#cause they padlocked the other gate that cause they didn’t want kids walking on the grass

[gaybabything]

Don't even worry about it, they never last more than a day (I say this while suffocating from the gas)

An accurate retelling of me trying to convince my mom to let me stay home today cause I am in a tremendous amount of pain:

Me: Mom I am in a lot of pain and want to throw up can I please stay home from school.

Mom: No, the only reason your period hurts so bad is cause you don't exercise. (Yes she really said this.)

Me: The reason my periods hurt so bad is because I have a literal disease that makes them worse???

Mom: No you don't.

Me: You were there??? In the room??? When the gynecologist said I have PCOS???

Mom: Oh, I guess I do remember that. You're still going to school tho. Also you need to exercise more.

[wolferine]

Heart Skips a Beat - Part 4

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha faces her worst nightmare when a rescue mission goes wrong…

Warnings: Violence, blood, torture

Word count: 2843

Part 3

Tags: @blkmxrvel @blackxwidowsxwife @marvelwomen-simp @phoenixofash @marvels-bitch-boy @when-wolves-howl @bitterlime13 @hallecarey1 @orangewheein @unexpected-character

AN: I apologize if some tags don’t work! Tumblr can’t find some of your usernames.

After listening to Steve’s plan, all four of you—technically five, since Bucky had to tag along—take the Quinjet to Siberia. The goal was to break out the five soldiers in Bucky’s former task force and bring them back to the Avengers Tower, where there was the technology to free their minds from HYDRA. 

Each of you were armed with a mask which would spray a powerful sedative into the face it was applied to, keeping the victim unconscious until it was removed. It was the simplest solution to taking down the super soldiers—when Bucky had been skeptical, Natasha had slapped a mask on him and he was out before he hit the floor. You were pretty sure you pulled a muscle from laughing so hard.

Now, you and Natasha sat in the cockpit while the others sat behind you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bucky says suddenly.

“Yeah?” You don’t even look over your shoulder.

“I’m…sorry for shooting you.”

“Twice,” you clarify. “I didn’t forget the count.”

“Sorry,” he repeats.

“Well, as long as you don’t mistake me for Steve again, I’ll be okay,” you say with a chuckle.

“So, just to reiterate our plan, Bucky will be with me and Clint, and Nat, you’ll be with Y/N,” Steve says.

“Even Captain America knows better than to break up the power couple.” You grin and reach over to put your hand on her thigh. Without taking her eyes off the controls, she takes your hand and interlocks your fingers.

“Yeah, so you two just do your thing—” Steve catches himself. “Wait, not that kind of thing.”

Clint explodes into wheezy laughter and Natasha shakes her head, her cheeks reddening. You’re not embarrassed like she is, but you’re still quick to defend yourselves.

“It was one time!” you protest. It had been a mission where everything that could’ve gone wrong did, and you and Natasha were convinced it would be your last. You two decided to end it wrapped around each other, but then the rest of the Avengers had barged in and said there had been a miscommunication and it wasn’t the end of the world after all. It was the one mission you would never live down.

“Just keep it professional, please,” Steve begs. “No matter what happens, we’re all going home alive, okay?”

Bucky looks completely lost.

Natasha lands the Quinjet in a flurry of snow and all of you exit the warmth of the plane.

“I should’ve brought one of your hoodies,” she mumbles, walking as close to you as she can without tripping you. 

“It would’ve clashed with your uniform,” you say, putting your arm around her waist. The super soldier serum in your veins causes you to run a higher-than-average body temperature. You feel as comfortable as if you stepped out of hot shower.

The facility is the only building for miles. It looks big enough to fit a space rocket and has a dull, concrete exterior. The only security is a chain-link fence with a frozen padlock that Steve breaks open with his shield. You file through the gate, and Bucky inputs a code into the door to grant everyone entry. The interior is just as disappointing as the outside. Nothing but a maze of concrete halls with metal doors. The ceiling has dripping water stains and an uncomfortably musty, moldy smell hangs in the air.

“I bet you’re really glad you escaped this rust bucket,” you say to Bucky. He only shakes his head.

“Stay alert,” Steve advises. “We’ll split here. Keep us updated on your position and if you find anyone.”

“Copy that.” You and Natasha turn right while the others turn left. She finds a flight of stairs and you follow behind her. You unholster your gun, holding it at the ready by your side. Natasha makes random turns and ignores every room you walk by. You listen intently for any sort of noise that would indicate a person lurking in the shadows, but so far, there’s nothing.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” you ask.

“Do you?” she snaps.

“Hey, I’m just following you.” You back off. Even though you know this is no time to be making jokes, you still can’t help yourself. High-stress situations make you nervous, especially when you’re with Natasha, because anything that could happen to you could happen to her.

When you pass by a room with its door open, you see a large glass tank big enough to fit a human and filled with murky green water. For a reason you can’t explain, you feel yourself drawn towards it and you step into the room, a chill raising goosebumps on your skin. You reach out to touch the tank’s wall and close your eyes.

You’re floating in a tank of your own, tubes running out of your nose, mouth, and down every limb. You jerk around wildly in the water tinged pink with your blood. Your lungs seize for air, but every breath you inhale is wet and salty.

“Shall we go another round?” you hear someone on the other side say.

“Might as well. No pain, no gain, right?” someone replies.

You want to bash your hands against the glass, but you’re too weak to have any control over your movements. You feel a sharp pain in your lower back, at the base of your spine, and your body arches as more drugs are pumped into you. You have no breath to scream with as your body twists in agony. It feels like a fire eating you from the inside out, burning through your bones, and you want nothing more than to wither away to ash...

“Hey.” You jump when you feel Natasha’s hand on your shoulder. “What are you doing in here?”

“Um, I…I thought I heard something,” you lie. Natasha frowns. Like Steve and Bucky, you had been a lab rat yourself, although not to SHIELD or HYDRA. You had been passed around other government agencies—at least, that’s what you think. Most of your memories of that time were fuzzy, which you were fine with. The ones you did remember weren’t worth reliving anyway.

“Y/N.” Natasha looks concerned.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” You don’t want to interrupt the mission with your personal problems.

She knows better than to push you, especially at a time like this. “Okay,” she says, leaving the room. You take a minute to collect yourself. When you finally turn around, you see a black-haired woman, shorter than Natasha even, standing in the doorway in the same vest Bucky had worn the first time you met him.

“Hello,” you say, holstering your gun. You’re not going to shoot someone who looks like she’s barely of age. “You must be one of the super soldiers Bucky told me about. Who was your target supposed to be? Romanoff?” you tease.

“Thor.” The woman’s voice is dainty. Her body is literally the size of one of Thor’s arms. There’s no way she’s telling the truth.

You laugh. “That’s cute. But this is no place for a kid,” you say, walking towards her. But she sees that you’re too casual, your guard let down too low, and takes advantage of that. “Now all I need is for you to put this mask on and—”

The woman launches at you with a speed you don’t even process. She swipes your legs out from under you, causing you to crash on your back. Then she’s on top of you, hands around your throat. You reach into your pocket for your knife, all jokes lost with her attempt to take your life.

You flip the blade out and swing at her face, but she’s quick to dodge and rolls to the side. You jump to your feet, wondering where Natasha is. But you’re too embarrassed to call for her help, even if this soldier claims she was given the task of taking out the god of thunder.

The woman is impossibly fast and she lands blow after blow on you while you stagger back and slash out helplessly with your knife. When she kicks you in the stomach and your back collides into the water tank, you’ve had enough. 

You switch your knife to your left hand and aim for the woman’s neck. She grabs your wrist and twists it around so the knife turns towards you. Your eyes widen as she puts her entire body weight behind the knife. The blade sinks into your shoulder.

“What the—” You don’t even register the pain, more upset that you’ve been harmed with your own weapon. The woman grins, distracted, and you punch her in the throat as hard as you can. Her eyes bulge and she coughs, her hands flying to her neck. 

You take the mask out of your pocket and shove it onto her face, hearing the hiss as the sedative is instantly released. The woman immediately goes limp and you have no problem letting her drop to the floor.

“Y/N!” You look up and see Natasha staring at you, arms crossed over her chest.

“I got one.” You puff out your chest proudly.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Natasha comes over and inspects the soldier’s limp body.

“I didn’t need to. I handled her all by myself,” you say, a little annoyed by her doubt in your abilities.

“Is that a knife in your shoulder?” she asks.

“I…Oh, yeah—” 

“Is that your knife?” Being called out hurts more than the actual pain of having the knife in your shoulder.

“Uh…maybe…” You can’t even look her in the eye.

“Y/N,” Natasha growls. “Here, let me take it out.”

You back up until you hit the tank again. “Wait, shouldn’t we—ow!” you yelp as Natasha jerks the knife out.

“You’ve been through worse.” She tries to hand you the knife, but you shake your head, too embarrassed to continue carrying it with you since you obviously can’t be trusted with it. She shrugs and pockets your knife, taking out some gauze and tape to patch up your wound. You rotate your left arm in circles; besides an uncomfortable twinge, it works fine. 

“So, what do we do with her body?” you ask.

“We’ll come back. We need to find the other three first.”

“Three? I thought there were four.” You try to do the math in your head. Bucky had said there five super soldiers, and you had just defeated one, meaning there were four left—

“Three,” Natasha repeats and you look at her in confusion. “Mine’s outside.” Unlike you, there wasn’t a single scratch on her. Together, you leave the room and find a man slumped on the floor, a mask on his face.

“When did this happen?” you ask.

Natasha shrugs, but you can tell she’s extremely proud of herself. “When you were busy dealing with that little girl.”

“Excuse me. According to her, her target was Thor,” you say. “So, I just took out the soldier who was supposed to take down the god of thunder.”

“Yeah, you can keep telling yourself that.” Natasha nudges you playfully.

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes.

“Hey, are you two okay?” Steve asks in your earpiece.

“We disabled two soldiers on the second floor,” Natasha responds.

“Perfect. We got two down here as well.”

“Who did you take out?” Clint asks.

“This tiny woman and a guy,” you answer.

“How big was the guy?” Bucky asks.

“Maybe around your size?” you estimate, staring down at the soldier Natasha subdued.

“Okay, because the two we took out were also average-sized dudes. The last one—I was hoping it wouldn’t come down to this—he’s an absolute beast. I think he’s almost seven-feet tall and could bench press a plane with one hand,” Bucky says.

“So whoever takes him out wins,” you say. Between you and Natasha, you were certain you could win any fight.

“You’re on,” Clint says.

Natasha and you leave the soldiers where they lay and search the rest of the floor. This time, you take the lead, a little more cautious since you know what to expect. You head up to the third floor, expecting the last soldier to jump out at any moment. The tension of waiting to find him is almost unbearable and your muscles ache from being coiled so tightly.

“You guys find him yet?” Natasha asks through the earpieces.

“Negative.”

Suddenly, a moving shadow catches your eye and you throw out your arm to stop Natasha. A man steps out from around the corner and Bucky wasn’t lying about his size. He’s so tall the top of his head disappears behind the ceiling beams and he looks like he would sweep any bodybuilding competition he entered.

“Never mind, we found him. Third floor,” Natasha mumbles.

“Don’t engage him alone.” That’s Steve’s voice. “Try to stall—”

“Too late” you want to say as the man charges towards you. There is no way you two are taking him down without the use of any weapons; plus, you don’t have any more masks to use. But if you punched or kicked him, you wouldn’t be able to reach his face without catching airtime. You run backwards, fumbling with your options. An idea pops into your head.

“Maybe he has a safe word, too,” you say, crashing into Natasha and shoving her back. “Lizzie! Karen!” you scream the first names that come to you. “It could be a guy’s name—can’t assume anything, right? Chris! Tom! Mark!” The names have no effect other than making you look like an idiot.

“Shut up, Y/N—” Natasha hisses.

The man roars and reaches out, grabbing a fistful of your shirt. He throws you like a javelin and you can’t believe how far you fly, landing on your stomach and skidding another 30 feet.

Natasha tries engaging him, and although she’s faster than him, any punch or kick she lands goes completely unnoticed by him. The man flings her aside like a sack of flour and comes towards you.

You reach for your gun, but before you can bring it up, he kicks it out of your hand and stomps on it. The barrel literally flattens before your eyes, and you roll onto your back to face him. He lifts his foot, which is easily as big as your calf, and brings it down on your right knee.

CRUNCH.

The pain of your leg snapping in half is so blinding and nauseating you don’t even scream. It feels like someone is holding a blow torch to your bones and your entire body starts trembling in shock. The man scoops you up with an arm leveraged underneath your chin, and once you’re upright, you feel the lower half of your right leg dangling like a broken branch.

He lifts you high enough so your feet don’t touch the floor, leaving you scrabbling at his arm and choking on your saliva. Your vision flashes white and you feel the overwhelming urge to vomit as he spins you around to face Natasha.

She has her gun out, pointed at his head. “Put Y/N down,” she orders.

“And what if I don’t?” the man says in a voice that sounds like it came from the depths of the ocean. “You think you can shoot me before I can break a neck?” He squeezes you harder and you whimper.

Natasha pauses to think, and her eyes dart to the side before looking back at the man. “Okay, okay.” She sets her gun on the floor and raises her hands. “Just please don’t—”

“Kick it towards me.” The man crushes your windpipe like a straw and your eyes water.

Natasha reaches out with her foot and sends the gun spinning towards you and your captor. Suddenly, the man tosses you away and when you crumple on your broken leg, you swear you see purgatory. 

“Get on your knees,” the man tells Natasha. She doesn’t obey. “I said, get on your knees!” Very slowly, with a defiant look on her face, she drops to her knees one at a time. The man picks up her gun and holds it in front of her face. “I’ve been waiting years to finally meet you, Agent Romanoff.”

“Well, sorry for not coming around sooner.”

“My comrades may not have been successful in eliminating their targets, but I don’t fail,” the man says.

Natasha looks away from him to you. “I love you,” she calls, as casually as if you two were lounging on the couch watching a movie together.

You blink away tears to make eye contact with her. You can’t move, you have no weapons, and he has a gun pointed at her head. The complete helplessness you feel hurts more than your broken leg, more than Bucky’s gunshots had, more than any pain you’ve ever felt before. There’s a thousand things you want to tell her, but you only have time to say one.

“I love you t—”

But there isn’t even enough time for you to finish your sentence, because suddenly Natasha’s face is covered in blood.

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Click here for Part 5!

[thebigbadbatswife]

The Witching Hour - Chapter 1 - All Hallows’ Eve

Summary - When her friends dragged her to Gotham’s old cemetery for some Halloween ghost hunting fun, Y/N really didn’t think her life would end up changing like this.

Chapter Warnings - referenced/implied character death

Word Count - 3.3k

The cell phone on your nightstand buzzed incessantly as your friends continued to spam your messages. They had been doing so for the past hour or so. You were surprised that the damn thing hadn’t vibrated off of the nightstand yet. When it finally stopped, when you finally thought they had given up, you returned your attention to the document you had open on your laptop. Just as you were about to start typing again, your phone resumed its buzzing.

Huffing, you shut your laptop’s lid, placed it on the bed next to you, reached over and grabbed your phone off the nightstand. Over eighty messages both from your friends individually and within the group chat, begging you to come along with them to the old cemetery that sat outside of town. They wanted to go because it was Halloween and that meant it was the best time to go ghost hunting! And they wanted you to go along because of how you were usually drawn to this type of stuff. As well as how this type of stuff was also usually drawn to you.

Come on! For old time’s sake? Plus we’re going to have a much better chance at actually catching something if you come along!

The message was from your friend John, the ringleader of your group. The reason you and your friends had always gotten into trouble at school. Now he was trying to work his magic once again.

Only because I’m a meta with an uncomfortably close relationship with death…

As far as you knew, your powers were genetic instead of being caused by that arc reactor explosion that had given a lot of metas their powers. You were able to look past the “Veil”, as it was called, and see and interact with spirits on the other side. Not that you did so often or even liked to do. It creeped you out and you sometimes saw things that would certainly traumatize most people if they saw them. Not to mention the strain on your body and mind each time you did it. 

Why the obsession with the old cemetery now?

It had been years since John had mentioned ghost hunting, let alone the old cemetery. Back during your last year of high school, it had been all John could talk about. He was convinced that it was where the “cool” ghosts would be hanging out. None of you had ever actually gone because your last year had passed surprisingly quickly and before you all knew it, you were all moving to different parts of the country for college. In all that time it had never been mentioned again. Until now.

Ha! She finally replies! I knew you wouldn’t leave us to scream into the void forever!

The next message was from Tom, your oldest friend. Unlike the others, you two had known each other since kindergarten. If anyone was capable of talking you into going, it was probably him.

It’s been years since all of us were in the same place at the same time! Not to mention it’s Halloween and a full moon! I don’t think it could be more perfect!

Well, he wasn’t wrong about that.

You know you want to come! And don’t you dare lie!

He wasn’t wrong about that either. You were a little curious. The cemetery was on the outskirts of Gotham City. According to the internet, the cemetery had members of Gotham’s oldest families buried there. If you were to use your powers there to look past the Veil, there was a chance some of those people could still be hanging around. It would certainly be an unique opportunity to converse with them and, perhaps, attempt to help move on. Or maybe you would find inspiration for your next short ghost story. You certainly had been struggling with inspiration recently so maybe this was exactly what you needed.

Okay! Fine! I’ll come!

You scoffed as you hit ‘send’. Once again, Tom had talked you into joining them. A small part of you was convinced he was a meta with some sort of manipulation power.  

That’s great! ‘Cause we’re already outside your house!

John replied, causing you to roll your eyes. Of course they were already outside. Why wouldn’t they be?

You locked your phone, got up from your bed and slipped your phone into your pocket. You grabbed your jacket from your wardrobe and made your way out of your bedroom and down the stairs. You grabbed your keys from the bowl on the table, near the front door.

“Y/N? Where are you going at this hour sweetheart?” your grandma called from the living room.

“I’m going to meet up with some old friends. I’ll be back soon!” you replied. You didn’t tell her where you guys were going since you knew she would most definitely disapprove.

“Stay safe!”

“Will do!”

After your parents’ death, your grandma had not only raised you, but helped you learn how to use your abilities so that, should you choose to, you’d be able to use them. Not that she would approve of you constantly using them. Looking through the Veil could sometimes draw the attention of extremely unwanted creatures that were looking for a route to the physical world. You knew how to defend yourself from them, but that didn’t mean you really wanted to get into that situation to begin with. If you were going to use your abilities tonight, you were going to have to be extremely careful.

The entire drive there, your friends excitedly talked about what they could potentially capture on either video or audio. John was driving, Tom sat in the passenger seat next to him and you were sitting in the back with Rebecca.

A couple of hours later and the car finally pulled up in front of the cemetery. John turned off the engine and you all got out. Since it was pretty much pitch black out here, you all got out your phones and turned on your flashlights.

Tall stone walls covered in moss and vines surrounded the cemetery and an old rusted iron gate stopped the car from going any further. Threaded through the bars of the gate was large rusted chain with an equally rusted padlock. Even if you guys had the key, you seriously doubted it would have worked anyway.

“Are you kidding me?” asked Tom, as he useless pulled against the chain. “This is so unfair!”

“Uh, maybe we could try to scale the walls or something?” Rebecca suggested as she walked over to where the vines seemed at their thickest. She gave them a gentle tug. “Looks like it might hold our weight, if we go up one by one.”

Tom shook his head. “And get covered in spiders? Yeah, no thanks!”

Rebecca frowned as she used her phone’s light to have a closer look at the vines. “I can’t see any spiders.”

“That’s because you’re not looking in the right spots,” he replied as he walked over to her. He shone his own light up at the vines.

While you walked over to them, to get a better look at what Tom was trying to show her, John shook his head and walked back toward the car.

“See all of those tiny turquoise dots shinning back at us?” he asked her as he pointed above where there were a lot of tiny turquoise dots sparkling in the light.

“Yeah, they’re like little drops of moisture right?”

“You would think, but they’re not! Those are the eyes of all those horrid little spiders!”

Rebecca squealed and immediately backed away from the wall. “Tom! Why the fuck would you tell me that! Fuck! There’s probably going to be so many of them inside the actual cemetery! And now I know how to spot them!”

“I don’t think that’s going to be much of an issue considering we can’t get in anyway,” you said as you gestured toward the very locked gate. This whole thing was starting to feel like a massive waste of time.

“Oh! But we can!” John announced as he strode on over to you three with a large pair of bolt cutters in hand. He also had a backpack slung over his shoulder. As he cut the chain, John explained how he had swung by here earlier to see if there was anything that would stop you lot from getting in. When he saw the chain, he had gone to the hardware store, that was located in the worst part of the city, and bought these. “Only place I could find that had bolt cutters big enough for a chain like this!”

“Aren’t we like breaking the law or something right now?” Rebecca asked just as the cutters snipped through the chain and it clanged against the gate.

“Probably,” John replied very nonchalantly. “But we’re pretty much committed at this point now. Besides, look at this place! No one’s been here in years! I seriously doubt we’re going to get caught.”

The iron gate creaked loudly as it was pushed open and you all headed inside. The others walked ahead while you trailed behind. The way they were talking, discussing who was buried here and therefor who they could potentially “contact”, made you feel like you had time-travelled back to high school.

When you all got to the centre of the cemetery, John took the backpack off and opened it. It was filled with all sorts of equipment that was used in modern day ghost hunting. Voice recorders, emf meters, even a couple of high end night vision cameras. Damn, he had really gone all out for this. After the gear had been handed out, John began to give everyone directions as to where they were off to investigate.

Tom and Rebecca were going to be investigating the southwest of the cemetery, which was the newest part, John was headed up to the north, where some mausoleums were shaded by an old willow tree and you:

“And Y/N, you get the oldest part of the cemetery which is toward the east!”

“Right, of course, send the meta to the creepiest part of this place,” you said, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Well, you said it, not me! Good luck and we’ll meet back here in a couple of hours,” John replied. With that, you all split up and went your separate ways.

The cemetery was vastly overgrown. Most of the headstones were buried beneath the long unruly grass, brambles and vines. Every now and then your flashlight would catch a glimpse of the grey stone underneath. You also caught more glimpses of those glowing spider eyes and were doing your best to ignore them. You really hated Tom sometimes.

Thanks to all of the plants, you could barely see the path. The only thing that indicated you were walking on one was every now and then you could feel a stone slab shift underneath your feet.

The further east you walked, the darker and darker the cemetery seemed to get. It also seemed to get creepier and creepier, which was strange to you because you never really found cemeteries creepy. Instead you had always found them peaceful. A lot of people found you weird for that. There was also the feeling that something was watching you. The uneasiness that came along with that feeling was enough to prevent you from using either your recorder or your abilities. If there really was something watching you, you got the feeling that the last thing you wanted to do was attract its attention. After all, who knew what truly lurked here? Especially on the other side.

You eventually reached a group of mausoleums. Much like the rest of the cemetery, they were covered in bramble, vines and other plantlife. They were tall and the parts of them you could see, you could tell were certainly made of far more expensive stone than the rest of the place. This wasn’t just the oldest part, this was also the richest part.

You approached a few of the mausoleums and managed to clear away some of the plants covering the name plates. The majority of the names had been erased due to the elements, but not all of them. The names that were still readable were also names you recognised. Kane, Elliot, Crowne. Three of the First Families of Gotham.

You were about to approach another when you saw something large and black move, out of the corner of your eye. You spun around and shone your flashlight in the direction of the shadow, but there was nothing there.

“Hello?” you called out, which was probably a terrible idea, but it was the only thing you could think of doing. “Who’s there?” You waited for a reply, but no reply came.

Was your nerves making you see things? It couldn’t be a spirit; you weren’t using your powers. Unless… Throughout your life you had heard of non metas who had “seen” things in their peripheral vision. Sometimes they were spirits that had briefly broken through the Veil, other times it really was just people imagining things. Until now you had never experienced it before and you hated how impossible it was to tell which one it was.  

Turning on your phone’s screen, you looked at the time. You still had an hour before you had to head back to meet back up with the others. Turning the screen off again, you looked back in the direction you had seen the shadow move toward. Did you follow? It sounded like an awful idea, but the only other thing you could do was head back early and then wait around for everyone else, and that sounded incredibly boring.

‘ Okay, guess I’m doing this then,’ you thought as you began to head down the path, in the direction the shadow had gone.

You had previously thought that there was no way this cemetery could be anymore overgrown than it already was. This new part you were now walking through proved you wrong. Extremely wrong.

Branches hanging low off of trees and thorns from the brambles tugged at your clothing as you passed them. You had to keep an extra careful eye out on where you were stepping so that you didn’t trip over and injure yourself. There were more mausoleums, but you could barely make their shapes out through all of the greenery.

As you walked, that feeling that something was watching you increased tenfold and you found yourself constantly glancing back. Each time you looked you were met with the same result. There was nothing there.

‘ It’s just my overactive imagination ,’ you told yourself, but that did nothing to soothe your growing fear. What if the thing you had seen had been an actual person? And not a good person at that. This was Gotham after all and for some reason Halloween was when most, if not all, the psychopaths suddenly came out to play. Were you about to become another notch in some serial killer’s knife hilt? Oh, you really hoped not. That was not how you wanted to go.

Before your mind could lead you down a dark path of all the vivid ways you could be brutally murdered right now, the path came to an end. At the end of it sat a lone mausoleum. This one didn’t look nearly as old as the others nor was it as covered in plants like the rest. As you walked over to it you saw one of the large iron doors had fallen off its hinges and now laid on the ground.

Cautiously, you approached the entrance. When you were close enough, you shone your light on the name plate. The name ‘Wayne’ was engraved on to it. You got a feeling that that was somehow important, but you really didn’t know why. Nor why you were so drawn to it. Almost as if you were now on autopilot, you stepped inside the mausoleum.

The first two names you saw were Martha and Thomas Wayne. Even years after their deaths, you knew the names well. Before their untimely deaths they had been trying to use their fortune to help the city and its more vulnerable citizens.

The next name you saw, you didn’t recognise. Jason Peter Todd. You were shocked when you saw his death date. “Fuck, you were barely sixteen years old,” you whispered. That was... that was not fair at all.

The last name was Bruce Wayne. It stood out to you a lot more than the others had. Almost as if it was…. Glowing? What? That made no sense. Okay, you were definitely just seeing things now. To prove that to yourself, you turned your flashlight off. The name continued to glow, in fact now it was a hell of a lot brighter.

“What the fuck?”

You peered closer to see if there was any small lights or something similar causing it to glow, but there wasn’t anything. The name was actually glowing! Freaked out, you took a picture of it (without the flash of course), and sent it to Tom. A few agonising minutes passed before he finally replied.

Why are you sending me a completely black photo?

What? You checked the picture you had sent and, yeah, the name was definitely visible.

Can’t you see the glowing name?

If Tom couldn’t see it, then what did that mean?

What are you on about? There’s nothing there. Are you okay?

Was this somehow related to your powers? Is that why Tom wasn’t able to see it? If that was the case, and with each passing second it seemed to be, then he or the others couldn’t help.

Yeah, I’m fine. Nevermind.

Sighing, you checked the time before you shut off you phone and slipped it into your pocket. Thirty minutes before you had to head back. You were on your own. If this was related to your powers then what exactly did you do with it? Your grandma had never mentioned anything like this before, so you had no clue. You still felt uneasy and this new discovery had done nothing to help so you really didn’t want to peer through the Veil, unless it was absolutely necessary.

Would anything happen if you reached out and touched it? You sometimes got flashes of memories or feelings when you touched some items. Maybe this could be the same? You supposed the only way to find out would be to touch the stone. Cautiously you reached out and pressed the palm of your hand against the cold stone.

Images flashed through your mind. Movie tickets, a pearl necklace, a gun. There was the sound of the gun firing, a child’s blood chilling scream and the loud wailing of police sirens. Then it was over and you were brought back to reality, with far more questions than you had previously started with.

Before you were able to question or make sense of what you had seen, your phone vibrated. Taking it out, you saw a text from John, as well as several others.

Are you nearly here?

We were supposed to meet up fifteen minutes ago. Where are you?

Did your phone die?

It did, didn’t it. Unless you’re currently doing one of your meta things?

So what had simply been mere seconds for you in reality had been forty five minutes for everyone else. Which wasn’t all that unusual for you, but could certainly make people that didn’t deal with it daily worry. With that in mind, you fingers flew across your keyboard as you typed out your reply.

Yeah, meta thing, sorry. I’m on my way back now.

You turned your flashlight back on and walked back to the entrance. Before leaving, you looked back to where the glowing of Bruce Wayne’s name was now slowly fading away. Whoever he had been, he was asking for your help. You were sure of it and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

[crimes-inc]

Whumptober Day 1

CW: blood, injury, death threats

2130 words (I really don’t know how it ended up this long, it’s 1:45 am on day 2 oh god)

Let me know if you want to be tagged in upcoming prompts or need certain things tw tagged!

All Trussed Up and Still Nowhere to Go

Barbed Wire | Bound            

The sign on the self-storage entrance stated they closed at 10. Yet here he was at the exit at 9:47 rattling the padlock uselessly against the surrounding metal of the gate.      

Chase stubbornly, and perhaps desperately, gave it one last shake before turning away with a grimace. There’s no way they closed-up shop early with him still inside, right? He only had a few boxes to store away between moves and hadn’t been here that long, maybe half an hour. Hell, he signed a check-in sheet, wouldn’t they be responsible for making sure everyone had signed to check out as well?

The smart thing to do would be to give the owners a call, but Chase had decided to just leave his phone in his car to avoid losing track of it while he moved a few boxes back and forth between the unit and the parking lot. The “smart thing” wasn’t an option.

“Not exactly well-known for ‘smart things’ anyway.” he muttered to himself.

God, he could kick himself. If he ended up stuck here all night, then the morning wasn’t going to be too bright once his phone is blown up with missed messages. Stacy would be as pissed off as ever and just use the incident as another nail in his parental rights coffin, regardless of whether the kids were involved or not. Explaining his humiliating plight to Jackie or Schneep would just lead to two different well-meaning lectures on shit he already knew but can’t seem to get right. Maybe Marvin would laugh the whole thing off but the magician’s attitude towards danger and plain dumbass-ery seemed to change with the tide so there was no telling what he’d say.

Damn it, Chase, think! That’s later, focus on NOW. he chided himself.

He straightened his snapback hat and strode away from the padlock. Someone had to still be floating around, or maybe there was another exit he could use that would automatically lock behind him. After all, he figured the gate, fence, and locks were mostly there to keep people from getting in, not out.

He stole a glance at the high fence surrounding the lot, razor wire lining the bottom and three strings of wire leaning outwards towards the top. Yeah, definitely meant to keep people out. Still, that looked like a wickedly dangerous climb. He’d rather risk the sleepless night inside than getting torn to shreds to get out if he didn’t have to.

He straightened up and walked around the main office, also locked of course, but there was a security camera attached to the awning. Maybe if he…?

Chase jumped up and down waving up at the little white device. It was a long shot but maybe somebody was watching or could send someone his way at the very least. If not, well… if someone ever looked back at the tape, they’d get a little entertainment from the idiot hopping around on-screen. Not so different than his youtube channel if he was honest.

Chase checked his watch again: a crappy digital thing his daughter dug out of a box of Cheerios after he accidentally drowned his Apple Watch in the kitchen sink. “It’s glow-in-the-dark!” She’d declared to him with a proud grin. Chase gave a sad smile back at the face of Shrek strapped on his wrist. He hadn’t seen her face in weeks now.

He swiped at his eyes, recomposing himself. Hell of a time to get swept up in his broken family situation. It was nearly ten now, if there were any remaining workers around, he needed to find them quick.

“Hello?” he shouted, “Anyone still here? Kinda locked in…”

Chase made his way further into the maze of units, keeping his eyes peeled for an employee, caught between hope and hopelessness with each step he took.

Eventually, as he started closing in on the opposite end of the lot, he heard footsteps. He perked up and walked toward the sound.

“Hey, is someone there?” he called out. “Gate’s locked up front and I—”

The sound of the footsteps quickened its pace, and, wait, that sounds like a second pair but it was coming from…

Chase pivoted around in place just in time to see a man bring a pipe down on his head.

He came to in a daze, eyes fluttering open and closed, only vaguely aware of someone dragging his limp body along the pavement. He didn’t even remember falling, and his head was pounding heavily against his skull.

“—thought you said the place was cleared out!”

“Look,” the man gripping Chase said, “I saw closing shift take off, how was I supposed to know some idiot would still be wandering around?”

“Maybe the fucking remaining car in the parking lot would have tipped you off, Shane!”

“What the fuck do you want me to say? I only saw what the cameras were showing before shutting them off completely.”

A third voice joined in, “Shut up, that asshole was making too much noise as it is—let’s just hope he’s the only one around, we’ve pulled too many strings to turn back now.”

Chase felt himself get propped none-too-gently against the outer wall of a unit. He didn’t dare open his eyes. Whatever situation he’d stumbled into, he wasn’t in safe hands and any struggle he put up in his disoriented state would be a losing battle from the get-go. By the sound of things, these people had managed to break into a unit and were rummaging for goods.

The man knelt next to him again and held Chase’s arms together. The loud, sticky sound of duct tape rang out before Chase felt it be looped around his wrists a couple times. Once secure, he stood and turned away.

“Okay then,” the man—Shane—said in a more hushed tone, “the job’s not blown. But what do we do with him, Joseph? I don’t think he got a good look at me before I took him down. We might be able to set him loose once we clear out.”

“That’s a mighty big assumption.”

Chase tensed as the man named Joseph stepped closer to him. A hand was placed on his shoulder as he was shifted forward. He felt his wallet and car keys be slipped out of the back pocket of his jeans.

“Hm. No phone. Eh, we’ll check his car later. See if anyone knows he’s here.” The man mumbled to himself. No one spoke as the contents were searched through.

Chase’s mind was becoming frantic. This seemed beyond just petty theft. While he was glad he hadn’t let on that he was conscious for fear of immediate and violent action, he didn’t know how he’d get out of this without a clear look at his surroundings and his arms taped up.

“Chase Brody. Ugh. Family type, good god, there’s more fucking kid photos in here than cash.”

Joseph paused another moment, most likely pocketing whatever cash Chase had had on him before. Chase was doing his best not to so much as swallow.

“No cops, no witnesses.” He announced, “I’m not blowing this job because some motherfucking dumbass was in the wrong place at the wrong time. We’ll drive him out a few miles and get rid of him. Edith, drive his car over and we can just dump him there. See if the client will throw in a bonus for the trouble.”

As his car keys were tossed to the woman named Edith, Chase snapped his eyes open and kicked Joseph’s legs out from beneath him, causing him to stumble to the ground. Chase shot up as quickly as he could and sprinted away from the thieves. Blood was pounding in his ears. Shit, he didn’t know where to even go. The main gate was still locked, those assholes had probably managed to cut their way through the fence. That probably wasn’t an option for him since he didn’t know where it was or if there were more of them…

He heard cursing somewhere behind him, prompting him to go faster and take a turn down another row. He wasn’t getting out of here, he wasn’t getting out of here. It would only be a matter of time before they caught up to him and they might just kill him on the spot now that he’s proven himself a runner.

At least I managed to get a decent shin-kick in before I die. Chase thought.

He shook the grim thought away, no, he wasn’t dying here tonight and he wasn’t going to uselessly beg to be let go. He was getting out.

Chase began chewing at the frayed edge of the duct tape on his wrists, shimmying his hands the best he could. It was only a little bit of give, but he pumped his wrists sharply against his chest. It took a few tries but finally on the third try, the twisted duct tape broke free.

He peeled the grey adhesive away from his skin and made a sharp turn directly for the tall, barbed fence. He leapt up as high as he could, his right hand just barely missing a barb, and started maneuvering his way up.

“THERE!” a shout came from behind him. Too frightened to look back, he started climbing faster. While trying to be careful about his hands, the soles of his shoes seemed to keep getting snagged on the jagged metal forcing him to stop and kick himself free every few inches higher he seemed to get.

“I’m gonna cut him off on the other side—”

“Don’t bother, Shane, the fence will tear him to shreds before he reaches the top. He’s got nowhere to go.” Joseph said, “Grab his leg. Once he falls, hold onto him, and I’ll tear him into finer pieces.”

Chase kicked his foot free and started grabbing blindly higher. It was just blood, just a few punctures and cuts, he was going back home alive tonight. Scars, be damned. He could feel someone’s hand flail at the cuff of his jeans below him, urging him to climb faster, not daring to look down.

He reached the top. His hand reached the top of the bar to keep his balance, and he hoisted his legs up to stand on it precariously. The way the fence curved the three lines of razor wire outward was going to be tricky but he could—

The fence shuddered beneath him, as the man Joseph threw his weight against the chainlink below, Chase’s foot fell forward and he fell against the three wires bodily, barbs, piercing his shoulder and chest through his shirt. He let out a short scream, trying to free himself from it. The fence shook again as Chase picked himself slowly off the wires, flinging his left leg over to the other side, not quite reaching a foothold below him. His other leg grazed against the wire again, blood slowly cascading down his calf.

His left foot finally managed to find a resting point and he gripped the wire with his hand as he started to work his whole body over and down—the fence shook a third time. Both feet slid out from underneath Chase as his shoulder and hands caught all his weight against the wire, making a slick, sharp red line from the crook of his elbow to his shoulder, and his hands spilling blood through his grip. He released the wire and reached for a lower hold when his other hand let off too soon sending Chase to the ground below.

He landed hard on the ground, just outside the self-storage, one leg partially caught in the coil of barbed wire waiting at the bottom. His body screamed in agony, though Chase himself was breathless, the wind knocked out of him from the fall. He scrambled to his feet, adrenaline and desperation taking over and ran. Whatever profanities and threats were being shouted behind him being drown out in the wind and the turmoil of fear echoing in Chase’s mind as he bled and ran away, away from his captors, his would-be murderers.

Eventually, the injuries began catching up to him, though it seemed the thieves had not. Shit, he was going to need a fuck-ton of stitches. What had started as minor abrasions had become horrible, open and freely-bleeding gashes. Hopefully the hit he’d taken to the head earlier would become nothing more than a goose egg.

The humiliating phone call to his friends about being locked in a self-storage was seeming like a great idea about now. Fortunately for Chase, an upcoming 24-hour convenience store was waiting for him just ahead, and inside, a man with a red hoodie and a slurpee was working the counter tonight.

[oforamuse]

sun in my eyes

it’s moments like this, when they’re alone and mickey’s walls slowly, slowly start to come down, when he smiles at one of ian’s jokes, when he opens up about something unexpected, something personal, when he passes him a cigarette to put between his lips that’s still wet from being between his, that makes it all worth it.

or, a missing moment during ian and mickey's summer together in season 2 inspired by davenzi’s first kiss // read and comment on ao3

It’s hot. It’s really fucking hot.

Ian’s exhausted and feels gross. Sticky. He barely slept at all last night - a bedroom with three sweaty boys and no working AC unit to relieve them sucks at the best of times, let alone during a hot summer night. He’d spent most of it sitting at the window with a cigarette, hoping to entice some sort of breeze their way.

It didn’t work.

Summers in Chicago are brutal. The heat, the humidity, the constant sweat dripping down the back of your shirt.  

It’s unbearable.

Ian presses his forehead against the cool glass of the Kash and Grab’s drink fridge, a crate of mismatched beers resting on his hip as he takes a moment to breathe whilst restocking.

He’s there for a moment, possibly longer - in this heat he can’t tell, time moves by so fucking slowly - when Mickey slumps against the door next to him.

‘You good?’ Mickey says, his back pressed against the glass. He smells of smoke, sweat and the cheap brand of detergent the Milkoviches use, when they use it, all balled into one.

‘Hot.’ Ian groans, twisting his head away from the glass and pulling himself upwards, leaving behind a smeared sheen of sweat where his forehead had just been.

Mickey eyes him, ‘Fuckin’ gross, man.’

‘Fuck off, it’s too fucking hot.’ Ian wipes a hand across his moist forehead, already missing the cool relief from the glass of the fridge door.

He watches as Mickey pushes himself off the door and twists, pulling it open and grabbing a chilled beer from the back. He presses it against his forehead, just as Ian had done with the door, Mickey’s eyes are closed for that brief second of can against skin contact and Ian allows himself that moment to look, unbeknownst to the other man. Mickey’s got a shine on his forehead that follows down his neck, he’d been unloading boxes from a delivery just before - clearly it took it out of him. He’s wearing a threadbare tank top which sticks to his torso in a couple of places, the left side of his ribcage, his upper chest, and it’s all he can do to chew the inside of his mouth to stop him from doing something stupid like moaning out loud.

Mickey’s eyes open and he averts his gaze quickly - getting caught staring isn’t worth the shit talking afterwards. It’s easier this way, he’s learnt now, stealing his gazes secretly and in small doses.

Mickey twists the bottle cap off deftly and chugs half of it down in a single fluid motion.

‘You gonna pay for that?’ Ian asks, forcing himself to look away from the way Mickey’s throat moves as the liquid goes down. He steps past him and leans his back against the store’s counter, crossing his arms over his chest, steadying himself. ‘I’m the one who’s gonna have to make up for that.’

Mickey shrugs, and moves the bottle from his lips and burps loudly, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘Wanna get out of here?’ He asks, ignoring Ian’s question with a grin - which is pretty much what he expected, really, because Mickey likes to take his liberties where he can - especially when it comes to taking free shit from work.

Ian pulls a face at the suggestion - it catches him off guard slightly so it’s a quick reaction, but it doesn’t completely throw him off balance. He’s used to being caught off guard by Mickey these days. He shrugs and sighs, ‘We’ve got like an hour until we close up- it’ll be my ass gettin’ shit if Linda finds out we bounced.’

‘I can’t spend another minute in this shithole, I’m sweatin’ my balls off man.’

Ian scoffs, toes the line, flirts maybe, ‘Your balls seemed pretty okay an hour ago.’

An hour ago when he’d been down on his knees giving Mickey head in the back of the store’s cooler. It was too hot to fuck fuck, they soon quickly realised after a miserable attempt - two sweaty, overheated bodies are worse than one and decidedly they settled on mutual blowjobs.

Mickey swipes at his lip, ‘Whatever- there must be some sort of fuckin’ human rights violation makin’ us work in this.’

‘You want a working AC? You pay for it. Linda sure as hell won’t.’

‘Can’t be fuckin’ legal.’ Mickey grumbles, throwing the empty beer bottle in the trash with an exaggerated toss. ‘Fuckin’ criminal.’

Ian rolls his eyes and gets back to restocking shit in the fridges - there’s only a few more crates to get through anyway - then he can get back home and more importantly, the above ground pool with his name on.

It only takes another ten more minutes of sluggish working, the sweat dripping down his back doubling, for Ian to consider Mickey’s offer. Hardly anyone has stopped by the store today - they had a small barbecue rush when they first opened up, but as the day got warmer, customers coming by to pick up beer, ice or snacks dried up.

Neither one of them had bothered to unlock the door after they’d gone out back, Ian realises now and no one’s knocked in the last hour, so it’s not like there are people lining up outside wanting to spend a dollar or two. Linda’s busy with the new kid, so he knows she hasn’t been watching the cameras recently…

He drops his empty crate next to where Mickey’s situated himself at the counter - apparently given up on his jobs for the day a while ago.

‘Alright, where do you wanna go?’  

Mickey looks up from where he’s been flicking through a magazine, his left eyebrow quirked upwards.

‘Changed your fuckin’ tune.’

‘Let’s just get out of here.’

They gather their shit quickly and Ian shuts everything official down, dumping the cash from the day into the safe underneath the till. He’ll double count it tomorrow. Linda won’t know.

Once they step out onto the humid street, with the store’s lights switched off, deliveries shoved to the side for tomorrow and the door locked behind them, Ian turns to Mickey.

‘Dugouts?’ He suggests, tipping his head in the direction they’d take - it’s become their usual spot this summer, they’ve spent a couple nights fucking against the chain link fence, sharing beers, cigarettes and laughs.

Mickey looks at him for a moment, considering, then says,

‘Nah man.’ shaking his head and chucking a thumb over his shoulder, ‘This way.’

He follows Mickey’s lead up the steps into the station and they jump over the turnstiles to the L, ducking onto the first train that pulls onto the platform. It’s the middle of the work day still so it’s pretty empty and somehow, by some miracle, they managed to snag a carriage with a working AC.

They don’t speak for most of the ride, Ian periodically looking up at Mickey at every stop until eventually he gets distracted from keeping track. They finally pull into a station about 20 minutes later and Mickey grunts out a gruff ‘Gallagher.’ and he has to pull himself up and out of the doors before they close.

Mickey leads them half a mile or so down a few blocks and Ian can feel the sun burning down on the exposed skin at the nape of his neck - he’ll regret his lack of sunblock later when he’s dealing with Fiona’s disapproving glare at the pinked skin, he knows it.

‘What are we doing walkin’ so far in this heat?’ Ian says, though lets it trail off as Mickey stops abruptly, pausing on the sidewalk.

They’ve stopped in front of a tall, locked metal gate with a PRIVATE PROPERTY sign hooked over the top - there’s a giant padlock on the front but a couple bars have been bent out of shape, presumably to bypass without a key. Ian looks up at it, craning his head slightly to get a good look behind. It seems like it opens into a dim shady alleyway between two buildings, even in the yellow haze of summer it gives him the creeps.

Ian’s about to ask why they fuck he brought him here when he’s stopped by Mickey pulling himself up and over the fence, the muscles working in his arms as he goes. It’s a bit clumsy and when he drops down into the alley on the other side, he loses his balance slightly but recovers quickly in his cool but cocky Mickey like fashion.

He smirks at Ian, a challenge burning in his eyes and even more so in his tone when he says, ‘You comin’?’

It’s on.

Ian drops his cigarette to the ground wordlessly and reaches up to grip the top. He hooks his foot onto one of the metal bars that’s slightly curved inwards and launches himself over the top. He drops down next to Mickey with an edge more grace than Mickey did - it’s the ROTC training in him, he quirks his eyebrow.

‘Yeah, yeah okay, tough guy -’

The nickname’s said mockingly, it’s a new one for him - appearing only recently after Mickey had got back from juvie - and something warm in his stomach, something not from the heat of the sun, bubbles at the idea that he cares enough, perhaps, to give him a nickname.

They walk down the alleyway, which to Ian’s surprise, opens up to a green, sparsely albeit, field lined with bare boned trees and trash. There’s a building in the middle of it, but from the outside Ian can tell it’s been a while since it saw round the clock action. There’s broken windows, peeling paint and graffiti tags smattering the outside walls. It’s the type of place Frank and his homeless friends probably come to get drunk- or teenagers to fuck, perhaps.

It’s probably what they’re here for, honestly.

‘Where the fuck are we?’ Ian asks as they walk closer, the building looking more and more worn as they approach. They share a cigarette, passing it slowly between them with clammy fingers.  

‘Used to come here with my cousins, good place to smoke.’ Mickey says with an exhale, then drops the butt to the ground and snuffs it out with his heel, ‘Not this shit though.’

Ian pulls a face cause it seems like a pretty far place to come to smoke, but he doesn’t press the issue - fuck knows the Milkovich reasoning for things, and instead asks,

‘You got the weed?’

Mickey gives him a, of course I’ve got the fuckin weed, raised eyebrow.

He stops them at a basement level window - it’s covered up by a broken door - seemingly haphazardly placed there by whoever was here last. Mickey moves it out of the way, shoving it against the outer wall and creates just enough space for an averaged sized person to slip through the window and inside.

‘Hope you’ve got your shots.’ is all Mickey says before he drops down and slides through the low window. There’s a bit of shuffling, then he hears Mickey calls, ‘Gallagher.’  

I hope the free clinic covered the shots for this shit, is what Ian thinks as he follows Mickey down into the building, landing with soft knees once he drops through.

Despite the high summer sun outside, it’s dark inside - almost too dark, and Ian fumbles for his lighter in his back pocket as Mickey leads them through the dark passages of what he assumes is the old building’s basement.

‘Too dark for ya?’

Ian kicks the back of Mickey’s knee and he buckles, losing his footing for a moment and placing his hand on the wall to steady himself.

‘Fuck you.’ Mickey says, there’s a little bite to it but he’s laughing, a light, chesty chuckle.

‘Too dark for ya?’ Ian imitates, waving the lit lighter in front of Mickey’s face, teasingly almost.

‘Fuck off.’ Mickey tosses back, exasperated almost, but fondly enough that it doesn’t sting.

It’s playful and easy, really, to exist in the thrumming energy they’ve grown between them. It’s easy to be around each other like this, when the weather is too hot to focus on anything except making dumb jokes, fucking and sharing a beer.

Like friends, friends and so much more.

He follows Mickey through the derelict rooms and hallways, up broken stairs into higher levels out of the basement. It’s lighter now, the sun comes through cracked windows and Ian gets to have a good look around. It’s dusty and there’s broken shit everywhere, but it’s pretty much been shelled out of anything that might’ve been left behind of worth - this is the Southside after all.

‘Fuckin’ long way to go just for a place to smoke, Mick.’ Ian says, voicing the thought he had earlier as he tucks the lighter back into his jeans now that he doesn’t need it.

Mickey slows as if they’re about to reach their destination and tips his head towards an open door on the other side of the hall, ‘Won’t be sayin’ that for long.’

They walk through the opening into-

A swimming pool?

The room is huge, with high ceilings, peeling walls and unfilled space, and in the middle there is a large rectangular swimming pool.

It’s empty, absolutely bone dry and clearly hasn’t been used in a long time.

‘Hottest day of the year and we are at a pool with no water.’ Ian comments as they walk around the edge - where you’d go to dump your stuff before jumping in, past the metal ladder. His voice echoes in the empty space, ‘Makes sense.’

Mickey flips him off, ‘Guess I’ll smoke this joint by myself then.’

‘This was a fucking great idea.’

They sit on the side of the pool, their legs dangling over the edge, nothing but warm air where the cool water should be.

It’s not as hot, thankfully, there’s even some sort of breeze whistling through and it cools the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He leans back on his hands as Mickey rolls a blunt on his bent knee and checks the place out properly.

The pool walls are tiled blue - or at least they used to be, once, when this place was pristine and in regular use - but now there’s a few chipped away, leaving the walls a smattering of blue and white, it’s mismatched and worn.

Three lane dividers still hang from the shallow end to the deep, it’s hard to imagine that this place was used once, that people would come here regularly to exercise, swimming back and forth down each lane.

They talk about nonsensical things whilst they smoke, his stomach is warm and happy.

‘How’d you find this place?’ Ian asks after he exhales, placing the blunt into Mickey’s expectant fingers. He shifts on his ass, twisting to get a good look at the place.

It’s pretty fucking cool, he’s got to admit. There’s something about abandoned places, especially something as big as an empty swimming pool that fascinates him. Mickey was right, it was definitely worth the way to go just to smoke.

Mickey doesn’t answer for a moment and Ian watches out of the corner of his eye as he smokes.

Inhale, hold, exhale, inhale, hold, exhale.

Then, almost just as Ian forgot the question he asked, Mickey speaks.

‘Dad pissed me off one day. I left and I just walked.’ He sniffs, holding out the blunt for Ian to take. He’s not looking at him though, his eyes are glazed slightly and Ian doesn’t know if that’s the weed or…well, something else. ‘I kept walkin’ and I found this place.’

‘You walked the entire way over here?’

They must be at least an hour’s walk or so from Canaryville, it was a good 20 mins on the L - not the easiest walk you want to do by yourself.

‘Yeah.’

‘You come here a lot?’

‘Every now an’ then.’ Mickey says keeping his gaze fixed ahead of him, his voice is stiff, detached almost, and Ian finally, finally understands what he’s saying.

This isn’t where he comes to smoke weed with his cousins.

This is where he comes to escape. To hide.

This is where he brought Ian when he felt the need to get away, do you wanna get out of here?  

Even if it was just from the stuffy, too hot store they both work at.

It’s moments like this, when they’re alone and Mickey’s walls slowly, slowly start to come down, when he smiles at one of Ian’s jokes, when he opens up about something unexpected, something personal, when he passes him a cigarette to put between his lips that’s still wet from being between his, that makes it all worth it.

Makes all the longing, all the kiss me and i’ll cut your fucking tongue out, all the brash, insistent arms length distance between the two of them worth it.

He knows deep down, no matter how ridiculous it may seem, one day it’ll be worth it.

Mickey’s vulnerable in that moment, guard down and beautifully open.

They’re in this weird, weed, emotion, heat heavy haze. The tension is thick and Ian feels the urge to press in closer, despite the temperature, to touch, to comfort, to get them both off, perhaps, but the moment breaks when Mickey pushes himself off the pool’s side and drops down to the tiled floor, right into where the water should be.

Ian quickly takes one last toke before stubbing the joint out, holding the weed in his lungs, his throat, and only exhaling as he drops down to meet Mickey on the pool floor.

Mickey elbows Ian in the ribs, kicking things off and they spend a few minutes chasing each other up and down the empty pool, swinging off the hanging lane dividers like kids. It’s sloped from the deep end to the shallow, so it’s more work than it looks and Mickey ends up doubled over in the deep end, catching his breath.

‘Too fuckin’ hot for that.’

‘You started it.’ Ian points out, a smug grin plastered on his face because he knows he’s faster than Mickey, could outrun him too and that’s more likely the reason Mickey wants to stop.

‘Whatever.’

‘We’re actually underwater right now.’ Ian says, feeling a little high, it’s dumb but he’s enjoying himself. The after effects of the weed buzzing warmly through his veins and perhaps there’s something more, perhaps it’s the effects of them.

He feels light, lighter than he has done in a while.

‘Shut the fuck up.’ Mickey rolls his eyes, his tone is playful though and he smirks, bringing the blunt back up to his lips. He’s amused - and just knowing that he’s the source of Mickey’s amusement, he can make Mickey laugh, gives him the push to keep going.  

‘No- we are , look-’ Ian says with a chuckle, he points up towards the peeling sign above their heads that says WATER LEVEL on the tiled wall. He does this dumb movement with his arms, like he’s swimming or something, it’s goofy, but Ian doesn’t care, ‘That means we can’t breathe right now.’

‘Yeah okay- that weed got to your head.’ Mickey says, pushing himself up off the wall. ‘No more for you.’

‘Bet I can hold my breath longer than you.’

‘The fuck are you talkin’ about, man.’

‘Bet I can hold my breath longer than you can.’ It’s flirty, Ian knows it, Mickey knows it.

Ian knows he’s toeing the line of what’s acceptable and what’s not. It’s a dangerous game to play, one wrong move could send Mickey running. He’s feeling lucky.

There’s something in Mickey’s eyes and Ian wonders if the weed is getting to him too.

Or if it’s something else.

‘Yeah, yeah, okay.’

Ian pushes.

‘Let’s see then’

‘You kiddin’ me.’

‘What? Afraid you’ll lose?’ Ian smirks, he knows the way to get Mickey to play along is to test the waters of how far his ego will go.

‘Fuck off.’

They take an exaggerated deep breath at the exact same time, their cheeks inflated like they’re in some Nickelodeon cartoon.

Mickey breaks after a handful of seconds - can’t be more than 7 maximum, and Ian barks out a laugh.

‘Ha!’ He claps his hands together, ‘I told you.’

‘Fuckin’ rematch.’

‘Yeah, yeah, okay.’ Ian mocks, echoing Mickey’s earlier words. He picks up on it too, if the curved corner of his mouth is anything to go by.

They take a deep breath together again, and Mickey’s eyes are teasing, almost.

He looks so fucking good in this light, even with the shitty beard he’s trying to grow. The bright, summer evening sun beams through a broken window on the ceiling, casting a warm glow on Mickey’s face. It’s fucking ethereal.

It occurs to Ian, Mickey all playful and soft edged in the humidity and heat, at ease, that he could kiss him right now.

Wants to kiss him right now.

Wants to kiss him right now more than fucking anything.

He could step forward, press his lips to Mickey’s and deal with the consequences later. Take what he so desperately wants.

Give Mickey what he knows he wants.

Wants but will never let himself have.

Maybe. One day.

He doesn’t though. Instead, the thought catches him so off guard, distracted by the what ifs and what could possibly be, that the breath he’s been holding falls out of his mouth in a dramatic, breathy, ‘Fuck.’

Mickey holds his for a split second longer then lets out a triumphant noise, fist pumping the air for good measure when he exhales.

‘Beat you, bitch.’

The utter cocky glee on Mickey’s face makes him feel like he can fly or some shit - right out the building and into the sky. Then suddenly they’re laughing, full out body wracking laughing, it’s the weed, it’s them and they’re moving closer and closer - this is the way it goes with them, heat be damned. They’ll quickly move on to shirts off, pants down, Mickey bent forward-

There’s the bark of a dog.

They freeze. Mickey even has his hands on his belt, ready-

‘Hey! You two!’ A voice bellows and it echoes, bouncing off of the walls, cringing into their skin. Their heads snap up towards the intruder and they’re greeted by a red faced security guard and his massive dog on a leash.

It’s a fucking angry looking dog.

They book it, only stopping for a millisecond for Mickey to scoop up the rest of their stash, then they’re off, running as quickly as they can, dodging their way through the building’s twisted hallways and empty rooms.

They laugh the entire time, stumbling into each other as they scramble through the window and out onto the field.

The dog’s bark can still be heard behind them so they don’t stop, their feet pounding the dry, yellowed grass, their breath falling out in heavy and exhausted puffs.  

‘Fuckin’ asshole!’ Mickey shouts over his shoulder, his voice carrying in the muggy air, picking up his speed now they’re in view of the fence.

His voice, the warm sun, the blood pumping through his veins.

It feels like bliss.

Let’s keep going, Ian thinks as he matches his speed with Mickey’s, let’s just keep fucking running.

He could run by Mickey’s side for the rest of his life.

[the-melting-world]

Summer Skin

~ In which a secretive barhand takes a traveling musician somewhere special...

Music: “Summer Skin” by Death Cab For Cutie

For @apprenticealec​

Khleo x Alec

Khleo uses she/they pronouns interchangeably 

Here is another contribution to the Soft Alec Project before Dani hits us with more angst. Plus, Khleo’s been wanting to do something sweet for Alec for a while now, so they thought this would be the perfect time to speak up!

~ 1k words

Alec had no idea what to expect for her date with Khleo that evening. All she knew was that they were going somewhere in the Dark Forest outside of the city. As much as Alec tried to get some answers out of Khleo, the barhand refused to reveal their secrets…

The dusky light of the fading afternoon made navigating through the forest very tricky. Alec gasped as she tripped over yet another root. Thanks to Khleo’s quick reflexes, she only stumbled a little. 

The musician met the barhand’s dark brown eyes and huffed, “I love the outdoors and everything, but it’s nearly dark, Khlee.”

Khleo grinned. “I know.” Once they got Alec steady on her feet, they pressed on ahead, tucking their hands into the pockets of their trachten shorts. Their golden brown curls bounced as they moved about on light feet, humming a broken, dizzy tune.

Alec couldn’t rely on the daylight, so she used Khleo’s shimmery pink stockings as a beacon. The barhand guided Alec through the thickening undergrowth until they reached an iron-wrought gate. 

It was not something you would expect to find in the heart of the woods. Alec tried to get a read on how far the gate stretched, but the light was nothing but a peachy haze now and the dark fence was all but swallowed up by the thick tree trunks and pale, wandering moss.

“They store all the floats for the masquerades on the other side of this fence,” Khleo explained as she worked a series of keys into the layers of padlocks that chained the entrance together.

Before Alec could ask where Khleo got the keys, they said, “My boss rents some of the space too. We store the stuff we use for beer festivals here.”

Alec acted on an instinct, sidling up to Khleo as they undid the last lock and dipping her face against their neck. “Does your boss know that you borrowed his keys?” The musician followed up the question by gently tugging Khleo’s earlobe between her teeth.

As expected, the barhand purred and leaned into the affection. “Mm. Get inside.” 

They pulled away from Alec and swung the gate inward. Alec stifled a whine and followed Khleo through the gate. She was relieved to see that the tree coverage was finally thinning out. As they walked together, Alec recognized certain floats from past masquerades. Without lanterns to illuminate them, they looked hollow and even a tad... haunted.

“This way,” Khleo whispered, slipping her hand into Alec’s. “We’re almost there.”

The musician decided to pry a little more. “Almost where?” 

“Where they keep all the stuff for the upcoming masquerade.” Khleo squeezed Alec’s hand. “The stuff no one’s seen yet.”

The structure that Khleo led them to was probably the largest in the park. The more Alec studied it, the more she realized that it wasn’t a regular float. In fact, it wasn’t a float at all. It looked heavy and built from bright metals. 

Khleo let go of Alec’s hand and drifted off toward a lever jutting out of the ground at an odd angle. Alec turned her attention back to the attraction. She noticed that it had a grand circular foundation. Most of the paint was red and chipped but interrupted by stretches of creamy white and ribbons of gold.

There were animals too, of all kinds, crowded together on the platform and locked into place by golden poles.

“Does this thing run on magic?” Alec wondered aloud, still trying to take it all in.

“No.” Khleo said as she gripped the lever. “Not magic.” She pulled the lever, causing the air around them to croak and groan as the attraction came to life.

“Something else.”

Alec’s look of confusion transformed into that of wonder as the bejeweled tones of the rising and falling animals reflected in her bright blue eyes. With a little help from Khleo, Alec got onto the moving platform. Khleo placed her hand on the musician’s lower back and gently encouraged her to choose one of the animals to ride.

Alec shot Khleo a playful smirk as she danced toward a roaring lion. 

“Nice choice,” the barhand said, following up and anchoring herself on the seahorse to the left. Alec laughed, leaned her cheek against the golden pole and looked out at the rotating scenery. The couple bobbed with the floating herd as they watched the forest glow with fireflies in the twilight hour.

“This makes me feel like a little kid again,” Alec sighed. When Khleo didn’t respond, she turned her head to find the barhand staring with a serene thoughtfulness that they didn’t usually express.

It wasn’t the first time Alec caught Khleo checking her out, but all the times before hadn’t caused the butterflies in her stomach to flutter like this.

“What is it, Khlee?” Alec asked as she folded a lock of hair behind her ear. 

Khleo angled her head, keeping her expression as it was. “Nothing. I’m just looking.”

Alec rolled her eyes. “At me. Not the view.”

Khleo shifted a little against the seahorse. “I can look at you if I want to.”

Alec blushed and broke eye contact. “And you won’t tell me why if I asked, will you?”

The musician looked up when she heard the barhand move. They were no longer riding the seahorse, but rather scooting up the golden pole towards the ceiling.

“I don’t.”

Khleo spun around the pole once. Twice.

“Need a reason.”

She locked eyes with Alec, grinning broadly through a sea of freckles.

“To look.”

Then Khleo leaped to the right. For a brief time, she was holding onto nothing.

“At you.”

Khleo grunted as she latched herself to the bright rod connected to Alec’s lion. The barhand swiveled dangerously for a few beats, sliding down as she did.

Alec jolted when Khleo landed suddenly in her lap, their strong, shimmering thighs overlapping her skirt.

“And I don’t have to tell you why either,” Khleo whispered, slightly out of breath. She peeked out from behind the pole wedged between the two of them and winked.

Alec didn’t know if she wanted to tease Khleo back or just kiss her. She decided on the latter, but when she leaned in, the barhand withdrew just in time and ducked her head to the other side of the barrier.

“Hey!” Alec whined. She folded her arms and leaned back, but Khleo caught her by the chin before she could get away. 

This time Khleo didn’t hold back. She kissed Alec. Forward. Sweetly. Until the musician’s head was spinning faster than the lion keeping them afloat.

[resident-of-edgy-evil]

Well, this was unexpected - Chapter 1

(Story strays from the primary story line of Resident Evil 2 as a given “what if” scenario but follows the same general base plot of the outbreak in the game.) - “what if you and Leon booked it as fast as you could from the front gate of the police station to the closest looking safe haven- a primary school?”

This is only the first chapter. I wish it had been longer, but I’m on a bit of a time crunch at the moment. I hope you like it and give some feedback. (I’ll probably be making a lot of changes) Thanks!

———————————————

You two weren’t entirely sure where you were going or what it was that you were doing. The outbreak spread to every nook and cranny of the city, showing no mercy to any man, woman, or child. The virus didn’t care whose life it took and the terror was all the same for each citizen to bear. There was nowhere in sight to turn. Every corner that you and Leon took was overrun by bloodied corpses lying in wait for their next meal. However, you weren’t willing to become the main course, and you certainly weren’t going to allow your best friend to attend their dinner party either.

“We’re running low on ammo,” he chimed in, breaking you out of your hyper focused state. “We have to find somewhere to stop and recuperate before we get ourselves killed.”

Your panic-hidden countenance never faded as you saw him barely huff, pushing himself to run faster than before. He kept his composure the best he could in a way that would fool anyone else into believing he was unaffected by the cities’ destruction. It was fairly unsurprising that his body could handle this after his training.

But you were no fool, you’ve known Leon since you two were kids, and it would make you a pathetic friend if you hadn’t noticed the slight glint of fear in his eyes that the academy could never prepare him for. You were worried about him even though he was more than capable of taking care of himself. If only there was the guarantee of making it.

“(Y/n), there’s an unoccupied gate over there. If we can make it to the other side then we might be able to catch our breath and search for more weapons.”

You’d be lying if you said that climbing over a gate in a zombie infested area was appealing, but you didn’t have any better ideas. Against your better judgment, you nod to Leon in silent confirmation. You weren’t really in the mood to speak even though communication was important during a time like this. This was a matter of teamwork, not solely protecting him, although it would’ve been preferable. He seemed to understand what you couldn’t. If you work together, you’ll survive together. If you work alone, neither of you are walking out of the city alive. It’s just a personal difficulty to listen to that voice of common sense.

You struggled to lead the way, dodging any lingering hands while paying the most mind to the rookie officer on your tail. It was important that you get him out of the city. Keeping track of Leon was your main priority, your sanity being the second. Very little else made any difference to you. Again, trying to work alone.

Leon sped up, reaching the gate before you. He searched your eyes for any sort of sign of pain or worry. He was dealing with this situation fairly well with only a few occurrences of true fear whenever you’d get snagged by the monsters outside the police station, but he couldn’t detect so much as a single trace of fear.

“When did you become so stoic?” He begins to choke on his own coughs through his breathlessness, unbelieving of your behavior.

You hadn’t really noticed a change in your own persona, but he certainly had. The bond you shared was intimate and your mood shifts often matched his own. He was worried that you were at risk of snapping at any given moment.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You offered the most genuine half smile you could muster, but you knew that he wouldn’t believe it either.

His own smile didn’t reach his eyes as he decided not to press you any further. You’ve never been in a situation like this before and it was unfair of him to assume how you’d react. You were much stronger than you appeared, more so than he could have ever anticipated.

Shaking his head a bit, he shrugged. It was best to question it once you weren’t completely surrounded.

“Here, I’ll give you a leg up over the gate.” He knelt down and placed his two cupped hands over his knee for you to use as leverage.

Your face twisted as you shot a sour look at Leon. This, you thought, was an awful idea.

The gate wasn’t any higher than 10 feet or so, including the sharp decorative spears protruding from the top, making you hesitant as being impaled would’ve been the last thing that you had imagined being the cause of your death tonight. Imagine making it this far only to have your grave say “almost survived the zombie apocalypse only to fall onto a gate.” The eulogy would be great, but the turnout wouldn’t be so grand.

Shaking your head from the thought, you redirected your thoughts to the task at hand. In between the metal spears was a thin bar that looked sturdy enough to climb. It was only a matter of keeping steady as to not get snagged or trip. Again, potentially embarrass and fatal.

“Leon, I don’t know about this, there has to be another-“ he cut you off by pulling you closer to his crouched form.

“Less talk, we’re wasting time. I can hold my own. Go find some bolt cutters or something, I don’t know. There’s nothing on the other side of the gate as far as I know, you’ll be safe.”

You were apprehensive to leave him on his own, but he was right. He knew how to fight his way out of here if he really wanted to. He could make it out of Raccoon, alone, without help, leaving you behind. The more time you took weighing your options was less time he had to fend off the new wave of zombies that were attracted by the commotion.

“Alright,” He hoisted you over his shoulder, his upper body strength catching you off guard. You didn’t recall him being this strong while growing up. Oh, how the times change...in more ways than you’d wished to count.

With the help of Leon, you make it onto the second tallest bar, praying that your balance didn’t give out. Scaling the gate, you make it to the top bar before bracing yourself for impact, in your best efforts to stray from jarring your joints. Safely making it over, you toss him your “borrowed” beretta through the empty spaces of the gate.

“At least take this, you’ll need it more than I will. I still have my pistol and knife so I’ll still have protection over here if something happens.”

He tilts his head, smiling softly at the gesture. You had been taking extra precautions during this whole ordeal to keep him safe. It wasn’t entirely unlike you to go out on your own and stray from the path, but now you were carrying their combined weight and weren’t focused enough to do something like this. Leon could only pray for you at this point.

“I’ll promise to stay safe if you do, too.”

Neither of you said anything as your eyes met each other’s. Tensions rose before you dipped your head in compliance and sprinted across the yard, rendering your sight of Leon, useless.

You knew that you had to find something quickly. You scanned the small expanse of lawn that had been meticulously cut, finding the whole side mission to be tiresome. It was proving to be a difficult task, y'know, looking for something- anything that could aid you by breaking the chains. It was even harder to will yourself not to back peddle and gaze at the sight of your struggling best friend.

"Christ, you're wasting time." you mumbled to yourself. “If he was here, he’s chide me for my time lack management skills.”

Your heart sped up the moment you began to hear gunsots, leading you to believe that things were getting bad out there if Leon was growing desperate enough to begin using bullets. To the left of what you could only guess was a school, stood a wooden shed out of the corner of your eye, making you hope beyond all hope that there would be something in there that could him through that stupid gate. What you had originally failed to notice while pulling the rusted door handles of the small structure that there was another padlock adorning a green clover shaped insignia around the keyhole. It was the same symbol you had stumbled upon in the police station.

Just your luck.

You pulled harder praying that the hinges of the wooden door would give in if you used all of your might. If only you still had that key...

"God, dammit, I don't having the fucking time for this." You ground your teeth and groaned.

Time was passing quickly and if you didn’t hurry, the monsters on the other side of the gate would kill Leon.

‘I hate this entire damn city.’

A loud crash came from a window on your right. Someone or, more likely, something was inside and you weren't quite ready to find out what it was. Upon closer inspection, the room was seemingly clear of any signs of life... or death, much to your surprise. It looked mainly untouched, though this only confirmed your previous suspicions. Smaller than average chairs lined the walls under a white board that had been nearly scrawled upon. Aside from the general disorganization of toys, which wasn't unusual for a children's class, the room really was untouched by the disaster outside. A brief moment of relief washed over you at the sight of a normal looking public space free of fallen bodies and pools of blood. Momentarily, it tricked you into believing that there wasn't death beyond that front gate.

You weren't going to let Leon or yourself die in this hellish town. That was one thing you were sure of. It felt like you were in a video game. It was almost like you walked in front of a barrel that, logically, you should be able to climb over, but you had no such luck. You were frustrated with the situation, kicking the short grass as a result. If only Leon could climb over that gate.

The feeling only grew the moment you looked through the next window. The sight made your blood run cold. Streaks of blood painted the tiles that had once been white. This had been the longest day of your life, the most physically drained you had ever been and to top it off, your heart clenched at the sight of a class disarray in a public children’s school. The unimaginable had struck this town and you were determined to not let the efforts of those who had helped you this far, go to waste.

“Leon, I’m coming for you.” You whispered as you rested your head on the glass, a single tear escaping your eye. “Just hang in there.”

[eternalgravityfaller]

Gravity Falls-Hocus Pocus AU: Gobbledygook

The cold autumn air was not the cause of the goosebumps prickling along Dipper’s flesh. He stared wide-eyed through the large wooden gate, staring at the derelict cabin shrouded in part by shadows.

Wendy grinned. “If anyone is scared, feel free to turn back now.”

Pacifica bristled at the pointed look the redhead shot her. “What’s there to be scared of?” she returned. “The legend isn’t true.”

She dug the copper key from the pocket of her dark purple jacket. She slipped it into the padlock and unlocked it. She unhooked it from the latches and shoved the gates open. She gave her hand a sarcastic wave and drawled, “After you, losers.”

Wendy rolled her eyes and walked onto the property that formerly belonged to the 16th century witch Bill Cipher. Mabel followed after their next-door neighbour and paused when her twin stayed rooted in place.

“What’s up, Dipper?”

Dipper bit down on his bottom lip. “I feel like this is a horrible idea.”

Pacifica smirked. “You heard Corduroy. If you’re scared, leave.”

“Knock if off,” said Wendy sternly.

“What? You did.”

“Listen, Dipper, the whole Bill Cipher legend is nonsense,” said Wendy with an encouraging smile. “Nothing is going to happen to us. We’re just gonna go in and check it out.”

“And then we can get back to collecting candy,” said Mabel, moving back to latch onto her brother’s hand. “C’mon, Dipper. You love this sort of spooky magic stuff. I thought you wanted to see Cipher’s cabin.”

“I do,” insisted Dipper. “But the last time a Pines walked onto his property...it didn’t end well.”

“You don’t really believe our super-great uncle was turned into a black cat, do you?” asked Mabel with a laugh.

Dipper caught Wendy’s amused grin and his cheeks turned red. “Of course not,” he said, lifting his chin. “Let’s go.”

“That’s my man!” cheered Wendy, and Dipper felt pride swell in his chest.

Pacifica shook her head. “Whatever. Can we please get this over with? I have a Halloween party to get back to.”

They trudged across the overgrown path and up the rotted wooden steps. Dipper’s heartbeat increased, banging against his rib cage as they reached the front door. Pacifica used the same key to grant them entrance, and soon the interior of the Cipher cabin unfolded before them.

Mabel batted away the thick, silver cobwebs that hung from the ceiling like curtains. “It’s got its own natural Halloween decorations,” she said cheerfully.

Wendy spun in a slow circle, taking in the roped-off artifacts with a look of awe. “You know, I’ve lived here my whole life, but I’ve never actually been to the Cipher museum.”

“You didn’t miss anything,” said Pacifica tightly, arms crossed over her chest and nose wrinkled in disgust. “It’s filthy in here.”

“I thought you said your mother ran this place up until a few years ago,” said Mabel. “How come it looks like it’s been abandoned for a decade?”

“This place was run-down when my mom took it over. The Salem Heritage Association only made two renovations to the Cipher cabin.” Pacifica pointed a finger towards the ceiling, where the upper windows allowed the moonlight to reveal a sprinkler system. “When no one steps foot into a three-hundred-year old building for like, four years, yeah, it’s going to get dirty.”

“What was the second renovation?” asked Mabel curiously.

“Lighting.”

“I don’t suppose you know where the switch is.” Wendy squinted through the darkness, seeing only shapes and blobs. “I can’t see anything.”

Pacifica wandered over to the door and flicked the switch. The light bulbs bloomed to life and Dipper blinked rapidly, trying to get his eyes to adjust. He approached a wooden counter, seeing a collection of abandoned gift shop items.

“I don’t think this was something Bill Cipher left behind,” he said with a raised brow.

“Had to generate revenue somehow,” said Pacifica with a sniff.

Wendy made a gagging sound. “It’s so tacky.”

Mabel joined her brother, peering over his shoulder at the dust-covered, clunky lighters. “Neat!”

Dipper recoiled as she snatched one and promptly lit it. “Mabel! Be careful!”

She clamped it shut. “I think I’ll take this as a souvenir.”

“That’s stealing!”

“It is not! They left them here.” Mabel glanced over at Pacifica. “Right?”

The blonde gave a bored shrug. “Take it. I don’t care.”

“Yes! You want one, bro?”

“No,” said Dipper distractedly, his attention diverted by the shelves of oddly shaped vials and bottles, a cauldron and a book encased by glass. He approached the bottles, staring at them warily. “These look suspiciously like ingredients.”

“Probably are,” said Wendy dismissively, going over to the cauldron and running her finger along the lip. A sizeable ball of dust built against her skin and she flicked it off. “How else would he concoct the potion to steal the souls of children?”

“Wendy!”

“Dude, relax!” Wendy punched him lightly in the shoulder. “I’m just kidding.”

Mabel approached the glass display case and pressed her face against it. “What’s this?” she asked, her voice muffled.

“That’s disgusting,” said Pacifica in horror.

Mabel stepped back and gave a few hacking coughs to clear the dust and grime from her throat. “Yeah, bad choice,” she wheezed, wiping the sleeve of her orange witch robe across her lips.

“This is Stanford’s journal, isn’t it?” asked Wendy in interest.

“Yup.” Pacifica gave the plaque a condescending tap. “Just like the little card says, if you know how to read.”

Wendy frowned. “Are you always this unpleasant?”

“Only with people I find annoying.”

Wendy started to retort, but Dipper interjected. “Listen to this,” he said eagerly. “Standford Pines spent most of his teenage youth investigating the strange and unnatural deaths of children in Salem. He logged his observations into his journal, which he kept secret from the rest of his village, for he knew his study of magic would result in an accusation of witchcraft. After the deaths of both Stanford and Bill Cipher, the book was left behind.”

It was a leather-bound journal, with a gold six-fingered hand embossed on the cover.

“Our relative wrote this,” said Dipper softly.

“He was into the supernatural just like you,” said Mabel, squeezing his arm. “You were both geeks!”

“Thanks, Mabel,” said Dipper with a scowl. “Really appreciate that observation.”

“What about that?” asked Mabel, spotting a white candle with blood-red designs merged with the wax mounted on the wall.

“The Black Flame Candle.”

Dipper snapped his head around, regarding Pacifica with fear. “Wait, the Black Flame Candle?”

Pacifica put her hands on her hips. “Are you deaf? That’s what I just said.”

Mabel moved closer to the candle, leaning forwards to read the smudged plaque. “The Black Flame Candle is made from the fat of a hanged man. Legend says that on a full moon on All Hallow’s Eve it will raise the spirits of the dead when lit by a virgin.”

“Okay, I think I’ve seen enough of this place,” said Dipper frantically. The sight of the candle turned his blood to ice. “Let’s go.”

Mabel laughed. “It’s just a candle, Dipper. Nothing is going to happen.”

A slow, sinister grin curled across Pacifica’s lips. “Light it. I dare you.”

“Don’t!” shouted Dipper.

Mabel flicked open the lighter, causing the tiny flame to dance. “I’ll prove it, Dipper. I’m not scared.”

A streak of black cut through the air and knocked into Mabel, sending her tumbling to the ground. A black cat with harsh yellow eyes hissed at the gathered kids, its claws digging into Mabel’s back.

“Bad kitty!” she cried.

Dipper hurried forwards, using his trick-or-treat bag to bat the cat away from his sister. “Get! Leave her alone!”

The appearance of the black cat, long-rumoured to be Stanley Pines, caused a shiver to run down Wendy’s spine. “Maybe Dipper’s right. We should probably go.”

Mabel got to her feet, but as she started to turn away from the Black Flame Candle, Pacifica coughed and said, “Coward.”

Mabel’s eyes narrowed. “I’m no coward.”

Before Dipper could stop her, she whirled around and, in one fluid motion, turned on the lighter and ignited the wick. She rocked back on her heels and said cheerfully, “See? Nothing happened. It’s just a bunch of gobbledygook.”

The orange flame turned black. Wind started to whistle through the cabin. Mabel’s smile immediately dipped.

“Uh-oh.”

The light bulbs in the chandelier above them exploded. The floorboards below them shook madly, a bright blue glow and smoke pouring through the cracks. Their screams echoed in the small space and Dipper and Mabel clung to each other.

“What’s happening?” shrieked Pacifica.

The rattling stopped and the floor went still. For a moment, none of them could breathe.

The remaining candles roared with fire and a high, menacing, echoing laugh sounded from outside. Exchanging one terrified look, they all dove for a hiding spot just as the door bolted open, slamming hard against the wall.

“Heeeeeeeere’s Billy!”

[drakexwillow]

One Long Summer

Chapter 2

Pairing: Drake Walker x Willow (OC) Maxwell Beaumont x Sophie (OC)

Warnings for the series: Smut, Swearing, Drug use, Sexual references. do not read if under 18.

Premise for the series: This will an AU following Drake when he leaves Cordonia to go to Texas for a year, instead of college he decides to get a job and just live a simple life with Maxwell joining him to also get away from court.

A/N: Okay this is my first ever series, i’ve decided to make the jump and just go for it so it might be abit rough around the edges. Let me know if you want on or off the tag list at any point

Tags: @burnsoslow @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @lyndsaycdrake1111 @furryperfectionlover @tinypenguincheesemachine  @janezillow  @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld  @msjr0119 @jlynn12273

Chapter one here if you need to catch up.

Drake was roused from his sleep when his alarm on his phone went off. Groaning her rolled over shutting it off before burying his head back into his pillow. His head was pounding and his mouth was dry, silently thanking himself for remembering to leave some aspirin and a glass of water on his bedside table. He popped a pill into his mouth before downing the glass of water. He dragged himself out of bed and hopped into the shower, hoping it would help him feel more awake. He swiveled the handle letting the water run before he climbed in, he stood as the water cascaded over his body. Once satisfied he climbed out, grabbing a towel and drying himself before throwing on his work clothes and boots and making his way to the living room in search of coffee.

Drake wondered into the living room finding Max sitting cross legged on the couch wrapped in a blanket, eating cold pizza from the night before and engrossed with the cartoons on the TV. He chuckled taking in Max’s disheveled appearance “you look like shit” 

Max groaned as he rubbed his hand over his face “I think i’m dying”  

Drake made his way to the kitchen, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard and pouring coffee into each of them “i thought you’d be used to a hangover by now”

“I’m never drinking again”

Drake snorted as he walked over handing him one of the mugs “We both know that’s a lie”

Max nodded “yeah” he took a sip of coffee while side eyeing Drake “Sooo...you and Willow looked like you got along last night”

Drake shrugged “just being friendly” taking a swig of his own drink and thumbing at his phone.

“so friendly that you kissed” Max waggled his eyebrows as he nudged Drake’s shoulder with his own.

Drake glanced at Max before looking back down at his phone.

“Drake and Willow sitting in a tree K-I-S-S” 

“Okay” Drake interrupted standing from the couch putting his phone in his pocket “i preferred it when you were dying”

 “Hey!” Max shouted “take that back”

Drake chuckled as he walked over to retrieve his keys from the bowl by the door “I’ll be back at 5″

“Are we watching the game tonight?”

“sure” Drake called over his shoulder as he left the apartment.

*********************************************

Willow’s eyes snapped open as she felt the covers being pulled off of her “5 more minutes” she groaned pawing at the blanket desperately trying to pull it back over her head.

Sophie stood, arms crossed over her chest “Willow get your ass out of bed it’s nearly noon”

Willow sat up rubbing the sleep from her eye’s “fine i’m up, happy now?”

Sophie cocked an eyebrow “sitting up doesn't count as getting out of bed and I've come to help you unpack your stuff”

Willow eyed the boxes around the room full of her things. She’d been back a few days and still hadn't unpacked not wanting the memories of the past 3 months to flood her mind. She sighed as she rubbed a hand down her face “Alright i just need to get this over with”

Sophie sat down on the bed placing a reassuring hand on Willow’s arm “Look i know it hard but the sooner it’s done the sooner you can forget about it”

Willow slowly nodded her head “I know”

Sophie pulled her into a hug “It’s good to have you back Lo, i missed you”

Willow pulled her tighter “i missed you too”

***************************

Drake was finishing up his work on the ranch for the day. Walking around the stables making sure all the horses were secure. he left the stables pulling the gate closed and securing the padlock around it. He slid both his hands into his pockets and began walking up the dirt path back towards the ranch. He paused as he looked at over the field's and rolling hills in front of him, the sun peaking over then casting a golden glow. Drake as startled when he heard a voice behind him “Beautiful isn't it?” He turned to see Willow sitting under a tree leaning against it, a sketch book on her lap and various pencils laid on the floor beside her. Drake looked back at the view as he nodded “sure is” he turned making his way towards her “I’m surprised to see you out here” Willow twirled the pencil in her fingers “trying to find inspiration”

Drake sat down beside her as he glanced down at the drawing on her sketch pad “you like drawing?”

“yeah, i’m a bit rusty i haven't drawn anything since I've been back”

“Mind if i take a look” Drake gestured towards her sketch pad. She nodded him handing him the book. she shifted pulling her knees up to her chest and rested her head on her knees as she watched him. Drake turned the pages looking through the drawings. All of them of different landscapes, forests, rivers, lakes and various other locations. Some had pictures taped to the opposite page he guessed used for reference “these are really good”

“you think so?”

“Yeah” Drake nodded “have you been to these places?”

“Most of them, i traveled for 3 months.Took a lot of pictures and decided to draw the ones i liked” Willow shrugged

“i think this ones my favorite” Drake pointed to the drawing on the page. Willow shifted to look over at the book, a smile tugging at her lips “Mine too and lucky for you i can actually take you there” she stood picking up her pencils and took the sketch book from Drakes lap “come on” Willow held out her hand to help Drake up. He took her hand and he got up onto his feet. He followed her to the ranch, just as they reached the steps she turned towards him “wait here i’m just going to put these inside” she motioned to her pad. Drake waited as Willow ducked inside the ranch and then appeared moments later. She lead him round the back of the ranch and to a wooded area, she held out her hand “take my hand it will be easier to get through” Drake placed his hand in hers as they weaved there way through trees and bushes until they came to a clearing. She lead him just short of a little cliff edge and dropped his hand, she sat down with her legs dangling over the edge and patted the space next to her. Drake complied and sat down mimicking her position, He looked out taking in the few. Not far down from the little drop was a lake that sat in the middle of a wooded area, as the trees encircled the lake. the sun shone through the trees causing the water bellow to sparkle in the light. It was quite and peaceful, the only sound to be heard where the birds singing. “This is beautiful i didn't even know it was here”

Willow smiled as she scanned the lake “Most people don’t venture past the trees that’s why” 

“So how do you know it’s here”

Willow sighed “My mom used to bring me here all the time as a kid. every night we would sit out here and talk or just enjoy each others company away from everything. Once she died i used to come out here when i need to think  or draw or just be away from everything when it all got too much. i haven't told anyone about it, it’s always been my own little safe place.”

Drake smiled as Willow slowly swung her legs back and forth over the edge “i’m surprised Sophie doesn't know about this seen as its part of her ranch”

Willow shook her head “It’s not, it’s my families ranch Sophie was just looking after it while i was away”

A comfortable silence fell over them as they both took in the scenery. Drake turned hie attention to Willow allowing himself to drink in the sight of her. Her hair was tied up in a loose messy bun. The way the light hit her caused the gold flecks in her brown eyes to shine. He loved the freckles that were scattered across her nose and sprawled down onto her cheeks. Willow turned to look at him, blushing under his gaze, she grinned caused to deep dimples to appear either side of her face “what?”

Drake shook his head not able to hide the smile on his face “Nothing just...thank you for bringing me up here”

Willow grabbed Drakes hand and squeezed it “I know we only met last night but i like you Drake, Sophie’s told me a lot about you”  

Drake watched as her eyes flitted to his mouth and back up to meet his gaze, he licked his lips in anticipation as she started to lean towards him. There faces were inches apart when Drake’s phone began to ring, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, he fished his phone out of his pocket to see Max’s name flash across the screen. Willow giggled as Drake rolled his eyes as he answered the call

“What is it Max”

“Drake the game starts in 5 minutes you were meant to be back an hour ago!”

Drake could see Willow Biting back laughter as he smirked at her “yeh sorry i got caught up i’ll head back now”

“Make sure you bring food”

Drake chuckled “okay i will” he ended the call and slide his phone into his pocket. Willow playfully nudged his shoulder “i didn't realize you had a curfew ill keep that in mind next time” Drake laughed as he rose to his feet, offering out his hand to Willow “come on I better head back he’ll only keep calling me otherwise”

the pair walked back to the ranch hand in hand, as they reach the steps to the porch Willow turned to look at him offering him a smile “i guess i’ll see you round”

Drake nodded “i’m sure you will” Willow stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss onto his cheek, she turned and headed up to the front door as she reached it she turned and gave him a small wave which he returned. As she diapered through the door Drake headed towards his truck, a smile plastered on his face as he rubbed his cheek.

[starsword-library]

Verona landed the ship on a deserted beach close to the coordinates she had of Staph’s hometown. Not that they were expecting to see it. Asterozone’s inhabitants were aquatic and needed extra equipment to be able to breathe out of water. Few of them would go through such hassle if they didn’t have any intergalactic business to conduct, and this town looked very far from any bustling metropolis.

“Makes you wonder what kind of kid Staph was to sneak out up here of all places,” Verona pointed out as they walked through the grey sand, looking for signs of the so-called Jellyfish Graveyard which, according to what they researched before leaving, was supposed to be on the surface. “I mean, sure, I’ve done my share of stupid escapades as a kid, but I didn’t steal diving gear for it at least.”

“Well, we know what kind of adult Staph is now,” Cheryl laughed. “Always thought they were too spunky to be just on the maintenance side of things.”

“Yeah I dunno, I don’t actually know them much. Or Vinessa too,” Verona  added.

As they went further, the sand gave place to purple rocky terrain with the  occasional patch of dark grass. The few animals on the way would quickly flee, probably not used to strangers walking around. But the team’s eyes weren’t so much on that as they were on the dark blue mountain peak that could be seen in the distance. That was their destination. It reminded Mag of home, of Curit’s giant buildings made to absorb and conduct Star Beating. She wondered if the material was really similar. Staph had mentioned the cave glowed, and Curit’s metal did no such thing.

As they got near, they were greeted by a huge wall of purple bricks.

“Yeah, this should be it,” said Verona, looking on her phone, “seems like the wall was built to discourage people from going in, but it’s not even guarded? I guess it’s a hassle to put people here when you all live underwater.”

“Still, it’s awful that a historical site is treated this way!” Mag pouted. “I should report that to the responsible authorities.”

Verona sighed, not taking her eyes off her phone. “What makes you think they don’t know already, they’ve dealt with the planet longer than us. Let’s just be grateful it makes it easier for us to sneak in, there’s should be a gate somewhere around according to this.”

“If it was being overseen properly we wouldn’t need to sneak in!” Mag rebutted as they started to go around the wall, “we could just ask for permission, we’re researching the place after all.”

“That really works for you every time?”

“Mostly, it’s impossible to get isolated planets to cooperate, unfortunately, but we get clearance from the majority of the integrated ones. Professor Wiz and the rest of university staff deal with the paperwork so I don’t know the details, but who would want to hamper the progress of healing technology, we do provide it to the whole galaxy in return!”

“That’s a fair point,” Cheryl said, joining the conversation, “we all own Curit more than we realize, don’t we? Guess that explains why the boss accepted you coming over so quickly, he must really respect your work.”

“That’s good to know,” Mag smiled, “I was surprised too, I never heard of any other student who got to work with the Defense Force, they say you usually stay out of public view unless there’s danger around. I expected to go my whole life without meeting you.”

“So I gotta know,” Chrys chimed in, grinning as usual, “are we worth getting shot by robots? I’m gonna hear ‘yes’ no matter what you say because I know we’re great, I just wanna see if you know it too.” Verona and Cheryl were both snickering at that.

“Uh, I,” Mag stuttered, her hands shaking in the air, “I don’t think there’s a good answer to this, I won’t celebrate that a crisis happened, but I don’t regret anything from that time either, I guess I’m just glad you saved us, and now I know firsthand how important your job is, so I just want to get good results for you all as soon as possible.”

“Then guess you’re in luck, ‘cause I think I see the gate right there,” Verona said, pointing ahead, and she was right.

It was a gate made of rusty blue bars, locked with a padlock and chain that looked just as old and worn out. That wasn’t the part that got their attention though. Behind the gate was a huge lake surrounded by lush grass, and on the other side they could finally see the base of the dark mountain they were chasing so far. Mag saw from the corner of her eye that Chrys already had got their camera out, already taking shots.

“Sure hope the entrance has a solid path to it somewhere, I’d hate to swim through all that,” said Verona, one foot already in the gate’s bars. “Anyone’s gonna need help climbing this?”

“Thank you, but I can fly over it just fine,” Mag said.

“Hey, that’s right,” Verona turned to her, “you could have flown over the wall all this time, couldn’t you? Not that it’d be too helpful if you can’t carry people. Can you?”

Mag shook her head. “I don’t think so, our flight ability is magical so we can move with little effort, but that don’t apply to moving other things. That requires much more strength.”

“Yeah, I thought that would be too absurd.”

“Indeed, I guess those of us in need will have to stick to the ladyknight and no one else, right?” Cheryl winked at Verona, but she seemed to ignore it, already starting to climb.

“No you won’t, you have a lot more limbs than me and I know you can put them to use.”

Chrys raised their hand. “So, what would happen if I tried to take on the offer?”

“I’ve seen you climb straight walls, you can do this!” she shouted exasperately, already on top of the gate.

“Okay Verona so for who, exactly, were you offering help?” Chrys asked, a arm vaguely gesturing to the rest of the team.

Verona landed on the other side with a jump, and turned back to them, waving her arms in Mag’s direction.

“I forgot Mag flies, okay? She’s always on our height so I, it just slipped my mind! She’s the newbie so she gets the help, you two just like playing dumb and I’m not helping, I’m having a lazy loop this time!”

“This wounds me,” Cheryl pouted. “But I suppose a bit of exercise is fine,” and she began climbing, slower than Verona. Meanwhile, Chrys took off their boots and launched themself on the wall, somehow clinging to it and moving up. It took Mag a moment to remember they had claws, that was probably how they were doing it.

Thus they all got to the other side, Verona gently helping Cheryl to come down despite their early banter. Mag carried Chrys’ boots with her, though they didn’t put them back on.

“Thanks Mag, but just leave them around here, I’ll pick them when we come back, don’t wanna them getting dirty or ripped with all this.”

Verona stared at them, raising an eyebrow. “What’s this now, you never cared before. Given everything they go through I’d guess they are sturdy enough for you.”

Chrys shrugged. “I guess.”

<prev   next> read from the start

[sarcasmrights]

The Walls Have Secrets

[ao3]

{i was a part of the shyan exchange over at @shyanwritingevents and my lovely recipient was @sunshinebergara ! thanks for much for the prompt, ella. hope to see you at the next event!}

The autumn wind howls between trees as Ryan, armed to the teeth with absolutely legitimate paranormal investigation equipment, approaches the intimidating wrought-iron gates of the supposedly haunted Vanderbilt Mansion. He eyes the intimidatingly black posts standing between him and the mansion, sizing up how tall they were and if he could climb them or need to find another way onto the grounds. One way or another, he was going to be investigating this abandoned mansion and possibly even helping some poor lost souls move on with their afterlives. The Paranormal Club at his high school will finally be taken seriously and who knows, maybe Ryan will be able to convince his other clubmates to actually come on investigations.

Ryan’s concentration is ruined when a deep chuckle sounds off behind him and he turns, glaring at his investigation partner. Shane stands behind him with only a flashlight and smug grin, obviously here to gloat if Ryan finds no evidence of activity or immediately discredit any evidence Ryan does find. He’s already explained that spirits need a huge amount of energy to even use any of their equipment and if Shane could wipe that stupid smile off his face, he’d really appreciate it. No matter how many times Ryan tries to reason with the skeptic, Shane always brushes him off and mocks his arguments.

“Sorry, sorry, can’t help it. You’re doing it again,” Shane explains, holding his pocketed hands in surrender. “You looked like you were monologuing again in your head.”

“I-I was not! I’m just trying to see if I can climb the gate,” Ryan explains, shining his flashlight on said offending gate to further his point. Shane only scoffs and joins Ryan’s side, also sizing up the gate. They stand there in a tense silence before Ryan huffs, turning off his light. The chain and padlock on the front say they won’t be getting in through this way, and none of them wanted to be caught breaking and entering so bolt cutters were out of the question. He tuts once before turning to start scouring the mansion perimeter when Shane clicks his tongue.

“Yeah, it’s too tall for you to climb, but I’d be able to get over his no problem,” he says and Ryan rolls his eyes, giving Shane another look.

“Yeah? And what’d you do then? Climb back over to make your point?” he asks, a grin tugging at his lips. No matter how annoying Shane can be, the junior always found a way to make him smile. The plus side of having such a skeptic by his side was that Ryan’s nerves were usually kept at a low whenever Shane was around to shout threats at demons and ghosts.

“Exactly.” Shane nods, seeming satisfied before breaking into a laugh. “No, I’m kidding. C’mere Bergara, I’ll get you over the fence.” The skeptic pulls his hands out of his pockets and rubs them together, staring at the top of the fence like it were some goal.

“What’re you talking about, Shane? What, do you have a ladder shoved up your a--” Ryan’s joke is rudely interrupted when Shane casually picks him up by his waist, once again showing off his strength as he carelessly tosses Ryan up against the fence, the poor sophomore screaming as he grabs onto the iron and scrambles up and over the pikes. Once he lands on his hands and knees, Ryan gives himself a pat down before standing, glaring at the smiling Shane through the fence.

“Fuck you, Madej. Just ‘cause I’m a beanpole now doesn’t mean you can throw me around,” he hisses and hates how the casual smirk Shane throws at him makes his heart soar. Ryan steps away from the fence when Shane motions for him too, watching the track star scramble over the fence and land with catlike grace on the other side, looking infuriatingly unfazed.

“Show off,” Ryan mumbles and starts down the decrepit cobblestone driveway, pulling out his camcorder to document what he’s doing. He starts off the recording by recounting how they manage to get over the fence, explaining how they couldn’t find another way onto the mansion grounds so they had to resort to using some athletic skill to--

“I literally picked you up and threw you over,” Shane interrupts, poking his head in the background.

“Will you stop that?” Ryan asks, shooing him away with his arm. Shane ducks and weaves before wiggling his fingers at the camera in a hello. Ryan rolls his eyes before signing off the recording, saying he’ll document more once they reach the mansion.

“So lemme get this straight, you still don’t think you’re vlogging,” Shane says, kicking a stray rock off the path. Ryan gives him another look.

“No, that’s what people on YouTube do. I’m just documenting another paranormal investigation. I’m not pranking whoever I’m dating or pretending people care about what I think about on the internet,” Ryan corrects, adjusting the straps of his backpack. Shane offers an agreeing hum before their conversation cools to a comfortable silence. Ryan looks around the unmaintained lawn, with the trees growing around the perimeter of the fence and tall grass infested with weeds, and figures if they weren’t on an investigation, this would be a pretty nice walk. Maybe he should go on a walk with Shane after all this and just talk.

“Ryan, I gotta tell you something,” Shane says quietly and Ryan flicks his eyes at him to show he���s got his attention.

“I… Why do you keep going on these investigations with me even though you know I don’t believe in ghosts? Like, as funny as it is seeing you scream at any noise the house makes, it’s gotta be boring to have someone just tell you it’s the wind or the house settling.”

Ryan readjusts his hold on his backpack straps and purses his lips. He’s been asking himself the same question since their last investigation, where they went home empty-handed but Ryan’s heart didn’t feel defeated. In fact, it felt great. Shane had made the both of them laugh so hard they wound up crying in the house foyer. Everything had felt a million times less scary last time and Ryan himself knew the location couldn’t have been too haunted, his hairs weren’t standing on end.

Still, he had been hopeful and having an entire night of no activity would usually leave him morose. In the beginning, when Shane had asked to join the Paranormal Club, Ryan had thought he’d come to mock them and poke any holes he could find in their evidence. Shane had poked some holes, yeah, but it was on all the flimsy evidence. Otherwise, he’s been patient and admits when he doesn’t have the scientific answer to some of the phenomena the club presented.

“I dunno,” Ryan settles for, but when Shane doesn’t seem too happy with the answer, he quickly adds, “I just think you… keep me calm when I’m really scared, y’know? Like, if I had to do this with anyone else, they’d probably scream with me or try to split up and we’d end up in some straight to DVD horror B movie.” He shrugs to punctuate that that’s all Ryan can say and Shane seems placated by it, turning away for a second. Ryan tries to peek at what Shane is staring at but can’t find anything.

“What?” he asks and Shane turns back to him, obviously smothering a grin.

“I-It’s nothing, it’s just… That was pretty cute coming from you,” Shane explains and Ryan retaliates by shining his flashlight in his face, relishing the surprised yelp and leaving Shane to rub his eyes in favor of approaching the grand doors to the Vanderbilt estate. Shane catches up with him and stares at the doors with him.

“Well damn, if we can’t find any ghosts tonight, at least we found a house with style,” he quips and Ryan laughs, shining his light on the intricate details of the doors and archway. Shane’s right, just the front door gave off the old money vibe. It would be a dream to live in something as expensive as the mansion.

“Yeah, right? I’m tempted to just spend the night here to live that luxury life,” Ryan says before squatting so he’s eye level with the doorknob. It doesn’t look too complicated a lock, but again they don’t want to be caught breaking and entering so they might have to scale to the second floor to test out any windows to see if they’re open. Worse comes to worse, Ryan did bring that lockpick kit his aunt had bought him for Christmas so they could always jimmy the handle and--

Shane reaches over and turns the weathered gold knob, pushing the door open. Ryan is greeted by the sight of a dusty and eerie foyer, a dull crystal chandelier hanging overhead. He quickly stands from his squat and licks his lips, his nerves finally catching up to him. The beams from their flashlights dance over cobwebs and dust particles that likely haven’t moved for months until Shane threw open the door. Ryan drags his light up the grand staircase and finds a chill running over his spine as he meets eyes with each painted portrait lining the walls where the stairway splits into two directions. Their eyes bore right through him and into his soul, and suddenly Ryan feels too aware that people like him weren’t entirely welcomed into the mansion.

A sudden punctuated thud shakes Ryan from his mindspace and he glances over at Shane, who’s pointedly stuck his foot into the mansion. The worried look in Shane’s eyes manages to steady Ryan’s screaming nerves and he quickly clears his throat, following after Shane and stepping into the foyer, albeit a little quieter.

“You okay there?” Shane asks, much softer than his usually boisterous personality. Ryan nods, trying to breathe and ignore how chilly it is inside the mansion compared to the outside. It would suggest that paranormal activity would be active in this house and Ryan doesn’t know whether to scream in excitement or agony at the idea of being on a ghost’s stomping grounds. Either way, they have to investigate the mansion, and Ryan summons every ounce of courage within himself to lead them past the foyer.

Shane is oddly silent behind Ryan as they veer off into the home, just occasionally swinging his flashlight beam around and making a comment about how old a man looked in his painted portrait. Ryan isn’t sure what he prefers, the Shane who makes crude remarks about the infrastructure of a house or the Shane that is actually quiet and lets Ryan do his documentations in peace.

After walking up to the second floor, Ryan is sure he misses the Shane who uses his big mouth because that would have masked the sounds of each creaky step seemingly echoing throughout the house. Still, Ryan makes no comment about Shane’s behavior and only hopes he’ll find his ghost hating groove soon.

“Little uh… Little chilly in here, huh?” Ryan says as they meander down a long corridor. It sounds horribly obvious that Ryan is trying to reach out to Shane but he’s drawing a blank on how to get his skeptic friend back to normal. Wait, what if Shane’s acting differently because he’s been possessed by something from the mansion? What if he’s actually trapped inside his body and trying to scream at Ryan to run? What if Ryan’s stuck in a horror B movie and he’ll have to try and kill his friend and--

“Yeah, but not as cold as Ms. McLaughlin’s heart for giving me a fail on that chem test,” Shane fires back and Ryan manages a relieved laugh, nudging Shane’s arm. He laughs even harder when Shane nudges him back and they get into a battle of shoulders checks, which somehow forces Ryan to stumble into another room, the door almost swinging open for him as he trips over his own feet and winds up smacking flat on his ass.

“Oh, Jesus. Ryan, are you okay?” Shane worriedly asks, rushing after him into the room, hands already outstretched to help him up. Ryan gladly takes the hands and dusts himself off, looking around the dark room, shining his flashlight at all the corners.

Tall bookcases line two of the walls, leaving the wall closest to the door empty and the one opposite of that blank as well. A well-used writing desk sits next to the door, dusty bulbless lamp standing next to it. Ryan feels something tug at the back of his brain as he continues processing the room, something important…

“Ryan, lookit this!” Shane calls, now on the other side of the room. Ryan swings his light at him and watches as Shane slowly raises a large rectangular panel and reveals an uncomfortably small elevator, or a--

“Dumbwaiter. It’s a dumbwaiter,” Ryan whispers under his breath as he manages his way over to Shane, sticking closer to his friend’s side as his brain continues to dig at whatever is nagging his mind.

“Well, it’s decently sized for a dumbwaiter. I bet you could fit in this, with how tiny you are,” Shane says and nudges at Ryan again, to which Ryan just gives him a look before breaking into a smile and nudging him back. They continue their little nudge battle before it suddenly dawns upon Ryan, his face going ghostly pale.

“Should be decently sized if it’s meant for something bigger than food,” Ryan says and Shane gives him a look, staring at the dumbwaiter before back at Ryan, waiting for him to continue. The sophomore only swings his flashlight around the room, eyes finally seeing the study and, with a sharper focus, realizing that some of the lower shelves of the bookcases didn’t seem to be attached to the entire units.

Ryan’s legs shake as he makes his way over to one and feels underneath a shelf, finding a handle and, with a dreading heart, slowly pulls. The shelf moves with screams of protest, having not been used for some decades. Ryan ignores how the sounds make his heart shake and continues to pull, revealing a long steel table, none too different from an operating table.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Shane offers, peeking over Ryan’s shoulder and at the table. There are some suspiciously colored stains on the table and Ryan has to turn away as his mind relentlessly recalls facts about servants going into the study at the call of their master and never leaving. Or how the mansion had been vacated because the youngest twins, barely five, had somehow vanished from the property, their bodies never found.

“I-I… This is where he must’ve… killed people, I guess,” Ryan manages out and looks up at Shane, who glances down at him before back at the table.

“Well…” Shane begins but doesn’t finish, preferring to let the sentence die in the air. Ryan turns back to the table before swinging his backpack around his side, unzipping a pocket and pulling out a device that makes Shane groan.

“Not the spirit box, Ryan. That thing doesn’t work, and it sounds like the stupid ‘white noise’ machine my mom uses to go to sleep and keeps the rest of the house awake,” he begs, and Ryan catches him sigh and throws his lanky arms into the air as he fiddles to turn the device on. He’s standing in a room with the worst energy in the entire house, of course he has to turn on the box. If there’s anyone left here, trapped in the study, then he has to at least attempt to help them.

“Here,” Ryan says and passes the camera to Shane, who takes it while grumbling under his breath, turning it on and pointing it at Ryan. He nods when Ryan looks at him for confirmation, and Ryan secretly wishes he didn’t but steels his heart. Shane’s here, and if he can manage to prove that spirits exist, then it’ll all be worth it.

It’ll all be worth it, Ryan chants to himself before turning on the box, filling what feels like the entire mansion with static noise. It picks up a few garbled chunks of radio before settling into the jumbled white noise. Ryan swallows and looks uncertainly at nothing in particular.

“Hello? Is there anybody with us? I’m Ryan, that’s Shane.” Ryan gestures at Shane, who wiggles his fingers. “We’re uh… We’re here to help you if you’re… stuck here,” Ryan trails off, unsure of what else to say. His fingers are slick from holding the spirit box with a vicelike grip and there’s an eternal silence before a word punctuates through the noise.

“H’llo…. Ry… Shin…”

“Hoooly shit!” Ryan yelps, wanting nothing more than to drop the box but his grip remained steadfast. Still... “Holy shit! They said our names! Someone said our names! Hello? That’s our names!”

“Sounded like they called me a shin,” Shane mumbles behind the camera and Ryan ignores him, the skeptic talk getting swept away by the tidal wave of awe and fear rolling through him. A spirit had spoken to them! Someone had attempted to communicate!

“N’d… help…”

“O-Oh, okay. H-How do you need help?” Ryan asks, staring at the box as if it were a sentient creature. It could very well be at this point, whoever is speaking to them is obviously intelligent enough to return conversation. Holy shit, Ryan is still reeling from getting a legitimate response, and on camera too.

“Help… B’d… man come… -ing. Hide.”

The hide rang clear as day and Ryan feels his blood, still pounding through his veins, run abnormally cold. He looks at Shane with the fear of God in his eyes and they stare at one another for a hot second before Ryan bursts into movement. He shuts off the spirit box and swears he can hear footsteps echoing down the corridor. Fuck, they didn’t even close the door.

“Hold on there, little guy. Hold… Ryan, you’re seriously not doing what a ghost tells you ri--”

There’s a rather obvious thud down the hall and that shuts Shane up. Thank God, because Ryan didn’t know how he would’ve convinced Shane to do anything. Now, his friend is scrambling to throw the camera into his bag and trying to find a place to hide. Ryan’s eyes jump from surface to surface as he too struggles to find somewhere.

Underneath the desk is too short and narrow, Shane wouldn’t be able to dream of fitting. The steel tables have only millimeters of space between the top of the table and the bottom of the bookshelf, there’s no place except for--

“Get in the dumbwaiter,” Ryan hisses and pushes Shane towards it. It would be uncomfortably close for the both of them, but it’s the best place to hide inside of the study, so they’ll both just have to deal with it until whatever threat looming on them passes. Shane makes a noise of protest but stumbles back into the dumbwaiter, tucking his gangly legs inside. Ryan manages to sneak his legs on each side of Shane’s waist and he’s hunched over so Shane’s face is level with his chest. He pulls the panel down and holds his breath, sinking both of them in a darkness broken only by the thinnest sliver of faint moonlight. Both of their flashlights are off and Ryan can hear Shane breathing heavily, shushing his friend and putting a finger on his lips.

Each thud sounds like a rolling wave of thunder, growing closer and closer, Ryan’s heart beat faster and faster with every step he hears. It feels like an eon until the steps start to fade away, as if they were continuing down the hall and finally leaving them alone. Ryan lets out a happy sigh of relief and slumps, forgetting he and Shane were on top of each other and nearly collapsing on top of his friend.

“Oh, sorry,” Ryan whispers and tries to shift, only succeeding in awkwardly shuffling their legs and hips together. Shane doesn’t say a word, just remaining stock still underneath him. Ryan reaches for the panel to open up the dumbwaiter, more than happy to gets some fresh air, when his fingers find nothing. He tries again, reaching for the little hole that could lift the wooden panel, trying to sink his finger into it but still finding nothing.

“What the fuck?” Ryan asks and turns on his flashlight, blinding the both of them and apologizing when he hears Shane wince and turn away. There’s no hole. No panel. Nothing.

“What the fuck, what the fuck?” Ryan asks, starting to freak out himself. He fumbles against the panel one more time, only to find no seam that would let him think they’re in a dumbwaiter. It’s like there’s just wall now.

“Oh my God we’re stuck,” Ryan gasps out and suddenly, a hand grabs his wrist and Ryan flinches, looking down to meet Shane’s wide scared eyes. The hand holding his wrist is trembling and Shane licks his lips before opening them.

“We’re what?” he asks, voice far from the bravado he exerted before. Ryan looks down at Shane with his own scared eyes before back at the blank wall.

“I think we’re stuck,” he whispers and Shane lets out a pained noise, hand tightening around Ryan’s wrist. Ryan looks back down at his friend and sees the noticeable fear singing in his eyes, his hand trembling even now. Shane tries to shift once and finds himself too gangly to do much more than bang his head against the side of the dumbwaiter.

“H-Hey, it’s alright big guy,” Ryan starts, slowly attempting to unravel his hand from Shane’s grip, only to find it ironclad. Alright, plan B then. Ryan brings their now conjoined arms so they rested on Shane’s stomach and draws circles on the back of Shane’s hand, struggling for something to say. Shane has his eyes closed and breathing irregularly, body occasionally twitching as he obviously works to calm himself down.

“Hey, Shane?” Ryan asks and he only gets a soft and impatient “hm?” in return. Ryan continues to thumb Shane’s hand before reaching forward and resting his palm on Shane’s shoulder. That makes Shane open his eyes and look right into Ryan’s, where Ryan can see his attempts to calm down are failing.

“It’s okay, big guy. I’ve got you. We’re gonna get through this together,” he promises, with a put-together feeling he doesn’t have. Ryan continues staring at Shane until his friend nods weakly, his grip loosening just the slightest. They stay staring for a second longer before the dumbwaiter lurches down, to which Shane lets out a shout of fear and drags Ryan towards him, hugging him all too tightly as Ryan himself tries to breathe.

It’s not a sudden drop by any means, but the dumbwaiter is definitely moving. Ryan thought the electricity had gone out in the home, but apparently not. Maybe it’s on for tours but it’s the offseason…

Ryan’s mind continues to race through explanations, something he’s picked up since working with Shane, when he realizes his friend is shaking harder than a leaf in the wind. Shane’s arms are pinning him against his chest, and Ryan feels like the stuffed animal a child would clutch if they were scared. Any attempts to talk to Shane are fruitless and Ryan struggles to find a way to calm his friend down. Seeing Shane so… afraid feels awful, like a gross mold growing in his stomach that just wants to infest him until Shane’s better.

Ryan wiggles one of his arms out and reaches up, gently stroking Shane’s hair back from his forehead. He keeps at it until Shane has stopped visibly shaking, his eyes slowly opening and seeing Ryan once again. Ryan only offers a faint smile and Shane closes his eyes again, this time breathing a sigh of relief through his nose.

“Hey Shane,” Ryan whispers. “I’m here for you man. Nothing’s gonna stop me from being here for you. You’re good, just stay with me.” His voice is as steady as a rock and as soothing as the ocean water on a hot summer day. Ryan’s surprised with himself, feeling much calmer than the situation should allow him. His fingers just continue threading through Shane’s hair and soon enough, Shane reopens his eyes and languidly blinks at him.

“...I was locked in my closet when I was a kid,” he whispers and Ryan’s heart aches for how soft and fragile his tone is. He attempts to sit up just a bit, where he’s resting his arms across Shane’s chest so they both can breathe a bit better. Shane allows it, his arms no longer a vice holding Ryan flush against him.

“My brother locked me in there, thinking it was funny but then forgot about going to his sports practice. Mom and Dad were at work, and I was left alone for hours. Hours, Ryan. I tried screaming until my voice was hoarse, I tried kicking down the door, I tried crying… Nothing worked. And I was a kid so everything in there was out to get me. My toys weren’t my friend anymore, my clothes just felt like someone trying to get me.” Shane closes his eyes and breathes in a shuddering breath. Ryan is hooked with every word, understanding finally blooming in his mind. God, what a shitty older brother, no wonder Shane had freaked out.

“My parents found me though, and grounded the fuck out my brother,” Shane says, obviously attempted to joke. Ryan grins back at him and laughs softly. They stare at each other for a second longer before Shane swallows and looks away.

“Ryan, I gotta tell you something,” Shane mumbles and Ryan’s struck with deja vu. Shane’s nervous energy swells in the dumbwaiter, nearly suffocating Ryan but he instinctually takes Shane’s hand and thumbs the back of it, waiting for him to continue.

“I… The entire reason I joined the ghost hunting club was so I could make fun of you guys, a-at first! At first. I thought it was funny people still believed in ghosts but then we started going on our investigations and… Honestly, I only wanted to stay for like a week at most, but then you started bringing me to places. And we just… I realized that…” Shane swallows thickly and finally manages to drag his eyes to meet Ryan’s.

“I realized that I really like you. Like, like like you.”

The dumbwaiter comes to a slow and gentle halt and Ryan’s heart does the same, freezing midbeat. His mind stops racing at a million miles per hour and suddenly everything around them is silent. Nothing to disturb them. Nothing to scare them. Just the two of them, stuck in a dumbwaiter, which isn’t the best time to confess to someone, but Shane was never the “best time” kind of guy to Ryan.

“I like you, Ryan Bergara. I knew that the second you screamed at a mouse running across the floor the first time we went ghost hunting,” Shane repeats, breaking the silence. The nervous energy is back and Ryan only sinks further down until he’s centimeters away from Shane’s face, which makes him finally shut up.

“Cool,” Ryan says and presses their lips together.

Shane’s lips are the slightest bit chapped but they feel soft against Ryan’s. Shane attempts to kiss back and Ryan smiles against the slightly awkward movements, guiding Shane into a real kiss, coaxing him into slow slides of their lips and the slightest teasing of tongue. Those arms wrap back around Ryan’s waist, holding him fast once again but for a completely different reason.

For a second they completely forget they’re stuck inside a dumbwaiter, happy to entertain and distract each other with kissing. Shane finds his own rhythm, much to Ryan’s joy and surprise, because his friend happens to be quite the kisser when he’s confident. He lets out a surprised noise when Shane starts to sit up, which is immediately followed by Shane knocking his head against the side of the box. They break apart as Shane winces and Ryan knocks his own head against the roof.

“Fuck this, let’s get out of here,” Ryan says and Shane nods in agreement. Ryan shines a light on the panel and finds the hole where it should be, lifting the panel up. They’re back on the first floor, the dumbwaiter leading to the kitchen. Ryan squeezes himself out and lets out a blessed sigh, his legs thankful for the stretch. Shane unfolds from the dumbwaiter behind him, making a noise as he cracks and pops things back into place.

“Fuck this place,” Shane says under his breath and Ryan nods in agreement, happy to make for the kitchen exit. They make it to the hallway before they’re caught by a beam of light.

“Hey! What’re you doing here?!” someone shouts behind the beam and Ryan freezes in place, suddenly unable to execute the exit plan he’d so carefully crafted. It’s only when Shane grabs his wrist and tugs does Ryan get the message.

“Run!” he shouts and they bolt through the rest of the house, across the large entryway, leaving the dusty portraits in their wake, Ryan throwing a middle finger at them as they burst through the grand doors. Fuck the Vanderbilt Mansion and most importantly, fuck that dumbwaiter. Fuck ghosts, fuck sneaking into place.

The mansion disappears as Ryan and Shane round corners and take shortcuts into streets they don’t quite know, but both sport large grins on their face. Somehow, they make it to the street corner by Ryan’s house before they stop, winded and wheezing against the stop sign there. Shane is clutching the pole above Ryan’s head and they both can’t stop laughing at the stupid shit they got caught doing. It’s like something out of a campy high school coming of age movie and Ryan can’t help but start composing a script for it all.

“Well, guess we can never go back there again,” Shane manages through his laughs and Ryan nods along, looking up at his friend.

Shane grins back at him, all charm and suave again. Ryan likes that part of him, as well as the scared Shane who clutched him like a lifeline, and the Shane who knows what to do and when to do it. Ryan really likes all parts of Shane.

“I like you too,” Ryan says and that shuts Shane’s laughter up, the man standing up straight like he’d been struck by lightning. Shane looks down at Ryan with stars in his eyes and Ryan grins back up at him.

“Cool,” Shane replies and leans down, Ryan catching his lips once again.

He can feel Shane’s smile against his lips, and he’s sure Shane can feel his smile too.

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Ohana: Part 5

Pairings: Negan x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff

Word Count: 3,805

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So can I ask you something?” Negan asked softly as he brushed his fingers across the scar on the end of your stump. You nodded as you ran your fingers across Brenna’s back as she slept and looked across the pillows at your sleep over partner. “What happened… with your leg?” You gave him a weak smile and sighed.

“Were you in the military?” Negan shook his head as he scooted impossibly closer to you around Brenna. “It’s terrifying. Even though I was on a secure base and I was just a doctor, I still woke up every single morning in fear. Fear of what people were actually capable of. You see, back home, you guys saw on TV maybe half of what I knew actually happened. Suicide bombers were taking us out multiple times a day, every single damn day. IED’s every ten feet on and off every single road coming in and going out of the place. Kids… little kids with guns that saw our uniforms and shot on sight, no questions asked. But I had a job to do. Same as I did before and same as I do now. It was just supposed to be a job.” You sighed and let your head rolled back on the pillow so you could look up at the ceiling.

“There were five of us; one doc, three soldiers, and me, the soldier doc in training. We were just leaving base for a couple hours to meet with a supply drop off. We made it to the drop off point just fine, no problems. But the way back…” You closed your eyes and shook your head to combat your tears. “The IED came out of fucking no where. Just came out of fucking no where. One minute we were just driving along and the next I was laying in the hot sand looking up at the sky with my leg pinned under the humvee. I just remember screaming…”

“Hey… stop, it’s OK.” Negan said as he took his hand off your leg and reached up to gently grab your chin with his thumb and pointer finger to turn your face toward him. You opened your tear filled eyes and searched his sad brown eyes. “I’m sorry.” You shook your head and sniffled.

“It’s fine. I haven’t talked about it in a long, long time.” He nodded in understanding as he laced his fingers with yours under the pillows under Brenna’s head.

“Lucille was my wife.” He said softly as he brushed his thumb across your chin. “She had cancer just before the fall. I… well fuck… I was cheating on her for the longest damn time before we found out but the thought of losing her brought me home. She lasted a few months before the cancer took her just as the fall happened. But I couldn’t put her down…”

“Shhh…” You said softly as you squeezed his hand. “So we both have ugly pasts. We had to be shaped somehow, right?” He huffed and nodded as he cupped your jaw in his hand.

“Can I tell you something that can’t leave this fucking room?” You nodded at him as you stopped rubbing Brenna’s back and put your hand on his. “I’m really fucking glad you head butted me in the face.” You huffed a laugh as you laced your fingers with his on your cheek.

“Is it OK that I’m not glad you kicked me in the head?” He smiled and nodded his head with a small laugh.

“Yea sweetheart. You don’t have to be glad about that.”

——

“So what’s the fucking damage?” Negan asked his crew leaders as he walked into his meeting room. He pointed you to a chair at the end of the table with Lucille as he walked the other way to his chair at the head of the table. You could feel eyes boring into the side of your face as you took your seat before Simon finally spoke up.

“We only lost those two solar panels.” He started, drawing the eyes of most of the people in the room. You looked at the man sitting directly to your left as he looked down the table at Negan and leaned back in his chair. “Part of a fence was taken out on the south side but it was the outer ring. I got a crew out there now fixing it.”

“Gardens got a little tore up.” Dwight said as he folded his hands on the table. “But everything is salvageable.”

“Little bit of flooding in the main hall but no more than usual.” Gavin chimed in. Negan nodded as he rolled Lucille on his shoulder.

“So how do we fucking fix this panel shit?”

“Well, with the panels out, we can move everyone out of the halls that lost power.” Dwight suggested. You opened your mouth to say something, but Negan held up his finger for you to wait. The room stayed quiet as Negan waited impatiently for another suggestion.

“What about rerouting some of the other panels. The clinic’s down that way and moving it would be a pain.” Gavin said, his suggestion coming out more like a question.

“The old clinic wasn’t affected though.” Regina said as she looked at you out of the corner of her eye with so much disdain that you actually cocked your eyebrow at her. “We’ll just move her back down there. And there’s only half dozen rooms that were affected. The armory was affected but we don’t need fucking lights to use it. That whole hall can be washed…” Her words were interrupted by a loud bang as Negan slammed Lucille down on the table.

“My fucking room is down that fucking hall!” Negan roared causing Dwight, Gavin, and Regina to startle the slightest bit, while you and Simon didn’t look affected at all. “Now, since you fucking assholes can only come up with fucking scraping the hall or fucking taking power from other people, why don’t we let someone with some fucking real ideas speak.” He grabbed Lucille off the table and gestured to you as he leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the table. 

“Eight unused solar panels. Easy access. Run is in and out in a secured neighborhood. You can replace the two that got burned out and have six more to spare. Cables, batteries, connectors, mount poles; all of it’s there in a locked garage. You don’t lose rooms, don’t have to move my clinic. And as for the leak in the main hall, there’s some storm shutters in the garage as well. Screw them down right over the hole, the slats will redirect the water off the roof. Problem number two solved. 

You can pull up some of my neighbor’s fence if you need it, too. It’s chain link and I’m sure I’ve got some shit in my garage to put it up if you don’t. Solves problem three if your crew hasn’t solved it already. The garden… well that shit’s gunna flood. Nothing I can really do about that.” You shrugged your shoulder as you sat back in your chair. “Simple.” You forced yourself to not look away from Negan to avoid seeing the death stares you were receiving from the rest of his inner circle. After a moment, he nodded and scooted his chair back.

“We ride out in fucking thirty. Get your fucking shit together, people.”

——

“Fourth house down on the right. It’s the keystone of the cul-de-sac.” You called out to Negan as you pushed the fence that went around your neighborhood opened. “It’s the only one with the shutters all closed. Wait out front, you won’t be able to get in.” He nodded his head once and signaled for Simon to drive past you and into your old, quarantined neighborhood. You kept yourself out of the way as the crew followed after him in a box truck and your brother-in-law’s pick-up truck. With a heavy sigh, you walked your motorcycle into the fence before pulling it closed and wrapping the chain around the gates to keep any biters out. The ride through your old neighborhood was comforting and nauseating at the same time but you couldn’t stop the small smile that pulled at your lips as you looked at your small, secured, two story house.

“I need you around back.” You said to Negan as you pulled into the driveway. “There’s only one way into this place from the outside.” He gave his men the instruction to check the houses on your street as you pulled off your helmet and headed around the back through the six foot tall, locked, steel fence around your property. You let out a sigh as you looked at the black, metal door that stood in front of a small hill that you knew lead to your underground home. “Four years.” You said softly as you kept walking to the roof that went over your back porch. “Four fucking years. Can I get a boost?” You asked as you pointed to the roof. He nodded as he pulled his eyes off the door and looked over at you. You shoved your bike keys into your pocket and put your left foot into the cradle of his interlaced fingers.

“How the fuck did you get down the first time?” He grunted as he lifted you up into the air. You laughed as you pulled yourself onto the roof and glanced down at him over the edge.

“Very fucking carefully. I’ll meet you at the garage.” With a nod from him, you got to your feet a little awkwardly and headed over to the window that lead to your old bedroom. You quickly unlocked the padlock and put the combination into the secondary lock so you could push open the rolling, metal shutter. Every thing was left exactly where you left it when you hauled ass out the door five years before. Clothing littered the floor and drawers hung from your dresser. Hangers decorated the areas of the wood floor the clothes didn’t cover and you noticed a half dozen articles of clothing that would have come in handy in the winter months.

You headed down the hall, choosing not to look at the family photos that lined the walls of the short hall and the stairwell. You continued through the kitchen, that you had stripped bare the day you got the news, and headed out into your packed garage. You could hear Negan shouting on the other side of the door as you went over and unlocked the two locks keeping the door down. With a small grunt, you pulled the door up and sighed.

“There’s nothing left inside but take whatever you want from here. Just let me know when you’re done. I gotta grab a couple things from out back.”

“Care if I tag along? I wanna check out this fucking bunker of yours.” You nodded at him as you headed out of the garage and around the side of your house. 

“Can you promise me something?” You asked as you headed toward the bunker door. You heard Negan hum as you put in the code for the door. “Promise me that if something happens to me or to the Sanctuary, you’ll bring Brenna back here. Promise me that you’ll be her guardian.” You looked back over your shoulder as the lock on the door popped open and he nodded his head.

“I promise you. I’ll always look after both of you.” With a nod of your head, you pulled open the door and flicked on the lights. Halogen lights crackled on and flooded the container with bright light. You flicked one of the light bulbs that always gave you trouble on your way down the stairs and sighed as you hit the bottom.

“So this is home.” You stepped a few feet into the area that was designated as your kitchen and looked around. “This is where I raised my daughter.”

“Holy fucking fuckity fuck.” Negan muttered as he tried to take in everything. He whistled as he looked at the hundreds of labeled tote boxes meticulously organized and stacked along the left side wall of the bunker from the small kitchen all the way to the small closet beside the queen sized bed in the back corner. More boxes lined the back wall and continued up the right side to the bathroom filling in every inch of available space along the walls. Toys that you had been forced to leave behind littered the floor and a small pile of clothes that you had needed to fold were sitting in the basket by the pull out couch that sat on the right side of the small bunker. “This is fucking insane.” You huffed a laugh and nodded as you headed over to the closet to grab a duffle bag and your guitar case.

“I wanted to be prepared for anything.” You said as you emptied the laundry basket into the duffle. “If you can think of something to help you out, it’s here. Medicine, weapons, kitchen shit… it’s all here. I know you need supplies but I can’t let you raid this place. Not yet. I need to know that I always have a back up for my daughter…”

“No, it’s OK. I understand.” You nodded at him in gratitude as he gestured around the bunker. “What do you need from here?”

“Um… just some clothes and my guitar. Oh, and this box of VHS tapes and DVD’s. Give Brenna a little variety. I have copies of all them so it’s not a huge deal if I lose them.” He nodded as he stepped around you and grabbed the box of Disney, Dreamwork's, Pixar, and Universal animated movies you picked up from thrift stores before the fall. You glanced in the box quickly as you put the strap of your guitar case over your shoulder and nodded at its contents. “Oh! Wait, I need this one.” You pulled out the box for ‘Tangled’ and went over to grab the disc from the TV. You heard Negan chuckle.

“One of her favorites?” He inquired as you put the DVD back into the box. You smirked and shook your head.

“Stitch is her favorite. She always wanted a dog and that was the closest I could get. I was just tired of hearing the same movie over and over so I made a rule that she had to watch a different movie between each viewing of Stitch. She was watching Tangled so I could pack Stitch the morning we left.”

“Well thank fucking God for that rule.” Negan said as you grabbed a hoodie for you and one for Brenna from your closet and stuck them on top of the box. “I’m tired of that movie already and it’s only been a couple months.”

“Come on, let’s get back before those assholes start breaking shit in my house out of spite.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“God, you are not getting lighter, little girl.” You groaned as you picked up Brenna from one of the nap cots in the day care. You hiked her up on your hips and wrapped your arms around her middle and under her butt as her arms wrapped around your neck.

“Want me to get her?” Negan asked. You shook your head as you headed out of the room with a slightly more prominent limp from the added weight. 

“I got it. I only get to do this for so long, you know?” He nodded his head and followed you down the hall toward your room that hopefully had power by now. As you rounded the corner to head up the stairs, laughter caught your attention.

“What does he even see in her?” You heard Frankie asked over the tittering of the other wives in their room. “I mean, come on!”

“He has to feel sorry for her. I mean, that leg is disgusting.” Another woman chimed in. You quickly reached out, grabbed Negan’s arm and mouthed for him to ‘wait’ as the wives continued.

“She’s only sleeping with him so he’ll protect that brat of hers. That kid runs wild…”

“Oh, I know!” Sherry chimed in over the girl. “It’s sad, really. You know, that kid should be put out of the misery of having a cripple for a mother in this world.” The girls laughed as you tightened your grip on Negan’s leather jacket in your fury.

“I bet he feels sorry for her.” Amber chimed in, her voice meek and almost unheard. “I would. Crippled, obviously mentally disturbed, single mom… get in her pants and have the doc in his pocket. Disgusting leg or not, it’s a power move…” The woman stayed quiet for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles as the sounds of chairs scraping across the floor covered the noise of their laugh and the creak of Negan’s leather glove on Lucille.

“I bet Negan probably has to fuck her with the lights off just to be able to…” Frankie’s words died in her throat as the small group rounded the corner of the hall you and Negan were standing in. You could feel Negan’s arm shaking with rage as he glared at his wives.

“So… you fucking whores have something to say?” He asked as he pulled his arm out of your grip and lowered Lucille. “No, please… let’s fucking hear your fucking concerns.” You rubbed Brenna’s back softly as you tried to control your own rage while the wives scooted closer to each other in a ball of black dresses and revealing displayed skin. “Let’s fucking see… she’s a whore?” He asked as he took a step forward and spun Lucille around. He chuckled and shook his head. “No… no that would fucking be you. She’s fucking disgusting? Nope still not fucking close. That would be you fucking bitches, too.”

“Negan...” Sherry tried as she shifted her body in front of Amber’s as the small group of five women cried silently in terror.

“Quiet!” He shouted as he pointed at her with the bat inches away from her face. “You’ve fucking said your peace! Now where the fuck was I?”

“Killing Brenna.” You chimed in casually as you looked at the sleeping girl in your arm.

“Thank you, sweetheart. So you wanna fucking kill an innocent little girl because you fucking think a ‘cripple’ can’t fucking be a fucking mother? Fucking wrong again because she managed to keep that little girl alive by her fucking self for five fucking years! You fucking bitches couldn’t last one fucking minute out there by yourselves let alone with a fucking kid! And fucking finally, not that our sex life is any of your fucking business, but this woman puts each and every one of you to fucking shame in the bedroom.” Your eyes barely darted over to him because you had never actually had sex with him before but you looked back at the wives as you shifted your weight to your left leg as best as you could so you wouldn’t fall over on your sore stump.

“Now, I try not to fucking beat women but you fucking cunts are making Lucille fucking thirsty just by fucking existing right fucking now.” Two of the women let out choked sobs as Negan swung his bat centimeters away from Frankie’s face. “But I got a fucking better idea since I have the fucking doc in my pocket and all. Each one of you has a fucking family member or two being treated by her for fucking free. That shit ends fucking now! Their fucking treatment and fucking meds will need to be paid for by fucking points. So I fucking strongly suggest you fucking conniving scum get your fucking asses to work to get them their shit. Your free ride is fucking over! But just remember... you still fucking belong to me!” He glared at the women with so much hate you had to wonder how these women hadn’t died from the look alone. “You better fucking get the fuck out of my fucking face right now before I let Lucille take her fucking blood.” The women scrambled to flee around you as Negan swung his bat over his shoulder.

“Can you take her?” You asked softly as you tried to shift again and Negan whipped back toward you.

“Fuck. Sorry, sweetheart, give her here.” He set Lucille down against the wall and carefully took Brenna from your arms with a huff. “God, you’re right, she is fucking heavy.” You smirked and picked up Lucille to follow after him. 

“So I put them to shame in the bedroom?” You laughed as you headed up the stairs to your hallway one step at a time.

“Abso-fucking-lutely, baby girl. You’ve got a fucking brain which is more than I can fucking say about all of them fucking combined.” He paused at your door to wait for you to catch up with a smile. “And I don’t even have to fucking sleep with you yet to know that if and when we do, you’re gunna fucking blow my mind.” You flushed red and rolled your eyes as you unlocked your bedroom door.

“Stop.” He chuckled as he laid Brenna down on your pillow. With a smile, he stood up straight and reached for your arm. He pulled you into his chest and gently grabbed your hips.

“You are too amazing for fucking words. And the only thing that fucking matters is my opinion...”

“Oh, I’m not phased by them.” You said as you brushed your hands up his arms to his shoulders. “I’ve heard it all. The only people’s opinion that matters to me is my daughter... and you.” He smiled down and you as he stepped a half step closer so his chest pressed against yours.

“You have no fucking idea how happy that makes me, (Y/N).” You hummed in content agreement as he leaned down and captured your lips with his. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into him but he pulled away entirely too quickly for your liking. Negan chuckled at your whine and gave you one more chaste kiss. “Bed time, baby girl. Let’s get you off that leg.” You let out an annoyed sigh for only a second until Negan picked you up by the backs of your thighs and carried you over to the other side of the bed so that you would be in the middle of the bed.

“We need a babysitter or some shit.” You said as you scooted across the green comforter you had on your bed. “This kid is like the biggest cock block ever.”

Part 6

[poop4u]

Dog Parks

#Poop4U

Dog Parks. No controversy there, right, about the good, the bad and the ugly of them? However, the pro’s and con’s of dog parks are usually discussed inside the dog world, not in a national news outlet like the New York Times. But the Times jumped into the fray, with an article provocatively titled The Dog Park is Bad Actually.

The article points out problems that can be found in dog parks, problems that many of us are well aware of: They are lousy places to “socialize” young puppies, they may contain dogs who are not necessarily aggressive (although that too is possible), but are playground bullies who terrorize other dogs like some nasty kids on a playground, they have the potential of spreading disease, there is usually no separation between small and large dogs, which can cause injuries or dogs being frightened (see “playground bullies” above) and can contain owners wh0 are oblivious to important social signals between dogs that signal discomfort, downright fear and/or hard-eyed aggression.

Here’s a concluding sentence from the article:

“Ultimately you’re the only one who can determine if the risks outweigh the benefits of dog parks, but there is no shame in not surrendering your dog to what has become the quintessential urban dog experience: running with dozens of strangers in a small, smelly pen as people stand by, looking at their phones or gossiping. Make the time you have with your dog meaningful and enriching; after all, your dog wants to spend time with you, too.”

Soon after, Bark Magazine came out with a counter to these arguments titled Dog Parks Can Be Great Places for Offleash Activity. Here’s part of what they have to say, after agreeing that parks could be better monitored and that yes, some parks have problems:

But we take issue of the tone and heavy-handedness of this article—the main takeaway is that dog parks are teaming with dog fights, careless owners and rife with disease! That has not been our experience. In fact, despite at times the presence of an irresponsible owner and unruly dog, most off-leash areas we’ve frequented for three decades are relatively incident free.

I’m curious about your experiences. Full disclosure is that I have few objective opinions, because I, and my colleagues, only see clients whose dogs have either created problems at a dog park or suffered from them. No one ever came to me because their dog loved going to the dog park and never had any problems at one. Of course, I’ve been to many in Wisconsin (with clients) and have indeed seen lots of healthy play and behavior, as well as cases of problematic dogs and oblivious owners. I can say that 1) I’m not a fan of small ones, especially with a single entry gate that allow entering dogs to be swamped, 3) I have strong feelings about how they should be designed (large, double entries, rules that keep people from playing by the gates, owner education efforts to name a few, 4) There are lots of dogs I’d never take to a park (Maggie would crumble into pieces at one), and 5) The dog parks I visited with Luke and Lassie around San Francisco (Bark’s home field), when I lived there to do my Animal Planet show, were full of some of the best behaved dogs I’ve seen. I should also mention that I am very lucky: I live in the country with large, fenced areas for my dogs to play, and nearby areas where a well-trained dog can be safely off leash. I know of many people who love dog parks, and have had nothing but good experiences there. And you? I’m all ears.

  MEANWHILE, back in Africa: So much to say, so many photographs. The photo’s today are from the beginning of our trip. We went to the Giraffe Center on our first day in Nairobi, , which protects and breeds the endangered Rothchild’s Giraffe. There are only about 1,600 left in the wild, and the center has re-introduced up to 40 giraffes into wildlife parks. Giraffe are hands down one of my favorite African animals. Watching them glide across the plains, seemingly frictionless, is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. We saw several of these rare giraffes at the Samburu National Park, one of the few places where they can be found in the wild.

Besides supporting their conservation efforts, visitors get to hand feed the giraffes. Some are docile, others enjoy bashing your head with their own (their primary method of fighting). Along with being in complete and total animal rapture, I loved that we were treated like rational adults who would (or would not) listen to the keepers who warned us about certain animals. But mostly, I loved having their massive heads–the size of our torsos–floating down toward us, followed by their long, purple tongues curling around the treats we fed them. Here’s me and good friend Donna feeding an adult female. (Do you love the “Do not climb up the wall’ sign?)

  Next we visited the Sheldrick Wildlife Trust, as known as the Sheldrick Elephant Orphanage. Injured and orphaned elephant babies come to them from all over East Africa, where each individual is rescued, medically treated and then raised up to an age in which it can be integrated into a wild herd. The trust has raised 260 orphaned elephants, and has an extensive conservation program of field veterinary care and anti-poaching efforts. The babies are never alone (their keepers sleep with them at night), they are taken out several times a day on walks into the bush, and are given mud baths in front of visitors whose entry fees help support the work of the trust. It’s an amazing enterprise, and something we were honored to support. For an extra fee visitors can adopt an elephant, and I adopted Zawadi. Click on on her photo to watch an amazing video of her rescue, and her battle with what appears to be epileptic seizures. If watching her story doesn’t make you all gooey, I don’t know what will.

Here’s an overview of the visitor area when some of the babies are starting to get their milk. The elephants are brought back from a walk in the bush with keepers, and then fed their morning milk and given mud baths in front of visitors.

The babies clearly love their mud baths!

At night the elephants stay in individual stalls, each with their own keeper sleeping with them. The dedication of the keepers is truly something else, not to mention the work involved in introducing individuals back into wild herds. (They do months of parallel walking alongside herds they know to be accommodating, almost like introducing two dogs to each other.) I don’t know how many efforts are successful over all–I imagine that it’s inevitable that some don’t work out. But their record is impressive. If you get to Nairobi, I hope you can stop in to support their efforts. (Of course, you don’t have to visit to support their work!)

The next day we drove to the Samburu National Park, a park full of rare and endangered species that is rarely visited. We stayed at Larson’s Tented Camp and I wish we could have stayed a week. Here’s the view from our tent at sunrise:

I absolutely loved this camp. The setting was gorgeous, we were surrounded by wildlife (you had to padlock the zippers on your tent to keep out the vervets and baboons) and the staff members were kind and generous. As I did at each place we stayed, I stayed back from one game drive and spent some quiet hours by myself, just me and the vervets, the birds and the river. I also had a lovely time speaking with a staff member about his life, his family and what it was like to work in one of the tent camps.

I showed this photo last week, but repeat it here in context, when it was just me and the vervets at Larson’s camp. I watched this female and her babe for over a half hour. At one point her baby did something she didn’t like, and she took it by the shoulders and shook it. I had to stop myself from laughing out loud.

Here’s what else happened while everyone else was gone–the vervets pretty much took over the dining room:

  The photo below shows one of my favorite African animals, one who you can only see in the dry areas of Kenya, Somali and Ethiopia. Gerenuks are also known as the “giraffe gazelles”, for obvious reasons once you look at their long necks and feeding methods. They are adapted to feed on leaves lower than giraffes usually eat, but higher than other ungulates. They’ll stand like this for long periods of time snacking on leaves. They are so well adapted to dry areas that they can go long periods without drinking, and in some cases, barely drink water at all. What I especially love about this photo is that we only got it because our van (which included me, Jim, good friend Donna, and Jim’s son Zach and partner Sarah, as well as the best driver/guide in the universe, Eric) agreed to sit and wait. Gerenuks are relatively flighty, and it took a good 15 minutes for them to relax enough to begin to feed. Kudos to our van and driver for agreeing to wait!

Another rare animal we got to appreciate was the Grevy’s Zebra, the zebra that I’ve argued was created by a graphic designer. They too are adapted to dry areas, and like the Reticulated giraffe (who also live in Samburu), are highly endangered. There are believed to be only 2,000 Grevy’s Zebra left in the universe.

Here’s a Common (and very pregnant!), or Plains Zebra for comparison:

And the elephants! There were large, healthy herds of elephants at Samburu. Here’s a momma with her one or two month old baby, with what is probably one of her older daughters beside her. We were charmed over and over again by the elephants, as well as being put into our place by a matriach who charged our van, ears flapping and trunk trumpeting. We felt badly that we had disturbed her (our van was fine but she became agitated when another van pulled up along side), and obediently followed Eric’s instructions to stay motionless and silent. She came within a few inches of our van, peered at us for a moment (we weren’t just still and quiet; I think we had all stopped breathing) and slowly turned away.

And I haven’t even mentioned the birds yet! Ah well, more photos in the weeks to come. Please forgive me if you get sick of them. It’s just too much damn fun to post them!

Poop4U Blog via www.Poop4U.com Trisha, Khareem Sudlow

[pizzamanteachings]

In My Time of Dying: The Camping Trip Flashback (Part 1)

In My Time of Dying, The Camping Trip Flashback:

Warnings: Swearing, gore, and a the description of a monster (I don’t think it’s triggering but be warned?) 

     Life had just gotten good, college was going well and you were finally on spring break, relishing in the springtime warmth that you missed oh so much. Your major was psychology and planned to work in a children’s psych ward, but you didn’t want to think of that right now, because you were in the middle of packing for a camping trip.

                                                      Present day

    It was only a week ago at some shitty dive bar when you overheard these guys talking about some trail up North in Callmyre woods, which were acres of pure forest your friend Avery and his family owned. You were originally going to go up to Moose Mountain but it was known that there were bears and coyotes up there so you and your friends didn’t want to chance it, plus your friend had a shit ton of land that no one ever went in. 

     You met Avery in middle school and he was a nice kid, now though he was a little douchey 5’11 white kid with moderate strength and a walking representation of anxiety. He was a little rough around the edges but in your heart you knew he meant well. He had always been the rich kid in school which made it hard to relate to him since your families income could be unpredictable and spread apart. One thing that always bothered you about Avery was that he hated nature and the forest. He had been lucky enough to get four thousand acres of land, but he refused to go in. You knew a little history as you eavesdropped on the pair of men, them saying it was “Native American land” and how “weird shit goes bump in the night”. You had always been skeptical about the supernatural, you know, wendigos and vampires and stuff alike, but if it was real, wouldn’t more people know about it?

------Present day------

     Now that you had all of your stuff packed and you picked up Avery, you started driving down the highway to meet your other friends Morgan and Dale who would meet you there (since legally you could only fit two people in your car). You drove a shiny black 1967 Chevy El Chamino the “mullet of cars” as you claimed. You loved this car more than most people as it was all you had left of your late Grandfather who had restored it for you and taught you a thing or two about cars.

     The trip was mostly silent, aside from the low grumble from Clint (your beloved car) and the light clinks of your talismans around your neck. Avery didn’t want to camp on his family's land, but no matter how you asked or how many times he refused to give you a straight answer. All you got was “Because I don’t want to” and “You don’t know what’s out there”. He was just trying to scare you, and you didn’t appreciate that. “What and you do?” You retorted. He didn’t answer which made the silence between you make your skin crawl and the tension gnaw at your knees and fingers, begging you to do something. Within your stomach you felt a sizzle of anger that was turned up to a low boil as he was looking out the window huffing and puffing being the spoiled brat he is. At one point you almost stopped the car to tear him a new one as he began to chew his fingernails and throw them on the floor of Clint, who he knew was your pride and joy, but you refrained from curb stomping him as you hated confrontation and new in the logical part of you brain that he was anxious, so you let it slide…barely.

     “You want to tell me why you don’t want to go camping in your woods yet?” You managed to say in a calm tone that came out breathy enough not to sound like you wanted to smack him silly until he told you.

     “You wouldn’t even believe me. No one ever does.” He said, just above a whisper, looking at you for a moment and then back at the road ahead.

     “What do you mean ‘no one ever does?’ You were the one who suggested it and then got all weird yesterday when we started packing!” The whole ‘staying calm’ thing went out of the window as you became more and more upset, because there was something you hated more than Monopoly, it was liars. He had made it out to be that it wasn’t him who suggested his family's land, which pissed you off more than anything. He was all smiles and full of giddiness a week ago, he made it seem as if he was excited but now he acts as if he would rather die than go near his land. The weird part about his family is that they don’t live on the acres upon acres of land, actually not even near it. They live fifty miles away and didn’t plan on building anything on the land. It was nice at first because like ‘yeah save nature!’ but they never let anyone on their land. No one.

     You were finally at the meeting spot and saw Morgan and Dale making out in the car which caused you to beep the horn of your car, making them jump and in turn lifted your spirits a little.

     It was early morning when you had left for the trip, leaving you and your comrades plenty of time to set up camp. You drove Clint down the worn dirt path, which made you question whether or not people came out here a lot considering the amount of “Stay out” signs littering the entrance area, which was also gated and locked with seven giant padlocks. In your head, somewhere in the back of it brought a pestering pinch that undoubtedly warned you to leave. You weren’t by any means psychic but you had some crazy intuition (which you mostly used in Clue, making you get a hustler title). You should’ve used it on Avery but you knew you couldn’t force it as it would be a biased read.  

    The nagging in your head wasn’t going away, but you kept ignoring it as you ventured on with Morgan and Dale (aka the “Love Birds”) in the truck bed area clutching all of the supplies.   

   About sixty miles into the woods (much to Avery's dismay) you stopped and turned Clint off of the path a little and began to unpack in a clearing you had pulled into. Everyone got out and off the car to stretch silently, breathing in the woodsy scent which had your nostrils flaring. The tree’s were ridiculously tall, looming high above all of you, with their barked extremities going every which way, causing some light to enter the area.

     Everyone began unpacking tents and everything, but after a while you noticed Avery sitting off to the side, staring off into the surreal scenery. It was as if he was looking for something. As his eyes roamed every inch of the Earth pills were being popped into his mouth. His anxiety must’ve been through the roof as he took the full dose (which is very unlike him as he feared of overdose). Although the rest of the crew was annoyed that he wasn’t helping no one wanted to ruin the first day here, and it is his land so you are guests (and he is a shit host). It was about nine O’clock in the morning by the time you finished setting up. After your tent was set up in the flatbed of Clint your eyes roamed around seeing where everyone was. The lovebirds were next to a few stumps, leaving Avery near the entrance of the path.   

   The campfire was set up but you all agreed on waiting till nightfall to ignite it as to save fuel, but everyone mostly hung around the area for an hour getting accustomed to the sounds and scents of the wild. With your camera ready within the hour getting ready for some badass nature pics. The only part that was stopping you was getting someone to go with you. Morgan wasn’t up for a hike (as you tended to drift off and have ADD moments) and Dale wanted to plan the hike that would take place tomorrow. All who was left was Avery and he wouldn’t leave his tent. You padded up to his make-do home and opened the flap announcing yourself with a “Ding Dong” Avery was reading, only looking up at you when you entered and refocused on his book soon after. “Can you come with me while I take some pictures?” You asked, your voice laced with excitement.  

    “(Y/N) why can’t we just stay here? It’s safer here and I don’t want to get lost.” he stated. He didn’t leave any room for argument, but you didn’t need to go with anyone. You left with a huff and began to scan which direction you should venture off in. You just walked straight ahead and looked at the greenery in awe. A part of you understood why the Callmyres didn’t want people here, as everything humans touch inevitably gets corrupted, and this was true beauty. You weren’t one for God as you have always had so many questions on why he would let stuff happen which really stressed you out, but real or not you couldn’t just imagine that all of this came out of random, so you will give God the benefit of the doubt that he exists and created true beauty. Your walk was peaceful and a good time for you to let your thoughts wander as you took some poppin’ pictures of anything and everything.   

   Your serenity was cut short though as you saw suspicious looking marks on some trees a little way up your make-do path. As you neared the tree the nagging feeling to leave the forest came back and with more strength than ever, causing you to hold your head due to the immense pain. Something just wasn’t right but you couldn’t make up what it was. You reached out to touch the marks, the depth was astounding with the clean scarring of the bark. It wasn’t fresh so you felt a little bit better, it would suck if you got killed by a bear or something, but then again you wouldn’t have to pay off student loans. There was always that.    

    Upon closer inspection of your surroundings you noticed foot marks in the ground. They were deep, meaning the thing that owned the feet was heavy. It was nothing like you’ve ever seen in your days of hunting. You hunted some pretty easy things, nothing extreme. You did your research before going in guns blazing as not to scare of the prey, but this was much bigger than any bear you’ve ever gone up against.  

    After taking many pictures of the footprints and the claw marks you were interrupted by rustling of branches high above you. Adrenaline began pumping throughout your body, your fight or flight instincts blaring like a horn in an empty city. Whatever was above you was dashing between the trees above at a remarkable speed, not slowing down in the maze of branches. You crossed off running away as the animal would surely catch up, so you instead stayed incredibly still. You took the opportunity to raise your camera and try and find the thing. The woods fell silent and no sign of the creature anywhere. Suddenly you heard Avery calling out for you in the distance, but it was behind you. You tilted your head in confusion as you remembered that camp was the way ahead, so it wouldn’t be possible for him to have flanked you without knowing.  

    “(Y/N)...(Y/N) where are you? Come on back!” He called out. Your blood ran cold as in the distance you saw something in the underbrush in the direction of the voice. You moved your camera to follow the movements of the creature, trying to pretend that you were listening out to the calls of your friend. You knew it wasn’t Avery, as he doesn’t talk like that, and he would be scolding you for going out alone, but right now you weren’t focusing on whether Avery was calling out to you or not as all you could focus on was the pale humanoid slowly approaching you. It’s head was just above the bushes in a low crouch. It’s skin was pale but ashy, you could see the creatures bones under the thin layer of skin. The pointed ears and mouth was red with teeth coming out of every direction. The wrinkles in its face resembled the wrinkles on a bulldog, upturned in the form of a bats. The eyes were soulless with a distinct hunger to them. 

     Everything about the beast screamed hunger, and the way it approached you, you guessed it didn’t want a Big Mac. You had been out for what felt like was a few hours but it wasn’t so, as the sun began to set. You could have sworn that time was being altered because when you found the tree it was nearly eleven thirty, but now it was approaching dusk. Your anxiety made you shudder viciously at your fear of the dark. There was one thing about you that if you could change you would; you hate feeling helpless. It was one thing that always got to you, and this whole situation screamed helplessness.

     You took a picture of the thing, which heard the click and retreated into the tree tops. Here and gone, like it disappeared into thin air, but it wasn’t so as for a moment you saw it’s thin stature among the contrasting green foliage. You turned around at a snails place, eyes dashing everywhere to find the creature again. You stood for many minutes, but after no sign of it you made your way back to camp, watching your footing as to not make to much noise.  

    After some time you had finally arrived at camp, paranoid of the creature lurking in the depths of the underbrush. Your friends seemed worried and came over to you and hugged your figure tightly, whispering incoherent sentences that turned into rambling about how they heard you screaming in the woods. You tilted your head in confusion, how could you have been screaming? You were silent on your walk back as to not draw attention to whatever you saw.  

    “(Y/N)! Hello? Why were you screaming, are you okay?” Dale said, looking you over for any wounds.   

   “I-I’m fine, what do you mean I was screaming?” Layers of confusion and worry danced around in your words.                                      What the fuck was happening.

[holttheavery-blog]

🐣

@kaboomholt too!

She’d never moved as a kid, and now was her first time, and she was doing it all alone! Fresh out of college, armed with a degree in education, she was ready to take on whatever the small town of Barrera, Washington had to offer her. The moving truck had just pulled away and most of her heavy items were situated in her house, which was a cute two story with white shutters and baby blue paint. It seemed to stand out among the other houses in the neighborhood, especially the one next door, which looked to be abandoned. All the shades were drawn and the white siding on the house was covered in ivy. It kind of gave her the creeps, if she was honest with herself. But, she had made it this far and she wasn’t about to be scared away by some spooky looking house, that’s for sure.

All that was left was the stuff in her old sedan, including the things she wanted to keep close by her on the move; her toiletries, food, bedding, and that sort of thing. She grabbed a bag from the car and walked up to the front door of her new house with a bounce in her step. This was going to be fantastic!

The room that she had chosen to be her bedroom had a large window against the back wall and she loved it. Putting the bag down, she leaned against the sill, looking out into the backyard. She could imagine herself making a family here, with two kids and a husband and dogs and-

Sudden movement out of the corner of her eye stopped her thoughts of the future. As soon as she turned to look, it was gone. She shrugged mentally and focused back on the grass outside. There was the perfect spot for a swing-set, a slide, maybe they could get a pool in there- the movement happened again, but this time she stayed staring, sure that it wasn’t just her imagination. Her curiosity paid off, as a shadow moved in a window that was set low on the house next door. It was almost half submerged in the ground, weirdly enough.

Normally, she would respect privacy, especially because she had just gotten there, but it couldn’t hurt to look, right? Especially if she just stayed in her yard, there wouldn’t be a problem. So she went out the back door and leaned against the wrought-iron fence that separated the two yards. The grass on the other side was yellowing and overgrown. After a minute or two of waiting, she sighed, turning to go back inside, when she heard a slight noise. Almost like…a sniffle. A cry. She slowly turned back around and peered down at the part of the window that was visible, and was shocked to spot someone- a person- huddled on the other side.

The only light was coming from the sunlight outside, but she could still make out some prominent features. They were small, not looking older than four or five, with long, matted curly hair and their limbs were like sticks. She crouched down leaning her head against the bars of the fence, peering at the small figure.

“Hello?”

She called softly, hoping they would hear her. Evidently they did, for the head shot up from it’s curled up position and she had to hold back a gasp at the face that stared back at her in fear. There was deep bruising around one of the shiny eyes, and tears made a path down the dirty cheeks, revealing pale skin covered in freckles and dripped onto a puffy and bloody lip. He- for it looked like a boy, now that she could see- looked older than she’d thought, maybe closer to seven or eight, but he was so small and thin. Her hands came up to cover her mouth to hold back any noises.

The boy looked at her through the smudged glass, and after a minute of simply staring, his hand came up to press against the glass. She could see minute trembles in the hand, and it broke her heart. She wasn’t sure what to do. The boy hadn’t answered her yet. What if he couldn’t speak? What if-

“H-h-hello.” A small, stuttering voice came back at her through the gate and she leaned back to sit on the grass, still in shock. The voice sounded so sad, so scared. God, what was she supposed to do? Call the police? That seemed like a good option. She scrambled in her pockets for a moment before pulling out her cell phone and unlocking it.

As she got into the calling screen, a sudden pounding noise caught her attention. She looked down to see the boy had uncurled more and was looking up at her with a terrified expression. She leaned in to talk to him better.

“I’m just going to call the police, sweetie. They’ll help you, okay? Can you open the window at all?”

She asked in a calm voice that she used to talk to the kindergartners that she student-taught in college. The boy furrowed his brow and then shook his head slowly, raising a hand and jingling something that was out of sight- a padlock. Oh god.

She felt bile rising in her throat and turned back around to hide her face from the boy, not wanting him to witness her breakdown. She finished punching in the number and put the phone to her ear, taking a few deep breaths before talking to the person on the other line.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“Hi, uh, I just moved into a house on Marcott street, and I found this, this boy, he’s stuck in the house next door and he has bruises all over him, and his window is locked with padlock and, and I don’t know what to do.”

She said in a rush, turning back to the look at the boy, who was peering at her curiously, as if he had no idea what was going on. Maybe he didn’t. How long had he been stuck in there?

“Okay ma’am, take some deep breaths. Can you give us your exact address and your name please? I’ll have some officers out to assist you in just a moment.”

“Y-yes, of course, it’s 45 Marcott, it’s the blue house, and my name is Annie, Annie Stanter. Please, please come quick.”

She rattled off and stayed on the phone with the woman before hanging up, hoping to hear sirens soon. The boy was still looking at her. She was shocked when she spoke, the stutter in his voice making it hard to understand his words.

“M-m-mama s-s-says not t-to t-t-talk to a-anyone. Y-y-you s-should g-g-go before s-she f-finds out ‘c-cause she’ll b-b-be mad.”

He said softly, wrapping arms around his body, which she just noticed was clad in what could be called rags, essentially. Annie curled her hands around the bars of the fence, trying to be reassuring.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, the police are coming soon, just stay right there, okay? You’re going to be fine.”

At the word ‘police’, his eyes got wide and he scrambled back from the window, out of her sight. She gasped and crushed her face against the metal, searching for him. A few seconds later, a door opened inside the house and light spilled in, showing Annie what the room looked like. It was tiny, with dirt on the ground and boxes piled up. Not a place where someone should be living. Anyone. A shadowed figure stood in the doorway and grabbed an arm- a stick thin arm. She caught a glimpse of the scared look on the boys face as he was pulled out of the room and the door was slammed shut, some words filtering through before it closed.

“Bad, bad boy. What were you doing in there? Now you’re going to have to be punished…”

Annie was frozen, her hands locked around the bars of the fence, when the police showed up a few minutes later and found her. The typical questions were asked and she was escorted to the station for questioning while they searched the house.

It seemed like she’d been there for hours before a stern looking police officer came in to see her.

“Did you find him?”

She asked him as soon as he walked through the door. His mouth quirked into a frown and he took a seat across from her.

“Ma’am, we didn’t find anybody except the Shulers, and they’ve lived in that house for centuries. There was no boy, no one except the two ladies. I’ve never once seen a child in that home, and we did a thorough search of the premises. Now, you know that calling the police for a fake reason is a crime, correct? Since it’s your first day in the neighborhood, I’ll let you off with a warning, but this is the last time. Good day, Miss Stanter.”

The police officer said and stood up, gesturing for Annie to stand up as well. She was in shock and let herself be led to the entrance of the police station before she found her words.

“W-wait, but-!”

But no one was listening anymore.

A few days after, and after no sighting of the boy in the house next door, Annie came home from looking for jobs to find her windows broken, her house trashed, and a ticket on the table, along with a note that simply said ‘Leave’. The ticket was a first class plane ticket to Florida, leaving that very night. Annie bit her lip. She’d just gotten to the town, but already she could feel that people had heard about her little ‘fit’, as she had heard some of the locals call it, and it wasn’t a welcoming feeling. This just proved her correct. They had come into her home, her new home, vandalized it and destroyed her sense of security. She wasn’t even sure if the boy was still in the house, or even if she hadn’t just imagined the whole thing, so tired from jet-lag as she had been.

By eight o’ clock that evening, Annie Stanter was boarding a plane to Florida, doubt creeping through her mind but no other option popping up either, and the small dirty boy in the house next door was left to cradle his newly-formed injuries by himself, as he was used to.

[nationalharmonica]

Unova Valley oneshot

Combine your two favourite games into one lmao.

Pokemon BW/Stardew Valley

Word count: 2332

“Where the fuck is this ladder?” Touya huffed, slamming his pickaxe into yet another boulder. Touko had decided she wanted to do some mining today and oh boy, was he regretting agreeing with her.

Touko wiped her brow and cracked open a rock. “We’ve almost cleared all the rocks on this floor it can't be long now.”

So far they had managed to reactivate one elevator for the day, making a total of eighty floors easily accessible from the surface. Unfortunately these newer floors were starting to heat up rather quickly due to the magma lakes apparently found on these levels. Coming to the end of the day they were getting exhausted, and the heat was not helping them one bit as they slugged rock after rock searching for that infernal ladder that would take them down into the earth a little bit more.

Touya broke another rock, a magma geode bouncing out of its confines. He picked up the egg-shaped object and quickly shoved it into his backpack, cursing as its hot surface singed his fingers. While his bag was open, he fished around in his lunchbox to fish out a fried egg, seemingly not caring about his dirty dust-covered fingers as he shoved the whole thing in his mouth. He zipped up the bag and threw it onto his back. The pack clattered as numerous minerals and gems rustled around inside.

Touko slammed her pickaxe into the final rock of the floor. The pebble shards clacked onto the floor below as the ladder was revealed. “Oh thank god. I was beginning to think we'd have to come back another day.”

“Yeah okay. Can we please hurry up so we can get to Clay’s before he closes?” Touya readjusted his bag, the weight sagging his shoulders uncomfortably. Which wasn't surprising since it was literally a bag of rocks.

Touko threw her bag down the hole before sliding down the ladder. Touya followed suit. They both sighed in relief at the familiar steel door of the mine elevator. The boy dropped his bag on the ground and flipped a couple of switches next to the door. It let out a sharp ding and the lightbulb flared, power restored.

“So… that makes eighty-five floors, right?” Touya asked. They both stepped inside the elevator and pressed Floor 0.

The elevator whirred as the two were zoomed back to the surfaces. Touko took the time to dust herself off, mining wasn't really her favourite thing to do but it had to be done. They were running low on ore for the farm’s development.

It was also a dangerous task, often accompanied by frightening encounters with monsters. Just today by entering a new mine environment with the magma lakes, they encountered void spirits that they couldn't shove back and faces that spat fireballs. Touko absentmindedly touched her seared sleeve, remembering that first encounter.

“We're taking the minecarts. I don't want to walk all that way.” Touko stated. Touya simply shrugged.

“What you think I want to?” he replied, “Hell no. I'm exhausted too.”

He checked his watched. They had about half an hour before Clay would close his shop. If they wanted to break open these geodes they would have to hurry it up. As if in response, the elevator dinged and opened its door to reveal the surface floor of the mines.

They dragged the bags to the minecarts with some difficulty. The bags crunched against each other as they unceremoniously dumped the two into the minecarts. Hopping in after, Touko set their course for the town.

~~

“Oi Clay, you better not be closing up just yet!”

Clay sighed as he put down his fresh glass of whiskey. It was four o’clock on the dot, and of course the two newcomers had to barge in last minute for some god forsaken reason. “Yeah whatever kids, get in here.”

The farmers trudged in, dragging their very clearly heavy backpacks with them. Oh boy, he thought, looks like he wasn't going to get his whiskey for a while.

“We found some really good stuff today.” said Touya, smudging his forehead with dust as he wiped it. Clearly not being able to hoist the bag onto the counter, he settled for leaning it against the wooden front. Touko followed him and rifled through her own bag, pulling out miscellaneous geodes.

They both tossed their armfuls of geodes onto Clay’s counter. He grimaced, then sighed again, and slipped on his smith’s apron. “Alright kiddos, you know the deal. 25p per geode.”

Touko forked over a small mountain of pokedollars. Wherever that purse was hiding, it was clearly not in the bag. Clay swept the money off the table and into his till. He didn't bother to count it. And with that he started cracking away at their geodes.

“Magma geodes huh? You guys are getting pretty deep aren't ya?” He split open the dark red stone to reveal a purple ore. “And iridium too? Luck’s on your side today.”

And so he continued. The farmers had amassed quite a bit of ore and coal, some precious gemstones, some artifacts. Some Clay hadn't seen before. Lenora was definitely going to be happy about that.

“If you're quick you might be able to catch Lenora before she locks up the museum. Lighten up your load a little.”

Touya nodded as he placed the various artifacts back into his bag. Obviously he wasn't going to drag this heavy thing home.

They did, in fact, catch Lenora right as she was locking up the door of the museum. Of course, she was ecstatic at the sight of her two top benefactors. She immediately opened the museum again.

“Come, come inside now. What have you got today?” Lenora dumped her handbag on the reception desk and placed her chin in her hands, clearly very excited as the farmers unloaded their bags, along with a lot of dust, right onto the museum floor. “Ooh, you have a lot of new stuff! Oh my, is that alamite? A ruby? A Dwarvish helm?”

Lenora spent a thorough amount of time examining the new specimens they had brought it. It was the same thing every time but somehow they never grew bored of seeing this woman over the moon at new donations.

Once she had calmed down and separated the newest additions from the doubles, she turned back to the farmers. “These are simply wonderful. You guys do such a great job of contributing to this museum. I have something for you.”

She rummaged through her pocket and pulled out a large rusty key. It was clearly old given the style is was wrought in, and was obviously disused from the dark yellow colour. “It doesn't look like much, and I don't really think it is either. But I figured you guys would be able to do more with it than I ever could.”

Touko took the key from Lenora and placed its large loop on her keychain. It contrasted starkly with the house keys. “Okay… what does it open?”

“The sewers dear.”

“... The sewers.” Touya repeated. He had heard that right. The dark, damp sewers that ran beneath the town.

“Yes dear, the sewers. I told you it wasn't much, but come back in the morning and I'll prepare another thank you gift. It's just something I have no use for, and seeing how curious you guys are, you might find something down there?” Lenora shrugged. She knew she was going to make a huge thank-you parcel.

“Right… okay Lenora, we'll be going now.” Touya slung his backpack across his shoulders, thankfully much lighter this time. He and Touko left Lenora to admiring her new artifacts.

“The sewers? Really?” Touya wasn't really expecting reward for donating, but usually said reward was a nice painting or a chair or something, not a key to a place filled with human waste. It was irrational to be bitter about it yet here he was, being bitter about it.

“Oh come on now, where's your sense of adventure?” Touko walked ahead of him slightly as they passed town houses. “Let's go look now, the sun's still up.”

“And what are you expecting to find down there? A full on tango party?”

“Well there might be but you'll never know because you're a chicken.” Touko smirked as Touya visibly frowned at the insult.

“Urgh, fine. We can go swimming around in god knows what if you really want to then.” Touya rolled his eyes.

As if excellent timing, they passed by the town sewer hatch. There was a very distinct smell about it, obviously. But the cement hatch was surprisingly not grimy and disgusting like you would expect it to be. Touko twisted the old key into the padlock on the hatch and it clicked open. She pulled up the door and smell surprised her, almost causing her to drop the hatch.

“Eugh… after you, Touya.” Touko gave a little mock bow and Touya just glared.

“I hate you sometimes.” regardless, he still climbed in and grabbed the also surprisingly clean ladder. Touko followed suit.

As if surprise was the only thing happening today, the smell was surprisingly bearable after a while. Of course, the area was still dark and gloomy, fogged up with a green mist that probably wasn't a pleasant thing. Again, the surfaces of the sewers were gunk-free. If anything, it was just a horribly smelly and misty place.

“Well this certainly isn't what I expected.” Touya commented, his eyes were getting kind of irritated by the mist, but it was easy to ignore.

A scuffle caught their attention, as if Touya had spooked something living in the sewers. The place was pretty large and open, with nowhere to really hide besides the locked gate on the other side.

The source of the scuffling had apparently come from their immediate left, obscured by a corner, and both farmers pulled out their weapons in case this thing was hostile. They approached quietly, and the thing remained silent also.

With a large step, they swung around the corner to come face to face with a very… corporeal thing, or person. Touya quickly recognised it as one of the void beings and made to swing his sword when the ‘person’ seemed to cower in fear.

“DON'T! Please don't!” it yelled, the hands covering its head indistinguishable from the rest of its body. The thing seemed to be entirely cloaked in shadow, like it seemed to be more of a living silhouette rather than an actual person.

“Woah, it spoke.” Touya’s sword hand was still hoisted in the air, and Touko smacked his arm down.

“Put your sword down. It doesn't seem hostile.” She let her own fall to the ground as she crouched in front of the thing. “Sorry we scared you. We've had a long day with mean monsters so we were a bit paranoid.”

The thing seemed to distrust her with her sword laying so close still, so she swept it behind her out of reach. Considerably feeling more safe, the thing removed its shadowy hands from its face to reveal two glowing button eyes and a crooked mouth.

“Aww, its kind of cute. Touya look.” Touya did indeed look and decided he would never admit he also found this thing cute. Ever.

“What's your name? I'm Touko.” she gestured to Touya. “And this guy is Touya.”

It seemed to hesitate before giving and answer. “My name is N. I'm a boy, so please stop calling me ‘it’.”

“Well N, do you live down here?” Touko definitely thought the sewers were a pretty sucky place to live, but she didn't want to insult this new stranger. “What do you do down here?”

N perked up and got to his feet. He has a modest pile of assorted objects that he meticulously placed in a line on the sewer floor. “A-Actually I have a shop! Would you like to buy something?”

Among his wares was solar and void essence in neat little piles, bat wings, a black egg with red spots, a star-shaped fruit, and surprisingly, a golden sceptre with a purple crystal mounted in it. The price tag matched its shine, at two million pokedollars.

Taking in the admittedly lacking display, Touko immediately decided the sceptre was out of the question. Solar and void essence was easily come by, as was bat wings. The black egg left her wondering what on earth could've laid it. A cluck behind her answered her question as a very devious looking black feathered chicken sauntered past to peck at N's foot.

“Ah, my friend has returned.” N picked up the chicken. It became nearly indistinguishable against N's own darkness, save for the bright red beak and comb. Touya nudged Touko.

“Hey, Touko. That's a stardrop, you know?” Touko looked over the wares again and realised Touya was right. The star-shaped fruit was indeed one of the legendary stardrops. How on earth did it end up in the sewers?

“Uh, N?” Touko tentatively tried to catch N's attention, having him been preoccupied with stroking the evil chicken’s feathers. He stopped to look at her. “Can I buy this fruit?”

“Oh, uh, yes. That one is twenty thousand pokedollars.”

Touko shouldn't have choked at the price considering how rare the fruits were, but still, twenty thousand? She sighed and pulled out her wallet. One huge chunk out of her wallet later, and she was storing the fruit in her empty lunchbox. N definitely looked happy about it.

“Thank you so much.” N put the gold into a small pouch that leaned against the wall.

“Not to sound intrusive or anything, but what value do you get from human money?” Touya asked. It seemed weird that a monster would have the need for currency that was basically worthless to their own kind.

“Oh… it's not for me. I want to repay a human that looked after me when I was little. He was very nice to me.”

----

There’s no more, bud. Sorry.