#i remembered getting stuck in the seance room for AGES when i played it with my sis

[claitea]

the most tragic thing about me is that i actually love horror but i Cannot interact with it directly. i have to be watching someone elses playthrough of a horror game while drawing at the same time. horror movies are completely out of the question

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

In The Air Tonight

From The MoonBrella Academy

Word Count: 2300

Warnings: sex (penatrative, m/f), erotic asphyxiation, death, angst, PTSD, mentions of war, magic, general Klaus-induced chaos. GIF by @sheehanspam

A/N: During the summer of 1974, The Kostas family feels more than the oppressive weight heat. A true prophecy warns them something is on the horizon. Something that will set the course for the rest of their lives all thanks to the man out of time and a baby they promised to raise.

Honey found her balance after straddling Leon. Her hips rolled in a steady rhythm of back and forth. Her husband reached up to caress her breasts. She seized his wrists so tight, her manicured nails dug into her own palms.

Leon, switching gears, grabbed at them roughly instead. He pinched one of Honey’s nipples swollen then the other. They were lost perfectly in his grip as he massaged them, played with them as Honey rode him. He growled and she cried out before moving his hand towards her mouth to suck and bite at Leon's finger and thumb.

They were like a couple possessed. There was something in the air like static. Manhattan was the hottest Honey had known it to be. Everyone drifted slowly and drenched in sweat on the streets and in her apartment. It had been quiet during the worst of the heat. Only Diego and Klaus dained to still visit.

Earlier in the evening, up on the roof with their feet solidly in a wading pool, Leon and Honey sensed Klaus was uneasy about everything. He complained that the temperatures and the electricity in the air was suffocating him. Making his skin crawl as he stripped to his underwear. Everyone was in stages of undress, even the littles were naked and Honey topless.

“It's like Vietnam. The humidity is cellular. I feel strange and twisted.”

“Murderous, but fancy a good shag?” Leon’s query settled across the roof. “Like you could kill who you..” he mouthed fuck.

Two sets of verdant eyes gawked at Honey who suddenly sat up and covered her breasts. “Knock it off, the both of you. You're creeping me out.”

Somehow they made it through dinner and bedtime and MASH and Carol Burnett before Leon threw Honey over his shoulder. She squealed and mimicked trying to escape, but it only spurned Leon into grabbing a fistful of her ass. He maneuvered her around so she could wrap her arms and legs around him while they lumbered and kissed and undressed towards the bedrooms.

“Shhh,” Honey admonished with a strangled laugh. She pointed at the doorway to Sugar and Sunny’s room.

Klaus had passed out on the floor between the tiny beds, his head in his arms on his stomach. Sunny half poured out of the bed with a hand on his.. uncle? Brother? Klaus’s head, little fingers tangled up as he sucked on his free thumb.

Now here they were maybe hours later, insatiable. The air was stifling and had a magnetic crackle that raised the hair on their bodies as they kept having sex. Honey pushed it out of her mind that metal objects were slowly shifting in one direction as she placed Leon's hand around her throat. Her body rocked up and down faster.

There was a blue tinge to the sky and lightning. Heat lightning Leon insisted. It set Klaus on edge with the kids playing around him. He and Sunny tested out telekinesis while Selina danced to David Bowie. Her dark eyes were covered by Klaus’s literal rose colored glasses. He kept zoning out. Like he was waiting, waiting for the consequences of all of his actions.

“Tio Topolino, watch me!” Selina spun with her arms up in the air. Uncle Mouse. Klaus had been too hard to say before she learned her parents’ native tongues.

“Something is coming, Gracie.”

“Why would you say that, Leonidas?”

They were whispering in Greek. The littles weren't quite ready for Greek yet, but Klaus was born fluent. So they spoke in hushed tones on the fire escape.

“Doesn't it feel that way? The last few Weeks. Klaus usually leaves after a day. He's been here for nearly two months. There's bound to be repercussions, right?”

“Not much happened that he's said, or we read, as the result of Vietnam or 1960-1963.”

Leon rolled his eyes at his wife and made a tsk sound, “Just a bloody apocalypse or two. That Dickensian fuck who raised him got a whole new legion off it. Klaus talked you into having our baby. Then into taking another baby he stole. Skip a stone on a pond, and it makes ripples, don’t it?”

Honey hated when her husband was right. And her vagina loved how smart he was. She had looked in the window in time to see Sunny stand and toddle towards Klaus. His eyes glossed over and lost their irises. It was as if he had gone blind.

The parents scrambled through the window towards their son, but Klaus had him by the tiny hands. Sunny's pudgy fingers curled around his.. The larger ones for stability.

“Sunny?!” Selina shook her baby brother lightly.

“Klaus what the fuck? HELP HI-!” Honey yelled but Leon clamped a hand over her mouth.

“He’ll be ok,” Klaus sort of cooed. His voice was low and gentle. “I remember these. It happened so much when I was a kid. It's the innocence I think. I lost this ability because of Reginald.”

“He's in a trance, love. Like in all those movies with seances where the medium goes wonky, and they've got a message from the other side.” .

Everyone held their breath. Then a delighted shout came from the boy. “BIRB!! BEN!!” Then his eyes came back into focus; he threw his arms around Klaus’s neck. As if that was what he planned the entire time.

“Ben?!” Two men with the same face asked simultaneously. “That's my brother.”

“That was your brother’s name?” Klaus spoke first. “Maybe that's where I got it. When Mom asked us to choose our names based on our birth countries, I thought Germany was mine. My brother was Korean, but he couldn't settle on a name. Ben came to my mind. It felt.. familiar.”

Leon walked over to his kids and his twin, or clone, or whatever Klaus was, and picked Sunny up. The toddler stuck his thumb in his mouth and flexed and unflexed his little chubby fingers in his daddy’s long curls.

The matching mess of hair covered Leon's neck and chin as Sunny laid his tiny head down on the elder’s shoulder. The little yawned as his hand now absently stroked Leon's goatee.

“He died in Cyprus. He fought for Britain against our own people. He defected and was killed,” Leon said so casually. “He was 20. I was 16. It was really bloody difficult being an immigrant. A refugee. We left Greece during the Independence War when I was a year old. There's so much death, mate. All around us. I'm just really so sorry you and Nicklaus have to see it up close. I hope here, with Honey and I, they're a bit friendlier.”

Klaus had offered to conjure Leon's brother. His Benjamin. Leon declined. One day, maybe, but 15 years still wasn't enough time. That The Séance had likewise lost his brother in battle at the same age was empathetic enough.

Everyone was a bit melancholy, the air more humid with a spark, Klaus offered to get the littles to bed. Asked if he could crash in their room tonight instead of on the couch. The couple didn't mind.

Really, if Klaus could somehow, they both preferred he just stay here permanently. Honey could keep an eye on him that way. She and Leon knew Klaus had to go back and forth, maintaining his own timeline.

Except the last time he came was two years after he smuggled Sunny to his parents. He promised five minutes. This time it had been over a year. The Kostases were worried the next time he showed up, it would be the 80s. Or they would be old, their kids in their forties.

It was a silent agreement between Leon and Honey that they liked Klaus being around. “But what’s the price WE end up paying?”

Now there they were in the throes of it all. Honey encouraged Leon to tighten his grip around her neck as she scratched at his forearm. Their bodies gyrating in ways they hadn't in years. Not since before Selina. As if they couldn't fuck each other harder or faster.

Honey started to see black spots on the corners of her eyes. She relished in the struggle to breathe. Looking down, the blue tinted midnight sky with its wild lightning reflected back at her through Leon's eyes. He looked deliberate, livid. She knew she looked barking mad to him.

Honey tore at her tits and hair as she felt an orgasm coil around her sex and stomach. She was lightheaded and unable to scream out like always. She began to laugh as best she could like a woman possessed. Rode Leon through his explosion inside of her. She mentally willed it to get her pregnant.

Such a strange thing to wish for while Leon was killing her. Except he wasn't really, was he? Honey could feel herself pass out when there was a massive explosion in the sky over Manhattan.

Leon immediately let go of his wife. A blazing white light that blinded both of them filled the bedroom, and a squawking noise sounded from down the hall. Then yelling from Klaus lost somewhere in the present and possibly Vietnam. There was giggling and the patter of feet with more incoherent shouting and swearing from the littles’ room.

The bird noise only grew over the shouting, so Honey covered her ears to drown it all out. Leon looked stunned. Like he had woken from a terrible dream. That little girl laughter. The patter of feet running down the hall. The yelling and squawking all stopped. Cut off, as if the couple had fallen deaf.

“Mummy!” Selina exclaimed delightedly. It would be strange to Honey that her daughter had developed an accent like Leon's. Except that's who she spent most of her days with. Eventually Selina grew out of it, and Little Italy would take over.

“Can we keep him?! Are you and Papa playing?”

Honey knew Selina’s little head would be tilted. Little forehead wrinkled as it gathered between her eyebrows, tiny pink mouth slightly agape. How Honey loved finding more of Leon in her daughter every day.

“Keep what, Poppet?” Leon asked while helping Honey slide off of his lap. They weren't being modest, she just clearly was coming down from an adrenaline rush.

“This!” Selina held something large and black aloft. That squawking sound again.

Her parents froze. Selina held a raven nearly the size of Sunny in front of herself. It blinked its bright ebony eyes a few times, but was rather calm for being squeezed by a 5 year old. It, he. They knew it was a he. There was even affection on his face.

“Blimey love, whatcha got there?” Leon dared to ask. He was more fascinated than scared. The corvid set Honey’s hair on end.

“It’s Ben, Daddy!” Selina made a tsk noise and rolled her eyes. Little female Leon. “Sunny told us he was coming! The sky was filled with blue people, and Topo was scared. And Sunny’s little hands were blue and Topo’s were too and then Sunny started to fly. He's on the inside roof! Is he Mary Poppins?!” Selina could barely breathe, she was so excited.

“Those blue people are sad and Topo saw one and started to cry. That blue people is Dave. Then the bird came,” she held him out again towards her parents, “and he started making noises at all the blue people and they went away except three and Topo won't stop crying and Sunny is giggling. I'm tired. Can I sleep with you?”

As calm as they could muster, Honey and Leon got out of bed and put on clothes. Leon scooped up Selina who held the raven like a baby. Her dad ignored it. They made their way to the second bedroom where a blue light emanated into the hallway.

Like Sugar said, Klaus was on his knees crying into his hands. Sunny bobbed along the ceiling. He pushed off of it and bounced back up. The little boy’s laughter was a creepy juxtaposition to his older self gently weeping on the floor.

Honey knew. Leon knew. The “blue people” were ghosts. All of that static, that violence and heat in the air the last few weeks were the dead. Crackling and surfacing, begging to break through now that TWO mediums were together. It was, they immediately understood, Klaus’s sheer willpower that had held them at bay. But he was vulnerable, lost vigilance. They all broke through at once.

“Fuck me,” Leon managed at one of two soldiers. He was taller than Leon, but no mistaking his best of curls and angular jaw. Honey knew in life he had dark eyes. “Βενιᾱμῑ́ν?” Benjamin?

Dave, the woman knew, had been Klaus’s lover in Vietnam. He died saving Klaus and their regiment on the front line.

Except Honey could tell that wasn't true. The Commission had him killed to fix the timeline. They were different, not governed by violence more like stern warnings. As if parents instead of a dictator ran them now. When would they come to scold her family?

Lost in her worry, Honey didn't see the third man. The melancholic one with a cigarette perched in his fingers. He wore a giant suit jacket and equally large pants. There was a transparent tumbler of whiskey in his other hand.

This one, this ghost opened his mouth. At the same time Klaus sat up, his head cocked. Then he spoke, and a voice Honey hadn't heard in ten years came out.

“Hiya, Gracie.”

Honey began to weep. “Uncle Lenny.” She hid herself away so he wouldn't see the tears.

“Aw c’mon dollface. It's ok. I'm ok. I'm not ruining my life anymore. I do miss the stage. And Kitty. Tell Kitty I love her, will ya? And Honey, my Honey. That Kindergarten hooker. Spiteful bitch. I miss them. Proud of you, Gracie. We gotta go, ok. The three of us got wrapped up in all that jazz. By the way, cute little fuckers ya got there.”

Lenny tipped his head at Honey and Leon. Then he was gone. They were all gone. Everyone left behind in their wake to cry harder. To mourn in disbelief. Then giggling brought them all to.

Sunny floated down enough for Klaus to catch him by the ankle. He held the little boy to his chest, and Sunny patted him on the cheek. His hands weren't glowing anymore as he shoved a thumb in his mouth. Then, delighted, he gave a shout in the direction of the raven:

“BIRB!!”

@neuroticpuppy @nightmonsters @magic-multicolored-miracle @forenschik @super-unpredictable98 @ghouls-buddy @vonkimmeren @messengeronthemoon @frogs--are--bitches @bisexualnathanyoung @elliethesuperfruitlover @070188 @firstpersonnarrator @rob-private @duck-noises @sylvertyger

[deathfrisbeeinthetardis]

i love you by billie eilish but it's playing while ryan is driving a car to their haunted destination and shane is sleeping on the other seat and ryan may be pining a bit. suddenly it starts raining and shane's face scrunches up so ryan just puts some hoodie as a blanket over his friend and shane relaxes again.

This made me cry at 9 am in the morning so here’s a drabble  :’)))

Shyan week day 3: Togetherness

as it gets dark

The road stretches before him and Ryan’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, blinking his eyes hard in a vain attempt to stop the aching there. The tires hit a bump and the half-empty cup of coffee in the console sloshes. 

He spares a glance at it, weighing warmth against some more extended consciousness. 

Shane makes a soft noise in his sleep, and Ryan looks up at where the other man had curled up in the passenger seat, a fleece blanket thrown over his lap, his head tucked into the nook between the seat and the window. 

Shane looks young like this, the shadows under his eyes smoothed over in the semi-dark. A smile tugs at Ryan’s mouth, and then he’s swallowing down the cold liquid left in the styrofoam cup. The bitter taste lingers even with the milk he had dumped in, and he almost wishes it was something stronger, something that would dull the ache in his chest. 

It’s not like you can just tell your best friend you love him. 

Especially when that best friend’s already taken. 

‘It’s not trueTell me I’ve been lied to’

Ryan fastens his eyes back on the empty road, they shouldn’t be far now. There’s a low silky song playing on the radio, fingers that had given up guitar years ago forming patterns against the wheel as if he could pluck he melancholy cords out of the car. 

The rental does that well enough on its own. 

There’s really no use thinking about it. He’s seen how Shane looks at Sara. He knows she’s the one for Shane, he can see it in the way they are around each other, the comfortable silence and shared glances, the twinning expressions of adoration when they pet their demon of a cat. He has no right going in any direction that is even vaguely between them, he’d never do that to the two people who had only ever been there for him when he needed it. 

It was the two of them that took him in after the breakup, letting him tag along on their outings and half-dates just so he could get out of his apartment and breathe easy, so he could see their merriment and remember what it is to be happy again. 

Sometimes he permits himself to look, when he’s sure no one would see. And each time what he sees makes him ache more, knowing that she offers Shane the sanctuary and comfort in ways that Ryan never could, not while he could live with himself.  

He looks at you like that too, he hears, and it may as well be the devil and his conscience combined. 

Would it be better if he hadn’t ever met Shane, he wonders. If he had never gotten to know and bond with the kind funny man that always takes the care to make the people around him comfortable. The man who indulges him and his supernatural beliefs and follows his lead until Ryan drives himself to the edge of overexposure, who would then become the support Ryan needs. If he had never gotten himself into this complicated tangle of emotions, had fallen so completely.

No. 

Ryan wouldn’t give those years up, he’ll take the pain, damn it. 

He shouldn’t mess with what they all have, he doesn’t have the right to. He could more than live with the strangely spectacular friendship that’s already in place. Why tamper with perfection, right?

’ Up all night on another red eyeI wish we never learned to fly’

The first splatter of rain against the windshield startles Ryan, and because not everywhere can be nice like California, it’s pouring within minutes. The running water filters the road markings back at him in their distorted yellow glow under the headlights. His view of the outside world blurs.

And so does everything in the car. 

’ Maybe we should just tryTo tell ourselves a good lie ’

It’s the song, Ryan thinks, wiping at his face furiously. He’s always been an emotional son of a bitch, and this one is stupidly on the nose. 

Shane’s face scrunches up in his sleep, the blanket coming a little short in covering his lanky limbs. For all that Ryan startles easily, the big guy’s actually the lighter sleeper of the two, but when eyes open before they should, Shane can always find his way back to comfort in the darkness. And Ryan, well. 

They’re driving through the last stretch of country before reaching the town, and it’s all open fields on either side of the road with no sign of humanity. Ryan knows the crew isn’t far behind them, can see their headlights around corners and turns, but it feels like its just the two of them passing through the darkness.  

It takes him a few careful seconds of maneuvering, but he manages to shrug off his hoodie, reaching over to drape it over Shane. Warmth curls in his chest when the other man’s face relaxes, even when the chill air rushes to meet all his newly exposed skin. 

He keeps his eyes on the road, it’s just the song, he tells himself. 

‘I don’t want tobut I love you’

Ryan’s fingers tremble against the wheel, and he grips it tight. 

Ryan watches Shane sleep, he almost always does in these haunted places. The sight soothes him, knowing that he’s not alone here, though it’s not like Shane would be much help if a ghost tried to murder them. 

A few pencils lie on the floor next to them, tools of a bygone age that they had tried to use in a knock off seance hours before. Ryan creeps an arm out from the warmth of his sleeping bag and picks one up, twirling it in his fingers. If he moves it just right, it spans the height of Shane’s head perfectly. An idea pops up in his overactive brain. 

He’s not sure what insane surge of energy prompts him to do it, but he finds himself tracing Shane’s face, the eraser of the pencil ghosting over the other man’s skin in a barely-there touch. It’s almost like asmr, and Ryan feels his heartbeat in his fingers, steadying for what feels like the first time tonight. 

’ There’s nothing you could do or sayI can’t escape the way, I love you ‘

The fucking song’s stuck in his head now, the low woeful tune playing in a loop in his head, every word stabbing at his mind. He turns his mental back on it, blocks it out with the care he takes to trace the pencil, again and again. 

A largish hand comes out of nowhere to clasp his, and Ryan lets out a yelp. Then Shane’s looking at him through bleary eyes. 

“Jesus man.” Ryan says. Shane lets go of his hand after a second, and Ryan shuffles it back against his chest. The unexpected contact burning into his skin. “A little warning next time?”

“Mmm, I thought you were a spider,”

“And your first instinct is to grab it?” Ryan asks, incredulous. 

“Well, yeah.” He can hear the smile in Shane’s voice, see the flash of teeth from his sleepy grin. “Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah.” Ryan admits. It’s far from the first time this has happened, why the fuck is he still embarrassed?

Because it’s Shane, his mind supplies. 

Shut up, Ryan thinks. 

“C’mere.” Shane murmurs, disentangling an arm from his sleeping bag so Ryan can tuck himself close. They’re plenty experienced at keeping themselves comfortable in these places and Ryan’s not cold, but the solid warmth of Shane at his side is something to hold onto in the dark. 

“It’s okay Ry, I’ll protect you from the demons.” 

Shane settles again, soft steady puffs of air glance across Ryan’s face. They’re a bit close, maybe too close while both of them are on their backs, anyway. Ryan’s body is stiff where it presses against Shane through two layers of sleeping bags, and he doesn’t dare move. He matches his breaths to Shane’s. 

“That’s it, I’m right here.” Shane’s hand rubs small circles into Ryan’s shoulder, and his face is so close. 

That’s the moment Ryan chooses.

He chooses and it’s dangerous and entirely unreasonable, but he’s got just enough fear and sleep deprivation and an ever-looming sense that the world might just lose it very, very soon that he doesn’t care for a split second. 

Shane’s lips are soft against his own. 

Too bad reality’s a real bitch sometimes, by the time he regains his brain, it’s already done. Ryan jerks back. 

’I don’t want to, but I love you.’

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers, eyes stinging. He should be watching Shane’s face, he’d always been bad at reading the big guy but at least it could have helped. But the shadows swallow them whole in this room and Ryan’s not brave enough to make out Shane’s expression through it all. 

His breaths are coming fast again, there’s going to be a hitch in his voice soon, “I’m sorry, Shane. I didn’t mean to, fuck what is wrong with me–”

“Ryan, Ry stop.” 

Shane’s hands grip his shoulders and Ryan shudders out a breath, “I’m sorry.” he repeats. 

“Don’t be.” Shane’s voice is rough, like he’s having trouble breathing too. He brings a hand down to tilt Ryan’s head towards him, “I’m not sorry.” He enunciates, eyes searching. 

“But Sara–”

“Sara knows.” Shane swallows and he almost looks shy, “She’s, uh, rooting for us, actually.”

“She is?” Ryan chokes out.

“We care about you, Ry, both of us.” Shane pauses, and Ryan feels their eyes meet in the dark. “We’d like to be more, if you’ll have us.”

The air is stuck in Ryan’s throat, it seems too good to be true. He manages a jerky nod, a tear slipping down his face. 

Slowly, Shane reaches out and wipes it away. 

“We can talk more about this when we get back, just, sleep now. I’ve got you.” Shane settles his chin on the crown of Ryan’s head, and Ryan can feel the vibrations of his voice. He makes an effort to count his breaths, slowing them down. 

One, two, three–

A ting sounds from the corner of the room, and Ryan jolts. 

“It’s just the radiator, shh.” 

Four, five, six, seven, eight–

I love you.