#fun fact: i played the crawling thing in a haunted house one year

[sculien]

THE POUGHKEEPSIE TAPES (2007)

[sagamemes]

the sheridan tapes  📼  part one.   here and under the cut, you can find a little under 120 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes one to three, edited for roleplay purposes.  tw: police, murder, supernatural elements, mentions of apocalyptic scenarios, near death experiences, injuries, vehicular crash, recreational drug and alcohol use.

❝  jesus, [name]. you’re not making this easy, are you?  ❞

❝  makes you wonder... do these things follow me because i chase them, or were they always following me?  ❞

❝  darkness and complete disorientation does a number on the human brain.  ❞

❝  i don't think he was a werewolf.  ❞

❝  i’d call it the customer service smile. you know, the one that says  ‘ thank you for shopping with us, please die now ’.  ❞

❝  i’ve found the more showy the text, the less impressive the actual phenomena.  ❞

❝  my job here is kind of… shaky at the moment.  ❞

❝  [name] was also engaged in the study of the impossible in his free time.  ❞

❝  so it’s just me who drives you up the wall then?  ❞

❝  well, you’ll be happy to hear i haven’t been having any fun. no weed, no ghosts.  ❞

❝  there hasn’t been a new lead on her case in more than half a year.  ❞

❝  so here i am, wrapped up in a blanket, staring at my little fireplace, so bored i actually decided to call my sister for once.  ❞

❝  it’s a little town near bandon. very little. nice little mini-market, and that’s about it.  ❞

❝  i doubt i’ll sleep much tonight. that’s okay. i just feel like looking at the stars for a while.  ❞

❝  it's probably for the best. i am simultaneously exhausted from the drive and absolutely wired from the coffee.  ❞

❝  i wonder if there will still be ghosts out there when that happens?  when the earth is gone?  ❞

❝  glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself, then.  ❞

❝  knowing doesn’t make things any easier, but it does make them a little less frightening.  ❞

❝  that’s all just a lazy way of saying that the real explanation is too difficult—or too horrible—for them to accept.  ❞

❝  it almost killed me, but in the end it settled for putting me in pt for a year while i figured out how to use my hands again.  ❞

❝  he muttered something about my time being up. or maybe he said it wasn’t up.  ❞

❝  i don’t really care that i didn’t get any writing done today.  ❞

❝  nothing. not a single idea worth writing down, no itch i needed to scratch or question i needed to answer.  ❞

❝  guess there really is no such thing as bad press.  ❞

❝  i have no idea what a writer’s  ‘ process ’  usually looks like, but i’m pretty sure it’s not this.  ❞

❝  see what i have to deal with?  god… siblings, am i right?  ❞

❝  what can i say?  i have a soft spot for gothic architecture.  ❞

❝  computers have never been very good at reconciling paradoxes.  ❞

❝  they’re pretty much over funding my little expeditions.  ❞

❝  that kind of smile doesn’t normally show that many teeth.  ❞

❝  you know, that’s only scary the first few times you do it.  ❞

❝  one day, it will be dead. one day all the stars will burn out, go dark and silent. one day, everything will be so dark and so cold that no new stars can ever be born. the old ones will blink out one by one, like candles going out, and then… nothing. silence. darkness. void.  ❞

❝  the simplest explanation is almost always the right one.  ❞

❝  i don’t remember getting in my van, putting the key in the ignition, or speeding away from that house, but i must have.  ❞

❝  no, no, i’m fine, i’m fine, just go bother someone else.  ❞

❝  i haven’t eaten, moved, or written anything all day.  ❞

❝  but maybe that's just the fact that it is two in the morning and my brain is running mostly on caffeine.  ❞

❝  given how good a [job] he is, i know it’s not the first time he’s done it.  ❞

❝  i escaped, but i knew that whatever was in that house has just marked me as prey.  ❞

❝  calm down. think. you’re just going to confuse yourself.  ❞

❝  just wanted to tell you a couple of us are headed out to marvin’s for drinks if you want to come.  ❞

❝  one of the most disappointing things about living in america is the lack of genuinely haunted houses. out of all the supposed haunts i’ve visited, maybe one in ten seems like the real deal.  ❞

❝  sounds… peaceful. not many distractions, then?  ❞

❝  something tells me this tape wasn’t played in court.  ❞

❝  one of the neighbours must have called 911.  ❞

❝  my infamous accident. it almost killed me.  ❞

❝  i just woke up to footsteps in the kitchen. i don’t know who, or what, but there’s someone in here with me!  ❞

❝  could you shut the door on your way out, please?  ❞

❝  uh, wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.  ❞

❝  the fire that i said went out?  yeah, it just started burning again.  ❞

❝  so i asked him to lie.  ❞

❝  it'd really be just a few of us. maybe me and [name] and one or two other tagalongs…  ❞

❝  apparently, the press had a lot of questions too.  ❞

❝  i’ve driven more than 8 hours and drunk enough bad coffee to give an elephant heart palpitations. i’m sure as hell going to get my money’s worth.  ❞

❝  oh sorry, am i bothering you now? what happened to  ‘ call anytime you want, [name] ’ or,  ‘ you’re always welcome here, [name] ’ ?  ❞

❝  i’ve forgotten to charge my phone. again.  ❞

❝  i… think i’m going to turn around now.  ❞

❝  well sorry if i wanted to have a nice talk with my sister for a change.  ❞

❝  will it just be left there forever? our legacy? look upon our works, ye mighty, and despair?  ❞

❝  no matter how far away from home you are, no matter how different the constellations might look from where you’re standing, you can always look up on a clear, dark night and feel like you’re about to fall right into it—the terrifying, endless expanse of nothingness.  ❞

❝  i know authors can do some crazy things to get out of writer’s block, but i’ve never heard of one resorting to arson.  ❞

❝  why do you always think there’s something wrong?  ❞

❝  ours is not to question why, ours is but to digitize and stay the hell out of trouble.  ❞

❝  so let’s try walking backwards. just keep an eye on it.  ❞

❝  i got lucky. or maybe i was just fast enough to escape.  ❞

❝  maybe there are secret passages behind the walls and corridors.  ❞

❝  no matter how far i walked, i couldn’t find the way i came in.  ❞

❝  well, i /know/ i’ve had worst nights. i just can’t think of any right now.  ❞

❝  i do want you to have fun, [name], i just don’t want you to get yourself killed doing it.  ❞

❝  i mean, obviously, i do care, that’s the whole reason i made this trip. to get away from the noise and focus.  ❞

❝  i might have… forgotten to tell anyone where i was going.  ❞

❝  before i get started, there’s just one thing i need to say. i have absolutely no patience for the unexplained, or the things people call  ‘ unexplainable ’,  ‘ supernatural ’, or  ‘ paranormal ’.  ❞

❝  i told [name] that i needed to get out, to get inspired.  ❞

❝  okay, if someone is messing with me, they’re going to be very sorry, very quickly.  ❞

❝  [name] lied his ass off to save yours.  ❞

❝  a crash like that does funny things to your head.  ❞

❝  i still don’t know how he got there without me noticing.  ❞

❝  any plans i had to travel abroad went up in smoke.  ❞

❝  i thought of pulling out the bad cop routine.  ❞

❝  strange how something so dead can be so beautiful.  ❞

❝  it hated me:  hated what i do, and more than that, hated who i am.  ❞

❝  lots of tall tales. and more than a few ghost stories.  ❞

❝  oh good, you’re still here!  ❞

❝  reviewers absolutely grilled it:  said it was a nonsensical rip off of the dark tower, whatever that means.  ❞

❝  i jumped out the window. cut my hands on the glass, but thankfully not bad enough to need stitches  ❞

❝  i told her, tonight.  ❞

❝  for a minute, i wondered if that would really be so bad. it was a fitting way to go, given my… well, everything.  ❞

❝  i suppose that’s a universal constant—maybe the only one.  ❞

❝  i never let myself get this turned around. especially not at night.  ❞

❝  i don’t know if it’s actually haunted. but if not, then it was sure as hell convincing.  ❞

❝  i’m not one of those people who thinks she’s the spawn of satan or something ridiculous like that.  ❞

❝  unless i’m prepared to accept that she was murdered by something that crawled out of a funhouse mirror, this isn’t much help with the case, either.  ❞

❝  i have to try and work some actual cases the rest of the time. you know, cases that might have some answers i can find.  ❞

❝  it's cold, damp, and dark as night. i'm in my element, at least.  ❞

❝  your place is waiting for you.  ❞

❝  yeah, i’m all good. great… hanging in there, you know?  one day at a time.  ❞

❝  oh, i see you. you think i’m still scared of [thing], huh?  think you can freak me out?  ❞

❝  trust me, i’ve had a hell of a day, and you do not want to mess with a pissed off…  ❞

❝  and tell my sister i'm sorry.  ❞

❝  oh god, it's cold.  ❞

❝  the night sky really is beautiful out here.  ❞

❝  tell him he shouldn’t have been such a good liar.  ❞

❝  i’ve been listening to this for the last two weeks now.  ❞

❝  it’s not even that i’m having bad ideas. i’m not having any at all.  ❞

❝  can’t get away from the work, no matter what i do.  ❞

❝  i made sure i switched off my phone before i came up here, just in case.  ❞

❝  god, these things smell of weed.  ❞

❝  yeah, well… just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you know?  ❞

❝  [name] is dead. that's all there is to it.  ❞

❝  no, i need to get out of here. it’s been a long day.  ❞

❝  a lot of the art i found was just paintings of a night sky full of stars.  ❞

❝  my job is to look the facts dead in the face and find an explanation. one that will hold up in a court of law.  ❞

❝  personal and career choices, i guess you’d call them.  ❞

❝  damn. i could’ve sworn i felt something strange about this place when i hiked through this morning… or maybe it was a different part. hard to tell this late at night, anyway.  ❞

❝  well, let’s just say a middle-aged man-child running out panicked and tearing at his eyes would hardly be a marketable image.  ❞

❝  i didn’t mind that i’d be alone—i always expected that to be how i went.  ❞

❝  i’m sure that’s on my personnel file by now, as if it could get any more problematic.  ❞

[kopikokun]

The Ghost Of You༄ n.jm

↳ Sneaking Jaemin into your brother’s house has been all fun and games so far, until an impromptu make-out session leads to something dangerous.

pairing: na jaemin x reader ft. older brother!jaehyun

genre: fluff, suggestive

wordcount: 1.6k words

Request 25: Jaemin + “I swear my house is haunted.” (140) + “Go back to bed.” (145)

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧.

The only thing rushing through your veins at this moment is pure adrenaline.

And apparently a lot of blood too since all Jaemin’s been doing for the past five minutes is poke fun at your warm cheeks. Literally, poke fun.

“Aww, pretty girl.” Though Jaemin’s nails are blunt, it still aches as he drills it into your cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll be quiet.”

“Yeah, right,” you say, rolling your eyes. “You almost got us caught just now!”

Jaemins grins slyly, his eyes appear to glint with something akin to mischief under the soft light which pours through your window. The window which was wide open an hour ago, cold gusts of wind filling your room as Jaemin was perched on its sill, a mere silhouette with the moonlight against his back. “You make it sound like we’re doing something erotic.”

You push his face. “We’re not, but sneaking into your girlfriend’s brother’s house in the middle of the night isn’t any better either!”

Jaemin laughs, though not as loudly as he had just now, which coincidentally is very relevant to the discourse occurring at the present moment. That almost gremlin-like laughter is how you two were almost caught red-handed. “Relax a little, princess. I promise we won’t get caught. How many times have we done this?”

More times than you’d like to admit. You flush. “Okay, but our luck’s gonna run out one of these nights. My brother isn’t stupid.”

“Don’t be such a pessimist.” Jaemin pecks your lips, smiling against them. “I bet Jaehyun doesn’t have a clue.”

“Since when did you get so chummy with my brother?”

“Hey, I’ve got to get a headstart in making my future in-laws like me, right?”

The implications behind his remark leave you weak in the knees. Thank God, you’re not standing. “Yeah, well I don’t think your future in-laws would like it if you snuck into their homes.” You hold Jaemin’s face between your hands. “And you didn’t have to sneak in. I told you I’d be back home by the weekend.”

“I know, but I missed you, pretty girl.” Jaemin kisses your thigh as he’s lying flat on his stomach between them. You sit up straighter against your headboard. “Getting shy?”

“No, I’m not. Shut up.”

Jaemin giggles, his thumb absentmindedly tracing shapes on the smooth expanse of your thighs. “Jaehyun’s house isn’t that far from your old place anyway. I don’t mind the extra few minutes if I get to see your cute face.”

“Still… this is risky.” You can’t help but worry. It’s not like you’re not flattered by Jaemin’s presence, but break’s nearly over. You’d be back at your apartment with your roommate in no time. He should’ve just sat patiently instead of risking his life being here in your room, in your brother’s house. And you really do mean his life. If Jaehyun were to stumble upon him, he’d saw off mini Jaemin in the blink of an eye.

You had talked to Jaemin about how you’d be staying with your brother for break since you had wanted to check out his new place anyway. You genuinely hadn’t expected for him to show up, unannounced, with a cheeky smile as his knuckles rapped the glass of your window. He had nearly given you a heart attack. In fact, you were sure he had taken a few years off of your life.

You were peeved at first by his boldness, but how could you get mad at him when he had come all this way to see you with that little twinkle in his eyes and that boyish tussle of his hair? So, he had got off with just a bit of a reprimanding, though evidently, you hadn’t been very stern because he obviously hasn’t repented. Your voice had wavered when Jaemin had nibbled on the skin of your inner thigh and licked a hot stripe up that spot he knew would get you squirming, which is understandable.

You can’t deny that you kind of like this. It feels exhilarating, sneaking around behind your brother’s back like this.

If Jaemin could just walk through the front door of Jaehyun’s house, you don’t think he would be doing this in the first place—well, he might do it for the rush, but at least he wouldn’t be doing it so often. Unfortunately, despite Jaemin’s remark about getting chummy with his in-laws, you know your brother isn’t fond of him. They’ve met once, briefly, and for some reason, Jaehyun seemed pput off by Jaemin. You couldn’t put your finger on ‘why’, and when interrogated, Jaehyun had just shrugged and said that he didn’t mind who you dated and that he liked Jaemin. While for the most part, the former rings true, the latter is most definitely false. You can tell. You’ve known Jaehyun all your life and he seems to have a distaste towards your boyfriend.

“What are you thinking about, princess?”

“Hmm,” you hum, running your hands through Jaemin’s soft hair, relishing in the feel of it between your fingers. “Nothing.” You pause, eyes momentarily flickering to Jaemin’s wet lips before returning to his sharp gaze. “Kiss me?”

Jaemin smiles, eyes creasing as he leans in. “Of course.”

He’s warm. He always is. His hands are warm as they roam your body, igniting small sparks of passion wherever they touch. His smile is warm as he cups the back of your head with his palm, readjusting you so that you’re beneath him, arms on either side of your head. His body is warm as it’s pressed against you, his weight present but not suffocating as his hands find their way to yours, your fingers intertwining. 

You can feel his right hand palming your waist.

Jaemin pulls away from you. “What happened to being quiet?” he tuts.

You sigh. God, you simultaneously love and despise how cocky Jaemin gets in moments like these. “Yeah, okay, okay. Just keep kissing me, Jaemin.” He arches a brow, a smile playing at his lips. “Please.”

“Okay, since you’re being good for me.” His breath fans your neck, before his lips are back on yours, soft and warm.

And then there’s a loud, sudden thud.

It all happens so fast. First, you’re shoving Jaemin off of you with a start. Then, he’s falling onto your floor, ass-first, an awkward, undealt-with, semi-tent in his pants.

“Shit! Jaemin!” you whisper shout, pulling at your shorts so it doesn’t look like someone just had their hands down them. “Move! Hide!”

You can hear a door click shut and heavy, sluggish, footsteps dragging across the hallway floor.

Jaemin scrambles to his feet. “Shit, where?”

You card a hand through your hair. “Uhm, fuck, uh,” your eyes scan your room, “there! Under my desk! He won’t see you from the door.”

Jaemin wordlessly dives under your desk, nearly bumping his head on its edge.

Your door opens soundlessly, the dim light from the hallway flooding into your room, illuminating your no doubt flushed face. You hope Jaehyun’s too tired to notice.

“Hey, you okay? I heard something and thought you fell.”

You laugh nervously, rubbing your arm in an up-and-down motion. “What? What are you talking about? Nothing happened.”

Jaehyun eyes you suspiciously, the sleep beginning to wear off as he shifts his weight from one leg to another. “You sure? I’m pretty certain I heard something…”

You shake your head furiously. “Nope. I didn’t hear a thing.”

Jaehyun groans, running his hands down his face. “Damn, I swear my house is haunted.”

“Go back to bed.” You wave Jaehyun off, hoping that you both sound and look nonchalant.

“Yeah, yeah, you too.” Jaehyun yawns. “G’night,” he slurs, shutting the door behind him.

Jaemin makes a move to slip out from his hiding spot but you hold a hand out to stop him. He freezes in place, eyes darting warily from you to your door.

When you hear the soft pads of Jaehyun’s footsteps fade into silence, you let out an uneven breath. Another near heart attack. It seems like the people around you don’t want you living a long life.

“The coast clear?” Jaemin crawls out from beneath your desk, his long limbs unfolding themselves from the almost foetal-like position they were previously in, and this time he does bump his head against your table. “Ow! Shit!”

You wince at the sound. “Oh my God, it’s almost like you want us to get caught.” You extend a hand towards him, and he clasps it gratefully, his left hand rubbing his forehead as his face contorts into one of pain. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” sighs Jaemin. He unexpectedly holds you against him, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and nuzzling his face into your neck. “Fucking hell, I almost pissed myself.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.” You lean into Jaemin, allowing most of your weight to be supported by him. Your shoulders loosen and your body finally relaxes, that is until an old friend digs into your thigh. You suppress a snort.

“Do you need help with that?”

Jaemin snickers, backing away from you and ruffling the top of your hair. “Nah, I think I’ve had enough excitement for tonight.” The ghost of a smile teases his lips. “I can wait ‘till the weekend.”

You laugh to nobody in particular as Jaemin slips out of your window like a cat, disappearing silently into the night, the only remnants of his presence are your unruly hair and the pink tint that dusts your cheeks.

You’re looking forward to the weekend.

[myfeetkeepdancing]

A Devil’s Toy  |  Arvin Russell x Male!Reader

Request: Crossover where Arvin gets connected with the symbiote? Because Spidey!Arvin seems silly and unfitting but Venom!Arvin is kind of 😳😳😳

Words: 3694

-----

The town you lived in was always quiet. The birds chirped happily in the tree, nature at it's best. Cars approaching from the forest road were easily heard from miles away. Sorting the groceries you just brought home, a distant sound shakes you from your thought. Fast-paced footsteps approach your house from the treeline. They certainly were running. Before you were able to shove the curtain aside, you hear a voice call out your name. Repeatedly.

"Arvin?" You speed to the door, opening it for him. "What happened?" Eyeing the dirty cloth wrapped around his lower right arm. As you looked closer, it covered most of his lower arm. You couldn't see his hand nor wrist. His eyes were narrow, heaving for air, as he clutched his other hand tightly on the cloth. This wasn't the first time Arvin came in like this. In all those years you'd known him, he got in a lot of fights, with the necessary injuries. He won most of them, but some… He knew he was outmatched, yet it is as if he didn't care. As if the greater the challenge, the bigger the appeal.

"G-Get… me… a... k-...k-knife." He stuttered through the heaving breaths, unwrapping the cloth from his arm. You seat him down at the kitchen table and quickly bring him a large knife. For what was the question right now, but you never questioned Arvin. And if you did, most of the time, he didn't answer. At first, you didn't notice any blood as the cloth opened up. His denim jacket still in good shape. You notice how nervous and anxious he is. Eyeing his surroundings constantly. Trust was something Arvin didn't have. At least in most people. You always managed with him. But something was off about Arvin. He kept everything in check. As if he was expecting something or someone.

"Help me (Y/N)-..." He snarled while ripping the last the piece of cloth from his hand. "-get this off me." Struck by fear, revolt, and sheer terror, you jolt back a few steps. Covering your mouth with one hand.

"W-Wha… What is that?!" Arvin's hand was completely black, not from sickness. As far as you knew from a first glance. Because it moved. Your bowels churned in revolt. Feeling your earlier snack rise in distaste. The tar-like ooze moved and pulsated around his hand and lower arm.

"I DON'T KNOW!" He screamed, grabbing the knife. "I don't know! Just get it off me!" Trying to scrape it off with the sharp end. He shook all over, struggling to place the blade against the moving substance. From both angles, it was impossible to decide if he was going to strike the goo or his own skin. His hesitation held the blade at bay. "Goddammit! Help me (Y/N)!" He angrily shot at you.

"C-Can you move your hand?"

"Eh… Yes... "He said, seeing them move shakingly. "I can feel it..."

"Alright… Alright…." Grabbing his coat. "Take it off." You command, pulling him onto his feet. "We have to know how far it's-…"

"(Y/N)?" He asked with widening eyes. Seeing the fear struck in your eyes. "What's-…"

Step by step, you back up from Arvin. Feeling the trembles take over your body as the level of eye contact with him slowly rises. This had to be a nightmare. What Arvin's legs once were, wrapped in jeans, were now encased in the same black ooze from earlier. Forming a new pair of legs for him. And rapidly consuming the rest of his frame. The stuff that ate away at Arvin had towered over you faster than you could believe. Slowly stepping your way. Only Arvin's face now left. You wanted to scream out your lungs, call for Arvin. Wanted to help him. But all sense had left you. Terror had overcome you. Especially when you saw the rows of gigantuous, white razor-sharp teeth erupt out from the black being's skin. Engulfing Arvin's face from its forehead and chin. In a matter of seconds, Arvin had disappeared completely. Taken by the black pulsating goo that stood before you. A pair of white oval eyes stared at you as the jawline with long teeth stretched into what could be described as a smile.

With your back against the wall, the only response you could muster was throwing the closest thing beside you at it. A cup. It did nothing. The black mass towered over you as your legs buckled and crashed to the floor. "A-A...A-...Arvin...??"

"Well hello…" The creature spoke with a haunting voice. "Arvin is currently occupied... elsewhere." Chuckling to himself. As its jaws opened, your nightmare was complete. A red, ribbed, slimy tentacle of a tongue stretched outwards. Licking its so-called teeth. "He'll be fine, though." Approaching you, as you tried to crawl away. "I promise." It smiled; the drips of slime dangled from its teeth. "For now, I am hungry..."

"P-P-Please… I…" You pleaded, covering your eyes with your arms. Shielding you from the horror that was in front of you. The tears finally showing. Its arms were massive, bulking masses of muscles. It claws with sharp talons close to striking distance.

"Ooooow." It arched back up. "I see... "Nodding in sudden amusement at your shuddering frame, held in a fetus position. "Now, I get it." It chuckled. "I get it." Looking around the room. "I can't touch your lover." You notice the innards of the black ooze struggle and fight.

"A-Arvin's still in there…?"

"Oh, Yes." It said before the black ooze curled back from Arvin's face. Revealing him alive, and surprisingly well.

"I'm sorry (Y/N)!" He said. "There was this truck-" And as Arvin was telling his story, you notice the body language of the thing. Mimicking Arvin's way of speaking. As if Arvin was controlling the black ooze. But somehow was also… alive? Sentient? The story was impossible to follow as you watch the movements, streamlined with Arvin's. This was impossible. But you were glad Arvin was alive.

"Wh-... What was that about-... about...?" You shook your head, conflicted by so many things. "I have so many questions."

There was little time for Arvin to react as the ooze slipped back over his face. He protested; you could see the struggle. But somehow, the ooze retook control. "Sorry lovey-doveys… But it's time. Allow me to introduce myself." Bowing before you. "I'm Venom, and Arvin here-..." Tapping its belly. "-...is my new host." Laughing amusingly. "Together, we're going to have so much fun."

It's pale white eyes stared at you, as if it was expecting something from you. "And you are?" It asked. "It's customary to introduce yourself to newcomers."

"(Y/N)." You said in a shaken voice. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Well, I already knew that." It looked back up again. "I played along, out of kindness." Giving you a nod and a smile. Before turning its attention back to its surroundings. "Anyway. I hear them." It stopped, eyeing the direction the sound came from. It doesn't take much for your trained ears to hear the footsteps in the distance. The rushed, fast-paced ones. Cracking leaves and branches as they approached. Some walked with a determined stride. But they were with many.

"I thought it was you at first." It quipped back, showing you a sort of smile. "But I was wrong. Sorry!" The smile was highly uncomfortable to watch, the rows of teeth showing high and wide. The stench was something that came second. But not any better.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about." Keeping your eyes on the lumbering figure standing in the room. It somehow had a muscular physique to it, despite the otherwordly colors. Black and rippled with some sort of veins protruding from its so-called skin. It's highly disturbing to look at.

"Little Arvin and I will explain later." Moving its arm towards you. Every movement made you jump. Especially this, seeing its talons close in. "Don't worry." It smiled, seeing you repulse from fear, with your back against the wall. "I won't hurt you." It said, but its tone was more taunting than comfortable at this point.

"Take this." Opening his black oozing hand to you. The skin bubbled and moved as something began to emerge. From the torso, something slid underneath the skin towards the hand. The happening alone made you sick. "Arvin won't need it." Revealing the gun, you knew Arvin carried with him from time to time. "He has a better weapon now." He grinned, tossing it in your lap as it looked for the newcomers.

"W-Wh… What do I do?" You've had practice with a gun. That was a fact. Arvin had shown you, taught you. But at this point. You were completely blank—pulling at the magazine. Trying to get the damn mechanism to work. But your shaking hands struggle to make anything work right now.

 "You phew phew that thingie-... "Pointing at the gun with its talons. "-at any one of those outside." It said while watching you struggle. "Plenty of targets."

 "I… I… don't…" You stammer, dropping it to the floor. "Fuck…!" Cursing more under your breath while you clammy hands struggle to pick it up.

You recoil back against the wall, not that you could go further. The oozes torso ripple and move as you saw Arvin reach out. His entire upper torso revealing from the black ooze. "Come 'ere." He said while handling the gun. Cocking and reloading it. It surprised you to see Arvin this relaxed. Normally his anger would have surfaced and lost control over the situation. But now, he seemed convinced about what was about to happen.

You jump scare a little as a magazine for the gun popped into your lap. "Found this in his back pocket." Venom said as the hole in his shoulder closed.

He took your one hand, his grip firm and reassuring, warm to the touch, to the point of bolstering your confidence. For a moment, you're lost in each other eyes, feeling a sense of humanity return. Bringing you back as he helped to put your fingers on the gun. Closing your second hand around the other. "Use it if you have to." He said. "Stay safe."

"Arvin… How do we know if they're-" Your voice was cut off. The air knocked from your lungs. As the world around you was reduced to splinters, smoke, and glass. Eardeafening explosions shook you to the very bone. It all happened so fast. In that split second, the door at the other end of the room was reduced to mere splinters. Chunks of wood scattered across the floor and dug itself into softer material than itself. A loud ring sounded in your ears as you lost your bearings completely. Your vision had doubled, twice, or thrice—more than enough to see Venom move away from you. Through the whirling dust and flying wood splinters, you see it darting across the floor. The room wasn't that big, but in an instance, it sat upon the figure standing in the doorframe. Its scream didn't reach your ear because it didn't have time to. You shouldn't have blinked, but your ramshackle mind had too. Before you had any further chance to see what was happening. The figure had disappeared. Leaving Venom standing there, licking its teeth with that weird-looking tongue.

You jolt back into life as you feel the air coming back into your lungs. Coughing the dust and dirt up from your windpipe, it had forced itself in. A shock racked your frame as an object hit your foot. "Keep that safe." Venom's voice called out, noticing the large shotgun in front of you. Before you looked up and responded to him. Venom was already gone. Luckily your vision had begun to come back. To your shock, around you was a circle of splinters and fragments of other metal embedded deep into the wall. Struck by panic again, you check yourself. Hands, legs, arms. A relieved smile cracked your lips. You weren't hurt. Venom and Arvin had most certainly protected you from the blast. Seeing the damage all around you. It was one mass of destruction. With your courage gathered, and like any natural instinct kicking in, you try to get up on your legs. Water. You needed water. And eye the sink.

Shards of glass shatter across the counter as you duck back to the floor. You try to stay low, hunched as the sound of gunshots increased. The automatic fire increased as voices called out. Unfamiliar and loud. Commands were given. Screaming, yelling. They must have seen you as the bullets tore through the windows. The impact clearly seen on the walls. Ripping and tearing through every inch of the house. You duck lower to the ground. Terrified to the bone. Frames falling from the wall, and shelves coming loose. Everything went flying as the bullets tore it all apart. You didn't dare to look up. Broken glass and furniture flew through the air. Nothing was safe. Feeling the chances of survival slim by every passing moment.

Outside was this constant carnage, ripped screams. Trees being felled and branches snapping like twigs in a storm. It was a warzone outside. You could hear it, feel it—the tearing of limbs and flesh. The cries of the injured were short-lived. If there were any at all. With the sense of time and place lost in the heat of battle. The sound of battle and slowly began dying down. Less and less guns were being fired. Arvin better returns in one piece; you prayed to the Lord. In a moment like this, faith was a scapegoat option. Because you felt helpless and prayed for a good outcome.

The sound of someone approaching across the porch nailed you to the floor. Once the bullets had started tearing through the walls, surely targeting you, you had fallen to the floor. Flat on your stomach in the dirt and debris. Praying for your life. And now you lay there, with the gun in reach of you. You frantically crawl towards it, realizing too late that you were trudging through the glass splinters. But the adrenaline kept you going. Your fingers shuddered across the cold metal of the gun. Struggling to get a grip on it again.

As the heavy treads of boots stamped across the porch towards the already blasted open door. The voice of a man, different than Arvin's. Talking to someone. Tears had already flooded your vision as you brought the iron sights up along your eyesight. Clouding your vision. The gun shook terribly in your hand, as you crawled back up against the wall where you sat earlier. Countless holes had penetrated through the wall, now shafts of light shining through. It's mystical to see the dust flying around in the sudden silence. Only focused on the impending footsteps.

You squinted your eyes, trying to avoid the look on the person's face once you had pulled the trigger. You knew the mechanism; it was rough. Requiring a strong pull on the trigger to fire. "ARVIN!" You screamed from the top of your lungs. Crying out for help. "VENOM!" Tears rolled down your cheeks as your gaze swept to the other end size. The backdoor flew open with force.

"Son of a bitch is here!" Another voice called from the back. Taking steps into the house. Hearing the floor creak under the weight. You swing the gun back and forth. Not sure who was going to show up first. Either way, they were closing in on you. You knew the layout better than the intruders. You knew where the backdoor was, and how he had to walk down the hallway into the kitchen. You swing back to the front door. The one in the back had to be a few footsteps away from you.

The flash blinded you for a moment, rocking your entire frame as the gun fired its bullet down the barrel. Smashing through the wooden wall into the hallway. Splintering chunks of wood across the floor and into the hallway. A hushed curse came from the hallway. Your eyes catch movement at the front door. Everything went so fast. The man appeared in the doorway, almost in a veil-like light, holding a rifle. When a tentacle of blackness shot up into its side. Gurgled screams shot up from its shuddering frame. His arms go limb as the rifle hits the floor, and disappears as fast as he appeared. Not a scream, nothing. Just gone. A glimpse of white eyes and teeth are more than enough to reassure Venom and Arvin were there. A relief. Seeing the black mass surge past the doorframe off the hallway. A short burst of automatic fire forced you back into that scared fetal position as it connected with all sorts of pottery in the kitchen beside you. Piercing through the wall, shattering plates, pans, and cups. But silenced with a gurgle of blood and air, followed by a hard thud on the floor. The only thing you could hear was your own ragged breath and spend cartridges rolling on the floor.

 "(Y/N)?" Arvin sped around the corner, seeing the last of Venom's skin disappear behind him. "You alright?" You nodded as you caught your breath, slowly sitting yourself back up again. Arvin didn't need an answer. He saw the small cuts and splinters in your forearm. He looked around through the destruction, searching that familiar cabinet that now had fallen to the floor. Kicking the broken pieces away with his feet. Fishing the first aid out. By now, he knew quite well where to find it. Approaching you with a caring look on his face, yet also a smile. A rare smile for Arvin. "You look like shit." He said, looking down at you with that same taunting smile.

"T-That's..." You laughed but was interrupted by a rough coughing fit. "T-That's my line."

 "Not today." Handing you a bottle of liquor, he found lying on the floor, surprising intact. "Just like old times. But this time…" He kneeled in front of you, brushing the dust from your lips with his other hand. "I'll help you." Cupping your cheeks in his hands. Your heart already raced from earlier. But in that split second, it skipped several. So it was true what Venom said; that was the last thing that crossed your mind. Before his lips connected with yours. Kissing you with great care and precision. The world had already fallen silent, but now there was nothing more but you and Arvin. "Thank you." You mumbled into the slowly sloppier kiss.

"No problem." Venom responded in his dark voice before Arvin could. The silence was broken by the two of you chuckling softly in each others' embrace. It was true. Venom had done so much for the two of you. He was the reason you both were alive. And together. Finally.

"You still have a lot to learn, Arvin." You groan, locking your jaw as you observe him struggle with the pincers. Trying to remove the last shards and splinters of glass and wood from your arm.

"Sit still." He leaned upwards, giving you a kiss. "I need to concentrate." Ticking the bottle with his pincers, as a sign of telling you to drink.

"How can I... when you kiss me like that." Arvin's proud glance at you said more than enough. With his other hand, he guided the bottle upwards to your lip. He knew how much pain you were having. The adrenaline had worn off quicker than you expected. Arvin knew that all too well. "The preacher won't approve of us." You sighed, rolling your head back against the wall. The liquor slowly numbing your senses.

 "And he ain't a good one, you know that." Arvin hissed. The rest of his muttering was impossible to hear. And it might be for the better. From day one, Arvin didn't have a good hunch about that preacher. But he was shut up by his sister. She believed in him, like so many others.

"Ow, I want to pay him a visit." Venom said, emerging on a string of gooiness beside Arvin's head. "Let's have some fun with him." He smiled viciously. "I can read your mind, Arvin. You hate him. All the more reason to."

"Won't hurt to teach him a lesson…?" Arvin looked at you for approval. As if he needed that from you. You and Arvin were on the same level on so many things. The preacher was one of them. You also didn't go to church for the longest time. To the disapproval of many in the town. But it made the Sunday morning one hell of a good morning. Arvin stopped going too and came around your place at that every Sunday morning.

"You know how I think about him." You grinned. "But what about all this?" Eyeing the interior of your house. "It's ruined." The destruction all around was immense. Bullets had torn everything apart. The table and chairs, reduced to chunks of wood. Large shotgun shells had blasted holes through the walls and wreaked havoc on the interior. It's a wonder the walls were still standing. "I can't live here anymore…"

"I don't know…" Arvin looked around, raking his fingers through his brown curls, lost in his thoughts.

"And how about all those bodies?" The thought had just crossed your mind. You hadn't seen one, but there had to be at least ten of them scattered around your house and littering the forest.

"I'm still hungry…" Venom said, showing its row of teeth, smiling very broadly.

"He ate most of them…" Arvin said, as if that was giving any comfort.

"And then...Arvin? What's next?"

Arvin's gaze was locked elsewhere, thoughts far beyond the room, but said nothing. He hunched on his knees, turned around, and sat himself down beside you. "I don't know…" He sighed, resting his head against the wall. "But we'll figure something out." Putting his arm around you. Resting your head against one another, watching the dust dance in the air through the beams of sunlight, shining through the bullets holes. "Together."

[puckinghell]

The Plus One Pact | Part 1 | William Nylander

Summary: Your ex is getting married, and you don’t have a date, which means the unavoidable “why don’t you have a boyfriend” question is about to haunt you for the rest of eternity. But then there’s Will, who could be the answer to all your problems. A simple business pact, no feelings involved: that won’t be hard for you, because you really don’t like him anyways. Except pacts were made to be broken… or something. Right?

Note: This is part 1, let me know what you think about the idea of this series!

--

“I have a plan to fix this,” your best friend says, and there’s absolutely nothing worse than when Zach says that.

To be fair, when you called him in complete, blind panic, you weren’t really thinking straight. If you were, you would’ve started your tirade with a I don’t need you to fix this, but…

As it is, you forgot to say that, and so Zach is trying to fix it. That’s how your best friend works.

“I have a plan, too,” you say. You’re sitting on the floor in the kitchen, legs pulled up to your chest, and your phone is on speaker on the floor next to you. It’s quite a dramatic scene, with it being dark outside, the Toronto city lights twinkling below you; if you weren’t having a mental breakdown, you’d laugh about the high romantic comedy feeling this has.

“I’m going to throw myself off the roof and fake death.”

“If you throw yourself off the roof, it won’t be faking anymore.” Zach sounds undeterred by your possible impending death, which. Rude. Maybe you need a new best friend.

Outside, you can see the rain falling. Spring has arrived, but spring is really hit and miss in Toronto, and this week the weather has been dreadful. It kinda feels serendipitous, now.

“Zach,” you whine into the phone, “I can’t go to my ex’s wedding alone. You have to come with me.”

Zach sighs, but doesn’t say anything. To be fair, he’s already explained to you why he can’t do that – he has plans, and a wife, so - but…

“It’s so unfair.” You let your head fall back against the kitchen cabinet with a thump, and wonder idly whether you still have a bottle of wine stashed in one of those cabinets. If there was ever a time to pull it out, it’s probably now.

“I told you, I have a plan. We can fix this.” Zach sounds smug, which doesn’t do anything to help your worry.

He always means well, and he’s a smart guy, yet somehow his plans never work out too well for you.

“The plan that I have,” your best friend says slowly, cutting himself off to interject: “And don’t say no right away!”

That probably means you’re gonna say no right away.

“My plan is that you’re gonna take Willy.”

You laugh.

“Fuck no.”

--

So, it’s not like you hate William.

It’s just. You also don’t like him.

He’s always so chipper and happy, and there’s no way anyone can be that chipper and happy all the time. And he’s always confident, sometimes borderline cocky, and you never know whether he’s being nice to you or taking the piss, whether to take what he says at face value or with a grain of salt. You don’t know what to make of him, which makes you feel uncomfortable in his presence.

And then there’s the fact that he’s William Nylander.

Obviously, being friends with Zach, who loves William, there’s gonna be times when you’re around him. And whenever you are, it seems like the entire city is around him, too.

Clubs, restaurants, cinemas, even stores: you can’t go anywhere without people whispering, without a crowd forming. Sometimes people even follow you.

And you know it’s William, because it never happens when it’s just you and Zach. Even though Zach is, in your opinion anyway, just as big a deal in Toronto as Willy. So. It must be something about William as a person.

However.

The idea of having to go to this wedding alone makes you wanna vomit, or cry, or maybe both. You feel your skin crawl and your heartbeat speed up, and you haven’t had a proper panic attack in years but it feels like it’s just below the surface, when you think about having to see Noah getting married, while everyone around you is just feeling sorry for you because you’re still lonely and pathetic.

It was such a bad idea to get your entire family so involved in Noah’s life, because now they’re all gonna be at his wedding, and even your own family will look at you with quiet disappointment.

It’s too much, literally, for you to even process, and you blame that lack of mental capacity for the fact that you end up telling Zach he can arrange a meeting with William for you.

--

Toronto is still hiding underneath an everlasting raincloud, and everything about you is soaked by the time you hurry through the coffee shop door.

So far for your jacket being waterproof, then.

The coffee shop, luckily, is warm and cozy, and you wonder why Zach has never taken you there before. There’s something hipster about it, sure, with mismatched furniture and indie music playing, but it has the kinda relaxed vibe you’re always looking for.

That’s when you spot him.

He’s wearing a hoodie and a snapback, and his glasses, which somehow make him fit right in with the aesthetic of the place, as if they hired him to sit there and be pretty – shut up, you don’t like him, but you’re not blind - and drink coffee, to fit the decor.

He looks up when he sees you coming, a lazy smile appearing on his face.

“Y/N,” he says, almost amused, “this was unexpected.”

“Hey, William,” you mutter, shrugging off your wet jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair opposite him. “I’ll just go get a coffee and then I’ll explain.”

“No need.” William motions towards one of the two mugs that are on the table. “Ordered you a hazelnut latte with oat milk.” He sounds proud, and you assume Zach told him your favorite coffee order but you’re a little impressed anyway.

From anyone else, maybe you’d seen it as common courtesy, but for William, to think about that? You’ve noticed he has a habit of thinking about himself, first, so, that’s a thing for him.

“Thanks,” you say, and you must look as baffled as you feel because William rolls his eyes a little.

“It’s just a coffee. And call me Will or Willy, please. William is what my grandmother says.” His eyes twinkle when he adds: “Oh, and angry old white dudes on hockey Twitter.”

If you didn’t kinda need him, you would’ve probably kept calling him William just to annoy him a little: you’ve never really seen William – Will – annoyed, not if not jokingly. You’ve seen him happy, dejected, upset, but never annoyed.

It’s a mood he regularly instills in you, so you wonder if you could return the favor.

However.

“Okay, Will, so here’s the thing.”

You do need something from him.

“One year ago, I had a boyfriend.”

Will raises an eyebrow, takes a sip of his coffee in the most pretentious way. “Congratulations.”

“Do you want to hear the story?” you snap, forgetting for a second that you’re supposed to be nice to him. Old habits die hard.

Will holds up his hands and stills.

“So, my ex, his name is Noah. We got together when we were 16 and I thought he was the one for me. He was over at my house so much, my parents used to joke that we’d already gotten married and just hadn’t told them. He was as much part of my family as I was, and I thought we’d be together forever.”

Will takes another drink. His leg is bouncing up and down slightly; another habit of his that you really wish you could kick out of him.

“Long story short,” you decide to settle, “next month he’s getting married to the woman he cheated on me with.”

Now Will’s eyes widen, and you can tell he wasn’t expecting that. You bet he’s really not expecting your next sentence.

“So I need you to go to the wedding with me.”

It’s quiet. You take the chance to take a sip of your drink; it’s delicious, maybe the best you’ve ever had, and now you wonder whether Will spends a lot of time here cause if not, you’d like to make this your regular coffee place.

“You wanna go to this douchebag’s wedding?” Will asks, sounding incredulous. And, okay, maybe you can’t blame him for sounding like that. 

“Want is a big word,” you hum. You link your fingers together, think of your mom when she spoke to you last.

“You have to come, Y/N. I promised him he’d always be a part of our family, and if you don’t go he won’t feel welcome. Surely you’re over him, by now?”

“My whole family is going and I think my mom will disown me if I don’t go. I told you, he’s as much part of the family as I am. If I didn’t go, it’d be like… Me not going to my brother’s wedding.”

“But he’s not your brother.” Will still looks like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “He’s a cheating ex!”

You sigh. “They don’t know about the cheating part, actually.”

When you and Noah broke up, you hadn’t been in a good place. You felt embarrassed, but most of all, worthless. Like it had been your fault he cheated: if only you had been prettier, skinnier, smarter, funnier, better, he wouldn’t have had to. He wouldn’t have fallen for Betty – his soon to be wife – if you’d been enough.

So, ashamed as you were, and knowing how much your family loved Noah, you didn’t tell them the truth. You simply told them you’d broken up because you’d grown apart, become different people.

In a way, you still think you made the right choice. You don’t think they would’ve chosen Noah’s side if you’d told them the truth, but it would’ve hurt them to cut him out of their lives, and still to this day he comes over all the time to fix stuff at their house or make them dinner.

You’re thankful for the way he cares about your parents, even if he never cared about you.

You try to explain this all to Will, but no matter what you say, the deep edged frown in his forehead doesn’t leave.

“I still think it’s bullshit,” he declares, a little too loudly, when you’re done. “But at least I get why Zach wants me to go with you, now. As a barrier.” 

He’s puffing his chest a little and it would be cute if it wasn’t so typically William-Nylander-out-there, and now you’re wondering if he’s making fun of you or if he’s being genuine.

“You don’t need to be a barrier,” you say, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I just didn’t want to show up alone and have everyone think I’m still all kinds of messed up about this. I want people to know I’m doing great in life.”

When you see Will’s questioning gaze, you frown at him. “Don’t be sexist. I am doing great in life, even if I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t need a boyfriend for that. It’s just that my family seems to disagree with that.”

“That’s not just a female thing,” Will says, and he seems to genuinely get it. “My mom asks me about twenty times every week if I’ve found a girlfriend yet. She wants grandbabies and she wants them now.”

“Even with your hockey career?” you ask him. It seems silly to you, for Will’s family to focus on grandkids when Willy is still so young, living his dream in the NHL.

Will laughs. “She doesn’t care about that. She says she’s had enough of that with dad. She’s proud of me for my career, but she wants me to have the family life, too, and she worries it’s gonna be too late really soon.”

“You’re 24, not 55,” you huff. Will shrugs, but he’s smiling.

“Either way,” he says. “I can go with you to that guy’s wedding, and I can be your handsome, succesful, charming pretend-boyfriend.”

“And so humble,” you scoff, but there’s a weight lifting from your shoulders at his words.

“However,” Will continues, and the weight is back instantly. Damn it, you shouldn’t celebrate so soon. “My cousin, who lives in Calgary, has this baby shower, gender reveal party situation going on next week, and I don’t wanna listen to my entire family ask me when I’m gonna get a girlfriend for my babies every six minutes. So you have to come with me to that.”

You quickly do the thinking; one gender reveal party can’t last very long, you’ll just have to eat colored cakes and smile at people’s baby stories and chug some champagne, and then your wedding fears will be over.

However…

“Okay,” you say, “but my boss is getting married this weekend and I told him I had a plus one because I did, but Zach canceled because he’s a loser.”

Or, because his knee is bothering him and he’s doing some extra physical therapy to rehab it more. Whatever.

“So you’ll come with me to that, too, and we can practice for the real thing.”

“The real thing?” Will’s eyes twinkle and there’s an amused tilt to the corners of his mouth, and you realize you made it sounds as if you and him are gonna get married.

You glare at him and kick his feet under the table, and Will laughs a loud, obnoxious laugh that has always irked you but now that his full attention is on you, suddenly something like warm pride glows in your chest.

Maybe, this won’t be so bad after all.

Famous last words. 

[kanene-yaaay]

No Moving

Kanene’s note: One year ago I threw a surprise party (very small and cozy) in my house and, after some hours, one of mah friends suggested we played some old games from our childhood and I remember my first thought was “Hey, no. We’re not children anymore.” but I said nothing because that sounded a lot like what society would want me to say. We played. And that was one of the best days I’ve ever had. Good enough to give me inspiration for this fanfic. With a lot of chaos and dorky sides and chaos and tickles!!! So I'm giving this to myself as a gift, because, ya know... S e r o t o n i n! Soooo, the lesson? Idk. Be feral, do chaos, play and f**k the society, I guess. Happy day for us all!!! :DD

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Thomas Sanders and his series Sanders Sides!

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!!  ^w^)b

* This is Ler!Roman and Ler!Virgil with Lee!Logan and Lee!Patton. Around 3.700 words.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Eu vou traduzir ainda ;w;. Thank you so so so much for being with me through all this crazy and difficult year. It’s been a bless to have all of you in my notes, my askys, and my notifications! Take care of yourself, lollipop, you deserve. <33

[~*~]

It was a sunny day. The heat from the biggest star of our solar system being placated by a relaxing wind incessantly throwing the napkins from the so careful, yet messy – as if this wasn’t a tradition the quartet repeated affectionately every single year – decorated table. The friends positioned themselves around it. The surprise party’s rush being already over after all their screaming, singing, eating and bickering, leaving the four to lazily chat or stare the breeze carrying lonely flowers around Virgil’s – the one who offered his house as a sacrifice to the chaos - yard, making them float in the air for some seconds before forgetting them on the dirt again.

Virgil snored softly from the spot he conquered on the tabletop, taking a peaceful nap. Patton was saying, in the fastest pattern he could muster, all the dad jokes his brain managed to think only to see how much time Logan would continue to give him the silent treatment before finally – and figuratively, the owner of the only brain cell of their group would say if he heard this narrative, - exploded and Roman? 

Well, Roman was bored.

“I HAVE AN IDEA!!”

Then he slammed his hands on the top of the wooden object, successfully scaring Virgil out of it and of his sleeping – leading the poor adult to fall. Not before kicking a cup in Roman’s direction, his moves being weakened enough by his fogged brain so he missed it and hit Roman’s carefully manicured hands, instead, – at the same Patton, by reflex, slapped the two poor persons who had the bad luck of sitting next to him. He gathered the perfect timing to interrupt Logan’s scared jump by his confused ‘Why did- why- Why did you hit ME?’ sputtering.

“Ow.” The one in red shirt held protectively his arm and hand next to his chest, protesting with his usual offended noises as analyzed the light red spots on them and purposely ignored the ‘What the FUCK, Princey??’ shouted by the host. “Ow. O-w. Are you guys seriously going to hit me every time I try to make your poor lifes better, your barbarians? You know what? I am offended. Your peasants. I am going to get my dear Amanda the katana and then I am- I am out.” 

Logan deadpanned in his direction, lifting one of his eyebrows in his disbelief expression as the other didn’t give a single step to the exit. He did his best to maintain the façade as Patton fuzzed over him, hugging and apologizing and hugging and softly petting his head and offering cake before gasping and turning around to fuzz now over Roman. “… Okay. I am taking Patton with me.”

“Over my dead, haunted body.” Virgil quickly proclaimed before his tune got slurred, very much likely still sleepy. “I saw…” He balanced his hands in front of him, eyes wide and hair spiked, very much reminding of a scared cat. “I saw the angel of death, in all his tall dark, cold aura. In front of me. He was right before me, full of-” He moved his hands more, as if that compensated for his lack of words. “Emo.”

“…Thanatos?” Logan pointed.

“Yeah, yeah. That guy.” Virgil came back to his initial position laying down on the cold surface, yawing. “Totally emo.”

“Actually, when he was created-”

“Excuse me. Focus, focus!” The one who initiated the commotion snapped his fingers until all the eyes were fixated on him, glares traveling from interested to unimpressed. “My brilliant idea? That will light up this party and hearts? Drum the drums!” Silence. He turned to Patton, who was staring at a cute butterfly mindless flying around. “Patton! The drums!” The one wearing black rims seemed to come back to reality, drumming his fingers on the table. “Very well!” Roman spun, extending the suspense. Logan came back to scrolling on his phone, Virgil getting closer to take a look, both hiding a smirk when heard the pout in Roman’s tune. “You’re all jerks and boring. Let’s play S.T.O.P!”

That caught their attention.

“Roman, you are…” Logan talked slowly, as if trying to make his words as clear as possible, “aware that we’re adults now, right?”

“Aw, come on, guys!” Patton jolted upright. “Sounds fun! And I think Virgil’s yard is bigger enough to make it even better than when we played in middle school!”

“Exactly! And it was one of your favorites games when you were younger, remember, Specs? I think it’s a good way to celebrate that special date which is your birthday!” Logan scoffed at that, albeit his mind was somewhere else. 

Roman wasn’t wrong, he really used to love this game, especially because he was good at it. His love for sports was often ignored by most of his classmates because of his good grades – Logan never understood why one thing would exclude other – therefore he was constantly forgotten in the team or even underestimated. Two things extremely crucial in a game like this. Roman noticed his contemplating face. “I mean, except you are afraid of losing. Again.” 

“I did not lose! Kyle fell on me and he was the only one supposed to be out and not both of us and you. Know. It!”

“No, no, no! Claire said you were the one who tripped on your way and then YOU fell on Kyle-”

“That is nonsense! If Claire had stopped just one second her Dance of Victory, she would be able to see that, by the angle we both were on the ground there was no way I would be able to-”

“Oh, plu-e-ase. You are just a sore los-”

“What is this game?” Virgil questioned Patton, both letting the bickering fall on the background, who smiled widely, his gaze unfocusing a bit, probably watching some old memories of his childhood.

“It is a very simple but fun game!! One person stays next to a wall and, oh! We call him the Looker by the way! Or even some large thing and the others players stay the most away from him as possible. The person next to the wall has to count until a certain number of his choice and while he is counting everyone is free to wander around the place until he turns around, then every player has to freeze on the same spot and position they were. If you move and the Looker catches you, you’re out. You win if you touch the wall where he was. You can do everything you want as long the Looker is not staring at you.

“There was that one kid who managed to win the game by climbing a tree until he was close enough to jump from it and run to the wall before the Looker shouted he was out.” The one wearing two party hats as ‘cat hears’ stopped to breath. “Ah! Ah! Also! If you’re out you can choose to just watch the game or become the Looker’s partner and try to help him. Roman and Logan used to be the worst ever when together.” He giggled, sounding a bit hysteric.

“Hm. I think they used to call this ‘10 Seconds’ in my school, since you could count only further than 10 seconds.” Virgil then frowned. “Wait, why were they the worst?”

“Uhh, so, you see, the Lookers can use some… attics to try to make you move. Logan and Roman usually choose to-”

“I do NOT wish to participate.” Logan stated, crossing his arms stubbornly. Roman sighed. 

“Well, you do you.” Roman then traveled his glare to the others two. “Are you guys coming? I’m the Looker.”

“I’m in!!” Patton excitedly got up, joggling his way to the yard, casting a slightly worried look at Logan, who was adjusting his chair in order to have a better view of the game. Virgil shrugged, taking off his hoodie and following them, quickly throwing a ‘You ok?’ as he passed next to the most professional of the group.

“Yes.” He deeply breathed, sounding calmer. “Yes, I am.” And then give him a bite of a smile. 

Roman positioned himself before the colorful three foot tall concrete tunnel forgotten there by the last owner, barely catching with the corner of his field view his two friends whispering something to each other, the one wearing two party hats snickering behind his hand, bouncing as also choose a good position far away from him, who tried to not think much about what he just presented. A suspicious feeling crawled the back of his neck.

“Go.” Logan pronounced. 

“Oneeeee, twooo, three, fourfivesixseveneight,” Roman turned away from them, counting in a tune just above a whisper. Patton and Virgil exchanged glances.

When he got at twenty, he turned. 

Only to find Virgil laid on the grass, his arm extended to point something in the sky, Patton crouched by his side, his face firm in a puzzled expression staring in the same direction, hand above his eyes to block the Sun. Roman frowned in confusion, the curiosity tickling the back of his brain until he succumbed to it, also looking at the sky to - surprise, surprise! – find absolutely nothing!

By the time he stared at them again Patton now was in front of Virgil, both making what seemed like a very horrible parody of The Creation of Adam painting. Roman got closer, managing to clearly see the smug smile on Virgil’s face and Patton wobbly lips, very much likely holding laughter. He crossed his arms, staying stubbornly for some seconds before giving up, seeing that none of them moved a single millimeter. 

“You two are so funny.” Roman rolled his eyes, sarcasm dropping from each word. Logan snorted.

This time the Looker counted at only fifteen seconds.

This time Patton was in Virgil’s arms when he turned, one leg suspended dramatically in the air. The third time Roman growled loudly as Virgil was on one knee, pretending to propose to Patton who was frozen in the middle of his faint. In the fourth he didn’t even have the chance to turn before two hands tased his sides, making his knees buckle but being held in the same place when a pair of arms that hugged him from behind, capturing the poor adult in a flow of high-pitched squeaks and surprised laughter at each squeeze and spidering deposited just above his hips. 

Some minutes later soft snorts followed him to the ground when he was finally freed, flames running on his face and his arms firmly pressed at his sides, the ghost tickles leading to a sea of giggles dancing in the air.

“Enough.” Logan cut the moment, all the eyes on him when he got up, stretching and loosening his party tie. The Looker recomposed himself in order to sneak pokes and squeezes on the other two, who quickly dashed their way back to the yard. “You both clearly aren’t taking this seriously enough.” A dangerous gleam took over his eyes, staring intently to Roman, who instantly got the same kind of shine in his own glare, nodding in his direction. Both too much preoccupied to notice Virgil and Patton silently high fiving in the distance.

The game started again, now a very different electricity dancing in the air. Logan sensed an old feeling of nostalgia resting on his back as he analyzed the place and his opponents as things went by. Roman turned for at least three times – the perfect number for things to get really interesting, - before he decided to finally move from his place.

Silent steps, he went right to Patton. Logan breathed in relief, taking the opportunity to adjust his strategic position half behind the tree. Patton kept a pattern of switching from moving too fast in a round and then barely taking a step in the other, however, as Roman stopped before him, and for the way he soundless snickered as The Looker changed his target to Virgil, his weakness was still holding his laughter when stared for long periods of time.

Virgil was sitting on the grass. Again. A very good tactic when you tend to fidget or tremble a lot. He would stay in the same position for some rounds until in an explosion of energy dash forward when Roman wasn’t paying attention. The Looker crouched in front of him, his index finger pointing and almost touching his nose.

“You. I don’t trust you.”

And then there was Logan.

“You,” Roman stared in distance – not because of fear pffff of course not - Logan’s form half hidden by the foliage and trunk of the medium tree, his glass making his eyes gleam in a light even more enhanced due the shadow provided by the plant, the rest of his face being partially hidden because of his bangs falling on his features. “are fucking creepy. Stop.”

In the next round Patton gave everyone a heart attack when he screamed since he didn’t heard/saw Logan approaching his spot. Two more rounds. Virgil sneezed and lost his balance in a not very ideal mid-run position. Out.

“Oh, thank gracious, great goodness!! Come here, Knight Mare!! I have an idea!!” Virgil barely had time to stop swearing for losing before being recruited by Roman, who immediately began to whisper in his ear.

 “What do you think they’re talking about?” Patton asked, both being close enough for the question doesn’t need to be spoken above a murmur.

“Not a good thing for us both, I am sure.” In that moment The Lookers turned and a cold shiver ran Logan who, for the way Patton trembled, wasn’t the only one. Adrenaline started pulsing on his veins when they approached, although the birthday person had no idea of why. His old memories too much buried under newer ones for him to catch them.

“Nooohoho.” The cat lover whined and the fact Roman clearly saw that but did nothing to point it, his only reaction being to expand his grin, worsened Logan fears, a ray of recognition finally shining on his mind. That should be how karma feels.

“Look at you both, just standing right there, not being allowed to move an only single inch. What a sad fate, don’t you think, Princey?”

“Oh, absolutely, emo. A horrible, wondrous thing, indeed. But you know what that would be perfect for?” Roman now was just a few centimeters away, the infinitesimal distance being cut when he inclined forward, his breath tickling Patton’s – Poor Patton – ear. “Revenge. You know, Pattycake, Hot Topic here told me the previous attack on my amazing person was your idea. And now that I stop to think, what a wonderful idea, don’t you think, Pat-pat?”

Virgil pulled lightly Roman’s shoulder, sensing the other about to crack but yet having too much fun to end this all so early. “But not now. No touching, right?”

“Oh, right, right. Of course, no touching!” He wiggled his fingers, barely away from the poor target’s ribs, his cheeks already beginning to get pink from blush. “No touching, no touching, no touching, but, most important than anything else: no. moving.”

“Oh, yeah.” Virgil took the opportunity to walk around, stopping right behind Patton, who firmly closed his eyes, the smile he carried getting bigger. “Because the exact, very moment when you can’t take the teases anymore so you break and move?” He tsked. “Then all your protection will be over and you will be all helpless and vulnerable for us to tickle,” He almost purred the words, in the slowest way possible. “tickle, tickle, tickle for hours and hours. Can you imagine that, Popstar? Our fingers prodding and squeezing and tickling every single ticklish spot they find?”

“Ohoho.” Roman evil laughed. “Tickle spots? My Dear Imbalanced Romance, our pipsqueak here doesn’t have any tickle spots. He IS a tickle spot. Ah! I can almost hear his hysteric high-pitched squeaks and giggles! Such an adorable, beautiful, cute melody to my ears. Actually, I don’t know if I will ever be able to stop, Virgil. It’s just all too beautiful and intoxicating, you know?”

“Mm hm,” The other seemed to stop to think. Patton felt like he was going to melt at any moment. “Well, we could always just keep going forever.”

“Of course!” Roman again ignored the slight trembling of the cat lover’s chest, probably due all the giggles trapped there. “Don’t you think it will be wonderful and oh, so, so fun, cutiepants? Receiving all the tickles and nuzzles and raspberries and tickle hugs and tickly butterfly kisses forever and ever and ever? ~” He sing-song the last part.

“But,” Logan almost jumped in the same place, not even realizing how much keyed up he was before Virgil’s breath attacked the back of his defenseless neck. Suddenly all his nerves were hype-aware that he couldn’t turn around or run or even rub away the tingles. Goosebumps ran freely across his spine. “Let’s not forget about our so sensitive nerd here too, right?”

“Sure. Sensitive.” If he didn’t know Roman for all these years, Logan would almost swear he was the Cheshire cat, his smirk almost blocking Patton who hugged himself behind him, giggling quietly. “Because the serious, smart, professional Logan would never be ticklish, right? That is such a childish thing and he definitely, definitely outgrow it for now.”

“Yup. I am sure that, if we slowly and thoroughly spider our fingers all the way up from his sides to his armpits, being sure to give each and every rib a special attention since we don’t want to let anyone feeling left out, there will be no reaction.”

“Absolutely! No reaction at all! Not even if we squeeze the hollows of his hips, or scribble on his already quivering tummy, or massage his shoulder blades or lightly, almost not touching, scratch his armpits… It will be all in vain since our birthday boy is not ticklish.”

“Which means: No wheezy, frantic laughter.”

“Or sputtering among his squeals.” 

“Or cute snorts. Don’t forget the snorts.”

“And what about when the snorts get mixed with his belly laughter?”

“Ohh, that is some good shit you have there.”

Logan was dying. He was fucking dying and the only thin line keeping him alive was his stubborn nature. He could already feel his barrier cracking and crumbling right before him. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, only to find both Lookers walking away back to the tunnels, not taking long before starting to count, this time out loud. The one with the, now freaking out, braincell began to snap his fingers non stop, trying to get away some of the built excited energy, some titters escaping from his lips during his happy stimming.

Roman and Virgil looked at each other and then the adorable scene right in front of them, deciding to have mercy and wait patiently for Logan and Patton – who yet didn’t stop giggling and hugging himself – to calm down.

(…)

One. Move.

And in the next second, they both were tackled on the ground.

“No, no, no!!! No!!” Patton was already giggling, trying to run from Roman’s firm hug, attacking with squeezes and scribbles in every spot he succeeded to research on the Looker as he also tried to escape from his friends’ hands attempting to hold him in the same place. “Wait, wait!” He cried, barely catching a glimpse of Logan’s trashing before an idea popped in his mind. “If we all gang up on Logan, I will tell about his secret tickle spot!!”

“Patton!!” Logan’s protest came out difficulty between his tight grin due his constant effort in trying to buckle Virgil from him, both struggling to immobilize the other and playfully rolling in the grass. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Pffft.” Roman said, a happy cry following his sentence when he finally managed to hold one of Patton’s hands, intertwining their fingers so the cat lover wouldn’t try to pry it away. “Nonsense, I know his tickle spots.”  

“Not all of them. ~”

“Patton, I am to going not figuratively end you. Get OFF, Virgil-”

“In your dreams.” He crackled. “Also, Patton, I’m listening.”

“Virgil! Don’t align with the enemy! And, of course I know all of them!”

“Even the one…”

“Patton, no! Stop!” Roman even if concentrated in tickling Patton’s knee so he could sit on his legs, got the slight tremble in Logan's voice, his curiosity one more time starting to take over his brain.

“Sorrey, sorrey, Lo! You know I love you but-”

“Patton, please.” Logan almost smiled as he fought his way to hug and trap Virgil from behind, but losing his balance as the other quickly turned and delivered a raspberry on his neck and quick squeezes on his left thigh. “dON’T!! I-I am going to bakeEEK - Fuck! - you a whole batch of cookies if you don’t tell them!”

Roman caught in the offer, his curiosity immediately perking up, answering in a bat:

“I’m going to tickle you both to pieces if you don’t tell us now.”

“Sorrey, Logan,” Patton tried to sound apologetic, but his excited smile made this task more difficult. “it’s you or me.”

“I’m going to tell them about your calves!” Logan threatened at the same time Patton said “It’s his lower back!”

“TRAITOR!” Both also shouted in synchrony. In a blink of eye Roman let Patton go and helped Virgil to make the most serious one of the group lay down on his stomach.

“I despise you all.” The aforementioned pronounced.

“Aww. Come on.” Virgil lowered, searching the other’s eyes, grinning. “Aren’t you enjoying the view?”

“400.000 years of evolution for humanity to become this. You all should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“You know, talking like this makes me think you don’t want us to give you your so dearly craved birthday tickles, Pocket Protector!”

The three of them stared at the other, looking carefully for any slight indication that Logan was truly uncomfortable with the situation, receiving as response only a scoff, the blush painting his face as a whispered mumble flew from his mouth.

“You’re so cute!” Patton squealed, giving a light tickly kiss on the back of his neck, leading the attacked to suppress a small giggle which progressively got louder as the cat lover tickled his armpits, Roman and Virgil seeing unfazed by Logan’s squirming. “Okay, okay. You have to tickle his lower back but starting with reeeeeally slow scratches at his sides before speeding it to the fastest scribbling you can muster as you move to his spine!”

Logan hid his hot face behind his hands, the yelps and snorts already escaping between his fingers. He was, objectively, going to love every single second of this.

[myhockeyworld87]

Afraid - David Pastrnak

Word Count: 2,418

Requested: Yes

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language 

Notes: I can’t find the original request, but this is the one someone wanted me to write with the Bruins and I was going to change it to the Stars, so I hope this ends up being ok. Happy Reading!

The first thing you realized when you met David, or Pasta, as everyone else called him, was that he wasn't afraid of anything. He wasn't afraid to drop the gloves and fight when he was on the ice, even though it worried the hell out of you; and he surely wasn't afraid to kill any of the gross and nasty bugs that would fly or crawl into your place. When you watched a scary movie, you were constantly hiding your head into his chest. His teammates would try to get the upper hand on him all the time, pulling pranks on him, but nothing seemed to make him flinch.

 You were at one of the Bruins get together early on in the season, hanging by the pool when Jake tried to scare him by slithering a snake down his shoulder. It was an elaborate plan, he and Marchand were up on the roof, while Krug was distracting Pasta. They dropped the fake reptile down onto him perfectly; though David just laughed and continued on with his conversation as if nothing happened.

 It was after that, that Jake cornered you and asked for your help. "Come on, (Y/N), you've got to know something that he's afraid of."

 "Honestly, I can't think of a thing."

 "Nothing at all? What about bears attacking him or fear of heights?" You made a face at him as if to say are you kidding me. He needed to think bigger. "We really need your help here."

 "I'll try and think of something." It was two weeks later when you were lying in bed with Pasta, watching some nonsense on television, that it came to you. You weren't sure what it was, but there was a noise in the house that had both of you looking at each other. David went to investigate and found nothing. "Maybe it's a ghost," you teased.

 "Shut up, that's not funny." He said crawling back under the covers.

 "David, you're not afraid of a little ghost are you?" He just smirked at you, not saying a word. "What is my big strong hockey player scared of the boogeyman?"

 He flipped you on your back, looming over you then, causing you to gasp as he pressed his erection into your body. "Mmm, nothing to be afraid of here." He breathed out, then pulled your shirt up kissing his way up to your breasts. "I don't see any ghosts here either, but maybe I should do a thorough investigation." He then proceeded to strip your body and comb every inch of it with his mouth before making you beg for him inside you.

 It was about a week later when you were finally able to give Jake the idea. "You really think that would get him?" He asked.

 "I mean it's worth a try."

 Jake had an elaborate scheme; he'd rented out a bed and breakfast for the guys to stay at overnight. He'd made arrangements with the owner to have some hair-raising events happen throughout the night to make it seem as if the place was haunted. "I'm not going if you don't go." Pasta insisted.

 "But isn't this a team thing, not a couple's thing." You knew what was going to happen and didn't want any parts of it.

 "So, we can make it a couples thing. I don't get to see you enough as it is." He grabbed you around the waist and pulled you close. "I'm not spending one of my nights at home without you." He kissed your lips then and you melted. "Come on, I'll call Marchy and see if he and Kat can get someone to watch the kids for the night. I'm sure they could use a night off. Maybe Torey will bring Mel too."

 "Yeah, and what about Jake? He'll be all alone." It was a last-ditch effort, for you knew your boyfriend could be stubborn when he wanted to. "Maybe he needs this guy time or something."

 "If you invite Sara, he'll be fine. You know he's been working on dating her for a while now. This will just help them out a bit. You know, nudge them in the right direction."

 The fact that Sara had been bugging you to set her up with Jake, didn't help. If she found out about something like this, she'd kill you for not inviting her. "Call Jake and make sure it's ok with him first."

 "He'll be fine with it." When you swatted his chest, he sighed. "Ouch, alright I'll call him." Of course, Jake was fine with everything; he and Marchy were dying to scare the wits out of Pasta for years. You packed an overnight bag for both of you to stay in the country bed and breakfast. Jake and Sara drove with the two of you, while the other four went in Marchand's car. The two- and half-hour drive was beautiful as the leaves on the trees were covered in vibrant shades of orange, red, and yellow.

 The house was a giant old Victorian home, that looked warm and inviting; if you didn't know what was going to happen you'd actually want to just come for the weekend and get away. "Wow, this place is beautiful," Sara exclaimed while you were getting out of the car.

 "Yeah, nice call Jake," Pasta added as the two guys grabbed your overnight bags. You glared over at Jake, who just smirked back. The other four pulled in next to you guys and soon everyone was being shown to their rooms. Your little group explored the town, doing wine tasting, and checking out the local flavor the town had to offer. After a wonderful dinner your host had made, she started to tell you the legend of the home.

 "It was built back in the 1800s, right before the civil war. You know Massachusetts played a significant role in the antislavery movement." Everyone was listening with rapt attention. "This house held some very important strategy meetings in it. Well, that was until one night, when rebel spies came in and slaughter two generals right in their beds. They say sometimes at night they still roam these halls plotting their revenge." You saw Sara's eyes widen at the tale, as the girl was definitely afraid of the supernatural. "Well on that note, I'll leave you all to it. Make yourselves at home, and if you need anything we're right next door. I'll be back in the morning to make everyone breakfast." There were a round of goodnights and a bunch of thank-yous before she added. "Oh, there's also a Ouija board if you interested in seeing if their spirits are still here." With that, she headed out the door.

 "Oh, no we are not doing that." Sara was the first to say.

 "Come on babe," Jake said to her, though part of you wondered when he started using the term of endearment. "It'll be fun. It's not like this place is haunted or anything."

 "Yeah, I can't see the harm in it," Brad added. "As long as no one pushes the little letter mover."  

 "It's a planchette, dummy," Katrina responded, swiping her hubby upside the head.

 "How do you know this?"

 "I know lots of things, but you never ask." Jake was already bringing out the board to play. You could see a slight hesitation in David's eyes and while you knew the entire thing was set up you weren't that keen on playing with a device used to contact the spirit world.

 "Come on it'll be a good time. Now everyone put one finger on the…"

 "Planchette," Kat supplied again.

 "Yeah, what she said." He went and shut the lights off, leaving the room basked in the glow of the flickering candles in the room.

 "I'm not so sure about this." You reiterated just to make it known that you were not in on this.

 "It's fine (Y/N), you have Pasta to protect you. He's not afraid of anything. Are you?"

 "What me, afraid?" He shook his head, but you still heard a slight hitch in his voice. "Never."

 "Alright, let's get to it." Everyone put a finger on the cursor. "Spirit of this house, we ask you to let us know you are hear." The small wooden shape moved over to the word 'yes.'

 "Somebody moved that," Krug yelled out, to which everyone answered not me. "This is fucked up."

 "Ask it something else," Mel encouraged.

 "Can you give us a sign?" Jake said now looking up into the room as if the spirit was somehow hovering above you. The curtains on the window, which were open, suddenly closed. Everyone gasping as they did.

 Sara pulled her finger off the planchette. "I don't want to play this anymore."

 "Alright which one of you assholes is pulling the cord," Pasta asked.

 "How the hell are we suppose to do that when we're not even close to it," Marchand answered.

 "Spirit make your presence known," Jake asked again before anyone could question anything else happening. It took a second, but then you felt a warm breeze waft into the room, a ghostly figure taking form in the reflection of the glass of the picture hanging on the wall. You gasped and pointed, taken back slightly even though you knew it was only a parlor trick. It disappeared as fast as it came.

 "This isn't funny anymore," Mel told everyone in the room and you wondered if their husbands had let them in on the joke. From the look on her face that was at least not the case with Mel.

 "Oh, it's harmless, here let me try." Kat chimed in. "Spirit tell us who you are?" the cursor glided across the board to the letters G-E-N-E-R-A-L. "General who?" It then moved to M-E-A-G-H-E-R. "General Meager, were you killed in the civil war?" Kat really seemed to be getting into the game even more so as it moved to yes.

 Krug got in on the questions, asking, "Were you murdered here?" The planchette moved back again to yes, only this time a candle blew out with it.

 "Maybe we shouldn't be doing this, guys. I think we're scaring the girls here." Pasta said a slight tremble in his voice.

 "You aren't scared are you Pasta?" Jake teased. The word 'NO' came out much sharper than intended. "Give us another sign." The lights to the room went on and off several times, and you knew Jake had to be controlling it with some remote.

 There were more questions, which were met with moves of the cursor answering them. Of course, Marchand had to ask another question to have something spooky happen. "Were you secretly a spy?" The cursor moved quickly up to the word no and there was a loud crash in the room off to the side. Everyone screamed, well at least you girls did but even the guys gasped as the noise startled all of you.

 "I think you angered it," Jake told the group.

 "All right, I think we've all had enough of this little game guys." Pasta chided the men. "You're frightening the girls." You could also tell that he was scared as well. His leg hadn't stopped shaking; it was a definite sign he was nervous.

 "Admit it, man, you're afraid as well." Jake taunted him. You weren't sure if it was enough to get David to admit anything, but then the candle levitated off the table; not more than an inch but it had you clutching Pasta's arm.

 "Fine, this is freaking me the fuck out. Now, knock it off."

 "I….we…" Jake's voice was trembling with fear. "Didn't do that."

 "Fuck no man," Marchy added and suddenly the room got hot as if all the air had been sucked out of it. Torey pushed the board away, signaling an end to the game. "This isn't funny anymore."

 "Turn the damn lights on Jake," David yelled, and Jake got up to turn them back on, only when he flicked the switch nothing happened. He did it about five times repeatedly and nothing happened.

 "Seriously, Jake this is not funny at all." You screamed and huddled closer to David. It was then that you heard a ghostly voice moaning out in pain. The sound sent shivers up your spine. Suddenly the painting on the wall, crashed to the floor, splintering the glass in little pieces. Everyone shrieked.

 "I'm not doing this; I swear to god!" Jake whimpered out completely scared now like the rest of you. Marchy and Krug echoing that they weren't involved in this either.

 "I think we should leave," Sara whined, but you totally agreed.

 "Oh my god," Mel gasped out, pointing over to the mirror where blood was dripping down. You had no clue what was happening but there was no way in hell you were staying at this place.

 "Holy Fuck!" You heard Brad, or maybe it was Jake, yell; perhaps it was both. It was then that you felt Pasta shaking beside you. Automatically, you assumed it was from being just as afraid as all of you. That was until you heard his loud bark of laughter.

 "What the?" It was your thoughts, but Debrusk was the one to give it voice.

 Just then the lights came on, Pasta still laughing hysterically. He pulled a remote out of his pocket. "You fools thought that you could get me, but looks like I got you instead."

 You pulled away from him and smacked him hard on the shoulder, where he mouthed out an 'ow.' "Not funny David, not funny at all."

 "Oh, I beg to differ sweetheart. The looks on all of your faces are quite funny."

 "Wait this whole thing was a setup?" Sara asked.

 "Yes," Pasta admitted, before continuing. "These three thought they could scare me, but I turned it around on them. I told you I'm not afraid of anything." Suddenly, all the candles on the table blew out, even though the air didn't stir. "Haha, very funny guys, but the joke is over."

 "I thought you did that," Jake said.

 Pasta shook his head no, while everyone else looked at each other. "Maybe, you should stay someplace else for the night," David admitted, somewhat shaken by what happened. Everyone agreed and headed upstairs to go grab their things. What no one saw was the smirk on your face, for in the end, you were the one who had the upper hand on them all.  

[josy72]

Portrait of a Lady on Fire 🔥

Intervista del 14 /02/ 2020

The Black List Interview: Noémie Merlant & Céline Sciamma on PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE

Kate Hagen

My favorite movie-going experience in 2019 may have been seeing Céline Sciamma’s exquisite PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE at the 105-year old Prytania Theatre in New Orleans as a part of the New Orleans Film Festival. Being in an ancient theater only added to my immersion in the film’s sumptuous, sensual world, created by Sciamma and her incredible lead actresses, Noémie Merlant and Adèle Haenel. I spoke to Merlant and Sciamma about how they built a welcoming atmosphere on set, the power of the female gaze in narrative, secrets in cinema, and much more.

Noémie Merlant

What was your experience like reading this script for the first time? What resonated with you about the portrayal of Marianne?

It was a huge experience reading this script, because what I felt is that it represented something we’ve missed — these images, representations, and stories that we’ve been missing so much of. I realized that while I was reading that because we’re in a society and culture that is so inside the male gaze that we don’t even notice that this is the male gaze, this is one gaze — while I was reading it I realized that. And then, everything was so detailed — everything was in the script so the script was alive. There was all the breathing, the looks, the movements, the desire that was crawling…it was slow, and it was taking the time to build this love story of a woman and it was all about details taking the time, building excitement, expectations and desire slowly with new images, like the sex scene.

And so I realized the power of this love story. Marianne touched me really deeply because she’s a really modern character. She’s a curious voyeur, she’s a painter, she doesn’t want to get married. She is modern in that way, and that represents all these women that we’ve forgotten and erased from society and history. These painters — hundreds of women from that period were just erased. Through this love story with Heloise (Adèle Haenel) she finds her style of portraiture, because of their collaboration. She feels so grateful to be a painter that she’s stuck in the rules and the ideas and the way of “do a portrait that’s very good” and she’s stuck in this vision.Heloise wakes her up: “This is not me, this is not you, this is not us. This is not a woman, this portrait is not representing us.” And at that point, my mind changed. This script, for me, was what Heloise was for Marianne.

Throughout the film, we’re breaking out of that idea of the male gaze too — challenging rules by the old masters to create something entirely different. What was the most challenging part of creating this character for you? What was your favorite part about playing her?

There was not one scene that was particularly harder than another. What was hard was to keep something, a feeling, present from the beginning to the end of shooting the movie — there was a lot of restriction because of the period and the costumes and the dialogue and the light and the focus, it’s candle-lit. Every movement was written. I was finding a way to make it alive, and include me and my vision as an artist, too. I knew that I couldn’t move much while I was sitting, that I had to say the lines and do a smile or a gaze…But it was really trying to find a new way to look at Heloise each time, to find a new way to breathe. As the story grows and the desire grows too: Having a smile more open, more large, having movement more free, dresses less tight, and everyone smiling more.

I think the film does a great job of exploring the necessity of the collaboration among women that happens around art, but I also really loved that the film is about female kinship on all levels. Whether that’s making a meal together, sleeping together spending time together. What was the atmosphere like on set as you guys were creating that little bubble of the three of you in the house spending time together?

On set, the way that Celiné works is to create an environment of respect and kindness. But it’s about having fun too— we’re of course being serious because we’re working, but at the same time, we’re having fun. For this movie, we were all together in a house, we called it “Champs Mer.” Like the movie, we were all together in this house, the girls were together, and we were always together in creating and discussing what we did. It was really a parallel of the movie and the experience of the movie.

What do you hope modern audiences take away from PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE, which is a very different take on a period film than we’ve ever seen before.

Despite the fact that it’s a period film, it’s modern because it shows things like the abortion scene that we’re not used to seeing. The sex scene is an entirely new image, a new representation of the lesbian story which has of course existed before, but has never been present enough. The female gaze and intimacy of women…that’s a story that hasn’t been told, with the woman as subject and not as object. This feeling of creating mirrors this new experience of love — the excitement of imagination and artist collaboration, and the desire that grows slowly in details and images.

Céline Sciamma

How did the initial idea for this film spark within you? What was your writing process like knowing you were going be directing the film as well?

Well, I wanted to write a love story, I wanted to dedicate a film to love and to desire. And to have these two emotions embodied very patiently — what the process of falling in love actually looks like, moving away from the conventional idea of love at first sight and romance.

The chemistry between Noémie Merlant and Adèle Haenel in this film stars with a smolder then becomes incendiary, as you mentioned. How did you work with the two of them in pre-production and on set to make their relationship be viscerally felt on screen?

This chemistry definitely burst in front of my eyes during the casting process. First, I met Noémie alone with my casting director — she made a strong impression. Then during callbacks, the second round was with Adèle, and when I saw the both of them in the frame I knew that this was right.There was this strong physical contrast that I was looking for, very cinematic, but there was a strong also sense of equality, since they’re the same age, same height, and both have very strong intensity. We stopped there! We didn’t rehearse at all, so that they would actually meet on the set and during pre-production. Sometimes I rehearse before shooting, it depends on the film — WATER LILIES we rehearsed a lot, GIRLHOOD we rehearsed a lot, TOMBOY not at all, and PORTRAIT not at all. Because it was about love and all the danger of the unknown, it felt right for all of us to actually also be in that position.

There’s a sort of pervasive sensuality in this film — whether its a smear of paint or crumb of bread, we’re immersed in the same sensual world that the three leads are in. How did you work with your various department heads to make the world of this film come alive?

By being really minimalist regarding set design. It’s a paradox — even though this film is period piece, this is a film where I had less innovation on the set design because we’d come to this castle in the Parisian periphery where we shot most of the film, and it was untouched for… 150 years? So, the color of the walls…we didn’t choose that. [laughs] We entered this room, and we decided that we were gonna leave it that way. And there was a vibe from the past that actually made me super confident — so whereas in my previous film [GIRLHOOD] there was a lot of set construction, even the teenager’s rooms, there was no fourth wall, so then we decided to put very few things in the frame, just wooden boxes and fabric that was very low-key: linen, cotton. This also extended to the costume design, but with fabrics that were silky. To anchor the film and the sociology of that particular moment in Brittany— period pieces are often mundane, you know. We built the bed, we built the table in the kitchen, we felt we were inventing very minimalist furniture.

There are so many elements in this film that reflect modernity and almost an otherworldliness that we don’t often see in period films, whether that’s the abortion scene or the ghostly visions, or the psychedelic sequence. At what point did you decide to bring in these contemporary trappings to a tradition period film?

They all came up along the way, like “Oh, I want Adèle to appear because it’s mostly about ideas. I want Adèle to appear as a ghost because it’s the present of a love story, but also a memory of a love story, the contagion of these two layers.” The idea behind this is the fact that the minute Noémie falls in love and she knows it, she’s already haunted by the last image that she will see of Adèle. And then, when you have this idea, you try to really be brave about it and be generous about it, not make it this little anecdote, but put it all over. That what happens with Orpheus and Eurydice for instance — I was looking for a scene, a sort of “Netflix and chill” scene between the three girls where they would be super involved in a climatic bit of fiction, and then talk about it, and do a whole show of suspense. And then I thought, it’s also a way to see the myth from a woman’s perspective, and from the perspective of Eurydice. Sometimes it’s just an image — like for instance, Adèle on fire is an image that came out of nowhere, but was immediately like “I want this.” Suddenly, it gives you the title, suddenly, you have to find, “Why would she be set on fire?” So it should be outside, it should be a great fire, and then it’s “Maybe it should be a bonfire!” It’s strange to believe in your intuition and connect things that are not supposed to be connected. You begin to build the plot around strong desire for certain images that have mystery, and suddenly, you bring enough in to not rely on the mystery, but to connect them and to build the narrative around them.

Your last four films have been about developing the female identity, however that may look. Do you feel like you’re making a films in similar thematic territory, or is each film its own thing?

Well, after the the sort of adolescence trilogy (WATER LILIES, TOMBOY, and GIRLHOOD) I really felt like I was departing with PORTRAIT because it’s a story about grown-ups, with professional actresses and a love story that is fully lived, whereas before there was always a love interest, but it was mostly desire as a way to discover yourself. With this one, even though they are discovering themselves, it’s about this iconic couple, this duo and how a love story involves immense patience.

I’m still thinking about the last ten minutes of this film — that art show sequence is so breathtaking, especially as it concludes with the book in Heloise’s hand. You were speaking earlier about finding images before finding the plot — did you already have the images in mind for that ending sequence at the start of the film?

The last scene I had in mind since the beginning, I basically did the film to land there. But I didn’t actually think about the fact that there would be three endings, because there are three endings of the film. For instance, from the book, the page 28 reference, that’s a totally different process — it’s really about looking at a lot of painting at the time and the art of portraiture. I liked the fact that there were little secrets involved, and I decided I had to hide a secret in the painting. I thought it would be in the painting that Marianne would do, but then maybe it could be in the painting that Marianne would see. I had a list of different types of secrets, it’s very codified — for instance, in painting at the time, especially for marriage portraits, there’s a cage and a bird inside, if the door is open, it means she’s not a virgin anymore, if it’s closed, she is. I was finding our own little secret code, and also relying on the audience’s pleasure and intelligence that I’m always trying to think the audience has, that the viewers are the most intelligent person. It’s also knowing that the pleasure of being a viewer in cinema is about being immersed in a film and speaking the language of the film, and as the film goes more and more and more, you speak the language of the film, and the page… it’s a fucking number, but suddenly it means something for you as much as it means something for the character. That’s the kind of thing I’m always looking for — I thought about it for months, finding just the right treasure.

[grumpysepticsauce]

YouTuber Roleplay Plots (Characters Included!)

//tw for mentions of temporary character death and violence

Before we get into the actual plot ideas I had that I wanted to share with you, in case you are interested in roleplaying any of these with me, here's a list of all the YouTubers I'm capable of roleplaying as;

Pewdiepie

Roomie (Joel)

Boyinaband (Dave)

Markiplier (Includes Egos)

Jacksepticeye (Includes Egos)

CrankGameplays

Game Grumps - Arin

Game Grumps - Dan

Wilbur Soot

Corpse

Quackity

RubberNinja (Ross)

Vinny Vinesauce

Joel Vargskelethor

JaidenAnimations

TheOdd1sOut

SuperMega- Matt

SuperMega- Ryan

Daniel Howell

AmazingPhil

Muyskerm

LordMinion777

WildSpartanz

Kingani

Pokimane

ihascupquake

Aphmau

CallMeKevin

GrayStillPlays

CaptainSauce

The roleplay can be completely platonic or include romance! But remember; if you want to include romance between two or more YouTube stars, you must be aware that it is a fictional situation and the pairing is not something to obsess over. OCs are welcome, too! I'll gladly play as one of your comfort stars for a character and I can play as more than one character at a time!

Now, let me share my plot ideas with you!

Plot #1: Among Us

Ten YouTubers are placed in a virtual reality simulation for a full 48 hours. In this simulation, the team of ten is placed on a spacecraft by the government and sent off to search for alien life. The problem is; two of the crewmates amongst them are already aliens, hungry killers at that. Character A is an imposter who actually feels guilty about the mayhem they have to cause, especially since they can hear and see the ghosts of those they've killed. Character B is an innocent crewmate who anxiously sides with Character A and the two team up until Character B finally becomes suspicious. But just as Character B tries to get away..Character A brings them down. Now Character A is haunted by their ghost until the end of the simulation.

Plot #2: Angels and Demons

Character A is a beast known as a fallen angel. Fallen Angels are forced out of heaven for supposed wrongdoings, and in this case, Character A is framed for a murder that they did not commit. This turns Character A into a cold-blooded bastard who doesn't trust anyone, not even the demons they're forced to live amongst now. Meanwhile, Character B was sent to hell completely on accident. Their friend attempted to summon a demon, which required a sacrifice. Character B became said sacrifice and ended up here as a supposed punishment for assisting in the summoning. When Character B meets Character A, they try to help the fallen angel go back to their positive ways so the two can go back to heaven together.

Plot #3: Band AU

Character A is the lead singer of a band that they created with their two best friends. One of those best friends is Character B, who has never sang for the band before, but has been secretly writing song lyrics and singing when they're alone. When Character A doesn't notice that Character B is trying to get their attention with their own songs, Character B goes to one of the members of the band's tour group for comfort. Character A becomes jealous, seeing Character B with another person, and decides to write a song about them, not knowing that all Character B wants is to be in the spotlight just once.

Plot #4: My Hero

Character A has been living a peaceful life in their apartment in the city for a few years now. But when Character B moves in next door, things take a sudden and unexpected turn. It gets to a point where Character A can hear yelling and banging on the walls every night and actually becomes concerned for Character B's safety. However, when Character A goes to confront Character B, they claim that they're not in any danger, despite living with a partner with anger issues. And the worst part is..Character B has a young child, an infant that's caught up in this mess too. Character A is determined to get both Character B and their child out of their abusive home and to help them recover.

Plot #5: Wolf Pack AU

In Mystery Falls, there's a large, dense forest that consists of four different wolf packs. Each pack owns their own area of land and isn't allowed to infiltrate any of the other territories without permission. But all of these wolves have a secret..they're actually a species known as Lycans. Lycans have both a human and a wolf form. They're identified as Alpha, Omega or Beta, based on their gender and sexual orientation. Each pack of Lycans has an Alpha leader, an Omega queen, and a Beta guard leader. The guard is the group of wolves that goes hunting with the Alpha every half-moon. Character A is the Alpha leader and after a fire occurs across their previous territory, not only is the pack forced to move, but the leader loses their partner and their pups. This makes them a stern leader, who shows no mercy and treats others like they don't mean as much to the pack. Character B is originally just a human, but after being attacked by another pack leader, they find themselves turning into a Lycan and come across Character A's pack, asking for their help. Character A originally insists upon turning Character B away, until the pack decides that Character B can act as a temporary queen until Character A gets another mate. Character A ends up finding a new friendship in Character B, and the two slowly become inseparable.

Plot #6: Zombie Apocalypse

Character A had just been arrested after being framed for the murder of a stranger. While on their way to jail in the back of a police car, something slams into the windshield and the vehicle crashes on the side of the road. When Character A wakes up from being unconscious, they find the police officer that was driving the car is now dead and that they're surrounded by..zombies. Character A manages to get rid of their handcuffs, finds a weapon and gets to work on shooting away at the zombies crawling around them. Once they can make a run for it, they escape into the nearest house, which appears to be abandoned. But it's not abandoned. Character B is a child that was abandoned by their parents and is hiding in the treehouse right outside of the abandoned home. The home was actually invaded by zombies, and Character B's parents are..dead. Character A begrudgingly gains Character B's trust and the two become traveling partners as they try to survive the zombie apocalypse.

Plot #7: Superhero AU

Character A is the hero of the city. A masked and mysterious character that everyone admires because of their strength and bravery. Character B is a new villain who has come to destroy the city and leaves their trail for Character A to find. The two would never admit it out loud, but they actually enjoy playing their little game of cat and mouse together. When Character A ends up in trouble due to the wrongdoings of another bad guy, they're much surprised to find that Character B is there to save them. That's when Character A realizes that Character B isn't so bad after all and is now determined to teach Character B how to be a good person, despite the fact that Character B runs away every time Character A comes across them.

Plot #8: Littlespace

Character A has been a caregiver for a few different age regressors over the years. They love taking care of those who are vulnerable and are in need of a new way to cope. However, none of the age regressors they've ever cared for have stuck around for a long time. The previous littles have only relied on Character A until they found someone else to take care of them. So when Character B, one of Character A's closest friends, reaches out with an interest in learning more about what it's like to age regress, Character A is shocked but more than happy to be the best caregiver possible for their friend.

These plots can be edited to suit your roleplaying needs! I'd also like to hear any ideas you may have. Please don't show any hate or distaste towards this post, as everything written here is purely for fun and is not meant to be taken seriously. Please direct message me if you're interested. I do have Discord, you can ask for it in DMs if it's easier to talk there. Thank you for your time and have a wonderful day!

Reblogs are appreciated, but do not repost.

[newbornwhumperfly]

all i know is you’re the nicest thing

CW: references to past non-con, dissociation, panic attack, references to victim-blaming.    

a spinoff gift fic of @haro-whumps brilliant, heart-wrenching group whump series. this is based on some headcanons we’ve exchanged. i hope you like it, haro!!!                                                 

Snow is thick on the ground and Galo is going stir-crazy.

He hasn’t been able to run around the mansion for a week now. While it was kind of a fun challenge to wrestle through the drifts when they were ankle-high, it’s now impossible while keeping good form. Per usual, he’s been visiting the gym regularly but that’s come to a stop with the week before Christmas, depriving Galo of even this pressure-release. He still lifts weights, pushes and pullups until his arms tremble but he’s pushed himself as far as he can without burning out. Video games always exist, obviously.

What’s really funny, Galo thinks sourly, plucking a thread loose in his coverlet, is how a little cold weather makes you realize how isolated you are. Sure, he’d never really cared for Christmas. Correction: he kinda hated it. Aside from the fact that he’s decidedly not religious, the holiday was always bound up with baggage. Being made to wear festive, uncomfortable dresses to seemingly infinite parties full of infinitely shallow, shitty guests tripping over themselves and one another to flaunt how well they were doing. 

Ever since he’s gotten his own place, Galo never bothered with his own celebrations. No SO, no super close buddies to chill with, no way in hell he’s gonna make plans with anyone in his family. Outside of the occasional Christmas party at work and its flimsy temptation of free dessert and sparkly booze, he hasn’t bothered.

Now though…

Galo worries his lower lip as he sips the smoothie Sasha made for him. There’s a sprig of holly on the rim and it makes him grin. The timid woman has blended his breakfast for the past seven months and he’s come to lean on the reliability of it, the way that Sasha assembles the ingredients just so, drawing out a fresh deliciousness he’s never managed to coax from the mixture. She’s really damn good with food and he remembers to tell her so whenever the opportunity arises. It never fails to soften her.

Now he has people to take care of. Well, ok, they’re not children. But sometimes Galo feels that way, as guilty as it makes him. They’ve learned helplessness well, as they were trained to. As it was beaten into them over years and years, until they were broken, stitched back together with brutal routine. He grips his cup, fingers flexing in rage. Aunt Bethany may be cold in her grave but Galo’s anger refuses to cool, needing only a flinch or stammer or any unbidden reminder of the abuse to stoke that fury. The many weeks Galo has lived with these traumatized slaves has only peeled back fresh layers to the nightmare, all of it fuel to the simmering heat that lurks below his skin. He said he wasn’t religious but he really hopes hell is real.

Galo threads his fingers through his tuft of hair, yanking firmly to shake that train of thought off its runaway track. Now he can’t even work out until the burn of adrenaline smothers the hateful heat in his veins, he needs a new distraction other than his guild or fucking video games he’s played a hundred times before. The charity places he fills his spare hours with are all closed too, the heavy snowfall blocking most of the volunteers from service. He really is gonna go crazy, stuck for long, quiet hours in this sprawling estate with only his slaves for company. Who can’t leave and will all probably feed off his tension until they’re all an accidental frown away from a breakdown.

Fuck.

Bethany is gone but her horrors haunt this house, the ghosts waiting to strike in every corner.

Galo wonders if these guys celebrate the holidays at all. None of them can buy eachother anything, duh, but they’d probably made do? He doesn’t really have any clue what slaves would do on holidays but it’s probably none of his goddamn business. If he had to venture a guess, they probably did something special together after Bethany fell asleep. Or who knows? Maybe Christmas had shittier associations for them than even he had. That assumption was probably depressingly accurate. They were clearly devoted to this little unit of theirs and had probably found some way to make the day nice for one another.

And Galo had the nerveto feel stymied. He groaned as he threw an arm over sore eyes, blocking out the gaming livestream he was listlessly tracking on his laptop. He sure as hell wasn’t throwing a party in this gothic funhouse, most likely the first time in the group’s memory that they didn’t have to arrange an event. He was sitting pretty on millions of dollars, bemoaning his loneliness on a holiday he didn’t even celebrate in the first place.

He’s sure that the poor bunch downstairs could only dream of getting good things like he could get for himself anytime he wanted.

Oh.

Galo sprung up from his lazy sprawl against the headboard, an idea flaring up, getting brighter and warmer the more he thought on it.

This…this could be a good idea.

Could be being the operative word here, Galo determines, clicking away from the livestream to open a new search page as he reaches for his notebook and begins to flip through the pages of observations. He pauses, massaging his eyes as he considers his options. He’d have to be verycareful with this one; if he’s gonna do this, he needs to do it right or not at all. It might be a big fucking mistake, with the potential for backsliding practically a minefield under Galo’s still-balancing feet.

But it has been months. Dozens of days had crawled by without incident and he’s got wiggle room when it comes to potential fuck-ups – the last triggering incident was over two months ago and it had nothing to do with Galo’s actions. He figures he is safe for now. But, then again, he might never be safe when it comes these people – or rather, they might never feel safe with him, he acknowledges, heart panging sharply at the thought. Is it worth the risk, disturbing the fragile balance he’d so painstakingly built over the stretch of time?

Galo sighs, trying to release his tension the breath as he rubs his temple, ruffling the buzz of hair distractedly. It might be selfish, but he wants – desperately – to make them happy. To do something for them all other than just stay out of their way. There’s always the risk, in anything he says or does or doesn’t say or doesn’t do, that he will hurt them without even knowing it and it hurts. One thing he knows for sure is that he’s never been that person to resign themselves to doing nothing. Nothing is written in stone – if he has the heart and the care, he can do what he puts his mind to.

Sucking air into his lungs in one big, fortifying whoosh, Galo squares his stiff shoulders and starts typing suggestions into his search bar. He’ll start with Greyson, since his choices are easier, and then work his way down the list. He’s got less than a week and if he can do this right, and he needs – he reallyneeds – to get this one right, then they’ll be happier. And that’s all that really matters in the end. These people have never expected kindness outside of one another for their entire lives and Bethany had built the world in their minds in her image, a world of casual cruelty.

Well, it’s about the time to change that, and if Christmas is supposed to be a time of rebirth or whatever, Galo will exorcise his aunt’s presence with the ass-whooping spirit of the motherfucking season.

                                                        ~          ~                              

Master Galo has been…animated.

Galo is almost always cheerful, at least in their presence, but the past week has thrown the man into a state of nervous energy. It isn’t…bad, as far as Greyson can pinpoint. There is an excitement which hovers around him but there is tension too. He’s been muttering under his breath a great deal, mumbling to himself in a distracted, half-aware manner as he has tended to do when he has a lot on his plate. He has been glued to his laptop a great deal as well, tending to pace with it as he wanders on socked feet between his usual haunts. Most hours, he drifts from one room to another, sometimes shutting himself into a room to make a call, sometimes contemplating something on the screen in long pauses, biting his lip, brow scrunched in focus.

Greyson has warned the rest to take care and not distract Master Galo, as he is prone to bumping into doorframes or nearly tripping as he turns about to set the device down and scribble swiftly in that bulky notebook that he carries in his pants pocket everywhere he goes. Whatever Master Galo’s true mood, Greyson knows it would not do to disturb his patterns of distraction. It has already been tense downstairs, what with Master trapped inside due to the harsh weather and lack of exercise routine. A bored Master is dangerous. His full attention could be easily caught by anything (or anyone) who got in his way right now.

And he cannot help but notice, even though he should not notice, as it is none of his business, that Master Galo keeps the screen darker than usual when he carries it around and he always closes it when Greyson or one of the others approaches. He does the same with the notebook but there is almost a caution to the movement when Galo notices he is being observed or approached, snapping the device shut and looking for a moment almost like a guilty child caught sneaking a treat. Greyson does notwant to think about what that means. He will find out soon enough, he suspects.  

So for almost a week, as Christmas Eve crept closer through the soft, white hours, passing too slowly and yet too fast, Greyson watched and waited for something to happen.

                                                           ~          ~                           

Nyla has brought several packages up to Master Galo’s room in the past week.

In the past, she wouldn’t take too much note of this. Mistress had had everything delivered to her once her knees got too bad to go out shopping anymore and she had always given Nyla’s own knees a good whack with her cane when Nyla brought her the latest purchase.

Now, however, it is unusual now and unusual is always bad. Master Galo doesn’t tend to buy things for himself, besides the occasional video game or set of clothes that he often chooses to drive out and pick up in person. Now, he has eagerly grabbed each new package from her, a pleased, giddy grin on his face every time. She doesn’t know what it means but she has noticed Master’s hyperactivity and knows that Greyson is concerned. When she allows herself to dwell on it, it concerns her too.

Master’s behavior might not be bad (yet) but Nyla certainly isn’t going to call it good. Master Galo insisted he wants Christmas to be uneventful and while Nyla would typically be beyond grateful for such a reprieve, her anxiety worsens with the lack of planning to busy her worried mind. Nevertheless, she pours the fretful energy into perfecting what she can. She can always be perfect. Nyla assures herself of this constant as she polishes and re-polishes, scrubs and sharpens and floats like a dust mote through the halls, quivering at the ready for Master’s beck and call.

Her headaches are beginning again. The season ushers them in without fail, sharp heat coiling down her neck, her jaw, up through her temples and between the eyes, at times so stabbing that she nearly staggers from the anguish. She doesn’t though, despite being uncommonly tempted to grimace against the cruel pale glare of winter sun through every window. Putting it out of her mind, she glides quietly in rooms near Master Galo. 

Adjusting this, that was already straight. 

Wiping this, that was already spotless. 

She scrubs at a wood-stain on the balcony for the sake of scrubbing, letting the tingling cramps in her overworked wrists and sore knees distract her from the pain in her head. How much her jaw felt like it was trying to escape from her face, how much her neck seemed trying to twist off from the rest of the spine, and the constantpressure, the throbbing patch of nose, eyes, brow clamped with a spiked vice.

Mercifully, dusk was coming swiftly at the heels of the noon, the quickly dimming sky beckoning in Christmas Eve. Nyla has told Greyson to be ready with the car in case Master should want to go somewhere at the last minute. Lilah has kept the driveway shoveled with Evan’s help, bless them both, and salted. Sasha putters about the kitchen, busy with nothing as she travels in slow circles like a crumb circling the drain. They all feel it. They are all waiting. Master has been locked in his bedroom all day and most of yesterday, doing…something. Other than an occasional soft curse, Nyla has heard little when she passes (pauses, lingers, eavesdrops) by his door. She doesn’t think about what might be coming, what could be about to descend upon them swifter than the evening, better to lose herself in little meaningless labors.

Her focus thankfully helps her avoid a start when Master Galo flings his bedroom door open and pokes his head out, glancing about until his eyes catch Nyla, already risen from her futile polishing to a poised, submissive, smiling stance.

Perfect. She is perfect.

“Oh! Hey, Nyla, good – you’re exactly who I wanted. Um, is everyone…busy right now?”

Nyla parses the question. Everyone should be busy. That seems to be the right answer.

“Yes, Master Galo. Is there anything you require?”

Master didn’t seem outwardly displeased by her answer so she let herself breathe into his reply.

“Awesome. Yeah, actually. Why don’t you tell everyone to finish up whatever they’re doing? If it’s not finished, it can wait till later. After that, can you tell everyone that I wanna see them, and you too, in the living room? I’ve got some…gif-, uh, good surprises for everyone.”

Nyla can’t breathe in. She has breathed out already and can’t breathe back in. She needs to breathe in. Needs to speak.

Surprises.

For everyone.

Oh god. 

Oh please.

Breathe.

She’s missed his words, muffled, underwater, swimming through too-thick air, no sound.

You need to breathe.

You need to listen.

Listen!

Air thins around the words and they make it to Nyla’s ears.

“-holiday spirit and, uh, yeah. It’s my festive mood coming out I guess. Don’t wanna give it away, you’ll all see the surprises in a moment anyway! But, yep, a few minutes? That good?”

Breathe.

She’s still smiling. She can feel it. She can feel her face, her mouth, her hands clasped in front of her. She can’t feel her lungs for some reason.

She blinks.

Nods.

She’s answered Master, right? God, please, has she answered Master’s question?

She must have. She must have. She must have answered correctly because he is grinning and nodding and thank holy god he isn’t really looking straight at her, rubbing his neck in that strange way he does sometimes. She must have answered him because he hasn’t gotten angry and he’s closing the door and she couldn’t have made it worse and she can’t make it worse and she’s perfect and she-

Perfect.

The word is like a splash of cold water and Nyla remembers how to inhale, knees buckling briefly with the dizziness of no air, catching herself on the balcony as the head-neck-spine-wrist-knee pain floods through her awareness, riding in on the icy wave of fear.

Surprises.

For everyone.

Perfect.

Enough. Nyla flicks her tender wrist with sharp, punishing taps until her limbs unfreeze. The moment she trusts her legs to carry her, she scoops up her cleaning supplies and lets her body take over. Drift gently down the stairs to inform the others. Obey. Guide the others.

Be perfect.

                                                           ~          ~                           

It’s about fucking time.

Evan allows himself to savor this small prick of resentment on his swift walk to the living room, following only a minute behind Greyson, who’d tersely passed along the command.

Huffing harshly through his nose, he lets the tic in his jaw relax into his required, submissive blank while he tucks the flyaway hairs at his neck and forehead back into his ponytail. He doesn’t give a damn, of course, how pretty he looks. It’s not like his Master is gonna fuck him…probably. Gifts are not good; Evan should know that by now. Should know better than anyone. His gut lurches oddly at the memory of clammy, clawed hands pawing and pulling and scraping and taking what they want. He hasn’t been eighteen in a while but the space of years makes no difference and he can still smell the stench of smoky, heaving gasps. He can still feel the confusion like a sticky sweat crawl through his limbs morphing into terror-rage-shame.

It’s just the scent-memory which summons nausea, nothing more. He just…hates the smell of ash on breath. Hates that it’s been months since he’s had hands on him, years since that was new, hates that the hands fill his dreams and make him wish he had no skin to touch at all. He scratches the ghostly caresses off in the shower and tries to be grateful, bitterly, that no new hands have replaced the phantoms. Master isn’t gonna fuck him, at least, not soon. He shouldn’t have any reason to care about “looking proper”.

But Nyla would care, Evan thinks, the months-old regret clenching like an invisible vice around his heart. He owes it her to still be good, to at least try to live up to her poise.

It’s this duty which lulls him as he glides, smooth and graceful as he can, into place behind Nyla in the living room. He notices how she and Greyson have put themselves at the front, forming a fragile wall in front of Lilah, who is quivering in place and hunching to make herself shorter. Sasha has placed herself at Lilah’s left, shoulder almost brushing her bowed head as she curls ever-so-slightly inward towards the teen. Evan has been left Lilah’s right to stand at, his tall form shielding her from the room’s entrance. All of this was Nyla’s doing, of course it was. She has ensured that Lilah will, at least, not be the first to endure what is to come, has given her time to brace herself.

Evan’s love and respect for Nyla soars and nearly overwhelms him for a moment as he tries mirroring her back-straight neck-long eyes-low hands-clasped-lightly posture. She had forgiven him a while ago though softening took far longer and he is grateful for the generosity of time when he hears her hum, barely audible, in approval.

It is the only sound other than crackle-rumble of the enormous wood-fire blazing high and hot and he glances to the side to see the orange shadows dance over Lilah’s face. The dull roar has drowned out her breathing, too loud, too uneven. She hasn’t gone Quiet yet and he wishes she could when the flames reflect tears threatening to spill from her eyes already. She’s trying very hard, he can tell. His sweet baby Lilah. His sweet baby girl. He wishes so badly he could hug her right now. He wishes Master wasn’t about to hurt her for no fucking reason.  

Stop it.

Those thoughts are dangerous territory and Evan will notlet himself ruin anything for everyone else. This isn’t about him. He needs to be perfect right now, for Nyla, for Lilah, for all of them. He owes them that much at the very least. It gets harder to keep his face flat, however, when Master practically strutsaround the corner.

In all the months he’s been here, Master has never looked so energized. He’s switched out his usual t-shirt and shorts for a casual suit, hair slicked, and when he strides to a halt in front of the Christmas tree, he’s almost bouncing on his heels. His hands keep clenching, unclenching, clenching with whatever jumpy giddiness that’s put that wide grin on his face. Whatever restraint has kept him tethered is loose now and it trembles through every line in his broad body.

Evan drops his gaze to the rug so he doesn’t have to look anymore, tracing the red-white-green stitching of embroidered wreaths below his shoes. He knew, he knewbetter than to trust Master Galo’s mood, so peppy, so eager, so cagey. Master’s gonna drop the act like a heavy fist down on their heads and Evan might almost be sickly satisfied if not for how a traitorous nausea is curling in his gut to swallow the rage, if not for how his whole family is trembling around him, if not for how he’d almost – almost – begun to wonder if Master was…different.

At least this stupid, stupid, stupidpunchline is about to be called. Cold comfort now with how chipper Master is, how he can barely contain himself with the sweet satisfaction of it all, to watch his slaves quiver on the cusp of long-awaited suffering. Evan just hopes its everything Master’s fucking dreamed of.

                                                     ~          ~                                      

Lilah is so confused that she wants to cry.

Usually, the tension would strain every muscle tight, fighting her mind that kept trying to Go Away, ‘cause it wasn’t time yet. She is about to cry, a little wetness escaping, wiped away quickly. She can’t cry yet, she can’t even cry yet ‘cause nothing even happenedyet and that’s bad. She can cry later. There’ll be plenty of time to cry, soon. Soon, will go Quiet and she won’t be worried about anything.  

She doesn’t understand.

It’s so stupid to be confused. This just…used to be so simple and it hasn’t been the same recently and…she doesn’t get it. Evan was right, of course Evan was right, he’s always been right about Mistress things. She should’ve trusted him more about Master. But…but he…

He seemed different.

She’s never been good at the games, not like everyone else. She’s stupid about the rules anyway, and there’s so much that the rest of them all understand so easily, that they’ve learned from so many years of being good. She should know that there will always be a game. There will always be a rule. A test.

But still. He really did seem like he might be different than Mistress. His games were so very different that Lilah would wonder if he had a game at all. That’s stupid. But she had a good reason to be! Master had always been kind to her. He’d always smiled at her, real big, and he said such nice things about her work! He gave her lots of rewards too. Lots of rest and new kinds of food and special tools to make her yard-work easier, even though Lilah had always done a good job without those things.

“It’ll help you as a thanks for being so good at everything”, Master had told, all his teeth showing.

She should’ve known that was a lie. It had to be. But she’d wantedso badly to believe it.

Master never got mad when she went Quiet – kind of sad, or what looked like sad, and watchful and worried. But never mad. He’d never get mad at Lilah, even though he’s been mad at the others, been mad at Evan, even though they’re all better at this. Good enough for years. Good enough, at least, to not be punished all the time, day and night, beaten into place ‘cause she always had to be reminded of how not-good she is.

Bad girl.

Why? She just wants to know why and wanting hurts. Her heart hurts. It’s not a scared-hurt. It’s a sad-hurt, heart sore and throbbing wildly. She feels sadder than scared and that’s new and stupid but…she really did think Master woulddo something bad when nobody has been really bad and now he isgoing to and…she just doesn’t know why. But he is. And he’s happyabout it. Evan would say it’s ‘cause Master enjoys it, that he enjoys playing with them the way he does. She should listen to Evan. Why doesn’t she listen? Why can’t she ever keep up?

‘Cause you’re a bad girl.

Master’s voice rings suddenly through the room, the noisewhere there was no noise pulling Lilah’s breath in a little too quickly and Sasha barely twitches at her side. Lilah swallows a whimper before it escapes her dry throat and just…listens to Master.

 Please, let him get it over with quickly,she begs to someone, anyone.

 Please let it be quick.

And, horribly, selfishly.

Please.

Let him choose someone else first.

                                                       ~          ~                                        

“Ok! First off, Merry Christmas Eve to everyone.”

A silence hovers briefly and Sasha stumbles to say “Merry Christmas, Master Galo” in sync with the rest of the group. Their chorus, fortunately, hides her stammer. Master has not seemed to mind her stumbling speech but right now? There’s no doubt it that every broken phrase would tally up in whatever pain is to be doled out now.  

“Thanks! So, you’re all probably a little confused by the lack of celebrations. I know my aunt had tons of parties but…that’s just not me. I don’t love parties at the best of times and I really don’t love Christmas. But I figured, hey, I can do the holiday my way and you’ve all been a big part of changing how I feel about it. Everyone’s been awesome about decorating the house beautifully and making things feel cheerful, so, thanks so much for that. I really appreciate it.”

There is another beat of silence before Nyla, sweet, sacrificing, perfect Nyla, glides forward a couple of steps, Greyson carefully sidestepping to fill the space in front of Lilah, and kneels at Master Galo’s feet before taking up his hand to kiss it.

“Thank you, Master, for your kindness. We are all honored to serve you in whatever manner you desire.”

Sasha thinks, for the first time in a while, of how starkly largehis hand is next to Nyla’s head. Cold sweat beads on her brow as she measures those palms as though examining them for the first time, how when Nyla’s lips touch the backs of Master’s fingers, the span of his knuckles bridges her brow from temple to temple. He could crushNyla’s face with a firm squeeze, shatter her delicate little nose with one heavy slap, how could Sasha everhave forgotten that, even for a moment?

And now, the little blonde woman is deliberately putting herself at those heavy feet, pulling that meaty hand towards her lovely face, flattering and appeasing, indicating that she has chosen to go first for whatever this is. She’s so brave. She’s so good. Sasha loves her so much and she wants to save her so badly. Sasha wants to curl around Nyla’s kneeling form until Nyla is hidden away by Sasha’s arms and back and she’s safe from the pain which frightens Sasha so much and which Nyla so plainly does not deserve. But she is petrified and spineless and would only make it worse.

Oh, Nyla.

Greyson.

Lilah.

Evan.

Me.

Don’t react poorly!

Sasha blinks furiously until her tears settle behind her lids, pulsing with restrained grief.  

Don’t make this worse than it’s already going to be.

                                                       ~          ~                                    

Greyson should’ve been the one to approach Master Galo first.

He has a…dialogue with Master and either way, he is older, more practiced, should be quicker to know what to do. But Nyla has caught onto being what she should be in half the time it took him and has thrown herself into the line of fire with her typical grace. It sickens Greyson that he was too slow and let her take the burden.

Currently, Master’s glee seems to have abated at Nyla’s gesture and, seemingly, was not replaced with rage. Yet. He blinks down at Nyla’s upturned, sweetly submissive, face and smiles softly at her. No smirk. No secretive glint in his eye. Nyla must have done the right thing, yet again. Master has yet to…use Nyla in that way but he clearly acknowledges the faultless state of her service and it softens him towards her.

“That’s…wonderful, Nyla. Very good! Hey, while you’re down there, can you help me pull these boxes out?”

Before Nyla has even crawled over to the bottom of the towering Christmas tree, Master has crouched beside her, scooping out brightly wrapped packages from below the swoop of the low-dangling branches and jangling the glittering ornaments. Brushing pine needles off his pants, Master piles them, gesturing Nyla to copy him, onto an armchair before swinging back towards them all to clap his hands decisively and grin once more.

“Alrighty, then. So! Nyla?”

“Yes, Master Galo?”

Soft, immediate, lilting.

“I guess since you’re, uh, right here, I’ll give you your gift first. Uh, can you hold your arms out, Nyla? This one’s a bit big.”

Greyson has barely time to blink before Master has practically dropped one of the largest packages, a box of wide, flat golden cardboard topped with plaid bows, into Nyla’s quickly outstretched arms.

What?

“Sorry! Sort of threw it at you, didn’t I? You can go back to the rest, Nyla. Greyson, you’re up, my man.”

What?

Greyson’s feet carry him forward, arms already extending, body reliably obedient even while his brain is lagging.

 “Here y–, oh, no need for both arms. Heh, sorry, dude, your gift’s not Nyla-big.”

What does that mean?

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t need to understand, Greyson reminds himself harshly, he only needs to obey. So he remains blank, cups his palms as Master Galo places a little sleek black box, neatly bound in white ribbon, into Greyson’s palm. It is not professionally wrapped, Greyson absently notes, the tape was raggedly snapped off the dispenser and the bow is a bit crooked. He glides into place back at Nyla’s side, poised like emotionless pillars with their…gifts held stiffly in front of them as each person is called forth. Lilah, then Sasha, and, finally, Evan; all are handed a package, unique in size and decoration and received quietly and quickly before they are re-assembled as they were before, only now clinging to…

Most likely, the instruments of their imminent torture.

Or, as Master Galo is saying…

“Awesome. Alrighty, so, you’ve all got your gifts now. That’s good. You’ve probably noticed that they’re kind of sloppy. I wrapped them myself and…let’s just say, I wasn’t born to be a decorator. You’re just gonna have to live with it, heh. So…if you guys wanna sit down, like, on the couches or on the floor or, like, wherever you feel most comfortable opening your gifts? Just, uh, yeah. Everyone just go ahead and enjoy!”

All are silent and it is Nyla who folds elegantly to the floor and first begins to peel the wrapping back, small hands fluttering like butterflies as she unwinds the ribbon. Greyson folds alongside her, hesitating a brief moment as he catches Master’s eyes on his knees and then, slowly, sits on the ground and folds his ankles neatly in front of him. Master looks pleased when he sits this way rather than kneeling and Greyson’s jaw slightly slackens as he settles in beside Nyla. Her quick grace disguises her shaking to all but Greyson, whose arm touches her shoulder and absorbs her tremors. He leans, barely, against her, steadying her (and, honestly, himself as well) while he neatly disassembles his own package.

His box is the smallest, Greyson has noted, so he is the first to lift the lid and find…

A pair of glasses.

They are frameless at the bottom, rimmed in delicate wire that is stained redder than a ripe apple. It matches the hue of Greyson’s favored necktie. Spongy black nose pads and grips at the tips of the temples show how the eyewear would grip the face comfortably. Coiled beneath the neatly folded pair, clipped to the ends of each temple, is a fine chain, dozens of miniscule links glittering silver beneath the clear lenses.

They are…beautiful.

Greyson cannot do much more than blink. He can tell that everyone else is unwrapping slowly, glancing from the corners of their lowered eyes at his reaction and he shouldreact in some way. But he…he can’t…

What?

He finds that he is trembling as he plucks the frames from their nest of silk cleaning cloths, cradling them like they will shatter if he breaths wrong. His eyes raise almost without intent, catching Master Galo openly watching him, a soft hesitance weighing his gaze. Greyson nearly starts but Master gets ahead of a potential apology by gesturing vaguely at Greyson’s gift.

“I, uh, I peeked through B –…through your records and found your prescription. It said five years ago and I don’t know if your eyes changed since then and, well, if I’d gotten an appointment for you, this wouldn’t have been a surprise. Someone recommended I make them a tad sharper and so I did but, if you wanna adjust them or if they’re too strong just tell me… Anyways, I, uh, I really hope they see as nice as they look, heh…oh, yeah, and the chain is to keep them around your neck and the cloths are yours. Like, in case that wasn’t clear, all the stuff in the box – hell, the boxif you want it – is all yours. But, I hope you enjoy them, Greyson.”

Greyson cannot speak. He opens his mouth, moves his lips, and nothing emerges. Trembling more pronounced now, his hands pull off and fold his glasses and tuck them into his breast pocket, he does not choose to do this. He does not decide to lift the new frames to his face, unfold them, slide them into place and loop the chain behind his neck. He blinks as his body reconnects with awareness again, the missed moments of automation causing him to startle bodily with the clean, unscratched, clarity of the room before him.

There is…something inside Greyson’s chest. It is like a living thing, pressing, stretching the wall of his sternum. It takes his heart and his lungs and squeezes, mercilessly.

It hurts. 

The animal is resurrected, awakened from a peaceful sleep to roar in his blood, unfamiliar with the way his insides are warm and loose and tingle like his legs after rising from hours on his knees, all the blood rushing back to the numb area. He feels and it aches and his throat is tightened by the same animal grip on his innards.

The tight, the hot, the blood-rush, the suddenness of the old tenderness is tearing at Greyson and, suddenly, all he wants to do is weep. No hollow, scraped-out loss prompting the swollen heat pounding like a pulse behind his lids. A press, inexorable as it is tender, against his sternum is cracking him from the inside and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He abandons his typical protocol of vacancy to bite his inner cheek savagely, allowing the throb to distract and dull the other strange unfamiliar anguish below his ribs.

It hurts but Greyson can take hurt. This anguish which is not anguish will be smothered too and once he allows the ache in his gnawed mouth to ebb, he is clearer again.

                                                        ~          ~                                        

Evan is pissed.

At least, he’s really trying to be. What he really feels, right now, is confused as hell. Which angers him more, ‘cause he can take his own pain and humiliation and the games that never ever end but this is, admittedly, pretty fucking weird.

He will, in his own mind, confess to being tense, if not really surprised, about his box being the biggest. But as he lifts his…gift out of its mountain of tissue paper, he can’t feel much of anything. It’s like his head is disconnected from his shoulders and his hands move on their own to unfurl a frankly enormous blanket, at least six feet in all directions, fluffy and hedgerow-green and thick and light all at the same time.

The first thing he registers is how soft it is.

He almost starts when he feels the texture of the blanket, fingers sinking into the tufts of…what is it? Evan doesn’t know, he’s never touched something this soft. He almost expects it to melt like soap-foam between his palms but it settles, barely a weight against his folded legs. It feels nice.

Evan snaps back to clarity, lowly roving a glance around to the others. They’ve all opened their own gifts and they’re all as confusing as Evan’s. They all look like gifts, but real gifts. The sort which Mistress’ “friends” would exchange during those god-awful parties. Sasha is cradling something bright and delicate in her hands, Nyla’s got something to wear perhaps, and Lilah’s unwrapping something fluffy. He can’t clearly see what Greyson got in that little box but he’s oddly silent.

Evan tries to stay sharp. He needs to be sharp, to be aware, nothing is more dangerous than getting distracted right now. Nothing is…good about getting a present. But he’s drawn like a throat to thirst by the softness in his lap and sets his jaw before cautiously lifting the blanket like a cape over his shoulders. Tufts tickle the nape of his neck, gentle bulk shielding his torso from the open air, and Evan feels more than allows his spine to relax just a fraction.

It feels so good. He likes it so much and he hates that he likes it as much as he does. Yet even as he straightens his spine and keeps his eyes down, he cannot help but turn his cheek just barely so that the tufts brush, feather-like, against the skin.

Liking this is fucking dangerous, of course it is, of course it is, it must be fucked up somehow. But Evan is tired of caring right no. And so leans further into the softness. Maybe he’ll pay later but if he really got this as a…giftthen he’s gonna damn well enjoy it like one.

                                                     ~          ~                                       

Nyla is stalling.

Yes, she’s offered herself first. Yes, she made a show of opening her package. But…she hesitates and keeps twitching away when she tries to peel back the mountain of red tissue. She smooths is back in layers, slippery as onionskin, crackling at even the littlest movement. She’s afraid of what she’s going to find and she has no excuse for her delay but that fear which keeps her fussing with the final sheet of tissue.

It is only once Greyson has lifted his gift out its box that she finally, unforgivably late, folds back the final barrier. It is in the same moment that Greyson’s gift becomes clear in her periphery, unmistakably a new pair of eyeglasses, when she comprehends what lies before her in the box.

A dress.

A dress?

It is a dress and it’s a pretty dress and it looks expensive and it’s a real gift and Nyla almost doubles over, spasming fingers gripping the edge of the box in an effort to remain grounded. She hides her tremble with busy movements, not really thinking but allowing her body to take over and carefully pull the dress from its crinkly nest.

Nyla knows little about clothing except from what Mistress Bethany and her guests wore but she knows what quality cloth feels like and this dress is certainly a cut of the finest. It has a supple, satiny feel but it isn’t silk, more like good linen in a soft blue imprinted with a pattern like white and grey stitching. It is crisp and flat and smells a little like vanilla when she moves it. Pleated skirt which could hit just below the knee, elbow-length sleeves, slimming waist. It has a wide neckline which doesn’t plunge to her breasts but instead would barely sit above the collarbones and sit halfway down the shoulder to show off their delicate swoop. It would show off the arc of her neck perfectly.

She would look so elegant in this dress, appearing so proper and almost fancy in a modest way. It is how she has dreamed of looking, sometimes, when she neatens her apron and flicks lint off her drab, black, uncomfortable uniform. In this dress, she would look as perfect as she behaves.

Absently, she strokes the along the mysterious fabric, wondering what it would feel like against all of her flesh. She nearly shivers with pleasure at the very thought of sliding that material over her head, zipping it up nice and neat. She suppresses a second, cold, shiver when a gratitude rises, unbidden, at her presence amongst the rest of the group. Mistress Bethany had never forced any of them to strip more than a shirt in front of one another but…who knew what Master Galo might command? If they had been alone when Master Galo gave her this, she would certainly assume she was meant to unclothe and slip into her giftstraight away. Display it for him. Looking pretty in it for him.

Master has paid close attention to them all, that much is abundantly clear. Nyla glances to the side and sees how Sasha is mesmerized by her gift. It is some sort of hair ornament, a flat clip to bridge the top of the head, a glorious, darkly polished wood that had been carved with an inlay of golden roses. It won’t just hold back the cascade of ebony hair, it will brighten the wavy length which Sasha combs between her fingertips, which soothes her so. Which one would notice if one watched her for long enough. Sasha’s fingers fly between hair and the ornament, sunk fully back upon her heels as she turns the clip over in her fingers like it is glass, watching the firelight catch all the petals and vines of gold.

Sasha loves her hair. She loves her gift.

It is all gift, Nyla realizes. All of her clothes are a gift. Seeing properly enough to do tasks obediently, having glasses at all, is a gift. Everything they are allowed to have is already a gift, graciously given on strict conditions. Nyla can go without her gift – her clothes – at any time Master Galo desires.  

Nyla soothes her fluttering pulse with a low breath, stilling her hands so they won’t seize the fabric and scrunch that ironed hem. She is here, right now, with her family. She traces the pattern with her eyes, counting the facsimile of stitches on the bodice as she allows that thought to ease the edge of sudden anxiety. There is absolutelyno sense in torturing herself with scenarios like that, no sense at all. There was no need. Even…ifsuch an idea did come to Master Galo, Nyla would give him no reason to play it out. She was perfect, she had always been perfect, and she will continue to be perfect; it is the only thing she can control. Nobody will have any reason to hurt her. Oh, Master can hurt her, of course he can, but he won’t have a reason to do it.

She won’t evergive anyone a reason.

                                                        ~          ~                                   

Galo hears a giggle and the surprise causes him to glance up from the game he’s been pretending to play on his phone, sprawled on the armchair several feet away from the group.

Lilah has opened her gift. A little red winter hat, ear-flaps and all, topped with a cotton puff which Lilah is poking at. She has pressed a hand to her mouth but is still grinning through her fingers as she pokes and ruffles the little poofy ball on the hat, on the matching gloves, on the tassels of the matching scarf. Lilah has lost herself in an almost open delight, youth bubbling through her nerves as she bats at her gift. Her bruises have long faded, all the cuts pinked and flat with age, so her freckles are stark. The absence of wounds makes her look so much younger than her eighteen years and her glowing grin gives her a childish glow.

Tears well in his eyes and he has to press his knuckles against his lids as he tries to swallow back the ache in his throat.

“Thank you so much, Master Galo! Thank you!”

Galo hopes his eyes are clear as he glances up again and sees that Lilah is the one who spoke. The others are clearly carefully looking anywhere but at either Lilah or Galo and, to be honest, he’s a little shocked at what amounts to an outburst from Lilah. She is trembling violently but is also clutching her gift tightly to her chest, gazing at Galo with…gratitude, heavy as worship, in her eyes.

Her grins widely at her, his gesture seeming to brighten that gratitude to a feverish glow. It’s all too much for Galo all of a sudden and he has to look away again so the tears won’t betray him and leak down his face, hoping to God that his reply doesn’t sound too choked.

“You’re welcome, kiddo. I’m…really glad you like it.”

                           i’m gonna throw myself into a pit now! hope ya’ll liked it!

[anaclarachavez]

Things I did when I was a child

I keep thinking about my childhood lately. Some of the work I do in therapy requires me to go back to those days and really pay attention. I feel like Murnau's Faust (a much less darker version, of course): hovering over my old schools, trying to listen to my childhood conversations with friends, amazed at how light and cheery I remember life being. Would it be safe to say that I won't ever be as unafraid as I was when I was a child? I think it would. And I'm ok with that. But every once in a while –when I'm not sure who I am– "I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free", as did Catherine Earnshaw when she yearned for the untamable spirit of the Yorkshire moors.

***   

I thought it best to put these adventures and amazements in words, in case my memory once fails and I truly don't remember who I am: - I loved Maleficent. One Halloween I dressed up as her for a school show. I didn't have time to change my shoes, so I very proudly sported my black outfit and make up with white girly shoes. I was LIVING. Whenever I see the photo I feel my true nature shining through.

- I used very weird words for a small human. Like the time I called my kindergarten classmates "abúlicos". To this day, I’m not even sure I know what that means.

- My mom had a go-to fruit lady near our house. And whenever I made an appearance, she would give a guayaba (guava is not a good word). This went on for many years. Some time ago, I went back there for... reasons... and the lady recognized me and, true to form, gave me said fruit. It felt like a gift to the Anaclara of the past.

- I used to do cartwheels anywhere and everywhere large enough to fit an over enthusiastic seven year old.

- I had this beautiful Russian friend named Polina, and we lived nearby so I hung out at her place sometimes. We made up a dance to “I Want to Hold Your Hand” by The Beatles. I thought we were so cool, but for some reason, maybe her Russian demeanor, she didn’t seem like a very happy kid to me. Never saw her again.

- I adored drawing. The joy of drawing felt like very few.

- I thought about having a career as a bird-watcher. - When I moved to England we sometimes took a shortcut to my mother's University. And it was muddy. Real muddy. Unaccustomed to the realities of British weather, I thought such mess to be the funnest time of all. Sometimes I would wear some plastic bags over my boots to avoid childish disasters, and I was even more amused by this. - My dear, dear mom let me dress up however I saw (un)fit. So I wore a spice girls crop-top, some glittery hairbands, a cow print vest and, of course, black mini-skirts over trousers.  - I danced. I danced every minute of every day. - My lovely teacher Mrs. Thompson thought I was very creative but "too chatty." An accurate assessment if I’ve ever heard one. - I used to play a hand clapping game with my friends. We once made up some lyrics and choreography. It started like so: "I met a girl in Sweden, called eye-shoe-Shalyla. All the boys in the football field said 'I love eye-shoe-Shylyla’"  - I earned a badge for winning three chess games in a row in our junior school chess club. Anya Taylor... who? - Music classes were the best. We sang "Morning Has Broken" by Cat Stevens. And a song about socks: "Black socks, they never get dirty, the longer you wear them the stronger they get..." - I got a kick out of beating boys at running fast. But I never had very close friends who were boys. They didn’t seem as appealing and fun as the girls.  - I had a purple bike that made some sort of odd sound when it rolled too fast. I thought it was unique and my parents could always tell when I was arriving home because of it. I rode it to see my friends. I made so many friends and so easily. No self-consciousness, no weird insecurities, just pure eagerness. - I loved to sun bathe. I very frequently over did it and suffered the burning consequences of feeling invincible. But those tans though. - Bonfires. Bonfires were magical.

- I vividly remember where I was the first time I saw a mobile phone in action: it was 1999 and I was in a double decker in London. One person suddenly “rang”...and a few seconds later we could hear the other guy chatting with him downstairs. It was equal parts ridiculous and amazing. - Me and my mom would walk down to a market near my house and buy some cheese empanadas that I have since idealized as the perfect empanada.

- I had a bright orange goldfish who I named “mi amigo.” How cute is that? I also had a pair of ducklings who followed me everywhere.  - I was constantly braiding the girls' hair in class. I found it relaxing and wasn't really aware I was shamelessly turning the classroom into a hair salon. - One of my first childish grudges was against the man who drove the ice-cream truck: I once gathered my pennies and asked for some very specific sweets. The small paper bag of these gummies cost fifty pence, and I when I got back in the house and opened it, they were not the sweets I had asked for. Such betrayal. It felt infuriating. I didn’t buy anything for weeks, until my mom convinced me to forgive the poor distracted man. 

- Whenever my family and I travelled to a foreign place, I was mesmerized by my father’s ability to know where we were going, how to pay, where to stay, how to find the way if we got lost. This, I think, gave me the confidence to be alone anywhere in the world and (try to) find a way. 

- Arriving to Antwerp remains one of my favorite memories in life. I couldn’t (can’t) get over how magical it was. I was tired, so tired, because we walked for what seemed like forever, but I still couldn’t sleep that night because I was so excited to be in a city that felt like a fairytale. Who knew what we were going to encounter the next day? (tourists, mainly). 

- I spent my 9th birthday in Barcelona but against everyone’s wishes I decided to stay in my cousin’s house and play The Sims all day. 

- My aunt lived in a very large house with doors everywhere. One door led to a small room, a corridor almost, which was preserved as such because it had beautiful original wood framing. My aunt collected witches and they all lived in there. One of them had a sensor that made her laugh whenever someone walked by. I was terrified of walking through that dark room, sometimes I even crawled so the witch “didn’t see me.” And now I love witches. 

- I once decided lamps were very boring and that I was going to decorate  random lamps and make them fun. And I did. A couple of them are still lying around, looking worse than they ever did in the first place.

- The best part of dancing in the Nutcracker as a little girl, was that we got to buy new dolls for the show. And styled our hairs with shiny voluminous Shirley Temple curls. 

- During Nutcracker season my friends and I used to tell horror stories backstage. A popular one was that the human sized nativity figures which were stored in the theatre’s warehouse were in fact haunted. Legend had it, a girl  once went in there and saw their eyes move from one side to another. 

***

It is hard to pinpoint when you cease to be a girl. The best I can come up with is this: my joyful childhood was over when I started looking at these as memories rather than possibilities. 

I don’t feel like a child anymore (at least not everyday) but I definitely don’t feel like a grown-up either. Most of the time I feel like a strange kind of grown up, but I find so much charm and peace in honoring my child self. I know that my Maleficent-costumed-persona is very proud of this lack of staidness, and whatever I do, I’m always secretly hoping I don’t betray her. 

[stevebillyrecs]

Halloween Fic Recs

+ 1k Followers! Thank you guys so much. I love sharing my fave fics with you here, so I’m really happy that you’re having as much fun as i do!

Now, this is a bit last minute, but it’s definitely still October in some parts of the world, so let’s go! Here’s an incomplete collection of Halloween-themed fics full of parties, costumes, magic, creatures, horror, gore, and pumpkins. 

Included: Halloween, horror, or monster themed fics. Not included: The usual canon-typical Upside Down shenanigans, unless there’s a special spooky twist to it, or that one very particular Halloween ‘84.

31 fics under the cut  – Happy Halloween!

Heaven is a Place on Earth by CeruleanHeart / @highon85 (3k, T, Winged!Billy)

One late summer night Steve finds an angel crash-landed in a dirty alleyway. Or so Steve thinks, until the guy opens his mouth. Billy is a mess, drunk and mean and not angelic in the least. But he’s also hurt and beautiful so Steve stays to help despite better judgement.

taste you on my tongue by callunavulgari / @callunavulgari (2k, E, Vampire!Billy)

“You’ve never felt pleasure like it, Steve,” an old girlfriend had told him once, her eyes bright with memory. She’d been from the big city, where the vampires had their pick of willing donors, where all they had to do to get a meal was walk into a club. Some of them, the older, better known vamps wouldn’t even have to do that. They could pull someone straight off the street, roll down their windows and beckon. Steve shrugged. “No vampires here, though.” They’d broken up a few days later, and he hadn’t given it much thought. After all, what were the chances that a vampire would end up in boring, small town Hawkins, Indiana?

Gee My Life’s a Funny Thing by moonflowers / @eatingmoonflowers (7k, T, Mermaid!Billy)

Steve finds a boy in the water.

867-5309 (billy) by reject_mikeyy / @reject-mikeyy (14k, NR, Halloween)

Once he is done vomiting, Steve takes a second to rest his head on the cool toilet seat before realizing that. Wow. Ew. Not in the boys’ bathroom, thanks. Not in a homophobic way, don’t get him wrong, he’s eaten his fair share of ass but just. Germs and shit. Anyway. When he looks up from the bowl for the first time, he notices something scrawled on the wall at eye level. For a good time, text: 221-867-5309 Eyeroll. Or: In which Billy is the unlucky sucker with his number written on a bathroom stall, and Steve is the oblivious fool who actually texts him.

the wild hunt by celoica / @celoica​ (3k, E, Witch!Steve, Werewolf!Billy)

It had been his idea. Everything had been his idea. From the day Billy Hargrove had rolled up in his vintage car to the day Steve had walked into school with a fresh bite on his neck, proudly scabbed over and on display for his entire class to see, it had been all Steve’s idea. Billy did something witchy to his blood, thickening it under his skin and making it hard for him to think about anything else. At first, he’d thought maybe an incubus, something demonic and lust-driven and so out of place in tiny Hawkins, Indiana, until Laurie had leaned over and whispered about the new kid being a werewolf. The last time they’d had one of those in Roane County had been before Steve had been born. Even without the full moon to influence him, Billy was everything Steve had imagined a werewolf to be; aggressive and larger than life, in tune with the people who watched him with curious eyes, charming until it made Steve’s stomach clench in jealousy when his attention was on anyone but him. Witchy. To him. The witch.

bury a friend (try to wake up) by callunavulgari / @callunavulgari (1k, M, Witch!Steve)

Steve digs up Billy’s body on a Tuesday.

been crawling by kate_button / @un-buttoned (3k, E, Halloween)

The crop top was right there on the main aisle in the women’s section. Steve’s not entirely sure, like, why it exists, but he’s not disappointed about it. The rest of it came together pretty quickly (and cheaply) after that. So anyway, that’s how he finds himself drinking jungle juice out of a red solo cup looking like the twenty-two-year-old-man version of Karen Smith, animal ears and too much skin, bada boom, costume. I’m a dog. Duh.

journeys end by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald  (11k, M, Ghosts)

When Billy convinces Steve to spend Halloween at the Vance house—an abandoned house on the outskirts of Hawkins rumoured to be haunted—they discover that the Upside Down doesn’t have the monopoly on otherworldly.

Tell Me, What Did You Expect? by trashcangimmick / @trashcangimmick (2k, E, Tentacles!Billy)

After the battle of Starcourt, Steve wakes up on his living room couch with Billy Hargrove standing over him. There’s something a little different about Billy.

i shot the sheriff by ToAStranger / @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (800, T, Halloween)

Drunk shenanigans.

tides will bring me back to you by eternalgoldfish / @eternalgoldfish (32k, M, Ghost!Billy)

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Billy sat in the dark, eyes closed, listening to the clock on the mantle tick and the refrigerator hum. Steve Harrington was nothing to him, a regret, maybe, a bitter taste in his mouth, but not a friend. If Billy was resentful, he thought maybe he’d see the logic in the afterlife pinning them together, but he didn’t feel a sense of longing or torment, didn’t feel like he was being pulled between life and death, or between realms. He just was, painless, lead in his belly as he sat on the floor by Steve’s feet. If he was meant to be trying to get somewhere, he didn’t know where. Was he supposed to pass on? He curled his knees up to his chest and watched Steve sleep, Steve’s lips shiny with spit and hair hanging over his forehead. Or, how to find love as a ghost.

Haunted House Workers by prettyboiiharringrove / @prettyboiiharringrove (1k, T, Costumes)

It’s far from the easiest job in the world, but Billy met the love of his life through this gig and he gets to scare people on a daily basis, so most of the time it’s a fucking dream, but tonight, well tonight Billy is feeling a little concerned and a lot murderous.

teeth only for you by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald (2k, M, Vampire!Steve)

Steve has a secret. Billy thinks he knows what it is, but he couldn’t be more wrong.

No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross by Your_Iron_Lung / @godshattered​(WIP, 66k, T, Werewolf!Billy)

A strange string of parties held out in the deep woods of Hawkins, Indiana, plays host to Steve Harrington and his doubts about his future. Every weekend the party is relocated, and somehow Steve is always privy to the knowledge of where it’s going to be. What he doesn’t know is who’s hosting them, or why. There’s something weird about them that he can’t quite place, but he still finds himself drawn to them week after week, if only to use them as an escape from his stressful post-Upside Down reality. The weirdest part of all, however, is the fact that Billy Hargrove seems to be invited to them as well, and- There’s something in the woods.

a whisper in my bones (keeps me restless, whole) by tol_sirion / @etterklang (3k, E, Demon!Billy)

Steve knows not to wander off alone in the woods, has been told not to so many times. He’s never been very good at listening. It pays off.

Never Seen That Color Blue by Kerasines / @kerasines (WIP, 4k, E, Tentacles!Billy)

Billy doesn’t want to think it, but Steve goes ahead and says it anyway. “A tentacle.” He looks as apprehensive as Billy feels at the thought of a fucking tentacle being attached to Billy’s body in any way, let alone spontaneously growing out of his back. Jesus, what the fuck. But it’s undeniable that that’s what it looked like. What it felt like. “Fuck you. Christ. What the fuck.” Billy rubs his eyes until he sees stars.

You’re Dead and Out of this World by shocked_into_shame (2k, E, Vampire!Billy)

Billy’s a vampire and Steve is his familiar, toiling after him with the promise that one day he’ll become immortal too. You’d think that Steve would have a certain amount of reverence for the dead - but all he can muster is annoyance these days.

Through The Forest, Through The Trees by trashcangimmick / @trashcangimmick (WIP, 24k, E, Were-demogorgon!Billy)

Billy gets bitten by something strange in the woods. After that, life becomes even stranger.

Hawkins Hunting Ground by lonelytarot / @lonelytarot (1k, NR, Vampire!Steve, Vampire!Billy)

Hawkins is a mess, that’s normal. But Steve isn’t the only vampire in Hawkins? That’s a surprise.

like real people do by callunavulgari / @callunavulgari (2k, M, Ghost!Billy)

“No one told me that you molest people in their sleep,” he mutters, trying to keep his voice quiet. Above him, Johnny grunts and turns over. The hand goes still. “You can see me,” a voice murmurs. “Yeah.” Steve sighs. “I can see you.” “How?” Steve’s been able to see dead people since he was four years old. But people don’t tend to respond well when children tell them that the old man across the street watering his lawn had a bullet through his head, so after the fourth therapist, Steve had learned that it was something best kept secret. “I’ve got the sight, man,” he says with a small shrug. “And look, I feel for you. You’re dead and I’m not, and that sucks, but unless you’re planning on doing something about it, I’d really appreciate it if you could stop feeling me up and let me get back to sleep.”

A love of violence by gideongrace / @gideongrace (6k, E, Serial killer!Billy)

Billy and Neil are serial killers. One night, Neil brings Billy a present. The boy he’s been lusting after - Steve Harrington - blindfolded and tied to a bed in a motel room. Neil clearly thinks this is a good idea. He almost certainly wouldn’t think it would end in his death. (He’s wrong.)

this sweet plague by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald (1k, M, Zombie!Steve, Zombie!Billy)

In 1985 Steve Harrington dies. His parents and the people of Hawkins all believe it was a tragic accident. Only a small group of people know he died valiantly protecting his friends from monsters. Six months later, he is one of the dead who rise again.

unbutton my shirt, i’ve a hard day (i hate my work) by asphaltworld / @asphaltworld (WIP, 2k, M, Halloween)

Billy’s stuck working for a food delivery app on Halloween night to pay off a traffic ticket. Somebody in the rich part of town places a weird, annoying order. But he hoofs it over anyway, because he needs the cash.

a tent(acle)ative understanding by ToAStranger / @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger(WIP, 3k, E, Tentacles!Billy)

“Are you going to eat me?” Billy pauses, tongue out, halfway across the wound. He withdraws. Curiosity. Trouble. “Would you like me to?”

teething vampire Billy, okay? that’s what this is by womenseemwicked / @women-seem-wicked (1k, T, Vampire!Steve, Vampire!Billy)

Billy’s a recently turned vampire. Steve is his comforting vampire boyfriend. I don’t even know, guys. this just happened.

getting better at becoming a ghost by thecopperkid / @the-copperkid (4k, E, Halloween, Serial killer)

“What? You’re not scared, are you?” “No,” he answers, indignant, but he doesn’t even convince himself. “No, I just --” “You know what they say about fear, right?” the voice asks. “That it’s almost indistinguishable from arousal. That your body can’t tell the difference.” “They don’t say that,” Steve says, poking his head out the door and looking left to right. He’s just fucking exasperated. “Nobody says that.” “I say that.” Or: Steve gets a Scream-style call while he's babysitting the kids on Halloween night, and right now would be a really good fucking time for Billy to get home from work. Billy likes masks.

The Seventh Life by Klayr_de_Gall / @klayr-de-gall (WIP, 7k, M, Witch!Steve, Familiar!Billy)

With Allhallowtide looming two nights over, Steve feels restless and irritated, a bit on edge. The pull of that powerful event makes his bones arch stronger every year. The last thing he needs is some Californian Hotshot swaggering into his life, carrying the smell of trouble and a curse.

If You Need It (Do It For Me) by youcallherhephanie / @harring-rove (2k, T, Vampire!Steve)

Suffice to say, Billy’s neighbour was weird. Not the usual type of weird; you didn’t catch him smelling someone’s hair or lingering in an alleyway like a creep. No, he wasn’t weird weird, but there was something off about the guy. Whenever he was coming back from his morning runs, up in the early morning when the sun just barely peaked over the city, Billy’d see the guy walking through the apartment building. Sometimes, they’d bump into each other when collecting their mail, when using the elevator. It was always a nod, a hello from Billy and a terse smile from the guy - Harrington, he’d found out from the group of grannies who lived in the building. That was where their interactions left. But maybe things were in for a change.

It Happened at the Halloween Fair by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald & socknonny / @socknonny (9k, T, Halloween, Monsters)

All Steve wants is to enter his mom’s pie at the Halloween Fair… what he doesn’t expect is Billy Hargrove, sentient teddy bears, and a giant, pink monstrosity. Seems like Halloween is about to get a whole lot weirder.

Effective Immediately by lololaufeyson / @lokibi (WIP, 22k, E, Vampire!Billy)

A what-if alternate ending and continuation of the season three finale where Billy tries to get out of dodge, but finds a few too many strings tethering him in Hawkins. Now if only he can find some damn scissors....

Where the wolf bane blooms by Confettibites / @confettibites (2k, E, Werewolf!Billy)

Steve Harrington stays behind in the school gym and something very odd happens when Billy shows up.

[lost-in-time-marie]

Into the Shadows: Chapter Six

           I stared at my reflection in the mirror attempting to recognize myself underneath the black bandit style mask (a replica of my shadowy hero’s) and knee length black dress. There was the familiar splash of brown hair, falling in loose careful waves to my shoulder. My hazel eyes could be seen, somehow more striking than before, thanks to the black mask surrounding them. My pale skin glowed in stark contrast to the plain dress. Perhaps it was just the fact that I was going to a haunted house that made my stomach curl or maybe the mask was giving me PTSD about the two times I’d been attacked and then rescued by some unknown hero, but I knew in my bones, without room for doubt, that tonight would not be fun as Natasha, James, and Aleks had promised.

           Halloween had finally arrived, a fact I would normally be overjoyed by, Halloween being my second favorite holiday, the only day all year you could be anyone but yourself and no one could judge you for it. The haunted house our school was putting on was making me uneasy, that’s what I kept telling myself anyways. I even forced Natasha, Sam, Aleks, and Katy to join the set-up committee with me, that way I would know all the surprises and plans so I couldn’t really get frightened when I actually went.

         “Pull yourself together, Kristin. You’re being ridiculous. Nothing is going to happen, it’s just a haunted house!” I muttered to myself, forcing myself to take three deep breaths. That helped, by the time Natasha honked her horn out front, I was marginally calmer and managed some excitement for tonight. This would be a great Halloween; I silenced any thought or feeling that disputed that fact.

         “You excited to see you lover?” Natasha teased, as I slid easily into the black, leather interior of her car. Natasha had been nearly incorrigible since I announced my impending date with James.

         I rolled my eyes, “You’re hilarious,” I muttered, in no mood for such cracks about James.

“So, are you crazy excited for tonight?” She grinned, her whole face lighting with excitement.

         “Woo!” I said, monotonous and unenthusiastic. Natasha scowled at me, but she didn’t have time for a lecture, as we pulled into the school then and hunted for a parking space. I groaned internally. This was going to be bad, I don’t know why and I don’t know how, but it’s going to be bad.

         “Hey, I’m going to hunt down Aleks. Wait right here,” said Natasha as we arrived at the now spooky main hall of the school, before snaking through the pack of awaiting students. I sighed and hugged myself in the cramped corner of the dim, cobweb covered entrance. This wasn’t the part of the school I had decorated, but I could see they really went all out for this. Spiders hung from the ceiling, eerie music played in the background, skeletons’ creepy grins poked around corners; even peoples’ costumes were done to the nines. There were vampires, witches, zombies; every horror movie flick imaginable met in this cramped hall waiting to be unleashed upon the rest of the school. The whole thing made my skin crawl. The brick building suddenly seemed even more imposing in the dark, it didn’t feel natural to be on campus at 8pm at night.

         “Hey, don’t you look comfortable,” Katy teased with a bright smile, coming to stand beside me.

         I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help smiling in return. “Well, you know how I’m so fond of cramped spaces and scary movies. It’s like my two favorite things collided,” I joked sarcastically, already feeling better with her there.

         Katy laughed, “Don’t be a baby. Have a little fun. So, what do you think of my costume?” she asked, giving a small twirl in the room allowed. I realized her black hair was pulled back by a simple black headband, and her round figure concealed by a conservative, white church dress, topped off with a leather-bound Bible in her arms.

         I busted out laughing. “I see you were feeling ironic this Halloween,” I said. Katy was a well-known atheist, constantly spouting religious arguments and disproving Bible passages. She played up the Bible-thumping, churchgoer to a T.

         Katy smiled pleasantly and curtseyed. “And what are you supposed to be?” she asked, eyeing my simple ensemble.

         I rolled my eyes, recognizing the I-should-have-dressed-you look. “A masked figure,” I beamed, enjoying my own private joke. Katy simply raised a brow and shook her head, accustomed to my odd tendencies.

         “So what’s been going on with you and James?” She asked, winking and giggling. I sighed. Katy and Natasha hated each other, but they were remarkably similar. I wasn’t ready for round two of this interrogation.

         “Why is everyone suddenly determined to get me a boyfriend? I don’t date, Katy, you know that,” I snapped at her unintentionally. It wasn’t her fault this was the second time I was hearing this, I reminded myself, trying to reign in my annoyance. She groaned.

         “Yeah, but you could. James sounds absolutely perfect for you. You couldn’t possibly be afraid of dating him; it’s all just too perfect! Practically what you wished for on a silver platter,” She argued with a deep scowl.

         “James is really great, but I don’t know…I just can’t,” I hedged, shrugging. Katy narrowed her eyes at me, clearly suspecting something was afoot, but thankfully Natasha was approaching us with Aleks- feigning mock annoyance to hide his delight- in tow. That was all the signal Katy needed, she jetted away with a quick goodbye.

         “Eww, were you talking to Katy?” Natasha asked, wrinkling her nose.

         I rolled my eyes and ignored her. “Aleks, are you seriously dressed as Vladimir Lenin?” I asked, laughing.

         “He was a great leader of Mother Russia,” Aleks replied with a grin, flashing all his pearly white teeth, and emphasizing his thick Russian accent. Sure enough, he stood before me in a fake beard and suit. I shook my head and laughed.

         “Hey, Natasha’s dressed like a hippy, so you can’t really make fun of me,” Aleks teased her, nudging her shoulder, and pulling the attention off himself. I took in Natasha’s costume for the first time. She wore a tie-dyed t-shirt and bell bottoms, had her unruly hair wrangled by a headband, and a peace sign necklace hung from her neck.

         “That is true,” I agreed. Natasha batted my arm playfully; we bantered like that for only a minute or so more before a teacher announced on the intercom several rules of conduct for the evening, and finally, the long awaited go ahead to explore our haunted campus.

         I had to admit, we did a pretty good job decorating the school, it was seriously sinister. Despite having helped set up, I still screamed a few times at different monsters jumping out and fake spiders touching me. It was a lot of fun, I enjoyed the company of my friends, I almost forgot the sense of impending doom I had started the night with. As the night went on, I noticed Natasha drawing nearer and nearer to Aleks and took that as my cue to leave.

“Why don’t you guys head to the cafeteria for food and whatnot while I see if I can find James?” I suggested. Natasha smiled and nodded gratefully while Aleks just shrugged, okay with anything. We said our goodbyes and promised to meet up soon. I headed in the opposite direction, not really looking for James, just wanting to give Natasha some space and alone time with Aleks. A tight sensation snaked around my chest, strangely suffocating, an unexpected, yet familiar, side effect of being around such sickly-sweet romance and purely innocent puppy love. I could tell she liked him dearly, and, to be honest, seeing people all lovey-dovey in relationships made me want to hurl these days.

While wandering aimlessly, lost in thought, through the dark halls and classrooms filled with costumed students, coffins, skeletons, ghosts, and other monstrous props, I ran smack into something. Something hard and sturdy, I fell right on my butt and what I ran into did not even budge. For half a second, I wondered if I’d gotten so lost in thought I’d actually run into a wall, but then I heard a familiar small, high voice.

         “Is she going to be okay?” The familiar voice asked.

         “Yes, she’ll be just fine. Believe it or not, this is actually the second time she’s run into me because she wasn’t paying attention,” Another deeper, even more familiar voice teased. My eyes snapped open.

         “It’s not my fault you don’t say anything, you just stand there and let me crash into you,” I fumed, staring up at the identical faces of Ryder and Robbie. I might have found it comical how they were looking down at me and making the same bemused facial expression, but I was too embarrassed to really appreciate it. Ryder rolled his eyes, but was unable to hide the smallest smile turning up the corner of his lips. He grabbed underneath my arms and easily hoisted me upright, before quickly letting go and stepping back.

         “Hello, Kristin, are you having fun?” Robbie asked unusually bright, grabbing my hand and then Ryder’s, tugging us along with him.

         “Robbie, Kristin might have somewhere else to go, don’t just drag her along,” Ryder chastised, halting Robbie and casting him a disapproving look.  “Aww, do you have somewhere to go?” Robbie asked glumly, his pink bottom lip puckering, sad, blue eyes devoid of the happiness I previously saw there.

         “No, it’s okay, Robbie, I’ll come along with you guys if you want,” I said, looking at Ryder with a raised brow. He shrugged nonchalantly and looked to Robbie to make the decision. Robbie grinned, instantly happy again.

         “Yay! Let’s go get candy!” exclaimed Robbie, releasing our hands and running ahead of us in the direction of the cafeteria, his one-track mind already fleeting to another subject.

         “You can have a little bit, but don’t run ahead too far, stay where I can see you!” Ryder called after Robbie, sounding, and looking, very much like a concerned father. There was something intriguing about the little flashes of the real Ryder I got see behind the mask he always wore. I could tell that this Ryder was truly him, that every day he walked around with a solid, emotionless mask on. For what reason I was still unsure, but I was certain the real Ryder was fun and beautiful, the kind of person that attracted other people, like a moth to flame. I wanted to know that person. I never could back down from a challenge. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Ryder and I were not friends, I still harbored a strong dislike for him, and he for me, but curiosity often got the best of me.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Ryder asked, amused. I realized I’d been staring at him and felt a blush creep up my face.

“Sorry, I was just thinking,” I said, sheepish, turning my gaze to the floor.

“About what?” Ryder asked, curious, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking ahead after Robbie, who was winding his way through the crowd.

“Lots of things, like always; this event, school, things like that,” I responded with a shrug. Ryder chuckled. My head snapped to him in shock, it was rare for him to show any emotion, even in private, but at a public function such as this? It had never happened as far as I knew. He pretended not to notice. A full smile warmed his sharp, pale face and melted his usually hard eyes into glowing green embers.

“You have this remarkable way of answering questions without actually sharing any information about yourself,” He commented, casting me a wry look. I laughed.

“You are more perceptive than most. I was thinking about how you act very much like a father to Robbie, more so than an older brother,” I answered more honestly this time. Ryder’s face darkened instantly, like a storm cloud covering the sun. Regret instantly panged my stomach. I had allowed myself to enjoy Ryder’s company for a brief moment, and I managed to ruin it just as quickly. I wondered after a minute of suffocating silence if he would respond.

“Our parents…died,” he said, voice thick and heavy with sorrow, “it wasn’t very long ago. We lived in Washington, D.C, before this. My father was a scientist in a military lab, there was an accident and he was just gone. My mother died of a broken heart; they were so in love; she just couldn’t deal. She became so sick. My uncle and father were very close, he lives here on Long Island; he took us in. He truly is a great man; I owe him so much. Robbie was very upset, we all were, but he was missing something in his life, he was missing a father, and my uncle tried his best, but he just isn’t the same as our dad. I’ve tried very hard ever since then to fill that hole for Robbie. He’s gotten better, especially lately,” Ryder finished, struggling to keep his voice even. I stared for a minute just trying to process this tragedy, the hurt and depression were evident in Ryder’s hollow voice, dark eyes, and pained face, even his stance grew more hunched, as if some unknown weight were beating upon him, and as I studied him, I realized I recognized that feeling. The feeling of a weight you cannot hope to bear on your own, so obvious to you, but invisible to the world, the kind of burden that seeped into your bones until you were made of cement just trudging along, fighting for every breath, every moving muscle. This overwhelming emotion nearly made me double over, suddenly sitting heavy on my chest.

I fought for composure before answering. “I can’t even begin to imagine having to bear all that for your brother, it sounds as though you were very close to your parents,” I attempted, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. We stared at each other for a moment, somehow kindred spirits in our unknown tragedies.

Suddenly Ryder smiled, a small, sad smile, just the slightest lifting of the corners of his pink lips. “Thank you,” he said in a soft voice, “For understanding and not saying sorry. I know people are sorry it happened, but sorry sounds too much like pity. I don’t want pity, and neither would my parents. I’m sure I sound crazy, but thank you.” He ranted, all in one breath. I returned his smile with one of equal sadness. He wasn’t crazy; I understood exactly what he meant. Everyone said sorry when someone died, but it didn’t make anything better and they didn’t really understand. Sorry was often just disguised pity, and I never, no matter what tragedies I endured, wanted pity. And if I didn’t want that pity, I didn’t really imagine too many other people were deserving of it either. I think Ryder could see that somewhere in my face.

I cleared my throat, attempting to change the subject. “So where’s your costume?” I asked, scrutinizing his casual jeans, grey t-shirt, and black converse.

“I’m a stone statue of course, this girl I know told me once that I always look like a statue, frozen and stoic,” Ryder teased, pausing in place and hardening his face and tensing his muscles, transforming before my eyes into the familiar cold Ryder I’d grown so used to. I laughed, and though he kept his composed face, his lighthearted air remained. I could tell our previous conversation was a very secret subject that would never come up again. I found myself glad. I was curious about Ryder’s past and I spent so many days seeking this kind of explanation for his cold mannerisms, but seeing Ryder in so much pain was almost disturbing. The urge to reach out, to help, was overpowering. Natasha always said I was a sucker for lost causes, the savior of sinners and the damned.

“Oh, well, that girl obviously knew what she was talking about,” I grinned and nudged his shoulder. He laughed. It was a musical sound, oddly comforting and relaxing; I hoped for some bizarre reason that I would hear it more often. I became aware then, that I was the most relaxed I had been all night walking through these halls with Ryder.

“Robbie! Not so much candy, you’ll make yourself sick,” Ryder scolded with a soft smile as we finally entered the cafeteria and found Robbie loading himself down by the fistful with sweets. It was brighter in here and tables all along the walls were covered with sodas, punches, candy, sweets, and other delicious treats. Robbie was quickly darting around and stuffing his face with a little of everything. I laughed as Ryder stole bits of food from Robbie, who would then scowl at him so seriously, as if Ryder were stealing prized jewels from his personal safe.

“Kristin! There you are, I’ve been searching everywhere for you,” Natasha called, pushing through a crowd of people, Aleks following quietly behind.

“Oh, sorry, I got caught up,” I replied, gesturing to Ryder and Robbie, who now ceased bickering and stood beside me in stiff silence. Robbie waved shyly and half hid behind Ryder’s leg, Ryder gave a curt nod, his face and attitude totally reverted to cold, “stone statue” mode.

“We found James by the way; he’s been in the cafeteria the whole time. Sorry you had to spend all that time searching,” Natasha apologized. James slid his way through the crowd then and came to stand with us. Ryder’s face hardened perceptibly, I wondered how his teeth didn’t turn to dust from how hard he was clenching them together. Jeez, if looks could kill.

“We have to be going. See you around, Kristin.” Ryder said harshly, his words like daggers.

“Bye,” I whispered, staring at Ryder’s retreating form. Robbie cast one heartbreaking look at me, almost as if I betrayed him, before fleeing with his brother. I liked to think I was growing accustomed to Ryder’s abrupt shifts in mood, but every time he shifted gears, I found myself whirling in his wake.

“What did he want?” James asked casually, but I detected the slightest edge to his voice.

“Nothing, I ran into him, literally, and we just talked and walked to the cafeteria together,” I responded with a shrug, confused by the sudden change in Ryder’s attitude and the overly harsh, rude way he responded to James. Even James, easygoing and carefree, seemed to aim a certain tense, harshness at Ryder. It was exactly like when the three of us worked together for the Psychology project. James hadn’t liked Ryder from the beginning, and Ryder didn’t like anyone, but their dislike seemed to intensify overnight to sheer hatred of one another. I wondered if perhaps my imagination was getting the better of me again. Surely that was just Ryder’s usual distaste for everyone, and if I could hate Ryder so quickly on the first day of school, James could too. That was it, I was imagining the personal edge to their slights, I tried comforting myself unsuccessfully.

James nodded casually before Natasha expertly steered the conversation to safer waters. I shoved these confusing thoughts from my mind and attempted to enjoy my time with my friends. We stayed in the cafeteria for a little longer, chatting easily and munching on snacks.

“Hey, we should go see the dungeon exhibit, I want to see what it looks like now that it’s all set up,” Aleks suggested after a while.

“I know! We did such a good job replicating those torture devices!” Natasha boasted excitedly, already dragging us to the exit of the cafeteria.

“Natasha, I’m not sure that’s something you should be proud of,” I joked. We bust into laughter and started down the hall to the classroom where that exhibit had been set up.

James casually shrugged his arm over my shoulder as we entered the dungeon exhibit, a gesture I would normally have been delighted by, but today felt somehow heavy and possessive. I distracted myself by watching Natasha and Aleks. A little ahead, I noticed Natasha grab Aleks’s hand when she squealed in surprise at a skeleton jumping out at her. I caught Aleks’ soft gaze directed toward their intwined hands and the small smile of pleasure that briefly flashed across his face. I would have to remember to report my findings to Natasha, lest she accuse me of being derelict in my best friend duties.

James noticed the direction of my gaze, “Would you stop worrying about everyone else for a change and just enjoy yourself?” He chastised with a smile. I gave a small laugh and leaned into him further as we followed the twisting path of the exhibit.

“I’m sorry I can’t help it, what would you have me focus my attention on?” I teased, staring up at him through my thick, black lashes, in a poor attempt at flirting. I still hadn’t made up my mind about James, it seemed I always had more questions for him than I ever did answers, but maybe everyone was right. I should relax and appreciate the attention of an honestly good guy, god knows those are hard to find.

He responded with a seductive smile, leaning over to whisper in my ear in a smooth, low voice, “I can think of a few things.” I smiled and a bright red blush crept up my skin. I let my wavy brown hair cascade around my face, hiding my embarrassment.

“Oh, Kristin, I left my wallet in the car, but I really want to buy a picture of all of us here tonight, can you run back and get it?” Natasha pleaded. I jumped untangling myself from James, not realizing she had turned back for us.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be right back,” I answered, trying not to look so guilty.

“I can go with you,” James offered, looking a little too pleased with himself.

“Thank you, but I’ll be alright, keep enjoying the exhibits, I’ll meet back up with you guys in just a few minutes,” I quickly waved off his offer, before turning and weaving my way back out of the exhibit to the front of the school. I was thankful for the chance to get some air and organize my very confused and messy thoughts. It was easy to brush off my interactions with James to Natasha and Katy, but another thing entirely when he acted as he did tonight. I found myself unable to control my heart rate and my limbs felt shaky and unsteady. I reached the school’s entrance quickly, without even noticing it, as I was wrapped in my thoughts. James had something going on with his dad and was clearly hitting on me, but as of yet, I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Ryder had a sad past and was just starting to resemble a human being, but he still irritated me with his superior attitude and unwillingness to associate with anyone, not to mention the strange drama playing out between him and James. That was definitely something I had to get to the bottom of. I hadn’t seen my masked hero since my birthday, I was surprised to find I actually missed him and still burned with curiosity about who he was and what he was doing and how he was always saving me, yet another mystery that needed solving. Natasha and Aleks’s relationship also seemed to be heading in a good direction; I wonder how I can help shove that in the right direction for her? The whirlwind taking place inside my mind was quickly making me dizzy and setting me on the brink of panic. I was holding too may loose ends of ropes and didn’t have nearly enough to tie any firm knots.

With so many thoughts on my mind, it didn’t even occur to me to look for cars as I crossed the street to get to Natasha’s Prius, my goal was in sight and I charged after it, foolhardy. Headlights speeding around the corner of the dark, ill-lit road in front of the school blinded me then. I froze and tensed as the speeding car headed right for me. My eyes squeezed shut and braced for impact. A great force slammed into me suddenly, at first, I thought it was the car, but it came from behind me, not my side. All logical thought quickly fled after that. My head slammed into something hard and the breath was knocked from my lungs. I peeled my eyes open in time to see the car speed away down the road, burning rubber in its wake. I realized I was lying on the opposite side of the road in the wet grass, a heavy weight on top of me.

“Are you alright?” A figure asked, from above me. I understood now. Someone pushed me out of the way. And not just someone. I knew that voice, it was the familiar worried voice that always found me when I was in danger. The figure was pinning me to the ground, saving my life for a third time.

“Oh, never better,” I joked, not managing an effective sarcastic voice. My head was splitting, I could barely think through the pain. The figure flashed a bright smile. That was all I could see through the black spots dancing on my eyes.

“Yes, I can see, so I guess you have no need for my assistance then?” He teased lightly.

“Don’t be an ass,” I breathed, attempting to scowl. The blackness was converging on my vision; I couldn’t see even a glimpse of my hero anymore. I heard him chuckle softly. How disappointing, the first time he is close enough to look at and I can’t even get my eyes to work properly.

“You hit your head pretty hard,” The figure said, his musical voice colored with worry now. Cold fingers pressed lightly on my forehead and I gasped as the pain knocked me breathless. “Very hard,” he amended in a tight voice. His cold, muscular arms slid under me, hoisting me up as if I weighed nothing. I sighed and leaned my head against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” I muttered under my breath. Then, for the second time that year, my world faded away into a peaceful darkness…

[bluerosesonata]

The Legacy of Aika Village

[This will be the first of a few mini-articles I plan to post here, just about different things I’m passionate about. Please indulge me.]

This article originally was written back in early April- since then, Nintendo announced that the “Dream Suites” would be coming to the latest update of ACNH, as “Dream Islands.” As such, I thought it would be timely to finally post this.

Update: On July 2nd, the original creator of Aika Village made a tweet announcing their plans to remake Aika for Dream Islands in New Horizons! The legend lives on!

Image Credit: thumbnail from chuggaconroy’s playthrough of Aika Village on Youtube.

Animal Crossing And Horror: The Legacy of Aika Village

With a lot of the world in lockdown, Animal Crossing New Horizons has become a creative and social outlet for many, leading to a lot of people who never played Animal Crossing to engage with it for the first time. I’m sure most of you have encountered the various types of people present in the Animal Crossing community by now, but there’s a type of Animal Crossing players that a lot of people didn’t realize exist, and have existed, for a while now: The Horror Town Creators.

These players were the subject of a brief write up on Polygon by Patricia Hernandez [Hernandez, Patricia. “Animal Crossing: New Horizons is now a horror game, thanks to fans.” Polygon, 24 Mar. 2020. https://www.polygon.com/2020/3/24/21190826/animal-crossing-new-horizons-horror-game-decorations-scary-nintendo-switch-blood-spatter-pattern.], who posted an article featuring quotes and pictures of people creating horror themed towns and rooms in New Horizons, but only made a brief mention of the legacy of horror that many of these players are striving to recreate: The Nightmare Suites of Animal Crossing: New Leaf.

(These next few paragraphs are a bit of a self-indulgent aside, so feel feel to skip ahead.)

Horror gets a bad rap. Horror artists get comments like “lmao what SCP is this,”  “that’s fucked up,” or get flippant remarks about it all “looking the same.” Horror writers get made fun of for only writing “three types of stories.” Even the term “creepypasta,” which has evolved into shorthand for “horror stories independently published online,” still carries the stink of derision from the typo-filled, often poorly-written shock stories the term originated from. Despite this derision, horror, as a genre, is MASSIVELY popular (and profitable as well!). There’s an undeniable appeal to it.

More importantly, horror always finds a way to adapt itself to different mediums. As one can easily see by the success of horror podcasts like the NoSleep Podcast and The Magnus Archives, it isn’t even limited to a visual format! Like fear and dread itself, the horror genre crawls on, inexhaustible, undying, and ever-present, always returning to us in ways both novel and familiar.

Horror lovers are a tight knit, but welcoming, community, and that’s one of its biggest strengths and weaknesses.The biggest drawback is that a lot of really cool stuff produced will never be experienced, let alone documented, by people outside the community. And that’s what prompted this post. I was trying to explain the Dream Suite horror movement to my cousin, and despite my best efforts, didn’t find a lot of coverage about them, beyond the fact they existed. Worse, most of those were articles written five years ago. Even so, I’ll link to a few of them at the end of this post, as they’re definitely worth reading.

For me, I wanted to share my experience of the horror town phenomena with people outside the community. The Nightmare Suites movement was really something magical, and I know that I, personally, am still trying to recreate that magic in New Horizons. And hey, maybe once you’re finished reading this, you will too.

The Dream Suite

Before we can talk about Aika Village, we need to explain the feature that made this whole movement possible. In the 2012/2013 3DS game, Animal Crossing: New Leaf, there were two areas in every town: The village, and Main Street, which laid beyond the train tracks that ran across to the north of every town. Main Street was home several important structures, including the town shop, the Happy Home Academy, and the Post Office. Later on, more structures could be unlocked and built as public works projects, one of which was the Dream Suite.[“Dream Suite.” Nookipedia, 25 Apr. 2013, nookipedia.com/wiki/Dream_Suite.] 

As for how it worked, Nookipedia explains it best:

To begin a dream, the player must lie down on the bed and pay Luna 500 Bells. They may then choose to visit a random town, input the Dream Address of a specific town to visit, or search for a town. They may then choose to visit a previously visited town or a random town, or to input the dream address of a new town to visit. While dreaming, the player may walk around the town and perform actions just as they would in the real world, but their actions will have no effect on the town.

While dreaming, the bed will be on the dream town's plaza. Luna and Lloid stand near it until the player decides to wake up. Players can borrow tools like a shovel and axe from Lloid to use within the dream. If the player lies on the bed a second time, they will leave the dream and anything they have in their pockets will be lost.

The player cannot go to Main Street or enter any buildings with doors besides homes. Additionally, messages left on the bulletin board cannot be read; instead, the board displays the town's name and Dream Address…custom designs on display in the town, such as on the ground and in houses, will be visible. The player who uploaded the town can also be found walking about. When spoken to, they will say their recorded greeting.

In essence, the Dream Suite takes a snapshot of your town at the moment you ask Luna, the NPC running the Dream Suite, to share a dream- this includes your outfit, the way  you decorated your home, the items laying around town, etc.

The most important aspect of this feature, and the one that I feel had the most impact on the Nightmare Suite creation movement, was the method of discovery. If you didn’t know someone’s code, you would be sent to a random dream of a random town, from anywhere in the world- and this is where I feel my personal experience of being in the community departs from the articles that have already been written about the Nightmare Suites.

The Urban Legend of Aika

In the years leading to 2013, I was going through some rough shit. I won’t go into details here, but video games had become my entire life. Coming into the summer of 2013, I didn’t have any friends I kept in touch with, and I was “starting over” in a city where I knew nobody- things were looking up, but outside of tumblr, I didn’t have anything even resembling a social life. Animal Crossing: New Leaf was a stabilizing force of my life during this time, and really helped me. I had the Shampoodle haircut guide saved to the camera roll on my phone, for pete’s sake.

It was in the beginnings of my friendship with a group of girls (whom I sadly no longer even have contact with), where a lot of our initial bonding happened because of anime and RPGmaker horror games. We were sitting together in the campus dining area, me playing on my 3DS, when I first learned about the Nightmare Suites.

“Have you heard about Aika Village?”

I hadn’t.

“It’s this really creepy town in dream suites, I heard about it from a friend online.” Later that day, she linked me to a tumblr post compiling a series of codes leading to different “creepy dream towns,” the first one being simply labeled as “Aika Village.”

That dream village became a phenomenon: people would write up their interpretations and theories about it, and even lead to a few articles and videos on gaming sites like IGN and Killscreen, which is why I’m not gonna even bother going into the content of the village itself.

And So, The Dream Begins…

This, in my opinion, was the draw of the Nightmare Suites. Without a way to directly share codes from your 3DS to your social media, the discovery and sharing of Dream Towns was like that of urban legends- like virtually passing notes in class, or sharing scary stories that “totally happened to a friend of my cousin’s sister” at a campfire. It felt like a cool discovery- something exclusive and scary and weirdly intimate. They had a mystique to them, a mystery of who their creators were and what they “really meant.” But above all that? They were cool as hell.

The Nightmare Suites used the limitations of the game to try and create an unnerving atmosphere in ways that were reminiscent to me of the RPGmaker horror game subgenre, and for me, created a lot of memories of excitedly typing in my once a day dream suite visit late at night in my dorm. I never lacked variety- there were so many people either influenced or inspired by Aika to make a horror town that there are entire lists and tumblrs dedicated to collecting those codes. (I even played around with the idea of making my own horror town, but never found the right inspiration, instead dedicating my time to making themed homes and custom outfits based on different anime characters.)

The sad fact that so many of these towns have been altered or overwritten, if they’re available or accessible at all, is in itself, a part of their urban legend-like appeal. While many of us may never get to experience these towns, the stories about them endure, in lists on long-abandoned blogs and youtube videos from people’s playthroughs.

And that mystique is the real legacy of Aika; While the Nightmare Suites may be gone, the wonder and dreamlike memories many of us hold from our chance encounter with it will never fade. You could even say we’re a bit…haunted by it.

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch11

On Endings and Origins

Trigger warning - School shooting (adult students)

Word count - 3,117

~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~

_______

Michael smirked, putting extra emphasis into his stride as he walked past a particularly attractive woman in a stylish pencil skirt. The business district was so much fun to wander in, so many professional looking ladies dying to play secretary. They’d do anything not to get fired; he loved that line.

Was she looking? If she wasn’t, she was missing out. He made it a point not to make eye contact; that was a novice mistake. Never let them know you’re interested, that was rule numero uno.

She had to be looking. He was a catch; the hours he spent every day in the gym made sure of that. The carefully styled hair and overly tight shirt dialed it up to eleven, and his perfectly straight teeth to a twelve. No woman alive wouldn’t see him.

That’s right, baby. You wish you were hot enough to catch my eye…

Even from just a glance, he knew she was a seven, max. Nothing special, maybe a solid Tuesday lay if he felt like it. Too bad for her it was Saturday.

He kept going, strutting across gradually less crowded intersections like he owned the entire city. This was his palace; he was king, and the world was his for the taking. He’d earned it. The world owed him his due.

Michael was so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t notice the slim shadow that followed in his wake.

Almost there, what’s her name again? Jenna? Jane? Something with a J…

He almost pulled out his phone to check, but nothing undermined a woman’s confidence quite like being called by the wrong name. Even if he got it wrong, it’d only help him get laid. Chicks were so predictable. All you had to do was make them feel the need to prove themselves, then they were putty.

A sudden cold pressure on the back of his neck stopped him in his tracks. The click that followed froze the blood in his veins. It was a sound he’d only heard in movies and TV, but unmistakable. Who the fuck would pull a gun in broad daylight? On him, no less?

“Move and you die,” a silky voice said. “Muscles aren’t bulletproof.”

The pressure moved, sliding down his spine to settle at his waist. He tried to look back, but a disapproving tut warned him before he spotted anything useful. What the hell did this asshat want, anyway? Phone? Wallet? Dating advice?

“Turn left here,” the voice commanded. He didn’t recognize it. 

Maybe he could disarm the guy? It sounded like a guy. Probably a loser, some shrimp that needed a weapon to make a move. All he had to do was remind him of the natural order, then he could get to his date, with a thrilling new story to impress whats-her-name with.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Michael asked.

A searing heat flashed between his ribs. Pain reminiscent of tearing a muscle erupted in his core and his bravado hiccupped. Something wet made his shirt stick to his skin, and as he looked down to see a growing red stain, the young man gagged. He hated blood. 

“I used to be like you, you know. Foolish and naive, never imagining myself in peril,” the sinister voice commented. “Turn right.”

Michael obeyed, his hands busy staunching the fresh wound. The area wasn’t one he knew, full of derelict apartment buildings and shady-looking shops with newspaper covered windows. Chain-link fence lined the sidewalk, occasionally broken by a gap of unknown origin. Half the streetlights were burned out and a smell of cigarettes and sweat spoiled the air. Nothing good happened in a place like this. 

“W- what do you want from me?”

The figure behind him replied by increasing the pressure of the barrel against his spine. Michael quickened his steps and tried to ignore the trail of crimson dripping from his side. If he didn’t see it, it couldn’t hurt him. No pain no gain. Ignore the pain, focus on the gain.

“That all changed in a single afternoon.”

What the hell is he talking about?!

Without knowing who his tormenter was, Michael couldn’t even begin to guess. All he had to go on was the haunting regret dripping from the man’s words. 

“I don’t understand,” he replied quietly. A soft hum met his ears, another prod of the barrel guiding him toward a gravel path.

“You needn’t worry. You won’t live long enough for it to matter.”

The anxiety of moments ago seemed like a passing shadow compared to the pitch black, mind-numbing terror that filled him now. He was going to die. The guy basically just said it. 

This can’t be happening! Not to me! 

There had to be something he could do, some way he could get out of this. He’d talked his way out of trouble before. Talking was his specialty, second only to fucking. He just needed to find the right words and everything would be fine. Maybe he’d even get a sexy scar on his back from the…

Don’t think about it! 

“That day opened my eyes to the truth, just as I shall open hers. Through there.”

At the end of the gravel walkway stood a small house, as poorly maintained as the other structures nearby. Metal bars covered the only visible window and the door featured three locks, yet all of them were open. Michael hated how his hand trembled when he pulled the door open. He was supposed to be stronger than this.

Get it together! C’mon!

Inside, a gloomy living room awaited the two men. A faded grey couch sat opposite a small television, empty beer cans and paper plates covering the rickety coffee table. A movie poster from a decade past was the only decoration. Any other time, Michael would have sneered at the slovenly abode, but not today.

“Welcome, my canvas,” the voice said.

A heartbeat later, agony flared across his consciousness. The same blade that stabbed him before now sawed through his flesh and ripped through his spinal cord, the angle perfect to slide the slim metal between his vertebrae. Fluid gushed onto the floor as his legs crumpled, numbness more intense and horrifying than any he’d experienced taking over the nerves below the madman’s wound. 

I can’t feel my legs!

Michael screamed as his face struck the hard floor. More pain, in his cheekbone and eye socket this time. Worse than when he fractured his collarbone trying to deadlift his cousin, but that was the least of his worries now.

He tried to shift his legs, but nothing happened. Icy dread coiled in his stomach, growing with every second he failed to move. How was he supposed to get away now? Crawl?

“P- please!”

His arms still obeyed his commands and he managed to roll over, getting his first look at the monster that planned to take his life. Michael focused on him instead of the pool of viscous red under his body. A small figure, dressed like an idiot teenager at a skate park. Black hair peeked from the hem of a beanie, shadowed green eyes and a smirk that would shake even the bravest of souls beneath. 

Michael’s eyes traced the figure’s arms down to the weapon that forced him to cooperate and he cursed. What he had assumed was a lethal firearm was, in fact, a harmless felt-tipped pen. 

What the fuck?!

“Not my usual tool, but acceptable,” the man said, clicking the cap on and off a few times just to show off how stupid he’d been. 

Why hadn’t he attacked when he had the chance? What was wrong with him, to meekly surrender and let this… this… devil lead him wherever he pleased? He should’ve at least tried!

“Ah, yes! Thank you, Vergil. I’d almost forgotten,” the man said. Who the fuck was Vergil? Was this guy bonkers?

The man turned away to flick on the television, straight into a film full of blood and screaming victims. He turned up the volume, then returned to his victim’s side with a sly grin.

“Each night this week, I increased the volume a little more. The neighbors are used to the screaming now. Make all the noise you wish.”

He tried to scramble away, but without the use of his legs he didn’t get far before the madman caught up. The first tears he’d shed in years leaked from his eyes as the blade struck once more, sinking deep into his shoulder and twisting. When the tip scraped against his shoulder blade, Michael’s last shred of stubborn resistance abandoned him and he released a jagged wail of agony.

“Yes, I suppose I ought to…” the man murmured once his cries faded. 

He howled again as a boot-clad foot stomped on his forearm. The bone snapped and hot blood gushed from the hole it punched through his carefully sculpted musculature. All that work, and for what?

I’m gonna be sick!

The film’s screaming and his own retching mixed together as the first wave of agony lost its bite. Adrenaline was a beautiful thing, to dull away the worst of it, but enough remained to draw forth increasingly emasculating sounds. Pathetic. 

Something pulled at his waist and before he had the chance to talk himself out of it, Michael looked down to find the cause. 

The man was slicing off his calves. He didn’t feel any pain from it, only the pressure when the last few strands of sinew snapped away. A small blessing, wrapped in the horror or his own paralysis. Sour bile flooded his mouth at the sight of his body being pulled apart and the coppery smell of blood, another helping of vomit spilling out to mix with the precious fluid. 

“Hmm, yes. That one next, I think,” the man said. Michael barely noticed; his mind was elsewhere.

Silver flashed. Volcanic agony erupted in its wake as the madman hacked off his bicep. Michael screamed again, louder than before as he felt every shredded cell split, but the film drowned him out. None would hear his cries. 

The void where his flesh once rested wept crimson. His arm felt limp, as if he’d just finished a long work out. Pain choked him, the severed nerves wailing their protest as if it might somehow save him. Michael closed his eyes, mentally begging for unconsciousness to claim him. Anything to escape this hell.

“This moment is all we have together, don’t spoil it by closing your eyes…”

The blade whistled through the air, lithe fingers grasping each eyelid in turn as metal split the thin tissue apart. His eyes burned, red soaking his vision yet not enough to make him blind to the grin on his tormenter’s face. Never had he seen such a cruel image.

Tears and blood alike dribbled down his cheeks. He thought he knew pain, thought he understood the way the human body was put together. How much strain the muscles could handle before they broke down, only to grow back stronger than before.

But there was no “growing back” from this. 

The madman hummed a cheerful tune as he pulled apart Michael’s meticulously toned body. Chunks of meat and sinew slapped wetly in a pile, for what purpose he didn’t have the focus to imagine. How much longer before it was too much? How many more times would his heart beat?

Not enough, yet also too many.

Please, please, please make it stop! Just kill me!

The next time the blade struck bone, Michael lost control of his bladder. As it dug against his collarbone and scraped away all he was, his mind snapped. White-hot terror and pain overwhelmed him, he had nowhere to hide from it and there was no end in sight. He drowned in agony so powerful each second felt like an eternity.

Somewhere far away, voices screamed a poor imitation of his torture as his own voice gave out. All Michael could manage now were dull whimpers.

And then, even that freedom was stolen from him as the ghoul carved his jaw open to remove his tongue. Another wet slap as he tossed it into the pile with the rest. How the fuck was he still conscious? 

“I must say, you have impressive endurance.”

Michael gurgled, mangled jowls flapping. His vision blurred, darkness leaking in around the edges. Was it time? Was it finally over? 

Please, god, just let me die…

“It seems our time together is at an end. How unfortunate, I was having such fun.”

Michael’s vision narrowed, the final curtain call of his life passing by. He didn’t resist it, instead mentally racing toward oblivion with all he had left. Whatever awaited him on the other side had to be better than this. Death was the only way out.

Twisted laughter heralded his release, a final flash of metal as the artist sliced open his neck. At last, blessed peace…

---V---

The artist cackled and leaned closer, staring deep into the boy’s mutilated eyes as the last glimmers of life left them. He’d never understand why others killed from a distance; there was no greater power on earth than watching another being die and knowing he made it happen. That moment, that last soft sigh as their spirit broke free…

He found it beautiful.

People revealed their true selves as they died. Their fear, their hopes and dreams, everything they valued was on full display for him. In a way, he knew his victims better than anyone else ever could. In some cases, they also knew him. 

But this one…

He hadn’t lied. The boy reminded him of his younger self, before Nero’s death and all that came with it. Back when he saw the world with wonder and hope, when he’d never seen the color of blood when it gushes from an open chest cavity.

The pen he’d used to trick his target sounded nothing like a gun; the boy simply didn’t know what one sounded like. It was a lucky guess that such a fool didn’t have prior exposure to such things, but it paid off. 

Still.

“Why cannot the ear be closed to its own destruction?”

The words of William Blake and the true sound of gunfire echoed in his mind as he carved the corpse like a Thanksgiving turkey. The panic, the confusion and shock when it first broke out, the look of resolve on his best friend’s face. Like a film he’d seen too many times, his mind held each frame in his memory forevermore. 

“Get down!”

Nero…

He forced himself to relive it all. Those three minutes of anguish taught him more about the nature of life than his prior two decades of comfort. It seemed longer at the time; only later did he learn the true duration of his trauma. 

No. Not his trauma. 

His failure.

“V, what the hell?! Get down!”

He remembered the thud of the lecturer's heavy tome slamming onto the floor, Blake’s words soon to be soaked in the blood of the innocent. Dozens of voices screaming. Gunfire. Doors slamming open. Bodies hitting the floor. 

He remembered smelling the coppery tang of blood in the air for the first time, tinged with piss and panic. Vomit and someone’s leftover French fries. Gunpowder, too; the same smell as New Year’s Eve. 

He remembered feeling the pressure to move and how his legs refused to obey. The way his hands trembled as he stared at what would surely end his life. A warm, heavy weight crashing into his chest and knocking him to the ground.

Nero.

Whispered words and the splash of scarlet across his face when Nero coughed. 

“Play dead and… take care of her…”

The light fading from his crystal blue eyes.

Tears spilling from his own.

The artist cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. Yes, it was good to remember. It reminded him of why he needed to keep going, why the blood must continue to flow. The reason for his existence. Never could he allow himself to forget – to do so would dishonor his friend. After everything Nero did for him, V owed him this much.

He remembered the empty words of others afterward, the crushing vice that held his heart captive. The weight that bent his shoulders in grief. His family, hesitant and unsure how to restore his previously carefree spirit. His teachers, the pity and discomfort in their eyes whenever they spotted him in class.

He remembered the announcement of the memorial and Professor Marx, asking him to participate. The now-familiar voice of Vergil in his mind urging him to do it, if only to maintain appearances. The gentle scrape of his brush against canvas and the tightness of his throat with each added stroke. The duality of being both numb and feeling far too much all at once.

He remembered her face, swollen and red as she declared him the reason for her fiance’s death. His shame as he accepted her words. How could he argue? She was right, after all. Going to the Blake recitation was his idea. A second, more gravelly voice in his mind, calling her obscene names and giving shape to his urge to deny responsibility. Griffon.

He remembered the unveiling, all the families gathered together to see his and his classmates’ work. Nero’s family, shell-shocked and angry but without a target. The hush that fell over the crowd as each name was read, far too many. Rustling cloth as the covering fell, and the gasps as grieving families found their murdered loved one’s faces.

He remembered his rage boiling inside him as nothing changed in the months to come. An inferno he couldn’t contain, not with the addition of Shadow’s voice; a wordless roar of crashing fury. The cacophony of all their bickering in his mind, indecision and desperation only making them harder to ignore.

He remembered breaking. The gradual creation of his plan and the sense of purpose that grew from it. The urgency of his new goal and the thrill of being reborn. Leaving home to escape the relentless pity, finding his path and walking it without fear. His fear did nothing to help him. His fear was what got his friend killed.

His fear would never control him again.

He released a shaky breath and closed his eyes. There was still so much to do. Eventually, someone would track the boy’s blood here and discover his latest work; it needed to be ready before then. Perhaps once he finished it, he could honor his friend somehow. Carefully, of course. The locals were still hunting him.

And his work was not yet done.

~~~~Next Chapter~~~~

[trashyswitch]

Marvin’s Favorite Spell

Marvin has a favorite spell he's been testing for a while. When Marvin wakes up in a playful mood, he decides to try it out on his friends for the first time!

This fanfiction was loosely based on @franklyshipping​‘s series: ‘Marvin the Mischievous’. I added my own twist to it and everything. The only similar thing is the fact that Marvin is the main character, being all mischievous and stuff.

Marvin is a magician. We all know this. But did you know, he also has a spell book? Marvin's spell book was filled with many spells. Levitation spells, transformation spells, love spells, and millions more! But, there's one specific spell that Marvin keeps bookmarked with the words 'BEST SPELL' on the top of the bookmark.

That spell, is an Invisibility spell.

The invisibility spell is pretty self explanatory: Make yourself invisible. When mixed together, the powder can be initiated by sprinkling it onto yourself. It can be used for hiding things and sneaking around, but it's mostly a fun spell that you can use to mess with your friends. You can make them think the house is haunted, have them believe they have powers, or maybe just make them think they're having bad luck today. All of those possibilities can be achieved through the invisibility spell.

Marvin has been trying this spell out for a while now, in the comfort of his room. No one has seen him turn invisible yet. He's memorized the powder mix, and tested it out just on his own. This way, he's practiced his ability to sneak around quietly and used the powder whenever he pleases. That way, he can use it on his friends without posing any threats or harm. That's the last thing Marvin would want to do to his friends.

This morning though, Marvin woke up in a really playful mood. He almost immediately felt it since the moment he woke up. He wanted to play with someone. Mess with someone. Tickle someone...

Hmm...Tickling isn't a bad idea. Tickling while invisible seems like a genius plan! Marvin, you're a genius! For once in your life, you're a genius!

Marvin pulled out his spell book, and opened it to the bookmarked page: Page 138-139.

'Invisibility Powder

Mix together the following: -1 Fern Leaf -1 tbsp of Dried poppy seeds

Add: -1 tsp Slippery elm powder -1 tsp Myrrh -1 tsp Marjoram -3 small fresh Dillweed branches

Add 9 drops of almond cooking extract with enough spring water to make everything barely moist, and mix in well. Place in a ceramic bowl, spreading as thinly as possible, and dry the mixture over low heat, stirring it occasionally, until it seems lightly browned. Pour back into mortar, and grind again. When finely powdered, store in a clear glass container. It will keep its power for years. Sprinkle, just a little bit, on yourself, objects, or in a place to be made invisible.' Marvin read.

Marvin followed the instructions, placing everything in like he practiced. Then, Marvin placed it into a small bottle. Before putting it away, he sprinkled some onto himself. Then, he put a cork stopper onto the bottle top, and put the bottle in his pocket. Very soon, he could feel the powder taking effect. The moment he couldn't see his reflection in the mirror, he was ready.

Marvin walked out of his room, making sure no one was walking by. He walked out of his room quietly, and began to walk. He walked around the entire house, keeping in mind where everyone was. Thankfully for Marvin, no two people were in 1 room at the same time. This made it easier for Marvin to consider who would be watching his attacks. After memorizing where everyone was, he went to the first victim's location: the kitchen. It was Jackie.

Jackie appeared to be eating a protein bar while leaning on the island. Marvin decided to wait a couple seconds for Jackie to finish his protein bar. Once Jackie finished his protein bar, he threw away the wrapper, and jogged up to his workout room. Quickly slipping through the door as to not raise suspicion, Marvin got into the workout room. He's seen the workout room before, and has watched Jackie workout. He usually started with weights.

Marvin watched as Jackie loaded up the bar with weights, before laying onto the bench set. Grabbing the barbell, he lifted it off the barbell rest, and started lifting, lowering and counting. Marvin walked around the mats that were on the floor, and snuck up behind the barbell rest. After placing the barbell back onto the rest, Marvin decided to attack. He scratched a single finger, into the back of Jackie's neck.

Jackie let out a surprisingly high pitched squeal! Marvin had to retreat his hand to stop himself from laughing. "What the-" Jackie muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. After brushing off the tickly feeling, Jackie decided to pick up the barbell, and do a few more lifts. In the middle of his lifts, Jackie felt a tickly feeling right on his abs.

"AAah! Whohoho's thehehere?!" Jackie asked through his giggles, as he placed the barbell back onto the rest before he lost energy. Marvin retreated his hand, and tried to think of another spot to tickle. Looking down, he noticed that the back of his knees were exposed, thanks to the space between the bench cushions. Marvin smirked as he quietly snuck up to the spot, and laid on his back underneath the bench. Marvin let Jackie do another round of curls, before poking and prodding the bottom of his knees with both his index fingers.

"Hehehehey! Shohohow yohohoursehelf!" Jackie ordered. Marvin removed his fingers. "I demand you to show yourself immedi-" Jackie yelled, before being interrupted by the returning ticklish feeling under his knees. "AAhahahAHAHA! Whohoho ahahare yohohohou?!" Jackie asked through his giggles and spouts of laughter. Jackie tried to sound intimidating, but the ticklish laughter was a lot more controlling than Jackie could've predicted. And unfortunately for him, laughing while making demands didn't intimidate even the most cowardly of villains. Marvin smiled, and decided to try something out. He crawled up to Jackie's shoes, grabbed onto his ankle, and brought his other hand up to his pocket. Marvin grabbed his bottle of powder, and sprinkled some powder onto the shoe. Very soon, the powder took effect and made the foot on the inside appear. He lifted his hand, poking and prodding the now-visibly socked foot.

"Whahahat the hehehehell?! Hohohow are yohohohou dohohohoing thihihis?!" Jackie asked through his light laughter. Jackie was so confused. What was even going on right now?! For Jackie, his foot still felt like the shoe hadn't left his foot at all. So, Jackie thought the criminal was tickling his feet through his shoes. How was this person tickling him through his shoes?! So much for trying to cover his feet up.

Marvin soon found where his toes were, and dug his pinky toe under his toes.

"AAAAHAHAHA! NAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE! PLEHEHEHEASE NAHAHAT THEHEHERE!" Jackie begged. Wow...Jackie was already begging?! His toes must tickle a lot, to be begging THIS soon. Marvin smiled and moved his fingers to the inner arch of his foot.

"IHIHI CAHAHAHAN'T BREHEHEHEATH!" Jackie yelled. Marvin smirked before removing both hands. He grabbed the powder once again, sprinkled some on, and watched as the shoe became visible once again. Standing up, Marvin eyed up his slightly tired victim. After a couple more seconds of breathing, Jackie got up, walked into an open space in his workout room, and got himself into a defensive stance.

"I demand you show yourself to me immediately!" Jackie demanded. Marvin rolled his eyes, and shook his head with an eyebrow slightly raised. "If you refuse to follow my orders, then I'll have no choice but to arrest you." Jackie warned in as serious of a tone as he could muster.

Marvin just about snorted at that remark. He sounded so confident, talking to a 'criminal' he couldn't even lay eyes on! How much damage does he think he's gonna cause? How do you attack something that doesn't even have a visual to aim at?

Marvin decided to mess around with him. He ran around, dodging every attack Jackie attempted. Every time Jackie attempted an attack, he would wind up hitting nothing and stumble. That was when Marvin would attack.

Jackie threw a punch and lost his balance for a moment. Marvin ganged up from the side and wiggled his fingers on his exposed side. "EEEEK! Knohohock ihihit ohohohoff!" Jackie said.

Next, Jackie attempted a few punches in one direction. Marvin pretended to silently yawn, before walking up behind him and shoving his hands into Jackie's armpits.

"NAHAHAHAHA! COHOHOHOME OHOHOHON!" Jackie bursted out. His arms came crashing down, as he let out fits of laughter. Pretty soon, Jackie lifted his arms and ran away from the tickly fingers.

To try and land something, Jackie tried a roundhouse kick. This ended up backfiring however, as when his foot came up, Marvin just caught the leg in midair, and wiggled his fingers under his knees again.

"STAHAHAHAP THAHAHAHAT! LEHEHET MEHEHE GOOHOHOHO!" Jackie begged. It was starting to occur to Jackie, just how impossible this fight was gonna be. What was he supposed to do?!

Marvin let go of his leg and walked around him. Jackie decided to wait for the criminal to attack first. So, he waited. Marvin could sense what Jackie was planning. So, he circled the man, poking every ticklish spot he could find. He went for the sides, abs, stomach, neck, back, underarms, knees, and even a couple to the neck. Jackie reacted with either a squeal, a giggle or a yelp each time.

Finally, to end it all off: Marvin went behind him, and drilled his fingers into his hips. Jackie's reaction was priceless! He let out a super loud squeal and absolutely howled with laughter. It didn't take long for Jackie's knees to buckle and hit the ground. His hips were a death spot for him, and no one actually knew this except for Schneeplestein. Or so he thought...

"SHNEHEHEHEHEEP! IHIHIS THAHAHAHAT YOHOHOHOU?!" Jackie asked through his hysterical laughter. Marvin frowned at this, and dug his fingers harder into his hips.

"OHOHOHOHOHO GAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Jackie screamed! He couldn't even properly speak anymore, he was laughing so much! Finally, Marvin finished up. He removed his fingers and walked away. Jackie's whole body collapsed onto a mat, utterly exhausted from the ticklish treatment he was just put through. Was it Dr. Schneeplestein?! If so, how was he invisible? Hopefully, he would get some answers soon...

Marvin's next target, was Chase Brody. Chase was playing video games in the gaming room. Yes, the Egos had a gaming room. The house came with an extra bedroom, which they converted into a gaming room. And in that gaming room, Chase was sitting in front of the big computer screen, playing Burnout Paradise on his Xbox. Marvin slightly opened the door, and checked to make sure he wasn't spotted. Once he was all clear, he opened it a bit more, and squeezed his body through the small opened wedge of the door before closing it.

"LOOK OUT EVERYONE! YA BOY AVERAGE, COMING THROUGH!" Chase shouted, just about giving Marvin a mini heart attack. Marvin jumped about 3 feet in the air, and almost yelled in surprise. That was close...

After calming himself down, Marvin tried to think of how to get his attention. Perhaps turning off the TV might be a good start? Marvin looked around, and found the remote halfway across the room for some reason. So, he grabbed it and turned the TV off.

"What the- COME OOOONN! I WAS SOOOOO CLOOOOSE!" Chase whined. while Chase was complaining, Marvin quickly removed the batteries, put them in his pocket, placed the remote back down and stepped aside. "Where's the remote again?" Chase asked himself. Chase looked around, and soon found the remote on the couch. He picked it up and clicked the power button.

It didn't turn on. Chase clicked it again. Nothing...Confused, he watched the remote as he clicked the power button...none of the buttons were lighting up...strange...

'did the batteries die?' Chase thought. He turned it around, and started to remove the lid from the battery compartment. Suddenly, Chase felt a poke against his stomach. Chase jumped backwards as his voice went wobbly for a moment. Okay...that was weird. He lifted up the battery lid, and noticed something: There were no batteries.

Chase placed the remote down, pulled out his phone and started texting a group text of the roommates in his house. Once the text went out, he placed the phone down. As he was bending down to pick up the remote, he felt a sudden push. Chase winded up losing his balance, and sitting on the ground.

"Alright, who's messing with me- Hehehehahaha! Hehehehey! Whohoho's tihihihihickling mehehehe?!" Chase said, bursting into a fit of giggles. Marvin smiled as he tickled his stomach. It's a good thing he's invisible right now.

"Hellohohohoho?! Who's-" Chase asked, before being interrupted by his own squeal. Marvin had started squeezing and lightly clawing at the sides of his tummy. "WAHAHAHA! NOHOHO! ANYWHEHEHEHERE BUT THEHEHEHERE!" Chase yelled, bursting into more laughter. It seems Chase was ticklish on his tummy. But what about his belly button?

Marvin dipped his finger into his belly button, and swirled it around. "EEEEEEK! NAHAHAT MY BEHEHELLY BUHUTTON! EEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE!" Chase begged, turning his body onto his stomach. Marvin frowned. His barrel roll had caused Marvin to lose a couple tickle spots. But, not all hope was lost. While he was there, Marvin decided to try his back muscles around the spine. He used his index finger and his thumb to push against the muscles beside his spine. He would give his muscles a little wiggle, before lifting and pushing his fingers against the spine an inch lower each time. At first, there was less reaction and more questions.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this? Heck, what are you even trying to do? Give me a back massage?"

But the lower down the spine that Marvin got, the more laughter started to show up.

"Wahait! Nahat any lohohower! Plehehease doOHOHOHO- OHOHOHOHO MY GAHAHAHAD! HAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAVE- HAHAHAVE MEHEHEHEHERCYYY!" Chase shouted. His eyes had widened to the size of saucers, before shutting tightly as his fists pounded the floor almost aggressively.

Marvin decided to let him go...for now...He removed his hands and decided to instead, very lightly scratch the back of his neck. This seemed to allow Chase a chance to breath, but still caused some giggles to leave his mouth. "Hahahahahaha! Hahaha...heheheheh..." Chase giggles. The man seemed to be calming down, and surprisingly...Chase was starting to relax.

Chase still had no idea what was going on. He didn't understand how he was being tickled without anybody actually there. But because it involved tickling, he didn't really mind it. Though the laughter was forced, it still made him feel happy. Marvin removed his fingers completely and stood up. He was glad that he could make someone genuinely happy through doing this, but he still had a mission to attend to. So, he grabbed the batteries from his pocket and placed them on a corner table near the door. With the batteries in sight, Marvin left the room.

Marvin walked around, heading for the next target: Henrik's office. Now, Henrik was an interesting one. He had an in-home doctor's office in a small room, that had a door connecting his office to his bedroom. He liked working on medical based things, so Marvin would have to be careful he doesn't damage or ruin something of Henrik's in the process. Marvin already knew where Henrik's worst spots were, but wanted to start off easy. So, he snuck up behind him, waited for him to place something down, and fluttered his fingers on the back of his neck.

"WaAAAh!" Henrik yelped, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, embarrassed by the sound he just made. Despite what just happened, Henrik gave the back of his neck a little scratch, and went on with his day. However, he only managed to do this for 5 seconds because suddenly, Marvin drilled his fingers into the sides of Henrik's stomach. This caused a squeal and a giggle to leave his mouth, before he turned around and put his hands up in front of him in self defense. Though it was an attempt, this proved to be pointless, as Marvin snuck up behind him once again and drummed his fingers on Henrik's ribs.

"AAaahahahahehehe!" Henrik laughed and squirmed, falling to his knees as he protected his ribs with his arms. He didn't really understand what was going on, but he wondered if the thing could be grabbed. So, he attempted it. When Marvin would tickle Henrik, Henrik would let himself laugh and try to reach for the spot. It took quite a few tries, but Henrik manged to get something in the middle of his laughing. "AHahahahaha! Gahahatcha!" Henrik cheered through his giggles.

Marvin's eyes widened. How did he know?! Did he know who it was?! Marvin stayed quiet as Henrik felt the thing he was holding. He felt the palm, the wrist, the individual fingers and even the nails.

"...A human...An invisible human." Henrik muttered to himself. Before Henrik could discover anything else, Marvin grabbed his arm with his free hand, and pushed him. He watched as Henrik protested and pulled at his arm, but walked backwards, following him. After a bit more pushing, Marvin felt Henrik's back hit the wall behind him.

"Vhat on earth are you trying to do?!" Henrik yelled. Marvin let his arm go and skittered his fingers on Henrik's ribs again. "Vahahahahait! Ehehexplahahain yohohoursehehelf!" Henrik ordered through his laughter, letting go of Marvin's hand as he succumbed to the ticklish trap. Marvin added his now free hand into the mix, wiggling both hands' digits on Henrik's ribs. Henrik's laughter heightened and grew louder, and his knees started to give way.

Slowly, Henrik was falling and Marvin was bending down, following him down the wall. As Henrik finally hit the ground, Marvin moved his hands to the front, digging into the front of his ribs and into the core muscles. As Marvin expected, Henrik threw back his head and stretched out his legs. "NOHOHOHOHOHO! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Henrik reacted. He squirmed around, trying to get the mysterious hands away from his ticklish body, but to no avail. Marvin decided to take it up a notch, by switching his hand tactics to clawing and quick vibrating.

The reaction from Henrik was absolutely hilarious! "SCHEHEHEHEHEIßE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHALT! BIHIHIHIHIHIHITTE!" Henrik yelled through his hysterical laughter. Henrik was starting to revert to his native language! That rarely ever happened!

Marvin realized that this was a sign to stop very soon. The doctor kicked, he squirmed, he shook his head, and he swatted at the clawing hands. But nothing could stop the mysterious hands from tickling him. Marvin decided to try out two more spots before he stopped. Marvin moved his hands up to Henrik's armpits first.

"AAAAAAAAAAHH! NEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEIN!" Henrik shouted! His arms had clamped down, trapping his hands under his arms. Maaayybe he should've tried the neck first...

Marvin stopped his fingers, and patiently waited for Henrik to let his hands go. When he did, Marvin shot his right arm up and lightly wiggled his fingers on Henrik's neck.

"Ohohohokay...okahahahay...Zhat's behehetter...Zhahahank yohohou..." Henrik said through his much more calm giggles. Marvin to completely stop, and give the poor man a break. He was afraid he might've gone overboard.

Marvin stood back up, and stared at the exhausted Henrik, who was deeply breathing on the floor. Feeling slightly bad, Marvin went over to the sink, got a glass of water and handed it to him. Henrik smiled, sat back up and took the drink.

"Zhank you...you didn't have to do zhat..." Henrik said, placing the paper cup beside him. Marvin smiled to himself, before leaving the room.

Next, was Jameson Jackson, or JJ/Jamie for short. Henrik looked around, but couldn't find JJ in his room. Strange...he was there earlier...Perhaps he moved?

He walked around for a while longer, soon finding JJ in the living room. He appeared to be working on a jigsaw puzzle of a street with old cars, and a farmer riding a horse. So far, JJ had the cars on the street filled and was starting to put together the hotel building, with the black car parked in between the buildings. Noticing a piece that fit a certain space, Marvin waited for JJ to look away. When he looked away, Marvin grabbed the puzzle piece, and fit it in quickly, before retreating and looking again. JJ looked back at the puzzle, and placed a piece...

'Wait a second..Wasn't that previously an empty space?' JJ thought to himself. Thinking he was losing his mind, JJ ignored it, and started looking around for another piece. While JJ was collecting a few more pieces, Marvin had grabbed a couple pieces and fit them in the right spot. JJ placed a piece in, and noticed it was...already filled? What? JJ looked at his own piece, looked around, and realized where it was actually supposed to go. Placing it in, he tried to wrack his brain to find out when he put that piece in. But...he couldn't recall putting it in at all!

While JJ was thinking, Marvin grabbed a pile of puzzle pieces, and started dragging them together to form a letter.

JJ reached for a pile of pieces, but felt nothing. Looking up, he noticed that the small puzzle pile he made earlier, was missing! Thinking they fell on the floor, he looked under the table...

No puzzle pieces. Looking back up, something caught his eye! A collection of puzzle pieces spelling something out:

'Hi' it said.

JJ's eyes widened, as he leaned away slightly. Is someone messing with him? If so, who?

JJ decided to try something. He pulled a pen out of his jacket, and made a notebook appear in his hand. He used the notebook to write a message.

'Hello.' JJ wrote. He placed the pen and paper on the other side of the table, and worked on the puzzle while he was waiting. After a couple more pieces were placed, JJ looked up to the notebook.

Nothing.

Perhaps he really was losing it. JJ looked back down at his puzzle, and looked around for the pieces of the Hotel sign in his puzzle.

Suddenly, a sound filled his ear...just for a moment. JJ looked up, to see the pen on top of the paper, rather than beside.

...Perhaps, he wasn't losing it? JJ looked at the notebook, and widened his eyes at the strokes of ink below his.

'Cool puzzle!'

JJ looked around him. To the right: no one. to the left: no one. behind him: no one. all around him: an empty room.

JJ narrowed his eyes. He grabbed the pen, wrote something down before placing it down in front of him.

JJ waited. He needed to know. Is there a ghost he wasn't aware of? Who else knew about this ghost? Why was there a ghost in here? What was its na-

JJ's thoughts stopped there, when suddenly...the pen started rising up! JJ jumped back in total shock! GHOST!

Despite what JJ was thinking, Marvin was picking up the pen, and writing down something before dropping the pen and letting it click against the paper. JJ looked at the notebook, and hesitantly picked up the paper with his shaky hand. He grabbed the notebook, watched the pen slide off the notebook and onto the table, and read the paper:

'Look behind you...' it read.

JJ bit his lip, nervous about what to see. He slowly turned around, clenching the notebook with his shaky hand. He opened his squeezed eyes, and looked...

A glove? Scratch that...two gloves were floating in front of him.

One of the gloves waved to him...JJ, not knowing what else to do, waved back.

Eager to get this show on the road, Marvin, with his gloves on, started wiggling his fingers. JJ raised an eyebrow, confused as to what 'wiggling fingers' meant.

The gloves flew towards him, and started examining JJ. One glove grabbed his hat and lifted it off his head, while the other glove felt his hair and ruffled it. JJ, slightly annoyed, grabbed his hat and plopped it back onto his head.

Marvin's gloved hand, now free of the hat, placed its finger on JJ's neck, and scratched the side of his neck. JJ let out a squeal and curled his neck instinctively. With the other gloved hand, Marvin scratched the other side of his neck. JJ scrunched his shoulders, a toothy grin showing up on his face as he tipped his head back. Marvin's fingers continued scratching, until one of the fingers got under the jawline. JJ let out another squeal, as his own hands came up to swat at the gloved hands. The gloved hands didn't budge however, as the other gloved hand only went for the other side of the jawline. JJ threw his head back as his giggles grew a little louder. Marvin smiled to himself. it's working!

Next, the gloved hands went up to JJ's ears. JJ squealed loudly, as his head curled to the side to stop the gloves from tickling his ear. When the other gloved hand went for the other ear, all hell broke loose. JJ bursted out laughing, before falling onto his back. Marvin's gloves followed him, dancing his fingers on JJ's tummy and sides. JJ's smile was toothy and wide, and his squirming was increasing rather quickly. Marvin kept his hands on JJ's tummy, making sure to squish and squeeze his toned belly as well. JJ was laughing and giggling, shaking his head, and signing frantically.

'Stop! Stop, too ticklish!' Marvin could understand through JJ's frantic signs. Marvin smiled at the adorable man below him, as he kept one hand on his belly and used the other hand to go back to scratching his ear. JJ's laughter turned to cackles, as he threw his head back and lost his hat.

Suddenly, the gloved hands started spidering his sides, and walked up, up and up across his ribs, and into his armpits! JJ's arms came crashing down as his body swayed frantically back and forth.

Marvin was absolutely enjoying this! So far, JJ has been the most fun to tickle! Marvin knew JJ was ticklish from watching other people tickle him, but he didn't know how ticklish he really was! That is, until now. At this moment, Marvin had JJ stuck being tickled for a while, and he wanted to appreciate it for as long as he possibly could.

So far, it seemed like JJ's most ticklish spots were his tummy and his armpits. Marvin just about died at the cuteness! He placed his gloved hands back onto his ticklish neck, and wiggled his fingers excitedly.

In the midst of Marvin's little attack, his eyes came across the useful item from earlier: the pen. Feeling a wide and mischievous smirk form on his lips, Marvin grabbed the pen, clicked the ballpoint tip open, and started to draw on his neck with the pen! JJ let out an ear-piercing squeal! Marvin could easily tell JJ was enjoying this, and could happily announce that JJ was having the most ticklish time of his life! He continued drawing on his neck, creating little drawings on JJ's neck. JJ was kicking his legs, trying not to squirm too much.

Soon, Marvin decided to give JJ a break. He removed his hands, clicked the pen and placed it aside. JJ stayed laying on the ground, curled in a ball and rubbing his ticklish spots free of the leftover tingly feeling. While JJ was laying there, Marvin wrote a note into the notebook and placed it down. JJ eventually got up, grabbed the notebook and read the words written:

'Thanks for the little tickle session! P.S. You have an adorable smile!'

JJ could feel his cheeks heating up as he tried to hide his growing grin from whoever could be watching. Was he still there? He couldn't see the gloves anymore. So...perhaps he left?

And indeed, he did! Marvin had left JJ a couple minutes ago, and went to find Shawn: his last victim. Now, Marvin was a little nervous about this one. He wanted to leave Shawn till the very end for a specific reason, that he refused to admit. He wanted to think outside the box for Shawn's.

Marvin suspected he was in his room, painting, toy making, something of that sort. Marvin walked up to the open door and looked in: Turns out, he was right!

Shawn was holding a mixing tray, playing with different colors on a blank canvas.

'Man, that painting looked good!' the magician thought. Marvin looked around the room, and settled his eyes on Shawn's desk. On the desk were many cup holders: One for pencils and pens, one for scissors, sharpeners and erasers, one for glue sticks, and lastly: one for paintbrushes. There was a big variety of brushes: From tiny tipped brushes, to large wall paintbrushes. Marvin's lips formed into a mischievous smirk as an evil, ingenious idea came to his head.

Marvin snuck into the room. He walked past the display of toys and the reading chair, and towards the desk. He picked up the container of paintbrushes, and grabbed a small one and a big one from the cup. Just as he was placing the cup back, Shawn had turned around, and noticed that the brush container was moving by itself! Shawn dropped his paint-filled brush and gasped. This got Marvin's attention. Shoot...this wasn't part of the plan...

Marvin decided to quickly improvise. He put 3 of the brushes onto the desk, and carried the second biggest one with him. As he walked up to Shawn suspense-fully, he pointed the brush end at the painter, shaking it back and forth. Shawn jumped out of his chair, and made a run for it. he ran around his room a couple times, before running out the door. Marvin followed him as they entered the hallway.

A wild chase had begun. Shawn took twists and turns to try and slow the paintbrush down, but found that the paintbrush was getting closer and closer no matter what he did. As he tried to look for a place to hide, he realized there was a chair in front of him. Jumping up, he landed on the seat, and took a step onto the table! He took a couple steps on the table, before suddenly: His running came to a screeching halt! He tried to run. His legs were going, his arms were swaying back and forth, but his body wasn't moving! Before he could find out what was going on, his whole body was pulled backwards into an invisible grip!

Shawn yelled, but his mouth was silenced by...what felt like a hand? He tried to fight it, but struggled to keep it up. His fighting slowly turned to squirming as something started tickling him in the mysterious grip. Shawn muffled grunts turned to muffled laughter as his ribs were poked and clawed at. God...he probably looked really weird, laughing and squirming as he floated in the air. Thankfully no one was around to witness this.

As Shawn's muffled laughter continued, he watched as the mysterious creature carried him back to his room, and placed him onto his bed. Shawn attempted to escape again, but was stopped by a body...a body he couldn't see. The only thing he could see, was the hand imprints in his bed. Shawn started to feel around. Originally, he was trying to find an opening. But soon...that thought left his mind as a new thought replaced it: 'Who is this?'. Shawn felt everything he could reach: the arms, the head, the face, the hands, the shoulders, even the chest. It soon dawned on him that this was a human...and telling by the mask he could feel on the person's face, not just any human...

"...Wwwaaaaaaiiit...M-Marvin?" Shawn asked. Marvin's jaw dropped. HOW DID HE-...

Marvin started laughing nervously. "How did you know?" Marvin asked, using his voice for the first time.

"HEEEEYY! It IS you!" Shawn yelled excitedly.

"Yup...it's me..." Marvin said, embarrassed that Shawn found out who he was.

"Why, in the world, are you invisible?!" Shawn asked. Marvin pulled the bottle of invisible powder out of his pocket. Shawn rolled his eyes and let his head fall onto the bed with a smile on his lips. "Invisible powder? Really?" Shawn asked. Marvin pulled the cork off of the bottle, and sprinkled a bit onto his head. Suddenly, his body started appearing, bit by bit.

"...Surprise?" Marvin said awkwardly, before falling into a fit of laughter.

"You were the one controlling the brush?!" Shawn asked, laughing himself.

"Yes!" Marvin replied.

"You were the one who picked me up, and tickled me?!" Shawn asked with a smile on his face.

Marvin looked away, his face heating up and a cheeky grin growing onto his face. "...Maaaaaayybe..." Marvin replied.

Shawn narrowed his eyes and smirked in a mischievous, but curious manner. Suddenly, two hands gripped him. "Come here, ya little shit!" Shawn yelled, before spinning them both around. Now, Shawn was on the top, and Marvin was below him. "You know, you could've told me about your little crush." Shawn declared, grabbing his hands and holding them above his head. As Shawn thought about where to tickle first, he looked up to Marvin. "So tell me: Do you have a crush on me?" Shawn asked, before licking his lips eagerly. Marvin just about died upon watching that. Suddenly, a hand had found his side. Marvin looked down, and saw that it was Shawn's hand...uh oh..."I think someone needs some help confessing..." Shawn teased, clawing at Marvin's side. Marvin bursted into laughter as his body started squirming.

"Hahahahaha! Shaahahahawn! Thahahahat tihihihickles!" Marvin whined through his laughter.

Shawn gasped dramatically. "What?! This TiCkLeS? Perhaps I'd better fix that for you! What do you say, Marvy?" Shawn asked in a teasy voice. Marvin's laughter grew louder, as embarrassment over the nickname took a hold of him.

"DOHOhohon't cahahahall mehehe thahahahat!" Marvin yelled out of embarrassment.

"Hmm...I'll take that as a yes." Shawn decided, before giving Marvin a break. He walked over to his desk, and eyed up the single paintbrush laying on the desk. He knew Marvin was planning to use them on him. So...what would happen if Shawn reverse carded him, and used the paintbrushes on Marvin? Shawn smirked, grabbing the paintbrush from the desk and placing them into his pocket before walking back. Shawn grabbed the tiny brush out of his pocket and lifted up his shirt. Then, he dipped the paintbrush end into Marvin's belly button.

"aaAAAH! NAHAHAHAT THE BEHEHEHELLY BUHUHUTTON! HAHAHAHAHA!" Marvin yelled, bursting into laughter as he tried to squirm away from the paintbrush. Unfortunately, Shawn's brush would only follow the belly to wherever it squirmed to.

"There! That's a lot better." Shawn declared, swirling the paintbrush in Marvin's belly button.

"HAHAHAHAHA! SHAHAHAHAHAWN! PLEEEHEHEHEHEHEASE!" Marvin pleaded. Shawn smirked at the sound. Was Marvin already begging? It certainly didn't take that long.

Shawn gave Marvin another break. He pulled the invisible powder bottle out of Marvin's pocket, pulled off the cork and sprinkled a bit onto his head.

"Wa-wait! Yohou dohohon't know how tohoho use ihihit!" Marvin argued, still giggly from being tickled a moment ago.

"Nah, I get it...See? Not so easy to see now, huh?" Shawn replied, showing Marvin his now invisible hands, holding the bottle and cork in his hands. Shawn placed the cork back into the bottle, gave it to Marvin, and started walking around the room.

"Uuuuhuhuh...Shaaahahawn?" Marvin warned, nervous giggles leaving his throat. Suddenly, a pair of hands had trapped Marvin into a tight hug from behind. From there, Marvin started laughing as fingers started attacking his ribs, tummy and sides. "NAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHI CAAHAHAHAHAHAN'T TAHAHAHAKE IHIHIT!" Marvin shouted, as best he could through his uncontrollable laughter.

"Aww! Come on, really? You can't take a bit of tickling?" Shawn asked.

"IHIHIHIT'S TOHOHOHOHOO MUHUHUHUHUCH!" Marvin yelled back, squirming and attempting to swat at Shawn's hands.

"Oooooh! Okay! So, you like lighter tickles then?" Shawn asked playfully.

Marvin didn't even wait a second to answer. YEHEHEHEHES!" Marvin yelled frantically. Shawn nodded, before stopping his fingers. He didn't let him go, though. He remained holding onto him, and calmly felt the man's deep breaths. He leaned his chin onto Marvin's shoulder as he processed the feeling, slowly closing his eyes to stay focused.

Shawn and Marvin remained like this for a while. Marvin had placed his hands on top of Shawn's, and leaned his head against Shawn's as well. They were both comfortable in each other's arms...

That was, until Shawn blew a raspberry into Marvin's neck.

"HEHEHEHehehehey! I thohohought wehehe were hahahaving ahaha mohohohoment?!" Marvin asked.

"We are! I'm just adding some laughter into the moment!" Shawn replied, before giving Marvin another raspberry into his neck. Marvin bursted out laughing again. When the laughter slowly died down, Shawn would blow another raspberry.

"Shahahahahahawn! Ihihit- AAAHAHAHaha! Ihihit tihihihickles!" Marvin whined, his laughter growing as he was given another raspberry in between his sentence.

"Really? It tickles? Here! Let me fix that!" Shawn decided, before blowing multiple raspberries up and down Marvin's neck.

"NAAAHAHAHahahaha! AHAHahahaha! Yohohohou're soohohoho MEHEHEHEHEAN!" Marvin yelled.

"Mean?! You think I'm mean?! I'm offended, Marvin!" Shawn reacted. Shawn continued to raspberry his neck, but also resumed the clawing on Marvin's tummy and sides again. Marvin threw his head back and bursted out into even more laughter! The more he laughed, the more his laughter turned to cackles! Soon, Marvin's cackles took over his body as he squirmed frantically to get out of Shawn's grip.

"AHA! I've gotcha!" Someone said. Suddenly, a pair of hands had scooped up Shawn, and dragged him backwards a few steps. Marvin got out of Shawn's loosened grip, and took off running to the wall on the other side of the room, before turning himself around.

"HEY! LET ME- EEEEK! HEHEHEHEY! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Shawn squealed, before falling into a fit of laughter. Marvin's eyes widened as he gazed at the person. It was Henrik! Oh gosh...He was trying to get revenge on the invisible person!

"Oooh! Does zhe invisible human have ticklish ribs, by any chance?" Henrik teased, before drilling his fingers into the bottom ribs and wiggling them. Shawn's laughter grew louder and higher as he kicked and pushed against the arms that trapped him.

"YEHEHEHEHESS! THEHEHEHEY'RE TOHOHOHOHOO TIHIHIHICKLIHIHISH!" Shawn yelled through his laughter. Henrik rolled his eyes and decided to raise his arms a little higher. He started digging his fingers into the middle ribs, making sure to dig into the sides of the ribs as well as the front.

"GAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! DON"T GO HIGHER! DOHOHOHON'T GOHOHO HIGHEHEHER!" Shawn begged.

"Oh, I'm going higher. Your laughter gets louder zhat vay!" Henrik replied, before dragging his fingers a little higher and digging into the ribs. Shawn's protests continued leaving his mouth, but soon, his squirming had started to die down. Marvin was SO thankful to not be in that situation.

"Now: Let's see who zhis invisible tickler is..." Henrik said, before pulling a bottle of invisible powder out of his pocket. Wait a second...

"Where did you get that?" Marvin asked slightly frantic.

"From your room. Either zhis is a ghost, or zhis is a fellow friend of ours." Henrik theorized, before sprinkling some invisible powder onto the invisible person's shaking head. The powder starting taking effect, as Shawn's body started reappearing in Henrik's arms. "Shawn?!" Henrik reacted, his jaw dropping at the shocking news.

"Yahahaha...whahahat dohoho yohou wahahahahant?" Shawn asked, confused as to what was going on.

"I vant to know why you vere tickling people in zhe house?" Henrik explained.

"Whahahat ahare yohohou tahahahalking abohohohout?" Shawn asked.

Henrik narrowed his eyes, as bits of frustration started to spark inside of him. Henrik decided to dig his hands into Shawn's armpits. "Now's not a good time to start denying. Spit zhe truth out!" Henrik ordered, still tickling him.

Shawn squeezed his armpits shut as he squirmed back and forth. "I AHAHAHAM TEHEHEHELLING THEHEHE TRUHUHUHUHUTH!" Shawn shouted.

"Oh, I doubt that!" Henrik replied, continuing his ticklish revenge on the 'invisible tickler'.

"Actually...he's not lying. Shawn wasn't the one who tickled everyone..." Marvin explained.

"Vait...really? Zhen, vhy vas Shawn invisible?" Henrik asked.

Shawn breathed in as much as he could, but also attempted to speak. "Because *huff* I...was *huff* getting...revenge...*huff* on Marvin. *huff* " Shawn said through puffs of air.

Henrik narrowed his eyes, and looked at Marvin. Marvin was scratching the back of his head, with a wobbly smile on his face. "Yyyyyup...Iiiit was meee..." Marvin confessed awkwardly. Henrik's revenge focused switched, dropping Shawn and running up to Marvin to cover him in vengeful tickles.

"Wait! Hold on- Henrik! We can talk about this, can't we?" Marvin attempted.

"Oh yes, ve CAN talk! Let's talk TICKLES!" Henrik said, before trapping Marvin in his arms and squeezing at his tummy.

"WAAHAHAHAHAHA! HEHEHENRIHIHIHIK!" Marvin yelled, bursting out into hysterical laughter. Henrik's fingers proceeded to dance all over Marvin's tummy, and he soon dipped his index finger into Marvin's sunken belly button.

Marvin exploded with laughter! "PLEHEHEHEHEASE! MEHEHERCY! MEHEHEHEHERCYY!" Marvin pleaded.

Henrik let his lips form into a smirk, before bringing his lips to Marvin's ear. "No amounts of mercy vill be given to you for a vhile. So yust do me a favor: Laugh it aaaaaalll out." Henrik whispered into his ear, before launching the ultimate tickle attack on the magician.

And indeed, Marvin laughed. And laughed, and cackled...and snorted, and let out all his other laughs as well! It was about time that Marvin gets that ultimate wrecking they've all been waiting for. In the end, Henrik took pity on him, and let him go. Then, all was well when Henrik gave him a glass of water.