#mostly ghostly hotel

[mostly-ghostly-hotel]

Y/N: I’m going to start a false crimes podcast where I explain crimes that never actually happened.

Michael Myers: I’m going to do those crimes you explain, forcing you into having a true crimes podcast

[autumnsaesthetics]

🍁 Non-Horror Films For Halloween 🍁

Part Three!

(Row One) 🎃

Young Frankenstein

Elvira: Mistress Of The Dark

Beetlejuice

(Row Two) 🎃

Casper And Wendy

Hotel Transylvania

The Scream Team

(Row Three) 🎃

Frankenweenie

Igor

Mostly Ghostly

(Some movies I have on these lists may be considered scary to some and not to others, just take what you will from them. Everybody has different tastes and different levels of scary they can handle.)

[flamingpudding]

DPxDC Family Week June 20 (Day 3)

Prompt: Adoption | Learn

A/N: This was inspired by a rl video I saw as well as a Owl House Episode I watched with my friend a little while ago

AO3 Link: DPxDC Family Week Contributions

It had been months now since Danny had moved from Amity to Gotham after his parents had disowned him as well as suddenly told him that he wasn't their son but adopted. It was a hard pill to swallow especially after his parents hadn't taken Jazz and him telling them the truth about Phantom very well. They didn't react negatively nor positively at first. They had just in return told him about having adopted Danny when he was baby and then told him that they no longer felt adequate to take care of him, especially with their research. He was welcome to stay until he found a new place to stay, they weren't 'heartless' enough to just kick him out and make him homeless.

Danny still had packed his most precious things, clothes and some of his personalized Fanton-Tech and started couch hopping mostly with Tucker, the Mansons still hated his guts. He had dropped out of School in favor of finding a job and hoped he would soon earn the money to get a place of his own. Refusing to take any of the money Sam tried to give him for a one room apartment.

Danny had understood he really had, despite Jazz overanalyzing him or his friends constantly questioning why he seemed to disassociate every now and then. Their worry got to the point that Jazz had decided that Danny needed a distraction that had nothing to do with ghosts, job hunting or his current sleeping arrangements. And that resulted in her convincing his friends in helping him find out more about his biological parents and any relatives he could additionally have. Surprisingly they hadn't had a lot of trouble finding out anything, though Danny suspected that it had a lot to do with some most likely very illegal hacking Tucker did.

Either way they had found out that Danny had originally come from Gotham, he apparently had an older brother. Who was the one that had given him up. There was a record of his home life having not been the best considering his registered mother had been recorded as a drug addict. He didn't blame that unknown older brother for giving Danny up for adoption, they most likely had wanted to protect Danny.

Of course that knowledge had been enough for Danny but not for his friends. And so Sam had gathered up all the money he had refused before, Jazz had packed up his bags and Tucker had organized a place for him as well as an entire file on how to best find his brother as well as a second safety file regarding the Bats in case they didn't like his ghostly presence. With that in hand the three had sent him off to Gotham making him promise to check in with them regularly and telling him that they would have everything in control in Amity until they could join him.

So after having been disowned by his parents, dropped out of school and more or less forced on a self discovery journey by his friends, he arrived in Gotham where the spirit of the town welcomed him like a lost son returning to their family. Let him tell you. Waking up in your hotel room in the middle of the night to an eldritch looking spirit hovering over your face welcoming you as her lost knight was not fun.

Additionally he hadn't planned on seeking his brother out but the Lady had been pretty insistent and so Danny did end up seeking him out. The files Tucker had provided were top notch. Ancients, his best friend had even figured out that his brother was essentially Red Hood aka Jason Todd-Wayne (he did not freak out that his favorite vigilante was his brother, no he didn't). Even if Tucker hadn't then Lady Gotham would have told him by trying to get him to reconnect with them using his alter Phantom. How in the name of Ancients did Lady Gotham even know about that?!

Of course reconnecting hadn't been easy and after several confidence boosting calls with his sister and friends as well as late night visits from the city's spirit, he had finally approached Red Hood as Phantom first. Which led to him realizing that his brother had corrupted ectoplasm in his system that needed to be removed asap. Well their first meeting ended up with Phantom sticking his hand into Red Hood's chest on instinct to remove all the corrupted ectoplasm.

Needless to say that first meeting ended with him getting chased throughout Crime Alley and getting bullets that couldn't even hurt him, shot at him. It took him a week to clear that misunderstanding as well as come clean to his older bio-brother. And then it took another week to reveal all the hidden truths like how he died and became half-ghost, how his brother had apparently also died and got brought back wrong which explained the corrupted ectoplasm, and how they both took up the vigilante badges. After the initial problems they had gotten along pretty well very quickly and Jason had become the elder brother to Danny that he always had wanted to be before having given him up for adoption.

Of course the other bats apparently got wind of his existence pretty quickly which ended after another week with Danny learning that his brothers entire family were vigilantes too. No he hadn't been suspicious of Bruce at first after his brother had told him of his adoption by a billionaire. Shut up, he did not check out the entire Manor invisible which led to him finding the Bat Cave and figuring out they were, what Danny liked to call, Gotham's furry brigade. Okay he did but he blames his obsession with protections and told his brother that much to which he got his hair ruffled.

Of course the moment Bruce Wayne got to know about this he had been interrogated about his relation to Jason, him coming to Gotham and his status as Phantom and half-ghost to which his brother ended up ready to throw hands with his own adopted father. Danny had first thought him to be a fruitloop but then once the man was satisfied, they had pretty quickly moved him from his hotel room to the manor and flat out told him that he would help him become a better vigilante.

Because apparently the moment they knew, Jason's adopted siblings did their research in regards to Phantom and found out that he still had a lot to learn and they could teach him how to become better at the whole hero stick, including balancing his day and night life.

So five weeks, after meeting his brother and reconnecting, later with Danny working part-time at Wayne Enterprise during the day that started as a cover for him but quickly got serious the moment Tim found out he was apparently brilliant (Which honestly, he was not. He was just obsessed with space.) That also resulted in signing him up for science classes and then upgrading his part time job from errand boy to the Aerospace Department Assistant.

So now after months spent in Gotham and deciding to stay there, his sister and friends pretty much told him that he was making the best decision of his life for once after seeing the progress he had made in balancing his hero life as well as getting a job and proper schooling. The Waynes also pretty much all but officially adopted him into the family. His brothers siblings even had referred to him several times as a brother too and Danny didn't know how many times he had told a reporter now that, 'Yes, he was Jason's biological brother.', 'No he was not a Wayne like is brother.', 'No, he was not getting adopted by Bruce too.' and 'No he would not attend any of the Galas the Waynes go to.'

Really the media watching the Waynes was probably only waiting for Bruce to announce an adoption. His friends, sister and even Jason, that traitor, had a bet running on how much longer Danny could tell Bruce no. Seriously, he was going to be 18 in three years anyway, why was everyone so interested in his adoption status when he was going to be a legal adult in a couple of years anyway. Besides his first adoption didn't work out, why would they think he would just agree to be adopted again? They did not know his true thoughts on this though.

Danny yawned as he made his way over to his workplace. He had a project to finish and a special meeting with Tim later today. He was the youngest Aerospace Engineer Assistant of Wayne Enterprise in their department but that didn't mean he wasn't as good as the others at least according to Tim anyway. His obsession with space was probably the only reason he was so good and had corrected at least five equations of his colleagues.

Dick would probably scowl him and Damian if he heard his thoughts would drag him to another training that was supposed to boost his self-confidence that hopefully involved less stabbing than the last one he had been dragged to. He should have never gifted a Fanton ecto-sword to the kid. It had been for his collection not special stabby training!

Really he had come to love his brother's siblings and he knew they meant well but he was self-aware. (Jazz and Jason would very much like to disagree here.) Besides it was already enough with the way they had accepted him into the family and apparently kept referring to him as brother despite the fact that he wasn't.

Speaking of which, his phone vibrated with the bat-chat going off about today's patrol and who was supposed to mentor him today.

+++++++++++++++++++++

IseeThings: Hey Ghost-Bro, you with me after your work for patrol?"

AnimalHeaven: Thomas, Father promised that Daniel is with me tonight.

OnMyChandelier: This is unfair. Baby Ghost, why don't you come visit me in Bludhaven?

OneShotKill: Butt off Dick. Spooks is with me tonight! Gotta show him the ropes of how to bust drug deals the correct way.

CantSenseMe: 😕🥺👻🥷🦸‍♂️👌

WhoNeedsSleep: I hate to say it guys. But he IS with Duke today.

IseeThings: Phantom and Signal, the Power Duo!

AnimalHeaven: Unacceptable.

WhoNeedsSleep: Look there is a big Project tomorrow morning WE needs him for. He needs sleep.

OneShotKill: Rich coming from you, Replacement.

HuntingMeHuntingYou: Guys, Tim is right, I am with Duke today.

IseeThings: GUYS! DAMIAN IN MY ROOM WITH A KNIFE!!

++++++++++++++++++++++

Danny couldn't help the grin at the cover Tim gave him for tomorrow morning when he would have to go to the legal office for the last of his papers. Thank the Ancients he had asked him for help with his little surprise for everyone. It also helped that Jason was keeping Bruce off his back.

"I really hope they will like the surprise, getting kicked out a second time won't be fun…" Danny muttered as he put his phone back into his pocket. He glanced at the innocent looking brown folder on his desk and Ancients, was he nervous.

Tim had assured him several times that it would be okay and that the others would be overjoyed. Jason had even made him call Jazz to help him calm down and get reassurance from her as well. They told him that what he was going to do was alright with them but he couldn't help but be nervous.

Yes they had welcomed him into the family but this was a whole other level he wasn't sure how they would react to it. For a brief moment Danny wondered if he would get to experience Damian's stabbynes without having to rile up the little guy or be dragged to train with him.

"You're worrying too much again." A cup of coffee was placed on his table as he looked up sharply at Tim who stood next to him sipping on his own cup of death wish.

"Shouldn't you be in a meeting?" Taking a sip of the offered cup Danny smiled, thank the Ancients that he and Tim had the same taste in coffee. Even if the others kept saying it's unhealthy, even making Jason question their blood relation at times.

"Still got some time. I wanted to make sure you're still good and not freaking out like that time you first saw the Riddler, little bro." The older shrugged and Danny glared lightly. They were going to hold it over him for the rest of his life. So what if he freaked out when he met the Riddler for the first time. Sue him, the guy is dressed in so much green he couldn't help but think that the guy got dipped in ectoplasm to the point he tried to soup him only to end up throwing the thermos at the guy's face in a panic when that didn't work. He had been glowing for Ancients sake!

"Just go to your meeting." Grumbling, he turned away from the Co-CEO that apparently liked to check on him way too much between his breaks and opened his company's provided laptop with the latest status and calculations of the latest engine he had been working on.

A week later Danny was pacing in his room. Everyone else was already down at the family dinner, Alfred had organized and Danny was most likely the only one missing. He had a call with Jazz earlier. Confirming with her once again that what he was going to do was really really alright with her. Even if his former parents had disowned him it would never change the fact that Jazz was his sister, Ancients even Jason had assured him about that fact.

"Okay Danny, you can do that. You faced worse things. This is gonna be childsplay."

A knock on his door startled him out of his pacing and Danny ended up floating a little as his brother opened his door and peaked in. "You okay there little spooks?"

"'m fine!" He hurriedly said as Jason raised an eyebrow. Danny just grabbed the still innocently looking brown folder and pushed the elder out of his room who only chuckled and ruffled his hair.

"You know I haven't thank you yet for making me win that bet."

"Ancients, you just changed your bet with my friends when I told you my plan!"

"Still won it."

"Let's just go down."

Once they arrived in the dining room Danny couldn't help but swallow as he took a seat next to Jason and noted how everyone plus extended / unofficial family was there. The brown folder lay innocently across his lap and he could see Damian eyeing it from the corner of his eyes. Great if the youngest had already seen it then the others surely had noticed Danny carrying around that folder with him too. How was he going to bring it up now? Should he do it now or wait? It wasn't too late to just run now? He could disintegrate it, but that would make all the help Tim gave him for nothing. Maybe-

A pat on his shoulder brought him out of his starting spiral and Danny looked up at Jason who was nodding with his head in Bruce's direction. Tim was also giving him an encouraging smile and also motioned for him to get it over with. Did the two know he was contemplating running away now? He shook his head.

Okay he could do it. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves Danny cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention.

"Uhm, Bruce? I was wondering…" The words good stuck in his throat but the man in question looked at him waiting for him patiently as the others slowly quieted down giving him curious looks except for Jason and Tim. "...could you maybe take a look at these papers?"

He carefully slid the folder over the table but with nothing in his hands now he started wringing the end of his shirt. "Maybe you could sign them, you know, just for legality."

"I thought Jason was your legal guardian? Why would Bruce need to sign when Jason could…" Dick looked confused at first but trailed off when he leaned over to get a glimpse of the papers Bruce had been leafing through before the man froze.

There was a long moment of silence before Dick suddenly sprung up from his seat nearly vaulting over the table and hugged Danny squealing and confusing everyone else at the table. While Bruce finally unfroze, opening his mouth to ask Alfred for a pen that the butler was already holding out to him with a knowing smile.

"It is legal now, Daniel James Todd-Wayne."

The moment Bruce's words registered with everyone else Danny got tackled into a group hug as words like 'Finally!' Or 'You kept us waiting long enough.' reached his ears. Looks like he really shouldn't have had anything to worry about his official adoption into the Wayne family.

Well he guessed the next time a reporter asked him he could answer, 'Yes, he was Jason's biological brother.', 'Yes, he was a Wayne now.', 'Yes, Bruce had adopted him.' , 'No he would still refuse to attend any of the Galas the rest of his family go to.'

[jaybleu25]

Scopophobia

----------

It was dark out. One in the morning. Mario had left the house earlier in the day to help the princess with something, and he hadn't come back yet. Luigi, worried something might have happened, sat next to his bed in their bedroom, waiting.

Suddenly, the lights would go out, causing the green plumber to jump a little. It caught him off guard. Trying to compose himself, he'd take a deep breath and would let out a shaky exhale. Now getting up off the floor, he'd walk over to his dresser and would open it, grabbing his trusty flashlight. He always kept one nearby in case of emergencies.

Slowly but surely, Luigi eventually made his way to his bedroom door, and opened it. He never liked the dark. Those haunted mansions and that creepy hotel didn't help. In fact, they made his fear worse. Despite that, Luigi courageously made his way through the dark hallways of his home, trying to find his way to the basement so he could find a backup power source.

Upon remembering that the entrance to the basement was in their room, he would then proceed to turn back around to go back to the bedroom. However, he had noticed Polterpup sound asleep on the couch. Giving a faint smile upon seeing his beloved friend, Luigi went over to him and rubbed his head a little. The moonlight was shining through the window that was close to the couch.

Right, the window. The window where two eyes were staring right at Luigi.

...

Luigi would stare back, taking a few seconds to process what he was seeing. After realizing that those were indeed eyes staring at him from the darkness of the outside world, he immediately panicked. Dropping his flashlight, which woke Polterpup, he quickly ran back to the bedroom.

Those eyes, those ghastly white eyes that stared at him through the window. They looked too familiar. Was it a ghost? No, it couldn't be. Could it? There was no body to be seen. Only the pair of eyes.

Soon enough, Luigi found the handle that led to the bedroom, and he immediately rushed inside, leaning against the door as he closed it.

His breathing was fast, heavy. He was alone in the dark, reliving multiple experiences at once.

His flashlight. Where was his flashlight? He dropped it. The darkness seemed to be closing in. It seemed as though it was getting darker and darker.

Suddenly, the front door being opened could be heard faintly. Someone was inside. Terrified, the man in green would scramble and would crawl over back to where he started, on the floor next to his bed. Now, curled up in a ball, shaking intensely with fear.

Where was Mario? He needed him. He can't do this on his own. Not again. He can't.

The door would open.

"...Luigi?"

The voice was familiar. Luigi would quickly lift his head up, and he would see Mario standing at the door, using the flashlight that he dropped.

No words were said. As if it were instinct, Luigi immediately stood up and rushed over to his brother, giving him a tight embrace. No words needed to be said. Mario understood. While Luigi never really talked much about his experiences with the mansions, mostly because they were just too uncomfortable for him to talk about, Mario could tell that they deeply affected his brother. And now, he was seeing the result of that.

"It's okay, I'm here," said Mario gently as he embraced Luigi back. "Nothing's going to hurt you."

Polterpup, wondering about the noise, would peek from behind Mario's legs at Luigi. He had a sad look on his face, as if he was worried about Luigi. Upon seeing Polterpup at the corner of his eye, Luigi would hold onto Mario tighter.

"Don't worry, Polterpup, we're okay. Just leave us alone for a moment alright?" asked Mario as he looked down at the ghostly canine.

With his head down, Polterpup would then turn around and would disappear into the darkness of the house.

"He's gone, Lu, it's okay."

Luigi's grip on Mario would loosen a little.

"Come on."

Mario would let go of his brother, but he would extend his hand out for Luigi to hold. Grabbing his hand, Luigi would shakily follow his brother back to the bed, and they would both sit down. Luigi sat next to Mario, leaning against him and holding his hand tightly.

"What happened?" asked Mario with concern. "Did the power outage scare you?"

"Not just that..." responded Luigi, his voice shaking. "I s-saw something...outside...it was staring at me."

That immediately made Mario go on edge.

"What was it?" he asked.

"J-Just eyes..." said Luigi. "I don't know..."

Mario would let go of Luigi's hand and would wrap his arm around his brother, as Luigi leaned his head against Mario's shoulder.

"I didn't see anything when I was out there," Mario responded, "but I can go check."

Luigi would hug Mario tightly. He didn't want him to leave again. Mario, realizing Luigi didn't want him to go, would wrap his arms around Luigi, comforting him.

"Alright, I won't," confirmed Mario. "I'll stay here. Okay?"

Luigi would nod, which Mario could feel faintly, but Luigi wouldn't move. He didn't want to let his brother go. He was too scared. The older brother would be silent, letting Luigi hug him. He knew he needed it.

"Don't worry, Weegee," said Mario breaking the silence, "I won't let anything hurt you."

[gothampubliclibrary]

Plot Bunny Adoption Corner #8 - Prodigal Prince of Hell (Hazbin Hotel Fusion)

Fusion AU with Hazbin Hotel where Tim's real father is not Jack Drake, but Lucifer Morningstar. However, his mother isn't Lilith, but Eve instead, making Charlie his half-sister. When he was born, Tim took after his mother more than his father, so physically he resembles a human now than he does Lucifer. The exception is that he was born with two little wings similar to his father's and his skin time is fairly pale, though not ghostly white like Charlie's. While Lilith was officially Lucifer's queen and co-ruler of Hell, Eve was consort to both of them.

Tim grew up in the Pride Ring with his parents and as Charlie's baby brother. He mostly had a sheltered life... Until one Extermination Day...

Something went horribly wrong and Tim, who was just a small child, got lured out of the palace by a demon, overlord, or maybe even an angel who was looking to hurt/weaken the royal family. Lucifer, Eve, and Lilith only barely managed to save Tim from an Exterminator, but not before the boy's wings had been cut off.

After Extermination Day was over, the damage had been done. Tim was badly traumatized. Eve was furious that Lucifer was unable to protect their son. Lilith also didn't trust Lucifer to be able to protect Charlie, who didn't know what happened to her brother and the adults wouldn't tell her. Lucifer loved both his children and wives, but he was traumatized himself and couldn't refute that he failed to protect his family.

While Lilith had to remain in Pentagram City as Queen, she separated from Lucifer. Eve had no such ties to the city or Hell so she chose to leave Hell entirely with Tim to raise him in the human world. She bargained with Asmodeus for an Asmodean Crystal and portaled away.

Eve takes on the identity of Janet Drake and raises Tim on Earth (as a single mother? Jack Drake is maybe just a fictional husband that only exists on paper and in stories Eve mirrors off of Adam as an awful arrogant abusive bastard?). Eventually Lilith makes a deal with Adam to protect Charlie from the Extermination in Hell. Lucifer sinks into deep depression, only able to watch over his beloved children and wives from a distance and by sending gifts and hellborn beings to help them.

Similar to how Charlie has Razzle, Dazzle, and Keekee, Lucifer sent Eve a female hellhound to act as bodyguard for Eve and Tim. The hellhound took on a human disguise of an older woman in her late 50s/early 60s and called herself Harriet Macilvane. She posed as the family housekeeper.

This is all I have so far as a concept. Feel free to take this plot bunny and run with it if you feel inspired.

[zmediaoutlet]

fic: the tonberry suite

have you ever loved something for twenty-seven years and then FINALLY work up the gumption and energy to write it? Yeah. So this is me self-indulging, at last.

title: the tonberry suite pairing: Cloud/Barret rating: E length: 6800 tags: Game: Final Fantasy VII Rebirth (2024); Gold Saucer (Compilation of FFVII); First Time; Friends With Benefits; Intercrural Sex; Size Kink; Slight D/s Elements

summary: At the Gold Saucer, the girls and Red run off for their downtime, leaving Barret and Cloud to get hotel rooms. They have a few hours to kill; Barret has a good idea how to spend the time.

(read on AO3)

Kid’s been acting weird since they got off the ship from Junon. Though, truth be told, kid’s been acting weird since Midgar. Odds are real good the kid’s been weird his whole life, but that’d be more Tifa’s call, and she’s too nice to say. “Any chance you gonna relax?” Barret says. Cloud stares straight ahead with his arms folded, boots shoulder-width apart like the freaky mako-wasting moving walkway ain’t nothing that could faze him, and Barret rolls his eyes, behind his shades. Yeah. That figures.

Long walk and a long day and a hell of a long week, though, and Barret’s due some downtime. He watches the streaking weirdness of the night blurring past the tunnel, fireworks and flashing lights and who knows what the hell else smearing the mako-green with strange colors. World moving under their feet. The girls are off somewhere playing, games and sparkly nonsense a distraction they need, probably. Long mission without a lot of light in it; he hadn’t wanted to waste the time but, hell, not like they hadn’t earned a night off. Especially since he’s feeling like he’s bruised from the top of his head to his heels with all the shit they’ve been getting heaped on ‘em, lately, and especially with…

“We’re here,” Cloud says, and takes a step forward, and sure enough the wacky walkway ends just as his boot moves from fake planet-killing speedway to cobblestone, and they look up to find—

“You gotta be kidding me,” Barret says, with the haunted hotel looming creepy and dark and just plain strange over their heads.

Cloud tips his face up, ghostly white in the shadows. “A hotel’s a hotel,” he says, quiet. He glances at Barret, quick, and then presses his lips together. “C’mon. They probably don’t have many rooms. Might have to share.”

Barret snorts. “Might have to,” he says, and watches Cloud duck his head, and resettle that fuck-off bastard of a sword on his back, and stalk forward like it ain’t no thing. Shit-hell of a day though it’s been, Barret can’t help but grin. Yeah. This is gonna go some kind of way.

*

That falling-apart dive of Johnny’s in Costa Del Sol was the first time he saw for sure, but not the first he suspected. In Midgar it was all chaos, and they were apart more than they were working together even after Barret had hired him at his exorbitant-ass prices. In Kalm they had rooms at the inn but after skedaddling down the road and hearing Cloud and Tifa’s godawful account of what had set them on this hunt they were all too dog-tired (apologies to Red) to do much more than collapse asleep, no more words exchanged. Then the road, and trading out sleeping in the tents and keeping watch, and clawing through caves and fiends and helping each other up out of the mud and saving each other’s lives, over and over and more times than he’d have thought possible, that first time when Tifa nervously introduced him to her childhood friend, this unsmiling little twerp in the uniform of the enemy who looked like he’d crack in two if Barret clapped his shoulder too hard, and who Barret was gonna dismiss out of hand because they needed real muscle for this mission, until the kid looked up, and met his eyes, and Barret saw that telltale unreal flicker of green.

Crazy, weird eyes. Cold half the time, the rest of the time mostly unimpressed, except those little moments Barret’ll catch, here and there. When a fight’s gone well and none of them are bleeding and he’ll turn and look at Barret’s chest, and then up to actually see his face, and he’ll be—maybe not smiling because that’s not something all those magic-infused muscles seem to know how to manage, but he looks—good, anyway. Glad. On the back of a chocobo with the wind in his stupid spiky hair and the sun on his face, looking like maybe death and pain aren’t top of mind, for once. And, every once in a while, looking one hundred percent his age, when one of the girls teases him, or when he’s reminded that there’s more to life than fighting, or when—say, just as an example—they’re sharing a decrepit room at a motel, and Barret’s claimed first shower because age before beauty’s got to work sometime, and he comes out toweling off and feeling less like hammered shit and Cloud sits up from his slump on the edge of the bed and looks where he might as well look because it’s not like Barret sees the point in covering up, when it’s just the guys and they got other crap to worry about, and he’s talking about hitting the beach and he’s thinking about where they’re headed next and he finds Cloud’s mouth parted and his eyes startled-wide and fixed low and he thinks, oh, there it is. Yeah. Something he’d half-wondered but put away because it hardly mattered, but—hey, there it was, after all.

*

He’s still pissed when they close the door on their room. Tonberry Suite. Fuck right the hell off. Little robot dude’s actually carrying a knife, like the little demons aren’t legit piss-off scary, merk your ass as soon as you get within five feet, like none of the goofy-ass ghosts and zombies and white-faced goth kid clerks ever could be. “Chill out,” Cloud says, and Barret says, “I’ll boot the creepy little shit out the spooky-ass window and maybe then I’ll chill out,” and Cloud rolls his eyes but, hey, there’s that expression again. Not all the way to smiling, but.

If this suite’s like the other then they’re set on beds, anyway. Two queen-sized on the one wall and an alcove in the back with another, set back behind drapes like that’s where the magic happens. All kinds of dumbass themed shit over the rest of the room—and that little Tonberry guy is looking at him, Barret swears to anything—but it’s beds and four walls and a door that locks and, hey, a bathroom. Good opportunity to shower off all the dust of the hometown he ruined. “Age before beauty,” he says, standing in the doorway.

Cloud shakes his head, setting that ridiculous sword up against the wall. “Just call dibs,” he says, like he’s too cool for school. “You’re not that old.”

“Yeah?” Barret says. “Well, maybe you’re just that pretty.” Gets the satisfaction of one of those startled-wide pretty-ass looks before he closes the door and he grunts. Score one, Wallace.

It’s a good shower. Someone’s paying a hell of a lot for this suite and the planet’s paying her share, too, so it oughta be. He comes out pummeled and mostly clean and smelling like some body wash that claims to be spiderweb soft, comfily thick black towel around his waist. Finds Cloud leaning against the wall by the window, looking out like there’s something to see besides the fake-thunderstorm effects, expression like he’s a thousand miles from here. In the shitty past or the gloomy future, Barret doesn’t know, but he ain’t having it. He was promised downtime.

“Your turn, Spiky.” A lifted shoulder, silence. Barret sighs. “C’mon, now. Red says your ass smells like blood. You wanna change that, while you got the chance.”

“My… ass,” Cloud says. Looks sidelong, slanted along his shoulder, and then his lips part again. For trying so hard to look cool he’s real bad at keeping his cards to himself. Barret’s holding the towel closed but he’s dripping on the floor and there’s a lot on display, he knows. He smiles, flat, and Cloud meets his eye and then closes his mouth and then clearly swallows, all the way across the room. Yeah. Yeah, it’s on.

Barret would’ve figured SOLDIERs would be efficient—whenever anyone asks the kid a question about his time in the service he tells some grim-ass story about control and training and everything sucking, so three minute showers would go right along with that—but Cloud’s in there for a while. Long enough that Barret steps back into his trousers, anyway, and finds the mini-bar, and makes a drink (whisky + ice cubes counts as a drink, not that he’ll tell Tifa that). He sits on the big bed at the back and listens to the rain. Fake, sure. Doesn’t sound like it. Thunder and the wind across the glass and the room dim, flickering candlelight, sconces glowing amber-red. The bed’s soft and the drapes are freakin’ velvet and it’s a cocoon, in here, like the rest of the doomed world don’t exist at all, and it’s about as far as he could get from Corel while being no more than, what, a half-mile above it. The desert stretching empty below. The wreckage so close he can see it whenever he closes his eyes.

Wrong kind of downtime. He pours a second drink, and then a third that he sets on the bedside table, waiting. The creepy little robot paces by, behind, emitting its weird humidifier-smoke. Cedar. Smell of the woods on fire. Barret breathes in deep.

Cloud finally comes out of the shower. “Took you long enough,” Barret says.

“Shut up,” Cloud says. He’s got one of the black towels around his hips, too, uniform folded neatly and boots swinging, tied over his wrist. Body a white flash against the stupid purple wallpaper, whiter when there’s a fake burst of lightning. He sets his clothes by his pack, at the foot of the bed closest to the door. Stands still, looking down. Covers the back of his neck with one hand, like… Barret doesn’t even know. What goes on in that strange head.

Not what he’s worried about, right now. “Well, don’t keep me waiting longer,” Barret says, and when Cloud turns he holds out the glass he’s had sitting there, condensation gleaming on the crystal. “Downtime.”

“Thought we were waiting until the new Heaven opened up,” Cloud says. He comes over, though, and takes the glass, so Barret can pick his own up again and hold it out. Cloud’s pale perfect little forehead gains a single line between his pale perfect little eyebrows, but he seems to remember human behavior after a second and clinks the rim of their glasses together, and takes a sip when Barret does. He doesn’t hiss or flinch or react at all to barrel-proof alcohol served nearly-neat. Freak. His tongue touches the center of his lower lip, briefly. “Hm.”

“Good shit, right?” Barret says. He tips the crystal against the light, watching how it glows amber. Watches Cloud’s face, behind it. “Yeah, I remember. And we’ll let our girl make us real cocktails when she gets that bar again. But it’s been enough of a day. Week. Shit. Enough of a life. They got a five hundred gil bottle in the bar and some cat’s paying for it? Think we deserve a taste, after all this.”

Cloud’s eyebrows raise, acknowledgment, and he looks down into his own glass. He’s wild, even just standing there. His strange, compact body. Anyone just seeing his face could mistake him for a woman, no question—Aerith told the story of just how many made the mistake back in Wall Market with vicious glee, ignoring how Cloud turned nine shades of red behind her while she did—but neck down there’s no question that this is a man. Slender as a girl, sure, but ripped where it counts, his shoulders curved with muscle, his waist and hips nipped narrow. Smaller than Barret, like most everyone is, but no frail thing, not breakable. Not oblivious, either, since as soon as he came out of the shower he glanced lightning-quick at Barret’s bare chest and shoulders and then south, to where he’d left his trousers lazily unzipped, and it’s—

“I figure we got a few hours, while the girls get all the running around out of their systems,” Barret says. Cloud squints a little, calculating, and then nods. Like it’s a battle plan they’re working out. “Yeah. So. Help me out, here.” He holds out the gun-arm.

Cloud blinks at him, startled again. For a hardcore SOLDIER-trained professional badass he sure takes his turn looking like a caught rabbit. “You can’t do that yourself?”

“Can,” Barret says. Shrugs, resting the whisky glass on his knee. “Easier if I got a partner to help out.”

One of those weird still watching moments. Cloud looking at nothing, who-knows-what thoughts passing behind his eyes. “Fine,” he says, and steps forward, and sets his hands on Barret’s arm, above the belted cover, barely damp from the shower.

Warm. Always a surprise whenever the kid’s skin touches his—seems like he should be radiating ice crystals, with how he acts half the time—and soft, like even with all that swordplay he doesn’t form calluses. The mechanism of the socket isn’t complicated and Cloud frowns down at it for a few seconds before he finds the latch, and pops it, and the release of tension from Barret’s forearm to elbow to shoulder goes through him like someone’s cast a cure spell, instantly better all the way to his toes.

He watches Cloud’s face while he finds the other latches. Frowning still, concentrating, but there’s a faint pink coming up across his cheekbones and ears. “Hey, kid,” Barret says. Flick of a glance, but Cloud’s starting to unscrew the main bolt that holds the gun into the socket and he turns back to that. “I ain’t trying to mess you around, here.”

“What does that mean,” Cloud says.

Three bolts down; Barret turns his arm over, palm up if he still had a palm, and lets the kid’s clever fingers make short work of the other half. “I’m saying, I don’t want this to be some kinda game, or confuse you, or tease, or nothing.”

The last bolt: a thunk kind of sound, and the assembly pops free, leaving Barret’s arm truncated in the steel socket that covers his elbow and where the rest of his arm was, and Cloud holding the weapon that makes him at all useful. He turns it over in his hands, curious. The broad base where the bolts connect to the socket, the gears, the internal materia-casing that makes the ammunition work. Barret’s seen it, is used to it, doesn’t care so much anymore, but he hasn’t seen someone else look at it, in a long time. Cloud frowns—of course, Cloud frowns—but clearly just trying to puzzle through the mechanism. It’s a weapon, and Cloud’s interested in those, but he looks up at Barret’s face after a few more seconds, his expression flat, cold.

“What,” he says. Distrust.

Barret shakes his head. “That’s what I’m saying. Ain’t no need for that. I ain’t teasing and I ain’t trying to make this anything it’s not. But—” He drains his drink and the whisky goes down hot, smooth, smoky-sweet, and sets the glass on the side table, and reaches out with his good left hand and cups Cloud’s bare side. God, he’s small—Barret’s hand spreading across his ribs and his thumb brushing up under the tight tiny furl of his navel—and Cloud takes a quick short breath, muscles tensing, except he couldn’t be all that surprised because he doesn’t move away, or flinch, or beat Barret’s brains in with the gun he’s still holding in both hands. Barret smiles and Cloud’s eyes—instead of squinting all bitchy or frowning or whatever else he’d expect, they get all wide again, startled, like—smiling wasn’t what he expected. This friggin’ kid. “Yeah. We got downtime. I figure, we might help each other out, maybe. ‘Cause I think maybe you been wanting to, huh? Maybe you been thinking about it, sometimes.” Cloud licks his lips, eyes dropping from Barret’s to his shoulder, his chest. “Ain’t ashamed to say I been thinking the same. You up for it, kid?”

Cloud takes a slow breath, his chest visibly rising. “That why you dropped a blanket over the Tonberry?” he says, after a second.

Flicker of a smile around his mouth. After waiting patiently through all this negotiation, Barret’s dick thickens in his trousers. He sits forward, slides his hand around to the small of Cloud’s back. “Don’t want the creepy little bastard watching, what can I say,” Barret says. Cloud rolls his eyes but does smile for real, close-lipped, and sets Barret’s gun on the table next to their whisky glasses, and Barret waits until it thunks down before he pulls Cloud in, gets him right between Barret’s knees, gets him close. Cloud’s hands land on his shoulders, tense, and Barret tips his head back, makes sure Cloud’s looking him in the eye. “To be clear,” he says, “I wanna fuck. Sound good?”

Cloud huffs. “Yeah, I got that,” he says. Nervy dart of his tongue to his lower lip, anyway. But then: “Yeah. Sounds good. But—”

“Don’t say it’ll cost me two grand,” Barret says, grinning, that hot held thing in his gut glowing like superheated ore. “Make me think you’re some other kind of merc entirely.”

“You wish,” Cloud says, and—hell, that’s a whole different world right there, unfolding in the imagination—but there he is, standing there caught between Barret’s knees, and Barret follows this kid into battle fifty times a day, trusts his orders and tactical mind more than he has anyone else in is whole life, but on this one it’s clear who’s leading and who follows, and it makes him—slide his hand gentle over Cloud’s belly, up over the skinny flat of his chest. Not smiling now, and not cool and confident and with that attitude like he’s saying fuck you to the whole world. His eyes open and surprised as any kid’s, when Barret knows the shit he’s waded through. Makes him fit his hand around the back of Cloud’s neck, thumb sliding up into the barely-damp silky soft of his hair, makes Barret pull him down—careful, guiding—and makes him kiss the kid gentle. His mouth as startled as his eyes. Breath catching in his chest, his hands gripping Barret’s shoulders so tight they might well bruise, but—after a second—he sucks in air, closes his eyes, kisses back.

Given a hundred guesses in the couple months they’ve known each other, Barret wouldn’t have pegged the kid as clumsy. That’s all it is, though, as Barret pulls him in, and gets him to climb up onto Barret’s lap—barely covered by the towel—and urges his arms around Barret’s neck, and keeps kissing him. Clumsy and maybe nervous, too, like…

Barret drags his hand down Cloud’s back, feels all that silky skin. Muscle rippling as he shrugs his shoulders, knees spreading on the bed either side of Barret’s hips. Squirming already. Barret pulls away from his mouth and kisses his jaw—no stubble, really is soft as a girl—and the side of his throat under his ear, breathing hot there in a way that’s been pretty surefire over his many years of experience, and—yep, Cloud clutches a hand to the back of his head, makes this hitched trapped little not-a-sound, like he doesn’t want to be caught enjoying himself. “Been a while,” Barret says.

Half statement, half question. Cloud shivers when Barret applies light teeth to his collarbone and then pushes him back, blinking fast, chest heaving. Looks down, and so Barret does too, and—yeah, there it is. Pushing out the front of the towel, stiff when Barret lays his hand over it, rubs. There already, damn. Has been a long time. “You good for two?” Barret says.

Cloud’s ears have gone from pink to dark red, his mouth half-open. “I—” Can’t seem to finish. Shudders when Barret closes his hand through the towel, feels his dick that way. His hips curl in and he shakes his head but it’s not no, it’s—

“Well, let’s just see,” Barret says, his own dick surging thick. He squeezes again, easily handling the whole thing, lets Cloud push forward into him, and then he takes his hand away—wait, Cloud breathes, but Barret shushes him, says, “C’mon now, help me out,” and tugs at the towel, and Cloud blinks at him confused before he lifts up on his knees and drags the thing away, tosses it to the side, and—yeah, there it is, his dick flushed-pink and stiff and hot when Barret wraps his hand around it bare, tugs, thumbs over the head where it’s peeking out of his foreskin, makes the kid shudder shoulders to hips to thighs, quivering. Doesn’t seem to know how to handle it at all but it’s hot as fuck just for that—Barret wraps his bad arm around to brace as best he can, the socket probably digging cold into Cloud’s back but he doesn’t seem to care, since he arches, curls his hips in little spasms, humping into Barret’s hand, and he comes in a minute flat, his hands gripping Barret’s shoulders, his eyes screwed shut and his face almost in pain until he’s spurting between them, striping Barret’s bare chest white, his eyes flying wide and shocked like he didn’t know what was gonna happen, like it’s a surprise.

“Goddamn,” Barret says, and he says it admiring but Cloud bites his lips together, turns his face away. “Nah,” Barret says, quick, “nah, see—” and he squeezes Cloud’s dick again—still stiff, slick now, head shiny-pink and sensitive—flips his hand around and drags his bare palm down the spine of the thing, curls his fingers under the tight smooth little package of his balls, behind, almost to his asshole. Soft, hairless. Alien creature almost except that that’s real jizz on Barret’s belly and warm skin quivering against his and a real, normal expression as Cloud frowns, slides his eyes over. Embarrassed and wanting to be told it’s okay. “Hot as hell, man,” Barret says. He leaves off petting Cloud’s crotch and drags his hand over his own belly, white smearing in the hair. “Got a backlog for me?”

“Shut up,” Cloud says, breathless sort of, and when Barret grins at him he rolls his eyes but seems to settle, maybe. Dick softer but not all the way to soft—joys of youth, right there. Long time since Barret was twenty-one and he wouldn’t go back for love nor money, but there are some advantages. He raises his eyebrows, tips his chin up, and in his lap Cloud’s barely an inch higher than him but it’s nice, sweet almost, how the kid licks his lips, and clearly has to decide to lean down and offer the kiss Barret’s asking for. Makes this little sound in his chest when he does it. If they didn’t have a hell of a to-do list in real life Barret would want to book this stupid room out for a month and see what other sounds he could drag out, past all that try-hard coolness and pretending.

But that’s later, maybe, if ever, and his dick’s straining in real time right now. “So…” he says, leaning back.

Roll of thunder from the hotel’s stupid sound system. “So?” Cloud says, arching an eyebrow—oh, he has to have practiced that move in a mirror—but when Barret’s jaw drops because—he can’t seriously—Cloud’s mouth curves, and he looks all over Barret’s face, and then pushes him back, harder, not as strong as he could be but enough that Barret drops back to his elbows, spread out on the bed. He’s inspected, and it’d look like cool analysis except Cloud’s ears are still that telltale red and his chest is flushed nearly the same color as his cockhead, standing out plump. Feels weird except there’s that echo of all those post-fight cooldowns and that shower and seeing it right in the kid’s face, as he drags his eyes over Barret’s chest and his abs and down, to where there is most definitely a lump swelling out the front of his fatigues, about as up for it as he’s been in years.

“Wanna see?” Barret says. He knows the answer but it’s gratifying anyway to see Cloud nod, and lift up on his knees to make room, and to shove the waistband down one-handed and let his dick, ah, spring out into the open. More gratifying to see that stupid expression on the kid’s face again, what’d make Barret laugh out loud if he didn’t have the ounce of sense in his head that’s kept him alive all these years.

To his credit, Cloud may be clumsy but he sure as shit ain’t shy. He reaches down and gets Barret’s dick in this underhanded grip, not tight enough and not quite right but it’s a warm hand that’s not Barret’s own and that goes a hell of a long way toward making it a better day. Barret hums, approving. Watches, propped up, while Cloud tests the weight, the thickness. His hand closing around it but only just. Barret’s not exactly vain but even after all these years of messing around with people it still does something to him, just a little. Not the size of his own equipment but seeing how they react. How this one reacts, when Barret would’ve expected indifference at best, but instead his chest lifts on a deep breath and he licks his mouth and he looks downright wild, like he’s been starving and here’s a three-course meal laid out, all his for the taking.

Not that he’s doing much taking. “Don’t mean to rush you,” Barret lies.

Cloud’s eyes sweep up. “No wonder you make such dumb decisions,” he says, and squeezes—ah—right there under the head. Learns quick. “No way you got enough blood to run your brain and this thing at the same time.”

“I make it work,” Barret says, “and screw you besides, and—god damn, kid, if you don’t—”

Cloud grins at him—an honest-to-god toothy grin, like Barret’s never seen on that porcelain doll miserable little face—and drags his hand down, cups Barret’s nuts, takes a deep breath. Bites his lower lip then. “I want…” He shakes his head. “Shit. I don’t—”

“Anything’s good with me, man,” Barret says, meaning it, not least because his dick’s fuckin’ begging at this point, with warm weight in his lap and the anticipation winding his spine so tight he feels like a volcano desperate to burst.

A soft dragging thumb over his sack, more than filling Cloud’s palm. His fingertips trace a dragging little path through the bush, up the trail to Barret’s navel. Teeth back in his lip.

Barret lays his hand on Cloud’s belly. “‘Less you want me to handle it.” Flash of relief that makes Barret want to pat him on the friggin’ head like a little kid, which isn’t exactly the image he needs right now, but hell if ain’t hot in its way, too. Little fucker’s always hot, which is half of why they’re here in the first place. “Alright,” he says, sitting up, “watch and learn,” and Cloud rolls his eyes and starts to say, “Yeah, right—” except that Barret kisses him, and it’s muffled, and Cloud doesn’t seem to mind so much that he’s not allowed to finish it.

More thunder, more lightning-strike coursing through the room. Barret hitches Cloud closer, holding him tight at the small of his back, their dicks pressing together—ah—sweet. Cloud’s hips curl in, instinct, hardening up for real again, especially when Barret kisses his throat, and his collarbone, and his absurdly pale nipple, lapping and making it tight as a bullet, provoking one of those tiny choked not-sounds that makes Barret lift his head and say, “Kid, how’m I ‘sposed to know if it’s good if you won’t let it out,” and Cloud blinks at him empty-headed until Barret drags his thumb over the nipple again, deliberately rough over the wet skin, and gets this hurt little grunt and Cloud tightening his thighs around Barret’s hips and, yeah, his dick all the way hard, ready to go again. He closes his hand around both their dicks and Cloud spasms, breath heavy, grabbing Barret’s biceps as much as he can. Looks down between them and so Barret does, too, and it’s—yeah, something else, to see the contrast. Not like Cloud’s got anything to be embarrassed about, it’s a nice little handful, pretty as a picture like every other damn thing about him, but pressed together Cloud’s all rosy petite pink to thick hefty dark, silk-smooth to hairy-rough, and the size—”What’s that, half?” Barret says, not mocking or teasing but just knowing, somewhere in the pit of his gut, that it’ll make Cloud—yeah, let out this thin whining moan, his fingers tracing the thick vein up the side of Barret’s shaft, kissing the head, feeling how much bigger. “You got it bad, kid,” Barret says, grinning, and Cloud pushes up and kisses him, to shut him up maybe, but Barret doesn’t mind that, either.

He meant it when he said he didn’t want to tease, though. He gets his hand under Cloud’s ass and flips them, gets Cloud’s thighs spread around his hips, his head tipping back on the bed, spread like an offering. Touches Cloud’s nuts again—one leaping in the sack, damn he’s hot for it—and then behind, and then back all the way, rubbing, a test. “You done this before?”

Cloud, staring up at the canopy. Expression flickers, strange. Nervous? “I…”

Barret presses with his middle finger, testing. “Don’t want to break you in half, Cloud,” he says. “Be honest on this one.”

Strange look in Cloud’s eye when he lifts his head. “We got materia for that, right?”

“Shit,” Barret says, imagination leaping in again—and the idea of being so up for it that he’d hurt that much, just to get it in, to get there—but no, no, not this time—god, he hopes soon, but not this time. He leans down and kisses Cloud again just for thinking it and then lifts up, grabs Cloud’s hip, flips him over—his dick leaping and crying at how easy the kid goes to his belly, letting Barret handle him like it’s nothing when he’s such a prickly bitch the rest of the time—and he shudders, gathers his elbows under him, braces like he’s ready for pain, like that’s all he’s expecting. But, no—Barret’s leaking he’s so ready, he’s been waiting long enough, and he can’t quite explain like he oughta but they’ve been working together long enough he’s got to trust that Cloud can follow his lead—he braces his socket by Cloud’s shoulder, spits in his palm and slicks his dick, pulls Cloud’s hips up—the kid going with it, because he’s crazy as hell—and it feels wild just to slide his cockhead against the kid’s pretty white ass, splitting the cheeks, dragging wet, pressing forward all the way so his pubes are crushed in against the pale skin and his cock’s dripping over the small of his back. Cloud’s back heaves as he drags in air, his hips tipping up. “Just—just do it—” he says, gasped thin, and Barret does pull back, dick gliding maddeningly up so close to what he can imagine would be heaven, furled tight, pale and small like the rest of him—but he ain’t an actual all-the-way bastard and so he just pushes forward, sliding his dick up between Cloud’s thighs, bulling past his sack, dragging where he’s warm and smooth and feels plenty good.

“Like that,” Barret says. Panting already, shit. Cloud looks over his shoulder, frowning muzzily, mouth open. Barret slides two fingers in and Cloud blinks at him, lets Barret drag sloppy over his tongue, and only seems to get it when a wet grip closes over his dick, Barret’s hand covering the whole thing again, curling down to touch, shit, his own dick pushing forward between Cloud’s thighs. “Close ‘em tight, huh?”

He stares over his shoulder, shuffles his knees together, makes it—tight, not slick enough but tight, hell—and then licks his own hand, reaches down, lets Barret push forward into his palm, cups and makes a tunnel for Barret to push into, knocking Barret into the underside of his own dick, taking Barret’s lead, arching his back and pushing his ass back so their hips clap together, so close to fucking for real that Barret almost doesn’t miss the real thing. Except—”Next time, baby,” he says, and his nuts surge at how Cloud’s eyes do that startle-flash, “next time, huh? I’ll get in there like you want. Spread you wide. You want that? Want me in there?”

No response but he hardly expected one. Cloud’s breathing harder than he ever does in the middle of a fight, squeezing Barret’s dick when it fills his hand, his head dropping between his shoulders, his bare shoulders and neck the perfect target for Barret to sink his teeth in—oh, and that gets a real moan, Barret’s mouth on the vulnerable knob at the top of his spine, his whole body sinking, knees sliding on the plush coverlet. Barret closes his thighs around Cloud’s, keeps him steady, bracing—the hot tunnel hotter now, sweat and smearing, Cloud’s small hand knocking them together, and Barret reaches down and covers Cloud’s hand, their fingers lacing, pressing up tight and close to Cloud’s belly, feeling how close he is with his nuts tight against the base of his little dick—”Shit, kid, you gonna beat me there?” Barret says, rough, laying flat out almost on his back. Cloud shakes his head, but just confused seems like, this whining high edge lacing every breath. Barret grins, hooks his chin over Cloud’s shoulder, breathes hot against the sweating curve of his throat. “Yeah, you are, aren’t you? C’mon, now. I’m in charge. You show me how good it feels.” Cloud presses back into him, his back curved up into Barret’s chest, his face turning so Barret can kiss his jaw, nose against his cheek. “Yeah, you got it. Now you just gotta let it go. That’s an order, SOLDIER.”

The sound Cloud makes could make Barret cream himself if he were lost in a snowfield, half-dead and unsure if help were ever gonna come. As is the kid shudders, lurching between Barret and the bed, his hand flashing back to grab Barret’s hip and pull him in harder, unnaturally strong, grip hard enough it’ll bruise. Barret takes over, cupping his spurting dick for the second time—shit, load feels as thick and strong as it was on the first go, he really does have a backlog—and it’s right there in the base of his spine, this coiling tense thing building up like reaching his limit in a fight, his balls clutching up and his dick swelling and he sinks his teeth into Cloud’s shoulder not to shout to the whole damn hotel and—ah, finally—

Dizzy for a few seconds. Fuck, it has been a long time since it was anything other than his left hand. He re-arrives in his brain in stages: loosening his jaw, and taking a deep breath, and flexing his cramped knuckles. Everything slick, sweet, enough to fuck carefully forward and smear around, making it last. Cloud’s hand’s locked onto his hip but Barret shifts his weight on his bad arm, making enough room that he can be sure the kid can take a full breath. Toothmarks in a ring on his shoulder. Barret kisses there, and then blows cool air, and is glad Cloud’s still got his face buried in his own folded elbow when he shivers all over, because hell if Barret’s gonna be able to hide the grin on that one. He really doesn’t want to tease, not yet, but he’s getting enough material for a year, here.

Speaking of—”You gotta let me go,” Barret says. Cloud makes a dazed little huh? and Barret honestly could scoop him into a bear hug. “Need my leg back here, man. We gotta clean up.”

Cloud turns his head. “Right,” he says, weak, and unclamps his hand and his thighs both, stretching out under Barret’s body.

Barret presses up on his elbow and Cloud shivers, again, muscle jumping in his thighs. Easy to urge him over, a clumsy tumble of elbows and sleek white body under Barret’s bulk, although he seems nervous, for some reason. Barret knocks his chin up with two fingers and Cloud meets his eyes. Not startled and not fuck you and not dead indifferent but some other thing entirely. “So,” Barret says. He raises his eyebrows. “That suck?”

Cloud blinks at him, lips parted, and then huffs, one of those tiny smiles starting at the corner of his mouth. “Guess not.”

“Oh, he guesses,” Barret says. He slides his thumb under Cloud’s lower lip, fair warning, and leans down slow, and is rewarded by Cloud lifting up a half-inch to meet him. Slow, sticky kiss. Soft. When Barret lifts up again Cloud looks like he could get knocked over with a feather. Cute as hell, which wasn’t how Barret expected to feel after a mutual relaxation attempt but—shit, he’ll take it. He pushes up on his good arm. “Maybe next time we don’t gotta deal with a haunted hotel for atmosphere.”

“Next time,” Cloud repeats, in a strange tone. His eyes drop from Barret’s mouth to his chest to his dick, laying soft but still thick up against Cloud’s hipbone, and his jaw clenches, and his eyes are more what Barret’s used to when he looks back up and says, “Just because you’re scared of the robot.”

“Hey, now,” Barret says, pushing upright. He lifts a finger. “Not scared. Creeped. The thing’s creepy. You just ain’t creeped because you got twenty screws loose.”

Cloud sits up, rolls his eyes. “Sure,” he says. Still with that little smile.

Thunder, again. Cloud glances at the window, sighs. Something settling over his shoulders, again, but—Barret thinks, maybe—a little less. He hopes. Or, shit, maybe not helped at all, but mutual orgasms rarely made things worse, in his experience. He ducks back into the stupid haunted bathroom, mops up. Buttons his trousers one-handed and shrugs back into his shirt and vest and brings a wet washrag out to where Cloud’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, naked and gleaming, rubbing his forehead. Hell of a sight but Barret’s got to put it away. For a while, anyway.

“I’m going to see what’s going on in this shitshow,” he says, tossing the rag. Cloud catches it, easy. “You should rest. Some shut-eye’ll do you good. Maybe you’ll be a little less weird, huh?”

Cloud’s shoulders curve in. “Maybe,” he says. Really does sound tired. Barret grabs his gun, braces it against the table until the main latch clicks and then twists his arm, locking it in place, spinning the bolts along the socket. He’s had a lot of practice. Cloud watches, holding the rag in both hands, and then says, “Hey. You mean that? About—about next time.”

Sitting there, not quite looking Barret in the eye, he looks… his age. Barret flexes his arm, makes sure the gun’s properly in place, and then picks up Cloud’s chin again, makes him look all the way up. One of the prettiest things Barret’s ever seen, truly. Lifetime to date. “I think just about any time you want it, you tell me, and barring the world blowin’ up and days needin’ saved I’ll drop trou and do my best. Won’t have to pay me no two grand, neither.”

No smile, but this little nod against Barret’s hand. Like it’s a bargain made, either way.

“Good, then,” Barret says, and lets the kid go, and walks over to the door. When he looks back Cloud seems a little more like the merc he hired all those weeks ago. Just naked, in more ways than one. He points, makes his voice firm. “Get some sleep.”

“Sure, boss,” Cloud says, dry, and Barret leaves the suite before he can do any damn-fool thing like go back over there and cover the kid with his body and drum up the enthusiasm to do the whole thing over again.

He stands in the corridor, not really taking in the stupid black velvet and the dripping sconces and the spooky organ music piped from the ceiling. His body relaxed, even if the problems of the planet are flooding back up to the top of his mind. Responsibility and history settling down in their accustomed yoke. He shrugs his shoulders, takes it. Thinks maybe it won’t be so long until there’s a little more downtime, to make the load easier to bear.

[lumberjerk]

some puppet master hc's below

blade sometimes has flashback "dreams" of being mephisto from toulon's old puppet shows since they share the same head. he hears ghostly voices of children and laughing and crowds. its strangely nostalgic and bittersweet.

its common for the puppets to rest in a blanket pile or in their trunk at night. they don't need to sleep like humans do, but it still feels nice. some puppets are more likely to join than others. mostly just an excuse to cuddle lol.

blade is "nocturnal" and prefers to do most of his puppet business at night and will take short naps during the day. perhaps in a cozy sunbeam :3

blade is afraid of dogs and will freeze if he sees one (this is kinda canon i guess)

jester likes to do art but is somewhat limited by his puppet hands. sometimes finger-painting is the easiest. he's tried to repaint his own face to update his look with varying degrees of success.

jester has already read all the books in the hotel so if anyone finds a book, they will bring it back for him

jester likes to ride around on pinhead's shoulders like a small bird on a capybara. he also just likes to be tall in general.

torch opens and closes his jaw slowly when he's feeling content and chuffs like a tiger to greet puppets he likes (mostly blade, tunneler, and six shooter)

torch is highly vigilant and easily startled so you really shouldn't come up behind him without warning

tunneler is responsible for most of the puppet passageways in the hotel. its his hobby to expand/engineer them

tunneler is the most lethargic out of the puppets and likes sleeping the most

tunneler has taught torch to 'joust' with his head spike. they run around as fast as they can and do donuts in the lobby, chasing each other around like small dogs with the zoomies. RIP the hotel furniture.

six shooter and jester have been engaged in a many years-long prank war. six is winning.

all the puppets pitch in to do whatever repairs they can on the hotel but pinhead and six shooter have done the most. pinhead bc of his human sized hands and six shooter because he can climb so easily.

all the puppets have small collections of things they found in the hotel, on the grounds, or at the beach. the items they each consider valuable/interesting varies widely.

[littlespace-rainbow]

Hello! This is the creator of the Ghostly Overture Wally AU

I can’t send a direct message to you, so I’m sending it all as an ask. Please don’t like, publicly answer this, both for lore reasons (gotta keep the people on tumblr guessing) but also like, idk I’d feel mildly embarrassed ;-;

Also I’m sorry for being a bit late, I saw your response earlier, but my first reaction was to laugh at the fact that you’re an Angel Dust account (not in a way where I’m making fun of you, I was laughing cause the idea of Angel Dust walking up to Wally Darling and talking to him startled as well as amused me, y’know because of how vastly different the characters are, it was like “ANGEL DUST HAZBIN HOTEL WHAT’RE YOU DOING HERE????”) and then after that I sorta passed out without fully processing your message until now 0_0;;

Ok so Ghostly Overture is a canon divergent ghost Wally AU.

Canon divergent means that the AU is a branch off of the pre-existing canon. With the way that I’m writing it, most canon things in Welcome Home are still canon to the AU but at some point, specifically the point where the in-universe show supposedly ends, my AU diverges into its own thing. The AU takes place in the abandoned set of Welcome Home.

The opening to the AU is basically that You (You as in the collective audience, the ‘You’ that Wally knows) are a ghost hunter and after stumbling across what looks to be this abandoned set of a show from the 70’s, you find this lovely ghost puppet!

Ghostly Wally (as I call him) is almost the same as canon Wally just with a few key details, one of the prominent ones being that he’s like 10x clingier than original Wally due to being alone for 50+ years. He’s pretty scared of being alone again. This leads him to sometimes coming across as overbearing. Sometimes, he’ll insist that you stay in an area (like a room or hallway or smth), and if he comes back to find you gone, then he’ll freak out pretty bad cause he thinks that either a. You’re gone forever, and/or b. Something happened to you.

I ramble a lot about the sillier bits of the AU/Ghostly so Ima send screenshots of those too

It’s mostly random fun facts but there’s also lore stuff in there too

You don’t have to include everything in the slideshow, like I would completely understand if you didn’t, it’s a lot :,D

You can tell that I think about this AU a lot

Anyway, sorry for unnecessarily stuffing your inbox, and thank you for including my little guy in this silly project, I hope you have a good day! :D

that's more then enough info! Also most of my asks for any ask box are usually OOC (out of character) and no need to apologize! This will definitely be enough to torture my jerk classmates!

-cal (my irl ooc name)

[aftgficrec]

Staff Recs - Ghost Stories

Some ghostly tales as we say goodbye to October. - AFTG Fic Rec Fam

Her Name Was Lola by tylerscreamingintothevoid [Not Rated, 5337 Words, Complete, 2018]

Upon returning home, psychic Andrew Minyard summons the spirit of Neil Wesninski. However, he is frustrated to learn that he's going to yet again require external help.

Enter adept necromancer Aaron Minyard.

tw: past major character death, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: corpses, tw: blood/gore

Haunt by tylerscreamingintothevoid [Rated T, 4251 Words, Complete, 2018]

Andrew Minyard is a world-renowned psychic, known best for communicating with and pacifying ghosts. One day, he hears rumours of a haunted hotel room, and so is dragged to room 319, where he communes with a ghost and attempts to help him.

tw: past major character death, tw: implied/referenced murder

The first time I saw you, I knew it would never last by Complicatedthxng [Rated G, 3298 Words, Complete, 2021]

"Andrew took in the spectre's features. He had sharp bone structure and a gaunt face. The ghost’s wavy hair fell into his eyes a bit. His eyes were appropriately haunted. Andrew wondered if it was from his current disposition or from a life the ghost had left behind."

or

Andrew can't sleep and meets a ghost in Hogwarts astronomy tower one night.

tw: past major character death, tw: implied/referenced murder

Je m’en vais by jeanjosten [Not Rated, 3568 Words, Complete, 2018]

Truly, the story of how I died isn’t a story anyone wants to hear. I won’t tell it. I prefer the story of how I survived.

It starts with a boy, and his name is Nathaniel.

tw: past major character death

22 minutes by exyjunkies [Rated T, 4333 Words, Complete, 2018]

It’s been almost three years since the accident. And a small part of Andrew was uneasy, if not scared, about Neil still not being able to transition to the afterlife.

tw: past major character death, tw: implied/referenced murder

The Souls of Palmetto State by Luci_Cunt [Rated G, 1907 Words, Complete, 2019]

A group of kids decide to explore the abandoned Palmetto State University–home of Kevin Day! And they run into some familiar faces (for us at least)

Ghost of You by Mystrana [Rated T, 2426 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2022]

Things go extra wrong in Baltimore, and Neil goes back on the run, leaving the Foxes behind for their safety.

This fic picks up with Andrew's life four very long years later.

tw: past major character death, tw: implied/referenced murder

so wither’d and so wild series by Scqvoiias [Rated T, Collection with 2 complete works, Updated Dec 2021]

Part 1: so wither'd and so wild [2069 Words]

“I’m not joking, Neil! It was a girl, about this tall—” he waved around his waist—“proper horror movie child, creepy eyes and blonde hair and all.”

“And she asked you to come play with her?” Neil asked amusedly, playing along.

“Are you making fun of me?” Andrew hissed, voice laced with genuine distress. “And no, she asked me if she could pet Sir.”

*

Andrew and Neil move into a new house. They might have adopted a ghost child.

Part 2: aaron minyard’s descent into insanity (ft. his niece) [1558 Words]

“Get me some salt, while you’re at it,” Neil ordered, stirring the soup.

Aaron was about to tell Neil to get the salt himself, but he didn’t have to.

The salt flew straight to Neil.

“Thanks,” he muttered, without taking his eyes away from the soup.

“Neil?”

“What?”

“That wasn’t me.”

Neil frowned. “Yeah, I know.”

*

Alice terrorizes Aaron. And Nicky, but mostly Aaron.

[mostly-ghostly-hotel]

Y/N: One of these days, I’m going to say “fight me” to the wrong person and they’re just going to deck me.

Michael Myers: Oh, that day is closer than you think.

[answrs]

asdfhjkl this is fuckin,,,,,, 17 pages of unfinished and rewritten dp/msa crossover. from TWO THOUSAND FRICKIN FIFTEEN. i am not going to be able to resist editing/adding more to this (which is the ENTIRE REASON IT NEVER GOT POSTED IN THE FIRST PLACE COUGH COUGH SELF) so i am sticking it under a cut, pressing send, then going to do errands in order to physically stop myself from spending 16 hours nitpicking it. also tunglr.hell deletes all the original formatting when pasting stuff in so all the italics/bold/strikethrough are missing rip.

please note! this is an original draft and then a rewritten (but mostly just different parts of the outline) second part.

im just. gonna paste the second one’s author note here (written circa 2016) and leave y’all to it:

stern fatherly disapproval I've been going back through the old dp/msa posts and I have to say, I am very disappointed in all of you. honestly, with such pride we take in over-angsting for BOTH fandoms, that there wasn’t much if any discussion to be seen on this is shocking. (Though, to be fair, I just now remembered I wrote this all the way back then and never published it, buT THE POINT STANDS. My inability to write more than ¾ of a fic before getting distracted and forgetting to finish it is only moderately related to this discussion.) At least it’s edited now, I guess? By which I mean completely rewritten. (you can still tell the parts connecting the main sections are a bit ‘eh’ but, well, ‘eh’.)

Summary: Danny captures Lewis in the thermos (as he does) and tosses him in the Ghost Zone like the rest of the town’s ghostly visitors. This is a bad thing.

“dp/ms zone - Created Aug 27, 2015″

The Skulls are driving through amity park, arthur at the wheel, vivi shotgun with the current traveling deadbeat curled at her feet (the rest are at home guarding the mansion), and Lewis in the back with mystery. Danny's ghost sense goes off as this van passes by, almost as ridiculous looking as his parents own vehicle. he looks in to see a large ghost apparently hiding in the back, the two tourists up front unaware. whatever it's planning can't be good, so he shoots in, sucks up the ghost, and flies off to the alarmed shouts trailing behind him. rather than just being startled at a ghost in their van like Danny thinks (though they are, at him just popping up suddenly), the humans cries are at seeing Phantom abduct their boo for seemingly no reason. not even mystery could react before the kid was off, grinning and waving back at them like he'd just had a job well done. the poor deadbeat is terrified, master has just been taken by a ghost hunter but they have to stay with mistress vivi and mister arthur. arthur slams on the breaks, throwing the van around to tear after the ghost, but he's disappeared. the four are devastated, turning back to the hotel, vivi clutching the now crying spirit like a lifeline. immediately they set to work researching phantom, hoping for any clue to find him and their taken spirit. the next day, Danny comes downstairs to find his parents talking to... visitors? clients? they look exhausted but kind of familiar, so he listens in from the steps outside the kitchen. please, you have to help us. phantom took our friend and you're the people who study this town you must know where to find him we just got him back we can't lose him again please help us we've looked everywhere please- what do you mean, phantom's taken your friend? had the ghost finally started attacking humans outright? there was this big flash and he was gone and he was holding this metal thing and oh honey, its okay, don't worry, there's no way that could have been your friend. phantom uses one of our thermoses and it only works on ghosts. but Lewis IS a spirit! how can you be friends with a ghost, that doesn't make sense. they're too violent and unstable to have consistent rational thought, let alone form attachments... what? how could you- how dare you say something like that! we've been paranormal investigators for years and Lewis is our best friend, don't you dare accuse him of being a mindless creature! how can you call yourselves scientists when you're just as prejudiced as all those stupid hunters we meet! if you won't help us, we'll find phantom ourselves, and we'll get our friend back no matter what we have to go through to do it! Danny sits frozen as the two storm out, guilt creeping in as he absorbs the conversation. he'd just done what he normally did on patrol, how was he supposed to know this ghost was somehow different? he was just taking it out before it could do anything funny, but now he was the one in the wrong? (he won't admit he sees ghosts like his parents do, always up to something malicious and never just innocent bystanders) not liking this feeling, he slips out of the house and trots after the group, quickly catching up. uh, hey. i, uh, heard about your friend and I think I can help... meet me outside Fentonworks at 11 tonight, my parents will be asleep by then so don't ring the doorbell. before they can get a word in, I have to go back, so dont be late! and runs back, turning a corner and going invisible before they can catch up. okay, he's just bought himself some time to fix this, he just needs to make some calls first... he'd just tossed the disoriented ghost (Lewis?) through the portal, not dumped him further in like he does with some of his enemies. he shouldn't be that hard to find. 1030 finds the three living members of the mystery skulls standing before the fentons house. at her side, vivi clutches a bag housing their remaining spirit, warded with nearly every spell in the book and some others besides. if phantom tried to take their deadbeat too, he was gonna have to fight for it. the research they'd done that day didn't make their moods any lighter. video clips of fantastical ghost fights helped them piece together that phantom took his captured enemies to a place called the ghost zone. further study had pulled up dozens of reports on the place, from an incident stranding part of the town there. while interview descriptions of the event ranged wildly, the common details said it was huge, green, and swarming with aggressive ghosts. and from the videos of some of these fights, no matter how strong he might be, Lewis's chances weren't looking good. Sam and tucker round the corner to see three unknown silhouettes clustered on the sidewalk ahead. reflexively their hands dart to their weapons, before they connect Danny's descriptions to the group ahead. damn, they were early then. hopefully Danny was ready and not just doing something stupid. (oh who were they kidding, he was always doing something stupid.) as they approach, the dog tenses, and the two humans whip around to stare at the teens. seeing as they've been spotted already, they close the remaining distance with quick strides. the woman is the first to speak, suspicion bleeding into her worried voice. and who might you two be  then? I'm sam, this is tucker. we're here to help Danny find your ghost since he's a horrible driver and couldn't read a screen to save his life. so since you're here already I'll just text him to come let us in. they get a grunt in acknowledgement from the male, but it's otherwise silent for the few minutes they spend waiting for the door to open. greengreengreen EVERYWHERE, no ground beneath your feet to stop you falling, falling... the space scattered with thousands of pointed rocks and green fog twisting through them... and if this is Arthur's reaction, Lewis is even worse off. and he's been stuck here not for minutes, but hours, days. reliving his death over and over, no reprieve from the constant memories. the team is so focused on Arthur's reaction it's not until mystery renders him unconscious they turn to vivi. standing stock still, unfocused eyes staring unblinking out the window, trembling with near invisible tears trailing down her face. because her boys aren't the only ones with memories of the cave, and while she may be the "strong" one of the group, when it comes to reminders of that night her ptsd is no less real. there you are dipstick! I've been looking all over for you! not now, ember, get out of the way. can't you see I'm busy? not until you tell me why you thought it was a good idea to toss a spirit into the ghost zone. are you completely mental? huh? don't play dumb with me, not even you wouldn't be able to tell. he looks nothing like a ghost! it's all we've been able to do by keeping guard, none of us can even get close to the guy with the state he's in! what are you even talking about-! vivi shoves his head away from the glass, calling out to the flaming musician. yell at him later, tell us where Lewis is now! ember looks down at the new human, sizing her up before nodding, gliding away. I still don't get it, what was she even going on about? I mean yeah, I shouldn't have tossed the guy in here, but the rest of that? what did that even mean? I believe I may be able to explain, a voice calls from the back, and all three kids jerks their heads around to stare at the (talking!) dog. (what the hell?) sam nearly crashes the speeder into an island before she collects herself enough to glance back at the window. ignoring their reactions, mystery continues to speak from his place in Arthur's lap, the mechanic petting him robotically (heh.). I didn't recognize it at first from the descriptions, but now I'm here I can tell this ghost zone, as you put it, is one part of the realm of the dead. the place we just left, your real world, is the realm of the living. ghosts, at least the ones that you know, are formed and exist in this dead realm. it's where they draw their energy from, regardless of whatever focus or reason they have for their being. a ghost that spends too long in the human world would begin to break down, the very reality chipping away at them piece by piece. similarly, a human spending too long unprotected in the ghosts world would suffer similar effects, their body fighting against what knows they should not be there. that's why, for instance, demons must be summoned from their own realm and strike deals with humans to stay on that plain. he looks straight at Danny beings that have rights, as it were, to both places may come and go as they please with no ill effects. i, for instance, may pass through both living and yokai realms if I were to so choose.

[anchor is physical, ties to world]

Lewis, however, is a spirit, brought forth and tied to the living realm. he's one of the, we call them ghosts, but imprints might be a better title, that make up the majority of 'ghost' activity humans encounter... well, outside of this town, at least.

I assume the ghosts you know of fall into different types or species, probably based on their power level or abilities. our own ghosts, or spirits as the name here for them seems to be, are much the same. they can range anywhere from vague wisps of an idea to a fully formed consciousness equal to or even above their former human status.

[these former-living are connected to physical objects, vessels, their soul reside in. this anchor, as we call it, thus ties them to the human realm, being a real, semi-physical object. it's a shell of sorts, breaking a ghost's anchor destroys the (self contained environment), releasing and exposing their soul, which unprotected dissipates very quickly.]

as for how this relates back to the idea of realms, well, the lower the power of an entity the easier it is to be torn apart... he pauses at Vivi's sudden realization, dashing to the forgotten bag on the seat. tearing open the pouch, she lets out a quiet 'oh thank the gods' as a tiny pink head pops out, chirping in concern. it winds its way into Vivi's arms, nuzzling her cheek. the woman looks at mystery, hoping that protection he had talked about was working on the deadbeat too. he nodded, as long as they were to stay in this vehicle, they'd probably be safe from harm. probably. I'd also suggest arthur stay too, even if he wasn't already... compromised, he looked over to the teens, still listening closely. suffice to say the scenery would certainly not be good for him. and for him to be the first thing Lewis sees after such an episode, arthur stiffens and the dog looks up at him sadly, even if he knows rationally it's not the you he thinks it is, he won't be in his right mind... it's gonna be okay, arthur. vivi settles beside the blond and leans against him, careful not to squish the spirit nestled in her arms. it'll just be like those first few weeks with the dreams. which i mean isn't ideal, obviously, but we've survived it once already, we can do it again if we have to. and it's not like before where he'd been alone for a year, it's really only been, what, a few hours, a day? um, actually... the trio (plus one) looks up, having already forgotten they weren't alone in the vehicle. i, uh, so that whole thing with different realities your, uh, dog? was talking about? heh, yeah, so... funny thing about the zone is, um. time goes differently in here. so like, an hour here is only a few minutes in the real, or, erm, living world... vivi completed the kids thought ...and a few hours on our side would be... days... oh gods no, Lewis. Danny flinches, another shot of guilt stabbing his conscience. ugh, of all the ghosts (or, er, spirits?) he could have snagged yesterday it had to have been this one. the only ghost in the whole town that couldn't live (unlive?) in the zone and was apparently afraid of the color green. just perfect. good Phantom, best hero. the speeder slows as ember approaches a group of ghosts, floating in a protective circle around an island about the size of a small house. they turn to glare at the vehicle, but at embers dismissive wave part to let the craft land. as soon as the door opens a blue blur shoots out, followed closely by a smaller white figure and finally the ghost child. the sight of Lewis when they finally reach him is horrible. he'd flown blindly until he found a larger rock to land on, one with a sort of raised wall on one side to keep his back to. images from the cave played out in a high definition loop before him, even curled on the ground he could still feel himself falling, falling...

now his hands are digging into the flesh around his eyes, still desperately begging the images away. even scrunched into a ball the gaping hole that is his chest is obvious, the constant trembling and whimpers only adding to the gory display. his heart, golden and whole before, has gone pitch black, more cracks than actual pieces at this point and only held together by the strange atmosphere of the zone. the same atmosphere doing a number on the rest of him, draining his power to dangerous lows. they can see the rock behind him, and not just through the bloody window in his chest. it's been so much longer for him, even without the flashbacks draining him at this point he'd still be pretty bad off. he feels like he's been left to rot, abandoned for days, months, years, only his mind for company. maybe karma has finally caught him up and dragged him to hell, just like he must deserve for what he's done. what else would this place be for, catered so perfectly to his failures? he doesn't know how long it's been, only that he's so, so tired. even the agonizing pain in his chest has faded, his whole body numb. cold. who is he? he can't remember, his mind is too foggy. where is he? he shouldn't be here. why? this place is... bad. green. green makes bad things happen. the green had laughed. not-green had been hurt. when? who was green? why? (Lewis!) L..ew...is? something about it sounds familiar. like purple and pink and warm and happy. but. no. Lewis is black and white and cold cold cold. like him. is he him? he can't tell what his color is. was. are? something is touching him. it moves the dark away and he sees blue. blue... what is blue's name again? it says something, but all he hears is static. he can't move and blue is raining. no, that's not right. blue is happy and smiles and love, not sad, never sad, why is blue sad?

his last coherent thought, before finally fading out, is please don't be sad, blue. as vivi reaches the collapsed spirit, her fear of losing Lewis again somehow worsens. she knows what lengths Lewis would go to before using this form, and that she can see straight through him means his energy is even lower than she'd feared. grabbing a wrist she pries a hand from his eyes, only for the revealed pupil to be a dull and cloudy purple. there's no sign of recognition, though she hopes some of her panicked rambling is making it through the haze. a whimper at her side draws Vivi's attention to mystery, worriedly sniffing the abused and battered locket, which looks like it's one small breath away from crumbling completely. we need to get him inside and home, now. she doesn't have to look to see mystery shifting, the gasp behind them is enough. the kitsune can take care of Lewis, she needs to focus on his anchor. unwinding her scarf, she makes use of the wonky gravity to wrap it around the locket, both preserving its shape and making sure pieces can't fall out when she moves it. with her part done and mystery gathering Lewis in his tails, vivi grabs the delicate package and hurries back to the waiting craft. she shivers as the static feeling of the speeder's shield passes over her, but it's a small price to pay to keep everyone safe. not from the ghosts, who she really needs to thank now she thinks about it, but the reality itself.

the shield, built on the presumption all ghosts held this strange ecto energy, blocked based on the presence of it. thus, the human Danny, locket, and eventually Lewis, all pass through it no problem.

Sam and tucker had stayed in the speeder as the trio ran out, ready to make a quick getaway if this all turned sour. they couldn't really see what was happening outside, but Danny could handle it (probably). he'd call if he needed them. (maybe.)

they kept to watching the last stranger still in the back of the vehicle. well, stranger plus the weird… pink... thing.

“zone new rewrite - Created Nov 15, 2015″

stern fatherly disapproval

I've been going back through the old dp/msa posts and I have to say, I am very disappointed in all of you. honestly, with such pride we take in over-angsting for BOTH fandoms, that there wasn’t much if any discussion to be seen on this is shocking. (Though, to be fair, I just now remembered I wrote this all the way back then and never published it, buT THE POINT STANDS. My inability to write more than ¾ of a fic before getting distracted and forgetting to finish it is only moderately related to this discussion.)

At least it’s edited now, I guess? By which I mean completely rewritten. (you can still tell the parts connecting the main sections are a bit ‘eh’ but, well, ‘eh’.)

Summary: Danny captures Lewis in the thermos (as he does) and tosses him in the Ghost Zone like the rest of the town’s ghostly visitors. This is a bad thing.

The Skulls were finally arriving in the famed Amity Park, having driven for hours now to reach the paranormal hotspot. This rotation found Arthur at the wheel, Vivi riding shotgun with the current travelling deadbeat curled at her feet, and Mystery and Lewis lounging in the back. Perhaps the hours watching mile after mile of fields and trees fly past had dulled their reflexes, allowed what happened next to be, none reacting fast enough to stop it.

~

Danny had watched the orange vehicle with a vague passing interest as it turned down the street, the van’s appearance almost as gaudy as his own parents’. Probably another group of "ghost hunting" tourists, here to putter around a few days buying overpriced souvenirs before running back home at the first sight of the Box Ghost. Nothing he needed to bother dealing with.

But as it passes by, a cloudy wisp escapes his throat, and suddenly it does become his business. Shooting from his post he flies through the van's wall, barely taking in the sight of the big hulking skeleton hiding behind the two oblivious tourists before sucking it up in the thermos. He only pauses to shoot the passengers a quick smile as a “you’re welcome” for his job well done before barreling straight back out, ignoring the alarmed shouts that follow.

~

Startled at the sudden apparition, it takes the living members of the team a few seconds to react, but by then it’s far too late. Phantom’s already abducted their Lewis, their friend, trapped him and flown off to who knows where, grinning all the while. Arthur slams on the brakes, whipping the van around (sorry girl, he’ll apologize for the rough treatment later, but Lew’s far more important right now) to tear after the fleeing ghost, but he’s already disappeared.

The poor deadbeat is terrified, Boss has just been taken, and their connection to Him feels cut off, blocked somehow. All they can do now is cling to Miss Vivi, hope she and Mister Arthur will fix this.

After nearly an hour barreling down the streets seeking the white-haired spectre, the four are forced to give up the frantic searching, turning back to the hotel. Vivi clutches the shaking pink spirit like a lifeline, this is the second time Lewis has been taken right in front of her and she could do nothing to stop it. Immediately upon entering the room they set to researching Phantom, praying for any clue on how to find him and their stolen spirit.

~

The next morning, Danny comes down the stairs to find his parents talking to… visitors? clients, maybe? They sound anxious but look kind of familiar, so he listens in from the top of the steps, out of view from the kitchen.

“You don't understand though, Phantom’s taken our friend! Come on, you’re supposed to be the experts in this town, you must have some idea what happens to them-” That must be the girl he saw speaking.

“But honey, what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense.” His mom sounds like she’s trying to calm down a small child, “We may think that Phantom is malicious, but he’s never directly hurt a human, as far as we know.”

“Has the Ghost Boy finally started attacking humans? Yes!” His dad’s outburst is cut off by what must be three very angry glares, before he sheepishly clarifies, “Er, wait, no, not like that, it's horrible. But I mean, this will finally prove to everyone he’s dangerous! So they’ll stop thinking they don’t need protection from him!”

His mom takes the conversation back over before Jack can drive it even further (if unintentionally) into the ground.

“Okay honey, can you tell me what happened again? When the ghost boy took... Lewis, was it?”

“We were just driving around and Lew was in the back just sitting there not even doing anything and then there was this big flash and he was gone and then he was holding this metal thing and then he was gone too and we can’t lose him again, not so soon after we finally found him again, please-”

There’s a small silence, the woman stopping to regain her composure, the two hunters taking in the information. And then,

“Oh! Oh then it’s okay, sweetie, (well I mean no it’s not because your friend is still missing but), you don’t have to worry about Phantom having taking him! See, the ghost boy uses a Fenton Thermos he stole from us, but it only works on ghosts, not humans. So whatever he captured couldn’t have been your friend, don’t worry. He's probably still out somewhere you visited before and whatever it was was just impersonating him to follow you.”

“But Lewis IS a spirit!”

There's a pause.

“Er, what? No, that can’t be right…”

“And why not?” There’s a fourth voice, quieter but hard, with the same undercurrent of exasperation Danny himself has when discussing ghosts with his parents. “Don’t you think we’d know if our bo-best friend was a spirit? I mean, if the floating and the skull wasn’t obvious enough there’s always the fact that we had to- had to... to...” He trails off, but it’s easy enough to piece together the unsaid words.

Still, that doesn’t stop his dad from speaking, the large man prone to rambling in tense moments.

“No, we mean… How do I say this, it just, it isn’t possible! Ghosts are just too emotionally unstable to have consistent rational thought, let alone form attachments… regardless of whoever they might’ve been based off of in life. That’s what makes them so dangerous to be around, even for us. I know it may be hard to hear, but-”

The halfa jumps as something very heavy slams down on the table. It sounds almost like metal, but what-?

Then it’s the man's voice again, dangerously calm and dripping with venom that makes even Danny go still.

“You call yourselves scientists, but you’re not, are you? You’re too blinded by your own prejudices to be anything more than the next hotshot group we come across, shooting anything just for not being human. Never matters they were perfectly normal before, now they're just monsters to be shot at! Because anything that isn’t 100% human can’t really think, really feel, they’re all just mindless things to you. Hell, I don’t have a human arm, does that mean I’m not sentient? Do you-”

“Arthur that’s enough.”

If his voice is a rock hers is cold hard steel.

“But-”

“Taking our frustrations out on them does nothing but waste time and energy we could be using to find Lewis. And don’t you dare give me that look, I don’t like them talking about him like that any more than you do, but now is not the time.”

There’s the sound of a chair being pushed out from the table, and the woman takes a deep, steadying breath.

“We’ve been paranormal investigators for years, we know when a lead is bust. We came here in hopes you’d have some information to help us, but I can see now it was a lost cause. With that mindset, there’s no way you’d be able to follow the dead’s thought process, let alone accurately anticipate their next move. Ghosts work in patterns just like humans do, we have enough experience that we can get Lewis back without your help.”

There's a deep, resigned sigh.

“Look, I know we aren’t going to change your view of the dead from this, but I hope one day you reexamine what exactly makes you think about them the way you do.”

“Now come on, Arthur, let’s check in with Mystery at the hotel and see if he’s managed to dig up anything actually useful for us.”

~

Danny stays frozen on the steps as the door slams shut, guilt slowly creeping in as the situation unravels. It had just been a normal patrol yesterday, how had it managed to go this fantastically wrong? Just fly around, suck up some ghosts, and toss them back through the portal. How the hell was he supposed to know this one was any different? All he’d done was take out the guy before he could do anything funny, stop the problem before it even started, but now he was the one in the wrong? (He won’t admit he’s much like his parents when it comes to judging ghosts, even when he knows plenty of them aren’t malicious. Guilty until proven innocent, but with his track record meeting ghosts he couldn’t be to blame. Shoot first, ask questions never, but wasn’t that the same thing he chastised his parents for? …No, best to cut that train of thought off right now-)

Not liking these feelings of guilt, he slips out and trots after the two, following them down the street until he judges it to be a safe enough distance from the house his parents won’t see them if they look out the front door.

“Hey, uh, you’re the guys looking for your... friend, right?” He shuffles his feet awkwardly as they stare at him, unsure how to actually go about doing this. Damn him and his lack of planning.

“So, I overheard what happened and er, I... think I could help? Like my friends and I know lots about Phantom… My parents don’t know about it but I can show you where I, uh, where the ghosts go. When he catches them I mean. Except they’re also there whenever they aren’t in Amity so I guess then too, which would be most of the time then? but, uh.” Jack isn’t the only one in the family to ramble, but the blond man (Arthur?) is tapping his foot impatiently and giving him a look that reads ‘just get on with it’.

The blue haired girl, who he still doesn’t know the name of, looks suspicious, but they’ve followed worse leads before, and if this kid knew what he was talking about, well, it would certainly help…

~

Of their group Vivi is generally the one known to be impatient, not one for idling, nor interested in “just going over the transmission again, Vi, I swear it’ll only be like ten minutes, honest.” But right now Arthur is upset, and angry, and an upset, angry Arthur is a snappy Arthur, and also an Arthur that just wants this kid to get to the god damned point already so they can leave and keep looking for their missing teammate.

~

“Right, sorry. So, uh, come back to Fentonworks tonight at, like... eleven thirty maybe? Mom and Dad should be asleep by then so don’t ring the doorbell or anything, it would probably end up being the only time ever that they didn’t sleep like rocks, with how my luck tends to be…”

Before they can press for more information, he’s off like a shot, throwing a “sorryseeyagottagobye!” over his shoulder at the two. They may give chase, they may not, but he isn’t looking back to check. He’s never been great at lying, and if these guys are as actually experienced with ghosts as they say, their questions will likely be a lot harder to weasel his way out of. He’s not gonna chance being found out any sooner than he has to. So as he rounds a corner he flickers invisible, and sure enough the woman rounds the bend mere seconds later, pausing to catch her breath and swear (quite creatively, he must say) as she sees he’s disappeared.

Okay, he’s bought himself some time to fix this, he just has to make a few calls…

Luckily, he’d only tossed the disoriented skeleton through the portal, not dumped him further in like he’d started doing with some of his more... annoying enemies. He shouldn’t be that hard to find.

(famous last words.)

~

Eleven on the dot finds the remaining Mystery Skulls standing beneath the gaudy neon lights of the Fenton household. At her side, Vivi clutches a bag housing their remaining spirit, heavily warded with every spell in the book (and some others besides). If Phantom tried to take their deadbeat too, he would have to fight them for it, and they were taking absolutely no chances.

The research they’d done in the meantime hadn’t make their moods any lighter. Video after video of Phantom showcased his fighting abilities and power, spectacular battles around the city that left buildings in shambles and craters in their wake. But from a myriad of soundbites they managed to salvage, they’d pieced together that after the fights Phantom took his captured opponents to a place known as the “Ghost Zone”. Further searching pulled up dozens of local reports on the place, from an incident apparently stranding part of the town there a few years prior. While witness accounts ranged wildly, the common threads marked it as huge, green, and swarming with aggressive ghosts. And looking back at some of the opponents in those fights, however strong Lewis might be his chances weren’t looking good. At all.

~

Sam and Tucker round the corner to see two strange figures clustered on the sidewalk ahead. Their hands reflexively dart to their weapons, before connecting Danny’s descriptions to the group ahead, along with what was probably their dog. Damn, they were early then. Hopefully Danny was actually ready and not just doing something stupi-oh who were they kidding he was always doing something stupid.

They haven’t moved twenty feet before the dog growls, and the two humans whip around to stare at them. (So much for sneaking past and kicking Danny’s butt into gear, then.) Seeing as they’ve been spotted already, the teens close the remaining distance with quick strides.

The blue haired woman is the first to speak when they reach the house, suspicion not quite covering up the worry in her voice.

“And who might you two be, then?”

Sam thinks for a moment, then decides, fuck it, they’re going to learn soon anyway, might as well go with the (partial, at least) truth.

“I’m Sam, this is Tucker. We’re here to help Danny find your ghost since he’s a horrible driver who couldn't move straight to save his life. And for backup since, well, he can hardly go five minutes without getting into some kind of trouble.”

they get a grunt in acknowledgement from the blond, but it's otherwise silent for the few minutes they spend waiting for the door to open.

------!!!!-------

greengreengreen EVERYWHERE, no ground beneath your feet to stop you falling, falling... the space scattered with thousands of pointed rocks and green fog twisting through them... and if this is Arthur's reaction, Lewis is even worse off. and he's been stuck here not for minutes, but hours, days. reliving his death over and over, no reprieve from the constant memories. the team is so focused on Arthur's reaction it's not until mystery renders him unconscious they turn to vivi. standing stock still, unfocused eyes staring unblinking out the window, trembling with near invisible tears trailing down her face. because her boys aren't the only ones with memories of the cave, and while she may be the "strong" one of the group, when it comes to reminders of that night her ptsd is no less real. there you are dipstick! I've been looking all over for you! not now, ember, get out of the way. can't you see I'm busy? not until you tell me why you thought it was a good idea to toss a spirit into the ghost zone. are you completely mental? huh? don't play dumb with me, not even you wouldn't be able to tell. he looks nothing like a ghost! it's all we've been able to do by keeping guard, none of us can even get close to the guy with the state he's in! what are you even talking about-! vivi shoves his head away from the glass, calling out to the flaming musician. yell at him later, tell us where Lewis is now! ember looks down at the new human, sizing her up before nodding, gliding away. I still don't get it, what was she even going on about? I mean yeah, I shouldn't have tossed the guy in here, but the rest of that? what did that even mean? I believe I may be able to explain, a voice calls from the back, and all three kids jerks their heads around to stare at the (talking!) dog. (what the hell?) sam nearly crashes the speeder into an island before she collects herself enough to glance back at the window. ignoring their reactions, mystery continues to speak from his place in Arthur's lap, the mechanic petting him robotically (heh.). I didn't recognize it at first from the descriptions, but now I'm here I can tell this ghost zone, as you put it, is one part of the realm of the dead. the place we just left, your real world, is the realm of the living. ghosts, at least the ones that you know, are formed and exist in this dead realm. it's where they draw their energy from, regardless of whatever focus or reason they have for their being. a ghost that spends too long in the human world would begin to break down, the very reality chipping away at them piece by piece. similarly, a human spending too long unprotected in the ghosts world would suffer similar effects, their body fighting against what knows they should not be there. that's why, for instance, demons must be summoned from their own realm and strike deals with humans to stay on that plain. he looks straight at Danny beings that have rights, as it were, to both places may come and go as they please with no ill effects. i, for instance, may pass through both living and yokai realms if I were to so choose.

[anchor is physical, ties to world]

Lewis, however, is a spirit, brought forth and tied to the living realm. he's one of the, we call them ghosts, but imprints might be a better title, that make up the majority of 'ghost' activity humans encounter... well, outside of this town, at least.

I assume the ghosts you know of fall into different types or species, probably based on their power level or abilities. our own ghosts, or spirits as the name here for them seems to be, are much the same. they can range anywhere from vague wisps of an idea to a fully formed consciousness equal to or even above their former human status.

[these former-living are connected to physical objects, vessels, their soul reside in. this anchor, as we call it, thus ties them to the human realm, being a real, semi-physical object. it's a shell of sorts, breaking a ghost's anchor destroys the (self contained environment), releasing and exposing their soul, which unprotected dissipates very quickly.]

as for how this relates back to the idea of realms, well, the lower the power of an entity the easier it is to be torn apart... he pauses at Vivi's sudden realization, dashing to the forgotten bag on the seat. tearing open the pouch, she lets out a quiet 'oh thank the gods' as a tiny pink head pops out, chirping in concern. it winds its way into Vivi's arms, nuzzling her cheek. the woman looks at mystery, hoping that protection he had talked about was working on the deadbeat too. he nodded, as long as they were to stay in this vehicle, they'd probably be safe from harm. probably. I'd also suggest arthur stay too, even if he wasn't already... compromised, he looked over to the teens, still listening closely. suffice to say the scenery would certainly not be good for him. and for him to be the first thing Lewis sees after such an episode, arthur stiffens and the dog looks up at him sadly, even if he knows rationally it's not the you he thinks it is, he won't be in his right mind... it's gonna be okay, arthur. vivi settles beside the blond and leans against him, careful not to squish the spirit nestled in her arms. it'll just be like those first few weeks with the dreams. which i mean isn't ideal, obviously, but we've survived it once already, we can do it again if we have to. and it's not like before where he'd been alone for a year, it's really only been, what, a few hours, a day? um, actually... the trio (plus one) looks up, having already forgotten they weren't alone in the vehicle. i, uh, so that whole thing with different realities your, uh, dog? was talking about? heh, yeah, so... funny thing about the zone is, um. time goes differently in here. so like, an hour here is only a few minutes in the real, or, erm, living world... vivi completed the kids thought ...and a few hours on our side would be... days... oh gods no, Lewis. Danny flinches, another shot of guilt stabbing his conscience. ugh, of all the ghosts (or, er, spirits?) he could have snagged yesterday it had to have been this one. the only ghost in the whole town that couldn't live (unlive?) in the zone and was apparently afraid of the color green. just perfect. good Phantom, best hero. the speeder slows as ember approaches a group of ghosts, floating in a protective circle around an island about the size of a small house. they turn to glare at the vehicle, but at ember’s dismissive wave, part to let the craft land. as soon as the door opens a blue blur shoots out, followed closely by a smaller white figure and finally the ghost child. the sight of Lewis when they finally reach him is horrible. he'd flown blindly until he found a larger rock to land on, one with a sort of raised wall on one side to keep his back to. images from the cave played out in a high definition loop before him, even curled on the ground he could still feel himself falling, falling...

now his hands are digging into the flesh around his eyes, still desperately begging the images away. even scrunched into a ball the gaping hole that is his chest is obvious, the constant trembling and whimpers only adding to the gory display. his heart, golden and whole before, has gone pitch black, more cracks than actual pieces at this point and only held together by the strange atmosphere of the zone. the same atmosphere doing a number on the rest of him, draining his power to dangerous lows. they can see the rock behind him, and not just through the bloody window in his chest. it's been so much longer for him, even without the flashbacks draining him at this point he'd still be pretty bad off. he feels like he's been left to rot, abandoned for days, months, years, only his mind for company. maybe karma has finally caught him up and dragged him to hell, just like he must deserve for what he's done. what else would this place be for, catered so perfectly to his failures? he doesn't know how long it's been, only that he's so, so tired. even the agonizing pain in his chest has faded, his whole body numb. cold. who is he? he can't remember, his mind is too foggy. where is he? he shouldn't be here. why? this place is... bad. green. green makes bad things happen. the green had laughed. not-green had been hurt. when? who was green? why? (Lewis!) L..ew...is? something about it sounds familiar. like purple and pink and warm and happy. but… no. Lewis is black and white and cold cold cold. like him. is he him? he can't tell what his color is. was. are? something is touching him. it moves the dark away and he sees blue. blue... what is blue's name again? it says something, but all he hears is static. he can't move and blue is raining. no, that's not right. blue is happy and smiles and love, not sad, never sad, why is blue sad?

his last coherent thought, before finally fading out, is please don't be sad, blue. as vivi reaches the collapsed spirit, her fear of losing Lewis again somehow worsens. she knows what lengths Lewis would go to before using this form, and that she can see straight through him means his energy is even lower than she'd feared. grabbing a wrist she pries a hand from his eyes, only for the revealed pupil to be a dull and cloudy purple. there's no sign of recognition, though she hopes some of her panicked rambling is making it through the haze. a whimper at her side draws Vivi's attention to mystery, worriedly sniffing the abused and battered locket, which looks like it's one small breath away from crumbling completely. "we need to get him inside and home, now." she doesn't have to look to see mystery shifting, the gasp behind them is enough. the kitsune can take care of Lewis, she needs to focus on his anchor. unwinding her scarf, she makes use of the wonky gravity to wrap it around the locket, both preserving its shape and making sure pieces can't fall out when she moves it. with her part done and mystery gathering Lewis in his tails, vivi grabs the delicate package and hurries back to the waiting craft. she shivers as the static feeling of the speeder's shield passes over her, but it's a small price to pay to keep everyone safe. not from the ghosts, who she really needs to thank now she thinks about it, but the reality itself.

Sam and tucker had stayed in the speeder as the trio ran out, ready to make a quick getaway if this all turned sour. they couldn't really see what was happening outside, but Danny could handle it (probably). he'd call if he needed them. (maybe.)

they kept to watching the last stranger still in the back of the vehicle. well, stranger plus the weird… pink... thing.

[madeimpact]

Weirdly enough, while this isn't his first time visiting this world, it is his first time experiencing the transformation glamors that Sora had talked about. Normally, his Somebody told him, it was Donald who handled the transformations to blend everyone in. Naturally, Roxas hadn't known anyone who knew magic like that when he was sent here on Organization business, so he visited unchanged ( maybe the black coat made him blend in acceptably enough ). But now, with everyone from that tournament's Mansion being affected? It seems like the magic came from the town itself, and was spreading to every visitor.

Which is why, when Roxas realized he didn't feel particularly undead, or ghostly, or monstrous, he had to quirk an eyebrow. He got a nice new outfit out of the magic, but, well...was he supposed to feel super different?

Content to simply accept a fun costume as part of the visit, he's ready to make his way to the hotel, content to be mostly unchanged...

...Until his coat sleeve snags on a poorly maintained barbed wire fence, pulling at a seam on his shoulder and exposing the straw inside.

Huh.

He's gonna have to get that fixed.

[myhauntedsalem]

The Kennesaw House

The Kennesaw House in Marietta, Georgia is a historic, three story building located in the heart of Marietta in Cobb County. It is the home of the Marietta Museum of history, located on the second and third floors of the 19th century foundation. It is also the center of plethora of reports of haunting and other paranormal activities.

Built in 1845 adjacent to the railroad depot, the Kennesaw House was originally assembled as a warehouse to store cotton, but was soon converted to a large restaurant due to its prime location, welcoming passengers who traveled in on the railroad.

In 1855, it was known as the Fletcher House after being purchased by a Dix Fletcher and opened as an Inn. Now owned by a sympathizer of the Union army, Fletcher House became a haven for Yankee spies and soldiers. The “Great Locomotive Chase” started out in what is now known as the Kennesaw House when James Andrews, along with a group of Union spies, conspired to hijack a train termed the “General” in April of 1862.

As the Civil War raged through Georgia, the Fletcher House was somewhat forcibly turned into a makeshift hospital and morgue, which likely contributes to the excess of ghostly activity surrounding the famed Marietta building.

General Sherman of the Union army made his way through the town near the end of the Civil War, burning down just about every structure that would take flame. The Fletcher House was spared, however, since Dix Fletcher was a mason, and Henry Cole, his son-in-law, a Yankee spy.

The building did not go unscathed. Once housing four stories, the flames of nearby burning building licked the rooftop of the house and all but destroyed the fourth floor. Fletcher finished repairs, eliminating the fourth story altogether, in 1867 and reopened the hotel under the new name Kennesaw House.

Most stories stem from those visiting the Marietta Museum of History. Some encounters are said to take place on the elevator, while others do not take effect until the visitor(s) arrives on the second or third floor.

Claims state that tourists have been welcomed to the museum just as the elevator doors opened by a grim, crowded hospital room, overflowing with injured and dying soldiers. The screams and cries of the wounded were overwhelming as there was little if any anesthesia to assist in the multiple amputations that took place in those days to prevent gangrene from setting in, or to remove an already acclimated case of the disease.

There have been countless similar tales of an old surgeon dressed in Civil War regalia riding the elevator.

Children have often claimed to see a lady in a pink trimmed old-fashioned dress. Others have seen the same apparition, but she seems to appear mostly to younger visitors. Many of the children who share a similar story have sworn it is the same lady from one of the pictures in the Kennesaw House – that of Mrs. Fletcher.

The Kennesaw House underwent various changes throughout the last century or so. Its hotel status was revoked in the 1920’s when the Kennesaw House was purchased to house a series of retail stores. It remained so until 1996 when the Marietta Museum of History took up residence on the second and third floors.

[frostbite-merun]

Being punk is decided when you're in a 90s-00s movie and you and your friends do skate board tricks off your cranky old neighbor's house and he comes out and waves his fist at you and yells "You punks!" and then you and your friends skateboard off while laughing because in your youthful exuberance you are unafraid of the consequences of your actions and then your friend Tommy is hit by a car and is killed instantly on impact and the sudden realization that You Too are mortal sinks in, rendering you practically catatonic for several days as you stew in your own depressive existentialism leaving yourself no time to mourn your friend but then Tommy appears before you in a flash of profane and ghostly light and starts making out with you sicknasty style and you learn that the afterlife is real and mostly the same as depicted in flop amazon tv cartoon hazbin hotel but there are no furry twinks (those go to Second Hell) and people can come back from it it's just that nobody was ever as radical or cool as you and your crew so now that you're unburdened with petty mortality you and your friends launch yourselves at your old neighbor's house to die on purpose and then come back the next day to torment him and each time this happens he shakes his fist and yells "You punks!"

[dustedmagazine]

Rob Burger — Marching with Feathers (Western Vinyl)

Rob Burger has played all kinds of instruments in his life and career, electronics and guitar, pump organs and synthesizers, banjos and music boxes, but it all started with the piano.  In Marching with Feathers, the composer returns to his home base with nine tracks that include many varieties of tone and drone, but center around the piano.

Burger has worked in a variety of contexts and ensembles, from major studio film soundtracks (he composed the music for Ocean’s 8), to John Zorn’s Filmworks series, to the experimental traditionalism of the Tin Hat Trio to a longstanding partnership with Iron & Wine’s Sam Beam. His most recent album before Marching with Feathers, The Grid, pulsed and percolated with electronic energy. Its title track buzzed in shadowy dissonance, a rough friction grinding against dreamlike Krautish propulsions. The new record is just as mysterious, just as lovely but more organic.

“Waking Up Slowly” scatters ghostly, Satie-like keyboard simplicity across hallucinatory arcs of pedal steel (that’s Paul Niehaus, by the way). It stirs to sentience gradually, its parts whirling in a slow motion dance. “Hotel for Saints” is more emphatic, blasts of synth sound swelling around staccato piano motifs, a hard backing of drums keeping pace. “Still” is heartbreaking and distilled to essence, a melancholic piano drifting in from another room. And the title, “Marching with Feathers” splices unruffled sound washes with glitch beats, setting limpid pools of mood in motion. A string section warms up as the piece gains density (Teddy Rankin-Parker is credited with cello), and layers of tone shift on and over one another. A march implies purposeful forward progress, feathers soft sensuality and adornment; the piece merges both in a meditation that moves.

Still, the cuts that pare back to just piano (or mostly) wield the quietest kind of power. “Figurine”’s soft rounded notes float in like a dream of a memory, right there but also out of reach, with transience, mortality and regret in their slow progression.

Jennifer Kelly

[nataliesilverman]

The criminal

Wood paneled walls. Tacky posters of local tourist attractions, decades old, never removed, and more amazingly, never tampered with. Grand Canyon. Waterfalls. Some national park that’s no longer open. A bed that is simultaneously too soft and too hard. Bedsheets that have an uncomfortable amount of friction on the skin, as if they’re greasy. The occasional rush of a car on the road. That subtle odor of deodorizing chemicals at eternal war with the clinging stink of old cigarette smoke.

The hum of bad fluorescent lighting and noisy air conditioning in ancient windows that bleed all the cold out during the day, and all the heat out during the night.

I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling. All these motels are the same. Doesn’t matter what side of the country you’re on, somehow they all manage to be the same. You’re still here, aren’t you? You’re always with me, watching through my eyes. Where are you now?  I can only glimpse the world you’re in. You can see mine clearly, but yours intrudes into my perception as ghostly sensations and mostly forgotten memories.

Or is it that you can only look through my eyes and read my thoughts? Can you perceive everything I can? I suppose I shouldn’t assume you can perceive everything as I do. That would be rude.

Two sensations bleed through the monotony of the roadside hotel. The wafting, acrid smell of burnt gunpowder from the Sig P229 on the bed stand and the numbness of my left arm. I have an arm there, but it isn’t mine. A construction pattern Slade Corporation ErgoPower, with the diagnostic chip and wireless antenna ripped out. The third sensation that comes to mind is the weight on my chest as I lie on my back. Or I suppose the weight of my chest. It’s difficult to ignore the two basketball-sized, weighted obstructions hanging there. I sigh as I slow down my thoughts.

Bad deal last night. That’s what the pistol was for. No blood on me this time. Just sweat. I have enough to stay a few more nights at this hotel, but I shouldn’t. Not with how many bodies there were. They’re already issuing warrants. At least according to the news, I’m not suspected. This is a small-time deal gone wrong, only fifty-thousand dollars. It would have been a nice chunk of change but I’m not really going out of my way for it. I was hired on for that job as muscle. I got a preemptive cut of two thousand dollars to help facilitate the moving of drugs for cash. The rest was supposed to come after it. I helped, I got away, and the contract is fulfilled. At least there were witnesses from my employer’s side so it doesn’t look like I took the cash and ran. Two thousand dollars for a few hours of work. In spite of everything, I’d say that’s a good deal.

My phone vibrates in my coat pocket. I fumble around a moment as I reach in my left coat pocket. I instinctively look down and see only the right side of my nose and a wall of fabric clinging to my chest.       “Ahana.”       “You gone?” a gruff male voice demands.       “Almost. Don’t you worry. I got your cash. I got your product. Your boys escaped with it, I got a cut,” I say in a monotonous tone. This is nine hours after a gunfight. I’d have liked some more time.       “This means war,” the voice says with an irritated implication.       “My war fees are extra,”       “Now hang on. I paid you, you follow my orders!” he all but shouts.       “You signed my contract and I gave you a copy of it. Read the terms, dumbass. I was contracted for a single transaction,” I tell him.      “You fucking bitch! Get out here and do what I paid you to do! You hear me?! I’m gonna cut off your tits and shove my fucking-” I cut him off by flipping my phone shut and pulling out the battery.  

Time to go. My bags are already packed. I throw the phone in my coat pocket and reach for the pistol on the bedstand. I check the magazine. Fifteen rounds. I rack the slide and push the decocking lever and put it into its holster. I pull a rifle bag up from between the mattress and the headboard and sling it over my shoulder. I pull my black blazer off and hook the holster around my shoulder. I have a few minutes before they get here and I’m not going to give a street-level gang the pleasure of going out the way they want to. They hired a professional above their pay grade, and that’s not my problem. I pull my blazer back on and roll the sleeves up, and pull on my riding gloves. I heft my bags up and pull out two hundred dollars from my back pocket. I’m in the hallway with the heels of my cowboy boots announcing my presence to the front desk. The Hispanic man at the front desk smiles at me. I offer my best smile before slapping the cash on the desk.       “I’m checking out. No questions.” I say curtly before turning around and shoving the front doors of the hotel open. My motorcycle is a Yamaha Vmax with the limiter pulled out. Most of the idiots around here roll around on Harley Davidsons and this bike has a much bigger engine. Four cylinders as opposed to two, and that lets me simply outrun them on the long stretches of empty road if they try to pursue. I clip my bags on, put on my helmet, and start the engine, rolling out and onto the parking lot. I’m gone before my former employer even has a chance to show up.

Just like hotels, the open roads are rather samey. I’ve been living on the roads and in cheap motels for half my life. The roads out here are hot. The way to solve that is to drive faster. I glance down at my speedometer and see the needle is at the eighty mark. My eyes are back on the road, drifting a bit from side to side. California is in a state of change. Once vibrant communities are now derelict. The roads are cracking and growing weeds. The cities aren’t quite crumbling, but the only people there who make a living are executives and maintenance crews. The communities that usually make the downtown and metropolitan areas vibrant are quickly leaving.

I’ve got no problems with that. I can’t live a normal life as it is, not with the people I’m in with. No permanent home, no job, no pile of annoying kids...this isn’t what I wanted in life but life had other ideas about what I’d be getting.

The buildings and trees fade as I head into the desert. I’ve come to like it out here. Desolate. Quiet. Not easy to find people. I’ve come to appreciate the solace. Just me, the sand, the spiders, the scorpions, and the rattlesnakes. I’ll ride until sundown, and find another hotel. If I can’t do that, I can always set up camp in the mountains.

I sigh to myself and turn on the radio. The news is nothing but bad news. The economy collapsing further, the deserts are expanding up north, people are starving and dying, wars over resources and corporations seizing freshwater sources, riots, disease...ugh. Too much noise. I switch the radio over to my music player. It’s going to be a long drive.