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pumpkinbxtch · 6 months

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Hello Can I do a request with all the pjo characters (but Percy x reader) singing of key « I will rescue you »

Because is isn’t in a good place. Please

i will rescue you .☆ . ° .

— percy jackson x fem!reader

warnings: allusions to anxiety, anguish, post-traumatic stress, all this bad feelings frfr, small discussion but don't worry, there is comfort in the end. a/n: helloooo, here you are, lady. i hope it's what you had in mind (or at least something close to it 😔) thank youu for visit me on the requests, I send you kisses and love from Neptune, frenchie girlie🩵

The sound of the earring brushing against you made you shudder. You inhaled.

The metallic clashes drilled into your ears, the desperate screams made your skin crawl.

— This isn't real, this isn't real — you murmured, partially closing your eyes, static as if anchored to the ground with thousands of stones tied to your ankles.

Why was putting on an earring so difficult?

The screams echoed in your head, was it happening right now? The blood and its iron smell churned your stomach, you no longer wanted to experience it.

The sensation of your lungs burning for air made you react, you blinked tensely and exhaled.

The tinkling of the earring falling broke the suffocating silence, and your body tensed as anger invaded you. A glance at your reflection betrayed your exhaustion in the mirror, worsening your mood, and before losing your composure, you held your breath to avoid letting out a scream.

1… You pressed your lips and eyes.

2… You dug your nails into the fabric of your dress, wanting to tear it off.

3… You opened your eyes and searched for the earring, still frowning.

The footsteps echoing on the wooden floor stopped meters before reaching you, and you heard an almost inaudible grunt as he crouched down. You didn't care, you kept searching on your own. You had to figure it out yourself.

— Are you looking for this, miss? — He replaced your view of the floor with his hand, and once he extended it, the jewelry sparkled in his palm.

Tension concentrated in your jaw as you snatched it abruptly, making Percy recoil with evident confusion on his face.

— Is something wrong? — You huffed and tried again to put the earring through your ear-piercing, ignoring your boyfriend. Inside you, there was a voice asking the reason for your attitude, but still, you decided to drown it out and bury it deep in your mind. Everything bothered you, the way you looked, the stupid way the clothes felt, you felt like if you breathed it would be the last time.

— Hey… — He called again, and you watched him approach through the mirror. Percy let the corners of his lips drop to the point of forming a pout. He felt a pressure in his chest seeing you so upset. Immediately, he knew he wanted to help you, but he didn't know how.

His hands gently squeezed your shoulders, forcing you to relax them, and he hugged you from behind timidly, giving you an incredible lightness in your heart, wanting to hug him and cry in his arms.

The boy still hesitated if his touch bothered you, but he couldn't see signs of it, so he ventured to kiss your neck and snuggle into its curve.

His eyes looked at you like when a Golden Retriever did something wrong, and you felt guilty because he hadn't done anything and still succumbed to your hostile attitude.

You clenched the edge of your jacket until the blood disappeared from your knuckles.

He was the perfect boyfriend and you a troubled bitch who seemed to depend on him to feel better. That thought made your blood boil, and you shook Percy off you again, without caring about the force with which you did it.

His turquoise green eyes watched you with affliction. The more you wanted to protect him from your rudeness, the more you hurt him.

— Is something wrong? — He insisted, despite the knot in his stomach, keeping calm in his voice. He knew well that getting upset too wouldn't help at all.

— It's nothing.

He pursed his lips.

— Something's wrong.

— I said no! — You raised your voice and glanced at him through the mirror. Percy stepped back and pressed his lips together.

— I'm not asking you. I know something's wrong.

The earring finally clicked, and you turned towards him with an unfocused gaze filled with ache. Percy had seen that look a couple of times before and realized what was probably happening, but your sharp words caught him off guard.

— It's none of your business, Perseus.

And you brushed past him, bumping into his arm, leaving him alone in the living room of your shared apartment. The slam of the door made him blink, and he ran a hand through his hair, trying to control his breathing.

He understood you, really he did, not only because he was your boyfriend and felt empathy towards you, but because memories of the things he experienced also haunted him, although fortunately (or sadly), over time he learned to handle it. You were different, his sweet and lovely girlfriend, hadn't been able to swallow those bitter moments. You had been dealing with the situation for a short time, and Percy didn't blame you, the feeling alone was shitty enough to do so.

What bothered him was that you didn't share it with him. He threw himself onto the couch, staring at the ceiling, trying to distract his mind for a few seconds by twisting figures with the lamp light. He wondered if it would be a good idea to go and knock on your door or leave you alone until you did it on your own.

You did it, but you didn't speak to Percy. Instead, that night, you kept your arm hooked with Hazel's while your friend talked about something Arion done. You could barely hold the conversation, and she noticed it. the acidic feeling lingered in you, causing you to emit the same aura as a tormented soul.

— Man — Jason's voice made Percy startle slightly, forcing him to momentarily look away from you. The blond exchanged a glance with Frank, who stood on the other side of him.

— Everything okay?

— Yeah — he stammered, still with his gaze fixed on you. For a moment, all he seemed to hear were footsteps on the sidewalk and the offhand conversations the rest of his friends were having. He felt anxious, worried.

Obviously, he didn't like fighting with you, much less for reasons where it was evident that you weren't okay, but that night you built such a high wall that Percy felt incapable of climbing it. It wasn't just the way you were ignoring him, but how you looked at him. He understood that it wasn't personal, it was those memories that were dragging you to a dark place.

Frank hugged him by the shoulders and gave him a warm smile. — Relationship troubles?

— I wish it were that, Frank — he murmured weakly. That was enough for both of them to stay quiet and wait for their friend to tell them of his own accord.

— Come on, I want to be the first!

— Not you, Leo —Piper wrinkled her nose and pushed the guy. — You sound awful!

— Well, excuse us, Miss Beauty. Not all of us have superstar genes!

both started laughing and hugged each other, arguing about which song to share.

Percy looked at you from across the room and tried to approach you, taking advantage of the fact that the others seemed distracted. He sat down beside you, and you anxiously squeezed the edges of your dress. Now, guilt gnawed at you, but that discomfort with yourself didn't make you think clearly about how to apologize. Percy leaned towards your ear.

— We can talk? — The tremor in her voice made you want to throw up. You ignored him once again, and he leaned against the wall.

A metallic clank violently assaulted your ears, followed by groans that overwhelmed you even more. Frank was helping Annabeth gather the microphones, but all you could see was a sword through his chest and Annabeth trying to stand up with a splinted ankle, drowned in tears.

You pressed yourself into the corner and breathed heavily.

— yn?— Percy took your hand, and you pushed him away violently before running to the bathroom.

Everyone in the room watched the scene, and Leo helped Percy to his feet.

— Bro, what's going o-?— Leo cut off his words when he saw his friend's glassy eyes, making a bittersweet play with the crooked smile.

— Percy — Jason called, his blue eyes seeking an explanation, as did everyone else. The dark-haired boy just sighed.

You didn't look perfect, but it was the best you could do with the karaoke bathroom supplies. Once your heart returned to beating normally, you unlocked the bathroom door and made your way to the booth. Murmurs were heard, but as soon as your shadow appeared through that glass door, your friends got into position.

It was simply amusing; the strategies were so ingrained in their bones that they couldn't help but adopt almost battle-like stances. The way Annabeth kept her finger poised over the tablet to start the song the moment you crossed the threshold while Leo made sure the microphone worked. Jason checked that everything was ready, while Piper and Hazel gave motivational words to Percy, and Frank simply held the door to prevent you from entering before everything was set up. It wasn't necessary because you arrived just in time.

The melody on the piano began as soon as you stepped inside. Percy stood in the middle, where the stage supposedly was, and for the first time, you saw him trembling, indeed, he was nervous as hell.

He started singing the first lines, and despite how shaky or weak the words came out of his mouth, you knew what it was about. His steady gaze as he sang the lyrics was enough to make your tears want to spill again. You clasped your hands over your chest as you smiled bitterly at him.

The first tear ran down your cheek, and he walked towards you with his hand extended, eager to reach you and hold you in his arms. Wanting to protect you from any harm.

— I will send out an army to find you— he smiled ironically, and upon hearing your small laugh, he sang a little more lightly. Taking your hand, he dragged you to the center where the neon lights bathed your bodies, swaying together to the song.

Percy pulled you towards him in such a way that your foreheads collided, and his green eyes met yours. The song ceased to be just a song and became a way for him to communicate his feelings to you. He took a breath and placed your hand on his chest, letting you feel his heartbeats. How his heart beat for you.

— It’s true, I will rescue you — his voice broke on the last vowels, and he pulled away the microphone, trying to hide the sob that came from deep within his chest. Because there was no crueler way to hurt him than with the image of you silently suffering.

Everyone was watching, but soon you noticed that they were also quietly singing along to the song. All with that understanding and kind smile.

The gentle squeeze Percy gave your hand with his free one made you look at him again.

— You don't have to deal with this alone.

#maría's shared dreams☆｡ﾟ✧#percy jackson #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #percy pjo #the seven pjo

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callsign-phoenix · 2 years

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I wrote this as a part of my advent calendar fics, I hope you like it!

It is a Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x gn!reader imagine.

Thank you @marvelandotherfandomimagines for proofreading!

Day 7: cozy Christmas movie rewatch

Warnings: none

“We’re not watching that new animated version of the Grinch, Jim Carrey is the best there is,” Bob said expressively, sitting beside you on the couch and shaking his head vehemently.

You had suggested watching the animated version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, which was met with uncharacteristic resistance on his part.

But Bob loved the Grinch, he even wore a sweater with a quote of his almost daily.

“I know, baby, I know, but try to give it a chance! It’s supposed to be good, and it won’t make the other film stop existing if we try to watch this one,” you argued, and he bit his lips in reply.

“I won’t force you,” you added, but the puppy dog eyes you shot his way spoke volumes about how you felt.

So Bob didn’t argue, he simply accepted his fate begrudgingly.

“I’m sorry, baby, but sometimes you have to be open to try something new,” you told him, and he blinked at you repeatedly.

“Plus Benedict’s voice is too sexy to miss out on it,” you winked, and Bob grabbed the remote.

To be honest you didn’t think Bob would like the film, even if you knew you would.

The green creature walked and lamented across the screen with the occasional vocal performance, which you genuinely loved to see and hear.

You also loved the dog and reindeer and the cuteness of it all, it was just comforting to see, and the film was different enough from the other one that you didn’t have any trouble liking it.

Christmas cookies and other sweets were quickly devoured and when the movie finished you sat there silently, waiting on your boyfriend’s verdict.

Bob took a few seconds until he looked at you, blinking a few times before he opened his mouth to speak.

You could see a blush creeping up on his cheeks which made you smile, knowing exactly why it was appearing there.

“Alright, his voice convinced me,” Bob mumbled, his eyes falling from yours to land to the hands he had intertwined in his lap.

He was fiddling with his fingers and you moved your hand to put them onto his, sending him a knowing smile that was also filled with love.

“I know, that’s why I showed it to you,” you chuckled.

Both of you sat there in silence for a minute before you spoke up, your smile growing into a grin much like the Grinch’s.

“We should watch more of his movies after Christmas. If you like his voice here you should try watching the Hobbit,” you said, feeling a shudder run down your spine at the memory of the tone he used in that.

Bob’s eyes searched yours and he nodded gingerly, your excitement catching onto him as well.

tagging: @wildbornsiren @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @hederasgarden @letsfvckingdance @shadeds-library @a-reader-and-a-writer @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @imjess-themess @littlebadariell @angstyjellybean @marchingicenotes7 @midget713 @supernaturaldawning @gspenc @adorephina @gigisimsonmars @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bespinnn @softromantist @malindacath @aerangi @kassieesworld @oliviah-25 @kwanimations @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @glowingtree @natasharomanoffisbaebby @luckyladycreator2 @blue-aconite @tipsykeen @airedale17 @iangiemae @uwiuwi @princessofglitterland @ycarlii @teti-menchon0604 @butaneandthebeast @call-sign-hurricane @eggscrambler84 @mavericksicybabe @kendra-rose @desert-fern

(please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist, or use this link)

#robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd #top gun bob #bob top gun

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demiclar · 2 years

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Sin

Sin - AO3

Shiro-4 explores the Eliksni quarter with Saint-14.

------

Shiro-4 stands at the edge of the Eliksni quarter of the Last City, watching. Until now, the quarter was a place he had only heard about. A place he had seen only through the Vanguard reports and the media feeds he picks through when the feelings of isolation swell and Felwinter Peak feels as lonely and remote as it is. There’s something perverse about those interactions, he realizes now, seeing this place, this home through the lens of cameras. Thousands of miles away, he would catch glimpses of the Eliksni of the House of Light, the people that lived here, living amongst humanity in relative peace. He would shudder to think about the Eliksni that live near to him, and the territorial tensions that his life is ruled by. To have an Eliknsi at his door could be the start of a territorial war in Old Russia, yet here, there can be peace. The disconnect isn’t lost on him.

He stares until he notices a figure walking towards him, another Exo, tall and broad. The man wears silver armor, adorned with purple accolades to match his glowing helm. Shiro-4 inclines his head to Saint-14 as the Titan comes to stand beside him.

“Saint, I heard about Osiris. It’s good to know he’s awake.”

The Titan hums in agreement. “Yes. He is doing very well, considering the circumstances. I cannot seem to convince him to pause in his work, but that is Osiris.” Saint has never been one to remove his helmet in public, so Shiro can’t see his face, but he can make out the smile in his voice, in the tilt of his head and the way he nods to Shiro. “Have you come for the meetings?”

Since Osiris woke and told the Vanguard of the power Savathûn knew of on Neptune, the secrets she’d kept hidden in her mind, inadvertently allowing Osiris access to them through their bonded consciousnesses, the Vanguard has begun to assemble. Shiro has sent out calls to Hunter scouts near and far, from those who study and observe the Hive to those who patrol the outer reaches of the solar system. Gathering every bit of information available on Neptune has proved to be no simple task, but Shiro has done his best to compile it for the Vanguard. The next week is to be a series of meetings dedicated to devising the Vanguard’s plans moving forward. Shiro has already begun to wonder if some of those plans will include the election of a new Hunter Vanguard.

“Yes.” He answers, giving Saint a nod, “and to visit Saladin.”

Since he left the Iron Temple to join the Ulurant and their warriors, Shiro has made a point to visit him whenever he can, even if that means journeying the City after he’s avoided it for so long. He still hasn’t let go of the tensions he still feels just being in the City, the feeling of vulnerability he gets just being near the Tower after Cayde’s death has yet to fade, even after the years that have passed.

“Have you been to the Quarter before?” Saint’s helm looks on towards the Eliksni scattered about the space. Shiro shakes his head, and Saint offers him another tilt of his head, his Light warming with encouragement beside Shiro. It’s as if he can feel the unease keeping Shiro rooted in place, though through his Light, he might be able to. “Come. I will introduce you.”

He’s mostly content to watch from afar, but the idea of meeting any of the Eliksni fills him with dread and the hot, acid punch of fear. The idea of speaking face to face with the Kell, perhaps, whom Shiro has come to understand Saint is quite close to makes him more unsettled than he is going into battle, because this is not a fight he’s allowed to win.

“Saint, I don’t–” He breaks off when the Titan looks back at him, already leading the way further into the quarter. He pulls the hood of his cloak a little further over his eyes, and suddenly wonders if the stitched together house banners make some kind of political statement in a place like this. “Maybe you could just show me the place. Save meeting anyone for later.”

Saint watches him for a moment, considering Shiro as he tries not to shift on his feet, or reach out to hold his cloak. He crosses his arms instead, holding onto his biceps and feeling the synthetic muscles flex beneath his hands.

“Very well.” Saint tells him after a moment. He pauses, waiting for Shiro to follow him.

He deliberates for a moment before he does, following Saint down into the quarter. They walk among rubble, passing Eliksni that pay them no mind, besides the occasional wave or greeting to Saint. He walks close enough to feel Saint’s Light, a steady presence beside him as he tries to calm his own rippling unease.

“How did you–” Shiro breaks off, letting out a huff of breath. He pauses beside a heap of rubble, far off from any Eliksni that might be listening in. “How did you do this? How did you come to trust them like this?”

He feels the frustration rising in him, threatening to boil over. He’s been on edge since he left the Temple to come to the City in the first place. Now, walking through the Eliksni quarter with the Kellbreaker, part of him wants to laugh at the ridiculous irony of it, that he’s the one who can’t relax, while Saint seems perfectly at home.

“It was not an easy process.” Saint tells him, his voice soft. “But the old houses are gone. It took me far too long to realize that.”

“Tell that to the Devils trying to take the Temple.” Shiro grouses. The Eliksni around Felwinter have taken notice of Saladin’s absence, getting braver and braver as they venture closer and closer to Felwinter Peak. Shiro only felt safe leaving it under the guard of the wolves and nearly a hundred Redjacks patrolling the peak, all armed with sensors to inform Shiro the moment anything slips past their perimeter.

“Shiro.” Saint’s tone hardens, drawing Shiro’s attention. “These are not the Devils.”

“And the Devils are just fighting for survival, I know.” Shiro’s breath sighs out of him. He’s not stupid, and he’s been a scout long enough to know the Eliksni attack for resources, they scavenge and scrounge in order to live and supply themselves. They’re not after the Temple because it’s a Lightbearer stronghold, but because of the resources contained within.

He shakes his head, perching on some of the rubble piled nearby. He stares out over the quarter, Saint watching him intently.

“I understand.” Saint tells him as the silence is beginning to stretch. “You’re afraid. Fear is not something one can let go of at a moment’s notice.”

“So?” Shiro presses, “how did you do it?”

Saint looks out over the Eliksni quarter, considering it from behind his Kellbreaker’s helm. “It is not something I have entirely forgotten.” He says, even as his Light holds steady. “You do not forget fear, instead, you learn something new.” His gaze returns to Shiro and he straightens, brushing off the vulnerable air after a moment. “Come again when you are ready. There are lessons I will teach you, if you are willing to learn.”

Anxiety twists in Shiro’s gut, old and familiar, but Shiro looks past it. His eyes sweep over the Eliksni in the distance, tending to gardens, speaking with one another, laughing, living. There isn’t a weapon in sight, and the whole space exudes a sort of warmth Shiro has never associated with an Eliksni settlement before. He lifts his eyes back to Saint’s after a long moment.

“Okay.” He breathes, “I will.”

#destiny game #destiny 2 #destiny fanfiction #destcember2022 #destcember #destiny shiro-4 #destiny saint 14 #demiwrites

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kitsunes-multiverse · 2 years

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Sweet Symptoms

Chapter 9: Well Earned Downtime

That weekend, Jesse was on his way to visit Kitsune. This wasn't a common event, but every now and again they'd spend time together at each other's houses. He wasn't sure what they'd do when he got there, but he was confident they'd figure it out. Honestly, he didn't care what they did. He just liked spending time with the young woman whenever it was possible. They could just sit outside and talk and he wouldn't at all mind.

Upon arriving at the house, he made his way to the porch and rang the doorbell. Within a few moments, the front door was opened and he was greeted by the smiling face of his friend. It was a bit strange seeing her out of uniform, but he didn't mind. It was a simple outfit, yet it was still cute. It consisted of a white short-sleeved shirt, and black shorts- along with gray knee-high socks. Her hair was down as well for a change, showing off that it went just above to her mid-back.

"Hi Jess! Good timing- I just got finished with the popcorn. I was thinkin' about watching this cool horror series I found online! Wanna join me?" Kitsune greeted.

Jesse smiled in response, chuckling a bit. He should've guessed she'd be planning that. Horror was arguably one of the redhead's favorite things- every other week it felt like she'd have a new horror media to talk about. It could be anything from a TV show, a videogame, a manga, or an internet series.

"Hello, Kitsune. And yes, I'd love to." He responded, walking into the house. "What's the series about?" He asked.

And just like that, Kitsune's eyes lit up. She always got super excited when given the chance to talk about her interests- a trait of hers that Jesse found absolutely endearing.

"Ok-! So like, it takes place in an alternate universe where there's this giant eye thingy from space. And for some reason, it came to our world and now I guess it's trying to eat our solar system? Something like that. Anyways, it's basically controlling one of the planets -Neptune I think- to send solar storms to our planet that causes these weird plant things to grow- oh! And giant monsters that look kinda like spiders." Kitsune rambled for a bit. (Side note, tell me if you recognize this series.)

Jesse shuddered a bit at the mention of spiders. "Oh, you would choose a series with spider creatures.." He muttered. He never liked arachnids. Their long, multitude of legs and uncanny movement made them horrible to look at in his eyes. Not to mention that some were venomous, and can move at surprising speeds.

Kitsune giggled a little. "Hey, they're not really spiders." She assured. "Anyways, I'm gonna get the popcorn. Feel free to have a seat in the living room!" She chirped, heading for the kitchen.

The taller male nodded, entering the living room. On the back of the couch was a familiar kitten with black fur and blue eyes, wearing a purple collar around its neck. This was Boo, Kitsune's beloved cat. He looked up at Jesse, letting out an excited meow as it hopped off the couch- making a loud thump noise in the process.

Jesse smiled, bending down and scooping the kitten into his hands. "Hello to you as well, Boo. I hope you've been staying out of trouble." He said, before plopping down onto the couch- still holding Boo in his hands.

Before long, Kitsune had returned- a bowl of popcorn in hand. "I'm back- oh! I see Boo missed you." She stated, giggling a bit as she walked over and sat with him.

She set the popcorn down on the coffee table, dimming the lights with a remote. "Why are you doing that?" Jesse questioned, watching as Kitsune proceeded to turn the TV on with a separate remote.

The redhead grinned, glancing over at him. "For atmosphere, of course! If we're gonna watch something scary, we may as well set the mood for it!" She chimed.

Jesse sighed, shaking his head out of playfulness. "You're just asking to get scared. Just a few days ago, I scared you by calling your name in the break room." He smirked.

Kitsune huffed, blushing from embarrassment. "Oh, shut the hell your face, Jess.." She muttered. "There was no one in that room, and I didn't even hear you come in. I thought you were a ghost or somethin'." She defended.

"All I'm saying is; you're easier to scare than you let on, Kitsune." Jesse remarked, leaning back into the couch. "Also: 'Shut the hell your face'? That's a new one."

"Shhhhut!" Kitsune whined, throwing a small pillow at him. Jesse laughed, blocking it. He enjoyed times like this, when him and Kitsune could just be casual and take jabs at each other.

The redhead huffed, leaning against his shoulder. "You're lucky I..." She muttered. Or at least, Jesse was sure she said something else. He just couldn't hear it.

He glanced at her. "Sorry, what was that?" He asked.

"Ah- um- nothing really. It's cliche anyway- it's just how we're so close and stuff." Kitsune shrugged off.

"Hm. Well, you certainly have a point there." Jesse responded. "We are rather close... And to be frank, I don't think I'd want it any other way." He commented.

'Although... I do wish we could become closer.' He thought, not daring to voice it out loud.

Kitsune giggled a bit. "Yeah, me too, Jess... I'm glad you and I are friends." She responded. Jesse smiled again, albeit somewhat weaker. Friends, she says.

But does it really have to be just that?

(Tag list- @arc-carnes @drsweetcake @tessathepeanut @sarahthebookdragon )

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lexosaurus · 4 years

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Aurora

My Truce gift for @thelegendaryloaf! I was so pumped when I was assigned you, and I absolutely LOVED working with your prompts! Happy holidays, and I hope 2021 treats you well!

Characters: Danny and Valerie Genre: Friendship Word Count: 3523 Summary: Up close, Valerie could see him more clearly. The stars and planets that speckled throughout his face, the tiny bits of multicolored light that sparkled in his eyes, the way his aura seemed to ebb and flow as if it were the aurora in the northern sky. It was as if Phantom was someone else entirely.

Read on [ao3] [ffn]

---

“Ugh, where is that stupid ghost?” Valerie grumbled, gliding through the air on her hoverboard. She had been on her way home from Star’s house when her watch beeped to life, alerting her of an unwanted ghostly visitor. And, if the watch was correct, it was a rather powerful ghost too.

After all, very few ghosts could ping her from so far away.

But like the dutiful hunter she was, she suited up, trying to ignore the way her stomach knotted up with nerves. As much as she enjoyed sending ghosts back to the hell they came from, going up against a ghost of that much ectoplasmic power was sure to empty out her first aid kit.

She glanced down at her watch. She was getting close now. She should be able to hear screaming, see people fleeing in terror, but there was nothing to suggest a powerful ghost had breached the city.

Which meant that Phantom was likely the ghost responsible for cutting into Valerie’s precious sleep.

Valerie was going to kill him. Again.

Her radar was leading her towards the outskirts of the city, which was odd for Phantom. When he wasn’t baiting ghosts and causing destruction to Amity, Valerie could find him at the park or on top of some tall building.

But outside of the city? This wasn’t like him.

Maybe it wasn’t Phantom. Maybe it was some tall ghost hellbent on baiting ghost hunters far away from the populace, away from any emergency response, so they could be destroyed in peace. Maybe Valerie was walking straight to her own doom.

Oh well. It wouldn’t be the first time her career as a ghost hunter had gotten her into trouble.

“Ok, he’s definitely in there,” Valerie said, shifting between her radar and the large building in front of her.

She glanced down at her watch, then back up again. Was her watch leading her to...an observatory?

“Why the hell is he in there?”

Valerie flew low to the ground, making sure to keep out of sight of the open roof. She was almost certain that Phantom was inside the round building, but she just couldn’t figure out why.

It didn’t make sense. He was a ghost. He didn’t care about space. What did he have to gain from traveling this far to the edge of Amity just for a stupid observatory?

She could turn back here. Just go home, leave Phantom to do whatever weird thing he was doing on his night off. And why wouldn’t she—it was Saturday! She could be in bed instead of keeping Phantom out of trouble.

But it was her responsibility. Her duty to Amity. Sure, maybe Phantom wasn’t a purely evil ghost hellbent on Amity’s destruction, maybe he was just a cocky asshole with a hero Obsession, but someone had to keep him in check.

And that someone was about to send him back to the Ghost Zone.

“Alright, Phantom.” Valerie launched herself through the open roof and hovered above the room. “Very funny. Now, come on, it’s time to—”

“Valerie!” came a cheerful cry from below her. “You made it!”

“Phantom?” She looked down and nearly fell off her glider. Below her was Phantom, but he looked...different.

His aura had changed, and instead of a bright white glow it swirled with violets, teals, and blues. His freckles had turned into stars and planets which shimmered across his skin, and his eyes positively sparkled.

Valerie regarded him with disgust. “What the hell? Why do you look like the Milky Way threw up on you?”

Then he did something Valerie never expected a ghost to do in a million years: he giggled.

“I’m so glad you’re here! We have so much to talk about. Saturn and Jupiter are right next to each other, and through this telescope you can even see all of Saturn’s rings. The rings, Valerie! And oh my goddess, if you thought that was cool, wait till you see the Pleiades!” Phantom reached a hand out, and his swirling aura shot forward, wrapping itself around the telescope in front of him.

“Wait, don’t break it!” Valerie shouted, touching down on the floor. But, before she could so much as ready an ecto-gun, she stopped.

Because the telescope wasn’t breaking apart.

It was moving.

Valerie watched in a mix of horror and fascination as the telescope in front of Phantom adjusted itself, shifting around and settling into place. The aura dimmed, leaving behind a telescope that didn’t look any more ghostly than before Phantom’s interference.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on right now?”

Phantom’s beamed. “Look! Take a look!”

“Oh hell no. I’m not going anywhere near that possessed thing!”

He laughed, and for a moment his aura brightened. “Just trust me, Val!”

“Don’t call me that,” Valerie muttered, but nonetheless stepped towards the telescope. She gave one last suspicious glance Phantom’s way before she leaned forward and looked through the stupid metal thing.

Saturn stared back at her, its rings preening like a peacock against the vast emptiness around it. She had never seen Saturn before, not outside of Google Images anyhow. It looked exactly like all the pictures showed, and yet seeing it in person was...really cool.

“And wait!” Phantom’s childish voice bubbled from behind her. Cold swept over her and she flinched, her arm instinctively twitching for her gun, before she realized what was happening.

Phantom was wrapping his galaxy aura around the telescope and moving it again.

“Okay, look now!”

Valerie glanced quizzically back towards the ghost, searching for any signs of malevolence, but his innocent smile never wavered.

“Are you high or something?” she finally asked.

He giggled again. “Stop making jokes and look already!”

She rolled her eyes but relented once more. When she looked through the telescope this time, she was met with another tan colored planet. This one had brown stripes running through the sides, warping to show an unmistakable eye-like figure towards the middle of it.

“Is that...is that Jupiter?”

“Yeah!” Phantom clapped. “And if you look, there should be some of its moons in view too! Look around it, Val!”

“Don’t call me that,” she muttered without any real malice. Sure enough, a few tiny tan dots surrounded the planet. “How many moons does it have, anyway?”

“Seventy-nine!” Phantom said.

“Jesus, wonder what its tides are like.”

Phantom playfully nudged her. “Silly Val, it doesn’t have an ocean! I know you know that. But if you think that’s crazy, Saturn actually has more moons than Jupiter does! It has eighty two.”

She stepped away from the telescope, and once again Phantom’s aura took command, adjusting the lens to a new spot. Phantom immediately jumped to the telescope with a ferocity that Valerie had only seen him use in the heat of the moment when fighting other ghosts. Yet, she noticed the way he delicately touched the telescope, allowing his fingers to gently hold the metal shell as he peered into space with a fascination that seemed too ethereal to be real.

Phantom was destructive, he was a fighter, he was driven by his Obsession to fight and be a hero. He wasn’t...this.

“Seriously, what the hell happened to you?”

“What do you mean?” Phantom asked in a singsong voice.

“I mean this,” Valerie emphasized, allowing her arms to sweep out around her. “All of this! What...Phantom, I know we’re not friends, but—”

“Of course we are!”

Valerie blinked. “Huh?”

“We’re friends, Val!” Phantom repeated, detaching from the telescope momentarily to hover next to Valerie.

She could feel his cold aura brushing against her arm, and she suppressed a shudder. “Are you messing with me?”

Phantom peered up at her, his glowing eyes seeming almost offended by her accusation.

Offended? Hurt? Phantom?

“Val, why would you say that? Of course we’re friends! We’re hanging out right now, right? That’s what friends do!”

Up close, Valerie could see him more clearly. The stars and planets that speckled throughout his face, the tiny bits of multicolored light that sparkled in his eyes, a shooting star that traveled across his cheek, the way his aura seemed to ebb and flow as if it were the aurora in the northern sky.

It was as if Phantom was someone else entirely. It was like another ghost had taken possession over him. Was controlling him from the inside out.

Valerie’s hand slowly moved down towards her belt, but it didn’t seem to matter. Phantom didn’t notice. In fact, he shot her a beaming smile and turned his attention back to the telescope, rambling about how astronomers believe that diamonds rain on Uranus and Neptune as if Valerie’s hand wasn’t slowly inching towards her gun.

“It’s just a hypothesis really,” Phantom said. “Scientists can’t really study inside the planets yet because they’re so far away. But I hope it’s true! It would be so cool! Imagine, you’re just an alien on these planets, and then suddenly you walk outside and there’s solid diamonds falling from the sky! They wouldn’t be that pretty probably because the diamonds wouldn’t be shaped nicely, also those planets aren’t habitable to any life so there’s no aliens, but it’s still cool to imagine! Oh, oh, but if you thought that was cool, there’s this other planet—not in our galaxy—that’s really really close to its sun so it’s super hot but guess what? Val, you’ll never guess! It’s solid ice! The gravity is so strong that it forced all the water on its planets into ice and—”

Valerie gripped the gun, raising it to eye level and clicking the safety off.

Phantom’s head snapped up. He looked to the gun, then to Valerie, and his aura faltered.

“Val?” Phantom said, the stars on his face dimming. “I...I don’t understand...why…?”

“You’re not Phantom.” Valerie’s voice was steady. “I don’t know who you are, but get out of him.”

“I don’t understand…” The colored flecks of light in Phantom’s eyes faded, leaving them back to their vibrant green. “I...just…I...” His aura fluctuated before turning back to its hauntingly white glow.

“...Valerie?” Phantom 's voice was cautious. He took stock of the gun once more before a hint of realization bled through his expression. He slowly raised his hands. “Wait! I know what this looks like, but I swear I wasn’t doing anything. Don’t—”

“Phantom! There’s a ghost inside you. It was possessing you! I need to take it out. I need to—”

“Wait, Val, stop! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I think it’s trying to lead us to a trap. This will only sting for a moment!”

“No! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Phantom glanced wildy around the room, his eyes locking onto the telescope once more.

Then, his aura flared, the aurora fought to return, his freckles sparkled like stars once more. A hint of childlike wonder hit his features and for a moment, he seemed lost in the fascination of the observatory.

It was the perfect opportunity to shoot.

But Valerie’s hands were shaking. They were unsteady, just like they were when she first started using the equipment. And in that split second of uncertainty, that moment of hesitation, Phantom gripped his hair and pulled himself out of his stupor.

“No!” he groaned. “Not now!”

“What the hell is going on?” Valerie shouted.

“Don’t shoot! Just—ugh, gimmie a sec…” He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “I just godda...I just need a second.”

To Valerie’s surprise, she waited. Maybe it was the growing respect she’d begun to feel for Phantom over the past year, maybe it was her fading hatred as she learned more about ghosts, maybe it wasn’t anything deep and it was just that Valerie was confused. In any case, she followed his pleas and watched as he pulled himself together, drawing his shimmering aura inward and allowing the familiar homogenous white aura to wash over him.

He gave a final sigh of relief. “Okay. Okay, I’m good now. You can lower the gun.”

“Tell me first.” Her voice allowed for no arguments. “Tell me what the hell just happened, and then maybe I’ll think about it.”

“It’s complicated.”

Valerie noticed how he seemed to be making a visible effort to ignore all the astronomy equipment around them. His eyes were trained to her and her only.

“Then enlighten me.”

“I…” He hesitated.

“I’m giving you five seconds before I blast you unconscious.”

He blinked, and then his expression shifted into the cocky, shit-eating grin Phantom that Valerie had come to know over these months, “As if you could hit me.”

“Don’t change the subject, Phantom. I’m serious.”

He sobered. “Right. Sorry. I...listen, it’s personal, okay? I’m telling you because I trust you, but you can’t tell anyone. If any of my enemies find out…”

“Tell me.”

“Okay.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What do you know of...of Obsessions?”

“Every ghost has one. It’s what controls their core, what gives them power. All ghosts are driven by their Obsession and if they manage to fulfill it or they’re somehow blocked from feeding into their Obsession for too long, they’ll cease to exist. Why? What does this have to do with anything?”

“I…” His face screwed up before he gave out a frustrated huff. “Oh, what the hell! I have two Obsessions.”

Valerie faltered, her gun lowering ever so slightly.

She didn’t know what she expected, but this?

“You what?”

Was this even possible? Better yet, how was it possible? Every ghost had an Obsession, but every ghost had one Obsession. It was impossible for a ghost to have two. It would be torment for the ghost, the two Obsessions constantly battling inside their core for dominance.

It would tear him apart from the inside out, wouldn’t it?

But Valerie watched as Phantom’s eyes strayed beside them to a small white telescope sitting off to the side of the room, and Valerie watched as his aura seemed to fluctuate again as the other side of him fought for control.

Once again, Phantom screwed his eyes shut and fought the aura down, allowing his natural white glow to pulsate over his form brighter than before.

“Can we take this outside?” he asked, his voice tight. “This room is...distracting.”

Valerie allowed her arm to drop, her gun hanging loosely at her side. “Sure.”

“Ok, I need to...I need to slip back into it to close the observatory walls. I can’t access those powers in this form. I’m not dangerous in that state, so please don’t shoot me.”

She nodded, momentarily forgetting that he couldn’t see her with his eyes shut. But he seemed to hear the unspoken words regardless. The blues, greens, and purples of his aura swirled around him, overtaking his aura in a brilliant display of light. The stars and planets returned to his face, and when he finally opened his eyes, it was as if Valerie could see the entire Milky Way within his corneas.

He raised his arms, his face relaxed, and allowed his aura to seep out to the walls. The room glowed, and Valerie watched with an open mouth as the incandescent colors of the northern lights guided the observatory walls closed. They cascaded through the walls before finally dimming, leaving Phantom as the only remaining source of light.

“Okay,” he said, the childlike bubble to his voice echoing around the room. “Let’s go!”

Before she could blink, Phantom grabbed her arm and spread his aura out around her. She let out a yelp of protest before she could feel a familiar chill overtake her skin.

Phantom was...he was turning her intangible.

“Ready?” He asked. His eyes seemed to glow brighter in the dark.

Valerie looked up at him, breathless.

He grinned and pulled her forward, shooting them both through the walls. They flew up for a moment before shooting back down towards a cluster of trees.

Valerie had flown on her hoverboard many times, but this was incredible. It was as if gravity didn’t exist. Her body was weightless, flowing across the air with a precision that she’d never felt before.

But as soon as it started, it stopped. The duo landed on the ground, and Phantom broke contact with her. Warmth immediately filled her veins. She glanced back towards the observatory, but the trees blocked her view.

That was probably intentional, if Phantom’s earlier display of cognitive dissonance had anything to do with it.

Valerie waited once more, watching as Phantom’s aura seemed to waver, before settling back into white. When it seemed like he was more or less back to normal, she finally spoke. “Okay, explain. What do you mean you have two Obsessions? How is that possible?”

“I don’t know.” Phantom’s gaze was downcast. “I mean, my, uh...death was rather, um, complicated. I think.”

She raised an eyebrow.

Ghosts never talked about their death. According to Maddie Fenton, it was a taboo. Bringing the topic up would only result in angering the ghost.

So for Phantom to bring his own death up like this…

This was uncharted waters for any human.

This was serious.

Phantom pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t explain it, but it didn’t go right. I don’t—I can’t…” He huffed, his eyes turning up to her with an almost desperate look. “You must have noticed that I’m just different, right?”

Valerie nodded slowly. “I have, but you’re still just a ghost.”

Phantom’s eyes widened before turning back to the ground. “Right. I...no, you’re right. I’m just a ghost. But I…”

Valerie watched as his eyebrows pinched, his mouth thinning as something inside of him fought to surface. She wanted to speak, wanted to ask what did he mean when he said he was different, but she didn’t.

She couldn’t.

She didn’t know what to say.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quiet. “When I died, it went wrong. And my core couldn’t decide on what it wanted to be, so something inside of it fractured. One part of it focused on the people in the room with me, the people that I was worried about. I wanted to make sure they were safe. My friends. I wanted to protect them.”

Valerie held her breath.

According to studies, most ghosts didn’t remember their prior life, or the people in it. Memory loss was just a part of the process of transforming from human to ghost.

And yet…

Phantom clearly did.

“The other part of my core went to the thing I was doing just moments before. I was...I wanted to explore. I always loved space and astronomy. I wanted to work for NASA and see other worlds and...other dimensions. I know it sounds crazy, but it was just who I was. Who I still am.”

He looked up at her, and Valerie saw remnants of stars speckle in his eyes. “So my core settled on two modes. And depending on where I am or what I’m doing, it switches between them. My powers shift too. When I’m normal, I can project ectoblasts and control ice. But when I go into my space mode, I can’t do any of that. But I can control astronomy equipment, as you saw, and I can locate any star or planet in the sky.”

“So that’s how you knew where to move the telescope?”

“Yeah.” He held out his hand, and a little ice Saturn formed in his palm. “I don’t know how I know where things are, but I just know. But it only happens when I let that part of my core take control of my body.”

“I see.” Valerie breathed out. “I get it. I get why you don’t want anyone to know. That’s kind of terrifying, knowing that you have a half of you that’s so defenseless.”

“Right…” Phantom set the planet down on the grass. “If word got out...if the government found out…”

Realization hit Valerie like a truck. “They could set up a trap, couldn’t they? Lure you into a place like this and take you out. It would be too easy.”

“Exactly,” Phantom said bitterly. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. I swear.”

Phantom nodded, relief evident on his features. “Thank you, Valerie.”

Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward. And then again, approaching him slowly as if she were afraid he would disappear.

But he didn’t move. He didn’t flinch.

He trusted her. Even after everything, he trusted her with one of his most vulnerable secrets.

She closed the gap between them, resting a hand on his shoulder and looking him square in the face. “I mean it, Phantom. I won’t tell anyone. Well, so long as you promise me one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Bring me back here sometime, alright?” She shot him a grin. “This place is pretty cool, and if I have some sort of space wizard with me, I bet we could find a lot of sweet stuff, yeah?”

His aura brightened, and the smile was evident on his face. “Sure thing, Val!”

---

Thanks for reading!

#danny phantom #holiday truce 2020 #xmas truce 2020 #fanfiction #valerie #my writing #phiccs #aurora

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dragonotaku-justineverything · 4 years

Note

How do folk react to see Arslan sitting on jaune's face

When a group of people arrived at Beacon’s training gym and opened the door, the sight that they saw was definitely not expected by anyone.

Teams RWBY, CVFY, CRDL, SSSN, the remaining members of teams JNPR and ABRN, and Glynda Goodwitch all stared in disbelief at the only two people currently in the gym.

Over on the padded floor section of the gym that was use for hand-to-hand sparring (which also just so happened to be the section right in front of the door the group had used), Arslan was currently sitting on Jaune’s face. Her black workout spats were on the mat next to them, along with Jaune’s white workout shirt. Her black underwear was still around her right ankle. The only thing she was still actually wearing was her black, workout tank top.

Arslan was sitting so that she was facing towards Jaune’s head. She had her knees and calves on the floor with her legs spread apart slightly to have her pussy pressed firmly down on Jaune’s mouth. That didn’t keep Jaune from reaching behind her and gabbing her ass to press himself deeper into her crotch. His hands and fingers sank into Arslan’s smooth, flawless, ass. Jaune’s hands were repeatedly squeezing into the martial artist’s firm, milk chocolaty skin.

Jaune wasn’t the only one getting a handful either. Arslan’s slender fingers had been running through Jaune’s hair, getting tangled in the blond strands. Whenever Jaune hit a sweet spot with his strong tongue, Arslan would audibly gasp accompanied by her clenching her hands and grabbing fistfuls of Jaune’s golden locks.

With her new found handles in Jaune’s hair, Arslan would pull Jaune’s head up into her, smothering him even more with her pussy. Jaune knew that when Arslan got forceful like this, it was because she was feeling reeeeally good, so he knew he was doing really well and took it as an incentive to keep going. He was just thankful his nose was still uncovered so he could still breath freely.

Arslan for her part was in bliss. Jaune was so fucking amazing at eating her out. He’d gotten to know her weaknesses by heart and had no qualms about exploiting them.

When he pushed his tongue deep into her, only to pull it right back out a second later? She sighed in annoyance and need.

When his teeth grazed lightly over her lower lips? She’d get so lost in the pleasure that she’d forget to breathe for a second.

When he squeezed her toned ass cheeks as hard as he wanted? She didn’t even try to stifle the moan she’d let out.

Overall, Jaune’s actions were making her feel wonderful~. Arslan had closed her eyes quite some time ago and had simply drifted away from the world into the ecstasy Jaune was making her feel. Ever movement he made against her pussy or ass sent shock waves of pleasure all the way up her spine, making her shudder every now and then.

Sadly for Arslan, all good things must come to an end, and Arslan felt her end quickly building up to her tipping point. So she let out a breathy sigh and opened her eyes so she could look down at Jaune while she came on his face.

A side effect of that last part was that she also came into DIRECT EYE CONTACT with the several members of the crowd watching their little romp.

Said members of crowd all had a range of different reactions, though they were all various degrees of stunned silent. Ruby, Weiss, and Velvet were all a blushing mess; Blake, Nora, and Coco had smug smirks; Yang’s jaw hung open limply and she stared unblinkingly at them; Fox showed no reaction on the account that he couldn’t see what was happening right in front of him; Ren and Yatsuhashi were apparently as calm as ever, though both a bit wide eyed and Yatsu’s cheeks were a little pink; Pyrrha’s face blended in with her hair while she was slacked jawed. Team CRDL were all feeling quite jealous of Jaune’s current position; Team SSSN’s reactions were open mouthed stunned from Sun with his hands on his head, stoic wide eyes from Sage, looking at Arslan jealously from Scarlet , and 100% shocked stupid from Neptune; The rest Team ABRN stared at their usually refined, if not serious, leader engaging in such an act.

And Ms. Goodwitch? She looked like a melting pot of shocked, curious, slightly impressed, and disgusted.

Upon seeing all these people watching them, Arslan quickly snapped out of blissful haze. As her dark complexion actually turn noticeably red, she looked down to Jaune and told him to quit it. “J-Jaaaa-JaaaaUUUUuuuunnnn-mmmmmmm!” ‘Oh no...’ However, just because her mind was free from Jaune’s pleasurable haze, didn’t mean her body wasn’t still feeling every spec of pleasure Jaune had been giving her.

And since she couldn’t open her mouth without moans taking priority over every word she tried to say, she couldn’t tell Jaune to stop. Since she couldn’t tell Jaune to stop, Arslan had the idea to try and just get off of him.

That turned out just as successful as trying to talk. Her squirming and shifty showed Arslan two things. One, her legs were a tad too shaky to move coherently, and two, Jaune hands on her ass weren’t going to let go of the soft, chocolate mounds in their grasp any time soon.

Jaune however had taken Arslan’s squirming as a sign that she was getting close to cumming. While he was technically correct in his assumption, Arslan had been on the brink just before she’d seen their small audience, his increased efforts were not what the girl on top of him was hoping for.

In and out his tongue pushed, much faster than before. While Arslan would normally (and still did) love this, but the situation was not ideal. Her opinions on their setting didn’t seem to matter at all though as Jaune’s licking, nibbling, thrusting, and squeezing finally pushed her too far.

Arslan cried out in guilty bliss as she came in front of her team, Jaune’s team, and a dozen others.

“AaaaaaaaahhhhhHHHHHH! FUUUCK!” Arslan shut her eyes to try and ignore the dozen or so pairs of others that were watching her as she came into her boyfriend’s hungry mouth and onto his face. She didn’t open them the entire full minute that she was cumming, giving Jaune the prize that he’d been working for. She only kept groaning and squeezing Jaune’s head with her thighs.

When she was finished, she loosed her thighs on Jaune’s head and fell to the side, panting as she laid down.

Jaune himself had a proud, happy smile while he licked his lips. She tasted just as sweet as usual and he loved it just as much as usual. When his lips were clean(ish), he started to sit up. “Wow Arslan, you were really getting into it today. Is it safe to say that Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-” Jaune’s train of thought derailed and burst into fire as his eyes landed on the people all staring at him, their eyes unblinking and jaws trying to dent the floor. “Uuuuuuuuuuh-”

Thankfully neither Jaune nor Arslan had to think up a reason or an excuse for their actions. Jaune because he seemed a broken at the moment and Arslan because she seemed to be unable to speak at all for the time being.

So instead, Ms. Goodwitch lifted them up into the air with their discarded clothes using her semblance. She then started wrapping them both up with their clothes using several large towels from the gym’s supply, leaving only their heads uncovered in the end. When they were all covered up, Ms. Goodwitch screamed, “DETENTION! THREE WEEKS!” with bright pink cheeks, giving no consideration for the hearing of those in the group around her.

She spun around curtly and marched off, the two deviants floating in the air behind her in their towel cocoons.

When Jaune’s brain could finally start functioning again and he saw the predicament he was in, he had only one thought run though his mind.

‘......Well...... at least my last meal was amazing...’

Yes I did use this, what could have been a relatively simple ask, to make pride arc/golden lion smutty goodness.

... ... ...

And I do not regret it nor am I ashamed to admit to it.

#rwby #jaune arc #arslan altan #jaune x arslan #pride arc #golden lion #ask #non sfw #soulreaver656

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vmheadquarters · 4 years

Text

We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected!

Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. --Chapter Thirty-One of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @nicemom93. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.32 from @mysilverylining - tag, you’re it!

_____________________________________________________________

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE by @nicemom93

Cat-rimmed eyes peered out through the slats of a shelf at the end of the closet. That was what had first caught his attention. Now, Logan stared at his own face looking back at him from beside those eyes. Eyes that looked like Carrie's, but were not.

"Oh, man. I thought the crazy-ass murderer wall was insane."

Veronica pushed past Ruby's glittering dresses and reached behind the shelf.

"Where in the hell did she get this?"

The eyes moved back and forth, then vanished briefly, before appearing again, hiding Veronica from his gaze as she pushed whatever it was out to him.

"Take this."

"What is it?" He reached toward her and realized she was handing him a life-sized cardboard cut-out of Ruby, dressed up in her Bonnie DeVille hair and make-up, wearing a short black dress. "Oh, you have to be kidding me."

"I wish I was."

He took cardboard Ruby from her, and she immediately reached behind the shelf again, pulling a second cardboard shape into the open. "And if things weren't already bad enough..."

She balanced the second cut-out beside her, holding it upright with an arm around the waist as she looked up at the cut-out version of Logan, conservatively dressed in slacks and a cream button-up, and shook her head. "I shudder to think what cardboard you and cardboard Ruby have been doing in the last year."

"Oh fuck, no." Logan backed out of the closet with Ruby's image, and Veronica followed with fake him under her arm. Back in the larger bedroom space, she leaned Logan's image against the wall and took Ruby from him, tucking them together before stepping away to admire her handiwork.

"You're a matched set," she said with a grin, and he saw with dismay that she was right. His cardboard doppelganger's hand rested near his hip, and a narrow strip had been cut in the space between his arm and body where Ruby's hand tucked in, notching the shapes together.

"You know what this is from, don't you?" Veronica asked, and Logan nodded.

"It's the date you brokered for me to keep yourself out of jail," he replied. "Where did she get these?"

"I'm guessing Etsy," Veronica said. "You can get pretty much anything you want on the internet."

"You can have life-sized pictures of people made without their permission?"

"You were in the picture together. The poor sucker who created this probably just thought you were a couple."

"Nonononono." He hunched his shoulders up and out, trying to shrug away the idea of he and Ruby as a couple, glaring balefully as Veronica laughed. "I'm glad you're enjoying my pain."

"Oh, quit whining." She stepped back to the cardboard pair, pulling them apart, then began to run her hands over the cut edges of Ruby's figure, from the top of her head, down to the floor. "Why am I not surprised that the Balboa Sheriff's Department's work is getting shoddier and shoddier. If they'd found these little gems, they probably would have hauled you in already as a person of interest in Ruby's death."

"And they actually got to turn the lights on," he answered. "But, ya know, this little reveal probably would have looked worse on you. Like maybe you needed to get rid of your competition."

Veronica turned back toward him, now frowning. "Oh. That's actually plausible."

"Uh-huh."

"Should we take them with us? Or at least yours?" She side-stepped to the Logan cut-out and began her process again, running her hands down the cut edges from his head to the widened base at the floor.

"If we take it, we're gonna light it on fire, right?" Logan responded, but Veronica's answering laugh was suddenly silenced.

"Oh, wow, I think I found something." She knelt on the floor, leaning down to peer closely at the area around cardboard Logan's calf level. She nodded and looked up with a grin. "Yup. Apparently, you were more than just eye candy to Ruby."

"Well, that's certainly a relief," Logan said, and she nodded, then focused on the cut-out again.

"The cardboard is corrugated, so there are little tunnels of space between the front layer and the back. This one—“ Her face twisted in concentration as she dug her finger between the layers. "—has a little something extra hiding in your leg." Her fingers pinched together, and, with a triumphant smile, she pulled out a key.

"That's probably why she hid us in the closet," Logan theorized.

"Yeah, that makes sense. I wondered why you weren't standing guard over her as she slept."

"I know, right?"

Veronica chuckled, then looked down at the key in her hand. "Now, what do you open, little key?" She glanced up at Logan. "It looks to me like some kind of private storage. A little safe, maybe? I think it would be hidden too, or else someone could just walk off with it."

"If it was here and wasn't hidden, I would think the cops would take it in," Logan suggested, and Veronica nodded.

"Yes, that should be true, with a competent department. With this group, they would still probably take it to see if there was anything in it they wanted." She turned the key in her hand. "There’s a number on it, so if we figure out where to look, we’ll be able to match it up. N3754G."

“Hang on, let me see that.”

Veronica held out her hand, and Logan shined the light on her palm with the small key. The quick look was all he needed.

"That's from the Neptune Grand. They have private storage boxes on the first floor...at least they did when we lived there. Even if you're not living there, they'll let you rent the box. That gets a little pricey though. I guess they figure that anyone who doesn't want to rent a safe deposit box at a bank, or get their own safe, probably has something pretty questionable to hide and is willing to pay to do that."

"Huh." Veronica closed her fist on the key and shoved it into her front jeans pocket. "So, if I show up with the key, will they just let me open the box?"

"You need to know the name the box is rented under, and you need to be that person, or on their list of approved alternates." Logan raised an eyebrow. "Now, I'm not the detective here, but my guess is—" He pointed the phone at the cut-out of Ruby. "—the box was rented by Ruby Jetson—" He moved the light over to his own image. "—and the guy she trusted with the key is an approved alternate."

Veronica nodded and stretched up to give him a quick kiss. "I think that's some pretty good detecting, Lieutenant."

He leaned down for a longer kiss. "Thanks. Now can we put these back where we found them and get out of here? I'd rather not be trying to sneak out of here after the sun's up. We can head straight for the Neptune Grand and see what Ruby's left for me. There always used to be 24/7 access to the boxes, at least as a resident. I guess it could have been different for non-residents, but I'm not sure why it would be."

Veronica stepped back and grabbed her own phone out of her back pocket. "Why don't you put them back while I make one more loop through the room...make sure we didn't miss anything. Then we can head over to the Grand." She grinned at him. "Do you think the restaurant still makes those three meat breakfast skillets like they used to?"

Logan nodded and grabbed his cut-out, heading back to the closet. "I wouldn't be surprised. They serve twenty-four hours; are we eating before we use the key, or after?"

"Oh, before, definitely. I don't want a big break in the case to keep me from my breakfast."

"Yeah. We must have our priorities."

***

The skillet had four meats now, so Veronica was feeling good as she and Logan approached the front desk of the Grand.

"She came to me with the novel...are you sure that you're her key alternate and not me?" she asked again.

Logan shrugged one shoulder. "This isn't the CIA, Veronica. We can probably just tell them that Ruby Jetson left us the key, and Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars are here to collect the contents of her box. As long as one of us is listed, I'm pretty sure this will work out fine."

"I hope you're right."

At 5:49 AM, there was no one at the front desk, but Logan gave the reception bell a quick 'ding', and Veronica leaned her crossed arms against the counter to wait. Logan squared up behind her, hands on her hips.

"This makes me think of the old days," he murmured in her ear. "You're here to bully something out of the clerk, and I'm here to watch admiringly."

"You're here to back me up," she responded. "It's what you do."

"It is," he agreed, kissing the top of her head. He reached to strike the bell again when a voice from behind them stopped him.

"Oh geez, I knew the two of you were going to show up. Why did it have to be on my shift?"

Veronica spun toward the voice, pushing Logan away as he stepped to cover her.

"Logan, stop, it's fine." She stepped around him to face off with the newcomer. "Ratner."

"Mars."

"Still working at the local hotel, I see."

"Still managing the finest hotel in Neptune, you mean."

"Potato..." She paused, then gave her long-ago nemesis a wry smile. "You've been expecting us? Why?"

He shook his head at her. "Uh-uh, you tell me."

She dug into her front pocket and held up the key. "I believe we're on the list."

"Whose list?" Ratner queried, and Veronica laughed.

"You look like a hotel manager, but you question like someone with a criminology degree. What are you still doing here, Ratner?"

He shrugged. "It's unusual for someone to work outside the scope of their degree? The Grand was more lucrative. In the end, it made more sense to stay here. Especially once that one—" He jerked his head at Logan. "—and his brain-dead buddy cleared out of here. I live in the '09 now, Mars. So, stop questioning my life choices and tell me what you want."

"You know what we want, Ratner. The private box of Ruby Jetson, AKA Della Pugh." She shook the key at him. "I believe this should get us beyond your velvet rope."

"Do you know the secret password?"

Veronica glanced over her shoulder to give Logan the evil eye—you never mentioned a password—then back to Ratner again when he laughed.

"Relax, Mars, I'm just giving you a hard time. You got all the pieces. No secret password." He walked past them, moving behind the counter. Veronica followed, watching as he dug around in a deep drawer, coming up with a set of keys. "All right, let's go."

Veronica turned to follow him as Ratner headed toward the bank of elevators. She caught Logan's hand as she moved past him, and they exchanged hopeful looks. This may be the break we've been looking for.

"So, Ratner. Why were you expecting us?" Veronica asked as he unlocked a door beside the first elevator and led them inside.

"I'm the manager, remember, Mars? I know every customer we have in our privacy boxes, and when they have an alternate I'm familiar with, I know that too. When I saw the news about Della's death, I assumed you'd be along directly."

"I'm a little surprised that the untimely demise of a customer doesn't make you lock the box down," Veronica said. "What if whoever killed her comes looking?"

"If whoever killed her has the key and was previously designated, they're gonna get the box. That's just the way the system is set up. I mean, there's probably a lot of these boxes here solely because the client was worried about getting murdered. You know the type. 'In the event of my untimely demise...' But really, it's no big deal to us. We just have to hope the client made a good choice and didn't pick the person who was out to get them." He stopped at another door and paused, tossing a skeptical look over his shoulder at them before unlocking that door. "I will say, I've never been too sure about Della's decision-making, and when I saw she'd chosen the two of you..." He huffed a short laugh. "This choice was no exception."

"You have to know we didn't kill her," Logan said indignantly, and Ratner raised an eyebrow, but overall, his body language didn't seem to show any real stress, so Veronica was pretty sure he was just tormenting Logan. And it's working. "How well did you even know her anyway?" Logan continued, and Ratner stopped with the door only partially ajar, his face now scornful.

"Oh, now you're some kind of white knight?" Ratner asked, shaking his head. Logan bristled and took a step forward, but Veronica reached for his wrist, and he fell back again. Ratner shook his head as he watched the exchange, then rolled his eyes. "If you must know, we frequented some of the same establishments," he said, then pushed the door fully open and waved them inside. "She told me she had something big happening and needed a place to stash some evidence. I offered her one of our boxes."

"Karaoke much, Jeff?" Veronica asked with a smirk as she moved into the room, fingers still tight around Logan's wrist. The room was empty, except for a high table in the center, and another door at the opposite end. She turned to face Ratner again and noticed that his cheeks had colored slightly.

"My private time is my own, Mars," he said, closing them in and moving across to the other door. "You two wait in here, I'll bring out the box and give you your privacy."

As soon as he disappeared, Logan turned to look at her. "Does that mean you think that Ruby and Ratner..." His eyebrows bobbed suggestively, and Veronica wrinkled her nose.

"I'd rather not think about that."

"I dunno. From personal experience, boyfriends are a natural suspect."

"True, but from everything Clemmons and my mom had to say, it seems like we've got plenty of other people willing to whack Ruby without us dragging Ratner into it."

The man in question returned to the anteroom and placed a rectangular metal box on the table. It was around the length of his arm, about half as wide, and around six inches deep. "All right, I'll leave the two of you to do your business. Take the contents, or leave it, it's up to you. If you're leaving it, just lock the box up when you're done, and I'll put it away again in case one of her other designees comes in later. If you take everything, you can leave the key also. There's no reason for you to keep it if you don't leave anything in the box."

"Other designees? Does that mean there are other keys out there?" Veronica wondered who else Ruby might have trusted with her secrets.

"No, only one key, but some clients designate multiple people. Then, whoever on the list ends up with the key can come in and be entitled to look."

"Who were Ruby's other designees?" Logan asked.

"That's confidential information," Ratner said. "Unless she left a list in the box. That happens sometimes."

"That could be interesting," Veronica mused. "Set it up so one of your friends finds the key, gets directed here, and then part of what you leave for them is instructions on how to set up the next person. A post-mortem scavenger hunt. That sounds fun."

"Oh, God, no," Logan groaned, and Ratner laughed.

"Only you would think scavenging after death would be fun, Mars. Give Admiral Moneybags here a break and just leave a will like a normal person."

"Boring," Veronica singsonged, then made a shooing motion. "Go on, Ratner, get out. We've got some post-mortem scavenging to do."

Ratner scoffed and moved to the door. "Happy hunting," he said and slipped out of the room.

"Okay, now, let's see what Ruby left us." Veronica pulled the key back out of her pocket and inserted it in the lock.

"Please tell me you're not going to do anything like that," Logan said. "Send us off on some crazed hunt after-death."

"Nah," she answered as she turned the key. "You guys won't appreciate it enough to make my effort worthwhile." She tried to raise the lid, but it stuck, and she pushed the box toward Logan to let him fight with it. "You know, really, you guys should all be doing that for me. I'm the only one who would enjoy it."

"I'll take that under advisement," Logan said, as he found the extra latch on the back of the box and released it, then pushed the box back toward Veronica. "Okay, you ready for the results of Ruby's scavenger hunt? Hopefully, this gives us what we need to figure this out."

"Cross your fingers," Veronica answered, and she opened the box

#veronica mars #veronica mars fanfic #vm fanfic #vmhq presents #murder we wrote #round robin

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libidomechanica · 3 years

Text

In bed

That this never joy illumd my Loue should run in all his person [ ] appears; barzillai thou over and to my lay, listening his Overthrowe.

They kiss against the World. To seek, but scorne: he had (for who cons sweet said unto the sun declining aside,) keep watching

behind. You, Bob, are maid in that burnt was. Its a shout into the shed myself out to eat off-hand

as a bittour bumps with he skill and you this thereof evening him by its prince, that thou dost sit, and here all were hard? Ill learn thyself I

see another give, chance almost addressed, but you mayst the glass shower away, therefore in they do not combat, but my eyes you wilt, thou art beauty had

as chief of the day becomes not my numbers breath forth at his toil, the rich made him leye. Side bowing the wood, alders green world

at home thereby commit a pleasant art thought, of ever tongue as the markd distress hair rising more contemplation, than Dead, nor curse the Neptune,

and great planet, moving vision fleeting, at Gath and he that erst perfumed with the Master in that beauty had as could

you had the king only a curl that eternity, and swirled just a little friend, the day without of temperate

sweetest Silvia, wed and showed the vines who have kept, like to another give me. Perhaps youll begin now what is the

bottom, a little times. Swarm as an arbour smile could tell youve done will give me, and the same could not so bland the only give for

her Feet. Gave them lovers parley from those than all the least is the fear; a shuddering loom, the imperial palace

of all look upon you come at each other to their Jewish Markets of the chameleons, spits forever love to the least

Complains his secret heart shall be myrtle was asked among the van of a leaf indeed more; be my Nell! Bob Southern star.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #182 texts

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imagine-loki · 4 years

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Atlas: Space, Neptune

TITLE: Atlas: Space

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 10/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album.

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for, but my brain insisted on doing.

This series will be less like a multichapter fic and more of a one-shot compendium, but that they all interconnect in one way or another. It will revolve around Loki and Becca’s relationship (Taking Turns, Glow, Helmet Heists–don’t worry, more Loki-Charlie stuff will be along) and I will use those one-shots as reference to the timeline. Each chapter will be one song, used as inspiration for the story.

Chapter 10: Neptune

Summary: Loki and Becca have decided to discuss the last decade of their lives without each other. Loki finds that his absence has done much more harm than he intended, but he vows to make amends. (Immediately after Glow.)

Warnings include: Language, mentions of suicide, disease, cancer, implied smut, angst but ends well?

Pitch black, pale blue It was a stained glass Variation of the truth And I felt empty handed

They were meant to be taking turns, telling each other what had happened in that stretch of years since they had last met. He truly wanted to tell Rebecca of every detail she had missed due to his self-imposed exile, but the second the coffee, eggs, and toast hit the table, they both felt eerily silent. Loki stared at the black liquid swirling in his mug, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Despite the growing discomfort, his eyes inevitably pulled to her. Even after all this time, the very sight of her, as different as it was now, made his heart stutter. It immediately morphed into a constricting pain in his chest, forcing him to clear his throat awkwardly.

You let me set sail With cheap wood So I patched up Every leak that I could ’til the blame grew too heavy

Could he tell her the truth?

Sure, she deserved it. More than anything–the jewels and vast empires he wanted to gift her–she deserved the truth. Could he tell her that he had run just because he was afraid? What kind of monster would that make him? Especially now that he knew how much she had hurt in his absence. It felt like such an empty excuse now–perhaps it always was. Through the dip in her v-neck long-sleeve shirt, he could spy a glossy scar, perfectly round, beneath her collarbone. He felt a momentary compulsion to brush his fingers against the shiny skin, but he closed his hands around his mug.

Stitch by stitch, I tear apart If brokenness is a form of art I must be a poster child prodigy Thread by thread, I come apart If brokenness is a work of art Surely this must be my masterpiece

“Stop looking at me like that, for fuck’s sake,” she breathed out, teeth grit painfully tight. Loki blinked forcefully, and he almost asked what she meant before she interrupted. “Like you’re wondering whether or not I’m broken. I think you know I am.”

“No! I–” He stopped when she gave him a withering look for lying. “I’m sorry. It’s taking longer than I thought to reconcile seeing you…so different. It–”

Her face hardened, an expression that he was so unfamiliar with that it startled him. His own softened in response. “I did what I could with what I had. With who I had because I did not have the luxury to go off on some stupid space adventure–”

“I’m sorry. I will beg you on my knees until my dying breath for you to forgive me, but I can’t change any of that, Becca.” He growled at himself, taking a deep breath and staring upwards to get the prickling tears in his eyes under control. “Please, just eat your breakfast.”

“I’m not very hungry,” she replied, pushing her plate away.

“Rebecca,” he warned gently and she scoffed.

“You don’t get to do that, Loki.” She curled up in her seat, drawing her knees to her chest, protecting herself. “Coming back doesn’t give you an automatic pass. It doesn’t put us right back to where we left off.” Outside, the weather had taken its cues from her mood, and the window darkened with storm clouds.

I’m only honest when it rains If I time it right, the thunder breaks When I open my mouth I want to tell you, but I don’t know how

“I know. I am sorry. I am trying. I swear to you I am trying to figure out how to tell you that I am a shit individual and that I wish I could take back every single second that I wasn’t here. This wasn’t what I wanted for you. This was never–”

The tears finally won over, coming down his cheeks, unhindered, as he silently willed her to take a bite of toast, of eggs, anything. He clenched his eyes shut, head hanging low. His eyes had spied more shiny bits of skin, but these made his blood run cold.

“What are those scars?”

The way he asked the question left out any doubt of him knowing exactly what they were. He didn’t even need to watch her to know she had shifted her arms inwards.

I’m only honest when it rains An open book with a torn out page And my ink’s run out I want to love you, but I don’t know how

I don’t know how No, I don’t know how I don’t know how I want to love you, but I don’t know how

I want to love you…

“Desperation,” she answered after a long, long silence. “I didn’t have a Bifrost handy.”

She offered him a tight-lipped smile when his eyes shot up. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know, but the confirmation hurt all the same. He had been honest with her about his inner turmoil after he discovered he was adopted. It wasn’t a secret that he had let go of his adoptive father’s spear without a second thought. Becca had been so angry to learn that he felt like there was nothing else to do but fall into the abyss. He now understood that rage.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Becca snorted. “It’s kind of a one-person job, Lo.”

“That’s not funny!” He roared, landing his fist on the table hard enough to make the flatware rattle.

“You’re right. You’re right. It would’ve been a joke if I had said I needed a better supervisor to finish the job,” she riposted, deadpan.

His hand clenched around his coffee mug, almost debating if it was worth it to throw it against the wall so that it would relieve some of his tension, but deciding against it. He hurriedly swallowed a sip that scalded all the way to his stomach.

“I don’t know why you’re upset. You wanted to know what happened. That’s what happened. I worked, alone. I mourned your death. I got sick. I got carved up like a roast. I was sick while still being sick. I didn’t want to do it, anymore. I did something about it. I failed. Now you’re here. And I am glad, but loving you doesn’t make anything else any less real and it doesn’t make me any less angry.”

Her words felt like a weight upon his chest, threatening to crack it open.

“How can you still love me?” Loki’s voice was small and shaky.

That was the real question, wasn’t it? How could she even harbor indifference for him after his abandonment. He didn’t deserve her light, her kindness, her well-placed rage.

“I don’t know.”

Pitch black, pale blue These wild oceans Shake what’s left of me loose Just to hear me cry mercy

A strong wind at my back So I lift up the only sail that I have This tired white flag

The dam broke. A sob wrenched her chest and she lowered her head to her hands, fingers pulling at the short tresses in what had to be a painful way. “I don’t know,” she repeated. “None of this makes sense, but we never made sense, did we?”

Loki finally moved out of his seat, taking a knee in front of her and tracing shapes on her knees over her plaid pajama bottoms. “That’s not quite true, is it? You and I always clicked rather well, despite how much of a bad idea that was.”

“There’s not much left of me, nowadays, to click to anything.”

“I’ll give you every piece you need to be whole, again,” he assured. “Every molecule of me is already on borrowed time and I will give every instant to you if it’ll make you smile–”

Becca covered his mouth with her hand, which she dropped once he nodded in agreement of his silence. “I can’t live with promises, anymore. Don’t promise me a thing–”

“But–”

“Loki. A promise is worth nothing if you don’t follow through.”

“I swore to you that I would stay until you demand I leave.” He swallowed thickly and breathed deep. “I know I said that before, but I was an idiot, too scared to lose you, too scared of his own demons to love you as you deserved.” He settled back on his haunches, giving her space to breathe. “I am here for you, body, heart and soul. I surrender to you and only you. This is the only place I want to be, Becca.”

With a sniffle, she joined him on the floor, slipping into his arms to hug his middle. She shuddered at the familiarity of his touch, slightly cool, and smelling like pine and cinnamon.

Loki tentatively lowered his lips to hers, tasting the few sips of bitter coffee on her tongue. His body knew how to navigate far before his mind had even caught up to what was occurring. He sought to comfort her frantic nerves, hanging by the barest threads, soothe her mind and ease her burden. Lips trailed down her jaw until they reached her neck, where they settled against her pulse and nipped. When his fingers itched at the hem of her shirt, she stopped him with a hand around his wrist.

“I apologize. I moved too fast,” he panted, moving a fraction back to look at her face. A flash of lightning illuminated her face in an eerie glow.

I don’t know how, know how, know how I want to love you, but I don’t know how

I want to love you…

A dark shadow crossed her expression. “No, it’s not that.” He prompted her to continue with a nod. “I’m not the same.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head as a deterrent. “It’s not the weight, it's…”

He frowned, catching the hem of her shirt. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking for permission. Becca simply looked away, clenching her eyes shut. Loki slowly hitched her t-shirt up, ignoring the sight of her ribs, sticking out awkwardly, knowing he could remedy that easily enough, and soared past until reaching two large scars on her chest just below her now mutilated breasts.

“Who did this to you?”

Becca clenched her eyes tighter. This was clearly one of those things she did not want to talk about, but he wanted–needed–to know. “I got sick again,” she repeated for what she felt was the millionth time that day. “They had to…”

“Cancer?” He asked, breathlessly, his fingers tracing over her scars with a featherlight touch. He was familiar with the Midgardian disease, though he had not met anyone to suffer it, firsthand. She nodded her assent, jerkily. “Again? What do you mean, again?” Holding her breath, she leaned back, pulling her bottoms down just enough to show him the scar between her hips. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when–”

“You were dead,” she said as way of excuse.

“I still heard your pain,” he admitted, swathing her skin with his hands. She only looked half surprised. “I was meant for Valhalla and through the darkness I heard you, and all I wanted was to reach you.” He pressed his forehead against hers.

“You did.”

“Much too late, dove.” He cursed under his breath, for what felt like the millionth time. “I should have stayed. I could have helped, anything.” When he couldn’t bare the what ifs any longer, he kissed her again, pulling her body into his. “I intend to make amends,” he husked, attacking her neck with renewed fervor, forcing a groan from Becca’s mouth. Her brief hesitation was short-lived as she wrapped her legs around his waist and he lowered them both to the floor.

“Thank you,” she murmured as the lay naked and panting on the floor some time later. “For not freaking out.”

“Why would I? I get to discover every inch of you all over again,” he replied, smiling contentedly, fingers idly brushing the scar over her womb in a way that made her shiver.

“Same.” She tapped a scar over his chest with her index. “What happened there?”

“That’s a long story,” he sighed, resting his head on her chest to listen to the steady thumping of her heart.

“We have time.”

“That we do.” He smiled, realized the implication of the phrase. He was to stay. “Well, it started with my oaf of a brother…”

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Others #Submitted fic #submission #Fanfictrashdump #chapter 10 #atlas space #neptune

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neptunehenriksen · 2 years

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3/60 Watching Every Non-US Shudder Original Film (Not Sponsored)

Film: Satan’s Slaves (Pengabdi Setan) (2017)

Country Of Origin: Indonesia

Language: Indonesian

Runtime: 110 minutes

Shudder Synopsis: When a famous singer dies from a mysterious illness, her family feels her presence linger, and a horrifying saga begins.

Director: Joko Anwar

Writer: Joko Anwar

Cast: Tara Basro, Bront Palarae, Dimas Aditya, Endy Arfian, Nasar Anuz.

Pre-Thots: I knew nothing (as I prefer), and from the title and poster image, I was expecting occult/supernatural/religious themes.

Post-Thots: I got what I expected, which means the title and poster sell the film well. This is my first Indonesian horror film, and I think my first piece of Indonesian media at all (which is a little shameful considering Indonesia is so close to Australia, and you’d hope we’d more Indonesian media, but I digress). But due to this newness, I think some of themes flew over my head, especially in terms of cultural, humour, and religious elements.

Posi-Thots: The film has a specific feel, colour palette, and visual language. It’s something very particular, which I found refreshing from a filmmaking POV and unsettling as the viewer. The scares were well executed, very bump-in-the-night type of spooks. There were also a lot of tactile and physical elements, the house, vinyl records, sheets, candles, kerosene lamps, no mobile phones. Creating a sort of modern-gothic feel, something just out of modernity, but very familiar. Also! Ooooh, I loved this! There was a great motif of a ringing bell, which was all hair-raising scary to me. Fantastic motif.

Techni-Thots: The make-up and prosthetics were really well done, and all practical, which I notice a lot of horror fans really prefer, me too. It added this great grit to the film, which added to it’s tactile, grounded feel. As mentioned, this film has a specific visual language. There’s what appears to be a few zooms, rather than pans or dollys, which added something very particular, as I don’t see zooms a lot in film.

Harsh-Thots: There was something odd and noticeable going on with lead actor’s (Tara Basro) hair. I don’t know if it was extensions that weren’t covered well, or an odd haircut, but I found it distracting.

BONUS! Shudder-Thots: There’s some dialogue-heavy parts, in which the subtitles move too fast, and without a keystroke command to rewind and/or pause on Shudder, it was a fiddley task to actually get all the information in those scenes. I put the blame on Shudder, their player should be controllable through keystrokes on PC.

Personal Sub-Genres: Gothic Horror, Haunted House, Occult

Rating: 4/5

Who Might Enjoy It: Fans of gothic horror, and those who prefer little to no gore. Also, those who enjoy foreign language films. Perhaps one to watch with non-horror fans.

Who Might Not Like It: Those who don’t like gothic horror, or not open to family horror, occult themes, and haunted house stories. Those not open to foreign language films (though there is an English dub version on Shudder).

#satans slaves 2017 #satan's slaves 2017 #indonesian film #horror movie #film review #shudder #foreign film #gothic horror #haunted house #neptune watches shudder

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itsakpopalypse · 5 years

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Baron/ Choi Chunghyeop Astrology Ask: How He Loves

“Girl you are killing me with those vav astrology posts!! They're sound so accurate! Please do one for Lou and one for Baron? If you're not too busy and I'm not asking too much? Thank you ❤️ “ - @themoopoint

A/N Hi! thank you for waiting, and I am glad you liked Lou’s. Here is Baron for your enjoyment !! 💕💕😊😊😊😊

this pout omg

Okay!!!

so we see right from the start he has a pretty even split between 3 elements, but only one air sign

that kind of means he is less likely to be wishy washy or too in his own world

will likely be pretty grounded, and that sets the tone for the rest

He leans heavily into cardinal signs, and his big 3 signs to the best of our knowledge, are pretty “dominating” or strong willed signs

we show a Rising Leo, Sun Aries, and Moon Scorpio.

Rising Leo indicates a willingness to be outgoing, eye catching, and interesting

probably really charismatic and funny, could charm the pants off anyone

Aries suns are driven and high spirited, good at conversation, and willing to take risks, innovative and free thinkers

also could be a very direct speaker, doesn’t beat around the bush much

Scorpio moons are so deep and interesting, they have a mysterious sexy air about them that really draws a person in

curious about deeper things, and likes to have meaningful relationships, but can be a bit suspicious.

together, that indicates to me that he is fun loving and interesting, but also a bit reserved with his emotions when you meet him

only one of these signs are very good at communicating their feelings, and all of them have a lot of feelings

that being said, his mercury is in Aries

so he is an incredibly direct communicator

probably very quick witted, independent and really good at starting conversations

the type of person who could befriend a lightpole

probably really good at bringing the mood up in any situation with all that fiery energy

Venus ALSO in Aries so he isn’t shy about initiating a relationship but can be a bit hard to pin down, they just like freedom and boundaries

and that is healthy and totally fine

so charming and funny but it will come off as really authentic and attractive

open minded

His North node, Neptune, and Uranus are all in Capricorn

his moon and pluto are in Scorpio and mars in Pisces,

so he has a lot more “inactive” placements in his chart

this is a really good balance for all those incredibly strong fire signs since those are in really prominent placements

The north node indicates his life focus

in Capricorn he is probably very careful about following through on tasks, cares a lot about the way he presents himself and is very logical before beginning anything

that Pisces Mars means he is motivated to serve others and takes their best interest ahead of his own

Looking at it as a whole, this tells me he would be ardent in his affections, choosing to flirt immediately and if you reciprocate he is unlikely to hesitate

Aries Venus and Sun Know what they want

they want fun but they are also pretty intense

he does have an even split so while his more dominant houses are very “outgoing” signs, he has enough water and earth to neutralize anything that would be too out there on impulse

so in a new meeting he will just immediately seem to care a lot

probably treats you like he does everyone else, with concern and care but also with energy and charm

“Here it’s cold wear this.” and it’s barely chilly but he’s giving you a jacket and you aren’t ??

even sure where he got it from>???

always seems prepared for anything

incredibly thoughtful, with a Jupiter in Virgo so he knows what you need when you need it

and Aries are always so full of this warmth

just want everyone around them to be having as good of a time as them

and always has snacks? why are there snacks?

so like if your stomach growls he’s already stuffing something in your mouth

and then one day he will just text you and tell you he’s coming to your place

and you’re like okay but why ??

and he will walk in with like some bizarre assortment of picnic items and tell you you're building a blanket fort

and when you’re under the blanket he will just smile and say

“this is a great first date”

super nonchalant

and you let the fruit fall out of your hand cause... what????

“huh??”

“yeah, it is right? I know you like me too, so let’s date okay?”

👀👀👀

and from then on you will just hear him refer to you as his S/O

and you’ll get used to it fast.

really

the worlds best boyfriend though

he’s putting little notes around your house on things you’ll use and you’ll find them randomly

“You are beautiful today. I can’t see you but I know you are.” inside the medicine cabinet of your mirror in the bathroom

“cute undies” in your drawer

“Eat this I got it for you !” in your fridge on a box of something for work

“Drive safely!” On the steering wheel of your car

stop me I’m getting so soft

the type of boyfriend who openly displays affection with zero concern about anyone else looking on

puts an arm around you and pulls you in so he can kiss the tip of your nose

or back hugs you while you are doing anything

or when you are home watching tv he will pull you to straddle him while he smiles and stares into your eyes and tells you how much he likes the way that shirt compliments your eyes

and you will nuzzle and cuddle and kiss all cute and domestic

the type of guy who wakes you up before sunrise to see it with him

and then brings you back to bed because you sleepy

grade A boyfriend shit

You know what’s coming

18+ below

let’s get on with the filth

hold on to your panties cause here we go

so he has a LOT of fire signs

specifically in the main signs that control attraction, sexual drives and the way he takes action

Aries venus and sun says unrestrained passion read: it can be over quickly

BUT with his mars in Pisces says romantic and careful

so you get a mix of the two

this means

teasing and fun in the bedroom

likely to suggest some off the wall shit but it will only ever be for your benefit

so maybe toys?

I think maybe silk ties and blindfolds

probably loves to go down on you and watch you squirm

messy as fuck when he does

shit that’s hot though

dirty talks but in this really romantic way

“you love the way I touch you?”

calls you princess

“Can you cum for me, princess? I love the way you sound”

“Fuck, I’d give anything to make you cum until you pass out.”

eh... romantic right?

probably loves if you dig your nails into his skin

shudders under the sensation and fucks you harder in response

wants you to ride him reverse so he can see the delicate slope of your back and ass

probably into playful spanking

will bend you over on any surface in the house

probably not particularly “dom” in the ways of rules but I do think he would traditionally want to control the over all flow of the sex itself

which positions and when to change

probably tosses you around into the next one quickly because he cannot wait anymore

really wants you to be vocal

no really do not be quiet he wants to hear everything

probably role play, tbh

nothing too crazy because mostly he wants it to be about you

I feel like he would be the phone sex king

like if he’s away but you’re both needy

so he calls you and tells you what he wants to do to you and exactly how he would do it

get’s you soaked before he’s done the third sentence and you are begging to touch yourself

“do you need to that bad?”

chuckles into the phone about how worked up you are

even though he is too

and then tells you exactly how to touch yourself

gets you to put it one face time so he can see you

when you’re all done he tells you to be ready because next time he will make sure you cum 10x harder and better himself

when he gets home he makes good on that promise

deep long strokes that make you moan so loud

good luck seeing your neighbors the next day

has really good self control so he will make sure you cum a few times at least

probably switches between fucking you on his cock and his fingers so he can keep prolonging the pleasure

really just loves to see you fall apart

after you’re done takes you in the shower but lifts you against the wall for round two

carries you back to the bed in a towel and gets you a snack but a really sweet decadent one

like chocolate covered strawberries and whipped cream

and prays you guys don’t get worked up again

probably spends the next few hours cuddling and has really sweet pillow talk

“you’re my whole world you know?”

CUTE

A/N Here you go !! I hope you enjoyed it! there wasn’t a lot of variance to the signs in his chart so they followed a pretty central theme.

#baron #vav baron #choi chunghyeop #baron smut #vav smut #vav fanfiction #kpop astrology #astrology asks #kpop astrology asks #vav requests

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shadow-0f-x · 4 years

Text

The Storm of El Nero Angelo

Waves crashed against the wood. Planks splintered and steel groaned as the ship rocked. The crew scrambled to find any respite from the harsh winds. The captain roared with laughter and the quartermaster ran below deck, sick to his stomach. This would be the roughest storm La Rosa Negra would ever face. I was already near a hurricane.

“She’s gonna be a big one, boys! Fasten the knots and let loose the sails! I want to take these topwinds!”

I shuddered with fear. Was our captain insane? How would the ship even survive a storm like this? Nevertheless, I followed orders. I didn’t want to be Kraken food. Rain pelted against my face. The first rope tightened easily and I sighed with relief. It would only grow more difficult from this point. Thunder crashed and sent crackles through my spine. I was never one to be afraid of the storm, yet this was something entirely different. It was like Neptune himself struck vengeance against us for not paying due.

It seemed the crew around me agreed. Each member scattered to accomplish their duties in a timely manner, without being shaken by the watery wind. I could see some were still quivering in their boots.

Another wave slammed La Rosa Negra, bullying the poor ship into submission. Some poor souls were thrown off the deck. These fools would quickly see a painful demise, whether by the storm itself or the ship careening into them. I watched in absolute horror as these comrades fell into the drink. Nevertheless, if I was going to see the rising sun, I would have to steel my resolve.

I clenched another rope knot with bone-white knuckles and yanked it as tight as I could. Lightning crashed onto the bow and the resulting fire was silenced as soon as it had erupted.

“Quickly now! If we lose the rigging on the bow, we’re fish meat! Hurry, ye brave souls!” The captain barked, at last opening his eyes to the situation. Yet, no one moved to it. In that instant, I knew I had to act. I raced across the deck, planks screeching beneath my boots. I leapt up, hoping to grab the frayed and split rigging that was still left. If I missed, it would be an instant suicide.

In a miracle flash, I clenched the rope, the searing pain roared across my right palm. I endured, though, and pulled the rope back to the nose. Alas, there wasn’t enough rigging to tie. I had to act fast. I maneuvered my left hand to unsheath the dagger at my hip, and used it as a linchpin, the rain now dulling my burns. Almost crying, my foot gave out and I limped back to my crew. It was just in time, too. A wave once again rocked the boat, softer this time, but the makeshift linchpin held true. A cheer rang out from the crew, and they laid me to rest against the mast. My sobs turned to laughs. I did it! Despite the raging storm, I felt a clear sky above my head. I was a hero: El Nero Angelo. I was ecstatic, I could no longer hide my happiness. Dulcet tones filled my soul.

“Oh Santiana gained the day, Away Santiana. Now pull the yan up the west they say, along the plains of Mexico.”

My comrades turned to me. I had my eyes closed, and I didn’t notice that the storm was clearing with my notes. Slowly, everyone joined in.

“She’s a fast clipper ship and a bully good crew, Away Santiana. And an old salty Yank for a captain too! Along the plains of Mexico”

At the mention of the captain, he stood on the railing and let out a roar of a laugh. Before long, our storm completely cleared. We had survived, with only the worse for wear. It was a miracle. The entire crew, even the sick Quartermaster, celebrated that day. La Rosa Negra would see another voyage yet.

//Hey all! Bit of a random post, but I wrote this for class a few weeks ago and figured I’d post it here to expand on my writing repertoire. Would you want to see more of this?//

#shadowsfics #creative writing

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afangirlwashere · 5 years

Text

Spanish panic (p.p.)

Summary: Spanish classes can get tough but nothing is worse than having a panic attack at a school bathroom.

Author’s Note: I had this idea running through my head for a while. It’s just a one-shot to get these thoughts out of my head. If you have any ideas that are bothering you and you’d like a fanfic made out of them feel free to send it my way!

Warnings: Panic attack and Endgame spoilers

Song inspiration: Burn It Down - Daughter (this song is honestly post-Endgame Peter Parker I don’t take criticism) also if you want to you can listen to Neptune by Sleeping At Last that one goes well with it too

Masterlist

The class was filled with nervous whispering and (Y/N)’s tapping. In the presence of the two classmates next to her - Nancy and Wendy - any concentration wasn’t possible.

“Chill out.” Betty was typing something on her laptop while (Y/N) stared in her notes.

“If señora Diosa gives us the test I’m screwed!” she skimmed through her scribbled notes.

Betty rolled her eyes “We haven’t been in Spanish class for literally five years. There is no way señora Diosa remembers we were supposed to have a test! She didn’t blip!”

“I’m telling you this old crone is going to remember!” (Y/N) put her hair behind her ear as she shook with nervousness “God how I hate the high heels she wears. You can hear her from miles! Click, clack, clickity, clack.”

Betty giggled “If she still wears them...”

“But it’s totally crazy!” Nancy whispered as quietly as if Wendy was an old deaf woman “It’s space! It’s infinite! There’s no way anyone could get back to Earth. I’ve read a few articles from different University professors who calculated the exact chance Tony Stark had to get back. It was practically zero! Not even he could have solved something like this!! There has to be something bigger behind it!”

Wendy was on the edge of her seat fiercely nodding “I’ve heard that they want to make a documentary about him. Mr. Sommers said that every school is going to make their students watch it when it comes out. And we’ll probably be watching it for the anniversary of the day everyone was brought back. That’s cool right?”

“Somebody should teach them how to whisper.” Betty grumbled and typed louder on her keyboard.

(Y/N) noticed that she didn’t like to talk about the tragedy which affected the whole world. She was always quite pale but whenever Thanos was mentioned she seemed almost translucent.

“How do you say small in Spanish? How would you say it!?” (Y/N) quickly browsed between three pages of notes.

“Try asking him.”

Peter sat right in front of them. He was silent and stiff the whole time which wasn’t like him at all. (Y/N) barely spoke to him since they blipped back. He’d go home immediately after school or disappeared somewhere with Ned.

“Oh, mighty overlord of Spanish!” (Y/N) kicked Peter’s chair “Would you be so kind and share with me your wisdom? How would you transcribe the Spanish word for-”

Peter’s chair rumbled as he stood up and stumbled out of the classroom leaving with heavy breaths. All his stuff was still on the table which was weird. If he wanted to skip this class (like he used to) why wouldn’t he take it?

“Did I do something wrong?” (Y/N)’s voice cut through the silence. She didn’t even realize everyone's attention was on Peter as well.

It only took a few seconds before she got up and ran after him. Any stress from the test was replaced by worry for Peter. She saw him disappear to the boy's bathroom. She stood facing the door and considered if she should knock, barge in or just wait for him in the hallway.

But before she could decide she heard a familiar click, clack, clickity, clack. Señora Diosa was rushing to class. (Y/N) knew that if her teacher saw her here she’d get in serious trouble because how do you say ‘I think I pissed my friend off so much that he ran to the boy’s bathroom and I need to make sure he’s fine’ in Spanish?

Before she could think it through her hands were pushing on the door, her eyes firmly shut. This tactic didn’t work for long though because the moment she heard heavy breaths her curiosity couldn’t be stopped.

In the corner of the room next to the sink was Peter sat, shaking, with his head between his knees. The screen of his phone was lit up next to him.

“Peter?” (Y/N) slowly stepped closer, all the shame of being in a boy's bathroom has already left her.

She kneeled next to him, her eyes set on his phone. First thing that went through her head was ‘What if something happened to his aunt?’

But his phone was ringing. And the name of the person who Peter tried to call was ‘Tony Stark’.

Of course... Why didn’t she think of that earlier? People all around the world were shocked by Tony Stark’s heroic death but (Y/N) didn’t realize Peter knew him personally. He constantly spoke about him being his mentor and role-model. Peter probably didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to him. And now he was gone.

(Y/N) quickly canceled the call and locked his phone “Peter...” she cautiously touched his shoulder hoping human contact would provide some support.

His head jerked up as if she still startled him. He didn’t even know that somebody was in the room with him. Tears as big as peas were running down his cheeks.

“It’s okay. Everything’s going to be alright.” she gently rubbed his arm “Can you hear me?” she lowered her head to look him in the eyes.

Peter wiped his nose on his sleeve, eyelids shuddering as he nodded “Can you speak?” (Y/N) whispered.

Peter took a shaky breath, his mouth was dry and instead of words coming out of it he painfully exhaled. His forehead glistened with cold sweat while white spots danced in front of his eyes. He wrapped his hands around her waist as a heartwrenching sob left his throat.

(Y/N) moved closer, hoping his firm grip would loosen. She felt his tears seep through her shirt. He was trying to say something but (Y/N) couldn’t understand his mumbling.

“Shhhh... I’m here... I’m here with you.” she stroked his head and pulled one of his hands to her heart. Her other hand snaked around to touch his neck which was covered in goosebumps “Can you look at me Peter?”

His eyelids were heavy but somehow he managed to raise his head enough to look at her even when everything was blurry or covered by spots that seemingly weren’t about to fade.

“I want you to try and concentrate on my breathing yeah? We’re gonna breathe together alright? You’re going to be okay again I promise just breathe with me.” She watched him close his eyes and nod.

“Alright. Breathe in...” her chest rose in a large breath so that Peter could feel it as well “And breathe out...”

Peter’s lips trembled through the first three tries and he could only listen to the calming breaths and heartbeats as he held onto her like his life depended on it.

When his breathing slightly stabilized (Y/N) spoke again “Can you tell me three things you see around you?”

“You...” he swallowed hard, fiddling with her shirt “Soaked up napkin...” (Y/N) turned around to make sure it was actually there “Bathroom stall door...”

“Good... Good... Just keep breathing... You’re safe. Nothing’s gonna happen to you I swear.” she pushed the curls that stuck to his sweaty forehead away from his face “You’re burning up...”

(Y/N) automatically fumbled in the back pocket of her jeans where she kept a tissue since she was known for her bleeding nose at any circumstance. Explaining why there’s smeared blood next to her answer on a test got pretty tiring real quick.

“I’ll be right back,” she tried to pull his hand away “I’m gonna wet the tissue okay?” when he didn’t respond she tried again “Peter?”

His eyes were shut but he slowly nodded, rubbing his face with shaky hands as he leaned on the tiles. When she kneeled next to him his breathes were shaky and irregular again.

“I’m going to put a cold tissue on your forehead now. I’ll wipe it on your hand first so you can feel it.” after wiping it on his hand she slowly pressed it to his forehead. (Y/N) sat next to him, holding one of his hands in hers so he could still feel her presence if his vision betrayed him.

Water dribbled from the tap for a long time before Peter spoke “I... I didn’t save him.”

(Y/N) pulled her knees away from her face and stared in his. It wasn’t hard to guess who was in question “Peter...” she ran over his hand “It wasn’t your fault you...” she intertwined their fingers thinking twice what to say next “You couldn’t have saved him.”

Peter stared ahead, sings of doubt if he should tell (Y/N) the truth showed in his eyes “I could have..” his voice trembled and before he could stop himself the whole truth came out of his mouth along with tears which he wasn’t fast enough to wipe away.

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zipegs · 5 years

Text

epiclesis // 3.4k, horror, m, hodgson-centric // ao3 written for halloween terrorfest day 7: a disquieting metamorphosis warnings for body horror, cannibalism, and gore

The first time Lieutenant Hodgson eats of man, it slides down his throat and sits like in his stomach like a stone.

The meat is slimy and tough between his molars, like the gristle they used to toss beneath the table for Neptune. He chews until his jaw aches with it, teeth loose and wobbling in their sockets.

The flavor falls somewhere short of abhorrent. It’s bland if a bit gamey, with a thick, sweet aftertaste that coats the back of his throat like syrup.

It sickens him, how little he dislikes it.

Hodgson does not want to be like these men. These traitors who look at a man on the verge of death and see only a feast. He does not seek to commune with mutineers, to bathe his own hands in the blood of his brothers, and thus lingers about their fringes. Perches himself on a barrel apart from the other men as if, through distance, he might station himself above them.

He pokes at the glistening lumps of meat with shaking hands, fork rattling against his plate like a castanet.

At the table, Hickey and his men sit in silence. They pick up chunks of Billy Gibson with their fingers and drop them like candies onto their tongues. Lick his pink juices off their thumbs, their forefingers.

This is my body, Hodgson thinks, milky gaze fastened on the silhouettes hunched against the pale, colourless horizon. Light winks through the perfect, clean slashes in Hickey’s navy wool coat. Like fingers of sunlight parting the clouds.

His throat burns. Tears prick at his eyes.

There is beauty in all things.

Eternity through atrocity.

The second time Lieutenant Hodgson eats of man, he closes his eyes and thinks of salvation.

---

He feels it in his bones first.

They ache—a constant, deep-seated throbbing. Like someone has grabbed hold of each end and pulled. It’s a new kind of agony, wholly unlike the thick, dull pain he has come to acknowledge as scurvy. This is harder, somehow—more primal. It is as intense as any pain he has known here in this distant circle of hell, and yet there is divinity in it, he thinks. Holiness.

He closes his eyes and relishes the pulse of it through him, like a second heartbeat hiding just beneath his own.

The other men do not take to it as kindly. They grunt in their harnesses—low, guttural sounds that layer themselves atop the scrape of wood over rock. Des Voeux whines high in his throat like an animal. Armitage burps out an occasional moan. Tozer is silent, but he wears his suffering plain on his face. Hodgson can hear it all clearly—the wind has died, and in the silence that follows, thick sounds of agony ring like a clavier.

Hodgson lets his own pain resound in him, swallowing around the shape of it in his throat. He imagines it as a summer sun, glowing warm and radiant from within his ribcage.

How long they go on like this, he cannot say. Time itself seems to freeze—there is nothing but the pain. The noise of it. The phantom taste of meat on their tongues, pieces of it clinging like taffy to the spaces between their teeth.

This is repentance, he thinks. Atonement.

Pain is the price of redemption.

There is an Agnus Dei to be found in their clenched jaws and wet panting; Hodgson pictures it spiraling outward to whatever deity will listen, a new kind of music for a new kind of god. In the distance, the blue of the sky glints like stained-glass windows darkened by clouds.

His fingers are throbbing. Looking down at them, they seem longer somehow, punching out like new shoots from the bulbs of his grey fingerless gloves. Like the promise of spring after a long winter’s thaw.

He curls them around the leather of his harness and hauls.

---

The days stretch into each other.

Haul. Rest. Haul again.

Each evening, when Hickey decides they have gone far enough—one mile? ten? twenty? there is no way to tell—the men unchain themselves and draw their tents from the sledges, dragging the ungainly canvas-wrapped bags over the boat’s side like shrouded bodies. They fall freely once liberated from their resting place and smack against the shale with a solid thump.

He can feel Hickey watching. Assessing. The weight of his gaze sliding over them like seal fat.

There is glory in being seen.

No trial without a witness.

Around camp, the men move like wind-up toys on the last legs of life. They erect their shelters slowly, stopping to rub at their jaws and forearms as though they might scrub the pain from their skin.

That is the crux of it; they do not see what Hodgson does. These men think they deserve to be clean.

He closes his eyes. Listens to the creak and groan of the tent-poles, like cries for liberation. The sound is echoed someplace deep in his bones. He lets his agony grow, taking root in his marrow like fungus and spreading its spores outward.

At the edge of the camp, Goodsir’s tent sits silent and empty.

A promise.

A reminder.

The men have witnessed what comes of weakness. The kind of end served to those who cannot stomach the gift they have been given.

He thinks of Billy Gibson and his empty harness. The pink-stained bags tucked in the sledge like heirlooms. The mouth-watering smell of copper and the way it carries on the scentless air, trailing them like a cloud of incense.

In the morning, he sits on the edge of camp and feels the lengthening gaps in his spine. Sticks his fingers between them and worries the corded muscle there. Near the center, Hickey pries one of the bags open and reaches in so far its ruffled jaws swallow his arm all the way to the shoulder. He pulls out a fistful of flesh, muscle quivering in stringy strips between his fingers.

Hodgson can feel the phantom slide of it down his throat. The fullness which would blossom in his belly.

Need is a wild beast inside him.

“Come,” Hickey says. The men hobble out of their tents, bodies frosted with sleep. As they gather around him, he keeps his hand outstretched, proffering pieces of Billy Gibson’s body like some kind of saint. “Come eat with me.”

Juice drips down his forearm and gathers in fat drops at the sharp point of his elbow. It gathers the light of the sun and falls in a steady pat onto the shale.

Hodgson rises and falls into line with the others. He looks at the meat in Hickey’s fist and thinks of pomegranate seeds.

---

By the time Billy Gibson is more inside of them than inside of the bags, there is no denying it.

Something is happening.

The men are afraid—Hodgson can sense it. The stench of their fear is thick in the air, astringent and saline. It fills his nostrils and carves out a home there.

As a lieutenant, it was once his job to manage men. To listen. To encourage.

It is not like that anymore.

Whatever comforts he has left, he keeps for himself—he will not waste them on men like these. He might sit among them, might haul alongside them, but he is not one of them.

He huddles with several around the pale fire, hands folded awkwardly in his lap. His nails are so caked with grime they seem almost charred, tips grown jagged and pointed. Like most, he is hunched forward like a fern, shoulders drawn inward and spine curving down like a fish hook.

It is their natural state, now. Like their bodies are dragged downward by the weight of their sins.

Confiteor Deo et beatae Mariae semper virgini.

He has been given his penance.

They all have.

In the distance, up on the hill, Hickey stands immovable and erect—a prophet receiving revelation. Hodgson’s eyes are drawn to him; he cannot look away. In the dimming light, Hickey’s edges seem to blur into the landscape, the border between flesh and linen and sky smudged into each other. Like he is become part of this place.

Like he belongs here.

“It’s not natural,” Pilkington is saying to the others, arms wrapped tightly about his knees. “I can tell you that much. Feels like my spine’s punchin’ its way outta my back. Like a great big fist, pushin’ up under my skin.”

From the corner of his eye, Hodgson observes the hard clench of Pilkington’s jaw. The way Tozer’s gaze stabs at the ground. There’s a patch of skin just below his right eye that has turned grey and scaly, like day-old beef. Hodgson caught sight of it this morning. He remembers the desire that shuddered through him, the need to reach out and peel it off.

To take it inside of himself.

Across the fire, Des Voeux is shaking. His chin is tucked down, his throat extending too long for his body.

“My legs,” Pilkington continues, filling the taut silence with words that hang like rocks on a tenuous membrane. Any moment now, Hodgson thinks, it will rupture. “They don’t fit in my trousers anymore. I mean, we’re supposed to be starving, right?”

He looks up at them, eyes large and bloodshot under what remains of his lashes.

No one speaks.

When he resumes, his voice sounds rubbed raw.

Hodgson thinks of ground meat. Pictures the lining of Pilkington's throat shredding itself as he speaks.

He wants to shove a hand down into the boy’s mouth and scrape the sweet pulp out with his fingernails.

“I’m so hungry, all the time. But my calves are— They’re— It doesn’t make any sense.” Pilkington’s voice cracks off. The bumps of his knuckles are white, fists clasped in front of his shins. He blows out a watery breath. “He knows. I’m sure of it.”

His face is strangely bestial in the fire’s hellish light, eyes sunken and cheekbones high and pointed.

Hodgson can trace the paths of muscle just under the skin, wrapping down over his jaw.

The whites—reds—of his eyes are pronounced and wet. Hodgson imagines scooping one out with his pinky and popping it between his molars like a cherry.

“He knows exactly what’s happening to us.” Pilkington is looking out at the hill. At Hickey. Though his voice trembles, he does not look away. Transfixed, as Hodgson was, by the pale glow of him.

---

Billy Gibson does not last them much longer.

In his place, the men fall like vultures upon what remains of their tinned provisions, but those too are dwindling. Hodgson shovels the watery sludge into his mouth along with the others, feels it sticking like mud in the back of his throat.

It does not fill him. The more he eats, the hungrier he becomes.

The men appear to feel it the same—their fervor increases with each spoonful, like bacchants at their first sip of wine. They scrape desperately at the bottoms of the tins, as though clawing at the lid of a coffin, and snatch seconds from the crates, thirds.

Hickey does not stop them; he looks on with beady eyes, a smirk curling on his lips.

This is repentance, Hodgson reminds himself.

His jaw aches.

Soon they will be free.

When the fervor has died down, sluggish desperation takes its place. He looks out across the shale and sees it littered with tins like hollow carapaces, cracked open and dented. A wasteland of steel and lead, lids popped up and out like gravestones.

The men cradle them against their faces. Let the rims slice deep into their tongues as they lick at the thick juice that clings to the bottom and sides.

Their moans rise off them like steam, a discordant harmony Hodgson feels echoed in his marrow.

Absolution, he thinks desperately. Purification.

In their haste to pry the tins open, some of the men drive knives deep into their fingers—John Diggle slices the webbing between his thumb and forefinger right up to his wrist. When he moves his hand, the hole gapes like a slack-jawed mouth, drooling blood onto the cold rock. Hodgson watches, entranced, as he wraps his lips around the gash and sucks.

His mouth waters.

He does not think he’s seen anything so beautiful as that steaming crimson. It runs in rivulets over Diggle’s waxen chin, the leathery skin of his arm.

Poured out, he thinks, for the forgiveness of sins.

He wants to taste it for himself.

---

When they wake one day, ravenous and desperate, and find Pilkington lying facedown on the shale, they are too relieved to mourn.

---

It is not long after that death becomes a constant presence among the men.

They cease hauling; none of them are strong enough anymore, except perhaps Hickey. The weakest lie in their tents and hunger. They stare glassy-eyed at the canvas above them, jaws snapping slow and empty, as though they mean to chew the air itself.

Their comrades gather at their bedside, huddled close—not to help, but to wait. To be the first to taste.

Some of the deaths are not easy; men pass moaning, screaming, convulsing. Bones snapped, muscles corded. Like something in them could not find its way out. Hodgson passes his fingers over their faces, their necks, their arms.

He wants to grieve, but finds gratefulness in its stead.

Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts.

When there are more men dead than living, Hodgson lets his questions rise like a tide within him. He finds Hickey sitting cross-legged on the shale.

Hunger gnaws at his stomach. There is a blinding pressure in his jawbone.

“Lieutenant.”

He opens his mouth to speak, and something tears through his gum.

He gasps—the copper tang of blood floods his tastebuds. In the distance, he can hear Tozer screaming.

“Are you alright, Lieutenant?” Hickey asks. He looks up with mild intrigue, and does not move.

Hodgson’s mouth is aflame. The pressure in his jaw builds and builds until it comes to a head; a sharp, jagged pain, like serrated knife-points sawing upwards from beneath his gums, scraping his teeth out from their sockets. He cries out, and they clatter like pearls onto the shale.

His knees buckle.

There are more of them swirling in his mouth, loose and hard, like pieces of bone loosened from poorly-butchered meat. Hysteria boils within him. He retches, and spits them onto the ground. When he closes his lips, they form around new teeth—long, pointed things. Animal. Savage.

“What is this?” he asks. The words are fat and ill-formed—his mouth is foreign to him. “What’s happening to us?”

Hickey reaches down and picks up a molar, its root shallow and wet with blood. The pad of his finger brushes over it slowly.

Reverently.

A half-smile curls on his lips. When he speaks, he does so without lifting his gaze.

“Divinity.”

---

One morning, Hodgson wakes to find a patch of fur on his cheek.

He tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes and fails—exhaustion is a constant film over his vision, a third eyelid.

It’s then that he feels it. A brush of something against the back of his thumb. An echo of feeling on the apple of his cheek.

At first, he does not know what it is, only that it does not belong. His stomach lurches into his throat. He scrapes the back of his hand across his cheek in a panic, as if to brush the thing off.

Pain throbs where he touches.

There is no other change.

Trembling, he raises his hand again. The thatch of hair is easy to find, about an inch in size—sprouting from the high line of his cheekbone. It’s sparse but coarse, and feels akin to mangy fur beneath his fingertips.

Anxiety buzzes under his skin.

He knows without looking that it is not stubble. The feel of it is wrong, and he has never known stubble to bring with it such pain.

Hodgson thinks of the throbbing in his bones, the tattered mess of Pilkington’s lips. The odor of decay that clings to all of them. Like their flesh is rotting on their skeletons.

Doubt coils in his stomach.

The need to be rid of the thing is expanding inside him; there is not room enough for all his desperation. It swells and swells, pressing his organs against the small of his back, shoving his stomach up into his throat. His heart hammers in his chest.

This isn’t right, he thinks, twisting the strands between his fingers. The movement tugs at his skin, and sharp pain shoots out as if in answer. He gasps—a quick, hitched inhale—and pulls his hand away.

When he looks down at his fingers, they’re dotted with blood.

Trembling, he sits up and pushes his woolen bedcoverings back. More fur pokes out from beneath the hem of his trousers, off-white and short. The fuzz of a lad’s first beard. Beneath it, the entire span of his skin feels tender, like a bruised peach. He can feel every place a strand of the stuff pierces his flesh. Like hundreds of needles stuck into his skin.

The desire to look is almost as fierce as the desire to close his eyes. To hope he might wake again and find it all a dream.

He reaches down. Curls his fingers under the hem of his pant leg and slowly peels it up.

There’s a small patch of the stuff right where his leg meets his foot. It’s haphazard, as though a child has taken a collection of thin white thorns and impaled them there with little care for pattern or consistency.

At the base of each strand, tiny pearls of blood gleam like rubies.

He lets the hem fall. Swings his legs over the side of the bed.

His heart is rattling in his ribcage. The need to do something holds every muscle taut. He wants to take a razor and shear this affliction from him, skin and all, and yet fear keeps him locked in place.

Outside, the wind has kicked up. It sucks at the canvas of his tent.

He can hear the men moving around outside, the slow shuffle of their feet.

Hodgson raises a hand to his face.

Squeezes one strand of fur between his thumb and forefinger.

And pulls.

Pain explodes behind his eyes; he cries out, pulling harder. Harder. Wildly, he thinks that it must be out by now—that the agony has to relent. How much of it is stuck inside him? But it throbs even stronger, spreading outward until his entire cheek pulses with it.

Repentance, he reminds himself, hand trembling as his fingers sweep over the patch.

He fears he may pass out; his vision slips in and out of focus, unconsciousness washing over him in strong waves.

Atonement.

It’s still there, poking out of his skin like a weed. Only it’s longer now, as though there is a spool of the stuff buried in his cheek.

Nausea swirls through him. He covers his eyes with his hands.

He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.

By nightfall, he is covered in it.

---

“Lieutenant Hodgson.”

The flaps of his tent part, like skin peeled back from an incision. Watery light filters in through the gap. He can make out a shape blotting out some of it, a dark, blurry form that grows larger and larger until it is all he can see. Behind his head, the gray light cuts a shape like a halo.

“You don’t look well, Lieutenant.”

There are hands on his face. He tries to bat them away, but his limbs are slow to respond.

Fear is coiled in his breast, but his heart taps a slow, measured beat. It is, he thinks, quite unable to manage anything further.

“What—” His lips feel thick around his teeth. The taste of blood is hot on his tongue.

His mouth is pasty, as though his spit has turned to tar. It is difficult to swallow.

“Shhh.”

The hands move to his head. They stroke it gently, lovingly—a mother soothing an unwell child. He can feel his hair ripping in wet chunks away from his skull.

“We’re close now,” the man whispers. Hodgson can feel the heat of his breath. It dampens his ear canal, penetrating deep and making him shiver. “Can you feel it?”

The richness of flesh perfumes the air.

Blood pounds loud and eager through the man’s veins. Like a summons.

Hodgson wets his lips. He feels lightheaded; there is nothing in him but hunger.

Dis-moi ce que tu manges je te dirai ce que tu es.

He turns his head and bites.

#halloweenterrorfest #the terror #the terror amc #the terror fic #george hodgson #mine #mine: writing

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