#just some creepy facts ive come across

[diioonysus]

creepy/messed-up history facts

the man in the booth across from lincoln was named major henry rathbone, and after booth fired the shot, rathbone tried to tackle him to the ground, but booth sliced rathbone in the arm with a dagger. after that night, rathbone was never free of guilt. he suffered from stomach ailments to heart palpitations, and on december 23rd 1883, he attacked and killed his wife clara, and attempted to kill himself. he spent the rest of his life in a mental institution.

in 1494, sailors returning from the new world brought with them massive outbreak of syphilis, which spread through an entire french army, and with no antibiotics to counteract it, the disease spread unchecked. the skin on victims' faces would essentially rot away from the grisly ulcers. in some cases, the noses, lips and other body parts of the affected people were essentially gone.

in 1890, thomas edison, using wax cylinder, produced a line of baby dolls. they had wooden bodies, procelain heads, and miniature phonographs in their chests. the phonographs would play back recordings of young women reciting nursery rhymes like "hictory dickory dock," and "now i lay me down to sleep." (here's the audio of them x)

dentures used to be made from the teeth of dead soldiers. they were ivory base plates with real human teeth attached, a lot of these were sold to dentists by scavengers looting corpses from the battle of waterloo. the dentists would boil the them down, cut off the roots, attach them to ivory plates, and sell them.

in 1929, a pair of scientists at princeton university wanted to test and understand how the auditory nerve percieves sound, and their test subject was an alive cat. they cut out part of its brain and attached one end of a telephone wire to its auditory nerve and the other end to a reciever. weirdly enough, many researchers think this helped lead to the development of cochlear implants. but the cat was killed after the scientists wanted to see if it worked on a dead cat.

in 1726, mary toft told doctors that she gave birth to rabbits, and doctors were fully convinced until they found pieces of corn inside the stomach of one of the rabbits, proving that it hadn't developed inside her womb. she instead was manually inserting the rabbits to make the delivery look as realistic as possible.

it was believed that babies under the age of 15 months couldn't feel pain, so doctors would instead use muscle relaxers that had a paralytic effect to stop the baby from moving. this essentially meant they couldn't move or cry but they could still hear, see, and feel everything that was done to them. this was accepted up until 1980s

there was a tiger in india named man-eater of champawat who became dependent on human flesh, which at the turn of the 20th century inflicted a seven-year reign, killing 436 men, women, and children. she was eventually killed in 1907.

there was a book called "how the mail steamer went down in mid atlantic, by a survivor," which tells the story of an unnamed ocean liner that sinks in the atlantic. the protagonist is a sailor named thompson, who grows concerned over the lifeboat shortage, and sure enough the liners collides with a small sailing ship in a fog. as the ship sinks, only 200 of the 700 people on board survive. the second novella "the wreck of the titan: or, futility" by morgan robertson, follows the fictional ocean liner titan, which hits an iceberg in the north atlantic and sinks. like the titanic, the titan was described as the largest ship afloat at the time, both ships had a shortage of lifeboats, and the titan was dubbed "unsinkable." when the accident occurred, roberston simply said he was knowledgabe about maritime operations, saying "i know what i'm writing about, that's all."

some books created in the 18th and 19th century were bound in real human skin which was called anthropodermic bibliopegy. most of these books that were bound with human skin instead of animal skin were mostly based on anatomy or erotica.

during the battle of ramree island, which was fought between january and february 1945, japanese soldiers were cornered by english troops seeking to conquer burmese island of ramree, forcing japanese troops to cross 10 miles of swamp. the japanese soon began to suffer the effects of tropical diseases, but the presence of large numbers of scorpions, tropical mosquitoes and thousands of saltwater crocodiles, the world's largest reptiles, was even worse. In its genre. very aggressive beasts that can reach 8 meters in length and weigh more than a ton. according to some survivors, during the night, they were hunted one by one, in which the crocodiles would ambush them from underneath. and the survivors said the worst part was hearing the screams and the breaking of bones in the dark.

there is a cocodile named gustave (or was if you believe he's dead), a large nile crocodile in burundi who has been rumored to have killed 200-300 people. he's never been captured, but it has been stated that he could be "easily more than 20 feet, and weigh more than 2,000 pounds." he was/is estimated to be over 100 years old, and was/is described as having bullet wounds over his body, and his right shoulder blade was found to be deeply wounded, but they don't know what could have caused it. it's been rumored that he would leave the corpses he killed behind. in 2019, an article revealed he was killed, but there's no photographic evidence which leaves people doubting it's true.

[melusinealarice]

Hi can I request something for House, like where the reader is helping take care of him after the episode where he loses the patient that he decided to remove the girls leg (sorry I don't remember the episode number) Anyway basically though the reader and House have been hiding their feelings until after that incident so while she is taking care of him they get together (hints at smut)

My new addiction

Warnings: cursing, mention of medical things, mentions of smut, amputation mention, age gap?? Reader is like 35 and House is like over 45, angst, fluff? Mentions of alcohol and alcoholism, mentions of underage drinking, implied smut

Today sucked, like royally sucked, there was a crane that collapsed so House went to go handle patients on the field. A patient was trapped under rubble and House amputated her leg which resulted in her dying anyways. And House was in a mood, a self-destructive mood. He wouldn’t admit it but he felt bad in his own twisted way. He went home the second you called time of death, well after insulting you and the team for a good few minutes. And the worst part was, he still had no clue what was wrong with the patient. You stayed for about an hour, wrapping up notes on the patient before going home. You tried to go to sleep but you couldn’t, you were worried about House. As twisted and fucked up as it was you had managed to fall for the ass, you tried to hide it and ignore it as best you could but you still cared about him. You got in your car and drove to his apartment, just to check in on him.

You knocked, at least 10 times, “HOUSE! I know you’re in there, its me…” you waited a while, but it looks like he wasnt gonna answer. As you started to turn around the door opened. “You really should give a cripple more time to answer the door ya know.” He said, it was obvious he hadn’t gotten any sleep either. “You could’ve said something.” You stated, he opened the door the rest of the way, motioning for you to come in. You were wearing a tank top and pj pants considering you didnt bother changing, and you didnt have a bra on, something House took immediate notice of. “If you had told me what you were wearing I would’ve been much quicker in answering the door,” he said as you walked in, not bothering to hide the fact he was shamelessly checking you out. “Asshole,” you muttered under your breath as you walked towards the couch. There was a half empty bottle of scotch on the table, he sat down next to you, he smelled like whisky and mint. He poured you a glass and offered you some, “no thanks,” you said waving him off, “what, scared that if you’re inebriated the sexual tension will be to much to handle.” He said before downing the glass. “How much have you had to drink?” You ask, ignoring his previous comment, hoping that he was too drunk to notice how flushed you got. “I lost count,” he said pouring another glass, “well i think thats a good enough indicator you should stop” you said, taking the glass from him. “How about passing out as a stoping indicator?” He said, trying to get the glass back, but you took both the glass and the bottle into the kitchen.

“So who was it?” He said as you sat down across from him as he was now sprawled out along the couch leaving no room for you to sit there. “What?” You asked, “Who in your family was the drunk? Dad, mom? Sibling that went off the rails, creepy Uncle?” He said motioning to nothing in particular. “What makes you think someone in my family was a drunk?” You asked, hiding your distaste for the smell. “Well, you have no alcohol in your apartment, ive never seen you drink, and you clearly hate the smell. And i know its not a religious thing because you don’t believe in any God.” He says, staring at you expectantly. “My boss, he was an egomaniacal drunk who couldn’t cope with loosing a patient so he would go home and drink himself half to death.” You fired back, he just laughed and rolled his eyes. “I can deal with the fact a patient died” “clearly” you scoffed “so, who was it?” He said, not dropping the subject, “you can’t take a hint can you?” You said, “I got the hint you had the hots for me.” He said back bluntly. Shit, “It was me,” you said a desperate attempt to change the subject to ANYTHING else, “I was the drunk, nearly killed myself. I was knocking down shots from 13 to 16. And then I had to get my stomach pumped, I was sick for days, never drank since” you said, turning away, “so you do have the hots for me.” He returned, clearly amused. “I do not.” You said, trying to keep a straight face. “You do, because if you didn’t you would’ve just ignored my comment, instead you deflected because you’re embarrassed, so you decided to answer my previous question.” He says in that voice when he is finds the final piece of the puzzle “Thats why you came to see me, you were worried about me.” “Do you always have to over analyze House?” “Do you always have to deflect y/n?” “Fine, I was worried about you,” you say, knowing he wouldn’t drop the subject “Why?” He says, “you know why…” “I want you to say it.” He said, sitting up. “Because I like you, unfortunately for me.” You returned, turning to face him. You stood up, and so did he, you were now face to face, you could smell the alcohol on his breath, and god it smelled good, you wondered how it would taste. “I dont need coddling you know” he said, “I know,” You started into eachothers’ eyes for what seemed like forever, “I-I should go,” you stammered, “don’t,” he muttered, running his hand along your arm, your breath was getting faster, your chest rising and falling faster, “House..” you whispered, trying to resist the urge to drop everything and let the moment swallow you both. Your eyes flickered to his lips, and you wanted this, you have for so long. Finally you gave in, closing the distance between you and pulling him into a kiss, he did taste good. Your hands snaked around his neck pulling him closer, wanting to feel him pressed up against you. Wanting him to engulf you, and so did he. His hands went to your waist, pulling you closer as your fingers tugged on his hair. “I want you,” you said, and that was all either of you needed in the moment.

The next morning you woke up in his bed, both your clothes littered around the floor. Thank god he was still asleep, you got your things and got out, praying you had time to go home and shower before work.

You were late but House didn’t care, and neither did you.

I hope you liked it, i am currently on a road trip so I’ll probably be writing more, and I am working on your second request

[alwaysonthemend]

Part V: Troubled Waters

Part IV

Authors Note: This chapter contains heavy, mature content. Please see warnings below before continuing.

Warnings: violence /  / prostitution / slight gore / creepy creatures / lust spells (detailed)* / revenge killing / 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI 

*Reader is taken under the influence of a siren – detailed description of forced feelings of lust and desire. The reader does not get taken advantage of and his saved from this situation before it can progress.

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

March, 1717

The galleon had arrived that brisk March morning under the cover of a soft fog. It swept through the low, sandy expense into the port of Nassau. The people there paid no real notice of Queen Anne’s Revenge as she came into port –  she was a familiar sight for the pirates that populated the island. Having made her journey to and fro so many times, hardly a single head turned towards her at all. Even as the captain, one Edward Thatch, descended upon the island with his crew falling in step behind him, not a single eye turned to them. 

The latter wore an unusual mixture of clothing; some in silks from India, others in Arabian headgear, and some even in fabrics that hailed from Africa. A lively bunch they all were – cursing and whooping as they entered the town of Nassau, no doubt excited for the promise of a night of revelry in the pubs nearby. They’d been at ship for some six months and they were more than ready to take some reprieve amongst the locals.  

Though it must be said that Thatch was of a different sort this day. In fact, he seemed so far removed from the rest of his crew that a passerby might not even guess him to be their captain. As the merry band of pirates dispersed themselves throughout the town, Thatch made his way slowly to one of the bars off on the edge of town – not as popular as some of the others and a good place to go and think. There is much he had to think about. He’s grown bored of his current predicament as of late and wants desperately to move on to bigger and better things… namely, he wants to secure a fortune for himself. Though his run as a pirate captain has thus far been more than successful – scarcely coming across a merchant ship that can outsail or outgun him, not a single one has been carrying the fortune that he wants. He’s got his eye set on a new prize but Queen Anne’s Revenge is ill-equipped for his plan. He needs a smaller, faster ship to call his own that is not so recognizable as this one. She’ll only draw attention to himself. With a smaller crew and smaller ship, his plan for fortune will surely be successful. 

But that leaves the question of what to do with Queen Anne’s Revenge. In a way, he supposes he’s gone sentimental in that he cannot bear to just let her rot. And giving her to Steve Bonnet – his old partner in crime, would surely end no better than the last time he gave a ship and crew to the Gentleman Pirate. Bonnet isn’t cut out for captainry and Thatch would rather give her to someone worthy of her name. He’s got enough men to spare this new captain a solid crew. He’s just got to choose one. 

And really…There's only one man who comes to mind. 

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

Jacob makes his way through the winding streets of Nassau with only one thought on his mind. He was relieved to be back ashore but was eager to find a new ship to call his home for the months-long journey back to Devon. He’d found wealth enough as a crewmate under Thatch that he was confident that Amanda’s parents would be more than willing to let him marry her. Before, he’d been nothing but a lowly sailor with hardly anything to his name. But now? He had more than enough to prove himself worthy of her. 

The bar he found himself wandering into was a run-down, sorry excuse for one – even amongst the rickety buildings of Nassau it was still a sorry sight. But it was blessedly empty of any of his fellow crewmates. Joshua, Samuel, and Daniel had been rather put out when he’d said that he would not be joining them in their merry-making tonight. But one look from Joshua and his twin had sensed that Jacob wanted to be alone. So they’d let him wander off to this sorry excuse of a bar in order to relax his ever aching mind and heart. 

As Jacob stepped through the threshold, intent on tucking himself away into a far corner, he was frustrated to find his captain sitting inside as well. Thatch looked up and caught his eye, immediately waving him over to have a seat. With no excuse to refuse, Jacob trudged his way across the floor and took a seat across from Thatch. 

“Captain.” Jacob mumbles, sliding a chair out and taking a seat. 

“Jacob. I was just about to send word to find you.” 

Thatch pins him with a piercing look that makes Jacob want to look away. But he doesn’t, instead only raising a brow for Thatch to continue. 

“I have a preposition for you…” Thatch began in that slow, taunting tone of his that makes Jacob’s blood boil. The man takes too much enjoyment in making drama where there needn’t be any. “I want to give you Queen Anne.”

That draws Jacob up short and shock overtakes his expression. 

“What?” 

Thatch nods with a smile. 

“I’ve got another job lined up, you see. But Queen Anne draws too much attention… But I refuse to just leave her somewhere to rot.” He begins, twisting the ends of his long, black beard in his fingertips. “And there’s no one else I think is worthy enough to have her. You’re the best quartermaster I’ve ever had. You’re young. You’ve got ambition.” He inclines his head. “She’s yours, if you want her.” 

Jacob remains silent, the words tumbling through his mind like fish sucked into a whirlpool. His own ship… Jacob had never wanted to stay in this life for long. Never planned on getting as far as he had to begin with. This had all been for her. To make enough money to convince her parents that he was worthy of her. And this… Having the Queen Anne could be his ticket back to Devon. 

“What’s the catch?”

Thatch smiles, displaying a row of yellowed teeth. 

“None. I’ll even lend you a few men to sail ‘er.” Thatch must sense Jacob’s doubt though for after a moment of thoughtful silence he continues. “I’m old enough to have seen all manner of types of people, boyo. Good ones ‘re hard to find.”

That’s the closest Jacob has ever heard Thatch get to complimenting anyone and a small, tiny ball of warmth thrums to life in Jacob’s chest. Pride. That’s what the feeling is. Praise from a man like Thatch - questionable as the man himself may be… somehow it feels good still to be noticed and praised for hard work in a world that usually doesn’t stop long enough to care. 

“I’ll take her.”

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

“So he handed it over just like that?” 

My voice sounds far too loud in the room after Joshua’s hushed story and I wince a little. 

“Just like that. And by the end of the week Thatch had officially handed Queen Anne’s Revenge over to Jacob along with the handful of men you see here now.” Joshua looks down at his lap, a muscle in his jaw flickering. “The plan was to head straight back to Devon… to Amanda.”

“His wife?”

“Not yet. She… her family was well off. And we were nothing but poor sailors from the moors. Jacob wanted to marry her – and she wanted to marry him. But her parents…”

“So Jacob started…” I wave my hand, vaguely gesturing to the room around us, “all this to get money so they would let him marry her?”

Joshua nods once. 

“And it was enough. When we returned, Jacob presented her father with what was basically the entirety of the wealth that Jacob had accumulated. And they were married that night.”

“I’m guessing that they don’t- they don’t live happily ever after?”

“No.” And the word carries so much grief with it that I feel as though I’ve trespassed into something that I never should have. But he continues on. “Not all of Thatch’s men were happy with his promotion. There- there was one man in particular who thought that he should have been the one chosen. And when Thatch made him stay behind, it was just adding salt into the wound.”

“Thomas Lowe.” 

“Yes.” A heavy sigh. “He was a sick, angry man. And he- he decided that he would take Queen Anne for himself. But Jacob wouldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t back down.”

Dread, oily and black, begins to spread through my veins. 

“What did he do?”

“He decided that the only way to convince Jacob to hand over the ship was to break him.”

“My God.”

“Jacob was the one who found her. And I-” He swallows, voice breaking, “And I was the one who found him. I’d never heard him scream like that. I doubt I ever will again. It was- it was barely even human.” 

Joshua’s eyes close and he winces, as if the memory is so awful that it still brings him physical pain to remember. 

“And so Jacob killed him?”

“He did. At least, we thought he did. Lowe had taken Queen Anne and some of the crew  in the chaos that followed. And Jacob… He was like a dog with a bone. Those of us that were left… We stole this ship – no small feat, and made chase. And when we finally caught up, we sank the Queen Anne. We didn’t think there were any survivors. Apparently we were wrong.”

“And this- this thing that can grant a wish… the Captain is trying to find it before someone else does?”

“It’s the last bit of hope he has.”

“To try and bring her back?”

Joshua nods once – slow and somber. “He thinks that-”  The door swings open, slamming into the wall and startling us both. The captain stands there, eyes blazing and nostrils flared. Joshua shrinks back, eyes casting downwards to the floor. “Jacob, I was just-” 

“Telling a stranger my life story?” He interrupts coldly, sniffing once and giving his twin a cold grin. “That’s quite enough of that, I think. We’re heading to port.”

“What? Why?” 

“It’s the last hospitable place to stop for supplies for a long while.”

“Shondell is hardly hospitable.” Joshua mumbles as he rises, brushing his palms across his trousers. The Captain’s facial expression doesn’t change, and Joshua shakes his head. “I’ll send Daniel and Sam to the shops, then."

“What about me?”

Both sets of chocolate eyes turn to me. The captain finally breaks his stony facade, grinning wickedly at me. “Welcome to Shondell, little lass.”

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

Shondell was the sort of place that I never imagined myself ever stepping foot in. The stench was the first thing that hit my senses – the smell of fish and mud made my eyes water and coated the back of my throat as we walked through the crowded streets and into a tavern tucked away at the end of a cobbled street. Hair stood up on my arms, a shiver running down my spine as we stepped through the threshold. 

Unfamiliar tunes strummed over lyres. Savory hints of pungent herbs and sauces covered the stench of sweat and unwashed clothing. Loud, raucous laughter rattled the wooden floorboards. The dim flicker of tallow candles was the only light to guide us as we walked through the crowded room, the captain in front of us, followed by Joshua and myself, and flanked by several of the crew that I didn’t know the names of. They eyed me warily – just as I did them, as if they thought I might try and make a break for it at any moment. 

“This way.” Joshua warned, nudging me towards a far corner after my wandering eyes had made me stray a bit from the group. Jacob had sat himself at a large table in the far corner, the other seamen following him and taking a seat. Joshua sits next to me, caging me into the seats with his body. 

“Out of the way. No one will pay you any attention over here.” One of the pirates says, cocking his brow at me as I warily take a seat, eyes still scanning the boisterous crowd. 

“And what if they do?” 

The crewman chuckled. “Hope they don’t. Cap’n will h’ve to spill blood. An’ he’s in his best coat.”

The other crew mates laugh while Jacob merely shrugs his shoulders, signaling for a barmaid. They were mocking me – apparently finding my unease amusing. Ignoring them, I turn my gaze back to the patrons. A woman – scantily clad and twirling a silky brown curl between her fingers, winks at Joshua as she passes us by. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” One of the pirates mutters, eyeing the girls backside as she saunters away. “What a prize.” 

“She wasn’t makin’ eyes at you.” Another pirate says – the one who’d been mocking me. “Eyein’ up our dear Joshua, h’re.”

“Well he’s on guard duty, in’ he?” The first pirate rises, stepping away from the group. “Permission t’ follow the prize, Cap’n?” 

Jacob rolls his eyes but nods. “Aye. Just don’t be lingering. Or siring any littles tonight, Larson.” 

Larson grins, bowing a little. “Don’ intend on lingerin’ or sirin; tonight, sir. Jus’ a little merry makin’ before hittin' the waters again.” With that, Larson scampers away in the direction of the woman. 

“Thief.” Joshua grumbles under his breath, narrowing his eyes at Larson’s retreating form.

“Seems playing my captor has ruined your plans for bedmates.” I tell him in mock sympathy. 

“Oh trust me, lass. If I want to take time to bed someone, I’ll do it – thoroughly…. And loudly.” 

The captain and the other men groan at the wicked smirk and wink Joshua delivers, each of them muttering their disgust and protest. 

As the ale is brought, conversation begins to flow but I tune them out, instead turning my attention towards the group of musicians playing in the corner. The one singing is a somber looking man, his tune warm and comforting. The pirates ignore me – Joshua and the captain, too, so I ignore them. Focused only on the delightful music, I allow myself to surrender fully to the sound. 

The singer lifts his eyes as if sensing my intense gaze and grins. Seemingly gaining a touch of energy from my attention, he starts to sway his shoulders to the tune. Now that my focus is on him fully, he seems softer compared to the other men in this tavern. Strong features, a pronounced cupid's bow, and eyes as blue as the sea in the morning light. 

“Stay here, yes?” Joshua asks, rising from his seat. I only nod, eyes never leaving the singer. 

In my peripheral, I can see Joshua and Jacob make their way through the crowd and up to the bar, their steps in complete unison. As if my legs have a mind of their own, I start to rise – none of the other pirates at our table seem to notice as I slip away from them and towards the singer. As I draw closer, his smile widens. 

“You are not from here, lady.” He says, stepping away from the other players and towards me. 

“No.” I couldn’t recall a time I’d ever heard a voice as sweet as his, a smile so inviting. Every note of the music seemed to flow through my body, lighting my blood. His presence sends a thrum through me, a chill running down my spine and… and pooling between my thighs. God, I have to clench my thighs together as he watches me. He starts to sing his song again, his fingers plucking at the lyre with ease as he keeps watching me, still grinning. 

Need throbs between my legs and I take a shaky breath, unable to tear my gaze away. I take a step closer to him, sighing softly to stop myself from moaning. 

“Shit!” Hands clamp down over my ears and the singer stops his song, exclaiming in protest. I claw at the hands on me, desperate for him to continue. 

“She hears my call.” The singer says, his words like a melody – a sensual, delicious melody that has my chest heaving, my skin boiling with desire. 

“Lass, stop fighting me!” Joshua’s voice is in my ear, his hands pressing into my ears. I shove him away, part of my mind becoming aware that the other patrons have stopped in their revelry to watch the scene unfold. No one makes to intervene, instead seeming to be enjoying the spectacle. 

The singer smiles and I nearly stumble when a rush of anguished want pulses through my core. 

“Let her go, you bastard!” The captain’s voice cuts through the pulse in my ears, his frame coming into view as he strides towards my singer. 

“It’s my right!” My singer says back, only adding to the harmony in my head. His eyes turn a darker shade, and for a moment, his face twists into something gaunt and sunken. “How about you mind your own business, pirate scum!”

“And how about I cut out your tongue!” Jacob yells, gripping my singer’s collar and pulling him in close, baring his teeth in a feral snarl. 

“No!” I cry out, trying to step between the two but Joshua grabs my arms, twisting them behind my back. “Don’t!”

The Captain spares me no glance and before I can even realize what’s happening, the glint of a blade catches my eye moments before it sinks into the belly of my singer. Sorrow, all encompassing, engulfs me as my singer cries out, his legs buckling. The captain holds him up, stopping him from falling completely as he slips the small dagger free. I hadn’t even seen him draw it out. And then the blade is plunging into my singer’s heart and his face – once beautiful and young now cracking into something else. Sharp cheekbones, cracked skin, rotted teeth. And then Jacob drops him, his body crumpling in a heap on the wooden floor. 

My gaze then goes from the horrid creature on the floor to the captain. Joshua’s grip tightens on my arms as the heat in my blood seems to suddenly boil over. The want that was once there for the singer now multiplied tenfold as I watched the captain. 

“Jacob.” His name rolls off my tongue like a prayer. His name is beautiful – more beautiful even than the song in my head. 

The captain and Joshua both swear. “To the ship.” Jacob orders and then I’m being dragged away, the eyes of the other patrons following us as we go. 

My vision waivers, feet blindly following where Joshua leads me. My eyes can’t seem to focus on anything at all, my mind only vaguely aware as the solid ground beneath my feet gives way to the swaying floorboards of the Starcatcher. A gruff “Let me take her” enters my ears and then a bed is beneath me, the lights dimming to a warm glow. 

“Jacob? What-?” I can’t finish, my tongue feeling heavy and clumsy in my mouth. 

“He was a siren.” The captain answers, lifting my feet and tugging off my boots. 

My skin is overheated – sweat gathering on my brow and my breaths coming out in short pants. I feel as if I might combust if the pressure across my body isn’t relieved soon. Before I can stop, my hand slides over my belly, reaching beneath the waist of my trousers for the ache between my thighs. 

A hand slaps over my wrist, guiding my hand away. 

“Please.” I whimper, gripping his wrists back and trying to tug him closer to me. “Captain, please.” 

“Y/n.” I moan at the sound of my name on his tongue but Jacob pulls his wrists away. “This is not you. The feeling will fade.”

“Don’t you want me?” I hardly recognize my voice but I can’t stop the words as they spill from my lips. My legs spread, hips rolling into the empty air and towards him.

“Sirens have a lure in their voice. Their songs bring lust to their victims – to take them away where they can have their way with them, either for pleasure or for food. You don’t-” 

I cut him off with my lips, tugging him downwards on top of me. For a brief, beautiful moment, the captain kisses me back and then he’s shoving himself away, gripping my wrists in his and pinning them on top of my chest. 

“Y/n, stop.” He demands, his harsh tone slicing me to my very core. As if sensing the hurt, he softens. “This feeling will pass, little love.” 

“You don’t want me.” I lament, eyes misting with tears. 

“I would have to be a fool to not want you.” He answers, rising from the bed. “You do not want me. This feeling will pass.”

His voice is distant, almost as if I am underwater. Another person looms in the doorway, but my eyes cannot make out their face. He speaks to the captain for a brief moment, glancing at me a few times before leaving the room again. In Jacob’s hand is a cup. He curls his hand around the back of my head. “Drink this.” 

I shake my head, pursing my lips. Jacob sighs, then softly, “For me? Drink this for me?”

I take the cup to my lips, forcing myself to swallow the thick liquid, the taste of charred meat covering my tongue. I choke and sputter but then my eyes begin to grow heavy and the throbbing need between my thighs eases. The song in my mind – once deafening, begins to softly fade. The captain lays me back down, pulling the mussed quilts over me. 

“Sleep, little love.” 

Then, I fall into syrupy black.

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

fin

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[copias-girl]

To Catch a Cardinal: Chapter V

Song recommendation for this fic!

Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV

A/N: Here’s another one for you guys! This is sooo high school cafeteria vibes 💀

•♥︎𖤐♥︎•

“He’s such a disgusting little rat.” Sister Emily growled, poking her spoon into her food, seemingly annoyed by the Cardinal’s mere existence.

“He’s such a disgusting little rat.” Sister Emily growled, poking her spoon into her food, seemingly annoyed by the Cardinal’s mere existence.

“I know right? He’s just… such a pathetic dork.” Lilith agreed.

You felt a scowl growing on your face as you took another bite of cream-of-whatever soup. Celery, you think it was. But who could pay attention to the soup with the vile conversation around you?

“Kinda creepy too. He seems like a weirdo, ya know?” Mable added, gesturing with her spoon.

“Yeah I totally get that vibe too! I mean, anyone who keeps rats as pets must be kind of weird, right? He’s like… one of those creepy loners.” Ava giggled.

“Exactly! I bet those rats are his only friends.” Emily laughed. “You know, he’s kind of like a car crash. Awful to watch but you just can’t seem to look away.”

“Why do you guys hate him so much? I don’t get it.” You interjected, setting your spoon down and looking at your friends expectantly.

They stopped talking, glancing over to you before their eyes flicked to one another.

“What, like you don’t? I mean.. come on.” Mable scoffed.

“No, I don’t hate him at all, Mable. He hasn’t done anything to make anyone hate him.” You responded. “I actually think he’s really sweet.” You added, earning a barrage of incredulous scoffs from the other sisters.

“Ew, don’t even say that! He’s disgusting and stupid!” Emily shook her head indignantly. “He’s so clumsy and honestly he’s just painful to be around, always dropping things and st-st-st-stuttering like a f-f-fucking idiot.” She scoffed. “I can’t believe you’re wasting your time being nice to him when you could be spending time with Rob. He really likes you, y’know.”

“Ugh, I know! You’re so lucky. Satan only knows what we’d do to be in your position. Rob is so hot!” Ava sighed dreamily.

“I’m not wasting my time being nice to Copia…” You scoffed, not even knowing what the reasoning was behind that. “And honestly? Rob is just a-“

“Hey, girls!” Rob’s flirtatious tone sounded above the chatter in the dining hall, causing you to roll your eyes as you cut yourself off.

He tried to pull out the chair next to you, but you placed your hand on the seat to stop him from sitting. “Sorry, I’m saving this seat.” You stated simply. Rob only shrugged, walking to the other side of the long table to sit across from you.

“Who are you saving it for? Seems like the gang’s all here.” He asked, not even hiding the fact that he was checking you out.

“Cardinal Copia.” You responded casually, causing Rob to chuckle, as if it was some sort of joke.

“Is something funny?” You asked, growing irritated.

“Oh, you’re actually serious??” He snorted. “You know, between you and me, I don’t think Copia needs a chair. More like a giant rat trap.” He said, causing your friends to burst out laughing.

“That’s a rotten thing to say.” You frowned.

“Aw, come on, sweet cheeks, don’t be mad. Rob smiled. “Hey, when are you gonna hang out with me, by the way? I’d like to get to know you better.”

“Um, we should all hang out!” Lilith suggested eagerly, the other sisters nodding rapidly in agreement.

“Don’t worry, ladies, there’s enough of me to go around! How about after lunch?” Rob grinned, but you only protested.

“No no, I’ll be busy, I have to work on Latin translations!” You made up an excuse. You were so preoccupied trying to avoid getting roped into hanging out with Rob, that you didn’t even notice Copia meandering into the dining hall with his little tray of soup.

He didn’t see you, instead going around to various tables to try to find a place to sit, but getting denied at all of them. Some of the siblings made up excuses like saving the seat for someone else, but others only gave him a dirty look and blatantly told him to go elsewhere.

“Sorry, no losers allowed.” A sister snapped, her whole table stifling laughter at Copia’s embarrassed expression.

“O-okay, eh, sorry..” He nodded timidly.

Your eyes widened as you recognized that pitiful little accent, immediately turning and spotting him.

“Cardinal!” You shouted, waving him over. “I saved you a seat!”

Almost everyone in the dining hall looked shocked that you wanted Copia to sit next to you, muttering amongst themselves about what someone like you could possibly want with someone like him.

A shy yet grateful smile found its way onto the Cardinal’s face as he began making his way to you. You sighed dreamily, gazing at him so fondly that you didn’t even catch what Rob was murmuring to Emily.

Just as Copia was passing Emily, she turned and stuck her foot out, tripping the man and causing him to fall forward, landing hard on the cold marble floor, soup spilling everywhere.

The poor man was stunned, barely registering what had even happened. After a few moments, he slowly picked himself up to sit on his knees, his gloved hands still firmly planted on the floor in front of him as his eyes were trained down at the spilled soup.

The whole dining room grew silent, except for judgemental whispers and hushed laughter.

The Cardinal felt tears welling heavy in his eyes at the humiliation, his heart aching as he heard the cruel comments and jokes from Rob and your friends. He always tried to remain positive and unfazed by the way he was treated, but in this moment he realized how much he was truly hated by everyone.

You were appalled; standing up so fast that your chair fell backwards as you knelt down next to Copia.

“Cardinal! Cardinal are you alright?” You asked, placing a hand on his shoulder, but he was unresponsive, still in shock.

You scowled at your friends with hellfire in your eyes. “He could be Papa one day, you know!” You shouted.

They looked surprised at your anger, but didn’t show one ounce of remorse.

“Yeah, I really don’t think so.” Emily replied, seemingly amused.

You shook Copia gently, trying to get him to snap out of it. He blinked a few times, swallowing hard as you brought him out of his daze. But instead of responding to you, he only rushed to his feet and began scurrying out of the dining hall as quickly as he could, shoulders hunched in shame, cheeks reddened from humiliation as tears glittered in his mismatched eyes.

“Cardinal!” You called after him, ready to chase him down before turning to your friends.

“How could you?” You spat, not waiting for a response as you ran after Copia.

You caught up with him just as he turned the corner, his steps growing faster and faster.

“Cardinal, wait!” You caught his sleeve, pulling him to slow down. He stopped just enough for you to push him up against the wall, caging him in so he couldn’t run away from you. It broke your heart, the way he refused to meet your gaze, the way slow tears began rolling down his flushed cheeks as his lower lip quivered.

“Cardinal..” You pressed yourself against him, getting soup all over yourself too but you could hardly care, not when you were pulling his trembling form into you, cradling the back of his head with your hand.

He sniffled into your shoulder, weakly trying to escape your grasp so you wouldn’t have to see him like this; a broken man.

“Please don’t cry, Cardinal. Just- Look at me. Please.” You cupped his face in your hands, caressing his tear-stained cheeks. He finally did, then, pulling away just enough to look you in the eyes.

“Everything’s alright, Cardinal. Are- are you hurt?” Your voice soothed him.

The poor man shook his head no, his gaze flicking down to where your bodies were touching one another.

“Oh no, I… M-mi dispiace, I… I got soup all over you too.” He sighed in deep disappointment, as if it was his own fault; the lines on his forehead deepening with guilt and worry.

You lifted his chin with a gentle finger, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t care.”

“Leave me, Sorella, go back to your amici.” Copia leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling before closing his eyes as more tears threatened to spill.

“Not a chance.” You shook him softly, getting the man to look at you once more.

“But-”

“Listen to me, Cardinal.” You brought your hands up to his face once more, wiping his tears away with your thumbs before they could streak his eye paint too horribly. “We’re going to go upstairs, get cleaned up, and change. And then we’re going to come back down here in time for dessert, alright?”

Panic flashed on Copia’s face as he began shaking his head and stuttering. “N-no, I… I-I can’t face them, Sorella.”

“I’ll be with you. I won’t leave your side, Cardinal, and we’ll act like nothing happened. You’ll see, it’ll be okay, I promise.” You reassured him, pulling him into a comforting hug as you pressed your cheek against his.

“Sorella, they-” He sighed, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “Maybe they are right about me…” He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, shrugging hopelessly before averting his gaze.

“Well, my opinion of you is very favourable, Cardinal. So you shouldn’t believe a word they say.” Your hands smoothed up up up his chest, finding purchase on his shoulders and causing his breath to hitch at your touch and your words. He almost couldn’t believe his ears, that you of all people would think kindly of him. You were such a wonderfully nice girl, so he heavily suspected you were just trying to cheer him up, too sweet to admit out loud that he really was just a pathetic loser.

But that’s where Copia was wrong; you did acknowledge the fact that he was a pitiful, unloved, strange little rat man. But that’s exactly what got you going. That’s exactly the thing that kept you up at night, writhing around in your bed with your hand between your legs as you quietly mewled out his name.

“So, what do you say? Dessert?” You prompted him, softly rubbing the tension out of his shoulders.

The poor thing only nodded, eyes wide and lower lip flushed from biting it too much. Now that he had calmed down, Copia was suddenly shy and overwhelmed at the close proximity between the two of you.

“Good.” You nodded, satisfied with his decision, taking his hand in yours as you walked towards the stairs together.

You refused to let the other siblings win. You refused to let them drive Copia out with their cruelty. If he gave in, letting their bullying chase him off, he would let them have their victory.

But you, well, you had your own brand of cruelty that you enjoyed inflicting on the man. You loved watching him squirm, looking like a deer in the headlights as you subtly drove him deeper into insanity. Satan, the more everyone made fun of Copia, the more you wanted him; his woeful paltriness igniting such a strong desire deep in your core. It made you want to fuck him in front of everyone; right in front of everyone who had ever called him names and laughed at him. Maybe you would. Maybe you’d beg him to bend you over the dessert table and fuck you dumb, taking his cock until you forgot your own name.

Deep in thought, the two of you silently made your way up the stairs, stopping when you came to Copia’s quarters.

“I’m gonna go change and I’ll meet you back here, okay? My room isn’t far.” You told him, earning a nervous nod and a timid “Okie dokie…”

•𖤐•

You stripped down, tossing your habit in the hamper before looking through your closet for another one to wear. Humming to yourself, you selected one that you had been meaning to wear more often, pulling it out and slipping it on.

It was tight, fitting you like a glove. The skirt was floor-length, flaring out slightly, with a ridiculously high slit on both legs. The habit itself had long sleeves and was low cut, but it had a crimson nun’s bib collar which covered your shoulders and neck, almost making it look like you had a peekaboo hole to show off your cleavage. On the neckpiece sat a diamond-encrusted grucifix, dangling from the collar. Also, this habit had red trim everywhere: lining the two leg slits, the hem, the cuffs on your wrists. Also, the whole inside of the skirt was red, so whenever you walked, the flowing fabric showed off the shock of gorgeous rich crimson.

It even had its own matching habit with red trim, and a red grucifix embroidered on the back, so you swapped yours out for that. It looked absolutely exquisite, you were a vision in black and red. You smirked in the mirror, almost fearing that poor Copia would suffer a heart attack at the mere sight of you.

Once you were finished dressing, you hurried back to his room, hoping he hadn’t changed his mind.

As if on cue, the Cardinal stepped out of the room, wearing his red cassock and biretta. A quiet little gasp tumbled from your lips. You had only ever seen him in his black cassock, so this was a real treat.

“Cardinal…” You greeted him, a lilt of flirtatiousness in your tone as you sauntered up to him.

He looked at you, mismatched eyes widening as he did a double take.

“S-S-Sorella..!” Copia gasped, his gaze darting all around, desperately trying not to gawk at you. But Lucifer knows it was hard; you were sex on legs. Looking at you without thinking sinful thoughts was an impossible task.

“Is something wrong, Cardinal? Do I look bad?” You feigned worry, batting your thick eyelashes innocently as you approached him.

“N-no, not at all…! You, eh, y-you look… very, very nice, Sorella…” He stammered, wringing his hands in front of him, heart hammering in his chest as you placed a dainty little hand on his arm.

“Thank you, Cardinal.” You were so coy, twirling a lock of hair around your finger. “You look quite… ravishing in red.” You bit your lip, looking him up and down while toying with the hem of his pellegrina.

“T-thank you…” Copia swallowed nervously as he couldn’t help staring at you, his burning cheeks deeply flushed to match his cassock.

“Ready?” You asked, taking his arm.

The Cardinal nodded, and together you made your way back to the dining hall.

•𖤐•

Before turning the corner to enter the hall, you felt Copia slowing down beside you, his anxiousness growing at the thought of facing the siblings once more. He felt like a rat reentering the serpents’ den.

You gave his arm a comforting squeeze, turning to look at him. “I’m right here.” You assured him.

Those beautifully odd eyes were so big sorrowful as they stared back at you. He was biting his lip again, looking like he had something to say to you.

“Sorella… Ehm.. You said that… You said that I could be Papa one day? What did you mean by that?” Copia asked, confused.

“You never know, Cardinal. I believe in you.” You replied, eyes soft and dreamy as you gazed at him.

After a moment of soaking in your words, Copia nodded, still not quite understanding why you were being so nice to him. However, he trusted you fully as the both of you finally entered the dining room once more, just in time for dessert like you had planned.

Every head in that whole damn dining hall whipped towards you, mouths falling open and eyes widening as they took in the stunning sight of you and your Cardinal. You hadn’t even coordinated your habit to match his cassock, but Lucifer below, the two of you looked like you stepped out of a delicious cherry and black liquorice dream.

The hall was silent, the clicking of your heels echoing as you strolled over to your seat. You could tell Copia was extremely nervous with the way everyone was staring, but you allowed your confidence to encompass the both of you, giving his arm another little reassuring squeeze to remind him that you weren’t going to let him drown.

The Cardinal may have been painfully awkward, but he was still a gentleman, pulling your chair out for you before sitting next to you.

“Well, don’t stop on our accord.” You looked to your friends, who were still in awe of you in that habit, and also surprised to see Copia having returned.

“Where… Um, where did you get that habit? I don’t think those are issued out by the ministry.” Emily asked. It looked like she wanted to be angry about how spectacular it looked on you, but she was just too surprised.

“Oh this? It was a gift, from Papa. He had it made for me.” You shrugged nonchalantly, grabbing two coffee cups for you and Copia.

Emily’s mouth opened to speak but no words came out at first. “R-really? He… had it made especially for you?”

“Yeah, isn’t that so sweet of him? He came into my room and even took my measurements himself.” You casually wove the image into her mind, leaving out certain details that would no doubt drive her mad later. Did he order you to strip so he could wrap that tape measure around you? And you know what they say about measuring the bust; nipple to nipple. Exactly how high did his hand go when he was measuring your inseam?

You hid your smirk, knowing these questions would surely plague her every time she looked at Terzo.

“Cream?” You turned to Copia.

“S-si, please.” He nodded.

“Say when.” You told him, beginning to pour.

And pour.

And pour.

“Eh… When.”

Sweet Satan, this man didn’t like cream with his coffee, he liked coffee with his cream.

“Sugar?” You questioned, to which Copia asked for two.

You popped two sugar cubes into his cup, giving it a stir and pushing it to him.

“Grazie, Sorella.” He shyly thanked you, taking a small sip while you fixed your own cup.

You could feel Rob’s eyes on you as you looked over the numerous tiered dessert trays, placing some little pastries onto your plate.

Knowing that he was watching intently, you just couldn’t help your next move.

“Mm, Cardinal, you need to try this, it’s one of my favourites!” You chirped, holding a little cream-filled peach pastry up to his lips.

The poor man’s blush was creeping to the tips of his ears as he leaned in and cautiously took a bite, accidentally brushing his lips against your fingers. Once he pulled away, you popped the other half into your mouth, humming at the taste as you licked your fingers.

The Cardinal felt weak, so dizzyingly weak from you; a shock coursing through him as you placed a hand on his thigh, leaning forward towards the table and reaching for another pastry. It didn’t help that you kept carelessly kicking your leg back and forth under the table, your foot brushing up against Copia’s leg each time. Any sort of contact with you flustered him to the point that it was nearly painful.

Soon enough, your group of friends began talking normally once more, neither being mean to Copia nor acknowledging him at all.

Rob was right in the middle of trying to be ‘smooth’ and flirt with you when your eyes drifted to Copia, grinning endearingly as he shoved another pastry into his mouth. He looked a bit sad, his kissable lips pulled into a frown, eyes flicking to Rob and the way he was so obviously trying to pick you up. Satan, the Cardinal didn’t think you actually liked Rob back, did he?

“So, since we learned all about lust and rituals in class, I thought that maybe we could-” Rob just wouldn’t shut up, despite you looking uninterested in his loathsome advances.

You bit your lip, eyes locking on the thick smudge of frosting gracing the corner of Copia’s mouth. Scooting your chair closer until your leg was brushing against his, he looked towards you just as you reached up to wipe it away, bringing your hand to your lips and sucking the sweet, creamy frosting off your finger.

Poor sweet little Cardinal. His breath hitched in his throat, the hot blush on his cheeks nearly glowing by this point. You could practically feel the scorching heat radiating off him.

“Yum.” You licked your lips coquettishly; your hand trailing from his shoulder, down his arm, and mindlessly settling on his thigh once more.

“Sorry, you were saying?” You asked, turning back to Rob and noticing the other sisters’ wide eyes on you.

“Uh.. well- nevermind…” Rob sniffed, trying to play it cool as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“Cardinal, are you feeling okay?” You cooed, returning your attention to the man and inching even closer. He was stunned, lips still parted in shock at your little stunt.

“Your face is the same colour as your cassock.” You giggled, brushing the back of your finger against his face. Your hands were always cold, so the sensation gave him some relief. However, the all-consuming fire of nervousness continued to torment him ruthlessly as you gently doted on him in front of everyone.

“O-oh..! Eh.. ehm- I-I’m okay, si…” Copia nodded, not quite convinced that he even was okay. How mortifying, that everyone could see the blush on his face.

“You’re so hot, Cardinal.” You remarked, biting your lip and pressing your cool hands against his cheeks, forehead, even lightly tugging at his collar for him. The poor timorous little mouse didn’t even realize that you meant it in both senses of the word.

“Enjoy this moment, Cardinal. Probably the only time you’ll ever hear those words being spoken to you.” Emily sneered, causing Rob to let out an amused snort, the other sisters covering their mouths to stifle a cacophony of laughter.

Copia flinched, looking meek as ever, her words cutting deeply into his gentle heart. But then you were looping your arms around his shoulders, giving him a squeeze as you looked toward Emily.

“Hm, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. He’s kinda cute.” You teased. The Cardinal’s eyes widened as he stiffened, looking so pitifully astounded that he almost seemed fearful.

“Well, if you think rats are cute then sure!” She retorted, words dripping in passive aggression.

“I actually think rats are very cute.” You responded simply, taking everyone- including Copia- by surprise. “With their big eyes,” your gaze flitted to the Cardinal’s eyes. “their pointy noses,” your eyes flicked to his nose, “their cute little whiskers.” you grinned dreamily, looking at his moustache.

Copia thought he was going to pass out. Were you trying to convey what he thought you were trying to convey, or was it just pure coincidence? No, no, it had to be a coincidence. No one as beautiful as you would ever be attracted to him, it would be impossible. Illogical. Nonsensical. Completely and utterly mad.

The Cardinal shuddered out a tense little exhale, his chest tight with anxiety as he inwardly scolded himself. He was going crazy, he just had to be. Satan below, he felt like such a dirty old man for even thinking of the mere possibility of you meaning anything by that. He was unlovable; he always had been and he always would be.

“Whatever you say, Sister. Perhaps you should schedule an appointment with the eye doctor.” Emily sighed, feigning concern for you.

“Yeah maybe you should, babe. How many fingers am I holding up?” Rob asked, holding up two fingers.

“My eyes are fine, thanks. How many fingers am I holding up?” You shot back with an amused smirk, flipping Rob off.

Your friends gasped at your actions before giggling, not taking it to heart as they found your quick wit and sassiness quite amusing, even when you were using it against them.

The Cardinal was absolutely shocked by your brazenness. You were this gorgeous goddess of a girl, so graceful and poised, yet borderline presumptuous in the way you kept people in line. And Copia greatly admired you for it; the way you were the exact opposite of him. Where he had no self esteem, you were bursting with confidence; where he was shy, you were bold. He always felt himself drowning in anxiety, being reduced to nothing more than a shy, stuttering idiot. It was a mystery how you always kept yourself so effortlessly cool.

“Anyway, I’ll have to remember how warm you are next time the heating gives out, maybe you can keep me from freezing all night.” You hummed thoughtfully, finally pulling away from Copia. You kept your voice casual and innocent as could be, as if you didn’t quite understand how inappropriate it would be to have him sleeping in your bed.

The Cardinal- who had relaxed considerably once you pulled away from him- stiffened sharply once more. It didn’t go unnoticed, the way his head shot up, mismatched eyes widening, mouth opening and closing as he tried and failed to speak.

“S-si, eh.. P-perhaps.” He bit his lip, staring down into his cup of coffee. It was ironic, usually the Cardinal was always a bit cold; it was just you who got him all hot and bothered.

You smirked at his torment, twirling a lock of hair around your little finger. But your hair wasn’t the only thing wrapped around your little finger. You had Copia all wound up too.

𖤐 to be continued 𖤐

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[xplrvibes]

Im watchibg the first conjuring episode now (sorry if ive already said that) and its so sweet how they sit down just snc and sam immediately asks colby how he’s feeling

Im seeing everything now thru a new lens knowing sam is the guide and colby is the psychic and my hunch about it is literally fact and like an actual thing

ugh my heart.

- aussie anon

Sidenote that has nothing to do with anything: I had to dig out my laptop to answer this, cause the tumblr mobile app is lagging hardcore for me today. Anyone else having issues?

I've always thought it was interesting how often they get "Colby" or "Cole" during an Estes session. They get "Sam" too, but that's such a common name that I could see that being said on the radio quite often so that one coming through quite a bit doesn't surprise me - but how many Cole/Colbys are really out there on the radios waves across the US/Canada/Europe??

My opinion on the Estes, by the way, is not that it's an actual spirit coming through and speaking over the waves, for the most part - it's clearly bits and pieces of radio stations coming through for a second here and there - but rather, the person under the Estes session is almost being used as a psychic tool in a way to hear things from those radio waves that need to be heard in order to get the message across/out (hence why some people are better at it than others - Colby vs the girl that wasn't Rae whose name I forgot, sorry during the last video was a good visual representation of that). But having said that, Colby's name coming through as often as it does is just weird cause there cannot be that many ways to say "Colby" on the radio, so maybe it's a mix of radio waves and actual voices?

I don't know. Regardless, it's a collaborative effort between the person going under, the spirits, and the radio waves to make it all happen, is what I say.

Anyway, I love how casual Colby was about his name being said mixed with the word "kill" cause I would not have been as casual lol.

I don't remember anymore which Conjuring video has Colby getting locked in the basement and straight panicking, and Sam running back to the house and just going "oh he's probably freaking out right now" and yelling Colby's name as if Colby could hear him (I think that was the second video?), but that's another good Sam the Worrywart moment - although he ruins it by coming in and immediately thinking Colby was lying about the door being locked.

Man has some trust issues lol.

But the thing that made the very first Conjuring video stand out to me was their Estes sessions in the basement - Colby having an actual and legit panic attack halfway through and the stuff both of them were getting in their sessions was clearly something just fucking with them in a very unhelpful way and it had such a creepy creepy vibe to it. I didn't love the last series they did back in October, for a lot of reasons, but that first Conjuring video they did is really deserving of all of the attention and views it got.

Also, as far as fanfic is concerned - hey, write away! Maybe it's cause I've been on the internet for a long time and spent way too many years in the SPN trenches, but I think there's way worse things that can be written than just a standard RPF fic (wincest comes to mind). I think there are areas where it can get weird (and I think talking to snc themselves about it is ALWAYS a no-no and too far across the line), but for the most part, fics are fics. Write what makes you happy!

[sidhewrites]

15! This one got long, it may end up being trimmed into two chapters. For now though, here's some exposition and research! Slight warning for suggested animal illness at the end, but I'll preface it with saying Renfield is fine and remains fine if a bit shaken throughout the entire book.

Project Info

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Magnus Sunthorpe, as it turns out, has a long history of paperwork that was only preserved due to negligence on the part of whoever cleaned out the archives. The file folder was stuffed full of moldering, century-old slips of paper, each in their own yellowed folder that had been stamped with date range of the contents inside, as well as a much more recent note that they had been digitally preserved.

"You think the old Librarian forbade anyone from throwing them out?" I ask, waggling my brows at Josie before, once again, being forced to contend with the fact that, actually, the Librarian could do exactly that. I bite back any discomfort, and force myself to say, "She seems the type to hoard everything."

She shoots me a distinctly unimpressed look while we request copies of each page from one of the living librarians back up on the first floor.

"What kind of research project is this supposed to be?" he asks. His name tag reads Carter.

I give Carter a smile. "A weird one."

"A biography," Josie clarifies.

He raises an eyebrow at me, correctly deducing that Josie is the brains of this operation. "These are gonna be due in two weeks, same as any library book. You need an extension, you gotta come in or call us so we can make a note." He takes us to the research stacks just past the children's library, and pulls two three-ring binders down, each labelled meticulously with dates and information. Carter deposits the binders in Josie's arms, and she promptly hands them off to me. "Is this for a class or something?" Carter asks.

"No." I barely manage to keep myself from adding that Josie's cat is possessed, and instead manage to stumble into a different, less suspicious line of conversation, "I think the lady who works downstairs doesn't like when you throw things out."

Carter pauses before placing the third binder on top of the other two. "Not in the least."

Josie's eyes gleam. "You know who she is?"

"I think I'd know my coworkers, yes."

"Don't you love this time of year?" I ask. "The weather is cooling off, the leaves are all red, and there seems to be spooky shit everywhere you turn. Especially in old creepy libraries."

"It's an old building. We're lucky the wifi works. Asking for things not to be spooky in the basement levels is just getting greedy."

"So you agree. The basements are spooky."

Josie kicks me lightly.

I give her my most innocent look.

"I just work here, ma'ams," Carter says, but he holds my gaze long enough to get the point across.

I nod, and Carter nods back, but there's too many people around to talk for long. He helps us check the records out and sends us on our way.

"So am I the only one around here who apparently sees ghosts, or do you think he's just imagining shadows and shit?"

Josie shrugs. "I'm sure you're not the only one. I wonder what the cause of it is."

"I had a near-death accident when I was fourteen. I was doing track and field after school and tripped over a hurdle. Nearly broke my neck. I was in and out of consciousness until I woke up and saw myself lying in a hospital bed hooked up to a hundred different machines and an IV. It was terrifying. I looked around and saw my parents there, red eyed and tired, and I looked out the window and saw this bright light, and a woman's voice telling me it's not my time yet. Go back, there were still so beautiful girls to woo and so much stupid shit left to do in this world."

She listens intently until i get far enough in to remove any doubt that I'm making everything up. "I can't believe you still don't -- I mean -- believe. You're literally dating a ghost."

"I'm not--" I start, and stammer. I mean -- I kind of am, aren't I? But my face flushes, and I get indignant regardless. "That's not --! We're not putting labels on anything yet!"

"So you're in a relationship. With a ghost."

"I..." I start. If I hadn't been carrying binders just then, I'd have thrown my hands in the air or gesticulated or something to burn off the sudden nervous energy building up in my limbs.

"It's okay, I'm not judging. Well -- I am, but it's not my place to tell you how to live your life anymore."

"It wasn't in the first place either," I mutter, and shake it off. We're almost to the edge of campus. "Lucy can only come out at night, so we've got some time until she can look things over. Should we...?" I shrug vaguely, not sure where I'm going with this.

[Transition]

Over the next few hours, Josie and I go through the bulk of the documents. Okay, she goes through the bulk of the pages, and I sit there and color code things with sticky notes. In my defense, research has never been my strong suit, no matter how interesting the subject, and I'd like a bit of praise for not giving up entirely and going on my phone.

The documents come together to form the story of a deeply unpleasant man. He brought his birth certificate with him when he came to Sutton, tracing his family back to a farm in Kentucky. He was one of eight kids, and moved in to town in [year]. He started keeping a journal a month in, which seemed to show him finally happy with his surroundings, surrounded by trees and peace and few people. Magnus hated everything about the people who lived in Sutton -- loud, friendly, often covered in sweat and sawdust, but he liked the solitude.

And then came the pages upon pages of formal noise complaints submitted to the mayor from [the year after he moved] all the way up until his death in [YEAR]. Seems like nothing got past him -- not a neighbor's hog farm causing a ruckus during feeding time in the morning, nor a colic baby being rushed to the doctor in the middle of the day. And if a party ran late in the bar, damn anyone who thought they could have a bit of fun on the weekend without there being trouble.

And then, finally, in [year], he faced his demise doing what he loved best -- being a dick. Magnus had come out on New Years Eve, lantern in hand, shouting to the good loggers who dared celebrate with drinks and music and shouting in town. He was shoved out of town and tossed into the stables -- which, the obit writer made sure to add -- hadn't been mucked in a few days.

A horse panicked and kicked him in the head. He was pronounced dead in the morning, presumably when everyone's hangovers became tolerable enough to leave bed.

In our search, we found a report someone put together of him back in the 1960s titled Sutton's Most Miserable Man by Oliver Proust. It seems, so says Oliver, Magnus was the reason Sutton created municipal complaint forms in the first place, as an unsuccessful attempt to put him off of whining so often to the mayor. He was also the main reason Sutton imported so much paper from a larger town before the mining boom caused the population to grow a decade or two after his death.

"Oliver was right on the money," I surmised, nodding resolutely at our handiwork. The pages had been sorted -- scanned diaries over here, municipal complaint forms over there. "The most miserable man in town, probably in all of history."

"See what Lucy has to say about it. Maybe she knows him?"

"What, like they haunt the graveyard together? You think they're ghost buddies?" Unfortunately, now that I say it, that sounds plausible. They may not be friends per se, but with how long and how sociable Lucy seems to be, I don't doubt that she knows some of the other ghosts in the cemetery. "I'll ask her tonight," I say, and then groan. That's going to mean breaking in. I'm getting frustratingly casual with breaking rules surrounding my job lately, and that's definitely going to spell trouble for me later.

While waiting for night to fall, I pace around my apartment, clutching my phone like it owes me money. I don't want to do this. I don't want to do this. It could cost me my job. It could ruin any future chances the graveyard might have of working with public figures. Mr. Ngo could be angry at me. A thousand worst-case scenarios play through my head, over and over again, but I just keep looking at Renfield, curled up next to the space heater.

At six, he doesn't get up for dinner. When I try to pet him, he lets out a quiet low growl.

I can feel him there. Magnus. Whenever I look away, I hear a rustling behind me, and I turn to see Renfield's head up, eyes open, pupils narrowed to a sliver. I know it's Magnus in there, watching me. Waiting to see what I'll do. There's no other option. I need help.

I pick up my phone and dial.

The number goes right to voicemail, but I plead my case all the same, begging for help. Or at least for half an idea what to do.

#

Come nightfall, I'm in the graveyard again, spreading the pages out on a bench for Lucy to look over as she stands off to the side.

"Does any of this look familiar to you?" I ask. My flashlight catches on her, and I have to remind myself that she's a ghost. Ghosts are real, and my kind-of-girlfriend is one herself. Even knowing all that, however, it's still so easy to forget. She looks as solid as I do, her face pale but catching the light like it should. There are such subtle signs of wrongness that, even looking for them, they're easy to miss. But her veil doesn't move in the slight breeze, and the grass below her feet remains undisturbed. Even the mud clinging to my shoes is nowhere to be seen on her outfit, the hem of her gown as spotless as if it was freshly cleaned.

She pores over the pages, either unaware or uninterested in my staring as she scans the pages, eyes darting back and forth from headline to municipal form to obituary.

"No, not a thing. I could ask around, of course. I'm sure someone from his time would have more answers than myself."

I nod. Magnus died thirty years before Lucy was born.

[conversation about ghosts and the different kinds? Lucy has vague acquaintances.] "But ghosts don't socialize in quite the same way. We're not...all here, not all the time."

"Like when the sun's out?"

She nods. "For me, yes. But the rules aren't wholly clear, and they seem to be shifting all the time for some spirits."

I shift my weight and wrap my arms around my knees. "What do you mean?"

[Orbs vs spirits with no corporeal/visual form, sometimes they're more aware of where thye are sometimes its just emotions or detached intentions of going home]

She stands and looks at the old tree, skirts rustling in a nonexistent breeze. It's like she has her own weather sometimes, the wind wherever she is entirely detached from the wind where I am.

"Do you ever miss it?"

"Miss what?"

"I don't know. Life. Touching things? Eating. Changing your clothes. That kind of stuff."

She presses her lips together, gaze falling away. "I'm not sure. I've been dead longer than I was ever alive, and the world is so...big. There's so much to it now. And my memories of my life aren't always..." She pauses, trying to find the right words, but I think I understand this one.

"Yeah," I say, and rest my chin on my knees. "Like they're right there in front of you, and you know they're there, but you can't quite reach them anymore. You don't know where to look for them, right?"

"Exactly, yes."

"I get that sometimes. I mean -- I don't know if mine is the same as yours, but I have that sometimes."

"But you're alive."

"Eh." I shrug. "My brain's broken, but it's less broken now than I was when I was a teenager. Caffeine helps though." I lift my coffee in a toast.

"I don't follow."

"You want a brief history on psychiatric advancements of the 20th century?" It's a joke, but Lucy [looks at me like she'd like nothing more.] "Okay, sorry, that was an exaggeration. Basically, I have issues reliably paying attention and remembering things, among a whole slew of other stupid issues."

She nods, but I don't miss the hint of disappointment in her expression.

Before I realize what I'm saying, I blurt out, "I'll get a book from the library tomorrow. We can read it together, and I'll turn the pages for you. Deal?"

"Deal." Then, after a moment of deliberation, she says, "But why does coffee help?"

"Stimulants calm my brain down."

"Why?"

I shrug, and take a sip. "Because it's broken."

When I put my cup down, however, Lucy is looking at me, a crease furrowed between her brows.

"What?" I ask.

"Is it really?"

"Is what really?"

"Your brain. Is it really broken?"

"Oh. Nah." I laugh. "I'm just being dramatic. I'm fine now. Or, mostly anyway. Nothing too much coffee can't fix." Just to prove a point, I tilt my head back, and chug. I am the epitome of feminine grace.

Her concern doesn't let up. 

I feel my smile falter under her gaze, and shrug. "It's fine, really."

"Kaz..."

I don't want to go into this. Not now. Not with her. "Look, I'm okay now. Really. I have some issues, but they're miles better now than when I was a teen."

Lucy makes a show of sitting on the bench, not even disturbing the papers I've set out, and patting the space next to her. Reluctantly, I gather the pages up and set them in my lap before sitting next to her. She doesn't talk first, just waits for me to be ready.

"Look...I mean it when I say I'm fine now, okay?  There's problems, but it's manageable now. When I was a kid, you know..." I shrug. "I don't know when they came up with the term, but I had a major depressive disorder. I lay in bed for days on end. I fought with my parents because it was easier than pretending to be okay. When they learned I liked girls ..." I frown. My dad's words never left my memory, fallible as it could be some times. "It got worse. I got worse. My parents got worse. I had the grades to go to an ivy league school in junior year, then by senior year it was a miracle I graduated at all."

I don't look at Lucy, instead focusing on my calloused hands, fingers gripping the library pages tightly. "I had to skip a year before coming here, and I just barely got in." My fingers won't stay still. My knee bounces. "I'm better now, though. Away from my family. I have people I love here, and Renfield makes sure I get out of bed in the mornings, if only to feed him breakfast."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lucy's hand. She doesn't touch mine, but rests it gently next to it, our pinky fingers less than an inch from touching.

"I promise I'm doing okay, okay? I don't really mean it when I say my brain's broken. Other people have it worse. I just like to be a shit sometimes."

"Sometimes," she echoes, and there's a smirk in her voice, though it doesn't last long. When I look up, her gaze is distant. "When my husband passed, I thought I was dying. I don't remember his face, but I remember that...painful numbness. Like I was being torn apart at the seams, and yet like I was feeling nothing at all." Her brow furrows, mouth curving into a frown. "I lay in bed for days, not eating. I think I slept. And then..." She sighs. "I died. I woke up here, without him. If I saw my own funeral, I don't remember it."

I want to take her hand. I barely move my pinky out, feeling the icy static of her ghostly skin against mine.

"Do you miss him?"

"I loved him more than anything. I moved from the city to be with him." She pauses. "He was going to buy me a camera the second he had enough money. Every day he'd kiss me goodbye and promise that we'd have a million photographs -- of our home, of our family... Of us." She shook her head. "The only photo left was our marriage photo. I don't even know where it is anymore."

"I'll find it," I say without thinking.

"Kaz --"

"No. Listen. I'll find it for you, okay? You're a huge star in paranormal communities. If it's out there, someone has it, and probably posted it online. I'll find it."

She looks me dead on, the corners of her mouth starting to pull upwards once more. "I believe you."

"Believe in the internet," I say.

Lucy shakes her head. "I believe in you."

I'm still walking on air when I return home. I hum to myself, jingling my keys before putting them into the lock and opening the door

I stop dead in my tracks as soon as I step inside. The apartment has been turned upside down. Textbooks thrown off the table and shredded, dishes shattered on the kitchen tile. All my knickknacks and things litter the floor, chairs knocked over, couch torn to bits. Even the floor lamp has been knocked to the ground, the remains of light bulbs glittering in the carpet.

Renfield sits on the table, surrounded by his destruction. His fur is paler, pupils narrowed to a thin sliver in his yellow eyes.

"Have you had fun tonight?" Magnus asks. Black bile drips from Marius's mouth, and he launches himself at me with a wail.

Tag List

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[theygotlost]

i guess I never actually shared my thoughts on mort as a whole. the thing about terry pratchett's writing is that it will always be a baseline level of good (i guess with the exception of tcom but i havent actually read it yet). even when I don't like a discworld novel that much i still like it. so that is to say, I don't necessarily dislike mort, but it's not nearly as good as some of the other discw books ive read.

one aspect i've already complained about is how overbearingly tongue-in-cheek in can get, and obviously pratchett is The Tongue-In-Cheek Guy, but in his later works he's able to dial it down to a more tastefully subtle level. it's hamfisted enough in mort that it took me out of the reading experience and i felt I had to say something about it.

the other things that bothered me had less to do with the technical aspects of writing and more with elements that could be considered "problematic". there's some racial/ethnic stereotypes that stick out like a sore thumb: klatch and the agatean empire are just caricatures of ancient egypt and feudal japan respectively with all the names changed. and ofc these locations still exist in all the other discworld books. but none of the other ones ive read really go into much detail on them, and when characters express racism against people from those places it's framed as a prejudice of the characters themselves and not something that pratchett actually incorporated into the lore.

i was kind of sort of put off by the fact that ysabell and mort are both 16 but ysabell has been 16 for 35 years? it vaguely smacks of "female character who is supernaturally old but looks like a teenager" but I'm more willing to let that one slide because time doesn't actually pass at death's estate like it does in mortal realm and ysabell clearly thinks and acts like a normal 16 year old so it doesn't come across as weird or creepy to me.

i was DEFINITELY made rather uncomfortable by the subplot between cutwell and princess keli. the book is trying to convince me that a 20-year-old incel lusting after (and ostensibly ending up in a relationship with?) a 15 YEAR OLD GIRL is supposed to be like, funny and endearing i guess? and i was not having it. GET A JOB STAY AWAY FROM HER!!!!!!!!!

so those things make mort noticeably more "a product of its time" and harder to enjoy in 2023, but overall I did find the story quite touching. mort himself is a really good character and I like him and ofc I love Death. anyway those are my thoughts

[versaceviagra]

Thursday 05/16/2024 1:30 AM

This is me now! A quick little update about me, I am now currently single after a long battle of toxicity and abuse (on both ends) from my last relationship with Joseph.

Anyways, I've been on this journey of 'self-healing' and basically trying to regulate my nervous system and trying my best to handle my emotions better.

I no longer smoke a pack (or two) a day which was normal for me last year. Actually, my last bout of smoking was this past January but quit due to the fact that it's really hard to smoke during duty hours of clinicals.

Im about to pass my 2nd year of nursing school and moving forward with 3rd year, how exciting! i will only have one more year to go after that and then its working, im excited to make my own money again and to get away from the hells and holds of my mother who has decided to only give me and Desiree 6k pesos a month (which is absolutely atrocious). Anywho, she will not actually go through with it because she is aware of the surging prices here in the Philippines and its at a small cost to her.

I know i've been real scared about hooking up here in the PH , especially since ive only had one partner but I did hook up with this one guy who is apparently a micro-celebrity or more so an influencer here in the PH and yes, we did have protected sex, and yes, his dick was big. Another experience was this foreigner named Hass (or Huss) and honestly? Did not wanna go through that shit because i only really went for free drinks and he ate me out for like 5 seconds and after that I came to my senses, washed up, and left. Honestly, what is up with foreigners going to a lesser developed country to get some pussy anyways? It never made sense to me and its reeking desperation, its also creepy.

Anywho, right now I'm just in bed and unable to sleep. I think ill be getting my period in the next following days because my cravings are so intense that I had a THIRD supper which consisted of hot milk, loaf bread dunked in, bits and bites of my nephew's spaghetti , and a mug full of Laing and rice.

I just know that when i get back to America, life will flourish for me significantly. I will be able to breathe again and be away from the stressors that I'm not bringing upon myself.

I survived a month of mama and Aya being here last month. Aya was an absolute fucking bitch and a nightmare and she still has to give me my $360.00 . Like. It's my fucking money, yknow? ugly.

I can't think of much else to type.

In my future, I just KNOW im going to be wealthy. Like, private yacht , beach front house that is tall over looking the ocean (wont be my only home), expensive skin care, makeup, purses, and shoes type of wealthy. With the 500+ count egyptian cotton threading that is super soft to the touch and with a tall gorgeous husband who only loves me and has eyes for me. That's going to be my future. Sipping wine by the outside of the restaurant and absolutely just loving the peace, quiet, and love that is pouring in. Of course, with my 2 kids that I love dearly and will have after I've accomplished my career goals and money that I was able to accumulate. Whatever it will be, however it happens, I will get there and I am 100% sure of it.

I think that's all I wanted to share for now :)

I'm happy of the person I am at the moment. Just absolute peace and quiet. I don't have any friends for that matter, but I am okay with it unless I actually want to go out and party.

Thanks for reading this, if you've come across it.

Thank you future Becky for everything you're doing for US and for me right now. I thank you for that. Don't be too hard on yourself because everything will fall into place regardless.

[tarosin]

did i do that...

this is for @bozowrites 2k event :]

pairing: implied tommy x reader (platonic)

warnings: swearing, violence, death, contemplation of suicide

“so what are you in here for?” dream wheezed, trying his hardest to watch you break down for his own entertainment. “piss off dream! that’s not funny, i’m sick of waking up each day and seeing you stood peering over at me, do you understand how fucking creepy that is? i’m sick of waking up to the sound of you blabbering on in the corner of the cell going ‘technoblade still owes me a favour i’ll be out soon enough.’”

dream smirked under his mask proud of his accomplishment, “do you blame yourself?”

y/ns face began to soften the corners of their mouth, they couldn’t suppress their emotions anymore, causing themself to lose it, “shut up dream! leave me alone!”

ever since y/n was forcefully dragged into the cell with dream, his favourite way to pass time was by manipulating y/n into reliving that god awful memory they had tried to shut out.

“wonder if he still loves you, i doubt it after all you did-”

“if you continue that sentence i swear to god dream i’ll carve my entire name into your fucking arm!”

laughing at their awful attempt to cover up their sadness with violence, he noticed he did it, he successfully triggered them into reliving the memory they tried so hard to lock away.

•••

“keep your eyes closed, okay?”

tommy was excited to show his best friend the newest member to their little group. michael.

“tommy what’s going on?”

Michael ran full speed crashing into an awfully confused teenager sitting on the grass, who was now rightfully scared.

“open your eyes y/nnn!”

“fucking hell- Michael what are you doing here?” y/n asked instinctively tilting their head sideways.

“you look like a fucking dog when you do that, anyways i know how much you like Michael, and i know if i was him i’d be pretty pissed off ive been kidnapped from my home, and placed in some wooden box with a giant man with memory problems and his husband”

tilting their head even more this time, a confused expression was etched onto their face.

“so you decided to fix his problem of being kidnapped by kidnapping him again to make him go to his old home...are you taunting him here?”

Michael began mirroring y/n and started tilting his head towards tommy, causing y/n to break into hysterics.

“oh god michael i love you!”

“come on already let’s go to the nether, michael over here has a family to go see”

Tommy grabbed y/ns hand, michael clung onto their leg.

“hunny, i can’t walk with you like that..no don’t get upset...i’ll pick you up please stop crying. tommy let go of my hand for just one minute.”

“....no.”

Michael giggled as y/n picked him up with their free arm.

tommy looked over at the pair, focusing on y/n's face, whilst they laughed at michael resting his head on their chest. nothing could ruin this moment, he wouldn’t let it.

“think he loves you y/n? not as much as i do of course, i’ll love you forever.”

“i adore the pair of you, now let’s go to the nether, tubbo and ranboo won’t want him out long.”

once the three of them stepped out of the portal, tommy looked at y/n, “about that...they have no idea i've taken him.”

“please tell me you’re not serious... i was joking about you kidnapping him, we should take him back.”

tommy convinced them to stay for a while longer and everything was going well. tommy had never been happier, y/n finally calmed down about tommy kidnapping Michael, and Michael was just happy to be with his friends. that was until things took a turn, as

michael noticed something shiny across the bridge, and jumped from y/ns grasp.

“MICHAEL...where the fuck did he just go?”

“uh i think he went that way.. or that way.. hopefully not that way!”

y/n went into protective mode, whilst tommy began to panic.

“tommy you go left, i’ll go straight forward. we’re just going to have to hope he didn’t turn right, everything will be fine!”

y/n had already set off determined to find michael, who was like a little brother to them, when tommy yelled out to them.

“Y/N NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER!”

“i love you too!”

hours had past, y/n and tommy were still alone, but equally lost and exhausted. that’s when y/n found him walking into a crowd of skeletons.

“MICHAEL!”

being shot at by skeletons whilst exhausted, the thought of michael being surrounded by the skeletons slipped out their mind, as they aimlessly shot back at the skeletons. that’s when it happened...

y/n had shot michael, and tommy saw the entire thing.

“MICHAEL!” tommy screamed out, his voice breaking mid sentence.

“y/n you.. you monster!”

“was that.. was that me?”

they began stepping closer to Michaels lifeless body.

“no.. that’s not me”

“YOU FUCKING KILLED HIM!”

“ITS NOT ME!”

“he fucking loved you y/n and you... you fucking shot him.. he’s dead and it’s entirely your fault.. you did it on purpose!” tommy screamed in agony.

“I DIDN'T SHOOT HIM ON PURPOSE TOMMY..why do i.. why do i have to be a part of this?!”

“y/n l/n i watched you do it. how am i supposed to tell tubbo and ranboo you shot their child? i can’t even look at you right now. don’t ever talk to me again and don’t you even think about showing up to his funeral!”

“tommy please don’t leave..you said you’d love me forever!”

“that’s because I thought you were a dream come true but look at what you’ve fucking done!” tommy sobbed as he walked away, holding on to Michaels lifeless body, taking him back home so that tubbo and ranboo could say goodbye to their son one last time.

“i’m going to throw up..”

y/n sat, feet dangling over the edge. Michael was dead, it was entirely their fault, and tommy thought they had done it on purpose. now tommy hates them.

they thought about taking the easy way out, rather than having to face tommy, tubbo, and ranboo. hell they didn’t want to see anyone back home. the only reason they chose not to was due to the fact they wanted to go to the funeral and apologise to Michael for not protecting them. they went back home as quickly and quietly as they could, avoiding everyone and anyone.

days passed and they overheard the funeral was today. they got ready for the first time since the accident, and made their way only to be met by a heartbroken tubbo, a furious ranboo, a traumatised tommy, and sam who was clearly hiding his disappointment and anger. it was silent until ranboo decided to speak up, “why are you still here y/n? i thought it would be obvious the only time anyone wants to see you again is at your funeral. sam please take them away before i do something i’ll regret.”

[iam93percentstardust]

Hello. I am very interested with WinterIron. Enemies to Lovers, abo with omega Tony, accidental bonding, mutual pining, a lot and a loooootttttt of kissing and touching (with "I do it because of bond" excuses).

Please feel free to cross anything you feel uncomfortable with.

Hi there! I wasn't able to get everything in there, but hopefully there's enough? I loved this prompt so much, it was a fun verse to write in 💙

CW for omegas having few rights in this verse and for creepy Aldrich Killian

As always, everything I write can also be found on ao3

~

mate bond: [meyt bond] noun

1. A mental and physical connection that ties two people together following a mating bite

2. A pair bond between spouses

~

[An excerpt from The Other Half of My Soul: An Exploration into Unconventional Bonding Methods by Anderson-Lopez et al, 1972]

“While rare, it is important to note the existence of mate bonds in individuals who have not exchanged bites. These instances have notably occurred during times of high stress for one or both individuals, and are sparked by an inciting incident of some kind, usually a traumatic event. While these types of mate bonds, dubbed soulmate bonds by the media, frequently occur between individuals who are highly compatible, it is not necessary. Curiously, however, it does seem necessary that the individuals are scent matched for a soulmate bond, even though compatible second genders are not a requirement.”

~

Bucky maintained that it was an accident.

Tony had been meant for Steve, after all. That was the arrangement Howard Stark had decided on with Fury. Bucky had only come along as moral support for the first meeting between Steve and Tony. He wasn’t even supposed to meet Tony first, but the crowded ballroom had been too much for him, so he’d ducked out into the hallway, only to come across two alphas menacing an omega. He supposed that some of Steve’s fiery nature must have rubbed off on him, as he normally would have never taken on two alphas by himself, not when he was down an arm. But he’d taken one look at that omega, pretty brown eyes wide with distress, and leapt into action. It hadn’t been until both alphas had been sent off running with their tails between their legs that he’d realized the omega he’d rescued was Tony Stark, Steve’s arranged mate.

Unfortunately (fortunately? No, definitely unfortunately), the arranged match would never come to fruition as Bucky and Tony had looked at each other and immediately bonded without a shared word or bite between them.

Howard was furious, Fury less so—Bucky was still a SHIELD agent, even if he wasn’t the great Captain America, so the planned union between SHIELD and SI would still happen—but both Bucky and Tony insisted that it hadn’t been done on purpose. And, as neither had a mating bite but could still feel the other at the back of their mind, it was hard to disprove the existence of what had once been called a soulmate bond, though was now called the rather unglamorous name of Mate Bond Subtype C, which Bucky thought sounded like an illness.

The media thought it was the most romantic thing they’d ever heard. Steve, who was slowly courting another alpha from SHIELD, thought it was a relief. Bucky, who didn’t want an omega while he was still recovering from the surgery on his arm, thought it was a nightmare at first.

He didn’t know what Tony thought.

They might have shared a bond between them, but Tony had quickly figured out how to shield his feelings. It had taken Bucky a little bit more practice but he too had worked out how to keep his thoughts and feelings private, which was good, because he doubted Tony would like to know what he was thinking.

They’d been bonded for three months and, while Bucky had moved into Tony’s penthouse apartment, they didn’t share a room, let alone a bed. He still took long missions that took him away for weeks at a time. Tony spent more time at SI’s research labs than he did at home. Bucky hadn’t shared Tony’s heat, nor had Tony shared Bucky’s rut, though neither of them had invited anyone else into their beds. And other than their planned public outings where they had to touch to put on the façade of a happily bonded couple, they didn’t hold hands or kiss or lean into each other, giggling.

The problem was—Bucky wanted all of that. He wanted to sleep curled around Tony. He wanted the two of them to be home long enough to share more than one dinner together at a time. He desperately wanted to share cycles, but even more badly than that, he wanted to touch Tony as often as the omega could stand it. Because the problem was also this—sometime in the course of three months, he’d fallen in love.

~

Tony slid his hand into Bucky’s as they stood in the elevator. “It’s just a quick walk around the ballroom, say hi to a couple investors, and then we can leave,” he said reassuringly, giving Bucky a quick smile. “I know how much you hate these shindigs.”

This was true, Bucky did hate them, but he knew that Tony hated them just as much, though he hid it much better than Bucky did. “Don’t worry,” he replied, squeezing Tony’s hand quickly. “I’ll stick to you like glue.”

“Well, maybe not like glue. Like Velcro, maybe. Howard’s got a couple investors that I know he wants me to meet and that I know you’ll hate so you’re more than welcome to go off and find people more to your liking then. I heard Steve’s coming.”

Bucky had to fight to hide a frown. He knew Tony didn’t mean any harm by the comment, but he hated how Tony thought he wouldn’t want to be by his side even when meeting people he didn’t like. So what if he didn’t like them? He’d still prefer to be giving Tony silent support instead of wandering off and leaving him alone for that long.

Before he can respond, the elevator came to a smooth stop, the doors opening on a soft ding to reveal the glittering ballroom Maria Stark had chosen to host the Annual Stark Foundation’s Shareholders’ Ball, meant to honor those who had given so generously to charity over the last year. The room was decorated in delicate ice-like structures, calling to mind the snow blanketing the city outside, though it wasn’t nearly as cold inside. Golden chandeliers reflected off the dark windows, giving the impression of a never-ending stretch of light. It was all so very glitzy and glamorous. Bucky hated it. It was an obscene display of wealth, meant solely to remind everyone that the Starks were richer than anyone else in the room.

“One hour, Bucky Bear,” Tony murmured like he could hear Bucky’s thoughts. “And then we can go get burgers.”

He dropped Bucky’s hand in favor of sliding his own into the crook of Bucky’s elbow, gently steering him towards the first group of investors. Like every other rich person he’d met since bonding with Tony, they were simultaneously smug of their own “generosity” (mere pennies compared to their bank accounts) and jealous, both of Tony’s wealth and Bucky’s luck in landing a Stark (not his words). The smugness was blatant, the jealousy only slightly hidden in the way their eyes lingered as Bucky took the opportunity to brush his lips across Tony’s cheek, quietly telling him he was going to go get them drinks.

“I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me,” he promised, understanding the minute tightness at the corners of Tony’s eyes.

Tony smiled and nodded, attention already turning back to the investors—or, more likely, to his latest project, however much it might have looked like he was paying attention to Hugh Worthington IV. Bucky slipped through the crowd to the bar. Fortunately, it wasn’t crowded yet and he was able to order a whiskey for himself and a scotch for Tony, who always refused to drink the fruity drinks he actually preferred at these parties, almost immediately. As he waited, he turned back to the crowd, idly scanning it. Steve wasn’t there yet, if it was indeed true that Fury had managed to stuff him into a suit and send him off to schmooze. His eyes sought out Tony, who was laughing as he excused himself from the group Bucky had left him with, moving on to another small throng of people.

He smiled despite himself. Tony was lovely like this, despite his discomfort. Bucky got to see him laugh so rarely at home that he cherished every moment he got to see it while they were out in public.

“Sir, your drinks,” the bartender prompted. He thanked them absently and left a tip on the bar before making his way back across the ballroom to Tony’s side.

Tony wasn’t laughing now. In fact, if his pursed lips were anything to go off of, he was pretty furious, and Bucky wondered what had upset him between him leaving the bar and him returning to Tony’s side.

“Doll,” he said, letting Tony know he was there. Tony turned and took his drink, thanking him with a quick kiss that Bucky desperately wanted to turn into a longer, sweeter one.

“Honey, Senator Stern here was just telling me about an omega’s rights bill he filibustered so it wouldn’t pass,” Tony said, irritation bleeding into his tone.

“Now isn’t that interesting,” Bucky drawled, irritated himself. The bill in question was a law that he knew Tony had backed, as it would have put a stop to the arranged bondings the wealthy were so fond of. They’d both known it would be a longshot to pass, but they’d remained hopeful. “That’s the one that Stevie supported isn’t it?”

“It is,” Tony agreed. “My alpha here—” He patted Bucky’s chest. “—is close friends with Captain Rogers. They grew up together, you know. Steve spends nearly every Saturday evening with us. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear about this bill failing to pass. Isn’t he supposed to be putting in an appearance at the Senate hearing next week? It would be such a shame if he couldn’t make it.”

Tony’s statement was only partially true. Bucky mostly saw Steve at SHIELD, as Steve, despite being always welcome at their apartment, didn’t want to be reminded of how close he’d come to an arranged bonding of his own. But Steve, who had been an omega before receiving the serum, had always been an outspoken supporter of omega’s rights, and now that he was an alpha, and Captain America to boot, he used every bit of that privilege to push as much pro-omega legislature through Congress as he could. He was a thorn in conservative senators’ sides, like Stern, and it was a minor miracle that they’d gotten him to appear in front of Congress to talk positively about a Republican bill supporting an expansion of benefits for veterans, when he normally disagreed with anything Republican just on principle. Steve’s support would go a long way toward getting that bill passed.

Tony’s veiled threat was effective. Stern, one of the authors of the bill, blanched, making Bucky smile. He loved watching Tony do his thing. There was really nothing better than Tony putting bullies like Stern back in their place.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Stern stammered out before hurrying away.

As soon as he was gone, Tony drooped, leaning back against Bucky. It was nice, being able to lend his support to his omega, but Tony was standing up straight again after only a moment, the façade falling back over him.

“I really hate that guy,” Tony said softly. He looked up at Bucky. “Sorry about using your friendship with Steve like that. I was just so angry. Saw red for a second there.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bucky said. Impulsively, he reached out to clasp Tony’s shoulder, running his thumb soothingly over the soft skin just above his shirt collar. “You guys got a bad lot in life. You do what you gotta do to make it right.”

Tony hummed. “I really wanted that bill to pass. It wasn’t right, what Howard and Fury wanted me to do. I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that.”

“Sorry,” Bucky offered up. It was a lame apology, but he didn’t know what else he could say to make it better. He knew very well that if he and Tony hadn’t bonded that night, Steve would be Tony’s alpha.

To his surprise, Tony smiled and nudged his shoulder, teasing, “I don’t know, you’re not so bad.”

Bucky sputtered, nearly choking on his whiskey.

“Oh, look, Steve’s just arrived,” Tony said airily, like he hadn’t noticed the effect his words were having on Bucky. “Let’s go say hi.”

Talking to Steve at these events was always awkward. Tony and Steve were both aware that neither of them wanted anything to do with each other as mates, which made having to see each other a study in unspoken tension. He didn’t think it was that either of them had a problem with the other, and he suspected that they could even manage to be friends eventually, but it was that knowledge that they’d nearly been forced to mate that made things so tense between them. Still, he appreciated that Tony was willing to put up with it so that Bucky could see his best friend. It was the sort of small kindness that Tony unthinkingly did that had made Bucky fall in love with him so easily.

Tonight was no different. Tony and Steve exchanged no more than a few awkward words before Tony excused himself to go meet with Emma Frost. He didn’t bother kissing Bucky this time, as Steve was one of the few people they didn’t have to pretend with and it didn’t seem like anyone was watching them at the moment. It would have been different if they’d met up a few months ago. There’d been more than a few people who’d somehow got it into their heads that Steve and Tony’s proposed bond was a love match instead of arranged, and they’d all watched eagerly to see how Steve, Tony, and Bucky interacted in those days following Bucky and Tony’s bonding, clearly wondering if Steve was going to pick a fight. They’d been sorely disappointed, of course; Steve and Bucky didn’t fight over anything, let alone an omega that Steve hadn’t wanted.

“So Fury roped you into the dog and pony show, huh,” Bucky asked, eyeing the stiff collar of Steve’s shirt. He’d be willing to bet that it was brand new. Steve was much more at home in a pair of khakis and a flannel shirt than he was in a tuxedo.

“Senator Brandt actually,” Steve said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “He thinks it’s good for me to make appearances and drum up support for SHIELD.”

“Sucks.” There was a niggling worry growing at the back of his mind, unrelated to Steve’s complaints about the brass, but Bucky didn’t know what it was. He glanced around the room, but was unable to spot anything amiss. He tried to put it out of his mind by asking, “How’s working with the Commandos?” He couldn’t entirely keep the bitterness out of his voice. Bucky had been moved out of the Commandos unit a few weeks before meeting Tony, and it wasn’t that he didn’t like being on Strike Team Delta, but he was still irritated that he hadn’t had a choice in the matter.

“Not the same without you,” Steve said, grimacing at him like he knew what was going through Bucky’s mind.

They continued talking about SHIELD as they slowly circulated the room and all the while, that worry was growing stronger, slowly morphing into fear, but it wasn’t until he happened to catch a glimpse of Tony standing in the corner and looking tense and unhappy that he realized they weren’t his feelings. They were Tony’s. Tony was worried and scared and had brought down his shields so that Bucky could feel his emotions and Bucky was standing on the other side of the room like an idiot.

“Excuse me,” he said brusquely, cutting Steve off. “Tony’s in trouble.”

He headed straight for Tony, pushing through the crowd without sparing a thought to anyone he might be offending as he shoved them aside. For once, it was Steve who was trailing after him, offering apologies to everyone who looked offended.

There was a look of naked relief in Tony’s eyes as Bucky marched up behind the alpha Tony was talking to. It was a look he’d never seen on Tony’s face before, at least not directed at him, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that his omega was happy to have him there or disliked that Tony had to be relieved at all.

“Something wrong, doll?” he asked, hand clamping down on the alpha’s shoulder.

“Bucky,” Tony breathed. He sagged back against the wall. “This is Aldrich Killian. He’d like to propose—” Tony’s mouth twisted unhappily. “He’d like to propose an omega trade. I told him I wasn’t interested, but he insisted on talking to you.”

Anger flared in Bucky’s chest, hot and furious. Omega trades weren’t common anymore, used mostly in backroom deals to secure a transaction. You treat my omega right and I’ll treat your omega right, and maybe we can have a deal. He knew the rich, traditional alphas Tony had grown up with still occasionally used them, but he hated them. He’d always hated them. The very concept treated omegas like property, like hostages, and the thought of seeing Tony—his Tony—under someone else had his vision shading red.

“Is that so?” he hissed.

Killian, the idiot, didn’t seem to notice Bucky’s growing anger. “Maya’s a great—” he began to say.

Bucky cut him off with a hand around his throat, slamming him into the wall.

“Bucky—” Steve started, a warning in his voice.

“Tell them it’s SHIELD business,” he snapped. “Isn’t that the usual excuse?”

What Steve did to placate the crowd growing around them, he didn’t know; he was too intent on Killian to care. “Let me get this straight,” he growled. “You asked Tony for a trade and when he told you no, because I know him, he wouldn’t ever want that and he wouldn’t be quiet about it, you cornered him and insisted you’d only listen to a no from me.” It wasn’t a question. Tony’s thoughts and emotions were flooding him with what Killian had tried to do to him. He growled again at the image of Killian’s hand on Tony’s arm, removed after only a moment. This—this—alpha had tried to put his hands on Tony, had ignored his clear no, and was still babbling on about whatever business deal he wanted out of Bucky—or, more likely, Tony, though as an omega, Tony wouldn’t be able to make that decision.

“It’s a yes or no question, Killian,” he finally snapped, losing his temper. “Did you or did you not ignore Tony’s answer—"

“He’s an omega,” Killian tried.

“He’s a person. He’s a person who was clearly uncomfortable with you and you should never have ignored that. The only reason you’re still standing and not laid out on the floor is because he cares about making a scene, but guess what, I don’t.” His hand tightened on Killian’s throat, making the man wheeze. “Do—”

“Bucky,” Tony said quietly, cutting through his anger.

Without removing his hand from Killian, he looked at Tony. Tony still looked a little shaken, but there was something else in his eyes, something that Bucky didn’t know how to describe.

“Let him go,” Tony continued. “You made your point.”

“He—”

“Yeah, he did,” Tony said, knowing what he was going to say. Bucky wondered if his own shields were down, letting Tony read his thoughts and feelings. “And you were here to stop it, so it’s okay. Let him go, we can go get burgers.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to make sure Killian never laid hands on someone unwilling ever again, but then Steve was there, carefully pulling Bucky away as he muttered to him about seeing what Fury could do about Killian. And that wasn’t exactly what Bucky wanted, but it was better than nothing, and taking care of Tony was his priority anyway. So since Tony wanted burgers, he would go get burgers.

He spun on his heels, intent on heading to the elevators, only to freezes as soon as he saw Tony. They were supposed to be faking it, which meant that he should do something—wrap an arm around Tony’s waist or kiss his forehead or—or something. But Tony had just had to deal with an unwelcome touch. He shouldn’t have to deal with another one so soon afterwards.

Tony surprised him though by stepping forward and sliding his hand into Bucky’s, interlacing their fingers. “Come on, alpha. Let’s go home,” he said, leading Bucky through the crowd watching them. Bucky ignored them in favor of drinking in the sight of Tony whole and healthy, if not happy.

They were quiet in the elevator ride back down to the parking garage, quiet as they climbed into the back of the car, quiet as Happy pulled out onto the road. Then Tony slid across the backseat to tuck up against Bucky’s side. He rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder, and, after a moment, Bucky rested his cheek against Tony’s curls.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” Tony said. Bucky could feel the truth in his words through their bond, and he realized that Tony hadn’t put his mental shields back up. “I wouldn’t have asked for your help if I hadn’t been expecting something like that.”

“Shouldn’t have taken it so far though. I know you’re not—we’re not—” He grimaced as he fumbled over the words. He’d been able to admit for three months that he and Tony weren’t in a relationship, why was it so hard now?

Tony hesitated before carefully saying, “We could be.”

“We—what?”

“Bucky Bear,” Tony said warmly, sitting up so he could look him in the eyes. “You have to know—people don’t just do what you did tonight or the night we met, for that matter. Not for me. I—I don’t know, the way we bonded, it threw me off. I wasn’t expecting it and I reacted badly. But—then the way you reacted to Killian got me thinking—maybe we could try?”

“Try?” Bucky whispered.

“Try us?” Tony asked, leaning back in slowly, giving Bucky enough time to move away if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to. “Yeah,” he breathed. “We could try. I—I’d like that.”

Tony smiled at him, bright and lovely, and closed the distance between them.

[shirtlesssammy]

7x18: Party On, Garth

Then:

Party on, Garth, indeed

Now:

A group of teens enjoy a camp-out and scary story hour. One dude tells the story of Jenny Greentree, and how she froze to death right under the tree by their campsite. A noise startles them, but it’s revealed to be another friend (wearing Sam Winchester’s striped hoodie?!). Trevor is toasted, but unlike the others, hears or senses some unknown threat, and takes off running. 

His brother and the other campers take off after him, eventually finding him gutted on the side of the road. 

Officer Garth Fitzgerald IV is on the case. He interviews a couple of the campers and they tell him about Jenny Greentree. So, he heads to the cemetery and “Garths” her. 

Trevor’s brother, Ray, gets very drunk alone and heads into the forest with a gun (a winning combo.) He sees a figure in the distance, but before he can reach her, he’s trussed up in a tree and gutted. Way to keep the family tradition alive (er, dead?). Garth hears about it over the radio, and is very upset. 

Meanwhile, DEAN HAS CAS BACK (kinda --he’s a little catatonic after taking on Sam’s crazy), and gets a non-update from Meg. He also gets a call from Garth, not that he remembers who that is. He owes Garth though so they head to help with the case. Instead of Garth, they meet Corporal James Brown.

Discussing the case with Garth, Dean comes to the conclusion that they’re dealing with an invisible ghost werewolf.

Sam learns the father of the dead brothers owns a brewery in town (and OH the irony of Dean Winchester saying microbrews are for douchebags.) Sam and Garth interview him, asking if his sons had enemies. Dean interviews Ray and Trevor’s sister, Maria. She tells him about another business partner, Dale, who died. Sam and Garth then interview Randy, the third business partner. He tells them the death was a suicide, and they’re selling their beer to a major distributor.

Meanwhile, the grieving drunk mom mixes herself a little AM joy. She plops her drink and her daughter’s OJ on the table together. Guess which one the daughter goes for? I mean, not her fault.

She’s instantly drunk, and sees a shadowy figure in the home. She looks for it. Her dad’s like, WTF?

She sees the creepy woman standing right next to her mom, but can only point and scream before her mom is gutted in the kitchen. 

Dean’s had enough of learning about microbrews (and drinking from his own flask that mysteriously sets off Garth’s EMF reader), and pops open some bottles to try. 

Dean learns that he likes the beer, we learn that Garth can get drunk off of one beer, and Sam learns that Dale left the company before he died. They’ve got a possible vengeful spirit on their hands. News of the most recent family tragedy comes across the police scanner. 

Garth and Dean head to the house, and Garth talks to the young daughter, Tess. Or should we say, Mr. Fizzles talks with Tess.

The sock gets Tess to tell them it was a monster with claws --and she drank a grown-up drink.

Sam interviews the widow of the business partner. She reveals that they both despise the other family for their past business dealings, but that her husband had sent them a peace offering. The bottle of saki he gave them arrived in a box “with writing all over it” (likely warded) and he wouldn’t let his wife even touch it. Sam’s spidey sense tingles. 

Dean and Garth piece together the other pertinent facts of the case: you’ve gotta be drunk to see the monster. Dean immediately pulls out his flask and starts drinking. Garth inquires about the flask, learns it’s Bobby’s, and speculates that it could possibly be haunted. Dean SQUASHES the feelings down. He’s here to work!

They all head to the brewery to hunt their ghost and find the potentially cursed bottle of saki - it’s been opened. They find a surveillance camera, but see nothing on the footage from when the elaborate packaging was opened. Dean thinks they need to drink to see the ghost on the security footage. “Can you even get drunk anymore?” Sam inquires, and we feel sad for Dean Winchester. 

They re-watch the footage, only to see the ghost appear this time. “He let that thing out of the box, and it must have just followed him to the place with all the thingies,” Sam summarizes intelligently. Randy arrives at the brewery, calls them hucksters, and starts to call the cops, but Garth tasers him. 

Later, in a restaurant’s back alley, Sam and Dean get a chef to read the box that held the saki. “What you took will be taken from you,” the box warns. The cook gets spooked, because the box declares that the bottle inside contains a shojo, an alcohol spirit. 

Back at the motel, they research shojos. (Randy, the brewery owner, has been kidnapped and stashed in the hot tub.)

There is a way to kill shojos...by using a samurai sword with a shinto blessing. Dean announces that he’s going to search local pawn shops for samurai swords. Lol, show, whatever. Garth pulls out his EMF and holds it near Bobby’s flask. Sam reports that he doesn’t think they’re being haunted by Bobby because he pulled out a talking board when the beer disappeared in a prior episode. Since Bobby’s spirit didn’t chat, Sam dismissed that theory. Their conversation gets interrupted by Randy waking up in Garth’s hot tub. 

Garth interrogates him. He wants to know who his kid is...because he’s in danger. It turns out that Randy had a secret kid - who’s currently working the graveyard shift at the brewery. Garth heads out, pockets loaded with the contents of the motel’s mini bar. 

At the brewery, the would-be victim cleans windows while blissfully unaware of the dangers. 

Dean gets the chef from earlier to read the shinto blessing on the sword he found. 

The blessing done, the chef heads back to work on what has got to be his weirdest night ever on the job. Dean gets an update from Garth on the ghost’s next victim, and learns that he’s at the brewery. 

At the brewery, Garth spots the ghost lurking next to Randy’s son, and hauls him outta there. Garth tries to explain that he’s in danger, but fails. However, the ghost turns up and makes his argument for him. It turns out that getting thrown through a glass window by an invisible force is an effective argument about the existence of unexplainable, superstrong forces. The guy tries to make a run for it, but he’s chased by the terrifying invisible ghost. Sam bursts in and tries to defend against the shojo, but he gets knocked out almost immediately. SAMMY, your head bby!

Dean bursts in with the sword. He is NOT drunk enough, so at first he swings wildly and the sword goes flying. Things turn around quickly for Dean, though, because the sword slides right on back to his hand! Sam wakes up and directs him in the fight, and soon the shojo is speared by the sword. She disappears in an angry flash of light. Dean looks around afterward. He’s alone - or IS HE? 

Garth wakes up in a pile of rubble. “What’d I miss?” OH GARTH. 

Dean asks Bobby to send him some kind of sign that he’s still around, while Sam lurks secretly in the background - silent witness to his brother’s CONSTANT WELL OF PAIN. There’s no sign from Bobby. 

At the motel, Garth bids them farewell. Dean gets his HUG.

For Too Precious For This World Science:

Garth drives away in a swirl of heart emojis, leaving Sam and Dean to talk FEELINGS. Sam tells Dean that he saw him trying to talk to Bobby in the brewery. Dean feeds Sam an eight layer bean dip of denial coated hope. He’s NOT SAD, he’s FINE - and there’s a whole string of incidents which makes it appear like Bobby’s been helping them along. Sam thinks that Dean’s just grieving - and his grief makes Bobby appear to still be around. Bobby is DEAD. D E A D.  

As they leave the room, the camera pans over to...Bobby! 

Before they drive away, Dean realizes that he left the flask behind in the motel room. He bursts through the door. “There you are,” he says softly, looking towards Bobby, who starts to smile. But Dean walks right past Bobby and grabs the flask, completely unaware of his presence.

Garth Quotesgerald IV:

You’ve been Garthed

I usually don’t even drink beer. It messes with my depth perception. Especially when I skinny dip

Mr. Fizzles is gonna go where the sun don’t shine

Come with me if you want to live!

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[blookmallow]

rating spirit halloween’s new animatronics for 2021

or at least what’s showing as New Arrivals on the site for me. looks like we got 15 new arrivals listed here and im HYPE about them so here we go

the caretaker

pretty standard reaper character with a Gravedigger theme to it. hes... fine? nothing about this particularly stands out to me, but i dont dislike it at all. i like his gravestone. would be good for a graveyard set. i guess ill give him... 6.5/10

mr. dark

at first glance he also just looks like a standard reaper character (or voldemort. he definitely looks like voldemort now that i think about it) but it turns out he SPRINGS UP RIDICULOUSLY TALL LIKE A CURSED WACKY INFLATABLE TUBE MAN and the spring motion in the video is actually really fucking fast so, while this isn’t a lot different from other jumpscare animatronics, i gotta give him credit bc i guarantee this would have scared the fuck outta me in person. according to the site he’s almost 9 feet tall at his full height 

i expected him to jump out and scream but i did not expect. That. i feel like if you put him up on a stage or something to make him loom over people even more he’d be very menacing indeed. would also be really good if you put him behind something so you don’t see him until he's suddenly There

i like him, 8/10 springy spook man 

click for more 

grave grabber

pretty much just a zombie but he’s cute i like him. i like the green eyes. i dont know what it is about him in motion but the video makes him kind of endearing to me for some reason and i dont know why. 6/10

ophelia

at first for some reason i thought the monster’s name was ophelia but i think that’s supposed to be the name of the victim? i think the idea here is “girl haunted by a Nightmare” but the fact that the monster itself is so small and doesn’t actually have a body for the most part makes this unintentionally hilarious to me 

like. it. it’s so small. it’s just a little shoulder demon. it’s so cute 

psst. hey do we have any more cheetos

anyway i like how the girl’s eyes move back and forth but the sounds she makes are uncomfortable and she just looks so. stiff and solid and there doesn’t seem to be any movement at all other than her eyes and the monster peeking out so it’s just kind of weird to look at. it’s an interesting concept but the execution is just strange and unintentionally hilarious. 7/10 bc i still think its really funny 

someone should buy this and mod it into chrona and ragnarok 

harriet hustle

WE DID IT KIDS WE FINALLY GOT A FEMALE CLOWN ANIMATRONIC im so happy i could cry i wish my store had her set up i want to meet her  

i love how they have her hanging upside down like this, it makes it so much more visually interesting than the figures that just kinda stand there looking spooky, even though she doesn’t really Do much (she just swings and her head moves around a little, just laughs, doesn’t have spoken lines) 

i love her outfit i love her hair shes SO cute i love this little murder gremlin i love her i love her 

im still waiting on spirit to give us a female clown figure that isn’t “creepy little girl” (ive commented before on how their only female figures tend to be either the Old Hag or the Creepy Little Girl and not a lot else) but i absolutely love this all the same 20/10

this one is fun too because we also have: 

henry hustle

according to the description he’s actually harriet’s dad!! we have an evil clown father and daughter duo here and im LIVING for it

i dont think ive ever seen spirit do characters that are related to each other like this that’s so cute,

apparently his wife/harriet’s mother left them and ran off with the ringmaster. he’s a single father clown trying to raise his evil daughter clown and i support him wholeheartedly

there doesn’t seem to be any more animatronics on this storyline, we don’t have the mother here and the only ringmaster animatronic they have is the rotten ringmaster who was released previously, but i doubt he’s the homewrecker ringmaster in question. he Could Be. imagine if your wife left you for That. we dont even know if henry’s wife was also a clown or not. spirit halloween clown lore going on here

anyway i absolutely LOVE this clown, he does something INCREDIBLY STARTLING AND UNEXPECTED which i dont want to spoil for you. go watch his video and see what he does its great 

my absolute favorite type of halloween animatronic is the “does something completely unexpected” category and this one is ALSO a clown and a GOOD clown at that

and he’s got this great vintage clown style i really like, i love scary clowns like this that actually look like they could believably be a real guy and not just some kind of mutant Clown Monster 

and hes got cards!! card suit motif!!! i love it i love him this is a great clown 20/10 for him too

w. raith 

we have this one at my local store and listen to me. im completely obsessed with this ghost

it’s pretty much just a ghost but it’s SUCH A GOOD ghost. especially in this photo here with proper spooky lighting and everything. i would absolutely LOVE to see this in a haunt attraction, it looks SO good even in bright store lighting. i feel like this under the right lights and in the right environment could look SO fuckign cool  

the shredded rag look!!! the ethereal glow!! the weird jellyfishy movement!!! the classic wooOoO oO o o ooo noises!! this may perhaps be the ideal ghost. it is without flaw. a perfect specimen. i fuckign LOVE this ghost i want it so badly but i do not have the space or the money for this thing 15/10 w. raith my beloved. my true love. maybe one day 

buzzsaw

at first i was slightly disappointed to see that this guy didn’t have an actual name, but then in the description apparently his name is Bill “Buzzsaw” Jackson and his backstory is he tried to be a wrestler but it didnt go very well so he grafted weapons in place of his hands. i guess. you know, to be better at wrestling. i dont really understand it and i definitely would not have gone with “disgraced former wrestler” as the concept for this guy  

but anyway we have mr jackson at my store right now, he’s Big, i like him. he doesn’t really move very fast and doesn’t jump at you, he just kinda swings his saw around. for some reason he just seems friendly to me and i dont know why. makes me think of like an uncle dressed up for halloween rather than an actual murderer guy. i dont know i cant explain it but i like him hes my friend 8/10

wacky mole

this guy’s also at my store this year, i didn’t know his name was wacky mole fsdgjsdg

he’s listed as a new arrival, but i thought i remembered seeing him before, and the description says he’s a returning fan favorite, so. i guess this is a re-release 

anyway pretty standard Scary Monster Clown. his teeth look like candy corn. i like it but i think they should just Be candy corn. i like his colorscheme and his silly giant buttons. light up eyes are always a nice touch. he doesnt really stand out but hes overall a pretty good clown. 7/10

grim

good ol’ classic skeleton. he’s pretty nicely modeled though and i highly recommend watching the video for this guy because he moves REALLY well for a spirit animatronic, he’s got a way wider range of movement than most of them do and his head moves really nicely. one of the benefits of a skeleton animatronic is you don’t have to deal with lip movement, so his jaw movements match with his lines a lot more realistically. i like the animated glowing eyes too, it really gives him a lot of personality. he’s really interesting to watch. like, it’s just a skeleton, but it’s a really really good skeleton, so, 8/10 

BEETLEJUICE!!

i love love love franchise character animatronics and spirit has so much great beetlejuice stuff this seems well suited to them but looking at it............. hm. hm

he just looks so. stiff and his face comes across like, deer caught in the headlights to me. it Does Not look very natural but it looks slightly better in motion (he just swivels from side to side and says a few phrases but it somehow looks less. shellshocked when he’s moving) 

maybe not the greatest execution but maybe he looks better in person and im still hype to see him so 8/10 regardless 

night stalker

we have this guy at my store too, im still not really sure what’s going on with his arms (did he just rip loose from them and leave them behind? did someone do this to him? i dont know) but i love a good spooky scarecrow. love his Wiggles. hes a pretty good boy. 6.5/10

here we have another pennywise, it pretty much just pops out at you, but it’s still pretty good. i like the full size one they had before better, but this one’s slightly cheaper and would be easier to integrate into a haunted house attraction since he comes with a built in set piece. it looks good but doesn’t do much. 7.5/10 i guess 

GHOSTFACE!!!!

FUCK YES I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

please. please spirit halloween set him up in my store so i can see him

anyway hes got kind of the same issue beetlejuice has where the figure just. looks kind of stiff, and he looks more like a spooky ghost decoration than like, A Person. he doesnt seem to have any lines or anything either, he just kinda pops out. but then again i guess whenever we see ghostface in person in the movies he doesn’t usually talk anyway. i dont really know how id make this better but it seems a little underwhelming somehow. still hype to see it though. 7/10 i guess 

now if we could just get a jack torrance and a bela lugosi dracula id be content 

i would LOVE to see Red from Us but i doubt they’d do one. my other horror beloved is norman bates but i know if they made one of him it’d just be him in a dress waving a knife around (not that i wouldn’t still be hype to see him, but, y’know) (anyway. tangent. moving on) 

mr. howle 

it’s. a werewolf. he howls. that’s....... about it 

it’s a very nice looking werewolf, it’s a well designed figure and definitely looks very imposing, but it’s... just a werewolf. there’s not really anything particularly interesting or creative here. its a perfectly good werewolf. i dont have anything to say about this. 6.5/10 

i also just am not a werewolf person so maybe someone out there who has a greater appreciation for werewolves might like him more 

[kinglazrus]

Smells Like Team Spirit

Phic phight 2020

Submitted by @phantomphangphucker: Danny Fenton seeming creepy, unnatural, predatory, etcetera to the general population of Amity Park. Or only seeming creepy, unnatural, predatory, etcetera to tourists, while Amity Park locals are confused by anyone finding Fenton ‘creepy/intimidating’.

Summary: Some mascots are great at pumping up a crowd. As Casper High's mascot, Danny has only one job: strike fear into the hearts of their opponents. This is the story of how Danny becomes the famed Mascot of Fear.

Word count: 9268

Tucker witnesses it first. His cousin from another state is visiting for the weekend and Danny comes over to hang out. Ozzy has met Danny before, a few times, so Tucker thinks they won't mind if Danny joins them for a little while. He arrives while Ozzy is in the bathroom, and Tucker gets a three-player game of the new Doomed: IV console game set up.

Danny lounges on a beanbag chair, leaving the couch to the Foley cousins. Clutching his controller, he plays with the controls, watching his character jump, roll, punch, and shoot, trying to get a feel for the different set up.

"I think they took out the high jump," Danny says. He spams the jump button while tapping various others across the controller, testing different combos.

"What?" Tucker lunges for the game case, taking out the pamphlet tucked inside the cover. He flips through, looking for the controls.

"Yeah, it doesn't seem to­—oh damn that's fun."

"What? What?" Tucker scrambles up, throwing the pamphlet aside, and watches Danny's avatar leap into the air, then sprint forward.

"Air-dashing," Danny says with a grin.

"Sweet." The boys bump fists.

Danny, kneeling on his beanbag, keeps air-dashing across the screen, whipping the controller back and forth emphatically. The action does nothing to improve the gameplay, but at the same time, it just wouldn't be as enjoyable without it. Tucker lays upside down on the couch, hands braced on the floor, cheering Danny on. "Go, go, go!"

It's stupid and fun. They haven't even started playing the game yet, but this is the most they'll enjoy themselves all afternoon. And that's the scene Ozzy walks in on.

They remember Tucker's best friend, although they hadn't seen him since coming out. Ozzy's not sure what to expect from him, but it certainly isn't this. And by this they don't mean the raw enthusiasm for a simple game mechanic. They mean the shiver that crawls up their spine the second they lay eyes on Danny. They feel cold, like they've stepped in a bath of ice-water rather than their cousin's living room.

Danny turns his head toward Tucker and sees Ozzy standing in the doorway. Both of them freeze. Ozzy's heart beats fast and heavy in their chest. Their pupils dilate, stretching wide, and sweat beads on their forehead. They can't look away. If they do, then they're dead. If they let Danny out of their sight, they're dead.

Danny gaze slides away, back to the TV, and Ozzy can breathe again.

"Ozzy's here," Danny says.

"Oh!" Tucker's head swivels toward them. He hadn't noticed Ozzy and Danny's little staring contest. It had only lasted a second, but to Ozzy, it felt like an hour.

"Check it out!" Tucker says. He kicks off the back of the couch, flipping forward. His knees hit the carpet hard, making a loud thud, which earns him a shout from the dining room.

"Don't bother the neighbours!" Tucker's mom, Angela, says.

"Okay, Mom!" Tucker calls back, without much conviction in his voice. He beckons Ozzy forward and points to the TV. "They replaced the double jump with air-dashing! Which seems stupid at first, 'cause jumping forward isn't the same as jumping higher. But it looks like if you air-dash into something, you can climb up it!"

Tucker talks fast, making lots of vague gestures with his hands, not really looking at Ozzy. He grabs his own controller off the couch and swivels toward his cousin. "Here's how you do it."

Tucker looks up at Ozzy and pauses. "Hey," he says, tilting his head. "You okay?"

Ozzy is not okay, but they can't really explain it. Danny glances there way again, just for a second, and a shudder passes through them. Something about Danny is off, but Ozzy can't really explain it. He looks the exact same as he did the last time Ozzy saw him, even wearing the same damn t-shirt. But when Ozzy looks at him, and Danny looks back, their brain starts screaming not right, not right, NOT RIGHT!

"I'm, uh, I'm good, yeah," Ozzy says. They shuffle into the room, casting nervous glances Danny's way, and sit down on the couch, taking the farthest spot from Danny. Ozzy leans up against the armrest, taking the controller Tucker passes them, and looks forward. They think that, maybe, if they look ahead instead, if they just don't look at Danny, they won't feel so weird, and whatever this is will pass.

But oh, god, this is so much worse, because now they can't see Danny, and that makes their heart pound. An image of Danny suddenly lunging from his seat bursts into their mind and Ozzy stiffens. Hands tightening around the controller, they glance out of the corner of their eye.

Danny hasn't moved. Danny isn't even looking at them. It doesn't make them feel better.

"Seriously, are you good?" Tucker asks. He sits down to Ozzy's left, blocking their view of Danny.

"Let's just play," Ozzy says.

Tucker shrugs and starts the game. As they play, he keeps looking over at Ozzy, wondering why they're acting so strange. They were just fine half an hour ago, but now they're stiff, and kind of pale, and they keep looking away from the screen, even when they're in the middle of a fight. Ozzy's always been better than Tucker at Doomed, but today they're at the bottom of the scoreboard.

Tucker racks his brain, trying to come up with a reason for the strange behaviour. A bad phone call, maybe? Ozzy's mom has been in and out of the hospital for a while. He hopes it's not that. He wants to ask them what's wrong, but he doesn't want to push it. And they might not be comfortable talking about it with Danny there, either. So, Tucker decides to wait until they're alone.

His chance comes sooner than expected, when Danny says he has to go.

"Aw, really?" Tucker asks. He droops, shoulders slumping. "You've only been here an hour."

"Yeah." Danny nods. "I just remembered that physics assignment. I haven't finished yet."

"I thought you finished that?"

"Uh, so did I. But Jazz just texted me. She found the sheet and apparently, I left a few questions blank. I should go home and finish before she really gets on my case." Danny stands up and stretches his arms above his head. "Sorry. We can make up for it next time."

Before Tucker can protest further, Danny leaves, casting one last furtive glance in Ozzy's direction. Ozzy doesn't relax until they hear the front door close.

"What did he even check his phone?" Tucker mutters. Thinking back, he can't even remember Danny looking down at his pocket. It bothers him, but he knows Danny wouldn't lie without a good reason, so he'll leave it for now.

He pounces on Ozzy instead

"What's wrong?" Tucker asks.

"Nothing's wrong."

"You're a worse liar than Danny. Is it... is it your mom?"

"What? No." Ozzy shakes their head. "Mom's fine. She's doing really good, actually."

"But there is something wrong," Tucker presses.

Ozzy groans. They reach up to run their fingers through their hair, faltering when they touch their shoulder instead. Moving their hand up, they touched their buzzed head. "I don't know. Danny, he–" Ozzy cuts themself off.

"Danny? What'd he do? Did he say something while I wasn't looking? I'll kick his ass," Tucker says, leaping to his feet.

"No, don't!" Ozzy grabs Tucker's belt and yanks him back down. "It's nothing, okay? He didn’t do anything. It's stupid."

Tucker stares intently at them, then sighs and backs off. "Okay. It's okay if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. But if you do want to talk about whatever it is, I'm right here."

"Yeah, okay," Ozzy says.

—

Valerie sees it next. She invites Danny over for a study session at her new place in Elmerton. People say Elmerton is a neighbourhood at the edge of Amity Park, but as someone who now lives there, Valerie knows it's its own town. The people in Elmerton aren't like the people Amity. They don't have the same mannerisms. They don't have the same slang. They don't even have the same ghosts.

In fact, Elmerton has no ghosts. Which makes it a pretty poor place for a ghost hunter to live, but the apartments are cheap, and it's all her dad can afford right now.

They take the bus after school. It's an inter-city bus, because none of the school buses go out that far. The ride is more than hour. Plenty of people get on and off the bus in that time. Valerie likes to watch them. She can tell exactly when the last person from Amity Park steps off.

Valerie doesn't know how she could explain it to an outsider, but people from Amity can recognize each other at a moment's glance. It's something about the way they hold themselves, how they react to things. When your life gets threatened every day by ghosts from another realm, you look at things a little differently. It's like one day everyone from Amity Park collectively decided to stop giving a damn about anything that didn't immediately threaten to kill them.

"Huh," Valerie says as she looks over the bus. She and Danny sit at the very back, in Valerie's usual seat. After her first few times taking the bus, she learned it was just polite to sit further back when you had a longer ride. It also gives her a good view of the whole bus.

"What is it?" Danny asks, looking away from the window. So far, he has been spending most of the ride staring out at the passing scenery, watching as things got dirtier and poor run down the closer they got to Elmerton.

Instead of answering, Valerie leans over Danny.

"Hey!" He presses himself back against his seat, raising his arms, a scarlet blush creeping across his cheeks.

Valerie ignores him in favour of scanning the skies. "You don't see any ghosts or anything, do you?"

"What? No. Why? Why would there be a ghost here? I mean, it's Elmerton, right?" Danny says. He laughs and looks away, tugging the collar of his shirt. Is it just him or is it a little hot in here all of a sudden?

"Yeah, I guess so," Valerie says, pulling back. Her frown stays settled on her face.

There are only a few people on the bus with them, besides the driver. At the very front, a woman with weathered skin and greying hair, who got on at the last stop. Even though the bus is already moving again, she still hasn't taken her seat. Instead, she stands straight, facing the back of the bus.

By the middle doors is a young woman and teenage girl, their backs to Valerie and Danny. The woman has her arm around the girl's shoulder. Every once in a while, she cranes her neck and looks in their direction.

A man in a rumpled suit sits closest to them. Valerie sees him on the bus every day. They've chatted a few times, and he's nice enough. They usually say hi to each other. Today, he had started down the aisle toward them, giving a cheery wave. But the moment his gaze slipped from Valerie to Danny, he paled, dropping into the nearest seat. He clutches his briefcase tightly, holding it like a shield.

Valerie knows instantly that none of these people are from Amity Park because they all look afraid and she has no idea why. She stares at them a moment longer, glaring at the young woman when she peeks over her shoulder again.

It takes Valerie a minute to realize it, but she finally notices the one thing all of them are doing.

"Are they... staring at you?" Valerie whispers to Danny.

He shifts uncomfortably, tucking his hands under his arms, and leans his head against hers to whisper back. "Yeah."

"Why?"

Danny shrugs. "It's just a thing people do sometimes."

"People sometimes stare at you like you're about to, I don't know, pounce on them?"

Danny shrugs again.

"That's... really weird."

"Maybe they've heard of my parents," he says, grinning sardonically.

Valerie rolls her eyes and pushes his shoulder. He laughs, and Valerie does her best to ignore the tense atmosphere for the rest of the ride. She ignores it, but she doesn't forget it.

—

Valerie finds Tucker in the gym sound booth after school one day and corners him there. She locks the door behind her and pins him against the sound board. "What's up with Danny?" she asks accusingly.

Both Tucker and Sam have the annoying habit of dancing around Valerie's words whenever she tries to approach them cautiously. She's learned, from experience, that being direct and forceful is the only way to get information out of them. Getting Tucker alone with no back up also helps.

"I don't know! He's not a ghost!" Tucker blurts out, raising his arms defensively.

"What?"

"I mean, nothing. Nothing's up with Danny. He's so great. You know how great he is. You dated him for a little bit, luck you."

Valerie stares at him, wondering for a moment if this is Tucker's way of confessing that he has a crush on his best friend. She shakes her head, casting that thought aside for now. Grabbing Tucker's collar, she pulls him forward until they're nose to nose.

"You mean you've never seen how odd people get around him?"

"What, no?" Tucker's genuinely confused by the question. His face screws up as he thinks, trying to figure out what the hell Valerie is talking about. He needs to tread lightly, so he doesn't accidentally spill Danny's secret. He doesn't think she knows, despite how weird her question is.

"Just think about it for a minute, okay?" Valerie says. She releases Tucker and steps back, crossing her arms.

Tucker composes himself, smoothing out his shirt, and gives her a dirty look. He decides to indulge her anyway. With a great, dramatic sigh, Tucker taps his chin, looking up at the ceiling, then down at the floor. He hums and haws, making a great show of how terrible and strenuous thinking about this is, and then he shrugs.

"Nope, can't say I know what you mean." Brushing past Valerie, he heads for the door.

She reaches out and grabs his collar again, yanking him back.

"Come on, you're gonna stretch it!" Tucker whines, batting Valerie's hand off.

"I'm being serious here, Tucker. You've never seen anyone looking, I don't know, afraid of Danny? Kind of wary?"

"Afraid? Of Danny? You can't be serious, he's not–" Tucker freezes.

"What is it?" Valerie reaches out for him again.

Tucker smacks her hands away and skips out of her reach. "A couple months ago. I had my cousin over, and Danny hung out with us for a bit. They were acting really weird. I thought it was about their mom. And then I thought it was because they weren't out the last time they saw Danny, but they said it wasn't either of those and told me to drop it."

"Danny came over to my place to work on our history project last week. On the bus, people wouldn't stop looking at him. He brushed it off, but that's weird, right?" Valerie asks. "They looked like... like they were afraid."

Tucker laughs. "So weird. Can you imagine people being scared of Danny?"

It's the most ridiculous thing either of them has heard all year. They break down into a fit of laughter, falling against each other. It's so outlandish and absurd that you couldn't make it up if you tried.

Which is why Star, who has her ear pressed against the sound booth door, grins and takes off the moment the conversation dissolves into laughter. She has only one thought in mind: Paulina has got to hear about this.

—

"No way."

"Yeah."

"No. Way."

"Yeah!" Star nods enthusiastically. "I swear that's what they said."

"Afraid of Fenton?" Paulina asks. Star's already said it three times, but it's so unbelievable she has to hear it again.

"Afraid of Fenton," Star repeats. "Foley's cousin and some," she waves her had dismissively, "Elmertonites."

"Ugh, Elmerton."

"I know."

"Who's Foley's cousin?" Paulina asks. She can't remember if Foley has any other family in the city, but Star would. Star's the only person who knows this town, and it's people, better than Paulina. They are the gossip queens and they make everybody's business their own. Knowing a little extra something about a certain somebody could always come in handy somewhere down the line.

"An out-of-towner," Star says.

"Interesting." Paulina closes her locker and leans against. She waves at a few boys walking by, giving them a disarming smile. They crane their necks around to keep looking at her for as long as they can. As soon as they're around the corner, Paulina's smile drops and she turns back to Star. "You know, I think now's a great time for my friend from New York to come visit!"

Star grins. "Oh, great idea, Paulie. Amity is so great this time of year."

They walk down the hall, arm in arm, giggling and conspiring.

—

Everyone knows about Paulina's New York friend. Theirs is a friendship built not out of love but a mutual desire to constantly get one up on each other. Which means they aren't friends at all. But, their dads are business partners, so the two girls often find themselves forced together. These occasions are typically full of sweet smiles and sweeter words. Which everyone knows is a clever rich girls choice weapon in any circumstance.

When Paulina invites Whitney van der Bloom to Amity Park for the weekend, Whitney answers with a cheerful, "Sweetie, do you even need to ask?"

Which really means, "Sweetie, why on Earth would I want to go?" Sweetie, in both cases, is not a complement.

Whitney goes, of course. With a slew of backhanded complements tucked in her pocket. The battle begins the moment her plane touches down and she is determined to come out of this weekend as the undisputed victor. Paulina may have a home advantage, but Whitney was born into this kind of conflict. New money always flounders around a bit before learning how to properly navigate the delicate social rules of high society, and she can tell Paulina is still getting her sea legs.

Whitney finds it adorable, like watching a baby toddle through their first steps.

On her walk through the airport, Whitney touches as little as possible. She left New York in a private plane, from a private airstrip, where every surface was clean and shiny. Amity Park was neither of those things.

By the main entrance, she finds Paulina's driver holding a sign with Whitney's name on it. She passes him her luggage, a single Gucci bag, and follows him outside to the waiting car. She's impressed by Paulina's power play, although she would never say it out loud. Staying in the car while sending her driver out to collect Whitney, like a nanny picking up a child from daycare, is a bold move.

It's fine. Whitney will let her have the lead, for now. She won't have it for long.

The driver opens the back door. Whitney slides inside like she owns the car, tossing her hair over her shoulder, giving the driver a sugary smile. When she turns and gets her first good look at the inside, she freezes.

Rather than sitting on the other side of the car, at a respectful distance, Paulina is right beside her in the middle seat. And there are four other people with her. Paulina's little satellite—Whitney thinks her name is Sun—sits to her left. And across from them are two boys she doesn't know—and doesn't want to, based on how they're dressed—plus a girl she does know.

"Sammy?" Whitney asks, looking across the car at the Sam Manson, heir to the Manson fortune.

"Bloom," Sam greets her coolly. Sam doesn't even twitch at the nickname she loathes. Because that would be a sign of weakness, and she knows that if there's one thing you never want to do, it's look weak in front of Whitney van der Bloom. The girl may only be fifteen but she's a menace.

"Hi." Whitney drags out the "i," her voice rising and falling. "Oh. My. God. I haven't seen you since the Cabo retreat! What are the chances of seeing you here?"

Sam grins wickedly. "Pretty high, actually."

"Oh?" Witney doesn't have a response for that. Sam has always thrown her off, purely because she refuses to play the same games Whitney and Paulina do. It's infuriating.

She turns to the two strangers instead, looking them up and down. The boy on Sam's right makes her cringe. A turtleneck and cargo pants? Whitney would give him points for boldness if the colours weren't so garish. When she meets his eyes, he wiggles his eyebrows at her.

Whitney immediately decides she wants nothing to do with him.

The other boy, sitting right across from her, isn't much better. Worn out jeans that are actually worn out and weren't just made to be like that, and a ratty old t-shirt with a flaming green "F" on it. Gross. Resisting the urge to curl her lip, she lifts her eyes to his face.

He's not looking at her. He's looking down and away, his stare so intense it should be burning a hole in the carpet. Little does she know, it could, with very little effort on his part.

Normally, Whitney takes that kind of gesture as a sign of submission. Instant victory. Right now, something about this boy makes her think she doesn't want his eyes on her.

"Whit! I'm so happy you could come!" Paulina throws her arms around Whitney's shoulders and pulls her in for a hug, kissing Whitney's cheeks twice.

Whitney snaps out of her daze, although not fast enough to return the kisses. Another victory for Paulina.

"Of course, Lina!" Whitney says. She sees the boy in the turtleneck mouth "Lina" at Sam. She wonders what their relationship is. "There's no way I would pass up the chance to visit somewhere as quaint as Amity Park. It's nice to get a break from the lavish lifestyle, you know?"

"Oh, I know. You look like you need a nice rest." Paulina smiles widely.

Whitney's eye twitches. "So, Lina, who are your friends?"

"Well, you already know Sam. I didn't realize you ran in such high circles,"  Paulina said, earning another twitch. Before she can say anything back, Paulina moves on. "And these two are her friends. Tucker." The boy in the turtleneck, "and Danny." The boy that Whitney does not want to look at her.

Paulina leans forward and grabs Danny's arm, pulling him right out of his seat. He yelps and stumbles, bumping his head on the top of the car. Tucker reaches out to stop him, but Sam holds her arm out and keeps him back, wearing that same fiendish smirk. Before Whitney can figure out what's happening, Star's moved to take Danny's place, and Paulina has slid over to the other side of the car. She drags Danny down and sits him right next to Whitney.

"Danny's such a good friend, I can't believe I haven't introduced you to him sooner," Paulina says. She's still hugging his arm, pushing him forward a little more so Whitney has no choice but to squeeze up against the door to avoid touching him.

She doesn't want to touch him. She doesn't want to be next to him. She doesn't even want to be in the same car as him. Whitney unconsciously reaches for the door handle, but the car's already moving. She's trapped.

"Don't be rude, Danny. Say hi to Whitney," Sam says. She looks like the cat that ate the canary. And Whitney feels like the bird.

Danny gives Sam a disgruntled look before turning to Whitney. "Uh, hey, Whitney," he says.

Whitney tenses. The sound of his voice sends shivers down her spine. It washes over her, raising goosebumps along her arms. The cold certainly doesn't help. She thinks it's the AC in the car, until Danny's arm brushes against hers and she flinches away. His skin is icy to the touch.

"Sorry," Danny mutters. He finally looks at her.

Whitney wilts under his stare. Looking into his eyes is like looking into an endless expanse. Her own gaze jumps around, searching, but Danny's holds steady. Not even a twitch. Whitney's not even sure if he's blinked since she got in the car. When he looks away, his eyes slide off her.

"You– you're very," she stammers. For once, her words are lost to her.

Paulina's smile is bright as the sun. She leans back, giving Danny the space to do the same, and Whitney quickly tries to compose herself. She steadies her breathing, checking the other occupants of the car to see how they reacted. Tucker looks curious. Sam looks smug. Star looks delightfully vapid, eyes wide and smile wider.

"They're going to be with us all day, I hope you don't mine," Paulina says. "Danny knows the city really well, and Sam. Well, like I said. She's a Manson."

Whitney, still at a loss for words, nods numbly.

"This will be so much fun!" Star says, clapping her hands together.

Whitney doesn't think so.

—

Whitney lasts for four hours, which is far longer than anyone expected.

"I'm almost impressed," Star says, waving at Whitney's private jet as it takes off. "She's very good at faking important phone calls."

"Just never tell her that to her face," Paulina says. Hand on her hip, she eyes Sam, Tucker, and Danny. "I guess we can give you all rides home. But I hope you know this was a one-time thing. Mostly because Whitney probably won't come back after that."

"Uh." Danny raises his hand. "How do you know the phone call wasn't important? Why won't she be back? She's your friend, isn't she?"

"Oh, Danny. You're so sweet, you know that?" Paulina pats his cheek and pivots. Swaying her hips, she starts walking back toward the car. It's not even an insult this time.

"Thank you? I guess?" Danny says.

"Come on, Fenton. I might even help you with your math for what you did today." Star grabs his wrist and drags him after Paulina.

"I didn't do anything!"

Sam and Tucker linger a moment longer, watching Whitney's plane disappear into the sky. Tucker turns to Sam and says, "I'm so confused. Why did you even agree to this?"

Sam shrugs. "Whitney van der Bloom sucks."

"Yeah. Yeah, she does."

—

Paulina and Star eagerly spread the word: Danny Fenton scares outsiders. The rumour spreads quickly throughout Casper High, although everyone is careful never to mention it while Danny himself is around. Not even Sam and Tucker tell him. It's one of those rumours you don't want getting back to the person it's about. Not because it's bad, but because it's a hell of a lot more fun when they don’t know.

Nobody really gets the "why," except those who know Danny best. To everyone else, he's a scrawny kid with eccentric parents, and he wouldn't hurt a fly. Most of them decide outsiders are just weird like that and put it out of mind. But Mikey, clever kid that he is, decides to put Danny's mysterious ability to work.

"I'll help you with your physics homework if you cheer us on at the decathlon," Mikey says. He leans across the aisle between their desk, whispering low enough that the teacher won't hear them.

"You do sports?" Danny asks, raising on eyebrow.

"No, it's academic. Don't be ridiculous."

On the edge of his seat, Mikey waits for Danny's reply. The decathlon is tomorrow, which may have been short notice, but Mikey isn't a fool. He knows academics bore the hell out of Danny and the only way he will go is with incentive. Mikey waited until they got their most recent test back. Peeking at Danny's paper, he can see his classmate failed, which is good news for him.

One decathlon is a small price to pay for a passing grade.

Danny looks down at the big red F on his test. He whispers back, "Sure. When is it? Do people have to dress nice for these things?"

"Tomorrow. And," Mikey pauses a moment to consider, "yes. I mean, no. Not nice, but there's this thing we do. It's okay, I'll have you covered. Just wear what you usually do."

Danny looks uncertain, but Mikey knows he'll accept. He gave Danny no other choice.

—

Mikey tries to gauge Danny's reaction when he passes over the hoodie. It's ten minutes to the start of the competition. They're backstage getting ready for the judge to call them out. At the moment, they're separated from the other team, but there's no rule against some friendly banter before things get going, so Mikey has a plan. A plan that needs Danny to wear this hoodie.

Danny holds it up, frowning at the design on the front. A fierce raven with bright green eyes carrying a bloodied snake in its beak; they're competing with Silver Valley today whose mascot is a snake. He picks up the hood, inspecting the mask sewn into it. It's a simple black masquerade mask with a long, beak-like nose.

"And this is... standard?" Danny asks, lowering the hoodie so he can look Mikey in the eyes.

Mikey nods emphatically. "Yeah. I know decathlons don't seem exciting, but we get really into it. Lots of people do this."

"And you just had a hoodie with this exact picture lying around?" Danny turns the hoodie around, displaying the graphic image on the front.

"Yeah. Lester wore it last time. He's let me borrow it for you today," Mikey lies. It actually cost him thirty bucks to get custom made, but the mask was cheap. Besides, the competition today has a cash prize, which will more than make up for it when his team wins.

"If you say so," Danny says. He shucks off his button up and pulls the hoodie on instead, pushing the hood down to rest at the back of his neck.

Mikey immediately pulls it back up and lowers the mask over Danny's eyes. "It's part of the school spirit," Mikey says.

"Riiight." Danny adjusts the mask, but he doesn't take it down. "Shouldn't I be sitting in the audience?"

"You will. But I wanted to introduce you to the other team first. It's a sportsmanship thing," Mikey explains. He beckons Danny forward, leading him down a long hall behind the stage. As the hall opens up into the wings of the stage, the other team comes into view.

Like Mikey and the other decathlon members, they wear matching jackets. Although where Casper's jackets are red, Silver Valley wears grey.

Danny stops just before stepping into their line of sight. "Mikey," he hisses. "I don't see anyone dressed like a snake over here."

"Just trust me. You want that physics help, right?" Mikey only feels a little guilty about tricking Danny like this. Mikey's not actually hurting him, and they aren't breaking any competition rules, so it's fine.

Danny shuffles his feet, giving the other team a solid once through, and nods.

"Hi, everyone!" Mikey says, drawing the team's attention. "We just wanted to come over and wish you good luck! Friendly competition and all that."

Watching them closely, Mikey catches the exact moment they lay eyes on Danny, and it is so much better than he could have hoped. The whole team freezes. Mikey can see their eyes dilating, like they've been shot with a burst of adrenaline, a little kick-starter in their fight-or-flight response. Judging by the way a few of them shuffle back, they're leaning toward flight.

Mikey revels in the fear in their eyes. "Good luck!" he says.

"Yeah." Mikey turns at Danny's voice. For a second, he thinks he sees something in Danny's eyes, something swirling and green. But in a blink, it's gone. Danny smiles brightly, but with the mask it looks downright villainous. "Good luck. I think you'll need it."

The Silver Valley team pales. Casper High wins by a landslide that day.

—

The story of Casper High's raven boy spreads from Silver Valley out to other schools. Most of them think it's just a rumour, but enough people pass it along that it eventually works its way back to Casper and into the ears of one Dash Baxter. Dash, being the proud jock he is, can't let himself be one-upped by a nerd.

"Hey, Fenton!" he calls out to Danny at lunch hour. Shoving his way between Sam and Tucker, Dash slams his hands down on the table. Danny flinches. "Relax, I'm not here to wail on you. For once."

Sam shoves Dash's hand off the table. "Great, then get the hell out of here," she says.

"Shut up, Manson. I ain't talking to you." Dash sneers. He turns his focus back to Danny. "I got a proposition for you."

"I can't believe he knows the word proposition," Tucker whispers.

"I said shut it!" Dash raises his hand to smack Foley upside the head. Halfway through the swing, Danny lurches forward and snatches Dash's wrist.

"Dash, if you want to make a deal or something, I don't think hitting my best friend is the right way to start," Danny says.

Dash scowls at him. He jerks his hand out of Danny's grip and steps back, rubbing his wrist. He won't say it out loud, but Danny's got a pretty good grip. "Yeah, whatever. He's not worth it anyway."

"Dash."

People are staring at them now. Most of them looking for a show Dash isn't going to give, at least not today. Eager to get this over with fast, Dash leans over until he's so close there's no way anyone could overhear them.

"Listen. You do one thing for me, and maybe I won't wail on you for a week," he says.

Danny shoots him a deadpan stare. "Maybe?"

"Fine," Dash relents. "I definitely won't."

"What do I have to do?"

"Come to our next football game."

"I'm sorry?"

"Are you deaf, Fenton? Come. To. The. Game." Dash enunciates carefully, slapping his palms down with each word, leaning closer in. Danny reels back so far that he has to grab the table to keep from slipping off the bench. "And wear the sweater."

Dash saunters away before Danny has a chance to respond. The prying eyes turn away then, more than a few disappointed by the turn of events. Danny ignores them in favour of turning to his friends.

"Do you guys know what sweater he's talking about?" he asks.

"Probably the one Mikey had you wear," Tucker says. "Because it's so s–" Sam kicks him under the table. "–exy! It's uh... it's a sexy sweater."

"Oh, my god." Sam drops her face into her hands.

—

Danny doesn't know it's not standard practice to shake hands with the opposing team's quarterback, and their backup quarterback, and their backup backup quarter back before a football game. But he is pretty sure it's weird for him, a random student, to be doing it instead of someone from the actual team.

"Just stand in front of 'em until they shake your hand, that's it," Dash says, shoving Danny toward the Waterford Heights Weasels. He waves impatiently, motioning Danny forward. Dash personally doesn't see what's so scary about the getup. A sweat with a bird and a mask, big whoop. But he's willing to try it, anyway.

"Think it'll work?" Kwan asks. They stand side-by-side, arms crossed, elbows brushing. The rest of the team mills about behind them, some of them spying on Fenton, others getting in the right headspace for the game. It's only a couple minutes to kickoff.

Dash shrugs. "Worth a shot."

It's a great night for a game. The sky is clear. It's not too chilly. There's still an hour before the sun will set. It means they'll have the light in their eyes for half the game, but if this works, that won't even matter.

Dash and Kwan watch Danny approach the first player. They made sure to give him the jersey numbers beforehand. Kwan, who has neater penmanship, wrote them down on Danny's palm. Their original idea was to have him greet the whole team but that would take too long. They settled for the key players instead.

Danny plants himself in front of the star quarterback and sticks his hand out. Dash snickers when the guy tries to step around Danny, and Danny sidesteps right back into his path. He says something and shoves his hand in the quarterback's direction again.

"You think Fenton's playing along?" Kwan asks.

"Nah. As if he even knows what's up. Did you see the blank look he gave me in the cafeteria? Besides, I upped the 'no-beating' time to two weeks if he did the handshakes."

Kwan touches his fingers as he silently counts the dates in his head. "That's the next home game."

"Yep. If this works tonight, I might just give him the offer again then."

The Waterford's quarterback eventually shakes Danny's hand, scurrying away as soon as he's released. Danny moves on to the next one.

That night, the Waterford Weasels don't get a single touchdown.

—

Danny is suddenly the most popular kid at school, at least amongst the jocks. Considering how much weight Casper High puts behind their athletic programs, that makes him pretty damn high on the food chain. Not that he seems to realize.

The basketball team, the volleyball team, even the cheerleaders. They drag a confused Danny along whenever they can and set him lose on the opposing team. There's always a bribe, of course. Everybody knows Danny isn't big into school spirit. He'd never gone to a single game before all this, after all.

At first, they're just using him. He freaks out the competition so much it throws them off their game, which means a lot more trophies to fill up Casper High's dusty case in the near future. Eventually, though, it becomes something else. There's still the raw, primal joy of seeing Danny scare the hell out of some outsiders, but they start inviting him to the after parties, too. They let Danny's friends tag along. Dash even gives him a friendly slap on the back one day when they're passing in the hall.

Three months ago, nothing like that would have happened. Three months ago, Dash would have stuffed you in a locker for even suggesting it.

By some miracle, they manage to keep the teachers out of the loop. If any of them asks, the students either answer with a shrug, or suggest that Fenton's turned a new leaf and he's really into school spirit now. Most of them go for the shrug.

It doesn't last forever, though. The students get bolder, inviting Danny to away games outside the city. He rejects most of them, no matter how sweet the bribe, with a number of excuses.

"I have homework."

"I've got some extracurricular stuff to work on."

"I don't have a car."

"You don't need a car, we've got a bus!" Dash says.

Danny, already turning to walk away, stops. "What?"

"You can ride on the team bus with us," Dash says. It's not exactly conventional, but they've got the room for it. All they have to do is sneak Danny past Tetslaff and keep him out of sight until they're on the road. There's not much she can do about it once they've already set out.

"Are you serious?" Danny asks.

Dash rolls his eyes, not even deigning Danny with a proper response. Fishing his notebook out his backpack, Dash quickly scribbles out the time and date of the away game, plus when the team bus is going to leave.

Danny eyes the piece of paper, frowning as he tries to decipher Dash's cramped handwriting.. "You don't even know if I'll show up."

"You'll show up."

"I doubt it."

—

Danny shows up. He meets Dash by the back door, already donning the sweater he's now permanently borrowed from Mikey. He asked Mikey if Lester would ever want it back, but Mikey assured him his debt is settled. Whatever that means.

"Tetslaff usually waits until all the equipment is loaded up before getting on. We just have to sneak you by her, which won't be too hard," Dash says.

"You realize I'm not shorter than you anymore, right?" Danny asks.

Dash squints. No, he hadn't, actually. Even though they see each other every day, Dash still pictures Danny as the same wimpy kid from freshman year. But Danny's right. He has a few inches on Dash, now that they're a couple years older, although he's still got nothing in terms of muscle mass. Just looking at him, Dash is pretty sure Mikey has more muscle than Danny does.

"Whatever, let's just go." Dash leads Danny over to the bus.

Tetself stands with her back to them. She oversees the rest of the team as they throw their equipment bags into the storage compartment at the bottom of the bus. She's completely oblivious to the two rule breakers heading her way.

But Kwan and Dale see coming from afar and jog over to join them. They fall into step on Dash's left, making a little wall between Danny and Tetslaff. If Danny ducks his head, he's completely out of view. They're almost home free, a few feet from the bus, when Danny's foot slips into a rut in the grass he careens forward.

He cries out in shock, throwing his arms out to catch himself. Dash manages to snag his arm before he hits the ground, jerking Danny to a stop. He hangs there a moment, body limp, blinking at the grass and wondering if that really just happened.

"Daniel Fenton, what are you doing?" Tetslaff asks.

Dash jostles Danny out of his daze. He scrambles upright, brushing himself off as Tetslaff approaches. She stops right in front of him, fists on her hip, her glare stern.

"Getting on the bus?" Danny says.

Behind Tetslaff, Dash slaps a hand against his face.

"Only team members are allowed on the team bus. Those are the rules."

"But coach, he's out lucky charm!" Dash protests.

Tetslaff turns, squinting at Dash. Crossing her arms, she leans toward him. "Oh, yeah? How so?"

Dash, Kwan, and Dale share a long, considering look. Kwan shrugs. Dale tilts his head back. Shooting Danny a wary glance, Dash beckons Tetslaff over, out of earshot. She stays rooted to the spot.

"Please, Coach?"

Normally, a little something like saying please wouldn't do a lick of help in swaying Tetslaff. She's as stubborn as her arms are thick. But today, she feels a little indulgent. The team's being doing great, both in practice and on field. She's willing to give a little, if only for all the effort they're giving her back.

With a sigh, Tetslaff follows Dash.

"He scares the hell out of the other players so that they mess up and we win," Dash confesses once they're out of earshot.

Tetslaff's eyebrows shoot up her forehead. "Fear tactics, huh? Didn't want to rely on you own skill?"

"That's not it! I know we're a great team. We don't need Fenton. But he makes us work harder for it. He's kind of motivating, you know?"

Tetslaff looks at Dash and says nothing. With a shake of her head, she marches back to Danny. "Mr. Fenton, you're coming with me."

Danny gives the team a helpless look, a weak shrug, and follows their coach back into the school.

"Damn," Kwan says. "Almost had it."

"Did you mean what you said about Fenton, Dash?" Dale asks.

"I think I did?" Dash watches Danny and Tetslaff until they disappear through the doors. "I don't know about you guys, but whenever he scares the other team, I kind of want to earn that."

Dale nods. "Man, I wanted to see the fear in their eyes.

"Huh." Kwan taps his chin, deep in thought. "Does anyone else think we should be concerned about the fact that we enjoy that so much?"

All at once, more than half the team drones, "Nah."

"I think you're right, though," Kwan says to Dash. "Having Danny around is kind of fun."

"Today's game is gonna be so boring." Dale moans in disappointed. He boards the bus, quickly followed by his teammates. Soon enough, everyone is on and in their seats. All they need is for Tetslaff to return. She's gone for a solid ten minutes. There are still a few hours before the game starts, but it makes the players antsy. Dash keeps checking out the window for any sign of her.

The school's back door opens. Dash perks up, leaning toward the glass as Tetslaff steps out. She holds the door open. Danny comes out after her. And he's wearing the official Casper High Raven costume.

"Boys!" Tetslaff says when she climbs back on the boss. "Say hello to our new mascot!"

Her declaration is met with a round of cheers.

—

It's two hours before the game. Danny sits on a bench outside the locker rooms, the raven head resting beside him. When Tetslaff offered to make him the mascot, he admittedly hesitated. In the past, he didn't have time for stuff like this. But things are a little easier now, ghost-wise. His parents are better hunters. Valerie proves time and again how capable she is. The ghosts themselves have even backed off a little since Danny started junior year.

For the first time since starting high school, he actually has the time to do high school things outside of homework. It won't be his first time acting as the official mascot, either. He used to fill in for the mascot in freshman year, before things got too much for Danny to handle and he had to drop it.

He wishes Tetslaff let him keep wearing his hoodie, though. The raven costume isn't that comfortable.

The door to the locker rooms opens. Paulina steps through, already in her cheerleading outfit even though there's still an hour before she needs to be on the field. She takes one look at Danny and says, "Oh, hell no."

Danny recoils, offended. He thought they were on sort of good terms after everything with Whitney, but apparently, he was wrong.

"Tetslaff already made me the mascot, Paulina. I'm here whether you like it or not," he says.

"No, duh. I'm pretty sure you two were the only ones who didn't know you're are mascot." Paulina flicks the shoulder of the raven suit. It makes a dull thunk. The plastic feathers barely twitch. "But you're not scaring anyone in that thing. What are you gonna do, say 'boo?'"

Danny thinks about all the little tricks he has up his sleeve and grins. "I think you'd be surprise."

The costume may be bulky and round, with a wide friendly smile that gives one of those "huggable mascot" looks, but Danny's a ghost. If anybody can do scary, it's him. The past few months have proved that nicely.

"Wait, wait, wait," Paulina says, holding up her hands. She pivots in front of Danny and grabs his shoulders. "You know that you scare people?"

"I mean, yeah? It's kind of hard not to." Danny shakes his head. After the fifth time some stranger flinches away from your touch, you start piecing things together.

"And you never said anything?"

Danny honestly didn't think he had to. Did everyone just expect him not to catch on? Yes. Yes, they did. But that's not the point right now. Danny rubs the back of his neck and chuckles nervously. "I don't really care much about being popular anymore, but it's kind of nice to be invited to stuff, you know?"

Paulina doesn't believe him for a second. She crosses her arms and gives him a critical star. "And?" she asks.

Danny looks at her, looks away. Kicks the grass with his foot. He knows exactly what she wants to hear. He wants to deny it, but he can't. Sheepishly, he admits, "And it's kind of fun."

"Perfect. Then you won't mind what I'm about to do to you."

"Wait, what? Paulina, I– ah!" Paulina grabs his arm and drags him into the girl's locker room.

—

Danny holds himself perfectly still, arms out from his body. "Paulina, I don't think–"

"Ah, ah, ah! I'm almost done! No moving. And make sure you don't lean back against things too much, or else you'll smudge it." Paulina peers under Danny's arm, holding a paintbrush slathered in blue body paint so dark it's almost black.

"Aren't our team colours red and white?" Danny asks. Turning his arms over, he scans the parts of his skin Paulina has already finished painting. Bold feathers cover most of his upper arm, going up his shoulder and, from what Danny could feel as Paulina worked, down his back. She won't let him see what she's doing, though. He hopes it's cool.

"You mean the most boring colours in team colour history?" Paulina scoffs. She steps back, admiring her work for a moment, and drops her brush in the can of body paint. "I've been trying to get Ishiyama to change the school colours for years. Maybe with this, she will."

"Are you don’t yet?"

"Boy, I worked hard on this, let me breathe it in before you go out there and ruin it."

"Mikey's hoodie was scarier."

"Mikey's hoodie was garish. This is a work of art."

Danny picks at his new pants, heavy things made of a thick material and covered in a generous layer of black feathers. At least his legs will be warm tonight.

"You think I'm scarier without a shirt on? Gee, thanks." Danny rolls his eyes. He's not as offended as he sounds, though. Being a half ghost has led to some physical qualities he would rather do without, but can't do anything to change. Like an incredibly fast metabolism that burns through everything he eats before he even has a chance to taste it. Jazz keeps telling him he has to start making health choices, so he doesn't pass out or keel over from hunger.

He tries, but there's only so much he can do, and his ribs seem to be permanently on display. Danny pokes them now, scowling at how they press against his skin. That is so not healthy. He lets his hand drop back to the feathered pants.

"Where did you even get this on such short notice?" he asks. All Paulina did was make a phone call, then someone came buy and dropped off a paper bag with the pants, body paint, and a smaller plastic bag inside.

"I already had it made, silly. I told you, that sweater was so ugly. I couldn't let you keep repping Casper High in something like that." The noise Paulina makes is nothing short of disgusted. She really hates Mikey's sweater, effective as it was. But this is going to be glorious.

Danny peeks over his shoulder, trying to catch his reflection in the mirror, but he can't get a good view.

"Look straight," Paulina commands, pushing Danny's cheek. She raises his arms. "Hold them out like this, perfectly still. Perfect."

She takes out her phone and snaps a few photos of Danny's back. Flicking through them, she chooses the best one, posting it to the Casper Ravens twitter page with the caption "new mascot unveiling tonight." Once she's done, she passes her phone to Danny to show him her handiwork.

"Whoa." Danny stares down at the delicately painted wings on his back. Paulina made them just right so that when he raises his arms, it looks like the wings are unfurling. "Okay, that's a lot cooler than Mikey's hoodie. A shirt would still be nice, though."

"It'd take away from the look. You're practically a skeleton. What'll freak people out more than that?"

"Really feeling the love, Paulie."

"No using my nickname for her!" Star shouts from behind a row of lockers.

Paulina shooed the other girls to the other side of the room when she brought Danny in to give him his new look. By now, they are all changed into their uniforms and ready to show they're spirit.

"Okay. I'll just call her Lina instead."

"Please, god, no." Paulina groans. "That name is so stupid."

The other cheerleaders giggle as they join Danny and Paulina in the main room. They look nice, wearing their matching pleated skirts and crop tops. With their hands on their hips, the pom-poms give their steps a little extra bounce.

"We know you haven't choreographed anything. Just do your think, and we'll do ours. I know you aren't as clumsy as people think," Star says. She gives Danny an encouraging pat on his cheek. It is not as motivating as she thinks it is.

The girls start lining up by the door, doing a few small jumps to get their blood pumping. Danny does the same, shaking out his arms and hopping from foot to foot. He moves to take his place at the end of the line.

"Hold it!"

"Oh, what now?" Danny groans, slumping over. Paulina's shoes invade his vision. She sticks a plastic bag under his nose, holding it out for him to take. "What's this?"

"The last piece of your costume. It's my favourite."

Danny removes the piece from the bag. He grins wickedly.

—

Balmoral High, as the home team, runs onto the field first. Having heard of Caspers' unusual intimidation tactics, they came prepared. The players run onto the field amidst a burst of sparklers and strobe lights flashing their team colours. It pumps up the crowd, just as it's meant to, and the team is met with a roar of approval.

They pump their fists, leaping and bounding across the field. Cheerleaders in short skirts and shorter tops wave their pom-poms, do cartwheels and flips, and spur the crowd on. Their mascot runs on last. A guy in a bear costume, his raises his arms and roars, slashing his paws through the air.

It's all very cute.

Casper High comes in with far less fanfare. The cheerleaders are first, swishing their hips and blowing kisses at the crowd. Raising their voices, they cry out to the crowd. "We're the corvid to your carrion! We're here to fight to the break of dawn!" The few people from Amity Park who could make the trek to the neighbouring city cheer back, cranking their noise makers and stomping their feet. The players charge in next, thrusting their helmets in the air. They have feathers paint on their cheeks.

A few Balmoral players snort, bumping elbows and pointing to the face paint. When the last Casper student runs onto the field, all of Balmoral turns to watch for the infamous mascot. No one comes.

"Ha!" Balmoral's linebacker, in the middle of the team huddle, shouts. It would seem that Casper's reputation isn't all it's cracked up to be.

"Excuse me?"

The linebacker freezes, feeling a tap on his shoulder. He turns, slowly, and sees a boy wearing raven skull mask and a devilish grin.

"Boo."

[thetaoofzoe]

FIC: Syverson the Protector Pt 4

*   Syverson The Protector - Part I (pairing Syverson x YOU)

*   Syverson the Protector - Part II (pairing Syverson x YOU)

*   Syverson the Protector - Part III  (pairing Syverson x YOU)

Summary: You are an embedded journalist and on a mission, everything goes wrong. The two of you have made it to safety and now it’s time for the healing to begin. 

Rating for this part: Budding romance, Fluff, medical related content, I’ve picked ‘Henry’ as Syverson’s first name and he’s grown his hair out :D

Must be read in order, no part can stand alone. I expect to have at most,  two more parts, 5 and concluding in 6. 

Word count: 2293

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

Lying flat on his back, Syverson stared morosely at the ceiling and listened to the gentle thwapping sounds of the bedside machine that was currently and eagerly siphoning fluids out of his intestines. He let his mind tick over what the machine was actually doing to him and blearily considered why he wasn’t in constant pain from the electronic manipulation of his own vulnerable flesh.

Surely those plastic tubes driven into his guts should hurt, right?

Sure, you’re right, his mind chattered, a little giddy to be imparting an unknown bit of information, but consider this: morphine – a wounded man’s best friend.

My best friend, he thought and then as if the devil knew it was being called, another machine beeped and a flood of soft luscious haziness rushed into his bloodstream and he immediately relaxed. This tired mind drifted and it didn’t take long for him to slip back into sleep.

Hours later, Syverson startled out of a clinging and sticky dream with a desperate gasp. He felt hot all over, stiff and aching and the very thought of trying to move elicited a terrible pain response. Hot, oily bile crept up in his throat and his mouth watered in that awful familiar process of preparing him to violently empty his stomach.

I have to sit up, his brain screamed. I have to sit up. I don’t want to puke still lying on my back!

A broad cool hand pressed down on his chest and another closed about his shoulder. Someone was speaking but he couldn’t make out the words through the heavy veiling fog that enveloped him. He tried to speak to the person, and tried to tell them that he was going to be sick.

‘It’s ok, Henry,’ a voice was telling him. ‘You’re ok. I’ll help you roll onto your side if you need to vomit.’

Swallowing jerkily, throat working hard to force the urge back down, Syverson clamped his teeth and shook his head.

‘All right. How about we move you a bit. Are you ok with that?’

Move? God no. I can’t bear that. Moving meant pain.

He shook his head again, but the warm voice came back to him, sounding much more insistent this time.

‘I can help you, Henry, or I’ll put the positioner in bed with you and it will make you move. We want to prevent pressure sores, remember?’

Syverson took in a breath and after a moment nodded to show that he understood. When the man leaned in close, Syverson could smell his cologne. It was a pleasant and fresh woodsy scent that reminded him of his cabin back home. A sudden homesick ache tightened his chest and tears wet his dry eyes. He didn’t like feeling that way, but everything seemed to be out of his control now. He hated it.

Nevertheless, he put his arms around the man’s shoulders and gritted his teeth when his body was repositioned and stretched out again on the stiff mattress.

He gasped and couldn’t believe how out of breath such a small exertion had left him. But, he noted, he did feel better and the nausea had subsided.

The urge to eat suddenly struck him and he blinked up at the nurse.

‘What time is it?’ he rasped, voice rusty from disuse.

‘You hungry?’ asked the nurse with a grin.

‘Yeah, I could eat,’ he answered, wriggling a little to get more comfortable in the pillows under his head.

‘I can get you something, but it’s after breakfast and not quite lunch.’

Syverson nodded. He didn’t care. He just wanted to eat.

‘Fries and a coke, then,’ he said closing his eyes and grinning a little.

The nurse laughed and gently patted his shoulder condescendingly. With the state of Syverson’s gut, there was no way he was going to survive ingesting any amount of carbonation. That little fact didn’t stop the cravings though.

‘I’ll see if there’s some soup still left. I think it’s chicken.’

When he was alone again, the memories came back. After the jeep explosion, he was sure that he was going to die out in that sandy wasteland. Had it not been for you, he was sure that he would have died. Had it not been for the beautiful, plucky reporter, some stony faced military man would be paying his parents a visit to inform them of their youngest son’s passing and that his body would be flown home for burial.

Instead, he had been saved. And when he found that you’d been housed in the civilian wing of the hospital, he wanted to see you. He wanted to thank you for saving his life. When visiting you was denied, considering the fragile state of the both of you, Syverson had instructed that the well stocked gift shop be bought out and carted to your room, all with his heartfelt thanks.

He owed you his life. A few flowers and a couple of teddy bears was the least he could do.

The plastic and faux wood table rattled next to him and snapped Syverson out of his muse. He opened his eyes and watched as the nurse positioned the table over his bed and put down a ceramic bowl of steaming soup. He groaned and strained a little to help himself up into a sitting position.

The nurse was distracted and looking down into his other hand.

‘I ran into your girlfriend’s nurse in the hallway and she gave me this to give to you.’

God, he sounded so smug and Syverson wanted to punch him square in the face.

Girlfriend?

His brain searched for a face to put to the name but came up empty. He’d broken up with his ex more than five years ago, right before his latest deployment. And then it clicked.

The reporter. You.

The nurse handed the card to Syverson and upon seeing it, his heart sank. It was the same envelope that he’d sent along with the gifts. Had you refused his outpouring of affection? He slowly opened the envelope and breathed out with relief when he saw the new message that had been written for him.

He didn’t want to smile at the note in front of the gossipy nurse, as he didn’t want to encourage any nonsense rumours, so he kept his elated reaction to himself. But inside his heart soared and the soup tasted better than anything he’d ever eaten before.

**

The day that you both championed and dreaded finally arrived. The day you could get out of bed on your own and walk down to the men’s wing to pay your captain a visit. He had come a long way, you’d heard from the nurse, but would still have trouble doing any taxing travelling. However you were well enough to make the trip.

‘That is, if you still want to,’ said your nurse with a glint in her eye.

Oh, she thinks she’s funny, does she?

You sighed luxuriously and stretched back on your pillows. You’d managed to wrangle an extra set so that you could prop yourself up like a royal lady taking in visitors for the afternoon. You ran the edge of your thumbnail across the thick scar skirting the side of your left palm, scratching it lightly but thoroughly. You had recently had your bandages removed and the sight of your hands was shocking. The backs of your hands had taken the brunt of the burns and they were wrinkled with scar tissue which butted up against new skin growth. A daily cream was a must to keep the tissue from tightening up and preventing normal usage of your hand. You scooped up a handful of the waxy smelling stuff and massaged it into your hands as your nurse watched you expectantly.

Her expression fell a bit when you didn’t answer right away.

Serves her right, you thought, casually kneading fingertips into the palm of your opposite hand.

‘I mean, you don’t have to, if you’ve changed your mind.’

She picked at a bright yellow rose bud that had fallen off of one of the new crops of flower bouquets. Henry had made sure to keep you flush with fresh beautiful flowers. You had to draw the line at the character balloons, and had to tell him that he should stop sending them because the hollow sounds of them knocking together at night was creepy and it kept you awake.

‘I haven’t changed my mind, Barb,’ you said and gave her a smile.

I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to see him again.

‘Well, good. He’s been asking after you… like… constantly now.’

You said nothing, but a tiny grin stretched your lips.

Constantly?

‘We can whip out the chair and wheel you over there after lunch.’

Your heart leaped with sudden and visceral terror.

It’s soon. So soon. Too soon! Today?

You swallowed hard and felt your face heat with uncertain embarrassment.

‘S-sure.’

‘Ok, I’ll reserve one and be back in a few hours.’

Barb turned around and left the room. You could hear her chuckling as if this matchmaking was the best thing that had happened to her all year.

You sat up in bed, greasy hands limp in your lap and you made a face when you sniffed at yourself under your hospital gown. No way were you going to present yourself to Henry, or anyone else who would be in the day room, looking like you’d been in an accident.

Heaven forfend.

So, you washed carefully and put on the pale peach coloured long-sleeved pyjama set you’d received from the Ladies’ Supply. The Ladies’ Supply was an organisation of volunteer women who ensured the dignity and comfort of women at the military hospital through social visits, clothing donations and other feminine needs.

You did your hair the best you could and whiled away the hours until you heard the squeaky wheelchair being rolled into your room. With heart crashing excitedly against your ribs, you perched delicately on it and Barb rolled you away.

**

The day room was spacious and welcoming and abuzz with activity. Some of the men were still hooked to IVs and sitting by the wide windows and others who were more capable were dispersed amongst the tables either reading or playing cards or just talking with each other. There were also some women in there, so you didn’t feel like you were entering the lion’s den. You spotted Henry by one of the card tables and you wanted to put your feet down on the floor to stop Barb from rolling you right up to his side. Unfortunately, you didn’t do it in time and when you squeaked to an unceremonious halt at the edge of the table, he glanced up from his cards.

The look on his face when he recognised you was one that you would store in your memory for an eternity. He put the cards face down on the table and made to stand up. You immediately put up your hands to stop him.

‘No, no, don’t get up, you don’t–‘

But, he had already struggled to push himself up and out of the chair and you didn’t want to take that victory from him. You stood up as well, ready to give a firm friendly handshake, or a paltry pat on the shoulder but he had other intentions. He dragged you into his arms, and crushed you to his meaty chest, before you could manage to say, hello.

When he finally let you go, you both went back to your respective seats, feeling overwhelmed by the perfect greeting.

Grinning at him, you made a gesture to your own head.

‘Your hair… it’s all curly!’

The last time you’d seen him, his hair was shorn right to the head, and there was really no hint as to the texture or really even the true colour. So it surprised you to see a neatly clipped mop of glossy brown curls. Henry put a self conscious hand into his hair and ruffled his fingers through it.

‘I like it,’ you assured him, hoping to put him at ease. ‘I like it a lot.’

Grabby hair, your brain chittered. Perfect length for grabbing.

With that the two men who had been playing cards with him at the table, picked up and left, taking the not so subtle hint that they should leave the two of you alone.

‘I’m glad to see you. Finally,’ he said, wincing a little when he shifted in the chair.

‘Does it still hurt?’ you asked, reaching out to put your hands over his on the table.

‘I’m getting over it,’ he said, dodging the question effortlessly.

He turned his hands up to hold onto yours and you felt as shy as a virgin on a first date. So, what could you do but make a joke the break the tension.

‘I mean… if I had to get blown up to get a date with you in a hospital day room, don’t know if I would do it again. Ehh, I probably would.’

Your eyes swept up to his and he stared at you a moment, puzzled and when you gave him a little hesitant smile, Henry started to laugh. The sound it lit you up with happiness and then the awkwardness was broken.

You spent about an hour chatting and if you were honest, most of it was spent flirting, until you started to feel tired.

You didn’t want to overstay your welcome and he seemed disappointed (much to your juvenile delight) when you said that you were leaving.

‘Tomorrow then?’ he asked, big blue eyes bright and eager, his hands unwilling to let you go again.

‘Yes, tomorrow.’

-End part 4

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Drowning Part 7

I felt like writing today, so you guys have two Drowning parts today. Enjoy, but beware that I did not edit this.

Masterlist

@shydragonrider @asrasmysoulmate

Warnings: possessiveness, medical whump, odd medical practices, anesthesia, major descriptions of vomit, striped of clothing (not sexual), restraints, IVs, needles, knives, surgery (intense descriptions)

~

Hero blinked her eyes open, taking in the scene around her. She wasn't in the chair anymore, she could move her arms and legs and there wasn't the consistent beep of the monitors hooked up to Supervillain's skin.

Her hands must've have recovered some of their strength for she dug them into the object she was laid upon. It sunk down, but rebounded when she released pressure.

A bed.

Her head was also set gingerly upon a soft pillow- caressing to give her optimum comfort.

Light streamed in through a window, landing on her torso. Hero stiffened, noticing a shadow pass through her abdomen where it stopped.

"Look at me."

Hero hesitantly brought her head up to meet Villain's blue eyes. Memories of their encounter streamed through her head, blocking any other thought process.

"There we go now dear," Villain sat on the foot of the bed, tracing some form of shape into the ruffled covers with a smug smile on his tanned face.

"What do you want?" Hero asked, though she halfway knew the answer.

"You, of course, my dear," Villain said with such confidence that it almost sounded arrogant, cocky...

Possessive.

"Well, now you have me," Hero stated, her tongue feeling bitterly dry. "Where's Supervillain?"

"You still care about him? I thought the doctor- oh sorry, your friends- did a pretty good job of taking those feelings away," Villain tutted. "What breakfast? I made a smoothie bowl." Then he added with a twinkle to his gaze, "Your favorite."

"Hmm no thanks," Hero smiled, still glaring at Villain as if that would remove him from her sight. His whole fit body was a vulgar sight.

Villain sighed dramatically. "Can't I do anything right for you?" He asked, voice in a bitter snarl. "Nope," he answered himself. "No because Hero is too righteous to take anything from a villain..."

"Quit with the guilt tripping. It is not working," Hero informed him, rolling her eyes. "I don't want anything because I don't need anything."

"You can't walk."

"Can to," Hero retorted, crossing her arms, relieved that those at least had some strength in them.

"Try it," Villain dared, leaning against the bed with his palms dug deeply into a mattress, a twinkle in his eyes. Hero vaguely noticed the decrease in swelling, the near fading scar on his right temple- a reminder of how long she had been caged up.

Hero swung her legs to the other side, dangling them down before putting all her weight on the shaky muscles. Gripping the sides of the bed, she pushed herself off and...

She fell, only to be caught by strong arms.

"There now. Proved you wrong dearie, now how does breakfast sound?" Villain asked, smiling down at his little captive.

Hero snarled, tucking her chin to her chest, before nodding subtley. Villain grinned even wider and carried her to the kitchen where she was sat down at the table.

"What are they doing to Supervillain when I'm not there?" Hero asked, looking down at her hands.

"Probably healing him up," Villain replied as he dished flax meal and chia seeds on the berry smoothie bowl. "And then do who knows what."

"We should rescue him," Hero said, nearly a whisper. Villain cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?" He asked nonchalantly. Hero nodded and took the cold metal spoon and began to eat the more than delicious breakfast.

"That is, hmm, not happening," Villain scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Why not?" Hero asked, pausing her eating.

Villain didn't answer. He just left and began to wash the dishes.

"Hello?" Hero called, but received no answer in return.

Within the next fews days of movement, Hero built up enough strength in her legs to carry herself across the house without as much as breaking a sweat.

"I want to watch a movie tonight," Villain said once when Hero was helping clean up after dinner.

"What movie?" Hero asked, never giving him an joy-filled statement once in her stay.

"Thor," Villain replied. "The first one."

"Why don't we watch Iron Man? The first one. Or whichever one Tony gets drunk at the party and fights Rhodey."

"Because Stark sucks, Loki is the best."

"Uh, nooo. Loki is the definition of bad acting," Hero rolled her eyes as she set a dirty plate into the sink.

"Stark is the definition of a crappy character," Villain retorted as he handwashed a knife. Hero studied him, watching as the soapy water drenched his long sleeve shirt. His soft blonde hair trickled into his icy blue eyes as his pink lips were pulled tight into a concentrated purse.

"Or maybe we watch the Kissing Booth," Hero murmured and joined Villain to rinse off the plates and utensils to put them in the dishwasher.

Villain smiled, but it wasn't his usual broad, creepy smile that made shivers run down Hero's spine. It was a smile one, a contented embarrassed one. Tied with his blushing cheeks, Hero would've even called it cute.

That was if he never betrayed her, or never kidnapped her.

If he never kept her from rescuing Supervillain in that wretched place.

Yes, Hero noticed that doors that could only be unlocked by Villain's fingerprints. The sealed windows that refused to budge.

And the fact that the one story trailer house was different from Villain's previous home that consisted of three stories with a gym room and a gaming room.

He was moved, or moved himself, specifically to keep Hero locked in.

Not even his charisma could change that foreboding fact.

《~~》

"Welcome Supervillain to the lab."

Supervillain blinked slowly as LED lights brushed past tender eyelids. The rolling floor memorized him slightly as he watched the equally placed lines fall under the gurney's wheels.

The gurney took a turn, causing a nauseating lurch of vertigo to pass through his stomach. He held back the urge to gag and instead burped repeatedly until he tasted the beginnings of vomit.

Tossing his head over to the side, Supervillain opened his mouth a threw up. He wanted to lurch, but the restraints around all points of movement other than his head and neck forbid that. He was left to allow the puke to streaming down his front, landing on his bound hands.

"Look at you!" One of the heroes chastised, slapping Supervillain hard across the face with a backhanded slap. The world around Supervillain whirled and he nearly threw up again if it wasn't for the gag- no, metal bit- shoved into his mouth, hitting his teeth and sending yet another gag reflex through his esophagus. But this time, he was forced to keep the vomit within and threw up inside his own mouth. Groaning and eyes rolling up slightly, Supervillain laid his head back against the thin pillow that protected his head against any form of head injury. Eyes fluttering closed, he tried to draw more sleep in.

Only for a sudden release in pressure to wake him up from his momentary slumber. The bit was removed and his body was held under a faucet for his mouth to be washed out. Someone came behind him and dumped a bunch of listerine into his unsuspecting mouth. Sputtering from the numbing taste of strong original mouthwash, Supervillain allowed his head to dangle- black hair wetted by the flowing hot water.

Next, his soiled clothing was removed- even his pants- and replaced by a faded pair of shorts. His torso was left bare.

The next movement was of him being laid across a metal table, his limbs once again being held in place by the four-point restraint system- padded metal contraptions barricading any form of movement or escape from the inevitable pain that was to come.

"Patient is restrained, begin procedure."

Nurses bustled around, two on each side of him, one by his feet, and one by his head.

"We are going to force the water out of his lungs," another voice, one that was not owned by any of the nurses surrounding him. Out of the corner of Supervillain's eye, he saw the doctor. The doctor, pacing around not even once looking at the stretched out patient before him.

"This will be painful, but we need the patient entirely conscious for this to work," the doctor instructed. "We are going to insert a tube directly into his lungs- on both sides-, piercing them, and using a sort of plunger instrument to force the liquid through his trachea. To ensure he does not choke, Medic and Nurse, once the plungers are released, you ladies need to unrestrain him and roll him over to his side. We go slow and the second all the fluid is expelled, we need to anesthetize the patient to due emergency surgery to stitch the lungs back together. Estimated recovery time is a couple days with the rapid-healing drug we will administer. Any questions? Prep the IV, Nurse2 be ready there."

The hairs on Supervillain's arms stood up and goosebumps picked his skin. The order from the doctor made him struggle against the restraints, pulling aggressively against them.

"Oh please don't do this," he blubbered, tears spilling from his ducts. "Don't do this. I can't do this. Oh please, please, please, please." He started sobbing, terrifed, as a nurse stuck his elbow with a needle.

"Prepare insertion."

Two sharp metal pieces found their home right below Supervillain's rib.

"Ultrasound."

A cool gel was squirted between the two sharp pricks before a rectangular object was placed upon it.

"Ultrasound ready."

"Begin incision."

A buzzing sound, right before a knife cut in his skin. No, not once, that was a lie, but two.

Two sharp, agonizing knives.

Supervillain screamed, wailed pitifully, as his body thrashed around.

"Stop, stop!" He begged, picking his head up only for hands to shove it back down. His fingers stretched out, clenched, anything for the torture to end.

"Left, move yours towards the ribcage a bit so you don't cut the liver."

Supervillain tensed, clouded thoughts coming to the surface. Cut my liver..., he thought before attempting to evade the knives cutting into his body.

"Don't, don't, don't!" he screeched. "Please."

"Prepare to pierce the lung."

Supervillain shoved himself downwards, but it did nothing with the unrelenting cuffs keeping him close to rock still.

The pure agony that he felt when the knife pierced the lung, then the way the knife evolved into a plunger, was indescribable.

Supervillain screamed. Screamed so loud that even the practiced nurses flinched. The doctor though stayed still, watching the procedure with his authoritive gaze.

"Release the patient."

His wrists and ankles were quickly let free by the wave of a card. He tried to curl in on himself to avoid the operation, but professional hands kept him stretched out.

"Start pumping at Level One to begin."

The horrendous feeling of the machine inside of Supervillain changed into a coveted one when the same machine started to pump. A plunger hit the liquid, sending it up and into his trachea.

Supervillain coughed, rolled over to his side. At first, he imagined that the left plunger would quit working as if it was kinked, but found out that it must've been electrically powered.

Mucus, blood, and water shot up through his trachea. Pain forgotten, Supervillain gagged and coughed the abhorrent liquid out until blackness began to crawl at the edges of his vision. It clouded his thoughts, but he body still involuntarily gagged, coughed, and spat all of his lung's content out.

"Stay awake," a rough voice sounded as his body was shook. Supervillain complied and returned to his coughing fit, agony once again returning to his veins and muscles.

Then, as soon as it started, the pressure ceased as soon as it started.

"Administer the anesthesia promptly."

A dial clicked, though Supervillain hardly registered it. Even before the sedative started pumping through his veins, he was losing consciousness.

A mask was placed above his mouth just as the world descended into blackness.

[justalittleficsideblog]

Care for a dance?; Itadori Yuuji

Prompt: Satoru holds a sort of prom for students, you anxiously wait for Yuuji. But when he arrives, he says some things you’ve been waiting to hear forever.

pairing: Itadori Yuuji x fem!reader

genre: Fluff!

Word count: 1,583

This is my first ever fanfiction, I hope to get better in the future but I hope you all enjoy! <3 also, if you would like to make requests, feel free to do so!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You made your way across the dance floor, eyes glued to the entrance as you waited for that one pink-haired boy to walk through. 

You sighed heavily, leaving against the wall, drink in hand. 

Damn sorcerers and their dramatic antics

You chuckled beside yourself. It's not like you yourself were not a sorcerer, you were quite skilled in the cursed arts, in fact. However, in an attempt to give the tech students a sense of “normalcy” from other schools, Satoru decided to have the students set up their own mini prom. You were against the idea at first, alongside Medumi (although you weren't sure if he was actually listening to what Gojo had to say in the first place), but Itadori’s eyes practically glowed at the idea of a western-type dance. 

“Please y/n! Doesn’t it sound fun?? A dance and lights and music and--”

“Fine, yuuji,” you sighed as Satoru beamed in contempt. You quickly turned away from Itadori’s puppy eyes. But you couldn't just say no to him, and you weren’t quite sure why. 

Because you like him dumbass

“Oooh, so does this mean we get to see y/n in a dress for once?” a mouth appeared on the side of Itadori’s face, cutting off your train of thought.

Itadori slapped his own face, hard.

“Aww,” you teased. “Does Sakuna want to see some skin?”

Itadori blushed, but quickly slapped a hand over his arm as it spoke, “No, well of course, but it would be nice to see Yuji here get all flustered.”

“S-shut up!”

You laughed, as much as a threat Sakuna was, you had to admit he had his quirks. Itadori glanced toward Satoru in a silent plea to change the subject. The teacher complied, laying out the rules and dress code for the event.

“Hehe, have fun with this one kids, I'm off to do some sight-seeing.” and with that he turned and walked off.

“This is pathetic, why do I have to get wrapped up in this shit,” Megumi growled, also striding off toward the direction of his dorm. 

You heard a distinct whispering from behind you, which you assumed was most likely Sukuna saying something to Itadori. When you turned back around, said pink-haired boy made brief eye-contact with you before quickly looking away with his hand on his cheek.

---------

That interaction led you to where you were now, leaning against the wall alone in a dress that made you feel like suffocating. 

Well, you thought. At least I look good

You wondered what Itadori would be wearing, would he think you looked good? Would he even notice you? Or would he steer himself in the direction of a taller girl with a nicer ass? 

You sighed, shaking your head to get rid of the thoughts.

“It’s not like it matters anyway.”

“Oh? What doesn’t matter?” 

You choked on your drink as you turned to see Satoru looking ravishing as ever in a black suit, leaning over you with his drastic height.

“Oh- uh, … nothing in particular,” you swallowed thickly.

Gojo smirked,”Well if that’s the case… he should be here shortly by the way.”

You scowled at your teacher as he chuckled and dashed off while you heard expensive shoes click clack against the polished floor. Megumi and Itadori had arrived.

“Yo, y/n!” Itadori waved while bouncing excitedly. Megumi nodded in acknowledgement, giving you a once over before taking off towards where Satoru wandered off.  You had to admit, Yuuji looked….well, good. Really good. The dress shirt he wore fitted him perfectly, accenting his hair and eyes as he moved even in the slightest.

He cleaned up well.

Itadori came up to you, snack in hand, stopping in his tracks as he got a good glimpse of you. “You look, uh, well- you look really--”

“You look smokin’ y/n” Sakuna made yet another surprise appearance on Itadori’s hand.

“Ahh! Nevermind him, sorry I was just going to say--”

You Interrupted,  “So I don't look smokin’?”

His eyes widened and he took a step back, “N-no, I just think you look… pretty.”

You cackled, noise being drawn out by the music blaring and flashing lights decorating the space. “Relax, Yuji I was just teasing.”

His shoulders dropped somewhat, releasing the tight grip he had over his hand where Skuna’s smart-mouth was. His eyes glanced over your form, noticing how the dress fell over your frame.

“It sure turned out kinda nice, huh?” You asked, turning to face him head on.

“Yeah… the music is amazing too! I dont think ive heard this song before.”

“Really? It’s such an overplayed song in my opinion.”

Yuji’s face grimaced, “Ill be right back, hold on a second.” 

Your smile fell as he walked away, but quickly you became confused as he wandered up to the DJ, whispering something in his ear, looking back at you and smiling.

The pop-song had ended just as he made his way back to your side. Your stomach tingled as he approached, turning as he stood flush against your shoulder. 

“Hey y/n… uh,” he kicked his foot against the ground a second.

Wait… there's a slow song starting, did he-- no way, your eyes widened at the realization of what he had requested at the boothe. No freakin way--

“Do you wana dance?” he choked out, practically shouting so he could be heard above the speakers blasting soft notes across the stage. 

You stared at his outstretched hand in surprise, you thought your little crush had been completely one-sided. There was no way-

“y/n?” 

You snapped back into reality, he was asking for a dance, it didn't mean anything, right?

“Y-yeah, of course!” you stammered, tripping over your words.

Thank god it’s dark in here

He beamed, grabbing your hand and leading you out onto the dance floor. He hesitated a bit with his other hand, nervously laying it on your waist where there was a bit of fabric covering it. He seemed to choke back some words, opening his mouth and closing it promptly as your body was held flush against him.

Your face was red hot as you fell into place against him, linking your hands around his neck. Which felt surprisingly strong. 

“Uh… anything on my neck?” Yuuji glanced down, peering at you oddly. 

“O-oh, no nothing. Just lost in thought I guess.”

He smiled, which caused your chest and stomach to practically be set on fire at the sight of it. You needed to get your shit together.

“Hey,” he began. “You… look really pretty tonight. And, yeah I know I already said that, but like ya know… i'm glad you came.”

“Well,” you start, trailing your hand up his neck. “ I couldn’t disappoint Sukuna now could I?”

Yuuji huffed, obviously irritated at the mention of his crazed possessor. 

“Yeah … well it’s not like his compliment actually matters.”

You chuckled, admiring the way he looked down at you, swaying your bodies in perfect synchrony. You admired the features on his face, trailing down to the little freckles and marks underneath his eyes.

Damn, you bit your lip, he’s really attractive.

“O-oh?”

You froze. Ah shit, did you say that out loud?

Yuuji looked down at you, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted.

Thankfully, the slow song came to an end and you let go of him. But, Yuuji’s arms stayed locked in place, not letting you out of his grasp so easily. 

“You really think that?”

Your stomach churned, chest tightening in the realization that yeah, you said he was cute.

“W-well,” you stammered, looking everywhere but him. “I mean.. Maybe..?”

Finally letting go, you both walked back over to the dark corner where he found you.

“Do you wana go outside? It’s kinda stuffy in here..” You trailed off, still refusing to look him in the eye after your previous embarrassment.

He followed after you, grabbing the door for you and holding it open so you could pass through first. Glancing up, you noticed how beautiful it was outside. Moon casting a beautiful glow down on the both of you, you caught his eye.

“Listen, uh y/n.” He blushed, bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his head nervously. “I really want to get something off my chest..”

“Yeah?” You looked up at him, causing his own heart to skip a beat.

“I- I think I really like you. And, I don’t mean it in a friendly way… well obviously not in a creepy way, but; I just catch myself wanting to be near you, and I think about you all the time”

He glanced at you quickly before looking out ahead of him, your gaze burning into him.

“I… just really want to protect you and kiss you? Is that weird? God, that’s weird. You know what nevermind this was stupid. Listen, I need to go--”

You grabbed his hand before he would run away.

“Come here you big idiot.”

Mustering everything you had inside of yourself, you grabbed his cheeks and slammed your lips on top of his. At first he was frozen, his biggest fantasy finally coming to life. He eased into the kiss, hugging you closer to himself as he cupped one half of your face.

Pulling away you giggled, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

He smiled dreamily down at you, eyes glazed over in a sense of euphoria.

“D-do you wanna do that again?”

You grabbed his face once more, smiling into the kiss. 

“Fucking finally,” Sukuna’s mouth grinned from the side of Yuuji’s face.