#monster my true story

[tasenwrobots]

Moral of the story? Leo's an ass

[yea-baiyi]

about hua cheng re: that conversation w xie lian about his “true appearance”, and why hua cheng freaks out when xie lian’s asks to see his real appearance — like san lang is basically his normie appearance. whereas he usually prefers to be full makeup platform heels acrylic nails. but when xie lian asks the question, he wonders if xie lian would consider his “true form” as his ugly self. (after all, that’s what most people mean when they ask for someone’s true form — they mean their original human appearance). but the way xie lian phrased it makes it clear that it’s about being open and comfortable with each other, not about some demand for truth. which reassures hua cheng not only that xie lian will like him no matter his true appearance, but that he would accept hua cheng’s chosen appearance as his “true self” because it’s how he truly sees and portrays himself, rather than his original appearance. xie lian’s words assure him that it’s not the Honesty or the Original appearance that matters, just that he’s aware that san lang is a facade for his benefit and he’d rather see hua cheng the way he prefers to appear.

[yearningaces]

For the Valentines special: naga and the word is “smooth”

It was a trap. Of course it was a trap.

Specifically, you'd been walking along the path you always took when strolling through the deep forest outside of the town. So why then, did the once solid earth give way to sticks and leaves covering a deep hole you were now falling down?

It wasn't until a flash of iridescent hues caught your attention that you even registered the heavy scaled tail you'd landed across. The appendage holding you up from falling deeper into the cave system, yourself perfectly hooked with your upper toreso hanging from one side, and your legs hanging from the other.

And there he was, the naga who's long hair had an almost purple sheen, as did his scales. He lowered himself from where his upper portion had been lounging, his tail shifting under you, simultaneously drawing you closer to his form as his grin grew wide. "Well we'll we'll, what a lovely little surprise you are, my dear." Jormund's voice was soft, the slight hiss to his words only adding to that fact.

"Is it really a surprise?" Comes your begrudgingly amused response as you shift positions along the heavy snake tail, moving to straddle the appendage, legs dangling from either side as you sit more comfortably.

Jormund tuts slightly, his toreso moving to circle around you, leaving his coils curling around your back as he rest on his own tail where you are as well. "Is it wrong of me to be so delightfully surprised when my favorite human returns for a visit? It's the sweetest part of my days, after all" He questions with a smile, leaning down to rest his cheek against yours, his hands slowly moving to grasp onto yours.

"Alright, I'll give it to you, that was smoothe." Your remark only makes him grin victoriously with a flick of his tongue and a quiet 'fuck yesssss'

[dominik528]

Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story, "Doin' a Dahmer" (2022) / My Friend Dahmer (2017)

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 28

Heyo! How would you feel if I said that I finally have details of the ending basically ironed out the way I want and have about 20 more chapters planned for you? Honestly, I'm kind of stoked, because I think what I have planned is pretty great. When I first started writing about Drunrag and Altan, it was supposed to be just a couple of short chapters of fluff and nothing more, but my own journey figuring out my sexuality and stuff opened up a door that made my curious mind and heart wonder, "But what if there's more to Drunrag? What is there's more to Altan? And their story?"

And so here we are, basically writing a novel at this point for a small but lovely group of people who all say really nice things about my boys even though I never consistently schedule out my chapters and have spent more time writing about our boys apart than together. (I'm so sorry for all of that).

Someday I hope to be better at interacting with you guys because you all are so funny and sweet and I think we'd all be friends irl.

Take care and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26 Content Warnings: unhealthy parent dynamics All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil.

Altan POV

I was used to the weight of my brothers laying on top of me. It was a comforting feeling to be weighed down by Robin’s warmth. Only his soft breathing cut through the quiet of the night. Everything was dark and simple, formless shadows in my vision. I could make out the shape of the guard who stood at the door, but nothing more. I had been lying awake for what felt like hours, just listening, thinking, and imagining. I had spent countless nights imagining while laying in this bed, tonight I couldn’t stop myself from pretending the weight on my chest belonged to Drunrag’s arm as he held me in his sleep and the soft breath tickling my neck was his. I could see his rough hands brushing against my arm, as he pulled me closer to him. He would be warm next to me and I would be helpless to not be drawn to it.

Drunrag had to be alive. I didn’t feel it in my bones like I hoped, but I held onto that belief, it was all I had.

I heard the cracking of a door opening and suddenly a strip of light exposing the torchlight from without, in the hallways. I did not move, but watched with narrowed eyes.

Selhar slipped in, and I heard him give a sharp retort to something that the guard had said to him. The door closed and the room returned to darkness again. I heard the guard resettle into his position in front of my door and then felt the warmth of Selhar sidle into the space next to me.

“Everything alright?” I whispered.

He hummed softly.

“Good news?”  I asked.

He hummed again.

“Well?”

I felt his hand tap me on my side and I reached for it. I felt a paper drop from his hand into mine and I grasped it tightly. I held it to my chest and willed sleep to come quickly so that I could read it in the morning.

Yet, in the morning, I was awoken to my doors being banged open and my father’s shouting voice. 

“What’s going through your head, son?” I blinked up blurrily and felt Selhar and Robin’s bodies tense next to me. Feeling that shot me awake and I rose up, keeping the paper crumpled tight in my hand. “Do you have any idea what you are doing?”

I raised my chin and held his gaze. 

“What you’re demanding cannot be done.” My father continued. His posture and his facial expression reminded me of a snarling beast, a rabid dog, foaming at the mouth and chomping to dig his teeth into me.

I put a hand on Robin and Selhar, each on either side of me and shifted to sit myself in front of them. “What exactly is so impossible? He is alive, isn’t he? I don’t find my request all that unreasonable.” I kept my voice light, but I knew my father caught the hardened expression on my face. He hated me, and while that used to be the thing I feared most and went through painful obstacles to prevent and avoid accepting, I finally exulted in that reality. We both understood where one another stood, and that gave me power. 

“Selhar, Robin, leave the room.” My father didn’t look away from me when he growled the demand.

“No.” Selhar said, his voice was venomous. 

Robin said nothing, but I could see his head shifting between myself and my father. He was too young to understand, and too young to be subjected to this version of my father. 

“Selhar,” I said softly, “Take Robin outside.” I turned my head and I saw the silent pleading on my brother’s face.

“Altan.” He breathed.

I shook my head. “I’ll be alright. Go.”

Selhar’s eyes darkened and he looked behind me to where our father stood. He grabbed Robin by the arm and pulled him off the bed and towards the door. The guards that stood there silently moved aside. 

“A moment with just my son, please.” The Duke said to the guards and they followed my brothers out the door.

I remained sitting, the paper in my hand, my heart pounding, but my face passive. It would be alright. Soon the dam would burst, and it would be over. 

“I had believed that we were on the same page when the Red Hunters brought you to me. But I see that you are more spiteful and ungrateful than ever before. Why do you resist this? After all I’ve done for you?”

“Talking about this doesn’t fix things. It never has.” I answered calmly. “I’ve told you what I want. The wedding will not happen unless you bring me Drunrag alive.”

“No.” He said. “That will never happen.”

I had to hold my face together, had to remain strong like stone. “Then for the safety of our people, I cannot agree to this wedding.”

“What nonsense are you talking about?” He exasperated. “You keep speaking about the safety of our people. From what?”

I blinked slowly before answering. “It wasn’t obvious to you what I meant?” I smiled meekly. “I mean you, father. You are no longer fit for your position. And you may think that because I am your son that that means my witness means nothing, that the council will simply laugh me off my theatrics as an ungrateful, spoiled child. But I am prepared for that, and they will listen to me.”

“You’re threatening me.”

“Yes. If that’s how you wish to see it.” I said. “I already told you the games would end. I won’t subject Selhar or Robin to what you did to me.”

“What I did to you?” I caught the way his entire body was slowly clenching, like a wild cat ready to pounce. “I did what I had to!  Do you forget the debts I’m trying to pay off? The measures I’ve gone through to prevent economic collapse to our people? I let your mother coddle you because I thought it was what was best, I had to fight bigger battles than that and yet I’ve been proven again and again I was wrong to do so.”

“My mother at least told me she loved me.” I said, and I saw his eyes flash with disdain, “To her I was her child, her son. But you were more concerned about how I could benefit you in your plans and what you could do to cover up the flaws that made me undesirable for them.”

I finally slipped off the edge of my bed and walked towards him. “Without repeating myself too much, this isn’t really a conversation that helps either of us. We know one another 's motives. I know you wish me to be your pawn to pay off the debts you accrued and I want the prisoner Drunrag - wherever  you have him - brought  before me and the Council where a decision will be made that protects us and his people and benefits both sides.”

That was when my father smirked, “And how exactly do you plan to accomplish such a feat? As you said, the Council will hear me before they will ever listen to you.”

I lifted my chin. “We shall see.”

“Your plans won’t work, son.” He said, and he sighed. 

“This is what you wanted from me, isn’t it?” I asked. “I’m finally taking charge and doing something. You should be proud that I’m finally taking responsibility..”

“Son, this is not what I meant.”

I smiled wryly, ‘I’m aware, but I’m not really afraid of what you think you can do to me.” I yawned and raised my chain as I regarded him. “Was this all you wanted to speak with me about?”

“Altan.” His tone felt like a warning.

I lifted my eyebrows, “Yes?”

He held his tongue and held my gaze for an uncomfortably long period of time before he sighed and I saw his body release a portion of his tension. He stepped back, “You will learn the hard way it seems.”

He walked out of the room with no other words. 

I unwrinkled the paper from my hands and recognized Commander Gideon’s untidy scrawl,

I cannot return to the Great Hall, but I am safe. Your brother was very clever in finding me - and just in the matter of time. Thank you for the information you gleaned from the Lady of Triel. I agree with her that this evidence is enough to topple the powers that be. I trust the Gods are on our side and our efforts will not be in vain. 

Doxxah believes they are familiar with the herbs that Lady Allara may be under and is researching for an antidote that may help Allara resist the effects on her mind.

I believe I was able to locate the Red Hunter’s hideout, or at least one of them. There is no guarantee that Drunrag will be there, but I promise I will not give up until he is found. I do not know how long I will be, but if you are in an emergency and need refuge, you will find allies at the Soaring Elk. It’s near the edge of town and few guards ever travel there. You will be safe there for as long as you need.

Selhar said quite confidently that he believes you will win this battle, and I believe him to be right. Whatever the future holds for you, I know it to be good. For you, and for your beloved.

My loyalty goes to you,

G.G.

I folded the paper again just as Selhar returned, sans Robin. “What happened?” He asked urgently.

I shook my head, “Nothing yet. I don’t think father is ready to make the next move yet.”

“What are you going to do next?” He asked. “Father knows you’re opposing him, he’s going to fight back.”

I nodded, “Yes, but I think he still misunderstands me and won’t expect my next move.” I sighed. “At least I hope that’s true.”

“I think you’ve definitely rattled him.” Selhar’s voice lowered. “I think if the guard hadn’t been there, he would have hurt you.”

“He didn’t.” I said. “And he won’t. Not anymore. Have you had any luck finding that vial?”

He shook his head, “Nothing, I’ve been through Father’s office twice. There’s nothing.”

“How do you get around so easily?” I exclaimed. “You’re honestly terrifying.”

He grinned. “Mum taught me.”

I felt like my heart softened. Of course she did. I reached and tussled his hair. “I’m going to be summoning a meeting with the Council, would you join me and bear witness to father’s crimes?”

He let out a breath, one that felt like the release of something, “It would be my honor.”

Want to be updated on new chapters? DM me to be added to the tag list!

@eltrolodecadadia

@sizzlinghideoutcoffee

@carjis

[moonshine-nightlight]

@sarahserinde

i was really sure i was going to be able to post all of that bonus back in January within like a week of each other, but work kicked my ass this year (and continues to do so, please May 15th save me) and so that didn't happen even though i tried to power through.

my hope is to get it finished by the end of may though - i've got nearly 6k words written of part 2 so far and i'm hoping it'll b under 10k total, so its high on my list of priorities for the near future.

i'm also planning to put in a bonus to the published version (similar to how DSM also got a bonus, although the NWWD official bonus probably won't include anything spicy). i might do a poll or something to narrow down what that bonus should be, but i havent decided--i might just do what i want lol

i appreciate everyone's patience and while my return has been delayed, its getting closer to me finally being able to get back to writing and posting stories--i've missed it!

thanks for asking about this one so i hav an excuse to let y'all know what's going on!

[boyfriendyke]

there r a lot of things about the myth of psyche and eros that makes me a little insane but one of them has always been the tasks from aphrodite and the unfairness of it. they're not intended to be possible. they're so obviously not meant to be possible, and psyche isn't fucking hercules, you know, she's not a demigod or whatever, she's mortal and these aren't mortal tasks!! it's why psyche has to be helped with each one, fucking by like ants and river gods and shit. and so like. idk. i know ppl see psyche and eros as like a story about love and shit which obviously it is but as a kid psyche and eros always felt like a story about being able to accept help

[maddy-ferguson]

when people who like seasons 1 and 2 better explain why it was better they always lose me when they say "the characters were what mattered the most the supernatural plot was basically not that important it was ALL about the characters" like...that's just what YOU were more interested in not what was happening in the show? like wdym the supernatural plotline wasn't that important in seasons 1 and 2. saying that it was more balanced or more subtle i get but saying that the supernatural plot wasn't THAT important and that it's not what made anyone love the show is a blatant lie

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

I hate when I get into these phases when once I process through one thing causing me anxiety there's another thing right behind it

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

Mel for the unhinged character bingo!

yessss YEEEESSSSSSSSS

[call-me-maggie13]

Me, going to bed after listening to a horribly graphic true crime podcast: “god I hope everyone’s okay now… anyways… zzzzzzz…”

Me, going to bed after listening to a completely fictional horror story: *pocket knife clutched in my white knuckled grip* “what if the booglyboo tries to eat me while I sleep?”

[thebiggestfuckgiven]

Ectoberweek 25: Will-o’-Wisps

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of death, of being buried alive, descriptions of gore, brief mention of vivisection, true crime-esque horror, and general spooky vibes

A/N: I really wanted to do a lil something for the spooky month and what better to write than something for the fandom i’ve been sickeningly hyperfixated on for the past four months. Actual prompt had a two-sentence prompt as well, and i went with both <3

- 💜 -

October 2004

The things everybody tells you about small towns- everyone knows each other, ni things big happens, every day is a slow day, and the biggest local teen hotspots are the walmart parking lot or the big chain pharmacy/corner store —are true. The thing that everyone knows about small towns except for the majority of the people living in said town is that their minds are as small as the local post office.

This is especially true of the teens of Casper High in Amity Park, Illinois.

Sam’s black combat boots stomped against the warm pavement as she ran for the next block. Her breathing was ragged, coming out in harsh puffs of air in the autumn cold. She had gotten an SOS text message from Tucker seconds before the last bell rung.

Normally, she didn’t take the Foley kid very serious. They didn’t know each other that well and they barely hung out save for the couple of school projects they’ve worked on together and those rare lunch hour occasions where he’d sit at her table uninvited. Usually to avoid Dash, Kwan and the rest of their jock entourage.

She stumbled to a stop at a crossroads borderline wheezing. Running was so not her forte. Maybe it was cruel of her, but Same fully intended to ignore his SOS. That is, until she saw Tweedledumb (Dash) and Tweedledumber (Kwan) shove a screaming Tucker into their run-down jeep and speed off.

Hence, why Same was ruining her sickly goth pallor by chasing after them.

She glanced to her left just in time to see the run-down jeep screech to a halt. Christ, the stabbing in her sides was killing her. Sue her for walking. The jeep wasn’t going anywhere anymore. She stumbled a few steps, feet burning, as she held a hand to her sides like that would help her.

Dash jumped out from the passenger side, Kwan following shortly after, from the driver’s side. They opened the back doors on each side, where Tucker was. They cornered him. Dash reached in and was soon pulling Tucker out by his feet. Sam could hear his scream now.

“C’mon, guys, please just leave me alone! Let me go, Dash!”

The Wonder Jocks laughed in response. Kwan slammed his door shut, confident that Dash had Tucker handled now that he was out of the car. Kwan rushed to the sidewalk to roughly grab Tucker’s free arm.

“Guys, this isn’t funny!”

Sam was halfway down the street now and she dreaded the idea of having to run again to keep those two muscle-headed idiots from beating the crap out of the geek that for some reason imprinted on her. Ugh, caring for people was overrated anyways. She could still walk away. Save herself the hassle. No one care about her in this stupid town anyways. So, why should she care?

She slowed to a stop. Her feet ached.

Dash and Kwan were dragging Tucker towards the street corner, which just confused Sam, amidst her inner turmoil. Why even drag Tucker all the way out to his own neighborhood? His house was literally a street away, and there wasn’t even a bare-bones playground here. So what—

“No, no! Don’t put me in there, Dash, Kwan, please! Just let me go, guys, it’s not funny!”

Sam felt a sharp chill run down her spine. Something heavy dropped in the pit of her stomach at the sudden realization of where, exactly, they were.

“Shit.”

She broke off into a sprint as fast as she could.

Shithsitshitshit.

Another thing about small towns is that they all have a well-kept secret. A dark past, usually. Sam found that she thrives on such darkness; on those unwanted and discarded things. As it turned out, Amity Park had a surprising amount of those. She made it her personal business to grow intimate with her town’s buried gutter.

The things she learned were both shocking and, for all her boasting, a little horrifying. Things that would be permanently burned into her retinas. Unseeable and unforgettable. So, she scolded herself for not realizing sooner where they were dragging Tucker to. She would’ve run a little faster, cared a little more, if she had.

She zoomed past the jeep and turned the corner so sharply she nearly fell flat on her face.

Tucker wasn’t screaming anymore, but there were tears streaming down his face as he stared in terror at the behemoth of a house towering over them.

In all its abandoned, festering glory: the infamous Fenton House. Even in bright daylight, the house was obscured in awkward elongated shadows, made worse by the house’s freaky, Frankenstein-esque structure. As if imitating a child’s building blocks tower, there were partial structures jutting out of the house’s main body. They creaked in the cold wind, threatening to snap off and crush any trespassers. At the very top, there was a round dome of sorts with something resembling letters across it. They were black with rot now. Unreadable.

Sam wasn’t a fearful person, but she was a believer. The Fenton House was more than haunted. She’s read enough testimonies to not take it lightly. People have gone missing in that house. Hell, they’ve been found dead in there. She may not be friendly with Tucker, but that didn’t mean she was about to leave him to a tragic fate.

Body running on a sudden burst of adrenaline, she grabbed the nearest thing she could find (a sizable stick) and marched towards the two jocks.

“Hey!”

All three of the boys turned to look at her. She stood two steps below them, resolutely ignoring the way the house seemed to want to swallow them whole. Tucker’s terrified face shifted into one of pure relief. A new wave of tears was visibly threatening to spill over.

“Sam,” he croaked.

Dash barked out a laugh.

“Samantha Manson? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hey, wanna help us lock this dweeb in the Fenton House?” Kwan smiled brightly, pointing at Tucker.

Sam scowled. People always confused her apathy for cruelty. She hated it.

“It’s Sam, and like hell I do. Drop the nerd, assholes, or else,” she said, pitching her voice lower in an attempt to sound intimidating.

Maybe she should’ve spent her time running thinking up a plan instead of hating on Tucker for making her run in the first place. She clutched the stick in her hand tightly.

Kwan scoffed.

“No way. I just said we’re gonna lock him in the house.”

“Yeah! We wanna know what happens when you put a techno dweeb with murder ghosts,” Dash said, smiling cruelly at a Tucker.

“He short-circuits. It’s not impressive. Let him go.”

Dash must’ve realized, finally, that Sam was being serious. He narrowed his eyes at her, the stick in her hand, and smiled.

“Or what? You’re gonna hit us with the creep stick? Ha. Last I checked, Sam, girls don’t have the balls to pull that off, so why don’t you get lost and forget you were ever here,” Dash said before adding to Kwan, “And Paulina says I’m not a gentleman.”

It was Sam’s turn to smile. She went up a step as she spoke.

“Like any girl would let you get that close, Dash. Besides, I promise mine are bigger than yours. Here, I’ll prove it.”

Before he even had time to blink, Sam jabbed the stick hard into Dash’s crotch. A gentlemanly oof broke past his lips and he let go of Tucker’s arm to clutch at his wounded pride.

“Augh, bitch.”

Kwan also let go of Tucker to check on his friend. Sam didn’t waste a second and grabbed Tucker’s hand.

“Run.”

They bolted down the stairs, Tucker nearly slamming into her from the sudden force.

“Sam, I didn’t think— I mean— shit, thank you. I thought- Ah!”

“Shit. Let me go, jackass!”

They had barely cleared the Fenton House’s shadow when a large, thick arm slammed into Sam and Tucker’s bellies as Kwan— just Kwan —grabbed them by the waist and lifted them up.

Note-to-self: never piss off a linebacker.

Sam knew Dahs and Kwan were big for their age, being football players and all, but jesus fuck this was insane.

She kicked and punched for her freedom, but either rage was a hell of a pain nullifier or her punches were child’s play.

Crap, and she dropped the stick when he grabbed them. Just her luck.

“You better let us go right now, Kwan!”

“Or what?”

He was effortlessly taking them up the stairs and— oh that’s the door.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, they— they can’t actually lock us in. There’s no key. We-we can just leave,” Tucker whispered, panicked.

“You don’t know much about the Fenton House, do you?”

Sam’s voice was small. She felt small.

They were about to be locked in a horror house.

Dash opened the door. Sam didn’t even see him get there.

“Sayonara, losers. Have fun in the Fenton House.”

The world tilted and blurred for a split second, Sam’s stomach lurching at the weightless sensation, before she and Tucker landed hard on the linoleum floor. Pain shot up her elbow and hip. Beside her, Tucker groaned.

“If you even make it the whole night! Ha!”

Bam!

Tucker scrambled up at once, but as soon as his hand touched the doorknob a sound like a lock sliding into place echoed throughout the empty house.

“Wha…”

Sam waited with bated breath. Then—

A low droning sound buzzed across the floor, seeping through Sam’s hands in an odd pins-and-needles sensation. Red emergency lights flickers throughout the house, bathing everything in muddy crimson, and the droning sound was replaced by the most horrifying screech of twenty-year-old rusted metal scraping against itself.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Thick sheets of metal began dropping over every conceivable entry. Including the windows and, of course, the door. Sam pulled Tucker back by the collar of his shirt just in time to keep his hand attached.

Tucker yelped, clutching his hand close.

“What the fuck—”

Warbled, distorted speech boomed from somewhere in the house, the voice and the words long ruined by time. It was like someone was trying to speak underwater. The message was only a few seconds long, but it was disgustingly haunting. Sam knew exactly what it said.

Ghost attack imminent. Fenton Security measure Christmas Ham activated.

If she remembered correctly, the measure lasted six hours. But the last time it was activated (that anyone knows of) was five years ago. Who knew how much the technology had deteriorated at this point. They could be here for a whole day.

Sam broke from her thoughts to glance at a hyperventilating Tucker. She couldn’t blame him. The Fenton House was creepy enough on the outside. Inside? With flickering red lights? Sam was making an active effort not to throw up from the fear writhing in her intestines.

The shadows kept moving in the corner of her eyes, she swore she kept seeing a green glow (but she couldn’t tell where from), and it was freezing cold. Colder than it was outside, which should be impossible, but it was the Fenton House. Impossible was inconsequential.

Sam shuddered. They had to find a way out.

“Tucker—”

“Sam- ohmygodSam- this is- I mean what the fuck was that? We’re literally trapped here. In a tomb with linoleum floors. Shit, and you’re trapped, too, cuz of me. I shouldn’t have sent you that text. Fuck it I shouldn’t have flunked Dash’s essay. Now we’re gonna die here and—”

“Tucker!”

Sam grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. Their eyes met, both wide with incessant panic.

“Calm down,” she spoke slowly. Tucker gulped and nodded shakily.

“Okay, okay, yeah.”

“Breathe. You’re good with computers and stuff, right?”

Tucker scoffed, but more in a self-deprecative way rather than an offended one.

“Sure am. It’s what gets me in trouble, isn’t it?”

Sam shook him again.

“Forget that. We need good with computers. The Fentons were notorious for their unorthodox advancements in technology. Supposedly had patents on really futuristic shit. Most of it buried, obviously. But they were good enough that their security system still activates nearly twenty years after their departure.”

Ridiculously good, she thought bitterly.

There was a moment of weighted silence as they looked around the house. The lights, the rusted yet intact panels over the windows. It was eerily quiet. She stepped a bit closer to Tucker, who thankfully didn’t say anything about it.

“Yeah, alright, okay,” he muttered to himself before clearing his throat. “The-there should be, uh, a circuit breaker somewhere. We could cut off the power—”

“Won’t work,” Sam stated, eyes furtively glancing around them. She had the weirdest sensation they were being watched. “The town cut the power away from the Fenton House ages ago. It runs on some kind of external power source, but nobody knows what.”

Sam kinda hoped they didn’t get to find out.

“Shit. Man, what the fuck. Who the fuck were these people?”

Sam let out a manic sort of laugh. The hysteria was boiling up in her like toxic chemicals.

“Do you want the short answer or the long one?”

“I have a feeling we’re gonna be here a while. Long answer?”

A pause.

“We should find a way out.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them moved an inch. They stood in the middle of the living room. A trashed one at that. Although, looking closely from where they were, the whole house looked trashed. Wasn’t the place SWATted?

She spotted a flash of green in the hallway, right there in the corner of her eye, and snapped her head towards it with a small gasp. There was nothing there.

“Hey,” Tucker said softly. “Let’s check out the windows for loose panels or something and you can tell me about the Fentons’ own loose panels.”

Her mouth went dry, but she nodded.

“Sounds good, yeah. So, uh, what do you know about the Fentons?”

Tucker shrugged and went towards the first window, by the door. Sam followed closely by. He didn’t mention it.

“What everyone else knows. Mad scientists who went so crazy after their son’s disappearance that they tried to summon him from the afterlife. They got so obsessed that they never left the house and just, died here, waiting for their son to come back. Pretty sad.”

That window was a bust. So was the next, as well as the door. They ventured into the hallway. There were a few square and rectangle imprints on the walls, but only one hanging frame left. With a picture. Hands shaking, Sam reached up and snagged the picture from where it was, careful not to cut herself on what was left of the glass.

It was a family picture. A wall of a man stood at the back with a practiced, dashing smile. To his left and a little below him was a woman with short, bright red hair. They were both in brightly colored hazmat suits, goggles hanging around their necks.

In front of them were two teens. A girl with bright red hair as well, but styled much longer. Next to her was a boy, younger and slightly shorter than her, with black hair. They were all smiling wide and bright, except for the boy. His was more hesitant, not quite reaching his eyes.

Sam pointed at the young girl.

“Did you know the Fentons had a daughter, too?”

Tucker’s eyebrows went up slightly.

“No… Something tells me I won’t like why.”

“You won’t. Um, kitchen?”

Sam saw another green flash and was anxious to get away from it. They bee-lined to the kitchen, and Tucker checked the windows there.

“So… There’s a few things you got right. The Fentons—” Sam pointed at the two adults in the picture “—were renowned scientists. They did some impressive breakthroughs. Like the kind they still teach in universities, but with a disclaimer attached. The more they went into their work, though, the more obsessed they got…” she trailed off in a whisper, tensing.

The house was creaking.

Tucker stopped in his tracks, too, eyes wide but lips pressed tightly together.

Nothing happened. The house stopped creaking.

Tucker let out a slow breath, eyeing the cabinets.

“Think there’s anything edible left around?”

She glared at him sharply.

“If you open any fridge or cabinet doors, I’m leaving you here alone. This place is bad enough, we don’t need to add rats or rotted food to the list.”

Tucker pouted but conceded.

“Fine, I’ll just starve. Keep telling me about the creepy doctors and their stupid creepy house while we check upstairs.”

Sam sighed in temporary relief. She didn’t think she could handle seeing a fridge full of maggots. Even if it has been almost twenty years.

They continued up the stairs, carefully, and Sam went on with the Fenton tragedy.

“The Fentons started growing obsessed with other dimensions. Specifically… the afterlife, and its inhabitants.”

“Like… ghosts?”

Sam nodded.

“Exactly like. They became convinced they could create a doorway into the afterlife, at the cost of their reputation. They got ostracized by the academic community once they started referring to themselves as ‘ecto-scientists’.”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t. Bunch’a wackos,” Tucker muttered as they ventured into an organized room with cool colors. Light blue walls, light green bed sheets coated in blankets of dust, so the only reason Sam knew they were light green was because she’s seen pictures of what the room looked like twenty years ago. She ignored the uneven pattern of small dark spots on the wall.

It was the girl’s room. Jasmine Fenton’s.

Tucker went straight for the window, but Sam hung back near the entrance.

“They didn’t actually open a doorway, right?”

His voice broker her out of her thoughts. She blinked.

“Hm? Oh, uh, allegedly, yeah.”

This house probably sat on an open portal. There probably was an infestation of something murderous in it. Sam shook the thought away. She’ll drive herself crazy worrying about that.

“Supposedly,” she continued. “The doorway was one of their patents. They had the science backing it up and everything. But they… There were rumors, around the time the supposedly opened the doorway, that there was an accident in the house involving their youngest. Daniel Fenton.”

Tucker frowned at the blocked window. A bust. They made their way to the next room. A queen bed bare of any bedsheets, and a large chest of drawers with an equally large mirror attached to it. The Fentons’ room. It had an extra window.

“What happened to Daniel?”

Sam shuddered, goosebumps breaking out across her arms. The room got colder, so much colder than it had been. A soft crackling sound broke out, like frost taking over with a vengeance. She opened her mouth to speak but her breath got stuck in her throat.

She closed her mouth. Breathe. Another flash of green, this one brighter than the others. Breathe. It was so cold, her teeth started chattering.

“T-t-t-tucker—”

“Y-ye-yeah, I’m-m ignoring it,” he said simply, tugging at the panels.

Fuck, how can he ignore this. Sam was so uncomfortable, consumed by such a sudden unease, she wanted to claw off her skin. She tried to ignore it anyways.

“Daniel— jesus I’m freezing —he was out of school a couple of days after neighbors heard a scream. That same night, the power went out in the whole town, except for the Fenton House.”

The freezing cold seeped away, leaving behind a frost pattern that didn’t melt on the mirror despite the warming room. Sam blew out a breath, sending out a silent thanks.

She frowned, unsure why she did that.

“A lot of people theorize,” she went in, rubbing the remaining cold in her fingertips away. “That one of two things happened that night. One, a backfired experiment drove the Fentons all the way crazy to the point that they started experimenting on both their kids, thinking they were ghosts.”

“Wait, both of—”

“Two, Daniel died because of said backfired experiment and his parents somehow managed to either bring him or his ghost back.”

None of the windows opened. They started for the next room.

“That’s… actually insane. And what do you mean, both their kids?” Tucker stopped for a moment, meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Did something happen to their daughter, too?”

Sam pressed her lips into a thin line. That’s the part rarely anyone knew about the Fenton horrors. Daniel wasn’t their only kid. He certainly wasn’t their only victim.

“I’ll get there,” she replied instead, looking away. “It only gets worse.”

“Christ,” he muttered.

They walked onwards.

“A couple of weeks after that, Daniel disappeared. But in those weeks, the Fentons became obsessive, borderline manic, with ghosts. Their nature, their morality. How to trap them, contain them… kill them.”

They were nearing then end of the hallway, where the last room was.

Tucker shuddered, sporting his own goosebumps.

“I don’t like the way you said that.”

Sam grimaced, sticking close to him once more.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. What’s worse, the Fentons called off the search party after just one night. They claimed they didn’t want false hope, they just wanted to lay their son to rest. They buried an empty casket, and Daniel hadn’t even been missing three full days.”

Her voice was hollow.

“Shit. They…”

“Killed their own son because they were convinced he was a ghost? Most likely,” she said bitterly. As far as true crime went, Amity Park’s dark secret was the worst she’s ever read.

Neither said a word. For one long minute, intentionally or not, they remained quiet, mulling over the terror a kid must feel when they realize their own parents saw them as something to be killed. And to think, they were standing in the house where it happened. Where two parents killed their son. Allegedly.

And their daughter…

As if reading her mind, Tucker quietly asked, “What about the girl? It gets worse doesn’t it?”

Sam swallowed, her mouth dry and throat sore.

“They—” she sighed. “After their son ‘becoming a ghost’, they got paranoid. Extremely so. If one of their kids was a ghost… They couldn’t stand the idea of having an imposter in their own home. There were reports of screams two nights after the funeral. Like, really awful screaming that went on for nearly an hour, I think. Authorities broke into the house after multiple calls to find the Fentons in the basement and their daughter on a table just… cut open. She died before the paramedics could get to her.”

Again, neither said another word. Sam wished she’d run faster. Hit Dash harder. This house was tainted in blood and betrayal.

Tucker clutched at his chest and Sam realized his breathing was short and sparse. Crap.

“Tucker—”

“I fucking,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Hate that we’re here. We’re trapped in like they were, but they— Fuck, they were kids. Their kids. Who does that.”

“Tucker, breathe,” Sam insisted lowly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He nodded, but only got a few gasps of air.

“I’ve been t-trying to hold it together but I just can’t— what if we can’t find a way out. What if we die here.”

“We’re not gonna die here,” she stated fiercely despite being unsure of it herself. “If the windows are a no go then we’ll just find a way to deactivate the security system, okay? We’ll be fine.”

Tucker nodded again, quiet.

It took another few minutes until he finally got his breathing under control. Sam squeezed his arm comfortingly, giving him a small smile. They’ll make it.

He returned the smile without a word and turned to the last room. They had windows to check.

She suspected it was Daniel’s room. It was the only one they hadn’t seen yet. Tucker tried to turn the knob but it didn’t budge. She frowned. Weird… thinking about it, all the other rooms had been wide open.

“Rusted?”

Tucker shook his head, shaking off another involuntary shudder. Sam suppressed her own. It was getting colder again. Tucker tried again to open it. No dice. The knob wasn’t budging. He let go of it, hissing through his teeth as he rubbed his hands together.

“The metal is freezing. It, uh, must be something with the heating.”

Sam gave it a try and immediately drew her hand back. Freezing was an understatement. A second longer and she would’ve gotten the world’s worst case of freezer burn.

“Tucker, I don’t think we’re allowed to go in this room,” she whispered, hugging herself to keep warm.

He gave her a look like she was crazy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That’s Daniel Fenton’s room. All the other rooms were open but this one—”

“—is locked.”

“No. Look at the handle. There’s literal frost on it. There was frost on the mirror in the other room, too. I think—”

“If you say ghost.”

Sam glared at him.

“After everything I told you. Scratch that, haven’t you been feeling all the weird stuff in this house? The creaking, the frankly extreme cold spots, the fucking creepy green light!”

Tucker’s eyes went wide at that, mouth dropping open.

“I-I didn’t think you could see them. But that— that doesn’t mean—”

The house gave a violent creak, causing the floor to rumble threateningly. The temperature dropped drastically, covering the entire hallway in a light frost.

Sam’s teeth immediately started chattering from the cold.

“This is too much,” Tucker whispers, that underlying panic settling back in.

Impossibly, finally finally finally, they both saw the green flash at the other end of the hallway, flickering desperately before disappearing.

“Tuck,” Sam let out, mesmerized, overtaken by the overwhelming urge to follow that light. An itch she had to scratch, to claw at until it broke open. “He’s here.”

She didn’t know how she knew that, but she’s never spoken truer words. This she knew with absolute certainty.

“Sam.”

He was struggling not to fall for the light, but he couldn’t ignore this forever. Sam thought he’d be an idiot to do so.

She moved forward without another word. Shortly, she heard Tucker follow after.

When they reached the stairs, another flash of light burst to life at the landing, flickering that desperate staccato.

They continued to quietly follow the light wherever it appeared. It led them down the hallway of missing picture frames. Sam clutched the picture in her pocket. They reached a closed door. It was colder in this area, but the door knob was warm. It opened easily to reveal stairs to a basement showered in white fluorescent lights.

They went down the stairs with no hesitation, following that green light that was growing more and more desperate with each step they took. At the bottom, they were greeted by an empty expanse of white floor.

There were various metal tables, but all devoid of any machines or materials that one would expect in a lab. Because no doubt that’s what this basement was. There were discarded cords and metal scraps scattered across the room. But most notably, there was a large, round arch-like structure at the center of the furthermost wall. It was huge, its top scraping the basement ceiling. It had an indent, with two metal panels that interlocked in the center. As if it were a… door.

“Sam… is that—”

“Tucker, look.”

The little flash of green stopped by a blue button on the wall. It flickered swiftly, faster than any of the other times before it went out entirely.

They stayed there, standing, for a moment.

“Are we… are we about to find a dead kid’s twenty-year-old decayed corpse?”

Sam nodded shakily, not believing it either.

“I think so.”

They still didn’t move. God, it was so cold. She couldn’t feel her fingertips.

“What if something happens to us?”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

Two dead people found in the house during its abandonment. Three missing.

“And?”

She looked back at him, a soft smile edging its way onto her face.

“He deserves to rest. Doesn’t he?”

Tucker glanced between the blue button and the closed, arch-like door. Determination set into his features. He nodded.

They went towards the button. Tucker settled his hand over it first, Sam placing her hand over his. Their eyes met.

“This had to have been the world’s worst nap.”

Sam snorted and pressed his hand onto the button. The technology down here must be in better conditions because the effect was instantaneous. Concrete scraped against concrete as a rectangular hole opened up in the center of the lab.

From where they were, they could see it. A homemade metal casket that weirdly resembled more of an iron maiden. They found him. Daniel Fenton. He could finally, truly rest.

That’s when the pounding began.

Sam and Tucker turned to each other in horror. She felt a visceral tug in her gut she nearly threw up then and there. Instead she ran to the metal casket, dropping to the ground halfway there so she slid across the floor. The pounding grew louder, and it was definitely coming from inside. Tucker was frozen stuck by the button.

It only gets worse.

A faint sound, behind all the pounding. Sam leaned closer, listening. Her stomach dropped. Her head snapped towards Tucker, eyes a desperate frenzy.

“He’s crying. He- He’s still- o-oh my g- Tucker, help me get him out!”

This broke him out of his horrified stupor and he kneeled on the ground next to her. His hands were shaking.

“What do we do? What do we do?”

“Fuck, idunnoidunno- uh, grab, shit, shit, go to the other side. Maybe we can lift the lid.”

Stumbling, trembling, Tucker did as he was told and crawled to the other side. But he saw what was on the lid. Fuck.

“There’s a lick. Sam, it’s locked.”

She looked back up at him on the verge of tears.

“What! No, no it can’t be- it—”

“Just, hold on. I’m gonna go back upstairs. Maybe there’s something we can use. I’ll be back, I promise.”

She got the feeling he wasn’t really talking to her. The pounding quieted down but there was a muffled sound. A strained whimper.

“Shit,” Tucker whispered before running out and up the stairs.

Sam sniffled and laid a hand in on the biting cold metal of the casket.

“We’re gonna get you out,” she whispered, wiping at the tears streaming uncontrollably down her face. “I don’t really understand how this is even possible, but we’re not gonna leave you here.”

There wasn’t a response. Not a whimper or a knock. She was gripped by the fear that maybe they were too late. Twenty years buried and they were five minutes too late.

Tucker came stomping down the stairs, taking two at a time. She looked up to see he had an honest-to-god metal bat in his hands. Fully intact and not rusted at all. His hat was askew and his eyes seemed wild.

“He- he helped me find it. Nearly ran all over the house,” he said, panting heavily.

“Hurry up and break it,” she begged, not bothering to disguise the desperation in her voice.

Without another word, Tucker aimed the thicker end of the bat downwards and plunged it against the lock.

It broke apart with a resound clang.

“Help me with—”

But Sam was already crossing to where he was. Kneeling, side by side, they gripped the edges of the casket and lifted. A cloud of freezing cold air puffed up, obscuring their vision for a few seconds. They couldn’t see if they really did save a boy’s life, or if it was just his corpse playing tricks on them. But they heard heavy breathing coming from rattling lungs and not from either of them.

They’d both been holding their breaths.

The cloud dispersed. In front of them lay a young boy with matted white hair, brilliant green eyes drowning in tears and a grotesque muzzle caked from within with old and fresh blood. Metal clinked against metal. His wrists were chained to the casket. His knees scraped and bloodied from banging on the lid.

Tucker immediately removed the muzzle, which thankfully wasn’t locked. Sam’s heart broke. Shattered. The boy’s cheeks were caked, blanketed, with that same mixture of blood, his lips horribly scarred.

He sobbed, screwing his eyes shut against the bright lights.

“Thank you,” he rasped. His voice scraped against his throat.

Tucker and Sam held his hand. They cried with him.

“You’re safe with us.”

He always would be.

[iamcassian]

my dad makes this fucking crazy white chicken chili... and i would NOT hesitate to kill a man for that shit. like, whenever he makes it i go FERAL. i will take the pot and hoard it. genuinely i went up on the roof with the pot once.

this isn't me trying to be 'quirky' btw this is my genuine love for that fucking chili

[reel-fear]

people who still make Joey the ink demon despite canon steering far away from that being the case this is for you I am sending u kisses XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO <3

People who make Joey well-meaning, sympathetic, a lighter shade of morally grey than canon I am also sending u lots of love <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3!!

And people who generally steer wildly from the direction Bendy takes with its characters and has fun with it I hope to see more from all of ur aus and rewrites!!

[hulloitsdani]

Welp I had max dragon flowers on Altina for two minutes.

[arcaneyouth]

i know i put angels and demons into a lot of my work but i will be real with you this has absolutely nothing to do with the religious trauma. angels were never a religious thing to me they were just guys with wings. people try to point at my angels and demons like "look see you are putting religious trauma in there" and i'm flattered you think so but i don't think you know a thing about me and my trauma. i put demons into my stories because the word "monsters" is usually used for a separate thing and i need a word that tells you right away this is some kind of creature that is by nature a bastard whether they want to be or not. cause monster is not a strong enough word for me. so they're demons