streamed on Goldylocks Productions YouTube Channel, Facebook Page and Periscope. NOTE: You will need to log into your YouTube (Google) or Facebook accounts to comment. If you watch the Live show from any other location other than the 3 listed below, your comments will not be seen by the Show Host or Producer. https://www.facebook.com/GoldylocksProductions https://www.pscp.tv/Goldylocks168/follow Or watch all live and replays in the archives here: https://thejimmymackhealingshow.com/

Instructions for the VIEWERS: 1. One reading/message per person. The first question posted will be answered, so please think about your question carefully before posting it. 2. If you want a longer and more detailed message, please book an appointment with the Show Host. 3. Spirit does come through and gives messages that can apply to many, not just the person asking the question. 4. It is not required nor should be expected that every question or comment will be addressed by the Show Host. 5. If you have any issues with the show host or show format, please contact the Show Producer... not the Show Host. 6. Contact the Show Producer, Rev. Tiffany White Sage Woman via email: [email protected] Yesterday's Show - Watch the replay here! Special Guest Jeremy Riden Divine Spark Ministries https://www.facebook.com/JeremyRiden/ UPCOMING GUESTS:

August 25th Rev Debbie | Our resident trans medium communications with your loved ones in spirit. Visit her Facebook page September 1st Psychic Joanne Leo | Numerology/astrology/angel cards reading from the heart www.psychicjoanneleo.com September 8th Jeremy Riden | Cards and intuitive readings https://divinesparkministries.com/about-jeremy-riden September 15th Gosia Lorenz| Clearing negative entities and intuitive readings www.gosialorenz.com September 22nd Ayla Murray | Tarot/Angel Cards and intuitive readings https://www.facebook.com/harmonicperspective/ September 29th Rev Debbie | Our resident trans medium communications with your loved ones in spirit. Visit her Facebook page

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In addition, throughout the full 30-days, Jimmy will be dialing into your energetic signature each day upon rising and make certain that you are a clear yes, unclear to no and running forward before you start your day. He is doing the heavy lifting for you around 3am NY time while most of you are asleep in order to smooth out your way and increase your most favorable life outcomes.

The 30-day service is now being offered exclusively and you also have the option of selecting an ongoing subscription ($95/month) which is managed through PayPal only.

Upon written email request, for each new order we offer a one-time email analysis via the intelligent healing software that Jimmy uses on your behalf. Most clients have had amazing results and outcomes!

You can add yourself and those living in your immediate household and yes you can include pets! Merely include everyone’s names and Jimmy will add them to his daily prayers. *NOTE if the MDP Service was purchased via a special telesummit or radio show offer, prayers will be limited to BUYER ONLY - and will not include family members or pets.

You can run this monthly and stop at any time after the 30 days is up, you will have the opportunity to renew and update your list each month but are under no obligation. I believe you will experience magical transformations and make progress every day!

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Friday sessions are back to being phone-only for folks that I usually see at Kodawari until further notice. You can book time with me in the shop and schedule online. 3965 Henderson Blvd Suite C Tampa ☎️ (813) 999-1874 http://www.kodawariyoga.com/

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The Certificate of Mastery Program includes 2 best-selling ebooks and 2 clearing audios plus written & video instructions, AND one-on-one time with Jimmy ALL for about the cost of a single 1-hr session! This online course is for anyone who is familiar with OR new to "fishing" and is ready to dive into the deep end & get results that are beyond the ordinary! It includes The Tackle Box & The Dowser's Handbook ebooks PLUS 2 MP3s "Clearing Dark Energies" & "Increasing Your Intuition" to help clear, strengthen and prepare your energy field for optimal “fishing” results. This is a work-at-your-own-pace curriculum that will TEACH & CLEAR you at the same time! In under 2wks you will be finished with the program and ready to fish on your own with greater results! Level II offers Practitioner Certification for those who qualify.

LEARN MORE HERE

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For those who aren't familiar, here's the list of the MyBeliefWorks™ audio library.

Find a topic that addresses your issue(s), click on the link to read more. We had a lot of help downloading & channeling these over the years & they keep getting better. Don't forget... you can share these with you immediate friends and family.

Abundance Abuse Addiction Body Scan: Head to Toe COVID-19 Daily GPS Reset Dark Energies/Fears Decision Making Diet & Exercise Education & Learning Family & Relatives The Gold Coin Healing Physical Body Healing Mental Stress Holiday Stress

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Jimmy Mack | Appointments Skype: Jimmy.Mack55 Clearwater Florida USA Book a 15 minute session Book a 30 minute session Book a 60 minute session Transformational Healing of Body, Mind & Spirit, People, Places, Pets & Situations! Download the My Liquid Fish® Starter Kit (*Updated May 2019) Audio MP3 Downloads and books to improve your life! Get Certified in My Liquid Fish® Change Made Simple® Watch Free Videos on YouTube Weekly Radio Show Archives Shop for Supplements http://www.jimmymackhealingshop.com www.jimmymackhealing.com Copyright ©1998-2020 All Rights Reserved

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divinefishingtips · 4 years

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TGIWednesday and party like it's MY birthday

TGIWednesday News

Get Jimmy's Bday19 Discount Here!

TGIWednesday Download

Fish Food

The Daily Bread To Feed The Fish

From the Fish Box

Monthly LIVE Zoom Event

Next MySwitchWorks Live Zoom Event Wednesday August 26th 7:30-8pm ET August: Themes of Loss

Have you recently suffered a loss of work, a loved one in spirit, lost innocence, lost health, lost youth and vitality?

LIVE Appearances - Free Healing

Thursday Sept. 23rd - The Global Gathering

The Jimmy Mack Healing Show

Receive 24/7 Prayers from Jimmy

The 30-day service is now being offered exclusively and you also have the option of selecting an ongoing subscription ($95/month) which is managed through PayPal only.

Tampa Office Sessions

FRIDAY KODAWARI YOGA STUDIOS

Go deep sea "fishing" with Jimmy!

Level 1 is open to ANYONE at anytime! Click here to watch the Mastery video playlist

LEARN MORE HERE

**Can't See The Full Email? Click Here to View Online**

For those who aren't familiar, here's the list of the MyBeliefWorks™ audio library.

TGIFunny

Forward

-------------------------------------------------- TGIW newsletter managed by: Sandy Bidinger Digital Marketing Specialist at SMBeConnected Solutions www.smbeconnected.com

Stay connected!

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365dailyaffirmations · 4 years

Text

TGIWednesday and party like it's MY birthday

TGIWednesday News

Get Jimmy's Bday19 Discount Here!

TGIWednesday Download

Fish Food

The Daily Bread To Feed The Fish

From the Fish Box

Monthly LIVE Zoom Event

Next MySwitchWorks Live Zoom Event Wednesday August 26th 7:30-8pm ET August: Themes of Loss

Have you recently suffered a loss of work, a loved one in spirit, lost innocence, lost health, lost youth and vitality?

LIVE Appearances - Free Healing

Thursday Sept. 23rd - The Global Gathering

The Jimmy Mack Healing Show

Receive 24/7 Prayers from Jimmy

The 30-day service is now being offered exclusively and you also have the option of selecting an ongoing subscription ($95/month) which is managed through PayPal only.

Tampa Office Sessions

FRIDAY KODAWARI YOGA STUDIOS

Go deep sea "fishing" with Jimmy!

Level 1 is open to ANYONE at anytime! Click here to watch the Mastery video playlist

LEARN MORE HERE

**Can't See The Full Email? Click Here to View Online**

For those who aren't familiar, here's the list of the MyBeliefWorks™ audio library.

TGIFunny

Forward

-------------------------------------------------- TGIW newsletter managed by: Sandy Bidinger Digital Marketing Specialist at SMBeConnected Solutions www.smbeconnected.com

Stay connected!

Our mailing address is: Clearwater Florida 33756 USA

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advancedthetapractitioner · 4 years

Text

TGIWednesday and party like it's MY birthday

View this email online

TGIWednesday News

Get Jimmy's Bday19 Discount Here!

TGIWednesday Download

Fish Food

The Daily Bread To Feed The Fish

From the Fish Box

Monthly LIVE Zoom Event

Next MySwitchWorks Live Zoom Event Wednesday August 26th 7:30-8pm ET August: Themes of Loss

Have you recently suffered a loss of work, a loved one in spirit, lost innocence, lost health, lost youth and vitality?

LIVE Appearances - Free Healing

Thursday Sept. 23rd - The Global Gathering

The Jimmy Mack Healing Show

Receive 24/7 Prayers from Jimmy

The 30-day service is now being offered exclusively and you also have the option of selecting an ongoing subscription ($95/month) which is managed through PayPal only.

Tampa Office Sessions

FRIDAY KODAWARI YOGA STUDIOS

Go deep sea "fishing" with Jimmy!

Level 1 is open to ANYONE at anytime! Click here to watch the Mastery video playlist

LEARN MORE HERE

**Can't See The Full Email? Click Here to View Online**

For those who aren't familiar, here's the list of the MyBeliefWorks™ audio library.

TGIFunny

Forward

-------------------------------------------------- TGIW newsletter managed by: Sandy Bidinger Digital Marketing Specialist at SMBeConnected Solutions www.smbeconnected.com

Stay connected!

Our mailing address is: Clearwater Florida 33756 USA

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little-owly · 7 years

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On Air

an rp done between me and @trash-2-point-o !! some dark/warf humiliation omo for yall!! hope you enjoy!

Wilford grinned as he bounced in his chair, practically bursting with excitement. He had a very special guest today, and even though he’d had to give up his soul to make him agree (he didn’t need it anyway), it was worth it. He was interviewing the one and only Dark Ip/lier. WOOHOO, CONFETTI. He straightened up as the cameraman signalled him, slapping on his signature grin and smoothing out his mustache (to be completely honest, he had no idea why it grew pink when the rest of his hair was black, but he didnt question it).

Wilford smiled his signature smile once more, his black curls bouncing as he heard the camera yell out an “action!”

“Good evening! I’m your host, Wil/ford War/fsta/che!” the audience cheered, loud exclaims of fans deafening.

“Tonight, we have a special guest. One known to prey upon mortals such as me and you. One known to with hold nothing but evil in his hole known as a heart. The very man who took my soul to just appear tonight – Mr. Darkip/lier!”

The crowd’s reaction turned controversial, half leaving – well, more like screaming – in fear, the other half cheering for the dark entity himself.

The light grew to a dim red, glitching sounds coming from the side of Wilford.

“No worries folks! That’s not our shoddy and weak equipment, just give him time-”

Dark appeared behind him, black smoke flooding the set.

“Goddamn it, I told you to not do that!” Wilford coughs out.

Dark rolled his neck slightly, gazing, unamused, at the other male. “And you think you can control me why?”

With that he strode casually over to the other chair, leaving Wilford to whine as he seated himself.

“Because it’s my show, asshole” he says under his breath as Dark takes his seat.

“So, you’re the evil and dark entity of the ever so lovely and famous Mar/kip/lier, are you not?”

Dark rolls his eyes, the crowd silent as they await his answer.

“Yes.”

“Uh, can you give me a better answer than yes?” Wilford complains, fixing his mustache.

“Indeed.”

“Maybe a, uh, more complex answer?”

“It is confirmed that I am the darker side of the YouTuber known as Mark Fis/chb/ach, or Mar/kip/lier.”

“Ok, you know what-”

the audience watches as Dark’s eyes become black. Wilford still complaining above the worried hushes.

“I thought this interview with some edgy evil twin would go great but nooooo” he drones on as Dark becomes angrier.

“How dare you,” Dark growls.

Wilford frowned, tilting his head. “…What? What’re you so DISGRUNTLED about?”

Dark looks Wilford in the eye (well, Wilford couldn’t actually make out where his eye was, taking in the fact his whole eye was black) and only growls once more, “I’ll give you one chance to actually get this so called interview started before I decide to take matters into my own hands.”

“Oh yeah, and what does that mean? I think you seem to forget this is my show with my name, see? Right there!” Wilford obnoxiously points out, taking a look at the sign behind them.

He didn’t even glance at it, head twitching as he fought back the rage threatening to burst.

“…Are you having a SEIZURE or something?”

Wilford leans forward to take a sip – well, more like a chug – of his water. Watching out the corner of his eye as Dark shakes with rage. His neck cracking as he twitches.

“Geez, don’t break your neck on my show. My ratings would drop-”

Wilford chokes as Dark stands, his strong hand closing around his throat, blocking his airway.

“You just had to fuck up your one last chance, didn’t you?”

“Hey, this show is PG13, can’t say-” Wilford chokes out before the grip on his neck grows tighter.

“I don’t know why I agreed to this. Your soul isn’t worth your insufferable personality.” He glanced to the audience and smirked. Even the more enthusiastic members were starting to get nervous, some already heading for the exit.

“I demand payment for this waste of my time. And I’d like to take it in the form of something else of yours…”

He glanced down at the water bottle, then at the still running cameras, chuckling darkly.

“Your pride.”

Wilford stared back at Dark, a shiver running up his spine as he heard the audience starting to move towards the exits.

“Oh no,” Dark growled, “you all stay here.”

The doors slammed shut, worried murmurs and panicked yells erupting.

“…my pride? Well, what the hell does that mean-”

Wilford nearly choked as the neck of the water bottle pushed past his lips. The cool liquid running down his throat, Wilford struggling to drink it all to avoid choking.

“It’s a bit petty, I admit, but effective.” Dark growled, rolling his eyes and not even flinching as Wilford punched him square in the jaw. “Oh please. You’re trying to harm a demon. How much more pathetic could you get?”

“It was worth a shot,” Wilford groans, holding the hand he used to punch Dark. Was he made out of steel? Why did one punch make him hurt more than Dark?

“I don’t think so,” Dark replied, pushing Wilford back into his seat. He cornered him, picking up the water bottle.

In one swift movement, Dark shoved the water bottle back in Wilford’s mouth.

“Drink. I might let you live after this if you do.”

Wilford didn’t really understand what Dark was trying to do, so he drank, looking more confused than terrified, though both emotions were there. Dark smirked, chuckling darkly. “You have no idea what I’m doing, do you? No matter, you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Other than keeping me well hydrated, no, I don’t know what you’re doing-”

Wilford nearly choked again as Dark slipped the bottle back into his mouth. Dark smirking.

“In due time you’ll see. For now, just drink up.”

Wilford rolled his eyes as he did. More confusion washing over him. Staring up at Dark’s black eyes. The quiet whispers of the audience as they watched the strange interaction.

Soon enough, he finished the bottle, sighing softly. “If you’re trying to DROWN me from the inside out, I’m not too sure how that will take away my PRIDE…”

“Oh, you’ll see. Now, why don’t we continue the interview?” He smiled, but it was a smile that sent bone-chilling shudders down the spines of anyone who saw it, a smile filled with malicious intent.

“You’re serious?! Finally!” Wilford shouts, throwing the water bottle off the set.

Dark takes his seat, a menacing smirk on his lips.

“So, what other questions do you have for me?” Dark replies, his voice low and deep.

“Alright, nevermind the strange occurrence, folks, let’s get RIGHT back into the interview!” The audience clapped nervously and Wilford glared, prompting them to applaud more sincerely. “Thank you. Now, Mr. Dark Ip/lier, would you say you’re perhaps JEALOUS of your counterpart’s successes?”

“I don’t believe so. In theory, his successes are nothing compared to the joy I feel when I have my own…successes.” he replies, scanning the terrified faces of the audience. They had every right to fear him.

“Oh! So what would you say your successes are, Mr. Dark Ip/lier?” Warf questions, stroking his pink mustache. Still wondering how it grew pink in the first place.

“Well, obtaining your soul was one.”

“Good, good, continue…” He could feel a slight pressure in his abdomen, like some outside force was affecting his lower regions. What was he doing?

Dark smirked once more, seeing Wilford cross his leg. He looked down at the spot his bladder would be, focusing on the spot so he could mess with Wilford more.

Wilford winced, trying to keep the interview going. He can handle the pressure in his body. Even if it feels like an outside force is pushing him down. Did Dark even have the power to do something like that?

It felt like something was pushing down as well as filling him up more from the inside, making him clench his legs together tightly. “So, uh…what exactly are you? Are you a DEMON? An evil SPIRIT?”

“I am a demon.”

“I see…”

“Now, how may one summon the almighty Mr. Dark Ip/lier?”

Wilford feels a shiver down his spine as the force fills him again. His bladder growing heavy, the urge to use the bathroom starting to bother him.

He cannot lose this interview, especially for a tiny bathroom break.

Dark smirks, the first signs of discomfort on Wilford’s face. The bright lights of the set making it obvious to him and the cameras.

“Is something wrong, Wilford?”

“Wh-what? No!” he yelled, crossing his arms.

“Odd…your crossed legs and arms convey defensive body language.”

“Absolutely not!” Wilford exclaims, “I’ll have you know I am very much okay and in control!”

Dark laughs, his tone low, “we’ll see about that soon, Wilford.”

Wilford’s expression changes ever so slightly. An uneasy feeling in his gut as his bladder fils again. The need to go becoming much stronger.

He knew what he was doing now, biting his lip. He would rather lose the interview than give him the satisfaction of his embarrassment. “Hang on, viewers, we’re going to take a quick brea-”

He tried to get up, but something held his wrists and ankles in place, like invisible hands. He struggled for a moment, then sighed, flexing his fingers in frustration and panic. “N-nevermind, I guess not…”

“How rude, leaving your guest in the middle of an interview,” Dark replied.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get this over with so we can cut to a break.”

“I suppose we could.”

Wilford took a deep breath, he knew he can hold it. He knew Dark was only playing games with him. No way he could give him the satisfaction of his embarrassment, right?

Dark smirks, “Next question?”

He hummed, trying to think of a question Dark could answer quickly. “…S-so what would you do if you met one of those who IDOLIZE you?”

“Hmm…well……” He thought for a moment, purposefully stalling. Wilford bit his lip, toes curling into his shoes.

“…Yes?”

“I’m thinking…”

Wilford waited for another ten seconds before shaking his head quickly. “Alright, next que-ahh-!!” He tensed up as he felt a sudden squeeze on his bladder, gripping the arms of the chair. Dark sneered, growling at him.

“Don’t interrupt me.”

“Can you j-just please answer the question?” Wilford groans, the grip on his bladder tightening. His foot taps impatiently.

Dark crosses his arms, stalling even more. His laugh is slow, watching Wilford squirm.

“Mr. Dark Ip/lier, please just answer the question-”

“Don’t you dare rush me!” Dark yells. The audience gasping in fear. The lights of the set flicker, Wilford groaning. He doubles over, the grip still strong on his bladder, the invisible hands pulling his legs apart.

He rested his chin in his hand to excuse his hunch, thighs quivering and teeth buried in his lip as he struggled to hold himself together.

“…Hmm…….I guess I’d just kill them.”

“Wha-that was it?!” Wilford cried, his voice cracking a bit. “That was all?!”

“I was looking for a true and sincerely answer. Much like I’ll do for the rest of this interview.”

Wilford groans, “come the fuck on-”

“Are you going to ask me another question or not?”

“Actually no! I won’t! That’s the interview, folks! I hope you enj-”

“You’re not going ANYWHERE…” Dark chuckled, standing from his chair. The lights turned on their own to focus directly and only on Wilford and his chair swiveled around so he was facing the audience head on. He yelped and tried to struggle against his invisible bonds, gritting his teeth. “Y-you can’t hold me down forever. Once you get bored of me and let me go-”

“You’ll be crying like the pathetic little baby that you are. Now…” He strode over to him, placing a hand suddenly and firmly on his shoulder. “…we’re going to play a little game…”

Wilford felt a shiver run up his spine yet again. He struggled against his invisible binds.

“What do you mean? You’ll get bored and go bother your alter-”

Wilford gasped, the pressure on his bladder growing firmer, as if it was forcing him to…

“Did someone realize what the game is, or do I have to spell that out for you too?” Dark growled.

The audience was pretty damn sure by this point, some even looking away out of respect.

Wilford couldn’t hold back a whimper, desperately trying to clamp his legs together to no avail.

“Oh no,” Dark whispered, all the audience looking back at Wilford. The ones who turned away found it hard to look away, feeling the same invisible force Wilford felt.

“Just keep those pretty little eyes on him and I’ll let you leave in one piece.”

He threw his head back, laughing deeply. Wilford moaned, his stubbornness breaking down as he tried to break free.

“Don’t do this.” he moans, “think of my ratings-”

“You of all people know there are those out there who would enjoy seeing this more than others…” He looked straight at the camera, grinning and tilting his head. “People who voice their fantasies over the internet…share their art and writing…like all of you reading this.”

Wilford wasn’t listening, his focus on preventing the inevitable. He whimpered loudly, squirming more to try and break free while he was distracted.

A few more moments passed between them. The silent panic of the audience, Wilford’s anxiety rising as the pressure on his bladder grows stronger.

“I must praise you for holding out for as long as you have. Many others would’ve, well, let go by this point.” Dark observes, placing his hands on Wilford’s shoulders.

“Oh, my, the camera is still on,” his hand moves to make Wilford look at the camera, his blush and tears running down his face.

“Knock it off,” Wilford replies weakly, “please.”

“Smile for the camera, baby.”

He turned his head away, but Dark forced it to snap back forward, showing off his tear streaked and sweaty face. It almost made Dark giddy to see him like this. He’d always been such a brat. It felt amazing to finally put him in his place.

Wilford’s eyes widened as he gasped, the pressure turning intense for a few seconds.

He clenched his jaw, feeling himself leak. The small spurt of warm piss staining his pants.

All on display for his audience and viewers.

Dark tightened his grip on Wilford’s chin, forcing him to stare back at the camera. The pressure leaving his bladder, still there, but comfortable enough for him to hold it.

“My, how rude of you, Wilford,” Dark teases, “what have you done? What’s this stain down your leg?”

Wilford only whimpered, crying harder. He flinched as Dark began to raise his voice.

“ANSWER ME.”

“FUCK YOU!!!!!” he cried, finally unable to take the teasing anymore. He whipped his head toward him, managing to catch Dark right in the nose hard enough to make him jolt back. For a fleeting moment, the grip on his wrists and ankles disappeared and he started to jump up, only to be yanked back down into his chair. Dark’s hands clapped onto his shoulders hard, fury practically radiating off of him as he twitched and convulsed.

“You reeeaaally shouldn’t have done that.”

In an instant, his middle visibly receded inward from the force of the invisible hand pressing onto it and he cried out, sobbing and writhing as he tried to fight it.

Wilford doubles over, outright sobbing. A cold sweat breaking out over his body as he tried to bring his legs together.

The hand presses down harder, Wilford begging the cameraman and the audience to look away, turn the equipment off and save his dignity.

“You dare do what he says and I’ll make you bleed out in a matter of seconds. Do you want to leave here alive?” Dark asks.

Wilford groans, another leak running down his leg. Much more noticeable to the audience and camera. The audience completely silent as they watch, some moving their pupils in the other direction. Out of respect for the clearly humiliated Wilford.

Finally, he just couldn’t take it anymore, letting out a loud sob as his muscles relaxed on their own. “Nonononono…”

Dark smirked as he watched the wet stain spread down his legs, yanking Wilford’s head up to show off his sobbing face. The poor man was trembling and crying, breathing heavy and mustache sticky with sweat and snot. “What did I say earlier? ‘You’ll be crying like the pathetic little baby that you are’? I was right, wasn’t I?”

Wilford choked out a tiny yes, wailing as Dark slammed his head into the back of the chair. “SAY IT SO EVERYONE CAN HEAR, YOU WORTHLESS SCRAP OF FLESH!!!!”

“FUCK-Y-Y-YOU WERE RIGHT!!! YOU WERE RIGHT…” he bawled, slumping forward as Dark let go of his hair.

Dark circled him, as if he was sizing him up. Wilford continues to sob, looking at his pathetic expression in the puddle under him.

“So, my dear audience, how does it feel to see your dear host in this state? His true colors showing, seeing him for the pathetic little baby he is?”

The audience stays silent. Dark smirking as he scans the crowd.

Still slumped forward, Wilford began to bawl once more. Watching as Dark stepped in front of him.

“You should clean this up soon. It’ll ruin the set, if you even have this show anymore.”

Wilford sobs again. “Let me go…”

“Hmm…alright, I’ve had my fun.” He snapped his fingers and the invisible bonds were released, Wilford’s legs immediately clamping together and spinning the chair around to turn himself away from the watchful eyes. “I will admit, you were right on one thing. I’ve grown bored of this. You’re not worth much more of my time.”

He turned to the audience, giving a chuckle and a bow. “I hope you enjoyed the show~…” And with that, he was gone in a burst of black smoke, leaving Wilford to wallow in his shame.

Wilford sits there, head in his hands as he sobs again. The audience beginning to move. The cameraman running off, not wanting to stick around to see Dark again.

The audience murmur to each other, watching the chair shake as Wilford cries out more.

“…Wilford?” he hears someone call out. His blood running cold, waiting for the mocking to come.

One of the fans stood, making their way onstage and putting a hand on his shoulder. “…Wilford? It’s ok, hun…”

He choked on a sob, curling up tighter.

The fan slowly began to run tiny circles into his shoulders, relaxing him as much as they could.

He sobbed more, tears staining the front of his shirt. He could hear other fans coming forward, some leaving quickly – having the same fear as the cameraman.

“I…” Wilford choked out, the fan still whispering to him, “it’s okay, just calm down hun.”

“We don’t think any different of you, Wilfy!”

“Yeah! We still love you! Dark can go eat a cactus!”

The fans began bursting with support and positivity, not even mentioning the fact that he’d wet his pants. Wilford smiled through his tears, wiping his face on his sleeve. “Th-thank you…”

“Of course, dude!”

“Remember! War/fsta/che don’t take shit from anybody, including Dark!”

Wilford continued to wipe away his tears, his sleeve damp.

“Want help walking to your dressing room?” the first fan asked, their voice low as Wilford tried to stand on his own. Still getting use to the feeling of moving freely.

He nodded, holding onto their arm to keep himself steady as he staggered offstage.

The fan helped him move along. Wilford limping as his wet pants began to grow cold, sticking to his skin.

“Here we go,” they whispered, opening the dressing room door. Wilford stepping inside quickly. The fan helping him get settled in before turning back around.

“We all still love you Warf, take it easy, okay hun?”

Wilford turned his head to face the fan before they left.

“Thank you so much…” he smiled, blowing the fan a kiss. They smiled back, stepping out and closing the door.

#pissiplier #omorashi #aaaaaaaa scared to post in the omo tag

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