#mostly ghostly hotel

[mostly-ghostly-hotel]

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

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

[autumnsaesthetics]

🍁 Non-Horror Films For Halloween 🍁

Part Three!

(Row One) 🎃

Young Frankenstein

Elvira: Mistress Of The Dark

Beetlejuice

(Row Two) 🎃

Casper And Wendy

Hotel Transylvania

The Scream Team

(Row Three) 🎃

Frankenweenie

Igor

Mostly Ghostly

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

[the-xolotl]

Sweet, Soft Shadow Man

Alastor x gn!Reader & Al’s Shadow

♡ Itty bitty snip

♡ a/n: i feel like i’ve only been writing smut recently so here’s something soft

summary: Alastor’s shadow adores you, because Alastor adores you, but he’s a lot more reserved with his feelings. His shadow on the other hand has little qualms about showing affection or responding to yours, and maybe Al feels a little jealous.

♡ TAGS: sfw, domestic fluff, slight jealousy, some banter, no use of y/n, latine coded reader lowkey.

One thing to get use to as you and Al had begun dating was his shadow constantly hovering around you anywhere you went where Alastor himself wasn’t. At first it had felt smothering, like he didn’t trust you alone or like you couldn’t defend yourself, when you in fact very much can. You’d roll your eyes every time you caught the shadowy figure out if the corner of your eye or even tried to get it to go back to Alastor but of course it only listened to its master and would stare at your blankly with the holes that are supposed to be his eyes.

However, as you got to know it and Alastor you realized it wasn’t that that your lover thought you couldn’t look after yourself. No, what you came to realize (and kept to yourself because it’s much too precious) is that Alastor is a proud man ok not that, you knew that very well but that he has his peculiar way of showing affection, one way was to keep his shadow with you when he himself couldn’t. His pride got in the way of him being outwardly affectionate towards you even after courting, properly asking you be his partner and all the time spent together, he still kept to himself a lot simply reciprocating what you initiated. But having the one thing that’s an extension of himself guard you and keep you company was one of the first tokens of care he’d given you.

Thereafter this discovery you didn’t mind it as much, in fact, you even gave it a name; Sombra. You grew very fond of the curious creature that mostly kept itself to surfaces or even in the silhouette of your shadow. It made you giggle every time Sombra did, because you could feel an odd, ghostly weight on your person when it did despite being in its intangible form. Sombra,you also found, is very animated with you. It showed a lot of emotion: joy, sadness, excitement etc. And it didn’t always smile like Alastor did, it could frown, or have a neutral expression. The more you got to know it, the more you became attached to it and it to you. Where to even without Alastor sending it to you, Sombra came to you out of its own accord or even when you called it.

While not entirely against it, Alastor found it a little irritating that literal part of him spent more time with you than he did sometimes. After all he’s an Overlord and the manager of the Hazbin Hotel with the Princess of Hell, he’s a busy man. And the fact you named it, like a pet. His shadow was wrapped around your finger the same way Alastor was, but at least Alastor didn’t show it so forwardly. This fact made Alastor a little bashful the first time you had revealed this to him, all of the little things his shadow did for you.

For example it would bring you little gifts, either from Alastor… Or its own. Small trinkets, flowers (not even store bought just wild flowers off the streets) or even limbs. You didn’t question the limbs even if they put you off at times. Sombra became very cuddly and liked to follow you around even when you only did mundane things. Like today, you’re in the kitchen making a dinner you had made Alastor promise to be there for. He’d been unusually busy recently and as much as you love Sombra, you miss your significant other. You had been prepping the ingredients for a special dish you wanted Alastor to try, that while not entirely southern food, it’s very similar to something like gumbo, when out of the corner of your eye you saw a flash of a black figure. It disappeared as soon as you turned to look in that direction, so you shifted your focus back to the food.

A few times more this happened before a menacing shadow loomed right over you as you threw chopped vegetables into the pot of already boiling water with salt and other seasonings on it. It made half the kitchen dim and it seemed to swallow up its surroundings. You smiled wide giggling looking up at the ceiling, “Sombra~” you sing-song, greeting the ghostly silhouette, “Want a taste?” you offered one of the still uncooked pieces of red meat. It shrunk down to its usual size on the wall taking the offered food. Chuckling at how the meat hovered in the air before it disappeared as Sombra put it in its mouth. The shadow smiled wide giving you a thumbs up as it watched you add herbs into the cooking pot.

“That’s not a pet, you know that right darling?” Alastor’s unfiltered voice came from the door frame as he entered unannounced. While his voice had its usual uppity lilt his tone came a little annoyed. You had reach to hug and pet Sombra like you always do to welcome it, you thought Alastor wouldn’t come for another while longer so you indulged the little servant before its master arrived but you got caught right in the act. It retracted to Alastor’s side like it always did as he threw it a sideways glance.

“Of course he’s not. But its cute, in its own way,” you smile. “Welcome home, my love,” smiling at the radio demon you gingerly made your way to him wrapping your arms around him with a tight hug. He did the same, planting a soft kiss on your forehead, your smile widen. “I missed you,” you whispered looking up at him with big doe eyes. Because you did. You really, really did. You didn’t want to say it outloud but you almost thought he wouldn’t show or he’d be late. So it made you exceedingly happy he had already arrived. “It’s almost ready, why don’t you go sit at the table.”

From his seat, he watched you prepare the side dishes as the pot on the stove simmered, however his eyes more than fixating on you, they followed the movement of his shadow standing next to you at all times. Handing you things, making you laugh and giggle with little actions. And of course it’s his shadow he could feel how giddy your attention made it. Every time you said thank you, every time you gave it a compliment or whenever you pet it. He felt it’s eye twitch seeing Sombra lay his transparent head on the shadow of your shoulder and you didn’t bat an eye. Part of it is guilt, guilt that he had been so absent and distant for weeks, because he’d been too preoccupied with other responsibilities, and jealousy. The jealousy is what bothered him the most. That damn shadow had been hoarding all your attention even as he’d been sitting in the same room with you.

Alastor wouldn’t admit it’s his fault, of course. So instead he gets up from the table again coming up to stand behind you, long arms wrapping around your middle. It surprised you a little, making your stutter the rhythm of your stirring. Alastor rested his chin on the same shoulder Sombra had, making direct eye contact with the sentient being and intimidating it into moving away from you. If it could hiss, it would have. But it moved away without you noticing. Alastor’s arms tighten around you for a second before speaking softly, “I apologize for neglecting you, or if you’ve felt lonely in my absence, darling,” his words were sincere. Alastor didn’t like being away from you very long, didn’t like having to go places filled with people he couldn’t care less about and having to deal with others he disliked. But duties are duties and work is work, he’s a man of principle.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t long to be with his beloved, and he know he’s godawful at telling you. Part of the reason he’d kept his shadow with you, in hopes to keep you solace, and company when he couldn’t. But seeing you grow closer to the creature and pouring all the affection you couldn’t give him made his chest tighten, a feeling that crawled under his skin and bothered him in ways that shouldn’t matter to him. You were his. Yet, here he is, acting childish even if you are probably mostly unaware. Or he hopes you are. Because this is embarrassing, it makes him feel embarrassed deep down. His ears twitched in annoyance as the thoughts swirled around his mind trying to push them away but failing.

“I know you’ve been busy. I wouldn’t call it neglect really,” you answer back, relaxing into the embrace and tilting your head so that you can press a soft kiss to his cheek then nuzzling him, “But you are gone too often, I had meant to talk to you about it but I didn’t really know how to. I guess I also felt a little bad asking you to give me more than you already do,” you chuckle unhumorously. Alastor did give you everything, hardly ever did he tell you no and did what he could to make you happy. Your relationship had been very rocky at the start. Both of you had to learn to make your relationship work and meet in the middle on a lot of different things. Alastor had to re-learn what it’s like to love someone, you had to adjust to his own way of loving and take baby steps, slower ones than you were used to. Both of you accepted the flaws that came with the other, you were in hell, he wasn’t the worst out there and you weren’t perfect.

“And you don’t have to be jealous of your own shadow, Al,” you quipped, a grin tugging the edges of your lips. You had to press your lips into a thin line to keep yourself from giggling at the flare of radio static around you after saying that. But he didn’t really refute it.

“Very funny, darling,”

© 2024 the-xolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

[rey-129-fan]

Well, it's been a while since I've posted any fanfic... Let's change that.

Good news! I'm not dead! My brain did try to get me to do things that could unalive myself for a bit, and then I lost nearly an entire side of my family over the span of 3 years, but I'm still here and still kicking! And I have two new puppies who are adorable and so loving.

Now for this story, this is inspired by a few posts I saw on @theglamorousferal, mostly the one about Amity Parkers going to college in Gotham and buying a hotel (I'm making it a co-op student house, but I've never lived in one, so if something's unacceptably wrong, tell me, if not, artistic license), but also the one where our main Trio buy a building to set up shop there, and wind up adopted my Jason (I swear, I saw that post after I wrote the first chapter, but it just fit so well).

***

Honestly, Amity Park was weird long before the Fentons moved there- the original settlers named the nearby lake Eerie, and it wasn’t after the Great Lake.  It’s just that before the Fentons’ machine punched a hole through reality and created a permanent doorway to the land of spirits and ghosts, the weirdness was not as blatant.

Prior to that, Amity Parkers were some of the few that could move to Gotham without suffering a breakdown that was common for new arrivals.  Now there was a slight dip in newcomers for about a decade or two after the Bat made his debut and then the crazies that followed him, but then Amity Parkers got used to the spirits of the dead wandering around following the aforementioned punching through reality.

All this to say that Gotham Universities were a rather common destination for young Amity Park adults seeking higher education.

Now because of this, there were always apartments advertising themselves for people from the small town.  They, after all, tended to not have a breakdown after their fifth rogue attack and just pack up and leave halfway through their lease.  But it got very annoying having to sift through all the advertisements when looking for a place to stay- something Danny Fenton saw his older sister go through when she got in to Gotham City University.  The boy then shared what he was witnessing with his two best friends- Tucker Foley and Sam Manson.  Tucker offered to help filter out the spam, which Danny’s sister Jazz thanked him for but turned down.  Sam… Sam instead got thinking.

Sam had been to Gotham a few times in her life.  She had an idea of the areas closest to the schools and how much those should cost.  And looking at the letters Jazz was getting, the offers were a little too high for a regular college student to afford.  Sam was also familiar with how many hotels were not being used in Gotham- people building them in hopes tourists would come to stay while visiting the East Coast, tourists that could not be convinced to visit due to the high crime rate and the lack of activities or places of interest in the city itself.

She quickly went to work, looking in to these empty hotels.  She was rather upset by their numbers and put together a spreadsheet of them, with details like number of rooms, any amenities they may have, and nearby landmarks.  She then grabbed her two dorks and marched to Casper High’s Community Outreach director.

Now Sam’s presentation raised a few eyebrows, mostly because it was in a completely different state, but Sam shot back that because of the efforts to incorporate the town’s new ghostly residents and provide them with helpful ways to feed their obsessions- efforts led by the Fenton family- Amity Park had very few homeless, and those that were had a huge community safety net to help them get back on their feet.  Additionally, with how many people moved between the city and the town, helping the city could be argued to also be helping the town.

The Outreach Director just sighed and gave Same the green light to at least draft and send out a proposal to the powers that be in Gotham, saying that there wasn’t much that could be done before they got backing and approval.  Sam thanked them before leaving, Danny and Tucker trailing behind.

She was back the next day with a draft of her proposal and a list of who to send it to.

***

Since returning from the dead in the eyes of the public, Jason Todd was often contacted by groups trying to use the Wayne fortune to fund their own personal projects.  They thought Jason would be the easiest to con- sorry, persuade- since he was a former street kid unlike the rest of his family.  Thus surely he would know just how much this new building with low income housing would help the people of Gotham- it even came with a pool and gym!

Yeah, he did know how much the people of Gotham needed housing, but $2K a month was not affordable when you’re barely making $30K a year!  Oh and the pool and gym were only available for those who could shell out an additional $2K a month.  Jason knows, he read the whole document carefully.

God, sometimes it was hard to tell who was worse, the psychos in Blackgate or real estate investors.  And sadly, he couldn’t just pop a bullet in their heads and be done with it because 1) it would raise too many questions and 2) it would make Bruce get all sad and mopey- again.  Jason just did not have the mental energy to put up with that on top of the rest of his life as a crimelord/vigilante/long-lost adoptive second son of a billionaire.

All this to say, he was not impressed when he first glanced over a proposal to convert the unused hotels around the city into housing units- especially since it was from someone that did not live in Gotham.

Manson?  Wasn’t there a family with that name that would attend some of Brucie’s galas?  Oh yeah, their family made its fortune off patenting the machine that wrapped toothpicks in plastic, as well as a couple others.  And they had a daughter around Repla- Tim’s age.  Hopefully this wasn’t her trying to be a kiss-ass like her parents.

Jason finished reading and sat back.  The proposal wasn’t too bad.  Converting hotels into apartment buildings would be easier than office buildings, and the suggestion to use ex-convicts that wanted to turn over a new leaf as building managers certainly wasn’t the worst.  Also creating a fund for those that couldn’t afford rent, as well as community kitchens and gardens were certain plusses, though would need to have the right people in charge to make sure they actually worked as planned, and to keep the Court of Owls from messing with it.

Overall, it was something Jason would consider, after some research and maybe talking with the rest of the Bats and Birds.  And if this was from the Manson kid, maybe get Dickie or one of the others to talk to her next time there was a gala in town.  Or talk to her himself, if the Pit wasn’t too loud.

…Dick was probably the better option to talk with her if it came down to it.

***

There's the first chapter. I'm going to go write the next one. When I have a good log of them, I'll then go and edit them and put them on AO3.

This has no title yet because I suck at naming. Feel free to comment with suggestions for a name, both for the fic/au and for the eventual hotel/co op. As well as any shinanegans and majors/colleges/universities for our liminal young adults.

Part 1/? Next >

[bunnelbaby]

Here is a list of frightfully fun shows and movies for you to get into the spirit of Halloween!

🍂 Fright Krewe

🕸️ Dead End: Paranormal Park

💀Curses!

🦇Gravity Falls

🎃 Kaidan Restaurant

🍂 CreepSchool

🕸️ Supernatural Academy

💀 Isadora Moon

🦇 Frankelda’s Book of Spooks

🎃 Scream Street

🍂 Grizzly Tales for Gruesome Kids

🕸️ Beetlejuice (1989)

💀 Phantom Investigators

🦇 Mona the Vampire

🎃 Tales From the Cryptkeeper

🍂 Bunnicula

🕸️ A Tale Dark and Grim

💀 Scooby Doo

🦇 Over the Garden Wall

🎃The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy

🍂 Courage the Cowardly Dog

🕸️ Scary Larry

💀 Aaahh!!! Real Monsters

🦇 The Owl House

🎃 Casper’s Scare School

🍂 Sabrina the Teenage Witch

🕸️ The Real Ghostbusters

💀 Super Monsters

🦇 Dude, That’s My Ghost!

🎃 Monster Loving Maniacs

🍂 Ghostforce

🕸️ Moville Mysteries

💀 The Strange Chores

🦇 Funnybones (1992)

🎃 The Haunted Hathaways

🍂 My Babysitter’s a Vampire

🕸️ Strange Hill High

💀 Martin Mystery

🦇 Wizards of Waverly Place

🎃 Eerie Indiana

🍂 The Ketchup Vampires

🕸️ So Weird

💀 The Ghost and Molly McGee

🦇 Zombie Hotel

🎃 Creeped Out

🍂 A Babysitter’s Guide to Monster Hunting

🕸️ Phantom Pups

💀 Scaredy Cats

🦇 Gargoyles

🎃 Making Fiends

🍂 Goosebumps

🕸️ Bump in the Night

💀 R.L. Stine’s The Haunting Hour

🦇 Growing Up Creepie

🎃 Ruby Gloom

🍂 Zombies: The Re-Animated Series

🕸️ Tutenstein

💀 The Nightmare Room

🦇 Monster High

🎃 Are You Afraid of the Dark?

🍂 Deadtime Stories

🕸️ Vampirina

💀 Scary Godmother

🦇 Count Duckula

🎃 School for Vampires

🍂 The Curse of Bridge Hollow

🕸️ Nightbooks

💀 Wendell & Wild

🦇 Frankenweenie

🎃 The Cat in the Hat Knows a Lot About Halloween!

🍂 Spookley the Square Pumpkin

🕸️ Coraline

💀 Pooh’s Heffalump Halloween Movie

🦇 Oscar’s Handmade Halloween

🎃 Curious George: A Halloween Boo Fest

🍂 The Little Ghost

🕸️ Daddy, I’m a Zombie

💀 Monster House

🦇 Halloweentown

🎃 Howard Lovecraft

🍂 Mostly Ghostly

🕸️ The Little Vampire

💀 Don’t Look Under the Bed

🦇 Spooky Buddies

🎃 The Nightmare Before Christmas

🍂 Corpse Bride

🕸️ Haunted Mansion

💀 Monster House

🦇 Under Wraps

🎃 Little Monsters

🍂 The Dog Who Saved Halloween

🕸️ Paranorman

💀 Hotel Transylvania

🦇 Hocus Pocus

🎃The Halloween Tree

(Gif Credit) (Divider Credit)

[flamingpudding]

DPxDC Family Week June 20 (Day 3)

Prompt: Adoption | Learn

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

AO3 Link: DPxDC Family Week Contributions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CantSenseMe: 😕🥺👻🥷🦸‍♂️👌

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

IseeThings: Phantom and Signal, the Power Duo!

AnimalHeaven: Unacceptable.

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

OneShotKill: Rich coming from you, Replacement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Still won it."

"Let's just go down."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[gothampubliclibrary]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Haunting whispers from the Martian landscape make for a spooky 'soliday'

The Perseverance rover lurks in the quiet, cold, desolate landscape of Jezero crater on Mars, a place masked in shadows and haunted by past mysteries. Built to endure the planet's harsh conditions, Perseverance braves the thin atmosphere and extreme temperature swings. Its microphone captures the eerie whispers of martian winds, sending shivers down your spine, and records ghostly dust devils swirling across the barren terrain. Has the microphone caught the sound of a skeleton rattling its bones? We'll leave that up to your imagination.

Recently, Perseverance navigated the sinister slopes of the Jezero crater rim, seeking out a series of ramshackle ridges to uncover the rim's hidden geological secrets. The rover emerged from the shadows to descend into a field of light-toned rocks, illuminating the landscape reminiscent of bones and tombstones. Along the way, the rover encountered dark bedrock at Mist Park. Perseverance would then face another daunting climb back up the crater rim, venturing deeper into the great unknown.

Unlike vampires or other creatures of the night, Perseverance needs rest after long days of exploring the mystifying Martian landscape. As night falls, the rover sleeps after watching the sun sink below the horizon, casting ominous shadows across the landscape. The chilling winds howl through the night like a haunting lullaby for the fearless explorer. However, Perseverance sometimes wakes up from things that go bump in the night.

While instruments mostly conduct their scientific measurements during the day, they are not afraid of the dark, often tasked with observing what lurks in the shadows and gazing at the martian night sky. Perseverance occasionally looks up to image the auroras and to get a glimpse of Phobos and Deimos, Mars's two moons.

Mars is like a hotel where you can check in and out, but you can never leave. It has become a graveyard of long-dead landers and rovers, but Perseverance is nowhere near ready to leave the land of the living. In fact, the ghosts of past rovers and landers guide Perseverance on its journey. As we continue to uncover the secrets of Mars, we are reminded of its past and the mysteries that still linger. Join us in pondering the mysteries of Mars as we explore its haunted history.

IMAGE: NASA's Mars Perseverance rover acquired this image, which was selected by the public as the rover’s “Image of the Week,” of the martian landscape on the Jezero crater rim using its Left Mastcam-Z camera. The image was acquired on Oct. 22, 2024 (Sol 1306) at the local mean solar time of 13:45:41. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/ASU

[peninsulaisms]

Does your town have any urban legends or other strangeness?

my town is not much of a town. i live in a rural locality with barely a general store to call its own. but the mornington peninsula has a lot. as a place it’s widely considered somewhat evil by everyone who’s lived here long enough to understand it, but that adds to the charm. on the top of the peninsula you have trains which lends itself to many a ghost story or conspiracy surrounding them. one that i think most people, especially around frankston know, is the story of the strangled girl. the friend telling the story would always tell you that this had been witnessed by someone connected to them but not connected enough that you would know them. basically it would go like this, the person would get on the train somewhere along the frankston line and they would notice a girl staring at them, with someone in a hoodie leaning on her shoulder. a ticket inspector checks their ticket, says it’s invalid, and makes them get off. once off, the inspector reveals the girl had been strangled, and the hooded figure was holding her head up. as kids we used to say kananook station had a gate to hell in it because this women disappeared back in 1990 and still hasn’t been found in anyway. not a single lead. the police still have a 1 million dollar reward for anyone who knows anything about her. in a similar vein people used to say that that woman was actually in an a abandoned rubbish tip further down the peninsula. anyone who lives close to the former mornington train line will swear up and down they hear the ghostly whistle of the old trains that used to run on the line, even when the tourist trains aren’t running.

off course once you leave the reach of trains you get your usual “ghost wandering along the road” legends. for us on the mornington peninsula that was the “road of death” now you can also call it coolart road, but most of us on the ninch (our collectively affectionate nickname for the peninsula) know it better as the road of death or “slow down here, this road’s a killer.” then we do as coolart. it has everything, 30 accidents and 3 deaths in 4 years, mysterious drowning in a dam, the list goes on. but specifically the legend of our little road of death is the legend of a female hitchhiker who roams the side of the road. in some versions of the story, she steps directly in front of oncoming vehicles, causing drivers to panic. yet no collision ever occurs, she simply vanishes. other accounts align with the classic “vanishing hitchhiker” trope, where she is picked up by a passing motorist, only to disappear from the vehicle without explanation. In rarer tellings, drivers seek out an address given by the ghost, only to discover an abandoned house along coolart road with a little memorial to the woman on the fence.

i won’t only tell ghost stories but fuck is sorrento is good for ghosts. like, proper, bona fide ghost stories. the kind old women tell over the counter at the general store and kids dare each other to test out on long slow summer nights.

as an example, the peninsula cinema is a relic from 1894 and is famous for its ghost. a elderly lady in white who doesn’t seem to care much about the living. she haunts the old cinema section, mostly. back when the cinema was still showing movies, ushers would swear up and down they saw her. just a pale figure sitting in the back row of a showing no one had bought tickets to. she never caused trouble, just sat there quietly, staring at the screen like whatever was playing had her full attention. and no one ever saw her come or leave.

there’s also the continental hotel, a grand limestone building that dates back to 1875. george coppin built it, and if you ask any mate who’s worked a summer job there, he never quite left. staff have felt strange gusts of wind indoors, heard whispers in empty rooms, and seen shadows move where no shadows should. locals will tell you it’s george himself, checking in on his legacy.

then there’s marlene miller antiques, which, from personal experience i can tell you is less like a shop and more like a museum you can haggle in. and because it’s sorrento there’s a ghost there too. a woman in a blue dress and hat. if you ask marlene she’s not shy about making herself known. marlene has actually gone so far as to set up a little nook for her on the mezzanine: a rocking chair, some books, the works. she also doesn’t disrupt much apart from moving things around, chess pieces found out of place, mirrors tilting on their own. there is a bar in town i can’t remember the name of too save myself, but it used to be the morgue and that can tell you all you need to know on it’s face.

but as for general urban legends, you naturally have the big cat sightings. red hill, mount eliza, mount martha, arthur’s seat, all home to some strange unknown species of large cat if you ask your local conspiracy minded grandpa. most people here will tell you that “there’s cults in them hills” and they wouldn’t be wrong. just look up the world cult and mornington peninsula side by side and see how many results you get. there’s a really freaky “meditation retreat” in frankston south which is almost definitely a cult but only time will tell.

[zmediaoutlet]

fic: the tonberry suite

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

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

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

(read on AO3)

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does that mean,” Cloud says.

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

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

“What,” he says. Distrust.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[jaybleu25]

Scopophobia

----------

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The door would open.

"...Luigi?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luigi's grip on Mario would loosen a little.

"Come on."

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

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

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

That immediately made Mario go on edge.

"What was it?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[madeimpact]

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

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

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

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

Huh.

He's gonna have to get that fixed.

[myhauntedsalem]

The Kennesaw House

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[dollycas]

A Room for Murder (Charlie Kingsley Mysteries) by Michele Pariza Wacek About A Room For Murder A Room for Murder (Charlie Kingsley Mysteries) Cozy Mystery 5th in Series Setting - Wisconsin - In the 1990s Publisher ‏ : ‎ Love-Based Publishing (November 2, 2024) Number of Pages ~100 pages Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CMN7TXGY Charlie's very first case! Normally Darla, the ghost that haunts the Redemption Inn, behaves herself. Relatively speaking. Nancy, the owner of the Redemption Inn, swears that Darla is harmless. At least, mostly harmless. Maybe she plays a few pranks on some unsuspecting guests, but it's all in good fun. Until one of the hotel guests is found dead at the bottom of the stairs, and Darla is the one who's blamed. With the threat of guests cancelling and her business on the line, Nancy turns to Charlie to help find the real culprit so Darla can rest in peace. Dollycas's Thoughts We are back in the unique town of Redemption, Wisconsin with Charlie Kingsley and her very first case. Darla, the ghost at the Redemption Inn is usually harmless according to Nancy, the owner of the inn, but now a guest is dead and it looks like Darla is responsible. With guests checking out and reservations being cancelled Nancy asks Charlie for help to find out what really happened and save her business. ______ Tea is Charlie's business, she crafts special herbal teas for her customers. She is outgoing and friendly but is just learning about the ghost at the Redemption Inn. The owner, Nancy is her friend and one of her best customers. So when she gets a late-night call from Nancy to bring some headache tea for a guest who had a fall, she hurries right over. With her curious nature, Charlie pipes up with many questions about the ghost and its sightings. When the guest dies and many claim Darla the ghost was the killer, her inquiries intensify.  While strange things happen in Redemption all the time, she is pretty sure the ghost is innocent. I enjoyed the way Charlie was all in on the case even when warned by Detective Wyle to stay out of it. While this is a novella, I was still surprised by how quickly I reached the end. The book had a terrific flow, we weren't short-changed on character development or suspense, the dialogues felt true to life, the mystery was complex and detailed, the reveal was terrifying and the takedown was impressive. The author exceeded my expectations. A Room for Murder has engaging characters and an entertaining ghostly mystery. It was a Perfect Mini Escape. This book is great if you are new to the series or already a fan. All of the books in this series are written to stand on their own. I recommend them all. I voluntarily reviewed an Advance Reader Copy. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review. Thank you to the author for providing me with an ARC. Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent About Michele Pariza Wacek A USA Today Bestselling, award-winning author, Michele taught herself to read at 3 years old because she wanted to write stories so badly. It took some time (and some detours) but now she does spend much of her time writing stories. Mystery stories, to be exact. They're clean and twisty, and range from psychological thrillers to cozies, with a dash of romance and supernatural thrown into the mix. If that wasn't enough, she posts lots of fun things on her blog, including short stories, puzzles, recipes and more, at MPWNovels.com. Michele grew up in Wisconsin, (hence why all her books take place there), and still visits regularly, but she herself escaped the cold and now lives in the mountains of Prescott, Arizona with her husband and southern squirrel hunter Cassie. When she's not writing, she's usually reading, hanging out with her dog, or watching the Food Network and imagining she's an awesome cook. (Spoiler alert, she's not. Luckily for the whole family, Mr. PW is in charge of the cooking.) Author Links -  Website     Facebook     Instagram Purchase Links - Amazon   B&N   Also written by Michele Pariza Wacek This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase using my links, I will receive a small commission from the sale at no cost to you. Thank you for supporting Escape With Dollycas. Great Escapes Praise for A Room for Murder (Charlie Kingsley Mysteries) by Michele Pariza Wacek I highly recommend A Room for Murder! It’s a very quick read, has wonderful characters, and a fun, ghostly mystery! I also recommend the other books in the Charlie Kingsley Mysteries! ~Christy's Cozy Corners 5 stars! I recommend A ROOM FOR MURDER to cozy mystery readers and fans of the previous books in the series. Ghostly drama is going down at the Redemption Inn! ~Boys' Mom Reads! TOUR PARTICIPANTS - Please visit all the stops.  November 2 - Jody's Bookish Haven – SPOTLIGHT November 2 - Sapphyria's Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT November 3 – Sarah Can't Stop Reading Books – REVIEW   November 4 – Books, Ramblings, and Tea – SPOTLIGHT   November 5 – Literary Gold – SPOTLIGHT November 5 – Baroness Book Trove – SPOTLIGHT November 6 – Christy's Cozy Corners – REVIEW, CHARACTER GUEST POST November 7 – Celticlady's Reviews – SPOTLIGHT November 8 – Maureen's Musings – SPOTLIGHT November 9 – Boys' Mom Reads! – REVIEW November 10 – Reading Authors Network – AUTHOR GUEST POST November 11 – Deal Sharing Aunt – AUTHOR INTERVIEW November 12 – Reading Is My SuperPower – REVIEW November 12 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – REVIEW November 13 – Ruff Drafts – SPOTLIGHT November 14 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT November 15 – Ascroft, eh? – CHARACTER INTERVIEW a Rafflecopter giveaway Have you signed up to be a Tour Host? Click Here to Find Details and Sign Up Today! Want to Book a Tour? Click Here Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the author. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. Receiving a complimentary copy in no way reflected my review of this book. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.” “As an Amazon Associate, I earn a commission from qualifying purchases.” Read the full article

[whitepolaris]

Weirdness at Old Town Pizza

Portland Walking Tours gave Weird Oregon's Al Eufrasio a peek at the world's largest oyster cracker, old buildings with cast-iron exterior, and an alternative health shop with wall-to-wall exotic cures. (Powdered rhino horn, anyone?) But the final stop was a bit weirder. We'll let him elaborate. . . .

Nina Gets the Shaft

Although these days Old Town Pizza is known as a trendy restaurant-bar, it was once the lobby of the Merchant Hotel, built in the 1800s at Second Avenue and Davis Street.

In 1900, the Merchant was a base of operations for people involved in the "world's oldest profession." Nina one of the working girls living there, informed on pimps who ran their affairs from the building. Shortly thereafter, she died in a suspicious fall down the hotel's elevator shaft. Stories persist that her spirit remains behind, sensed on occasion by both employees and customers of Old Town Pizza: a cold spot, a sudden twinge of unease, a shadow seen indirectly. Mostly tangibly, her name is etched into a brick. Did someone living carve it there as a memorial, or was it Nina's way of making herself known? I wondered.

The Darkness Below

The pizza parlor's basement holds decades-old secrets. Tour groups negotiate the back stairs, flanked by narrow bare-brick walls, with cheap plastic flashlights run by half-dead batteries. The air is still and musty. Tour guides explained that tunnels running parallel to us were used for illicit purposes: shanghaiing (see Fabled People and Places chapter) and booze smuggling.

As my tour guide began heading back upstairs, I lagged behind, wanting to snap a couple of pictures. As I raised my camera, two things happened simultaneously: My flashlight batteries fully died, and the door closed behind the exiting tour group.

I briefly pictured an employee, or another tour group, entering the basement sometime later and finding a skeleton in a Weird U.S. T-shirt, clutching a camera. Inspection of the camera's memory card would reveal a few final photos of some ghostly horror approaching from deep within the tunnels. It would resemble a Victorian prostitute, limbs twisted and broken from a horrible plunge down an elevator shaft.

Was my imagined scenario coming true? Fortunately, no. It was just the tour guide, patiently holding the door open as I tried shaking off the creeps.

Visit www.portlandwalkingtours.com for full schedule.

N-I-N-A

I am a paranormal enthusiast and a tour guide for Portland Walking Tours. We've been experiencing phenomena in the basement of the old Merchant Hotel building, seemingly ever since we started sparking directly to the spirit we call Nina. We've heard a girl's voice, felt breezes, and had all the tour guests get goose bumps. I've left out Scrabble tiles randomly on a chair before I lock up, and I ask Nina to try to leave a message. When I returned, letters have often moved slightly. On a recent tour, in front of the group. I was explaining the experiment and asked Nina to spell her name as I randomly mixed the tiles on the chair. As soon as I lifted my hand, everyone pointed out that right in the middle of the tiles N-I-N-A was spelled out in a straight line. During these experiences we are always detecting huge spikes in the electromagnetic field, which indicates an unknown energy force. I've had even more frightening encounters after locking up at night, and will no longer step foot down there alone. -Leigh Ann W.

[connectparanormal]

Ghosts of the Hawthorne Hotel

In Salem, Massachusetts, the Hawthorne Hotel is famous for both its historic charm and its luxurious rooms. Many consider it to be among the most haunted hotels in New England. There are many stories about ghosts, but the one about the Hawthorne Hotel's ghost stands out. It interests both guests and ghost hunters. It was named for the well-known author Nathaniel Hawthorne and first opened in 1925. Over the years, it has been home to many famous people, important people, and regular visitors. However, it's the strange happenings and reports of ghosts that have made it famous. The most frequently discussed ghost is a woman believed to have haunted the Hawthorne Hotel for an extended period.

Both guests and staff have had spooky experiences, mostly on the sixth floor and in Room 612. People report seeing a woman, dressed in period attire, frequently appearing in the hallway or briefly entering the room. People say that this ghostly figure has a sad personality and moves slowly through the hotel, as if looking for something or someone who has become lost in time. In addition to sightings, people have reported hearing and feeling things that they can't explain. Guests have claimed to have heard voices that do not belong to anyone, soft words, and footsteps in hallways that are normally empty. Others have experienced rapid temperature drops or the feeling that someone is watching them, even when they are alone. Because of these events, many people think that the spirit woman lives in the Hawthorne Hotel full-time. There are still a lot of ideas about who the ghost is among people who are interested in the supernatural. Some people think she might have been a past guest or employee who died in a tragic accident. Others think she might have something to do with Salem's long history, which is known for its witch trials and strong supernatural stories. She may also be related to Nathaniel Hawthorne, whose writings explore guilt, sadness, and the supernatural. A guest in Room 612 shares a terrifying story about waking up in the middle of the night to find a ghostly woman standing at the foot of the bed. The guests were both scared and interested as the figure stared at them closely before slowly disappearing. These kinds of stories have only added to the hotel's haunted image, bringing in people who want to see for themselves what the supernatural is like.

Many guests at the Hawthorne Hotel ask for Room 612 or go on ghost walks that explore the hotel's haunted history because they are proud of its ghostly history. The staff, accustomed to hearing stories, frequently shares their own and other guests' experiences, contributing to the hotel's mystery. Even though there are ghost stories about the Hawthorne Hotel, it is still a popular place to visit because of its historical importance, beautiful building, and friendly staff. Some people find it even more appealing that they might meet a ghost or other magical being while staying at the Hawthorne Hotel. The Hawthorne Hotel's ghost is still an intriguing part of its story, whether you believe in ghosts or not. It combines history, mystery, and the supernatural in the middle of Salem.